A-10s over Kosovo (illustrations removed)

While we were in the area looking for the shooters, Buster found yet another convoy. We were too low on gas to set up an attack, so we headed for the tanker and passed that target off to another set of fighters. On the way out we heard Meegs call, “I think I took a hit.” During a rocket pass he had noticed AAA muzzle flashes, and then his caution panel lit up as he pulled off target. He quickly realized his aircraft was losing hydraulic fluid, and, even though he was able to stop the leak, he eventually lost one of his two hydraulic systems. On the ground, his crew chief determined that he had not taken a hit but had just suffered from a noncombat-related hydraulic failure. What a coincidence!

On 14 May I was scheduled to fly a mission check ride with Capt Scrape Johnson. I would fly as an AFAC, work the eastern half of Kosovo, and use Snoopy 61 as our call sign. Scrape would evaluate me while flying my wing. I was pumped about the mission—the weather was great, and we had some good target information from our squadron intelligence. We were passed new target coordinates over the radio as we entered the AOR, and I commenced what I would now describe as a wild-goose chase. Such chases were not uncommon since targets passed in this fashion were considered high priority, and we were required to search for them. We learned from experience that these precise coordinates seldom resulted in actually finding a viable military target—I had much better luck just looking for targets in the main areas of interest. We, nevertheless, spent a good half hour plotting coordinates and searching those areas.

I found a large tunnel south of Urosevac with fresh tank tracks leading to its entrance. I could just make something out at the opening but was unable to identify it with the binoculars because of the shadows. I set up for a Maverick pass, thinking I might be able to use the IR seeker to confirm that the object was a valid target. If so, I planned to launch the Maverick, destroy the target, and seal off the tunnel and all its equipment.

Unfortunately, I was still unable to ID the object and began my slow climb back to altitude. While my Hog, with its grossly underpowered engines, strained to get me back to altitude, I rolled into an easy right turn and started using the binos to try to ID the object again. It was then that I heard Scrape’s excited voice call, “BREAK!”

I had been flying with my knees; my left hand was on the throttles, and the binos were in my right. I was not in a good position to execute the break turn. I dropped the binos, rolled right, honked back on the stick, and put out a string of flares. As I checked six I saw the smoke trail of a SAM behind my aircraft. The smoke trail went all the way down to the ground and ended in a burned-out house on the north end of a small town. I felt as though I was looking down a 15,000-foot kite string. I was not at all happy with the guy flying the kite. I asked Scrape if he could tell exactly where the missile had come from, thinking that he was in a better position to attack, since he had more altitude and airspeed than I. He said, “No,” so I replied, “One will be in with the gun; Two cover.”

\Photo: Capt David “Beau” Easterling straps in for another sortie over the KEZ

I checked my airspeed and altitude, and then cursed my engines for not having more thrust. I wanted to roll in right away and shoot, but I needed more altitude to minimize the chance of getting hit by another missile. I checked my gas and realized that this was going to be our only pass on this target before we had to head for the tanker. I set up for a 60-degree strafe pass and checked that the gun-ready light was on. As I rolled in, I thought about the gravity of this situation; I was looking death in the face. I put the pipper on the target and let fly with 150 rounds or so and started my recovery. I couldn’t tell for sure whether the rounds had hit their mark—but I didn’t receive any return fire.

We headed south for gas and passed to ABCCC the information about the SAM launch and our subsequent attack. We had just pulled up behind the tanker when a two-ship of Turkish TF-16s pulled up, declared emergency fuel, and jumped on the tanker in front of me during my scheduled air-refueling time. I was angry because I was really in a hurry to get back and look for whatever had shot at me. We refueled, and as we were about to go back in country, Scrape noticed that he had expended all of his chaff. We couldn’t go in country without it, so we had to head home early. As I recalled this sortie and put the details down on paper, I realized that I had never said thanks for that “break” call—thanks, Scrape!