On Time On Target

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As I walked to my UAZ, I thought over the flight time. I figured with the configuration, I would get maybe a maximum of 800 km/h. However it is a low level mission, so I must account for movement in the mountain ridges. So I came up with around 15 minute flight to the target, and maybe ten minutes while performing the attack. Maybe more. It can happen. I must also take my time for these to show up, so whoever is (un)lucky enough to pull the mission of engaging in air combat with these aircraft is allowed free airspace.

Perhaps I should divert to Gudauta in order to stay away from this fight. It is not me to run — but if I can — I will. While I am capable of air-to-air combat, I must say that the mission demands I do not be in the area. I would like the kill of two or even one Mirage to paint on the side of my aircraft. I have to decorate my aircraft suitably. But I must acquiesce as well to the mission. My time is not over with. I will get a chance to prove my air combat worthiness — even in self defense.

I pulled up to the hangar, and could hear the machine noise that is associated with hard work, and checked in with security. Once I entered, it looked like ants were crawling all over my aircraft. I knew the GSh-301 was fully loaded, but he had one worker checking the weapon system nonetheless. Two workers were assembling the bomb racks, both of them using a small overhead crane to position the bombs carefully, the fuze safety ribbons still dangling from the tip. One would move the bomb into place, while the other merely guided the bomb onto the mating point. I could see Sgt. Gennedy and two other soldiers use a cart with a lift to position the second Kh-31p onto the right intake, being careful. I could see the glass of the Kh-29L in between the engine pods, and had no doubt that the other one was behind it.

I do not spot check, much less need to worry about him. He is a man. I treat him like one despite rank. He has visited my house, and we have shared stories together over vodka. We are professional at work, but friends at the same time, and we know how to "turn off" when we need to. The only spot checking I am guilty of is when I do my pre-flight walkaround. That is a necessity regardless of relationship with your ground crew. And he has yet to be totally screwed-up. There has been once when he failed to install the launch connectors on two R-73s for a training flight. That is how the "Vodka Challenge" came about. I demand he do his work and like any Russian, he likes vodka. So he has a worthy goal to look forward after doing hard work.

As I watched, the last Kh-31p was installed, and they double checked the launch connectors. I did not pay attention to the cockpit until I saw movement. Sgt. Gennedy yelled to the cockpit, and the person in the cockpit gave a thumbs up. I liked that, why not just check it right there, than have the pilot realize the connectors are not correct? And too often it was at the worst moment, such as taxiedng to take off. I checked the wingtips and saw that the R-77s and AMRAAMs were mounted already. They were of course the easiest and most of the time were already mounted on the aircraft with the safety streamers hanging-off them.

The worker at the cannon finished his checks, then slid off the wing, careful not to hit the canard as he slid onto the lift. He then stood up, lowered himself down, then moved to where the bomb crew was working on the first multiple ejector rack. I noticed a similar one was on the right side of the aircraft, this one on the left. Efficient. I saw Gennedy yell at that soldier, then motioned him to the fuel truck. Ahhh, that is how he wanted to get rid of the fuel, but how?

The driver hurriedly went to the ATZ-10 refueling vehicle and proceeded to back up with Gennedy's guidance, putting the vehicle just to the left front fuselage. There was a main fuel nozzle there, so he must be taking the weight off the fuselage, which was not a bad idea, while leaving room for the workers to concentrate on assembling the bomb racks. I absentmindedly looked at the timer.

He has one hour and ten minutes left.

He walked to one of the other small crane controls, and moved the crane to a contraption with a fuel hose sticking out of it. It must be some sort of pump, so he could somehow drain the aircraft of fuel.

It was a safety precaution to allow aircraft to discharge fuel in flight, but not on the ground! I was slightly worried, but still very curious on how he was supposed to do this. So I leaned on the wall, and watched. He moved the contraption via crane on the top of the ATZ-10, then the driver attached the hose to the fuel nozzle. After the driver secured the top, double-checking the connections. He then opened the fuel nozzle and turned on the pump. The noise was slightly deafening, and the man in the cockpit was staring at something intently. Perhaps the fuel gauge, as that's the only thing worth watching in there.

I turned my attention back to the bomb makers. They were taking a break behind a newly assembled MER-6 with the RBK-250s glistening in the lights. They contrasted with the dull scheme of the aircraft and I made a mental note to paint them subdued as well. I felt that any weapon system I would choose to use will be subdued with paint. They drank water, and Sgt. Gennedy and his assistant moved the trolley to the underside of the number 9 station. Using the hydraulics, they carefully raised the assembly until it was perfectly aligned. The bomb makers finished their short break, and then moved on to the other side, while Molenko and Gennedy verified the connections. Gennedy yelled, and the man in the cockpit pressed a few buttons, looked at the HUD, then gave a thumbs up. Gennedy nodded, then motioned to the bomb makers. Molenko walked swiftly to help them as Gennedy paused and took his own break. He was getting old too quickly, but he still had the vitality of some of the younger soldiers.

Gennedy looked around, noticed me watching then nodded. A smile appeared on his lips, and he tapped his wrist. I instinctively looked at my watch, and gave him a thumbs up.

He had forty-five minutes to go.

He echoed it, and I felt like a cigarette was in order. Such efficiency! I reminded himself to award him for such service, along with his crew, as a pilot is as confident as the quality of his ground crew. I lit my cigarette, and peacefully smoked away, not minding the guards, or the sounds coming from the hangar. When I was finished, I stepped inside, and saw that the second bomb rack was halfway done. Of course, when you have twice the personnel working on the same project, it moves faster.

The man with the fuel pump was finished, as per the wave-off from the man in the cockpit. The driver turned off the nozzle then disconnected the fuel hose. He then moved the pump on the ground near the truck. After securing everything, he drove the truck off, parking it where it was previously. I was slightly curious how much time was left.

With fifteen minutes to spare, the last MER-6 was installed with everybody walking around, shaking the weapons slightly to verify the mounting on the aircraft. I felt somewhat annoyed by this. This is my responsibility, but I realized, it was their responsibility to ensure I have properly secured weapons.

I watched them clean up the area, and then Sgt. Gennedy released them for a well deserved break. He walked over to me, a grin all over his face.

"Ten minutes left da?"

I looked at my watch. Yes, ten minutes early.

"Da, very well, and very efficient I must say, I will try to put in awards for your work, as they are deserved. Just have your men finish their break for a half hour, then take care of anything you need with them, and release them. I need four at 0530 tomorrow morning....."

I then realized I had a question on my mind.

"How much fuel did you take out with that contraption?"

"Twenty percent, so you will have an 80% loadout when you takeoff. Enough for you to reach the target, loiter and then come back. Of course you can divert to Gudauta if needed, but you should have enough fuel to return to here."

He wiped sweat off his brow. It is a shame he does not want to be promoted.

"I will go and finish up, then sleep, enjoy your vodka."

I winked, returned to my office, picked up what was needed, then left to the UAZ. He smiled, then ordered his men to join him in celebration of their hard work's goal. Tomorrow will be another day, and perhaps an interesting one. Least not for the mystery pilot. And in a way, I hoped Sacha would not be on that flight.

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