Frank squeezed her hand trying to comfort her.
“So, we have just 60 seconds left. Let’s turn to a happier subject. Captain Banner, can you give our viewers some more details on what is next for you two?” asked the man obviously looking to add to the human-interest side of the interview.
“Well like I said, from here we do about five more news sit down interviews, then I am off for a week to spend some time with family, and help in whatever way she will let me to plan a wedding,” he said.
“Well congratulations all around on the engagement. That is a beautiful ring and I am sure it will be an amazing ceremony whenever, and wherever it occurs. I am willing to bet that we haven’t seen the last of you two,” the reporter concluded and the red lights went out.
AP NEWS FLASH: Captain Banner and Sandra Cooper appeared on the morning news stations all over town. They are a completely endearing couple that the press has fallen in love with. They will likely be showing up again and again. They are scheduled on several of the late night shows to conclude their press tour. In similar news, there have been multiple threats on their life from various groups both domestic, and foreign due to the involvement of the Captain in the capture of an Iranian citizen. The couple is currently traveling under the protection of the Secret Service, and for the time being are not announcing any dates, or the location of their upcoming wedding.
AP ECONOMIC NEWS FLASH: After a television interview with Miss Sanders and Captain Banner in which the after effects of the attack were discussed, hospital and medical sector stocks jumped on anticipation of future needs of patients being far greater than originally understood. Some are criticizing this as speculators hoping to profiteer off of a massive human tragedy. Investors say their money will be useful in expanding available treatment locations and methodologies as well as supply for a growing demand.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Major John “Tequila” Murphy was looking up and down the flight line in the sovereign Nation State of Turkey in preparation for the day’s mission. The preflight check was something every pilot he had ever met took very seriously. Flying wasn’t like driving a car. If your car breaks down, and the motor stops, you can just pull over to the side of the road. You break down while flying, you come out of the sky in a not so pleasant manner. Everything had to be perfect before takeoff.
Today, he would quadruple checks all of the items he normally would only triple check. He was an F-22 pilot whom had a very important job in his single seat fighter aircraft. He must keep the bomber next to him alive, even if it meant sacrificing his own life.
The B-52 Stratofortress, the type of bomber he would be escorting for this mission, was the heaviest bomber in the inventory. In a single load, it could carry seventy thousand pounds of bombs, mines, and missiles. His own aircraft was configured for only air-to-air combat, which left him with only eight missiles and his gun. Certainly enough to take out multiple enemy aircraft, but nothing by comparison to what the B-52 could, and would deliver to ground targets if he had anything to say about it. The difference was his aircraft was agile, whereas the B-52 was anything but.
It was his job to ensure those ground targets would get to experience the bombers capabilities head on. These bombers tended to make large, lumbering, and extremely easy targets for any enemy fighter that made it into the air. They could strike from very high altitude making it tricky for ground based anti-air to hit them, if the enemy had any left, but to shoot them down from the air was relatively easy. That was where he came in, with him, his wingman, and their F-22s on the job it would not be easy to take these big lumbering bombers down.
With all of his own pre-flight checks done, he and the other crews for all the other aircraft in the sortie, met for a quick prayer to return safely home and a quick end to the War. Once in the air he would be constantly reviewing the pre-mission briefing in his head while keeping a lookout for anything the enemy put into the air.
MIG-21s were known to be in the area. These were the fighter aircraft of the enemies choosing. They were formidable aircraft to be certain, but his, and the rest of the US military aircraft on this mission were at least one generation ahead. The enemy had a top speed of Mach 2.05 while his was Mach 2.25, and the F-22 was a very stealthy design by comparison. It was hard to find on radar, or use a radar guided missile against his beloved bird.
All of these facts gave a huge edge to the American aircraft.
As the American armada crossed over the border into Iran his display started lighting up. Enemy aircraft were coming in.
He wasn’t surprised. They had to see the bombers on whatever radar they had left for commercial traffic. There were teams in front of them assigned to hit the radar sites, so that wouldn’t be a problem for long. Once those commercial sites were down, the enemy aircraft would have to rely only on their own aircraft radar sets, which would only serve to highlight their own aircraft to the American pilots.
He was here for one thing, and one thing only. Protect that bomber at all costs, and not to be concerned with the continued existence of the radar sites.
“Yankee, this is Tequila. I have five enemy inbound aircraft on radar approximately two hundred miles out. Climbing to get better position for missile lock at distance,” he punched the acceleration and climbed an additional ten thousand feet in the air to get a better angle.
“Roger Tequila, I’ll stick in close to the big bird and make sure they don’t get over excited and try to gun him down,” replied one of the other escort fighters.
He knew that once the bomber was sighted on radar that their position would be known, and while it was possible to hide a small fighter, the big bombers could not be hidden. Fighters at a great enough distance were challenging to see visually, bombers were easy, no matter what.
He watched the enemy come straight in toward his bomber, “I have lock on them. AMRAAM missile is armed. I will have them in range in ten seconds,” his heart beat faster knowing that someone was going to die momentarily.
He wanted to ensure it wasn’t his bomber, or himself.
“Tequila, Fox three on target one. Once the group passes I am going to maneuver in behind them,” he fired his first missile, felt the aircraft lurch, and then recover.
He gained altitude, maneuvered to the east, and intended to settle in behind them. There was very little chance of them tracking him unless they had a visual on him. The enemy aircraft separated, going in five different directions. He had expected that would happen, but his aircraft was so maneuverable he would get more than one of them down. His missile followed the one he had fired upon. He knew he would have at least one kill today.