Read Online Afterburners by William Robert Stanek - Free Book Online Page B

MCS on radio communications. Then I went to work. When I found that first target soon afterward and it was confirmed, I hit a new high—I’d climbed to the top of the world.
        On radio, Gypsy was calling Shadow, and our navigator answered the call. Shadow was our call sign. Gypsy was the airborne warning and control aircraft (AWACS). They were passing an air advisory. I wasn’t worried. We had our dedicated high-value air asset combat air patrol (HVAA CAP) of Eagles—F-15C—all-around air superiority fighters that could match any Soviet-made MiG any day of the week.
        On a different radio channel, I heard chatter from Phantom. Phantom was passing the targets it had already acquired and I was writing them down as fast as I could. I passed the list to the MCS who was staring at the pencil trembling in his hand and a blank piece of paper. I wanted to slap him and scream, “Come on, PBJ, get with it!” but I didn’t.
        Phantom was the friendly folks on the RC-135; and after a short delay, PBJ relayed a greeting. His face flushed with a bit of color as a familiar voice tweaked back over headset. He knew their lead op. Afterward it was back to finding equitable targets, which meant searching the frequency spectrum and finding enemy communications wherever they might be. The operators on positions One to Four specialized in air communications, such as communications from Iraqi fighters, Iraqi air defense, and those communications between Iraqi fighters and Iraqi air defense. The senior operators on the other side of the plane took everything else and that meant the senior ops had walls of high tech gear to keep track of and manipulate.
        On Position Six, I had three banks of electronic gizmos to contend with. On the left was a tower of RF spectrum analyzers that could be configured for automated or manual search in specific frequency ranges. In the center below my CRT was a line of hot button controls for the computer systems. Above the CRT was a specially configured wide spectrum analyzer. On the right, a tower of signal analyzers and other gear for locating the source or sources of origin, identifying and classifying signals.
        As we found signals, we worked to verify them as either friendly or enemy. Enemy signals were quickly and closely analyzed to determine the type, origin, and more. It was important to know whether a signal was from an enemy facility, ground vehicle, or aircraft; whether the signal was being transmitted ground to ground, ground to air, air to air, or air to ground; and whether the communications were a possible threat to our operations. If an operator was unable to verify a possible enemy signal, he would pass it on to another operator, typically one with more experience. Once a signal was verified, it was passed on to the Mission Crew Supervisor or Mission Crew Commander who marked the signal for jamming and other possible countermeasures.
        Time raced by as we worked the signal environment feverishly. When we hit our jam window, Captain Willie slammed the Lady into jam, effectively blocking the targeted enemy communications channels. This not only confused the enemy but also prevented command and control communications for their air defense networks.
        Soon the Buffs would be smacking the hell out of Kirkuk. Strike Eagles would follow. Behind them a dozen Fighting Falcons.
        We were still on fast-forward when Captain Willie’s voice tweaked Private and hissed into our headsets, “Crew, the packages have hit their targets. And they’re successfully egressing!”
        A tremendous uproar ensued. Emotions flowed. I know more than one of us had tears in our eyes. We’d done it; our first mission was accomplished. We had fifteen minutes of station’s time left to ensure the last of the package made it out safe and then all we had to do was make it back to base.
        That’s when all hell broke loose and when Gypsy called out, “Bogies