aircraft. Thank you very much for your hard work, Undersecretary Murth.” That was an unmistakable indication that he was free to leave, and the young bureaucrat nodded and departed without a word.
“Okay, guys, your work is cut out for you,” Ann said seriously to Patrick, Hoffman, and Oglethorpe. “The president and I just overruled the number four civilian in the Pentagon, the guy whose job it is to kill programs that don’t make sense. The president would like you to present your proposal to the national security staff this afternoon. Bring your A-game, boys. And don’t forget dinner in the residence later”—she smiled, then added as she headed for the door—“assuming you’re still on speaking terms and still want to hang out with him after the grilling I think you’re going to get from him and the national security staff.”
NAVAL AIR STATION FALLON, NEVADA
SEVERAL MONTHS LATER, FEBRUARY 2015
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Naval Air Station Fallon,” the U.S. Navy officer said. The auditorium was filled with almost a hundred men and women. On the right were seated persons in a variety of colors of flight suits, from black to dark green to red. Then there was a noticeable gap of empty seats, and then on the left another group wearing flight suits also of various colors, but mostly international orange. The large screen behind the speaker onstage changed to a triangular emblem with two jets, mountains, and a steer’s horned head. “My name is Captain Richard Avery, and I’d like to welcome you to Naval Air Station Fallon and the Naval Strike and Air Warfare Center, the Navy’s premier air warfare training unit.
“As most of our guests may know, the NSAWC combines three formerly separate schools: the Naval Strike Warfare Center, or ‘Strike U,’ teaching advanced bombing and gunnery tactics; TOPGUN, which teaches advanced air-to-air combat tactics; and TOPDOME, the Carrier Airborne Early Warning Weapons School, which teaches advanced radar air intercept and control techniques,” Avery said. “Every unit getting ready for deployment comes to Fallon for predeployment workup, and we are the only facility in the world where we can take an entire carrier air wing at one time for comprehensive, realistic training.
“We happen to be in between workup sessions right now—the air wing of the
He nodded to the men and women on his right. “Welcome to VF-13, the ‘Fighting Saints,’ our adversary squadron based here at Fallon,” Avery went on. “They fly the F-5N aggressor fighter.” The image on the large screen behind him changed to a photo of a sleek twin-engine jet fighter in unusual gray, blue, and brown stripes. “Our aircraft are painted like many of our potential adversaries’ aircraft; our crews train and fly exactly how our adversaries would; and as you can see, our aircrews are even encouraged to wear flight suits and use equipment that our adversaries will use, so they would have the same experiences and limitations as our adversaries.”
Avery turned to the folks on his left, and he had to smile and chuckle inwardly at the extreme differences between the two groups. Most on the left were significantly older than the men and women of VF-13; their hair was longer and thinner; and for some their midsections were noticeable thicker. “Saints, welcome the men and women of Sky Masters Incorporated, out of Battle Mountain, right up the road from us.” The image on the screen changed again to one of a B-1 bomber. “They fly what they call the XB-1 Excalibur bomber, which is a refurbished and modernized B-1B Lancer strategic supersonic bomber. The Air Force is going to deploy a number of these bombers in the Pacific theater in the next few months to support carrier strike group operations and implement the AirSea Battle concept. Your mission over the next week is to provide them classroom and flying instruction on fleet tactics and procedures.”
The right side of the auditorium erupted into a low but very noticeable level of bedlam. “Say again, sir?” one of the members of VF-13 seated in the front row asked. “We’re going to train civilians?”
“Roger that, Noose,” Avery said. To the civilian seated directly opposite of the one making the outburst he said, “General McLanahan, I’d like to introduce you to Commander Chris Kahn, call sign ‘Noose,’ commander of VF- 13. Noose, I’m sure you’ve heard of Air Force Lieutenant General Patrick McLanahan, retired.” Kahn’s facial expression changed from confusion to disbelief and back to total confusion, but he managed to pull himself back to the here and now long enough to get to his feet and shake hands with Patrick. “General McLanahan is the vice president of Sky Masters Inc., the company that refurbishes the B-1 bombers. He’ll be attending training with the initial cadre of aircrews.”
“Yes, sir,” Kahn said, still dumbfounded. “Nice to meet you, sir, and I apologize for the outburst.” Patrick said nothing, just nodding with a skeptical smile on his face. Kahn turned back to Avery. “Sir, the Air Wing Fallon war games and the Advanced Readiness Program exercises each last a month. How can we train non-Navy crews in just one week?”
“I’m going to leave that up to you and your squadron staff, Noose,” Avery said. “It’s obviously not a full predeployment workup, but an introduction to Navy terminology, basic procedures, and tactics. The CNO knows it’ll take time for the B-1 guys to learn Navy procedures, but he just wants to limit the confusion factor here. The B-1s will be coordinating long-range overwater operations with the carrier strike groups, but we don’t envision Hornets flying formation with B-1s.” He ignored Kahn’s totally confused expression. “The civilians will have access to the Silver State Club, Desert Moon Theater, Sagebrush Bowling Center, Flightline Grill and Bar, and the Fitness Center. I expect you to help in making them feel welcome, Noose. Thank you.”
A preliminary schedule for the next day was set up, more introductions were made, and then the meeting broke up so staff members could escort the civilians to their dormitories. Kahn and Patrick shook hands before they departed. “Again, sir, sorry for the outburst back there.”
“No problem, Commander,” Patrick said.
Kahn nodded, then lowered his voice, looked Patrick square in the eye, and asked, “Masters One, I presume?”
Patrick was confused, but only for a moment, and his eyes lit up as he realized what Kahn was saying: “Welder One-Seven flight of two Super Hornets, I presume?”
Kahn nodded and gave Patrick a crocodile grin. “You’ve got yourself a bunch of nice hot jets, sir,” he said. “But you’re on my deck now. See you on the range, sir.”
“Bet on it, Commander,” Patrick said, and departed.
Kahn made sure to intercept Avery in private after everyone else had departed. “What the hell, Skipper?” he asked directly. “I’ve got to waste my between-workup time to spoon-feed a bunch of old geezers on the Navy way . . . in just one week?”
“Listen, Noose, I’m not happy about this either,” Avery said in a low voice, completely different in tone than when he was addressing the entire group—it was no longer the jovial, welcoming, accommodating host. “But I got this mission directly from the CNO. The Pentagon wants these guys trained and sent out to Guam soonest, and that’s what we’re going to do.”
“This is just plain loco, sir,” Kahn said. “Did you get a look at some of those guys? They’re just as likely to pass out or fall asleep in the cockpit as they are to fly with bad guys in the area! Is the Navy out of its freakin’ mind?”
“I hear you, Noose, I hear you,” Avery said, “but I got my orders, and now you got yours. Work up something so McLanahan doesn’t go back to his buddies in Washington and say the Navy blew him off. What happens after they leave here is not my problem.” He shook his head. “I just hope to hell the fleet stays out of their way. ‘The Gang That Couldn’t Shoot Straight’ is on their way to the Pacific.”
SPRATLY ISLAND, SOUTH CHINA SEA
SEVERAL WEEKS LATER
