Silicon GIB

Parts of me still sit in Korean soil.

I flew fifty-eight missions on the 'double-nickel', the last in operation 'Final Flare.' I am here, cadets, to tell you the events of that day in that craft. I hope to demonstrate that I wouldn't be here as I am if the crew had not broken established mission protocols.

October eighteen began at five a.m. in the main hangar of the Joint Seventy-fifth Air Reconnaissance, thirty miles from occupied North Korea..."

***

Donnelly is a tall guy. Six-five or six with sunken eyes and big teeth. Getting where we need to be is easy for us. Look for Donnelly over the crowd and hope he knows where he's going.

All leaves revoked twenty-hundred hours and early call this morning. Must be something big. We all know we have the Koreans on the ropes. Just don't know how or when we're gonna end it.

"Step it up, Pleu. Main hangar. Quit following Donnelly."

"Right, Mac." MacIan is all salutes and 'yes sirs.' Years on the team and still wearin' a tie, even on missions. Raised chin and thin lips don't add to his charm. Worst thing is he's Air Force. Good AvCom man, though.

Shift runs up beside me. "Hey, a, Pleu."

"Yeah, Shift?"

Shift's a Marine Air Corp grunt like me. Drafted and looking to get out as soon as this thing's over. "You think we're goin' up this time?"

"Someone is. Bet we're pullin' local comm work again. That would make three missions on base since Cap Helms bought it over Songnim ."

Shift looks at me like I got all the answers. "Who do you think we'd get, Pleu, if we fly?"

"For Cap? We're runnin' out of command-types here. We've been at this thing for five years and..."

Shift scrubs at his short red hair with a stocky hand. "Donnelly's got rank."

"Donnelly's got rank, but we're runnin' low on pilots, too. They won't move him up. I don't know, they gotta bring someone in." We pass on either side of a support beam. Main hangar. Seats all laid out like for a Goddamn movie. Shit, we're in for it.

We sit by crews. While the officers mill around

the podium I glance to my left at Donnelly and MacIan. To my right is Shift. They gotta send us up. We belong up there. But who's gonna Cap? Who would we...

"Atten...tion!"

Enlisteds flip the monitors. Looks like the old man, General Watersmith, is gonna address us. Must be goin' out to all the squadrons from Seoul. We snap to our feet.

"At ease, men. Today is a momentous day, a day unlike any other since K2 began. Today is the first day of the end of the Second Korean situation. For five long years American troops have been at the forefront of the conflict. For five long years we have endured hardship, bloodshed, and, at times, great frustration at our attempts to close the conflict with decisive action. Throughout the battles in the air and on the land, American troops have met each challenge with strength and great resolve.

Many of you had relatives that were called upon to serve in the first Korean Situation, some seventy years ago. This generation answered the call to K-2, and serves our nation with unflinching honor, courage and loyalty. I stand before you, today, to summon that commitment one more time, for the last time, for all time.

The day General Soo lays down his sword is at hand. Ten hours ago, NATO/SATO command gave the activation order for operation 'Final Flare' - the last push into P'yongyang. United States Armed Forces are to lead the air offensive, commencing at o-eight-hundred hours, local time. Tactical squadrons in Seoul, Munsan and Kimpo will lead the advance. Reconnaissance squadrons

and naval forces will run standard missions to divert enemy attention, allowing a massive..."

Shift elbows me. "This the big one?" I can barely hear him. I shrug at Shift.

I want to get back to the speech, but I get a look at Donnelly. He's lookin' up in the air. MacIan's lips are closed tighter than ever. In fact alot of the senior guys look a little uneasy. I'm so busy watchin' them I lose a big part of the Old Man's speech.

"I will leave the operational details of the mission to your base command. I know that, as always, you will serve your country well. 'Final Flare' is our first step back to becoming leader of a free world. 'Let us not march into battle as warriors. Let us march out of battle as victors!'"

The General always closes with that one. Shift is all wide-eyed and thumbs-up. I want to feel the same way, but Donnelly's hanging his head, and MacIan just crossed himself.

The Lieutenant steps to the mic. He's the one that hands out the assignments. For something this big, we gotta be goin' up, but with who? Would they split us up?

"OK, boyos. Prep detail for takeoff at eight-hundred hours. AG-23 commanders will receive command details from their planes. The Seventy-fifth is to lead a zone reconnaissance over Sinmak along the Donjai road. Standard two-by-twos, night armor, one-way chat. Only essential communications traffic. No talk-back with base of ops. The 'double-nickel' will take lead under Major Wallace."

Donnelly grunts out a long, low 'Fuck.'

Shift elbows me again, "Wallace? We're getting Wallace? We're..."

MacIan hisses from the side of his mouth. "Shhh-shhh!"

Wallace? He's got more air time than all of us put together. Good Cap. Low-key. Passed over a few times for the big brass. Word is K2 is his last tour. Must need him here more than in command to the south.

The four of us are at our plane in no time. One magnificent piece of machinery. The AG-23 is a fully autonomous reconnaissance aircraft developed for all branches of the military by GE-Boeing. It can fly unmanned or take a crew of five. It flies alone above eighty-thousand feet. We man it for missions closer to the ground.

Donnelly pops his top button. "One-way chat. They only talk to us."

"That's S.O.P. on deep recon, Donnelly. We do not send back data that could compromise the mission, you know that." Macian has folded his arms.

"...or let 'em know we're really in the shit. "

Shift leans in on the two. "I don't get it. Why's the 'one-way' freakin' you out now, Donnelly?"

"It isn't that. Most ops we're in and out before they can send up their fighters. This time, seems like command is expecting us to meet opposition."

I glance at the some of the nearby stations and their crews, wishing I was lost in mission prep and not thinking what I'm thinking. "They leaked it?"

Donnelly darts his head towards the empty podium and abandoned chairs. "Fuckin'-A they leaked it! "

Shift's face narrows. He peers into the hangar's steel frame, overhead. "...divert enemy attention..."

Donnelly squares off in front of Mac. "We and all the other squadrons are the damn bait for operation 'Final Flare!'"

MacIan steps forward. "BULLSHIT! Why do you always think..."

MacIan and Donnelly mix it up again. When the words fly like that I know I should shut up and look dumb. Shift doesn't hold the same sensibility as me. I have to look at Shift. His face hasn't changed all this time. I know it's comin'.

"Guys, why..."

Our pilot and AvCom officers are beginnin' to attract a little attention. I widen my eyes at Shift and he opens his mouth. "Guys! GUYS! If we're fucked, then why would they give us Wallace?"

Everyone pipes down and looks at Shift. He's got a real gift, there; ask a question that is innocent and profound at the same time. Not bad for a grunt.

MacIan folds his arms tightly. "Well, there it is.

Donnelly has us all flying out to our deaths, but while we may be expendable, I doubt they'd send Wallace up there to die."

"Maybe. Or maybe we're in such deep shit we need him up there to save our ass." Now Donnelly folds his arms.

I think we we're about to start 'round two', but Mac catches something to his right. "Ten...HUT!" MacIan snaps to attention. We all kind of ignore Mac when he gets official, but it's gotta be for Wallace. 'Ten-hut' it is.

"At ease, men. Geeze. Look. I don't know if you know it, but I flew with Captain Helms. He was a good crewman and a first-rate commander. He saw all 'a you through, what, twenty-eight missions?"

"Thirty-one, Sir." Shift glances at me then back at Cap.

"Thirty-one, then. I know it's a shit thing to send you up on a hot mission with a new Cap, but this is the big one. You're point for a reason: there's

no plane I'd rather Cap than the Seventy-fifth's Air Reconnaissance Fifty-five."

"The 'double-nickel', Sir." It has the best recon record in Korea. Cap looks at me through his dark eyes way too long. Feel like he's sizing me up.

"The 'double-nickel', Corporal Pleu. Donnelly!" Cap hasn't taken his eyes off me yet.

"Sir!"

Cap looks over to Donnelly, then up. "None of this 'Sir' shit. I go by 'Cap' like any other commander. Check your nav data with Pleu. Maps and mission profile should be online in the 'double-nickel' by now."

Cap turns to MacIan, almost like he expects him to start singing the National Anthem.

"MacIan, prep this one like any other op. Shift is your backup, right"

MacIan slaps to attention."Yes Sir, Cap."

Shift does a half-hearted salute behind

Wallace. "That's right, Cap."

"Men, I can't expand on what the General said. All I know is we're supposed to assess enemy installations and movements along the Donjai road to the Airdrome. Now, HHour is o-eight-hundred hours and we're leadin' this squadron, so I want the 'double-nickel' on station TEN MINUTES before any other plane, you HEAR?"

"Yes, Cap!"

Final prep. Twenty minutes to HHour. Before I close my locker, I look at the pictures and notes inside, one more time, wondering if this is the last time. Just something I always have to do. I always have to do this to myself.

Shift slams my locker shut in front of me. "You plannin' on joinin' us sometime today, Pleu?"

"Sure, Shift. Somebody's gotta hold your hand on these missions."

"Only if you wear dress gloves, Pleu." Shift straps down his helmet and hits the top of it with his fist. When he smiles wide like that I can see that gold inlay back in his mouth.

Donnelly's still layin' out guns and ammo on the bench beside him. "Dress gloves? Is Mac wearing dress gloves again?"

"No, jerkoff. But at least I have respect for the uniform." MacIan zips up his boots. Quite a shine on those today.

Donnelly's on his feet. Damn, how can he walk with all that shit on. "Mac, you call that plastic Air Force flight suit a uniform? It's gotta be marine or nothing at all."

Some of the enlisteds whoop it up at Donnelly's expense on their way to the hangar.

MacIan smoothes his flight suit legs. "Well, how can anyone see yours, anyway, with that fighting load?"

"What ya packin' today, big guy?" Shift makes a move for his service pistol like an old time gunfighter.

"MAC 32, Twin 45 service semi-automatics, Colt, AR-77 carbine, reloads..."

MacIan velcros the cover over his forty-five sidearm. "Oh, Christ, Donnelly. We've already been through this."

Donnelly slaps yet another pocket closed on his cammies. "You ever been downed behind enemy lines, have you, Mac? My grandfather was. Never saw American soil again. Goddamn exfiltration came hours after he fired his last bullet. I'm not goin' out the way he did, and Messerschmidt , McKibben, Newlin..."

We all heard about these guys a million times from Donnelly. Medal of honor winners from WWII, Vietnam, the first Korea. Men who all fought to the last bullet behind enemy lines. Donnelly swore he wasn't gonna be one of them.

Into the main hangar. It's quite a sight; all the guys in battle gear running to their planes. The four of us have been together since the Sariwan push in nineteen. Even with a new Cap, I can't say that I'd want to sit this one out. We'll be OK up there. Wallace...

Then I see it, black and all lit up. No flags, no insignias; just two white 'fives' on the stubby rudder. The 'double-nickel'. I can think of no better squadron than the Seventy-Fifth Joint Air Reconnaissance, and no finer craft and crew than that of number fifty-five. Fifty-eighth for us, each exciting as the first.

"We're a Black Bird, Pleu. Runnin' low and hot!" Shift raps on my helmet as he passes me on the left and climbs into the plane.

I musta stopped moving because Cap comes out of nowhere and pulls me around by the arm. "Just load it in. Pleu. Get to your chair."

I catch a glimpse of the hull along the port side as I climb in. That hull is amazing. Surface is built up of square, flat armored panels the size of window panes. Things got two layers, one tan colored, the other black. We shuffle the panels around for night or day ops. Cool thing is, if it gets hit by fire it can move things around in flight to cover damage. Sometimes planes come back looking like a chess-board.

It's a tight fit inside. Maybe twenty-five paces tail to flight deck, bent over the whole way. At it's widest, six feet side-to-side. Avionics and communications are aft. MacIan and Shift sit back here. More electronics as we move forward. Then there's the Cap's chair, just outside the flight deck. You step down into it, giving you enough room to stand upright. Donnelly, the pilot, sits to the right. Navigator sits to the left.

We took off in darkness and now its just gettin' light. Six A.G.s, four C-90 escort drones, two Northstar B-110 wide radar scanners. Just the twelve of us in this piece of sky. Six other squadrons joined up with us to the rear, headin' east and north. Soon we'll fan out, lookin' for changes to enemy air bases and troop movements. Confuse the enemy. Wait for our boys to strike.

Then, just inside Hwanghae bukto, at eight-twenty-three a.m., it starts