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1351 hours. Chalottenburg, West Berlin.

There was nothing a cavalryman liked better than pursuing the broken remnants of an enemy formation, even in the modern age of heavily armed and armoured tanks. Major James Saunders certainly felt the thrill of the chase as the Challenger 2s of D Squadron, The 17^th/21^st Lancers pursued the fleeing troops of what had once been the 24^th Motor Rifle Division. By now most of the opposing armoured vehicles had either been knocked-out, or abandoned in the panic to escape from the marauding Allied armour.

The 'Thunder Run' had confounded one idea, that tanks could not effectively operate in urban areas. The Challengers, Abrams and Leclercs had proven relatively immune to most anti-tank weapons, and with the infantry covering their rear and flanks they had made the most of the wide Berlin streets, and keeping 'buttoned-up' had reduced the commander's vulnerability to snipers.

'THUMP.'

Saunders' train of thought was broken by the muffled thump of something hitting the outside of the turret. Whatever it was did not sound particularly serious.

'THUMP.'

"What the hell is that?" He wondered out loud, scanning the road ahead with his independent sight.

Up ahead he saw a group of motor riflemen engaging the tanks with what looked like RPG-16s. So that had been what the muffled thumps were, RPG rounds exploding against the turret armour.

"Those buggers are going to damage our paintwork and we can't be having that." Saunders muttered.

"Sir?" The gunner asked, somewhat puzzled, he had hardly noticed the dull thuds.

"Gunner, target infantry!" Sunders barked in reply. "Engage with co-ax!"

"Engaging!"

The gunner fired a few short bursts from the co-axial Chain Gun, cutting down most of the RPG armed infantrymen, and sending the remainder scurrying into an already damaged shop. The Major certainly had no intention of letting them escape only to pop up again and hit a more vulnerable vehicle with an RPG.

"Driver, stick right, keep going forward until I tell you to stop!

"Load HESH!"

"Loaded!" The loader reported, telling both Saunders and the gunner that the round and separate charge were in place and that he was clear of the breach.

"Are you planning on doing what I think you are, Sir?" The gunner asked.

"I am, so you better make sure the gun is fully depressed." Saunders replied with a grin.

The tank continued to advance forward until the muzzle of the L30 rifled gun was poking through the gap where the glass frontage had been.

"Driver halt!

"Fire!"

"Firing now!"

'BOOM!'

The tank was shaken backwards on its suspension as the main gun fired and then again as the 120mm HESH shell detonated against the back wall of the shop, throwing the shockwave back at it.

"Driver reverse!"

The Challenger 2 moved back smartly and none too soon as the damaged building came crashing down, entombing the Soviet soldiers who had taken shelter within.

While Major Saunders had been dealing with the motor riflemen, covered by two other Challys and two FV432/30s, a platoon of four M1A2 Abrams had taken over the advance. They rounded a corner and found themselves amongst the vehicles and impedimenta of the headquarters of the 24^th MRD, one of the Abrams immediately engaged and destroyed the only potential threat to them, a BMP-2, before they and the four Strykers which were following them began to shoot up everything in sight.

"This is Shovel Six, we've hit the mother-load, over." Saunders heard the American accent say in his earphone.

"Damn it." He muttered, having hoped to have gotten there first. "All call-signs, this is Eleven Alpha Actual, converge on Shovel Six's position." He ordered, before changing to the brigade frequency. "Charlie Hotel Two One this is Eleven Alpha Actual, we have located the enemy divisional Hotel Quebec, please inform the other column for us, over."

"Roger so far, Eleven Alpha Actual. Go firm once you have reached the objective, intelligence suggests that the enemy are moving forces to counter-attack, over."

"Roger, that, will go firm and report any new enemy activity, over."

1401 hours. Katlenburg-Lindau, FRG.

Captain Sam Ryan, RAMC was exhausted, for several hours now she and her medical section of ten Combat Medical Technicians, assisted by a half a dozen bandsmen from the Highland Band of the Scottish Division, had been working to give the wounded of 1 Argylls Battle Group immediate medical assistance before they were passed from the care of 19 Close Support Medical Regiment (Airmobile), which she was a member of, up the line to the Airmobile Dressing Station, or onto a Field Hospital if they were especially badly injured. She had been moving from location to location, often going out to the battle group's forward positions under fire to treat and recover casualties before bringing them back to the Regimental Aid Post that she had set up, the floor of which was now covered in discarded soiled dressings and blood, hardly the most hygienic of facilities.[i]

Captain Ryan was a Territorial Army individual reservist who had been mobilised to bring her regiment up to its authorised war establishment of medical officers. She idly wondered if her patients would be perturbed to know that they were being treated by someone who was a pathologist in her civilian career.

Captain Ryan's current patient was a private who had the misfortune of having a 152mm shell explode close enough to his fox-hole to cause the overhead cover to collapse on him and his 'oppo', breaking one of his legs and leaving him with hundreds of wooden splinters in the unprotected parts of his body. Ryan and one of the CMTs had splinted his leg and removed as many of the splinters as they could before preparing him for transport to the rear.

"And tae think this time last month I wiz a plumber." The soldier remarked through gritted teeth.

"You're a reservist then?" Ryan replied as she finished strapping up his leg.

"Guilty as charged, doc. How about you then? Ahm guessing you were working in an A and E a month ago."

"A mortuary actually, I'm a pathologist in civilian life." Ryan admitted for the first time."

"Yer shitting me!" The private said in surprise. "Whit, like that Quincy then?"

"Something like that; okay, private that's you ready to go. You should be fine."

"Cheers, doc." He replied as two CMTs carried him out to a waiting Land Rover.

Ryan quickly washed her hands using an alcohol rub while the next patient was carried in by two bandsmen. She noticed that he had a black tape, indicating Priority 4 on the triage scale, attached to his flight-suit.

"This man is dead." She said curtly to the two bandsmen, her Ulster accent becoming more pronounced. "You're only supposed to bring me live ones."

"So there is nothing you can do for him then, Captain?" The great booming voice of Lieutenant Colonel Colin Mitchell said.

Lt. Colonel Mitchell was a veritable 'man-mountain', being just less than two meters in height and built to match; his men described him as being built like 'a brick shithouse'; and also had a very powerful personality which dominated any situation he was in.

"This man risked his life to help us, the least you can do is to take a quick look at him."

Ryan touched the corpse's neck and the head lolled over to one side as if no longer attached to the body. She had suspected he would have this particular injury.

"His neck is broken; there is not a lot I can do, unless you want me to perform an autopsy." She said tartly. "Now if you don't mind, Colonel, I'm rather busy and I don't appreciate interference from anyone, even you. I wouldn't come into your Command Post and tell you how to run your battalion."

Ryan could see by his expression that Mitchell was not used to being spoken to like this by a subordinate. She was probably fortunate that she was an RAMC Medical Officer, anybody else would have been roasted alive.

"Who is responsible for that pile of body-bags in the back of that 4-tonner our there?" Mitchell asked quietly, but his voice full of menace.

Ryan had been so busy that she had no time to find out what happened to those who had not survived their wounds. There was nobody needing her skills for the moment so she stepped outside to take a look.

The sight that greeted her was horrifying, rather then being carefully laid in the rear of the lorry for transport to the rear the body-bags had evidently just been thrown into the rear and were lying higgledy-piggledy across the bed of the lorry.

"I…I had no idea about this, Colonel. I can assure you that I would not have let this happen had I known."

"It's your responsibility to make sure these men are treated with respect in death, Captain." Mitchell said softly, almost sadly. "Even if you didn't know, just as it is my responsibility to tell their relatives that they have been killed and it's my responsibility that they are dead."

"I won't let it happen again, Sir." Ryan replied somewhat chastened.

As she returned to the aid post she noticed that a Land Rover bearing a red cross had pulled up outside.

"Hello, Nikki, what are you doing here?" She asked one of her fellow Medical Officers who had already gotten stuck in.

"Hi, Sam." Captain Nikki Alexander said looking up briefly from applying a field dressing. "I'm your relief; the Boss wants you to head back for a break."

"Okay, Nikki, I guess I could do with a rest. I'll see you later."

1420 hours. Southeast of Ringstead, Zealand.

Captain Andropov crouched behind his BMD-4 command vehicle as he co-ordinated an attack against a Danish position that was preventing his battalion from moving forward and fully exploiting the gap created in the NATO lines by the 26^th Guards Motorised Rifle Division. He could wait for the T-90s and BMP-3s of the division to finish dealing with the main Danish position and reduce this position with their firepower, but that would not endear him to the regimental commander, instead he would have to use his battalion's organic firepower and whatever air support could be provided.

Almost on cue a pair of Su-39s appeared, bombing, rocketing and strafing the Danish positions, taking their time because the enemy had no air defence weapons.

"Okay, let's move now." Andropov ordered.

Under the covering fire of the BMDs the paratroopers moved forward, using fire and manoeuvre. Their enemy, a scratch force of Home Guards and some regular soldiers from logistical units, were not able to respond effectively until the Soviet soldiers were almost on top of them. Despite being outnumbered, and out-gunned, the Danes fought to the end and none allow themselves to be taken prisoner.

Captain Andropov remounted his vehicle with some satisfaction. He checked his map, as far as he could see the defensive position that he had just eliminated was the last one before his objective, Glumsø. Once the uninjured paras had also re-boarded their vehicles he ordered them to set off for their objective, and further Danish forces would be bypassed if they could.

*

Some distance away from Captain Andropov's charging battalion group another group of paratroops, these ones Frenchmen of the 3^rd Parachutiste d'Infanterie de Marine along with some other elements of the 11^th Division Parachutiste, were approaching their own Drop Zones aboard A-400Ms and C-160 Transalls. The parachutists stood up in their aircraft, hooked up and shuffled towards the open doors.

Once the red light changed to green they began to jump.

*

Captain Andropov had not heard the approaching transport aircraft over the noise of his battalion's vehicles. He did, however, see the parachutes opening above him. The aircraft were above the ceiling of the SA-16 'Igla-1' missiles that the battalion was equipped with, but he could do something about the parachutists, he ordered his men to halt and deploy.

He grabbed his own AKS-74 as he jumped down from the commander's hatch of the BMD-4. His men spread out, taking up positions from where they could cover the Drop Zone. Andropov brought his rifle up to his shoulder, took aim at the nearest parachutist and opened fire, after the four round the soldier went limp indicating that he had hit his target.

The rest of his unit had also opened fire, cutting the descending French battalion to pieces before it had even hit the ground. About half of the Frenchmen made it to the ground uninjured and began to fight back, however they were in an appalling tactical position and were soon broken into several groups of fugitives being pursued off the Drop Zone by the Soviet BMD-4s.

Two ECR-90S armoured cars of the 1^st Regiment de Hussards Parachutists, a troop of which had dropped with the paras, had survived and launched a small counter attack to allow the paratroops to escape, destroying two BMD-4s and inflicting severe casualties on one platoon before they themselves were knocked-out.

The French parachutists had only delayed their Soviet counterparts for an hour and they soon reached their objective of Glumsø and began to dig in and wait for the heavy armour of the 26^th Guards Motorised Rifle Division.

*

'WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!

The Command Post of the Canadian Airborne Regiment shook as 152mm shells exploded uncomfortably closely.

"Say again, over!" Colonel Currie yelled into the radio handset.

"…Armoured forces…broken…to the south…may need to pull back in a hurry…French paratroops dropped on Soviet forces…unit destroyed. Last reserve has been committed to hold enemy advance…not confident at ability to stop enemy, over." The radio crackled in reply.

"If I'm going to pull out I'll need some counter-battery support to get my regiment out from under this artillery barrage, otherwise my men will get cut to pieces, over."

"…Make any promises…most artillery and CAS committed to stopping break-through…will do my best to help…may have to depend on own guns…Good luck, out."

Currie slammed the handset down in frustration.

"It's a God dam, %%$+%%% disaster!" He exploded. "The Soviets have managed to hit the weakest part of the line and have blown a %%$+%%% great hole in it. Worse than that those French paras we who were supposed to be reinforcing us dropped right smack bang on a Soviet unit and got massacred.

"To top it off we're apparently supposed to prepare to pull-out in a hurry, with little in the way of air, or artillery support."

"Our own artillery battery is not strong enough to suppress the enemy, Sir. It'll be bloody if we try to pull out under this barrage, not to mention that enemy air could cut us to pieces on the road."

"Tell me something I don't know, Captain." The Colonel growled. "If we don't pull back when ordered it could be that we'll be cut-off, and I've no wish to test Ivan's hospitality."

1435 hours. Signal from COMLANDZEALAND to CINCNORTH.

'Situation critical, enemy motorised rifle division has broken though my lines. Last reserves have been committed to try and stop it but I am not confident that they will not do much more than slow them down.

'Need immediate reinforcement, if not possible I require transport to evacuate as many of my troops to Funen and Jutland. If evacuation proves necessary I will order my Home Guard units to disperse and to continue to operate covertly.

'There is a real danger that should the enemy's current thrust not be stopped the majority of my forces will be trapped on the northern half of the island. In that case I request that if evacuation should prove necessary ferries should be sent to northern ports. I recommend that should the Soviets succeed in trapping my forces in northern Zealand that the island be abandoned as we would otherwise be reinforcing failure and that further defences are concentrated on protecting Funen and Lolland.'

1451 hours. Nyborg, Funen, Denmark.

Lieutenant Graham Cole, the Officer Commanding 2 Troop, A Squadron, The Royal Wiltshire Yeomanry, looked on as the three Challenger 2s of his troop and those of the rest of the squadron were assembled on the dockside for loading into the ferries that were being assembled to transport 2 (UK) Infantry Brigade to Zealand. He watched as the first of the ferries made its way down the shipping channel towards the port.

Suddenly a dirty, brown waterspout shot into the air, towering above the ferry, before crashing back down on the vessel.

'BOOM!'

The report of the explosion reached the awe struck yeoman a few seconds later. By this time the ferry was already beginning to heel over as water poured into through the hole created by the mine explosion. As a merchant vessel the ferry had not been designed to cope with an explosion close to its hull, the whipping effect of the blast had knocked its diesel engines off their mounts, twisted the hull so that many watertight doors could no longer be secured and broken the ship's back.

Lieutenant Cole watched in horror as the ferry continued to roll over as water poured into the vehicle deck and the crew frantically struggled to abandon ship. The ship finally came to rest on its starboard side as it touched bottom, blocking the channel.

"Well there goes our transport." Cole heard a voice behind him say.

He turned and saw to his surprise that it was the brigade commander, Brigadier Charles Heyman.

"Get your tanks out of here, Mark; they're a bit too exposed." He said to the Wiltshire's Commanding Officer. "Until the navy clear the channel again we're going nowhere fast."

"Right, Sir, I'll get everybody back to the assembly point and under cover."

1501 hours. Olympic Stadium Complex, West Berlin.

"Here you go, Jacques, look after it and make sure you give it to General Baker personally!" Major General Mallinson yelled over the sound of screaming helicopter engines.

"I'm not happy about leaving, Sir, it doesn't seem right." Colonel Jacques Lebel, the deputy commander of the French Brigade replied, taking the briefcase from Mallinson.

"Somebody has to go, Jacques, and you chose the short straw. I want the records aboard these three cabs to make it out of Berlin before we're forced to surrender, which will be in the next couple of days and somebody senior has to present them to SACEUR.

"The two Lynxes will escort you as far as they can, but from then on the Blackhawks will be on their own. You may well have been safer staying here." Mallinson added, clapping Lebel on the back.

"Good luck, Jacques."

"Good luck to you too, Mon General." Lebel replied, saluting formally before climbing aboard the UH-60M Blackhawk.

Mallinson stepped back as the three helicopters engaged their rotors and lifted off, coming together into a loose formation with two Lynx AH.7s flying as outriders.

"I've got some news from the THUNDER RUN, Sir." The general's Chief of Staff said as both men hurried back to the command bunker. "Both columns have RV'ed at the location of the Motor Rifle Division H.Q and have gone firm. We've also spotted this heading their way."

The brigadier handed over a couple of pictures taken from small tactical UAVs deployed by the ground troops.

"These are a mixture of armoured troops from the Soviet 6^th Motor Rifle Regiment and an NVA motor rifle division. It's pretty clear that they're massing for a counter-attack."

"I'll bet the Soviets love having to ask the East Germans for help." Mallinson said wryly. "Get them back to the inner perimeter." He said more seriously. "They've done their job, there's no need to expose them any further."

*

"Eleven Alpha Actual this is Charlie Hotel Two One, Over."

"Go ahead." Major Saunders replied.

"Orders from command; pull back to the inner perimeter immediately. The enemy is preparing a major counter-attack, over."

"Roger so far, we'll be moving in less than ten minutes, out.

"Get Captain Gunn up here."

Less than a minute later the senior Royal Engineer attached to the THUNDER RUN appeared by Saunders' Challenger.

"David, we've been ordered to pull-back ASAP. I need you guys to do your stuff to buy us some extra time.

"I take it you've brought along some Barmines; they were certainly handy for mouse-holing."

"Aye, I do, Sir." Captain David Gunn, a member of 38 Field Squadron, Royal Engineers, replied. "But I've got something better than that with me, half-a-dozen Rapid Cratering Kits; I can blow a hole two meters deep in the road with them.

"I also couldn't help noticing that there is an U-bahn station under that intersection back there, a few RCKs in the right place and I can bring the entire road down.

"I'll get my lads doing that and have the Spams and Froggies plant a few mines and other goodies around here."

"How long do you need?" Saunders asked.

"I've got the RCKs in place already, so five minutes to get everything primed and ready, plus a couple of minutes to lay the various bits and bobs up here."

"Right, you've got ten minutes from now. We'll be leaving if you're finished, or not."

"We'll be ready." Gunn assured him.

1530 hours. RAF Mount Pleasant, Falkland Islands.

Captain James Teacher sat in the front passenger set of the RAF Land Rover as it drove him out to his F-15C Eagle. He noticed that security was even tighter than it had been over the last couple of days, armed RAF Policemen were very visible and he guessed that gunners from the RAF Regiment were there, but were less visible. A few extra Rapier fire units had appeared from somewhere, Teacher guessed that a few spare units were stored on the base.

"Looks pretty busy today, Sir." Teacher remarked to Major Taylor, who was driving the Land Rover.

"Yeh, Norm Davies was telling me earlier this morning that Brit intelligence has picked up some whispers from the Argies suggesting they might try some sort of demonstration, exactly what nobody known. Their navy also thinks it has heard a diesel sub nosing around about the outer islands.

"Nobody is taking any chances round here, hence why we're carrying sidearms now and I've got this with me." Taylor said tapping the M-4 carbine next to his left leg.

Taylor halted at a joint RAF Police/USAF Security Forces checkpoint which marked the entrance to the shelter complex that the Americans had taken over for their own use. While an RAF dog handler inspected the Land Rover a USAF Master Sergeant checked their I.D.

"That seems to be in order, Sirs, thank you." The Senior NCO said handing back both I.D cards stepping back and saluting before indicating for the barrier to be raised.

Major Taylor drove over to the two shelters that contained the Eagles and parked.

"Just in case the Argies decide to try something while you're up there the RAF is going to launch a couple of Tornados to provide cover; Charity and Desperation apparently."

The aircraft of 1435 Flight were named after the famous trio of Gloster Sea Gladiators with which the flight had defended Malta back in 1940, Faith, Hope and Charity, of course because there were four Tornados like their Phantom FGR.2 predecessors the fourth Tornado was called Desperation; each aircraft carried a small red letter on its tail to mark which Tornado was which, and a Maltese Cross on the tail.[ii]

The two additional Tornado F.3s that had been despatched to reinforce the flight were devoid of any squadron markings and had not been adorned with the Flight's markings, neither had appropriate names been thought for them yet.

Both Taylor and Teacher were interested to see that a mix of USAF and RAF armourers were working on the second F-15C. They decided to stick their heads into the shelter and see what was going on since there was still some time to spare before Teacher had to be airborne.

They could see that the armourers had loaded an RAF ASRAAM missile onto one of the Eagle's Sidewinder pylons.

"Oh hello, Sirs." The Sergeant in charge said once he noticed the two officers. "We figured that if it does come to a fight with the Argies we'll run out of Sidewinders pretty quickly and while we can use the Brits' stock of Slammers they've replaced all of their Sidewinders with ASRAAMs.

"One of the Brit armourers told me that an ASRAAM should fit on any pylon that can take a Sidewinder, so we thought we'd try fitting a training round and see if it would talk to the Eagle's weapons computer."

"Nice work, guys, how's it coming along?" Taylor asked.

"Well the missile fits well enough, the weapons computer is not too happy at the moment, but we'll have it working by the end of the day." The Sergeant said confidently.

"Let me know how you get on, Sergeant.

"Right, you'd better be off, James."

*

Ten minutes later after inspecting his Eagle and the ASM-135B under its belly Captain Teacher started the plane's two Pratt and Whitney F-100 turbofans and closed the cockpit canopy. He signalled to the crew chief to stand clear and began to taxi out of the shelter.

"MPA tower this is Starman One, permission to taxi, over."

"Roger that, Starman One, permission granted. Please hold short of the threshold asCharity and Desperation are about to launch, over."

"Roger that."

Teacher could see the two Tornados making their way towards the end of the runway ahead of them. They were in full war-fit, carrying four AMRAAMs and ASRAAMS, a full load of 27mm shells for their cannons, and unusually for service in the Falklands two 'Hindenburger' drop-tanks. Once they had cleared the runway Teacher took their place and got airborne with no particular drama.

*

"Starman One this is Crystal Palace, are you receiving, over?" Teacher heard the voice of the SPACECOM controller say in his ears.

"Receiving you loud and clear, Crystal Palace, over." He replied.

"The target is just crossing the horizon; you should be picking it up shortly, report when you see it, over."

"Roger, Crystal Palace, over."

Teacher kept an eye on his radar display until he spotted the highlighted target, the radar image of which was being transmitted to him via data-link.

"Crystal Palace, Starman One, I have the target. Am I clear to engage, over?"

"Roger, Starman One, take it down, over."

Captain Teacher pushed the throttles to their stops, engaging the afterburners before putting the F-15 into a steep zoom-climb. He armed the ASM-135B and allowed it to track the Soviet reconnaissance satellite, a continuous tone in his ears told him that it had locked-on and he fired.

The missile dropped away from the climbing fighter's belly and fired its solid rocket booster, rapidly overhauling the Eagle. As soon as the weapon was clear Teacher pulled the throttles back to idle and pulled back on the control column until the aircraft had performed a complete roll and was heading back towards Mount Pleasant in a gentle descent.

At the height he was at his APG-63(V)-1 radar could see quite a long distance. He could see the KC-10A Extender that he was supposed to meet up with and the two RAF Tornado F.3s currently flying off the coast of West Falkland, worryingly he could also see four fast moving targets approaching from the west and a slower moving target which seem to be holding station closer to the Argentinean coast.

"MPA tower this is Starman One, is there something I should be worried about, over?"

"Starman One we currently have four Zombies approaching from the west, Mount Kent has sent the CAP to identify them. Continue to your tanker RV, we will update you if the situation changes, over."

*

Squadron Leader Norman Davies, the Officer Commanding 1435 Flight, was a concerned man. Here he was confronted with four possibly hostile aircraft which could easily prove a threat to the now unarmed Eagle and the KC-10A tanker aircraft, yet nobody on the ground had yet taken a decision as to quite what they should do.

"The bogies are now in Slammer range, Boss." The navigator said, noticeably using the term for a hostile aircraft, rather than 'Zombie' which was an unidentified target.

"I know, Steph, we'll be in range of their weapons pretty soon." Davies replied. I wish someone down there would take a decision."

Almost on cue the Fighter Controller at the Mount Kent Control and Reporting Centre contacted both aircraft.

"Eagle Flight, Mount Kent, close and identify Zombies. If they act in a hostile fashion, or attempt to penetrate the ADIZ you have permission to engage, over."

"Roger, Mount Kent, okay Eagle Two, lets illuminate our guests, over."

"Roger that, Eagle One."

Davies' navigator illuminated the Tornado's AI.24 'Foxhunter' radar, which quickly sorted the four targets in front of it. He knew that both radars would now be setting off all sorts of alarms in the four aircraft they were targeting. Both RAF aircraft climbed and took up position behind the unidentified formation; they accelerated to just under the speed of sound and passed one on either side of the formation, making sure that they were made well aware that they had been intercepted.

"Mount Kent, Eagle One, Zombies are Argentinean Air Force Mirage Threes, they appear to be armed, over."

The radar station was silent for a few seconds.

"Eagle One encourage our visitors to go away. Previous instructions stand, over."

"Roger that."

Davies selected full military power and led his wingman across the front of the Argentinean formation, coming rather closer than would normally be considered safe. The Mirage IIIs broke formation to take evasive action; meanwhile the two Tornados had also split formation and were coming around behind the French built aircraft.

Davies tracked one of the Mirages through his Helmet Mounted Sight all the time hearing the continuous tone in his headset that indicated that one of his ASRAAM missiles had locked on. The Mirage reversed its turn to escape from his sights and in an attempt to lead him in front of its wingman, though Davies navigator spotted the other Mirage.

"One of them is moving in behind us, Boss, at four o'clock."

"I see him." Davies replied, deploying the airbrakes and motoring the wings fully forward.

The Mirage III overshot, Davies cleaned his aircraft up and pulled up the nose, bringing the Argentinean aircraft into his sights for a simulated guns kill.

The Argentineans were near the limit of their endurance and they were evidently in no mood for continued dog-fighting, mock, or otherwise and turned for home.

"That was getting a bit hairy their, Boss. I thought they were going to have a go at us."

"I honestly thought that they might try and reach the tanker, Steph." Davies replied. "I think we've let them know who the better aircrew are though." He added confidently.

***