It was a black night over the Black Sea as we approached our tanker. With two planned stops in Afghanistan, we would need at least 90,000 lbs. of fuel out of the 100,000 lbs. that we were scheduled to offload. With two qualified air refueling pilots in the seat, our plan was for me to take the first half of the gas and the other pilot would get the second half. So I crept slowly forward until we assumed the contact position, slightly less than 20 feet aft and below the KC-135 tanker. Since we were already heavy – with a full load of cargo and 80,000 lbs. of fuel already in our tanks – I had to be especially patient when moving the throttles. There is always a delay between power adjustments and a noticeable effect during heavyweight refueling. Add too much power too soon and you’ll quickly develop too much smash, leading to excessive closure – an obviously dangerous situation.
The boom operator flew the boom into our receptacle and we were taking gas. I made it to roughly the halfway point before I strayed too far left of centerline, and the boom operator disconnected. I had picked up slightly more than 40,000 lbs. I transferred the controls to the other pilot and he maneuvered back in for the rest of the fuel. As we approached the 90,000 mark, I noticed that we were approaching our minimum maneuvering airspeed, Vmma (pronounced V mama), the first margin approaching our stall speed. But before we could tell the tanker to accelerate, we stopped taking fuel. Our tanks were full after taking a total of 87,000 lbs. of fuel, short of the 90,000 we needed and well short of the planned 100,000 lbs. offload the mission planners determined we’d need.
After separating from the tanker, we picked up our flight plan to Afghanistan. I checked the fuel calculations in the computer, and sure enough, we wouldn’t have enough fuel to make it to our final destination. We’d have to get some at one of our stops in Afghanistan, perhaps 10,000 lbs. at most. Still, it was fuel that we’d be taking from an aircraft that needed it in country. Ten thousand pounds of fuel is a lot of gas for a fighter jet.
A few hours later, we arrived at our first stop, a Marine airbase. It was still dark and we were descending into a valley surrounded by mountains to an airfield none of us had ever been to before. Finding the runway was easy enough; missing a mountain was another thing. But with NVG goggles, terrain charts, and our GPWS and TAWS systems, we easily touched down and were soon offloading our cargo. As we finished up, I noticed two Marine Cobra helicopters takeoff – lights off- in a scramble. Marines on foot were taking fire somewhere in the valley and the two gunships wasted little time in responding.
We took off just before dawn with an empty jet, and proceeded to our next stop to pick up a load of cargo bound for the States. The sun rose above the low-lying clouds and the already white-topped peaks of Afghanistan, heralding the approach of the notorious Afghan winter. Above us, a brilliant deep blue sky stretched from horizon to horizon, nearly unblemished in its splendor. It was short-lived; we soon descended into another valley, one capped with clouds trapped by the peaks surrounding it. Before long, we were on the ground at another airbase, ready to upload our cargo, pick up a little gas, and be on our way.
We took off approaching the 18-hour mark in our day. As soon as we lifted off, we turned sharply, watching small walled courtyards and square fields from nearby villages pass under us like an ancient chessboard. Reaching our desired airspeed, I pulled the stick back, raising our nose above 20 degrees in a zoom for the overcast clouds above us. They can’t hit what they can’t see, so as soon as we reached the sanctuary of the clouds, I relaxed my tactical climb for the more sedate, and comfortable, climb typical of civilian airliners everywhere.
Another three hours of cruise and our day would be done.
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