almost did. The pilot of the damaged aircraft actually made it to within two hundred meters of the runway before his lift and luck gave out. Martin, with two other pilots from the squadron, watched as the F-15E’s landing gear bit into the desert sand just short of the runway and collapsed, sending the aircraft, still traveling at over one hundred miles an hour, tumbling forward, tearing itself apart. Despite his better judgment, Martin had run out to the aircraft, thinking that perhaps, somehow, his friend had miraculously survived. Miracles, however, were not in order that day. Like the F-15E, there was little left of Martin’s friend.
A small chirp over Martin’s headset wrenched his mind from the bright barren vistas of a past war captured forever by his mind’s eye back to the bitter darkness of the present one. Looking at his console, Martin saw that a Ukrainian air defense search radar was sweeping the area. The electronic warfare system identified the radar as belonging to an SA-10 surface-to-air missile battery. It also told Martin that the radar had not yet detected him, that it was still in the search mode. Another tone, with a slightly different pitch, warned Martin that he had reached the IP.
For a moment Martin considered his situation. Although he was still undetected, as soon as he began his bomb run he would have to open the bomb bay door and allow the 750-pound laser-guided bomb he carried to swing down into the release position. Unfortunately, for the briefest of moments, the bomb, built without the benefits of stealth technology, would be visible to the SA-10 battery’s search radar. That meant in turn that so long as the bomb was attached to his aircraft while Martin was getting his laser dot on target, the SA-10 battery could engage him.
The question of whether he should initiate his attack now or try a different approach, one that perhaps would not expose him to the surface-to-air battery, momentarily crossed Martin’s mind. As quickly as that thought came, however, he pushed it aside. Martin, a full colonel in the United States Air Force and a squadron commander, had a critical job to do. To his front, just east of Mukacevo, at a range of ten miles and 20,000 feet below, lay the command and control bunker from which the district military commander would coordinate the defense of the Ukrainian province of Ruthenia. Destruction, or even the temporary crippling of that bunker, would hamstring the efforts of the Ukrainian commander to respond to the Army’s ground attack. To break off his attack might be the best option. But there was no assurance that a different approach would be any safer. After all, if the Ukrainians took the time to set up a battery to cover one approach, it was logical that they would ensure all approaches were covered.
Besides, only an attack from the southwest would ensure penetration of the main chamber. Another approach simply would not do the job.
With some effort, Martin began to compose himself as he turned his fighter into the attack. Scanning his instruments, Martin could feel his heart begin to beat faster while his breathing became more rapid.
Slowly he began to block out all thoughts and feelings that did not concern his attack. Instead, Martin focused his full attention on the heads-up display to his front, checking the aircraft’s heading, fire control reticle, airspeed, altitude, weapons status, and a myriad of other information. He was committed. He was in the attack mode. In another minute it would all be over, success or failure.
Without further thought, Martin opened the bomb bay door and allowed the bomb to swing out on a trapezelike frame that locked the bomb into the drop position. Almost at the same instant, the tone in his ear changed as the electronic warfare system told Martin that the SA-10 battery had radar lock. The target acquisition radar had been activated. Martin, however, ignored the tone. His mind and body were absorbed by the act of