Disclaimer: I don't like repeating myself, but oh well...I own nothing

Last time: The Hrimfaxi sinks

This time: Wardog goes to liberate a POW camp.

Well, the timing couldn't be better. Today's Memorial Day here in the States. If you don't know, or care, this is the day we're supposed to honor our vets and the vets who didn't make it back. That said, I dedicate this chapter to those Veterans, MIAs, KIAs, and POWs, past, present, and though it's a sad thing to think about, future.

God bless our boys!

Blaze awoke the morning after the party with a mild headache, which he knew the exact source of. He knew that he might've made a mistake in drinking that Jeremiah Weed, but there was no helping it. He and his squadron, his squadron that he'd trained from nuggets no less, with a lot of help from Bartlett.

Forrest had to admit, he was a little nervous when he'd planned his assault on Hrimfaxi, concerned that his team wouldn't have followed the suicidal plan, but they'd done it spectacularly, even during his little improvisation during the burst missile attack. The ace had spoken with Thunderhead after the assault and the AWACS had said that if he'd been just six seconds slower, they would've been killed by the ICBM.

The ISAF ace, for obvious reasons, didn't tell his team that they'd come within seconds of ending their lives by following him. Not the best thing to tell your team when they were still on Cloud Nine about sinking the monstrous submarine.

Now they were assembled in the briefing room once again, getting ready for their next foray into the hostile Yuktobanian territory. Sure enough, Perrault waddled into the room, along with the Intel officer.

"Alright, people," The commander said, getting right to the chase. "We think we may have a lead on Bartlett." The big man smirked as all four pilots sat forward on the edge of their seats. "Well then, care to take over?"

The intelligence analyst stepped forward. "Gladly. As the Commander said, we've located a POW camp in the mountains of Yuktobania. This camp is located in a valley and we've dispatched a contingent of Marines to secure the Osean POWs and get them ready for transport. Now, also at this camp are some rather high-value political prisoners, so to keep them and the others in the camp under their thumb, the Yukes have a flight or two of fighters constantly patrolling the skies.

"To allow the Sea Goblin helicopters to get clear passage into the camp, Wardog is to engage and destroy all the fighters in the area and achieve and maintain air superiority. I expect no trouble from you four. This should be just a cakewalk for you after what we've seen from your Hrimfaxi assault."

"Sir, if this is a POW camp, what can we expect in the way of SAM and Triple A support?" Forrest asked, not about to let that little detail slide.

"A fair bit, but you shouldn't have to worry about them. We're sending a couple of Cobras and Apaches in with the Chinooks we're using for the airlift. They'll handle the surface fire. You're just their to keep their butts safe. Any more questions?"

"Sir, what will happen to Blaze if we bring Captain Bartlett back?" Edge asked. The prospect of facing the war without Forrest flying on her right like some kind of unstoppable protector was a little daunting. The intelligence officer frowned and looked to Perrault who looked rather like he was constipated.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there. There's evidence from the NSA that there're other POW camps located around the country. Bartlett may be in one of those or he may be in this one." The obese commander scowled more heavily. "Whether or not he is in there, you're still going."

Brian scowled. "She never said we weren't. She's just asking a question."

Before Perrault could retort, the Intel officer cut in. "Well, if there are no more questions, we'll get underway. Good luck. Oh, and before I forget, to help the operation, the weather over the operational area is predicted to be pretty crappy. Be careful not to smack yourselves into the mountains."

If any of the pilots were nervous about flying in bad weather and rising terrain, none showed it. They were confident now. For the first time, Blaze felt as if he wouldn't have to constantly keep a half an eye on his wingmen. For their part, the wingmen were confident that they wouldn't get killed in a heartbeat. Until now, all three of the junior pilots had feared making a mistake that would get them an enemy MiG on their tail and an Aphid or Atoll right up the tailpipe.

Despite the risks, the blow against Hrimfaxi had bolstered their own morale and that of the troops everywhere. They'd even won a medal for their 'heroism'. Though, as he had after the destruction of Megalith and Stonehenge and all the other missions he'd survived during the Continental War, Forrest just saw it as his job. Most military heros did think like that. They'd either say that they were just doing their jobs, trying to save buddies, or they gave the credit for all the KIAs out there.

Soon enough, as per routine, the Four Wings of Sand Island, a name that was starting to stick with them after that news reporter that was running around base had gotten through with them, were in the air and on their way to the operational area. The newsie had yet to get a decent picture of Forrest, true to his Mobius 1 roots, he'd done everything in his power to avoid a photo and so far he'd been successful. No one from Usea had come knocking yet, unless you counted Yellow Squadron or their imitators. Blaze was positive it was them, though, and he was determined to repeat his feat over Farbanti during that final battle and shoot them all down…again.

"Blaze, you alright?" Edge's voice came over the ace's headset, a concerned note in her voice. Forrest had to smile behind his mask. Lately, he and his wingman had been getting to the point where they could read each other's movements and emotions simply by the way the other flew. Grimm had mentioned over the course of the war that he and Chopper were getting to be the same way.

"Yeah, just thinking."

"You seem to do a lot of that when we're flying, Kid," Chopper piped up. "That's kinda bad, isn't it?"

"Only during a dogfight," Blaze replied, adjusting their course a little so as to get them to the target area on time. They were about a minute behind schedule and that was a lot of time to make up when the blitzkrieg the Oseans were doing needed pinpoint precision. They were supercruising to try and make up the time, but if the former Mobius 1's intuition was accurate, they were going to be around thirty seconds late getting on station.

"Hey," Chopper said, "Look down, guys! It's the front line!"

All the pilots looked and saw an Osean tank column trundling over the steppes below them, moving for a cluster of enemy buildings that were about two or three miles ahead of them, lined with pillboxes and a watchtower.

"I hope my brother's alright." Grimm said with a nervous note in his voice.

"You never said you have a brother," Edge answered with surprise.

"Yeah, he's with the Army. I look up to him a lot."

"What unit?" Forrest asked.

"Uh…I think he just got transferred to the 101st Airborne."

"The Screaming Eagles, huh?"

"Yeah…" It was clear that Grimm didn't want to dwell on his brother any more than he had to, so he didn't go insane at worrying about whether or not the elder Grimm was alright. The rest of the flight was sensitive enough to pick up on it and shut up.

A quick refuel later and the Four Wings of Sand Island came up on a massive cloud bank that seemed to stretch from one end of the horizon to the other. All the pilots knew that this was the front that was busy moving across their operational area.

A sudden burst of wind slammed into four fighters and jerked them around the sky, forcing the pilots to dance on their controls to just keep the planes flying straight.

"Damn! Kid why the hell are we doing this again!?" Chopper shouted as his fighter nosed up, then got hit by a downburst and dropped almost a hundred feet. His lead, struggling with his own fighter, didn't respond right away because he was wrestling with his own F-22.

"Attention Wardog," It wasn't Thunderhead's voice, but the voice of the ground team that had snuck into the camp in order to get the captured pilots ready for evac. "This is the ground force. We can hear your engines. You guys had better hurry up and clear out the enemy patrols because the comm. room we've captured might be discovered at any time."

Blaze answered. "This is Wardog 1, roger. We'll get right on that. Okay Wardog, split and kill things."

"You got it, Kid." Chopper and Grimm banked and split from the group. During the flight over, Blaze had decided that the best way to find the enemy would be to split and have the two elements search independently of each other. To further their odds of finding an enemy air patrol, Forrest had Edge diverge from him, spitting out about two miles and beginning to sweep with their radar.

If the ace had the option, he would've had his team use the versatility of their radars to jam the enemy's SAM and Triple A radar, but that would be like waving a flag over their heads that said "Hey! OADF in the area!"

Considering this was a semi-secret mission, they wouldn't be able to take the chance, so the flight decided to rely on their stealth and hope they would be able to remain unnoticed for the time needed.

"Chopper, anything?"

"Negative. This weather's really screwing with the radar." Sure enough, when the ace glanced at his scope, he saw a bit of clutter from the clouds around them, probably reflecting off ice crystals or something. The fact that the clouds were even there was a bad thing, because it meant that the aces wouldn't be able to see the enemy unless they got really lucky and sighted the bandits.

A yellow dot appeared on Blaze's radar screen then another and another.

"Hey, Edge. Are you getting these echoes?"

There was static then the other pilot came back with a glow in her voice. "That affirmative, Blaze."

"Good. Well, lock 'em up and get ready to shoot!" Even as he spoke, the ace was putting his radar cursors over the contact, noticed Edge go for a second one, then primed an AMRAAM for firing. The contact, now no longer a square but a triangle, showing the target's direction and speed, was in the midst of a right turn in front of the two Wardog pilots. That told Blaze right off that they hadn't been detected. If they had, the contacts would've turned to the left, turning into the onrushing Raptors. "Blaze, Fox Three!"

"Edge, Fox Three!"

Two AIM-120s dropped from the ventral bays and shot off into the murk, flying in perfect formation on the way to the target. Forrest waited until the A on his HUD turned to a T then reverted to track-while-scan mode and locked the last fighter.

"Fox Three, Blaze."

A third missile zipped into the clouds. Both of the aces waited for the countdown on the HUD to hit zero. The heavy cumulonimbus clouds hid any potential explosions.

"You see anything?" Nagase asked.

Brian snorted. "What do you think? Shall we go look?"

"Let's."

The two F-22s headed to the area where they'd shot and went to guns, keeping heads on a swivel and also looking for signs of a trio of shoot-downs. The ISAF ace was almost positive they'd shot them down. The enemy pilots would've been caught off guard when the planes simply began exploding.

"I don't see anything, Edge."

"Neither do I."

Forrest tilted his stick forward, going into a gentle dive. "Let's look under the clouds. Maybe they hit the ground already." Sure enough, when the two Wardog fighters dipped below the cloud layer and into the driving rain and snow that was currently pounding the camps, they saw three fires burning below and Edge sighted a brilliantly orange parachute five hundred feet below them. It made Blaze glad that he was in a heated aircraft cockpit. He wouldn't want to be dangling in a parachute in this weather.

"Well, Splash one for Edge and two for me."

Chopper answered. "Awsome, Kid! Grimm and I found another patrol and splashed them! We're about twenty miles north of you, tailing another one."

"Good. Let me know when you shoot them down." Clicks came back and a flash of movement caught Forrest's eyes. "Hey! Edge! Tally-ho, right off the nose, around five miles out!"

"I see them. Edge, engaging."

"Blaze engage." The element shot for the other formation, punching through the sound barrier and moving into gun range. The two Osean fighters had dipped low, to get into the enemy's blind spot, below and behind, where the fighter's own fuselage shielded the Wardog pilots from view. Unlike the last formation, this one was a two-ship, a pair of Mig-29 Fulcrums.

"Ready, Nagase?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. Let's go." The two Raptors pulled into a climb and began lining up their pippers. Blaze's fighter slid into the pipper without any maneuvering from the ace himself, so he squeezed the trigger for a second and spit a trail of tracers across the stormy sky and shredded the tail section of the Fulcrum, which went into a death spiral when one of its two tail fins sheared off and spun into the murk. Edge's target's engines burst into flames and began to wheel wildly then there was a puff from the cockpit as the pilot punched out.

"This is Blaze. Splash another patrol. Chopper, how're you guys doing?"

"Standby…Yeah! Scratch a patrol." Forrest glanced at his kneeboard, checking how many fighters they'd splashed against how many patrols were left.

"Right. Two patrols left. Find them then link back up over the camp." They'd been lucky so far. The first two patrols had been splashed by surprise. Forrest and Nagase had found their second patrol by chance and from the sounds of it, so had Grimm and Chopper.

This last patrol would know something fishy was up and would be on guard against a potential bounce. After a couple of minutes and no sign of enemy fighters, the former Mobius 1 had his group begin running a CAP pattern over the camp. They'd shot down most of the patrols, so they had some semblance of air superiority. Hopefully, the racetrack they were running now would hopefully be able to pick up the enemy.

They didn't have to wait long. Not five minutes passed and Chopper said he had a series of contacts. Using the data link the Raptors were capable of allowed Forrest and Nagase to see the contacts as well. And what he saw made him nervous.

"Chopper, don't engage yet. Wait for Edge and me, that formation looks bigger than it should." The other pilot acknowledged and waited for the other element to link up. Once the flight was back together again, Blaze took the lead and led his formation to the merge with the enemies.

On radar were four blips. That told the ace that either the other two patrols had linked up or this patrol was larger than the others they splashed so far. Seeing that the largest patrol had been a three-ship, Forrest was leaning towards the former. This was a POW camp and the Yukes would shunt their larger squadrons to the front to try and stem the on-rushing Osean armies.

"Lock and shoot guys."

The pilots locked up the enemies, one Osean locking onto one Yuke, and then pushed the trigger together. Four missiles dropped into space and raced off into the murky sky. All the aces waited with bated breath, then three of the contacts vanished from the radar.

The only one remaining turned away and bugged out, but it was the one Blaze had shot at.

"Hey! You missed, Kid! Huh, is the world ending or something?" Chopper said in a teasing voice.

"Wow. You must be losing your edge, Blaze," Edge added.

"Shut up. I'm not allowed to miss once in a while?" Forrest retorted, to the laughter of his wingmen. The ISAF ace sighed and shook his head. He would never live this down. Chopper would see to it, that much was sure. "Right. Sea Goblin this is Wardog, cleared into the LZ. Careful about the ack-ack in the area."

Sea Goblin was the callsign for the Marine choppers that would be coming to evac the POWs to the Kestrel, where they would be loaded onto another transport and flown to a military hospital out by Cape Landers, where this whole mess had begun.

"Roger Wardog. Sea Goblin is beginning its approach. Keep an eye out for bandits."

"Will do. Good luck." The ace signed off and began to circle the camp. Soon, four black shapes came into view, two Sea Stallions being escorted by two Apache Longbow gunship helicopters. The Longbows would be able to keep any SAM or armor off the ground troops as they shuttled the prisoners onto the Stallions.

Hopefully.

The downwash from the Stallion's rotors stirred the snow and dust into a white tornado, near a guard tower and pillbox, obviously meant to keep the prisoners from escaping. The moment the wheels on the two cargo helicopters touched the deck, four Marines rushed from a nearby building and took up firing positions around the choppers, making a defensive ring to keep any prying Yuke eyes away.

Once the postions were established and the area secured, both by the hovering Longbows, chainguns and Hellfire missiles ready to go, and by Wardog, the roar of the high powered jet engines echoing over the valley the POW camp was centered in, a constant reminder that death flew overhead in the form of four twenty millimeter cannons, ready to rain high explosive shells down on anyone foolish enough to launch an operation to stop the prisoners from escaping, men and women in ratty and tattered tunics and trousers, stumbled barefoot out of the same building that the Marines had been holed up in.

"Here they come," the lead Stallion commented brightly. "Can you see their smiling faces?" It was a joke, because the driving mix of rain and snow made seeing much of anything pretty much impossible.

"Hey, Sea Goblin, is there a Captain Bartlett on board? Check for a Capt. Bartlett." Edge voiced the request that had been on the tongue of the rest of the flight ever since they'd launched on this mission. Would they finally find the MIA firebrand who'd taught them how to work as a team? Or was he still missing, maybe even a bloated and decaying corpse just miles away from Sand Island?

There was a moment of silence.

"Mmmm…Nope, no one named Bartlett here." The four Raptor pilots felt their spirits drop. But they didn't despair yet. There was still one other chopper to check. "How about you?"

The second pilot's answer was quicker. He'd probably checked the moment he'd heard the question. "Nope. No Bartlett here either." Forrest's stomach dropped into his boots. Their commander was missing. It really irked the ace to not know Heartbreak 1's fate, whether he was alive or…well missing.

"Check again!" Edge commanded, a hard note in her voice.

"Nagase, drop it," Forrest said in a weary tone. It'd been a long flight, an intense few minutes searching for the enemy patrols, then the emotional roller coaster just now. "If he's not there, then he's not there."

"But…"

"Edge!" Now the lead's tone was stern, a tone he rarely took unless he was dead serious about something. "Enough."

"Kid she's just…"

"I know, and I'm disappointed too, but there's no point in pressing if he's not there."

Edge sighed. "You're right, Blaze. Sorry."

"It's alright. I know how you feel. Trust me." The number of times he'd waited with bated breath to see if comrades of his had survived punching out of a stricken airplane, which was often a dangerous process at its safest, lethal at its worst, and the number of times they hadn't made it…Blaze couldn't even keep track.

"The faces of the POWs. I wish I could see them…" Edge broke off and drifted low over the camp. Forrest felt a twinge of apprehension, but dismissed it. Nagase needed some kind of reassurance, so he let her go.

"Heh," Chopper chuckled. "Nagase's actually going down to look."

That odd feeling came over Blaze, the same feeling that he'd had before the Scinfaxi attack, and the attacks by Stonehenge. Something was about to go wrong.

"Edge! Get back to the formation! Now!"

Too late. There was a puff of smoke from a pillbox that was nestled in the side of a hill and a rocket, long white and the size of a telephone pole, streaked into the sky, making a bee-line for Nagase's F-22.

Nagase gritted her teeth and rammed the throttle into full AB, trying to get some speed back. In order to see the POWs properly, she'd slowed way down, and some Yuke gunner obviously couldn't resist the opportunity to shoot down one of the infamous F-22s from Sand Island.

'At least I'm not the first person to get shot down in a Raptor. Mobius 1 did that to the Erusians during the Continental War.' She thought even as she rolled and turned hard, pumping out chaff and flares to try and ditch the speeding rocket behind her.

"Edge! Edge!" Blaze's tense shouts woke her up and made her maneuver more aggressively. He was half the reason she was still here. The number of times he'd shot bandits off her tail or kept her spirits high…He really was a good friend and flight lead.

"After all this I…" She never got to finish. Her Raptor bucked. Hard. It slammed her against the restraints that kept her bound to the ejection seat and alarms began shrieking at her, various indicators all clamoring to her for her attention, trying to show her what was wrong with her bird.

The horizon began to spin, first the iron-gray clouds filler her vision, then the snow covered mountains, then the sky again.

It blurred faster and faster until Nagase couldn't tell if she was right side up or was upside down. The missile explosion had thrown her higher, allowing her to clear a ridge below that would've killed her had she been just a thousand feel lower.

A burst of static blared over her headset, then resolved into Blaze's voice, this time filled with panic. "Edge! Edge! Punch out! You hear me Nagase!? Punch OUT!"

That cut through the hazed that had filled her head, probably brought on by the smoke and tiny flames that were beginning to fill the cockpit, but despite that, she looked down and saw that striped yellow and black handle that stuck up between her legs, made of hard molded rubber and stamped with the words 'Pull to Eject'.

She didn't hesitate and time seemed to slow down as she reached for the D-shaped ring without much knowledge of knowing what she was doing. Her fingers of her left hand curled around the ring, her other hand gripping her wrist.

Nagase drew a great breath and gave a great tug.

The result was instant. There was an explosion as her canopy was blown clear of the shattered F-22, then there was a second explosion and a roar as an invisible hand reached down from the sky and slammed onto her shoulders, the g-forces that accompanied an ejection grinding into her body, hurricane winds tearing at her.

The pilot thought she was going to die, but then the force vanished and she became aware of falling before the seat she was sitting in left her without warning. Then there was a fluttering noise and the restraints that were still wrapped around her body jerked painfully, digging into the inside of her legs and her armpits as the parachuted blossomed into being above her head, slowing her descent from a chaotic rocket-propelled thrill ride to a gentle floating that lasted only a second before the wind caught her and jerked her all over the sky.

Dangling from the seat cushion that had remained firmly clipped to her hips dangled a twenty-foot cord, at the end of which was a life raft for water landings, and closest to her was her survival rucksack, something she would need when she hit the snow in a few minutes.

Kei reached up and tore off her oxygen mask and helmet, letting it drop to earth before reaching for her radio, dangling from the cord in a watertight clear plastic bag. She had to let her friends know she was alright while they were still in the area.

She ripped the bag with her teeth and dug out the hand-held radio, fumbling to get the ear piece where it belonged. The moment she turned it to the right frequency, Chopper's anxious voice came over the set.

"Edge! You alright!?" He sounded vaugley panicked, and Edge realized that he'd probably been trying for a while.

"Yeah…I'm alright."

Blaze came up next, with news that made her warm inside, despite the biting wind and driving rain. "Standby. The Apaches got the bastard who shot at you. Get a beacon going and we'll pick you up."

"Right. Give me a minute, the ground's getting awfully close." She gripped the risers of the 'chute and tried to grab the toggles that would let her control the descent. There wasn't anything to grab though, because both toggles had gotten tangled in her straps just beyond her reach, probably from the wind.

The mountain loomed in her vision and she bent her legs to avoid breaking them and looked at the horizon. She dropped to the ground in clatter of buckles and bone, rolling to dissipate her impact and stood up, reaching with numbing and shaking hands to fumble with the releases for her risers. Finally freed from the tangle of fabric straps, she hunted for her radio, which had fallen from her grip on impact.

A quick search revealed it sitting by her survival rucksack, which she scooped up and found wool gloves, put those on, along with a green wool cap, then got her radio and switched it to beacon, really just a pulse of radio clicks that went out on an international distress channel, letting everyone, friend and foe alike know she was alive.

"We have her," One of the Longbow pilots said, moving his gunship to help. The stricken pilot was only a few miles away, and within easy reach for pick-up.

"Roger," Blaze answered. "Go get her."

"Will do, standby." Forrest watched with a sense of helplessness. He couldn't do anything to help his wingman, and that really grated on his ego as a pilot, which demanded that he do something. The threat from the SAM was gone. The Longbows had put a Hellfire apiece into the fortification within seconds of the missile launch. They hadn't been fast enough, because the missile had hit Edge anyway.

There was an explosion on the mountain.

"The gunship crashed!" Grimm shouted in distress.

The Stallion pilots got on the comm. now. "The winds are too strong for a pick-up. We'll have to leave her and come back some other time."

"Are you insane!?" Chopper shouted angrily. "We can't just leave her here!"

Blaze, heart tearing and his conscience shrieking bloody murder, made the hardest decision of his career, both now and as Mobius 1. "We can't do anything for her now. We have to get the POWs to safety."

"Kid are you fucking crazy!?" Chopper almost shrieked.

"Look!" Blaze shouted, "I don't like this anymore than you do, but the weather's just too bad right now! When we get back, I'll get on Perrault's ass and get him to let us lead a TRAP force to go and get her." He keyed his mike again. "Edge, you there?"

"I'm here."

"Listen, we've gotta get these POWs back to safety and the weather's just too damn bad to rescue you right now." Edge's heart dropped for the second time that mission, and from his tone, Blaze wasn't any happier about it than she was. The ace could only imagine what Chopper was saying right then. He was probably giving the Captain the sixth degree about the decision to leave her. "Edge, you still there?"

The woman jolted as she realized she'd been silent for almost a minute. "Yeah, I'm still here."

"Do you understand what's going on?"

"Yes."

"Good. We'll be back here tomorrow, I promise. In the meantime, I have another mission for you."

She blinked. What was Blaze talking about? "Uh…sure, what's the mission?"

"An Apache Longbow went down trying to get to you. Go check and make sure the crew's okay and get them to safety. If they're dead, I'm sure there's something you can use there."

Edge realized what was going on. Blaze was giving her something to do, so she didn't go crazy, and he had a point. They needed to check on the crew, and she was the only Osean in the area at that instant. "Roger. Do you have the coordinates?"

"Right here." He read off the latitude and longitude of the crash site, which she entered into her GPS that had been in her rucksack. It was a hike, almost five miles up the mountain. "You have them?"

"Yeah." She knew that this would be it. Blaze wouldn't be able to remain on station any longer. The Stallions were getting away, and with one gunship down, they would need all the air cover they could get.

"Roger that. Go get them, Edge. We'll see you tomorrow." It was an empty promise, both pilots knew that her odds of being captured were very good right then, and then there was the possibility that Perrault wouldn't let Blaze lead the TRAP force. Still, it was a nice gesture and Edge appreciated it more than words could say.

"Roger."

"Later, Edge…" He was silent, apparently trying to get a more reassuring note in before he left her to her own devices. "Good luck." There was a burst of static and Wardog was gone, leaving one of their own to the mercies of fortune, and hard weather.

Edge brushed her long bangs out of her eyes, looking up the bleak mountain slope and the hike she had in front of her to reach the Longbow crew's location. A howling wind whipped across her crash site and cut right through her flight suit. She shivered and looked at the forest ahead of her.

Kei had never felt more alone.

Well that's that. Umm, nothing really to say here.

Glossary

POW: I might've covered this already, but better safe than sorry. Stands for Prisoner of War. Pretty self explanatory.

TRAP: Tactical Recovery Aircraft and Personnel. These guys are real heros. They go in, put their lives on the line, all to bring back a downed airman or naval aviatior. If you're old enough to remember 1995, these guys are the guys who rescued Capt. (Ret.) Scott O'Grady from his six days of running from enemy forces in Bosnia.

Punch Out: I've mentioned it alot before now, but I don't think I've said what it means. Fancy term for Ejecting.