continued, referring to the model method of getting aboard an airfield moving at thirty knots. Two short clicks acknowledged his transmission.
The carrier was resolving itself into its shape, the familiar island jutting above the flight deck, the Fresnel lens now a pinprick of light off to his left. If his pilot stayed on flight path, the Fresnel would continue to glow green. Too high or too low, and it would look red to the incoming aircraft. As a final sanity check, a Landing Signals Officer?LSO?was stationed on a small platform that jutted out from the side of the carrier just below the level of the flight deck. The LSO would be an experienced F-14 pilot. As the approaching pilot “called the ball,” the LSO would take over direction of his approach, coaching him into the proper lineup, neither too far right nor too far left, and gently wheedling him into the proper attitude in relationship to the deck.
If he or she were dissatisfied with the pilot’s approach, the LSO could call a wave-off?an order to the pilot to cease the approach, maintain airspeed, and circle around the aft end of the carrier for another try. It wasn’t a permanent black mark on a perfect pilot’s record?even the most experienced aviators sometimes got waved off by either the LSO or the Air Boss for a variety of reasons. Gear or personnel fouling the flight deck?inside the yellow lines that delineated the actual airstrip, an unacceptable degree of pitch on the ship, or simply because an experienced aviator was having an off day and was a bit off glide path. It happened. You learned from it and went on from there. Too many wave-offs, though, might warrant a close look by a FNEAB?A Fleet Naval Evaluation Aviation Board. The FNEAB could recommend that a pilot be stripped of his wings if his airmanship weren’t up to snuff.
They were a mile off now and descending rapidly. The air was increasingly turbulent as the massive ship plowed its way not only through sea but air as well, creating eddies and ripples that disturbed the atmosphere that buffeted the jet. The Tomcat lurched and bobbled, found its glide path, and settled firmly into it. Tombstone kept up the scan by reflex, glancing from the Fresnel lens to the needles?the cross-hairs on the panel that indicated his position relative to glide path?and the airspeed indicator. So far, the kid was doing a good job.
Kid, hell. Tombstone snorted at his own description. The “kid” was probably thirty-five years old, a commander, and in command of one of the squadrons on board Jefferson. A two-star passenger rated no less.
The landing was, as always, a violent, controlled crash. Tombstone could feel the tailhook grab hold of the arresting wire?the three wire, if he wasn’t mistaken. It spun out eighty feet down the deck, dragging the Tomcat to a screeching halt. The nose-wheel slammed down, jarring both pilot and passenger.
As soon as the aircraft touched the deck, the pilot slammed the throttles forward to full military power. If he missed the wire, or if the Tomcat did a kiddy trap where its tailhook skipped over the wire or otherwise failed to be restrained by it, the Tomcat engines would be turning sufficiently to get them airborne again off the forward end of the ship. Not a pleasant maneuver?it was called a bolter, and was far more embarrassing than a wave-off. It meant you were close, too close, but just couldn’t manage that final bit of effort required of a Naval aviator to get his aircraft on deck.
Finally, the yellow-shirts jumped out in front of the aircraft, and made the looping right-arm-under-left motion that indicated that the pilot was to raise his tailhook. The pilot eased back on the power, disengaged from the arresting wire, and taxied forward in response to hand signals from the yellow-shirt directing them to a station near the island.
“Good trap,” Tombstone said as he unbuckled his ejection harness.
“Thank you, Admiral.”
The pilot’s breath was still coming in hard gasps as he let the adrenaline bleed out of his system. “Good day for flying.”
“Any day’s a good day for flying, Commander. You’ll understand that once you get parked at a desk.”
The commander looked startled, as though the prospect of getting promoted to admiral and never getting to fly again was a new thought.
“Don’t know that I’d like that much, Admiral,” he said neutrally. He gestured out toward the flight deck, toward the brown-shirts teeming around the aircraft and the green-shirted technicians darting from problem to problem. “This is what it’s about, I mean. No disrespect intended.”
Tombstone clambered out of the cockpit, stopping on the middle step to turn and look back at the pilot. “No offense taken, Commander. You enjoy it while you can.”
He eased on down the side of the aircraft, feeling stiff leg muscles slowly stretch out.
On the deck, a khaki-clad aviator sporting captain’s eagles saluted smartly. “Welcome aboard, Admiral Magruder. Admiral Wayne is tied up in TFCC right now, but he asked me to be on deck to greet you. I’m Captain Leary, the Chief of Staff. This way, sir.”
He motioned toward the door into the island.
“I think I can still find my way around,” Tombstone said gruffly. “It hasn’t been that long.”
“Of course not, Admiral.”
Three decks later, Tombstone stepped out into the flag passageway, the blue linoleum demarcating the admiral’s quarters and staff areas from the rest of the ship. Each end was hung with fireproof blue plastic curtains.
Tombstone dismissed the Chief of Staff, and headed for TFCC. He walked through the conference room, then on into the space itself. So familiar?how long had it been?
Less than two months, he realized.
“Welcome aboard, Admiral.”
Admiral Edward Everett “Batman” Wayne extended his hand. “Good to see you again, sir.”
“And you as well, Batman,” Tombstone said easily. He gestured toward the large-screen display. “What’s up?”
Batman shrugged. “That’s the question of the day, isn’t it? The only thing flying out there is hot and heavy messages between the embassy and the State Department. Everything’s grounded, even commercial flights. And not so much as a peep out of our liaison in Turkey. The Air Force is even laying low at Incirclik.”
Tombstone frowned. “What ROE are you operating under?” he asked, referring to the Rules of Engagement that governed peacetime and armed conflict. “Any special modifications?”
Batman shook his head. “If it were up to me, I’d have a squadron airborne and inbound on Turkey right now, max load of bombs,” he said bluntly. “You know that. But according to my orders?here, let me show you,” he said, handing Tombstone the message. “I’m to maintain a neutral but forceful posture off the coast of Turkey. Would you like to explain that to me? A neutral but forceful posture?”
Tombstone took the message and read the details of the Rules of Engagement. It was as Batman had said, the weaseling sort of message that provided little guidance and less exculpation for the commander in the field. In essence, Batman was ordered to keep anything else from happening, but was to maintain a reactive posture only, except for matters that affected the safety of the ships under his command. “Typical Washington bullshit,” Tombstone concluded, and handed the message back.
“What do you want to do first, Admiral?” Batman asked. “I can have a full-scale briefing ready in about half an hour if you wish.”
“The first thing I want is for you to call me Stoney,” Admiral Magruder said. “Shit, Batman, I keep ending up on your boat?and I’m sure as hell sick of Ruffles and Flourishes.”
“As the Stoney One desires, oh, Flight Leader,” Batman said.
“The first thing I want to do is see the La Salle,” Tombstone said.
“I’ve read the reports, but I want to see the damage myself. Got a helo I can borrow?”
Batman smiled. “Lots of’em?even got some people who know how to drive’em. When do you want to leave?”
“As soon as possible.”
Batman smirked. “Somehow, I thought you might say that. Got a crew standing by for you right now.”
Tombstone nodded curtly. “The sooner I see what happened, the faster we can get to work on a solution.”
He shot Batman a somber glance. “This one isn’t going to be easy.”
“An unusual request, Commander.”
