Part 2:

Wild Weasels


April 29, 1983

Holzdorf, Air Base

5:48 AM

David had left the barracks and wandered for all of five minutes before returning to the others and a minute more to grab his notebook and describe the situation.

Martins had done a lot… Maybe too much. None of it really mattered now as he, Martins, his captain, and a few of the ground crew that were keeping guard, all lazed around the valuable F-15 Strike Eagle in the hangar. If the Strike Eagle's airframe itself couldn't be taken, the targeting pod she carried alone would be a valuable item to the Soviets.

David was certain some of the ground crews that had been tasked as a sort of security detail weren't simple ground crews like the ones back home. A part of him quietly hoped they were part of the conspiracy, pulling strings to get him to find Iris somehow. Maybe unleash some new plan.

But no.

They said and did nothing as he and his captain sat there, exchanging written notes, while Martins paced from one end of the hangar to the next, rubbing at the back of his neck and his last unlit cigarette in his mouth.

No one really said anything. No one could. Captain Lambert briefly cleared his throat while he read the notes on paper, someone from the ground crews shifted his weight from one leg to the other, which caused a shuffling sound to slightly echo through the hangar they all figured was rigged. Pencil on paper did produce some sound, but it was practically imperceptible. It was the definition of dead silence.

He'd written it all down on his notebook. Scrawled, nervous, shaky letters as opposed to the more organized notes taken from previous mission briefings. His captain read it, and wrote other questions back, which he answered in the same, shaky, written words. No spoken words. They were certain their rooms were bugged, and it was even more likely the hangars with F-15s were bugged as well. So written communication was the best way to go about their conversation before settling on any path to take. It was like being in high school again, at a summer camp somewhere, passing notes in the middle of the night with only a few lights turned on for illumination so as to not get the attention of a chaperoning teacher.

Only the fear wasn't about getting detention but getting shot.

He took the note, read it, and really sat to consider his captain's suggestion of "running".

Forget about Iris, forget about the GDR, get to the embassy, and try to get sent somewhere else.

His words on paper weren't very important or helpful, as it turned out. The sun's rays were beginning to peek out from the horizon by now and none of them had any better idea than to try and contact the embassy and get him specifically out of there. Better avoid the fight entirely than risk an international incident right after mankind's first major victory against the BETA. Better to run, than to potentially risk the efforts of the many who'd fallen thus far.

But again, it was pointless.

Lambert passed him another piece of notebook paper but just as David began to read it, the hangar door popped open. The ground crew turned to the new face immediately but did not immediately tackle her to the ground.

The woman who stepped inside had a bored expression as she groggily asked "Liutenant David Elroy?"

David raised his hand slowly, cautiously, and with not a little bit of worry. Her uniform was Volksarmee, but he hadn't seen her on the base before. He looked a little closer, trying to identify her unit, but she approached him quickly.

"This is a message from the American Embassy in Berlin."

"Excuse me?"

"Apparently there is a problem with some of your documentation. At least when compared with the one we received."

He blinked, taking the letter.

"Cause no trouble." she spoke simply, then turned to leave.

He didn't ask questions as his captain exhaled in a tone that suggested clear frustration. He doubted the man had to deal with such interruptions in Vietnam, but the thought about comparing the past to the current, awful present died before it could fully form as a distraction.

Now his mind poured over the letter he'd received.

Lambert eyed it over.

Then Martins.

Then the ground crew who got curious enough to look at it.

The only appropriate response was the unofficial motto of the US Air Force's Wild Weasels. During the Vietnam War, when the Air Force was getting its act together as surface-to-air missiles were causing more air losses than the US had suffered in Korea, a special type of aircraft role had to be formed to counter the threat. The code name "Wild Weasel" itself came not from the mission description, but rather from the US Air Force's "Project Wild Wease", which was designed to create aircraft to detect Surface to Air Missile batteries and suppress them.

Back then, the task had been dangerous enough already. To directly go into enemy airspace and get the attention of enemy SAM batteries in high-threat environments such as North Vietnam? Losses were expected and had ultimately been high. The 354th Tactical Fighter Squadron had lost all but one of their F-100 Super Sabers, and it would take the introduction of better radar and jamming equipment on the newer F4 Phantoms to truly cement the strategy as a way to counter the enemy air defense.

With the BETA's arrival, however, all pilots had to effectively become Wild Weasels, hunting the BETA's air defense strains and destroying them. All the risks involved quadrupled, so humanity had adapted as best it could. They would own the skies still.

But those original wild weasels?

As one B-52 Electronics Warfare Officer had allegedly put it when presented with the mission description, where he'd have to leave the powerful bomber and play backseat role to some crazed pilot on a smaller jet, get the attraction of enemy SAM batteries and shoot them before they shot him? The madness of that mission?

The danger of becoming the bullseye the enemy would home in on, the sacrificial lamb, all to just give a slightly bigger chance for the other main mission to succeed?

Of course only one response was warranted.

"You've gotta be shittin' me."


A/N: Uh... hi! Thanks for reading!

Okay, I know, I know... short chapter. But don't you worry, this is only upload number 1 of 3 today. Yes, today, September 8, Irisidna's Birthday. Not tomorrow or next week. Today!

Right, so... before that, special thanks to Kilian for helping proofread these chapters.

Now...

I figured I'd start changing things up a bit as we shift into the latter half of this story, as well as... experimenting.

See, the next few chapters are going to be a bit different in more ways than one.

For starters, I couldn't fit in the flashbacks the way I had in previous chapters, where characters just reminisce about the past in their heads before the present snaps them back into their current situation. I needed to go in deep, and I needed to give more details to help supplement what will be happening in 1983. Really show what kind of relationship David had with the cast of Bernhard im Schatten. Hopefully, that's... interesting for you guys who are still keeping up with this idea of mine.

That means that, yes... we get a bit of a flashback arc going forward.

But not quite, cause... let's be real, the cool stuff is happening in 1983, not 1972.

So instead of the usual "one chapter until the next update which will God knows when", I'm giving you the following.

The intro to Part 2 of this story, which is this chapter.

"Side A" of this next story, which still takes place in 1983.

And of course, "Side B" which focuses in on 1972 and will go over a variety of events for David and Iris.

More on that in the very first part of...

An Illinois Yankee in the Deutsche Demokratische Republik

Thanks for reading!