Episode 25

309th Aerospace Maintenance and Regeneration Group (AMARG)

Davis–Monthan Air Force Base, Tucson, AZ

“AMARG, Daniels.”  The tech sergeant responsible for “routing” or helping units find equipment and spares stored at the “Boneyard” which the AMARG ran was a busy man.  Since the conflict with the Chinese started, spare parts and other equipment had been at a premium.  This important mission was sometimes put at risk by calls that really shouldn’t have come in.

“No, tell your boss the same thing I told all the other commands.  All of the Ravens were scrapped.  There aren’t any.  Yes, I know. Yes, sir.  I am sorry sir.”  After hanging up the phone, he turned to the corporal that helped on the routing desk. “I swear to God Lou, I am gonna lose it if one more REMF calls up to ask if they can have some EF-111’s spun up.”

“That’s like, what ten calls?”

“Yeah, this week.”

Just then, the phone rang again.  “AMARG, Daniels.  Yes, sir. No sir, we don’t have any Ravens in inventory.  All of the Ravens were scrapped.  What? Yes, sir.  I will hold.”  He turned to the Corporal again.  “Shit, this time it’s PACAF.”  He waited for a few.  “Yes, Chief. Yes, Chief.  Yes, about two hundred Chief.  Right away Chief.”

“Who was that?”

He reached over and smacked the Corporal.  “That was the PACAF Command Chief.  He wants all the F-15 FAST Packs we have.”

“How did you know how many we had without looking it up?”

“Are you kidding?  With the beating the tanker boys have been taking? I was expecting that call weeks ago.” He picked up the phone again to dial. “Bill?  Yeah, it’s Tom.  Finally got the go order.  How many FAST packs you have ready?  Great. Let’s get them moving.”  He hung up with a very satisfied smile.  Finally, he felt like he was helping the front line guys.

Several miles away, a team of mechanics had over a hundred and fifty FAST packs lined up for inspection and crating.  The long fuel tanks looked a little like half a canoe and were designed to attach to the side of an F-15C.  Unlike the F-15E, the C/D models did not normally operate with the extended range fuel tanks.  This was about to change.

60th Military Airlift Wing

Travis Air Force Base, California

“Ops, Garcia.  Yes, sir.  A-firmative.  Wheels up in one hour.”  Sargent Garcia turned to the Tech Sergeant sitting next to him.  “Who is on
rapid-launch alert?”

“Williams and Nash.”

“OK.  Get them spun up, we have a pick up to make at the boneyard.”

On the flight line, a team of mechanics began to pre-flight one of the massive C-5 Galaxies sitting on the ramp.  The bird was the “ready flight” which meant it was fueled and ready to go with all the major inspections done.  Cargo planes didn’t usually have to “scramble” like a fighter jet or bomber, but being able to take off with little or no notice was just part of the job for an Air Force cargo crew.

142nd Fighter Wing

Portland Air National Guard Base, Oregon

“Ops, Tinney.  Yes, sir.  Copy that.  Read back: Wing mobilization confirmed. Wheels up at 19:30 hours.  Rapid mobility plan bravo.  Read back complete.  Yes, sir.” Sergeant Tinney turned to his partner in the ops shack.  “It’s official, we have the go.”

“Did the transports land yet?”

“Yeah thirty minutes ago. The fast movers go at 19:30 and support elements to follow.  Someone has a real bug up their ass about this one boyo.”

“Where did they decide to send us?”

“Brunei.”

“What? You are shitting me.”

“Nope.  Nice to have friends, right?”

“What the hell did we promise them in return?”

“I heard it was a squadron of F-35’s.”

“Jesus.”

“You said it.  Let’s get navigation going.  We are going to need serious tanker support to get down there. Call in your favor from your girl down at refuel ops in Hawaii.”

“She’s not my girl.”

“I don’t care if she’s the fucking Easter bunny.  If she can get fuel to my birds, I want to talk to her.”

“Roger that.”

Both men started looking up phone numbers on their DSN directories and entering commands into their computers.  “Do you even know where the heck that is?”

“Their air force is based out of the local airport, code BWN. Oh four fifty-six north, one one four, fifty-five east.”

“Isn’t that down in the South China Sea?”

“Yep.  Sure is.”

“Damn.”