Saddam Hussein’s invasion of neighboring Kuwait in August 1990 caught the world by surprise. His aggression triggered Operation Desert Shield, which kept his army from advancing farther. When it became clear that Saddam was not going to back down, Desert Shield got cranked up a few notches.
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In January 1991, Marine Corps squadron VMFA(AW)-121, the Green Knights, stationed at El Toro, California, was ordered to Shaikh Isa Air Base on the island of Bahrain for the battle over Kuwait. The squadron had formerly flown Grumman A-6 Intruders and was now flying brand-new two-seat F/A-18D Hornets, which they had received only six months earlier. The upgrade from single-seat Hornets to two-seat night-attack versions, which in the Marine Corps enabled an extra pair of hands and eyes in the form of a weapons and sensors operator (WSO) in the back seat to take over tasks and help the pilot look for the enemy, was like moving up from Curtiss Jennies to Jedi Starfighters. By the end of January, we had on base a dozen aircraft and 200 Marines, including 12 pilots and 12 back-seaters.
Once settled in at Shaikh Isa, the Marine Corps resurrected the Fast FAC (forward air controller) concept from the Vietnam War. Just like the F-4 Phantom IIs did, the two-seat F/A-18D would locate enemy targets, mark their locations with white phosphorus rockets, then direct other aircraft to bomb them. The Hornets were armed with phosphorus rockets from wing to wing, but carried only the bare minimum of air-to-ground ordnance: a 20-mm, six-barrel gun in the nose and one 250-pound bomb on the centerline.
Upon 121’s arrival at Shaikh Isa, the pilots and WSOs were paired up. I would crew for Major Ken “Cheyenne” Bode, a salty, single-seat F/A-18A pilot on the group headquarters staff. Cheyenne, who was assigned to fly with the Green Knights, was a great guy with a wealth of experience.
A bonehead captain and former F-4S radar intercept officer, I had been chosen for the very first class of students in the new F/A-18D, which meant I had a whopping five months of experience in the Marine Corps’ latest whiz-bang airplane.
My first flight with Cheyenne established a pattern. After takeoff, no sooner was the landing gear up and I was contacting Departure Control when Cheyenne came up on the inter-cockpit communication system. “Hey Bubba.”
My call sign was Ping, but for some reason, to Cheyenne I was always Bubba. “Don’t pull the handle, because in a few seconds there’s going to be smoke in the cockpit.” I didn’t say anything, but I was thinking What the…?
Seconds later I removed my oxygen mask and—sniff—there was smoke in the cockpit. Cheyenne was having a cigarette. He smoked all the way to our KC-130 aerial refueler. Then, after the mission, he smoked all the way back to Shaikh Isa.
And so it went, day after day after day.
“Departure control, Combat two-one is airborne, climbing to one-zero thousand.”