Rambling

[Rambler 1-1 9]

Thanks for the flattery guys, I'm glad you're enjoying this.

 

This one is not supposed to rival Dave's Thud story, I just had a very interesting mission that I thought would make a good story.

 

 

 

"I can't see sh!t."

"shuddup and cut your nav lights, ace."

 

It was a balmy summer night, and even at 8,000 feet, the muggy air was a real pest. We had only been deployed for a couple of weeks, and the weather was definitely not what we were used to. We were about halfway between the military metropolis of Da Nang and our target, a train depot south of Hanoi. And it was damn dark out. It was a small strike force, just two Thuds, and we were carrying a sparse loadout. An ECM pod, a pave spike designator, a single GBU-10 and a couple 450 gallon tanks each rounded out our arsenal. Our object was to get in, hit the target and get out in as little time as possible, undetected.

 

Before us, a little further inalnd, were two flights of Navy F-4s who were to draw all the attention. They made primary contact at about 23:45.

 

"Asp flight, clear to engage."

"Fox One" "Fox One"

"Fox one" "Fox One"

"Fox One"

 

Hopefully the phantoms had drawn the MiGs out and away from us. Running Away was our only option if a MiG happened to find us.

 

My RWR beeped once and flashed on suddenly, the dull green light seeming like a spotlight in the dark, red-lit cockpit. There were a couple radars to the north and one to the east that were looking for us.

 

"Ram, you see em?"

"yeah. Drop to 4 grand, ECM on."

 

A clunk and a slight vibration as the outboard-mounted ALQ-87 spooled up and started sending confusing signals to the radars. The RWR flickered, and then all but the one site to our east dissapeared.

 

There were still calls over the radio from the Phantoms. They had apparently engaged a flight of MiGs and had a field day on them. Four or five MiGs down. They were calling in another set of contacts coming down from the north.

 

"Showtime, Bogeys, 'bout 80 miles north, not closing."

"Roger, Asp." I checked my kneeboard and airspeed. "9 minutes to target."

"*click*"

 

I didn't dare switch on my radar, the beams could be easily HOLYSH!T

The RWR was on again, this time beeping profusely. The site to our east, now our south-east, had a lock. On me.

 

"Ace, open formation and drop to one thou. I'm locked."

"Roger, dropping to one."

 

I rolled over and quickly dropped down to 900 feet. there were 600-foot hills and 700 foot radio towers in this area. The lock stuck. I flashed my lights so my wingie could see me. Now there were two more sites up north locked on me.

 

"Ram, I'm locked."

"One minute, then drop to five hundred."

 

We didn't have a minute. The beeping in my RWR doubled in speed. I saw two flashes in the distance, both to the north. SAMs.

 

"Ram, they're firing!"

 

I didn't bother to reply. The SAMs were climbing from launch, trailing plumes of smoke that were eerily illuminated by the rocket engines. Unable to drop any further, I turned towards the nearest one. It finished it's first stage and turned into a phantom streak, coming straight towards me. The other missile didn't track. The SAM came closer, I could see it's white illuminated smoke trail. At the last second I rolled and pulled a break turn, dropping to 700 feet. The Missile streaked by behind me.

 

That was close.

 

"Ace, where are you?"

 

I caught the flash of strobe lights out of the corner of my eye and moved to rejoin. he was low, hardy 500 feet.

 

"What's your ET?"

"Two minutes."

 

I looked ahead and saw the lights of the train depot. I flipped on the Pave Spike. The hastily added TV screen in the pit blinked on in green-and-black, pointing at the depot.

 

A minute out, I climbed up to two thousand feet, just like Ace had done thirty seconds before. My RWR protested profusely, warning me of half a dozen SAM sites that were tracking me. The other half-doven were tracking and firing at Ace. I centered the Pave Spike on target just as his bomb landed on a fuel car. The split-second of daylight exposed the point where the six rails of the depot joined into one. Tallyho. The pave spike centered and saved, I rolled in. A couple sites got locks on me and fired, but I was already on my run. Accelerating through 500 knots center on target damn that's a lot of SAMs oh sh!t there's a AAA site firing he's pretty close don't pay attention to him stay on target 550 knots target locked 900 feet off BOMBGONE!

 

Minding the Pave Spike and the AAA at the same time, I pulled out gently and arced into a left turn-aleron roll-right turn-aleron roll left turn BOOOOMMM! No time to see if I hit it there's a lot of AAA all converging on me damn I hope Ace isn't waiting OH FU*K THERES A LOT OF AAA RIGHT THERE IT'S GOT ME BRACKETED MOTHER OF GODDDDD! WHUMPWHUMPWHUMPSMACK!

 

The Thud shook like a boken washing machine and yawed to the left. I put in right rudder and aleron and pulled up, engine full military, 500 knots or so about 500 feet off the ground. There was still some green tracer chasing me, but it was way off. Engine instruments look good... damn it's a miracle! Hydraulics all good, flight controls working, just a little left yaw, countered with rudder trim. I'd better stay low, head for the hills. Cruise throttle, 520 knots.

 

I got over the hills and climbed up to cruise altitude. Leaking a bit of fuel, I dropped the stores. Next order of business, find my wingie.

 

"Ace, this is Ramber. Copy?

....

"Showtime two, Lead. Do you copy?"

....

 

I continued to broadcast until I got a static-laced call back from a group on the ground.

"Hey, ah..... Showtime lead ..... Echo company of the seventh of ...... had something big go over, smoking ..... went in near the LZ. ......ing it out."

"Roger that. Thanks"

 

My fuel situation was getting bad. I throttled back to minimum cruise and checked my chart. If I was lucky, I could make it to a small air base outside of Hue which was being used for C-130s. It was short, but possible.

 

It was just first light as I turned onto final. I put out flaps, gear and landing flaps, and the tail hook so I wouldn't overrun. I intercepted the glideslope and then slowed down to minimum landing speed. There was some flutter from the left wing, but I was concentrating on landing. The wheels touhed at the very threshhold of the runway and the plane clunked down. Then it started to turn to the right. I tried to counter it with rudder, but the slower we went, the more we turned and it must be a flat tire damnit it's gonna ground loop should I- ooOOOOOOOFFFF!

 

The tail hook caught the wire placed halfway down the runway and pulled us to a stop, preventing a ground loop. Thank God.

 

Upon inspection of the plane after landing, there were two large holes in the left wing, one in the left aileron and one that hit the right wing root and fragmented, puncturing the fuel tank and the right tire. That was close. Ace managed to eject just before his Thud became a crater, and was badly injured, but recovered. We never flew another night mission.

[Rambler 1-1 9]

"RAM!"

"whatdafuk?"

"you sleeping again? some leader. DMZ in 1 minute"

"Close up."

 

Damn, these scooters are quiet. These deep strikes always put me to sleep, especially now that they took longer and the flight was downright silent. We were southbound, following about 5 miles off the shoreline, heading for an oil facility in the middle of nowhere that was still some 100 miles away in the desert. Four A-4Cs, mine and #3's with 500 pounders, my wingie with LAU-3s and charlie with nape. The reason of the loadout was partially so that 2 and 4 could take out AAA while 3 and I went for the jackpot.

 

I dropped down to 1200 feet above the waves, to make it that much more difficult for the enemy to spot us. My flight followed obediently in silence, now that we were across the line.

 

300 gallon tanks were neccesary for lights of this duration, but we were advised not to drop them. Our supplies were low and our resupply was temporarily cut off, which also explained the mixed loadouts. The flight still cruised together nicely, though, so I trimmed the hawk and let it fly itself.

 

The next 15 minutes passed quickly, and soon we were 5 minutes off of initial over the desert, still with no sign of any opposition. I took my flight up to 2000 feet.

 

 

 

"Switches set?"

"two"

"three"

"four"

 

At initial point, with the oil site visible, we set up for the attack. I rolled in first. Down through 1500 feet, accelerating, a little too fast, nose up and brakes out, nose down, tracer from the right a little rudder line it up airspeed high aim short tracer is way off HOLYs**t THERE'S ANOTHER GUN WATCHYOURALTITUDE PICKLE! CHUNK CLUNK BOMBSGONE JINK LEFT, right, climb into the sun, vitals good, no tracer, keep climbing.

"Two's in on the gun"

"There's two of them"

 

I turned around at 3500 feet and watched as two rolled in and lined up on the first gun. The Gun saw him easily. He was coming in beside the sun, and the first gun started to fire, but didn't lead enough. Two let go of a salvo of rockets just as the second gun got a perfect bead and fired rounds of significantly larger tracers. Two never saw the second gun.

 

"Sha-"

 

just as two's rockets hit the first gun, the 23mm tracer collided with the port side of of his fuselage. A full wing flew off while the engine disintigrated and Two plowed in to the ground 100 meters short of the gun he had just destroyed.

 

Before the fireball that was Two could subside, four had already rolled in and was lined up on the ZU-23-2. He was coming from the sun, the opposite way that two had come from, and the gun had only turned halfway around when 1200 degrees of flaming death rained down on the gunner.

 

"four's off."

"Three's in hot."

 

my bombs had hit the two main oil pumps, and three was going for the storage tanks. I circled up and watched three dive in and then watched four finish climbing off. There was a glint on the horizon and a puff of white smoke.

 

"Bombs g-" "MIGS! MIGS! MISSILE! THREE, BREAK!"

 

There was a huge explosion fromt the tanks that three had just hit, but I didn't even realise it. I went to full military and clawed for altitude as three did a quick break turn. The soviet missile didn't track, but the MiGs were now clearly visible, two shiny Fishbeds setting up for a "pincer" attack on three. I nosed over and lined up to cut off the second Fishbed in it's turn as I switched to guns. The MiG continued it's turn, so I prepared for a high-deflection shot. In a 3-G turn with the MiG hidden below my nose, I fired a long burst. I rolled the other way to climb up off the attack. The MiG had broken off, and three had easily forced the other fishbed to overshoot. Four was climbing up after me.

 

"head for the front lines"

"three"

"four"

 

I clawed for altitude again, while the other scoots turned tail. I saw the MiGs heading back towards my flight. I rolled over and in behind them, suprisingly with some overtaking speed. I lined up on one of them and pulled the trigger. One round from one gun, two rounds form the other. Jammed.

 

f***

 

as i contemplated trying to overtake the MiGs and use my empty EFT as a weapon, The Migs sudenly nosed down and turned away. As they departed, I saw that one was actually trailing a fine line of fuel from it's right wing. I guess I got lucky.

 

"chevy flight, we're clear. the MiGs RTB'd."

 

 

 

I didn't sleep on the way back. Between thinking about Two buying it and the MiGs turning away when they were lined up for perfect kills, I was far from relaxed. I hoped that none of my future missions ended up being as memorable as that one was.

[scouserlad13 0]

This are immense! Keep em coming!

[Rambler 1-1 9]

"Well boys, looks like breakfast today is a big hearty bowl of s**t soup."

 

Oh boy. What a way to start a briefing.

 

It was hardly 5 in the morning, the desert was as cold as siberia and we had woken up to bad news.

"It seems," our briefing officer told us, "that our recent escapades into the south have not been taken kindly."

We had been flying SEAD missions with our F-4Cs for a few weeks now, and despite a squadron of only 8 planes, we had been doing well clearing up SAMs and big guns, as well as some zippers, for the Navy strikes.

"So yesterday, Paran brought in a squadron of 20 MiG-17s. We don't think they have any weapons aside from guns, but they might be planning a little trip over some important areas today. That's why you're all awake. Today, you fly MiG CAP."

 

Stunned silence from the group. We only had 4 planes operational, and despite having the requsition Air to Air weapons (AIM-7Es and AIM-9Bs and gun pods), we had no idea that we'd ever use them. We were bomber pilots. We hadn't even used our radars for anything more then ground mapping.

 

"You'll all get a load of 4 Sparrows, 4 sidewinders and a gun pod. Remember to use your advantages, and as soon as you lose them, run. Those MiGs are quick and those pilots are good. Also, no drop tanks, so watch your fuel."

 

After the full mission, weather (clear) and expected air defence (the last thing we were thinking about) briefings, we were suited up and marched out. The Phantoms looked much happier carrying missiles only, and they leapt off the ground like homesick angels. The flight out was filled with grumbles as RIOs figured out the air to air radar functions. Fortunately, all the radars worked, to some degree.

 

Not 20 minutes into the flight north, Red Crown informed us that there were 8 MiG-17s (estimated) heading north about 40 miles in front of us, at half our speed, and at low altitudes.

 

"Rio, go them?"

"yes and no. This bitch won't lock on."

 

I saw on my screen that we had contacts about 30 miles ahead, but the return was weak, and every time Rio tried to lock on, he lost it.

 

"Ford flight, anybody got a good lock?"

"Three's got it."

"Four's got it"

"okay, three and four, fire away."

"Fox one."

"Fox one"

two snakes of smoke straked away, followed shortly by another two.

 

"Ram, I got a lock."

"Fox one"

 

I fired a sparrow, then another a couple seconds later. No hits, yet.

 

"three and four, you take the west. Two, stick with me."

"(*click*)"

"(*click*)"

"(*click*)"

 

we split up and climbed to 10 thousand feet. The Migs were in a defensive circle a couple thousand feet below us, and were beginning to converge on the other two phantoms.

 

"well, two. Should we go save their lives?"

"Let's."

 

We rolled in in unison, as two MiGs turned around and climbed to meet us. The radar was boresighted and I let go of a sparrow. One MiG broke off and the other stayed on.

"I got this one"

"rog."

"somebody get this guy off!"

 

In front of me was a lone MiG chasing after a Phantom. I punched into burner to overtake as I switched to 'winders. as soon as i got tone, I fired one, then waited and fired another. The first didn't track, but the second did. Just as the MiG tried to deke, the missile detonated beside it's engine compartment and the majority of the fragments tore the right wing off. I climed up and around to get back in the fight.

 

"Fox Two! fox two!" "four, break right!"

"I got 'im!" "watch it! in the sun!"

"ah s**t" "guns"

there was a MiG coming across under my nose, going right to left, a couple thousand feet below. I pulled a quck split-S. THe MiG saw me coming, and pulled into a climbing right turn as I got in behind him. I punched into burner and angled to cut off his turn and line up for guns, but he was coming around too quickly. I flashed up behind him, vertically perpendicular to his path. As he continued to reef his MiG around, I came through the top of my loop with a little airspeed left and took an inverted sparrow shot. The damn thing didn't track, but it did make the MiG give up his head-on at me. I tried to get in behind him, but he was too slow, and rather then get caught without any energy, I rolled level, full throttled it again and climbed back up to see what I could.

 

"One, three's bingo."

"Ford flight, break off if you can." I was low on fuel too.

 

Just then, I saw a MiG diving in on a Phantom. It was a perfect setup. I rolled in behind him, but didn't have tone. Before i could switch to guns, three flashes of green went by my canopy.

 

"HOLY s**t RAMBLER"

 

The setup was too perfect. I was really boned now. I broke hard up and right, knowing that I could outclimb the MiG that must have been behind me. I bled off too many knots in the turn, then climbed for my life.

 

"two, get this guy off me. It's an easy shot."

 

going through 15,000 feet. The MiG was still there. Ah s**t, I bled off too much speed. Gotta get higher...

 

"dammit, get him off! I'm waxed!"

 

There were two MiGs behind me now, it wasn't looking good. Through 25,000 feet, 170 knots oh s**t that's below stall speed dammit whydidn'tIcheckthatf***!

Without a thought, I rolled the Phantom over on it's back and pulled up, expecting the "whump-whump" of 23mm cannon shells to tear apart my Phantom any second. It didn't happen. The nose lazily pulled below the horizon as the airspeed dipped below 70 knots. This plane was falling, not flying. falling. FALLING!

 

Minding my fuel this time, I pointed the nose straight down and full AB'd the engines. The acceleration was face-warping. through mach 1 by 19,000 feet. Low fuel, i gotta get home without getting shot. Through 10,000 feet and going staggeringly fast, i started to pull up. By the time I was level, i was doing 750 knots indicated in full afterburner. The MiGs were nowhere to be seen behind.

 

after getting clear of the MiGs, i pulled the throttles back for a 500 knot cruise back to base. Two and three had both gotten kills, but two wasn't answering. I was the last one in the landing pattern, and despite a slight crosswind, I greased the Phantom on better then ever. I landed with a full 200 pounds of fuel left, too. In the debrief, two was reported as shot down. the kills were three of theirs to one of ours. It was a smashing victory for us, a bomber squadron, but there were still lots of MiGs left.

 

the next week, a squadron of 16 F-8s arrived, and we went back to bombing.

[Viper6 3]

It's Great to have the Master Back!! I tell you no one does it better!!

[Rambler 1-1 9]

I haven't been playing very often lately, and when I've had the time, I've been a little on the fatigued side. I'm gonna make my next one better, for sure. As soon as I get the time to do another mission...

 

and they say that immitation is the greatest form of flattery, but being called "the Master" is right up there too! thanks for the compliments. Any suggestions on how I can improve, though?

[GASCAN39 7]

My only suggestion is to keep them coming. You have inspired me - I am immersed in SF2V right now. Got multiple campaigns going. My idea was a humble tribute to "There I Was....." a cartoon that appeared in the back of every issue of AIR FORCE. Basically, alot of old war stories drawn into a cartoon to illustrate the story a bit. There were some hilarious ones.....but mine would be serious war stories, kind of AAR style....

[Rambler 1-1 9]

It's been a long time, but here's another:

 

 

 

 

It felt good to be back in my Tomcat. It had been a while, and there always seemed to be something keeping be from a proper sortie, but not today.

 

 

 

We were tasked to do a fighter sweep over the mainland in support of a supply drop for a ranger squad or something. I didn't pay attention to the fine details, all I knew was that we were supposed to head way inland and draw any patrolling fighters away from the C-130s that were dropping whatever along the coast. It was a bit of a hush-hush flight, seeing as our presence over the mainland could be seen as an outright invasion, but we had to support our remaining men on the ground. The Air Force couldn't take this mission because they'd obviously be detected on the way in; I guess it was the Tomcat's first, last and only ever stealth mission.

 

We were off the deck of the Nimitz by 0600, just the two of us. No Phoenixes, just four 'winders, four Sparrows and EFTs for each of us. It was a rather long mission, with no refuelling, but was still within our range. After takeoff, Silver and I kicked back to enjoy the transit.

 

about 50 miles off the coast, Silver piped up.

 

 

 

"Ram, we got a couple contacts, not twenty miles in from the coast."

 

"You sure they're not the Hercs?"

 

"Positive. Too small."

 

"All right." I switched over to Unicom. "Red crown, Showtime lead. Bogeys, eleven o'clock, seven zero miles. request clearance to identify."

 

"Showtime lead, cleared to identify, weapons red."

 

Looks like we wouldn't be shooting at them yet...

 

Shortly after, the C-130s reported that they were approaching the coast. we were closing on the bogeys from behind as we called feet dry, they were 20 miles north of us or so. The Hercs were to come ashore in that area in another ten minutes.

 

I called my wingie.

 

"Tiger, let's catch those bogeys before they do anything stupid."

 

"Roger that."

 

The afterburners kicked in and we accelerated quickly. The air became smooth as we passed the barrier. We were closing fast.

 

"Silver, still got them locked?"

 

"You bet. ten miles and clos- wait! they're turning towards us!"

 

All right.

 

"Red crown, Showtime lead. Bogeys engaging, requesting weapons green."

 

"Showtime lead, negative. Weapons red. Cleared to identify."

 

Ass.

 

"Ram, they're here..."

 

The small, silver specks appeared on the horizon, closing fast.

 

"Tiger, wax those two."

 

"Rog"

 

It was strange that there were only two, usually the MiG-17s travelled in packs of at least... four.

 

I pulled up as the MiGs went past, but continued straight ahead.

 

"Ram, what are you doing? they've passed us!"

 

"Give me boresight." Unicom again. "Red crown, bogeys confirmed hostile. Engaging, weapons red."

 

"Showtime lead, Red crown... cleared weapons red."

 

"Fox one! Fox one!"

 

Now... where is... THERE!

 

My wingman had no trouble getting behind the first two. One burst into flames from Tiger's AIM-7E-2s. I was more interested in the one behind him, though. below me and to my left was a third shiny MiG-17.

 

"Tiger! Break right! Check six!"

 

he tore off his attack to the right as I rolled into a split-S. The MiG followed Tiger, turning to his right. This is too easy. My AIM-9H growled, ready to go.

 

"Dammit! DAMMIT! I can't shake him!"

 

Tiger's voice was strained by the G-load of his wild jinks.

 

"Hold on."

 

The MiG was following his wild jinks. Wait for the right moment...

 

"TIGER! BREAK LEFT NOW!"

 

The MiG had screwed up, rolling too far left trying to follow Tiger's jinks. If Tiger would pull across his nose, the MiG would be in firing position for a split second, but he would have to fly straight and level, and Tiger's Cat would be out of the 'winder's firing envelope.

 

"Are you CRAZY? He'll have my ass!"

 

"JUST DO IT!"

 

Tiger banked hard left, the MiG levelled. I fired.

 

The Sidewinder leapt off it's rail, snaked a couple times, then tracked straight up the MiG's exhaust trail.

 

"Splash one!"

 

I pulled up off the attack, and Tiger followed. We were looking for the other MiGs.

 

 

 

"Ram! Lookout!"

 

As Silver yelled, I saw the MiG above and behind me, to my right. I peeled off in a diving right turn.

 

"Tiger! I'm waxed!"

 

"No problem."

 

I couldn't see what Tiger did, but I can only assume it was pretty damn good. Soon, my RWR started to pick up. But... MiG-17s don't have radar!

 

"Ram, hold still and yell if you get locked."

 

"What?"

 

"Fox One."

 

Oh boy...

 

I pulled up hard left, and looked up over my shoulder to see a white smoke trail intersect an exhaust trail, then turn into a greasy black column of smoke.

 

"Splash two!"

 

"Uhh... thanks"

 

"Showtime lead, Red crown. Mission complete."

 

"Ram, I'm bingo. Cover me."

 

"Rog." I checked my gauges. "I've still got some fuel to play with."

 

we climbed back up to angels ten as I followed Tiger out. he was a good ten miles ahead of me, roughly at the shoreline when I saw the last MiG.

 

"Hey Silver, up for one more?"

 

"no."

 

"Too bad! I'm rolling in!"

 

"ok, but don't stay for long. We're almost bingo."

 

The MiG was at every disadvantage. He was low and slow.

 

 

 

Or so I thought...

 

 

 

I pulled an immelman and looked up to see him below me. But he was climbing. FAST. Silver and I both saw the green tracer at once.

 

"Ah-"

 

"-s**t!"

 

The bullets were coming up towards us... slowly. I was pulling up to try to bring my nose down on him for a head-on shot, but... wait...

 

In a moment of brilliance, I pushed forward on the stick. The inverted nose went up, and we were pushed into our straps with negative Gs. The bullets, which would have his us if I had continued to pull back, passed neatly behind us.

 

"sunuva..."

 

I quickly went into full burner and finished pulling through my loop. The MiG was high and slow, but had nosed down and was coming back around in a left turn by the time I hit the bottom of my loop. Knowing it wasn't a sparrow shot, and that I'd never be able to wax him for a 'winder in this situation, I switched to guns.

 

I rolled sideways left and lift-vectored to 3-Gs. The pipper disappeared below the HUD, as did the MiG, which was peeling towards me.

 

It was the high-deflection shot from hell, and I fired.

 

 

 

I let a half-second burst off, and eased off the turn. The MiG re-appeared on the other side of my canopy, missing a wing and trailing smoke. Splash three.

 

"ok, you got him. Let's get home before we have to swim."

 

I arced up and away, turning back towards the carrier. The Cat was light with such little fuel, and always did do nice victory rolls. I couldn't help myself, and as I looked back at the smoking crater, I muttered:

 

"Anytime, baby."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"The high-deflection shot from hell"