Kevin Miller - Declared Hostile

“ Whisk from Lumber two-zero. Be there in five mikes.”

“Roger, and we’ll have to bingo then. We’ll leave all our ordnance here.”

“Roger,” Annie acknowledged.

She heard the jets call in and off like they would in routine weapons training. She also heard reports of muzzle flashes from small arms on several of the go-fasts. The Venezuelans were fighting toe-to-toe. They wanted Lemur as much as she did, but they weren’t going to get him. She continued to listen.

“Okay, the big guy is dead-in-the-water, but the swarm is still moving at thirty, forty knots.”

“Yeah, I’d say the lead boats are inside five miles.”

“Watch for hand-held! Flares!”

“Two’s off. Safe, Winchester, five-point-four.”

Inside ten miles, Annie picked up several wakes, then more, all racing north to Lemur somewhere ahead of them. She couldn’t yet see the raft. The Rhinos capping over him were low on fuel and out of bullets, and Flintlock was at least fifteen minutes behind. It would be dusk by the time they got there, and Annie’s other Lumber section would not be there to help before the helo came in. Even with her low fuel state, she and her two charges would have to hold off the swarm of boats. All they had was bullets. And will.

“ Lumber two-zero from Whisk . We are bingo for the tanker. Do you have us in sight?”

From 3,000 feet, Annie could make out one dark Super Hornet planform pulling hard as it came off a run. The boats were scattered, two were smoking, and she could make out the twisted wakes on the surface as the craft evaded American fire. They kept coming for Lemur, and she wondered if they had him in sight. Annie keyed the mike.

“ Whisk, Lumber lead on station with three. Visual on one of you… now two. We’ve got the go-fasts to the south. Whisk one-two, you up?”

“Affirm, Lumber !”

“Roger, looking for you. Shine your white lens flashlight north.” After several seconds, Annie saw a glint below her.

“Okay, gotcha! Whisk one-two, we’ve got a visual. Lumbers , he’s at my ten o’clock low, about a mile.”

“Two’s visual,” Macho answered.

“Three’s visual,” their add-on Super Hornet wingman, Woody, answered.

The boats were now on Annie’s left shoulder for three miles and boring in on Lemur. She saw spray around the lead boat as the last Whisk pulled off. The boat stopped, but another took its place. More were streaming in from the south to help, and Annie estimated twenty, strung out over several miles. As she passed near Lemur, she marked the position on her Nav display as a reference.

“ Lumber from Whisk . We’re bingo! Sorry we can’t stay!”

“Roger, Whisk . Nice job. We’ve got it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the Whisk lead replied. He then added, for Lemur’s benefit, “Hang in there, buddy!”

With its dazzling orange glow to the west, Annie realized that the low sun would now highlight the jets if they came out of it. As the Whisks climbed to the north, and their waiting tanker above her, she elected to turn her formation right and set up an east-west circle. They could see each other as the light lowered, and she instructed them to keep their external lights off. Flintlock was twelve minutes out.

She would be bingo fuel by then. Dammit!

The Venezuelans were minutes away from Lemur. Looking over her shoulder, she saw one of them getting too close.

She pulled the jet hard right and armed up the gun. “ Lumbers , take trail and set up a wagon-wheel from east to west. I’m in hot on the lead boat. Tapes! ”

Annie pulled away from the others and down to begin her run. She sensed Lemur somewhere below her as she lined up on the lead boat, a go-fast bounding north. Passing 3,000 feet in a shallow dive, and using “Kentucky windage” to aim, she put the pipper on a patch of water ahead of the boat. She watched her altitude decrease, airspeed increase, and dive angle build. She couldn’t get too steep.

“Lead’s in—” she transmitted.

The boat veered hard right to evade. Annie repositioned her nose and squeezed the trigger.

Tracers flew out from over her nose as the gun barrels cycled under Annie’s command. A a low, guttural BRRRRRRRRPPP sounded in the cockpit as dozens of 20mm rounds raced ahead to the patch of water the boat would cross in seconds. Annie was still firing when the first bullets found their mark. The water erupted into geysers around the 50-foot boat as she observed a few flashes on the hull. Annie yanked her nose up and left and decided against expending any flares to escape detection. She saw the boat slow and wallow to the northeast, out of action. More continued in behind it.

Macho was next in line in an effort to keep an American gun on the disorganized flotilla at all times.

Macho pulled right and assessed that a boat to the west of the group was the near threat. As she rolled in, she sensed right away that a left pull off to the east would put her directly over the main group of boats and coming off right would highlight her. In an instant she decided to come off right and into the sunset, counter-circle from Annie and Woody. Despite her momentary loss of concealment, the maneuver gave the Venezuelans a longer crossing shot problem for their gunners on the bouncing decks. She lined up on the boat, more a skiff, took lead, and waited for the IN RNG cue. To her left, as she passed right to left in front of them, she saw “winking” from several boats, small but bright muzzle flashes.

They see me! They are shooting at ME!

When the mission computer rewarded her with a cue, she pulled the trigger and kicked a boot of right rudder to ensure her bullets were leading the boat. She saw it turn into her and slow as it did. Fountains of water bloomed on the sea where it would have been. A miss? She pulled off and overbanked right, and, for a moment, she could look underneath her. She saw the boat resume toward Lemur. Damn!

“I missed him!” she cried on the radio.

From one of the boats a bright light bloomed and shot ahead toward Macho, a handheld SAM. Woody was on it immediately. “Macho, break left! Missile at your left seven! Flares! ”

At her wingman’s direction, Macho broke hard into the missile and expended flares while pulling the throttles to idle as she whipped her head left to acquire it under the crushing g. The left turn also brought her into the sun, which was too much IR energy for the seeker head, and it went stupid. “Reverse to the right,” Annie called to her when she was clear of threat fire.

“Three’s in hot on the leader,” Woody transmitted. Annie watched him overbank and pull down, rolling out west in a familiar shallow dive. He was lined up on the leader’s starboard quarter when he let loose a massive burst. A thin cloud of gun gas from his 20mm cannon marked his flight path as he continued in. The water frothed white around the cigarette boat and impact flashes were noted on it, followed by black smoke as it slowed to a stop. Woody came off right.

“Sierra Hotel! Nice job three,” Annie called in encouragement. She was now in trail on Woody, with Macho north of them looking for a hole to enter the circle to continue strafing. Annie picked out a skiff on the eastern periphery of the group, tight on her position with small arms flashes visible. She pulled down into it, spraying it in a short burst as she jinked in a level right turn away from it and expended flares. All the aviators now knew handheld SAMs were a threat they had to honor.

Woody was in position to fire next, and, as he rolled in, Annie noted the range from her to Flintlock on her display. Ten miles… roughly five minutes.