The runway comes in view and the aircraft decends slowly. The wheels touch with a bounce and a skid. The aircraft slows as I taxi off the runway. The place is desolate, the hanger all open, the aircraft, all gone. A Marshaller takes me to a waiting group of mechanics. They are outside a smaller maintenance hanger. Inside is a gutted F-16 and F/A-18, draped in a tarp of sorts. I climb out and sit on a box. The maintenance crew begins applying scab patches to the bullet holes, not a permanent fix, but it will do for now.
The crew chief askes me if I want them to take a look at the hydraulics and electronics of the MiG's control surfaces, even though none of them have ever worked on a MiG before. I say no, and thank him for his consideration.
A few minutes later, on of the technicians notices severed wired in one of the bullet holes. It's near a control surface, and it's quite possible that it could restore at least partial function to a control surface. They go ahead with sautering the wires together, as I sit on the crate and stare at the sky.