Scott OGrady - Basher Five-Two: The True Story of F-16 Fighter Pilot Captain Scott OGrady

Praise for
BASHER FIVE-TWO
AN ALA QUICK PICK

Smartly paced, with care taken over the particulars young readers will want to know . OGrady sounds like the big brother everyone would like to have.

The Horn Book Magazine

The author effectively communicates not just the details of his miraculous survival, but also how he relied on his love of family and religious faith in dealing with his fear and despair.

School Library Journal

Although it must have been tempting to sensationalize the fascinating events, this title is a model of restraint, and with relevant aspects of OGradys childhood and military training interspersed throughout the book, readers get a clear sense of OGradys strength of character and will to survive. A great hook for reluctant readers.

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To all those who were part of my rescue,
and to the POWs
and MIAs, past and present, who gave me the
inspiration to survive

I I am an American, fighting in the forces which guard my country and our way of life. I am prepared to give my life in their defense.

II I will never surrender of my own free will. If in command, I will never surrender the members of my command while they still have the means to resist.

III If I am captured I will continue to resist by all means available. I will make every effort to escape and aid others to escape. I will accept neither parole nor special favors from the enemy.

IV If I become a prisoner of war, I will keep faith with my fellow prisoners. I will give no information or take part in any action which might be harmful to my comrades. If I am senior, I will take command. If not, I will obey the lawful orders of those appointed over me and will back them up in every way.

V When questioned, should I become a prisoner of war, I am required to give name, rank, service number, and date of birth. I will evade answering further questions to the utmost of my ability. I will make no oral or written statements disloyal to my country and its allies or harmful to their cause.

VI I will never forget that I am an American, fighting for freedom, responsible for my actions, and dedicated to the principles which made my country free. I will trust in my God and in the United States of America.

Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward Ive climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split cloudsand done a hundred things
You have not dreamed ofwheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hovring there,
Ive chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
Ive topped the windswept heights with easy grace,
Where never lark, or even eagle flew.
And, while with silent, lifting mind Ive trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

I n the early afternoon of June 2, 1995, as I sat in my F-16, ready for takeoff from Aviano Air Base in northeastern Italy, I had no idea what fate had in store for me. I could never have imagined that in the next six days I would have my plane shot out from under me with a missile, run for my life as soldiers hunted me down, eat leaves and ants to survive, make friends with a couple of cows, and be rescued by the United States Marines. And that was only part of my ordeal. Afterward I would call it the adventure of a lifetime. Maybe thats an understatement. It was the adventure of two lifetimes.

That summer, as a United States Air Force captain, I was one of thirty-five American pilots assigned to the 555th Fighter Squadron, or the Triple Nickel, of the Thirty-first Fighter Wing. Our uniforms boasted a Velcro patch of a fierce bald eagle, the insignia of the Triple Nickel, and another patch showing a winged dragon, to identify the Thirty-first Fighter Wing. We were stationed in Italy as part of a North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) air team. To the east of Italy, across the Adriatic Sea, was Bosnia and Herzegovina, part of the Balkans and a country in the midst of a painful civil war. Our NATO special missioncalled Operation Deny Flightwas to try to help end that war.

The Triple Nickel took turns with other NATO pilotsDutch, Italians, French, and Britishin patrolling the skies over Bosnia. Our job was to keep all military aircraft of the fighting factionsthe Serbs, the Muslims, and the Croatiansout of the skies so that they couldnt hurt each other with air strikes. We were not there to take sides, but if necessary, we were to use our weapons to enforce this no-fly zone. Neither the Serbs, the Muslims, nor the Croatians wanted us there. They would just as soon have shot us out of the air so that they could fight their own war. But NATO had decided we were needed, and all of us in the Triple Nickel took our duty seriously.

That morning of June 2, I showered, shaved, and laid out my olive green flight suit. My spirits couldnt have been better. Not only did I love flying an F-16, I had lucked out by being stationed in Italy with the Triple Nickel. In my six years in the U.S. Air Force, I had called nine different places home, but no location had been quite as beautiful as northeastern Italy. My apartment was in a quaint village called Montereale Val Cellina. Besides being close to the air base, I was thirty minutes from the beach in one direction and ten minutes from the Italian Alps in another. The locals were friendly, the cafs didnt serve a bad meal, and my landlords took me in as part of their family.

I slipped into my one-piece flight suit, zipping it from crotch to neck, and grabbed my logbook and wallet. Because my fridge was basically empty, I decided to skip breakfast. Climbing into my Toyota 4Runner, I left for the Aviano Air Base. I didnt have to fly today, but an opening in the flight schedule had come up the day before, and I had a good reason for grabbing it. Too busy with duties on the ground, I hadnt flown a mission in more than ten days. And I was due shortly to start my vacation, meeting my mom, Mary Lou Scardapane, and her husband, Joseph, to travel through Italy. It had been a long time since Id been in the air, and an F-16 pilot never wants to get rusty.

I took my time driving to the air base. Over the years Id become a careful driver, but my early experiences behind the wheel were no shining example for a drivers ed class. I spent my teenage years in Spokane, Washington, the oldest of three children. One thing my brother, Paul, and I had in common was a love of speed. Starting with my parents Chevy Suburban, which I drove off an icy mountain road one afternoon and crashed into a tree, I had had a series of mostly minor car accidents in fourteen years of driving.