Aces High

Chapter 1

               My story with flying beings where most do, looking up at the sky and seeing a plane flying high above. I may have only been 4 at the time, but that plane was the starting point of my love of aviation and my passion for flight. Lucky for me, I wasn't the only one in the family looking up. My older cousin Andre was also a big aviation fan. Thanks to their proximity, we began hanging out more and more. As we got older, we were taken to more and more aviation-related events. Even got the chance to meet some fighter pilots from before the Blackout. It was a great time, and I thought we'd have more like it. Unfortunately, my cousin moved away from our hometown in Texas, all the way over to California.

A few months after my cousin left, a new kid came to my school. We kept our distance for a while until I pulled out a book about fighter missions from the first Cold War. He wanted to read, and I let him. Found out he was also interested in aviation, and we quickly became friends. His name was Steven Beaucanon, although I liked to call him "Bucky." He didn't like it at first, but in more than a few situations when we needed to think fast, I always called him by that name, and he would respond. He also had a nickname for me in those situations, and that was "Jeff." We remained friends for a long while until he moved away after my 13th birthday. We kept in touch for a while, but we wouldn't talk a lot for a while after that.

I was bummed after that, but what lifted my spirits up was going to visit my cousin Andre in California. There was an airshow going on at the time, which I'm sure my aunt and my mother both knew and planned around that. Needless to say, we had an awesome time going to the airshow and seeing the oldest human-flown fighters. During the show, they were saying that one of the pilots was only in their early twenties, having sharpened his skills in a program for flying jet fighters. After the main act was done Andre dragged me to a relatively large tent flying a flag I hadn't ever seen before. Inside there were kids around our age dressed in G-suits, as well as a full-size mockup of a few older 4th generation jet fighters. They were set up for one-on-one dogfights, pitting different aircraft against each other. One mockup was of an F-16, and the other was of an F/A-18. I hopped into the Hornet's cockpit and Andre went into the F-16s. It wasn't even close. I was outmaneuvered and outgunned in only a few turns. Turned out Andre was one of the best pilots they had seen in the sims, and they offered him a position in this program called Aces High. My Aunt happened to walk in on the conversation, and the rest was history, upon learning the potential Andre had, she decided to send him to this program to fulfill his dream of flying.

Of course, I was a bit jealous and asked my parents, no begged my parents to let me join the program too. It took two years, but when I was 16, I was allowed to enroll in the program. I had also maintained contact with Andre through those years, seeing him go through flight training, to even some of his combat missions. Of course, he was flying an F-16, and over the many videos and calls we had, I heard his callsign get called out numerous times. Even over the phone, I could tell that he was indeed living the dream, and every day I wanted a piece of that even more. And soon I would get it, and Andre was excited for me, saying he'll even put in a word for me to get moved to his squadron.

During the weeks leading up to departure for the training base, I was examined, both mentally and physically, to make sure I was even fit to fly. Good thing I was a bit athletic, which kept me in shape. During the mental examination, I was asked many questions. Some about my childhood, if I had any traumatic experiences, any health concerns that were missed in the physical, to which I answered no. Then some general questions and the last one they asked was why I wanted to join the program in the first place. So, I told them. My cousin, my love of flying, and more importantly, to fulfill a longtime dream. Then they told me the risk of joining the program. The fact that we would be fighting against other young adults our age, some more experienced, some less, and the fact that we may be killed. I was taken aback by this fact. I expected some risk since flight in it of itself had some, but the fact that we would be actively trying to kill one another was a bit terrifying. Even still, I held a straight face.

"Ma'am, I'll do what I must. I just wanna fly." The person who was examining me said I was one of the few who said that and said that she saw some potential in me. Before I left, she asked me if I knew anyone in the program, and I said I did. I told her about my cousin, Andre, and she put two and two together. She just happened to be the one who had done his examination, and said that he and I were very similar and that she expected great things to come from the two of us.

A couple of days after the exams, I was boarding a plane to the base where I was to begin flight training, and after the almost 18-hour trip, we were touching down on base. The base itself was enormous, and it wasn't on any airport charts, outside of the military. Outside the windows, fighter jets and trainers lined the ramp, on the other side, larger logistical aircraft, AWACS, and Tankers lined the field, and it was there where our jet parked. We filed off the jet into a large building where we would have our orientation. Among the instructors were some of the top-scoring pilots from each western airbase, and one of them was Andre. The reunion was almost bittersweet, considering the fact that he was living out his wildest dream. We both were, in a sense.

"Wassup Jerome!" He exclaimed as he embraced me. "Glad you finally made it! Oh, and I put in a little word for ya. My instructor will be so happy to meet you." He said.

"Thanks man, good to see you as well," I said. "So, you're an ace? Damn dude, I knew you had skill, but I didn't exactly expect that." We walked and talked, with him filling me in on some of the activities and sorties he'd been running. He also personally introduce me to his instructor during the orientation ceremony. During that ceremony I was able to meet his wingman, who only went by his callsign. Candid struck me as the strong silent type, as Andre talked plenty for the both of them. That wasn't to say he didn't talk at all. We also got to meet a couple of other aces and logistics personnel. It was also during the ceremony that I reunited with another old friend.

"Jeff?" I nearly snapped my neck turning around to see who had just addressed me.

"Holy shit... Bucky?!" Steven Beaucanon was standing right before me. And I couldn't be happier. We shook hands, but still embraced each other. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question." He replied. We both caught up with each other, and soon learned we'd be in the same class. He was going for the F-15, seeing as it would be a great all-rounder. I couldn't blame him. I even introduced him to my cousin and the three of us all got along great. Soon the Ceremony was over and we all had to head out separate ways, as Steven was staying in another building.

"So, it'll be about 8 months of flight training, 2 in the props, another 4-5 in the trainer jets and then the last two will be in the fighter of your choice." Andre explained while showing me to the quarters I'd be staying in. It was set up like an old apartment from the early half of the century, lavish but outdated. It would be where I'd call home for the next few months. "Well, I guess this is goodbye for now. I'll check in on you from time to time."

"You mean like you always have?" He smiled and nodded. "Alright then, You take care of yourself."

"Of course, when have I ever not?" We embraced one another for what would be the last time, and he went off to his room. The next day, as I was walking out to the flight line to meet the T-6A trainer we would be starting in, I watched Andre and his wingman, flying in another F-16, take off. He must've known when we were heading up, because he did a wing wave as he left the ground.

He kept his promise, checking up with me every few days, and I kept him posted on the training. The training itself got tiring fast, from the formation flying to dogfighting to navigating. Steven and I were keeping score, as well as our nicknames for each other, and by the time we had transitioned into the T-38 jets, the score was tied at around 10 kills, with a couple of them being ourselves. It wouldn't be long before the instructors noticed we were already becoming quite the team, as well as each other's rival. In the last week of flying the Talons, our final dogfight was against each other.