A skilled aviator could work the cannon like an airborne buzz saw, spewing death and destruction in a confined area. You could smell the cordite and feel the gun through the airframe as the target was obliterated in front of your eyes. The experience was so mesmerizing that some pilots flew into the ground with their finger still pulling the trigger.
Descending through 2,000 feet, Rosenbaum began to slow his rate of descent. "Jon, we re not going to have much to work with, hard to achieve fifteen degrees nose down with an eight-hundred-foot ceiling."
"Any suggestions?" Worthington asked.
"Lets start as high as we can and not go below three hundred feet."
"Okay, but I'll be experimenting."
"That makes two of us."
At 900 feet, the Hornets began to break out of the clouds. They leveled at 800 feet under a ragged ceiling and low visibility. Rosenbaum saw the QM2 s wake directly in front of him and looked to the left. The jets were a half mile behind the ship.
Rosenbaum keyed his radio. "Okay, Salty Two, were going to make a pass up the port side of the ship and commence a port turn. When we roll in on the stern, we 11 arm em up. Coming off target, we 11 safe the guns and begin a left-hand pattern. That way we wont ever have our guns trained on the rescue swimmer."
"Copy."
Passing abeam the bow of the QM2, Rosenbaum began a left turn and called the Hawkeye. "Ringleader, Salty Four-oh-six, we have a positive ID on the Queen and were ready to dance."
"Youre cleared in hot."
"Roger that."
Although he wasn't being shot at, Rosenbaum made an aggressive roll-in maneuver toward the stern of the ship and flipped his master armament switch on. "One's in hot."
He concentrated on placing the gun sight reticle squarely on the hull where it met the waterline. Squeezing the trigger for a short burst, Rosenbaum watched as the water appeared to boil. Buuuurrrpp.
Salty 406 pulled off hard, clearing the ship by 200 feet and disarming his master arm switch. "One's off, nose cold."
Petty Officer Red Bailey was stunned when the Hornet flight leader began firing at the ship. He sprawled on his belly and prayed that nothing would ricochet toward the bow. God, I hope they don't start bombing before my ride gets back! He kept his head down and his eyes closed while the second fighter strafed the stern of the QM2. Buuuuuurrrrpp! The sound of the cannon reminded Bailey of a long, deep belch.
After each jet made another strafing pass, Bailey's curiosity began to get the best of him. He rose to his knees and watched the fighters attack the doomed ship. On the last run, the wingman barely cleared the cruise liner after his pass. Bailey drew in his breath. That was damn close.
Lieutenant Worthington felt the adrenaline shot to his heart as he disarmed the Gatling gun. "Twos off, nose cold." His voice was an octave higher than normal.
"Salty Two, you okay?" Rosenbaum asked.
Worthington pulled the Hornet into a tight left turn. Don't ever do that again. "I'll be okay as soon as I catch my breath."
"Salty Four-oh-six, what's the status of the ship?" the Hawkeye mission systems operator asked.
"We've made some progress; it's definitely taking on water."
"Are you making more strafing passes?"
"Negative, we're Winchester on ammo. Bombs are next."
"Copy."
"Salty Four-oh-six, coast guard Dolphin. We're five miles out."
"Roger."
Rosenbaum and Worthington circled the Queen Mary 2 while Jeff Bergman picked up his PJ. Red Bailey was a happy man once he was in the basket and airborne.
Looking to the north, Rosenbaum could see the ship was due south of Jones Beach State Park. Although she was taking on water, the majestic liner was still traveling at a high rate of speed. "Ringleader, Salty Four-oh-six is ready for the heavy hardware."
"You're cleared in hot, expedite every chance you get."
"What about the air traffic around JFK?" Rosenbaum asked.
"They're diverting incoming flights and holding everything else on the ground. You have priority."
"Roger that."
Rosenbaum flirted with the idea of making a single pass and dropping all four bombs at once, then discarded the notion. If something went wrong and he missed the ship, it would be up to Worthington to stop the QM2. "Salty Two, were going to drop one — repeat — one bomb at a time."
"Copy, one at a time."
Punching up the proper switches and buttons for bombing, Rosenbaum keyed the radio. "Jon, lets concentrate on hitting her amidships at the waterline. Keep the pattern tight, left-hand pattern."
"Amidships, left turns."
Rosenbaum selected the program to drop only one bomb at a time. Next, he chose auto-bombing mode and flipped the master armament switch on. "Ones in hot."
Rolling in on the ship, Rosenbaum snapped the nose down and placed the pipper on the center of QM2S hull at the waterline. He designated the aiming point, hit the pickle button, checked his altitude, started pulling up while following the displayed impact line, and checked his wings level. The Mark-84 2,ooo-pound bomb released a split second later.
"Salty Ones off, switches safe." Rosenbaum flinched when something flashed past his canopy. "What the hell!"
"Twos aborting!" Worthington said, as he pulled up. "Skipper, we have a news helo over the ship."
"Say again?"
"A dumb-ass in a news helo almost mid-aired you."
Agitated by the close call, Rosenbaum keyed his radio. "Ringleader, get this clown out of here — now!"
"We dont show anything, but were talking with the Feds."
After another trip around the pattern, Rosenbaum saw the helicopter depart toward New York City. "Okay, Jon, do your magic."
"Twos in hot." Worthington aimed slightly to the left of the gaping hole in the hull. A tremendous explosion blasted water over 200 feet into the air. The impact ripped open a section of the ship that joined the damage done by his skipper.
Rosenbaum's next Mark-84 penetrated the hull to the right of his first attack. The ship was beginning to list to port and had slowed a few knots.
"Okay, Jon, work your way aft, see if we can flood the lower decks."
"Goin aft."
Worthingtons bomb caused a secondary explosion. It produced a thick cloud of black smoke that trailed behind the badly damaged QM2.
On his next pass, Rosenbaum placed his third bomb in the center of the smoke billowing from the ship. A huge ball of fire accompanied the blast, and the mighty ship began to slow even more.
"Salty Two, try one near the bow."
"Copy."
Rolling in for his third pass, Worthington put his bomb through the hull sixty-five feet from the bow.
"Nice throw," Rosenbaum said.
Click-click.
Rosenbaum's last Mark-84 went high and exploded in the center of the shuffleboard-and-swimming-pool area on Deck 12. "Jon, I screwed up. You gotta finish her off."
"I'll give it my best." Worthington went for the same area where the fireball erupted from the ship. The ensuing explosion caused a powerful concussion that rocked Worthingtons plane as he pulled out of his dive. "I mustve hit the jackpot."
Banking so Worthington could join on his wing, Rosenbaum glanced at the other Hornet and did a double take. "Salty Two, you're smoking, trailing something from your belly."
"Yeah, things just got busy in here."
"Take it to JFK — now!"
"Roger that, skipper." Worthington turned directly toward John F. Kennedy International Airport.
"Ringleader, Salty Four-oh-six."
"Salty, we're talking to the tower at JFK — your playmate is cleared to land. What's the status of the ship?"