Рассказ Войны Хоука Anatolian Деятельности

[Strannic]

Обратныq перевод это не показатель, это сложная лингвистическая проблема.

Байку про семь переводчиков и Пепси знаешь? :)

[USSR_Rik]

Байку - давай.

А Babelfish с русского на английский могёт, я думаю? Может, обратный перевод первого постинга текста сделать? Вот человек порадуется...

PS это я без злости, чесслово. Я готов заочно уважать автора за работу в симах (иначе Странник за Фалкон попросту придет бить мне фэйс, а потом мы вместе надеремся водкой). Просто который раз.. babelfish.. одни и те же грабли.. и на англоязычных форумах уже про это писАли (или таки пИсали?) Вряд ли это есть проявление неуважения к русскоязычной части, скорее действительно наоборот - все-таки человек старался, видимо, из лучших побуждений, а получилось что???

 

Художественные и прочие достоинства на совести автора. Но за таким переводом, я так думаю, и "Вильяма нашего Шекспира" (© БА) разглядеть было бы невозможно.

[Lemon Lime]

А Babelfish с русского на английский могёт, я думаю? Может, обратный перевод первого постинга текста сделать? Вот человек порадуется...

Бабельфиш с русского могет. Но результат будет еще более х., не подумайте, что хороший. :)

[Dmut]

оригинальные тексты на английском - http://www.simhq.com/simhq3/sims/boards/bbs/ultimatebb.php?ubb=get_topic;f=37;t=005207;p=3#000093

 

вообще это цикл статей про кампанию для LO из 200 миссий - The Black Sea Operations, начало здесь - http://www.simhq.com/simhq3/sims/boards/bbs/ultimatebb.php?ubb=get_topic;f=37;t=005207;p=1

 

форумчане SimHQ восприняли эти тексты очень хорошо, как аналог историй про Сашу от Cat

[USSR_Rik]

Бабельфиш с русского могет. Но результат будет еще более х.,

Вот и предлагаю дать человеку возможность посмотреть на результат нашими глазами.

[Strannic]

Байку - давай.

В начале 90х была конференция лингвистов. В ходе обсуждения проблемы обратного перевода автору доклада высказали лёгкое недоверие, мол утрирует. Тогда он предложил провести эксперимент.

За круглый стол село семеро переводчиков каждый из которых знал два языка. Смысл был в том что исходное сообщение переводится на другой язык и передаётся соседу который опять таки переводит его. В итоге из рекламной фразы 'С Пепси к новой жизни" получилось жутковатое "Живая вода поднимет вас из могил" :icon_roll

Я готов заочно уважать автора за работу в симах (иначе Странник за Фалкон попросту придет бить мне фэйс, а потом мы вместе надеремся водкой).

Валер, ну зачем же ты так? Я ж тебя никогда в морду не бил и не собирался даже. А вот мысль насчёт водки хоть и банально но весьма интересна. Давно не виделись надо встретится обязательно. :)

PS Илья, а что за Саша и Cat?

[Dmut]

PS Илья, а что за Саша и Cat?

один из админов и редакторов сайа simhq является вирпил женского пола с ником Cat. Она освещала разработку оригинального LO и FC через небольшие рассказы где героями были русские и американские летчики, сражающиеся вместе против вымышленой мусульманской страны. одна из русских героинь имела имя Sacha.

[Strannic]

А линк можно? Ну ей богу после ужина так лениво искать самому..... :)

[SimFreak]

http://www.simhq.com/_air3/air_047a.html

Вот сюда загляни…

[Strannic]

Спасиб. В принципе нормально, хотя тоже есть моменты..... Всё таки ментальности ну очень разные у славян и англосаксов. :)

[Dimyan]

бред!!!

 

дочитать не смог! как говорится КГ/АМ !

[Dalus]

дочитать не смог! как говорится КГ/АМ !

А по моему ниче так, бодренько. Кстати, а чего это они Сушки каими-то "Cranes" обзывают?

[Evil Archer]

А по моему ниче так, бодренько. Кстати, а чего это они Сушки каими-то "Cranes" обзывают?

Crane- журавль по-аглицки....или подъёмный кран (это уже на твой выбор) :rolleyes:

[Dalus]

Crane- журавль по-аглицки....или подъёмный кран (это уже на твой выбор) :rolleyes:

Ет знамо, интересно откуда растет это прозвище. Это типа как "Viper" для "Фалкона" расхожее обозначение, или проявление нежныого чувства автора к Су-27/33?

[Evil Archer]

Ет знамо, интересно откуда растет это прозвище. Это типа как "Viper" для "Фалкона" расхожее обозначение, или проявление нежныого чувства автора к Су-27/33?

 

Несколько раз видел, как на англоязычных форумах его называют "Swan" (лебедь) , что, как мне кажется, несколько благозвучнее "Crane" :). Так что про расхожесть обозначения ничего сказать не могу.

Хотя, конечно, субъективно Су-27 - один из самых красивых самолётов и не удивительно, если он нравится и кому-то на Западе.

[Selter]

или проявление нежныого чувства автора к Су-27/33?

...cкорее проявление сердцебиения при вопоминании о несостоявшемся :)

ЗЫ Спарка бум. журавлика мапоминает. помню по моим Иркутским временам :rolleyes:

[T-Bone]

IZMIR TURKEY

October 11th 2007

Almost a year and a half had passed since the conflict had ended in southern Iraq. The Iranian withdrawal in early May of 2006 marked the end of Operation Persian Thunder. American troops however, were still mired in southern Iraq quelling sporadic Shiite insurgencies. Rebel forces fleeing to Iran that summer had left in their wake several hundred burning oil wells and the damage inflicted on Iraq’s petroleum exporting infrastructure had been far more severe than the Iraqis had first expected. United States and Iraqi forces guarded the Shat-al-Arab waterway fiercely to ensure that Iraq’s outlet into the Persian Gulf for petroleum exports was never endangered. Public dissatisfaction over the ongoing guerilla war in the Persian Gulf, however, distracted the world from the beginnings of a new and far bloodier conflict brewing to the north.

 

On October 5th, a supply of Russian S-300 missiles arrived in Cyprus. Turkey had warned Russia that delivery of these missiles would be a cause for war against Cyprus but the Russian government had never swayed its intentions to deliver them by that fall. The NATO alliance found itself totally surprised that Russia would be so willing to risk its already shaky relationship with the United States, and all NATO European members over a dispute with Turkey after the atrocities commited in Grozny. Why would Russia want to risk provoking a war with NATO member, Turkey?

 

Captain Erol Outemir of the Turkish Air Force tried to phase these looming thoughts out as hugged his long time friend Captain James “Ice” Powell from the United States Air Force. He introduced him to Karli Outemir, his newlywed wife of a few hours. The wedding party blazed with a mix of western and traditional Turkish music. Ice grabbed Karli and dragged her to the dance floor on a balcony overlooking the coast. The young woman blushed.

 

It was almost sunset and a golden twinge began to appear on the horizon. The wedding was held in Erol’s grandfather’s garden and there was a beautiful view of the castle built on the narrowest point of the bay. The castle had been built centuries ago to check the ships entering and leaving the Izmir Gulf.

 

Erol looked out and took in the fresh salty air. Since the 16th century Izmir had been an important place in world trade. After Mustafa Ataturk had led Turkey to victory against the occupying Greek army in 1922, Izmir had blossomed into a modern city of the Turkish Republic and had developed into a beautiful mix of the modern and traditional with the timeless passion of the Turkish people. Erol was proud of his city and his people. He had grown up here.

 

Captain Powell’s wife, Elaine, walked past a crowd of Erol’s relatives and friends and whispered in his ear. “I’ll tell you a secret about marriage. It’s better on this side of the fence!”

 

Erol smiled. It certainly was the happiest day of his life. Karli was the first woman he had ever truly loved and he knew within a few weeks of meeting her that she was the person he wanted to share his life with. Erol’s F-16 pilot career had just started when he had met her. She was a local teacher at Merzifon, a Turkish Air Force base close to the Black Sea. Merzifon was the home of Erol’s squadron, the 152 Filo “Raiders”, and sister squadron 151 Filo “Bronze.” They flew the F-16C Block 50 equipped with the latest HARM missile systems courtesy of Captain Powell’s government.

 

Erol’s cellphone went off, interrupting the festivities. He answered to hear his squadronmate Lieutnant Tezer Sibel at Merzifon being the bearer of some very bad news. Something terrible had just happened in the Dardanelle Straights.

[T-Bone]

KRYMSK, RUSSIA

October 11th 2007

Colonel Andrei Petrov’s intelligence officers rushed into his office.

 

“Colonel, the Turks just took out one of our KGB vessels loaded with electronic surveillance equipment. Fourteen of our agents died. The vessel was disguised as an oil tanker.”

 

Andrei was shocked. “What is the official word from Moscow?”

 

“Moscow wishes to inform us that we will be placed on the highest defensive alert.”

 

Andrei shook his head. He walked out of his office past rows of framed photographs of his country’s politicians and Generals into the planning room. Here, intelligence reports poured in. Boris walked into the room and watched the news unfolding on the television screens.

 

“Colonel, I just received word that the Russian Navy will be sending the Admiral Kutzenov and the cruiser Moscow into the Dardanelle Straights.”

 

Two hours passed and the first response from the Turkish Navy was one of infuriation. Turkey was trying to reveal Russia’s dirty little secret to the world. Andrei knew Kovalev’s true agenda. Kovalev and General Pyruskin had devised a plan to fracture the NATO alliance by taking advantage of recent tensions between Greece and Turkey over the island of Cyprus. Russia’s main goal, however, was to establish a strong naval presence in the Black Sea which would later on be used in an invasion of Georgia, Ukraine, and Turkey. He knew Kovalev was a hardliner who would never make concessions to the west over Russia’s oil crisis. Petrov shook his head and hoped in secret that Dmitri Kovalev’s reign would end before more of his countrymen would have to suffer.

 

In the officer’s quarters a few rooms down the hall, Lieutenants Vasily Yamkovoy and Mikhail Ruschenkov watched footage of the sinking Russian oil tanker on the television screen.

 

Vasily rubbed his chin and ran his fingers through his dirty blonde hair. His freckled face lit up. “If the Turks want to declare war on us why do they not just fly over here and attack a legitimate military target?”

 

Mikhail shook his head. The short and stocky round faced Lieutenant was a few years older than his companion. Naturally he had his two cents about everything that was going on in the squadron and in the world around them. “I think the entire situation is ridiculous. This is all because they are upset over the missiles we sent to Cyprus. But how else is this country going to recover from the Chechen attack?”

 

Vasilly nodded.

 

“Hardworking people are becoming the poorest people in the country and the Russian mafia is stealing untold dollars from the whole population. In the cities they consider this theft smart and successful. It's a totally destructive view of success for the whole country. There is no future in this county where stealing, murder, and prostitution are considered to be normal things unless we do everything we can.”

 

Vasily shook his head. “But I do not know. Something is still very strange about the way we are risking war with Turkey over Cyprus. I think there is more behind it than just Kovalev’s arms sales.”

[T-Bone]

English.

[T-Bone]

DARDANELLE STRAIGHTS

October 21st 2007

The Admiral Kutnezov along with a large fleet of Russian naval forces slipped quietly into the Dardanelle straights overnight. Dmitri Kovalev declared that the Russian navy would protect all Russian vessels exiting from the Black Sea from further Turkish aggression. Within hours, the presence of the Russian navy prompted Turkey to officially declare war against Russia and Cyprus. The Turkish military dubbed the opening conflict “Operation Anatolian Hawk.” The declaration of war was sudden as Turkish naval forces were sent into the waters off the island of Cyprus.

 

Tensions ran high, as the Turkish military knew they stood little chance at winning a prolonged war against the full might of their enemy. They outnumbered and lacked the resources that the Russians had. Turkey simply sought to destroy the S-300 system while sending forces in to protect the Turkish north. This plan, however, would lead to the fracturing of the NATO alliance. Relations between Greece and Turkey over the past two years had deteriorated because of Turkey’s stance on Cyprus.

 

Tensions had run deep between Greece and Turkey since the summer of 1974, after the government of Cyprus had been overthrown by their national guard. When Nikos Sampson, a Greek Cypriot aceded presidency, both Greece and Turkey mobilized their armed forces. Turkey was obligated to protect the Turkish Cypriot community and invaded northern Cyprus. Turkish forces occupied over thirty percent of the island, and had displaced about 200,000 Greek Cypriots. The invasion precipitated the fall of the military regime in Athens and also resulted in the resignation of Sampson. A United Nations sponsored cease-fire was arranged and Turkey was permitted to retain military forces in the areas it had captured. Negotiations to end the division of the country continued with little success in the subsequent decades.

 

In the spring of 2003, long-standing Turkish Cypriot restrictions on cross-border travel were eased, and the Greek south ended a ban on trade with the north. Later that year, parliamentary elections in the north resulted in gains for opposition parties favoring reunification, but both sides won an equal number of seats. The United Nations sponsored renewed negotiations to reunify the island, and an accord establishing a federation was reached in 2004, but failed to win approval in a referendum in April. Although Turkish Cypriot voters approved the accord, the Greek population rejected it. Cyprus joined the European Union in 2004, but the north was excluded due to the failure of the referendum. This eventually rekindled tensions between the Turkish north and the Greek south. Relations soon deteriorated to the point where the south decided to purchase the S-300 air defense system from Russia in order to prevent the Turkish Air Force from violating its airspace.

 

In Brussels, NATO headquarters fell into absolute chaos. Alliance members either chose to remain neutral or to oppose Turkey. The Greek contingent even advocated a proposal to remove Turkey from the alliance. The United States decided to remain neutral while the United Kingdom, citing the danger posed by Turkish forces to its two military bases on Cyprus, Akrotiri and Dhekelia, decided to mobilize defensive forces in the south.

 

It was a lovely day over the Dardanelles and the sun glistened off the golden canopy of his F-16C. Captain Erol Outemir’s mind raced through the complexities of the geopolitical crisis that was unfolding before him. He could hardly believe what he had been swept up in and the excitement and nervous uncertainty of what would soon become his first combat sortie made matters worse. He could fell his heart thumping in his chest. His wingman, Lieutenant Tezer Sibel, floated off to his starboard side.

 

They were cruising at angels 12 above the Turkish coast, flying a combat air patrol against any Russian aircraft that would have the nerve to violate Turkish airspace. Any opposition he expected to see would come from the Admiral Kutnezov. The Su-33 Flankers which the Russian navy flew were a formidable opponent for his F-16C. The Su-33 was the navalized version of the Su-27. He knew his F-16C would be more maneuverable than the heavy fuel laden naval fighters if a dogfight insued, but the Russians had an A-50 AWACS in the area while the Turkish forces were relying mainly on GCI. The Russians would most likely have the upper hand in a BVR fight with EOS and AWACS uplink.

 

The Russians knew that the key to disabling the Turkish Air Force was by first blinding it. Four Su-25TMs from the Kutnezov carrier hugged the water undetected heading straight towards an early warning radar station fifty miles south of Erol and Tezer’s position. The Su-25TM was the navalized version the Russian Su-25T, a heavily upgraded Su-25 Frogfoot, much different from its ancient counterpart which the Americans had encountered in the skies over southern Iraq and Iran.

 

“Attention, Raider 11, multiple hostiles to your south bearing 173.”

 

Erol quickly rolled his F-16C ninety degrees to the left and pulled hard towards the south. The maneuverable airframe of his nimble aircraft sliced through the air with grace. He glanced down at his TWS and saw what he had expected. The symbology indicated to him that a pair of Su-33s was flying over the water at approximately angels 11. They were beaming him and flying inland towards the closes early warning radar station. He shifted his eyes to his left MFD and switched to track while scan mode. He moved his cursor over the first Su-33 only see that his radar was being jammed. His AMRAAM switched to Home On Jam mode.

 

Erol quickly called the command over the radio for weapons hot. “Tezer, your weapons are free.”

 

As the Su-33s turned to meet their opposition, the Su-25TMs below them remained undetected as they entered the detection radius of the Hawk air defense system embedded around the early warning site.

 

Tezer broke the silence. “Fox three!”

 

The AIM-120 AMRAAM missile left the wingtip rail of his F-16C and homed in on the lead Su-33’s radar jamming signal. The Su-33, however, had also thrown an R-27 missile at Tezer’s F-16.

 

“Fox three!” Erol called as he fired his own AMRAAM at the second Su-33. His TWS lit up and he realized a missile was inbound towards his F-16. Fortunately for him, his F-16’s AMRAAM missiles did not require him to maintain a lock on his opponent and he dove towards the water below him. His aircraft shook as he dropped less than two hundred feet above the sea. A vapor cloud formed around the F-16 as it approached the sound barrier. He turned around and saw Tezer dropping to the same altitude, spewing out thin strips of chaff behind him.

 

There was no indication of any kill after several moments. Erol had no time to waste. He turned back towards the Su-33s and scoped the airspace above him. He slewed his radar scan elevation up and quickly locked the lead Su-33 up. He squeezed twice and two more AMRAAM roared off the F-16’s pilots towards his target. The burn through range for the Russian aircraft’s jammers had passed through and he knew he had to act fast. The Su-33 was firing another active homing R-27 at Tezer. However, before he could launch his second missile at Erol’s wingman, the first AMRAAM he had launched arced up and exploded within its deadly radius. The explosion tore through fuel lines in the Russian Flanker and created a bright white explosion which quickly faded into an enormous puff of smoke. The second AMRAAM scored another direct hit and the second explosion tore the Su-33’s right wing off from its fuselage. The flaming wreckage of the Flanker traced a trail of smoke through the mid-afternoon sky. A parachute appeared on the horizon, indicating that the Su-33 pilot would have to endure a long ride down the silk elevator and experience the shame of watching the wreckage of his aircraft plunge into the glistening blue water of Dardanelle straits.

 

Having shaken the missiles from the lead Su-33, Tezer quickly turned back and formed on Erol’s wing. Eager for his own kill, he scoped out his APG-68 radar ahead and saw the second Su-33 fleeing the scene. Erol concluded that the pilot had sustained damage and was high tailing out of the area. As they turned east, Tezer spotted two blue specks out of the corner of his eye.

 

“Lead, have a look at this. Two bogeys to your three o clock low.”

 

The two F-16s swooped down to investigate and soon realized they were chasing the survivors of the Su-25TM strike package. Erol shot his last AMRAAM at one of them and scored another kill. The AMRAAM followed a parabolic path and dropped down and exploded withing its lethal radius, injecting shards of shrapnel into the Frogfoot’s airframe. The shrapnel did not cause much damage to the aircraft’s hardy airframe, but the trajectory of the missile did manage to send shards tearing through the cockpit glass. The pilot was killed instantly and the Su-25 splashed into the sea sending a column of water hundreds of feet high into the air.

 

Less than a minute later GCI indicated that a four ship of Su-33s were headed their direction. Erol and Tezer quickly retreated east and passed six incoming F-16C’s from another Turkish squadron. They could hear the excited voices of their comrades over the radio engaged in their first air combat experience.

[T-Bone]

Can someone translate please?

 

KRYMSK, RUSSIA

October 28th 2007

“Less than an hour ago,” said a 562nd IAP intelligence officer, pointing a long rod to portion of a satellite map of the region, “a large Turkish strike package comprising of F-4s and F-16CJs took off from Merzifon and took out one of our KUB air defense sites near Tuapse. Turkish naval forces have been moving towards the Straits of Bosporus in an attempt to prevent the Admiral Kutnezov from entering the Black Sea.” A group of twelve Su-27 pilots of the 562nd Air Defense Regiment sat in the dimly lit room before the officer, and studied the ATO of their Turkish foes superimposed on an array of satellite imagery. Colonel Andrei Petrov and Major Boris Novorrovski sat alone in the front row with thier undivided attention focused on the intelligence. Andrei carefully absorbed the new information while going through and updating a pad of notes for his personal reference.

 

Four rows back, Lieutenants Vasily Yamkovoy and Mikhail Ruschenkov sat nervously awaiting their first combat mission. The two made an odd couple sitting together. Vasily’s tall lanky frame cast an almost laughable contrast to his stockier shorter counterpart. As the intelligence officer went on about the Turkish naval contingent, Vasily quietly reflected upon the current situation. He realized that this mission would be the culmination of the last ten years of his life, which were he spent mostly training for this moment.

 

It was 1997 and he was only seventeen and living with his family in Moscow. Vasily knew that convincing his parents was not going to be an easy task.

 

“No! We have been through this before, Vasily.” Alexander Yamkovoy said firmly. Behind him, his wife Tatyana also nodded in agreement.

 

“But father, I really wish to join up and...” Vasily began but was immediately cut off by his father. “Mikahail is planning to join next year and...”

 

“No! We will not let you endanger your life and that is final!”

 

“That's right, Vasily.” His mother said as she added her own opinions. “The military is just too harsh and if you were to die in combat... we couldn't live with it.”

 

Vasily became irritated at his mother's over-protectiveness. Deep down he knew that she was only concerned for his safety. “But Mother, I'm not a little boy anymore! Why are you treating me like some helpless kid? I'm seventeen now. Joining up with the VVS could help me get ahead in life.”

 

“Oh? And how does fighting and killing others going to help you get ahead?” His father asked.

 

“I could learn more than just being able to fight.” Vasily insisted. “They can teach me things about technology and pay for my education. You told me that money is really tight and getting into college is going to be hard. If I join up, they can give me a diploma!”

 

“All those smarts and money will not mean a damn if you get killed in some useless war. Your grandfather used to serve in the Great Patriotic War, and he saw a lot of good friends die needlessly. All of them had potential, and they were never able to live out their hopes and dreams, because they ended up dead on some God-forsaken battlefield in Kursk. I will not lose my son to war.”

 

“We're not at war now.”

 

“But we WILL be someday. As long as man walks the planet there will be another war. Make no doubt about that.” Alexander thought back to all of the news reports he had seen. The Chechens had been waging acts of terrorism and such against the Russian government over the past year.

 

“May I decide for myself? I was planning to attend flight school and...”

 

His father snorted a bit as his anger over his son's rebellion grew.

 

Vasily managed to rein in his desire to verbally lash out at his father, but decided that such an action would only compound the problem. At the moment, he was just too angry to argue anymore. He turned and walked toward his room.

 

“VASILY!!!” His father called to him, but his son decided not to heed him as he slammed his door behind him.

Tatyana walked up and put a comforting hand on her husband's shoulder. “Give him some time. I'm sure that he will come around.”

 

However when Alexander went to check on Vasily fifteen minutes later, Vasily was nowhere to be found and his first story window was cracked open. His parents were relieved when they were told that their son was staying at his best friend's house. Though they wanted him back right away, Mikhail and his family managed to convince them to allow him to stay for a few days, to give him some time to think things out.

 

After reassuring the Yamkovoy family several times that their son would be fine, Mikhail’s father walked over to Mikhail’s room where Vasily and Mikhail were staying. As he opened up the door and saw Vasily sitting on a chair staring out the window at the skies, he held out the cordless phone to him.

 

“Vasily, would you like to talk to your parents?”

 

The blond haired teen did not answer.

 

After a long while, Mikhail's father got the message and spoke into the receiver. “Vasily cannot come to the phone right now. Yes, I understand. I am sure things will turn out all right. All right then. Thank you. Good-bye.”

Just as Mikhail’s father put down the receiver and was about to address Vasily, a huge flash of light, followed by a series of tremendous blasts of noise rocked the neighborhood.

 

Vasily was immediately jolted out of his chair as he saw several plumes of black smoke rising in the distance. His eyes widened and he felt a shiver go down his spine as he saw that those pillars were in the vicinity of the Moscow Metro Station and... the Yamkovoy home.

 

Two weeks later, Vasily bowed his head in sorrow as his parents' ashes were scattered into the wind. He made no effort to hide his tears as Mikhail’s family stood behind him in mourning.

 

Chechen terrorists had placed a car bomb in the Moscow Metro Station. The blast had caused a nearby gas main to explode and caused a chain reaction, destroying several apartments, including Vasily's. His father and mother had been killed instantly.

 

“Hey Vasily,” whispered Mikhail, “pay attention!”

 

Vasily quickly looked up at the intelligence officer in the front of the room.

 

“… the F-16 squadron located at Merzifon is of particular interest because there appears to be one pilot in particular with exceptional skills… he has claimed around four kills, including two Su-33s, one Su-25TM, and one MiG-29S…”

 

When the intelligence officer brought up the F-16C squadron at Merzifon, Colonel Andrei Petrov looked back in his notes and reviewed the earlier incident. A four-ship of MiG-29S fighters escorting Su-24s on an anti-radar strike mission against Turkish radar posts in the northern Anatolian valleys had been ambushed by those same F-16s. The lead MiG-29S decided to dogfight with one of the F-16s. What troubled Petrov was that this MiG-29S pilot was a friend who he had trained with. The man was one of the finest Russian pilots he knew, wasn't able to get into position at all on the F-16. As the dogfight progressed, the F-16 and MiG-29 pilots broke away from the main dogfight and fell into a one on one turn and burn match. After exhausting his last two R-73s, the MiG-29 pilot still had not managed to scratch the F-16. When the F-16 maneuvered onto his tail, the Turkish pilot attacked with such speed and viciousness that the MiG-29 pilot had no time to eject before being killed by two sidewinder missiles. It troubled Petrov that there was a pilot with that level of skill on the Turkish side.

[T-Bone]

MERZIFON, TURKEY

October 28th 2007

The ground crew cheered as the two F-16C pilots taxied into the hangars at Merzifon Airbase. Captain Erol Outemir was quickly becoming the greatest fighter pilot in the Turkish Air Force. The young Captain had shattered the morale of both Russian Navy and Russian Air Force pilots with his victories. Erol climbed out of the cockpit and down the ladder and hopped onto the ground. He leaned over and kissed the side of his F-16. Erol smiled. His Viper was his warhorse and he was proud of his $20 million dollar fighter.

 

After their debriefing, the two hopped into Tezer’s jeep and headed back to the on-base housing complexes. Tezer smiled as he drove along the freshly paved road towards the east side of the base. “They fired so many missiles at you and you managed to evade every single one of them and proceed to squeeze off your two HARMs… you have a courage I have never seen before.”

 

Erol scratched his neck. “Courage? Well before I used to think being courageous meant not being afraid. That's just not so. Anyone in their right mind will be frightened when you fly a mission against those SAM sites... true courage is fighting back even though you are afraid.”

 

Tezer smiled and nodded. “I can understand that. We have many courageous pilots…” He hesitated for a second.

 

“What is wrong Tezer?”

 

“…but will that be enough? I’m really worried that Turkey may stand no chance of winning a prolonged war against Russia. Will the Americans come to our aid? They have taken a neutral stance on Cyrpus and are saying they will not commit their forces in a conflict that is tearing the NATO alliance apart.”

 

Erol shook his head. “I have faith in the United States. The Americans gave us the best they have in terms of food, buildings, communications gear, whatever. I made some very close friends among the American pilots I trained with and have had one family actually visit me since the war in Iran for my wedding.”

 

“The American pilot who visited you… was he… the one from Operation Persian Thunder?”

 

Erol smiled. “Yes. I trained with Powell. That man is the greatest fighter pilot I have ever known in my life. That man was born to dominate the sky.”

 

Tezer was curious. “What exactly makes Captain Powell such a great fighter pilot? You trained with this guy, you should know.”

 

Erol smiled. “You really want to know why?”

 

Tezer nodded.

 

“Well in my opinion, Captain Powell is not a courageous man. Remember what I said about courage being defined as being able to face what you are afraid of? Powell is simply not afraid. He is not afraid of his own death. It doesn’t bother him that he may die at any moment. He’s not courageous. All the other pilots called him borderline crazy.” Erol laughed.

 

Tezer looked confused. “What do you mean by that Erol?”

 

“I watched him in training. At first he was as nervous and hesitant as any of us. But then something changed him. He made some sloppy mistakes in his first few fights, but he never lost. Soon he began to excel at his engagements and his skills became more refined. He pulled off moves that no one had ever seen before. He escaped almost certain death so many times in training exercises that the instructor pilots themselves could not match his skills…”

 

Tezer was amazed. “So you think his talent is natural?”

 

“Unnatural is more like it. The man’s reactions are so fast and instinctive and he attacked with such speed and viciousness that no one could touch him… its almost as if his mind is molded into the aircraft he’s flying… and it didn’t matter if his F-15 was less maneuverable than an instructor’s F-16 or F-5 or even some enemy Iranian MiG-29, he always found a way to exploit the F-15 in some way to ensure victory.”

 

Tezer grinned. “So how close are you to matching his skill?”

 

Erol shook his head. “I know I graduated second in that class, but there really is no pilot I have ever seen in my life that can ever match Powell… and he knows that too. After defeating some of the senior instructor pilots, he started becoming more brazen. Every last shred of fear inside of him disappeared. I think in its place grew a lust for more challenge and combat. And arrogance. He grew to be a cocky pilot. He was always trying to compare his skills with other pilots and he always ended up on top. He wants to prove to everyone else that no one is better than him.”

 

“So that’s what he did in Iran? I guess he somehow found that rogue Iranian Colonel who killed his squadronmate and took him out. The Iranian military made a big deal about that because Colonel Hamid was supposedly their finest pilot.”

 

Erol nodded. “I suspect that is the case. The entire Iranian Air Force knows him now and I am sure there are few Iranian pilots who would want to meet him in combat. I would be willing to match him against the best of the Russian Air Force...”

 

Tezer pulled up alongside the family dormitories. “Well anyways we can continue this tomorrow. I would certainly like to meet this pilot some day... I will see you tomorrow morning. Send my regards to Karli!”

 

Erol opened the passenger’s side door and walked out with his backpack over his shoulder. He was still wearing his sweat-soaked flightsuit. Erol waved goodbye to his friend. He took out his key and walked inside. After climbing two flights of stairs, Erol finally rounded a corner in the hall and walked into his apartment.

 

Karli rushed towards him and gave him a huge hug. Erol held her in his arms and kissed her on the forehead.

 

“Hey love, how are you?” asked Erol.

 

Karli shook her head. “You look exhausted. Go get changed. I’m making dinner for you.”

 

Erol walked past the small kitchen into their bedroom. He took off his flight suit and looked outside his window. A two-ship flight of F-16s were taking off for a typical Combat Air Patrol mission. The midafternoon sky was filled with activity. Helicopters buzzed around and C-130 resupply planes were landing from airbases to the west. Turkish Air Force pilots such as Erol could not afford to live off base at this time. All the air traffic made matters worse with noise pollution. He slipped on a towel and walked into the shower.

 

Karli set the plates on the dinner table and turned the lights on. It was starting to get dark outside. She had news for Erol, but was not sure if he was completely prepared for it.

 

Erol came out of the bedroom with a t-shirt and some shorts on. He smiled. “What kind of fish is that Karli?”

 

“Sea Bass… Erol. There is something I have to tell you.”

 

Erol’s face lit up. “Are you serious?”

 

Karli nodded.

 

A flood of emotions hit Erol immediately. He was going to be a father, but he was also required to serve his country in the ongoing war against Russia. Suddenly he felt torn between duty to his country and his duty as a husband and father. He did not want his child growing up without a father.

 

“Listen, Karli… we-”

 

“Erol, you listen to me. Do not think that because of this you should give up everything you have worked for. I know it’s going to be hard for the both of us, but flying has always been your passion. I do not want you to give that up.”

 

“But… Karli there is nothing I can do right now. I have to continue service as a pilot for many more years… can you live with that?”

 

Karli’s voice trembled. “Yes I can. I’m proud of what you do. I’m not going to say that I’m not afraid or not worried, but I want you to be happy.” Tears began rolling down her cheeks. “I’m not going to make you compromise to the point where you give up your identity. I can’t tell you to stop being a pilot. That’s your life. Just promise me you will be careful… this is not just about you and me anymore Erol….”

 

Karli was like no other woman he had ever met. She was always able to compromise even throughout the hardest circumstances. But Erol was confused about what she had meant. What really was his identity? Being a pilot was important to him, but all his hopes and dreams lay with Karli and their unborn baby. Erol’s main goal in life had always been to fit the mold of the traditional Turkish family man like his father and grandfather. That was his identity… but so was his identity as a fighter pilot in the Turkish Air Force defending his nation. These two identities would have to coexist in the same body for the time being…

 

“I will continue to fight, Karli, because I have to. But you always remember that you will be my reason for living through this…”

 

The two of them embraced. Tears rolled out of Erol’s eyes.

[T-Bone]

KRYMSK, RUSSIA

October 28th 2007

“Tower, Red 14, you are cleared for takeoff.” Lieutenant Vasily Yamkovoy’s Crane leapt down the runway and picked up speed as his AL-31 engines sucked in air and the afterburners kicked in. He eased back on the stick after reaching takeoff speed, and the Su-27’s long nose rose above the horizon. The aircraft’s large wings sliced through the air, finally generated enough lift to propel his heavily armed and fully fueled aircraft airborne. After retracting his landing gear, Vasily shifted his eyes onto the horizon and turned south to form on Mikhail, his element leader.

 

Vasily flew the last Su-27 in a naval strike package of eight aircraft, comprising of six Su-27’s and two Tu-22M bombers. The Tu-22Ms were tasked with the destruction of naval forces located in the straights of Bosporus in order to weaken the Turkish fleet for the passage of the Admiral Kutnezov into the Black Sea. Once the missile cruiser Moscow in the Black Sea fleet was mobilized, Turkish naval forces had little choice but to prevent the carrier from entering the Black Sea. The combined fleets would cast total naval supremacy in the Black Sea.

 

The Tu-22Ms handled pretty well for the weapons configuration due to their powerful engines. Each Backfire bomber carried three Kh-22 anti-ship missiles. Two hung below each wing and one lay hidden inside the bomb bay of the huge aircraft. Vasily kept an eye on the two large sillouettes on the horizon. His flight of four Su-27s would escort the bombers to the Bosporus Straits and guard them against any enemy aircraft in the vicinity.

 

Vasily looked up to see two long white contrails thousands of feet above him. Two MiG-31s were returning from a fighter sweep. These fast high altitude aircraft had unsuccessfully attempted to take out larger cargo aircraft such as the Turkish C-130s. The Russians had failed to open many holes in the Turkish air defense network for aggressive flights deeper into enemy territory. Vasily knew this was because of their well trained pilots, especially the ones trained by NATO.

 

Vasily looked off to the west at the setting sun and then off into the east at the almost full moon rising in the east. Their strike package had passed over the coast. They were now flying over the Black Sea. As they inched closer to the target area, Vasily began to sweat more and more. He thought about the frigid water below him and how painful it would be to die a slow death of hypothermia. The autumn had been exceptionally cold.

 

When the package came within fifty miles from the entrance of the Bosporus Straits, the Tu-22Ms dropped to less than 1000 feet above the cold blue waters of the Black Sea.

 

Colonel Andrei Petrov broke the silence. “Attention flight, AWACS reports enemy air activity over the straits.”

 

The Su-27s remained at altitude and picked up speed, poised to launch a deadly array of R-27 missiles at the Turks. Vasily’s heart skipped a beat and a lump grew in his throat.

 

 

 

The Colonel flew lead in a separate two ship of Su-27s from Vasily and Mikhail. His wingman, Major Alexei Dormonov trailed to his starboard side. Andrei monitored his radar screen. Four Turkish F-16Cs and an four F-5Es were harassing a returning flight of two Su-24’s after shooting down their three MiG-23 escorts. The fighters quickly disengaged from the Su-24s and changed heading towards the Russian naval strike package. Petrov and Dormonov broke into a pincers attack while the other four Su-27s flew to attack head on into a BVR shootout.

 

They passed within the deadly radius of the F-16’s AIM-120C AMRAAM missile. For all Vasily knew, the F-16s’ had probably launched a barrage of AMRAAMs at him in their Home On Jam mode. Vasily quickly selected his semi-active radar homing R-27 missiles and pressed down on the pickle button. His thumb quivered so much that he accidentally launched three missiles at one of the F-5E’s on his radar screen. Vasily turned forty degrees to the west so that he maintained lock but would be beaming any incoming missiles. Vapor trails bled off his wingtips as he clawed for altitude which would give him enough room to maneuver against any incoming AMRAAM missiles.

 

The first R-27 destroyed the F-5E while the second and third flew through the smoke cloud from the explosion.

 

 

 

Mikhail was ecstatic. “Good kill Vasily!”

 

Fifteen miles away, Colonel Petrov looped and swerved in a zigzagging pattern spewing out chaff and flares, evading a murderous barrage of AMRAAM and sidewinder missiles. The Turks had detected their pincers attempt and had quickly picked off Major Dormotov. The F-16s and F-5s were having a tough time as they tried to overwhelm their enemy by sheer weight of numbers. The pilot of that lead Su-27 kept on evading their most diligent attempts to destroy him.

 

Andrei Petrov tightened his grip on the controls of his fighter as he continued to engage the enemy. The grey-haired Colonel gritted his teeth as he lined up an F-5E in his vertical scan radar mode. The smaller fighters were nimble but only had short range missile capabilities. He pickled an R-27 which slammed into the side of his opponent, tearing the fuselage into five large chunks. The Turkish pilot was killed instantly. Andrei looked around at the confused gaggle of fighters, explosions, and smoke trails and in the midst of all that he made out Lieutenant Mikhail Ruschenkov’s Su-27 trying furiously to outturn a smaller and nimbler F-16C.

 

“ANYBODY, GET HIM OFF!” Mikhail screamed.

 

As the F-16 brought its nose closer to Mikhail’s Crane, Colonel Petrov dove down and squeezed a burst from his 30mm cannon. He blew his target away and immediately began searching for the next.

“Red 13,” Andrei said in a calm voice, “you are all cleared.”

 

Three miles away, Vasily launched his last R-73 missile. This one did not miss. A huge explosion lit up the sky and the Turkish pilot ejected just hundreds of feet above the Black Sea. With all his missiles gone, he pushed his throttle and his Su-27’s afterburners kicked in. The Crane was much lighter, having expended its missiles and a considerable amount of fuel. They would soon have to refuel over the Black Sea. Vasily fell back into his seat as the fighter sped up. He headed north to get the hell out of dodge and rejoined Mikhail’s wing. He had bagged two fighter kills, an F-16 and an F-5. Mikhail had also killed two F-5s.

 

An AMRAAM missile slammed into the first Tu-22M, followed by two more. The pilot and weapons officer ejected as the bomber turned into a nosedive and plunged into the water. The second Tu-22M managed to get within range to launch all three Kh-22s at a large Oliver Hazard Perry frigate in the waters.

 

The first two Kh-22s were destroyed by the Oliver Perry’s defensive cannons, but the third did not miss. The missile slammed into the side of the frigate and a huge explosion sent a ball of water, fire, and smoke splashing up. The frigate slowly sunk into the bottom of the straits. The surviving crew loaded onto the escape boats and rafts while others slipped into the water and drowned.

 

A Turkish F-16 pilot dropped in from behind the bomber and armed his sidewinders. He would not allow the bomber crew to get away that easily.

 

Not so fast boy.

 

With lethal precision, Colonel Andrei Petrov launched a surprise attack from underneath the F-16 with only his IRST to assist him. Just as the Turkish pilot was about to open fire, an R-73 arced up and snaked inside the tailpipe of the F-16, creating an explosion that littering the skies with debris and smoke. The F-16 pilot ejected only to be killed by shards of molten debris from his F-16’s engine.

 

Andrei let out a sigh of relief. “Splash four fighters. Mission is complete.”

[T-Bone]

MERZIFON, TURKEY

November 5th 2007

The Greeks declared war once Turkish naval forces had entered waters off the coast of southern Cyprus on the first of November. The Turks were now faced with fighting off Russian naval forces in the Sea of Marmara as well as Greek forces from the west. Resources were quickly growing depleted as Turkish naval and air units were spread thin and beginning to sustain heavy losses. To make matters worse for the Turkish Air Force, Captain Erol Outemir was no longer the leading fighter ace in the war. The squadron commander of the Russian 562 IAP had claimed an astonishing nine victories over Turkish Air Force fighters in his Sukhoi. His latest kill had claimed one of the 152 Filo “Raiders” F-16C’s. The pilot survived to tell of Su-27 number Zero-One’s veteran pilot. The story was something for Captain Erol Outemir to lose sleep over.

 

Erol awoke to the sound of a sigh as a warm body snuggled closer to him in bed. Taking care not to awaken his new wife, he reached over and turned the alarm clock on the night stand as so he could see it more clearly, and gently sat up. He smiled as he gazed upon the beautiful woman who was now his life partner.

 

Karli looked so peaceful and innocent in her sleep. Her dark curly brown hair flowed about and her slender form was so wonderfully curved. He remembered how well it had fit to his own. Erol still couldn't believe that such a beautiful woman loved him and was going to be with him for the rest of his days; he reached out to stroke her face. At the touch of his hand, her eyes fluttered opened. Karli smiled she looked upon her husband. She wrapped her arms around him, gently pulling him down toward her.

 

“Good morning, Erol.” She greeted softly.

 

Erol looked upset. “…. good morning, Karli...”

 

“What is it Erol? What’s wrong?”

 

Erol shook his head. “Nothing. It was just a bad dream.”

 

The combat schedule shifts had grown into something of a routine and two were quickly adjusting. Erol jumped out of bed and into the shower. He then got dressed into his flight suit and prepared for the long day ahead of him. It was fight or die, he thought to himself, simple as that. All the dreams he had for their future together would have to be put on hold until this was finished. He just hoped that when this was all over, they would both be there to enjoy it.

 

Erol embraced his wife before leaving the apartment. “I love you darling.” He made an effort to tell her how much he loved her as often as possible, for any day she may never hear those words from him ever again.

 

When Erol arrived in the officer’s quarters, he met up with Lieutenant Tezer Sibel, Major Kumsal Erdem, and Captain Emin Sezen. The three were discussing the Hellenic Air Force’s inventory while waiting for their patrol times to begin.

 

The tall and cocky Kumsal was in the middle of explaining one of the fighter aircraft in the Greek inventory. “Their Mirage 2000 is a very slick fighter but remember it was primarily designed for scramble interception against MiG-25s so it is logical that a Mirage 2000 can fly faster and higher than a Viper.”

 

Tezer shook his head. “It does not make a big difference… the Mirage is less powerful than the Viper, so that this advantage in speed and acceleration is negated as soon as you try to fit a bomb load on the Mirage 2000.”

 

Erol jumped into their conversation. “It is also true that the instantaneous turn rate of the Mirage 2000 is better, but the sustained turn rate of the Viper is better, which is I have found is much more important in a dogfight, all in all. You guys, I am much more worried about the Russian Su-27s…”

 

Emin, thin and wiry with thick glasses shook his head and glanced over at Erol. “You mean you are more worried about their old man over there… the Colonel who claims nine of ours. He was the one who shot down Sener yesterday morning over the straits.”

 

“Yes, as a matter of fact I am.” Erol quickly changed the subject, “Do you guys know how Sener is doing by the way?”

 

Tezer lowered his head. “He is still in the infirmary. He broke his right leg from the ejection. I do not think he will be flying for a while…”

 

The group of pilots continued chatting until they were ordered in for the latest intelligence briefing. Erol soon learned that his first mission of the day would be a routine patrol over the Black Sea in less than two hours. The Turks had been sending out pairs of two fighters to patrol friendly airspace, emulating the NATO tactic of employing Barrier Combat Air Patrol flights. Yesterday, two F-16s had been lost from the 151 Filo “Bronze” and one had been lost from his own 152 Filo “Raiders.” He looked around the room and wondered who wouldn’t return today.

 

After leaving the intelligence room, Erol stepped outside. The cold crisp autumn air filled his lungs as he took in a deep breath. It was overcast and drops of rain began to hit his face. The smell of jet fuel lingered in the air. Off to the horizon, he saw a flight of F-16s returning from an engagement in the Straits. One was trailing a stream of fuel. A flash of lightning lit up the sky and the drizzle intensified into a downpour. Erol ran inside the hangar of his F-16C for shelter. He met up with the maintenance chief and prepared for his last minute walk around check. He would depart in an hour.

[T-Bone]

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