It’s a quarter past ding dong and me and my wingman are approaching the IP after 50 minutes of flight. We used that time to look at the sights (the Caucasus is beautiful at twilight), to talk about life in general and prep our ordinance. We’re low and slow – skimming the contours of the mountains and hills – and everything is serene. Silence is the soundtrack to our war.
Hawg 1-1: “5 mikes out from the IP, ordinance check”
Hawg 1-2: “Roger 1, 6 GBU-12’s prepped – Autolase 8 seconds, CCRP mode. AGM-65D’s aligned and ready”
Hawg 1-1: “Copy that Rooster-toothpaste. Set lase-code 1688”
Hawg 1-2: “1688 copy”
Hawg 1-1: “We’re going to set anchor at waypoint 3, 10 nauticial miles to do some initial recon”
Hawg 1-2: “Roger Railroad-Popsicle. TGP on and ready to mark targets”
Like guinneafowl we smack the altitude-hold autopilot and stick our heads into our TGP (The God Pod) diplays like a bunch of Insta-famous teenagers, scrolling through the landscape, enemy units white-hot on the display, looking for priority targets. BMPs JPGs and some PNGs are all of a lesser significance, we can work on those later.
Hawg 1-2: “I’ve got a dish”
Hawg 1-1: “Lay off the food-related chatter Rooster-toothpaste”
Hawg 1-2: “It’s a radar dish”
Hawg 1-1: “Set SPI (Something! Punish It) that will be our first target”
On my TAD (Totally Awesome Display) I see where Rooty has put a marker for our weaponry. At the same time my RWR (Random Wrrrrrr Radio) starts making this caw-caw-caw sound signalling that something, somewhere has started staring at us with an intense, angry gaze. This must be the radar dish that is currently the focus of all our sensors.
Hawg 1-1: “Get to jamming that signal; time to engage!”
Hawg 1-2: “Rolling. Rolling. Rolling in the river.”
Hawg 1-1: “No Tina Turner! Lock your Maverick and-
It is at this point, I see a trail of white shoot into the sky, an intergalactic signal for “yer cooked now boyo!” and my MWS (Monopoly Winning System) starts flashing like it’s a disco in 1981.
Hawg 1-1: “2 go defensive! Big shafty looking thing on your eehm. I guess that’s like 45 minutes past 2 o’clock?”
Hawg 1-2: “RIFLE! (farting noise) Taking invading maneuvers!”
The chaff confetti is illuminated by the flares spitting from his wings. It’s a radar guided missle, but still we pop flares like it’s 1988 and the Dutch have just won the European cup. Of course I mash the dispenser button on my funstick and follow Rooster-Toothpaste as he swings his hog all over the place.
Hawg 1-2: “Time to target 4 seconds” and I watch the screen of my TGP as it’s fixated on the spinning dish… “Splash!” My RWR immediately shuts up – All clear.
Hawg 1-1: “You mean Sack?”
Hawg 1-2: “Copy that Railroad-Popsicle”
With the Sam’s datalink severed, the BMP’s are first to go, rifling off various Mavericks to their doom, leaving some light trucks and personell to be completely oblitorated by the BRRRRTTttt of our Gaus as we repeatedly bear down on the enemy – lauging manacingly as we pull the trigger. The sun is setting now, reflected beautifully in the lower cloud coverage. Heaps of burning metal and bodies riddle the mountainside as Railroad-Popsicle and Rooster-Toothpaste report that are RTB (Really Terrific Bro’s). Landing safely back at Guduata airbase, we park the Hogs, pop the canopy and enjoy a nice cold beer.

10/10