A-10s over Kosovo (illustrations removed)

As I (Lynx 11) rolled in for my strafe pass, I turned on my videotape to record the pass. My primary UHF radio was monitoring the NFL frequency. With lots of fighters working in NFL, the radio chatter was constant. I used my secondary Fox-Mike radio to talk to Andy (Lynx 12).

“Lynx 11’s in from the west, two-target strafe.”

“Magic, Lobo 51 will be Cactus, store in approximately three mike. Lobo 53 will be on station for 20 mike. Do you want to close the NFL or the NBA?” Lobo 51 was the flight lead for a four-ship of F-16CJs providing our SEAD. He was running low on fuel and would be departing Kosovo (code word Cactus) in three minutes. His second element, Lobo 53, had enough fuel to remain on station for an additional 20 minutes. Lobo wanted to know whether to close the western or eastern area.

“Magic, in this case, suggests to close the NBA.” All the other FACs and fighters were working targets in NFL. We were the only set of FACs in NBA.

In the meantime, the strafe pass had gone well, with Andy seeing hits on the target. “Lynx 11 en route to NFL now.” I had come off target and had begun the excruciatingly slow process of climbing back to altitude.

“Lynx, Bobcat 21. Where you coming into?” Bobcat 21 was a two-ship of A-10s led by Maj Lester Less, the FAC responsible for deconflicting NFL. He was also an embedded Sandy pilot whose job it was to handle the rescue of any downed pilots. I had known Lester for over nine years. We had flown A-10s together as lieutenants at RAF Bentwaters, England.

“Bobcat, Lynx 11. I need to coordinate with you, but I’d like to come in from the south.”

“Lynx, Bobcat 21. Yeah, OK, in from the south.”

“Lynx 11 copy that. Then, I’ll work to the south and to the east.” Andy and I began a discussion on our FM frequency.

“Lynx, Two is blind, just west of G-Town.” Andy had just lost sight of me, a very common occurrence. A good wingman covers his flight lead as he comes off target by focusing on the ground where the threats (AAA and MANPADS) are likely to be fired. A wingman that never goes “blind” is simply staring at his flight lead and is of no use.

“Lynx 11, copy. One is just west of G-Town climbing… OK! I just got hit! I’m turning to the south.” I never saw what hit me. As I looked up to find Andy, I felt an incredible jolt to the aircraft on the right side. The nose tried to roll off to the right, and I had to put in full left rudder to keep her from flipping over. I was struggling at this point just to keep the jet flying. Dropping the nose, I started a gradual descent to maintain airspeed. My master-caution panel was lit up like a Christmas tree, and I finally looked over my shoulder to see the engine cowling blown off and the fan blades frozen. Sunlight streamed through the engine inlet. I made sure I was still headed towards the Macedonian border and returned my focus to keeping the jet under control.

“Two copies. Two’s blind, egressing south.”

“OK, two, I need you to come towards south.”

“Lynx 12 is heading south.”

“OK, two, where’s your posit?”

“OK, two is southwest of G-Town at one six zero.”

“OK, copy that. I’m at one four zero descending…. I am trailing you. I need you to 90 right.” I asked Andy where he was and he informed me he was southwest of Gnjilane at 16,000 feet, while I was at 14,000 feet. I could see Andy about two miles in front of me, and I told him to turn 90 degrees right to get me visual. I felt better having the jet under control and my wingman in sight. However, the severity of the situation had not yet sunk in. I was flying a battle-damaged jet in the heart of the AAA and MANPADS envelope and descending over a heavily defended section of Kosovo. If anything, I was mad—really mad that someone had had the audacity to shoot me. I was also determined that there was no way I was going to eject over Kosovo. I didn’t think I’d be able to land the jet, especially since it was difficult maintaining level flight and impossible to make right-hand turns, but I was not going to be on Serbian TV that night and neither were the remains of my A-10. I would nurse the jet into Macedonia before I ejected.

“Bobcat, Lynx 11. Break, break.” Still, it was better to be safe than sorry. I wanted Lester (Bobcat 21) to head towards me in case I did have to punch out in bad-guy land, so he could orchestrate the rescue. Thankfully, the jet was hanging in there. The right-engine gauges were showing a severe engine overtemp without producing any thrust. I shut down the engine, and it cooled quickly once the fuel flow was shut off. Gauges for the left engine looked good. Days later, I would find out that the left engine had been severely damaged from ingesting pieces of the right engine and the missile. I had to fly in a one-degree descent to maintain airspeed. Very slow and with no energy available to react to another missile launch, I was a wounded bird.

“Bobcat 21, Go ahead.”