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Post by webster on Jul 13, 2013 5:38:01 GMT
Alternate Worlds: Through The Looking GlassLet me set up this tale...take a seat; it will take a little bit to explain. A few weeks ago, I was stumbling across a few pages over at TV Tropes and I came across a page for an alternate history item entitled Red Dawn +20. It seems a group of people over on the AH.com forum a few years ago worked out what eventually became a 335pg. alt-history RP concerning a fictional WW3 set in the universe of the original 1984 film(BTW, there's also a 123pg members-only thread over at the History, Politics & Current Affairs[HPCA] forum that became a successor thread of sorts to the original one. As a friend of mine name Wolf put it over on another forum, these guys apparently, (a)played lots of Twilight 2000 and (b)had a little too much time on their hands, but as I went through the HPCA thread( all 123 pages of it...), I kept thinking, "I see vignettes from the fighter community and from the ground community....what about from the bomber crews?" Hence the spark was born that is now, "Through The Looking Glass"...oh, and in case you were wondering, here's the 123pg HPCA thread I was referring to, courtesy of the Internet Archive...  Devil 16, a B-52H Stratofortress assigned to the 96th Bombardment Sqdn. following a training run over the New Mexico desert, July 1985Devil 16 Crew, 4 Sept. 1985 Assigned: Barksdale AFB, Louisiana---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Pilot: Capt. Matthew "Webster" Little(Morganton, NC) CoPilot: Capt. Kelsey "Wraith" McNeal(Bossier City, La.) OSO: Capt. Thomas "Taz" Knight(Pittsburgh, Pa.) DSO: 1stLt. Klint "Reign" Mahne(Racine, Wisc.) EWO: 1stLt. Elena "Razor" Myers(Red Bluff, Calif.) Tail Gunner: T.Sgt. David "Deadeye" Lindstrom(Corpus Christi, Tx.) note: OSO-Offensive Systems Officer, DSO-Defensive Systems Officer, EWO-Electronic Warfare Officer---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------...and thus begins Through The Looking Glass...
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Post by webster on Jul 14, 2013 17:38:42 GMT
15 July 1985
Flight Line, Barksdale AFB
Can it get any hotter? He couldn't help but ask that question as he exited the C-141 Starlifter on the Barksdale flightline. With the combination of mid-summer Louisiana heat and humidity plus the heat bouncing off the concrete runways, everything seemed to be roasting all around him. While he proceeded to walk along the asphalt walkways off of the flightline, he kept saying to himself, At least I'm at the tip of the spear now.
At thirty years of age, Captain Matthew Little wasn't a stranger to military airfields; four years of AFROTC, Civil Air Patrol and hundreds of hours of pilot training had drilled into him a sense of acute awareness of his surroundings. It didn't, however, take away from his awe at seeing up close the enormous B-52s', one of which he would be flying from Barksdale. Twenty-plus years and these babies have still got some swagger to them! he whispered to himself as he continued walking along the flightline. It was an odd statement for a pilot to make about a huge, lumbering strategic bomber but he was a bit romantic in that concern. As he stood, he took a moment to look through his service file; just as he opened it, he heard the shrill blast of a horn nearby.
Turning around, he saw an M1009 light truck driving towards him. Holding the file as a shield to block the sun, he waved at the truck, whose driver pulled up and stopped along the walkway. Getting out of the vehicle, the senior enlisted man saluted, then asked, "Captain Little, sir?"
Returning the senior enlisted’s salute, Little acknowledged him. “Last time I checked, that was me,” he said, shaking the other man’s hand. ‘And you are...?”
“Master Sergeant Jon Deere, sir,” the other man said. “Colonel Hunter said for me to pick up everyone that came in today on the C-141 flight,” pointing back out towards the flightline. Little turned and saw the Starlifter take off in a combat departure, which was odd for a stateside base.
“Sergeant, did I just see that plane–”
“Yes, you did, sir,” M.Sgt. Deere replied. “Every flight in and out of Barksdale for at least the past few weeks has been doing those kinds of approach and departure maneuvers. Ever since someone took a SAM shot at that B-1B out of Dyess back in early June, the word has been combat takeoffs and landings at all times. This way, sir.” Both of them proceeded to climb in the truck for the drive back into the center of the base.
As they headed away from the flightline, Deere looked over at the officer. “If you don’t mind my asking, is this your first time at Barksdale?”
“Yeah, first time here, Sergeant,” Little replied, looking through his service file. “What kind of squadron is the 96th?”
“They’re a good bunch, sir,” Deere replied. “Colonel Hunter and the other senior officers train everybody hard but allow them some leeway; it’s not all spit and polish if you catch my drift, sir.” Little chuckled at the oblique hint; what Deere was basically saying was that, unlike some squadrons he’d heard about in SAC, most everyone around here seemed to be human. That made him feel better; they conversed about a few things the rest of the way but Little kept his mind focused for the time being.
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96th Bomb Sqdn. Operations Area
Barksdale AFB - 15 July 1985
For several minutes Little sat inside the air-conditioned outer office, quietly minding his own business as he waited to see the squadron commander. Looking around, he quietly skimmed through his file once more; it was his only copy since the other copy was found with the squadron's personnel SNCO. There's more activity in a doctor's office than out here, he silently mused as he reached over to pick up a copy of Car and Driver. He'd just picked it up when the inner office door opened and a broad-shouldered man walked through, took one glance over at him and pointed to him, motioning for him to come on in.
Setting the magazine down, Little walked through the outer office and stood at attention as the senior officer went back around his desk. Handing him his personnel file, Little saluted the man. "Sir, Captain Little reporting as ordered!"
"At ease, Captain. Sit," the man said, motioning for him to sit down. After a few moments, he spoke. "I'm Major Jonathan Duell, the squadron exec. Colonel Hunter's out taking a flight of Buffs' around for practice bombing runs over the Mississippi so I'm handling all the personnel arrivals. Se'll talk to all of you that came in today on the Starlifter later this week but here's the nuts and bolts of what we do. The 96th is officially tasked with forward attack and deterrence..at least that's what the Pentagon tells the press and the public, Captain Little. In reality, we're tasked with the delivery of the most powerful weapons ever designed by man... Each of those Buffs' out there on the flightline carries over 250 times the destructive power of the bomb dropped over Hiroshima back in 1945..and every day, there's at least one squadron of Buffs' on 24-hour alert in case the balloon goes up."
Duell then paused and sat back in his chair, tapping his finger on Little's personnel jacket. "Alright, now let me give you my own speech. In case you haven't been listening to the news reports over the past few years, the United States is finding itself increasingly isolated. Between the growing tension between what's left of NATO and the Warsaw Pact, the growing Marxist governments in Mexico and Central America..." Duell waved his hand back-and-forth to indicate how frustrating it seemed to be to try to figure out what was going on and added, "...it won't surprise me if the Soviets do push the button pretty soon; God knows they had ample opportunity back in '83 to do just that after that airliner got shot down and they could very well do the same now." He paused before adding, "And if that happens and we're forced to go to war, Mr. Little, the job of the 2nd Bomb Wing and this squadron will be to do just that."
"As for your present duties...besides flying left-seat in one of the Buffs' out there--"
"Left-seat, sir?" Little said, startled at the news he'd be a flight commander right off the bat.
"Yes, I said left-seat, son...and don't interrupt," Duell said, flashing a bared smile for a second. "Unfortunately, the 96th is short several bomb crews; ever since SAC began transitioning forces around to meet the growing number of crises worldwide, we've been tasked with both training 52 crews and keeping the tip of the spear sharp ourselves. That's where you come in, Mr. Little," Duell said, setting out several personnel files in front of the new officer.
As Little picked up the files and read the names for memory, Duell continued. "Those are the other members of your B-52 crew - Devil 16 - your co-pilot, also new to the squadron, your three flight officers and your tail gunner. Get to know them; a bomber crew has to know everyone they fly with - your lives depend on working in concert with everyone else. I'll slot you and your crew some simulator time; use it wisely, though. Once we go on alert, you won't have time for sim runs." Pausing again, Duell added, "In addition, I'm putting you in charge of the squadron's S-2 shop; by your records, it seems not only are you a damn fine pilot but also a very smart person...we can use that in the intel office."
Getting up from behind his desk, he shook the younger officer's hand and they proceeded to leave the office. Before they stepped out, Duell shook Little's hand and said, "Welcome aboard, Captain Little. Welcome aboard."
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Post by webster on Jul 16, 2013 0:15:37 GMT
...an excerpt from the introduction to the 2011 autobiography Tarheel Flyer by Maj. Gen. Matthew J. Little, USAF (Ret.).....
They say flying a B-52 Stratofortress is akin to balancing a razor-blade atop fast moving ice cubes...that is an understatement. You have an aircraft whose wingspan of 182 feet is longer than the length of the plane, which is just over 159 feet; add eight turbojet engines screaming at full song during takeoffs and landings and it's a sheer wonder, said a former colleague back in 1998 during my time as commander of the 45th Strategic Battle Wing, "that the plane's wings don't break apart at some point..."
Who's to argue with a comedic one-liner such as that? But I digress...anyway, where was I? Oh, now I remember...
What the Buff(Big Ugly Fat...Fellow; I still, at times, absolutely detest hearing the other f-word used in reference to my beloved 52's...) lacks in elegance and speed and sexiness, it sure as hell makes up for it in weapons and swagger. As I often tell young pilots going through B-52 training down at Barksdale, "you may do lots of other things in this world, ladies and gentlemen: write a novel, change a diaper, caress your lover...but you will never, ever, forget what it feels like to fly a B-52 at full song, on a minimum-spread takeoff, praying that your aircraft doesn't either crash from the jetwash of the 52 ahead of you or from trying to take off in such a manner to start with.....but when you do make it to altitude, you'll feel like you've climbed Mt. Everest. Count on it."
From learning how to fly one of the world's oldest yet technologically advanced aircraft to flying deep-strike missions over Far Eastern Soviet Russia as part of what the press would later call "the Eastern Express runs", my time in the service of my country is a story worth telling...
--Tarheel Flyer (autobiography)
Charlotte Press, published 2011
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...excerpt from The Day The Bear Struck: America & World War III, 2012
University of North Carolina Press
....for most every American, September 4th, 1985 remains etched in their memory, in their minds, in every crevice of their soul, for that was the day the United States was attacked in one of the most brazen and audacious acts ever committed by a sovereign nation against another.
In the space of about of hour, the great cities of New York(1) and Washington(1) were grievously struck as were the Midwestern cities of Omaha(1) and Kansas City(1), the latter three by high-yield thermonuclear warheads while the Big Apple suffered the nuclear equivalent of a sucker punch as a 550kt thermonuclear warhead implanted deep inside a falsely-registered European-flagged freighter detonated in the middle of the Hudson River, destroying most of central Manhattan Island and northeastern New Jersey(2).
Those events paled, however, to the even more unthinkable: the invasion of United States territory. In two separate broad strokes, the Soviets' poured several hundred thousand soliders across both the Bering Straits and the U.S.-Mexico border, augmented by troops from several other countries, notably Cuba, Nicaragua, North Korea and Angola, troops the West had mistakenly believed were serving mainly as advisors to the Marxist regimes in Mexico City and throughout Central America....
...one heretofore unseen and relatively unheralded part of the overall American war effort was that played by the dedicated men and women of the U.S. Air Force's Strategic Air Command, in particular the myriad of bomber crews who, despite being battered in the opening days of the war, would rise to strike at the enemy in multiple ways over the next 4 years...
(1)--National Security Council Glass Eye Report, 13 September 1985
(2)--from the final report of the 1996 D'Amato Commission on U.S. Intelligence Failures Prior To September 4, 1985
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Post by webster on Jul 19, 2013 21:36:27 GMT
--from a June 1993 Senate Armed Services hearing on SAC responses to Day One events during World War III; the below edited excerpt was given to the committee by Brigadier General Jonathan Duell, Deputy SAC Chief of Staff for Operations
note: B.Gen. Duell, at the time of Day One, was XO of the 96th Bomb Sqdn., Barksdale AFB
--SAC took some losses to Cuban and Soviet SOF on Day One, but many bombers did survive, and they flew a retaliatory nuclear strike with ALCMs against two targets outside Moscow: The DA (Long-Range Aviation) HQ and the SRF (Strategic Rocket Forces) primary command bunker. SAC bombers mainly flew conventional strikes against targets in Siberia (EASTERN EXPRESS) and elsewhere in the USSR. They were aided in a way by the Chinese, who, before being blasted by a wave of SS-20s and SS-18s (the latter targeted on Chinese missile and bomber bases), managed to get off a few IRBMs and MRBMs, which tore holes in the Soviet air defense network. SAC exploited those gaps. Other SAC bombers maintained the nuclear deterrent, "just in case" things went nuclear again.
--And years: the last EASTERN EXPRESS mission was flown the day the war ended, on 14 Oct 1989. And not just SAC, the RAF flew Vulcan strikes out of Hong Kong against targets in Siberia and Soviet Central Asia. Everything east of the Urals was on the target list.
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Post by webster on Jul 19, 2013 21:36:42 GMT
4 September 1985 - 0847 Hours GMT (0447 Hours Local)
Barksdale AFB, Louisiana
As the LSSV came to a stop in front of the multi-story Alert building along the Barksdale flightline, Captain Matthew Little began to awake from his light slumber to see several heavily-armed Air Security Police standing along the flightline, M16s at the ready. Behind them, lit up so that maintenance crews could work on them overnight, were the tools of the bomber crews' deadly trade - B-52H Stratofortresses, each possessing more firepower than had ever been expended in the history of armed warfare. Though the aircraft were beginning to show their age as compared to their modern counterparts, it still thrilled him to see the 52s' up close and personal, even under the present circumstance.
Once the extended-cab truck came to a stop, Little and several other B-52 pilots got out and began walking towards the Alert building. Looking over, one of the other pilots said, "I wonder why the extra security, Webster?"
"Let's see, Valentino," Little said. "You've got continued Soviet presence all throughout Mexico, you've got worsening relations between the U.S. and ...do you even pay attention to the intel briefings, Sarah?" he added with a sly grin.
"Yes, I do pay attention to them,' Captain Sarah Lewis replied, chuckling at the thought of goading a senior officer over the intel briefings; since becoming the squadron S-2, Capt. Little had vastly improved the accuracy of the intel data, so much so that everyone routinely goaded him over it the past several weeks. "Yet you didn't answer the question, though--"
"I'm one step ahead of you, but that's for another time though," Little replied, cutting off the conversation. As Lewis and another pilot walked over to the senior AP, his co-pilot joined alongside. "Webster, we have an alert order, let's go," Captain Kelsey "Wraith" McNeal, Little's co-pilot on their B52, "Devil 16", said to him.
"We got time, Wraith," Little replied. McNeal followed him over to the senior air policeman. "Excuse me, Lieutenant, who ordered the extra security?"
"Base commander's orders, sir," the senior AP said to him, saluting the four senior officers. "Ever since those B-1 flights at Dyess were nearly hit by SAMs back in July, SAC's been ordering extra security patrols, extra security around the Alert buildings..."
"In other words, extra security everywhere, then?" McNeal said to the lieutenant.
"Pretty much, ma'am," came the reply.
"Well, keep up the good work, okay?" Captain Little said to the man before turning away and looking at his co-pilot. "Well, at least we know why they're here, Kelsey, especially since SAC's put every bomber base on DEFCON 3 since that attempted shootdown at Dyess," he said as they began walking into the Alert building for the start of yet another 24-hour alert shift.
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Post by webster on Jul 19, 2013 21:42:38 GMT
4 September 1985 - 1108 Hours GMT (0708 Hours local)
Barksdale AFB, Louisiana
At first Capt. Little thought the explosions in the distance were coming from the TV in one corner of the Alert building's ground-floor recreation hall; he couldn't recall what movie it was...then, at roughly the same time, he heard both the klaxons begin whaling and another set of explosions. Almost as if on autopilot, he got up out of his chair and took off at a dead run towards the exits along with every other person in the building.
What greeted them as they ran out of the building, though, was something akin to Dante's Inferno. Off in the distance, the sounds of explosions had been replaced by the numerous reports of gunfire echoing through the air. What the hell? Little thought, looking over at his co-pilot as they began running towards their B-52. "Hey, Webster, what the hell's going on?" yelled another pilot as everyone continued running at full song towards the flightline.
"Don't ask, Valentyne; this wasn't in the last intel brief," he yelled back at her as they got closer and closer to the flight line. Glancing over, he could see one building was aflame; nearby, tendrils of smoke rose from another building. Everywhere, he looked, Air Policemen were scrambling around, either firing at targets unseen or standing at their posts, guarding the flightline from whoever was trying to attack the base.
Eventually, Little and his crew made it to their aircraft, a B-52G with the callsign Devil 16; as he ran up to the aircraft, one of the squadron maintenance technicians helped open the outer hatch and helped them climb aboard. As they scrambled to their seats, the crew began the startup procedures for each station; from his seat as aircraft commander, Little hit the intercom switch. "All stations call out, all stations call out. Tail gunner?"
"Tail gunner ready, " T.Sgt. Lindstrom called out over the intercom.
"EWO?"
"EWO up and ready, " Lieutenant Myers replied.
"DSO?"
"Defensive up and ready," Capt. Mahne said.
"OSO?"
"Offensive up and ready." Likewise Capt. Knight.
"Co-pilot?"
"Co-pilot up and ready," Capt. McNeal said, glancing over at Little. Smiling back at her, he spoke. "Pilot up and ready. Okay, people, let's move like we got a purpose here; let's go through our startup checklists and get off the ground here. We gotta' lot to do and not much time to do it in."
As they continued growing through their checklists, everyone aboard heard the quiet warbling of the EAM receiver inside their helmets. Without hesitating, McNeal grabbed a nearby notebook containing verification and authorization codes; at the same time, both Capt. Mahne and Lieutenant Myers grabbed similar notebooks as the alert message began. Sky King, Sky King, this is Round House; standby to receive your authorization message. Authorization code is Alpha, Foxtrot, Delta, India, Hotel, Zero, Seven, One, Six. Authentication time is One One One Eight Zulu. Message repeating...
As McNeal, Mahne and Myers ran through their respective authentication checklists, Little finished the engine startup procedures, all the while watching the continuing number of gunbattles down towards the distance. After a moment, he got on the intercom. "Okay, everyone...do we shut 'em down or what?"
There was a long, surreal pause before Lieutenant Myers came over the intercom. "Pilot, EWO. Message authenticated; no drill," followed by a similar confirmation from Captain Mahne. "DSO confirms, no drill."
Little looked over at McNeal; the look on her face was a mixture of shock and disbelief as she said in turn, "Co-pilot confirms, no drill."
...from Tarheel Flyer: I think at that point, all of us knew something was on; though only Kelsey (McNeal) and I could see what we eventually found out were several attacks against the base by Soviet SOF, all of us had seen the fires raging around the hangers as we ran to our aircraft...I don't think there wasn't any of us inside that aircraft who didn't say a prayer or two; I know I just wanted to get us off the ground as fast as possible. Little did we know that day would be one of the strangest days of all-time, for all of us...
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Post by Steve on Aug 31, 2013 3:20:41 GMT
Hey, Webster. Good stuff. Would like to see more of it, whenever you get the opprotunity to post again.
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Post by webster on Dec 23, 2013 1:50:52 GMT
Hey, Webster. Good stuff. Would like to see more of it, whenever you get the opportunity to post again. Thanks, Steve! Sorry I haven't gotten around to posting more of the story...  |
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Post by webster on Dec 23, 2013 1:53:46 GMT
There was the strangest of emotions running through the entire crew as the aircraft began taxiing down towards the runway; it was as everyone was encapsulated in wax for the barest of moments. "Okay, crew, listen," Captain Little said over the intercom as he and the co-pilot taxied onto Runway 33, all the while trying to dodge (in no particular order) personnel still running to their respective aircraft, air policemen engaged in gunfights with unknown persons across the flightline and, at the same time, trying to avoid running into the plane ahead of them. "We got a job to do, we've trained for this and we've all got...listen, crew: we all saw what was going on as we ran to our planes. As soon as we're in the air, I'm going to try to get a hold of the tower or whoever's in charge and find out what the situation is at present. Pilot out."
As they made their way onto Runway 33, they could see ahead of them several aircraft, B-52s and KC-135s', taking off ahead of them, each straining as they took off in a minimum-takeoff spread. "I always hated these takeoffs," Capt. McNeal said as they straightened the warplane for their respective takeoff.
"You and me both, Kelsey," Capt. Little replied. "You and me both..." Just as he finished, they could hear the frantic sounds coming over the radio from Barksdales Air Control; by the sounds of it, it seemed as though someone was attempting to get inside the control tower. Without hesitating, Little gave the order for takeoff; both he and Captain McNeal grasped the center-panel throttles on the BUFF and pressed them forward to the firewalls, sending their aircraft rolling down the runway. Ahead of them, a KC-135 could be seen straining to gain lift, as though an invisible force was holding it down to the ground.
They watched as the 135 banked one way, banked another...and then fell like a stone back to the earth, slamming into the ground as if a giant had thrown a toy down in disgust. Huge plumbs of fire and smoke erupted into the air, sending blasts of heat and the attendant shock waves in all directions. As they strained to get their bird off the ground, both of them could feel the strain on the aircraft; for a moment, they could feel the wings seeming to "walk" up-and-down from end to end. "C'mon, you mother....c'mon!" Little grunted as the Buff continued picking up speed, the numbers edging closer and closer to the plane's minimum takeoff speed.
Finally!, he whispered as the numbers crept higher; pulling back on the controls, both Little and McNeal could feel the strain in their arms as the aircraft suddenly lifted off the ground, the massive eight turbofans running at the absolute ragged edge. Higher and higher the aircraft flew, every second of lift a victory against gravity and whatever else got in its' way. Turbulence from the aircraft ahead buffeted the bomber as it continued to fly upward; even with the absence of the KC-135 that crashed ahead of it, the turbulence from the aircraft further out reached back to buffet Devil 16 as it continued its' upward climb.
Eventually, they made it up to altitude; as they leveled off, a second warbling of the EAM could be heard over the speakers. "I'm on it," Capt. McNeal said as she eased her way out of the co-pilot's chair and headed back to the B-52's communications' display; joining her was the crew's Electronic Warfare Officer, 1st Lt. Elena Myers. Like before, this was an authentication check; they had already received one set of authentication messages...this set of messages would determine their ultimate destination, either they would be recalled back to Barksdale or they would be given their orders to strike targets inside the Soviet Union.
For about a minute, the two quickly read the coded message, making sure they had both received and heard the same message...any discrepancy would void the EAM. Once they had confirmed the initial EAM, they went through their respective codebooks, looking up the correct set of order codes. Again, everything had to match between them; if it didn't for any reason, the message would be deemed void.
Once they had confirmed the order codes, Capt. McNeal quickly spun the tumblers of the safe containing their final orders. Opening the safe, she pulled out a small, rectangular plastic-covered 'biscuit'; breaking it in half, she withdrew the card inside and read it over the intercom. Her voice was calm and had all the emotion of deep space as she read from the card. "Strike assigned targets if not recalled prior to reaching your Positive Control Point."
...from Tarheel Flyer: As soon as McNeal read that message, we knew our worlds had irrevocably changed; the United States was on a general war footing for the first time since Korea. To this day, I still shake my head at how audacious the Soviet invasion ultimately was. Foolish, yes. Audacious, yes. Doomed to failure at the end? Yes.
All we knew, however, at the time, was that our country was being attacked...by whom, we didn't know....
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Post by webster on Dec 23, 2013 1:57:12 GMT
For what seemed like forever not a word was said amongst the crew; it was as if no one could believe the words just spoken by the co-pilot. Back in the cockpit, Captain Little simply stared straight ahead, hands firmly gripping the flight controls. When Captain McNeal returned and slid her way into the co-pilot's seat, he looked over at her; her face was an ashen color. "You alright?"
"Yeah," she said, no hint of emotion in her voice, "I'm alright, Webster...I'm alright."
"That's good; I need you to stay focused, Wraith," he replied. "I need you to keep your head in the game, keep your mind focused on the task at hand."
"Alright, alright," she said as a familiar voice came in over the plane's communications system. "Devil 16, Devil 16, this is Devil 02, how copy, over?"
Little keyed the interplane comm; finally, someone was up. "Devil 02, this is Devil 16. Solid copy, over."
"Devil 16, give me a systems check. Everything running good over there?"
"Devil 02, we're five-by-five. What the hell's going on back at Barksdale, Wolf?"
"Devil 16, I just got off the horn with one of the controllers onboard the Looking Glass. According to them, every major military installation in the continental U.S. has been attacked by unknown terrorists and saboteurs, presumably Soviet in origin. At the same time, reports are coming in that virtually all communications with the state of Alaska and northwest Canada have been cut off; you can take a guess as to why."
"Any more bad news, Wolf?" Little asked, not wanting to believe what he was hearing.
"We're down three planes, Webster. Devil 17 and Devil 22 crashed during takeoff; I'm still trying to get ahold of someone back at Barksdale to give me an indication as to survivors..."
"You said three planes, Devil 02. What happened?"
"Devil 01, according to the Looking Glass controller, was struck by a surface-to-air missile during takeoff; no survivors were reported."
Little and McNeal shot each other the same, disbelieving look...it was bad enough that two of their squadron's twelve Buffs' had crashed during takeoff but for another one to have shot down was something altogether different. That could've been us, they both came to realize. "Uhh, roger, Devil 02. Copy that."
"16, I'm going to switch off for now. I presume you have your orders...unless anything changes or you receive a SAC recall message, good hunting. Devil 02 out."
As the communications relay switched off, all they could hear were the normal sounds of a B-52 at altitude as they continued flying towards a point over Arctic Canada. Both of them knew if they reached that point before a recall message was given to them, their next destination would be somewhere over Soviet Russia; where, they didn't know but they did know it would be over there.
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Post by webster on Dec 23, 2013 1:57:51 GMT
For several hours Devil 16 flew silently over the center of North America, headed for a point over far northern Canada; as Major Duell in Devil 02 had told them,
That had been almost three hours ago; the Buff was now flying north of the Twin Cities and in those three hours they had heard some very strange things over the radio; for instance, there were unconfirmed reports of nuclear explosions over Washington, D.C., a nuclear blast near the Big Apple and one over Omaha, Nebraska. That last one worried Capt. Little the most; if SAC headquarters had been destroyed, then there next orders, whether they be recall orders or orders to proceed to target, would now come from an airborne command post known as "Looking Glass"....
Hopefully, Looking Glass made it up into the air, Little thought as he maneuvered the 52 around the Twin Cities' western outskirts, using the Mississippi River as a guide. According to our orders, our Positive Control Point is roughly three-and-a-half hours north from our current location...unless we receive a recall order, our orders will be to attack targets inside the Soviet Union...at least we won't have to go too far inside Russia to do that, remembering for a bit the payload they were carrying with them.
Inside the B-52s' bomb bay were nine Air-Launched Cruise Missiles with a range of roughly 1500 miles; contained inside each ALCM was a nuclear warhead with a yield of around 150kt. In addition, six more ALCMs' were attached to two hardpoints on either wing, three to each one. Their targets, carefully cultivated from intelligence and strategic operations reports, were in European Russia, namely headquarters facilities for the Soviet military.
For three hours they continued flying north, only breaking off of their assigned flight path to refuel, linking up with a KC-135 from their wing that was flying circular routes to allow the 2nd Wing's bombers to enter, refuel, then exit and continue on. It surprised Little, as he and McNeal steered the Buff into the pipeline for refueling, that there were several U.S. and Canadian fighters patrolling outside. Glancing off to his side for a moment, Little keyed the radio mic. "CF-18 off my nine'o'clock, this is Devil 16. Identify yourself, over."
After a moment, the pilot in the Canadian fighter replied, "Devil 16, this is Basher 52 out of CFB Cold Lake. Welcome to northern Canada."
"Thanks for the welcome...I wish it was under better circumstances, though. Just checking to see who you were; I'll leave you be for the time being. Devil 16, out."
Glancing over at his co-pilot, he said, "At least we know they're friendlies."
"No kidding," McNeal said as they linked up with the refueling probe on the 135. For what seemed like forever they flew in an iron-straight formation, staying right in behind the tanker aircraft as it delivered its' precious cargo to the bomber. Eventually, the refueling was complete; minutes later Little and McNeal began to steer the Buff away from the tanker and back onto their previous heading.
Thirty minutes later, the OSO, Capt. Thomas "Taz" Knight, called out, "Webster, radar indicates we've arrived at our Positive Control Point."
Little looked over at McNeal. "I guess we begin orbiting for the next thirty minutes," he said, turning the flight controls slightly to the right to begin a thirty-minute orbital track over their positive control point. As the Buff banked and began turning in place, he keyed his mic once more. "Okay, crew, listen. We've reached out Positive Control Point. If we do not receive a recall message within the next thirty minutes....Wraith, what's our target package?"
McNeal rifled through her thick, 3-wire notebook to the page entitled "Strike Profiles, 96 BOMB SQDN". Every SAC bomber squadron was issued a set of strike targets or "profiles"; though it only took one or two bombers to hit each target, the profiles were created with redundancy in mind: by assigned multiple bombers to a specific target, the chances of someone reaching their assigned target increased enormously. After scanning the squadron's strike profile page, she spent several minutes making sure the targets assigned were the correct targets.
Satisfied everything was in order, she keyed her mic and spoke. "If not recalled within thirty minutes of arrival at your positive control point, the targets for the 96th Bomb Squadron are, as follows: (1)Soviet Long Range Aviation headquarters, (2)Soviet Strategic Rocket Forces headquarters, (3)Kozelsk Missile Field, (4)Yedrovo Missile Field and (5)Plesetek Cosmodrome."
"Webster," Capt. Knight, the OSO or radar-navigator, asked, "which targets are ours?"
"Wraith?"
After a few moments, Capt. McNeal keyed her mic once more. "Targets for Devil 16....if not recalled, launch ALCMs' against targets 1 and 2." The silence inside the aircraft was palpable and everyone knew why....their targets were located inside the region surrounding Moscow, which contained the heart of the Soviet air-defense network, a network they knew contained both numerous surface-to-air missile sites, ground-based anti-aircraft weapons and dozens, if not more, of Soviet interceptors.
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Post by webster on Dec 23, 2013 1:59:06 GMT
...from Tarheel Flyer... -B.Gen. Little: During a question-and-answer session at the Air Force Academy several years ago, someone asked me a question concerning the 2nd Bomb Wing's strike package. While I was not privy to everything the 96th BS's Operations staff was given in terms of targets, our squadron back in 1985 had five major targets that we were assigned.... --Soviet Long Range Aviation HQs'; basically, the Soviet version of SAC's bomber forces --Soviet Strategic Rocket Forces HQs'; these were the equivalents to SAC's missile forces --Kozelsk Missile Field; Kozelsk was home to the 28th Guards Missile Division, which possessed both SS-11 Sego and SS-19 Stiletto ICBMs' --Yedrovo Missile Filed; Yedrovo was home to elements of the 52nd Rocket Division, which possessed the SS-17 Spanker ICBM --Plesetsk Cosmodrome, home to several strategic launch facilities and one of, at that time, three different space launch facilities in the Soviet Union(the other three being Baikonaur and Kapustin Yar) Now, the 96th BS was assigned to strike those targets; once the squadron strike package was set, each B-52 w/in the squadron was assigned a minimum of two targets to launch their ALCMs' towards. The reason for this redundancy is brutally simple: most pre-war strike packages always made the assumption that not every B-52 or B-1B strategic bomber launched from the United States would reach their assigned target, so the best way to strike targets w/in the Soviet Union, especially for those of us who flew the venerable Buff, was to use layer-upon-layer of both nuclear bombs and nuclear-warhead armed missiles, both ALCMs' and SRAMs'. On Day One of the war, all 12 Buffs' assigned to the 96th BS were carrying either long-range ALCM missiles or shorter-range SRAM missiles; my own B52, Devil 16, was armed with twelve long-range Air-Launched Cruise Missiles, each possessing a nuclear warhead whose estimated yield was in the 150-160kt range....
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Post by webster on Dec 23, 2013 2:00:37 GMT
...from Tarheel Flyer...
They'd been through the launch checklists several dozen times before but as they proceeded down the last page or so of the nuclear launch checklist, there was an eerie, almost dead silence inside the bomber, as if they knew what they were about to unleash but were powerless to stop it.
"ALCM fuel cell warmers?"
"On," said the radar-navigator or Offensive Systems Officer, Capt. Thomas "Taz" Knight.
"TERCOM data checklist?"
"Check complete."
"Bomb bay doors?"
"Setting to open," said the OSO.
Meanwhile, 1st Lt. Elena "Razor" Myers, the crew's electronic-warfare officer or EWO, could feel the enormous bomb-bay doors shudder and begin to open underneath, feeling the jarring thud as they locked shut. After a flight that seemed to last forever, flying a trans-polar route which included both low-level and high-level flight, she was simply grateful that they had reached the first weapons release point. She could hear over the various aircraft and radio noises the rest of the crew as they went through the various checklists; in her mind's eye, she followed along. From where they were at, she knew they were close to launch.
"Bomb bay door indicator switch?"
"Indicator light green." The next rumbling noise and jarring thud Myers felt was the internal rotary launcher, which held six AGM-86B Air-Launched Cruise Missiles. Any second now, they would release three of the missiles towards the first of three targets, Soviet Long Range Aviation HQ. Once that was done, they would then launch three more ALCMs' towards their second target, Soviet Strategic Rocket Forces HQ.
Assuming they survived that long, the Buff would then head either towards home or towards a third target, depending on whatever word they received from SAC's airborne command post, Looking Glass. Meanwhile, their missiles would streak towards their targets at over 600 miles per hour, each ALCM carrying a 150kt nuclear warhead; Myers knew from numerous briefings that they wouldn't be the only ones launching at those specific targets, so she felt confident that at least a few of the ALCM's would get through...
No, her concern was in regards to Soviet radar capabilities and the survivability of their aircraft. Throughout the flight in, she had kept a close watch on her specific area of responsibility: making sure the B-52 survived its' flight in and out of the target region. Should they be targeted now or on the way outr, Myers would whip out the Buff's expansive set of electronic-warfare tricks, lighting up Soviet radar screens with a multitude of phantom targets, electronic snow or various other electronic shenanigans, all designed to keep enemy radars at bay.
"ALCM run - Nuclear," the co-pilot, Capt. Kelsey "Wraith" McNeal, said in an emotionless voice. Myers' skin tingled as she heard the words she never thought she would hear. In her mind she could see the stark red lettering of the nuclear weapons release checklist, a jarring contrast to the usual black-and-white checklists.
"ALCM inhibit switch?"
"Switch off."
"Special Weapons Release Indicators?"
"Indicators green."
"Release Circuit Connect?"
"Connected - green light."
"ALCM Release Circuits?"
"Connected - green light."
"Master ALCM launch switch?"
"Switch set to on," Taz Knight said over the intercom, his voice breaking up for a moment. "Checklist complete."
"Alright, ladies and gentlemen," came a new voice, that of Capt. Matthew "Webster" Little, the pilot. "Time to break things and hurt people. OSO, you have permission for weapons release."
"Bombs away," were the OSO's only words...and with them hell incarnate was unleashed as the first of their ALCM's fell away from the aircraft, rocketing towards their targets with the certainty of an executioner towards his condemned...
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Post by webster on Dec 23, 2013 3:06:20 GMT
"Devil 16, Devil 16, this is Hawkeye on 127.5. Turn right upon passing the outer marker and descend to 3000 for final approach to 27R. Welcome to O'Hare, guys."
Those words from National Guard controllers at O'Hare Reserve Station were probably the best words Capt. Little and the rest of the crew could've heard the whole time they were airborne on Day 1. From the frantic, under-fire takeoff back at Barksdale to the constant, hi-level and low-level flight, to passing their Positive Control Point and then finally to their Launch Point, everything that could be thrown at them - other than being shot at by interceptors or SAMs - was thrown at them...
Almost immediately upon departing their second and final launch point for the return flight were the fires of hell all-but-unleashed on the B52 and its' crew. Within 10 minutes of releasing their final set of ALCMs', three Soviet MiG-25PD Foxbat interceptors gave chase. Though the three put up a very spirited though unsuccessful chase, one made the inopportune mistake of attempting to get in too close, giving the crew's tail gunner, T. Sgt. Lindstrom, that rarest of successes in the jet-era: a gun kill by a bomber against an opposing fighter, the first such kill since Dec. 1972.
Things didn't get much better, though, for Devil 16 even after dodging the trio of Foxbats'; due to what Air Force controllers aboard various AWACS aircraft were calling "numerous air-to-air engagements", Devil 16 took a more easterly route back south...which nearly ended up getting themselves shot down by Canadian CF-18s' from CFB Bagotville while transiting an air corridor between Toronto and Ottawa.
Eventually, they managed to make their way across the US-Canadian border and were given a vector approach for O'Hare Air Reserve Station, which sounded odd to Capt. Little. Why are we headed to Chicago?, he thought, asking for confirmation from the AWACS controller. Before he could get a reply, another voice came over the line - the squadron XO. "Devil 16, this is 02 on the ground at O'Hare. How copy, over?"
"Solid copy, 02. What's the hell's going on? Why the divert to O'Hare? Why not Scott or Whiteman or McConnell?" referencing several different USAF bases they could have been diverted to instead of O'Hare.
"Long story short, 16: Barksdale has been shut down - wing commander's orders. As you might have guessed, the base was hit by about twenty or so terrorists, most of whom appear to be, according to security reports, Soviet SOF. Damage reports are...," pausing for a moment before continuing, "two hangers damaged, a maintenance building burned to the ground, parts of the flightline blasted by RPG, grenade and gunfire. Base personnel took a big hit but they're slowly working on getting the base reopened at present.
"As for aircraft...the wing as a whole lost 11 aircraft - 4 KC-135s' and 7 B-52s; of the Buffs', three came from our squadron while 2 came from both the 11th and 20th respectively." Both Little and McNeal whistled at the news; those losses meant the wing as a whole was probably down close to 15 percent from its' peacetime numbers. "We also took a few command losses as well - both the 11th and 96th BS lost their squadron commanders while the rest of the wing lost a small chunk of the command...right now, though, I want you on the ground so that I can get a quick count of who did makes it. Matthew?"
"Yeah, Wolf?" Capt. Little replied.
"Yours is the last Buff of ours in the air at present, so bring her on home, okay? Devil 02 out." As the radio cackled with static, Little keyed the comm-mic. "Crew, this is the pilot. Everyone get that?"
"Copy," came a near-unanimous reply. As he continued, Capt. McNeal ripped off a telex sheet coming over the aircraft's secure net. "Deadeye, Major Duell says you got a round of drinks coming to you at the 96 Club when we land," smiling at McNeal at the thought of the tee-totaler Lindstrom getting a free round of drinks from everyone in the 96th Bomb Squadron. "FB-111s' transiting through to their own targets independently confirmed that a Foxbat did indeed go down; intercepted PVO radio traffic," pausing to scan the telex, "confirmed it as well."
"Sir, it wasn't all me," Lindstrom replied, smiling as he spoke. "Razor did her part as well," grasping Lt. Myers's hand in a celebratory manner as Little added, "and tell Elena there's a round of drinks for her as well there also."
"Copy that," Lt. Myers' replied, smiling back at Sgt. Lindstrom.
Meanwhile, Capt. Little could hear the air controllers beginning to call them in for final approach. "Hawkeye, this is Devil 16 preparing to descend to 3000 for final approach to Runway 27R."
"Copy, 16. Current altimeter is 3-0-0-4, winds 1-2 knots at 194, contact Ground Approach at 127.5."
"Understand, 3004, winds 12 at 194, GA at 127.5."
"Wilco, Devil 16. See you on the ground."
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Post by webster on Dec 23, 2013 3:09:03 GMT
...from Tarheel Flyer...
Early Morning
O'Hare Air Reserve Station - Chicago, Illinois
"You alright, Webster?" Captain McNeal asked as they walked over towards Flight Ops.
"Yeah, I'm alright," he replied, not really wanting to talk about how he was feeling at the moment. "I just wish I wouldn't stop shaking - its' like I got an adrenalin pump going nonstop, you know?" Looking up at the night sky, he added, "How long did we fly today?"
"Roughly 18 hours, Matthew," added another voice from the side; looking over, Little recognized the voice's source, Major Sean Davidson, callsign "Seanzilla". A fellow 52 pilot, he was also the squadron S-3, or Operations officer; they shared a staff office back at Barksdale but that was about it. "We took off from Barksdale yesterday around 0800 or so...depending on our strike package or packages, each plane in the squadron flew roughly sixteen to eighteen hours. You, my friend," adding the last few words as if it pained him to do so, "were the last to return, giving us a grand total of 29 B-52s and 11 KC-135s'--"
"11 tankers?" Little queried; the 2nd Bomb Wing had, prior to yesterday, had 36 bombers and 24 tankers assigned to it. "Wolf said 4 tankers went down--"
"And he was right," Davidson replied, "we lost four tankers and a fifth that crash-landed in central Manitoba; Canadian search-and-rescue's looking for them as we speak." As the pilots and other crew members continued walking down the flight-line, Little couldn't help but feel a mix of both pride and sadness - pride at having made it back home, albeit an airfield he'd never trained to land it, much less during wartime..and sadness at knowing several of his friends and colleagues were either dead or missing. While he was lost in thought, Davidson continued on. "...and, by the way, Captain Little, you can definitely paint a mushroom cloud and a MiG silhouette on your plane."
"Huh? What?" Capt. Little said, stopping to look at the senior officer for a moment in stunned silence.
"I said, Captain, that whenever the maintenance personnel arrive from Barksdale, you tell them to go ahead and paint both a mushroom cloud and a MiG silhouette on your plane's nose. While you were landing, we got confirmation from both SR-71s transiting across European Russia and satellite intel that one of your ALCMs' did indeed strike Soviet Long Range Aviation HQs. We'll still getting data on what the final strike tally will be, but given the average ALCM's accuracy, I'd say several planes in the Wing will get to paint clouds on them."
"And the MiG, sir?"
"You probably got this via' in-flight telex, but FB-111s' out of Pease, along with intercepted SIGINT traffic from Soviet PVO headquarters both confirm that a MiG-25 Foxbat was shot down in the vicinity of an exiting B-52...."
"How did they do it was us, sir?"
"One of the Aardvark crews tried to ping you with IFF - got your radar's IFF beacon back; they sent it into their Wing Ops' for transmit back to Looking Glass and it got back to us just a few hours ago. Anything else, Captain Little?"
For several seconds the younger officer just looked at his superior - for once, he didn't really know what to say. At least I know we did something right yesterday, he thought. "No sir, that sounds' about it, sir."
"Good," Major Davidson said. "Now, let's get you and your crew debriefed and get you guys some rest - God knows you need it after the past day."
...from Tarheel Flyer...
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