Lieutenant Bowles.
In his headset he heard the duty AWACS calling, 'This is Disco-1 on guard. Bandits… I repeat… multiple bandits at Bullseye' — Hanoi—'295 degrees for 85' (85 miles/139.3 km). 'King flight is engaged. King-3 is down. CSAR support is on the way. Oilcan flight, engage. Your code is BUSTER' (full afterburner). 'I repeat. Your code is Buster!' The young female captain at the controller console of the AWACS was excited, but doing her duty. Now all General Perry had to do was stay alive for five minutes, and four F-15Cs from the 390th would be here to save their collective asses.
Colonel Nguyen, elated with his ambush of the first Strike Eagle, led Captain Tran towards the ground to avoid being ambushed himself. But as the two MiGs popped up over a ridge, his elation died. In addition to the two white American parachutes, there were four dirty balls of smoke, with trails heading down.
His men had paid the price for his victory. Now he had to avenge them. He again activated his radar and began to search for targets. He noticed he had lost Captain Tran from his wing and decided to keep going on his own.
General Truong Le stared in wonder at the air battle going on above his head, cheering like a boy at a soccer match when he saw the Strike Eagle go down. But then he watched in horror as four of the Fulcrums died in a matter of seconds with their pilots. 'Four more young Vietnamese lost. For what?' he thought. Then he noticed the two Americans in their parachutes descending towards the ground. He and the sergeant rushed to the landing site and caught both men while they were struggling out of their parachute harnesses. The sergeant suggested that he should shoot them as retribution for the deaths of the MiG pilots, but the general decided that he had seen enough men die for one day, and motioned the two men down the trail to Yen Bai Airfield.
Colonel Nguyen saw a lone Strike Eagle chasing a MiG-29 in the distance, crossing his nose from left to right. He was racking his fighter in a tight turn to the right in an effort to save his comrade in the MiG when he saw an AIM- 9 Sidewinder missile leap out and shred the Eagle's quarry into a streaming fireball. Luckily, the pilot ejected, a rare Vietnamese survivor of this battle. Meanwhile, Nguyen was trying to catch up to the enemy strike fighter to get a shot when he saw a flash in his rearview mirror.
General Perry saw a lone MiG chasing Lieutenant Bowles in King-2 and made a conversion turn to the enemy fighter's rear. He had to kill this guy fast. Selecting SIDE mode from the HOTAS controls, he waited for the tone in his headset to settle down to a continuous scream. At a range of 2,500 feet/762 meters, he triggered the missile, which rapidly ate up the distance to the Fulcrum's port engine. It impacted the engine's afterburner can, contact detonating and blowing the back of the engine to pieces, taking with it the port rudder and horizontal stabilizer. Amazingly, the MiG continued to fly, the star-board engine, rudder, and stabilizer continuing to function. Cursing the tiny warhead of the AIM-9M, he switched the armament controls to GUN.
Colonel Nguyen heard and felt a huge bang in the rear of his MiG; then all the port engine annunciators flashed red in warning. He chopped the port throttle and popped the port side fire bottle to contain the fire that had broken out in the shattered engine. The bird was still flying, and perhaps he might get it home to Yen Bai. But seconds later, he felt a thumping in the control stick and throttle console, and the cockpit exploded with a flash and a sudden darkness. It was the last sight he would see.
General Perry placed the MiG in the firing cone of the gunsight, let the range close to under 1,000 feet/304.8 meters, and fired a three-second burst from the M61 Vulcan cannon in the Eagle's starboard wing root. The stream of PGU-28 armor-piercing/incendiary shells walked up the spine of the aircraft and eventually filled the enemy fighter's cockpit with explosions and smoke. The Fulcrum fell off and began to spin down to the ground. Eventually it impacted in a fireball, a funeral pyre to Colonel Nguyen and the Vietnamese People's Air Force. A quick check of the radar and radio showed only the two surviving Strike Eagles of King flight and the incoming flight of F-15Cs. He turned the nose of the big fighter to the southwest and began to think about fueling from the duty tanker and heading home. It had been a long ten minutes.
Captain Tran landed his MiG-29, the only surviving aircraft of the 931st Regiment's last air battle. As he taxied into a shelter, he cut the engines and allowed his head to fall forward against the control panel as he mumbled an old saying from an American Western film he had once seen, 'From every massacre there is always one survivor… ' He did not notice the old general and the sergeant when they walked by with their prisoners. His only thought was that he was very tired and never wanted to fly again.
Meanwhile, the Defense Minister was curious about the AN-2 biplane at the end of the field, and asked one of the ground personnel if a pilot was available to fly him and his guests back to Hanoi. The annoyed crew chief was about to curse at the old man in the grimy uniform when he saw the gold braid and stars. He ran off to ask Captain Tran to get ready to fly one more time.
Amid the chaos of the Coalition airstrikes on the leadership caves, it took several hours to establish that the Defense Minister General Truong Le was the senior surviving official of the DRV. From Bach Mai, the general had called Beijing, and the Chinese comrades had patched him through to Duc Oanh's temporary headquarters at Bien Hoa Air Base outside Saigon. Their conversation was brief, frank, and cordial. Both parties were well aware that every intelligence agency with two SIGINT analysts to rub together was recording, translating, and analyzing every word. At times like these in the life of nations, symbolism was important. So they agreed to meet face-to-face in the most politically symbolic location in their country, the walled and moated Royal Palace complex in Hue.
'I regret that I never had the opportunity to serve under your leadership,' said Duc.
'I regret that I did not have a hundred thousand soldiers like you,' said the general. 'We have to end this conflict before our people suffer irreparable harm. What will it take to keep our country together?'
'We would like to propose a return to the provisions of the 1954 Geneva agreements. We both know that our people have little experience with elections. It will take generations for democracy to take root in this land we both love. We had better start soon, by working out a constitution. I would be honored if you would stand for election as President. I would be honored to serve as your Vice President.'
The signing of the agreement was a formality. The photo of the old general and the middle-aged former guerrilla and postal clerk embracing in tears was a Pulitzer Prize winner.
General Perry sat in his command cell and looked out the window upon the scene of his force of B-1Bs and F-15Es, uploading maximum loads of CBU- 87 cluster bombs. The sight sickened him, because of where the deadly 'eggs' were scheduled to be dropped. After the completion of the last mission against the leadership caves the previous day, he had received an order from the National Security Council, with an endorsement from the UN Security Council, to begin mass cluster bomb strikes against the four DRV infantry divisions moving up the eastern slope of Mu Gia Pass. It would be a slaughter when the canisters of CEMs opened over the exposed troops, filling the air with hot metal, fire, and screams. The vision filled him with remorse. Unfortunately, if the fifty thousand men of those units did not return to their barracks in the DRV, the action was going to be necessary. The great nations of the world had allowed the people of this region of the world to draw them into conflicts too many times to allow it to happen again. Thus, the fifty thousand young men marching to Mu Gia were doomed, unless the guys running things in Hanoi came to their senses. The knock at his door broke the spell of his thought, and he turned to see Major Goldberg standing in his door with a message flimsy in his hand and a broad grin on his face. 'Good news, sir,' said the younger man. 'Messages from both security councils.'
The general took the fragile paper and read the short message. It was a cease-fire. The DRV had sued for terms under the old 1954 accord, and there was going to be peace. The ground units of the peacekeeping force were being assembled and would be on their way within hours. He went limp from relief, and it was a long minute before he could look at Major Goldberg.
'Major, tell the ordies that they are to download those munitions dispensers immediately. Then pass the word that we're to plan for peacekeeping and enforcement operations. We may be here a while doing that. Lastly, please try and get a line on the two crewmen from King-3 through the UN. I want to know about them ASAP.'
