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 maneuverit 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 familiarhow 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 ordershere, 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 boatand 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’emeven 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.”
The Dean of Academics sounded thoughtful. “I’m not prepared to approve it immediately, but I certainly see the merit in your position.”
Bird Dog tried again. “Captain, the entire focus of my studies here, including my Advanced Research Projectmy ARPhas been on crisis response. What could be better than marrying up the academic with the practical, with basing my final paper on an actual honest-to-God crisis?”
The Dean nodded. “As I said, it’s a good point. We’re always in favor of kicking our students out of the ivory tower and exposing them to the real world. But truthfully, haven’t you already had quite a bit of that?”
Bird Dog had to admit that was true. On his first cruise, he’d been on the pointy end of the spear in the Spratly Islands when the Chinese made a grab for the oil-rich islands off the coast of Vietnam. Later, he’d taken part in ejecting Ukrainian Cossacks from the Aleutian Islands, and had started to learn some of the harder realities of war. And there had been more confrontations after that.
This tour at the War College was supposed to be a time of decompression, a reward for a job well done. Even though he was drawing flight pay, it didn’t feel like it. It had been months since he’d flown anything other than the single-engine owned by the local flying club. And as crazily gratifying as he found his relationship with Callie, he felt part of his soul was missing without access to the cockpit of a Tomcat.
Maybe, just maybe, if he could get back aboard Jeffno, don’t let the Dean even guess that was what he was thinking of. Concentrate on the academic benefit, not the chance that he might get to do a little bit of flying.
“I’ll discuss it with the admiral,” the captain said. “We can let you know in another day or so. That okay?”
Bird Dog nodded. “Thank you, sir. I promise you, you won’t be disappointed with the final result.”
As he left the Dean’s office and headed back to the parking lot, a sudden conviction hit him. The Dean would approve himhe knew he would. He couldn’t wait to tell Callie.
Unfortunately, Callie was not as excited about his taking part in the Turkish conflict as he’d thought she’d be. Surely she could see what an opportunity it was!