The Cuban crisis has gone bad. The soviets under leadership of Nikita Krushchev did not back down, despite the US naval blockade. When all diplomacy fails, President Kennedy is left but one option: Destroy the soviet missiles on Cuba. Ousting the Cuban leader Fidel Castro will be a nice side-effect.
Squadron: VMF-235 aboard the USS Coral Sea CV-43
One by one our four F-8E roll up to the catapult. Each one of us is carrying a full load of bombs and missiles. We don't carry defensive weapons like sidewinders, so if we encounter any air oppositions we will have to flee out of dodge city.
I am pushed back into my seat as the catapult hurls my aircraft over the deck.
I circle around the carrier, waiting for the other F-8's to join up.
Together we head for the Cuban main-land.
Below us a couple of F-4's are skimming the waves, also heading for Cuba. These fighters will take care of any aircraft the Cubans launch.
Our target is a is an encampment where the Soviets have stored some missiles. We don't know yet whether these missiles can carry a nuclear war-head and whether they are ready to be fired. But it is our job to destroy the camp.
As we reach the target are, I push my fighter into full afterburner, climbing some extra feet for my dive onto the target.
The Cubans and Soviets did not expect us, because there is no anti-aircraft fire as we dive towards the target. I release a ripple of bombs, drawing a line of explosions on the ground.
As I pull up, the enemy camp is billowed in smoke from all the bombs our flight dropped onto them.
I turn the fighter around, this time I will use my zuni-missiles to pepper the target.
I pull the trigger and the missiles speed away. The clouds above and around the camp make it hard to spot any target. The defenders must be awoken because the first puffs of black smoke appear in the sky.
I make one final pass, dropping my last bombs when tracer fire whizzes past my cockpit. The gunners below are now definitely awake. It's time to head for home.
As we cross the coastline again, another flight of F-4's awaits us. It's good to know that our fighters are ready to protect us.
Finally we arrive above the Coral Sea again and are quickly cleared to land.
I call the ball and brings the F-8 down to the flight deck, grabbing the third wire.
The cable stops my plane abruptly. The deck crew signals me to taxi free of the landing deck. We might have fired the first shots but I know for sure we will fly many more missions over Cuba. Until that bearded dictator is chased away and those pesky Soviets learned that American democracy won't let itself to be bullied.
The End
