with disgust, both at his own mistake and at his instructor for being such a jerk. Taking the stick in his right hand, he set up for another loop. Pushing the T-38âs nose toward the earth, he shoved both throttles into afterburner and accelerated quickly to 500 knots, then with a sudden snap, jammed the stick back into his lap. The Talonâs nose arched gracefully skyward as the G meter pegged at seven Gs. Grunting against the strain, he kept the pull in through the top of the loop, then accelerated downward once again. As he reached the bottom of the loop, he should have eased off on the stick and leveled off. But he didnât. Instead, he kept the aircraft in full afterburner and jammed the stick back into his lap once again. Four times he pushed the aircraft through a graceful arch, constantly pulling seven Gs, forcing his instructor to groan and strain just to keep the blood in his head. At the bottom of the fourth loop, he heard his instructor mutter through the strain of his mask, âOkay, okay, Iâve had enough. You can let go of it now.â Ammon leveled off and headed back to base. His instructor didnât say a word. He slowly shook his head. The guy had a lot of nerve, pulling such a stunt on him. Cocky little jerk! Arrogant, snot-nose kid!
But inside his mask he was smiling. He loved it! It was just what they were looking for! It was exactly the kind of mentality that a combat pilot would need. From that day on, Ammonâs fighter was almost guaranteed.
First Lieutenant Richard Ammon graduated number one in his class. As such, he was entitled to get his first choice of aircraft and assignment. Lt Ammon didnât even have to think.
He selected an F-16 to Bitburg Air Force Base, Germany. Not only would this assignment make it easier for him to be âhandled,â but he would have access to important intelligence information concerning NATO and the American forces in Europe.
He was in Europe for almost a year before he heard again from the Sicherheit. He was told early to protect his position and not to take any chances that might expose his operation. They would need him later in his career, and they didnât want to take any unnecessary chances at this time. As a result, he was never asked to pass along any information before he was transferred back to the States.
It was then that things had begun to unravel.
Few Americans watched the fall of the Berlin Wall or the breakup of the Soviet Union with as much interest as did Richard Ammon. Over the next few years, he watched in bewilderment as one communist government after another fell, along with their anti-West intelligence machines. During this time Ammonâs contact with his handler became less and less frequent. After a while he was not sure any of his former supervisors even remembered he was there. Now it had been years since he had any communication with them, and he doubted they knew of his assignment to Korea.
So Ammon couldnât have been more surprised when, two days earlier, he was contacted. The message was simple. âThe train is leaving at two. Gather your luggage.â Translation: Expect to be brought in. No more than two days. Gather any classified information that you can and be ready. We will act.
He wondered who had ordered him in? Who were they working for now? What government did they represent, and what did they really want?
But he realized his concerns didnât matter. In such things he had very little choice.
So he gathered what information he could and prepared for the unknown. Although he knew the microfilm he brought with him was worthless, hopefully his superiors wouldnât. And that would buy him their trust, and maybe a little time.
Thinking of the microfilm brought Ammon back to the present. He reached down to massage his wrapped knee, feeling the plastic bag as it rubbed against his skin.
Ammon stared into the darkness as they cruised toward the dim lights of
But inside his mask he was smiling. He loved it! It was just what they were looking for! It was exactly the kind of mentality that a combat pilot would need. From that day on, Ammonâs fighter was almost guaranteed.
First Lieutenant Richard Ammon graduated number one in his class. As such, he was entitled to get his first choice of aircraft and assignment. Lt Ammon didnât even have to think.
He selected an F-16 to Bitburg Air Force Base, Germany. Not only would this assignment make it easier for him to be âhandled,â but he would have access to important intelligence information concerning NATO and the American forces in Europe.
He was in Europe for almost a year before he heard again from the Sicherheit. He was told early to protect his position and not to take any chances that might expose his operation. They would need him later in his career, and they didnât want to take any unnecessary chances at this time. As a result, he was never asked to pass along any information before he was transferred back to the States.
It was then that things had begun to unravel.
Few Americans watched the fall of the Berlin Wall or the breakup of the Soviet Union with as much interest as did Richard Ammon. Over the next few years, he watched in bewilderment as one communist government after another fell, along with their anti-West intelligence machines. During this time Ammonâs contact with his handler became less and less frequent. After a while he was not sure any of his former supervisors even remembered he was there. Now it had been years since he had any communication with them, and he doubted they knew of his assignment to Korea.
So Ammon couldnât have been more surprised when, two days earlier, he was contacted. The message was simple. âThe train is leaving at two. Gather your luggage.â Translation: Expect to be brought in. No more than two days. Gather any classified information that you can and be ready. We will act.
He wondered who had ordered him in? Who were they working for now? What government did they represent, and what did they really want?
But he realized his concerns didnât matter. In such things he had very little choice.
So he gathered what information he could and prepared for the unknown. Although he knew the microfilm he brought with him was worthless, hopefully his superiors wouldnât. And that would buy him their trust, and maybe a little time.
Thinking of the microfilm brought Ammon back to the present. He reached down to massage his wrapped knee, feeling the plastic bag as it rubbed against his skin.
Ammon stared into the darkness as they cruised toward the dim lights of
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