Come Home || Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

3.

"Time is your greatest enemy. Phase one of the mission will be a low-level ingress attacking in two-plane teams. You'll fly along this narrow canyon to your target. Radar-guided surface-to-air missiles defend the area. These SAMs, they're lethal. But they were designed to protect the skies above, not the canyon below."

"That's because the enemy knows no one is insane enough to try and fly below them," Rooster says. Maverick turns around and nods.

"That's exactly what I'm gonna train you to do. On the day, your altitude will be 100 feet maximum. You exceed this altitude, radar will spot you and you're dead. Your air speed will be 660 knots minimum." I watch the animated projection of the mission, taking note of every mistake shown. Every time that plane turns red. Every time someone dies. "Time to target: two and a half minutes. That's because fifth-generation fighters wait at an air base nearby. In a head-to-head with these planes in your F-18s, you're dead. That's why you need to get in, hit your target and be gone before these planes even have a chance of catching you. This makes time your greatest adversary."

He glances my way and I turn my eyes down toward my desk. I haven't spoken to him since our fight about Bradley's papers, and I'm still mad that he lied to me. I can't let it follow me up into the air, though. All problems are ground problems when you get in a plane.

Thinking gets you killed. Don't think. Just do.

"You'll fly a route in your nav system that simulates the canyon. The faster you navigate this canyon, the harder it'll be to stay under the radar of these enemy SAMs. The tighter the turns, the more intensely the force of gravity on your body multiplies... compressing your lungs... forcing the blood from your brain... impairing your judgement and reaction time. So for today's lesson, we're gonna take it easy on you. Max ceiling: 300 feet. Time to target: three minutes. Good luck."

Phoenix, Bob and Coyote are the first group to get in the air. We sit in the classroom, watching them on the screen as they follow the simulated route toward the target.

"Time to target is one minute thirty. We are two seconds behind. Increase to 480 knots," Bob calls out over the radio.

"We gotta move, Coyote!" Natasha breathes.

"Copy. Increasing speed." Coyote speeds up, but he's going too fast to make the next turn and he hits his breaks, causing Natasha to pull up to avoid a collision. She flies up above him, and above the max ceiling. Dead. They return to the ground and re-enter the classroom, sitting down in defeat.

"Why are they dead?" Maverick asks.

"We broke the 300-foot ceiling, and a SAM took us out," Natasha says quietly.

"No. Why are they dead?" Maverick asks, looking at Coyote.

"I slowed down and I didn't give her a warning. It was my fault." He sighs.

"Was there a reason you didn't communicate with your team?"

"I was focusing on-"

"One that their family will accept at the funeral." The question weighs heavy in the room and Coyote sits back.

"None, sir."

"Why didn't you anticipate the turn? You were briefed on the terrain." Maverick asks, this time directed toward Natasha. "Don't tell me. Tell it to his family." He nods his head toward Bob.

Next Fanboy, Payback and Hangman are sent up. I already know they won't make it, Hangman doesn't think about his wingmen.

"Hangman, ease up. The canyon's getting tighter," Payback calls out.