Welcome to Shootdown.  Written by Chris Lynch,

Episode One:

"The Last Flight"

April 15, 1969.An American reconnaissance aircraft flies a routine mission over the Sea of Japan.Thirty-one men are aboard.Only one side believes it is routine.This episode of Shootdown was produced using PlaiWrite, where every hero can tell their story.Learn more at PlaiWrite.com.

APRIL 15, 1969 - 13:00.

Four propeller engines hammer through low cloud over the Sea of Japan.

Fast mover. Six o'clock. Closing fast.

Commander, I've got North Korean chatter.

Put it through.

Hugh looks toward the cockpit.

Good morning. I'm Commander Overstreet.

 This is not training chatter.

Missile launch! [PAUSE 0.5]

Hugh grabs the family photograph taped to his console. [PAUSE 1.0]

CUT TO BLACK. [PAUSE 1.5]

A missile screams closer. [PAUSE 2.0]

Six hours earlier.[PAUSE 1.0]It's pre-dawn.[PAUSE 1.5]

A quiet rented Japanese Kamiseya house before sunrise.[PAUSE 1.0] Outside, a neighborhood dog barks...[PAUSE 0.75]...then silence.[PAUSE 1.5]

Kieran sleeps beside her husband Hugh.[PAUSE 1.0]

Their two little daughters sleep in the next room.[PAUSE 2.0]

A PHONE RINGS DOWNSTAIRS.

Don't answer it.

The phone rings again.

If it's the base, they'll keep calling.

Then let them.

The phone rings a third time. [Pause 0.5]

Hugh slips from under the blanket. [Pause 0.5]

I'll tell them no.

You never tell them no.

Hugh pads down the wooden stairs. The phone keeps ringing, louder in the little kitchen. [Pause 0.5]

Staff Sergeant Lynch. [PAUSE 0.75]

Yes, sir. [PAUSE 1.0]

Today? [PAUSE 1.25]

Isn't there anyone else? [PAUSE 1.5]

My wife is due any day with twins. [PAUSE 2.0]

I understand.

He hangs up. The kitchen is suddenly too quiet.

Hugh opens the closet and pulls down his go-bag.

No.

Somebody got sick.

Somebody is always sick.

It's one overnight run.

You were on a flight last week. This isn't your turn.

Hugh kneels beside her. Kieran takes his hand and places it on her belly.

Your sons have been kicking all night.

Already Marines.

God help us.

They smile. It fades quickly.

I'll be back tomorrow.

Promise me.

I promise.

He kisses her forehead.

Hugh stands in the doorway of the girls' room. Two little girls sleep under tangled blankets.

He crosses the room and kisses one daughter, then the other.

Love you, girls. See you soon.

One daughter mumbles in her sleep.

Hugh returns to Kieran and kisses her belly.

Love you. Tell those boys their daddy misses them.

Hugh.

Yeah?

Come home.

Hugh forces a smile.

Always do.

Hugh steps into the cold morning with his go-bag.

Behind him, the upstairs window glows. Kieran watches from the window.

Hugh raises a hand. She raises hers.

SFX: A DISTANT TRAIN. THEN THE LOW BUILD OF MILITARY DRUMS.

naval air facility atsugi - flight briefing room - 0600.

A briefing room with a podium, blackboard, and a map of Japan, Korea, the Sea of Japan, and Vladivostok.

Crew members sign in. A guard checks names at the door.

Hugh is handed a TOP SECRET envelope.

Lieutenant Commander DAN LIPSCOMB, thirty, black hair, Navy family confidence, spots Hugh.

Lynch.

Morning, Commander.

What are you doing here? I thought you had desk duty this week.

So did I.

Kieran is due.[Pause 0.5]

Any minute.

Dispatcher?

Four-thirty. Somebody got sick.

Damn.

What are you doing on this one?

Intelligence briefing. JCS wants Soviet and North Korean radar poked. NSA wants ears in the sky.

Eight linguists listening to static for eight hours.

That's national security, Sergeant.

Sounds like punishment.

Usually the same thing.

Dan lowers his voice.

[Whispers] I'll make sure you don't pull any extra TDYs after this. Judy can look in on Kieran today.

[Whispers] Thank you.

The guard closes the briefing room door.

All present and accounted for.

COMMANDER JAMES OVERSTREET walks to the podium. Fortyish. Controlled. A pilot who does not waste words.

I will be piloting this flight, designated Deep Sea One-Two-Nine.

He taps the map.

As part of the Beggar Shadow program, we will fly Track Eight-Two-Six-Three.

A pointer traces the route from Atsugi to the Sea of Japan.

How long, sir?

Eight and a half hours.

A few sailors groan.

Yes. Bring a book.

Light laughter.

We have a full load this morning. Thirty-one sailors.

Excuse me, sir.

Yes, Sergeant?

Thirty sailors and one bad-ass Marine.

I stand corrected. Thirty sailors and one Marine who apparently requires supervision.

A YOUNG SAILOR, nineteen, nervous and trying not to show it, looks at the map.

Sir, how close do we get?

Fifty nautical miles from the coast. North Korea claims twelve.

And if they claim more?

The room quiets. Overstreet does not blink.

Then we turn away. We are not here to be heroes.

Dan takes the podium.

I know what everyone is thinking: not another Pueblo.

The word lands hard.

Our sailors came home. Since November, we have flown fourteen of these missions. Today is assessed low risk.

But?

But North Korean language at Panmunjom this week was unusually hostile. General Bonesteel sent that warning to Admiral McCain on April eleventh.

Any direct threat to this flight?

No direct threat.

Overstreet returns to the podium.

Orders are simple. Keep distance. Monitor. Record. Report. If challenged, we break away.

He lets that sit.

This aircraft is slow, unarmed, and full of men with families. I intend to bring every one of you home.

No one laughs now.

Questions?

Silence.

Let's go.

Atsugi flight line - 07:00.

The EC-121 waits on the tarmac, enormous and ungainly.

Propellers begin to turn.

The crew climbs the ladder into the aircraft.

The aircraft is all metal, wires, consoles, headsets, paper, and vibration.

Atsugi Tower, this is Deep Sea One-Two-Nine. Ready for takeoff.

Deep Sea One-Two-Nine, you are cleared.

The EC-121 lumbers down the runway.

Hugh straps into his station. His console holds two reel-to-reel recorders and a logbook.

He opens the top secret envelope, then places a family photograph beside the recorders.

The aircraft lifts into the morning sky.

That your family?

Best thing I ever did.

How old?

Four and two. Two more on the way.

Twins?

Pray for me.

The young sailor laughs, relieved to have someone to talk to.

First time over the Sea of Japan.

Then remember the rule.

What's that?

If everyone sounds bored, you're safe.

Hugh opens a Russian copy of Doctor Zhivago. A St. Jude holy card marks the page.

You read Russian for fun?

No. Uncle Sam pays me.

Kamiseya house - it's morning in the kitchen.

Kieran heats water for tea. The little girls sit at the table, still sleepy.

SFX: KETTLE on the stove. SOFT CHILDREN'S VOICES.

Where's Daddy?

Flying.

Again?

Again.

Will he bring candy?

Kieran smiles despite herself.

If he knows what's good for him.

The girls giggle. Kieran places a hand on her belly. A kick.

Her smile fades.

EC-121 - later 09:45.

The mission settles into routine. Engines drone. Tape reels turn. Static rises and falls in Hugh's headset.

Atsugi Tower, Deep Sea One-Two-Nine. Communications issue resolved. Tech swapped the part. We will now cease radio communications.

Message acknowledged. See you tomorrow.

We are beginning radio silence. For the next three hours, no transmissions except the hourly burst.

Copy.

The radio falls quiet. The engines seem louder.

Meanwhile, at the osan us air base - radar room in south korea...

Radar scopes glow in the dim operations room. Phones ring. Teletype machines chatter.

Sir, we have reflections of Deep Sea One-Two-Nine nearing Track Eight-Two-Six-Three.

North Korean radar?

They see it too.

Any intercept activity?

Negative.

Notify Atsugi we see them. Tell me the second anything changes.

Back at Kamiseya NSG - Dan's office.

A secure phone sits beside a teletype machine. Dan reads a folder marked BEGGAR SHADOW.

His coffee has gone cold.

Hourly burst received from Deep Sea.

Good.

Dan looks at the wall clock. Then at a small photograph on his desk: his wife Judy with Kieran.

Call Judy. Ask her to check on Kieran Lynch this afternoon.

Yes, sir.

EC-121 - eleven hundred.

Hugh listens through layers of static. Russian voices. Korean voices. Routine military chatter.

Commander Overstreet, the Soviets at Vladivostok have seen us. Their radios say they're sending two MiGs to check us out.

Standard procedure.

Yes, sir. No alarm in the chatter.

Keep me posted if you pick up anything from the North Koreans. We'll begin our turn south.

Sending hourly acknowledgement to Osan.

Three short radio bursts punch into the silence.

Osan US Air Base - radar room - 13:00.

Status of Deep Sea One-Two-Nine?

We had difficulty tracking near Vladivostok, but we now have a good image.

North Korean radar?

Still tracking. So far, no unusual activity.

EC-121 - 13;31.

The engine drone continues. Hugh turns a page in Doctor Zhivago, but his eyes are on the headset.

A burst of Korean air traffic cuts through.

Commander.

Go ahead.

I'm picking up two MiGs out of Hoemun Air Base. Something about a present for President Kim's birthday.

The young sailor looks up from his station.

A present?

Nobody talks like that on a training flight.

Stay on it.

Hugh leans into the static.

Across the Sea of Japan, pilots at Hoemun Air Base scramble into the afternoon sky.

Their destination is already marked on radar.

A NORTH KOREAN FLIGHT COMMANDER studies a radar plot. A red pencil circles the EC-121's track.

The pilot nods, not with joy, but with obedience.

Sir, two MiGs have taken off from Hoemun. They are making a beeline for Deep Sea One-Two-Nine.

Send out a warning signal to the aircraft.

Sir, the Air Force has the warning system. The Navy aircraft does not.

Then send a regular message. Anything that might get through.

One MiG is fifty-five nautical miles away. The other is sixty-five west, probably taking up a defensive position.

Launch the standby F-102s. Now.

The aircraft drones forward, slow and exposed.

Hugh hears the Korean voice again.

Sir.

Overstreet sees the MiG through the cockpit window.

Everybody strap in. Turning east.

The EC-121 banks. Loose papers slide across consoles.

He's still closing.

Nose down.

Come on. Come on.

Missile launch!

The missile closes. Hugh grips the photograph of Kieran and the girls. [Pause 0.5]

Next time on Shootdown... .A missing aircraft.Thirty-one families waiting.And Washington scrambling for answers.Shootdown was produced using PlaiWrite, where every hero can tell their story. Learn more at PlaiWrite.com.