“Then they departed with the bomber.”
“Etna Formation, form on me!” Antonio yelled. He twisted the aircraft to the left and came out of the dive at eight thousand meters, his F-16 screaming southward.
A minute later the loose diamond F-16 formation broke the sound barrier as it passed the coast of Sicily. Windows shattered as the sonic boom rode its crest through the port city of Catania. The front window of one insurance company burst. The owner-agent brushed the bits of glass off his suit, saw the damage along the street, reached down, unplugged his phone, stepped through the broken window, and walked across the street to the nearby bistro. It was time for a holiday.
Fifteen minutes later the escaping Libyans with the pursuing Italian fighter aircraft were forty miles apart when the Libyans passed the thirty-sixth parallel west of Malta.
“Etna Leader, this is Groseta Air Defense Control. We have lost contact with the Libyan formation. Last course plots them inbound to Tripoli.” The Italian Air Defense controller paused.
Etna Leader heard the controller arguing with someone in the background. Finally the controller came back on the radio.
“Etna, return to base. What is your fuel state?”
“No, we have sufficient fuel to continue pursuit. We have the enemy on our radars and can do local intercept.”
His grandfathers would never forgive him for turning back.
A Lopez never ran … God, country. And, of course — he smiled — there was that buxom blond at Gabriella’s, who he had been cultivating for weeks, who would probably rip off her knickers and screw his brains out when he returned as an air hero. Maybe he would be the one to play hard to get … for about a minute, he thought.
“Yes, Etna Leader. Understand, but your fuel state, please?” the controller asked, bringing Antonio’s thoughts back from the blond at Gabriella’s where his mind was already tracing his fingers up the inside of her thighs.
Antonio glanced down at the gauges.
“We have sufficient fuel and do not intend to return yet.
Request a tanker.” He reached between his legs and pushed his rigid dick to a more comfortable angle.
“Etna, we cannot provide a tanker. The tankers were destroyed during the attack.”
Etna Leader clicked twice and switched channels on his radio to the formation frequency.
“Etna Formation, we are going to intercept and destroy the Libyan scum even if it means following them to Tripoli.
Unfortunately, we don’t have enough fuel to make it back to Sicily and, as you heard, there is no tanker support. For those who want to turn back, now is the time to do it. For me, I am going to pursue those who have attacked our country and avenge Italy!” And get that blond at Gabriella ‘s.
“What is it in the films that the American Indian says on a sunny day before a battle?
“It is a good day to die.”
I think I will stay along for the ride, Etna Leader. Besides, I have an uncle who is a mafioso and he would not be a happy capo if I came back from a vendetta without a kill,” said Etna Two.
“We are not going to be the ones who die, Etna Two.
Besides, I know your uncle. He’s not a mafioso. He runs a bakery.”
“Well, he would still be unhappy.”
Etna Three and Etna Four also refused to turn back.
“Besides, Etna Two owes me two hundred euros,” said Etna Four.
“It’d be just like him to get shot down to avoid paying me.”
Etna Leader switched back to the main control channel. “Air Defense, Etna Formation will continue pursuit. Try to arrange a tanker for us. If not, then send a ship to pick us up. We will let you know where to send rescue.” He flipped off Groseta Control as the officer on the other end began to shout.
Thirty minutes later, Etna Formation passed the Libyan coastline. Ahead lay Tripoli Military Airfield, the old Wheelus Air Force Base of the United States Air Force in the 1960s.
“Groseta, I have a Blinder taxiing off the runway and two Mig-25s landing. We have enough fuel and weapons for one pass. Etna Two, take the Blinder; Etna Three, the lead Mig; Etna Four, take out the parked fighters and I will take the second Mig. After attack, break left and head north. One pass only. After missiles, use cannons. Good luck and God’s grace, my friends. For Italy and family!” And good loving.
The Italian fighter aircraft dove at the airfield. The first missile fired by Etna Two tore through the antiquated bomber, killing the bomb crew in the rear. The Blinder split in half, the rear portion and wings burning. As Etna Two neared the missile hit, three crew members evacuated the cockpit. Etna Two fired his six-barrel cannon, blasting the cockpit and sending three bodies flying into the air. He increased power and sent deadly twenty-millimeter cannon shells into a tower that unexpectedly appeared in front of him. Etna Two banked left, avoiding the tower, and headed north — his internal warning system going wild from the Libyan surface-to-air missile radar system’s attempting to lock on. He hit the deck at fifty meters and dodged for the coast.
Etna Three opened fire with his cannon at the six Mig25s and four Mirages parked in a line along the edge of the apron. One of the Foxbats rolled out and began a highspeed taxi toward the runway. Etna Three fired two missiles; both of them bracketed the Mig-25. He squeezed the cannon trigger. Two twenty-millimeter cannon shells hit the cockpit, blowing apart the pilot’s head and upper torso. The Mig’s ejection seat activated, rocketing the headless body into the air. The burning Mig veered left into a parked Mirage V aircraft. The nose gear collapsed, causing both aircraft to collapse onto the apron. The Mig engines continued to work as the fire worked its way toward the rear, causing the unmanned fighter to spin slowly around the pivot of the buried nose gear, pulling the Mirage with it. Two other Mig-25 aircraft burned along with these two. The other aircraft parked along the apron miraculously survived undamaged from the one firing pass of Etna Three.
Etna Four’s first missile hit the first Mig, landing dead center. Flames shot up fifty meters, followed by a gigantic explosion that covered the Foxbat aircraft with roiling black smoke as it fell the remaining thirty meters to explode on the edge of the runway. The second missile hit the center of the runway, blowing a small crater in the asphalt.
The second Mig-25 pilot hit his afterburner and ascended in a combat roll to the right. Etna Leader’s missile missed the escaping Foxbat and exploded harmlessly on the taxiway apron. The Mig-25 looped up and over, as Etna Leader banked left. Aswad Leader came out of the loop behind Etna Leader. The Libyan veteran had Antonio’s F-16 bracketed with his fire control radar.
Etna Leader ignored his wingmen calling “Mission complete.”
They were headed for the coast, leaving him behind.
He rolled the F-16 to the right, pulled a nearly two-G climb for a couple of seconds, and then throttled back, causing the aircraft to stall. The Libyan fighter flashed past, its cannons blazing. The two adversaries were too close for missiles. Antonio knew he had to make the only remaining missile count. He needed separation.
Antonio pushed the throttle forward as he rolled the aircraft to the left on a powerless race toward the earth. He flicked the power switches. The engines caught; he twisted the steering column to the right and brought the nose up in a power climb. The thrust of the Falcon shoved him back against his seat. Antonio shoved the steering column forward, coming out of the climbing turn heading west and finding himself five hundred meters behind the Foxbat. He pressed the cannon button and a neat stitch of holes crossed the tail section of the Mig.
Aswad Leader broke right and up, taking the Mig-25 through a 360-degree roll as he took his aircraft through a series of roller-coaster maneuvers in an attempt to lose the angry Italian. Unable to shake Etna Leader, Aswad Leader hit his afterburner, went vertical, and left the slower F-16 behind.