The morning sun was just beginning to appear over the mountains as Dimitry, Misha, Anatoly and I left the barracks at Nalchik, jumped into our UAZ and made the short drive over to the intelligence building where the day's briefing was to be held. Met reports had said that today was going to be warm and sunny, but there was still a definite chill in the air as we parked up and made our way into the stark, two storey concrete and glass building.

It didn't get any warmer when the Colonel delivered the briefing and detailed our target. The mission called for us to attack and destroy a Georgian supply depot. Our role would be the destruction of Armored Personnel Carriers, Self-Propelled Artillery units and supply vehicles. We would be supported in this objective by two flights of Su-24 Fencers and a two-ship of Su-27 Flankers. The two flights of Fencers were detailed with precision strikes on the warehouses and suppression of enemy air defences, respectively, while the Flankers were to provide top cover against any aerial threats.

Misha let out a quiet “you've-got-to-be-kidding-me” sigh and Anatoly made a sound that lay somewhere between a laugh of incredulity and a snort of derision. Dimitry and I just shared a nervous glance. This wasn't going to be easy.

The reason for our collective trepidation was simple. The mission required us to cross the border into Georgia, crossing the Caucasus Mountains along the way. This would require us to climb our fully loaded Sharks to very near their service ceilings while simultaneously exposing them to extremely dangerous icing conditions. The mission would also take us to the limits of our combat range, severely limiting our time on station and making our trip back to Nalchik an exercise in very fine margins. All of this, of course, was before we even began to think of the dangers of SAM sites, triple-A and the enemy aircraft that would undoubtedly be stirred into action by our attack.

The mood in the UAZ was quiet and pensive as the four of us drove out to the Sharks and strapped in, but there was something cathartic about the familiarity of the cockpit and the start up routines that soon relaxed us. By the time we taxied out and formed up, I was starting to feel relaxed and ready.



With fuel management being a genuine concern for this mission, I elected to go with a rolling take-off. After some last minute checks in which I programmed the UV-26, set up the map screen on my ABRIS and engaged XTE mode on the PVI-800, I released the wheel brakes and began my take-off run.

The heavily laden Shark rose off the ground with surprising grace and ease, at which point I entered into a climbing bank to the left and set course for the Georgian border.



I set trim for a steady 500m per minute climb and allowed myself a glance across at the imposing foothills of the Caucasus Mountains. It seemed slightly surreal to me that we'd soon be crossing over their highest peaks and penetrating into another country's airspace.



As we slowly but surely climbed into the increasingly frigid air, the rest of the flight formed up on me in a loose Wedge formation.



We continued our slow ascent for another 40 minutes, by which time we'd struggled up over the 3500m mark. The outside air temperature was starting to drop and a small rise in my engine exhaust temperatures caused me to turn on my Engine and Rotor De-Icing along with my Pitot Heat.

Despite my initial concerns and reservations, we crossed the spine of the mountains without incident and with room to spare.



This was it. In crossing over the mountains, we'd arrived in Georgian airspace and were fair game for anyone with the means to shoot us down. We'd read the intelligence reports and listened to the briefings, so we were all aware that Georgia was just full of people that were ready, willing and able to do just that.

Tightening my harness, I led the flight on a slow descent into the valley below.



My caution increased as we arrived in the valley, so I made sure that our approach to the Ingress Point was slow and controlled. Once we were established in a stable hover, I used my Helmet Mounted Sight to pick out the Target Zone and centred the Shkval on the site.



Assured that everything was looking good, I checked in with the other flights in our package.

The two Su-27s (Callsign 35) were orbiting above the Target Zone. They informed us that they'd picked up a couple of ambiguous signals on their radars a few minutes earlier, but dismissed them as anomalies when they failed to solidify.



The first flight of Fencers (Callsign 42) was also approaching the Target Zone. Things were about to get hot.

All of a sudden, all hell broke loose. The Flankers' phantom radar return had suddenly solidified into a genuine contact only a couple of kilometres from the Target Zone. The two fighters immediately broke and began a Pincer manoeuvre in order to ensure that their target couldn't escape.



The situation began to deteriorate as the Fencers assigned to SEAD suddenly began calling out warnings. The two Flankers had inadvertently descended into the engagement envelope of an SA-8 at the Target Site.

The two Fencers immediately engaged afterburners as they attempted to get on top of the situation.



Meanwhile, the Flankers pressed their attack and the lead aircraft got a shot off with an R-60 Aphid.



The missile flew true and the target – a Georgian Su-25 – came apart on impact.



The lead Flanker was no more fortunate, though. The SA-8 had got off a shot of its own and the 9M33 missile detonated just behind the huge fighter's engine exhausts.

The hit was fatal.

Realizing his mistake, the remaining Flanker extended away from the fight in an attempt to put some distance between himself and the SA-8 vehicle.



The SA-8 wasn't finished yet, though, and another 9M33 flashed out of the launching tubes.



The two Fencers, the intended targets of the latest SAM launch, fled the valley in a shower of flares before heading for home at Bingo fuel.



The situation was bad, but it was about to get worse. I was heads down, staring at the imagery from the Shkval when I suddenly spotted the unmistakable silhouettes of a pair of Georgian Mi-24 Hinds heading straight down the valley towards us.



My first reaction was to call for support from the remaining Flanker but, like the Fencers, his extended period at full afterburner had pushed him perilously close to Bingo fuel. I also suspected that he didn't want to risk getting close to the SA-8 again without the benefit of a wingman to watch for launches. I couldn't blame him for that, but it left my flight in a difficult and dangerous situation as the Flanker exited the fight.

With no cover and a pair of enemy gunships closing fast, it was clear that I had to act fast. I slewed the Shkval onto the first Hind and launched my first Vikhr of the engagement.



The missile flew true and I had my first kill of the day.



The second Hind continued to press its attack.



I quickly slewed the Shkval and loosed off another Vikhr.



Once again, the missile flew straight and true towards its target...

...and I'd notched up my second kill of the day.



The encounter with the Hinds had settled my mind – it was time to go on the offensive. I repositioned myself within the valley and narrowed the Shkval in on the SA-8 that had sent the situation to hell in the first place.



Slowly but surely, I eased to within range of the deadly SAM vehicle. Waiting until the Launch Authorization symbology showed on the HUD, I pulled into a hover and fired off my third missile of the day...



...for my third kill of the day.



With the battle now turning in our favour, I changed tactics and turned myself into an airborne Forward Air Controller. Using the Shkval, I found a group of BTR-80s at the near perimeter of the supply depot.

Having stored and then Datalinked the target, I directed Dimitry in 52 to engage.



The destruction of the SA-8 must have tipped off the BTR-80's driver to the danger because he immediately began moving, but it was far too little, far too late.



As I continued to hand out orders, my flight continued to press the attack.



Before too long, the entire area was starting to look like a graveyard of burning vehicles. Thick black smoke made targeting difficult as it washed over the site and the sky was alive with arcing, spiralling ammunition as it cooked off fiercely inside the flaming husks.



Still, we refused to let up.

Over the next 15 minutes, the entire flight poured missile after missile into the site.



The volume of targets was so great and so dense that we ran out of Vikhrs long before we ran out of vehicles to destroy.



This presented a problem. There were clearly still live, dangerous vehicles within the compound, but we could no longer attack from stand-off ranges. Did we call it a day and head for home or take a chance and press the attack once more?

Perhaps naively, I made the decision to go for the throat. Taking full responsibility, I led the attack with an aggressive charge and a volley of S-8 rockets.



Hauling the nose of Shark around towards a group of three BMPs, I unleashed another devastating volley.



Within minutes, almost the entire site was burning.

I wasn't quite done. I'd spotted a UAZ off to the side of one of the burning warehouses. As the rest of the flight reformed on my wing, I used my Helmet Mounted Sight to line up the little jeep and fired off a fearsome burst of cannon.



Dimitry later commented that the view from his aircraft as I laid down the lead with an accompanying plume of grey gun-smoke was enormously impressive.



After a quick circuit of the facility, it became obvious that we were done. A glance at my fuel gauge simply served to reinforce the point.

I called the flight to reform on me and we began our egress from the Target Site.



The climb back out was made easier by our low fuel state, but I was starting to grow increasingly concerned at the distance back to base. Although we retained our radio discipline, I imagined that the others were feeling the exact same growing level of unease.



My concerns grew ever greater as we crested the ridge-line back into Russian territory, so I made the decision to jettison my B-8V20A rocket pods in an attempt to reduce my weight as much as possible.

It seemed to take an eternity, but the snowbound peaks of the Caucasus Mountains eventually began to give way to the lush pastures of the plains. Suddenly, the possibility of a forced landing didn't seem quite so terrifying.

We'd made it.



I'd barely completed that thought when I heard “Watch EKRAN” and noted the warning that I was down to 110 pounds of fuel in the Forward Tank. A glance out of the right side of the cockpit suggested that a cold front was moving in, too. At 50km from base, 16 minutes flight time remaining and the weather seemingly closing in, Nalchik was once again starting to feel very far away.

Switching on the Fuel X-Feed to ensure a consistent flow to both engines, I readjusted my seating position for the 30th time and pressed on.



The warning light for the Rear Fuel Tank had long since lit up when suddenly, almost magically, Nalchik appeared out of the summer haze. I can honestly say that it had never looked more beautiful.



Switching my VHF radio to 136.000, I called Nalchik tower and requested permission to land. The “Permission Granted. Welcome home, Sir” will stay with me forever.



As we touched down and shut down, I mentally replayed the entire mission from scratch. I can honestly say that it had been one of the most tiring, intense and incredible experiences of my career.

One thing is for sure, though – I will always love the beautiful, deadly machine that took me there and brought me back without so much as a scratch.

For me, the Black Shark is perfection.