By lex, on April 11th, 2007
The four-ship typically comes in level at release altitude. For a 45 degree dive bombing pattern that’d be around 5000′ above ground level (AGL). Aligned with the attack heading, the lead will push it up to the planned release airspeed – typically around 450 knots calibrated airspeed – and the savvier wingmen will ensure that their jets are trimmed out in yaw as they attain release speed: Even modern jets get “bent,” and what is trimmed for level flight at 300 knots won’t always work at 450, while uncorrected yaw is a source of bombing inaccuracy. Once over the target, dash one will call, “Lead’s breaking,” on the aux radio, followed by his wingmen every four seconds or so thereafter, 2, 3, 4.
By lex, on September 25th, 2009
Had lunch today with an old bud who works for one of the major defense contractors here in Sandy Eggo. Catch up a bit, see what’s shaking and baking. That sort of thing.
We’d flown together during one of my refresher tours at the FA-18 training squadron. He’d been senior to me, on his way to his XO/CO tour, while I was en route to Japan for a department head tour. We had one of those “memorable” flights together, a night bombing hop in the Chocolate Mountains near El Centro. Led by a first tour instructor pilot, a young Marine captain if I recollect, with three more senior officers on his wing. It’s only a matter of 20 miles or so from the airfield at NAF El Centro to the bombing range, which can make for a hasty, agitated mission. You barely have time to get dash four aboard before dash one is breaking up into the circular bombing pattern. Six laps around the pattern for the bomb deliveries, and then it’s rejoin time again overhead the target and head back towards the field.
By lex, on September 18th, 2009
For many years I was stationed at NAS Lemoore, California. The base took its hits back during the Vietnam War, a fact to which the little brass plaques on the chapel entry bore mute testimony. Some folks came back. Some were left behind.
None of them were forgotten.
My son and I ended up one day at a little park in town. He was only ten or so, and stepped on a granite marker laid flat on the grass on the southwest side of the park. A dignified lady of a certain age, neatly dressed with her gray hair pulled back in a pony tail spoke to him, not at all unkindly.
“Watch where you step, son. That marker lies there for all those who no longer stand among us.”
I never learned her story. I didn’t have to.
It must have been hard, I think, to have been left behind like that.
For her. For him.
All the way around.
Back To The Index
Previously posted, but bears repeating.
By lex, on September 3rd, 2009
Glenn Greewald (et al.) may or may not be an exceptional constitutional lawyer – I’m ill equipped to judge – but he really ought to steer clear of military history. The leading sentence to his most recent jeremiad ** really says it all:
There was a time, not all that long ago, when the U.S. pretended that it viewed war only as a “last resort,” something to be used only when absolutely necessary to defend the country against imminent threats.
I’m trying to imagine what era Greenwald is thinking of: Our revolution was a war of choice, with one-third of the country in arms against tyranny, one-third supporting the ancien regime, and the remainder more or less on the sidelines as interested observers.