A-10s over Kosovo (illustrations removed)

We routinely located valid military targets, and called the CAOC for permission to hit them, only to be denied by a director sitting in Italy. I still do not understand why we had to get that clearance to drop on a target in Kosovo. A brigadier general and former CAOC director during OAF tried to explain it to me once in the Officers’ Club bar at Nellis. He had served as a colonel during OAF and been promoted six months after the conflict.

I had asked him, “Sir, did you guys plot the target coordinates we passed on 1:50 or 1:250 maps?” I used this question to try to understand how he, in Italy, developed his judgment on those targets. The 1:50 scale maps that AFACs carried in Kosovo were extremely detailed. Plus, I had a beautiful view of the target from my cockpit. He said that they had used 1:250s, maps that I knew showed much less detail.

I continued, “So, sir, why did you guys deny us clearance to hit some of those targets?”

He responded, “Well you need to understand the politics of the war. Do you really think striking that one target would have mattered in the overall campaign?” Then the recently promoted general added, “It really would not have mattered.”

I stared into my drink in astonishment. So he knew it didn’t matter. Great, I thought, soon he’ll get promoted again and will be one of the leaders for the next war.

“Sir, the next time we send our boys into combat to get shot at, we better make sure that it matters.” I refused to stand there and listen to his doublespeak. I walked away and ordered another drink.

From Wingman to Flight Lead

1st Lt Stu “Co” Martin

I began Operation Allied Force as an experienced wingman—I finished it as an inexperienced two-ship flight lead. I had developed a complete and utter confidence in the capabilities of the A-10 during the one and one-half years I had flown the Hog. However, I often thought that we were not very realistic with our expectations for the airframe during peacetime training. My OAF experience opened my eyes and provided insights that increased my love for, and confidence in, the Hog.

The OAF conflict was not what I expected. I had previously flown medium-altitude sorties over war-torn Bosnia, so it came as no surprise when we employed under many of the same constraints. Those constraints, such as having to AFAC and employ weapons from medium altitude, led to the predictable difficulty in identifying and destroying tactical-sized targets. What I did not expect was that the ROEs would change on a daily basis and that tactical decision making would be taken out of the cockpit and given to someone in the CAOC—hundreds of miles from the AOR. The cumulative effect was that these constraints frustrated our ability to kill enemy targets that we badly wanted to destroy. In retrospect, our operations seemed to reflect more political than military considerations. That was frustrating for everyone involved—because we were capable of so much more.

For me, the war began in earnest after our departure from Aviano AB. In the beginning, our flying was constrained by the A-10’s limited mission taskings and bad weather. My last mission at Aviano was typical of our frustration. I flew over 10 hours, tanked four or five times, and brought home all my bombs because of bad weather in the AOR. After the decision was made to move our A-10s to Gioia del Colle in southern Italy, a quick look at the map made me smile. It would take only half an hour to fly from Gioia, across the Adriatic, and into the AOR. Finally, we could spend the lion’s share of our time finding targets and not droning back and forth to Aviano.

I arrived in advance of the main party, only to find a bare base with an old dormitory that would serve as our operations section. All we were able to accomplish during the 24 hours prior to the arrival of the squadron was to break down all the bunk beds to make room for furniture and equipment—items that weren’t there and that we didn’t own. In spite of that, the 81st was flying combat sorties within 48 hours of deploying to southern Italy. Our experiences were often surreal. We would fly, attack targets, and get shot at. Then only hours later, we would be at the Truck Stop, drinking vino and eating pasta. On “English night” we would even watch a movie at the local theater. Every once and awhile, you’d stop and think about the weird and incongruous aspects of our lives.

Mission Check