Chp. 10: We Did the Ditch!
April 23, 1995
OFS Stinger
"Death is inevitable, my fellow sailors. We are human; we are not above God, his Son or his Kingdom. Therefore our time on Earth is never forever, and it is never given any guaranteed length…"
Ryan listened silently as Lieutenant Commander/Father Marlowe gave his sermon. Other members of the ship sat in the pews around him, listening as the chaplain offered a way for them to address the losses of shipmates and friends over the past month. Ryan hadn't realized it'd been that long until recently.
"God never said that following him would make life easy. Life this way was never supposed to be easy. The life of a warrior, the sheepdog who guards the flock from wolves, is never easy. But with God we have something to draw strength and direction from. We have a way to find a greater purpose, fellow sailors. He takes death, an event that seems to many the ultimate in pain, and makes it nothing put a temporary struggle; one that leads to eternal life with him. So know that your fellow warriors suffer no more. Let's bow our heads and pray fellow sailors."
Ryan lowered his head while Marlowe led the others in prayer. Every time he came here he felt a new sense of his own humanity. It was so easy to feel all-powerful and in control when you had a college degree, a commission in the Osean Navy, and were a fighter pilot who flew the F-14 Tomcat. Even when you were launched or recovering you didn't think about it. Maybe night landings, but it tended to play second fiddle to the sheer desire to get aboard safely. But you came here and you were humbled. If it was your time, you could find your cockpit would be your coffin. Ryan opened his eyes as the prayer, and subsequently the service, ended. He stood up and followed the others out, trying to decide whether or not he wanted to die in the front seat of his plane. He nearly bumped into another person going down the hall.
"Sorry I was a bit wrapped up in thought." Ryan apologized. He looked up to see Tom.
"Bull, what brings you around this part of the boat?" the blonde asked with a questioning look. He shrugged.
"Can only have so many vices, man."
"Rocky" Bradford cocked a brow at the enigmatic statement and then looked back at the chapel. Father Marlowe was leaving and the Catholic Priest, Lieutenant Commander/Father Isaac Griss. He put two and two together.
"Talking to Father Griss?" He asked.
"Yeah…I uh, can't be all partying and vices all the time, yah know?" Tom admitted.
"Nothing wrong with that." Ryan replied readily. The other man who'd been known for his wild lifestyles quickly excused himself and hurried for the door.
"Hey, Bull."
The taller pilot looked back at him and found Ryan was back near the door.
"Lemme go inside with you, man. Least you can have a familiar face along for this little venture. Yeah I know, I ain't Catholic but moral supports better than none." He proposed. Tom nodded and walked in…
The phrase "Did the Ditch" had been in Osean Navy culture for decades, Cody Walker lectured. The tradition of visiting the Futuro Canal and patrolling it was like part of a family's yearly road trip. Since the OFS Osea had first traversed her in 1949, such an event had only been stopped twice. Ranger would be a part of both, having first seen combat when it'd been cut off during the 1985 crisis. In a performance that the squadron declared was nothing short of Oscar-worthy, their squadron commander explained how grave an offense the Belkans had committed. Like a vegetarian railing against a steakhouse, he amused and riled up his aircrews for the fight ahead. Generally Ranger wasn't known for this kind of humorous act, but the need to maintain morale was something he valued.
"It's like having a man steal yer dog! It's like having a man steal yer wife! It's unlawful, almost! The Belkans, with their noses angled up high, come stompin in and take The Ditch?! Why Ah'd sooner fly an Eagle than Ah'd let them hold The Ditch!" He raved, trying not to smile. His subordinates had long given up hiding their grins; it was only fuel to his fire.
"Ah see yah boys smiling, all yah West Coast boys! Y'all get to go too Songola, Emmeria and the Islands, and chase all those young girls. Ah never expected y'all to love The Ditch! Fool Ah am for havin hope." He answered, sighing dramatically at the end. The man's composure slowly reformed into the usual afterwards. Cody smoothed out his hair and put his aviators on the podium he used.
"But Ah know y'all know the motto and mission of us Typhoons very well. So we're gonna go out, and we're gonna ride that storm. And whadda we do after that?!" He said, becoming the king calling his knights to war at the end.
"WE KILL THE BANDITS!" The squadron roared back.
Charged for what many believed to be the ultimate fight for Sapin, the pilots exited the room to gear up. Today, VF-115 was launching six of its jets to cover a strike on the airfield at the canal. VFA-215 would be adding four of its Hornets to the mix to provide close-in CAP for a strike force of six birds from VFA-28. They'd be hitting one of the "airbases" at the canal. In reality it was a small airport used by the oil companies there, but the Sapinish government did have the facilities for a small detachment of fighters plus radar. The Hornets and four Prowlers would destroy the radars and most of the base's facilities while four Intruders destroyed the runways and knocked out hardened aircraft shelters.
Further complicating matters was the fact that two other strikes would be going on over the canal. The Ustians would be sending a force of F-20A Tigersharks to knock out part of the Belkan ground component of the defense, covered by Mirage F.1s and their only two F-15 Eagles. At the north end of the canal, along the large inland bay there, CVW-15 aboard OFS Kestrel would be destroying the last of the Belkan naval presence in the area while Sapinish F-18s and Tornado GR1s hit the other airbase. Every member of the coalition was coming to Futuro to kick out the Belkans. It was understandable this was being deemed the "ultimate battle" for Sapin.
Ryan would be with his ever-faithful friends Tom and Keith yet again. Ryan gave them the lead position to get them some more experience. Besides Tom had six kills by now; he'd shown he could at least try the lead position more…under supervision. It helped that Keith was as levelheaded as he was. During the time between having geared up and waiting to be called topside, they discussed the route they would take. Coordinating with the rest of the CAP, Ryan and Tom would be on the far right. The plan was to let the Prowlers strike at the defenses around the airbase and then take up position to the northeast of it afterwards. The Hornets would make their runs east to west behind their protective screen.
It was notably warm on the deck that day, enough to where Ryan rolled up his flightsuit's sleeves and kept his mask off until he was easing into place on the #2 Catapult. As much as he'd liked the older HGU-33, it felt less like his head was getting boiled in the 55. It felt like he was all the way over in the Persian Sea, near Kedhan, Shamlak, and Isara. He kept his gloves on to beat the warmed controls, though, and kept two extra bottles of ice-cold water on hand. Everything was being done to prevent the heat from getting him while he was on the ground. The wind rushing down the deck teased him after his canopy was shut. He eventually had to ignore it as he was launched to once again perform his trade.
The ocean was shining blue today, dotted by the gray hulks of warships. Ryan and Tom settled into position 22,000 feet above the Earth and began their steady trek northwest towards Futuro Canal's western side. The gait was slow to allow the EA-6s to stay close by. Ryan kept a constant eye on his fuel; it was possible they would need to bring the KA-6s up further to meet the F-14s after the fight.
"Hey Razor." Ryan spoke up as the whitish-yellow sands of the Ibãnez Desert began to appear at the maximum range of his vision.
"Talk to me, Rocky." His RIO said without lifting his eyes from the radar display.
"I, uh…I asked Mae if she wants to have a kid when I get back." He confessed.
"How long back was this?" Razor replied, arching a brow.
"Last letter, so about five days."
"Did you give it serious, actual thought to this? The costs and such?"
"Razor you know me. I spent three months worrying about proposing to Mae after being with her for years."
"This is very true."
The conversation died down after that while the two shifted into combat mode again. Razor declared them feet dry just as the Prowlers were starting to hone in on the radar signatures further inland. Ryan did have some closing comments, though.
"So is it bad I kind of want a kid in part to keep the bloodline going? Like it's not an active desire but like when I think on it, I don't reject it as a reason."
"I…don't know how to answer that. My degree was in Aerospace Engineering, not Psychology." Razor said.
Holding off on the matter, Ryan switched to chaff and divided his attention between instructions from Tom, the RWR tone, and his RIO. The tones were changing and shifting today in an almost uncertain manner. Unlike the radars of the Belkan Navy, these dishes weren't sitting on top of floating arsenals. SAM sites were "easier" to kill, if you could put it that way. The weapons aimed at the incoming Oseans were examples of the SA-6 Gainful.
"Firebird Lead, this is Galm Lead, we're approaching our IP from your nine. We've got Cheetah Flight with us…keep a heads up." A voice with a Usean accent (no one could place exactly where it was) declared.
"Roger Galm Lead, good hunting."
Ryan looked to his left, but couldn't see anything. Swinging his vision back to the right, he caught glimpses of the smoke trails from AGM-88 HARMs (High-speed Anti-Radiation Missile). His RWR's skittishness began to drop off, but for a long time. It went back up as at least one defiant SAM site rebelled against the incoming Osean missiles that would inevitably render it useless. Ryan didn't see the missile launch against the sandy landscape at first, but he deployed chaff and followed Tom's instructions until he spotted the white-colored missile.
"Rocky, break!" Tom called.
Ryan threw himself away from the missile first, and then used his speed so when he wrenched back to the left, the missile wouldn't be able to follow. More launches heavily suggested two batteries, maybe one among the Belkan ground troops, was gonna go to the death. Ryan dared not roll or make any moves down; that would bring him in range of the ZSU-23-4 "Shilka" or the SA-13 "Gopher". The Gainfuls may have been big and fast, but they were slow to maneuver because of their size. Even as the radar shut down a few more came, probably on optical guidance (Ryan had only learned that while spending his time making the overall plan in Operations). He still deployed chaff and dodged another one, which raced above and exploded behind after being fooled. Both men in the jet could feel the shockwave vibrating their big fighter. There were no signs of any kinds at all, Ryan noted. Nor did any of the MiGs that were supposed to be around seem to be tracking. He smiled and glanced towards one of the ugly-looking Prowlers as he overtook it.
Ryan and Tom ended up closer to the oil refineries by the time the ground-based radars were going silent. It wasn't the best position to be in as Ryan saw the twinkles of ZSUs vainly trying to reach them. AWACS was also making bandit calls now. They were late.
"Firebird, this is Ambassador, pop-up contacts. Bandits at 165, 70 miles, Angels 18. We count four, most likely Fulcrums." Their E-2 radioed.
"Roger that Ambassador." Cody replied, unable to hide his testiness. "Galm Lead" cut in.
"Galm and Cheetah will go for the bandits near the mouth of the canal, Firebird. Press for the airbase and take out the rest of em." Galm's leading pilot volunteered. The Typhoon pilots all wondered if their commander might deny the Ustian.
"Negative Galm, Cheetah, Cadillac is turning to engage." Privateer Campbell, the XO of VFA-215, cut in.
"…Galm copies all…We uh, our AWACS just handed us bandits to our north." The unseen man replied, working to recompose himself.
"Firebird you have more bandits, just got airborne. Heading 358, 50 miles, Angels 2. Just two now, expect more." The E-2 said, getting things back on track.
Ryan selected the six AIM-7s they had, and Razor started tending to the radar.
"Rocky, loose deuce." Tom radioed.
"Roger, Lead." Ryan said, easing his stick to the left.
The RWR became alerted again as the radars on the Belkans turned towards the Oseans. Their flight paths were both respectively straight and level as each side ran to get to weapons range (AIM-7 and AA-10). Ryan had to wait until 31 miles separation to shoot; the Belkans would be firing just after he knew. The hell with it; if he got off a shot maybe he could stop their attack.
"Firebird 105, Fox 1!" He called.
The RWR surged for a minute, only to drop. Ryan saw a flash far ahead and adjusted so it at least looked like it was going to go to his right.
"Break formation, Rocky." Tom ordered with an edge in his voice.
Ryan did that the best he could while trying to keep a single dot inside the AIM-7's steering circle. Something in him was shouting "show that the Sparrow can kill something for once". He drove the MiG-29 down and to the left with his aggressiveness, daring the protective envelope of AA below. The MiG made a violent snap upwards; Ryan simply abandoned his first AIM-7 and went for a second shot. The two jets were closing in on the range for dogfighting now, and he had to wonder if the Sparrow have enough distance to arm properly. His question was answered in the blink of an eye. The weapon intercepted the Belkan aircraft as if it were a rocket rising up to the stars.
Ryan rolled over and cruised over the airfield high and fast, inverted so he could try and spot any aircraft that might be taking off or trying to hide in the envelope of the defenses on the ground, which ones were left. He saw two explosions below near the perimeter. More HARMs, he guessed; the Prowlers had to be having a field day. He spotted movement on the ground itself and found himself a little surprised they still seemed to be trying to get jets up.
"Skipper, we've got two MiGs trying to take off. Is the AAA down?" Tom radioed.
"Amp Lead reports so." Cody reported. A second later he seemed to catch what Tom might be getting at; it was too late.
Tom snapped right, accelerating away towards the water. At the same time the pilot nosed down. Ryan followed him in support.
"Bull, what're you planning?" He had to ask. His lead's tone fit his personality when he said the next sentence.
"Gonna try and strafe em while they're trying to taxi."
Ryan pushed his teeth together and started to switch to his gun, but stopped. It wasn't good to go jumping up the chain of commander, but…
"Skipper?" He spoke up.
"Watch for AA, yah two. Do not, DO NOT, press if yer RWR beeps." Cody replied reluctantly.
The main threats on the ground near the base, at this point, were ZSUs detached from the army troops around the canal. The two F-14s slowed so they could make a tight turn and start their run at the airfield, once again speeding up to avoid the guns. Tom advised Ryan to break left just before they overshot the Fulcrums to avoid the jets having a good shot immediately after takeoff, to which he couldn't agree more. Tom would be going right. Ryan selected his M61 and kept up with Ryan. The airfield came by in a flash, but he could still see everything clearly. Off to his right, he spotted shapes parked near executive jets that'd been pushed off into the sand to make room. Their un-Fulcrum-like appearance (if that was even a viable word) made him guess they were the Super Etendards supposedly here for anti-shipping. He drew in a breath and depressed the nose for just a second, squeezing off a burst. The aircraft barely had time to warn him once about his altitude before he snapped up and to the left, screaming back to the high altitudes his plane was made for. Razor watched the results, or lack thereof; if anything had happened, they were moving away too fast for it to be seen.
"Okay Rocky, they're getting airborne. If we're gonna nab number seven, we'd better get em now." He advised.
"Roger that." Ryan breathed out.
The rest of the F-14s were circling above and overhead, tangling with the few Belkan jets still higher up. For now he kept his eyes on the darkened shapes of the MiG-29s as they rushed along the floor, probably trying to get to the SA-13s and ZSUs. Ryan, cannon still selected, gave Tom a heads up and made a slashing attack at the fighters before they could do anything like that. This time he had more altitude to play with, allowing him to keep his nose down longer as he started the attack from around 8000 feet. Still he kept it short before pulling away; this time he saw a few flashes on the lead MiG. As they went ahead he made the F-14 turn left faster than usually was called for. The sheer power forced a warrior like yell out of him.
His vision faded even as he grunted and worked his muscles, but Ryan's heart was pounding away too much for him to feel much of anything. He heard Tom call out over the radio that he was coming in from above. Ryan acknowledged; the airframe survived the turn and he selected the AIM-9s he had. The MiGs split and Ryan took the lead guy as he made for the hills beyond the Canal Zone. Just as they hit the terrain the MiG broke left and began to slow. Ryan had too much momentum and was forced to break right and climb. The Fulcrum made a lazy sweep back to the right, increasing speed and centering his nose right on the Tomcat.
Ryan deployed flares as the RWR stayed quiet and quickly brought himself out of after burner. He rolled and went into a Split-S, aiming to move so fast, so violently, so unpredictably the Belkan couldn't keep up. Ryan looked over his shoulder towards his five o' clock and saw the MiG had made as hasty a 180 turn as it could to negate his move.
"He's got an Archer off." Razor reported just before the warning came on.
Without a word Ryan tilted the jet left and made as tight a turn as his speed would allow him. The missile was still coming, prompting Ryan to throw his fighter back to the right and make a wide roll. He let off more flares and rode out the shaking from the Gs. Ryan then came out of the loop in a turn towards the MiG, shaking off the missile. The MiG shot again as it turned towards the F-14, forcing Ryan to snap to the right quickly. He found himself screaming back towards the canal. Ryan had to kill this MiG somehow…he had no tricks to use. Old fashioned way it was.
Ryan decided to at least gain some altitude and pulled up, making a climb to around 10,000 feet. He could see the twisting and turning of the furball over the airfield, and he heard the strikers announcing they were starting to roll in. Ryan went higher to avoid the Hornets.
"Razor can you see what he's got left on him?" Ryan asked.
"I can…I think I can see a pair of Alamos…Nothing else; no dual-Archer launchers today, heh." The RIO observed through several maneuvers to try and get the advantage. Ryan was sarcastically glad his friend found that humorous.
The pilot rolled over and made a dive for the water, speeding up at first and slowing just as he went inverted. The move brought the Fulcrum closer than its pilot would've wanted to be without proper preparation. As a result he went screaming over Ryan and Razor, which Ryan immediately took advantage of. He got his fighter into the best position he could with the energy he had so the AIM-9 had enough of the MiG in its view to get a lock. The Fulcrum trailed flares more as a kneejerk reaction; he didn't even try to maneuver. The F-14 separated from its weapon just after the countermeasures were gone. The kill was quick, almost simultaneous with the launch from the Tomcat.
Ryan pulled up and over the wreckage of the Fulcrum, kill number seven. The pilot turned to the left and struck north to establish a CAP, or try and do something of that nature. He also made a mental note that Tom would need more time being lead around the boat before he led out on a combat hop again. The place was still a ball of confusion. Unbeknownst to the duo in Firebird 105, Cody was mumbling about how the strike was "falling apart like it had in 85". Ryan caught glimpses of Hornets flying in twos and threes, their passes over the airfield followed by explosions and trails of oily black smoke as planes and other flammable objects burned unabated. Belka's last hold on Sapin had been broken…
"Do we have a good camera angle?" The reporter asked his cameraman.
The man with the minicam on his shoulder nodded and the reporter walked out so he could be seen. Behind him, the latest of the LCACs coming ashore was easing into place. Aboard was another M1A1 Abrams being sent to give a heavier punch to the infantry and lighter vehicles, LAVs and AAVs, fighting near the refinery. They waited until the sound subdued to a tolerable level before the cameraman started recording.
"This is Jason Ian for Eastern Osean News. Behind me, elements of the Osean 1st Marine Division land after the initial assault on Futuro Canal. Though we can't hear it over the sounds of this military hovercraft, called an LCAC, coming ashore, we've seen signs of fighting throughout the day. The Osean forces have been very particular about avoiding a fight near the machinery or the oil storage tanks around the facility. They believe that the destruction of these will not only lead to dangerous conditions, but will adversely affect their objective of securing this facility intact." He stated.
As the man talked, a pair of AH-1W Super Cobras rushed overhead, west of the beachhead. The cameraman instinctively moved his device to catch them.
"The Marines have been flying in attack helicopters like those ones and jets just as frequently. The amount of equipment going ashore indicates that the fighting is fierce over the refineries and ship facilities. She unfortunately have not been allowed to head closer to the battle for our own safety; for now the only cameras in there are lone reporters who can capture the fight in the heat of the action." Ian went on.
The tank that'd recently come ashore moved up to a forward area were another two were. The last of the tanks to be brought ashore in the latest wave was due to arrive soon.
"We haven't been given any clear indication on when the area will be safe yet, but we've been told that the Belkans have nowhere to run and have been attacked extensively prior to this landing. It's speculated that the Belkan forces here will be unable to hold out for long and will surrender in short time. This is Jason Ian, Eastern Osean News."
As the bit finished up, another pair of AH-1s went overhead, armed with fresh missiles, rockets, and bullets. Belka's last Sapinish stronghold may have been broken, but it hadn't stopped punching and kicking.