You Can Never Wish Harm Upon Your First Love

Well, it now appears that the international community is buckling while Iran is more stubborn than ever. As long as our intelligence community continues to believe the purpose of Iran's nuclear program is the development of nuclear weapons, war is looking very likely. The most likely form such a war would take is an air campaign that would probably last 1-2 weeks.

Quite frankly, I'm horrified. But not because Iran can hurt us more in Iraq (they're already doing about all they can clandestinely; we'd clean their chronometers in open warfare so really things can't get any worse) and not because they have a fearsome air defense network (and they do). I just worry about the horrible atrocities that may be forced upon our aviators--some of the "newer" (but certainly not younger) F/A-18E crews, in particular.

Iran has a halfway decent air force. Most of its aircraft are obsolete. Some are top rate. I'm sure any MiG-29s sent up against us will prove to be worthy prey for our Hornets and Eagles, and the aviators and pilots (respectively) fortunate enough to have had the privilege of meeting the Fulcrum in battle and skilled enough to emerge victorious will come home heroes.

But what about Iran's Tomcats? We retired ours mainly because they were a bitch to keep flying. There is a good chance that nearly all of Iran's F-14s are simply no longer airworthy. I hope this is true of all of them; that they all died quietly in their sleep, gently drifting away. And to those that are still flying---please, please let them meet their end at the hands of a B-2, as if mercifully garroted while in their hangars in the middle of the night.

But not at the hands of our fighter pilots. It would be a war crime to ask one of our own to commit such an unnatural, heinous abomination. She may be wearing the uniform of the enemy--and it looks horrible on her--but she's still beautiful and still one of our own.
I know if it was a MiG-29 in that TD box, the warble-ey buzz of the heater in my ear would be the most joyous sound imaginable. But it pains me to think about what would be going through the heads of our aviators if they heard that sound while locked onto an F-14. It would be god-awful, blood curdling, nauseating, and worse--it would be hatefulness manifest in a compression wave. Because the very thought of a figure so beautiful, so heroic, being torn asunder, doused in flames, spiraling hopelessly toward the ground with all the grace of a wounded elephant, is hateful.

I don't think I could do it. I don't see how I could live with myself afterward if I had to. And I hope beyond hope that our finest are not put in that position.

Let her go gracefully.