While they waited for the returning planes, Brad thought about the previous four days. He had had a lengthy, pleasant conversation with Russ Lunsford. Both men had felt comfortable after they had expressed their honest feelings, and reinforced their mutual respect for each other. Their friendship was not in jeopardy.
Lunsford had enthusiastically attacked the assignment involving revamping and updating the squadron personnel files. He had also expressed a strong desire to return to flight status as quickly as possible.
Doc McCary had initiated a combination of tranquilizers, vigorous workouts, and personal counseling to assist Lunsford in adjusting to his environment.
Scheduled together for the first time, Brad and Harry had gone down on the catapult when a hydraulic leak had been detected under their Phantom. They were not going to be scheduled to fly again until Brad completed his five-day familiarization course with their sister-squadron LSO.
The most stimulation for Brad had been the letter from Leigh Ann. She had been enthusiastic about meeting Brad in San Francisco, but had insisted on paying her own expenses.
After checking with Dan Bailey, who had readily agreed to endorse Austin's leave papers, Brad had talked with an acquaintance on the staff of the task-force commander. The lieutenant commander had confirmed that Bon Homme Richard was about to complete warm-ups, providing the weather cooperated. The carrier was expected to depart Dixie Station in forty-four hours, and relieve Brad's troubled ship shortly thereafter.
Bringing his mind back to the present from more pleasant thoughts, Brad listened to the first pilot call the landing-signal officer.
"Skyhawk, ball, two point eight."
"Roger, ball," Elliot replied calmly. He watched the aircraft with a critical eye, ready to offer verbal encouragement if the pilot needed assistance.
"Green deck!" a talker shouted above the roar of the wind and jet engines. The A-4 Skyhawk continued the approach, seemingly nailed to the glide slope.
Seeing the aircraft settle in close, Tag Elliot spoke to the pilot. "Power — need a little power."
The seasoned aviator made a slight correction before crossing the round-down and thundering into the number-two arresting wire. The A-4 screeched to a wing-rocking halt, then rolled backward as the pilot pulled his throttle to idle. The hook runner yanked the arresting gear loose, allowing the Skyhawk pilot to quickly taxi out of the landing area.
Brad turned and looked forward on the flight deck, checking to see that nothing was protruding over the foul-deck line. He noted that a KA-3B tanker was preparing to launch off the port-bow catapult. The jet blast deflector had been raised and the Skywarrior was being hooked to the catapult shuttle.
Returning his attention to the next aircraft in the landing pattern, Brad listened to the pilot call the ball.
"Skyhawk, ball, two point nine."
Brad could hear the approaching aircraft. The pilot constantly jockeyed his throttle, causing the engine to spool up and down. The continuous power adjustments were necessary to maintain a perfect descent profile down the glide slope to the arresting wires.
Noticing that the attack jet had started a left-to-right drift, Brad peered at Elliot. The LSO tilted his phone receiver next to his mouth.
"Line up. Back to the left."
The pilot of the Skywarrior tanker went to full power, checking his controls. Brad stole a glance up the deck, then returned his attention to the A-4. The Skyhawk dipped to the left and rolled wings level as it passed over the round-down.
Sensing trouble, Brad watched the attack jet continue to drift to the right. The aircraft slammed into the flight deck far to the right of the centerline, blowing the right tire. The tail hook impacted between the number-three and — four cables, skipping over the last arresting-gear wire. The damaged right landing gear pulled the Skyhawk even farther to the right of centerline.
"Bolter, bolter!" Elliot exclaimed, using body language to will the aircraft airborne. He also felt a sense of impending disaster.
The KA-3B thundered down the forward port catapult as the Skyhawk pilot pushed his throttle to the stops. He frantically shoved on the left-rudder pedal and yanked the control stick into his lap.
As the A-4 rotated, the right wing smashed into the port blast deflector. Debris exploded from the shattered wing as the deperate pilot fought to control his severely damaged aircraft.
Momentarily paralyzed, Brad witnessed the Skyhawk climb a hundred feet before it began a slow roll to the right.
The captain of the ship, anticipating an imminent crash, had already ordered a turn to the left to go behind the crippled A-4. The Skyhawk continued to roll to the right, passing behind and below the KA-3B tanker.
"EJECT! EJECT!" Tag Elliot shouted as the aircraft passed in front of the carrier's bow in a sixty-degree bank to the right. The A-4 was 190 feet above the water, nose level with the horizon. When the angle of bank approached ninety degrees, the Air Boss and the LSO yelled in unison for the pilot to eject.
Brad watched the canopy jettison, followed by the rocket-powered ejection seat. The pilot shot out horizontally, then started to arc toward the water. His parachute was only partially open when he impacted the water with tremendous force.
The aircraft crashed abeam the bow, creating a huge geyser of water. Wreckage ricocheted across the water for more than 200 yards.
Brad felt the ship heel over as the captain turned back into the wind. Elliot instructed the returning pilots to orbit overhead the carrier.
The rescue helicopter was slowing over the downed aviator, and the plane-guard destroyer had maneuvered to the right of the carrier's wake. The support ship was slowing in preparation to lower a boat over the side if the helicopter developed any problems.
As the carrier prepared to continue to recover aircraft, Brad watched the SAR helicopter hover over the A-4 pilot. The rescue swimmer jumped into the water as the carrier passed the helicopter. The injured aviator was apparently not able to don the rescue collar on his own.
"Ready deck!" the talker shouted into the wind.
Brad looked forward to see the last of the Skyhawk's debris being thrown over the side of the carrier. A plane handler kicked a shred of metal off the deck and gave a thumbs-up indication.
Tag Elliot was talking to the Air Boss and the pilots. It was time to continue recovering aircraft, before they all had to tank from the Whale.
Brad heard the approaching Skyhawk pilot call the ball, then glanced at the rescue helicopter. The rotorcraft was falling far behind the carrier, but Brad could see that the A-4 pilot was being hoisted aboard the helicopter. The injured aviator would be back on the carrier deck in a matter of minutes.
Chapter 26
Stepping into the main wardroom, Brad joined the line at the cafeteria-style counter, then looked for an empty seat in the crowded room.
Spotting Harry Hutton and Russ Lunsford, Brad walked to their table. "Hi, guys."
"Hi," Russ answered, reaching for his milk. Harry nodded, swallowing a bite of tuna-fish sandwich.
Lunsford appeared to be more relaxed than Brad had ever seen him. Russ held his milk with a steady hand, smiling easily and laughing.
Harry raised his sandwich. "You been LSOing this morning, or just sleeping in?"
"No," Brad replied, placing his cloth napkin across his lap. "I've been in the library, studying the history of the landing-signal officer. I get to wave the afternoon gaggle, with Tag coaching me."
Lunsford finished his milk. "Are you going to have to go to the formal LSO school?"
"I don't know what they plan to do. This is just an indoctrination to the art, and, as you know, we're short of aircrews."