The Army Citation jet was on approach to Runway 5 Right, the long 12,000 footer at Naval Air Station Oceana, when Emily looked out the window to see all the F-18 Hornets lined up on the ramp. They were in line, all pointing in the same direction, looking like grey soldiers from the Civil War.
“Is that what you flew, Ford?” she asked Ford, pointing down below the right window of the Citation.
“Yeah, that was my Navy carrier tour. Loved flying that little jet. Enabled me to fly as a single seat pilot again, like in pilot training. Went to the carrier, fully qualified. Visited, maybe, a dozen countries. Was able to do about a hundred landings and take-offs from the ship,” Ford answered, reminiscing about the days. “Completed a full workup and a Med float. Fantastic squadron life. It was fun.”
“You were a carrier pilot, too?” Mark asked, not knowing this portion of his past, nor was Robert. Robert wasn’t with them because he was ferrying the Corning jet from Elmira to Savannah. “What else don’t we know about you, kid?”
“Stop. I’m not keeping secrets,” Ford said, laughing. “Yeah, I can land on ships, too.”
As he said that, the jet touched down at the Air Station and rolled down the runway. Emily looked out at the window, staring. She was quiet again, using the free time to think about the second and third phases of the challenge they had with Wu and Ford.
“Carrier pilot,” she said to herself. “Carrier pilot,” she whispered. “Hey, carrier pilot!” Emily said a bit louder.
“Yeah, a carrier pilot. What are you all fired up about?” Ford said.
“No! BLOODY HELL!” Emily exclaimed.
Mark turned in his seat, which did not rotate like the fancy leather ones on the Gulfstream 650. “What is it?”
“Carrier pilot! Ford is fully qualified to land on CARRIERS!” Emily said loudly. She pushed Mark in his shoulder sitting in the seat in front of him.
“Yeah, so what?” Mark asked, not seeing the connection. Mark was impressed, but as an aircraft analyst, he had met hundreds of carrier pilots before. “I’m impressed, really, but why are you freaking out about it?”
“Shut the front door! What if… what if when Wu and Ford get a hold of the Devil Dragon, they fly eastward out into the Pacific, and land her on a carrier? Any Chinese aircraft won’t be able to fly or search that far out to sea, and we could recover the jet in secrecy. Capture the jet using the carrier to land on!”
Mark’s eyes lit up. “No crap. Are you kidding me?”
Ford was shaking his head up and down in agreement, with a smile. “I knew I was with you for a reason, Queen Emily. That is one hell of an idea.”
Mark took a sip of his Starbucks. “I love it. We’d have to request one of our Pacific Command ships sail is in the vicinity of our choosing, but that shouldn’t be a problem. Deputy could always call the Admiral. Yes. Yes. Hell of a freaking good idea, Emily.”
“Thank you,” Emily said, smiling and then winking at Ford.
Ford rubbed his face and chin. “I’d be eager to hear from Wu on how strong the gear is on the jet. That landing may not be pretty. It’s not a carrier-based jet, and we land pretty God damn hard. Plus, the sea state of the ship comes into play. Bobs and weaves, pitches and rolls, with the waves,” Ford explained, holding his palm down, sharing how the ship could move in open seas.
“Hmm. You’d be hundreds or even a thousand miles out to sea. No runway in sight. You had better land her,” Mark added.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mark. Dirt bag,” Ford replied. “Look, I can land her. Might be an issue for speed, descent angle, and potential collapse of the gear once we hit, but if we can find the ship out there with the limited navaids, we can get her down.”
Emily looked at the parking spot they were pulling into with the Citation they were on. It was at the base of the airfield tower, and a uniformed Navy Captain was waiting for their arrival out on the ramp. Dressed in green tinted camouflage that looked different from other U.S. military green uniforms, the Captain sported a dark green Trident on his chest symbolizing he was a Navy SEAL. A Navy SEAL was a Sea-Air-Land commando, specifically from Naval Special Warfare. He was there and waiting to greet them, and arrange for Ford’s parachute training.
Emily thought some more out loud before the cabin door opened. “How about this. After you land, have the Navy pull her to that airplane elevator and hide the Devil Dragon in that hangar. That, ahh… hangar deck I’ve visited before. Good size. That way the Chinese imagery satellites won’t detect their most prized position sitting on our ship,” she said, then announced quietly, “that’s called evidence.”
“That’s a damn good idea. I don’t remember the ship elevator dimensions that well. But if Wu has said that it is smaller than the C-130, that aircraft wing span won’t fit in there,” Ford added, trying to remember the layout.
“Please. We could fly out some welders to meet you guys upon arrival. We could just cut those bad boys right off, fit her in the hangar deck,” Mark said. “Just cut em off.”
“You have welders at DIA?” Ford asked, raising his eyebrows.
“Kid, you’d be surprised what we have access to. Now get out outside and meet this SEAL,” Mark said, laughing and pointing with his coffee.
“Carrier, huh? No shit,” Ford said, grabbing Emily’s hand on the way out of the Citation.
The stepped down the stairs to the tarmac to greet the SEAL.
“Hello, Captain Peoples. I’m Mark from DIA. How do you do?” Mark introduced himself.
“Please call me, Gabe. Nice to meet you, Mark” as Captain Gabe Peoples extended his hand to Mark.
Captain Gabe Peoples, Commanding Officer of Naval Special Warfare Group Two, was the senior leader of east coast SEAL Teams 2, 4, 8 and 10, based out of Little Creek Naval Amphibious Base, Virginia. Located near Norfolk, he had a plethora of men scattered across the world, completing both training and real world missions. He led some of the most motivated set of goal setters in the world, experts at fighting in the sea, air, and land.
Mark did the introductions again, as he had done during their last few visits. Everyone followed Gabe Peoples into the base of the air traffic control tower and into Flight Operations for the Air Station.
“I am aware that you would like to jump with one of the Teams down here. For practice. Very unusual request. Could you tell me some more info so I can determine how to help you?” he asked, without a smile, as they sat down in a cold and uninviting flight planning room. It was just the opposite of what they had experienced at Corning and Savannah.
“We are working a Tier One intel community mission, solo, outside of JSOC. A requirement exists to get one of our experienced pilots, who is an experienced parachutist, back to jumping to make him current. He needs experience in a wing suit,” Mark explained.
“Under what authority? This is a pretty steep request. You’ll use some of my guys for training. Burn up a few hours of fuel on my bill. Disrupt our training schedules and our prep for deployments. Again, I don’t know. You’re asking a lot.”