Valder's Musings: February 2017

Author's Note: I remember that, in 1992 when I wrote this, 2017 seemed so far in the future. Man, have times changed. This was my second ever full story in the ETF world, and, while obviously a little dated, still isn't terrible. I should probably pull a Lucas and put out a "Director's Edition" lmao. Anyway, Enjoy

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Confrontation

Clash of Titans

An ETF Saga story

Brian R. Kupfer

June 24, 2017

In controlled airspace above Nevada

15:34hrs local

High over the dusty sands of Nevada, a lone, battleship gray, F-15E Strike Eagle circles, awaiting it's prey.

On the outside surfaces of her twin vertical stabilizers is the tail code EE in white outlined black.

On the Eagles nose are the words "Eagle One", painted in blue, with a white shadow.

Beneath these words is a painted picture of the American flag, with a bald eagle, wings spread, holding a Sidewinder in its talons, superimposed on it.

Just beneath the canopy of the Strike Eagle, are the marks of this bird's victims. Twelve red stars you will find there, and forty-five rising suns. Six tank silhouettes you will find here also, and a row of numerous benchmarks, counting radar sites, SAMs, and bridges destroyed. Under each of these markings, or, in the case of the stars and suns, on them, are dates of destruction and types of vehicle or emplacement destroyed.

Obviously, this bird has seen some action.

On the canopy frame is painted the names of the cockpit's occupants.

The first, for the pilot, says: Col. Wahren "Wolf" Morast.

The second, for his WSO: Col. Aaron "Valder" Fieldman. The two Colonels converse as Aaron watches his radar, waiting for their rendezvous to arrive.

They are veterans of the recent World War III. This pair are the undisputed champions in the Strike Eagle in all of the southern, and central, U.S.

* * * * * *

A white, black, and gray camouflaged F-15E streaks west out of Utah towards Nevada, the large black AK on it's twin tails telling all where it once came from.

The Strike Eagle roars at twenty feet, flying over uninhabited land at an eye-watering Mach 2.5.

On the nose of this Eagle is painted a cartoon character, Warner's Tazmanian devil, but for some reason, this one's arms have been painted raised above it's head. This cartoon also has the American flag as a backdrop.

Everyone at the base in Alaska has nicknamed this Eagle "The Tazmaniac", after it's WSO, Lt. Col. Anthony "Vyper" Wakefield.

The pilot, Col. Matthew "ElTito" Bendix is the reason for the figure's arm gesture. It is his trademark, to all who know him.

This dynamic pair has been tearing up all competition in Canada and the northern U.S. in the past few months.

They had also fought in WWIII, in the same unit as Aaron and Wahren, but they often flew the B-1, B-52 or EF-FB-111's then.

Ryan had been known to fly the odd sortie in the F/A-18 Hornet during the war, as well.

Therefore, this Eagle only has three suns and four stars on it.

Good enough to give both of them ace status.

Matt pulls the F-15E into a rapid climb, rising to 35,000 feet, once they cross into Nevada.

He has come to this altitude for one purpose, against his normal instincts.

He has come here to be seen on radar.

Soon, a circling blip appears on Ryan's radar screen.

* * * * * *

At precisely the same time Ryan sees the blip on his screen, Aaron sees the blip of Matt and Ryan's aircraft.

"ElTito and Vyper are on station." Aaron calls up to Wahren.

Wahren checks his radar, and, sure enough, another Strike Eagle has entered the area.

Aaron calls up Ryan on the radio.

As soon as he ends his transmission, Wahren kicks in the afterburner and dives for the deck, quickly speeding past the sound barrier.

* * * * * *

"Vyper, this is Valder, game's on, repeat, game's on." Aaron's voice comes over the radio, into Matt and Ryan's headsets.

While Matt dives the '15E for the deck, Ryan adds some encouragement.

"Let's do it." He yells.

Matt ends the screaming dive at just under twenty feet above the hard desert floor, a place where one mistake can cost you your life, a place Matt and Ryan have lived their whole careers.

Matt points the nose of his Eagle at the canyon in front of him. This is the arena for today.

They can't touch us, he thinks, this is our playground, and they'll never beat us down here.

While his pilot roars them into the canyon, Ryan turns on the gun cameras.

* * * * * *

Moments before, Aaron had done the same thing as he and Wahren entered the canyon at fifty feet above ground. Wahren looks at his radar and sees Matt at twenty. You aren't showing me up, Bendix! He growls mentally, and drops another thirty feet. The two fighters hurtle towards their objective, an empty storage bunker, from opposite ends of the canyon. Wahren and Aaron have a slight lead on Matt and Ryan as they rocket towards their objective.

* * *

Though Eagle One is slightly ahead of The Tazmaniac, Matt is much more at home than Wahren. Guided mostly by the feel of the rock around him, he isn't using his terrain following radar. But, then again, neither is Wahren. Their mutual rules in this contest won't allow for it. This should be a battle of skill, not automation. Using occasional encouragement from Ryan, Matt skillfully roars around corners and over the larger boulders, only climbing far enough to clear them. Ryan arms the Durandals under the Strike Eagle's wings, just to be ready.

* * *

Wahren rockets Eagle One around a bend, and sees a pair of fifty foot tall boulders ahead, separated by just ten feet. Wahren slips the Strike Eagle into a knife edge pass and shoots between the rocks. As he comes out from between them, the bunker is in his sights, two miles ahead!

"Aaron..." he calls.

"I know." Aaron replies, arming their pair of Durandals.

Matt and Ryan choose that moment to bring The Vypermaniac roaring over a huge rock formation, inverted! As Aaron and Wahren watch, Matt rolls the '15E over as Ryan releases the twin Durandals from beneath it's wings. Matt then pulls his Eagle into a climb.

Score one for Vyper and Tito Aaron acknowledges grimly as he releases his Durandals on the now smoking bunker, relieving his and Wahren's Eagle of their dead weight.

"Hey, Valder, how's that?" Matt asks mockingly over the radio.

"Just wait, Tito, we're not done yet." Aaron responds.

"You might as well just give up." Ryan remarks.

Wahren pulls his '15E up beside Matt's, slowing down as they have done. Matt and Ryan are openly grinning at them.

"Just watch Vyper, who knows, you might just learn something." Wahren hisses. He signals to Matt, who gives him the "You first" signal back. Aaron and Ryan exchange signals. No radar. So, they want to dogfight! Aaron surmises as he tells Wahren. Shrugging, Wahren rolls his Eagle over the top of Matt's, and climbs for the clouds, afterburners blazing.

"Fucking lunatic!" Matt exclaims as he pushes open his afterburners and roars off in pursuit. As Wahren puts his aircraft through a series of Immelmans, loops, tight and wide turns, Matt sticks to him. Wahren flips his Eagle over and dives, spinning, into a cloudbank. Aaron and Wahren are pushed deep into their seats by the G forces. So are Matt and Ryan, starting a pursuing dive. Inside the cloud, Wahren levels out, does a tight turn, and exits back the way he came in. Matt roars into the cloudbank after Wahren, and, figuring, logically, that no one would be stupid enough to make a blind turn in a cloud, roars right back out the other side.

"Where the fuck are they?" Ryan yells as the burst out of the cloud, following...nothing.

Meanwhile, Wahren had flown under the base of the cloudbank and was sneaking up on Matt and Ryan, albeit two hundred feet lower.

Ryan, checking all around him out the canopy, cannot see them, as they are directly below them. Wahren slowly Aaronngs his plane closer to Matt's. Ryan turns on the radio, and stops looking around to operate it. As he does so, Wahren slows down, so that he is a hundred yards behind them, and climbs to Ryan and Matt's altitude.

"Sneaky, guys. Now, where the fuck are you?" Ryan sends.

"Check six, Vyper." Aaron replies as the missile lock alarm starts blaring in Matt and Ryan's ears.

"Mutherfucker!" Ryan exclaims as he looks over his shoulder. Wahren and Aaron are close enough so that he can see their eyebrows.

"We take round two." Wahren comments. "The score, I believe, is even."

"You never would have had us if it wasn't for those clouds." Matt growls.

"Even so...." Aaron begins.

"Fuck you, Fieldman." Ryan cuts him off.

"Whassamatter T, desperate for a date?" Aaron chides.

His only response is a low growl.

"Yeah, lets see how hot you talk after Multiple Bogeys." Matt starts up.

Eagle One pulls ahead of Vypermaniac, and the two buzz the base in close formation, doing a pair of synchronized aileron rolls. They land and grab a bite to eat, waiting for their planes to be refuelled, and to be loaded with missiles. They take off and circle on station, as Nellis sends up the Adversaries. The Adversaries are surplus aircraft, left over from the military drawdown of the 1990s, and are being used as drones. They fire paint pellets, while the Strike Eagles' ordinance are real. Many will be sent up for this engagement.

Twenty-five of them, to be exact. Seven A-4 Skyhawks, eight F-5E Tiger IIs, and ten F-16C Fighting Falcons.

The two Strike Eagles keep in formation. They will fight as a team on this one. They cannot begin until the Adversaries reach 15,000 feet. The whole sky, from a deck of two hundred feet, will be their battlefield.

"Bogies up!" Ryan yells, watching as the twenty blips pass fifteen thou on his radar. The radars will be left on for this test.

But, there could be a problem here. Between the two Strike Eagles, there are eight Sparrows and eight Sidewinders. That's sixteen missiles for twenty-five aircraft. Problem? For most crews, maybe, but for these? We'll see.

At a signal from Ryan, Wahren and Matt break formation. Wahren pulls off to the left, under Matt's aircraft, which he is pulling into an Immelman. The fight has begun.

Ryan and Aaron arm their missiles, selecting their first targets.

Eagle One roars after an F-16 painted in Desert camo, and with prominent red pipe lettering declaring "56".

Vypermaniac rolls off the top of the Immelman, lining Ryan up for a head-on shot with a blue on blue A-4.

The F-16 in front of Eagle One climbs into an Immelman, and, rather than follow it, Wahren turns tightly to the left and comes out Matteath it, raises the nose, and Aaron releases a Sidewinder. The '16 explodes satisfyingly. One down, Twenty-four to go.

As Vypermaniac closes on the A-4, Matt rakes it with cannon fire. He then executes a half Cuban-eight to end up behind it, lining up for a blast that shears off the A-4's tail. Two down. While Matt and Ryan have been intent on this A-4, two F-5s have snuck out of the clouds behind them, and are now lining up for a shot, at max range, about ten miles. Ryan yells off a warning to Matt.

"Two Bogies, six-o-clock high!"

Matt starts evasive maneuvers. The F-5s open up with their cannons. Paint pellets rain all around the F-15E as Matt snap rolls it. Then, just as he levels out, and it appears the F-5s will get a lock, a battleship gray form screams over Matt and Ryan's Eagle, and the F-5s disappear in twin fireballs, thanks to a pair of Sidewinders.

An all-black F-16 chases the form, screaming in pursuit of Eagle One. Wahren starts evasive maneuvers as Aaron tries to come up with a Aaronght idea. Suddenly he finds one.

"Wahren, you see those A-4s up ahead?"

"Yeah, they're heading right at us!"

"Do your Lead Weight move."

Wahren's face lights up. "Perfect." He responds.

Wahren opens the throttles and aims his Eagle straight at the onrushing Skyhawks. At the last moment, Wahren flips the '15E onto it's back and dives for the deck. The F-16, caught by surprise, slams into the A-4s in a gargantuan explosion, and a mass of molten metal drops from the sky, all that is left of the three aircraft. That's seven!

* * *

Matt has yet again picked up a tail, but Wahren and Aaron aren't around this time. This time, he has the F-16. Matt decides to test it's guts as he slams the control stick towards the instrument panel. The Strike Eagle picks up speed as it goes into an almost vertical dive. Ryan is starting to turn a little green as the G forces assault him. Three more aircraft have joined the chase. Two F-5s and an A-4. Matt starts to pull out of the dive and levels out a scant five feet above the hard desert floor. The A-4 learns exactly how hard that floor is as it becomes a smoking crater. One of the F-5s and the F-16 have leveled out at fifty feet, just high enough to avoid the dust storm Vypermaniac is kicking up. The other Tiger II, however, has leveled out at fifteen feet in it's attempt to acquire a lock. It's intakes soon fill with dust, and the F-5 buries itself in a stall-induced belly landing. Matt smiles at his new record of low altitude as the Strike Eagle disappears from sight, dropping into the nearest mouth of the canyon.

PARTY TIME!!! Matt and Ryan think as one.

Matt has a ear-to-ear grin on as he takes the Eagle around corners at breakneck speeds. He roars under a thirty foot high rock Aarondge, and the F-16 streaks over it, still following them. The Aarondge disappears in a puff of rock and metal, as the second F-5 slams into it, not able to dodge it quickly enough.

* * *

Meanwhile, Aaron and Wahren are having their own problems in Eagle One. They are being chased across the cloud studded Nevada sky by a flight of six Fighting Falcons! As they race for their lives at Mach 2+, Wahren spots a particularly large cloudbank to his left. As he heads towards it, he warns Aaron.

"Time for the ol' cloud trick." He drawls.

Oh, Shit!! Aaron curses mentally. This stunt had almost gotten them killed numerous times during the war. Aaron checks all his straps and harnesses, tightening a few, just to be safe, and makes sure his ejection seat is armed. He hates this move, and Wahren knows it.

As Wahren enters the clouds, he pops the airbrake and roars into one of the tightest Immelmans ever attempted. As he exits the clouds, Wahren is depressing the cannon trigger, and performing a series of rolls. A wall of deadly lead pours out of the 20mm Vulcan, chewing up it's targets. One F-16 loses it's left wing, another takes a round through the cockpit. One unfortunate Falcon swallows ten rounds into it's intake. Two more Adversaries collide, trying to evade the lead wall. The last Falcon arms a missile as Wahren puts Eagle One on it's tail and kicks in the 'burners. Wahren then rolls the Eagle inverted, diving back into the same cloudbank. This time, however, he flies straight through it, and Aaron, checking six, is amazed to see Falcon shrapnel falling from inside the cloud.

* * *

Matt screams through the canyon, hurtling through the ever narrowing walls, trying to lose the F-16 that seems dead set on destroying him. A Sidewinder arches off the rail of the Strike Eagle as Ryan fires it at the base of an upcoming overhang. The '15E streaks underneath the overhang just as the missile explodes. Ryan had given it a delayed detonation. The Fighting Falcon behind them is buried under forty tons of rock, as it tries to follow them under the overhang.

"Nice shot, Vyper."

"Yeah, he'll have one hell of a headache in the morning." Ryan quips.

Matt rockets the Eagle skyward, searching for yet another Adversary to prey on. He spots the Falcon tailing Eagle One, and launches a Sidewinder into the clouds. The blip on Ryan's screen disappears as the F-16 joins it's fellows. Seventeen down, eight left.

"Thanks for the assist, Tito." Wahren calls over the radio.

"Call it even, Wolf, you waxed those F-5s for us."

As Matt and Wahren congratulate each other, more level heads are targeting the remaining Adversaries. Ryan locks all four of his Sparrows, as does Aaron. A volley of eight long range missiles roar from under the wings of their Strike Eagles.

Ryan's Sparrows ring true, Aaronnging down three A-4s and clipping the wing of an F-5, sending it spinning to the earth below.

Aaron has a little worse luck with his, destroying the last F-16, while his other three Sparrows are avoided.

Three aircraft left. Two F-5Es, one A-4.

Matt and Wahren split, going after the remaining aircraft.

Matt chases an F-5E across the heavens, finally Aaronnging it down with thirty rounds to the tailpipes. An F-5 doesn't fly well without engines.

Ryan has targeted the last A-4, and lets loose a Sidewinder. Now he has only one missile left.

Unbeknown to Ryan, Aaron has targeted the selfsame A-4 with his last missile, also a Sidewinder. Both Sidewinders hit the hapless Skyhawk at the same time. It is reduced to vapor. Matt chases the last F-5, firing his last Sidewinder at it as it enters a cloudbank. Then he follows his prey in, to assure it's death.

Eagle One had just entered the cloud from Matt's blind side. The A-4 explodes not fifty feet in front of Wahren and Aaron. Time advances in slow motion for the two men, as Eagle One's moveable surfaces are welded to the wing, tail, and fuselage. Time slows ever more as the canopy's glass melts and bubbles in the intense heat.

Time almost stops as Matt and Ryan watched Eagle One hurtle out of the fireball straight at them at well over Mach 2. Matt and Ryan instinctively duck as the two aircraft close at over Mach 5. At the moment of impact, Matt feels like he is going deaf as he hears the shriek of metal slicing through glass. Matt and Ryan are showered with pieces of glass as Eagle One's wing shears off the top of their canopy. There is a massive jolt to both aircraft as Eagle One's wing imbeds itself into Vypermaniac's twin vertical tails. The wing stops and is ripped from the fuselage of Eagle One. The now one-winged aircraft goes into an uncontrollable spinning dive, and time is suddenly back on track, and, to the pilots, it seems to be in fast forward. Aaron's hand tightens on the ejection handle to fire the canopy off, but it had been welded to the fuselage by the explosion. Too late, Aaron realizes the damage is done as the rocket Matteath his chair fires. Aaron is slammed through the canopy, shattering it. However, the resistance from the canopy glass has tilted his flight path, and the supersonic wind clutches at him, bouncing him down Eagle One's fuselage. His last sight is of the Strike Eagle's left vertical tail as he hits it. Everything turns black....

Wahren's seat fires instants after Aaron's, and, since the canopy glass is gone, his seat flings him above the Eagle's twin tails. His parachute opens, as does Aaron's, and the wind fills the chute, pulling his limp body off the tail of the hurtling bird. The F-15E dives into a lake far below, amidst an explosion of foam and a geyser of water.

Matt and Ryan aren't exactly having it easy, though. Their plane's controls have turned to mush, and it takes both of them to line Vypermaniac up with Nellis' main runway. Both Matt and Ryan are now wearing their oxygen masks, and have their blast shields down on their helmets, preventing the wind from peeling their skin off.

Ryan calls for the Alert Osprey as he sees the twin parachutes touch down.

He and Matt manhandle the aircraft onto a straight and level heading and land, joltingly, on the tarmac at Nellis. The nose gear on the F-15 is torn out of its housing, and the Eagle's nose slams into the concrete. Matt and Ryan quickly unstrap their harnesses, anxious to get out of this aviary time bomb. The Strike Eagle explodes as Ryan unclasps the last securing. He is thrown thirty feet in the air on a pillar of fire, landing over a hundred yards from the doomed plane. The lights dim as he hits the hard pavement, but he struggles to hold on to his consciousness.

Matt is still inside as the Eagle explodes. Watching in horror as the skin melts off of his fingers, he unhitches the last of the straps and runs from the aircraft, trailing fire. He is thrown five feet as he is hit by the powerful water cannon atop the base's rescue truck. He, however, is thankful for the darkness enveloping him, it takes away the pain. These are his final thoughts as he blacks out.

* * *

The V-22 Osprey arrives two minutes after Ryan's call, picking up Wahren and the comatose Aaron from the north shore of the lake. They are rushed to the infirmary, where Wahren is treated for a broken leg.

Matt is released after two months recovery, badly scarred from the third degree burns that cover a fourth of his body. Ryan spends a two day observation period there, as his five broken ribs heal, and as he recovers from a severe concussion, never mind the two hours each of them spent getting glass shards removed from their upper backs and lower necks. Wahren leaves the infirmary one week after entering, his leg in a cast. Aaron is in a coma for six months, and awakens to find he cannot remember his own name. Eventually his memory returns. He had had three broken ribs, but these had healed long ago. Aaron is diagnosed with severe head trauma, and eventually released.

On the fourteenth of April, 2020, almost three years after their mid-air collision, the four men are retired in a gala celebration. Among the most celebrated and decorated men in USAF history, Ryan, Wahren, and Matt retire as Major Generals, while Aaron, for being a Task Force leader in the war, ends up with a full four stars.

Valder's Musings

Wednesday, February 8, 2017

Let's make 2017 a little more.....EPIC, shall we.

Future's Past

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