Kevin Miller - Raven One

“ Thor, group three-four-zero, sixty, hostile.”

“ Sledge two-three, hostile.”

Wilson’s decision effectively cut the American firepower against Yaz Kernoum by 25 percent, but it was a contingency they had planned for as the Sledges were all going against the missile storage warehouses and could spare some overlap. The Rhino weapons system operators worked the intercept with the two AMRAAM missiles the larger aircraft carried. Wilson’s Anvil division each carried only one AMRAAM for self-protection. All the fighters were loaded with two Sidewinder heatseekers.

On time line, Wilson commanded his radar and FLIR to find his assigned aimpoint. His targeted building came into view on his FLIR, as if viewed through a soda straw. In a deft motion, he slewed his aiming diamond over it. He checked that his wingmen were in position and noted the trajectory of a HARM missile fired by one of the Trons .

“ Thor , new picture. Bandit group bullseye, three-three-five at fifty, medium, hot. Second group bullseye, two-niner-zero at sixty, low, hot!”

Damn , Wilson thought. Another bogey group to complicate the picture. He queried Thor . “Declare!”

“Hostile!”

The fact the Iranians had sent two groups of interceptors, separated laterally by some 40 miles, posed an even more difficult problem for the Americans, who were already limited by available fighters to counter this new threat. Wilson could picture the geometry in his mind — these guys could pose a problem for their egress to the get-well point in the Gulf.

Weed came up on the radio. “ Anvil one-two is spiked, zero-two-zero, chaff, defending.”

Wilson saw Weed pull away and down in order to free himself from the electronic grasp of a SAM missile radar. He also noted the two green bombs on Weed’s wings and realized he needed them, and all the remaining bombs, to hit their assigned aimpoints. Wilson searched the ground ahead for a launch plume and found it: a bright flare trailing a white plume that rose in the distance. The missile picked up speed as it ascended but was not tracking Weed, who, still in his defensive maneuver, was now 90 degrees off and descending. Wilson called out to his friend.

“ Anvil one-two, tally on the light post, out your left nine o’clock long. No factor! Resume!”

“One-two, ah, visual , roger.”

Wilson saw Weed reverse his turn to come back to his place in formation. Ahead and to his left, Wilson noted some black AAA puffs suspended in air, then some flashes from fresh air bursts underneath them. On his HUD, the seconds counted down to release. Switches set. The aimpoint grew larger in the FLIR display. A glance at Blade and Dutch confirmed they were in perfect position abeam.

A call from Tron filled his headset: “ Magnum from Tron five-two.”

Things were happening fast. Another picture call from Thor reminded him of the new threat to the west and the need to counter it.

“ Trons , can you take the group to the west?” he asked.

“Affirm!” one of the marines answered.

“Roger, inside 30 seconds to release,” Wilson acknowledged, just as his RWR lit off.

DEEDLE, DEEDLE, DEEDLEDEEDLEDEEDLEDEEDLE!

Wilson snapped his head to the spot from which Weed’s SAM had launched and saw another missile lifting from the shadows of the ridge to the east. Weed saw it, too.

“ Light post lifting at the Anvil’s one-thirty!”

“ Anvil one-one is spiked with a tally,” Wilson replied, knowing he couldn’t defend himself without throwing off his delivery. With five seconds until release, he kept his thumb pressed down on the pickle switch and held steady on the steering cue. At the same time, he kept one eye on the SAM that was now passing above the horizon and tracking toward him. Three… two… one…

The bombs left his jet with a lurch, and Wilson whipped the aircraft left and pulled hard, spitting out chaff to evade the missile. Looking straight down, he saw his bombs begin their earthward journey, a trip that would take over 30 seconds to complete — time he would need.

The confused predawn sky over Yaz Kernoum was dotted with black clouds of AAA fire, SAM plumes arcing here and there, and laser-guided bombs enroute to their aimpoints. Waves of RF energy filled the air performing diverse tasks in the service of each adversary. The cockpits were populated by highly trained professionals in their 20’s and 30’s, their minds trying to grasp what they saw and heard, identifying who made terse, nervous radio transmissions to build a mental picture for themselves and their wingmen. The men struggled to maintain as much situational awareness as they could while maneuvering hard in three dimensions to survive and guide their weapons to impact. It was the culmination of years of training from habitual drill to replicating this type of power projection strike in a permissive environment, and in the low morning light over the central desert of Iran, the intensity of this mission was the most they had ever experienced.

Wilson picked up “his” missile, but it was drifting aft on his canopy and going ballistic as he pulled back to the target. He rolled out to unmask his FLIR and reacquire the aimpoint. His mind absorbed a transmission from Thor— the northern group was 20 miles away — as he found the middle building and held the aiming diamond on it, while taking peeks at his wingmen who were also heads-down in their cockpits. He heard a “Fox-3” call and looked right to see Sledge 23 and 24 launch AMRAAMs at the lead bandit group. Slender fingers of white smoke produced by the bright “lights” of the missile rocket motors moved away from the fighters at high speed and began a graceful climb to intercept the enemy aircraft the Americans could only see with their radars.

Ten seconds till impact. Wilson corrected some aiming diamond drift with a deft slew to the middle of the building. His ears picked up the voice calls of his wingmen and the deedles from his RWR, but they did not register now, lost as he was in the concentration needed to hold his aiming diamond on target. The seconds counted down and the FLIR view shifted as the Hornets flew over the target, the countdown always too slow for the impatient aviators who just wanted to get out of Indian Country as soon as they could.

On the FLIR he saw his bombs, two white dashes, enter the screen and hit the building, the infrared image turning white from heat and smoke generated from the impact. Selecting WIDE, he saw Weeds’ bombs explode on his aiming point with two concentric shock waves flying out from the middle of his target. Returning to NARROW, Wilson noticed a strong surface wind had blown away most of the smoke, and he could now see that a majority of his building was destroyed. A steady flame, resembling a blowtorch, shot from the target.

“ Anvil’s Miller Time!” Wilson broadcast on the radio. He overbanked left to begin their direct route to the Gulf.

“ Sledge two-one and two-two clear, visual on Anvil .”

“ Sledge two-three, timeout on the lead bandit. Tally smoke! Splash one!”

“ Sledge two-four, timeout on the trailer. Tally ho! Splash two! Visual, six clear!”

In the northern twilight the pilots saw two black puffs with fiery trails falling to the desert floor. Two down.

“ Sledge two-three, flight visual, six clear, egressing.”

Having dispatched the lead group of bandits, their type still unknown to the Americans, Sledge 23 and 24 jinked through the target area to join the lead section who were now trailing the Anvils— with all aircraft heading southwest, the shortest direction to the coast. On the surface, the muzzle flashes of over a dozen guns sent familiar arcs of deadly tracers skyward. Though the AAA was heavy, it was ineffective, and the SAMs were still lifting off their rails. With the extent of the defenses, they now had no doubt this area was more than just a cement plant next to a rural village.