fighters don't like to get that close. Their 675 rounds, even shooting small bursts, isn't a lot of firepower.
'Viper Flight, Dragon Flight, Home Plate. Two flights of Tomcats, one flight of Hornets inbound. Viper Flight, break off as needed.'
At least we were getting some more Tomcats into the fight. And the controller was right to remind me ? those of us who weren't low on fuel soon would be, and it was better to clear the deck for the fresh forces.
'Let's get going,' Gator urged from the backseat. 'Bird Dog, our fuel is-'
'I know what our fuel is,' I cut in. Damn it, someday I'm going to tape a cardboard shield between the front seat and backseat on this aircraft so he can't stick his nose into my business. 'You think I'll run out of gas?'
'Of course not. At least, you never have before.' Gator's voice sounded just the slightest bit dubious. 'Still, don't you think we ought to-?'
Without answering, I put the Tomcat into a hard, tight climbing turn. 'One more quick look, then we're out of here. I want to make sure all of our guys are out.'
'Whatever you say, Bird Dog.'
We spiraled on up, slowing slightly as we poured all of our power into the climb. When I felt we had a bird's- eye view, I rolled back into level flight, and then into inverted flight.
I love this part. Gator hates it. It's a good thing for him that our fuel-transfer mechanism doesn't allow me to remain inverted for the entire flight. There's something about hanging from the ejection-seat harness. Maybe it's the blood getting forced into your head by gravity that does it.
The ocean was spread out below me, looking almost calm and peaceful from this vantage point. The aircraft still engaged below were dull gray shapes against darker water, or brilliant specks of light like fireflies as the sun reflected off wings. They winked in, back to dull gray, then back into fiery brilliance.
I saw the remnants of two fireballs hanging in the air, slowly dissipating as the wind tore at them. Only one that I knew of was ours ? and better them than us.
The new aircraft were joining up on the battle already in progress, picking out beleaguered Tomcats to delouse of MiGs and neatly nailing the enemy aircraft one by one. Other Tomcats were rising up from the fray, seeking altitude and shaking the last of their pursuers as they broke off.
'Viper Flight, say state,' I asked, then waited for their responses. Each pilot called out his fuel status, then waited for the tanking order.
'Red, go on in ? you're lowest,' I ordered. 'Then Smiley, Joe, and Theresa. Skeeter, you stick with me. I think we're better off than most of them.'
'Not by much,' Gator said tartly. 'In fact, Theresa's got more fuel than Skeeter does.'
'Ladies first. Besides, neither of them is in the red zone.'
I heard the exasperated sigh over the ICS. As much as I hated to admit it, there was something to what Gator was saying. Still, more of us were at bingo state. A little low, a little light-winged of weapons, but basically in good shape.
Those of us who'd made it out. Theresa had just cleared the tanker when I led Skeeter, now wing-welded to me again, in a gentle turn toward the tanker. She called out and checked in with the carrier, then peeled off toward the starboard marshal pattern to wait her turn at the deck. She'd made it ? Theresa was a good stick, and the weather conditions were optimal.
'Skeeter, go ahead,' I said. 'Plug and suck, buddy, then get the hell out of the way.'
'Want to take any bets on this one?' Skeeter queried.
I laughed. 'No, you asshole. I know you plug first time. Just go on and get it over with. Hell, you're probably as fast in bed as you are on the tanker.'
'Now, that's not what they tell me,' Skeeter answered, his voice cool and amused.
We were both in the throes of that exhilaration that sets in right after combat, the period of time in which it finally sinks in that your ass was almost grass and that you'd escaped once again. Plus you'd put a few bad guys at the bottom of the ocean along the way. It's a heady euphoria that's got no equivalent in civilian life. Except maybe bungee jumping, and that was one thrill I'd never tried out.
True to his word, Skeeter nailed the tanker right off. It was a smooth, fluid plug, probe right into the basket, and the tanker started pumping him right away.
Six minutes later, he was topped off enough to go take a look at the boat. I waited until he was safely away, then slid in to try my luck.
Well, not luck really. Skill is more like it.
'Take it easy, Bird Dog. You're coming in a little fast on me.' The KA-6 tanker's pilot was a bit testy.
I guess I couldn't blame her. We had been coming in a little bit fast for her.
'Now, darlin', you just hold steady,' I said, trying to make light of the situation. 'Let me try this again.'
I eased back off the tanker and lined myself up again. The mistake that most people make when they're trying to tank is they get fixated on watching the basket bob around in the air in front of them. You don't want to do that ? you want to be staring directly at the lights on the tanker and maintaining the correct relative position between your two aircraft. Otherwise you get disoriented from the little bobbles and jerks the basket does in the air. It was something I knew better than to do ? and I'd just done it.
The second time went smooth as silk, my probe sliding right into the hard plastic basket like ? well, I wasn't going there. Not on cruise, not with the women on board the ship looking better and better every day that went by.
'Good seal,' the tanker pilot said. 'Ready to transfer fuel.'
'Ready to receive.'
I could hear the slight gurgle as the fuel fed smoothly into the probe and was distributed to the two wing tanks. Five thousand pounds, that would hold me until we got back to the boat. Enough to make two passes at the deck, although I doubted that I'd need more than one. It had been a long time since I hadn't gotten back on board on my first pass, and I didn't aim to break my record now.
'That'll do me, darlin',' I said finally. I shut off the switches that allowed fuel to flow in through the probe, and allowed her to do the same. Then I gently backed off, slid further back until I was well clear, and rolled off to the right. 'See you back on the deck,' I called out as a farewell.
'Not anytime soon,' she answered tartly. 'Got a bunch more customers up here soon enough.'
'Those Hornets get thirsty fast,' I agreed.
Despite some relatively decent performance statistics, that was the one problem with the F/A-18 ? it was a hungry little bastard. The trade-off for having a lightweight aircraft was that it could carry less of everything. Fuel, weapons, hell, probably even piddle packs. You never want to get into a fight with a bunch of Hornets without having a lot of gas in the air nearby.
I was just four thousand yards away from the tanker when I heard the tanker pilot start screaming. 'Bird Dog, get back here! He's on me, he's on me!'
I slammed into afterburner and rolled and turned, heading back to the tanker. I knew what was wrong ? one of those goddamn Hornets had let a MiG sneak through and make a run on their Texaco. That should have been the first thing they'd done, make sure that their tanker was protected. If I'd been down there The MiG was almost toying with her, like a cat with a mouse. It was a bit above her, and well aft, in perfect firing position.
I sighted in, got the low growl of a Sidewinder, then said, 'Gina, break left. Now!'
Tankers aren't the maneuverable airframes that fighters are, but she did the best that she could. As old as those birds are, she probably damn near tore the wings off trying to get away. The KA6 rolled hard, overshot, and exposed her underbelly to the MiG, then completed the roll and fell down toward the ocean in a spiral. It's always nice to use gravity if you need to gain some airspeed in a hurry.
I waited two seconds, enough time to get her out of range of the fireball, and just long enough for the MiG pilot to start getting truly pissed.
A missile leapt off his wings, the ignition of its booster blinding me slightly. I thumbed off the Sidewinder at the same time.
I had one second to see the canopy of the KA6 peel off, shatter into pieces, and two ejection seats rocket up at forty-five-degree angles from each other. They were barely clear of the aircraft when it exploded into flames.
The smoke and fire blanked out my view of the two chutes. Had they opened? I didn't know, and now I sure as hell couldn't see. The MiG I'd shot the Sidewinder at was a smoking black hole in the air.
