Star Girl by Alan VanMeter

Author:Alan VanMeter [VanMeter, Alan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Published: 2015-11-28T23:00:00+00:00

Six weeks to go, and I am ready to get the hell off this base. Flying missions is my only relief from the boredom. I am not sure whether or not I will deploy again if called on. Now I do feel that every Taliban that I kill is a damn good thing. Less of them, less car bombs, makes sense. The Colonel had a double promotion ceremony this morning, where Captain Hanford made Major, and I was promoted to Captain. I just turned twenty three last month, and so I am the official youngest Captain in the Air Force. It would be nice if I can keep this trend going.

This afternoon we have a sortie to fly, and I look forward to it. Instead of saying, ‘It’s time to make the doughnuts,’ I say ‘It’s time to kill the Taliban.’ To myself anyhow. Soon the Major is on my wing at altitude and we are flying over the snowcapped northern peaks. At the boundary of our patrol area is the highest peak around, Mount Dorah, at almost fifteen thousand feet. I decide to do a direct fly over of the peak just for the view. As we pass over it I peer down wishing I had a camera with me.

Then in the snow and ice of the peak, I see a flash and a puff of smoke, followed by a trail of smoke winding away from the flash point.

“SAM launch! SAM launch!” I radio. “Break right, break right! Flares!”

The Major breaks first and I follow him close, protecting his tail pipes. A freaking SAM on top of the mountain? Shit! Must be a hand held SA seven, or even a Stinger. I am dropping flares as we both tightly turn. Then my missile warning alarm goes off, and I drop more flares. With a sharp lurch my bird tries to go sideways as I hear a muted ‘boom!’ Quickly I straighten her out as my master caution board lights up going crazy. I look behind me to see my starboard dorsal tail fin is missing and fire is spewing from the aft fuselage.

“I’m hit! I’m hit! I’m losing her!”

“Eject! Eject!” Major Hoyt calls back right away.

I don’t wait a second as I reach and blow the canopy off and both my hands go above my head to grab the ejection handle, I pull straight down with all might, and it doesn’t want to move, so I pull will every muscle in my body, and finally it releases down into my lap. The seat is suddenly rocketed out of my burning bird as I am compressed into it. I watch as my Raptor spins out of control, blazing.

“Mayday! Mayday! All channel alert. Mayday, Mayday. We have a pilot down. We have a pilot down. These coordinates.” I hear the major on my radio that is on the seat, and still feeding my head set. He gives my position, then waits for confirmation before telling me, “Romero, they are on the way.

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