Targets of Opportunity (1993) by Joe Weber Page A

"What happened . . . exactly?"
    "The beast--as a matter of fact--does go out of control above four hundred twenty to four hundred thirty knots.- Grady pulled off one of his sweat-soaked flight gloves. "It just tucked under and started a left-wing roll. I couldn't talk to you," he glanced at Blackwell, "because I had both hands on the stick, trying to counter the roll and get that gomer-engineered stick extender to work.
    "What a bucket of shit.- Stanfield snorted in disgust. "If any of you get in that position, power to idle--as Lex was calling for--full right rudder and stick, wait until the speed bleeds off, stop the rotation, then pull out."
    Grady hesitated a moment while he removed his other glove. "It's imperative that you stop the rotation before you stress the aircraft with a high-g load. I think if you make a rolling pullout, you could yank the wings off this bulldozer."
    Spencer glanced at the radio speaker in the hangar. "How do the new radios work?"
    "Number one is fine," Stanfield answered, stuffing his gloves into his helmet. "The squelch on number two isn't working, but I could hear okay. "
    Spencer nodded and gave the MiG a cursory look. "Grady, shall we call it a day?"
    Stanfield finally smiled. "With all due respect, sir, I believe we should continue to march. It's better if I get back in that Spam can, rather than sit around and think about what almost happened."
    The three junior pilots looked at Stanfield, then at Hollis Spencer. Would the project officer overrule the senior pilot?
    "You're the test pilot," Spencer said, "so I'll go with your recommendation. "
    Brad watched as the MiG was towed into the hangar. The heat of th e d ay was beginning to dissipate as Spencer and the four pilots gathered in a small room at the corner of the hangar. The rest of the men, regardless of rank or position, convened at the compact, unpretentious galley. The technicians had nicknamed it "the scarf and barf."
    "Help yourself," Spencer encouraged as he opened the door of a well-worn refrigerator. The interior was filled to capacity with cold beer, soft drinks, and snacks. "The initial stock is on me, but it's your responsibility," he gestured to the pilots, "to keep it refilled."
    "Will do." Stanfield replied, feeling the tension ebb as he plopped into a chair.
    Brad opened a can of Budweiser and rested his elbows on the metal table. He, too, felt drained, even though he had not yet flown the MiG.
    The debrief was short, but thorough. Stanfield had accomplished a great deal in one day. "We know one thing for sure," Grady said with a straight face. "Do not fly over four hundred knots in the MiG-17 . . . to give yourself a cushion."
    Stanfield accepted a beer from Palmer before continuing. "The aircraft, other than the wing-warp tendency, is fairly straightforward in nature. The systems are simple and reliable, with no real surprises. As long as you remain inside the aircraft's operating envelope, the plane is stable and predictable."
    Sipping his beer, Stanfield glanced through the door at the MiG. "We still have a nosewheel shimmy prior to lift-off, but I'm confident that we can move to the next stage. Tomorrow, the three of you will fly the MiG, with Lex and myself alternating in the chase position."
    After a second beer, the tired group ate in the small galley and went to their bunk room. The four pilots would share the three sinks and two showers with the rest of the men assigned to Operation Achilles.
    Palmer surveyed the cramped, simple surroundings. "They certainly didn't spare any expense on our living quarters."
    "It beats foxholes." Brad laughed, remembering his experiences in the Basic School at Quantico. "I could sleep for three days."
    His neck ached and he felt drowsy, but Brad swung one leg over the side of the bed, then the other. He had not slept well, even though he had been exhausted when he collapsed on the bunk.
    Like his fellow pilots, Austin showered and shaved, slipped into his flight suit, and went