Free Hogs #2: Hog Down by Jim DeFelice Page B

a thud or something behind him; the Hog
seemed to gain speed. A-Bomb pushed his stick hard and held on, fingers
crossed, one more gut-smearing turn before he was finally sure that the cloud
of dirt and shrapnel represented the last remains of the French and German
missile.
    A-Bomb
blew a breath and caught a glimpse of Mongoose’s plane, well east and much
higher than him, flying in the opposite direction toward Kuwait.
    “Jesus,
‘Goose, I thought they got you,” he told his wingmate.
    Devil
One continued to climb to the east, rising from its run as easily as if were on
a training mission. The ugly dark green shades of camo smudged into a black
blur, its pudge nose and fat tail as pretty as a black Ferrari steaming around
a race track. The late sun gleamed off the front of the canopy, its glint
refracted into reddish-white fingers of light.
    Then
he saw the Hog waddle in the air, its left wing flailing upwards, out of the
pilot’s control.
    Most
of the other wing was gone. One of both of the missiles had blown right through
it.
    “Bail
out, Goose!” A-Bomb called. “Bail the fuck out!”
     

CHAPTER 15
    OVER IRAQ
    21 JANUARY 1991
    1841
     
     
    T he emergency indicator lights were on. The engine
was screaming. The plane was trying to pull herself over.
    Hit.
    Engine,
must be. Right side.
    Checklist
mode.
    Compensate
for the dead engine, push the rudder, hold the stick.
    Wing
took something, too.
    Rudder
not responding. Hydraulics out. Go to manual reversion.
    Shit,
there’s no plane here.
    Manual
reversion.
    Is
there time?
    Checklist
mode.
    Caution
panel dotted with more lights than a power grid station.
    Controls
still not doing their job.
    Blue
sky ahead.
    Air
speed dropping.
    Still
climbing.
    Momentum’s
a beautiful thing. Still moving somehow.
    Stick
feels like it’s not connected.
    Do I
have Kathy’s letter?
    Restart
the other engine.
    Not
this slow, no way.
    Five
thousand goddamn feet, a miracle to be this high.
    Pointing
north. Wrong direction.
    Shit,
no wing.
    Can’t
hold it.
    Have
to jump now while the jumping is good.
    Shame
to leave this old Hog. Hell of a plane. Rescued from the scrap heap to whup
Saddam’s butt.
    Got
two Scuds at least.
     
    * * *
     
    Less
than three seconds passed from the moment he was hit until Mongoose’s eyes shot
down toward the big yellow ejector loops at the edge of the ACES II seat. His
body was still going through the motions but his head was already outside the
plane.
    Eject.
Eject.
    He
reached up and made sure his crash visor was down, hard hat secure, passport
punched.
    Eject.
Eject.
    He
felt a soft pop, then closed his eyes as a powerful force yanked his legs back
and pushed him against the seat. Wires below were severed by razor knives as
the canopy blew out with a rush and the space below him exploded with a mad
froth. Mongoose felt himself hurled upwards, enveloped in an icy whirlwind,
then wrapped in a dark, blank void beyond time or place.
     

CHAPTER 16
    OVER IRAQ
    21 JANUARY 1991
    1843
     
     
    A -Bomb pulled eight or nine g’s in the turn,
whacking the Hog down into the dust and going like all hell. He had to take out
that Roland or no way anybody could get close enough to pick up Mongoose when
his chute landed.
    He
saw, or thought he saw, an ejection, even though Mongoose didn’t acknowledge.
He’d have to go back for him; the Roland had to be taken out first.
    A
nice little Spark Vark jamming plane flying overhead right about now would have
been immensely convenient. That or an up-to-date ECM pod on the right wing,
where the ancient ALQ-119 was hanging.
    But
hell, A-Bomb told himself. He didn’t need that fancy stuff. He was flying a Hog.
    He
came at the site about twenty feet off the ground, so low and close he could
see the Roland crew members working frantically on the top of the mobile
missile launcher. They had rolled it out from under its hiding place, whether
to reload or get away from the fire on the other end, he couldn’t be sure.
    And
he