Afraid he had grown rusty, Matt hit the books, reviewing every procedure, rule, and regulation that applied to F-15s. Then he turned to weapons employment, refreshing his memory on delivery parameters and techniques. Contrary to popular opinion, flying fighters is more than strapping on a jet and taking off for a few fun-filled minutes roaring around the sky. It takes hours of constant study, review, and planning on the ground, and as long as Matt flew high-performance fighters, it would never stop.
After the session in the simulator, he flew a requalification flight with Locke in the backseat before he was teamed with his old WSO, Mike Haney. Locke noted with satisfaction that Matt had his attitude on straight, was going by the rules, and had all the promise of being an outstanding fighter jock. He decided that Matt had finally earned his captain’s bars.
Early one morning, when Matt was sleeping in after a night flight with Haney, an Inspector General team hit the base for an unannounced Operational Readiness Inspection — an ORI — the make-or-break test of a peacetime unit. For four days, the IG team would throw a series of wartime tasks at the wing, demanding they demonstrate their proficiency in everything from mass casualty exercises to emergency buildup of weapons to flying planned wartime sortie rates and simulated combat missions.
Matt’s first indication that the ORI was under way came when a pounding on his BOQ door woke him. A voice told him to report to the squadron ASAP, that an IG team was on base, and that a “recall” was under way. Like everyone else, he did not shave, brush his teeth, or wash because the IG team would want to see a “sense of urgency.” A freshly shaved face during a recall said somebody did not have the proper sense of urgency. But the team that had hit Stonewood liked to play catch-22 games and zinged the wing for lacking in military appearance.
Less than an hour after the start of the recall, the squadron was fully manned and configured for its wartime mission. The crews waited patiently in the squadron as Maintenance finished uploading live ordnance on their aircraft. Then a crew would run out to its assigned aircraft, perform a preflight, and check in on status with the command post, ready to launch. However, no aircraft would actually takeoff loaded with live ordnance. Matt and Haney were not assigned an aircraft and had to wait in the squadron building while the frenzied activity went on around them. Neither liked being a spectator. Because they were in the squadron and not in a bunker manning a jet, they were among the first to hear the rumor — the wing had already failed the inspection.
Slowly, fact replaced the rumors. One of the inspectors had noted a mistake in the command post when the on-duty controller decoded the first alert message. The controller had sent the wing into a more advanced stage of readiness than the message called for. The IG team claimed the wing had automatically failed the ORI. The wing commander was arguing that merely jumping to a higher state of alert only meant the wing would be ready sooner to meet its wartime mission. A general from headquarters was called in to render a decision and the ORI was put on hold.
Charlie Ferguson explained it all to Matt. “It was a legit hit,” the grizzled old sergeant said, “but not worth busting an ORI. Looks like we got a chickenshit team doing the inspection.”
Later on, Matt complained to Locke about it, sensing a gross injustice. “What the hell does this have to do with hosing the bad guys down?”
The squadron commander looked Matt square in the eye. “Not a thing, Captain. Not a single goddamn thing.” He handed Matt his captain’s bars, turned, and walked away.
Headquarters United States Air Force in Europe sent Brigadier General Donald ‘Bull” Heath to RAF Stonewood to determine if Matt’s wing had indeed failed its Operational Readiness Inspection. General Heath was scathing in his rebuke of the Inspector General team chief when he reviewed the technicality the IG team had based its decision on. He lived up to his reputation and nickname when he told the unfortunate colonel heading the team that he had his head so far up his ass that he needed a Plexiglas window in his stomach to see where he was going. By the time Heath left the base five minutes later, a case of Plexiglas cleaner, commonly known as “whale sperm,” had magically appeared in the offices the IG team was occupying during the inspection. Master Sergeant Charlie Ferguson claimed to be totally innocent and that he had been in the area on legitimate business.
The morale of the wing skyrocketed and the inspection was back in full swing. No matter where an inspector went, he or she was bound to see a bottle of “whale sperm.” On the last day of the inspection, the weather deteriorated and all of the low-level and gunnery-range missions had to be canceled. The IG team was still smarting from the constant sight of Plexiglas cleaner bottles and wanted to find a reason to bust the wing. Frustrated, they tasked the wing to fly an excessive number of high-altitude missions, hoping that Maintenance or Operations would screw up. But the wing met the challenge as the inspection ran out. Finally, the last mission was laid on Matt’s squadron. Jack Locke shook his head when he saw the last mission being grease-penciled up on the scheduling board. His squadron was tasked to fly a one-versus-one, basic fighter maneuvers (BFM) mission. He called his superior, the wing’s deputy for operations, to confirm what he saw. “Boss, is that chicken Colonel Roger ‘Ramjet’ Raider, the IG’s gift to the tactical fighter community, who’s going along for a ride in the backseat of number one?” he asked.
“One and the same,” the deputy for operations told him.
“Why my squadron? The guy’s a clueless wonder.”
“It’s an unannounced check ride,” the DO told him. “The IG is still gunning for us and I want you to lead it. Keep it simple and put one of your best sticks in number two.” The DO) broke the connection as Roger “Ramjet” Raider walked into the squadron building. Locke puzzled for a few moments over whom he would tap to fly the second jet. A BFM mission was relatively undemanding but he wanted his best pilot. He told the scheduler to get Matt and Haney into the briefing room while he blew some hot air for Ramjet to suck on.
The mission briefing Locke conducted was a masterpiece of standardization, starting with a time hack and continuing through every required item on the briefing checklist. Matt and Haney exchanged unbelieving looks when they noticed the colonel was making too many notes on his Mission Data Card. Ramjet was writing down information that he should have automatically memorized. A fighter jock’s number one tool is his brain and Ramjet wasn’t using his.
The flight itself proved to be routine as Locke and Matt worked through a series of basic fighter maneuvers. Haney was bored silly in the pit of number two and had little to do. Matt was enjoying the mission. “Talk to me, babes,” he told Haney as they set up for their last engagement.
“We’re the defender on this one, the Old Man is the attacker. He’ll convert to our six, do a quarter plane and zoom and fall in behind us. He’ll drive to lag and try to herd us around the sky.” Haney paused. Matt could tell from the tone in his voice he didn’t like being a target. “Before he does all that to us, why don’t you reef hard into him while he’s still converting to our six and force him into a scissors. That ought to get Ramjet’s attention.”
“Aah, I don’t know,” Matt said. “Maybe we ought to keep it simple and let Locke eat our shorts.”
“A scissors is a basic fighter maneuver, the boss briefed it, and he did say to do it if the situation was right.”
“Sounds good,” Matt allowed. “Let’s do it if we can.”