Shocked by the jolting blast and violent concussion, Landes-man stumbled backwards and tripped over an aide who tried to break the Admiral's fall. Collapsing heavily to the steel deck, Landesman felt his left wrist snap as he heard and felt a series of powerful explosions that shook the carrier from bow to stern.
With the help of his stunned aide, the battle-group commander forced himself up and lurched toward his chair overlooking the flight deck. He was appalled at the fire-swept carnage taking place in front of his eyes. Dazed men, some of whom were trying to extinguish their burning clothes, were crawling on their hands and knees in an effort to escape the fireball.
The F/A-18 Hornet's internal fuel tanks and wing-mounted drop tanks had erupted, spreading flames to other aircraft next to the destroyed fighter/attack airplane. The brisk wind sweeping over the deck caused the superheated inferno to spread rapidly, engulfing scores of airplanes in a huge, roiling conflagration.
The searing mass of flames detonated 1,000-pound bombs, 500-pound bombs, rockets, and other ordnance, ripping apart more aircraft and spilling thousands of gallons of blazing jet fuel. Another round of deafening explosions blew holes in the armored flight deck and sent debris and shrapnel ricocheting off adjacent airplanes.
A missile ignited under the wing of a Tomcat and shot straight into the fuselage of an A-6 Intruder that was taxiing forward out of the fire. The aircraft blew apart a moment after a 1,000-pound bomb was heaved over the side by a host of sailors. The singed bomb exploded when it hit the sea, throwing a wall of water over the firefighters who were standing on the lowered flight-deck elevator.
The entire aft section of the carrier deck was swallowed by the raging fire and billowing black smoke when Landesman saw the first ejection seat blast upward and arc over the fantail. Seconds later, more ejection seats fired through the boiling flames as the trapped pilots and naval flight officers fought for their lives.
Landesman could feel the ship slowing and turning as a frantic pilot jockeyed his burning F-14 Tomcat toward a clear area at the edge of the deck. Like the other aviators, he was afraid that he and his RIO might come down in the inferno if they ejected in the middle of the deck.
The fighter accelerated in afterburner until the nosewheel swept over the side of the ship. At that point, the radar intercept officer initiated their ejection sequence, which fired his seat first. The pilot shot free of the scorched cockpit just as the nose of the Tomcat hit the water.
Landesman was reaching for his direct line to the captain's bridge when the flight-deck emergency-washdown system activated. Water spewed over the length of the crowded deck, but the downpour had little effect as more devastating explosions set a row of fuel-laden jets ablaze. The Admiral had never encountered anything that compared to the magnitude of destruction he was witnessing. Likewise, he had never seen such bravery and self-sacrifice in his long naval career.
"Captain…" Carl Witowski breathlessly answered Landes-man's call.
" Jinks, what have we got from damage control?"
An explosion interrupted Witowski's reply. "We've got a lot of men trapped belowdecks, and flaming fuel is running into the spaces and hangar bay."
"Keep me advised," Landesman ordered and involuntarily flinched when another giant explosion rocked the ship.
"Yes, sir," the devastated skipper mechanically shot back. "It doesn't look good, but Cowpens is coming alongside to assist."
" Jinks," Landesman advised while he surveyed the burning flight deck, "I'm going to get a message off to CINCPAC." He hung up the receiver.
Out of the corner of his eye the Admiral saw an officer and two enlisted men toss a loose bomb over the side of the carrier. He turned to watch the three men as they approached another bomb that was rapidly being surrounded by flames. The officer was spraying the 500-pounder with a fire extinguisher when the bomb exploded. Landesman stared in horror and disbelief when the three men simply disappeared.
Chapter 33
Lamar Joiner was shaving in his cramped stateroom when he heard and felt the first detectable rumble. Curious, he stopped for a moment and waited for another hint of the unusual sound. The only noise was the deep hum of the ventilation ducts.
He dismissed the faint, rolling sound as an anomaly and placed the razor next to his cheek. Joiner again paused when he sensed another low, resonant sound. It's real, but I can't identify the sound or the source.
He knew they were rapidly approaching the rendezvous coordinates to take up station with the carrier task force, but the only sounds he expected to hear were the high-frequency pitch of ship's screws.
The communications speaker suddenly came to life. "Cap'n, officer of the deck, sir," the smooth, confident voice said evenly.
Joiner quickly wiped the shaving cream from his face and toggled the speaker switch.
"Captain," Joiner replied with an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. After many years of submarine duty, his intuitive feelings were generally correct.
"Sir, sonar is picking up some strange returns — like depth charges going off."
Joiner tossed the hand towel on the tiny sink. "I'll be in sonar for a couple of minutes if you need me."
"Aye aye, Cap'n."
After hurriedly donning his dark overalls, Joiner walked down the narrow passageway leading to the sonar room. He entered the dim, quiet space and looked at the data on the display screen.
"Mornin', Captain," the senior operator said without taking his eyes off the sonar console.
"Good morning," Joiner replied in a hushed voice and looked over the Petty Officer's shoulder.
The latest contact, other than ships in the crowded strait, was a vertical line on the console. Whatever the source, the loud sounds were coming from far away and the bearing was remaining constant.
"What have you got?" Joiner asked the senior operator as he studied the returns on his sonar screen.
"Sir, like I told the OD, the sounds have the characteristic trait of depth charges." The man slowly shook his head in frustration. "Something exploded in the water — at least twice — dead on the bow."
The Captain studied the display for a brief moment. He agreed with the Petty Officer, but he had grave reservations about the unusual sounds.
Joiner looked at his watch. Bremerton wasn't scheduled to go to periscope depth to receive the latest satellite radio transmissions, but Joiner needed information before he continued toward the strange sounds.
"I'll be in conn."
"Yessir." The sonar operator glanced at Joiner. "We'll stay on it, sir, till we have it figured out."
"Very well," Joiner responded and stepped out of the confined space. He thought about the perplexing sounds while he made his way to the control room. If someone is dropping depth charges, I sure as hell don't want to blunder into the middle of the kill zone.
Joiner walked into the control room and approached the officer of the deck at the navigation chart behind the periscope stand.
"What do you think, Frenchie?"
The Lieutenant absently tapped the chart with the end of his pencil. "Cap'n, I know it's early to go to PD, but we're getting mighty close to the Hawk, and I think we need some fresh info."
Joiner was about to answer when he, the Lieutenant, and the chief of the watch heard and felt another tremor reverberate through the attack submarine.
"Frenchie," Joiner said, "let's get between the shipping channels and take her up to periscope depth."
"Aye aye, sir."