Vincenti saw McKenzie’s crew chief trot out to his marshaling position outside the hangar, and a second later he saw her fighter’s taxi light flash on and off, so he clicked on the microphone of his primary radio: “Foxtrot Romeo flight, check.”
“Two,” McKenzie replied breathlessly from exertion and excitement. “Foxtrot Romeo” was their unit call sign for their three-day tour; interceptor call signs were always a combination of two letters and a two-digit number, changed regularly by North American Air Defense Command.
“Fresno ground, Foxtrot Romeo flight ready to taxi, active air scramble.”
“Foxtrot Romeo flight, Fresno ground, taxi runway three-two, wind calm, altimeter three-zero-zero-six.” The traffic signal on the fence changed from a flashing red to green, Vincenti flipped the flight control/nav function knob to NAV, armed his ejection seat, turned on the taxi light and released brakes, received final clearance from his crew chief, and shot out of the alert hangar, snapping a return salute and a thumbs-up to his crew chief. As soon as he was on the throat leading to the end of the runway, he radioed, “Foxtrot Romeo flight, button two, go.”
“Two.”
He switched to the tower frequency: “Foxtrot Romeo flight, check.”
“Two.”
“Fresno tower, Foxtrot Romeo flight, active alert scramble.”
“Foxtrot Romeo flight, Fresno tower, wind calm, runway three-two, cleared for takeoff, contact Fresno Approach.” “Foxtrot Romeo flight cleared for takeoff, Foxtrot Romeo flight, button three, go.”
“Two.”
Vincenti switched to the next preset channel, checked in McKenzie; then: “Fresno Approach, Foxtrot Romeo flight of two, takeoff roll Fresno, active air scramble.”
“Foxtrot Romeo flight, Fresno Approach, air scramble departure, climb unrestricted, contact Oakland Center passing ten thousand.”
“Foxtrot Romeo flight, wilco.” Without stopping or looking for McKenzie, he taxied quickly to the runway, lined up, gave his control stick one more experimental “stir,” moved the throttle to military power, twisted the throttle grip, and shoved it forward to full afterburner. At seventy knots he clicked off nosewheel steering, at ninety knots he rotated the nose to liftoff attitude, and at one hundred and twenty knots the F-16 Fighting Falcon lifted into the sky. He immediately lowered the nose to build up airspeed, retracted landing gear, made sure the trailing-edge flaps were up, accelerated to two hundred and fifty knots, then pulled the nose skyward. By the time he was over the end of the runway, he was two thousand feet above the ground. At four hundred and fifty knots he pulled the throttle out of afterburner and into military power, then clicked on his radio: “Foxtrot Romeo flight, button four, go.”
“Two.”
He switched radio frequencies. By that time he was passing ten thousand feet. “Foxtrot Romeo flight, check.”
“Two.”
“Oakland Center, Foxtrot Romeo flight of two with you out of ten thousand, active alert scramble.”
“Foxtrot Romeo flight, radar contact seven miles northwest of Fresno Air Terminal passing ten thousand feet, have your wingman squawk standby, cleared to tactical control frequency.”
“Foxtrot Romeo flight, squawk standby, button five, go.”
“Two.”
On March Air Force Base’s SIERRA PETE’s frequency now, Vincenti checked in McKenzie, then: “SIERRA PETE, Foxtrot Romeo flight is with you, passing sixteen thousand.”
“Foxtrot Romeo flight, radar contact, check noses cold, turn left heading three-zero-zero, climb and maintain angels two-four block two-five.”
“Copy, heading three-zero-zero, climbing to two-four block two-five, Foxtrot Romeo flight, check.” Vincenti had to push the nose down to level off at twenty-four thousand feet — usually he was sent to thirty thousand feet or higher. He quickly accomplished his “After Takeoff’ and “Level- Off’ checklists, checking his oxygen, cabin pressurization, fuel feed, and all gauges and switches, especially checking that the arming switches for the 20-millimeter cannon were off — that was the “noses cold” check. The external tanks were empty, and he was already feeding from his wing tanks — about two hours of fuel remaining.
“Two’s in the green, twenty point nine, nose is cold,” McKenzie reported after her cockpit checks were completed, including her fuel and weapons status with her report.
“Copy. Lead’s in the green with nineteen, nose is cold.”
“Roger, Foxtrot Romeo flight, copy you are in the green and noses cold,” the Weapons Control Technician at March Air Force Base, call sign SIERRA PETE, replied. “Your bogey is now at your eleven o’clock, one hundred and fifty miles, a Czechoslovakian L-600 cargo plane at six thousand feet and climbing. These are vectors for a Special-9 intercept.”
“Foxtrot Romeo copies,” Vincenti replied. Pretty good guess, he thought, congratulating himself — a Special-9 intercept was a covert shadow, where the SOCC controller would put him on a one-mile rear-quartering vector on the bogey. From there, he would use his night-vision goggles to close in on the bogey. If they needed a tail number or other such positive identification, they could close in more — Vincenti had flown as close as ten meters to another plane, in total darkness, without the other plane ever knowing he was there — but normally they would stay within fifty to one hundred meters of the target and shadow him while the brass on the ground figured out what to do. “Foxtrot Romeo flight, take spacing and configure for Special- 9.”
“Two.” McKenzie would now move out to about five miles in trail, keeping her flight leader locked on radar, and put on and test her night-vision goggles. Vincenti turned off all the cockpit and external lights, reached into the canvas case for the AN/NVG-11 goggles, slid them into place entirely by feel, and snapped them into the slot on his helmet.
But when Vincenti lowered the goggles into place, all he got was black. He flipped the on-off switch, made sure they were turned on, and looked for the telltale green spot of light behind the lenses. Nothing. The battery was in place, and they were tested and replaced after every use and at the beginning of every three-day shift. These were dead. He clicked open his mike button in frustration: “Hey, Two,” Vincenti radioed to McKenzie, “did you check your NVGs yet?”
“Affirmative,” McKenzie replied. “They’re in the green.”
“My NVGs are bent. You got the lead and the intercept.”
“Roger that, Rattler.” The excitement in McKenzie’s voice was obvious. Except during exercises or when McKenzie was paired with a less experienced wingman, Vincenti was always the flight lead and always did the intercepts. “Take the bottom of the block, I got the top, and I got the radios. Take spacing. I have the lead.”
“Roger, you have the lead,” Vincenti replied, descending to twenty-four thousand feet and pulling power back to 80 percent. He tuned up his radar, preparing to lock on to her when she passed by.
“Foxtrot Romeo, your bogey is at eleven o’clock, ninety miles, turn right heading three-three-zero, maintain angels twenty,” the weapons controller at SIERRA PETE directed.
McKenzie acknowledged the call. She had pushed the power up to nearly full military power, anxious to get the intercept going, and Vincenti had to hit the afterburner to catch up once her fighter passed by and assumed the lead.
“Foxtrot Romeo, your bogey is heading southwestbound, altitude nine thousand five hundred, airspeed two-two-five knots, squawking VFR, call when tied on.”