Sins of a pilot.
By Andreas Thomsen.
Chapter 1: Unwelcome visitors above.
I still remember the horror… the screams from that day…
Part 1: Old memories.
Delta 10! Move it!
Evasive manoeuvres!
He's got a lock on me! I can't evade!
Sir! We're losing planes left and right!
I'm coming kid! Stay put!
He's fired! I ca…
Have the ground forces penetrated the defences yet?
Don't worry! The Razgriz are here!
Friendly Yuktobanian fighters?
There's a lot of them!
I've taken hits! I'm going down!
Captain Dave Marshall woke up from his nightmare, and sat up straight in an instant. He was breathing heavily, and sweating.
Yet again, he had bad night, with the same nightmare coming back to him…
He looked to his right, and watched the clock. It was just 2:30 AM. He then looked to his left, and watched his girlfriend Julie, in her quiet, undisturbed sleep.
As he had done more times than he could remember, he thought back on the events last year.
He was a pilot in the Osean Air Force, part of the 5th Air Division, 786th Tactical Fighter Squadron, which among many others, had fought in the Circum Pacific war. The one battle he remembered more clearly than the others though was ironically the very last battle of the war. His squadron was supposed to bomb some Yuktobanian positions, operating from within Osea, but the flight plan was suddenly redirected to Sudentor, due to some speech held by the Osean president, and the Yuktobanian prime minister.
Intelligence stated that there wasn't much resistance, just a few anti-air positions, along with tanks, and light air resistance.
But as always… intelligence was wrong. Instead, the battle had turned out to be the bloodiest battle he had ever fought, and he lost most of his squadron there.
He carefully studied his girlfriend again, as his eyes filled with tears.
He had met her last year, during a trip to Oured. She was working as a waitress back then, and was without doubt, the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. She had dark, catchy blue eyes, under her blonde hair, on top of the prettiest head in the world, with a perfect body as a finishing touch.
He tried to forget his nightmare, and laid down, close beside her.
He woke up a few hours later, by the loud ringing of the clock. He banged his hand on top of it, and sat up, on the edge of the bed.
If there was one thing he hated, it was getting up early, and unfortunately his job, required him to get up at 5 AM. Luckily though, he loved his job enough, to get up every morning, and drive the fifty miles to the base.
He had been lucky enough to fly the F-22A, for the 786th TFS, stationed at Loxworth Air Base, in the north-eastern part of Osea, bordering to the Anfang Sea.
He got up, and got the hot water running, whilst switching on the TV. He zapped through the channels with nothing interesting, and then came across ICNN, with a special report.
"Hello, I am Stan DeLewis, with a special report, here at 5:03 AM."
The reporter cleared his throat, as if to add something melodramatic to the whole thing.
"Last night, at 1:21 AM, unmanned reconnaissance drones, were spotted over Osean air space, and are believed to be spying on our very country. The military has been able to identify these drones, as the type 'R-45', coming from the country of Wellow. Will Johnson reports from in front of the U.P.E.O. Headquar…"
Dave shook his head disapprovingly, switched off the TV, and took a shower.
As he later prepared to go out the door, he grabbed his cell phone from the table, and left.
He immediately hit a wall of chilly air, sending shivers down his spine, as he walked to the car.
He opened the door of his and Julie's newly purchased Nissan Murano, and threw the phone, onto the passenger seat. He switched on the air condition, to get some warmth into the car. At this time of the year, it was always cold outside, and especially in a car that had been standing outside all night.
As usual, he took a little detour, going through the city Welson, to avoid the usual traffic jam around this hour. To get rid of the silence in the car, he switched on the radio, and listened to a song he vaguely remembered from the eighties.
As he drove through the highway, singing along with the songs in the radio, the sun started rising.
He drove past a car accidents, large, empty fields and small towns, until the landscape became one, and time disappeared.
Then all of the sudden, F-22's roared over him, bringing his singing to an immediate stop, and he started to see the base.
As he parked his car and got out, another car pulled up beside him, and the driver got out.
"Good – mor-ning – Mr. Grum-ble!" his best friend, Jack, said in his usual energetic voice, sounding a bit mad, but in his own funny way.
"Huh? What are you talking about?" Dave asked, and pulled out the phone.
"Well, I've been trailing you for the last ten minutes, and you seem to have ignored it thoroughly," Jack said, with a wink.
"Oh… I didn't notice, I must have been in my own thoughts…"
Jack seemed to understand what Dave had been thinking about, and didn't press the matter.
"Hm, by the way, did you hear about those reconnaissance planes over Osea? Some bullsht…"
"Yeah I heard. No biggie I'm sure, so I'm sure it'll be over soon. Wellow wouldn't dare threatening us…"
"Yeah, you got that right. So, you finally got rid of that piece of junk, and got an actual moveable vehicle?"
"Tsk, it costs ten thousand Zollars. Some 'moveable vehicle' eh?"
"Whatever, I'm happy with my Mustang," Jack said, as he opened the door to the crew's quarters.
"Well, I don't mind you never settling down, but I've never really liked the 'Stang."
"Blessed are the naysayers. Speaking of which, how's it going with Julie?"
"Pretty good. I'm planning on proposing to her New Years Eve, or maybe on the 24th of December… Heeey, what has Julie got to do with naysayers? Hey!" Dave asked the paralyzed Jack, whilst opening his locker.
Jack seemed like his whole world had just collapsed, but then burst into laughter.
"BACHELOR PARTYYYYYYY!" He yelled, so it probably could be heard throughout the country.
"Would you keep it down there!? I haven't told anyone else yet…" Dave said, whilst unloading his stuff into the locker.
"I gotcha'." Jack said, and punched his locker open.
"Hawk one to control tower, requesting take-off on runway five-niner-niner with quick climb, over," Dave said an hour later over the radio.
Due to the late season of the year, it was still dark outside, but the runway was dimly lit.
Dave took a moment to polish his visor, before the control tower answered.
"Roger, Hawk one and two. Take off on runway o-one with quick A/B climb as approved. Departure frequency for Hawk will be two-niner-niner point two. You have permission to take off."
"Roger tower, Hawk one taking off.
He gave it full afterburner, and got up in the sky in no time, pulling a good seven g's, and then levelled out whilst slowing down.
The flight was scheduled, to fly patrol along the western, Belkan
"Hawk two through four, take vector one-four-five, angels ten and await further orders."
He performed a small right turn, and watched the base underneath him.
The runway was pointing strictly east, because it was built as a defence against the Wellowan bombers, crossing the Anfang Sea, to carry out bombing runs on Osean mainland, and as an offence for Osean B-17 against Belkan factories, during World War II. The facilities and runways, had been hit during a major Belkan strike in 1941 though, and had almost been evaporated, if it hadn't been for a squadron of fighters coming to help, in the last moment. After that, defences were strengthened, extra runways were made, the whole base itself refurbished, and the 5th Air Division was born.
Dave himself, had been flying in the squadron for about ten years, and used to be an F-15 pilot, before transitioning to the Raptor in 2006.
He snapped out of his thoughts, and throttled up.
One cannot escape a bad memory… even at thirty-thousand feet.
Part 2: Eagle's Eye.
"Hawk 3 and 4, turn to one-six-four, climb to angels twenty and return to level flight along the border, over." If there was one thing he admired about himself, it was his ability to adjust to any combat situation, and max out his efforts to the good of the friendly forces… Except that last time…
With a simple 'roger', the two Raptors on his right, banked right at full afterburner, and were out of sight in mere seconds.
"Hawk 2, follow Hawk 1, and apply full thrust to thirty-five-thousand feet. Let's hope we don't run into any fighters."
"For their sake…" Jack mumbled, and started his climb.
For their sake, the words continued to ring inside his head.
"Hawk 1 to control, on approach, fifteen miles out at three-thousand, request permission to land." Dave called in over the radio, almost three hours later.
"Roger Hawk 1, initiate final approach on runway o-three, and taxi to final destination upon landing, along taxi line Gamma."
To him, hearing those words indicated another mission well executed.
He slowly passed over the highway beneath him, still with plenty of cars on it, as he saw the runway. He released his landing gear, and went in for a soft touchdown.
Before he even got out of his aircraft in the hangar, Jack landed, shortly followed by the rest.
The maintenance crew, already filled the hangar, and went to check the aircraft, all over.
"You're up for a beer?" Jack said, as he walked into the hangar, after having rolled past just two minutes ago.
"Sure, after de-brief though. Although there's not much to say. Except for Hanich!" Dave answered, and practically kicked the door up.
"I gotta agree with you there. Those damn Belkans have been getting too cocky since then U.P.E.O. rejection, of the complete disarmament order for Belka. If only it'd stop very soon, I'd really like to get done with that chapter of my life…"
In February 2011, the U.P.E.O. Congress, had denied a treaty proposed mainly by Osea and Yuktobania, containing the order of complete disarmament of Belka, since the true reason of the Circum Pacific war was discovered, in late 2010. The Osean government however, managed to get another treaty through, granting them Belkan land to the north, and more to the south, which had been used to build up five airbases, four south of the Belkan coast, to fly CAP over Anfang, and Belka itself, and one in the Glatisant area, wherefrom fighters and bombers, flew long-range sorties between Osea, and Belka.
Even though Belka's freedom had now been cut down even more, the Belkan Rald Party was rebuilding, and the military, navy and air force, were now expanding more and more, almost up to its original size, as it was in 1995!
This had proven to be very disturbing for Osea mainly, which time and time again had tried to pass the treaty in the congress, but without luck.
Some people believed, that the battle over B7R, in May 2011, was actually instigated, by the frustrated Osean forces, although no proof ever surfaced.
"We intercepted a Belkan 737 from Hanich Airlines… here. At 1032 hours, bearing two-two-five, twenty-four thousand. Supposedly, it was heading for Oured Bay Airport, which was verified within a few minutes, although a flight of F-15's from Kaiser Airbase took over, to escort it safely to Oured, making sure it really was true." Dave said ten minutes later in front of the squadron commander Ian Maulte, pointing out a point fifty miles into Osean mainland, over the city Passinger.
"What I wanna know is why you didn't escort the craft yourself. A problem like this occurred in the last war." The commander stiffly answered, changing his position to a more comfortable one, in the hard wooden chair.
"Sir, with all respect, we didn't have time for that, and you know Kaiser was built with that exact purpose." Jack broke in.
The commander looked at Jack, as if he was a small child interrupting the talking adults. The two had never really liked each other.
"Very well, I have other things to attend to. Go prepare for your sortie in the after…" Ian was interrupted by a loud roar, coming from outside. "What the hell… No flights are planned in the next two hours!" he muttered, and ran out, as he bumped into a lower ranking officer in the doorway.
"What the!?" Ian yelled, and pulled himself up.
"Sir! Wellowan recon planes spotted! Fighters are scrambled!" the officer said short of breath.
Dave made it outside just in time, to see two Raptors leaving the tarmac, and climbing at an enormous rate.
A lot of other people had gathered outside as well, some with binoculars, and some discussing where they were headed.
Dave ran to crew quarters, and found what he was looking for: A small locker on the wall containing ten pairs of binoculars. He ran outside again, and looked up through them.
On the clear blue sky, four trails took shape high up, but he could only barely see the shining planes creating them. He searched the entire sky, until he found something. A fifth trail.
Suddenly the four trails made up by the Raptors, split into two and both groups formed up behind the fifth trail. People waited to see what the hell was happening.
Half a minute later, a thin, sixth trail, originating from the first four, and accelerating past them, finally to end at the start of the fifth trail. A small explosion could be seen high up, in the blue noon sky.
"… I don't give a damn! All I wanna know is how the fck we didn't spot these little bastards sooner, and why the hell they all appeared at once, ranging from over the base, to two-hundred miles north of the base! Report to my office in one hour!" Dave listened in to the loud conversation between the base commander Paul McGuiness, and his adjutant.
"But sir…!" The adjutant tried, but was immediately interrupted.
"One hour!" The commander yelled, and stormed out of the adjutant's office. "Ah captain Marshall! Pleased to see you, please step into my office." The commander said, as his voice changed from yelling, to the tone of a man greeting his best buddy.
Dave hesitated whilst watching the adjutant make a phone call, and then went inside, closing the door behind him.
"Please, sit down captain," Paul said and continued: "Nombre cigar captain…? Sapin's finest..." He said, and turned a dark wooden box towards Dave.
"No thank you sir. You wanted to see me?" Dave asked, and closed the box.
"Yes Dave, if you would turn your head over there," Paul answered, as he switched off the lights, and switched on a projector, showing a detailed world map, with some additional lines, and points around the base. "As far as we know, and we don't know a lot currently if I may add, Wellow has carried out recon missions over Osea three times, the last four days, from the southern peninsula most likely, at vectors two-zero-zero, two-one-zero and two-two-zero. This leads us to believe that any such next recon will be at vectors two-three-zero, or perhaps one-nine-zero, but: What we really haven't been able to figure out is this:" He continued, and pressed a button. A thin, but wide, red circle appeared, cutting through the base.
"The UAV's haven't been spotted in any
case, until the very moment the first of the five sent up, crosses
this particular line, the Beckins line we call it. With some
calculations, we've come to the conclusion that the centre of this
huge circle, is actually Oured city, and to make it even worse, the
exact centre is The White House…"
"The White House sir!?"
Dave burst out.
Paul studied him for a second.
"Yes captain, The White House. We don't know why the hell this is occurring, but I can assure you that Homeland Intelligence is looking into the matter."
"I see… And your point why I'm in here is…?" Dave asked.
"Of course. I want you to gather your flight ASAP, and take to the skies in one hour, which would be… at 1534 hours. It will be a recon mission, along with a homeland defence mission. We need to take those guys out fast, before they get far. You understand?"
"Yes sir, I do sir." Dave said, looking nowhere.
"Good, you have your orders captain, dismissed," Paul said to Dave, who left his yet most unusual briefing.
If not for a reason, why do anything?
Part 3: Splash one.
He then went through the base looking for his flight, whilst thinking of the briefing. The commander had acted very unusual. In the end, he put a rest to the matter, and found his flight, all taking care of their planes.
"Jack? JACK!" he yelled inside the hangar, and Jack who for some reason had his head in the bottom of the cockpit, with his legs sticking out, appeared.
"What? WHAT?" he yelled in return, and picked up a small wet rack from the cockpit.
"Prepare to go up in fourty. We're heading for the Beltson region to the north. The commander wants us to take out any more recon planes as they emerge."
"What!? The commander? Why him?" Jack asked, and climbed down the ladder.
"Beats me. He was really acting strange… I don't know it's probably nothing."
"Well, to me he's always been strange, so it couldn't have been that unusual could it?" Jack said, and chuckled.
"I guess you're right… Tell the others will ya'? I gotta ready my plane," Dave asked, and left.
"What? And I don't!?" Jack yelled after him.
Captain! They're outnumbering us we can't evade! What are we gonna do?
Just stick to the basics! You'll do fine, as long as you don't do anything reckless!
I ca… He's on to me! I can't evade him! Requesti…
Captain? Captain…? Captain!
"Wha'!?" Dave yelled from inside the cockpit and opened his eyes. He must have fallen asleep. He looked up to his left, where a person was leaning in over him.
"Are you ok? You must have passed out there," the crew chief asked him, sounding a bit worried.
"I'm… fine. Just fine." Dave asked, and pulled on his helmet.
The crew chief seemed like he was gonna pull him out of the cockpit, but then nodded.
"The plane is clear; you can go up when you're ready." He said, and climbed down again.
Dave clicked the oxygen mask into placed, and closed the canopy.
"Hawk 1 to control tower Alpha-Charlie-Omega, requesting permission to taxi for take off following flight plan two-three-six-two Golf over," he said over the radio.
"Control tower to Hawk 1, wait a minute please."
It happened rarely that he was told to wait, but he took advantage of the time, and sat back comfortably.
Then one after another, the fighters that had taken off hours earlier to take out the UAV's, landed on the main runway, and taxied away. Dave looked at his watch. They had been away for four hours. He prayed he didn't have to be away that long himself.
"Ok, Hawk 1 taxi to take off on runway zero-two, and await further orders." The controller said a minute later.
"Roger that tower, Hawk 1 rolling." He pushed the engines past idle, and slowly rolled out of the hangar, passing line after line of Raptors on the tarmac, standing still, while some maintenance was being done here and there.
Jack had rolled out behind him, and followed him to the runway, staying on his left wing.
In every one of the ten years Dave had been a fighter pilot, Jack had flown with him. They were a team. They could predict each others every move, and maximized their efforts in the sky thereby. Dave thought of the countless times he had gotten a bandit of Jack's six, and how Jack in return had gotten a bandit of Dave's tail an equal amount of times. They were a lot alike when they were up.
"Hawk 1 and 2 in take off position on runway zero-two requesting take off."
"Roger Hawk 1 and 2, take off frequency for Hawk will be one-two-one point niner."
"Roger tower, Hawk taking off," Dave said, pushing his throttles forward. He shot by everything; the transports, the fighters and the Comanches sitting idle in the far east end of the base.
He took of, retracted his landing gear and reached five-thousand in less than a minute.
He and Jack were soon joined by the two others, Matt Coltrane and Kathryn Johnson; the only female pilot in the squadron.
"Hawk 2 through 4, A/B climb to angels forty-five, and turn to three-five-zero."
A unanimous 'roger'.
Clouds… Nothing but clouds… Friggin, never-ending CLOUDS! He thought twenty minutes later, supercruising towards his destination, the Beltson region.
The Beltson region was a somewhat similar air space to the Belkan B7R, aka. 'The Round Table', at where larger amounts of planes had been shot down, than even the hundreds in B7R.
The airspace had been extremely active during both World Wars, and the Usean / Osean conflict in 1931, and during World War II, there had been at least fifty planes in the air at a time, from the 5th of September, to the 10th of September 1943, and at least two-hundred aircraft had been shot down.
Now, it was a huge forest, with large, empty spots where trees were missing, and the plane wrecks could still be seen.
A shiver went down Dave's spine, as he thought of all the pilots, whom had lost their lives there.
"Hawk 3 and 4 descend to four-thousand, and commit CAP, at vector zero-zero-eight, Hawk 2, follow me. These UAV's supposedly, can't be spotted before they reach the Beckins line, so we'll need to act fast."
"Roger Hawk 1, but I'm still not sure this is the right place… Call it a woman's intuition." Kathryn said.
"You may be right, but it's out of our hands Kathryn." Matt broke in, as we swung around.
"Yeah, ain't that right…" Kathryn frowned.
"Hawk 2 through 4, status report." Dave said, as he manoeuvred down through the clouds, and levelled out.
"Hawk 2, nothing to report."
"Hawk 3, nothing to report."
"Hawk 4, nothing to re… wait a minute! Multiple contacts, at two-zero-zero, one-nine-zero and one-eight zero! All bearing two-two-zero at angles thirty captain!"
WHAT!? He thought, and looked down; she was right. At least five red triangles had appeared on the radar, without anyone noticing up till now.
"Ok then, Hawk 3 and 4 turn to one-nine-one full A/B, and take out the rear three, weapons are hot," he said, and reminded him of himself a year ago. "Hawk 2, follow me, and we'll take out the ones up front." He said and continued: "Hawk flight to control tower, we've got multiple contacts, and varying vectors, turning to intercept."
"How do we know they're what we're looking for?" Kathryn asked, following Matt.
"We don't, but I trust my aircraft enough to know they're R-45's, coming from Wellow. Need anymore clarification?" Dave asked.
"I guess not…"
"Aaaand the woman was proven wrong," Jack chuckled, as he engaged the afterburners.
"Range to first target, three-five miles, and then two more at four-zero, and four-five miles…" Dave grumbled a minute later.
"Roger leader, intercepting. I'll take out the first; you concentrate on the other two. Captain. Permission to disperse?" Jack asked, and looked at Dave.
"Roger, permission to disperse granted. Climb to angels thirty-one, and shoot it down." Dave commanded, and swung a bit to the right.
"Roger, Hawk 2 dispersing." Jack shot directly upwards, pulling god who knows how many G's. "Hawk 2, target acquired… I got a good lock! Fox three!!" He yelled, and released an AMRAAM, and his main weapons bay closed in a second.
Dave himself, watched the thin trail grow longer and longer, and sped up.
In a minute, he had acquired the remaining two targets, and looked down. As he looked, the rear aircraft disappeared, and Kathryn burst out: "Splash one for Bogue!"
Dave locked on to the other aircraft, and fired two AMRAAM's in rapid succession.
"Fox three, fox three!" He exclaimed.
Less than a minute later, the radar had been cleared of all enemies.