SEXY LIL X
“She was just fuel, an engine, airframe and two guns. A real close range killer. Like my first wife.” CIA X plane pilot who flew the X-5 in combat.
I went back into the small quiet pub several times over the next few weeks hoping to see Bubba and hear more of his amazing stories but he wasn’t there. I was so disappointed. I knew if was too good to be true, his story was probably made up and he must have had no follow up. Then a month after I first saw him he was there just like the first time. My excitement jumped to the roof and I couldn’t believe it! He was here, would he want to continue his tale of flying and battle I wondered? Nodding to me from the bar he invited me to join him; I smiled and greeted Bubba, asking him what he was drinking. It didn’t matter he had a half drunk pint; it was a good trade off, a beer for a wicked story.
We got our greetings and how are you’s out of the way. This time we went and sat over in the corner by the log fire. This way it was more private, for the boozer was getting packed and I think Bubba was a bit uneasy about talking when the pub was full of strangers. Anyhow he continued: “Well Nick, when I met you last month I told you a bit about my secret flying career flying secret missions in specialised jets. I told you about my hectic days in my Douglas X-3 Stiletto and how we modified her and our other jets for battle. She was damaged in a close battle where we sadly lost one of our buddies, Bert. In that fight we learnt a number of harsh lessons, they were – to be more aggressive and to attack even if out numbered and in a bad situation; to not be separated from the support of our wingmen under any circumstances, this is how we lost Bert and how I was damaged; finally, we understood that we could beat any enemy who flew any aircraft, no matter how fast or agile, if we were better pilots. When I flew my Bell X-5 for three weeks I put these lessons to the test.”
“Yes I remember every bit of your first story. It was very interesting; I’m looking forward to the next bit!” I ventured eager for his next bit of his amazing escapade.
“I bet you are!” he laughed finishing his beer and taking a drink of his second one I got him.
“You can say that again! How did your X-3 handle when compared to the X-5, was it a better jet?” I asked Bert, not taking my eyes off him.
He looked into space and thought deeply before answering, “It’s not as simple as which jet was the better. For example, the X-3 was much faster in level flight and could touch almost a thousand miles per hour in a steep dive with both burners on. She rolled like the devil too but couldn’t turn well with her small wings. Compared to the X-5 she was a bus when you take into account her manoeuvre capability.”
“They sound like two totally different machines,” I commented.
“Yes you’re right, they were. Imagine a sports car compared to a pick up truck and you get the idea. The X-5 could out turn and out fly any jet ever built but she was slow and couldn’t run away if she had to, she had to fight to the end. And doing all those tight gut-wrenching manoeuvres took it out of you, I can tell you! For three weeks while my dear X-3 was being fixed I flew the X-5 and had three major fights in her. One was a real bitch I can tell you. Before I do though, I’ll tell you about the Bell X-5, she goes way back how far you won’t believe!” Bert laughed finishing his beer.
“Sounds good,” I replied.
“Want a beer Nick?” he asked getting his cash ready to pay.
“Yes mate thanks,” I agreed downing my own drink. A new pint was placed in front of me.
“You know about World War2?” he asked me and I nodded, “Well the Nazi’s were fighting for their lives. They made a number of advanced jet aircraft with swept wings and high speed capability. Our prop planes were totally outclassed and we risked losing the war. If their jets had been around a year earlier we would have lost but Hitler screwed it all up. Their most dangerous and advanced fighter was built by Messerschmitt. And it wasn’t their 262 which gave our fighters and bombers such a hard time, no it was a prototype called the P1101. A very advanced little thing with swept wings that could be moved to different positions on the ground, we call this variable geometry now – the ability to change shape. Today planes can do this in flight to get maximum performance and efficiency, back then the P1101 had to be adjusted on the ground. There was a single jet engine with an air intake in the nose and a jet exhaust under the mid fuselage. The tail plane was all swept for high-speed flight and the pilot sat high up over the nose. The German jet would have carried four big cannons to kill our bombers who were hitting Germany. It never flew before the end of the war and was captured by the Americans and taken back to the States. Here Bell Aircraft Company worked on it and in time developed a superior refined version called the X-5. She was tested, flown and gave valuable data in the fifties on swing-wings and their use at various speed. What was important was that she could move her wings in flight, whereas the German one’s wings were only adjustable on the ground. After testing the jet was passed over to us for our secret operations and modified with twin cannon mounted under the nose. This kept the weight down and still gave good hitting power. In a dogfight she was unbeatable, this was proven when the chase plane lost mock fights when she was being tested. You had to watch you didn’t stall with the wings swept to sixty degrees though because then she was a killer and would spin viciously, one test pilot was killed and his X-5 lost in one incident. I learnt from that and I never once came close to dying, I was a better pilot. I could read my airplane. Anyhow one thing led to another and I ended up flying her in South East Asia.”
“What were the battles like when you fought in your X-5?” I asked.
“There were three times when I engaged enemy jets. Each time the Vietnamese flew Mig 17 fighters, at the time the best Mig built for close combat. They were very similar to our X-5 in looks, speed and agility, with a danger for spinning. Much later an American Mig 17 would be lost with her pilot in a tragic accident. Back to my fights. I only damaged a single Mig on two occasions. Now if bigger guns were fitted I would have had definite kills. The third battle was a dead cert and a confirmed kill, I will never forget that one little incident, oh no!” the older man quietly said. He was leading up to a very important emotional episode.
“In America we never had female pilots until the eighties. Vietnam had at least one young female pilot and maybe more when we fought against their air force in the early sixties. I met one in combat and shot her down. She gave me the most difficult and trying fight I ever had in an aircraft. I’ll never forget her.”
“What do you mean? You fought a woman pilot flying a jet and killed her?” I gasped, almost going into shock.
“Yes…yes I did. She almost got me you know? She was their best pilot and equal or even better to myself and my wingmen,” Bubba told me never taking his riveting gaze from me. I involuntarily looked away.
“How did you know she was a woman pilot? And not men like the rest?” I eventually asked after a minute’s awkward silence.
“How did I know?” he repeated my question. “The way she flew for a start. Her manoeuvres were fluid and followed one another with no breaks or wasted energy. Not even I can fly like that and I knew how tight a Mig 17 Fresco could turn. Or I thought I did till I saw her fly one and turn even tighter. She out turned me, teaching me a lesson that almost shot me down, that’s how I knew. And then we all heard her on the radio chattering away in Vietnamese. We knew we were up against someone special then. We actually wanted to damage her jet and force her down so a CIA helicopter could capture her. This didn’t quite work out though…”
“Why what went wrong? Was she too good?”
“Yes she was. She shot down Bret with heavy cannon fire after he had got her wingman. She was real pissed off I can tell you. His jet exploded and we thought he was dead but I saw his chute floating down to earth. I got on the radio to the CIA chopper to go and rescue him; meanwhile I had to keep the Vietnamese bitch from shooting Bret in his chute. She dove on him but my other wingman and I followed her and he fired a missile without locking on. It flew wide but it broke up her attack on Brett. Hell, the bitch had shot him down once, we was damned if we was going to let her do it again,” the ex pilot explained, smiling grimly. He got up and ordered two more beers.
I shouted over and offered to pay. He waived my offer away and gave the bar girl a twenty and told her to keep the change. Bert returned with two pints of warm beer. I eagerly finished my other drink and took the new pint.
“What happened then, didn’t the missile shot scare her off? What did you do?”
“No it just distracted her from nailing my buddy in his chute. I closed the distance to guns range but my X-5 was slow and she pushed her nose down and out distanced me. I fired a shot from beyond max range hoping to scare her. It didn’t work. My wingman had little fuel so he fired his missile at her from above at her; it was decoyed by the sun reflecting on a small lake and missed. I ordered my wingman to return to base. Foolishly I followed her trying to gain on her. I could be heading for a trap but I didn’t care, I wanted her ass and her jet.”
“How did you get her?” I asked. I watched him show me with his hands as he spoke. It was like a dance. A deadly dance.
“I didn’t. She came to get me. I think she thought I was an easy kill. She poured on the power and lit her burner and zoomed up in a huge loop coming up and over, then down onto me. I climbed and waited to dodge her heavy cannon fire which outranged my twin 20mm guns on my X-5 by a large margin. She fired and I rolled off my track and then reversed course, aiming for her. She missed and could still get a second shot off. I fired again and hit her, only damaging her. She fired. I wasn’t where she thought I whould be. I snap rolled using up all my airspeed dodging her fire. I turned tightly just above the stall with my wings fully forward, she zoomed past almost supersonic. She tried to lose speed to come and get me. I turned and fired again but missed. She was way past me. My ammo was going now so my last shot had to get her. She slowed and turned to me, I changed course slightly and turned into her attack but she held fire. I out turned her due to my slow airspeed, she followed me and managed to get on my tail. I increased speed so to not stall and turned tighter, I almost blacked out due to the g-force. I didn’t wear a g-suit coz I couldn’t feel my jet, which almost cost me my life there and then. I nearly blacked out. I saw her tracer fire shoot past two separate lines of shells. She had two different size cannon types. Her guns were meant to shoot bombers down and a single hit could kill me. I did another turn but I knew our turn radius was almost the same size. If this continued she would come round and get me within the next turn. I did a flick roll out of the turn and almost entered a high-speed stall and spin. In an X-5 that could be fatal but I knew my jet and she didn’t let me down. I dove down to the jungle and levelled off above the trees. She came down to chase me. It was then I heard her chatter over the radio and I knew she was a woman, this explained her tighter than average turns in her Mig. She had more G tolerance,” Bubba explained, almost a lecture.
I was confused on this G tolerance business and I kept quiet. Whirling images clouded my mind. In reality I’d never know what it was like.
“My fuel was nearly at bingo level, time to RTB. I used one last trick to get her. I climbed up in a power climb and looped down on top of her. She was only starting to pull up when I nearly overstressed my bird and got her good and square in my gun sight; my last forty rounds of twenty millimetre nailed her. Her jet exploded and went straight into the trees; she never got out or stood a chance. And I had my fourth kill, with one more I’d be an ace!” Bubba grinned drinking the rest of his beer.
“That must have been a close fight, she almost got you on the turn but you reversed the fight and looped up to get her. Just like a game of chess!” I smiled, now understanding the basics of a dogfight. It was move and countermove. Just like chess or any tactical game.
“Exactly young man! I’ll have a pint if you’re going!” the grizzled old vet said. Who was I to refuse? What an earth would he tell me next, that he had saved the world from World war 3?
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