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was the night before Christmas, and all through the skies, Air defenses were up, with electronic eyes. Combat pilots were nestled in ready-room beds, As enemy silhouettes danced in their heads. Every jet on the apron, each SAM in its tube, Was triply-redundant linked to the Blue Cube, And ELINT and AWACS gave coverage so dense That nothing that flew could slip through our defense. When out of the klaxon arose such a clatter I dashed to the screen to see what was the matter; I dialed up the gain…

yes.