Free Imminent Threat by William Robert Stanek

in the NVG. “No danger to our present position.”
        They were firing blindly due to our jamming. It was ominous the way the AAA gunners responded to our jam, turning on and off as we did. Yet I imagined they were pretty ruffled after the first package had swept through. With our help the second package would get in and out without a hitch. Hopefully they would even take out most of the enemy sites I was now watching.
        The NVG filled with a sudden green glow: afterburners. They showed as fiery green globes and I saw the vague outline of inbound fighters amidst the glow. It was surely the first wave of the second package group.
        The fighters swept in easily, avoiding the barrages of anti-aircraft artillery fired blindly by gunner crews. They started to pour into Iraq, in wave after endless wave. I called out inbound traffic nonstop for a couple of minutes—this was one colossal strike force going in.
        Gypsy was giving an air advisory; and as usual, I keyed in. What the hell? That didn’t sound right. Only when I heard Tennessee Jim repeat to the crew and the AC what I just heard, did I believe it. “Gypsy’s bent. They’re trying to get back up, but aren’t having any luck. They advise we pull off orbit.” Pull off orbit? What was Jim saying? The second package was just going in. He needed to be standing here watching these fighters go in.
        “MCC, Nav, isn’t the second package just inbound?”
        “That’s an affirmative. Let’s hope Gypsy doesn’t bug out. We can’t just leave.”
        Jesus, without Gypsy, we had no air picture, no warnings or advisories. We might as well have a bull’s eye painted on our underside.
        “Gypsy, Shadow-1,” Chris called out. “Your status, please?”
        I gripped the NVG tight and waited for the reply while diligently staring out into the night sky. “MCC, Spotter, we have another pair of NVG back here,” I relayed anxiously.
        “Three, MCC, get to the rear and grab that other pair of NVG,” Jim ordered.
        “Gypsy, Shadow-1, your status?” Chris repeated. Shadow-2 was also trying to raise them.
        “Shadow-1, Shadow-2, this is Gypsy, the system isn’t coming back up,” came the reply into my headset. “We’re going to have to head home.”
        Happy tapped me on the shoulder. I pointed to the other pair of goggles. In the interim I missed the pilot’s response, but I heard Gypsy clear. “CAP and Sweep will stick with you. Advise you to drop to back of orbit until prior to egress. Good luck.”
        Good luck? What the hell did that mean?
        I watched as the lines of ground fire became slightly more distant. Red-orange explosions pockmarked the horizon. I saw these without the aid of the NVG. As I looked on, a sudden ball of hellish fire erupted into the night sky. A missile must have struck a POL storage tank; there was no other explanation for the intensity of the red-orange ball of fire I saw.
        More explosions followed only seconds later. The secondary explosions were even more terrifying and magnificent than the original red-orange ball. As I reported the explosion, my face pressed against cold plexiglass, Captain Sammy brought the Lady into a sharply-executed combat turn. Shortly afterward, Happy began whooping and hollering into his microphone.
        Turned away from the environment, things seemed mundane. I could only listen to my headset as Happy had done and watch vigilantly. I wondered if I were the only one to realize what the lack of an air picture meant; but then as I listened up on radios, I heard the evident strain in the voices of the crew. Tension surrounded not only me but also everyone on the ship.
        I glanced over my shoulder at Happy. He was glued to the window and his NVG as if they were his lifelines and he was sinking into the sea of darkness below. Crow was drumming his fingers nervously at his position; and while I