A-10s over Kosovo (illustrations removed)

“Copy that.” I turned my attention to Dirt: “Try to put in those Mk-82s, and I’ll extend to the northeast.”

Dirt called back, “Tell me when you want the roll in.”

“Yeah, as soon as you can.” Dirt dropped his three bombs for direct hits on two of the revetments. Their explosions caused huge secondaries.

“Visual, in hot.” Dodge saw the mark and requested permission to attack. I cleared him and watched as his CBU tore through two more revetments.

As Dodge reset for his wingman to drop more CBUs, I began to focus on the AAA sites. I put my binos on the position and noted four gun pits. They were tiny and impossible to lock up with a Maverick, but I still had my 30 mm gun available for strafing them. As I considered my next move, I noticed a large truck and trailer, not more than 100 meters from the pits. They were barely visible in a tree line down in a ravine. There was only one reason for that type of vehicle to be there next to AAA pits. It had to be the ammo truck, a far more lucrative target.

That decision was easy. As Dodge 62 began his bomb run, I called up a Maverick. The AAA, which had been silent, began to come up as Dodge’s CBUs rained down. AAA exploded in a string of pearls just beneath me. This was a pass I wanted to make only once. I got a steady cross on the truck and hammered down on the pickle button. It seemed an eternity before the 500 pounds of missile began to move off the rail. In reality it was less than a second, and as it accelerated towards the target, I pulled off hard and began jinking. It was going to take 20 seconds for impact, so I waited a few seconds before rolling the jet over.

The impact took me by surprise. The missile slammed directly into the trailer and set off a series of secondaries like I have never seen. Fire reached for the sky like the Fourth of July.

“Unbelievable,” was all the ever-cool Dirt could muster. Most importantly, the AAA shut down instantaneously and Dodge 62 could call for his next mark. Completely out of bombs, I returned to place two Willy Pete rockets on the site. Dodge 62 dropped good CBUs before the flight returned to base.

Because the British Harriers worked alongside us at Gioia, I was able to compare notes with Dodge flight the next day. Reviewing the film from their EO targeting pods, we made a startling discovery. The long-range artillery tubes we took out were actually launchers for Frog 7 surface-to-surface missiles, similar to Scuds.

It was incredible to watch as the Frog launchers exploded under the rain of CBUs. We counted secondaries off five launchers, all pointed towards the Macedonian border.

All told, Dirt and I, the Canadian CF-18s, F-15Es, and British Harriers destroyed five artillery pieces, an APC, five Frog 7 launchers, and an ammo-storage trailer. Not bad for a day’s work.

This Time It’s Real Maj Dave “Devo” Gross

After flying numerous pseudocombat sorties over Bosnia during several earlier deployments in support of the no-fly zone, the 81st FS received orders to return to Aviano AB, Italy, to fight what was certain to be a shooting war over Kosovo. I sat in the back of the 81st FS briefing room on that cold and rainy February afternoon. I listened to the deployment brief, ready to go to war and fight for what is right in the world—but my name was not on the Aviano deployment list.

“What do you mean I have to ask my boss if I can deploy with the squadron?” I asked incredulously.

Lt Col Kimos Haave replied, “Devo, you work for Colonel Jouas (ops group commander) now, and he will decide if you can deploy with the squadron. Of course we would love to have you, along with all your experience.”

I had several regrets leaving my job as the squadron’s assistant operations officer in November of 1998 and taking over as the chief of the 52d OG’s Standardization and Evaluation (Stan/Eval) Division at Spangdahlem AB, Germany. I felt as though I had been set up by being assigned to take over the Stan/Eval shop just one month before a major inspection. I also missed the Panthers’ camaraderie and their day-to-day operations. Stan/Eval made it through the inspection with an “excellent” overall, and I still flew training missions with my family—the Panthers. But because of my new job, I was no longer a sure bet to deploy with the Panthers on what was sure to be a great chapter in the history of the A-10. With all the maturity and poise I could muster, I watched my squadron mates deploy to Aviano AB while I stayed behind. My plan, if the war lasted that long, was to swap out in two weeks with Capt David S. “Ajax” Ure, my assistant in the Stan/Eval shop. I had my doubts.