That noise. This disgusting whistle that could have been ripped straight from an 80s action film. DÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖT. I'm startled because this time it's not my imagination. Before my brain had fully booted up, I had already thrown myself into the suit and flight boots next to my bed. It's about 3:30 a.m., I'm on the alarm clock and this alarm clock is rudely telling me that I still have about 4 minutes and 31 seconds before I have to report to status on the plane. I rush into the hallway and before I pass them the door to my wingman's rest room flies open. "What now?" he asks, still a little sleepy. And I answer in the clichéd, pseudo-cool way that comes out of me at this unchristian hour: "Now we're going to earn our money..."
I acknowledge the alarm, then we grab our equipment, squeeze into our anti-G pants, throw on our vests and press our helmets onto our heads on the way to the taxi.
2 more minutes.
Luckily the line taxi driver also woke up quickly, because now every second counts. Just before getting out, I give my wingman a fist bump and say: "Everything is standard, see you soon!", then we jump out of the car and run to the plane.
31 seconds left.
I pass the maintenance crew, nod briefly and climb the cockpit ladder. The green traffic light in the shelter is already showing me that things are about to get serious. With my left I connect my equipment to the aircraft, with my right I start the APU (Auxillary Power Unit), then I press the radio switch: "LM01 is up!" "LM01, you are ordered A-scramble, advise when ready to copy scramble order." With my left hand I bring the thrust levers into the starting position and the EUROFIGHTER beneath me comes to life. "LM01, ready to copy scramble order" We're on night watch and it's time to earn our money...
"Night Watch"
Gerald Groß