Battle Born

advanced longer-range version of the missile, the Daepedong-2, reportedly had a range of over nine thousand miles, making it capable of hitting targets in the continental United States. They had deployed the Nodong-1 and Nodong-2 rail-mobile nuclear ballistic missiles, capable of hitting targets all over Japan, including Okinawa. They had hundreds of short-and medium-range ballistic missiles, some carrying chemical or biological warheads; and some of their nine-thousand-plus artillery pieces and howitzers were also capable of firing nuclear, chemical, or biological weapons shells. In a country with a population of only twenty-four million, a per capita income of less than nine hundred dollars, and a negative growth rate, North Korea was spending a staggering thirty percent of their gross national product on defense.

What was equally puzzling was South Korea’s reaction to the North’s huge military buildup. Instead of calling for a larger military buildup of its own, or for increased help from the United States, the South Korean government was actually increasing aid and outreach programs to the North and simultaneously erecting roadblocks to a greater American presence on the Korean peninsula. The United States had fewer than ten thousand troops stationed in South Korea, almost all of them observers, advisers, and instructors, not combat forces. Compared to North Korea, the South’s military forces were much more modern, but a fraction of the size. Yet while the South’s defense budget barely managed to hold steady year after year, its budget for economic aid, humanitarian programs, cultural exchanges, and family reunion programs with North Korea was rapidly increasing.

Was this part of the Korean mind-set? Patrick wondered as he watched the news piece on the growing North Korean crisis. Help your enemy even though he wants nothing more than to crush you? Or was South Korea naively assuring its own destruction by feeding and supplying its sworn enemy? Every time another spy ring or cross-border tunnel was discovered, South Korean aid to North Korea increased. When Wonsan was nearly destroyed by a nuclear device three years earlier, reportedly by China in an attempt to divert world attention from its attempt to conquer Taiwan, it had been South Korea that sent money and equipment to rebuild the city.

He returned to the mission planning room and studied the schedule Furness had put on the whiteboard. It had been copied from a page from a three-ring binder, part of the extensive array of “plastic brains” the squadron used to do every chore, from turning on the lights to going to war. “Good idea,” Patrick remarked as he reviewed the contents of the binder. “No need to remember how to organize for a mission briefing — it’s all in here.”

“No need to reinvent the wheel on every sortie,” Furness said. “Everyone does it the same, so there’re no surprises. If something gets missed, someone will know it.”

Every step of mission planning was organized to the exact minute: show time, overview briefing, intelligence briefing, the “how d’ya do?” briefing — a short meeting to check everyone’s mission planning progress — the formation briefing, mass briefing, crew briefing, step time, life support stop, weather and NOTAMS briefing, flight plan filing, bus time, time at aircraft, check-in, copy clearance time, start engines time, taxi time, and takeoff time. Each crew member in the formation had a job to do — everything from preparing flight plans, to getting sun positions during air refuelings and bomb runs, to getting lunch orders, was assigned to someone. He or she would return to the mission planning room and drop off the paperwork for the flight leader to examine, and then check off the item.

Patrick’s task written on the whiteboard was a simple one: “Hammer on Seaver.”

At that moment, Rinc Seaver walked into the mission planning room. “Morning, General, Colonel,” he said formally. Furness did not respond.

“Good job on that EP sim ride, Major,” Patrick said. He had decided to give Seaver an emergency procedures simulator evaluation, loaded up with a fairly demanding scenario, to see how he could handle stressful situations. What Patrick had really wanted to do was duplicate the fateful Fallon mission, to see how it could have been done differently. But as he told Furness and the others, he wasn’t there to investigate the crash. “I like the way you delegate the radios and checklists. Shows good crew coordination, good situational awareness.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I thought you were a little too aggressive,” Furness said. At Patrick’s request, Rebecca Furness had flown in the evaluator’s seat, while two systems officers operated the SO’s side of the weapon systems trainer; terrain-following systems would only work in the sim if the SO’s cab was powered up too. He also asked Furness to administer his closed-book and emergency procedures written test. “Why ask for CITS codes and the expanded tech order text?” she went on. “It got distracting. You were juggling too many balls in the air at once.”

Rinc looked at Patrick, who nodded. “She’s right,” Patrick said to Seaver. “You obviously know your stuff, but you did get a couple steps ahead of the crew as they ran through the troubleshooting matrix, and it was distracting. You had a handful of broken jet to fly.” He turned to Furness. “Good call, Colonel. Anything for me?”

“You’re rusty, you don’t know local procedures that well, and you don’t verbalize enough,” she replied. “But you got the job done and brought your crippled jet back home. I’d fly with you. You’d fly anyway, I suppose, even if you were picking your nose the whole time, right?”

“Right. But thanks. I’ll give my official critique to General Bretoff, but I rated Seaver’s performance an ‘excellent.’ Good job, all of you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Seaver said. Furness offered no congratulations. Seaver copied some notes from the whiteboard, then departed.

“I gotta tell you, Colonel,” Patrick said as he watched Furness work, “I’m very impressed with the squadron. Everyone’s doing an exceptional job.”

“You say that like you expected us to be a bunch of drunken slobs,” Furness retorted.

“No. But it’s certainly getting tough to explain how you lost a jet and a crew.”

“I don’t suppose you believe in plain old bad luck, do you?”

“Sure I do,” Patrick replied. “You think it was bad luck?”

“Yep. Shit happens. You fly jets long enough, something bad happens. It’s a dangerous business.”

“True,” Patrick admitted. “But I’ve noticed in the sim and looking over the accident records…”

“I thought you weren’t here investigating the crash, sir.”

“I’m not, but I’d be an idiot if I didn’t get some background on the accident, wouldn’t I, Colonel?” Patrick retorted. “Most of your bomb runs are level radar bombing, right?”

“All of our bomb runs are level radar,” Rebecca replied. “The Joint Direct Attack Munition will give us a little more flexibility, but without precision-guided bombs or imaging sensors like LANTIRN or Pave Tack, we pretty much do it the same way strategic bombers have been doing it since the beginning.”

“But your squadron flies very aggressively,” Patrick pointed out. “Maybe too aggressively. Some might say recklessly. If all your bomb runs are the same, why all the gyrations?”

“My opinion, sir, is that we’re asked to do more with less,” Furness replied. “We have fewer bombers, smaller budgets, and more taskings over more dangerous battlefields. We don’t set up the threats. We do whatever it takes to destroy the target against whatever threat we encounter.”

Furness regarded Patrick for a moment before continuing: “You’re a bomber guy, sir.” Patrick had no response. “I remember hearing a little about you, back when I flew tankers and later when I got into the RF-111s. You know how bombers used to fly — low, fast, and alone, mostly with gravity nukes or SRAMs. Well, it’s not done that way anymore. We fly as packages. We go in high, or low, or slow, or fast, depending on the threat and the weapon we employ.

“But we don’t train that way. We still train like you and I did years ago — alone against the threats, the area defenses, and the target. Instead of having a cruise missile or stealth bomber take out the threats from standoff range followed by Bones with fighter cover, we drive a couple of Bones through a gauntlet of fighters and SAMs. It’s unrealistic. We’d never do that in the real world. But that’s the way we train because it’s cheap and it’s easy.

“Our job is to destroy the target, no matter what the threat,” Furness went on. “That means pushing ourselves and our machines to the limit. The Bone has the payload of a BUFF but the speed and agility of a Strike Eagle. We’ve got the horses, so we’re going to use them.”

“Well, what do you think about Bones going in alone?” Patrick asked. “Are they capable? Or do they need a package to do the mission?”

“Of course we’re capable,” Rebecca replied hotly. “When you flew BUFFs, you flew against every threat in the book without any support. True, in the SIOP missions, you expected to go in long after the initial ICBM laydown, so most of the threats would be taken down for you. But if that’s true, why did BUFFs and Bones and Aardvarks and even B-2 stealth bombers start going low? Why did we start training in ranges with fighters and SAMs and triple-A?