He started to write a letter to Leigh Ann, then dismissed the idea when he thought about his frustrations. He did not want his feelings about the war to come out on paper, especially not to Leigh Ann. She would probably agree with her father. The United States should not be bombing anyone.
Opening his shirt pocket, Brad pulled out Leigh Ann's picture. Looking at her smiling face helped erase the thoughts of the lunacy of the war. He placed the picture on the desk, vowing to have the ship's photo shop duplicate it. That way, Brad reasoned, he could keep one picture in his room and carry the other in the cockpit.
Harry Hutton walked in a minute later, happy as ever. "You hungry?"
"No, not really," Brad replied, setting down the cola can. "I don't have much of an appetite this evening."
Harry sat down on the bed and studied his friend. "Brad, this shit bag we're in is really getting to you."
Austin looked at his roommate and picked up the can of cola. "You want the rest of this?"
"You bet," Harry replied, accepting the cold can. Their portable refrigerator was worth its weight in gold.
"I'm going to take a walk," Brad said, reaching for his brown leather flight jacket.
Harry tilted up the can, finishing the last third of the cola, then tossed the can into their metal trash container. "Care for some company?" Harry said as he stood.
"Sure," Brad responded, slipping on his jacket. "Let's go up to the bow."
"I'm following you," Harry replied, reaching for his flight jacket.
They locked their stateroom door and walked through two passageways to the light trap and ladder leading up to the catwalk. They climbed the short stairs and stepped out onto the open grating that hugged the flight deck.
Brad looked down through the framework of the catwalk at the foamy bow wave. He felt the damp spray rushing up through the iron grating.
Harry inhaled the sea breeze, then let it out slowly. "If I close my eyes, and really work at it, I see ourselves on board a cruise ship, lolling away the hours with two sensuous nymphomaniacs."
Brad turned and smiled. "I think I know how you get by from day to day."
"Whatever works," Harry responded with a grin.
They walked forward to the port side of the bow. The sun had just dropped below the horizon when Brad and Harry reached their viewing spot.
Harry leaned on the edge of the railing. "After you left the ready room, Dirty Ernie told me that we're going into Yokosuka as soon as our relief is on station."
Brad turned around and leaned against the railing. His thoughts shifted to Leigh Ann. "When are we scheduled to be relieved?"
"It's up in the air right now. The Bonnie Dick," Harry said, referring to the aircraft carrier Bon Homme Richard, "is supposed to start warm-ups at Dixie Station in about a week or so."
Brad quickly calculated the number of days until the ship would leave the line. "Why are we going to Yokosuka?"
Hutton gave him a bewildered look. "Ernie said they have some kind of equipment in Yoko that they don't have at Subic.. to work on the prop shafts, or something related to them. From what he said, they've got problems with the reduction gears on two of the shafts."
Brad gripped the rail. "I thought the reason we were yanked back from Hawaii was because they had this tub fixed."
"I don't know shafts from shit," Harry replied, staring at the destroyer escort off the port bow. "All I know is that our bird farm needs some maintenance."
"Yeah," Brad replied, gazing at the rows of aircraft chained to the flight deck, "this baby needs a lot of work, especially the catapults." They watched the horizon grow dark, each lost in his thoughts. After the stars were clearly visible, they decided to grab a quick bite at the gedunk.
Brad and Harry descended to the hangar deck and walked through the throng of men and airplanes to the small store. They both consumed a cheeseburger and a Coke, then carried their strawberry ice-cream cones to the ready room.
Brad and Harry entered the noisy compartment and sat down in the back row of seats. Mario Russo, the squadron popcorn officer, was dispensing brown bags of freshly popped corn. As soon as he was finished with the nightly ritual, Jon O'Meara started the movie.
Nick Palmer kept up a running commentary during the low-budget horror movie, making his comments when there was no dialogue. He had always narrated the love scenes at all ready-room movies, cracking up the entire group at every opportunity.
"Hey, O'Meara," a loud voice called from the front of the compartment, "can't the navy do any better than this horseshit?"
"Pipe down," Ernie Sheridan called out. "Can't you appreciate the intellectual stimulation the rest of us are experiencing?" The loud groans were audible throughout the room.
After a few minutes, Brad drifted back to the Hawaiian Islands. Forgetting the grisly movie, he formulated a plan to meet Leigh Ann after the carrier docked in Yokosuka, Japan.
Handing Harry the remainder of his popcorn, Brad quietly slipped out of the darkened compartment and walked to his stateroom. He took off his uniform and hung it in the small closet next to the washbasin. Donning a pair of gym shorts, Brad opened the desk and placed his stationery on top. He propped Leigh Ann's picture against the bulkhead in front of him and picked up his pen.
My Dear Leigh Ann, I am back on the carrier, missing you more than I can express in words. I will be anxiously looking forward to your first letter. Seeing our mail plane overhead is the highlight of our day.
Leigh Ann, how would you like to meet me in San Francisco? Rumor has it that we are going to Japan for more extensive work on the ship, so I thought I would fly from Tokyo to San Francisco, if you can arrange to meet me. There are so many things to see and do in the city, and I would give anything to share the experience with you.
I will take care of your airline ticket, and all related expenses, if you can join me in approximately three weeks. I will have to let you know the exact date a little later.
We can stay at the Fairmont Hotel, ride the cable cars to Fisherman's Wharf, dine in Chinatown, and enjoy the sunset from the Fairmont Crown — a cocktail lounge on top of the hotel. Watching the sun settle below the Golden Gate Bridge is an unforgettable sight.
I look forward to hearing from you.
Love, Brad
P. S. I will not leave a forwarding address this time!
He carefully folded the letter and sealed it in an envelope, which he slid into a pocket on his flight jacket. Reclining on his bunk, Brad stared at the picture of the smiling brunette, then got up and began his daily calisthenics.
Chapter 20
Watching the TACAN, Brad waited until another nautical mile ticked over. He added power, then raised the nose and banked to the left. He continued the wide orbit until Nick Palmer coasted alongside in Joker 207. Harry Hutton waved from the backseat of the F-4.
When they passed over the carrier, Brad turned on course and scanned the sky for their tankers. Climbing through 16,000 feet, he spotted the two KA-3B Skywarriors four miles ahead. They were in loose formation in the standard refueling track.
Extending his fueling probe, he eased back on the twin throttles. The Phantoms flown by Jack Carella and Lincoln Durham had just plugged into the Whales. Brad would time his rendezvous with the tankers to coincide with the departure of the first two F-4s.
Brad and Nick would provide target combat air patrol on the left side of the strike group. Carella and Durham would patrol on the right flank. Fifteen miles in front of the formation, four additional Phantoms crisscrossed the hazy sky on their way to the targets around Haiphong.
"Joker Two Oh Seven," Brad radioed to Palmer, "come up tanker freq."