May 12th, 2006
0930 Hours
Brumbay Field, Equestria
“How are you doing man?” First Lieutenant Walker asked his Captain as the squadron gathered in the small briefing room.
“I have to admit I’m not doing too well Runner,” Cole admitted. “All that work for nothing. Just for the damn Chinese to punch us while we’re resting in our corner. What the Hell do we do now?”
“I understand Cole, but all that fighting was worth something.”
“I know man, but I don’t know what. You know what it was worth?”
“I’d have to think on that.”
“See there’s the problem, I can’t see it either. I mean we can come back from this but will we?” Cole wondered. “I guess either way we have to make sure and get our guys out alive so we’ll have that chance anyways.”
“That’s what I’m thinking too.”
“I really hope Dash and all the others back at Everfree are good. I haven’t heard too much about it lately. Maybe that’s because they ain’t been getting hit too much,” the Captain admitted, his drawl laying heavy on the last half before shaking it off.
“I hope she’s okay, too. A nice kid with that much heart doesn’t deserve to die young,” Runner agreed. “But I know you won’t let that happen. It’d be too terrible for you to pull that rescue a few years back just for her to get killed now.”
“That’d be a… a wasteful tragedy, I guess.”
“That’s a pretty simple way of putting it, yeah. Don’t worry, she’ll be fine.”
“Fate and chance have to decide that now, my friend.”
“We’ll see all of them again, I know it.”
“You can’t know that Jack.”
“I can John, I swear.”
“I’ve had people tell me stuff like that before only for it to not go that way. I can’t fully trust anything like that.”
“Then at least keep going so you’ll at least have the chance.”
“I will, I will. You know I will it’s just hard to-”
“And keep your head off it and what we’ve got right here,” Walker cut him off. “There’s plenty of stuff we can control, plenty of stuff right here. We actually have people to protect today, to save and all that. So let’s get to work playing hero, alright? Give it our best.”
“Hero huh… yeah, let’s get this shit on the road,” Cole agreed.
The entry of China into the war, primarily in Arcaia, had caused a dramatic tip in the balance of power, enough to break through the main American line. This at long last had put Equestria, America, and their respective allies on the definitively lesser end. Though the Chinese military itself, inexperienced and handicapped by its political positioning, would not alone be capable of totally defeating the Allied coalition forces in one great coup, the entry of this new and unique force added enough weight to the scale.
As with everywhere else in the line, this was also felt at Brumbay Field. Though the Chinese had only assaulted the central sector of the line, the total breakthrough combined with the renewed assaults by the Bloc had cause the 23rd and 94th Divisions to retreat in tandem as the 5th had. With both being outmaneuvered, the two abandoned the Papa Line on the southern and northern flanks, ceding the ground they had fought so hard to hold over those painful days past.
All of the Allied units were in full retreat towards central Equestria, though in many places it looked to be more of a route. Brumbay Field, being rather close to the front, would assuredly be lost to the advancing Griffon forces. A few units of the 94th had made it clear that they would defend the area ahead of the field until it could be evacuated, and no more than this.
The 1st Tactical had gathered in one of the base’s briefing rooms to go over the details. The other various unit commanders had already been briefed and passed on their information to their people. The Eagles has a slightly different mission: they were given the task of covering the frontline, the base, and the retreating aircraft from air attack.
“Morning boys,” the Captain greeted as the squadron filled into the room.
Cole gazed over the pilots, locking on to the newest member, a stubby Dutch boy nicknamed ‘Java’ in reference to the island he came from. The 1st had not been full-strength before with a noticeable empty space in Alpha Flight’s roster after Bursa died in the first battle of the war. Java had arrived as his replacement not two days before; no one even knew his life story yet before this disaster had struck. Bursa, in contrast, had died in an instant, almost without anyone knowing.
It was better in a way, for Cole at least. It made things quick and simple, no drama and shocking pain in the immediate moment. He did not think he would be able to continue if it were like that, it would make things too hard to handle. The funerals were harder, but in a similar way. With several thousand pounds of fire and metal crashing to the Earth from up high, there usually would not be a clean body to bury. Closed caskets took away some of the pain for Cole, and added more for others. Altogether, as hard as it was, it could be far worse.
Cowboy, as Cole came to find out, was a bit disturbed by it when Charlie flight lost its leader and two other members earlier in the year. He said that he did not think of what it would be like. The swift nature of the event stunned him. In one moment his comrades were alive and well, and in another second they were totally gone. No time for goodbyes, simply gone in a snap in the clouds.
“Everyone at ease,” Cole ordered. “Alright fill us in Lieutenant Walker.”
“Well as everyone knows we’re abandoning the base. The aircraft are going to be loaded up and shipped out, and we’ve got a few transport squadrons here to carry out necessary equipment and the personnel. Our job, as the only really full-strength combat squadron here, is to cover the evacuation.”
“The Army’s going to be holding the front line as long as they can to buy us time but we have to hustle, so everything’s pretty unorganized. I… ah Hell, might be easier to just go right to the questions. Whole thing’s a mess.”
“Wait, so does the evacuation even have a plan?” Firebird asked the Captain.
“They don’t but at least we do. Cowboy, you and Charlie Flight are going to be with me and Runner covering the base proper. The other flights are going to take off periodically to make sure the retreating aircraft don’t get jumped on the way out ,” Cole explained. “Bravo Flight’s going first, followed by Alpha and then Delta, then Charlie will break off for the final group. Me and Runner will follow later when we can.”
“So we’re escorting groups? How big?” Cowboy asked.
“Yeah, but... not really, let me explain. Basically the aircraft are just launching when they can so it’s a constant, steady stream. Best we can do is stagger up the flight time, cover the parts where the most aircraft will be in the air, especially the transport planes since they can’t defend themselves. So... yes but the evac will be a constant stream. It’ll leave some gaps but we’ll make due.”
“What’s enemy air activity look like?”
“Active,” Cole answered bluntly. “Most of it’s going to be over the frontlines and trying to hit the base itself. Might have a handful try and work around to the side to hit the evac route and cut us off, but we’re not sure if they even know about it.”
“And it’s just going to be us up there? None of the other squadrons are going to be helping?” Dart followed up.
“No, just us. It’s our job to get everyone out, the other planes are supposed to leave. The other fighters will be loaded with… well whatever’s left. Missiles, bombs, but it’s just to carry more ordinance out. Their job is to retreat, not hang around and help us,” the Captain continued. “Anything else?”
No further pilots spoke up with queries to the mission, if they had any remaining.
“Alright then, you boys get out of here and suit up. Get up there and do your jobs, and I’ll see you all at the other side when this is done.
After the men had dispersed, Cole remained in the briefing room going over the details again. He was about to leave before a new group of men entered, ones who were not part of his squadron. The only one he knew was Colonel Hottle, the commander of the 336th Fighter Squadron, with five other pilots in tow. Cole greeted them as usual, unsure of why they were here.
“I’m sorry if I’m in your way, Sir. I didn’t know you were planning on using the room,” he assumed. “My briefing’s over though, I’m just going over everything again. I’ll get out of your hair.”
“Relax Captain, I’m here to see you.”
“Did something happen Sir?”
“No, I was actually going ‘round the base trying to get some help organized for you. I actually meant to get to you before the briefing but it took a while to actually collect everyone,” the Colonel explained.
“That’s actually one of the nicer surprises I’ve had lately, thank you Sir,” Cole said. “What is the ‘help’ you scrapped up?”
“Right here. I figured your squadron would need a few more men to carry out your mission. I got these men from some of the other squadrons around the base. They’re good pilots.”
“Thank you, Colonel but… I don’t mean any disrespect but, well I don’t want to put any of your guys in danger. My squadron can handle escort and rearguard, I just want everyone to get out of here for now.”
“Don’t start with that foolishness Captain. We know you’ll do that, but you need a hand to do it properly.”
“Yes Sir, thanks. These men are going to be flying with me then? From the other squadrons?”
“For this operation they’ll be under the First Tac’ so consider them Eagles like the rest. And, to be frank with you, they will be for the foreseeable future.”
“Sir? Won’t their units need them back?”
“Captain I picked out these men because they’re survivors. Most of their flights or squadrons were lost in some way or another and will have to be rebuilt from scratch. But they won’t do any good flying alone. They need a parent unit that’s organized well, not shambles. We don’t need to send them up alone, we need them to be part of a team.”
“So you organized them into one composite flight, all for my squadron,” Cole surmised.
“That’s it Captain.”
“Could you introduce them to me Colonel? I’ve seen some of them around the base but I don’t have any names.”
“Course!” Hottle agreed, dragging the closest man forward by the shoulder of his flight suit. “This is Captain Vittorio of the 336th, ‘Spark’, formerly Rocket Three-Three.”
“Nice to meet you,” Cole greeted.
“Same to you Captain.”
“He’s a fine fighter pilot, I’ll vouch for that,” Colonel Hottle attested. “Been with me and the Rockets for a while now. Sad to see him go but… well he’ll do good.”
“I look forward to working with you,” Vittorio greeted simply.
“Same.”
“Lieutenant Colonel ‘Hotline’ Krieger from the 12th,” Hottle introduced, bringing forward the next pilot.
“I haven’t seen anyone from that squadron on the base. How’d you end up here Lieutenant Colonel?”
“Well I lead Bravo Flight of the 12th back at Royal Moonstone AB, near Manehatten. The squadron was retreating to the southeast. My flight was the last to head out but by then we only had three birds left,” Krieger recalled. “We got jumped by a bunch of Griffon Flankers not long after takeoff. Both of my wingmen were killed, I had to break off and flew here.”
“Damn, that’s a shame. I’m sorry about your guys, Sir.”
“Don’t be, these kinds of things are what happen in war. You have to expect it, anyone can bite it.”
“These two guys are Lieutenants ‘Rose’ Rosenbaum and ‘Fastball’ Wynn, both from the 77th,” Hottle cut in, hoping to move the introductions quicker.
“Hope you don’t mind a couple Falcon drives with you Captain. We’ll keep up with you boys though,” Wynn said, shaking Cole’s hand firmly as if to drive home the point.
“Nah, not at all. They’re fine birds, the Vipers.”
“And last there’s ‘Grouch’, Captain Ritter from the 335th, another Strike Eagle pilot.”
“Good to work with you Captain,” he addressed Cole in an almost monotone fashion.
“And that’s that, sorry to rush the meet and greet but we’ve got to get moving. We’ve got to start getting out of here,” Hottle said. “Just keep an eye on these guys, they’ll follow your orders.”
“You’re all okay with that? Some of you are a lot higher on the food chain than me with your rank,” Cole asked the group.
“We won’t mind, Captain. Just do a good job, keep our people alive, that’s all we’ll ask,” Krieger assured him. “It’s your squadron.”
“My… yeah, my squadron. Alright, thank you Sir.”
“You stay safe up there Captain. I’ll be watching, but I trust you with this,” Hottle finished, heading out of the room to prepare for the operation himself.
Cole talked with his new wingmen a little more before sending them off to prepare. He simply said they would join him as a new flight and would be working alongside himself and Lieutenant Walker on frontline duty. Keeping them close as an add-on was easier than reworking the plan. The rest of the squadron would proceed as planned, the newcomers would be a simple addition, but it left Cole with an added burden on his already worrying mind.
“A provisional flight… okay, more the merrier. Christ even more people under your wing, more you have to take care of… make sure they don’t bite it… Jesus. More to die.”
“Cole!” Runner shouted, heading back into the room. “Hey, what’s taking you? You ready to saddle up man?”
“Ah, yeah. Thanks. Sorry just… I got caught up, have a couple adjustments to the plan.”
“What kind of adjustments?Do we need to let the rest of the guys know?”
“No, everyone’s still doing the same job. We just have a new flight in our squadron that’s going to tag along with you and me now.”
“A new flight? What?”
“I can explain later, but it shouldn’t be a problem. Just kind of gave me one more thing to think about… you know, more paranoia I guess, anxiety over the what-ifs.”
“Hey keep your head right, okay? You don’t worry, cause if I see you worry I’ll start worrying about you. And you know how I get when I worry.”
“Yeah I know we’re both fucked in the head.”
“And I’m going to smack you in the head to get it working right again if you’re getting paranoid like that.”
“Learning from me now huh Runner?”
“Come on, let’s go get our shit packed up. We’re leaving,” Runner told his Captain, who nodded in agreement but simply moved the argument to his own head.
“Die, am I going to die? Fuck that’s right, I can. That dream, or warning, whatever it was. I can die, but how? When? I haven’t seen it yet… fuck I’m dead. Can’t die yet though… can I? Fucking shit! I can die but am I doomed or something? Stop! Can’t think of that now, work to do. Get your stuff packed, focus on that.”
Walker lead Cole off to collect whatever smaller personal artifacts they had left, their lockers being the last to be cleaned out. Most of the crew’s belongings were being shipped off already, but Cole, as well as every other pilot, elected to take the most important things personally. Everyone knew the risk of the transport they had loaded up being destroyed in flight, or more likely simply losing or misplacing their items in the confusion. He opened a small locker and proceeded to collect his belongings, which thankfully could all fit easily within the cockpit.
The largest in size was a white silk scarf, one of several that Rarity had gifted to the unit during their time at Everfree Air Base, which he wrapped around his neck. Then the small religious tokens: a small pocket-sized bible, a little cross, a pendant of Saint Michael the Archangel, and a rosary of blue gems; all were grabbed and shoved into one of his pockets rather unceremoniously. A couple of coins, pictures, good luck charms, other small collectible items that he was determined to hang on to, were also grabbed and stored away.
“Ah, hey Runner? You happen to see my butter bar anywhere?” he asked, shifting through the contents of the locker.
“That one you carry everywhere?”
“Yeah, my first one. The first LT bar I ever got, remember?”
“I remember it but I haven’t seen it anywhere.”
“Damn it, okay thanks.”
After this were some of his books. A fresh copy of Ivanhoe, which he had yet to finish. A paperback of Sagittarius Rising, which in contrast he had finished in a quick rate despite the war. A batch of westerns that had been mailed to him from home, Lonesome Dove, Hondo, and Riders of the Purple Sage, ones he had read years before now serving as memories of times long before this. A collection of imported prints from Brumbay town's local bookstore, when he and some other members of the squadron went exploring the day after they had first arrived; The Three Musketeers, Casino Royale, Lord of the Flies, The White Guard and a full anthology of Tolkien's works. It was a collection, now shoved into a backpack, that was important to him beyond what the words said. The books themselves were memories of the times, a way of connecting to the past again for him, as many other small tokens were for people.
He glanced over these before throwing them in and grabbing a few others that remained, as well as a handful of other trinkets and artifacts remaining in the locker until there was nothing left. He would have to find a place for the backpack in the fighter somewhere, perhaps crammed back beneath the seat and taped down securely. With the last of their possessions, the two now followed the rest of their wingmen to prepare for the flight.
“I can’t let anyone else die, not like this. They’re Americans, my countrymen. Brothers right?” Cole rambled to himself as he followed his XO to get his flight suit and equipment. “I’ll do my best… God help me, just please help me.”
After suiting up, Cole made his way through the crowded field to the flight line, where many planes were being readied. The motley collection of aircraft were on full display for a final time along the line; Australian Hornets and Aardvarks, Equestrian Gripens, American Strike Eagles of various squadrons. He thanked the flight crews heartily for preparing his Eagle and the work they had done throughout their time at Brumbay, knowing they would not likely meet again.
The human and Equestrian flight crews at Brumbay had been true, unrecognized heroes. They had worked themselves beyond the point of exhaustion on the mass of aircraft and multitude of types, ensuring they kept as many flyable as they could. They too would be evacuated in whatever way possible.
The frontline miles away was clear, but the weather over Brumbay itself was overcast with a light, drizzling rain. Even though this, Cole could make out the tracers and anti-aircraft fire in the distance as he took off. There, various units of the 94th Infantry Division were attempting to slow the advance of the Griffon Army, buying time for the evacuation to complete before they, too, could retreat. Cole circled the field waiting for his team, watching the steady stream of aircraft launching, most fleeing East, some joining him until the AWACS took off.
“Spyglass to Eagle lead, is the blocking force ready, over?”
“Affirmative Spyglass.”
“Alright, cover force is ready. Eagle Two-One, is Bravo Flight formed up?”
“Bravo is on station at waypoint one, over,” Keno confirmed.
“Begin the operation. Bravo the first set of transports and other aircraft are getting up now. Escort them East. AWACS at our destination will help coordinate the retreat, callsign Red Rover.”
“Copy that, out.”
“Eagle One be advised, the ground forces are under attack on the front lines. We’ll patch you so you can talk to them directly. Keep an eye out for bogies.”
At the front, Private Hugo and his squad were among the men stationed at the left-flank strongpoint. There were three of these situated on high rise ground in the middle and on the flanks, ‘Dallas’, ‘Austin’, and ‘Houston’ from South to North, with the roads running down the two valleys between them acting as death roads under watch with screening units at the end. These strongpoints were what the 94th was tasked to hold.
It was no longer an organized group of units, just a collection of whatever men and fighting vehicles were available. Some were low on ammunition, others low on gas, and organized in whatever disposition worked best. Hugo and his squad crouched in a hedgeline as artillery impacted randomly on the plateau. He watched a Humvee far ahead of them fire off it’s only TOW round at an unseen target before reversing out and retreating towards them.
“Spyglass, Eagle, this Mayflower,” the ground forces commander called them. “Me and my headquarters team here are in charge of Task Force Gold, the collection of units tasked with guarding Brumbay.”
“We’re reading you Mayflower, you might want to increase radio power though, enemy ground jamming is picking up,” Spyglass warned.
“Understood we’ll stay in contact as long as we can. Our front line is coming under attack, we’ll try to hold the hedgehog defense as best we can just evac the base. Most of our ranged AA’s been lost in the retreat so we can’t cover for airstrikes. We might not make it out of this once you guys retreat.”
“Don’t worry Mayflower, Eagle Squadron’s been covering Brumbay since the war started. They’ll get you guys out, don’t worry.”
“That squadron, there’s a lot of units with that callsign around. Isn’t that the ah… volunteer squadron? The ones with the painted noses we’ve kept hearing about.”
“White nosed volunteers, and a gold tip for the lead,” Spyglass clarified. “Sorry I got an eye for detail.”
“Hey that’s good news! Their name kept coming up, if they’re as good as they’re made out to be we’ll get out of this.”
“Alright Eagles front force we’ve got company. Two groups of five bandits, inbound at bearing Two-Six-Nine and Three-One-Five. Looks like tactical bombers and some escorts, Fencers and Flippers.”
“Cowboy, take your boys and hit the group at Two-Six-Nine. Engage from range, you fly past the front the Griffon AA will target you.”
“WILCO lead, Charlie’s moving to engage, out.”
“And the, ah… rest of you guys. Damn I’m sorry, was hoping we’d get more time to organize you all.”
“Rest of us can take the next group,” Captain Vittorio suggested.
“Yeah that’s the plan, but I figured we’d have more time to work the structure out… Hell with it. From now on you boys are Echo Flight, sound good?” Cole announced. “Lieutenant Colonel Krieger, ‘Hotline’ right? You mind taking flight lead?”
“My pleasure Captain.”
“Okay from now on you’re Echo flight lead, Eagle Five-One. Break off and take down the second group, from range same as Charlie’s oing. Me and Eagle Two will hang back and watch the AWACS.”
“Copy that Eagle One,” Krieger complied, turning to lead his new, diverse flight West.
On the ground, watched as the battle continued around them, the range slowly dropping. Some Griffon vehicles continued driving down the road through the valley, on a speeding run towards the airfield. A TOW from a lone Bradely hidden next to them flew out and into the side of a T-80, sending the turret flying off. Multiple other vehicles broke off and began advancing towards their position, raking the ridgeline with machine gun and autocannon fire.
Another Bradley fired several Bushmaster AP rounds into a flanking BRDM, causing it to roll into a ditch. Multiple squads of Griffon motorized infantry, dismounting from their IFVs, began to advance on the Americans themselves, finally giving the infantry a target for their small arms in turn. Hugo aimed his M-4, aided by the height, and began shooting away at any Griffon he saw moving, one bullet following another, the shots plunging down towards their enemy along with the rest of the small arms.
“Hey Roth! Roth!” he shouted over the gunfire to his nearest ally. “You still got the LAW?”
“Yeah! Hey you better not be wasting your ammo! We don’t know how long we’re going to be out in the shit!”
Above them two missiles streaked through the rainy sky, AMRAAMs from Charlie Flight aircraft reaching out to their targets. A volley of missiles fired from the Griffon escort fighters flew back towards them in retaliatory fire, the smoke lines crossing along the air. One Fencer, weighed down by it’s ordinance, was struck as it banked away, the missile impacting the belly of the aircraft and detonating the outboard bombs, causing a grand explosion that bloomed brightly in the grey soup. An escorting Ye-8 was hit shortly after, the impact crippling a wing and tearing off a canard and forcing the pilot to bail.
The Griffon missiles attempted to chase after their targets as the F-15s evaded and dropped long lines of flares and chaff. All through the grey rain there were sudden lights, indicators of the duel in the clouds; an explosion from impact here and there, long lines of flares burning brightly. The fighters on both sides dodged and ducked, launching long-range attacks against each other.
The new Echo Flight did the same, it’s Falcons and Eagles volleying a number of it’s missiles to destroy four of the five Griffon aircraft in its group. The survivor launched his own radar-guided missiles without lock and dove, escaping back to the West. The Flipper’s afterburners drove it to supersonic in the desperate run, the distinct boom lost in the occasional thunder.
“Eagle Lead, Spyglass, this is AWACS Red Rover, we’re coordinating the evac from our end at the receiving point of the evacuation. First group is away, second should be heading up now, over.”
“Copy Red Rover, over,” Cole rhymed. “Christ that’s going to be annoying.”
“We’ll keep you all updated as to the status of things here, out.”
“Eagle One this is Firebird. Alpha is on station, we are beginning escort,” Lieutenant Desser informed his Captain.
“Spyglass here, multiple additional groups inbound at high speed. Three Flankers, coming right at us!”
“We’ll get ‘em!” Cole interrupted. “Runner!”
“With you!”
“Charlie Flight, two Frogfoots inbound from the direct South,” Spyglass continued, calling out more targets. “Echo Flight, enemy group. Flight of five. Four Brawnys and one escort Fulcrum.”
“Copy!” Krieger acknowledged quickly. “Grouch! Spark! Drop to treetop!”
“Another group in from the north, four contacts, composition unknown. Looks like they’re gunning for the airfield.”
“This is getting out of hand, there’s too many of them,” remarked Runner as the two Eagles moved to engage.
The various aircraft continued engaging in their own battles. Cole struck out first, firing two of his AMRAAMs at long range, not hitting but causing the Flankers to break formation from their charge at the AWACS. He continued running them down and kept moving and unfocused while Runner closed in, waiting for hard lock-one before firing three of his.
“Coin Three, got new missile alert!” one of the Griffon Flanker pilots called out. “Two can you get that closer F-15?”
“I’m trying he just trashed my missile shot! I got one coming at me now!”
“Those Eagles, must be the same squadron that’s been giving us so much trouble. The ones with white nose cones.”
“Coin One is hit! Pull back! Pull back now!”
The ground troops continued the desperate fight to hold their positions. A number of Griffon armored vehicles had driven down the valley roads bottleneck to be met by the cap force at the end, a grouping of tanks and some missile tracks that fired directly into them. Most of the Griffon army attacking them had wisened to this and was enacting the slow process of pushing the Americans off their higher strongpoints so as to overwhelm them along the front.
Half of Objectives Dallas and Austin were overrun, with fighting taking place in the middle atop them. Houstan had been cornered into the flank but was still largely in control, with the Americans being driven off the edges but the Griffons unable to move over the crest. They tentatively prodded the position, with most units driving past down the road as the humans atop circled in a patch of woods and shot everything moving over the top.
Hugo could not tell much of what was happening from his position, pushed back into their defense in the thick of a forest. He saw two of their Bradleys burning so far out of five they had brought, along with two Humvees. A lone Abrams was firing it’s machine gun at some unseen targets at the wood line, having already expended all but two of it’s low reserve of main gun rounds.
“Hostile track flanking left!” Staff Sergeant Willoughby yelled. “Roth get up here! Now! Get the LAW ready!”
“Got it, last shot- fuck how’d he get this close!?”
“Yeah I noticed! Shoot!”
Roth fired the anti-tank round into the side armor of a BTR-70 advancing through the woods. Hugo himself did not see where the enemy IFV was before the round impacted, setting fire to the gasoline and igniting the track. A second later, small arms gunfire erupted ahead of them. The sound of pops and the impact against trees rattled over their heads as the men ducked onto the Earth.
“Footmobiles right behind!”
“Shoot back! Engage!”
Roth aimed down his rifle, searching for muzzle flashes in the crowded, dim space. Unable to see any, he began to loose shots in the direction before him where he heard the gunfire, a tactic many of his friends were mimicking, and one the Griffons performed themselves. The Americans, however, began the fight low on ammunition, something Hugo was reminded of as he reached for his last reserve magazine. It was not a winning fight but a delaying one, though just how long it could be dragged out was getting shorter and shorter.
“Spyglass, Eagle Five-One, Echo Flight. We drove off the first group of Brawnys. Moving to chase down the northern group heading to the airfield. Running low on AMRAAMs, we’re closing to Sidewinder range, out.”
“Spyglass, Eagle One. Enemy Flankers retreating. Can I get a SITREP, over?” Cole asked as he and Runner returned to their CAP position.
“One, be advised the second group of evac craft is away, third one is forming up now with Delta Flight. Charlie Flight’s driven off their targeted group but they’re low on radar-guided missiles. Echo’s the same way, they’re chasing the group going after the airfield itself,” Spyglass updated the stressed pilot.
“Okay, I think we’ve got a breather. Looks like we shook off the worst of it. Cowboy, you listening?”
“Loud and clear lead.”
“Bring Charlie back around, rally on us. We’ll regroup and see the last transports off. Echo how are you guys doing?”
“We’re all still up Captain,” Krieger replied. “Last enemy group just broke formation. We’re trying to-”
“Bandit down! I got one of them Fencers!” Rosenbaum interrupted as his Sidewinder exploded against the target’s body.
“We’re trying to run them down but we’re low on ammunition. They’re pulling off back North, so the airfield is safe.”
“Let them go and form back up with us.”
“Understood. You heard him Echo Flight, let the rest go.”
“Damn, I guess we’ll have to win the war by letting the bad guys run away,” Captain Ritter, ‘Grouch’, joked through an air of sarcasm.
The various aircraft began to regroup in one spot as the final planes of the evacuation began to gather, giving Cole a moment to check on the rest of the battle.
“Eagle One to Mayflower, can I get a SITREP please, over?”
“This is Mayflower, we’re still containing the enemy but most of Objectives Dallas and Austin have been overrun. We’ll keep it up as long as we can. Good work up there by the way, we could see a couple of Crow birds falling from our position.”
“Eagle One, you reading this? This is Rocket One,” one of the Strike Eagle squadron commanders called.
“Huh? Yeah, I can hear you Rocket One. You haven’t evaced yet Colonel?” Cole asked.
“I’m about to. Me and whatever’s left are going to be heading out with the last group. How are my guys doing?”
“They’re doing great Sir. All still alive, great performance,” Eagle One commended his new flight. “They’re true fighters, real great pilots.”
“Great! Hey when you get back make-”
“Warning! Contacts! Two more hostile groups, six craft each!” the AWACS warned as he picked up the new bandits on radar.
“More!? From where?” Cole asked, stunned the enemy still had aircraft to throw at them.
“One group direct East at Two-Seven-Zero, four Il-102 Blacksmokes with escorts. Second formation, all Fulcrums, Three-One-Zero, on vector to Brumbay. Some of them are likely carrying air-to-ground ordinance.”
“Shit this is bad, we’re low on radar missiles. There’s not much left we can do.”
“We’re all exhausted out here,” Ramone from Charlie commented, his own craft down to two missiles.
“Lead we don’t have much left here,” Rosenbaum added. “I’m winchester. We should focus on the ones heading for the field.”
“Captain what do we hit first? The ones going for the ground troops or the ones heading for the airfield?” Runner asked.
“Eagle this is Mayflower, don’t worry about us! The primary mission is to cover the evacuation!”
“No way, we’ll get them both, no one’s getting hung out alone!” Cold declared. “Charlie Flight, anyone with Slammers sound off now!”
“Meerkat, Eagle Three-Four still got two on the rack.”
“Ramone, again I got one left.”
“You two break off and form on me, Grouch you too! We’re engaging the Blacksmoke group,” the Captain ordered. “Runner, take the rest and cover the field. Those other Crows have a longer way to go, closer to you, let em close to Sidewinder range and do what you can.”
“WILCO brother!” Runner agreed, geeking over his fighter to join up with the others. “Echo form an element on me, take position in front of the field. Rest of Charlie hold where you are and let them pass you, we’ll try and hit them from both sides!”
Cole led the three other aircraft in a quick rush to the frontline. The enemy flight was already quite close to the American ground forces. The Blacksmokes, laden with bombs, were already setting up for their runs when the American fighters broke and began engaging individual targets.
Cole selected the closest bomber, flying directly towards him. Moving in at high speed he locked on to it with his final AMRAAM. Holding his fire for a better angle, he watched the Il-102 turn and evade lazily, weighed down by it’s payload, dropping large scores of chaff and flares.
The others were already firing as they came into range. Eagle Three-Two, Ramone, launched his at another bomber, first one then the other, scoring with the second in a hit that turned the Blacksmoke over and sent it into the ground. Grouch fired his remaining two at an escorting MiG-21 that was attempting to attack Cole, the second missile’s impact tearing the small plane apart entirely.
Cole at last saw a good shot as the target turned too sharply and slowed, firing his AMRAAM at the sluggish victim. The missile hit the rear of the plane as it completed the turn, leaving the thick, sturdy build intact but badly hurt. As the engine gave out, the Griffon pilot and his crew ejected.
The remaining bombers, no longer willing to take the risk, emptied their payload over clear ground and began retiring West, only a short ways from the American positions. Cole and the others elected not to give chase, wanting to conserve what little ammo remained and keeping close to their sector. Only Meerkat continued forth to down another plane, hitting the second Fishbed, now retreating, with two of her Sidewinders after her AMRAAM was dodged.
“Okay… bandits retreating… nice work guys,” the Captain congratulated. “That was damn close. Runner, how’re things looking?”
“We’re good One, those Fulcrums all had bombs so we took care of them with the Sidewinders. They dropped their payloads and scrambled. We got two of them.”
“So we’re in the clear? Spyglass, anything on the scanners?”
“No bogies, at least none that are on course for us,” Spyglass informed him. “How the Hell did you guys pull that off?”
“Don’t know, I don’t think we can do it again though,” Cole chuckled lightly, catching his breath.
“You won’t have to, I think we’re clear. Delta and their transports are away. The last group of planes has formed up over Brumbay. Charlie, it’s your turn to escort.”
“Copy Spyglass,” Cowboy responded. “You all set here Lead?”
“Get going Cowboy. Me, Runner, and Echo will hold shit down here. Nice work out there man.”
“Spyglass to all allied units, confirm the last aircraft has taken off from the field. Repeat, there are no more fixed-wing craft at Brumbay Field. Anything left should be leaving shortly.”
“Eagle, Spyglass, this is Mayflower. You guys did incredible work up there today. Our frontline’s almost overrun but we’ll be able to get out now. Thank you for watching over us from up there, if we’d gotten bombed we’d have been wiped out.”
“Happy to help Mayflower. Thanks for holding the front for us. We’ll watch over the retreat,” Cole assured him.
“Mayflower to all units, Sunset! Sunset!” the ground forces commander announced, sending the code word for the ground units to begin retreating.
It was time for the surviving ground forces of the 94th to retreat, however they could. The codeword ‘Sunset’ had been sent out by Mayflower to every unit with a radio, signaling the mission success. At Objective Dallas, Griffon artillery had begun to fall in the area along with the rain, mixing with the other sounds of battle to drown the voices of the men.
Hugo did not hear any further vocal directions from his leaders on account of this. Some muffled calls of ‘retreat’ were heard from various men. He looked for the various hand signal commands in absence, seeing some of the Sergeants motioning and waving for their men to enter the IFVs or climb aboard other vehicles. In general the mass of men was clearly gathering to fall back, and he moved to follow the group.
“Ground force’s retreat is looking good,” Cole observed. “Let’s start retiring ourselves. All remaining aircraft, form on me. We’re heading East.”
“Are they going to be able to escape the Griffons?” Vittorio wondered, still worrying for the men.
“There’s a couple of Apache flights launching from Brumbay. They’ll cover the 94th’s retreat, hold the bad guys at bay before leaving themselves,” Runner told him as the fighters passed out of their airspace.
The flight passed over the airfield and then the port town of Brumbay itself, now abandoning it to the enemy. They had done their best with the defense, and they had warned the civilians days in advance to leave their homes or face occupation; most elected to leave. There was a hope in the back of their minds, a far off but notable one, that they would return for it some day. However, as they passed out of the sector, a voice cried out that shattered their pretense or relaxation and accomplishment.
“Eagle One! Spyglass! Red Rover! The evac group is under attack! Do you hear me? They’re under attack!”
“What!? What happened?” Cole yelled.
“Large group of Griffon fighters, they came down from the North! They must have swung around you while you were defending Brumbay,” the Red Rover operator explained hurriedly. “They’re already dogfighting with Floggers at close range! They need help!”
“Full power! Everyone get over there and get those Crows off our friends! Use whatever you’ve got left!”
The fighters pushed up their engines to afterburner, lighting the fires and burning through the rainy sky. Just ahead of them were their allies, a mass of various planes from various squadrons, muddled together in a chaotic mess. The final group of the evacuation had been jumped, and as Charlie Flight has expended most of their missiles they were near defenseless.
The few fighters that where there were already dogfight with the Griffon MiGs at close range, trying to cover for the transport aircraft. The sky here was covered by a fierce thunderstorm, cloaking the furball with dark clouds and rain. Without intervention, the storm would be the scene of an aerial slaughter.
“Alright break up and spread out, get those bandits off of friendlies!” Cole ordered as they arrived on scene. “Focus on getting them off our allies! Get in there!”
“Cole is that you!?” Colonel Hottle noticed as his Strike Eagle swooped through the clouds, dragging a Flogger behind it. “Damn good to see you! We’re in some serious shit here!”
“We’ll get you out Rocket One!”
“Help the other guys first! I can lead these chumps out all day!”
“Captain, Cowboy! We need help here!” said Charlie’s Lead. “The coyotes are in the henhouse, kick ‘em out!”
Cole’s closest target was a MiG-23 attempting to shoot down an Equestrian Gripen, one of the three in the area.
“Silver One, Eagle One, I’m on your bandit’s tail, I’ll clear your six!”
“Thank you! Please, help us!” the pony begged, unable to shake off the enemy.
“Silverspeed, don’t worry you’ll be okay. I need you to listen and do what I say, got it?”
“Okay! I will!” she assured him.
“Turn left, that’s right… bring him around… jink right!” Cole ordered, as the Gripen obeyed and led the Griffon into a prime shooting spot for the American. “Locked on! Fox Two!”
Despite having used his long-range missiles, Cole and the others still had a number of close-range Sidewinders. He in fact still had all four on his F-15, a thankful product of his conservative usage. One of these flew off the rail and in in two seconds impacted the Flogger’s body, sending it down to Earth trailing smoke.
“You’re clear Silverspeed, break away now.”
“Thank you Captain!” the Equestrian replied. “Thank you, I won’t forget this. Red Rover, Silver One is breaking off.”
“Lead this is Five-Three, Fastball-ah, Wynn! I got those MiGs off the rest of the horsies but I’m totally Winchester!”
“Confirm, rest of Silver Team is breaking off!” Red Rover added. “Get the rest of our people out of there!”
Across the area, the fighters did their best to defend their embattled companions. With each second that ticked by, the threat of an ally being shot down continued. As they did though, bit by bit, the aircraft were saved, with each call-out signaling their salvation.
“Rocket Two breaking off! Spark got that guy off my back. I owe you a beer Vittorio!”
“This is Rose, got a Flogger that was heading after one of our C-130s! I’m empty but Boxcar Four is clear!” Rosenbaum reported happily.
“This is Meerkat, Charlie Flight! Krieger got the bandit off my back, I’m out of here!”
“This is Dropkick Two-One, Seventy-Seven Squadron, RAAF! One of those Falcons got the bastard that was chasing me! Whoever you are, let me know when we get back, I’m buying you a grog!”
“This is Blackbird One, is anyone near me!? I can’t shake this bugger! I’m almost out of flares!”
“I’m nearby, hang on,” Cole observed the running Australian Hornet. “Rocket One, you still-”
“I’m fine Captain, go help the Aussie,” Hottle assured him.
Cole’s F-15 dove down closer to the Earth, leveling out at the same altitude as the Hornet and Flogger. He followed them in every turn, every angle, trying to burn through the Flogger’s onboard jammer and countermeasures to get a hard lock. He did not break off but constantly dropped flares, refusing to allow his target to escape.
The American’s targeting system finally got a lock and he instantly fired his second missile, but the Flogger instantly turned up while dropping long lines of flares, it’s wings cut back as it shot upwards. As the missile approached, the Griffon pilot turned the plane over and pulled downwards sharply, successfully dodging it. As he dropped, however, Cole fired another Sidewinder. This one hit, impacting on the back spine of the aircraft.
“Blackbird, you’re clear.”
“Oh, Christ... damn Yank, you like cutting it that close? Ah… thanks Eagle Lead,” the commander of No. 75 Squadron thanked. “Looks like you pony boys are the real thing, bloody oath.”
“Red Rover, Blackbird One is breaking off!”
Most of the allied aircraft had been rescued at this point, and so far their luck had held; Lieutenant Walker was now helping one of the final ones in his own squadron
“Runner, Cowboy! This sumbitch is on me like a horsefly, swat him!” Charlie’s lead asked of the nearby XO.
“I got him, break off left! Don’t try to turn the tables, just lead him on. I’ll take care of him.”
The three flew along, forming a constantly turning, winding line. Neither was able to stop maneuvering and get a lock on the other, but by luck and fate a small finger of God intervened. In a blink, a bolt of lightning struck the MiG, shocking the plane and jarring the pilot. It did not badly damage the plane, but it did surprise the pilot enough for him to lose Cowboy, and allow Runner to get a perfect lock. An instant later, a Sidewinder had blotted him from the sky.
“Hoo boy, thanks for that. Red Rover, Eagle Three-One is breaking off now.”
“Copy that, only Rocket One is left,” the AWACS announced. “Eagle One you’re closest.”
“This guy’s the last bandit, drop him Eagle One!” said Hottle.
“You got it! I’ll drop him like a bad habit!”
Cole sped over and began gaining altitude, his white-gold nosecone piercing through the thick clouds. He saw the two boxes on his HUD, one ally and one bandit, with Hottle dodging his chaser consistently. Locking to the final Flogger from below, he fired his final missile as he charged upwards. The shot connected successfully, causing the fighter to lurch and dive, giving the pilot just enough time to bail before it caught fire.
“Rocket One is breaking off,” Red Rover observed. “I think that’s it, all our people are clear.”
“Nice work everyone,” Hottle said, reducing his Strike Eagle’s speed and lowering his altitude. “We did real well today. Even if it’s a retreat, feels like it went about as well as it could have gone.”
“Red Rover, we’re going to need a tanker up here. I think a lot of us don’t have the gas to make it all the way after all that. At least I don’t,” Cole asked.
“Already on station, start heading this way and we’ll get a couple tankers over to you,” the operator assured him. “Mission is complete.”
“Hold on! Warning! New contact!” Spyglass suddenly shouted from the rear. “Multiple new contacts! Ultra low, high speed! Shit they’re gaining altitude fast!”
“What? Christ you’ve got to be kidding me!” Cole yelled in frustration. “How’d they get close to us? Did they fly between the hills?”
“Coming in from the south! These aren’t Griffons! One’s ahead of the rest!”
“What the Hell is going on!?”
“Rocket One, caution! He’s gunning for you!”
“Shit, who’s this guy!?” Hottle jumped as he heeled the Strike Eagle over. “He’s already here, he’s glued to my six! Damn it!”
The F-15E pulled around, but the enemy fighter was already closing to range. Dumping what countermeasures he had left, he drove the fight off to the side, trying to catch his fast-approaching enemy in a Split-S and force him to overshoot. He caught a glimpse of the oncoming fighter, a model the Griffons did not have, a J-10 ‘Firebird’, carrying markings of the Chinese, and with a unique paint scheme, his wings in the color and arrangement of an owl’s. Before anything else could be done, two missiles tore into the Strike Eagle, the plan failing from the enemy pilot’s quick reaction, and leaving it a burning wreck.
“Colonel! Fuck, no!” Vittorio cried for his former commander.
“He shot down Hottle! How was it that fast!?” a stunned Krieger queried.
“Rocket One is down!” Red Rover reported as the fighter charged into the nearby mass of aircraft. “Chief Seven lost, another one! One transport aircraft lost!”
“What’s with this guy? That’s a J-10!” Spyglass added. “Confirm Chinese presence!”
“No no no no no! What the fuck!?” Cole spat. “Who are these guys!?”
“What are the Chinese doing this far north!?” Runner asked.
“They must have got wind of our evac!” Cowboy suggested. “We got to break, everyone who can get out! We can’t fight them, we’re out of options!”
Watching the Strike Eagle fall, Cole knew Colonel Hottle was dead. All the men aboard the C-17 that had been hit were dead. He knew he was dead, he was predicted to die. Was this where he was meant to fall, what the odd arcane dream had warned him of? It did not add up, but he could not focus on that.
He knew what he had stood for, what he would do in such situations. The happier past reminded him; Dash, Spitfire, Sparkle, his own men, all the others he had met. Keeping them to his heart and soul to Heaven, he would not abandon the others, his friends, to a massacre.
“No damn it! You’re not getting anyone else!” Cole swore. “If I can do anything, one good thing with my damn life… you’re not killing my guys!”
“Eagle Lead, I’m moving to engage the bandit! I’ll keep him wrapped up while the others escape!”
“One you don’t have any missiles left!” Spyglass pointed out. “You need to disengage at once!”
“Yeah but he doesn’t know that! I can engage him and keep him occupied until everyone gets out!”
“Cole you’ve fucking lost it brother!” Cowboy yelled. “He’s got missiles, you don’t!”
“I’ll just have to play Bullfighter, dodge them best I can!”
“What!?”
“Runner, you still there? I need you and Charlie to form and element and keep those other three bandits at bay. You guys at least still got some shots left!”
“Shit... Cole,” the XO groaned.
“Don’t bow out on me now Runner!”
“Damn it alright!”
“Good luck guys, and thank you,” Cole said. “I’m breaking off now.”
Cole yanked his fighter over, away from the group, gunning for the lone J-10.
“You guys have lost it, this is insane!” Cowboy protested.
“You planning on riding into the sunset now Cowboy?” Runner shot back.
“Shit, alright fill your hands boys! There’s just three of them! Use our numbers to our advantage, don’t take them alone!”
Cole’s Eagle, moving in at full speed, quickly closed the distance towards the J-10. Focused on attacking the fleeing aircraft ahead of him, the Chinese pilot did not notice his new assailant until he was very close. Pulling away and cutting his speed, he attempted to trick the fast-moving F-15 into overshooting, but it cut it’s speed and moved in comfortably behind. The Chinese fighter dived down to a lower altitude, hoping to get the advantage, with the Eagle deliberately following.
“Owl to Dragon, I’ve been engaged by an enemy F-15 Eagle. It’s likely their rearguard,” the J-10 pilot reported. “I’m engaging at close range now.”
“Understood, we’ve engaged a large group of enemy fighters here!” the leader of the other three fighters, a group of Finbacks, responded. “Shoot him down immediately and attack the retreating craft! We must kill as many of the imperialists as possible!”
“I will do as needed,” the Owl retorted harshly.
Cole continued following the Firebird, turning and breaking as it did, tracking it through radar to keep the enemy on edge. With every spin and turn more energy was lost, and in one the J-10 broke harder than the F-15 could reasonably follow, threatening an overshoot. The American saw this and jinked in the opposite direction, pushing up the throttle as he did to recover power. He pulled into a full circle as the J-10 did the same and the two rebounded at an angle to pass each-other head on. There was only a window of a second, though Cole could hear the warning alarms from possible lock as he passed, but thankfully no shots came his way.
“Eagle this is Red Rover, Delta Flight has reversed course and they’re heading back towards you. They’re fully armed, just hang on!”
“I’m trying, this guy’s the real thing! Christ help me!”
Cole pulled the Eagle up, trying to get up to a higher altitude, when the J-10 came about to his six. From range, the Owl fired one of his heat-seeking missiles, setting off the threat warnings in the F-15. Long lines of flares began to pop off at intervals and Cole began to fly in a tight zig-zag pattern, causing the missile to copy such and spreading out the flares. He began a final tight turn when he felt a shock and the rumble of a nearby explosion; the fear of being hit was sidelined as he looked and saw the dissipating fireball in his mirrors. The missile had entered the makeshift cloud of fares and detonated prematurely among the decoys.
“Shit! Shit, that was close! But… I’m good… alright!”
The Eagle came about from it’s turn and dived down, hoping to get a straightforward run in the distant hopes of hitting him with his guns, the last weapon he had aboard. Instead of charging, however, the J-10 broke off again, and the two entered into another turning fight higher in the clouds. With a quick break and better speed, Cole was able to win this, getting on the Owl’s tail again.
He remained there for a few seconds, acting as if he was trying to lock on to him with a radar missile, before the Chinese fighter dived away with the Eagle giving chase. Yet another turning fight developed, if only for a few seconds, before the F-15 pushed into afterburner and pulled itself into an Immelman and brought itself over. The Chinese pilot rolled and jinked up in hopes of catching a lock as he pulled upwards but the angle was too low to achieve such.
“Dragon to Owl, what is the status of the enemy?”
“Continuing to engage, but this pilot, he’s staying out of my reach, like a leaf slipping through my fingers. He has not locked on me yet, though he has had the chance,” the Chinese pilot assessed, his interest totally seized by his opponent.
“Just what is so amusing about your enemy!?”
“His flying is desperate, as if he’s afraid, fighting to survive, death lingering overhead, and yet there is no panic in his movements, but… it’s something else, driven by something greater. This man has some other determination than a natural defense of his life. I can not tell what.”
“We are not here to observe the enemy Owl! Destroy him at once and press on!”
“What is your status?” the Firebird pilot asked, deliberately ignoring his comrade’s request.
“Still engaged with the rest of the enemy fighters. We are trying to break through but their numbers are greater! We can not get to one without being engaged by another!”
“The destruction of the fleeing enemy is your goal, I would expect you to strike out for it with a greater fire than this.”
“It is our mission, and yours as well!”
The J-10, upon seeing the F-15 break away from the close range yet again, turned and applied full thrust, shooting towards the group of defenseless, retreating aircraft. Cole noticed it seconds later, that the enemy was attempting to abandon the fight and attack those he was trying to defend. He had to catch up, he was already behind, at a slower speed. No time to rest or collect himself, he had to run him down again.
“Eagle, Red Rover! Delta Flight is halfway there, just hang on! You’re doing it!”
“I’m trying, enemy’s trying to pass me and get after our people! Bandit’s in the clouds!”
“You got him Cole!” Runner assured his friend. “Chase him down, you’ve got this!”
Cole turned his aircraft towards him and applied full thrust again, dumping much of his remaining fuel into his afterburner. Thankfully, one of the handful of advantages of the Eagle was the two powerful engines it had, accelerating it much quicker and propelling it much faster. Though the J-10 was quickly gaining on the retreating allied aircraft, the F-15 was gaining ground on him quicker. He knew he had to force the Chinese pilot to break off his attack, and all he had left to force that with were his guns, which he switched too and began aiming the sight.
At the same time, the Owl attempted a radar lock on, but the mass of aircraft also brought a mass of ECM jammers and chaff countermeasures. He was attempting to lock on to one of the closer ones, an Equestrian Gripen. As he did so, Cole’s powerful craft finally caught up, though at a poor angle of attack. Regardless, with this one chance, he left off a long burst of gunfire from the Eagle’s Vulcan, the 20mm shells stringing out in a long line of tracers. He fired off almost the entire stock of ammunition, moving and adjusting to force the enemy to jink, and by this he saw two small flashes, impacts against the J-10’s right wing. The Owl felt the impact and suddenly jerked the stick down to evade, though hitting the fire button at the same time, and rather than having the radar missile fly out to hit the pony’s jet, it flew straight down to the ground.
“Nice, that’s a hit!” Cole exclaimed. “Confirmed visual!”
“Eagle One hit him!” Spyglass repeated, keeping track of the battle from his own position high above.
“Christ that was close, thanks again!” another one of the Strike Eagle pilots gratefully lauded. “Man, so Eagle Squadron’s still holding them off? A handful of them are taking that monster on?”
“No… just one’s taking him on,” Vittorio clarified.
“What!? No way!” Silverspeed jumped. “We wouldn’t last a minute against that enemy pilot!”
“He’s doing it with no weapons left!?” one of the other Rocket Squadron fliers asked in bewilderment.
“Nobody turn back, do not engage!” Krieger interrupted. “He’s buying time for us, don’t get in the way. We can’t do anything to help anyways.”
The Chinese jet pulled down into a low-speed Yo-Yo, which Cole attempted to counter, breaking left and rolling down and around, catching the enemy as he came back up. For a split second he again had a clear advantage, but no lock and missile shot could be taken. The J-10 passed him, both getting a good look at each other, as both passed heading in opposite directions before continuing the duel.
“I’ve been hit by the enemy’s guns,” the Owl reported. “No major damage, I can continue the engagement. But something seems wrong.”
“What is it Owl?” Dragon leader asked.
“That pilot, he fired his guns at me, but not his missiles. When I was chasing the enemy aircraft, flying straight, he did not even seem to try to lock on to me, but he had the chance. Why did he not?” the Chinese pilot wondered, thinking as he flew and recalling the few glimpses of the Eagle. “Unless… he has no missiles. This man, he has not had any missiles… the entire time.”
“What!? That makes no sense! It has to be something else.”
“He engaged me, began fighting me in a close-range duel, and… ah. He is covering for his allies. He can not fight me but distract me. He has entered this to defend the others as they leave.”
“Then ignore him!” the Dragon snarled, furious at what he saw as a trick. “Ignore him and destroy the retreating enemies! He can watch them fall as his punishment for wasting our time!”
“Your mission is the party’s goal, mine is different!” the Owl said. “This fighter is something different, as is this battle, and it is to be fought first!”
“It is our duty to-”
“If you are skilled enough you can break through the enemy and attack them! And if I am skilled enough I can defeat him before attacking them. But this fight is mine, this duel is his,” the Owl interrupted. “You go and do your job.”
Cole’s aircraft was now, truly, devoid of offensive weaponry, and the only things remaining to defend himself were his countermeasures and onboard jammers. Most of his fuel had been expended as well, which constituted its own problem but the lack of weight made the fighter more maneuverable. He began pulling constant moves, jinks, turns, rolls, all at varying speeds, never stopping, stressing the bodies of both himself and the jet. The Gs pressed into him, squeezing, crumpling, and draining his form, making the most basic functions like breathing a tasking effort. They pulled at the frame of the aircraft, straining the metal, working the weary fighter over. The one comfort was that it affected the Chinese pilot as well, testing them both as they danced.
“These pilots are unique, what squadron are they?” the Owl asked.
“Radio reports suggest it is the same squadron that has been talked about in the years previous, the ‘Eagles’ that were in the Night Ponies’ reports to us,” the Dragon said.
“That plane, the paint on its head is different,” he noticed. “White and gold, why those? For their meaning? Do they mean something special to him?”
After breaking off from the losing end of a low-altitude lag pursuit, Cole found himself on the defensive end yet again, though with some range between them. The J-10, however, leveled out and by the luck of it got a lock at distance on his aircraft, getting a decent angle on the F-15 from above. He instantly fired one of his radar-guided missiles, and again the warning alarms in Cole’s craft sounded.
“Fuck! I got one coming at me again! Fuck!” he noticed, the mix of fear and weariness now piercing into his bones. “This isn’t- there! Alright I’m going to try something hang on!”
Setting the chaff to fire off at more common intervals, of which there was increasingly little, he headed lower instead of higher, and lower still, until he was near treetop level. Pushing the speed up again, he headed into a hilly area ahead, the mounds rising up high, in multiple areas, some in the hundreds of meters. Using them as terrain for interference, mixed with the chaff, would give him a better chance. Cole heard a rattling in the cockpit, as if something had come loose in the taxing, high-g fight, and pleaded and prayed that the Eagle’s wings would not get clipped and the plane fall apart from the tension.
“Come on, hold together, I know you can! I trust you just work with me! I know you’ll stay in one piece, I’ll get you out of this! Just hold on!”
He moved quickly, the metal sheets of the countermeasures kicking up in small clouds in the gusting wind. His craft rustled the tops of the pine trees as he dodged between the hills, trying to get more distance and force the missile to level out. He ran past them, past rises that were several hundred meters tall, avoiding the occasional set of powerlines, doing his best to keep control and not nose down too much and into the woods. The missile did level out at Cole’s altitude as it chased after him and, as the chaff bursts interfered with it’s guidance system, the missile simply tracked on and slammed into the side of one of the hills.
“He dodged the shot, that was an impressive tactic,” the Chinese pilot observed.
“Owl One, this is Dragon!”
“You carry out your own duty and I will carry out mine.”
“No, Owl Lead! The Griffon AWACS is reporting more bandits entering our airspace, likely reinforcements!” the Finback pilot warned. “We’re already being tracked by their radar, and we’ll be in range of their medium-range missiles soon! I’m pulling my flight back, I suggest you retreat as well.”
“Hmm, very well,” the Owl submitted, seeing the now far-off box of Cole’s craft pull back up. “So you survived, you were good enough to survive, for the rest of your men to survive. To lead me on as well, fight me… I’ll have a lot to think about when I get back.”
The individual Chinese aircraft finally broke away at long last, finally leaving the Americans at peace. The Finbacks dived and retreated at full speed while the Firebird exited in a different direction. Dart’s flight of Eagles entered the airspace, passing the retreating glut of aircraft at well over the speed of sound, racing to the rescue. The Chinese fell back before any could achieve a lock at maximum range with their AMRAAMs, but they had arrived in time. The other fighters were still alive, and their relief could not be overstated.
“Damn cavalry’s here, finally,” said an exhausted Cowboy. “Heh… haha, hot damn! Cavalry’s here we did it! Dart you made it!”
“Eagle Lead, the bandits are retreating,” Runner reported, not receiving an immediate answer. “Eagle One? Captain!”
Cole felt as if his very self had been scared out of his body. He sat there, still but on edge, in a heightened sense of awareness that only extreme pressure and exhaustion could bring to men. Now he had the experience of calm, of this awareness in peace, seeing the world from the air around him.
The smallest drops of water glittered in the light like crystals. Clouds rolled through the sky like great monoliths in a true spectacle. His aircraft leveled out, reduced to a comfortable speed. The occasional lightning bolt popped off here and there, sudden bursts of light in the darkness of the storm clouds. Breaks in the storm allowed the warm rays of sun to shine down, in a beautiful golden veil to cover him and his Eagle, as if to comfort him from Heaven itself.
“Cole! You’re still on radar, you okay!? Talk dude!”
“Yeah, I’m… I… good Runner, just-”
“That means you can hear me!”
“Yeah… yeah… thank God… I’m still here, thank you.”
“This is Red Rover to all aircraft, looks like the airspace is clear and most of us are about to exit it. We’re in the clear now.”
“Cole you guys did damn fine out there,” Krieger acknowledged. “We all owe you one, you crazy bastard.”
“Your whole damn squadron did incredible today!” one of the Australian Hornets added. “I never would have believed we could have gotten through all that!”
“Yeah, couldn’t have gotten out without the First Tac,” one of the Strike Eagles from Lancer Team, the 333rd, agreed.
“Man, I miss my old guys but I’m glad I’m with you all now!” Rosenbaum admitted happily. “Eagle Lead, you still okay? What, you don’t have anything to say to us?”
“Bore you forth on eagle’s wings.”
“Oh you going to get sentimental on us? Didn’t know we had a poet, haha!”
“What? Oh, ah… it’s not… right,” Cole stuttered, still collecting himself. “Ah, Red Rover, you there? Uh, Red Rover, over?”
“We’re reading you Eagle One.”
“The tanker, I’m almost totally out-”
“Already on the way, the tankers are heading your way now, don’t worry!” the AWACS promised. “You guys just fill up and get home!”
“Will do, thanks.”
Cole turned the rudder slowly, drifting the craft over. He made a slight turn with the stick that angled the jet and the clattering sound hit his ears again. For a split second, he saw something fly past his vision, a small golden object that jumped up and landed in his lap. He reached down to grab it, holding up a small Lieutenant’s bar.
“Huh... so that’s where that went.”