would have been proud of him. Sam Magruder had racked up an impressive
display of fruit salad during his short career, including both the
Silver Star and the Distinguished Flying Cross.
But the Silver Star had been posthumous, and the expression on his
mother’s face when she received it along with the word of Sam Magruder’s
death haunted Tombstone still. He’d gone on to make Navy flying his
life, but he tended to be cynical about the medals that came with it.
Personally, he was far prouder of the “battle E” Viper Squadron had won
for its part at Wonsan.
He shook himself free of the dark mood which threatened to close in on
him. “Leader to Sharpshooter Two,” he said. “You there, Batman?”
“I’m with you, Stoney.”
“Pull out the stoppers. I feel the need for speed.”
“Affirm. Let’s do it.”
“Going to burner. On my mark, three, two, one … punch it!”
Tombstone rammed the throttles forward to full military power. The
added boost kicked the F-14 forward with a shuddering jolt. As the
Tomcat’s speed crept up the scale toward Mach 1, the shudder increased
… then suddenly vanished as the plane broke the sound barrier.
Batman’s 232 aircraft kept pace.
Behind them, the search radar at Phu Quoc continued to thrum its lonely,
monotonous tune.
1358 hours, 14 January
Tomcat 101, near the That-Burmese border
Lieutenant Commander John “Made It” Bayerly, CO of the VF-97 War Eagles,
banked his Tomcat for a better view of the action on the valley floor
below.
The terrain here was mountainous, forest-shrouded peaks rising in steep
folds and humps above the meandering clefts of valleys. The tree canopy
ten thousand feet below was unbroken save for the flash of sunlight from
a twisting stretch of river.
To the south, Bayerly could see white contrails drawing themselves
across the dark foliage covering the ground. Four Royal That Air Force
Falcons were making an attack run on suspected guerrilla positions on
the banks of the Taeng River–the Nam Mae Taeng, as it appeared on That
maps. Roads in this area were virtually nonexistent, muddy, twin-rut
smugglers’ tracks for the most part, but the That CIA had reported what
might be a truck park and military camp down there. If the rebels were
getting help from the socialist Burmese government, they would be
stockpiled and distributed from such a camp.
In any case, it was the perfect opportunity for the RTAF to practice
with their new purchase. The American F-16 Falcons had been delivered
to the That government only recently. The nimble, dual-purpose aircraft
could carry over ten thousand pounds of ordnance for ground attack.
Their load on this afternoon was considerably less. Each plane carried
four Rockeye 11 CBU-59s, cluster bombs designed to scatter hundreds of
tiny bomblets in a broad footprint across the jungle. Against unarmored
troops, their effect would be devastating.
From this high up, Bayerly could not see the attack well, but he could
make out the sparkles of detonating bomblets among the trees, saw the
surface of the river thrash as the Falcons rocketed up the valley. A
contrail stabbed up from the shore, describing an odd, corkscrew path as
it chased the That Falcons. An SA-7, Made It thought. The reason the
ROEs were keeping him stuck uselessly almost two miles above the action.
So far as Bayerly was concerned, the ROEs for this op were nonsense.
What good would a show of American support for the That government do
when the U.S. aircraft were so far above the jungle the guerrillas
didn’t even know they were there?
Below, the Grail’s smoke trail gave out as its fuel was expended, and
the warhead dropped unseen back into the trees. The Falcons pulled up
and clawed for altitude, their pass complete, their contrails sharp as
the planes bored through the humid air above the jungle.
He eased back on his Tomcat’s throttles, glancing first at the RPM meter
on the panel just above his left knee, then at his airspeed indicator.
The thunder of the twin GE F-110 engines dropped to a smooth growl as
the aircraft, its swing wings extended to their full-forward position,
cruised above the rolling green carpet of jungle. His wingman,