Steel Raptors

July, 1996

PIT III, Utah

Hawk looked up from his paperwork at the knock on his office door.

“Come in,” he called.

Ace and Wild Bill entered, both were dressed in rumpled green flight-suits although Wild Bill’s was a different shade of green to Ace’s and he still wore his trademark Stetson.

“Sit down, gentlemen. I have good news for you,” Hawk said. He shifted some of the paperwork around on his desk and pulled out a stack of files.

“The Pentagon has approved recruitment of new pilots at long last. However, the Joint Chiefs have insisted on the pilots in question being recruited largely from the Navy, Marines and Air Force for the helicopter pilots and the Navy and Marines for the fighter pilots. As such, these are your approved candidates. They’ve been issued orders to report to Nellis Air Force Base. You’ll meet them there before escorting them here for simulator based training, some flight training and housing during the selection process. Some flight training at Nellis has been approved.” Hawk handed over the files. “We’ve also been given a green light for the training exercise with Action Force and the Canadians have confirmed they’re sending the new pilot down with the Hailstorm for training.”

“Cool.” Ace took the files and sorted through them. There were eight pilots facing selection for him. Five were US Navy pilots, one a woman. The other three were Marines.

Wild Bill took his stack. There were ten pilots facing selection for him. One, William ‘Billy’ Guthrie was a US Army AH64 Apache pilot. The other nine were from US Marine AH1 units, US Navy and Marine Black Hawk squadrons. He grunted. “Well, I’m glad to see Guthrie made the cut.”

Ace looked at him, “Who?”

“Guy named Billy Guthrie. He’s an Apache pilot in the Army. Qualified instructor. I’m picking him almost sight unseen. We need an instructor and he’s the perfect guy. He actually volunteered for the Joes. He helped design the course for conversion to the new D-model Apache.” Wild Bill paused to look at Hawk, “I know what I said about making sure the attack pilots could also fly the Tomahawk, but damn, I need this guy.”

Hawk shrugged. “You’re running the selection, Bill. Pick who you want, how you want.”

“We’ll qualify at least three pilots on the Apache and the Tomahawk, to make up the numbers for the attack birds. At least one crew for the Tomahawk only. They all need to be able to fly under fire at low altitude and complete their missions,” Wild Bill said staring at Hawk.

“I read the brief,” Hawk said. “Do it.”

The general turned to Ace. “What about you?”

Ace shrugged. “I was hoping for ten but I get eight. I want a minimum of three qualified to fly air to air and air to ground in the X-16 and air-to-air in the Storm Eagle and I get three jarheads used to flying the damn Harrier. This ain’t going so great on paper, sir, but we’ll see how we do in the actuality of it.”

Hawk nodded, “Get on with it, then, gentlemen. Dismissed.”

One week later

Wild Bill stood before the group of helicopter pilot candidates in the briefing room. The other Joe helicopter pilots – Lift Ticket, Updraft, Major Altitude and Windmill – sat behind him on the stage.

“Welcome to GI Joe helicopter selection. You will be undergoing a series of training exercises as well as simulations to qualify to fly the Tomahawk transport helicopter and the Locust light attack helo. Some of you will also be qualified to fly the AH-64 Apache attack copter. All of you will qualify to fly second-seat in the Tomahawk so that we have a good supply of crews if needed. We have five qualified Locust pilots and we want another five. The Locust is easy to fly, even though it’s a single-seater. It’s a seat and two machine-guns bolted to an engine basically. The Apache is a lot more complicated. We want at least three pilots to fly both seats in that.”

There were some murmurs among the pilots.

“Chief Guthrie. Step forward.”

William Guthrie stood, saluted and then walked down to stand next to Wild Bill.

“Chief Guthrie. You are our newest Apache pilot. You are selected for GI Joe. You will be assigned quarters and a codename and your paperwork is waiting in my office.”

“Sir?” Guthrie said.

“Son,” Wild Bill knew Guthrie was only a few years younger than him, but it was automatic to call him ‘son’. “You’re a qualified instructor for the Apache. You are a man I need in a hurry. We’ve relied on some temporarily assigned instructors to qualify myself, Windmill, Updraft and Major Altitude on flying the AH-64. You are now the GI Joe Apache instructor pilot and are exempt from selection as an Apache pilot. You will need to qualify on the Locust, but you should be able to do that, right?”

“Sir, yessir!” Guthrie hesitated. “I do have a codename in mind, sir.”

Wild Bill glanced at the other Joes; Lift Ticket was smirking. “Do tell,” Wild Bill finally said.

“Firebird, sir.”

“Fine. Go and sit down, Firebird.”

Wild Bill turned his attention to the others. “Now, I know I probably just pissed a lot of you off, but we want a minimum of three Apache pilots. Preferably, we’d like five. So for you AH1 pilots here, you now know, you’re competing for one of four slots and you need to learn to fly the new bird fast and to be very good with it.”

In another briefing room, Ace was facing the pilot candidates for the Joes fighter group.

“Welcome to GI Joe fighter selection. You will be undergoing a series of exercises and simulations to qualify to fly the X-16 Ghost Striker. All of our pilots are required to qualify in the X-16 flying air-to-air and air-to-ground attack missions. Once you’re capable of those mission profiles, you will then qualify with the Storm Eagle, our stealth air superiority fighter. You will then have to prove how good you are in air-to-air engagements in that plane. You guys are going to be up against it. All of us Joe pilots are trained in the X-16 and you’ll fly against us in the Ghost Striker and the Storm Eagle. We’ll also be putting you up against the best Action Force has to offer in a Red Flag style exercise against their Skystrikers, Ospreys and Conquests.”

Ace paused to see if anyone would ask any questions. No one did.

“We’ll start off with qualification on the X-16 in simulators and then in the real deal. We’ll then move to flying simulated combat ops. You’ll fly scenarios based on combating Cobra and the Coil as well as other ops where the Joes might be deployed against MiGs, Sukhois, Mirages, F-16s and other common export aircraft. We have a new simulator set-up here, which is networked so you’ll be flying alongside each other and against us, real, pilots as well as the computers.”

The following week

Ace sat in the control room for the network of simulators, the Joes were using. Twelve pods linked together allowed the pilots to practice flying together. The control room was dominated by a bank of screens; eight currently showed the pilots in their simulators, another eight showed their ‘view’ out the cockpit. The remainder were blank. A separate screen showed a tactical map, similar to what a command and control plane would display. Sitting at a computer keyboard, was Hard Drive, the GI Joe team’s new computers specialist. His gaze was flicking between a small screen next to him and the simulator screens.

Ace watched the action and reflected briefly on the mission the pilots had been given twenty minutes earlier.

‘The Central American state of San Sombrero is embroiled in a civil war, with the rebels being backed by Cobra. The rebels have captured the airfield at Bannoffee Pie. Four X-16s will strike the airfield and attempt to destroy the runway, whilst the others provide cover.’

Five miles from the airfield, the escort flight, led by Navy pilot Scotty ‘Dog’ Russell, pulled up and climbed as the strike flight led by Mike ‘Irish’ O’Malley continued in at treetop level. All eight pilots had qualified to fly the X-16 with little trouble. Getting the Navy Tomcat pilots, like Dog, used to flying a single seater was more troublesome than getting the attack pilots like Irish used to flying air-to-air.

As the simulated X-16s climbed higher, red circles began appearing on the tactical plot.

“''Ghost Flight, we’re being painted by air-search radars.Attack computer calls them Rapiers, HAWKs and M163s. Expect SAMs and triple-A,”'' said Ghost 2, Clyde ‘Gangster’ Dillinger.

Dog relayed the warning to Striker flight, the attack group.

Seconds later, tracer fire from the M163s began flashing across the screens of all eight fighters as the anti-aircraft artillery began opening fire.

“Striker Three has a lock on two M163s in the tree-line near the runway. Firing Maverick missile. Rifle, rifle, rifle.”

Ace smirked to himself as Jimmy ‘Bucky’ Buchanen called out the brevity code for a Maverick launch. The Navy pilot flew F/A-18s and knew how to carry out ground attack missions.

The simulated missile destroyed the simulated anti-air vehicles.

“''SAMs, SAMs, SAMs. Multiple SAMs!”'' hollered Julius ‘Roman’ Simone as the short-range HAWK missiles were rippled off.

Ace watched as the X-16s sprayed out flares and chaff, trying to decoy any heat-seekers and confuse the radar-guided missiles as well. They broke off their approach to the airfield and flew evasive courses even as the first of Striker flight crossed the airfield and dropped two 500lb bombs on a pair of hangars.

Seconds later, Carlos ‘Slugger’ Sanchez called out over the radio, “Ghost Three to all elements, I have visual on four F-5 Tigers taxiing for take-off.”

It didn’t take long for Judith Rainey to call, “Inbound hot on the taxiway, stand by… Bombs away, bombs away.”

Ace watched as the X-16 sped clear and Dog’s fighter looped around to show the two bombs slamming into the lead F-5s and destroyed them.

“Striker Two in hot,” radioed Sean ‘Muck’ McLanahan as he sped across the runway and dropped his bombs, which detonated and blew a huge crater in the tarmac.

The X-16s were dancing across the simulated sky dodging the surface-to-air missiles and anti-aircraft fire and launching missiles and dropping bombs to wreak havoc on the airfield.

Ace took a second to look at Hard Drive. “Can you add something new to the mission on the fly?” he asked.

“Sure,” Hard Drive replied, turning to a small monitor and the keyboard. “What do you want me to add?”

“Throw four interceptors at them. Airborne already.”

“Any particular type?”

“The new Cobra ATF we had programmed in. Crank the AI on them as well, make it tough.” Ace gave a rather nasty smirk as he added that comment.

Hard Drive nodded and went to work. “ATFs coming in at twenty-five miles distance, speed set to three hundred knots.”

The ATF, or Advanced Technology Fighter, was a new Cobra jet that had yet to enter service with the terrorists. Its existence was only known about thanks to a covert recon mission on Cobra Island two months earlier by the new GI Joe Marine Raiders team. One of the team had snuck into the underground hangar on the island and photographed the plane under construction. Analysts from the CIA and the Air Force Intelligence Agency had speculated it was intended to be a new air dominance fighter similar to the GI Joe Storm Eagle, leading to the computer programmers to put together an estimated performance profile based on the photos.

Ace picked up his microphone. “Ghost Flight, Striker Flight, this is Palace four new airborne contacts on radar. Bandits are twenty-five miles out, approaching at three hundred knots,” Ace paused. “Bearing two-five-zero.”

“''Roger, Palace. Ghost Flight on me,”'' ordered Dog.

The four fighters reoriented toward the approaching Cobra jets, but as they did, a Rapier SAM streaked up from a hidden battery and hit Roman’s X-16 in the rear of the group. The X-16 exploded into pixels and the screen showing Roman’s view went black. Roman himself slumped in his seat in the simulator and sighed.

“''Ghost Four is down! Ghost Four is down!”'' hollered Slugger.

“Striker Two inbound. Maverick missile locked. Rifle, rifle, rifle.”

The Rapier battery was obliterated by the simulated missile.

“''Striker Flight, Ghost Lead, recommend you get out of here. RTB, buster. We’ll cover your butts.”''

‘Buster’ was an Air Force term Dog had obviously picked up, meaning ‘bust your ass’.

“''Striker Lead copies. Roger, outbound now. Objective is complete.”''

The four X-16s turned and sped away even as Dog led Gangster and Slugger in to a head to head pass with the ATFs.

Both groups of fighters launched radar-guided missiles at maximum range, before going into evasive moves, spraying chaff to throw off their enemies’ missiles.

One ATF flew too close to Slugger, who immediately opened fire with his 20mm gun at near point-blank range. Computer generated smoke and flames poured from the polygonal plane as it veered away, presenting its tail pipe for a heat-seeker. Slugger obliged and the AIM-9 Sidewinder destroyed the ATF.

“Scratch one Cobra,” Slugger crowed. It was probably the first air-to-air kill the Marine Corps Harrier pilot had ever made, Ace reflected. Even if it was in a simulator.

Ace’s attention flicked between the screens of the three Ghost flight jets. Striker Flight were clear and speeding back to their base outside the San Sombrero capital city, Banana Split.

Gangster and Dog were trying to catch another of the ATFs in a pincer, but that meant the other ATFs were trying to out-flank them. Slugger came screaming across the simulated sky and loosed off an AIM-7 Sparrow radar-guided missile. The trailing ATF tried to evade it, but the short-range Slugger had fired from – only ten miles – meant it didn’t have time to react and its left wing was blown off.

“Two down, two to go,” Slugger gloated.

Gangster finally got a missile lock on another of the ATFs and loosed a Sidewinder missile and destroyed it. The survivor turned tail and ran.

Ace picked up his microphone again. “Endex, Endex. Mission over. Debrief in one hour. We’ll run it again with the flight’s swapped after dinner.”

Endex meant ‘End of exercise’.

Ace looked at Hard Drive. “Good work, son. Thanks. Any problems with resetting it up for 19:00?”

“No, sir. Gives me plenty of time to get a cleaner in here to wash the sweat out and set everything up before I get my dinner.”

Ace smirked.

Two hours later, after the debrief broke up, Ace went to the mess hall and grabbed a burger and fries. He found Wild Bill and Lift Ticket sat in one corner.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked.

“Not at all, Ace, pull up a pew, pardner.” Wild Bill pushed the chair out with his boot. “How’d your simulator session go?”

Ace sat and took a bite of the burger before replying, “Not too bad. One guy got his fanny waxed by a Rapier SAM. Navy Tomcat pilot who still isn’t used to flying with no guy in the back.” Ace ate some fries before going on. “One of the jarheads claimed two kills on the Cobra ATFs though. Which is pretty good for an air-to-mud guy.”

The helicopter pilots nodded.

“How’d your training flight go?” Ace asked.

“Pretty well. Most of them are getting the hang of the Tomahawk. We got one guy, Paul Molloy; he’s a Navy helo test pilot. Flew the Tomahawk when the Navy evaluated them after the Joes were shut down. He’s ahead of the curve and looks like a contender to join us along with Firebird,” Wild Bill replied.

“Firebird?” Ace asked.

Lift Ticket frowned. “Didn’t you meet him yet? The Apache instructor Bill inducted as soon as he got here.”

“No, I’ve been too busy. I think someone pointed the helo candidates out and said something about Bill picking one already like he’d told me and Hawk but I didn’t know his codename.”

“He’s running the Apache candidates ragged,” Lift Ticket went on as he sipped his fruit juice. “He canned three of the five Apache candidates two days ago because they couldn’t fly the bird with the helmet-mounted sight. One guy was getting bad headaches; the one had an eye-dominance problem and nearly ploughed into a cliff. The other guy crashed the simulator flights twice before they got in the real thing.”

“Really?” Ace asked, surprised. “It’s barely been a week and I’ve only had my guys flying basic manoeuvres in the real thing.”

“He’s a real hard-charger,” Wild Bill replied. “He ain’t messin’. Armour and Santini need to make the grade or we’re going to need to go back to the Pentagon pukes and request new candidates.”

“The Tomahawk candidates are doing okay. We’re going to try a live-fire exercise with the turret for them tomorrow.” Lift Ticket sighed. “If you’re still hogging the computers.”

Ace shrugged, “Not my fault Mainframe and Hard Drive won’t let us run the two networks simultaneously. We’re still running the pilots in the ground-to-air mode after getting them qualified flying basics in the X-16. I don’t want to let them loose in the real things again until they’re all used to flying it in the sims.”

Wild Bill and Lift Ticket exchanged grimaces. “Means we’ll be running our flight outside in the real choppers tomorrow then,” Wild Bill said.

Ace gave them a commiserating look; “I’ll start doing exercises in the real jets next week. We’ll be doing another simulation this evening and then two each day for the next three at least.”

Wild Bill rolled his eyes.

Three days later

The pilots gathered in the briefing room before heading to the simulators. Already, five of the eight were proving to be the best, Ace mused. And they knew who they were. Lieutenant (j.g) Judith Rainey, US Navy, had proved to be the best air-to-air pilot. Unlike her fellow Tomcat pilots, she’d adopted quickly to flying with no back-seater. Scotty Russell, Julius Simone and Sean McLanahan were not doing anywhere near as well. Surprisingly, Second Lieutenant Clyde Dillinger, Captain Carlos Sanchez and Captain Mike O’Malley, the three US Marine Corps Harrier pilots had all adapted well to air-to-air missions and were vying for second and third place. Jimmy Buchanen was trailing the other attack pilots, but was proving better than the other three Navy Aviators.

Ace decided to begin the briefing, “Okay, this is our final simulator session before we switch to doing live-fire bomb drops and some simulated air-to-air in the actual planes.”

He cleared his throat and continued.

“Coil forces have attacked the Central Asian state of Currystan. They have occupied the city of Korma. We will be operating from an airfield near the capital, Vindalooville. The Korma airfield is home to MiG-21s, MiG-23s and SU-22s. Coil forces are using them as well as Rattlers for ground attack. You will be flying a intercept mission against their fighters. The Fishbeds, Floggers and Fitters will be flying air patrols over the north of the country as the Coil forces advance.”

Julius put his hand up.

“Yes, Commander?”

“You really need to work on your names for fake countries, y'know?” Julius replied. “I mean San Sombrero was bad, but then you named the cities Banana Split and Bannoffee Pie. Then we had the… what was it? Socialist Democratic People’s Republic of Hattari. I mean, that’s a damn John Wayne movie. And now, this…Currystan? Seriously?”

Ace threw him a dirty look. “You try coming up with something then.” He cleared his throat again, “Right. Where was I? Oh. Yes. Gear up and let’s get on with it.”

The pilots filed out.

Minutes later, Judith strapped herself into the simulator with help from a technician. The simulator was mounted on a hydraulic system that mimicked the plane’s movements and was fitted with high tech flat screens that covered the ‘canopy’ to give an all-round view. The simulators were the most advanced she’d ever seen.

Judith plugged her communications headset in and pulled her helmet on, just in time to hear Julius, “Anyone got change of a ten, I ran out of quarters last time.”

She rolled her eyes, he’d been making jokes along these lines all the time they’d been using the simulators.

The screens flickered to life, showing an airfield on a broad plain. The buildings were somewhat boxy and crude, but ahead of her, she could see a very realistic looking X-16.

“''Striker squadron, this is the tower. You are clear for take-off, winds minimal. Altimeter 2-0-0. Clear to flight level 1-5 thousand feet.”'' Ace’s voice was slightly distorted over the intercom.

Ahead of Judith’s simulated X-16, two others taxied into position before thundering down the runway and lifting off. Her own fighter automatically moved to take off position and she shoved the throttle forward and grunted as the acceleration shoved her back in the seat. She hauled back on the stick and the Ghost Striker lifted off and climbed upward at speed. Quickly, she raised the landing gear, pulled the throttle out of afterburner setting and trimmed the plane for level flight.

The fighter jets knifed through the simulated skies toward the city of Korma. As they approached, Ace’s voice came over the radio again.

“''Bogies coming off the deck. Multiple aircraft launching. Stand by…”'' There was a pause. “''Bogies positively identified as MiGs and Rattlers. Intercepts indicate the Rattlers are on a ground-attack mission. Engage at will.”''

Jimmy ‘Bucky’ Buchanen was flying lead, as soon as Ace cleared the squadron to attack, his voice came over the radio. “''Striker squadron, Lead, engage the Rattlers first. Only knock down the MiGs if they get in your way.”''

The X-16s hurtled toward the simulated fighters. As they entered the 30-mile optimal range for their main armament of AIM-7M Sparrow missiles, several of the pilots opened fire. Scotty ‘Dog’ Russell and Sean ‘Muck’ McLanahan fired almost simultaneously. Clyde ‘Gangster’ Dillinger and Julius ‘Roman’ Simone fired next.

All four pilots’ missiles destroyed targets, but not the Rattlers, instead, the MiG-21 ‘Fishbed’ fighters had moved to intercept the X-16s and four were shot down instead. Judith, Slugger, Irish and Bucky launched their missiles next, targeting the Rattlers. All four Sparrows destroyed Rattlers.

The Coil forces weren’t taking this lying down, however. The surviving Rattlers took evasive moves, including descending to lower altitude, whilst the surviving Fishbeds and MiG-23 Floggers turned to engage the X-16s. Both sets of aircraft launched AA-7 ‘Apex’ missiles. All of the Ghost Strikers sprayed out flares and chaff bundles, decoying several missiles as they went evasive. Judith and Slugger homed in on the Rattlers, dodging the MiGs. They dropped onto the Rattlers’ tails, accelerating and taking care to stay dead aft of the trailing Rattlers, to avoid the fire of the tank-smashers’ gun turrets. Judith fired first, taking out her second Rattler of the engagement. Seconds later, Slugger fired his second Sparrow and dispatched another. Six remained. As the dogfight continued above and behind them, the pair closed in and launched another Sparrow each. Two more of the simulated fighters were blown into pixelated explosions.

“''Mayday, mayday, Tower, this is Striker Two, Striker Lead is down! Launch SAR!” ''Gangster shouted over the radio. Judith had to admire his attention to realism, calling for search and rescue, even though the Marine was perfectly safe.

Seconds later, Roman called across the radio channel. “''Mayday, mayday, mayday. I’m hit, I’m hit. Going down! Striker Six is down!”''

Judith glanced across at Slugger. Her wingman was still with her as they continued to chase the four Rattlers. Both launched their fourth and final Sparrows. Two more of the Coil jets were destroyed. The pair accelerated again, closing in to launch their AIM-9M Sidewinder heat-seekers. The last two Rattlers were destroyed. Judith and Slugger pulled up and looped around in time to see Muck and Dog be shot down as both their jets were hit by two missiles each. The pair closed in as Irish and Gangster destroyed two more MiG-23s and launched their last Sidewinders to destroy the last Floggers.

Slugger closed in on a MiG-21 and opened fire with his Ghost Striker’s M61 Vulcan gun, obliterating the antiquated fighter in a ten-second burst.

Suddenly, Ace’s voice came over the intercom system. “Knock it off, knock it off, knock it off.”

That instruction meant the exercise was over.

“''Good work, we’re done. Shut your simulator down and debrief in ten,”'' Ace added after a moment.

In another part of the PIT simulator complex, two of the Apache candidates were flying a mission. In the front seat, the co-pilot/gunner station, was First Lieutenant Francis ‘Frank’ Santini, US Marines. In the rear, pilot, seat was First Lieutenant Carl Armour, US Marines. Both were veterans of the AH-1 attack helicopter, Santini had flown in Operation Desert Storm in 1991, whilst Armour had flown his in Somalia in the early 1990s.

Both were having to get used to flying the far more advanced AH64D Longbow Apache. As Armour flew the simulated helicopter over the polygonal terrain, Santini reached up to fiddle with his monocle sight for the third time. Both pilots had managed to use the one in the Tomahawks easily, since they were only used for aiming the helicopter’s 20mm chain-gun, an addition made by Special Weapons Force of Action Force and retained by the Joes when the Z-Force helicopters were transferred to the US as part of an exchange deal for Action Force to receive six MH-60 Black Hawks.

The Apache pilot’s monocle was far more sophisticated than the Tomahawk one. Where that merely incorporated a simple aim-point ‘pipper’, the Apache’s Integrated Helmet and Display Sight System projected symbols for navigation and aiming the weapons and could be used for low-light flying, either in darkness or brown-out conditions in a desert environment. The main problem Santini was having was getting it to sit correctly over his eye. He already had a welt under his eye from the monocle pressing into his face during a high-g manoeuvre a week before.

“Stop fiddling with the damn monocle,” Armour scolded him from the back seat. His position in the higher mounted seat meant he could see his comrade easily.

Santini swore under his breath and went back to using the simulator’s instruments to check the helicopter’s systems and the mission map.

Their mission was to simply patrol an area near two villages in a small Central Asian nation, where an insurgency was ongoing. Cobra forces were rumoured to be in the area.

The Apache flew low across the simulated brown landscape toward the tan-coloured mud-walled buildings of the villages. The sun was setting as the Apache swept across the first village, marked on the crew’s navigation map as ‘Village 3-3’. Wild Bill was less creative than Ace when it came to place names.

Armour circled the village a couple of times, as Santini scanned the ground with the Apache’s cameras.

“Firebird 1-1 to Control, village 3-3 is quiet. No sign of hostiles. Proceeding to 7-8,” Armour reported over the radio to Wild Bill in the control room.

The senior pilot acknowledged the report. Next to him was the Joes’ newest helicopter pilot, Firebird. Needless to say, he’d chosen the call sign.

The Apache climbed and flew a gentle curving course away from village 3-3 to the next one, a few miles away.

As Firebird watched the screen showing the helicopter’s progress, he said to Wild Bill, “Here’s where the fun begins.”

Wild Bill didn’t reply.

In the simulator, Armour announced, “Village 7-8 coming up. Looks like a quiet weekend down there.”

“That’s a negative, One-One,” came Firebird’s voice over the intercom. “We’ve dialled in Monday morning and we’re open for business.”

In the front seat Santini rolled his eyes, without keying the intercom he said, “Damn, he does like quoting that movie, doesn’t he?”

Armour only grunted in reply. Firebird, it had transpired, was a huge fan of a Nicholas Cage movie called Firebirds which had tried to do for the Apache what Top Gun had done for the Navy’s Tomcats. It had failed at the box office and been panned. Firebird, however, had subjected the surviving candidate pilots to the film a few days earlier. Armour thought it wasn’t a bad movie, but wouldn’t admit that with Santini in earshot.

The Apache swept over the village at six hundred feet, as it passed over one small group of houses, anti-aircraft fire lashed out towards it. Armour hauled back on the stick, tipping the helicopter up to halt its forward progress. The tracer rounds flashed by, just missing it. Armour lowered the nose and snapped out, “look for it!” to Santini as the cameras on the nose came back into a useable position.

“Searching!” Santini snapped back.

Armour circled around, climbing as he did. The Apache rose to fifteen hundred feet.

“I can’t spot it, looks like it’s a mobile vehicle,” Santini said.

“Try using the Longbow radar,” Armour replied.

“Roger, dunno how useful it’ll be though,” Santini replied. “Lot of clutter down there to block the radar.”

Before Armour could reply, another stream of tracers sprayed out at them. Armour dropped the nose, dove, looped around and aimed at where the gunfire had come from.

“Target’s definitely mobile,” he said. “Probably a Dushka or an NSV in a pick-up truck.”

‘Dushka’ was the nickname for the Soviet-made DShK machine-gun.

“Got it, locked on,” Santini told him. “Firing cannon.”

The 30mm cannon rounds lashed out, a deep rumble filling the simulator module thanks to a unit in the base, design to mimic the gun firing.

“Negative hits, no hits,” Santini reported. “Damn thing moved as I fired. He hooked left down a side street.”

“Don’t try using a Hellfire,” Armour cautioned him, “stick to the cannon. Too much risk of civvy casualties.”

“Thanks for that, Carl,” Santini replied, sarcastically.

The helicopter swept over the village. “I lost him, stand by,” Santini said.

Firebird’s voice came over the radio.

“''One-one, this is control, Sierra Three-Two flight requires clearance over Village 7-8 to collect wounded Joes to the north of the village. We’ve got two critical cases here.”''

“Control, One-one, negative, negative. We have a mobile AA gun out here, too risky for the Tomahawks,” Armour replied.

“''One-one, you need to neutralise that gun stat. Evac for the wounded is time-critical and a direct flight over the village is required.”''

Santini cursed under his breath. “You know he’s just done that to screw with us, right?” he asked Armour.

“Of course.”

“Scanning the village again… Target acquired. Firing gun.”

Again, the M230 gun blazed. This time the Apache’s cannon hit the vehicle, crippling it as Armour flew overhead. The pilot slid the attack helicopter around in as tight a pivot as he could manage. Santini lined up and fired another burst from the gun and the pick-up truck exploded.

In the control room, Firebird looked at Wild Bill. He checked the radio/intercom was off.

“I think these guys are the ones, sir,” he said. “They took a lot less time to hit that thing than me and Windmill. They’ve consistently out-scored our standards and out-performed them across every mission. They’re also the best two Locust pilots, better than me even, and they’re good in the Tomahawk.”

Wild Bill nodded. “Just in time for the networked exercises to start before Action Force gets here.”

As the senior pilot stood, Firebird looked up, “Any closer to deciding who’s going to fly the Tomahawks?”

“Molloy for sure,” Wild Bill replied. “Probably Hal Danvers as well. Danvers is the best Locust pilot out of the other three candidates and only a few points below Molloy.”

“So, by the time Action Force arrives for the exercise, we’ll have our crews selected,” Firebird said.

“Yup,” Wild Bill said. “Danvers and Malloy are far better than the two jarheads.”

One week later

Nellis Air Force Base,

Nevada

Judith, Irish and Slugger sat at a picnic table near the runways, watching as the Action Force jets landed. First to land were the Q-Force Osprey strike fighters. The modified F/A-18s had blue fuselages with bright yellow painted wings, tail fins and nosecones. A large red stylised Q decorated the fins, whilst smaller ones were painted on the wings.

Next came the Space Force and Q-Force Skystrikers. Whilst a full Osprey squadron had been brought over, the two units had brought only six Skystrikers each. These were both painted a dull grey colour in stark contrast to the brightly painted Ospreys. The two Skystriker groups were only distinguishable by the Q-Force logo or the Space Force lightning bolt on the tail rudders. As they taxied clear, the last to land was the squadron of Conquest X-30s from Space Force. Like the Skystrikers, these were painted grey, with black tailfins. They lacked the shark-mouth nose art the GI Joe Conquests had had, and had Space Force logos on the tail rudders.

Judith stood up, “I’m going to get a closer look at the Conquests,” she said to the other two. “I wanted to fly one of them when the Navy evaluated them, but didn’t get the chance.”

Irish and Slugger just nodded.

Judith arrived at the parking area where the Conquests were as the fourth one was parking up and shutting down. She stood, looking at the left side of the plane, just behind the canard fore plane. The plane was decorated with several kill marker silhouettes. The pilot, Judith realised was an ace of aces. Over twenty-five kill marks decorated the side.

The pilot of the plane had scrambled down from the cockpit and spoke to the crew chief as Judith walked around the nose.

Judith was slightly startled to see the pilot was a woman. The pilot turned toward her as the crew chief headed off.

“Who are you?” the Action Force pilot asked.

“Lieutenant Judith Rainey, US Navy. I’m one of the candidate Joe pilots.”

“Oh, yeah. We were briefed about you guys. Didn’t some of the candidates just get dumped?”

“Yeah,” Judith nodded. “The five worst pilots were cut.”

“I’m Afterburner,” the woman suddenly said, apparently realising that she hadn’t introduced herself. “RAF Flight Lieutenant,” she added.

“You’ve got a lot of kills,” Judith said.

“That’s what eleven years in Action Force gets you,” Afterburner answered. “I was recruited as a new Pilot Officer, one of the first women pilots in the RAF. I joined AF in ’85 and flew the first batch of Skystrikers before we got our first Conquests in 1989. Been flying them since.”

Judith walked back around the plane. “Can I ask you about your kills?”

“What do you wanna know?” Afterburner replied.

“What’s with the Roboskull silhouettes being blue and red?” Judith asked, pointing to the top row, where two kill marks were red and four were blue.

“The red ones are from where I shot down Red Shadow Roboskulls. We found a base in Romania during our campaign after Ironblood was captured. SAS Force went into destroy them on the ground. I was one of the pilots flying cover. Six Roboskulls made it off the ground and I bagged two. The other four are ones I shot down later, when Red Wolf had defected to Cobra Europe with the surviving Roboskulls he had,” Afterburner explained.

Judith pointed to the second row where there were five plan-view silhouettes of Rattlers. One was a light grey, the other four were black. “What’s with the grey Rattler?” she asked.

Afterburner grinned. “It’s supposed to be silver. Means I’ve killed ten Rattlers. Cuts down the number of kill-marks. Get twenty kills of the same plane, you get a gold one. Not that anyone has yet.” She pointed to the other kills, “Same with the silver FANG on the bottom row, I’ve got twelve of them.” Afterburner pointed in turn to the other kill marks. “Two Hurricanes and two Condors from the campaign in Central Europe. They managed to get away from an airfield in Wolkekuckukland that SAS Force were attacking, along with some others. I managed to get four of them. I bagged Rattlers, FANGs and Trouble Bubbles in that campaign too. I got the Firebats on Operation Cheetah in central Africa. Picked up FANG, Trouble Bubble and Mamba kills there. The partial Night Raven was when we were flight-testing the Conquest X-30s. First pair we had, we took on exercise against a Skystriker. Got a call from a Norwegian radar base that they were tracking Rattlers and a Night Raven showed up to sneak pictures. Me, the second Conquest and the Skystriker all took a shot at the Night Raven at the same time. Sky Raider couldn’t figure out who got the kill, so all three pilots got to paint a half a Raven silhouette on their bird for the partial kill.”

Judith laughed. “Some career you’ve had,” she said.

Afterburner smiled. “Yeah, I coulda been the first woman Squadron Leader in the RAF if I’d stuck with them, but I like Action Force. I wouldn’t be an ace of aces in the RAF, flying boring-ass patrols over the North Sea, chasing off Soviet Bear bombers.”

“You could’ve got kills in the Gulf War,” Judith offered.

Afterburner snorted, “Sure, might’ve got a pair of crappy-ass MiGs, not a list of kills as long as my arm like this. Most of the IQAF was fragged in air strikes and what wasn’t ended up in Iran.”

Afterburner stuck her hand out. “Good luck with selection and I’ll probably see you in the air.”

Judith shook hands; “Don’t expect me to go easy on you, though.”

Afterburner laughed. “As if you or I would. We have to prove ourselves everyday, don’t we?”

Judith nodded.

The next time they met, it would likely be in the air, facing off against one another.

The sound of a different jet approaching made both women turn. It was a blue-painted compact jet. Judith frowned.

“Isn’t that a Firebat?” she asked.

Afterburner squinted, for a second. “Oh, it’s the Hailstorm,” she answered. “The Canadian Joe team’s jet. They’ve got a new pilot for it and I heard he was coming to the exercise.”

Indeed, as the Hailstorm flashed past on its landing roll, a large red maple leaf was visible on the fuselage.

Afterburner watched it slow down and then turn to taxi off the runway.

“That pilot better watch out against the Space Force Conquests. We’ve waxed Firebats before,” she commented.

Judith glanced back at Afterburner’s jet and the six Firebat silhouettes. This pilot was not a woman to mess with, she was sure.

The exercise began the next day, with Action Force’s Skystrikers and Conquest X-30s assigned to defend an airfield and command post from a combined force of GI Joe jets, the newly arrived A-10 Thunderbolt II anti-tank jets would attack the ground targets, whilst the Storm Eagles would engage the Action Force interceptors.

The Storm Eagles flashed across the Nevada desert low and fast as the A-10s raced in even lower, albeit slower.

Judith was flying in the third of the six Storm Eagles; Barrel Roll was flying lead, with the other four candidate pilots filling out the rest of the flight.

Judith’s eyes flicked around the cockpit, checking her instruments, the radar warning screen and out to the skies. The XP-14Fs were hunting the attacking group, the faint signals of their radars lighting up the warning screen. The mountains and ridges served to confuse the radar picture as the Skystrikers were flying at high altitude.

The Skystrikers were flying in groups of four, rather than wing-pairs. One pair was closing in on the strike group’s ingress route, just as an air-search radar from a surface-to-air missile battery became active in their path.

“Storm Lead, Thunder Lead,” came the voice of the A-10 flight leader over the radio. “You guys hold off the enemy fighters, we’ll handle the SAM site.”

“Roger that, Thunder Lead,” Barrel Roll replied. “Storm Flight, increase altitude to fifteen thousand, prepare for air-to-air combat.”

The six Storm Eagles screamed upward, suddenly appearing on the radar of the Action Force fighters, despite the fighters’ stealthy profile.

Each of the six Joe fighters armed their missiles, opened the internal weapons bay and began trying to get a lock on the Action Force jets.

The four Skystrikers immediately veered off, splitting into two pairs and firing off chaff.

Judith’s radar screen began to fuzz as the Action Force fighters activated their radar jammers.

The pilot cursed as she increased the power of the Storm Eagle’s radar to achieve a ‘burn through’, to counter-act the jamming.

As the Storm Eagles and Skystrikers danced through the sky, desperately trying to lock on to one another, without being locked up themselves, Dogfight had broken his A-10 away from the others to launch a Maverick missile at the SAM site when a second went active.

“Three’s on it,” Bombstrike called over the radio. She’d been flying the A-10 for several years now and knew the fighter intimately. She dropped low to the ground, armed her weapons panel and lined up on the wooden ‘launch trailer’ and its logs that represented a surface-to-air battery and fired her Maverick missile.

The AGM-65 missile obliterated the plywood target. Bombstrike flew through the smoke cloud as she pulled back up. She wasn’t worried; the A-10 could take a serious pounding and still keep flying.

Judith pulled the Storm Eagle in a tight turn, dropping on to the tail of one of the Q-Force Skystrikers. Her radar locked on, having finally burned through the jamming, and the lock held for the ten seconds the exercise rules dictated.

The Skystriker promptly stopped trying to avoid her, rolled out wings-level and turned north to exit the exercise area as the rules of engagement required.

Judith’s computer promptly blared a warning, another Skystriker was trying to lock on to her. She threw the fighter into a snap roll, shoved the throttle forward and then hauled back on the stick, climbing rapidly. The Skystriker tried to follow her, but as Judith pulled the fighter over into a loop-the-loop, she saw the Skystriker hadn’t managed to climb as fast as she had.

The Storm Eagle nosed over and Judith locked on to the Skystriker and held the lock, gaining her second kill.

As Judith dropped her fighter away from the retreating Skystriker, her radar chirped. She glanced at the screen. Then took a second longer look.

“Storm Flight, Three, we’ve got more hostiles inbound!” she called out over the radio. “Conquests!”

Six of the forward-swept-wing fighters were screaming toward the rolling melee between the fighters. Judith brought her air dominance fighter around and immediately locked on to one of the Conquests, which fired off chaff, activated its electronic counter-measures to jam her radar and rolled and dove away from her.

Judith threw her Storm Eagle into a dive, pursuing the Action Force jet. Her radar burned through the jamming more easily this time and she locked on to the Conquest, but it managed to break the lock, sliding around a butte as the timer on Judith’s screen reached seven seconds.

Judith flew around the rocky formation, just in time to see the Conquest rolling out to head back at her. She shoved the throttle forward, escaping from the fighter’s attempt to lock on. Judith hauled back on the throttle and the control stick, coming around as tight as she could.

The Conquest pilot threw the fighter into a zoom-climb to get away. Judith brought her fighter’s nose up, looking for the missile lock she needed.

Another Storm Eagle was descending toward the Conquest, which found itself trapped between the two GI Joe jets. The Conquest suddenly reduced speed, dropped its nose and turned north.

“''Storm Three, this is Two. Did you get the kill?”'' Slugger radioed.

“Negative, Two, I had missile lock for eight seconds before he broke off. I thought you got the kill.”

“''That’s a negative, Three. I had lock for six seconds.”''

“Ha! The pilot must’ve figured he couldn’t break both our locks and quit!” Judith laughed.

The two Storm Eagles split apart and headed back to the rolling dogfight. Judith scanned the area. Three of the Skystrikers were out of the fight along with three of the Conquests. The Joes were also down a Storm Eagle, Five, flown by ‘Gangster’. Dillinger and Buchanen had scraped through to make up the five candidate pilots alongside Irish, Slugger and Judith, but it seemed he’d been unlucky this time.

Judith could see the A-10s were speeding out of the area of the dogfight, hugging the terrain to avoid detection, but two Conquests were chasing them.

Judith shoved the throttle to full, diving after the Action Force jets.

“Storm Three to Thunder Flight, you have bandits on your six!” she hollered over the radio. “Am in pursuit!”

“Solid copy, Storm Three,” Thunder Lead replied.

The A-10s split up, forcing the Conquests to split up as well. Judith pursued one of the Conquests as it went after Thunder Four and Five.

The two A-10 pilots were good, Judith could see, both were executing rapid S-turns to constantly block the Action Force pilot’s attempts to lock on to either of them. The Space Force pilot was also target-fixated; she was able to close in and lock on without him realising until her missile locked on. The Conquest climbed and turned north.

“Thunder Four, Thunder Five, you’re all clear,” Judith radioed, before climbing away herself, to try to find the second Conquest.

“Copy, Storm Three, thanks for the assist,” replied Freestyle.

Judith spotted the second Conquest. She checked her load-out. She had two missiles remaining: exercise rules dictated the Storm Eagles carried six AIM-7 Sparrows, like the Skystrikers and Conquests.

She threw the Storm Eagle into a banking turn, rolled out level and dropped on to the Conquest’s tail. It immediately began sliding back and forth across her nose as the pilot executed rapid S-turns to try to avoid a lock. Since the A-10s were doing the same, it was a stalemate. Neither of the air-dominance fighters could lock on to their enemies. Judith cursed, then throttled back, allowing the Conquest to pull away from her, but giving her a greater ability to line up her missile to lock on.

Her fifth kill followed.

The A-10s reformed into their attack group and Judith climbed clear of them as the remaining Conquests began diving out of the sky to try to intercept the anti-tank jets.

As they did, the surviving Storm Eagles arrived. A second dogfight erupted even as the A-10s dropped into the broad, shallow valley where the target airfield was.

Bombstrike armed her weapons as her A-10 swooped toward the enemy airfield complex.

A short-range surface-to-air missile site activated its radar. She immediately called her intention to attack it and launched a Maverick missile, which obliterated the wooden target.

To her left, Dogfight was engaging an ASP battery with his GAU-8 Avenger Gatling gun, the 30mm shells shredded the wooden anti-air gun battery.

Ahead of her, the flight leader had already launched a pair of Mavericks at the control tower and the adjacent antenna farm. The wooden targets were burning wrecks in seconds.

Bringing up the rear, Freestyle and the other pilot no one remembered the name of broke off and dropped a pair of Paveway laser-guided bombs on the large fuel tanks and the associated pumping equipment.

Bombstrike lined up her next attack run and dropped two Paveways on two of the hardened aircraft shelters. Seconds later, Dogfight destroyed another pair.

Judith dropped on to the tail of a Conquest that was chasing down Freestyle’s A-10. Her final Sparrow missile locked on and the Conquest pulled away before it could ‘shoot down’ the GI Joe plane.

Judith climbed away from the airfield as the A-10s criss-crossed the valley, destroying the remaining shelters, the wooden dummy Condor and Hurricane attack jets on the parking ramp and the other short-range SAM and triple-A units.

Two Conquests survived, whilst three of the Storm Eagles were still in the fight. Judith checked her radar; the Identification Friend or Foe beacons indicated Bucky and Barrel Roll had been administratively killed, whilst Irish and Slugger still lived.

Ace’s voice suddenly came over the radio.

“All callsigns, all callsigns,” he radioed. “''Knock it off, knock it off. Exercise is over. The A-10s have destroyed the airfield. GI Joe have lost half their Storm Eagles. Action Force are down most of their Conquests and all their Skystrikers. This one’s done. Meet the tankers as briefed and return to base for debrief.”''

Judith pulled her Storm Eagle into a slow climb, reducing her speed, and turned to head out of the exercise area to where two KC-135 tankers would be waiting to refuel the jets that needed it. According to the exercise rules, the Joes would be judged the winners if they destroyed the airfield and kept at least four Storm Eagles intact. They’d achieved the first but failed the second. Action Force’s objectives were to protect the airfield and destroy at least four Storm Eagles. They’d failed both.

That meant GI Joe had ‘won’, but at a cost.

The fighters returned to Nellis.

Two days later

Bombstrike was flying the A-10 again on the latest exercise. She, along with Dogfight, Freestyle and Skystriker, were flying a simulated attack on a forward GI Joe camp, pretending to be Cobra Rattlers, whilst Snowbird was flying the Hailstorm jet.

The four A-10s were speeding toward the camp at low-level. Suddenly, the Hailstorm screamed around a mesa and sped toward them from the port-rear quarter.

Snowbird lined up on the A-10 flown by Freestyle and activated his radar for a missile lock. He was carrying four AIM-7 Sparrows for the exercise.

Freestyle immediately popped chaff canisters and threw the A-10 into a steep climbing turn away from the formation.

Snowbird simply shifted right and locked on to Dogfight, flying at the rear of the group. He locked on as the pilot was started a shallow dive, before suddenly climbing as he realised he was too low.

In his cockpit, Dogfight could hear the warning growl of the missile lock, as well as see the ‘Missile Lock’ blinking on and off on the computer screen. He cursed, fired off chaff and rolled right into a turn.

Snowbird stayed on him, holding the lock.

“Scratch one mock-Rattler,” he radioed as the ten-second limit ran out.

He glanced down at his radar screen, then hauled his control stick to the left, shoving the throttle to the stops as he did. Freestyle’s A-10 shot past.

“''You got lucky there, Canucklehead! I nearly had you with a cannon burst!”'' Freestyle radioed.

Snowbird didn’t reply, instead he rolled wings-level, pulled back on the stick and climbed.

The A-10s split up as he levelled off at 10,000 feet. Shutting off his radar left the A-10s with the choice of whether to try searching for him visually or to risk a short radar scan to locate him, which would also highlight their position.

Snowbird decided to force their hands. He rolled inverted, so he could look down at the ground from ‘above’ his canopy and then dove.

The Hailstorm’s advanced multi-mode radar allowed Snowbird to detect the A-10s as they tried to hug the ground and ‘disappear’ in the clutter of the terrain. The Hailstorm however, was able to pick out Freestyle’s A-10 as she wound her way along a narrow river canyon. Snowbird paced her, flying above the canyon, waited until she popped out as the canyon ended in a dead-end and promptly locked her up as she climbed.

“Scratch two!” he crowed over the radio. His threat-warning receiver howled at him as Skystriker swept in, trying to lock on.

Snowbird threw the Hailstorm into full afterburner, accelerating away from the A-10, looped around and found himself aimed straight at Bombstrike.

The Canadian immediately armed his guns and held gunlock on her.

“Three down!” he yelled over the radio.

Skystriker laughed over the radio. “I have you now!” he crowed as he dove toward the Hailstorm.

The compact fighter couldn’t get out of his sights fast enough.

“Hailstorm down!” Skystriker whooped over his radio.

“Nice work, colonel,” came Ace’s voice over the command channel. “''However, you lost three of your flight and the camp is now on alert. Your mission is a bust.”''

Skystriker laughed, “I don’t care! That means Cobra loses!”

Ace laughed himself.

Two days later

The five helicopters sped low across the desert floor. They were low enough to be dodging around the terrain and hard to spot in the ground clutter, but high enough to avoid kicking up sand from their rotors.

The three Apaches led the way, in a triangular formation, with the two Tomahawks behind them.

On board the Tomahawks were the Joes’ Navy SEAL team and Special Forces team. The mission for this exercise was for the Tomahawks to insert the teams to assault a building complex, while escorted by the Apaches. Overhead, the Storm Eagles were flying cover, hunting Action Force’s Conquests who were trying to intercept the helicopters.

The lead Apache was being flown by Carl Armour, now codenamed ‘Crossblades’, with Frank Santini, now ‘Wildfire’, acting as his gunner. Windmill and Wild Bill flew the other two, with Firebird and Updraft as their respective gunners.

Crossblades was constantly scanning around the night sky, using his monocle to see in the dark, whilst also flicking his eyes down to check the instruments every few seconds. In front of him, Wildfire was also constantly scanning back and forth, watching for threats the Longbow radar might’ve missed.

The Apaches flew across a low ridgeline, dropping toward the lower terrain as they did.

“Pop-up target,” Wildfire called, “Mobile AA gun, not moving, no radar active. Longbow missed it, but I have visual. Laser coming on. Target lock. Firing Hellfire.”

The helicopter-launched fire-and-forget missile sped off the quad-mount launch rail and streaked across the night sky before homing in on the wooden target and obliterating it.

“Scratch one target.”

The Longbow radar beeped a warning. “Mobile SAM vehicle. Target locked. Firing Hellfire,” Wildfire reported.

A second time, Wildfire turned his head and made sure not to be blinded by the rocket motor of the missile as it sped away from the attack helicopter.

“Target destroyed.”

Crossblades checked his map screen. “Objective is twenty miles away. We’ll be in the area in five minutes. Be ready,”

“Don’t worry, bro, I was born ready,” Wildfire retorted.

The helicopters dropped into a broad dry lakebed. One of many in the area. The Tomahawks pulled to a halt, going into a hover as the three Apaches raced forwards.

The three attack copters split up. Several more wooden targets were scattered across the valley. Mobile SAM sites, a pair of small bunkers, several light vehicles and four mobile AA guns. Each was sought out and hit by the three AH-64s, either by a Hellfire missile, a barrage of Hydra rockets to even 30mm cannon fire.

The main objectives were several buildings made of wood, surrounded by a fence, watchtowers, gun-nests and trenches.

Wildfire laid his targeting pipper on one of the trenches and fired a burst of cannon fire. Windmill sped in to attack as Crossblades pulled away, with Firebird launching Hydra rockets at one of the sandbag reinforced machine-gun nests. Windmill pulled away as Wild Bill’s Apache screamed in and Updraft launched Hydra rockets at one of the watchtowers.

The helicopters kept up the attack, moving in and hitting targets before pulling out and allowing another to move in and strike from a different direction.

Finally, the targets around the complex had been destroyed.

“Eightball One-Six, this is Wildfire Zero-One, target area suppressed. You’re clear in with commandos,” Crossblades reported. Wildfire had won the coin toss to choose the Apaches’ call sign before losing the second toss to decide who actually flew the helicopter.

“Zero-One, One-Six copies,” replied Paul Molloy who was flying the lead Tomahawk with Lift-Ticket as his co-pilot.

The Apaches pulled back to half a mile from the complex, orbiting at ten thousand feet. The two Tomahawks screamed in at two hundred feet, before sliding to a halt near the rooftops of the tallest buildings. On board both transport helicopters, one of the respective commandos threw out and rope before the teams slid down them to the roof. Immediately spring-loaded targets began popping up, which the commandos began shooting.

The Tomahawks pulled away, clearing the area.

Firebird was watching the situation with his low-light TV camera as the SEALs and Special Forces team moved across the roof, blew off an access door and disappeared inside the buildings.

As the Apaches circled overhead, more pop-up targets appeared around the two buildings and atop the roofs of several of the smaller buildings.

“Dolphin Six, Falcon Six, this is Wildfire Zero-Two, visual on multiple armed pax moving around your buildings. Be advised, personnel are surrounding you and on nearby rooftops,” Firebird reported over the radio.

“Dolphin Six copies,” replied Night Fox, one of the new SEALs.

“Falcon Six copies,” replied Recoil, who was the radio operator for the SF team.

As the Apaches circled, the two commando teams shot several of the targets from inside the buildings, but they soon realised there was no way they could engage all of them. Which had, of course, been planned when the exercise was set up.

“''Wildfire, this is Falcon Six Actual. We’re unable to target all enemies. Request fire support on all sides of target buildings. Danger close,”'' came the voice of Captain Falcon.

“Falcon Six Actual, Wildfire Zero-One. Copy your request for fire support, danger close. Stand by.” Crossblades switched to the channel between the Apaches. “Two, Three, stand by for danger close on ground targets. Recommend you stick to the gun; targets are within twenty metres of friendly forces. Zero-One is engaging.”

Crossblades took the helicopter in lower toward the buildings, Wildfire armed the 30mm cannon, slaved it to his monocle and then locked on to the group of enemies closest to one of the buildings, who were positioned by several parked vehicles.

“Targets set, firing,” he told Crossblades.

The gun thumped beneath his feet as the rounds flashed out, every fifth round a tracer, drawing a line across the dark sky like a laser beam. Two of the vehicles exploded under the onslaught, wiping out several of the targets, whilst the others were cut to pieces by the cannon fire.

The Apache screamed over the buildings, looping around to clear the complex.

“''Wildfire Zero-Two, rolling in hot. Guns, guns, guns,”'' radioed Windmill. The second Apache annihilated a group of four targets on a rooftop before firing at a group of three partially concealed from the commandos by a large concrete plant-box. The planter exploded from two near misses.

“Zero-Three, in hot,” reported Wild Bill next.

Wildfire was already lining up his next targets as he saw the third AH-64 speed by, gun blazing. Crossblades brought the Apache in for the second run and Wildfire unleashed a second 10-round burst, obliterating another set of targets on a second rooftop.

“Good kills, good kills,” Crossblades reported, watching the repeater display for the gun camera. “Multiple confirmed kills.”

Windmill came in for his second run, Firebird wiped out a squad near the second building where the SEALs were.

“''Zero-Two, this is Dolphin Six Actual, good hits. I see lots of little pieces out there. Keep up the fire,”'' reported Torpedo.

The helicopters completed three passes each, wiping out the targets. The commando teams moved out, working quickly to cross to a smaller building.

Minutes later, the radio call came, “''Wildfire, Eightball, Falcon and Dolphin teams are on the move to LZ Alpha. Package is secure. Repeat, package is secure.”''

The two Tomahawks quickly pulled out of their waiting orbits and sped to the side of the complex. The two Tomahawks dropped into a hover, keeping their wheels a foot off the ground, with the rear ramps lowered.

The commandos ran through the dust kicked up by the transport helicopters’ rotors, leaping on to the ramps before trotting forward to throw themselves into the seats. Then they lifted upward, climbing clear of the complex.

“Eagle Lead, this is Wildfire Zero-One, we are outbound from target complex. Package is secure, repeat, package is secure,” Wildfire radioed as Crossblades steered the Apache after the Tomahawks.

“''Zero-One, this is Eagle Three. Roger, Eagle Lead is down. We’ll cover your egress as best we can. We lost Two and Four as well.”''

Crossblades didn’t answer at first. “Copy your last, Eagle Three. Zero-One out,” he finally said.

Crossblades saw Wildfire looking at him in the small mirror on the cockpit frame. “Who was flying which jet tonight?” Crossblades asked.

Wildfire looked down at the small clipboard attached to his thigh. “Eagle Lead was Gangster. Two was being flown by Bucky. Four was Barrel Roll. So the survivors are Slugger, Irish and the chick.”

“Don’t let anyone else hear you calling her that,” Crossblades said. “Your ass will be in a sling.”

Wildfire snorted. “I wouldn’t mind her ass in my sling. She’s pretty hot.”

“Say that again and you’ll be in trouble too,” Crossblades warned him. “Remember, she’s an officer and a pilot, not a woman. Even if you think she is a babe.”

Wildfire snorted again. “Don’t you think she is?”

Crossblades shook his head, “That’s irrelevant.”

Three days later

Ace gathered the final five pilot candidates in a briefing room. The last exercise had taken place the day before.

“Okay. So, going into these exercises I had a pretty good idea of who I wanted on the team and your performances have confirmed those opinions. The GI Joe team sets high standards for all our roles. Standards higher than those demanded by the regular military a lot of the time. Three of you met those standards. Two didn’t,” Ace told them.

The pilots exchanged looks. Before Ace could go any further, Clyde Dillinger, ‘Gangster’, stood up, saluted and said, “Sir, it’s been a privilege to have been part of your selection. I thank you for your time and consideration, sir.”

Ace returned the salute. “Second Lieutenant Dillinger, you are a credit to the United States Marine Corps. It has been a honour to see you fly and to have had you along. Your performances would do any regular unit proud. I commend you on your behaviour. Thank you for attending this Selection course.”

Gangster looked to the others, “Been a blast, guys and gal. See you around some time.”

“Lieutenant Dillinger, you’re dismissed,” Ace said, formally. Gangster saluted once more, before striding out.

Everyone else looked at Jimmy Buchanen. Bucky stared at them.

“What?”

Ace said, “Lieutenant, despite your efforts, you didn’t make the grade. Like Dillinger, you’ve failed to join GI Joe. Your performance was, however, a credit to the United States Navy. You are dismissed.”

Bucky stood slowly, gave a drawn out salute and then left without a word.

Slugger looked at Ace, “He was utterly convinced he’d passed, sir.”

Ace shrugged. “He may have been, but I’m sure you realised he wasn’t good enough. In truth, he was the fifth best of you. Gangster was close to passing, but he was five per cent off. He just had the good grace to realise he wasn’t good enough.”

“So who was third?” Irish asked.

Ace laughed. “Like I’m going to tell you that. All you three need to know is that you all passed my grade by over five per cent. You are the new GI Joe pilots. You just need to pick codenames and we’ll get the paperwork sorted out when we report back to the PIT.”

“I’m sticking to Slugger, if I may,” Carlos said.

“Not a problem, Captain.”

“I’d like to pick ‘Amazon’,” Judith said. “For some reason, I never picked up a nickname in the Navy, so that’ll do.”

“Fine by me,” Ace answered.

They looked at Irish. He shook his head, “Damned if I’m going by ‘Irish’ any more. I choose ‘Banshee’, it’s a cool name.”

The newly named Amazon laughed. “You do know Banshees in Irish mythology are female, right?”

The other pilot looked at her, surprised. “Tell that to Sean Cassidy.”

Now Amazon looked confused. “Who?”

“The Irish dude in the X-Men comics. His name’s Banshee. It’s why I picked the name. I liked him when he was in the X-Men.”

Amazon shook her head. “Well, it’s true. Banshees are female, same as Sirens in Greek myth.”

The other pilot shrugged. “I’ll stick with it.”

Ace returned the shrug. “Your choice. Banshee it is.”

So named, the three pilots headed out of the briefing room, the newest GI Joe members.

Story Notes
The idea with this story was to introduce new GI Joe pilots. I’d decided the Joes were rather short handed in that area. Ace is the only real air-to-air pilot since Dogfight, Ghost Rider, Skystriker and Freestyle are more ground-attack pilots in the fighter jet department. So I decided I would introduce more. I was looking at other possible pilot characters and decided to use Barrel Roll from the early 2000s as a fighter pilot. His background on his file-card is a mess: a sniper with a fixed wing secondary pilot speciality, who’s enlisted. All US military pilots are officers, no officers are snipers. It’s crazy. So I decided, stuff it, he’s an F-15C air-to-air pilot. I decided to make his sister Bombstrike an A-10 pilot. She’s a forward air controller in the toys, but women aren’t allowed to do that job in the US forces. I know, women have only just been allowed into Ranger School, which Scarlett and Jaye completed, but you could at least argue their covert ops types and could’ve done it secretly. Anyways, that left me with five ground-attack pilots and 2 flying air-to-air. So, I decided to add three new pilots and to make them Navy and Marine aviators since there’s a distinct lack of non-USAF fighter pilots in GI Joe and no USMC officers.

I similarly decided the Joes needed more helo pilots given they’ve only got five: Wild Bill, Lift Ticket, Windmill, Updraft and Major Altitude. I decided Wild Bill and Updraft could fly one attack copter, Lift Ticket and Major Altitude could fly a Tomahawk and then Windmill would need a co-pilot in a second attack copter. I made the decision to have a ‘squadron’ of ten pilots, flying three attack birds and two transports. I therefore elected to have two Navy pilots to fly the second Tomahawk and two Marines to fly the third Apache, with an Army guy to join Windmill. This being based on the lack of non-US Army helo pilots. I only made Windmill’s co-pilot an Army guy because I came up with the back-story of him being an Apache instructor and a fan-boy of the movie ‘Firebirds’ aka ‘Wings of the Apache’, which led to his codename.

The idea of the pilots being able to fly both ground-attack and air-to-air in the X-16 was based on the idea that the X-16 should be a multi-role jet like the real-life F-16.

I decided to give the Joes A-10s because they’re a good attack aircraft still in service today and Hasbro had done a redeco of the Rattler as the A-10 in 1997.

Similarly, I decided to give them Apache helicopters since it’s America’s premier attack copter and by the mid-90s was already replacing the aged AH-1 which is the real-life version of the Dragonfly and Hasbro had released an Apache in 1992 in the Sonic Fighters line. The Locust mentioned here, is the small, single-seat, 1990 one, not the redeco of the Dragonfly from 2000.

Judith Rainey’s name is taken from two of the first female USN aviators, Judith Neuffer (first woman to fly P-3 Orions) and Barbara Allen Rainey (first woman to earn USN aviators wings). Carlos Sanchez and Mike O’Malley’s names were just made up to sound Hispanic and Irish respectively. Billy Guthrie’s name is a play on Billy Lee Guthrie in the movie Firebirds aka Wings of the Apache. Carl Armour is named for Marion Carl, the first Marine helicopter pilot and Vernice Armour, who was the first African-American female aviator in the USMC, and the US military. She flew AH1 attack helos. Francis ‘Frank’ Santini is named for Francis ‘Frank’ Murphy in Blue Thunder and Dominic Santini in Airwolf. Hal Danvers is named after two of comics most famous pilots-turned-superheroes Hal ‘Green Lantern’ Jordan and Carol ‘Captain Marvel’ Danvers. Paul Molloy is named for Paul ‘PJ’ Johns and Daniel ‘Bear’ Molloy in Tom Clancy’s novels ‘Clear and Present Danger’ and ‘Rainbow Six’ respectively.

Snowbird is named after the Canadian Air Force’s aerobatic display team.

The story ended up being long, but much shorter than I had originally intended to avoid it becoming to repetitive. I had planned more scenes of the fighter pilots battling simulated Cobra jets for one thing. I tried to mix things up to make the flight scenes less similar.

The incident with the Action Force fighters engaging the Night Raven near Norway is the Combined Verse version of the story in the Action Force Annual from 1990.