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This was just an idea that came into my head – I thought it might make a good opening for a war/military novel.

The pilot wiped the sweat from his brow. He was not a man normally prone to nervousness. He had undergone years of training. Millions of dollars had been spent to ensure that he was the best there was. He had suffered through rounds and rounds of interviews, background checks, psychological profiling, and interrogations, not to mention the brutal flight training and the hours spent in any number of simulators. He had gone through it all, and he was the best. But tonight, he was nervous.

His commanding officer had been clear with him: this mission could not fail. These were priority level 1 targets, and they had one shot at this. Intelligence suggested the targets would be moved in the next 12 hours. No time to recon and plan for a ground assault. No time to clear alternate plans with Washington. This had to be done now.

The pilot looked back at his instruments. He was ten miles from the target – at the speed he was travelling, that was about nintey seconds. He started to descend. Quickly he broke through the clouds and saw the lights of the capital sprawled below him. It was a beautiful sight – the city looked peaceful. It wouldn’t stay like that for long.

He took a couple of deep breaths to steady himself, and glanced down again. Thirty seconds to target. He flipped a large red switch on the dashboard.

“Missiles armed and ready.”
“Roger that, Eagle One. Two miles out.”

He continued to soar over the city, descending so he could almost make out individual cars on the streets, although that was always difficult at this speed. Luckily the majority of the skyscrapers in the city had been destroyed in the last war. He could get very close. Of course, the closer he got to the ground, the greater the cost of error. One wrong move could send him, his copilot and his $16m plane

Ten seconds. The pilot took one last glance at his instruments and plunged even closer to the ground.

“Breaking the hard deck. Prepare to fire.”

He pressed the button on the top of his joystick, and two AMRAAM missiles jumped away from underneath the wings and cruised towards the city below.

“Missiles away. TOT five seconds.” The missiles guided themselves towards the doomed building and erupted into huge fireballs beneath him. His co-pilot, sat behind him, tapped him on the shoulder and gave the thumps up sign. The radio crackled into life again.

“Good kills, Eagle One, good kills. Confirmed target building has been destroyed.”
“Roger that, Echo One. I’m coming home.”

The pilot pulled back on the joystick, and banked hard left, soaring away from the city lights and into the darkness.

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