Jackhammer 11

Over Central Germany

2150 Local/1950 GMT

8 August, 1985

I would like to take the time to give a mention to my writing partner, Matt Wiser. Matt lost his stepfather on October 24th, and I know it has been tough for him. Thank you Matt, for all you have done, and will do for Night Witches and may your stepfather rest in peace

I would also like to dedicate this chapter to the 129 lost in Paris last week. Je Suis Paris..

The German countryside looked forlorn and barren in the cold dark night, punctuated by flashes of explosions and artillery fire and fast moving shooting stars that punctuated the passing of a missile, or a jet fighter.

It was all Jane could do to remind herself that they had slowly climbed their F-111 up to 5,000 feet and were awaiting the fighter escort west. It wasn't as if they were at risk of outrunning it potentially, as they had slowed the F-111 to just above stall speed so as to stretch the remaining fuel out. Daria had already told Jane that if they saw any kind of threat, they were going to eject, no questions asked.

Both were hoping, in their own private way, that they could simply brazen it out and that nobody would pay attention to a slow moving object on the radar…or would just assume it was friendly.

God, it would suck to die just short of home due to our own side..Daria's mind raged. She had her hands full keeping the airplane in the air, as it wallowed like a drunk around the sky. She had achieved a delicate balance to keep the airplane in the air, but she had to make gradual control movements, otherwise, she might send the F-111 into an unrecoverable spin. She wasn't even sure they could make the decent safely, and worse, she had no idea as to the approach plate for this French airfield. Wasn't like we were planning on paying a visit?

"Butch, I got three sets of running lights,, 3 o' clock low, looks like our escort finally got here."

Daria merely grunted in acknowledgement. She was simply too busy flying the airplane.

The dark shapes soon resolved themselves out of the murk of the early evening, and became the sleek, angular shape of a trio of F-15 Eagles. Their ghost-grey paint scheme made them almost slide into the night, if it were not for the faint glow of their formation-keeping strips on the side of the aircraft.

The radio crackled to life in the headsets of both Daria and Jane, the message came through a bit mushy, even though the F-15s were but yards away, it was a testament to the intensity of the electronic battle going on in and around Germany.

JACKHAMMER 11, TOYOTA 22 HERE WITH A FLIGHT OF THREE EAGLES. RINGMASTER SAYS YOU HAVE A WOUNDED BIRD YOU ARE TRYING TO GET BACK TO THE BARN? JUST TO LET YOU KNOW, WE DON'T HAVE A LOT OF WEAPONS LEFT, ALL OF US ARE PRETTY CLOSE TO WINCHESTER AND BINGO,. WE HAD QUITE THE FIGHT OVER POTSDAM, LOST ONE OF US TO A MIG TWO-ONE THAT GOT LUCKY, WE CAN SEE YOU TO THE FRENCH BORDER. BUT THAT OUGHT TO GET YOU OUT OF TROUBLE? OVER?

TOYOTA 22, JACKHAMMER 11, ROGER WE WILL TAKE WHAT WE CAN GET, IF THERE IS A FIGHT, WE ARE GOING TO EJECT AND HOPE FOR THE BEST. VARKS ARE ONLY RATED FOR 5Gs AND THIS HURT BIRD, WE DON'T KNOW WHAT SHE MIGHT DO, OVER.

JACKHAMMER 11, TOYOTA 22, WE WILL HOLD YOU TO THAT, I WILL HAVE TOYOTA 24 RIDE SHOTGUN ON YOU WHILE WE RANGE FURTHER OUT. HE LOST HIS WINGIE SO I'D RATHER KEEP HIM CLOSE IN. TOYOTA 22 OUT.

With that, the trio of F-15s separated, two lit their afterburners, and arced into a slow climbing turn to the north, the remainder, slid in close on the F-111's right wing. The F-15 pilot was smart, and he kept some distance to give Daria some maneuvering room if she needed it.

JACKHAMMER 11, TOYOTA 24, CAN YOU SWITCH TO CHANNEL 106.63? OVER?

A look of bafflement crossed Daria's face that was evident even with most of it covered by both a flight helmet and an oxygen mask.

"What the hell, boss, I can watch the aux receiver, just in case anything happens." Jane quipped.

Daria shook her head in mock frustration: Really, we're miles from freindlies and some fighter jock thinks "Gee, what a great time to chat a girl up?"

"Butch, it's just conversation, not a dinner date, and the airplane is stable for now…we are at least half an hour from landing anywhere friendly."

Daria shrugged, and set the transmitter to the requested frequency.

TOYOTA 24, JACKHAMMER 11, SO, WHATs THE BIG SECRET?

JACKHAMMER 11, WOULD YOU HAPPEN TO BE 1ST LIEUTENANT DARIA MORGENDORFER, OR KNOW HER? I MET HER IN THE LAKENHEATH PX 10 DAYS BEFORE THE WAR STARTED AND WELL, I THOUGHT SHE WAS KINDA CUTE, IN BETWEEN ME BEING TOLD OFF. HELL, SHE WAS CUTE WHEN SHE WAS ANGRY! OVER?

The transmission ended with some muffled and distorted laughter that was unique to being constricted through an oxygen mask.

Daria could only turn beet red, and bristle. Oh dear god, we are getting escorted home by Mr. Soesterberg himself!

Jane smiled and leaned over as far as the restraints would let her. "Hey, Daria. What is the big deal? You're on a private frequency? He didn't immediately try to get into your pants, and let's be honest, he was kinda cute. A little harmless flirting that goes nowhere might be what the doctor ordered for our mental health."

"Stuff it Sundance!" Daria growled. "It's not playtime anymore."

"No, Butch, it's not, it's real bombs, real bullets, and real SAMs and real dying. So, I say, have what fun you can, when you can. If you're not going to answer him…"

TOYOTA 24, THIS IS JACKHAMMER 11 BRAVO, MY PILOT IS A BIT SHY, BUT SHE IS THE LADY YOU SEEK. BAD EXPERIENCES. BUT YOU SEEM NICE ENOUGH. GOT A NAME TOYOTA 24? OH, BY THE WAY, WE'RE CAPTAINS NOW. OVER?

There was a chuckle over the mic, then a crackle as the F-15 driver formulated a response. TOYOTA 24s NAME IS 1st LIEUTENANT ALEX ROTH, AND YEAH, BEEN A LOT OF THOSE PROMOTIONS GOING AROUND, MA'AM. ELEVEN BRAVO, COULD YOU TELL YOUR LEFT SEATER I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR FROM HER THOUGH? OVER.

TOYOTA 24, 11 BRAVO HERE, SHE IS THE COLOR OF A SOVIET FLAG RIGHT NOW. BUT YOU SEEM NICE. THOUGH, I WILL ADMIT, YOU SHOWING INTEREST DID IRK HER. SO, I GUESS WHY BE INTERESTED IN A GIRL WHO WON'T GIVE YOU THE TIME OF DAY? OVER?

11 BRAVO, 24, PLEASE TELL YOUR RIGHT SEATER THAT IT'S SIMPLE. I AM A GOOD JEWISH BOY LOOKING FOR A NICE JEWISH GIRL. WITH A NAME LIKE MORGENDORFFER? SHE'S GOT TO BE THE GENUINE ARTICLE. PLUS, ONE THAT SHARES MY PROFESSION? KISMIT I SAY. OVER.

At this point, all kinds of emotions were warring in Daria's head. Frustration, embarrassment, and not a little bit of surprise. He is looking for a nice Jewish girl in the Air Force? In the middle of a war? Really? God, he is as stupid as he looks. Oh well, Guess I shoot him down again.

24, 11 ACTUAL HERE, YOU ARE LOOKING FOR A NICE JEWISH GIRL IN THE AIR FORCE? YEAH, RIGHT. LOOK, I HAVE A DAMAGED AIRPLANE, AND I AM LOSING FUEL BY THE MINUTE, AND YOU'RE HITTING ON ME? WHAT KIND OF IDIOT ARE YOU? TWO-FOUR, I REALLY AM QUESTIONING YOUR JUDGEMENT HERE, OVER,

11, 24,. SORRY, I WILL SWITCH BACK TO THE MAIN FREQ, BUT BEFORE I DO THAT, I HEAR OUR SQUADRON IS BEING MOVED TO ENGLAND SOON. IF WE ARE, I WOULD LIKE PERMISSION TO LOOK YOU UP? STRICTLY COFFEE AND CHAT. HEY, I HAD TO GET YOUR NAME FROM YOUR WSO THAT DAY. I REALLY AM INTERESTED AND IN A NICE GUY WAY, ELEVEN.

Jane looked over at Daria "Butch, say yes. I am going to ask him out right now if you don't."

Dammit…I am a professional Air Force officer, not some fawning girl in high school with the brains of a manatee…but what did 'Bama say? "Love, or at least a good time, is where you find it in the Air Force."

I guess that's doubly true in case of war.

24, 11, IN THE INTERESTS OF ENDING THIS CONVERSATION, NOT TO MENTION OUR CURRENT SITUATION DEMANDS MY FULL ATTENTION, I SAY YES. PROVIDED YOU END THIS CONVERSATION RIGHT NOW, AND SWITCH BACK TO THE ASSIGNED FREQ, OUT.

"Lord, what an idiot." Daria exhaled.

"Hey, Butch, it is nice to know somebody cares right now. I ain't got anyone at home. My parents disappeared when I left for school, and nooone knows where the hell Trent is." Jane spoke, a tone of sorrow in her voice.

Daria nodded imperceptivity, Trent's disappearance four years before was a sore point for both women. While Trent had been known to vanish from time to time, the manner in which he had vanished, with Mystik Spiral on the verge of a big break with a 2nd tier record label. It wasn't the big time, but it was a lot closer to it than any of the band had been. Trent would not have bailed on that. The police had come, investigated, and found nothing, PIs had been hired, and had come up empty.

And we blamed each other for his going missing..God that was stupid. Daria's mind mused.

Enough wool-gathering, time to concentrate on flying the airplane…

45 Minutes Later

The French airfield of Contrexville loomed large in the windscreen as the ribbons of lights denoting the runways winked in the darkness, having been turned on to provide a reference point for the damaged F-111 now landing on their main runway..but it was risky, the lights told everyone around; We are open for business, come bomb us. Roth had broken for home some 15 minutes before. There was no one but Daria, Jane and those on the runway left to witness whether Daria succeeded or failed to bring the F-111 in.

Daria looked on with sweat slicking the palms of her hands beneath her flight gloves, and pouring down her forehead in rivulets. The red light of the cockpit night instrumentation bathed both Daria and Jane in an otherworldly glow.

And it is making me wonder if 'past is prologue' here? Daria mused.

The fact remained that even if this was landing an undamaged aircraft, Daria was landing near blind. She had instrumentation, but the aircraft itself was not answering well to climbs or right turns. She had absolutely no documentation on the airfield, especially no approach plates.. Daria thought she could use rudder and engine controls to being the airplane in, but she wasn't going to bet her lives on it. If the aircraft departed controlled flight in any way, she was going to eject her and Jane, and damn the consequences.

Daria looked at Jane, "Ok, Sundance, let's do this. Landing checklist."

The pair went through the landing checklist with ease, having done it so often flying together. The aircraft, for all of her battle damage, was flying somewhat sedately, when Daria brought down the landing gear and the flaps, they came down with no trouble, but there was two small issues, namely, what was the altimeter setting…and the recommended landing speed?

The tower didn't know, as the French didn't fly F-111s and had no real experience with them. They had sent the numbers the Mirage IV used for their approaches, which should be similar, but as with many things, the devil was in the details, wasn't it?

CONTREXVILLE TOWER, THIS IS JACKHAMMER 11, I AM A DAMAGED F-111 WITH TWO SOULS ABOARD. AM WINCHESTER AND BINGO. ENOUGH FUEL FOR SINGLE STRAIGHT IN PASS ONLY. I NEED CLEARANCE FOR A STRAIGHT IN PASS FOR RUNWAY 26 LEFT, OVER?

The mic clicked once then a response came over the receiver, strong, with a high pitched nasal accent that was accented, but otherwise perfect English.

CONTREXVILLE TOWER TO JACKHAMMER 11, YOU ARE CAVU AND WIND IS FROM THE SOUTHEAST AT 5 KNOTS., YOU HAVE PERMISSION FOR A STRAIGHT IN APPROACH TO RUNWAY 26 LEFT, ARE YOU DECLARING AN EMERGENCY? OVER?

TOWER, THIS IS 11, ROGER THAT, WE ARE DECLARING AN EMERGENCY, OVER.

TOWER UNDERSTANDS 11, COME STRAIGHT IN, WE HAVE EMERGENCY VEHICLES ON STANDY, AND ARE CLEARING YOUR CHOSEN RUNWAY. IF YOU HAVE TO EJECT, TRY TO MAKE FOR the SOUTH EDGE OF THE FIELD, THERE IS NOTHING BUT EMPTY FARMLAND THERE. BONNE CHANCE, JACKHAMMER 11. OVER?

JACKHAMMER 11 TO CONTREXVILLE TOWER, THANK YOU TOWER, WE APPRECIATE IT. SEE YOU ON THE GROUND, OUT.

Daria and Jane exchanged glances, they knew this could end badly, no matter what the stakes. Nothing more really needed to be said. A glance, a momentary clasped hand, theirs had been a friendship that had lasted longer than their time in the Air Force, and if this is how it ended for the both of them, then where else, but to die in each other's company?

"Ok, according to the information we got from the tower, ground speed is good, altimeter is set, gear is down and locked, and so are the flaps. We got radar or backup altimeter?" Daria queried.

"Backup, the radar altimeter gave out when the TFR went, hope this isn't a muggy night down there."

"Sundance, they say it's a 5000 foot runway down there, but I am going to dump the nose and hit the brakes as soon as I get her on the ground. I don't know the condition of the gear tires, and I really don't want to chance it. Listen, when the aircraft stops moving, do not wait for me, get out and run, do not look back, OK?"

Jane nodded, "I hear you, Butch..but I don't like it."

Daria muttered "You don't have to Sundance, just do it."

The aircraft slotted into the glide path with little trouble, with Daria gingerly manipulating the throttles and rudder to keep the aircraft on path for the runway. Good, good, ok, drifting a little left, power, ok, we're back..right rudder, ok..all good…

The F-111 slowly lowered itself onto the runway, and with a low whine from her engines, and a squeal from her tires, the rear landing gear touched the runway…and then disaster struck.

It began with a report like a rifle as the left rear gear tire blew, neither Daria nor Jane knew that some shrapnel from the SAM that had damaged the aircraft had damaged the tire, and with the abuse of landing, the tire gave out explosively, at 100 miles per hour.

The aircraft pulled into a left handed spin, pirouetting off the runway into a dirt strip between it and the nearest taxiway, as the wings crumpled like beer cans with the shriek of tortured metal. In the cockpit bot pilot and WSO were batted around like a cat's toy, first one way, then the other, as the scenery spun around at a dizzying speed. Then, with a loud snap, Daria's restraints failed, and she was flung, head first, into the instrument panel.

Jane looked on with horror, the G-forces and the restraints preventing her from doing little more than shrieking "Daria!" as her best friend slammed into the control panel head first, then bobbed back violently into her seat with a loud bang. She was mercifully unconscious after her impact with the control panel.

The aircraft began to slow it's rate of spin, first a little, than more gradually as it slid across a taxiway, and then onto the main apron, a shower of sparks stretching behind it where the wreckage met concrete. As the aircraft slowed to a stop, Jane's frantic gasps for air slowed. She was sure she might have joined Daria, except her restraints had held. Once the aircraft stopped entirely, she unbuckled herself quickly from her seat, and clambered over to Daria, her head lolling at an angle, but her chest was rising and falling. She took Daria's pulse at her neck, brushing aside her flight suit and G-collar. There was a pulse, it was a bit slow, and thread, but it was there.

Jane collapsed with exhaustion, taking in the sights of an airbase at war, and the cacophony of sirens as the French emergency vehicles made their way towards them. They say any landing you can walk away from. Please god. Let Daria walk away from this. "