Posted on 04/26/2003 11:08:48 AM PDT by Sub-Driver
A B-2 Crew's Journey From Middle America to Iraq Warfront - and Back Home for Lunch By Sharon Cohen The Associated Press Published: Apr 26, 2003
KNOB NOSTER, Mo. (AP) - He woke up from a nap, fresh and ready for the momentous night ahead. Brian Gallo's wife drove him to work in their Ford Explorer, they embraced, and off he went, an American flag tucked in his bags. Thirty miles away, Brian Bogue kissed his wife and five daughters goodbye. "Daddy's going to work," he said. "I'll be gone a couple of days." Then he headed out into the cool April night.
Both men packed for a long flight, stuffing their bags with beef jerky, sandwiches, soft drinks, sunglasses, crossword puzzles and good luck tokens - the flag from Gallo's days in the Air Force Academy and a rosary from Bogue's wife.
They were like a pair of businessmen leaving on a trip from rural Missouri. But these two Brians are Air Force captains, and their business was the war in Iraq.
It was the night after American prisoner of war Jessica Lynch was whisked out of Iraq in a daring rescue, and the two young pilots would embark on a different kind of stealth mission in their B-2 bomber, the Spirit of Missouri.
Around 11 p.m., as much of America was in bed, they would climb into the $2 billion bat-winged plane that can evade radar, slap each other high fives, and lift off into the night.
They would see twinkling lights in countless towns from Kansas City all the way to Boston before the glow surrendered to the inky blackness of the Atlantic.
They would cross nine time zones and travel 7,000 miles with a lethal package: 32,000 pounds of "smart" bombs to be dropped on targets in Iraq.
More than 40,000 U.S. missions were flown during the war with Iraq, but Gallo and Bogue were among only a few dozen pilots who would see the sun rise, set and rise again, all from a cockpit six miles in the sky.
They would fly from the heart of America to the heart of Iraq, drop their bombs, turn around and head home, never touching the ground until it was wheels down on the runway where they started, at Whiteman Air Force Base.
It would be a 37-hour marathon.
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It was the 13th night of the war and Saddam Hussein's regime was about to collapse.
U.S troops had seized bridges across the Tigris and Euphrates rivers, advancing to within 25 miles of Baghdad.
The night before their mission, Gallo, 30, and Bogue, 32, huddled in a simulator at the base, scoping out possible threats - surface-to-air missiles and anti-aircraft radar.
More than enemy fire was on their minds.
They would have to rendezvous with air tankers at 25,000 feet, moving at 300 miles an hour, sometimes in clouds or darkness. Not once, but five times - a task that requires the split-second precision of trapeze artists.
The plane had taken off with 130,000 pounds of fuel. They would need an additional 400,000 pounds for their journey.
This was the third war for the B-2 stealth bomber; Whiteman-based pilots have flown missions to Kosovo and Afghanistan. The plane can evade radar because of its shape, its rubber-like skin and pilots' tactics.
All 21 B-2s are based at Whiteman. About 60 percent of the B-2 missions against Iraq were flown from Missouri. Some of the planes were moved to the Indian Ocean island of Diego Garcia during the war.
On the night of Gallo and Bogue's mission, theirs was one of two B-2s that left from Whiteman a minute apart. The planes flew in formation most of the way.
Bogue had flown a B-2 mission the second night of the war. Gallo had combat experience in Kosovo, where he flew a B-52 bomber.
Gallo - nicknamed "Pico" after salsa - is animated, a fast talker, a rabid Chicago sports fan (he wore his Bears cap on this mission) and a bit superstitious: He places his dog tags under the laces of his right shoe, a habit he picked up in pilot training.
Bogue - nicknamed "Mugsy" after Mugsy Bogues, the diminutive former basketball player (the pilot is 5-foot-8) - is soft-spoken, a hunter and a devoted father.
Before the war began, he had written two letters to be given to his family in case he didn't return. He told his daughters he wanted them to be successful. His message to his wife, Hollie: "You're the greatest thing to ever happen to me."
On this night, Bogue was the mission commander, responsible for dropping the bombs. Gallo was responsible for the flying.
They carried a 2-inch-thick spiral binder with their flight plan, their route and their mission - they were scheduled to hit four "soft targets" in northern Iraq.
That could be anything from buildings, troops and vehicles - as opposed to bunkers and armored tanks.
The inside of the B-2 is no bigger than a van, so the pilots packed tightly, bringing sandwiches, soft drinks, gummy bears, nasal spray, eye drops, wet cloths and a pillow.
And they brought along crossword puzzles for distraction.
It was no use trying to sleep en route to Iraq. "Your adrenaline's pumping," Gallo explains. "You're wound up."
As they got closer to Iraq, the pilots donned desert-colored flight suits and boots, then 30-pound survival vests that hold a radio, signaling devices and a .9 mm handgun with a spare clip.
Since they had taken off, the winds of war had shifted and new orders were dispatched: Two of their targets had been scrubbed because there was a danger of hitting U.S. troops.
Night had fallen again when the B-2 cruised into Iraq.
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On the ground, U.S. troops were attacking Saddam International Airport and fighting Iraqi troops along a six-mile stretch of road.
From 40,000 feet in the air, Baghdad, without power now, was "like a black hole," Gallo said.
For both pilots, it seemed strange being in the middle of a war zone, knowing they would be heading home immediately after.
"I had taken off from the middle of Missouri and now I'm in the middle of a country in the Mideast," Bogue says.
Though the skies were black, the air was abuzz with dozens of planes with their lights off.
"The radio was nuts," Bogue says. "It was constant jabber."
Within a half-hour of arriving in Iraq, Bogue and Gallo dropped the first three bombs on a command-and-control facility. The pilots wouldn't say more.
They hit a runway with four more bombs.
Just one minute had elapsed.
Dropping a bomb is nothing like ground combat, but the pilots think about what is happening below.
"All of us go into this business knowing what you get paid to do and coming to grips with that," Gallo says. "You kind of rationalize it ... you're bringing the war to an end sooner."
Bogue says he tries to think of targets, rather than people.
"I believe in what I'm doing," he says. "This is my job, this is what I'm trained to do."
The pilots also were eager to use their remaining bombs.
"You fly 37 hours to drop 16 weapons," Gallo says. "You don't want to bring any home."
Bogue radioed in and typed the same message:
"Do you have anything more for us?"
The response came from the ground controller:
"The Army's moving so fast, we cannot keep track of where the friendlies are."
As the Spirit of Missouri headed homeward, the pilots were frustrated not to have dropped all the bombs.
"I wished I could have helped a little more," Bogue says.
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After more than 33 hours, the pilots crossed the U.S. coastline, passing the Statue of Liberty and the spot where the World Trade Center had stood.
"Welcome home, boys," came the voice of a New York traffic controller. "Get plenty of rest."
Gallo had slept 3 1/2 hours on the way back; Bogue, 5 1/2 hours.
Their slate gray plane landed at Whiteman around lunchtime.
After debriefings, Gallo went home, called his parents to tell them he was fine and later watched the war news with his wife, Clarissa.
"It was kind of surreal," he says. "Just a day ago I was involved in this and now I'm on the La-Z-Boy watching TV."
Bogue was picked up by his wife and three of their daughters; his 4-year-old, Sydney, noticed he was in his tan desert flight suit - not the green one he wore when he left.
"Have you been to the war?" she asked.
"Yes," he said, "but I'm home now."
Lucky for them, FAR 61.1(3)(v) allows them to log all that as cross country time.
If ya gotta fight a war, gotta say, this seems like the way you'd like to do it . . .
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