Kevin Miller - Raven One

“We’re goin’ somewhere in a hurry,” he said.

“Yeah, southeast,” Wilson responded, also wondering what it meant. Stepping away, he saw Lieutenant Metz approach them on his way up forward. Wilson walked over to intercept his path.

“Hey, Mike,” he said, “where we goin’ so fast?”

Metz stopped and looked at the two pilots. “Just got a message from NAVCENT. We’re heading out to the GOO.”

The shoot-down death of an American fighter pilot over Iranian soil was front page news all over the world. The story generated predictable glee in most African, Middle Eastern, and Asian communities, and indifferent resignation in other parts of the globe. The incident had now resulted in a diplomatic fight between Washington and Tehran, and the Iranians, masters at exploiting American misfortune, had the upper hand.

“God willing, American imperialist aggression will meet its end in the waters of the Persian Gulf!” thundered the Iranian foreign office. “The Great Satan is no match for the forces of God and has delivered to us an American angel of death who violated Islamic Republic sovereignty. Further American acts of war will be met with the full fury of Islamic Republic forces. They will guide more arrows of destruction to American planes that defile the Islamic Republic, and send their vessels of war to the bottom of the Persian Gulf to rid our waters of this wicked pestilence for all time, praise be to God.”

While Washington issued a public apology for the violation of Iranian airspace, its expressions of dismay at the unprovoked downing of an incapacitated airman without warning after repeated calls to this fact on international radio distress channels was met worldwide by skepticism, if not disbelief. Many nations viewed the incident as an American probe, or as a precursor to a wider war with Iran, which in some Washington circles was viewed as inevitable. The GCC nations, always wary of their northern neighbor, quietly asked Washington to tone down their profile in the Gulf and to give assurances that this was not a sign of an American attack.

Intercepted Iranian communications, however, did show command and control confusion on part of the Islamic Republic Air Force. The Iranians were just as surprised as the Americans were at the sudden turn of events that led the two FA-18s into their airspace, and there was uncertainty in Tehran from conflicting field reports received from the south. The civil air traffic controllers correctly identified the incursion as pilot incapacity, with one aircraft in extremis accompanied by a wingman. However, airspace controllers from the military sector painted a picture of an imminent American attack. Regular saber-rattling discourse by Iranian leaders likely conditioned those on watch to default to the military analysis, and with only minutes to decide on a course of action, they scrambled strip alert fighters from Bushier and Shiraz.

Control broke down further when different military sector controllers sent out conflicting orders to the fighters. The Bushier group was ordered to intercept and escort. The Shiraz group — which consisted of Hariri alone — was ordered to engage. American analysis was that the difference in orders could be explained by the vector of the Raven flight path, which was almost straight at Shiraz. The intelligence community analysts in Washington surmised it was more than the proximity to Shiraz that led the local air defense sector to engage without warning and without explicit orders from Tehran. On some satellite photos Washington had found an apparent cement production facility near Shiraz, but they were unsure of its true purpose. The analysts assumed that when the Iranians saw the Americans heading right for the facility, they took preemptive action. An unanswered question about this facility in Washington may have found an answer.

Even when the story moved off the front page, it remained the number one topic of conversation in the Virginia Beach fighter community. When the Strike Fighter Wing held a memorial at the chapel, most of the Oceana community, and all the Raven spouses, attended the service. Prince’s parents, as the guests of honor, were awash in grief, especially because they were still in the midst of a diplomatic battle to receive the remains of their son from the Iranians.

Every spouse there knew that abrupt loss could be “part of the package” in naval aviation, but it was never discussed. Even veteran wives like Mary Wilson, who were friends with more than one young woman suddenly widowed, lived in a state of denial most of the time. Mary had been the first to know her husband was involved in Ramer Howard’s last flight, and though her husband downplayed it at the time of his call to her, she had learned through the Oceana grapevine that her husband had literally dodged bullets over Iran. Hearing about the danger he had been in from people other than James scared her more than anything else she had experienced in her nine years of marriage to a Navy fighter pilot.

Several days later, she e-mailed a message to him.

Dear James,

Hearing your voice when you called the other day, despite the dreadful news you told me, was a big relief. I slept soundly that night knowing you were safe aboard the ship. You’ve been in the news quite a bit — well, not you, but you as the “lost pilot’s wingman, name withheld.” So, you’ve been relegated to anonymous wingman. I guess that’s better than nothing, huh?

The newspaper stories say you tried to save Ramer by placing your airplane close to him to get him to turn away from Iranian airspace. Then, after the missile hit and killed him, you were able to avoid the Iranians and return to the ship. I’ve heard rumors about what you did after Ramer was hit, that you were in a dogfight against a new type of fighter and that you almost got shot yourself. No one told me this directly, but the girls here have heard it from their husbands — the word gets out — and a friend told me. Not telling you who, it doesn’t matter. And I’m glad she did. I don’t blame you for not telling me yourself. You don’t want me to worry, and I understand that.

You know I’ve seen you at parties, when you guys all gather in the corner with your beers and start talking with your hands and “shooting your watches,” like you do every time. The other girls and I just roll our eyes and ignore you. But, as I watch you from across the room, you are at your most animated, doing more talking at that session than you will the rest of the evening. I used to think I knew what you do when you fly, but at times like this, I realize I don’t have a clue. I can visualize you landing on the carrier and even dogfighting — but I really have no idea about the weapons you carry or the weapons you face. The complexity of what’s going on around you with the thousands of little things you must monitor and consider is way beyond me. Sometimes, when you’ve tried to explain your flying to me, my eyes have glazed over. I want to know more, but at the same time, I really don’t. In fact, I try not to even think about it until things like this make me think about it.

James, you are a good pilot, and while I understand it’s dangerous out there, I’m confident in your ability, and I know you will come back to me. But I want you to know something else. The Iranian government has been causing problems and killing Americans for years. They are trying to get the bomb and they’ll use it. They killed Ramer without warning and they tried to kill you. You probably wouldn’t even be over there now except for them. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I imagine you guys will be in the middle of it. Focus on them. If they start something with us, I want you to beat them. The kids and I are fine but America and the world must be able to live in peace. We need you and the Ravens to keep them at bay and defend freedom. Is that asking too much? J