Log Book - The fictional diary of a fighter pilot

[Jester Darrak]

Aloha!

 

Although a Sim Pilot for over 15 years now I am somewhat new to flying DCS in competitive multiplayer. My "first flight" is merely four weeks ago but since then I've learned so much and met so many nice people that it feels like doing it for decades. Anyway, I like writing and after a late night mission yesterday an idea was growing inside me to create a diary of a pilot that stumbles into a war.

 

Despite being set in the present and somewhat based on what I experience during online flying, that diary is completely fictional regarding locations, factions and in most cases, names. If some of you who fly with me want to play a role feel free to contact me.

 

I don't know where to put this thread so I will leave it here unless a moderator knows a better place. I would also ask you to not start any discussions if it has nothing to do with the diary itself. If you find some inconsistencies, feel free to speak out loud. I might also opt for a seperate thread for feedback and/or discussions if this one spills over.

[Jester Darrak]

140812Zoct15, north of the boarder, Squadron Ready Room

 

The TV in the ready room runs 24/7 for four weeks now. Since the conflict escalated. Downed and captured pilots are displayed. And although they say no names and blur out their faces and names on the uniforms we all know it.

"They got Hector from the 22nd", said Colonel Marsh, our Wing Commander. "Both engines flamed out right over the hot zone." That's what we call the eastern border where all the fighting happens, hot zone or Hotel Zulu.

 

An armored recon platoon of the Army came under heavy fire and Hector, together with three fellow pilots, was sent to punch them out. Probably due to poor maintenance, the engines shut down mid air. On the news Hector looked severely beaten, but seemed to be alive. No one speaks it out loud, but we are all frustrated and pissed. Our guys get either shot down or crash due to bad material and we're just sitting here doing nothing. They didn't send a rescue team. The recon platoon lost twelve men and made it out barely alive. But they send bombers to flatten the area. Great decision.

 

Routine CAP tonight. Let's see what happens.

 

 

 

190513Zoct15, southern border, Maintenance Hangar

 

My Crew Chief gave me bad news. After a six-hour CAP I had a hard landing due to sudden down winds. Seems like my Landing gear was beaten pretty hard which means I'm grounded for today. Might be a good thing though. We've been doing these CAPs for 4 weeks without a break and nothing happened so far. Might go to the movies tonight.

 

 

 

192120Zoct15, southern border, Mike's Movies

 

Earned some hate at the movie theater when my pager went off. A returning fighter crashed on it's way home. The Colonel called us in, who knows why.

 

 

 

192300Zoct15, southern border, apartment

 

Life hits you hard when you expect it the least. The fighter that crashed earlier on, struck a power line. The beacon light must have been defunct. The pilot ejected immediately and sufferrd minor injuries. But the aircraft went down into a small motel outside of town. Fifteen were killed either during the crash or in the resulting fire. Two of them were the wife and 9 year old daughter of Captain Parsons, my Element Lead. They arrived three days ago. I can't even imagine how he must be feeling now. Bourbon's not gonna fix it, but it helps with sleeping. Cheers...

Edited December 2, 2015 by Jester Darrak

[Jester Darrak]

200745Zoct15, southern border, Staff Building

 

Looks like the landing gear problem will not be solved soon, so the Colonel put me on adminiatrative duty. I hate paperwork. It's boring and borderline stupid. Unbelievable how many forms one must file to get a freaking screw driver.

 

Tomorrow is the funeral of Parsons wife and daughter. Followed by a touch down at "The Pit". Lots of Beer and Whiskey to come. Or go. Whatever...

 

 

 

220910Zoct15, southern border, Apartment.

 

That's what I call a hangover! Colonel Marsh, the wise man he is, gave me the day off. The morning was quiet, no flights so far. Maybe the war is over. But more likely our aircraft are finally ruined beyond repair and they transfer us to the eastern border. Or we get our honirable discharge. One still can have dreams.

Nah, there's the phone ringing. Happens when you shoot too early...

 

 

 

220926Zoct15, southern border, Squadron Ready Room

 

Parson is dead, he shot himself in the head last night. That sucks. Now I must think of Hector. I knew Hector since the days at the academy but unlike me opted for attack aircraft instead of fighters, saying "helping the grunts down there to get where they need to go is more satisfying than anything else" and making combat "less unpersonal than shooting missiles at an invisible enemy from thirty miles away". Now look what that has brought you, stupid! I just hope captors think Hector might give them valuable intel. That might keep this poor soul alive alive.

 

 

 

271105Zoct15, southern border, Staff Building

 

Geez, the grounded days are over and I'm packing my stuff at the Staff. Well, that sounded stupid. Anyway, since Parson is dead they decided to strip his plane for spare parts and make me fly again. I even get his slot as Element Lead which gives me more flight hours and I can make up for the days in Staff. Pilots tend to say 'just another day in the office' after they have returned from a mission. I'll never do that again. Ever.

 

CAP tomorrow, wheels up at 0600. Can't wait to get back in the air!

Edited December 2, 2015 by Jester Darrak

[Jester Darrak]

280721Zoct15, 35Nm north of the border, 20,000ft ASL

 

"Baron Flight, Puppeteer, we keep picking up sporadic signals from 140."

"Baron tree-one, negative on the returns, scope is clear."

"Puppeteer, signal's increasing in strength and closing in on your position. No further information available."

"Baron three-one, copy, we investigate, over."

"Puppeteer out."

 

What the heck was going on? My first flight in a week and then this, although I don't even know what it is. But it does not sound good. Better ask flight lead...

 

"Baron three-one, three-three, what's going on?"

"three-one, I have no idea but watch out, something seems off. Baron flight, turn 140, go combat spread left, at mil power."

"two."

"three."

"four."

 

There we go. Shifting between excitement and worry I order my wingman to use his radio to scan frequencies and see if he can pick up anything.

 

"Baron Flight, Puppeteer, signal is getting stronger, closing in 140 your 12 o' clock."

"Baron three-one, copy, no joy."

 

Then my wingman enters the conversation:

"Puppeteer, Baron three-four, I'm picking up some distorted transmissions on the radio on frequency, uh, one-f..."

 

Suddenly my wingman explodes mid air. There was no warning, sign of enemy aircraft or even troop movements on the ground that could have make us aware of a thread, so what the hell happened? There was no time to wonder. The three of us immediately broke hard right and started to dive closer to the ground. My heart was pumping after the short but hard turn and I felt the rumbling vibrations of the afterburner kicking in as I looked up to see if there was anything left of my wingman. There wasn't much. First there was a big fireball and then there was only burning debris, falling from the sky like a shower of meteors. I'm panicking. I keep turning dials, pushing buttons and flipping switches manipulating my radar. Then the training kicks in.

"Baron three-three, wingman down, my heading 290, angels 9, no contact." It seemed like I was waiting hours for a response. Then, finally, flight lead is on the radio.

"three-one, copy, keep your heading, we're two miles out, 6 o' clock."

Thank god, I'm not alone up here. To calm down I run a series of checks, just to make sure my plane is ok.

"Puppeteer, Baron three-one, Baron three-four exploded mid air, our scopes are clean, do you have any contacts?"

"Puppeteer, negative, nothing but a little noise from the mountains. Resume mission at extreme caution."

"Baron three-one, copy, resuming mission."

"Puppeteer, ou... Wait, we have something. Unknown, 160 for 25 at 3000."

"Baron three-one, copy, no joy."

"Puppeteer, be advised, it's a... *static*

 

Ground control was gone. Or the radio fried. That happened a lot recently. But communication was good between our flight, so at least it was no emp. And thus no nuke. For that I say a little prayer to myself. Suddenly my Radar Warning Receiver lights up.

"three, 27 nails at one o' clock."

"one, copy, stay alert!"

I felt so uncomfortable on my ejection seat that I was moving left and right, just as if there was something small and pointy I was sitting on. I double checked my loadout screen. One Heatseeker, one active radar guided and two semi-active missiles. That wasn't the best one could get, but the battles were fought somewhere else so they moved most of the boom-stuff to the east. So it had to be enough.

"one, coming up on your 7."

I looked over my shoulder and replied.

"three, visual, contact remains unch... MISSILE, SIX O' CLOCK, BREAK BREAK BREAK!" I yelled into the microphone, rammed the throttle into afterburner and pulled hard on the stick, rolling left into a steep dive and releasing countermeasures like it was the 4th of July. Then, five seconds later, I saw him. We were head on. I switched to boresight, selected the semi-active and flipped the master arm switch.

 

Fight was on.

Edited December 1, 2015 by Jester Darrak

[Jester Darrak]

June 23, 2012, The Great Deasert, Airforce Combat Training Center

 

"Burton! Burton, wait. How was your flight?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Hector, not now."

"Oh come on, could not have been that bad!"

"Leave me alone, Hector!"

 

It was very bad, indeed. I out-maneuvered Stevens quickly just to have Simmons in my back call a malfunction of my master arming panel. That dick just pulled the fuse! The next thing I know I was trying to sort it out but lost Stevens and all of a sudden he was low at my six. I turned into him but before I could pull the trigger the Instructor called me off. 'way too dangerous to go guns head on'. What an idiot. After I brushed off Hector I went to the Simulator and recreated that scene. And I was right, I would've got him. Well, at least in two out of ten fights. The dragged me down a bit so I went to Simmons and asked him what I could have done better. So he came over, strapped himself to the simulator. Tresult was stunning, breath taking.

 

"Learned that from a veteran who accidently stalled his plane during rolling scissors in air combat. That is by no means a standard maneuver and should be seen as a last resort. You will lose a lot of energy and might end as a sitting duck ten feet off his nose."

"Sir, then why aren't you teaching it during the corse?"

"Because it's dangerous and such situations must be avoided at all costs. You have good instincts, but those instincts should better be used to keep yourself out of harms way or at least out of unpredictable and notoriously dangerous situations. Situational Awareness is more important than the skill on the stick, Lieutenant. And now go and take a shower, you smell!"

That day changed me...

 

 

280738Zoct15, 12NM north of the border, 4,720ft ASL

 

'There he is, right off my nose, two and a half mile head on!' I said to myself and instinctly my right index finger went for the trigger just to stop upon touching it. "That stunt! I was in the perfect position, so now or never!'

Instead of closing in on him while spraying a myriads of twenty millimeter shells his direction I took a deep breath and kicked the left rudder. 'Easy on the fox, stiff on the pull.' I then launched the missile, screaming 'FOX ONE SHORT' as if I wanted my enemy hear me shouting at him, and using that aggression and tension to roll a bit left and pull hard on the stick. I didn't check for the missile to leave the aircraft, I knew I would feel it by either dying or living.

 

And I lived. The hard roll-over was timed perfectly. Distracted from my launch the enemy missed the opportunity to launch a heatseeker and his gun salvo went right through the horizontal spiral I was flying. The radar kept lock just long enough to let the missile guide towards him. It eventually lost track, but went close enough to trigger the proximity fuse. The nose got ripped off the fuselage, right were the pilot sits. I was so close to the explosion, I later found drops of his hydraulic oil on my wings.

 

I rolled out into a steady, 5 degree climb, checked left and right wing and stabilizers and then started looking for more bandits. And there they were. Three of them, two o' clock, maybe 5 NM out, diving in on me. Where was the rest of my flight? I checked the radio; wrong frequency, couldn't get worse but as soon as I finished thet thought my RWR just started to go nuts. One, two, three missiles! For a second I considered punching out, because even if I would trash those missiles I would lose all my energy, with three bandits on my tail.

"Play sixteen! Maddog, Maddog, Maddog!" That's Marsh! I checked my RWR, but nothing. I did not hesitate, punched in afterburners and rolled into an inverted dive, turning towards 160. I dumped as much Countermeasures as possibles and started pulling out of the dive long after Betty started to tell me what I already knew. I came out of the dive at 60 feet above the ground, grabbed for the ejection handle and waited.

"Splash one!"

"Splash two!"

"Three running, gone cold!"

I kept heading 160, not moving at all, still ready to eject at any moment.

"Baron Flight, Ironman, turn 340, climb angels 15. Sky is clear!"

I started to relax. As annoying and narcissistic that man can be, he is one son of a gun. I put my left hand on the throttle and gently turned towards 340, climbing at 10 degrees. I looked around, trying to fund any parachutes. I knew that at least the guy I shot down would not live, but since my radio was set wrong I couldn't hear the other members of my flight.

"Baron Flight, Baron three-three, are you there."

"three-one, I'm good."

"three-two, I'm up. I'm ****ed up, but I'm up."

"three-three, great to hear guys. Let's go home."

"Baron three-three, Ironman, I might follow your request. All flights RTB. Ironman out."

 

I could not avoid the blush on my big grin, but soon went through a few check lists. That was when I noticed that my left wing drop tank did not clear my aircraft. Later equasions found this to be the decisive factor that my maneuver worked out. The extra weight and drag kept the mass closer to the center during the spiral. Twenty minutes later we started landing procedures. Colonel Marsh was first in line with Baron Flight beeing the last. Since I've lost my wingman I was the last and only one landing alone. On the ground all the pilots gathered around my parking slot and were dancing, cheering and raising their fists in the air as I rolled in. That was so surreal, almost looking out-of-the-movie rediculous.

 

As I climbed down the ladder and finally had soil under my feet again, the Colonel approached me, grabbing my hand shaking it.

"It is clearly a great loss that Lieutenant Myers got shot down, but that was one hell of a stunt you pulled there. Congratulations, Captain!"

Captain? Did I just got promoted? Now realizing what just had happened, my stomach started to twist and instead of a 'Yes sir, thank you Colonel.' I just threw up, right onto my Wing Commander.

The pilots and ground crew around us started either laughing or rurned away disgusted, but Colonel Marsh just barked "Get some rest, people, 64th are taking over alert station until tomorrow 1700 Zulu. Tonight we celebrate Myers and Burton!"

 

They did indeed. I could not. I never left the bathroom that night

[Jester Darrak]

290512Zoct15, southern border, Apartment

 

I couldn't sleep last night. I couldn't stop thinking about what happened yesterday. Myers shot down, Parson killed himself, my friend Hector is a POW or even worse. What the hell is happening right now? We've been studying all the intel reports and memos stating that 'hostilities in the southern regions are less than unlikely' and that 'natural and geological conditions would have a chance of propability of an immediate threat of 7.18%.'

Well, that just went to a straight one hundred. War not only reached our country, it also just came right to my neighbourhood. That is kind of frightening. It's easy on the paper. We all have volunteered, we applied for being an Officer in the Air Force and that defending our country from every known and unknown enemy. But experiencing it is not somethibg they can teach you at the academy. You can train for the fight, but once the first shot is fired, chaos starts. And now I hear a transport plane. That's unusual, there was no scheduled flight for this morning. And there's another one. Better report to base.

 

 

 

290540Zoct15, southern border, Commanders Office

 

Wow, sitting on the civilian ejection seat again. Last time I was here I checked the underside of a bridge in the valley. But today is different. The commander is nice and comforting but at the same time seems nervous and restless. His phone is constantly ringing and the printers down the hallway just keep spilling out paper. Things have never been that busy around here. There is this man in a suit, relatively short, bald, with thick glasses. He shows some papers, maps and photos to the Colonel. Then, finally, Colonel Marsh comes over to his desk and sits himself in front if me

"Burton, sign these forms."

My promition. He also pulls out some captain's insignia and throws them on the desk.

"How are you, Captain? Caught some sleep last night?"

"Well, not really, sir. But I'm fine, I'll sort it out."

"I'm sure you will. Listen, we have analyzed yesterdays attack. Puppeteer went offline and it seems two out of three of their early warning radar installations have been destroyed. The third one is still working fine, but communication systems are still a no-go. Additional units with mobile radars are on it's way to us and we think that a major attack is imminent. But since they did not destroy the complete network we still might have some time. Remember Myers getting shot down without any warning?"

"Yes, sir. Whatever it was, it came out of nowhere."

"It was an anti-radiation missile."

What did he just say? A freaking SEAD missile should have downed my wingman?

"Pardon me, Colonel, did you just say anti-radiation missile?"

"Correct. That missiles was destined for the third radar installation. Myers was so unfortunate to cross it's path and then the missile homed in on his radar."

"Is that even possible?"

"As crazy as this might sound, yes. It happened before in a blue on blue incident."

Now it all made sense. They were trying to cripple our radar network in the south to promote another offensive thus creating a second front. Seems like Myers inadvertadly halted those plans. Poor bastard. I bet he would have chosen a straight fight instead.

"So, what does that mean for us? How are we going to react on this?"

"We keep doing what we have done so far, Captain. They sent us an AWACS that will overwatch during the dark hours. Together with the additional SAMs and Radars we might keep the enemy at bay."

"What about reinforcements? How can we defend ourselves if they attack again? This place is so remote, we won't hold very long with now only twenty two fighters."

"We'll have to, Burton. Now get some coffee, you're wheels up at 1000."

"Yes sir!"

I went to the Ready Room and sat down, thinking about the news. A major attack halted because an ARM gone berzerk? It sounds funny, although there is at least one who can not laugh about this.

 

 

 

291621Zoct15, southern border, Squadron Ready Room

 

The mission went down without any incidents. But they have changed the flight setups and armament. Only two ships with one heatseeker and one semi-active radar guided missiles each. Purely for self defense. When Marsh rallyed the troops to help us out yesterday, he used every asset at his disposal which came at a price. But I am alive, so I won't complain but instead adapt. Vogler, my flight lead, and I even practiced some basic fighter maneuvers shortly before we went to the tanker.

 

I later went to the Colonel's office again and asked for Myers' parents adress. Myers was one of the students at the academy graduating with me and Hector. We knew each other from a barbecue last summer at Myers' house. But I couldn't face them. I went to their farm but didn't go in. After sitting in the car outside for two hours I drove off to a bar downtown. It's just another night with beer and whiskey.

Edited December 2, 2015 by Jester Darrak

[Jester Darrak]

050142Znov15, southern border, “The pit”

 

The last five days where exhausting. We have been sent on four-hour missions followed by twenty four hours resting time and then have been sent up again. There were only two of us in the air at the same time. We couldn’t afford more since we were short on pilots. Rumors have it that the Navy is sending a carrier strike group to take over some of our workload but I heavily doubt it. But the moth-balled and reactivated tankers have arrived. Colonel Marsh now might extend the daytime missions towards six or even eight hours but on the other hand we get more time to rest between sorties.

Now I’m sitting here, downtown at “The Pit”, halfway drunk staring at a wall where the pilots used to pin photographs on they took during the last days at combat school. Those where the good days back then. Myers, Hector, Williams and me. One dead, another one missing in action or prisoner of war and two still flying. Mike Williams, a cold-blooded pit-robot was transferred to the 14th Fighter Wing at the eastern front two days after the outbreak. He scored two kills on his first mission after transfer and has a total of seven now. He was our very first ace of the war.

“Ey Mike, can I have another beer? And bring one for Myers, too.”

The owner put two bottles of water on the bar. “Hey, are you deaf or starting a new career as a comedian? Because you won’t make a fortune with these kind of jokes.”

“Easy, son. I think you might have had enough for today” Mike replied.

“And besides that, who knows when they call you in. Just don’t overspeed.”

I hated to admit, but Mike was right. He was a fighter pilot himself twenty some years ago and had opened this bar after his retirement in 1994. He knew how we drink and how we fly and wouldn’t give us more than five drinks if we had a flight next day. I still could swear that Colonel Marsh gives Mike the flight plans. The only thing I could do now is pay my tab and walk home. And that’s exactly what I did. Still got my flask though…

 

 

 

050220Znov15, southern border, City Park

 

It seemed stupid to take a walk in the park at that time of the day because everyone believes that once a war breaks out, people start to go nuts and crime rate increases. But that didn’t happen here. Although the base makes this town a target, crime rate even dropped. People support each other whenever they can. There is no shortage of food, water or anything else people need to live their normal lives. I even got a parking ticket. Right now it feels good, makes me feel safe. But when shit starts flying downside up - I don’t know if the people here are prepared for the worst. And that’s what they should do. Suddenly I see something strange. I went to the corner store on 5th street to get some coffee and all of a sudden a convoy of seven flatbeds passed by. The trucks where civilian with regular plates, but the drivers were wearing Air Force uniforms and their load was covered. Are they stripping planes again for spare parts? And Steve, my crew chief didn’t mention any scheduled transports. Hey, why we not just hand over the keys? Because if they keep that pace in salvaging parts from our aircraft there will not one aircraft left to fight within two weeks!

 

Might safe some lives though...

Edited December 3, 2015 by Jester Darrak

[Jester Darrak]

070720Znov15, southern border, Briefing Room

 

Rare picture here. No patrol this morning because of an upcoming storm. Wind speeds in excess of eighty knots have us grounded today. Even if this briefing was held in peacetime it would have been special as the Colonel would not accept any sick notes. Everyone had to be here unless he was dead or in a coma. Well, at least not the self induced one.

 

“Good morning, gentlemen! At first we all should thank mother nature for the storm she sent us. That takes some of the pressure off of us and we can recharge our batteries. Forecast has at least three days with wind speeds exceeding sixty knots, so all flights are cancelled until further notice. To lighten the mood there will be a barbecue tonight at eighteen hundred in hangar twenty one. Families are welcome to join.”

Barbecue in november. In a hangar. With a storm outside. During a war. We were once making burgers on a grill outside on new year's eve in 2011, but that’s even crazier. Who cares, could be the last for a long time.

“Next point: defense network. Puppeteer is back online at full capacity. Central Command has send us some mobile units for backups that will change their positions at irregular intervals. We also established five command posts that are connected to the radar network. To enhance our defensive capabilities, overall situational awareness and support of CAP flights, each pilot that completed debriefing will join Puppeteer at command and control for a three-hour shift. That means less time off, but it will give the guys in the air additional aid in decision making and SA and thus making their flights less exhausting.”

Ah, that’s what that early morning convoy was for. They decentralized and split up overwatch assets. Smart!

“We are still evaluating shift plans to prefer pilots that are not cleared to flight operations. I know it’s tough, but we all must work together to get through this. Vogler and Burton, my office. Rest of you is dismissed!”

My flight lead and I followed the Colonel to his office. And the guy in the suit was already waiting there. Colonel Marsh closed the door.

“Captains Vogler and Burton, meet Special Agent Martin Bakic, Defense Intelligence Office.”

Bakic just nod and opened a briefcase. He took some files out of it and handed them to us.

“Before you read this I need to make myself clear that this is eyes only. Any word to the outside and you will end up in jail in no time, are we clear?”

That guy is so stereotype. Who does he think we are and what we do? We’re no publicity seeking jocks that walk around and give away sensitive information to score some girls. We’re ****ing professionals!

“Of course, sir. Eyes only.” Vogler and I answered uni-solo. Bakic then kept going.

“These are investigation reports about the incident that led to Lieutenant Myers being shot down.”

“What’s this all about?” Vogler asked. “We’ve been there, we saw it. Myers exploded mid air after taking a direct hit from a missile.”

“Well, Captain, you might have been there. But you obviously did not see it for yourself, did you?”

I don’t like Bakic. This man is trouble.

“What the - Burton, you’ve been there, too. Do you know what that guy is talking about?” Vogler looked confused.

“Yes, I have. Myers was about eight hundred yards to my nine. He was talking on the radio when he suddenly broke off. I looked at him and just saw a big fireball. Then I turned hard right and broke away.” After I finished my version of things I took a look at the file. It was all right there, exactly like I just said.

“As I said, you have been there, but you didn’t actually see it, is that correct?” Vogler was even more confused and looked at me, then at Marsh. “Colonel?”

“Captain Vogler, did or did you not see Lieutenant Myers getting hit by a missile and explode in the air?”

“Uh, erm. Yes. No! I mean, I was sure I did, bu…”

“It’s ok, Jim, you did nothing wrong.” The Colonel tried to calm Vogler down, but there was something in this report that made me nervous.

“Colonel, that report says they found the seat but neither a body nor a parachute. Does that mean that Myers is still alive?”

“Yes, Captain, that is what we think” Marsh replied.

“Whether this is good or bad” Bakic fell in “is not yet clear. Our analysts went through all the telemetry data and came to the conclusion that there were only two ARMs. Lieutenant Myers was either hit by an air-to-air missile or bailed out on purpose.”

I wasn’t sure if I had to be confused or angry.

“What the heck are you trying to say? Why would one eject from a functioning aircraft at seven hundred miles per hour on purpose? That’s bullshit!”

“There are several reasons. I have at least two at hand right now.”

“Don’t you dare!” I turned towards Colonel Marsh. “Colonel, I respectfully request to shoot this man!”

“CAPTAIN!” That was loud. Even louder after the bridge incident. We all took a deep breath.

“I, I’m sorry, Colonel. Myers was my friend since the academy. First Hector. And then I lost Myers being wingman under my command. I just can’t believe what this man and this report are saying. Why didn’t he report in? Maybe he got captured, did you consider that?”

“We did, Captain. But we searched the area and didn’t find anything. No shell casings, no tire tracks. But the wreckage gave some information. Something penetrated the left feed tank, igniting it. We think it was composite explosives.”

Vogler and I just shook our heads. That was impossible. I have known Myers for so long, he wouldn’t defect. He was the greatest patriot amongst us, telling everyone how proud he was in serving his country. They must have captured him. There can’t be any other explanation.

“So what now, Colonel?” Vogler asked.

“Nothing, Jim. Keep your eyes open, the both of you. And don’t forget, that conversation remains classified, are we clear?”

“Yes sir.”

“Yes sir.”

“Dismissed!”

Vogler and I went straight for the locker room. “Did you hear that, Chris? That can’t be true?”

“I know, Jim. That’s Myers we’re talking about. He’d rather kill himself.”

“Something’s way off. Watch your six, Chris. That guy is dragging in a lot of trouble. I need to make some calls and talk to Myers' parents. I need to find out myself if that jerk is right or not.”

“I know I should stop you, but please, be careful, Jim!”

“I will, see you tonight!”

Vogler left. And I wouldn’t see him a while. I chose to put that situation aside for the moment, I had some things to do.

[Jester Darrak]

090917Znov15, southern border, Maintenance Hangar

 

“Hey Steve, what did you do to Catherine? She’s all naked!”

“I had to, Chris. You had a bird strike.”

“Yeah, I had a bird strike... Wait, huh? When did that happen?”

“Well, based on decomposition of the tissue and considering the damage taken I would determine time of death was five days ago. Cause of death is very likely cardiac arrest due to rapid loss of blood caused by the fact the victim literally got sliced. You want to see the body? Or, well, at least what is left of it.”

“Urgh, Steve, you need to stop watching those shows. That’s disgusting!”

“Hahaha, never knew that blood would be that delicate for you. And I didn't even show you the pictures.”

“That’s definitely not the problem here.”

“If you say so. Anyway, I changed a few blades of the second compressor stage, test was about to begin. Wanna join?”

“To hell, why not. I must admit it is kind of boring just sitting around with nothing to do. Didn’t see Marsh since the barbecue.”

“Yeah. I overheard someone saying that he went hiking or something like that. Said he left the base in a pickup early yesterday morning.”

“I think he is up to something. No matter how stupid we think he might be, that guy always has something cooking.”

 

Steve and I went over to the engine testing cell and he started the computers up.

“Speaking of which, you know what’s for lunch today, Chris?”

“No, surprise me!”

“Sliced chicken breast with lemon sauce and…”

“Steve! You make me sick, you know that?”

He just laughed and once everything was prepared and initialised, he started the test run.

“Hey, your number one is getting a new afterburner stage so you won’t be flying Catherine for another three days.”

“Oh come on. Just keep me grounded for another week and I will request transfer to the Army!”

“No you won’t. But, since you seem to have some time now, why not checking up on Hector's parents? I mean, you and Hector always were kind of close and they liked you a lot.”

“I don’t know, Steve. There is no solid Intel on Hector’s condition or whereabouts. What should I tell them? They don’t need me to tell them that me and Hector were friends. I spent the last three thanksgivings at their place.”

“You are friends, Chris. I don’t believe that Hector is dead until I get proof. And neither should you.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“I am right. And there is another thing. Did you ever think about that the Barnes’ would just appreciate your presence? They probably know as much as you do but just being there would help them.”

Steve was right. Like he used to be most of the time. I think I’ll drive over and pay them a visit.

“I hate you, Steve. You and your wise words. Just make sure you put Catherine back together. And if there’s a screw or bolt left over you start again from the beginning, you hear me?”

“Sir, yes sir!” Steve replied laughing.

I then went to Marsh’s office and told his adjutant that I was visiting the Barnes Family. He would not have any objections but to be back before 7PM.

 

 

091915Znov15, southern border, Staff Building

 

“Burton!” Hey, the Colonel was back but I didn’t see his truck outside.

“Good evening sir, how was your trip?”

He stared at me. “What trip?”

“Never mind, Sir. What can I do for you?”

He asked me into his office and closed the door. Bakic was there, too.

“Captain Burton, you remember Agent Bakic?”

“Yew sir. How are you doing, Agent?”

He didn’t answer to my question but asked one instead.

“When was the last time you have seen Captain Vogler?”

“Pardon me?”

“Captain, answer Agent Bakic’s question.”

“Uh, two days ago, after the Squadron Briefing. Why do you ask?”

Bakic looked at the Colonel who just nodded. Then Bakic gave me a file and opened it.

“Do you recognize these people?”

I looked at a photo that showed Captain Vogler and a couple and they were clearly Myers’ parents.

“That’s Dave and Linda Myers. The parents of my deceased wingman. Buz you know that, so what is this all about?”

“Where have you been this afternoon, Captain?”

Bakic wouldn’t stop.

“Captain, where have you been this afternoon?”

“I was at the Barnes’ house, visiting Hector’s parents. And if you want me to answer any more questions you better start talking what this is all about!”

“Watch your tone, Captain! Agent Bakic is just doing his job and you should be doing yours which right now is following orders and answer to his questions.”

That made absolutely no sense to me. Why is the Defense Intelligence Office interested in us visiting families of deceased fellow pilots?

“Sir, I had extensive training in interrogation techniques and how to react when it is not clear if the one asking questions is friend or foe. So I respectfully ask again to tell me what the hell is…”

“Enough, Captain! I will not tolerate your behavior any longer!”

Then, suddenly, Bakic insisted.

“It’s okay, Colonel. The Captain has a good point. Sometimes there is no black and white and the lines are blurred.”

“So now you’re the good guy here? Would anyone of you please tell me what this is all about?”

“As you wish, Captain.” Agent Bakic showed me more pictures.

“This is Captain Vogler’s Van. We found it yesterday, five miles outside of town on a forest road. The driver's window was smashed and the windshield had several bullet holes. We didn’t find any shell casings but there was a lot of blood on the driver seat. We tested it and got confirmation it was Vogler's. Too much of it that he could have survived it, but we didn’t find his body yet.”

“Are you trying to tell me that Vogler is dead?”

“Yes, Captain, we have to assume that. Agent Bakic here was following a lead when he found out that Vogler visited the Myers and started asking questions. His sister used to work as an intern for the DIO and he visited her, too. We found out he started questioning things, believing that Myers could be still alive.”

“So, is he?”

“We don’t know that. But two years ago, Myers was out of country on a maneuver and could have made some contacts. With Vogler now dead the DIO thinks that enemy intelligence services might be operating in this area.”

“Spy games, Sir?”

“Looks like. I think I do not have to remind you that we are still at war. So be careful what you say and who you talk with. And check your six, everytime, not only in the cockpit.”

“Understood. Is there anything else?”

The Marsh and Bakic again exchanged looks.

“Not for now, Captain. I will temporarily assign you to C&C until your aircraft has finished maintenance checks.”

“Puppeteer?”

“Puppeteer. Report to Major Muller, he will provide additional information. And Captain, button up, it’s cold at Eagle Ridge! Dismissed.”

Eagle Ridge? All I know is that there used to be a mental clinic ten years ago but nothing else. That man is a walking riddle. I longed for the door handle when Agent Bakic stopped me.

“And whatever your instincts or good manners would tell you, Captain. Stay away from the Barnes family, you hear me?”

“Yes, good copy. Will there be a time when you stop being that mysterious and start talking facts, Agent?”

He must have been thinking about it because he hesitated to answer.

“Nah, would lose my job then.”

I laughed for a brief moment and then left the Colonel's office. Eagle Ridge, he said. Won’t get far with my convertible, better grab a truck from the car pool...