A-10s over Kosovo (illustrations removed)

Buster’s radio call, as Meegs reminded us later, was “I got a whole schmit-load of movers!” Before he could finish the sentence, I picked up the convoy he was talking about—eight or so vehicles southbound on a dirt road. I could tell they were really hauling because, even from 16,000 feet, I could see the vehicles moving in three dimensions as they pounded through the terrain. I remember seeing the front end of one APC coming up and then crashing back down—spewing up dirt and dust. Buster quickly rolled in, locked up a vehicle with a Maverick, and fired.

That one attack not only destroyed the vehicle it hit, but also furthered our efforts by splitting the convoy into north and south elements, providing a mark for other fighters. Splitting the convoy was important because it allowed us to attack three or four of the vehicles and to hand off the remaining ones to Meegs and his CBUs. Using a Maverick missile or a 500 lb Mk-82 bomb to mark a target was a technique we quickly embraced. These larger munitions had the potential to destroy a target element, their visual effects lasted longer, and they were easier to see from the extreme altitudes at which we worked. They had proven to be better marks than the more traditional, and much smaller, white-phosphorous rockets.

Buster attacked the northern target element again with two Mk-82s. Before we had a chance to evaluate his damage, he found another convoy about a mile northeast of the first and attacked it by dropping his last two Mk-82s and strafing with his 30 mm cannon. Meegs was still working fighters on the southern element of the first convoy. A flight of two F-16CGs arrived to strike for Buster but missed with their first LGB attack and then lost sight of the target. Buster told me to hit the target with my Mk-82s and directed the F-16s to watch the target area for my bombs. I rolled in—north to south—and strung four bombs along the convoy. It was a good pass, and the bombs were effective as more than just a mark. Buster’s call as I came off target was, “Oh, that’s beautiful. Hit my wingman’s smoke.” The F-16s then ran a successful LGB attack and destroyed the southern-most vehicle before having to depart for fuel. We then attempted a couple of IIR Maverick passes but could not lock on to the targets because the many fires on the ground washed out the IR contrast. Even so, the convoy had been pretty well destroyed.

\Photo: APC destroyed by A-10

Buster and I worked south to look for more targets. Buster, again trusting my ability to cover him, looked through his binoculars and thought he saw some muzzle flashes on the ground. We were constantly getting jammed on at least one of our three radios—and occasionally on all of them. Other friendly aircraft were using one of our two partially clear radios, and Buster was transmitting on the remaining radio, trying to talk my eyes onto the target area, when I saw two groups of large, dark smoke clouds appear between our jets. I started to jink and called out the threat. As I finished my call, I could still hear Buster transmitting on the same frequency and realized that he had not heard my threat call. We had stepped on each other’s transmissions. That meant Buster and I were simultaneously transmitting to each other, and since a radio’s receiver is disabled during its transmissions, neither of us heard the other’s call. I again tried to alert him, but my warning was either jammed or stepped on. I don’t remember being too concerned about my own safety—probably because it looked as though they were shooting at him and not me. I do remember the incredible feeling of helplessness—watching my friend and flight lead getting shot at and not being able to communicate with him. I thought he was going to take a hit because the AAA airbursts looked huge compared to the size of his aircraft. I eventually got ahold of him and we beat feet out of the area.

After we regrouped and headed back into the target area, I started to think about them shooting at me. Although I definitely felt some fear, I was hoping that they would shoot at us again so we could see where it came from and retaliate. Again—as Buster searched for targets—I saw more airbursts. We had returned at a little higher altitude than the first time, so the clouds of flak were now below us. I called the threat to Buster, and he searched for their position on the ground. While these gunners were apparently having no trouble finding us, we were having no luck finding them. Fortunately our high altitude and constant maneuvering kept them from being able to hit us.