Havana Moon

By Rusty Cash

Navy F-18 pilot Sean Murphy, discharged after disobeying orders and shooting down two Cuban Mig-21s, accepts employment test flying upgraded Russian Mig-21s for an Israeli aviation firm in India.

He joins a multinational team of ex-military aviation mercenaries. Their Mission: to eliminate top government leaders of Cuba by flying upgraded MIGs disguised as Cuban Air Force fighters. Their deadly mission pits them against the best fighter pilots Cuba can send against them.

Dodging lethal SAMs, dogfighting against waves of Cuban Migs, they bomb and electronic intelligence gathering station, successfully eliminating top Cuban leaders.

Sean must choose between two beautiful women, adjust to life as an international test pilot, survive death defying air combat to help Cuba gain her independence.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Oct 25, 2004
• ISBN: 9781468515640

Rusty Cash

Rusty Cash is an avid aviation enthusiast, has spent time in the Navy, and has worked for the last twenty years as an emergency medical technician. He has lived in Boston, Miami, the Virgin Islands, Norfolk, Jacksonville and Dallas. He lives in Missouri with his beautiful wife, two daughters and one grandson.

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© 2004 Rusty Cash

All Rights Reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 10/06/04

ISBN:1-4208-0207-0 (sc)

ISBN:1-4685-1564-0 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2004097493

Contents

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

EPILOGUE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This project is the culmination of a lifelong dream. I’d like to thank the following people for their efforts in helping bring this story to life.

To my lovely and charming wife Tamela, whose belief in me never wavered. For her countless hours of editing, and for giving me Sean. She is my gift from God.

To my father Ralph Slim Cash for giving me my love of aviation.

To my brilliant brother-in-law Rich Davis, attorney extraordinaire, for his time, patience, understanding, and excellent legal advice. Also for Key West, the perfect honeymoon.

To his beautiful bride Alison Cera-Davis, for the adventure she generously donated to this book.

To Steve Steward, Firefighter, Paramedic, and Mentor who continues to endeavor to persevere.

To Dave Ison, Sydney Australia, for his friendship, and all things technical concerning the Mig-21. G’day mate.

To Brad Tirey of Author House, for his time, patience, and tireless efforts, without which this story would remain unpublished.

To Perry Collins, forever the Marine, whose loyal friendship helped me during those dark times. Semper Fi Bro.

Lastly, to the Cuban people, to whom this book is dedicated. In recognition of their longtime suffering and oppression.

May someday peace and freedom come to their beautiful island nation.

Rusty Cash

July 2004

PROLOGUE

Cuba, an emerald jewel in a sea of green. The largest tourist playground in the Caribbean. The largest banking center as well. People from all over the United States, as well as the world, travel to Cuba to vacation, invest money, buy real estate, fish, gamble, and make movies. The modern Cuba is a tourist’s haven and has become the economic center of the Caribbean. Everyone knows Cuba’s history. How it became the Communist center of the Western hemisphere. Not everyone knows how the Communist government ended, or what helped the island nation change. I do. I was a part of it.

CHAPTER ONE

Walking out onto the flight deck, the smells and noise hit me along with the heat as I walked into the Florida sun. I nodded to my wingman as we walked to our planes and started the pre-flight check.

I looked over the front landing gear. The tire looked good as did the strut. I turned my attention to the bottom, looking for any leaks or anything out of place. Running my hand along the skin, I continued aft, checking the wing edge and bottom. I ran my hand over the missile and looked at the clearance light, the fuselage and the two rear landing gear. The missiles hung down with their red tags moving in the wind. I looked up at the port wing, toward the nose, checking to see that the intakes were clear. Satisfied the aircraft was ready, Mickey the crew chief handed me the clip board. I signed off that I was satisfied the F-18 was ready for flight.

Trusting my crew chief was part of the job, but as a pilot, I had to check out the aircraft before I accepted it.

Climbing into the cockpit, I slowly lowered myself in. It always took a minute or so to get my body to where I would fit comfortably. Mickey handed me my helmet and began helping me attach the hoses and lines that would connect me with the fighter.You don’t get into an F-18; it’s more like you strap it around you. Oxygen line, high pressure hose to my inflatable G suit, radio line, and the harness that connected me to the Martin Baker ejection seat in the event I had to bail out.

Secured in, I hit the main power and watched the cockpit and the three flat display screens come alive.

The F-18 cockpit is small, but well designed. Mickey patted my shoulder, telling me he had taken out the safety pins from the ejection seat.

When I saw yellow shirt in front spin his hand in a circle, I hit the switch starting both engines. The two F404 GE 400 turbofans turned over smoothly, spooling up to power. I felt the fighter vibrate around me.

I moved the multi-function stick back and forth. It was connected to the quadruple redundant fly by wire system.

The data screens showed four Sidewinder missiles had been loaded for this flight. The six barreled Vulcan cannon showed five hundred rounds loaded. Fuel was at sixteen hundred gallons.

I punched the proper settings into the Nav computer and checked the screens. Fuel, oxygen, hydraulic pressure, and radio frequencies all checked out. The yellow shirt went through a series of hand movements, telling me to check the control surfaces. My feet moved in unison with my hand on the stick as the rudder moved side to side and the ailerons moved. Mickey unhooked the power line from the side and I held up both hands so the missile handlers could see my hands were off the switches as the red shirted ordies pulled the safety tags from the missiles.

I hit the switch and the clear canopy closed, sealing me into the fighter. Mickey pulled the tie down chains away.

The yellow shirt moved his arms, pointing, and I slowly released the brakes and pulled out of my slot, ready to hook up into the catapult. I brought down both folding wings. The yellow shirt motioned me forward to the hookup point. Getting the signal, I put on the brakes as the front landing gear was connected. The deck crew went through external checks to verify all was well. I had gear locked, flaps down, and my hands were clear. I was ready.

I watched the yellow shirt as he gave me the go signal and saluted me. I returned the salute and sat back. The catapult rocketed me from 0 to 150 miles an hour in 4 seconds. Keeping my hand on the stick, I pulled up and right as the afterburner blasted me into the clear blue sky. Gear up, flaps up. I was airborne.

I called out to my wingman Yancey, who had launched right after I had. He called back saying he was right on my six; low and to my left. When we hit altitude, I shut down the afterburner. I then reached over and turned on the fighter’s radar. The Hughes multimode digital tracking radar came up clearly.

Viper 1 cleared for 030 at angels 14, the ship called to us. I was Viper 1 for this flight and we were to head 30 degrees at 14,000 feet.

Viper 1 copies I called back.

Our ship, the U.S.S. Ulysses S. Grant, was doing flight ops off the coast of Miami. Today was just another run of the mill training exercise for us, or so I thought. Actually, we were showing our presence in the area, as the Cuban Air Force had been up more than usual. An anti-Cuban group of private pilots had been flying over the strait between Key West and the Cuban 24th parallel, watching for rafts andboats leaving Cuba. The Cuban Migs had been up displaying a show of force which they hoped would put an end to these flights of the private pilots.

My heading would put us between Key West and the 24th parallel, hopefully helping both sides keep their distance. This was my second hop of the week, and so far things had remained quiet. I was hoping today’s flight would be the same. I glanced over at Yancey. His call sign was Boner. Mine was GreyWolf.

Yo Grey, we gonna do the Strip when we get back? he called out over our channel. He was referring to Southbeach in Miami.

Betcha I replied. I stuck my gloved hand up with the old thumbs up sign. He always joked about me doing that whenever I wanted to punctuate the affirmative. Both our thoughts were cut short as the ship called us.

Viper 1, new heading 090, at angels 4. Do NOT cross the 24th, hold position, do not engage unless attacked. Two civilian planes in area slightly south of 24th. 2 MIG-21s enroute to their location. Hot damn, things were changing fast. I changed course, and accelerated, my heart pounding fast. Boner did the same, glued to my tail.

You see anything? he called out to me.

Negative, I returned.

Viper 1 acknowledges, I called back to the ship, rapidly scanning the radar screen.

Finally I could see them on the square screen. Two slower contacts were being circled by two larger and faster contacts. It had to be the MIGs.

Got em, I called to Boner.

Me too, Grey, he called back. We had reached our designated location and we started to circle.

Ten o’clock, Boner called out. I looked left and saw off in the distance two tiny dots. I could barely make them out. They were twin engine Beechcrafts, flying straight and level. Somehow they had strayed over the line and were unaware two MIGs were in the area.

Arm ‘em up Mate, I called out as I hit the switches arming the missiles.

Beat ya to it, he called back. I grinned to myself. We both started our combat checklists, trying to skirt the 24th parallel.

They gotta know we’re here dude, Boner called out to me.

I chuckled and replied, Ya think so? Suddenly on the scope I watched as the MIGs started to descend and fly a straight approach at the two Beechcraft.

This doesn’t look so good dude, Boner called out.

Viper 1 control, MIGs are making a run at them, I radioed back to the ship.

Take no hostile action unless fired upon Viper 1, was the reply.

Sucks dude, but it ain’t worth starting a war over, Boner called out to me.

We can’t let em shoot down unarmed planes, Boner. Even if they ARE a little over the line.

I started to turn toward the two Beechcraft. They looked like they were just hanging in the air compared to us.

Come on Grey, let’s not get too close to this. Maybe all they wanna do is scare them off a little.

Yeah well, maybe we can give them something to think about, my voice was tense.

Viper 1, you’re straying too close to the line, change course, the ship called out to us. I was getting frustrated at this point.

Viper 1 requests permission to paint the bandits, I called back.

Negative Viper 1, you are to maintain distance. DO NOT ENGAGE, I was grinding my teeth. My heart was pounding, and it was all I could do not to turn into the MIGs and hit them with my radar.

Easy does it Grey, c’mon, stay loose on this, please, Boner called over to me. Suddenly tones went off in my helmet. The RWR was warning me the MIGs were locking their radar onto the two Beechcraft.

Viper 1 control, they are locking them up, I called back to the ship.

Viper 1 we copy, maintain course and altitude, the ship replied.

SHIT!! I swore over the mic. I knew there was no way for the pilots of the two private aircraft to know what was happening. I wondered if they even knew they were over the line. About that time warning sounds went off as the radar screen showed a MIG had fired off a missile at one of the Beechcrafts.

Oh shit, they launched, Boner called out.

Viper 1 Control, MIGs have launched, MIGs have launched! I yelled.

Copy Viper 1. It was over so quick. The little plane just disintegrated in mid-air from the missile hit. I watched as a ball of flame erupted in the blue sky .The other Beechcraft turned suddenly and I knew then that the pilot was trying to escape.

I felt a white hot anger rise up inside me. My heart was pounding in my chest and adrenalin was pumping through me.

I’m goin’ in, Boner, I yelled out.

Negative, Grey, Negative, he replied. I accelerated and turned into the direction of the two MIGs. I knew Boner would stick with me no matter what I did, even if he disagreed with me. I could hear the air boss in my ears telling me to disengage, but by then I was already painting up the two MIGs with my radar. I watched in horror as a second missile was launched by the leading MIG at the last Beechcraft. I knew that pilot didn’t have a chance.

Nooo…you bastard! I screamed. There was no stopping me now. The second Beechcraft exploded as the missile hit. I came up behind the two MIGs at high speed and I could hear the Sidewinder purring at me as it got a lock on the first MIG. I hit the button and the Sidewinder missile leapt off my wing and tracked all the way in. I watched as the two MIGs split up in different directions, hoping to confuse the missile.

Shit, shit, shit, I heard Boner cursing into his mic.

As I watched, the missile rose up after the MIG. The pilot was trying to climb, hoping the Sidewinder would be confused between the heat of the sun and the hot exhaust gases of the MIG’s jet engine. It didn’t work. The missile accelerated right up into the rear of the MIG’s exhaust and exploded. There was an orange explosion as the MIG disintegrated.

Take that, you bastard! I yelled out.

The second MIG had turned to our starboard and was trying to bug out, but I was high on adrenalin, and anger was clouding my common sense. I was out for blood and wanted them to know there was a price to be paid for shooting down unarmed aircraft, even if they were over the line. I swung the stick over and moved my feet, turning the F-18 in the direction of the second MIG. I could feel my G suit activating, and hear Boner in my headphones yelling at me to breakoff. The air boss was screaming at me to breakoff and RTB, but I ignored everything except the blood roaring in my ears.

Everything was happening so fast, I couldn’t stop myself even if I had wanted to. I hit the afterburner and halved the distance between the MIG and me. I shot a quick glance over my shoulder at Boner to verify he was still hanging on my wing, then the second Sidewinder started purring at me, letting me know it was tracking.

The Cuban MIG turned at high speed, his afterburner trying to accelerate away from us, but I was right behind him, matching his speed, completing the turn, doing a Lag pursuit. There was no way I was letting this one get away.

I hit the button on the stick and the missile launched out after the second MIG. He changed direction immediately, first diving, then changing course and climbing, hoping beyond hope he could lose it. I knew he didn’t have a chance. The missile flew right up to the MIG and I watched as it exploded and the MIG’s left wing came off.

The MIG spun in circles as it fell toward the surface of the ocean. At that time I could hear tones going off in my headset.

We had flown too close to the Cuban shoreline. The sounds I heard were warnings as various radars of shorebased anti-aircraft missile launchers painted us. Boner and I changed direction almost at the same time.

I could still hear the ship yelling at us to RTB as I started to gain control over my emotions and turned back to the ship. My whole body was sweating in spite of the air-conditioned cockpit.

We’re really in deep shit now, Grey, Boner called out to me.

It’ll be me, not you Boner. I fired at them. All you did was your job, protecting my wing, I shot back. In a way I was angry that he didn’t help, but I knew in his own way he had helped by staying with me even though he didn’t want to.

Viper 1, you are clear for first in, recover at once.

I knew that we had been given priority to land ahead of the other fighters in the landing pattern around the ship because they wanted us aboard ASAP. I circled around until I could see the ship. I lined up perfectly, lowered my flaps, dropped my gear and hook, and started my approach. I was sure this was going to be my last landing of a jet fighter on the deck of a carrier. I wanted it to be my best.

Call the ball, came over the headset as I watched the electronic lights on deck that told me my angle of approach.

Lower left wing a bit, the landing officer told me over the radio. I lowered it and did my pre-landing checklist quickly; gear down, flaps down, hook down,straps tight. Everything was done. I lined up and adjusted throttle, brought the nose up a bit as the landing officer was talking to me. I came in, touched down, caught the number two wire, then firewalled the throttle in case I had missed. The fighter came to a stop. I was signaled to ease off the throttle and the wire pulled me back. When the deck hands unhooked me, I was directed to where they wanted me to park. I raised the wings, opening the canopy. Unsnapping my oxygen mask, I felt the breeze on my sweaty face. Boner landed right behind me. Mickey came over and climbed up to help me unhook everything.

You ok? he yelled at me. I just nodded at him. I felt as though everyone on board was looking at me. I’m sure almost everyone on board knew by now. News travels fast, even on something as big as a carrier.

Fuck em, ya did good Lieutenant, he said to me as I climbed out of the cockpit. I looked over the fighter, wondering if I’d ever be allowed to fly it again.

CAG wants the both of you in his office pronto, Lieutenant, he told me. I expected that news. I walked to the ready room where I took off my G-suit. Taking off my helmet, I looked at the word GreyWolf painted on it’s top, before sticking it in it’s slot. As I waited there, Boner came in and did the same thing. He looked at me and we didn’t say anything. I knew he was feeling the same as me, although I was in much deeper than he was.

We walked the corridors on the way to the CAG’s office. Along the way, many voiced their admiration for what we had done. Some just looked at us as we went past. When we came to the hatch at the CAG’s office, I rapped hard on the steel.

COME! I heard. I opened the hatch and Boner followed me in. I stood at attention, Boner next to me. The CAG sat at his desk looking up at us. I expected the worst, screaming, yelling.

At ease, gentleman. Please take a seat, he said. Now I was really worried. I pulled up a chair and Boner sat down to my right.

Seems like you two were a bit busy out there today. He held up his hand as I started to speak. I’m sure he knew what I was going to say. I sat back and waited.

I understand how you feel Grey, and why you did what you did. Boner, you were just doing your duty protecting your wingman. I’m not sure what’s going to happen to you two, but it’s an even bet you won’t be flying for awhile… if ever again. The Captain has ordered you confined to quarters. You aren’t to leave for any reason until ordered to. Your meals will be brought to you. No calls, etc.You’ll be called to explain your side to the Captain. You are not to discuss any of this to anyone. Is that clear? he asked. Boner and I replied Yes sir! at the same time.

Dismissed, he said. As we both stood to leave, he said "Gentlemen off the record, congratulations. I’m proud of both of you. Many people here are. Unfortunately, there are many who won’t be, who won’t understand.

The damn paper pushing politician desk jockeys sure won’t. We train you to be warriors and then when you act like one, we stomp you for it. For what it’s worth, I’ll do what I can to help you. From here on, follow every order no matter what. Good luck men."

Thank you sir," I said, as he shook our hands. We left and walked to our compartment. We didn’t talk until we got inside. Boner sat on his lower bunk and put his head in his hands. I sat at the chair by the small desk and slowly took off my flying boots.

I’m gonna take a shower, I told him. He just nodded, looking at me with sad eyes. I stayed under the scalding water far longer than Navy regs authorized. I figured what the hell, I had just shot down two jet fighters from a country we were not at war with. Taking a long shower was nothing compared to that.

I came out of the head thankful that the designers of these new carriors had decided to install heads in each of the pilots’ quarters. I dried off with a towel, put on a uniform and changed places with Boner so he could take a shower.

I wasn’t sure what would happen to us next, but I knew I had made the decision to shoot down the MIGs, not Boner. My father had always told me that authority and responsibility go hand in hand. I had taken the authority into my own hands, therefore I was responsible. Boner wasn’t. He came out and changed into a uniform.

Whatever happens, I’ll let em know it was my decision and you were just protecting my rear. There’s no reason for both of us goin’ down, I told him.You’ve always been a good friend to me. I won’t let you down, but damn, those bastards deserved what happened to them, Boner.

Yeah, maybe you’re right Grey, but it wasn’t our call to make. That call is made far above our heads. We don’t have the authority for that. We are an extension of the system. We aren’t the decision makers.

We fly around out here with these fifty million dollar plus machines, armed to the teeth for all the world to see, and then every time something happens, we are ordered to sit on our asses and do nothing while those freakin’ politicians diplomacize everything. Some ego-maniac kills an innocent and the diplomats run around and have meetings. The bad guys promise never to do it again, and the politicians call themselves heroes because some asshole makes a promise. That’s horseshit. Cuba has been killing people and all we do sit and watch, I replied.

I know, you’re right. I can’t fault your logic. It’s just that we can’t ever forget that we are the tools that are pulled out of mothballs when they do get off their asses and decide to do something, he shot back.

I’m truly sorry Boner. I am so sorry I pulled you into this mess. Whatever I can do to make it right by you, I will.

I wanted him to know how upset I was feeling, both at myself and at a system that seemed handcuffed. Our conversation was cut short by a rapping on our door. Boner stood up and opened it. I stood up as the CAG came in and handed each of us a folder.

"The Captain wants an official report from both of you. Be fully complete, don’t leave a thing out. He says to take all the time you need, but get it done ASAP. The President was on the horn reaming him out for not being able to control his pilots. Cuba has put it’s military on full alert. They think we are going to invade them or some shit like that.

They are screaming to anyone who will listen. You two managed to piss off a lot of important people in a really short time."

I did it, CAG. Boner was just sucked into it with me, I replied.

That may be, said the CAG, and if that’s the case, I truly hope you both come out of it ok. If this is true then it’s possible Boner won’t be held as accountable as you will be Grey. I’ll send someone around with some chow for you shortly. If you two need anything, lemme know. We both nodded as he left.

The PRESIDENT? Cuban Government? Boner asked me as his eyes got huge. He slowly sat down on the bunk and I watched his face as he realized the consequences of what we had just done. He could see his career in the Navy disappearing right before his eyes.

Boner, I said, trying to get his attention. Just put it all down as it happened. Be brutally honest. Let them know it was me and not you. lt’ll be ok, you’ll see.

He just sat there with a blank look on his face, and my stomach felt like I was in an elevator that was dropping. I felt sick knowing what I had done was going to affect him so deeply. I didn’t feel wrong about what I had done, and I knew in my heart that I would have done it all over again if given the same choices, but I hated that it had to hurt someone else in the process, and that Boner had to be that person.

Sitting at the desk, I slowly tried to put together what to write. I went over in my mind everything that had happened, step by step, from takeoff to landing. I knew I would be sacrificed for what I had done. The only thing I could do now was try to protect Boner.

I started writing, in short sentences, each event in the order it had happened. I wrote that Boner had tried to persuade me to break off, each time he had radioed me. That he had stayed on my wing even though he had yelled at me the whole time to stop. I wrote what I had seen. I wrote about the ship yelling at me over the radio… the MIG firing… the two civilian planes exploding… my radar locking on. When I fired, the two MIGs’ actions…the missiles hitting them. I took my time and didn’t leave anything out. I knew this report would be used in a court martial, which was what

I was sure this would lead to. After I was finished, I re-read it, then handed it to Boner to read. I climbed up into the top bunk and stretched out. Because I top out at 6 ft. 6, I’ve always been assigned a top bunk due to my height. After reading it twice, Boner sat back and looked at the overhead.

My report is going to make you look bad Grey, he said quietly. I could see the pain on his face and I could tell what he was thinking.

Just be honest Boner. Look at it this way dude. I wasn’t thinking about you or how this was going to hurt you when we were up there. All I cared about was shooting those bastards down. Right now the best thing you can do for yourself is to tell it like it happened and accept that I’m going down. There’s no reason to let it get you down. I’ll always consider you my friend, but right now, be your own best friend and help yourself.

He already knew everything I had told him was true, but I knew it would help him to know I felt that way. Closing my eyes I tried to shut out the noises of the ship around me.

CHAPTER TWO

The First Class unlocked the white metal door with a huge brass key. Inside it was stark, dingy, cold, and bare.

One metal bunk, one chair and a desk, two windows with wired glass. It screamed institution. Previous occupants had written messages on the dingy white brick walls. FTN was prominently displayed in every message.

I sat on my bunk in my room, such as it was. There were bars on the window and it was located inside a building run by the base Shore Patrol. There was a chain link fence around the building with barbed wire and concertina wire on top.

Boner and I had been flown to Homestead Air Force Base, then loaded into another plane and flown to Norfolk where we were separated and put into our little locked rooms. I was just thankful we weren’t sitting in the brig run by the Marines. Not that I had anything against the Marines, but I had heard stories about the brig in Norfolk run by them, and I sure didn’t want anything to do with that place. As usual, no one had told us anything, which was the Navy way. When you got into trouble, the Navy wasn’t exactly prompt on what was going to happen next.

I was sitting on the bunk when a Shore Patrol First Class unlocked the door. I stood as a Commander with a briefcase walked in. The SP locked the door behind him.

Good morning Lieutenant. I’m Commander Mason. No jokes please, he said with a straight face as he sat down in the metal chair. He was about 30, with short brown hair and brown eyes. He wore Navy blues and looked fit. He opened his briefcase and pulled out a file as I sat down across from him and waited.

"I’m with the Judge Advocate General’s office and I have been assigned to your case. I must say, this has raised quite a ruckus. I’m going to do the best I can to help you, but it doesn’t look good. All the brass from the President on down want to nail your hide to the barn door.

The Cuban government is having a media field day with this, screaming to anyone who will listen. The President has ordered continuous fighter coverage for the state of Florida, worried Cuba will try to do something stupid in retaliation.

As international incidents go, this one is a whopper," Mason said.

How is Boner? I asked.

He is being held as a material witness against you.They plan to put him on the stand to testify against you during your court martial, he replied. Well, there it is, I thought to myself. It’s finally out in the open. If I had harbored any doubts, they were erased now.

Well, I’m glad he isn’t being charged, I added.

We worry about you, not him, sailor. This is going to be a very serious case. I can’t guarantee anything right now except maybe they won’t execute you, he replied with a slight grin. It helped to break the heaviness of the moment.

Would it help if I resigned my commission? I asked.

"Oh, they won’t let you resign. They want to hang you out to dry. They want to avoid any retaliation from Cuba.

By hanging you out to dry, they can do that. They can show that this was the act of a lone crazy Navy pilot, and not an act ordered by the United States Government. He continued, This is the only way to keep the peace, as they see it." He pulled out my hand written Report.

Do you want to change anything in this? he asked.

No, everything in there is as it happened, I replied

Well they plan to use your own words against you, he said. The media are going after this like dogs after raw meat. That’s not going to help us either. I liked the way he said us, it made me feel a little less like I was all alone, but the reality was, I had made an independant decision. I alone had shot down two fighters from a country not at war with the US. Now it was time to pay the price. I would have to accept the consequences alone, regardless of what my emotions before or after had been.

I took in a deep breath and then let it out. It seemed to help me. He took out a yellow pad and a black pen.

We start by me asking questions, getting background info on what happened. Your frame of mind at the time.

This is a done deal sir, I interrupted. My frame of mind isn’t going to matter as to the outcome of this. They have already decided my fate. It’s just a matter of using the system to prosecute me.

That may be, but you still are guaranteed due process. They have to follow the rule book. So we use the rule book to try and help you as much as possible, he replied. There was that we again.

So, to begin…what were your orders prior to take off? he asked.

To fly to an area between Key West and the 24th parallel and try to provide an aerial buffer between any Cuban fighters and any US civilian aircraft, I answered.

Maybe we can go at it from the standpoint it was an incompetent order. An order that should never have been given. Ok, when you got to that location, what happened next? he asked.

"Well, we took our station at our assigned altitude and flew in a circle. We got a call that bogeys were detected