Disclaimer:
All characters and events within this story are fictional. The characters mentioned within this story are all above 18 years old.
Although real world terms and names are used, the context in which they are used is fictionalized.
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The roar of afterburning engines echoed through the Nevada desert. A single silhouette flew near the ground, approaching it's target in low level flight. The triangular wings and canards gave the type away at first glance. The Eurofighter was on the hunt, it's target still several kilometers away, looking for the approaching aircraft. With the radar just periodically activated it should give the adversary a hard time to locate it during it's approach, let alone fire a missile. The Typhoon relied solely on the occasionally obtained radar information, which didn't help much as the return was a faint signal. A little reminder for me that stealth meant low observability and not invisibility. I switched on the PIRATE infrared search and tracking system, I was now approximately within range for the Eurofighter to pick up the opposing aircrafts heat signature. Hiding a jet from radar is one thing, hiding it's two massive, heat expelling engines is a different thing. As I expected, the system picked up a signature northeast from me, at an altitude of around 10 kilometers. 60km was the range of PIRATE, nothing can hide within 60km in front of the Eurofighter. I pulled the nose up towards where the IRST detected the signature, I waited for the weapons system to get a lock and give me launch authorization..."Fox-2!". A pause, then a voice from the comms confirmed the result "Splash 1, well done. How much fuel?".
I looked at the LCD display in front of me and noticed that my fuel reserves were depleted. Flying within the dense air near the ground increased the drag of my aircraft and by that also it's fuel consumption significantly.
"Bingo fuel, return to base."
"Copy that."
I grouped up with the F-22 I just 'shot down' with my simulated launch. The Red Flag exercise this year went well so far. Although one of our Typhoons had trouble with its landing gear the rest of the group performed well. This was now the third day and so far we only lost two aircraft in two separate engagements, a Eurofighter to an F-22 in a dogfight and one to an F-35 in a 'beyond visual range' engagement.
"The kill mark will look good underneath the canopy glass", I thought to myself.
Not only did I manage to speed run my career within the Luftwaffe and graduate flight school top of the class, now I can also say that I outmatched the feared Raptor, the pinnacle of the United States Air Force. Or how my predecessors once said, I had "Raptor Salad".
The F-22 landed first, I followed shortly after. The engines calmed down and I taxied my aircraft to our designated area, where the other 5 Typhoons waited, having already trained this day in the scorching heat.
I got out of the climate controlled cockpit right into the dry and burning air that dominated Nellis AFB. My legs were shaking a bit as I climbed down the ladder. I was constantly on the edge during the entire mock battle, knowing I had to rely on tricks instead of the capability of my radar and missiles. The ground crew and other pilots congratulated me, even pilots from other air forces clapped and showed a thumbs up. Beating a 5th generation fighter was the definitive proof of pilot skill and made someone part of an exclusive club. I took my helmet off, revealing my dark brown hair which barely touched my shoulders. The sound of engines was a constant presence in the background. Being the youngest pilot in the exercise, as well as one of the few female pilots created a certain kind of pressure to perform exceptionally well, that pressure finally wore off. The guys from the exercise coordination were already coming my way, probably to give me information on where to go for the post mission debrief. However I was definitely going to take a shower first.
After showering and getting into uniform I went to the small hangar where the debrief took place. Considering the size, small propeller driven aircraft were usually housed here. I definitely didn't thought a Raptor or Eagle would fit in here. I sat down on one of the chairs that was still free. A couple of people were already here before me, I could recognize insignia of the Swedish Air Force, Japanese Air Self Defense Force, Royal Air Force, US Air Force, Navy and with me the German Luftwaffe was represented as well. A tall man sat down next to me, he had rich brown hair, lighter in color than my hair. He was probably 1,90m tall, so barely within the height limits of the USAF. His face was stoic, shaved clean, his dark green eyes looked at the projection in front the assembly of seats. I noticed his insignia on his sleeve '27th Fighter SQ'.
I thought for a while, then I remembered that this squadron is called 'Fighting Eagles' and that their home base is Langley in Virginia. Quite the journey, although they didn't cross the Atlantic like we did. The hangar filled with a few more people as time went on. The seats were filled with pilots that completed training missions today, ground staff and organizers stood at the sides, the mission control and instructors stood in front at the projection surface. They started their presentation and broke down the missions that were flown today, pointing out mistakes, discussing maneuvers with all pilots present and theorizing about possibilities to improve overall combat effectiveness. Things like these were the reason why NATO and allied forces could fight effectively together. At last they came to my simulated fight. The slightly out of shape instructor that led the discussion started. "BVR engagement between Capt. Robert Taylor from the 27th Fighter Squadron in an F-22 Raptor against Lt. Viktoria Lindenhof from the 74th Fighter Wing in a Eurofighter Typhoon. The engagement ended in a Fox-2 kill for the Eurofighter after approaching the F-22 with deactivated radar in low level flight. Why couldn't Capt. Taylor utilize the advantages of his airframe against the approaching bandit?". Silence filled the hangar, nobody really wanted to voice their thoughts on the matter, considering that the F-22 used its abilities in a textbook manner. I raised my hand, ready to say what I thought went wrong.
The instructor nodded and everyone looked at me.
"His mistake was that he assumed I would maneuver like an ordinary bandit would, assuming I had no previous information about him and his status. However I was aware from the start that he was in the air as well. So the biggest advantage of his aircraft was negated from the moment we took off. I knew I wanted to reduce altitude as fast as possible and only sporadically use my radar to locate him at a higher altitude while giving him the least information about my position as possible. As soon as I was aware where I had to go I utilized my IRST system to track the IR signature of his aircraft and theoretically aid my Fox-2 as well as keeping the F-22 locked to not lose situational awareness."
The silence persisted after I finished my explanation.
"Very well, that leads us to our next point, utilizing the strengths of the own airframe in combination with environmental factors..." the instructor began to explain. Capt. Taylor looked at me from the side, but I pretended to not notice it and looked straight ahead. He probably was angry that his F-22 couldn't beat a 4th generation jet. As soon as the Instructor wrapped up our engagement we were free to go.
Considering it's early Saturday evening plenty of us were planning to go out and have a bit of fun. In the end these international exercises were just upscaled school trips with expensive toys. I went to my quarters and got into some more casual clothes. Getting into a snugly fitting black jeans, a white top and deciding to go with my pilot jacket and white sneakers as well. I took my ID with me and left the base, heading to the near by bus stop.
With the bus I reached the nearby Las Vegas outskirts. I wasn't planning to go downtown, as there would be way too much going on for my taste. After I walked down the sidewalk for a while I spotted a charming little bar, with a retro looking neon lit sign, this would be my destination. I entered and took a seat directly at the bar, a young blonde stood behind the counter and was busy filling a couple glasses. It was moderately full, not overcrowded but few seats remained free in the bar. I ordered a Mojito, going with something I knew I liked. I took a sip from my cocktail and zoned a bit out as subtle music filled the background. I couldn't exactly determine the genre, electro? pop? Probably something in between. Lots of younger people laughed and enjoyed the mind degrading alcoholic beverages, a few men in suits discussed something vaguely business related, I shared my place at the counter with two men that looked like the beers in front them were not their first ones this evening. I looked into my glass and thought about the training today, I remembered how the G-Forces pressed my body into my seat when I pulled up to get the deciding lock on. The strange contrast between the relaxation of the world around me now and the adrenaline flooded, maneuver heavy, fast moving experiences when I'm inside the cockpit left me thoughtful.
"I really managed to get a Raptor..." I thought to myself, smiling a bit while reminiscing about my achievement. Soon I would start training for the F-35, being the youngest pilot in the Luftwaffe for the airframe and among the first to fly the F-35G in general. Nobody at the pilot school ever expected someone in their early twenties to finish the training for the Typhoon not only so quickly but so well too. Being considered exceptional is always a big ego boost, it definitely had a nice ring to it.
