dot' on the target, McCloud punched the release button, and when the computer was happy with the delivery parameters, the two Mk 84s were kicked off of the weapons racks. As he pulled out, he saw the explosions of two direct hits on the target, supremely satisfied at his first 'combat' performance in the Viper. His element leader in number five had some sort of switchology problem, though, and his bombs did not drop. The pilot of the number-five Viper headed back to hit the target again, while General McCloud waited for him to return, orbiting nearby. Then suddenly, McCloud looked down and saw a Red Force F-16 chasing one of the Army AH-64As that was trying desperately to exit the target area after hitting a simulated radar site with AGM-114 Hellfire missiles and rockets. Switching to BORE mode, he dove down on the aggressor aircraft, rapidly setting up a shot with a simulated AIM- 120 AMRAAM. In a matter of seconds, he had the radar lock and fired a simulated Slammer at a range of 1 nn./ 1.8 km., a perfect 'in-his-lips missile shot.' The range controllers immediately scored the Red F-16 dead, and as soon as McCloud's number five returned, he egressed the target area (pilot talk for 'leave' or 'go away') a high speed, hugging the contours of the mountains for cover to evade enemy SAMs and fighters.
By 1130 hours, all of the aircraft had recovered back to base, and the process of tallying up the results began. By 1330, range controllers and assessment teams had finished their jobs and were ready to present their findings at the mass debrief. The results were stunning. Every target had been hit, and only a few would require restrikes later in the campaign. The Red radars had either been successfully hit or suppressed, and the Blue EW aircraft were never in danger. Even better were the air-to-air results, thirty to four in favor of the Blue Force, a new Green Flag record. For General McCloud, it was a moment of personal triumph. Even though there were still eight days and seventeen more missions to go, the Gunfighters had won. Back in the 1970s and 1980s the aggressors and other Red Force players would regularly wreck the Blue Force plans; but Red would never get close during Green Flag 94-3. Even as we were watching the mass debrief, the second strike of the day was headed out, and the results were almost identical.
Wednesday, April 13, 1994—Day 2: Mission 4
The following morning saw the transition to Phase II of the campaign plan, with Blue hitting airfields and SAM sites around the target ranges. This morning, we hung around the squadron ready rooms in the Red Flag building to watch the strike planning process. Each of the squadron rooms had a CTAPS terminal, networked into Rick Tedesco's Air Operations Center just a few yards away in the tent city outside. As we watched the staff officers work, my researcher, John Gresham, pointed to a photograph lying on one of the tables, his eyes wide with shock. As he opened his mouth to speak, one of the pilots said, 'Don't worry. That stuff is unclassified these days.' (The mild caution 'Official Use Only' was stamped on the photo.) The photo showed the Mt. Helen Airfield; it clearly had been taken from a satellite; and it was stunningly detailed (with a resolution of about 3 feet/1 meter). Such imagery is quite ordinary, the pilot went on to explain. Just a few years ago this stuff was 'Top Secret,' but now it was the source of routine planning data for Green Flag exercises. The particular photo came from a series previously taken in preparation for Green Flag 94-3, but fresh bomb damage assessment (BDA) shots were being regularly downlinked from the Space Warfare Center in Colorado Springs. It truly is a new world order!
That afternoon, General McCloud invited us to accompany him on a mission onboard one of the 22nd ARS KC-135R tankers. Since an opportunity to fly on an actual Green Flag mission is extremely rare for civilians, we gladly accepted, then headed off to have lunch and get ready to go flying. Normally, Green Flag 94-3 would have taken place in the most pleasant time of the year in Las Vegas, but the spring weather had turned into an unseasonable heat wave, with afternoon temperatures over 90degF/32degC. The cooling water spray nozzles over the flightline sunshades were running, and the Gatorade bottles were out for the ground crews. General Griffith had ordered heat precautions for all base personnel, and containers of bottled water were everywhere. We were sweating heavily on the ground, but we had our leather jackets ready for flying that afternoon.
A little after 1300, we drove out to the north end of the base flight line, where the large aircraft were parked. We were directed to the number-one 22nd ARS KC-135R (tail code 62-3572), and climbed aboard through the lower nose hatch into the hot interior. Inside we met our flight crew for today's mission: Captain Ken Rogers (the pilot), Second Lieutenant J. R. Twiford (copilot), Captain Ruben Villa (our navigator), and Staff Sergeant Shawn Hughes (the crew chief and boomer). Every mission is assigned a call sign, used for identification in radio communication. Our call sign today was Ruben-40. The tanker was loaded with over 80,000 lb./36,262 kg. of fuel, with a planned off-load of 42,000 lb./19,090 kg., and a maximum possible off-load of 62,000 lb./28,181 kg. Along with General McCloud was First Lieutenant Don Borchelt, one of the 366th Wing Public Affairs Officers. As soon as we were aboard, the hatches were sealed shut and the engines fired up. As we taxied out for takeoff, Sergeant Hughes explained that our job was to top off six F-15E Strike Eagles from the 391st FS, so that the Bold Tigers would be full when they hit the start line at the push. The plan for the Bold Tigers' mission involved a lot of high- speed flying down on the deck, which consumes fuel voraciously. We took off behind the E-3 AWACS, followed by another 22nd ARS tanker which would refuel other aircraft of the strike.
As we flew out to our refueling track, Captain Villa was kind enough to let us take turns sitting at the navigator's console, watching the radar screen to take navigation fixes of the surrounding mountain peaks. When we reached our tanking altitude of approximately 25,000 feet/7,620 meters, we began to cruise in a wide racetrack-shaped oval, waiting for Lieutenant Colonel Clawson and the rest of his Bold Tigers to come up and tank. Back at the boomer's position, Sergeant Hughes unstowed the boom and made ready to tank the incoming Strike Eagles.
Suddenly they were there, and Sergeant Hughes went to work, calmly and silently guiding the first of the big fighters into position to take its allotted 7,000 lb./3,181 kg. of fuel. Air-to-air refueling is about the most unnatural activity most of us are ever likely to see. A very big airliner flying about 350 knots/640 kph., full of flammable jet fuel, in direct physical contact with another airplane? The idea is totally demented. I will never be comfortable with it. Nevertheless, Sergeant Hughes and the F-15E crews made it look easy. And one after another, the Strike Eagles cycled into position to take their fuel. Then 'Claw' Clawson, down in the lead Strike Eagle, looked up in the middle of tanking, recognized us taking pictures through the window, and calmly asked how things looked! Such is the skill from a lifetime of flying combat jets — you can carry on a normal conversation five miles above the earth, flying just ten yards away from an aircraft full of jet fuel, while your plane is locked onto a flying pipe taking on more fuel.
As each jet finished topping off, it would take station, flying in close formation on the tanker, until there were three F-15s on each side of Ruben-40. I was later told that this effectively merged all seven aircraft into one large radar contact, masking their true number from enemy surveillance. Then suddenly, the F-15s were headed down into the mountains, westward towards their targets. Once again, the Blue strike forces hit their targets with a minimum of losses, and the campaign plan moved on to its completion. Our mission done, we headed back to Nellis AFB, and the thought of dinner and some blackjack that night.
