Chp. 7: Cave of the Lindwurm
April 2, 1995
Above Wesson, Osea
"Fang 02, pickle!"
Matt looked out his cockpit as the Osean Marine AV-8B Harrier released the pair of Mk.82 "Snake Eye" bombs and pulled away, tracers floating up at the grey and green attack jet as it pulled off target. His eyes swept to the column of Belkan M113s and their escorting ZSUs much farther below, the newest batch of reinforcements into Wesson. The Osean forces here were still on the defensive, trying to find a firm piece of ground to hold and stop the Belkan invaders and their surprisingly heavy air support from taking the settlement. But now that things were settled, Osean air power was coming in with all guns blazing. And some nice tactics had been developed.
Case in point was the foursome of Harriers that Matt and three other F-15Es had been working armed recon AV-8's VTOL capability had a surprisingly nice advantage in the city: it could hide among the tall buildings and ambush enemy forces (or hide from any BAF fighters that came this way), and its ability to be forward-deployed was already being put to use by OMC forces near the lines, meaning support could be cycled faster.
"Good hits, 02, good hits." Johnny called as he and Matt made a pass to confirm the damage.
"Roger that." The marine pilot replied.
"Okay Longsword 1, make your run along the same heading as Fang 02 and 09 did." An army sniper team hidden among the urban jungle radioed.
"Roger that Nightcrawler 5-4, standby." Johnny said. His direction of voice changed to his wingman.
"Okay Longsword 1-4, follow me in and make your pass right after mine."
"Roger that, 1-3." Matt replied.
The two F-15s banked over the convoy as it scattered across the freeway. Matt noted that the lead vehicles: Leopard 2 MBTs. Despite the insistence the Belkan force here had no heavy armor; the last few days had shown quite the contrary. Matt kept his mind on the Shilkas, though, as their muzzles flashed in rapid succession. He also tried to spot anyone who might be carrying a MANPADS. His eyes went forward as they stayed just a thousand feet or so over some of the higher buildings in downtown.
"Marshall, what's the radar picture?" He asked.
"We're clear, AWACS ain't giving me anything either." Henry reported.
The two Strike Eagles brought their noses towards the convoy. Johnny took the lead and went in front of Matt two miles out. As they came upon the convoy at high speed, tracers came up in earnest. But the attacking Oseans weren't driving subsonic aircraft this time…
Matt and Henry's F-15 had been endowed with eight Mk. 82s. The pilot released four with a "pickle" call and pulled away, tracers flashing past the jet on either side just yards away. He spotted flashes from atop a Leo 2 as one of its crew tried to hit him with his MG3. Longsword 1-4 was too fast for the gunner, and the man was soon caught up in dealing with the eight bombs coming down on his convoy. The two fighter-bombers passed by about a thousand feet over the roadway, a remaining ZSU or two trying to get them. As Matt pulled away, he spotted a flash in his rearview mirrors. Marshall confirmed.
"SAM at our six, Prince, break left and deploy flares!" Henry called out as he spotted a lone figure with an SA-16 among the carnage.
Matt let off a burst of the countermeasures and made a spiraling power climb to the left, bringing the aircraft into a tighter turn with each second. The weapon slewed its path towards the dark gray jet as it tried to evade, and Matt deployed more flares and kept up his climb. He looked down as Johnny made a second run to suppress any stragglers. He saw a ZSU put a few rounds near his right wing, but after a second of tension, Johnny's F-15 was climbing away steadily, its pilot hooting at his victories. Henry followed the SA-16 as it went ballistic, the F-15's tailpipes out of its range of vision.
"Nightcrawler 5-4, what's the convoy's status?" Johnny spoke up.
"That looks like most of them…" the sniper responded. Longsword 1-3's pilot grunted and turned his attention to his friend.
"Prince, what's your fuel status?"
Matt checked his fuel gauge, tapping it just to make sure it wasn't on the fritz.
"We're close to bingo here." He said.
"Roger that. Nightcrawler, we're running low on bombs and fuel here, so we're gonna head back to the barn." Johnny said.
"Roger that, Longsword, thanks for your help." Nightcrawler 5-4 signed off with…
Johnny carefully caressed one of the scorch marks from the ZSU as his ground crew set down the proper color of paint to clean up the scuffs. Matt and Henry exchanged looks with Luther as the pilot walked towards them.
"I think I should get some art on my bird besides my bomb count." He announced, more to himself than the other three.
He looked at Matt and Henry's Strike Eagle. Their jet had three pieces of art on it. The oldest was the ghostly-looking white and blue horse head, with the inscription "The Prince's Steed" below it. The other two were a small BAF symbol for the MiG-29 they'd bagged, and a black bomb silhouette with the number of missions they'd flown (12 so far).
"What kind of art would you get?" Matt asked as they began to walk towards the squadron's building to debrief. His friend pointed up his chin in thought.
"As much as I'd like some classic pin-up art, the PC police would probably soil their panties…" He said. Matt laughed.
"Maybe we should send them an autographed picture of the work?" He suggested.
The four continued to exchange quips and remarks as they entered. Johnny and Luther spilt off to file out yellow forms: reports that explained the damage and allowed it to be kept on record for their Strike Eagle. Meanwhile Matt went to a large board outside the squadron's primary briefing room to check the flight schedule. The next briefing was to be at 1800, and surprisingly the mission was listed as "Airfield Interdiction". Matt could easily guess they'd be going into Belka, where they hadn't really been since the invading force from that country had crossed the border, at which point they'd been flying long patrols, loaded with bombs to drop on anything waving a flag of yellow, black and white. As he looked away, he saw Baroness walking his way. He smiled and turned towards her.
"How yah feeling, Baroness?" He asked. She managed a smile.
"Days have been getting better."
Matt looked at a nearby picture on the wall in thought, then back at his friend. She had been willing to open up in bits about what was on her mind, and her friend listened. For the most part she didn't need advice; she just needed someone she trusted to talk to her. Prince had an idea of how to help her today.
"If you're up for it Me, Ratpack and Marshall are gonna hit a few balls at the driving range to let off some steam before the brief. Wanna join? I saw you weren't scheduled for alert." He suggested. She looked at him and tilted her head.
"None of you three strike me as golfers." Valentina said.
"We do it as a stress-reliever, just rent some clubs and balls and swing away, cracking jokes and stuff like that." He explained. The woman considered his question a minute, and then nodded with a wider, and more familiar, smile.
"Very well, I'll go." She agreed.
After they debriefed with Major Louis Matt, Johnny, and Henry met up with Valentina and into Henry's 1994 Ford Explorer. The trio made bits of conversation as they drove to the southwest corner of the base, away from the concentration of buildings. The base had a driving range but strangely no golf course itself. That was in a nearby town 15 miles away. Matt felt much more at ease as the group rented their supplies from an enlisted guy inside a small wooden shack. He had a country station on, playing "A Thousand Miles from Nowhere" by Dwight Yoakam.
"Almost like there's no war going on, eh sir?" The Airman commented as he handed Johnny a driver, probably from the dreamy feeling the music had. Music seemed to be the soldier's cure for stress.
"Yeah, and in all honesty I wish that feeling could go on just a while longer." The lieutenant replied as he passed the object to Valentina. She examined it thoughtfully, gripping the rubber cover at one end as firmly as she could. Prince motioned for her to follow him to one of the stations.
"The trick, Baroness, is to have the right stance and move your body in a single, smooth motion." Matt proclaimed as he set a snow-white ball atop a tee.
He looked at her as she watched intently from a safe distance, driver at her side. Matt put his legs shoulder-width apart and centered himself on the ball, straightening up. He jokingly wriggled his hips in a flamboyant manner, which earned and arched eyebrow from her and a wolf whistle from Johnny.
"Yeah, shake those hips, baby!" He hooted.
Matt drew back his club until it was higher than his head and brought it forward, pivoting his upper body as the ball was went down the flat landscape with an almost hollow whack. He blocked the early afternoon sun from his vision as it landed a hundred or so yards away.
"See, nothing to it." He beamed at her.
This had to be the most curious part of the war. The pilots went out during some part of the day to drop bombs, on targets atop their native soil, and then they came back to the base they called home to drink and play golf between scheduled sorties. Rumors had also begun to fly around that soon dependents would be let back on the base (when hostilities had begun, all non-essential personnel had been evacuated for safety reasons). Henry had already expressed a small uneasiness at his wife and children's' return. Matt could sympathize with him; He couldn't think of anyone who wanted to come home and say "Daddy bombed people today" when their kids wanted to know what they'd done at work…
The room's occupants were seated as Colonel Mackey cleared his throat for the daily evening brief.
"From now on, I'll try to squeeze what big-picture level details I can into things. I obviously can't relay every detail, so if you need to know what's going on for whatever reason, all squadron TVs will be tuned to various news channels." The Colonel said as a prologue. He looked down at the notes on the podium for a minute before shifting his gaze back up.
"The situation for Osea is improving, especially here on the Southern Flank. Osean forces are still in Wesson, and the Belkan advance has stalled due to their inability to acquire air superiority over the city and thus keep their forces safe from getting bombed. Our bases in the region are recovering from their damage, no matter how serve. Of course, this is something we contributed to in no small part." He began with a youthful grin. Major Louis howled while Henry cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed "Paladins!". The Squadron CO held up a hand.
"On the Northern Flank, The Belkans have made it 80 miles across the border and taken several large towns, but are slowing quickly…However…"
The Colonel's face got grim.
"Lady Luck has yet to smile upon Sapin and Ustio. In Sapin, the invading forces have seized the Futuro Canal, and they are pressing along Route 171 through Arlon. In Ustio, things have reached the point that they may very well lose their country. As you all know, the government has fled Directus and is in exile here in Osea. The latest reports tell me that any Ustian forces, most of them foreign mercenaries, have been squeezed into what is known as the Tyrann Pocket. Originally the Osean Navy was tasked with provided them support, but they've come under considerable harassment from BAF bombers with ASMs. Our Ustian friends are holding out, barely. We received word that they've beaten off several air raids."
Mercenaries…there was an interesting one, Matt thought. But if they were holding back the "mighty" Belkan military from a small piece of Ustio, they had to have some serious skill, or just lots of stupidity and big cojones. And for once, the big, bad Osean Navy, with its F-14 pilots who always walked around like they owned everything and the F/A-18 drivers who bragged they could do every mission better than anyone else weren't dashing in like the cavalry.
"Today's flight leads are Major Jeanette Dillinger and Major Ned Constantine. You should all be well aware now who you're going to be flying with." He said as he finished.
Major Dillinger would be leading the flight performing airfield interdiction, which Matt was assigned to. She led him, Valentina, and Johnny along with the respective WSOs into one of the smaller briefing rooms. Valentina seemed particularly unhappy about the fact she was the woman's flight lead.
The problem with Jeanette Dillinger, Valentina had told her male friends, was not her performance. "Phantom" was an okay pilot and did her best when the rubber hit the road. The problem was the apparent chip she carried about being a female officer. Dillinger had been one of the first women to join the OAF as a combat pilot, but she had a sense of paranoia that she was a target. Its fuel was an incident where a female F-16 trainee, deemed unsafe as a pilot, filed bogus sexual harassment charges to "persuade" her commanders to pass her. Talk shows and news media leapt on it, immediately running to her aid and criticizing the "Military Patriarchy". The Osean Air Force fought back, releasing information about how she'd endangered several other lives during training and thus wasn't fit to pass. But the truth was scorned, and the damage done.
The Major hated Valentina too, the Yuktobanian-Osean was sure. Valentina was accepted by the squadron and had never shown any worry of things like sexual harassment or resentment. If Valentina was harassed, she'd act. But she had no reason to fear, unlike Dillinger, who had an unfounded reason to believe the men around her would wait for the first reason to kick her out of the military. Matt shot his friend a "Don't worry, I've got your back" kind of look as they sat down. The Major stood at parade rest as the projector fired up.
"As the Colonel mentioned earlier, the Osean Navy task force, codenamed Task Force Sea Dragon, has been under harassment from the Belkan Air Force's small but potent bomber bombers fly a path through Futuro, where they meet fighter escorts, and a part of Arlon before reaching Oured Bay. They managed to sink two major ships so far: the amphibious assault ship OFS Kirwin Islands and the command ship OFS Eratosthenes. Our mission will be to attack one of three BAF bases housing the bombers they're using to keep the task force out of Oured Bay." She began.
The image behind her became a map, a dark yellow pointing out where Belkan forces were in control. Things zoomed in to the lower part of Belka.
"We will be sortied as part of a major strike package aimed at one of their bases, Fausmahn, in South-central Belka. Our task will be to hit the bases control facilities and the bombers themselves. We'll be flying alongside a flight of Strike Eagles from the 144th armed to hit several of the bases hardened bunkers with GBU-28s. We'll be getting the full complement of support as well: F-15s on CAP, SEAD and jammers provided by the Osean Marines. Our AWACS will be "Mr. Big".
The base itself is protected by Mirage 2000 fighter-interceptors and triple-A, primarily SA-10 Surface to Air Missiles and ZSUs. Our SEAD component will be going in a few minutes ahead to clear a path. Our primary targets are the bombers themselves and the base's control tower, as shown on the map." She said. Valentina raised a hand.
"What about the base's runway?" She asked.
"I haven't been informed on that matter so I believe it is not under us to deal with It. If you are presented with the opportunity, feel free to hit it, but remember your primary targets." the squadron intelligence officer said. She waited for any other questions, but no other hands rose.
"One other thing that I have to note. We are unsure, but the Belkans may or may not have the pinnacle of their air defense system, Excalibur, online. As you all learned in briefings regarding the Belka military, it's a powerful chemical laser, but we cannot determine if it's a threat…should it come into play…dive down to the deck and use the terrain to protect yourself."
It wasn't the most comforting advice for the officers in the wood-walled room, but then again they'd never trained to fight laser weaponry. The flight lead cleared her throat and nodded.
"Okay then, let's suit up." She said…
"Longsword Lead has reached the IP."
Matt switched from the AIM-120s on his outboard wing pylons to the eight GBU-12s hung from his fuselage. The four-ship of F-15Es began to spread apart among the evening clouds. He kept his two external fuel tanks on hand though. He didn't want to go to internal fuel just yet, not when there were no immediate threats. The pilot glanced down at his radar display.
"Venom Lead to Longsword and Boomer, we're out of HARMs but we can stick around and jam any remaining threats to the best of our abilities. Bengal Flight is on its way out." The lead EA-6 of the two from VMAQ-8, The Black Widows, piped up.
"Longsword Lead copies all." Major Dillinger replied.
"Boomer Lead copies all, what about the base's Mirage compliment?" the lead pilot of the Boomerang four-sip asked.
"Orion Flight has pulled em north of the base, you should be clear in."
Matt was tempted for a moment to change to his GBUs, but he held back. The base was still a few minutes from sight. He looked at Johnny a mile off his left wing.
"Longsword 1-4, make a pass over the base and make your run when I'm clear of mine. I'll cover you." He said, sticking to the pre-planned method of attack.
"Roger that, 1-3." Johnny said in a chipper voice.
"Longsword 1, descend to Angels 8. We'll go in after Boomer Flight makes their first run." Phantom ordered.
The RWR was chirping, weakly though. The jammers were doing what they could, and Matt was grateful that he was finally flying a sortie with serious ECM support. He steepened the dive just a little to reach 8,000 feet before they hit Fausmahn. The clouds drifted behind him and gave way to the flat Belkan countryside cut by thin lines of black that were roads. Matt made sure his NVGs were still locked in place out of habit and leveled out at the exact altitude ordered by the flight lead. In the distance he could see fires alight, probably ZSUs and SAMs around the base itself. The lights were out too…the Marine Hornets must've hit the base's power supply. He spotted a line of four large and ungainly-looking aircraft on the vast tarmac, parked side by side.
"Okay Marshall I've got a VID on four BM-335s. I'm gonna make runs as slow as I can, don't let me down." He radioed as he tightened his shoulder straps a little more and adjusted the throttles.
"Roger that, just leave it to me." The WSO replied as he made sure the LANTIRN's camera and designator were up to speed.
To the left, Matt saw a few clouds of smoke billowing up as the Boomerang formation delivered its GBU-28B "Deep Throat" bombs on the firmer structures of the facility. Matt had never seen a bunker buster in action, so it puzzled him that the explosions were mostly dust from all the times he'd seen other weapons impact, even when those were supposedly weapons bunkers.
"Longsword 1-4, break formation." He ordered as the shapes became clear.
As Johnny swung overhead and went on to the right of Longsword 1-3, Matt waited for Henry to get a good lock for their LGBs. The WSO centered the crosshairs on his central display over the BAF heavy. He checked one last time to make sure they had the right laser codes before firing the laser. In the front, Matt saw the target symbol appear on one of his displays. He punched the release button twice for good measure.
"Longsword 1-3, pickle!"
Henry watched the crosshairs as they balanced on the center section of the bomber, both weapons flying down with increasing speed. His pilot kept the F-15 at its steady pace, slowing only briefly to punch off the two wing tanks. They waited as the weapons hammered down and broke the Lindwurm's back, Henry giving occasional commentary on its time to impact and various measurements around the sights.
"Good hits, good hits, lasing next target." He reported smoothly as he slaved the targeting pod's vision to the next target, moving fast as they approached it.
He saw a few fragments from the unfueled (he guessed) first bomber clang against the second target, which probably had to have some damage now. He passed the proper route of travel to the bombs and Matt sent the two on their way. Henry's eyes trained as they passed over, Matt giving the machine more power. As the camera began to flip to track for just a few seconds more, he saw the impacts.
"Good impacts on the second target." He reported.
"Roger, Longsword 1-3 is rolling off target." Matt responded.
Prince yanked the stick to the right and pulled the Strike Eagle away from its straight path. They hadn't even encountered any tracers He looked over his shoulder, trying to catch other impacts from the rest of the flight. He switched back to his AMRAAMs and air-to-air mode on the radar for the time. Johnny called off his own bomb releases, confirmed by the edges of flashes as Matt began to maneuver his F-15 to make a second pass. Through his goggles he could spot the remains of at least half a dozen bombers. The control tower was akin to a snapped pencil. Matt pointed out one of the taxiways that connected the tarmac to the runways and called for Henry to lase it.
"Prince, we don't have penetrators." The WSO protested.
"We can still try, lase it!" his friend snapped.
Henry grunted and moved the crosshairs before locking the piece of concrete with the laser. Matt let off the other four bombs, dipping below 4000 feet as he passed over the target. The radio crackled to life as the bombs impacted, dotting the little strip.
"Longsword, we're tracking two bandits approaching the base from Heading 358, 50 miles at Angels 15. Looks like they slipped away from Orion, suggest you proceed West and regroup with Boomer Flight." One of the E-3's controllers spoke up.
"Roger that Mr. Big, all Longswords, regroup and escape to the West." The Major ordered.
In response to the enemy aircraft, Matt made an ascending bank to the right, going to his AMRAAMs again. The APG-70 was set back to A/A Mode, ready to guide the medium-range missiles.
"Longsword 1-3, I'm coming up on your wing." Johnny reported as his F-15 was slipping into view. He sounded all too willing to fire on the Mirages, to get a kill to his name. For once maybe it was a good thing Johnny could be trigger-happy…
"Roger that, Longsword 1-1 and 1-2, we'll shoot off our AMRAAMs, give the bandits something to think about so we can slip away." Matt said over the radio.
"Negative, 1-3, bug out now, that's an order!" Dillinger barked.
The tone of Matt and Henry's RWR suggested otherwise as the BAF aircraft screamed in.
"Longsword Lead, we are spiked, going defensive!" Matt retorted. Nothing could be down now, and Matt was NOT about flash his rear to the enemy. He saw two TD boxes appear, and then he got lock.
"Longsword 1-3, Fox 3, Fox 3!" He said as the RWR's tone went constant.
With his and his wingman's medium-range weapons gone, Matt ordered Johnny to break and head west. Both had a missile on him, closing fast. It had to be a Super 530 if they were Mirage 2000s. Matt punched out chaff and divided his attention between the incoming threats and not hitting his wingman. The other F-15 was sliding behind him as he made a hard turn.
"Okay Ratpack when they get closer, turn into them." Matt said.
"Roger that, Prince!" his friend barked.
Matt stole a glance at the missile, now clearly visible, and left tracking it to Henry. His friend's NVGs were nearly kissing the canopy as they shrieked along perpendicular to the 530s. Matt couldn't give a damn about whether his own weapons had hit; he'd never intended them to, he just needed them to distract. The same went for Phantom as she howled at both of them to rejoin her and Baroness immediately.
"Longsword Lead, we are engaged defensive, we will join you momentarily." Matt assured with a strained voice. Anticipation edged his voice, and Phantom seemed reluctant to repeat her warning.
"Okay, dump some chaff and break now!" Henry shouted almost immediately after his pilot had spoken.
He tightened his muscles as the aluminum went out and broke into the missile. G forces piled down onto every bone in his and Marshall's body, much like that first night against the AA-9. Matt strained to see if Johnny was there. He was. Matt looked forward again and desperate sought the missile. Suddenly a low, angry scream hit his eardrums.
"Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!"
Matt saw the missile bound for him pass by, he kept up his turn to come around and flee, reluctantly deciding it was either turn his back, or try and fight. Option two was out of the question, for it was a long way home. He looked towards the last spot he'd seen Johnny in and had to swallow a gasp. There was a ball of dissipating flame in Johnny's place.
A/N: So I'd like to take this opportunity to make a small(ish) announcement of sorts: Operation Sea Dragon (my first Ace Combat fanfic) is getting a rewrite (I kind of hinted at this in Dillinger's brief). I have generally strayed from rewrites, but writing this story has driven me to do so. There are several things I could've (and now really want to) do with VF-115's tale. It's obviously going to be a long time, but it's coming. Also, I have Excalibur offline due to the fact it doesn't start doing stuff until Belka is actually invaded. Seriously, you'd think they'd have the sucker fired up from day one like the Eruseans did Stonehenge in 03-05 and the Allies would've been trying to deep-six it from the start, not wait until Cipher had a rep.
