Kevin Miller - Declared Hostile

The Flanker was a threat Annie had to honor, but, with the helo about to enter a hover to pick up Lemur, she couldn’t abandon him. Between the three of them, Woody had an AMRAAM and a Sidewinder . In an instant, she directed them.

“Woody, Macho, commit on the bandit to the east and sanitize south. I’m staying with Flintlock . Copy that Condor? Lumber two-one and Whisk one-four are stripping on the bandit to the southeast.”

“ Condor copies.”

Annie was now alone over the angry little armada, and, with the lowering light, could see the faint arcs of bullets climbing into the air from the pitching and rolling hulls. Their fire was unguided small arms, but a lucky bullet could find its mark. She had an AMRAAM and a ‘Winder to hold them off. First, she had to know where Lemur was on the darkening waves below her.

“ Whisk , one-two, Lumber lead. Do you still have Flintlock ?”

“Affirm, check right another ten.”

“ Whisk one-two from Flintlock . Get your IR strobe out.”

Annie picked up the gray helo fuselage as it came upon Lemur from the northeast. Since she couldn’t see the raft, or the IR strobe, she had to guess where he was. She would use Flintlock as a reference. Anything south of the helicopter was fair game.

She pulled around to the north, lights out and invisible to the boats. Annie could make out nothing but wakes on the water and picked one to expend her last AIM-9. She saw Flintlock slowing in front of her, and to ensure the ‘Winder didn’t guide on the helicopter, she had to get past it before firing. The boats were almost on top of them.

Annie got a tone and squeezed the trigger, and a dazzling blaze of fire shot from her right wing. The missile twitched up and then down into a speeding 30-foot yacht, holing the fiberglass hull with its warhead fragments. As the yacht slowed to a stop, scattered rows of faint lights rose above Annie. Even though they were small arms, she had to keep her distance. With her eyes now padlocked on the helicopter, she called to Woody for an update.

“Woody, what luck?”

“We’re chasing it down, but it’s approaching the coast.”

“Well, if it’s in LAR, shoot it!” Annie was losing her cool under the growing pressure of her race against time. Just then an aural warning sounded in her headset. “ Bingo. Bingo. ”

With only 4,500 pounds of fuel and the hope of an inbound tanker still 100 miles away, Annie — as well as Macho and Woody — had to leave soon. The Lumber and Jelly sections were still 5-10 minutes out. Annie was alone with her unplanned wingman, Flintlock . The helicopter radioed a command to Lemur.

“ Whisk one-two, pop smoke!”

“ Whisk one-four, Fox three on the bandit heading southeast seven thousand,” Woody cried.

Annie pulled her jet around to the east as the tiny swarm of boats closed in on the helicopter. In the twilight, she could make out the curling smoke from Lemur’s flare. She could also see the gunner on the Sierra’s left side belching bursts of flame at the nearest boats to hold them off. At best, they need two minutes to pick up Lemur. Spray billowed up below the helo as it slowed over Lemur.

Annie was Winchester, but maybe she could draw some fire. With her mind working overtime, she had another idea. I have two drop tanks. She could come in low and drop one to cause confusion among the boats and keep their attention away from Flintlock . A diversion. She needed the others back to help her, and within minutes they needed to climb to the tanker. Two more minutes…. They could make it.

“Woody, Macho, if you haven’t splashed that bandit, get back here!”

“Five seconds!”

“ Lumber lead, Flintlock dropped a swimmer, and we’re circling around for pickup.”

“Roger,” Annie answered as she set up for her run. She selected her drop tank on Station 7 first. She would come in on a shallow dive out of the east, get down to below 500 feet and estimate lead as best she could for a tumbling, empty drop tank. She set her radar altimeter bug to 250 feet. She would be right in their face — and their bullets in hers.

“ Timeout-kill on the bandit heading one-five-zero. Angels six!” Woody crowed, which elicited a sigh of relief from Annie. They’re okay. They can come back to help. She whipped her head left for an instant and saw a flickering light descending to the southeast — the Flanker in its death throes.

Using the faded smoke as a reference — Lemur and the swimmer were down there somewhere — Annie overbanked and pulled down toward the water to find another target. Muzzle flashes came from scattered points all over the waves, and, as the helicopter circled, bullets turned the water into white froth as the helo door gunner worked over the boats he selected. Annie picked a wake and saw the dim boat that made it, what she identified as a center-console fisherman with muzzle flashes visible. A dozen small lights flashed past her left canopy in an orderly row. She bored in on the boat, with crisp movements of the stick to correct for lead, left index finger on the SELECT JETT button. Watching the picture build, she sensed more tiny light streams around her and listened for Woody, Flintlock, Condor. Annie did not think about what she was doing, she just did it, by reflex. If not her, who?

The boat was visible through her windscreen, two muzzles flashing on the bow as she roared over it at 450 knots. She pushed the button and felt her tank fall away as she pulled up and left to the south, behind the lead boats. Almost at once, she heard an aluminum punch and felt a slight shudder in the airframe — along with a sharp, metallic clank behind her.

From three miles away, Macho saw a small stream of flame arcing over the vicinity of the rescue. None of the aircraft had anti-collision lights illuminated, but the stream allowed Macho to boresight lock the object on her radar. Her FLIR showed an image of a Hornet with bright white heat cascading down its left tail above the stabilator.

Annie knew she was hit and could sense the flame aft over her left shoulder. Within a second, the left fire light illuminated and “ Engine fire left. Engine fire left. ” sounded in her headset. Macho’s frantic call followed.

“Annie, you’re hit! We’ll be there in thirty seconds. Get outta there!”

Annie yanked the left throttle around the detent and pushed the fire light over her FLIR display, which was filling with aircraft caution indications. She had to ignore them as she trimmed out the yaw and craned her neck to keep sight of the Sierra and the smoke. The boat was continuing in, and Flintlock was now stabilized in a hover to pick up Lemur and their swimmer.

From two miles away, Macho watched her XO roll in from the south, trailing flame that attracted the attention of gunners on every boat. On her FLIR display, she could see the sudden dashed lines of bullets zip past the stricken Hornet as it rolled in over them. Filled with sickening dread, she watched the jet struggle to turn, taking fire now from all quadrants. “Annie, you’re taking heavy fire!”

In her cockpit Annie, acknowledged the anxious call of her wingman. “Roger. Dropping my centerline on them. Left engine secure. Flintlock, status?”

“On the hoist now!” the aircraft commander replied.

Annie picked a boat and came in from the stern, hoping to be unseen, but, trailing a tongue of flame, she was the center of attention as the Venezuelans shot everything they could in an effort to bring her down. While the Flintlock M240 gunner hosed the nearest boat from 500 yards away, the co-pilot watched the burning Hornet. Stabilized in a dive among the criss-crossing boats, with their guns blazing into the air, a determined Annie pounced on them yet again — even as they smelled blood.