Power Twins Comics

Just north of the city of Las Vegas, a large “Red Force” is moving across the desert toward Nellis AFB. A hastily assembled Blue Force has deployed as a defensive barrier. We scramble in an A-10C loaded with as many cannon rounds, mavericks, LGBs, and cluster bombs as we can carry. For good measure, we also have a pair of AIM-9 “Sidewinders” and a 70mm rocket pod fitted with add-on laser guidance systems. We’re actually light on fuel just to be able to take off.

We recognize this Red Force as 2 Mi-8 Hip and 2 SA342 Gazelle helicopters act as vanguard for the approaching enemy. Before we even get in the fight, Blue Force SAMs have downed all four helos – the start up procedure for the A-10C takes significantly longer than the P-51D. Where we excel, though, is destroying ground targets. We dive in from 12,000 feet popping mavericks at an advancing armor column, demolishing three T-55s on our first pass. Having lost (launched) 1,500 pounds from one wing, we fly in a decidedly lopsided attitude.

It takes me a bit to trim out for level flight before we’re ready for another pass at the tanks. We’re further north – deeper into the red-force turf – than planned. I spot various forms of ground artillery moving into position. This becomes our priority target. Tanks are dangerous, but they are a vehicle to vehicle weapon platform. Artillery is more “to whom it may concern.” If we don’t silence the guns and MRLSs they’ll rain a lot of hurt on our side.

We fly a race-track pattern east to west over the rear of the red force, dropping GBU-12 laser guided bombs on individual emplacements. We augment with our remaining mavericks and throw in the laser-aided 70mm rockets.

I see a trio of infantry fighting vehicles staged to attack after the artillery bombardment. Being in a staging formation, they’re parked close together – too close together for their own good. We’re well away from civilian areas, so we treat the IFVs to a CBU-97 anti-tank cluster bomb. Clearing out the back field and demolishing numerous artillery pieces, we are soon out of stores. We switch to the mighty GAU-8 “Avenger” 30mm rotary barrel cannon. Swooping low on attack runs we ruin a few light trucks carrying Multiple Rocket Launch Systems.

The main thrust of the red-force is well cleaned out, but I see more forces to the west. Apparently the assault is multi-pronged. We’re low on cannon rounds and out of everything else except fuel – actually we’re pretty low on fuel, too. “Fortunately,” this fight is on Nellis’s doorstep, so it is a short jaunt to re-arm and refuel.

We travel along a ridgeline that defined the western edge of the battle, and I see a squad of T-80’s. Those are more modern than the T-55’s we were striking in the main body. There are a few newer IFVs and APCs over that way, too. It occurs to me that the main thrust might have been diversionary for this better equipped group. The Radar Warning Receiver beeps a loud alert tone and indicates a diamond just to our right. A ZSU-23-4 Shilka is parked in the mountains to provide cover for the western column.

The A-10C is more durable than a P-51 when it comes to getting cut up by anti-aircraft fire, but we’re out of weapons. We break left, push the throttle to the stops, and kick us into a climb to put distance between us and the AAA. The Shilka has a limited vertical firing range, and we manage to get out of it before he opens up. I have a special dislike for those guns, so I make note of his position. We’re coming right back after we get a big stick to whack him with.

For practice, we shoot an ILS approach. Configuring the A-10C to use the ILS is a little tricky, and I’ve learned to remember some really basic stuff – like that the ILS receiver works much better in the “ON” position. Up front – and hidden behind the stick – there’s a switch to un-cage the indicator bars on the attitude indicator. Leave that switch in the “stow” position and you’ll never see the needles. Under that switch is a line of toggle buttons to select what you want the bar to indicate. The far right one is ILS, make sure that one’s on and all the others are off.

It’s a great airplane, but everything in the A-10C, that isn’t automatic, takes at least three steps.

We touchdown smooth and fast taxi to our parking ramp. I shutdown the engines, pop the canopy, and call to the crew chief for fuel and a full re-stock of weapons. It takes long enough that I drop the boarding ladder, get out (go to external view), and grab a cookie (not a euphemism). Ready to go kill the Shilka out of spite, I run the startup checklist – abbreviated for all the systems I left on to save time. I ask the ground crew to stow the boarding ladder, close the canopy, and throttle up to taxi. The east-most parking ramp at Nellis is narrow enough that I have to use full left wheel brake to keep from putting the right wheel in the dirt and knocking over lighting carts. It isn’t until we’re failing to turn onto taxiway G that I realize I forgot to turn on nosewheel steering.

Do not skip checklist steps.

Fortunately, Taxiway G is a wide piece of pavement, and we recover without incident. Three minutes later, we’ve got clearance and are roaring down the runway.

We fly a direct path to where I saw the Shilka. We’ve climbed to 12,000 feet – which will be about 8,000 AGL – to stay above the Shilka’s vertical gun range. Assuming he’s parked, I ready a GBU-12 “Paveway II.” It’s a laser-guided 500lb bomb. In terms of force, it’s overkill for a single lightly-armored vehicle. In terms of killing that “Fokker” without giving him a chance, it’s the least expensive option I have on board – making it “just right.”

It takes us a minute to find him among the rocks. I keep us in an orbit east of his position, using the TGP to find him. I see him, lock the targeting pod on him and double check that the laser is armed.

As counter intuitive as it feels in a combat scenario, the way to deliver this weapon is flying straight and level, trusting the CCRP to advise when to pickle. Even then, the pickle button doesn’t release the weapon, the computer does when we actually pass through the Continuously Calculated Release Point. The circle flashes as the bomb is released, and I hear the rail open to drop. On the TGP screen I’m zoomed in so much I can see the Shilka lift his guns and turn them to face us. I tap the nosewheel steering button – because in flight it fires the laser – and see the flashing “L” on the TGP. The Shilka keeps his guns aimed at us as we cross directly over him. We’re out of his effective range, so he never fires – he’s just ready to if we make a mistake. Our patience and steady flight is rewarded as the Shilka suddenly turns into a big ball of fire and twisted metal. Flecks of armor plating spin away from the crater like sparks from a celebratory firework.

If it were a movie, I’d say some arrogant “rah rah” line that would pump-up pickup truck owners everywhere. Being satisfied with the weapon’s delivery, I only whisper, “Nice.”

Our work’s not over, yet. We turn north to start to engage that western prong of the Red Force. I spot something on next to a road and swing the TGP around to see what it is. There’s an infantryman shouldering the Russian version of a Stinger, man-portable surface to air missile. He turns and aims it at us. Okay, we’ve got 10,000 feet on him, I just start lining up to drop a bomb on him. It’s not a great anti-personnel weapon, but it should do the trick. I see a heat bloom and cloud of smoke on the TGP. He fired at us.

This would not be the best time to point out that I’m not exactly well-trained in the A-10C’s semi-automated countermeasures system. Sure, the countermeasure switches are all on, but the rocker is still set to “standby” – and the 4-way rocker on my stick that’s supposed to be CMS is set up for trim control. (The switch for trim control is configured for looking around.) Evasive flying is our only option and we don’t have time to think of another one.

I bank 110 degrees right and pull back, trying to get out of the way of the missile and drop below it before it can turn into us. It’s almost the right maneuver. With a loud popping sound, the master caution light flashes, the right MFD goes dark, and several instruments don’t exactly look like they’re reading correctly. Airspeed is bouncing between 50 and 275 knots. We’ve been hit, bad, and we’re inverted.

The stinger missileman needs to get another one ready, so our priority is to get the hell away from him before he does. We have hydraulic pressure – good. The controls respond – good. We get right-side up and turn south. I push the throttle all the way forward and start to climb. The left engine fan responds – good. We gain altitude enough to get over the mountains, but we’re losing airspeed faster than we should. The right engine fan reads 20% – bad. We’ve lost a noticeable amount of fuel from the right tank – not good. I look over my shoulder. Sure enough, the right wing is more mangled than it should be – bad. It’s still there, and it’s still wing-shaped at least – not completely awful.

We get past the ridgeline. There’s rocks between us and the missileman – time to start trying to get back to Nellis. Step one, make the airplane lighter. In movies, you see people frantically throwing luggage, gym equipment, food, chickens, and seat cushions out of open cargo plane doors. We don’t have any of that, but we are carrying about a third of our gross-weight in bombs and missiles. We’re basically fully loaded, having only dropped one 500 bomb since take-off. The left MFD is still functioning, so I bring up the stores page, switch to selective jettison, and select everything. I press the weapons release, and two Mavericks slide off the rails in unguided mode.

We’re not exactly nose toward the city of Las Vegas, and it is still 30 miles away. But, launching rockets in the general direction of non-combatants is really, really low on – like below the bottom of – my “bucket list.” Moreso because I think we’re actually going to get back to a runway, and when we land I’d like to be honored as a guy who brought a banged up bird back and not handcuffed for flinging fire at friendlies.

I switch the release mode to “rack” and hit the drop button again. All the extra weight drops away, except the flashing red block with the message “stores hung.” Something refused to fall off. The good news is that it’s just the two AIM-9M Sidewinder missiles on the right wingtip. I mean, that’s not good, but of all the explosive things we took off with that could destroy the airplane instantly, those are the least likely to do so if we spike the nosewheel.

Even with the stores gone, the plane pulls hard to the right. With only one engine – 100% differential throttling – it flies like there’s a tortoise caught in the rudder and it’s digging a new nest. I push on the left rudder pedal to counteract it. It also occurs to me that being torn up, the engine might be spraying valuable stuff like fuel. I take my left hand off the throttle to work the mouse to turn off the switches for the right-side fuel booster-pumps and hit the key sequence to shutoff the right engine – [R Ctrl] + [End].

I’m not awful with my left hand, but the right side of the keyboard is easier to work with my right. The startup sequence for the A-10C is long with a lot of switches and buttons all over the cockpit. To make the game a bit more accessible to less dedicated sim-pilots, [R Win] + [Home] does the complete engine start and pre-taxi checklist automatically. It takes about 6 minutes, but it doesn’t miss any steps. It’s a relatively logical key selection. [R Alt] + [Home] starts the left engine; [R Ctrl] + [Home] starts the left engine. [R Win] is between those keys on most keyboards.

Just now, I learn two things: First, [R Win] is too close to [R Ctrl] when I’m using my left hand. And second, there’s a programmed function to run the post-landing, after parking, aircraft shutdown checklist – [R Win] + [End].

In case it’s not obvious, being in flight is the exact wrong time to start shutting down the airplane. Shutting down while struggling to make it back missing an engine, holes in the wing, only half the instruments, and a busted pitot is only quadrupley worse. I don’t know how to stop the automatic checklists, so I do the one thing I think might fix it – run the automatic startup checklist.

The most important thing for a pilot to remember is “fly the plane.”

The most important thing for a pilot to remember in an emergency is “fly the f-ing plane.”

Hoping the computerized functions argue each other to a standstill, I fly the plane. Unsure it will function, I turn on the ILS receiver and configure for an ILS approach. To my delight we intercept the localizer, so we start lining up eighteen miles out. The glideslope flag stays red; it’s not detecting a signal. If I couldn’t see the runway, I might worry about that, but I’m just using the needles for reassurance.

15 miles out, the automatic startup starts navigation alignment. The navigation system goes into initial ground alignment. There’s no way that’s going to end properly in flight, but we don’t need it. What worries me is that at the end of the alignment, it’s going to shutoff the ILS bars, so I ignore them.

I half expect springs to pop out of the instrument cluster and cartoon hamsters to jump out of the engines when we touchdown. Instead, as seems to be par for the course, we have one of my smoothest landings to date. I’m not sure we’ve touched down until the nose drops to its unsettlingly low ground position. I apply brakes; they work. Nosewheel steering activates like it should, and we make our normal runway exit on taxiway C.

Being a sim, DCS World has options for replacing your broken aircraft. If it’s destroyed, you can “respawn.” If you manage to make it back, you can ask the ground crew to repair the plane. It takes an unrealistic 180 seconds to completely fix everything that is wrong with our plane – new engine, new skin on the wing, replace the pitot boom, rewire all the broken instruments, slap on a fresh coat of paint, rotate the tires, check the oil, vacuum the floor mats, empty the ashtray, and wring out the pilot’s diaper.

Normally, I’d quit here, but there’s a guy with a box of shoulder launched rockets who I want to introduce to some high explosives. While repairing, we order up a rearm and refuel. Barely 10 minutes after touchdown we lift off again.

We climb past the Las Vegas Motor Speedway, and I navigate large orbits over the desert to climb to 18,000 feet before starting the hunt for a single person standing by a road. We get lucky; he hasn’t moved. I pick him up with the TGP, zoom way in, and designate him as target. He’s looking the wrong way, but he’s got an SA-18 “Igla” on his shoulder.

Instead of an LGB, I select the CBU-87 cluster bomb that we have on centerline. The Rockeye is sort of like a piñata of bombs. It drops to a settable altitude, breaks open, and showers the area with two hundred and two smaller bombs. Rather than having the Igla’s name on it or being addressed “to whom it may concern,” CBU’s are stamped with bulk-mail sorting codes – “everyone on this carrier route.” By the time we’re at the CCRP, we’re coming in around 18,000 AGL. The cluster bomb drops, and I watch the TGP display as it falls. The missileman turns to face us just before the ground around him bubbles with hundreds of small explosions, and he disappears in a cloud of smoke and fire.

I would feel bad, but he started it. Besides, there’s a platoon of T-80s rolling down the highway toward base housing, and we’ve got 6 AGM-65D Mavericks onboard that are all whining “launch me, launch me.”

Sim: DCS World
Region: Nevada
Aircraft: A-10C
Base: Nellis AFB

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