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} Mad Dog cruised the sky. He was the flight leader today, but so
} far his patrol showed no signs of trouble. He glanced over at his
} wingman, Cold Cock. Between him and Cold Cock, it would be hard to
} miss anything.
}
} Mad Dog glanced at the radar. The F-31 "Beerguzzler" had an
} exceptioally sensitive unit, good for 100 miles, but there was no
} activity... Wait a minute... Uh oh, three blips, closing fast.
}
} "Cold Cock, you see 'em?"
}
} "Roger, Mad Dog. Closin' fast."
}
} "Accelerate to attack speed and arm your weapons."
}
} Soon the enemy fighters were in visual range. Mad Dog got a good
} look at them. MiGs. MiG-43 "Graduates", to be exact, and they bore
} the red-ink insignia of the elite Khemistroika unit. This was going to
} be trouble.
}
} "Mad Dog, one's on my tail!", screamed Cold Cock through the radio.
}
} "Hang on, buddy!"
}
} Mad Dog swooped in behind the MiG that was tailing Cold Cock. He
} armed a missle, targeted, and fired. It went wide to the left and
} missed.
}
} "Mad Dog, what happened?!", said Cold Cock.
}
} "I don't know, I fired a No. 4 missle at him that should have hit,
} but it didn't connect"
}
} "They're using Scantron scramblers, Mad Dog. You have to use a No. 2
} only!!!"
}
} Mad Dog armed the No. 2 missles, but his momentary mistake was about
} to cost him. The MiG had hit Cold Cock's fighter.
}
} "Mad Dog, I'm going down!"
}
} "Eject!! Eject!!"
}
} "I can't! Ejection has failed! All my answers have failed!"
}
} Mad Dog's stomach churned as Cold Cock's jet hit the ocean below and
} exploded, sending up a geyser of spray. Then his own jet lurched. It
} began to fall towards the ocean.
}
} A foreign voice came over the radio. "I see that two are going to
} fail their finals today!" Go to hell, Mad Dog thought. Then his
} attention turned back to his current dilemma
}
} Pull out!, pull out! Thirty seconds to impact. Mad Dog's mind
} raced. He strained on the controls, trying to level the crippled
} aircraft. Fifteen seconds. The airplane started to come out of it's
} deadly dive. Five seconds. Got it! The fighter leveled just fifty
} feet above the water. Mad Dog kicked in the afterburners and raced for
} home.
}
} The foreign voice came back over the radio. "You may get away, but
} your squadron be minus one now. Remember that, American."
}
} I will., thought Mad Dog.
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