For the most part, our hopes became reality. After the first three days of the war, we had seized control of the air over Iraq and Kuwait.

Three days may seem short, and the Iraqi Air Force may look like a push-over. But do not get the idea that gaining control of the air was easy. It was not a “macho,” “no sweat” operation. What turned into a turkey shoot in late January and February started out as a bitter struggle; those first few days were the hardest-fought, most critical aspect of the entire war.

Meanwhile, when the bombs began to fall on Baghdad, Iraqi pilots ran to their planes and took off. I’m sure they sent their best and brightest, and I know they tried their hardest; but in air-to-air combat, it’s win, lose, or get out of town. There is no second place. The Iraqis lost at least eight times on the seventeenth of January. They tried again two days later and lost six more times. Their last try (and their only effort to attack our forces on the ground with aircraft) was on the twenty-fourth, when two Mirage F-1s attempted to penetrate Saudi Arabia for an air-to-ground strike. An RSAF F-15C shot them both down just out to sea in the Arabian Gulf.

After that, they tried to hide in their heavily defended aircraft shelters, also to no avail, when we picked off the shelters, one at a time, with 2,000-pound hard-case, laser-guided bombs.

They were then left with the “get out of town” option. We had actually anticipated that, but felt their destination would be Iraq’s Arab neighbor and sometime friend, Jordan. Wrong. They went to Iran, leaving our carefully placed barrier CAP aircraft orbiting between Baghdad and Jordan in the desert.

On the first night of the exodus, the burning question was whether or not the jets were defecting. Because they were fleeing to an old enemy, that was a possible inference. But when they did it again the next night, I was pretty sure it was organized and not defection.

In order to find out what was really going on, I called Mary Jo, in Sumter, South Carolina. No, she doesn’t operate a spy network; but we had an Iranian-born friend who shared our passion for Persian carpets and whose father was well placed back home. She called our friend, and he called his father, who reported that an Iraqi general had shown up in Iran a few days before and negotiated safe haven for the Iraqi Air Force. The Iranians, justifying their reputation as “bazzaris,” or traders, carefully responded, “We will keep your aircraft for you”; and so, it seems, they have. The aircraft are still there.

Once the exodus started, the Iraqis ceased operating as a fighting force; it was a panic rush to the exits. They’d wait for gaps in our CAP coverage, then bolt in groups for Iran, hoping that if they avoided our fighters, they’d have enough fuel to find an Iranian airfield. The pilots who didn’t had to eject.