“Keep your eyes open,” Woods said, looking up through the canopy toward the sun for the unseen bogeys.
They crossed the border of Israel without seeing another MiG. The radar warning gear continued to indicate occasional SAM and AAA activity, but nothing steady or close to them. Wink looked up from his radarscope when he felt Woods rocking his wings back and forth vigorously. “What’s up?” Wink asked, concerned, as he put his radar on standby again.
“Left ten o’clock, low,” Woods replied.
Wink looked left and low and saw an airplane with its nose on them converting an intercept, rolling in on them to shoot. It was an F-15 showing no sign of recognition. Woods exaggerated his motions even more. Big, seeing the problem, and the other F-15 closing on them from the right, did likewise.
The F-15 cooled his intercept and rolled out behind the Tomcat. He flew up beside Woods on the left and examined the U.S. Navy fighter. He joined on Woods’s wing, and nodded to him. Woods looked at him and nodded back. The Israeli pilot tapped his forehead and pointed to his chest. “It’s Chermak.” Woods held up a fist. Hold on. He pulled away from the F-15, then moved his plane like a porpoise. Big read the signal and flew over to Woods, joining on his wing, flying in formation. Woods then shifted over to the F-15, tapped his forehead, and pointed at Major Mike Chermak; no radio transmissions required, everything understood. The other F-15 joined on the outside of Big. The flight of four, two Eagles, two Tomcats, fled south toward Ramat David.
In what seemed like no time at all they were overhead the field. Micah Chermak kissed off Woods and pulled up sharply, dropping him off directly over the field in perfect position to enter the break. Woods kissed off Big, and broke left in a sharp turn. They both landed without incident, but looked at their clocks in horror as they taxied to the end of the runway.
“What are we supposed to do now?” Wink asked.
“I’m not really sure,” Woods replied, removing his oxygen mask and breathing deeply. They reached the end of the runway and taxied to the right, as instructed. He pulled his oxygen mask over his mouth again to talk. “The Major said to taxi off to the right, and everything would be obvious. The only thing that’s obvious to me is how conspicuous we are here. One guy with a camera on this base and we’re dead.”
“I hadn’t even thought of that,” Wink said, the implications chilling him. “What are we supposed to be looking for?”
“I don’t know,” Woods said, exasperated. “Wait, here comes a truck.”
A camouflage truck raced toward the taxiing Tomcats and stopped in front of them. It changed directions with a quick turn, and headed back down the taxiway in the direction they had been traveling.
“Guess we’re supposed to follow him,” Woods said, watching the driver motion him with his arm, like a cowboy in the front of a posse.
“Where are we going?”
“I think we’re about to find out.”
Woods eyed his clock and drew in a short breath. The next launch from the Washington was in ten minutes. They were supposed to be overhead in the pattern now, preparing to recover at the earliest possible moment after the last airplane of the next launch was airborne. We’ll never make it, Woods thought, feeling a sense of panic. He looked around for the ground personnel the Major had said would be waiting for them. He didn’t see anyone. There were F-15s, F-16s, and F-4s everywhere getting refueled and rearmed. The camouflage truck continued past the main section of the airfield, nearly to the end of the taxiway, right by the end of the runway where they had just touched down. Then Woods saw them. A man was waving at them from a spot off the taxiway in front of the hangars. Woods stepped on the left rudder to steer the Tomcat to the left with nosewheel steering and they followed the truck into a small cul-de-sac behind the last hangar. There were several men in white uniforms with large orange Vs on their chests waiting for them with two trailers next to them. Big followed as they taxied faster than was safe, but necessary under the circumstances.
Woods spun the Tomcat around and pointed parallel to the runway. A soldier walked in front of the plane and raised his hands. Woods stopped hard, and put on the parking brake. The soldier looked over the Tomcat and gave him a thumbs-up. There were eight other men standing by one of the trailers. They stood at parade rest with sound protectors over their ears. The soldier nodded to them. They ran to the Tomcat, examined the missile rails and wing pylons, then backed away to the truck. The leader of the eight nodded to the soldier in front of the Tomcat. He put his arms up as if signaling a touchdown. Woods and Wink put their arms on the air conditioning rails so their hands could be clearly seen. The eight men turned up the canvas flaps on the trailer. Missiles were stacked on racks on both sides, Sidewinders and Sparrows.
Woods would have smiled if he had been able. As it was, he was so concerned about their time and being found out, nothing was even remotely amusing, appealing, or satisfying. Every second made them later and more anxious. Wink watched the men line up underneath a Sparrow and lift it easily off the rack. They moved toward the Tomcat, sitting there with both its engines turning. “I sure hope these guys know what they’re doing,” Wink commented as the one in front moved closer to the jet intake. “I’d hate to suck one of them down the intake. You have any idea how hard it would be to explain that?”
“If that happens, I’m just going to shut it down, walk west until I hit the Med, and keep walking,” Woods replied, trying not to think of how many things could still go wrong.
Wink, on the other hand, was reflecting for a long time on each little thing that could go wrong, rolling each around in his mind, like a new candy, wondering what was inside, dwelling on each potential catastrophe with a detachment that he found refreshing.
Wink took off his oxygen mask again and breathed deeply of the Israeli air. He wiped the sweat from his face, and took off his helmet. His skull cap fell into his lap as he scratched his head. He put the skull cap and yellow helmet with white skull and bones on it back on, and reconnected his oxygen mask. He watched as the Israeli ordnancemen loaded new missiles on the rails. “You sure these are the same missiles we carry?”
“Yep. AIM-9M Sidewinders, and AIM-7M Sparrows. Same exactly.”
“No difference?”
“I sure hope not. If there are, as long as they can load them on, the Gunner can take care of anything else.”
“I hope we don’t have scorch marks all over from the rocket motors.”
Woods suddenly sat up. “I didn’t even think of that,” he said, looking around. He glanced quickly at Big’s plane sitting fifty feet to their right, and studied it for marks. He could see black carbon where the Sidewinder had fired off the rail. “It’s noticeable, but looks mostly like dirt. I don’t think anyone will notice. The Sparrow didn’t leave any marks. They don’t fire until they eject clear.”
“Let’s go; they’re done,” Wink said hurriedly, noticing the gesturing of the soldier in front of the plane.
Woods lowered his hands and released the parking brake. Big’s crew finished right behind Woods’s.
“Let’s go,” Woods said. He looked at the Israeli ordnancemen, who were smiling. The leader saluted him and Woods returned the honor with a snappy salute of his own. He added throttle and taxied quickly away from the truck. He turned toward the runway to take off and head back to the Washington.
They turned left onto the taxiway next to the runway. Israeli fighters were still landing, nearly one every minute. Woods looked around anxiously. They didn’t have time to hang around. No time at all. They had to get back to the ship. They had to go now.