600 miles south, flying north over the Persian Gulf in F-15E #1671 from Seymour Johnson AFB NC, Dez and I watched the last remaining glow of light disappear left over the Saudi desert in the west. Dez stayed busy with the jet's Sniper Targeting Pod, scanning the flickering lights of a Supertanker and dark Iranian coastline towns to the East. Voodoo and Bigus maintained a wedge formation in their jet, down our wingline with red beacons blinking once per second against the dark Persian sky. Armed with a full load of bombs, missiles, and 20mm cannon, we were headed into Iraq to provide on-call Close Air Support (CAS) for troops under fire anywhere in the country.
"What's that?" I asked, looking in my right mirror at Dez, six feet behind me. Dez had just connected his ipod to the jet's comm system, and with our Sniper targeting pod, he was busy tracking a figure walking on the deck of a supertanker.
"Some guy with a wrench."
"No, I mean that song..." Dez's music was making the jet feel twice as fast.
"Got it from Dozer. I need something to help me wake up. This switch to the night shift is killing me!"
"Dez, at least we got you off the duty desk and back on the flying schedule. Sounds like what you need is more coffee...this might be a long night for you, brother."
We continued north up the Gulf, with me working the radar while Dez managed the pod to keep ourselves busy and warmed up for the mission over Iraq. Passing the coastline "Feet Dry" near Kuwait City, Dez killed the music, and after checking our lasers on the sandy coast line south of Basra, I led us west for a rejoin with the tanker on station.
We started as always by joining in a medium-altitude tanker track just north of the Kuwait/Iraq border, but then continued north with a non-standard drag towards something brewing northeast of Baghdad. Although we usually stayed south in the tanker track orbit for the entire refueling, a priority call motivated the Air Support Operations Center (ASOC) callsign "Warhawk," to request our presence immediately near Baghdad for a developing situation north, so the tanker crew proceeded northbound with us on the boom, taking gas along the way to help us get there quickest.
Most of the time in these situations, we'd check in with Warhawk and hear of some potential crisis developing which needed our help - but normally when we would arrive overhead, there would be little to do except watch a few men walking through the desert - perhaps suspicious, but most likely just teenagers out after dark...we weren't too excited about this one. Topped off with gas, we disconnected from the boom, climbed up and forward of the KC-135, and accelerated northeast towards the mountains.
As we arrived in the "killbox" airspace northeast of Baghdad, towards the Iranian border from Baquba, we indeed found what was a quiet situation. Two armored Bradleys stopped on a road, crew outside just observing, but a bit worried about what essentially looked like a small gang of Iraqi teenagers walking down an irrigation canal in the dark after curfew. Happy to give the troopers some peace of mind, we wheeled it up into a circular observation pattern and began tracking. But after an hour of watching the two Bradleys move back and forth while helping them watch the kids, we were released to press on with our plan, which would at least us allow an opportunity to be re-tasked for more urgent CAS if needed.
We headed on west in the dark past the lights of Samarra to our second tanker, on the other side of Baghdad in the western tanker refueling track. There we found two KC-10 tankers in separate left-hand orbits, lights blinking like Christmas through our night vision goggles (NVGs) in the clear dark air over the western desert. A full moon reflected off the glassy water below and we avoided a two-ship of Navy EA-6B Prowlers, without radar, who were rejoining on the lower tanker. We climbed, contacted the tanker flying in the high orbit and worked the rejoin using our radar and night vision goggles, taking turns on the boom as we used the colored lights to stay in position in the dark smooth air. I joined first as Two took a spot on the right wing, then gave Two their turn so they would have a bit more gas as we started the next part of the mission. After about 15 minutes, both jets had full tanks for another hour or so of mortar patrol in southern Baghdad.
Turning our radars back on after refueling to avoid the blind Prowlers, also finishing their fill-up and leaving for somewhere north, we blasted high and east, watching our huge tanker retract its boom and head south towards the gulf while the other stayed in the Elena orbit. Flashing lights blinked everywhere as we visually tracked these tankers, the Prowlers, airliners high overhead, and unknown smaller planes crisscrossing the airspace between the tanker orbit and Baghdad.
"Dez, it's going to be one of those nights." I said, setting up our detached two ship in an altitude-deconflicted circular pattern over killbox airspace over Baghdad.
"I hear you, boss- this is killing me already. I'd love to scare up something for us, but I think we're gonna log the rest of our 6.8 hours tonight looking for Baghdad insurgents and go home."
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We were wrong.
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"Dirty 65, contact Warhawk and proceed direct Ramadi."
We almost never worked Ramadi anymore.
Ramadi was where the Marines now operated almost exclusively, and very rarely did they like to use any assets except their own Marine air in the western part of Iraq. In fact, unlike on previous deployments during which our squadron worked the western desert quite often, anything in Anbar was now almost purely the province of Marine Corps aviation. Having cleaned out Fallujah in summer 2004, the Marines were now focused on this new city further to the west, and for them to need our help over Ramadi meant something was unusual.
We checked in to find what was indeed unusual- an unexpected small group of soldiers on a foot patrol, huddled in a group as they prepared to walk through the middle of Ramadi at two a.m.
At first, it took us a while to raise them on the radio. But, after we finally checked in with the Joint Terminal Air Controller, or JTAC, call sign "Snoopy," we established a relationship on the radios to support them as they began their planned foot patrol through the dark city. We couldn't see any vehicles anywhere near their position. Furthermore, as we worked our left-hand orbit in a medium-altitude block, we were able to put our targeting pod exactly on the coordinates passed by the ASOC, but for some reason couldn't see any movement except a stray dog. As we looked for them, the longer we listened to the JTAC on freq, the more his voice sounded strangely familiar to me.
"Copy Dirty, we are a foot patrol of 17 including my ROMAD and me, working our way from the warehouse at the grid I passed, west and north towards center of town- call when visual and we'll move out."
Since he sounded like an Air Force JTAC, I asked,
"Confirm you are an element of Marines?"
He responded, "No, we are Army from the 101st chopped to work here in Anbar with the MEF (Marine Expeditionary Force). This is a US Army unit on a foot patrol, and my ROMAD (radio man) and I are US Air Force."
It took some time to locate them along the edge of a long building. "Got em" Dez finally said, happy to have the Sniper pod locked on the small group of men, all huddled on the south side of a wall as they were preparing to move. "We are contact your patrol, Snoopy." "Two" Bigus added, letting us know he also had visual the group, after seeing Dez's data link designation on the net and slewing his pod to see the same picture.
"Two's Joker!" Voodoo piped up to let us know his reduced fuel state, to which I replied "Yo-Yo, tanker bearing 235 for 45." With my radar, I had been watching our waiting KC-10, which had just come on station now in the refueling track southwest of Baghdad after taking our previous one's extra gas. These tankers often consolidated fuel this way to guarantee more was always available.
"Two!" replied Voodoo, disappearing from our orbit to head towards the remote desert for the gas. Our term, "YoYo" meant 'you're on your own' and cleared to go single-ship to the tanker, rather than with me as a two-ship. Our datalink technology allowed me to closely monitor our wingman carefully the whole time we were separated, freeing me to keep watch over our Ramadi patrol until he returned and we departed briefly for our own fill-up. Lobster-eyeing my radar, Dez's pod, and the "Sit", or situation display, I was able to monitor Voodoo's rejoin on the tanker while at the same time keeping track of Snoopy patrol, now on the move through the dark trashy streets of Ramadi. After a few minutes, Voodoo and Bigus were back and had their targeting pod designated firmly on Snoopy Patrol as Dez and I dashed off for our own fuel top-off.
Tag-team airpower.
In no time, less than fifteen minutes, we were back with plenty of fuel- our tanker crew had remained cooperatively close to Ramadi for us in a tight circle instead of their typical long racetrack, and full of gas, we re-entered our altitude block and took the tactical lead back from Voodoo. The Kingpin command and control reporting center finally gave us the lower altitude block I had requested an hour earlier, and gratefully, I descended our two-ship to a lower block, which we divided up to maneuver independently. I always liked to give our wingman a bigger, deconflicted area in which to work above us, and as we began our offset left-hand orbit, we began working on opposite sides of the circle to maximize our ability to cover the ground patrol with good Sniper pod coverage on the scene.
In the Sniper pod, we could clearly see two lines of 8-9 troops moving north up a filthy street, a line on each side near the walls as they stepped carefully around the trash and gutters of Ramadi. I went off freq to let Kingpin command & control know we were established in our new block.
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A bright flash caught my eye outside.
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Dez drew his breath in shock, and then directed Bigus to put his pod on the north edge of the patrol.
Looking in at our own Sniper pod, I was immediately horrified to see strange, panicked movement on the ground as the men who had been were walking slowly and orderly in two single-file lines on either side of the street were now scurrying frantically in all directions from the center of the formation.
"What was it?" I asked Dez, noting that he was now moving his pod back and forth down the street, selecting narrow field-of-view on two soldiers on the west side of the street, not moving.
"They just took a hit" replied Dez. "Saw the detonation."
The rest of the patrol was now in various locations in groups of 2 or 3 huddled and defending north and south of the two still men. It was clear something bad had just happened to these soldiers.
"Ahhhh Dirty this is Snoopy, Dirty 65 this is Snoopy we have just.........."
"Dirty 65..."
Snoopy patrol was in deep trouble. The JTAC who had been very calm was now distracted by activity - and now we could hear gunshots from the men standing near him as we could see him working quickly towards a doorway in a wall on the east side of the street.
South of this middle injured group, we could see the remainder of the men running for cover into the opening which led to a courtyard we could look down into on the east side of the street, clearly being ordered there by someone leading the men. From here, the JTAC spoke again, this time more deliberately and clearly.
"Dirty this is Snoopy- it looks like we have had a command-detonated IED on our patrol. At least one of our men is hit in the leg and immobile, the rest of our patrol has set up fighting positions north and south, or are in a small open yard off the street. Do you have contact our injured, over?"
"Affirm Snoopy, visual all players, and we have definite contact on your wounded, Are you taking fire at this time?"
"Ah that's a negative, Dirty, but this blast just woke up the whole neighborhood I expect. I need you to monitor our men on the north and south who have set up defensive positions while we take care of our wounded, and verify you have visual on the group of us here in this courtyard? Standy for 9-line if we start taking fire..." A 9-line was the order for us to deliver bombs or bullets on the enemy...and we would need that order before delivering any ordnance near friendly troops.
Bigus injected," Two sees tracers north".
Dez, with his pod now on the courtyard, "I have your group in the alley east side of the street. Contact two groups, one on each corner north and south of you, we have what looks like an injured soldier on the west side of the street with two others...confirm injured?"
"Affirmative, Dirty, we had one of our men take a hit from what we believe was a command-detonated, I say command detonated IED - the insurgents waited until half the patrol passed the bomb and then activated it on one of our troopers- our man is hurt bad and it looks like his leg is fragged, possibly blown off - still alive. Another two men working with him. At least one man down at this time, over"
"Copy Snoopy, we have visual on all members of your formation; be advised you have tracer fire north of your northern position."
"Roger that, Dirty 65, we hear fires and expect more as this neighborhood comes out towards our position after hearing the IED explosion."
"Dirty's back up, Snoopy, Dirty 65 has informed Warhawk to call a QRF to your location"
"Roger that, Dirty, we are beginning to take increased fire from the north at this time. See if you can determine the location of fires, over"
Bigus had been tracking the tracers, "Two sees tracers from northwest - they are shooting from under cover or in a building from several directions."
The insurgents were not new to this game- had done this plenty before, and could hear our jet engines overhead. They had taken great pains to try and take cover beneath carports and covered awnings.
And at this point, we could see, both in the targeting pods and looking outside, the orange flashes from the ricochets as the rounds hit metal roofs and doors, glancing in all directions around a north threesome of soldiers, who were now bravely hunched in a close, mutually-supporting group, one leaning on the wall, another down on one knee, and a third standing and taking clear aim at something to their northwest down an adjoining alley.
Bigus now could see two soldiers in the middle, working around the downed trooper to give him medical attention, South, there was no activity as Bigus scanned with his pod while Dez talked with the JTAC.
"We can see tracers and ricochets. Appears you are taking fire from northwest of your men on the north corner."
"Roger that, unable to see our north and south fighting positions well from our location here in this compound; keep me advised on their status. I don't believe we will be able to have you put ordnance in this area because there are civilians living here all around us."
Unlike previous years of more intense and widespread combat when a bomb might have been forthcoming in this situation, a far less-kinetic mindset now dominated our decision-making process. Unfortunately, these insurgents hadn't received that order...
"Dirty, confirm you can strafe with guns if needed? We need..."
He was interrupted by another blast of fire and tracer rounds, this time from the south. Unlike the first ones which had a small whitish-orange look to them, the new fires from the south had a much larger caliber, and the ricochets bounced vertically with more force in all directions in a dark-red angry color. This was a bigger weapon, and we could hear it clearly as our JTAC keyed the mic.
"Dirty I need a show of force down here over our position right now...ahhhh"
"Dirty I need a show of force, our posit, we are taking fires now from the north and the south...." he was interrupted again by a steady burst as he held the microphone button for a second - we could hear and see the angry red tracers now, associating them with the sound as men were yelling all around him, shooting from the door of the compound. As we scanned with the pod, it was obvious this situation was beginning to get far worse.
One man was clearly down in the middle of the street, two men tending to him; two groups north and south in defensive fighting positions, actively firing to defend their brother - and the remainder of the men hunkered down with Snoopy in the cover of a courtyard wall with a group of others and the commander. All were now taking fire from the northwest and more fire was now erupting from somewhere south.
As the insurgents shot at the soldiers from two well-planned vantage points, the amount of ricochets and tracers dramatically increased. Banking up the jet, I looked straight down over the canopy rail and was able to pinpoint the southern firing position using my NVGs, underneath a piece of corrugated metal cover.
"Masking!" Dez directed, indicating I had banked up the jet too much, obscuring his pod from seeing the fires and the soldiers. Our large fuel tank on the left wing was blocking his line of sight because of my brief high bank angle as I looked down with my night vision goggles to find the firing positions. Happy to find theenemy fighting position visually, I pushed the stick right and rolled out, unmasking his pod as I confirmed his contact by glancing inside at the green Sniper pod screen on the right side of my instrument panel.
In the aux radio, I was briefing up our upcoming show of force already, "Two, One will execute show of force, south to north with flares, standby to follow up immediately after on my call, east to west run in" ...."Two!" Voodoo replied.
Snoopy again started to clear us in for the show of force but we were already accelerating - heading south in military power as I looked over my left shoulder at the scene in a descending left hand turn from the orbit. I felt the massive Pratt & Whitney engines push us forward as we pointed downward; we were passing through 400 knots as Dez put his flashing pod marker on the courtyard.
"Dirty 65 executing show of force, South to North with flares"
"Ah Roger Dirty 65, you are cleared to execute show of force, our position, south to north request flares, we are taking effective fires at this time...I say again we are taking effective fires on our position"
The sound of guns again on the radio, coupled with my ability to see the red tracers hitting the wall and roofs near the pulsating green dot that flashed from the Sniper-pod marker firing from Dez's pod put the situation in a new perspective for me. Seeing the roof tops from a more horizontal perspective now, I could make out clearly the tracers bouncing vertically now in all directions, showering the sky over the men with random streams of light, and in the background behind them a very tall four-legged pointy radio tower jutting high well above the neighborhood directly off the nose. It was hard to tell how high that tower was but I was glad to see it early, rather than late. Definitely a factor.
"Here we go, Dez" I said, pulling the throttle to control the speed and prevent announcing our presence too soon, "Call your flares"`
The lights from the city were now off the nose in my green NVGs. As I looked forward at them, now directly in front of us through the green symbology in the head's up display (HUD), I pulled the power to idle, to help keep us quiet as we screamed in from the south, aiming the jet at the men towards vertical lines of red and orange tracers, apparently ricocheting straight up into the sky off pieces of metal over the friendlies.
Throttles back forward in the far left corner to max afterburner, 500+ knots as the scene zipped out of view under my nose..."Flares" called Dez - our huge fighter now ripping the sky apart over the insurgents with our blue-colored afterburners, bright red-orange flares beginning to fire out from under our fuselage down at the ground as I rolled the jet 90 degrees to make us thinner to the bullets and get a better view of the scene just below us.
Boosh!
A huge flash of light, simultaneous with the thump of the flare caps as the first red-orange flare ignited - creating a surprising, massive twin-tailed bat-like shadow in front of us, immediately shrinking to a point upwards as the shadow moved up because of our speed and falling flare. Tonight's still air had a tremendous amount of humidity, which created a mist over the scene I hadn't noticed until now. One second I was witnessing an almost serene low-altitude city scene, with streetlights and a strangely beautiful series of red-orange vertical bursts of fire, the next second, my night vision ruined by a huge bright flash from the flare underneath with the Strike Eagle's frontal-view shadow stretching from horizon to horizon, then immediately shrinking to a tiny spot in the fading light, the cycle repeating with each of Dez's flare actuations.
Banking back 90 degrees to look down left as we roared overhead, I looked at the street just below us and caught a glimpse of the group of three troopers at the end of the block heroically returning fire as more of our flares ejected down at the neighborhood underneath. Two streams of orange balls from the northern shooters ricocheted off rooftops in front of us up into the darkness above the threesome on the corner.
These bravest of men, huddled in a tight formation, kneeling and standing with weapons raised, were defending their wounded friend laying on the street one block south.
"Two begin your turn in now," I ordered, checking the throttles in Max as I began my pull back on the stick in a climbing vertical maneuver up above small-arms range. "Two!" responded Voodoo. I could see him back at 7 o clock in my NVGs beginning a descending left-hand turn from the southeast. "Snoopy, Dirty, Two's ready for east-west Show of Force.."
"Ahh roger, Dirty, Two is cleared immediate Show of Force east to west, need you low and loud with flares, fire intensifying down here..."
"Two's in from east" said Voodoo, immediately banking up with approval to steepen his descent.
"Watch for that big tower north side of town, Two" I directed.
"Two."
"Snoopy, Dirty sees more movement near the south corner, hunker down."
"Snoopy, copy."
Setting up for my next pass, I eyeballed Dez's pod briefly to see two men running towards the fight down a street from the southwest of the action. "Snoopy, Dirty will make an additional Show of Force from the southwest after two's run.'
"Ahh that's approved we need you guys down here right now Dirty" Snoopy responded, more intense fires in the background causing his voice to elevate.
"I recognize this guy's voice," I thought to myself, irritated I couldn't place him. There were now clearly four enemy fighting positions from which insurgents were shooting at these men.
Two was now lighting his burners as I began my own descending left-hand turn, with his flares popping underneath as he roared directly over the injured soldier in the street. "Quick reaction force is rolling" said Dez, briefly placing his pod on a speeding convoy of vehicles departing a compound on the south side of town."Roger" I responded, thinking there was no way they would get there quick enough.
Eyeballing my fuel gage, I pushed the throttles again forward, seeing the blue glow in the mirror on my canopy bow light up the tails and the sky behind us as I pointed the jet down, rolling left to kill the lift and allow the nose to fall, keeping my eyes on Two during his east-west pass. More tracers this time, and some pointed skyward, rather than ricocheting off the buildings.
"Dez we're either gonna need to do more shows of force or use guns, this isn't getting better." "We'll coordinate with Warhawk after this one."
"Two I want you ready for another pass from southeast if this doesn't work, get your gun pipper ready"
"Two, pipper's up!" Voodoo immediately answered.
I wanted Voodoo thinking about strafe, and he was already there with me- I was beginning to think we would have to resort to 20mm cannon strafing attacks, which at night was going to be difficult in a neighborhood full of civilians. Guns didn't have the same collateral damage considerations as a 500 pound bomb, but gunning a target on the street at night 'danger close' to these friendly troops was definitely going to be tricky.
Confident Two was safe as I watched his burners climbing back up to the wheel, I tightened our descending turn over the black desert south of Ramadi, feeling the g's inflate the bladder of my G-suit as I increased to 5G in afterburner to prevent my run-in from overflying the same ground track as before.
"One's in from southwest" I called, nose pointed downward, again seeing the green outline of the city off the nose, Dez's Pod blinking a steady infrared spot over the troopers as I again found the tall radio tower in the middle of town. Angry red tracers coming up over the city, I pulled my power back to reduce the noise when suddenly, from a position south of the men I saw the bright red-orange trail of an RPG shoulder-fired rocket being launched directly at Snoopy, exploding in the street next to the men. The insurgents we previously saw moving on the corner had rockets with them and were moving in for a more aggressive attack on the soldiers in the courtyard. I then clearly saw a red/orange rocket-propelled-grenade launch in front of us, directly at the soldiers defending the southern end of the block.
"RPG, Dez" I called, pushing forward to come in now lower and faster to distract the enemy from the attack... "Saw it," he replied. Burners back in earlier than planned, I pointed the nose directly at the source of the rocket attack, watching the enemy's corner disappear under my nose as I banked up to get a look.
A quick glance at the Sniper pod screen showed friendlies still in a crouch, taking fire. Back forward...the tower in the distance, ...'flare'....the giant, receding jet shadows flashing in front of us as the flares illuminated the misty and now smoky air, moving streams of fire aimed at the troopers on the street, three angry red and orange pulses shooting skyward in moving snaky lines off the nose. Bank left and pull left, bank right and pull right to miss them, "Over-G" said Betty calmly in my helmet, the jet's computer indicating I had pulled too hard during the asymmetric roll. Didn't care.
"Good flares, Dirty!"
Coming off target, I pulled again back up hard and left, I took command of the head's up display with the castle switch on the control stick, and thumbed another switch aft to bring up an Air-to-Ground guns pipper onto the HUD and prepare for a strafe attack. Looking across the circle as I climbed steeply in burner back up high, I found Voodoo and Bigus in my NVGs and saw them positioning themselves perfectly for a southeast run-in. "Going to Warhawk to coord," Dez started, but was interrupted.
"Dirty two, we got fires coming just over our team here - we need another low pass right now to get their heads down so our guys can pull back... I say again, we need you down here again right now..."
"...One, Two?..." inquired Voodoo, already pointed down from his orbit...I surveyed the flashing rounds flying around the men from all directions.
.."Do it." I ordered, approving Voodoo to begin a fourth Show of Force. This was a critical point for Snoopy.
Before I could release the mic switch, Voodoo and Bigus were in full afterburner, pointed 40 degrees down directly at the firefight. The volume of fire now growing even more intense, the rounds leaving brilliant dotted lines of bright orange, white, and the bigger dark red tracers towards and out of Snoopy Patrol's block-long fighting position. Streams of those dark red and orange tracers continued snaking up into the sky. I held my breath as Voodoo and Bigus approached the scene, watching the tracer lines move around, hoping none of the rounds would impact their jet.
Then the flares.
From our vantage point, I could see the dark pointy shape of the jet with my NVGs, pushed by the long blue-white plume of fire from their afterburners approaching the fire, flares popping out and brightening the bottom of their jet and all the houses underneath as Voodoo maneuvered his jet through and underneath an arch formed by two lines of the dark-red tracers aimed up into the sky, their lines crossing over his jet like Saddam's Baghdad Sabres as they threaded the needle, Bigus spitting flares down at the enemy.
After an eternity, time slowing almost to a stop as I held my breath, I was relieved to see them finally pass clear of the rounds, and begin to pull straight up. Exhaling. I then started to mentally set up for a 20mm strafe pattern for the imminent procedure of gunning the enemy on his dark urban street. I knew exactly where the RPG-shooter was and it was time for the 9-line from Snoopy. We needed his official weapons request from the ground commander before shooting our 20mm cannon in such close proximity to his men.
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And then....as I looked down at the street,
The shooting stopped.
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"Ahh Dirty. Dirty- that last pass!.....Dirty that last pass was the ticket! Looks like you guys put a burning piece of magnesium right on top of whoever was calling the shots and they have ceased firing down here!
By some miracle, Bigus had actuated his flare to eject at the exact perfect time for it to shoot out the bottom of the jet, white-hot and smoking, to land directly on top of the ring-leader who was directing the fires against the Snoopy Patrol. Apparently he was coordinating the insurgent attack using radio communications, because all the enemy ceased firing at once and slipped back into the dark alleys from which they had come, leaving our men, low on ammo, and completely defensive, in a now eerily quiet neighborhood. Only movement visible in the pod was a single dog running away from the area down a long dark street.
Opening my radar back out to air-to-air search to look for traffic, I was disappointed to come out of the strafe pipper on the HUD. But at the same time I was glad I didn't need to think about it anymore. It looked like Snoopy Patrol was going to be OK.
We again picked up the quick reaction force convoy, M-1 Abrams tank and humvees, speeding on their way to the scene, and tracked their progress through the rough neighborhood to our friends in the street.
The tank stood watch, turret turning, as their team maneuvered the wounded soldier off the street into running vehicles for the short ride back to their compound.
As we escorted the convoy throughout its slow path back to the gated perimeter, it was such an incredibly great feeling to see them all finally get home safely through the gate.
"Thanks for the work, Dirty!" Snoopy called, "we're mission complete, will send an after-action to you guys on the net. We appreciate the help! Out"
"Good day Snoopy. Glad to see you home."
"Two, NVG wedge" I called on the aux radio, watching Voodoo and Bigus immediately bank up over my shoulder to move sharply into traveling position.
Climbing southeast to 27 thousand towards Kuwait with Voodoo and Bigus in wedge, I looked at the light pink glow beginning to rise over Iran's black horizon east, and took off the NVGs and dropped my mask, grateful for the incredible mission we had just experienced over Iraq. Cool air from the cockpit vents hit the sweat on my cheeks, and I relaxed for the first time in hours.
Glancing back in the mirror, I could see Dez also dropping his mask and looking left to take in the developing sunrise. Dez hooked up his ipod to the jet's comm cord and a Coldplay song song washed over the cockpit as we began the hour-long flight south past Kuwait back home down the Gulf.
I was filled with respect and admiration for the men we had just witnessed defending their brother on that dark Ramadi street.
After landing, I learned via email that the trooper who was severely injured in the street was PFC S., the soldier who had celebrated his birthday earlier that previous evening at dinner. And I figured out that Snoopy- the familiar-sounding voice, that JTAC on the ground calling in airpower for Easy Company- was USAF Major A., a fellow pilot I had known when we were both T-38 instructor pilots, 13 years earlier, at Columbus Air Force Base, Mississippi.
Small world, indeed.
He had just stepped past the IED when it detonated, narrowly missing being injured himself.
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Every USAF aviator who has deployed to fly combat missions over Iraq or Afghanistan has personal experiences just like this one recorded in a logbook. USAF aircrews have flown Air Superiority, Precision Attack, and CAS missions over Iraq or Afghanistan continuously since 1991. Although our CAS missions often require the use of precision weapons, sometimes just our presence overhead can made a difference. On this particular night, supported by thousands of Airmen on the ground and in the air, we were able to help the Snoopy Patrol just by being there. This was the most personally meaningful mission of my career.
Note: This article has been edited and cleared for publication using the Department of the Air Force's standard approval process. Photos used here were taken from the rear cockpit on a different, benign flight under specific constraints given by command at the time, and are included here only to provide perspective for the reader.
I originally wrote this story while teaching Close Air Support (CAS) lessons to Army Command & General Staff Majors at Fort Leavenworth Kansas. I wanted to honor the Army Soldiers and the Air Force JTAC we worked with that night who supported their friend on that street - and at the same time, tell our Air Force story in a way that explained the extensive coordination required with other Airmen (Command and Control, tankers, maintenance, etc) to accomplish our CAS mission.
Click here for video of the 1-506 in Ramadi
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