Free Thud Ridge by Jack Broughton

sky he was covering.
    "I got four."
    "OK, we're going to try and stay nice and close today."
    What a beautiful way to say, Get up here where you belong and sharpen up that formation, without being nasty to the escort you must depend upon.
    "Pintail, lead steer eight degrees left." I had to keep Don on course. "Steady on, the readout is three zero." He was headed for the spot we wanted, and now had only 30 miles to go. You could already tell that the target weather was stinking.
    "OK, Elmo one has negative Doppler."
    At least Don's gear had quit far enough out so that I had plenty of time to recheck all the indications and establish a smooth entry, but Elmo, coming up behind us, found himself without the proper steering gear and had to switch responsibility in a hurry. It would be sheer ecstasy to have a navigational support manager who resists progress riding along in a two-seater at a time like that so he could bite holes in the seat and see how important the little things that make a fighter go can become.
    "Rog, Elmo three here, thirty right." Good thing he had recognized the failure and called when he did as the size of the correction indicated that he had already passed his turn point.
    As we thundered down the Ridge, we accelerated even with that big ugly bombload under us, moving and looking, and the support guy announced, "Stewart is at thirty-six thousand." I thought that must be a comfortable place to be, especially with another flight covering your rear end.
    Then Laredo updated the Sam picture with "Laredo's got a high indication," and I changed my mind and decided I would not care to be sitting up there waiting to see if Sam could accelerate all the way out to the point that I could not see him as he reached for me. Those guys earned their money.
    "Four o'clock" pointed to the Sam's location and then the friendly supporters got the talking disease and began to garbage up the air just when we needed it clear.
    "Rog, I'm at thirty-three."
    "Laredo's got another high one at eleven o'clock." This was vital information that needed to get through.
    "Six two, are we bothering you, Bill?" I didn't know who in hell Bill was, but they were sure bothering me, and we were at the point where the steering had to be perfect.
    "Pintail, steer four degrees right." Don responded with a precise 4-degree correction which at 600 knots is no small feat, and I knew he was receiving my calls.
    "High threat indication—and he's going down—four five .say again."
    Shut up, you idiot, is all I could think, but the old mouth worked better than the brain for a change, and I confirmed Don's turn with "Steady on."
    We were quite close in and there was nothing resembling a break in the clouds. I would rather face the guns I can see than cruise along in anticipation of what I can't see underneath me. The clouds up there are sort of a dirty gray color at best. They looked downright ominous that day, and each Sam call made each of us sit a bit lighter in the seat.
    "And Laredo's proceeding south of the Red down towards the Black. It's still solid."
    "Roger." We didn't have much further to go now.
    "Stewart, you on?"
    I guess he was; I hadn't heard much other than support chatter. "Stewart going north, twenty degrees."
    "Stewart, got a two and a half ringer at two o'clock."
    "Laredo, keep it down. Sam activity at eleven o'clock. OK, Laredo, let's go right here. Keep him on the nose."
    "Four five, you call a turn?"
    "Ah, Rog, zero one, two. You make the calls and Til turn with you."
    "Contact is back up, Laredo." Those two had a running battle for the air and I so wanted Laredo to win that I would have gladly throttled our supporters if I could have reached them.
    "Pintail, one zero to the right." That was the final correction, and if we had been able to do so, that was the time we would have gone to work in earnest and would have been rolling over the top to face the guns and put the bombs on target.
    "Rog, Pintail's following your Doppler. I'm