maneuvering. The SHOOT prompt came on again and he pulled the trigger. “Aft ship, this is Bluejay One. You’re a mort.”
Hooter’s excited voice came over his phones. “Beautiful, Saint. I wonder if we can frame a videotape?”
Without a word the two “enemy” planes pulled up and rocketed off for points unknown, and the Bluejays turned for base. Two blasts of afterburner had significantly reduced their fuel.
“Saint, who were they? I didn’t see any other Falcons scheduled in our area tonight.”
“Probably some Juvets from the 80th ordered to surprise us. I heard a rumor the wing commander was going to try something like this.”
Hooter chuckled, “Well, they can surprise us like that anytime they want.”
“I’ll pass. They might have been real gomers. Thank God we droppedenough ordnance to mark off the box. If they had interrupted us sooner, we’d have had to repeat the mission.”
“Yeah, then you wouldn’t have safetied out the cannon.”
Ten minutes later they were back at base, and it took just five minutes more to taxi to the arch. Tony climbed out of his cockpit feeling like he’d been there for a year. Pulling five to seven g’s wears you out. It was 2130 and he and Hooter still had an hour of debrief left before they could sleep. But there were two poor bastards in the 80th who’d be up late, too, and they wouldn’t have much fun watching their after-action videotape.
______________
CHAPTER
6
Uncertain Welcome
SEPTEMBER 14—KIMPO INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, SOUTH KOREA
Second Lieutenant Kevin Little was more than a little worried. So far, at least, on his first real day of active duty as an Army officer, nothing—absolutely nothing—had gone right.
It had started with his flight into Kimpo International Airport that morning. Bad weather in Seattle had kept him from making his KAL connection in Anchorage, and he’d had to wait for the next plane. That had turned a planned fourteen-hour trip into a full twenty-four-hour nightmare. That would have been bad enough. But then he hadn’t been able to get through to the battalion travel office at Camp Howze to let them know that he’d been delayed.
So now that he had finally gotten into Kimpo, his transport to the battalion had been and gone. And the Eighth Army captain in charge of ground transportation at the airport was making it crystal clear that sympathy was in short supply in South Korea.
“Listen, Lieutenant whatever-your-name-is, I don’t give a raggedy rat’s ass about your missing ride. We’ve just come off a six-day alert and I’ve got better things to do than to spend time rounding up a car and driver for every woeful, wayward, green-as-grass replacement wandering around in Korea. Like getting some sleep, for example. Got it?” The captain kept his voice low, but Kevin could swear that every lowly PFC and clerk in the room had heard every word.
Cripes, now what? His first, miserable day in ROTC basic training flashed back to him. The captain had asked a question to which there was only one permissible answer.
Kevin drew himself to attention. “Sir, yes sir.” He almost stopped—why was the captain’s face turning bright red? Hurriedly he carried on, “Could the captain please direct me to the nearest cab stand or bus station, then?”
“Oh, shit, boy…” The man seemed to be trying hard not to laugh, “Don’t you know Americans aren’t real popular around this country right now? You might be able to get a cab, but you’d be just as likely to end up way down in Pusan as at Camp Howze.”
The captain turned to bellow at one of his sergeants standing just a few feet away. “Fergie! See what we can do for this little lost lamb! I guess we’re playing nursemaid today.”
He looked back at Kevin. “Don’t expect too much or anything too fancy. General McLaren, the Big Boss here in Korea, doesn’t like seeing officers spending their time riding around like some kind of foreign potentates.” The
Hooter’s excited voice came over his phones. “Beautiful, Saint. I wonder if we can frame a videotape?”
Without a word the two “enemy” planes pulled up and rocketed off for points unknown, and the Bluejays turned for base. Two blasts of afterburner had significantly reduced their fuel.
“Saint, who were they? I didn’t see any other Falcons scheduled in our area tonight.”
“Probably some Juvets from the 80th ordered to surprise us. I heard a rumor the wing commander was going to try something like this.”
Hooter chuckled, “Well, they can surprise us like that anytime they want.”
“I’ll pass. They might have been real gomers. Thank God we droppedenough ordnance to mark off the box. If they had interrupted us sooner, we’d have had to repeat the mission.”
“Yeah, then you wouldn’t have safetied out the cannon.”
Ten minutes later they were back at base, and it took just five minutes more to taxi to the arch. Tony climbed out of his cockpit feeling like he’d been there for a year. Pulling five to seven g’s wears you out. It was 2130 and he and Hooter still had an hour of debrief left before they could sleep. But there were two poor bastards in the 80th who’d be up late, too, and they wouldn’t have much fun watching their after-action videotape.
______________
CHAPTER
6
Uncertain Welcome
SEPTEMBER 14—KIMPO INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, SOUTH KOREA
Second Lieutenant Kevin Little was more than a little worried. So far, at least, on his first real day of active duty as an Army officer, nothing—absolutely nothing—had gone right.
It had started with his flight into Kimpo International Airport that morning. Bad weather in Seattle had kept him from making his KAL connection in Anchorage, and he’d had to wait for the next plane. That had turned a planned fourteen-hour trip into a full twenty-four-hour nightmare. That would have been bad enough. But then he hadn’t been able to get through to the battalion travel office at Camp Howze to let them know that he’d been delayed.
So now that he had finally gotten into Kimpo, his transport to the battalion had been and gone. And the Eighth Army captain in charge of ground transportation at the airport was making it crystal clear that sympathy was in short supply in South Korea.
“Listen, Lieutenant whatever-your-name-is, I don’t give a raggedy rat’s ass about your missing ride. We’ve just come off a six-day alert and I’ve got better things to do than to spend time rounding up a car and driver for every woeful, wayward, green-as-grass replacement wandering around in Korea. Like getting some sleep, for example. Got it?” The captain kept his voice low, but Kevin could swear that every lowly PFC and clerk in the room had heard every word.
Cripes, now what? His first, miserable day in ROTC basic training flashed back to him. The captain had asked a question to which there was only one permissible answer.
Kevin drew himself to attention. “Sir, yes sir.” He almost stopped—why was the captain’s face turning bright red? Hurriedly he carried on, “Could the captain please direct me to the nearest cab stand or bus station, then?”
“Oh, shit, boy…” The man seemed to be trying hard not to laugh, “Don’t you know Americans aren’t real popular around this country right now? You might be able to get a cab, but you’d be just as likely to end up way down in Pusan as at Camp Howze.”
The captain turned to bellow at one of his sergeants standing just a few feet away. “Fergie! See what we can do for this little lost lamb! I guess we’re playing nursemaid today.”
He looked back at Kevin. “Don’t expect too much or anything too fancy. General McLaren, the Big Boss here in Korea, doesn’t like seeing officers spending their time riding around like some kind of foreign potentates.” The
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