Thunder Echoes Over the Valley
June 19th, 1972
Byeoung Songolian Imperial Air Force Base
So began another day of the war against Northern Songola. Another day of supporting the South's efforts to reunify the country under the emperor's rule. A group of eagle-eyed men hurried down the steps from their squadron's building towards the waiting Ford van with few words. Above them, the image of a rearing tiger clutching a lightning bolt in each hand denoted them of members of the 312th Tactical Fighter Squadron, the Iron Tigers. The hot, humid air seemed to bother no one, even though the sheen of sweat was universal. The mission was what had their attention. They were Wild Weasels, aircrews whose sole purpose was to tempt and destroy Surface-to-Air Missile sites, SAMs. The man at the head of the group, Major Julian Sonny, was used to the weather anyways. He climbed into the vehicle and grabbed a seat with his backseater and the rest of their fourship and grabbed whatever they could as the driver hit the gas. He looked at his EWO (Electronic Warfare Officer), Captain William Clayburn, and frowned.
"Dammit Bill, would you stop trying to stretch out your mustache? You're spooking me." He snapped.
"Ah don't stretch out my mustache." Cowboy Clayburn replied.
"You do it every time something's buggin' you and it gets me all spooked, so knock it off."
"Yer just gettin jitters, Sunshine."
"I've been up north plenty of times! I don't get jitters."
Bill took that as a sign to just keep stroking his mustache, to the point Julian felt his own itching. Just about everyone else in the van who had one started doing the same, smirking and musing about caring for their "bulletproof" staches. His wingman, Captain Rudy Bell, gave him a wink. He kept his hands down and made it a point to look away as the van turned down one of the rows of revetments. It eased to a smooth stop, at which point the gaggle of officers were already hurrying to their aircraft. Julian was more than happy to get away from the ribbing.
"Don't get jittery on me, Sunshine!" Rudy called. Julian smirked and looked at the man.
"Don't get your balls shot off. Need a steady supply of hair for your stache." He replied. Rudy let out a deep laugh and hurried off.
Julian strode up to one of four F-105G Thunderchiefs in the "hot seats" and set his helmet bag at the bottom of his boarding ladder. His Crew Chief, Staff Sergeant Boudin, tipped his patrol cap at the man and looked over at the long and skinny fighter-bomber.
"Fine day to go lookin' for missiles, sir." He said as he looked at the nearly cloudless sky.
"Never a bad day to go lookin' for missiles, Boudin." Julian agreed.
The NCO gave the pilot a quick rundown on how the Thud was doing and what he might not want to depend too heavily on. Sunshine Sonny had flown the F-105 his whole career, but he'd never taken one apart. At best he knew the basics, which meant he could appraise her properly as he walked around the jet. Today's target, SAM sites defending the steel plant at Hayjin, called for the standard warload of two AGM-45 Shrikes and three fuel tanks. Julian stopped and looked across the row at another F-105 as it was being given a pair of AGM-78s. Joke's on him, Julian thought, I got more gas! The Major circled around the aircraft once, then hauled himself up the ladder. He may not have been as well-versed as Boudin, but he knew how to fly the Thud and he had faith in her. Enough faith to christen her "Sunshine Special II" in honor of his first plane. He looked at the words written next to the air intake, then eased himself up and over into the cockpit. A picture of his wife and two kids greeted him as he took a seat.
Behind him, Bill was flipping test switches on and off one after the other to make sure his array of electronic gadgetry was in good condition. Julian swiped his hat off his short head of chestnut hair and started doing the same. He glanced at his watch as his face grew sober. The joking and jesting melted away as Julian secured his helmet to his head. Boudin hurried up the ladder to help him strap in. They exchanged a thumbs up before Boudin hurried back down and lifted Julian's ladder away from him. The Major opened the map case on his right and stored the most important stuff nearest to him before he put on his oxygen mask. Once the boarding ladders and personnel were away, Julian looked to an airman watching the wheel chocks get dragged away. He signalled to the pilot to bring the Thud's systems to life. After a few switches, Julian signalled again and waited while the start cart next to him fired off a cartridge. Julian cranked the engine and turned on both the radio and the intercom.
"Everything ready to go on your end, Cowboy?" He asked over the engine's cry.
"Yeah...switches are a bit sticky, but I can manage. The core stuff is working fine." Bill assured. Always something…
A thin cloud of black smoke rose into the air as the squadron's launch hit full stride. Gauges stabilizing, electronics being set and triple-checked, pilots going back and forth as they checked in with the tower and one-another. Julian looked at his watch again, then drew in a breath.
"Byeoung Tower this is Vandal Lead, request permission to taxi to arming point for runway 1-W." He radioed.
"Vandal Lead this is Byeoung Tower, permission granted." A young Osean voice replied.
Julian exchanged a few more hand signals with the airman nearby. The man nodded and gave him the ok to unlock the brakes before beckoning him forward, Julian steered the Thud from its revetment and taxied down to the far end of the row. He made another right and then hooked left onto a narrow taxiway. Towards the end, several more airmen hurried up and pulled the arming pins from the aircraft's missiles. Julian radioed the tower once more to request permission to head to the end of the runway. Rudy settled into position next to him and the two pulled down their canopies. Julian made one last call to the tower as he adjusted his flaps.
"Byeoung Tower this is Vandal Lead, request clearance for takeoff on Runway 1-W with Vandal 1-2."
"Vandal 1 you're cleared for takeoff down 1-W. Switch to Button 3 once airborne to contact Clipper." The tower replied.
Julian acknowledged and slid down his helmet's visor. With a shove of the throttles, the plane's J75 engine filled the air with its unearthly wail. The Thunderchief jolted and galloped forward at increasing speed. Julian tilted the control stick back just a little and pulled the Thud off the ground. A second later he adjusted the flaps and started retracting the landing gear. Rudy fell in just off his eight o'clock. The two fighter bombers turned their noses north as they gained altitude, leaving their ground crews hoping they'd get to see the two Thunderchiefs come back. Even the youngest, greenest airmen had learned to love their planes…
"Vandal 1 this is Buckskin 3, breaking to assume overwatch. Will remain oriented on airborne threats 'til you boys sniff something out."
"Copy Buckskin."
Julian glanced to the side and watched the two pairs of F-4E Phantoms bank up and away to higher altitudes, leaving him and Rudy to keep rolling a couple thousand feet above the broken clouds. Below, errant puffs of black exploded into existence as a battery of AA guns vainly tried to reach the Osean warplanes. Julian could only look from side to side in search of puffs climbing any higher. Right now it was Bill's game as he fiddled with the many switches in his rear cockpit, trying to see who would be looking for them. Every now and again he'd check his map to track their progress; they were still a good 80 miles from the strikers' target. The stuff they were hitting now were just random sites placed to keep his kind off balance. Once they were clear of the flak, Julian and Rudy moved to the left of the chaff bombers and their escorts at the front of the strike.
"Mage 1 this is Vandal 1, we've hit our IP and are moving to your three and nine. Check fire in those directions and tell us if anyone paints you." He radioed.
"Copy Vandal, our three and nine." The escort's leader replied quickly.
Julian looked to his wingman and signalled for him to loosen up the formation and hang back a little. Rudy gave a thumbs up and his Thud slowly crept back behind Julian's shoulder. In his ear, a lone "Spoon Rest" early warning radar pinged away from someplace to the northeast. As he looked back up, Bill keyed the intercom.
"Sunshine, got a Fan Song that just lit up, Bearing 020 at 40 Miles. No threat at this time." He reported stoically.
"Copy Cowboy...Vandal 1-2, Vandal 1-1 has a Fan Song at 020. Move separation to five miles, focus on anything west of 360." Julian replied.
"Two."
Julian snapped the Thunderchief towards the contact and started towards it. He switched from flying straight and dumb to weaving about erratically every few seconds. The tone, sounding something like a rattlesnake, waived uncertainly as the SAM site's controllers tried to figure out if he was a Weasel aircraft. The commies were crafty little bastards like that, Julian remembered. On his command, Bill activated the ALQ-105 pods on either side of the jet. The radar started to fade when the chaff bombers started pumping out their payload. Then it came back, but this time interested in the F-4s. When the first SA-2s got into the air, they instead went for Mage's forward CAPs (Combat Air Patrol). Now the Wild Weasel pilot was really pissed he hadn't been shot at first. Julian straightened out; he was practically begging the SAM site to target him. He leveled out and pushed the throttles into afterburner until the Fan Song couldn't ignore him.
"Vandal 1-3 has a second Fan Song, 009 at 28 Miles!" Captain Sam Guerreda called. According to the map they were coming up against the defenses around the city of Cheongug-Mum.
"Copy Vandal 1-3. Buckskin 3, request-"
The rattlesnake's tone changed to something more frantic and caused Julian to look at the azimuth indicator next to his gunsight. A new Fan Song at his ten-wait, two new sites! It was an ambush! Crafty bastards indeed He thought with a sneer. Bill echoed what the plane was telling them and placed the new sites at just 25 Miles, directly along the route the strike would take to get to Hayjin. Julian punched off his tanks as the inevitable
"Vandal 1 to flight, focus on those two Fan Songs that just started transmitting. They're right in Chili 1's path." He radioed.
Julian nosed up so he could come down from a steeper angle. Give his Shrike a better chance in case the Fan Song's crew wisened up. His gaze shifted in every direction as he looked for the next part of the ambush. As he went from one wing to the other, a red light illuminated the word "launch" on the threat panel.
"Two SAMs airborne, 020! Three more are going for the chaff bombers!" Bill called.
"Hang on tight, Cowboy!"
Julian broke into the attack and dove like he was trying to plant himself in the ground. His world became filled with the sounds of grunting as he tightened his muscles against the forces of gravity. The very edges of his vision grew fuzzy, then cleared up almost immediately as he left the maneuver. He spotted two long, green shapes coming up through the clouds. He nosed down again and swept towards the air below the arcing missiles. Another gun battery opened up from a rail junction nearby as he came down. Julian yanked the stick back and rolled. The Thud moved in sluggish protest, but it moved nonetheless. The launch warning turned off and the tone in the crew's ears returned to the sounds of the Fan Song trying to get a lock.
"Cowboy, where's the nearest Fan Song?" Julian gasped as he sucked down a lungful of air. His eardrums were ringing as SAMs and flak lashed out at every jet in the area.
"Our eight, our eight! Break left and get me a better view!" Bill replied.
Julian went left and nosed up once more until he was just below where the chaff bombers and his supporting Phantoms were. The remaining ones; Julian turned his gaze towards the site that'd fired on them.
"Buckskin be advised we're going after a SAM site at 352, do you have our current position?" He asked.
"Negative, negative do you have coordinates?" Buckskin 3-1 replied.
"It's at 352, I repeat 352. Watch for my Shrike launch, I'm at angels 24 transitioning into a dive. Look for multiple SAM launches to the north."
Julian rolled his aircraft into a dive as he kept repeating where the SAM site was. Miles below, he saw the complex, rounded shape of an SA-2 battery in an open field. Bill focused his equipment on the source and got a solid lock when they were practically on top of the site.
"Track's solid, Shoot." He declared firmly.
"Vandal 1-1, Magnum." Julian announced.
The Shrike on the left slid off its rail smoothly and went into a dive towards the center of the site. Julian pulled away with all his strength while Bill frantically tried to keep his eyes on the sight. He turned to one side, checked his instruments, then went to the other.
"Mage, Mage this is Clipper. Bandits, repeat bandits. Blue bandits, Bullseye 040 for 60, Angels 9." The mission's Warning Star chimed in. Julian did some quick math before he raised Buckskin again.
"Buckskin, those two sites in Chili's path are ready for you. Reference our current positions and prestrike intel until we can hand over some actual coordinates."
"Copy Vandal."
Julian reluctantly circled a few times as he ascended, waiting for either Fan Song or MiG to make a go at him. Bill was back to working his array of electronic wizardry, trying to single out or tempt another Fan Song to track them. Their next customer was looking towards the center of the strike package. With Bill's guidance, Julian turned to the radar and rolled into a dive. From behind, one of the sites in Rudy's area singled them out. Julian's eyes went up every few seconds in anticipation of the launch light going on again. He was forced into a dive early when Mage reported first contact with bandits.
"Sunshine, take the shot before that other Fan Song gets a lock!" Bill ordered.
"Vandal 1-1, Magnum." Julian radioed.
He kept diving but went to the left as the launch warning lit up once more. The move took him into the envelope of enemy AA, but it was better than dealing with the missiles all over the place. With both his Shrikes gone, Julian switched to the Thud's six-barreled cannon. The radar warning stumbled, grew strong, and then stayed solid. Julian looked back and spotted the missile nosing over just before its second stage ignited. For little more than an instant, the SA-2 slowed as its next set of engines fired. Julian jammed the throttles to full afterburner and broke right. The missile regained speed but started going wide of the F-105 little by little. Bill switched back and forth between frequencies to try and jam the weapon. Once again the warning went silent as maneuvering and electronic warfare overwhelmed the missile.
"Cowboy, do you still have a fix on that Fan Song?" Julian called over his shoulder.
"Indeed Ah do." Bill drawled eagerly,
"Vandal 1-2, we've launched both Shrikes and are down to guns. What's your current situation?"
"One Shrike remaining, no new hits west of 360." Rudy assured calmly.
"Copy, got a Fan Song at 290, my six. Need you to hit it."
"At 290, your six...got 'em. Keep it busy."
Julian climbed out of the AA envelope and craned his neck. Buckskin reported they had eyes on two pillars of smoke and were rolling in to attack the launchers around them. Julian put some more distance between himself and the site while the Phantoms came in high and fast on the first site.
"Buckskin 3-1 and 3-2 are in hot."
Tracers and flak bursts grew in number as they pulled out of their dives and left their cluster bombs to fall to earth. As they went up, the lead Phantom disappeared in a massive black puff. It came out of the flak burst with an ugly stain on its belly. It pulled away while its wingman moved to cover it.
"Buckskin 3-1 are you still there?" Julian asked anxiously.
"Still here...just missed the radios! Be advised that we're heading south. Clipper, Buckskin 3-1 is declaring an emergency." The Phantom driver said through a haze of static.
Julian turned towards the two Phantoms and gave them cover as they came around. He pulled a quick aileron roll to check his surroundings, and spotted two shapes sprinting over a field. He went inverted again to see if he hadn't just misjudged the terrain and spotted two MiG-17s rising from the ground.
"Bandits, bandits! Red bandits, Buckskin your six!" He called.
Julian stayed inverted and gave the stick a good pull to try and get a lead on the enemy aircraft went tearing after the wounded Phantom and its wingman. Buckskin 3-2 stayed with his leader to shield it from the MiGs. Julian managed to get a good lead for a second and fired his M61A1 for a few seconds. One of the MiGs broke off, but the other kept going for Buckskin 3-2. Julian gritted his teeth and let that one go for a second while he fired on the lead MiG jet fired another burst, this time at Buckskin 3-1.
"Buckskin 3-1, break break! Get outta there!" Julian pleaded.
"I can't get him off me. Mage, Vandal requesting help! Need help mayday!" Buckskin 3-1's pilot replied in much the same way.
Julian was forced to nose up before he went into too steep a dive, leaving the friendly F-4 to fend for himself. He put every ounce of his strength into making the F-105 turn around and run down the enemy fighter. Bill once more tried to see beyond the back end of the Thud, and eventually spotted the enemy aircraft and Buckskin's trail of smoke. Buckskin 3-2 had dared to break back into the fight despite his pursuer. He fired a Sidewinder as Buckskin 3-1 turned into his wingman, which was enough to spook the MiG. It broke towards the F-4, which allowed Julian to try for the one chasing 3-2. He fired a long burst at the trailing MiG as it fired on Buckskin 3-2. The F-4's back end started leaking lots of smoke. Oil smudged its tailcode, but it kept flying. Julian saw a handful of sparks twinkle across the left wing of the MiG-17 before he was forced to pass over the enemy fighter.
"Vandal, Buckskin, Mage 2-3 and 2-4 are inbound. Buckskin 3-1 what's your status?" A new voice radioed.
"Losing fuel, losing hydraulics. Gonna head south as fast as I can." The beleaguered pilot reported.
"Copy, keep going! Head for Chili if you have to!"
Despite the arrival of help, Julian kept on the MiG he'd passed. He banked to the right, expecting an attack to come from that direction. Tracers flew by off to the left, followed by the quickest sighting of the MiG. Julian hit the gas and nosed up, checking his fuel as he went. He performed a high yo-yo to get the F-105 back on target, knowing full well Boudin was going to rail him about stressing the airframe. He spotted the MiG-17 coming for him once more, and used his low speed to force his Thud into position. The MiG, out of its element in the vertical and sluggish from the first hits, still climbed to meet them. Julian weaved to the left and drew in a breath.
"Hang on, Bill!" He shouted.
Julian made another pass from the right, braving the MiG's array of cannons under its front intake. The Major bared his teeth and pulled the trigger back again. Once more tracers floated towards the MiG-17. He saw more flashes near the left wing root. He kept up until the aircraft erupted in fire. Julian broke left and nosed down to start regaining airspeed. He checked his remaining ammo and drew in a breath. Things weren't over just yet. Even without much ammo, he could still play chicken with the radars. Once Chili was off target, he could think about getting home. First in, last out; it was the way of the Wild Weasel.