“Thunder 42, Whiskey 80, we have troops in contact, danger close, standby for 9 line,” he screamed once again. More shots could be heard in the background. They were under heavy fire. The 9 line served as a way for the Forward Air Controller to pass target information in a Close Air Support situation.

Spectre hesitated. He had strict marching orders from Pounder and the rules of engagement - don’t do anything solo. He could see the friendlies taking heavy fire on the ground. They didn’t have the firepower to hold the enemy combatants off by themselves for long, and he had no idea when Pounder would be back. He didn’t have time to wait.

“Thunder 42 ready to copy 9 line,” he replied. Fuck it. He was there to protect the troops on the ground, not watch them die while he sat idly by with his hands tied by ridiculous rules to cover some general’s ass.

The JTAC screamed the required information to him and then said, “Request you strafe these fuckers NOW! We’re taking heavy fire and they are advancing on our position!”

He had all the information he needed. With the proximity of the enemy to the friendlies, the fragments from the bombs would potentially injure them. He had to be surgical, and the 20MM was his choice. Loaded with High Explosive Incendiary rounds, the bullets would disable any vehicles and rain fire upon the cowards who had ambushed the convoy.

He called up the strafe pipper in the Head Up Display and set the aircraft systems up for his strafe pass. He would make his roll-in parallel to the friendlies so as not to shoot over them or toward them.

His adrenaline was now full throttle. Despite that, he remained focused. He rolled in, establishing a 30-degree nose low dive using the pitch ladders and flight path marker in his HUD. He set the gun cross at the top of the HUD on the target. It was the first truck.

“Thunder 42, in from the east, tally target, visual friendlies,” he said, his still-calm voice masking the fear and excitement he was feeling.

“You’re cleared hot!” the JTAC replied, indicating Spectre was cleared to expend ordnance on the target.

He steadied the boresight cross on the truck as the gun pipper symbology rose to meet the target. The pipper in the F-16 gave a constantly computed indication of where the bullets would go at any given time. It was commonly referred to as the “death dot” because where you shot, death would follow.

As he reached the preplanned range with the pipper on the truck, he squeezed the trigger. The jet vibrated with a metallic rattle as the Vulcan cannon spat one hundred rounds per second. He held the trigger for three seconds, then released the trigger and began a 5G recovery from the dive.

For what seemed like hours, there was quiet on the radio. He reestablished his right hand wheel and picked up the target again in the targeting pod. He could make out very little as the dust settled from where he hit.