rotating flight duty since early the night before, doing their best to make
Russian lives miserable.
It was an all-out effort, just as the admiral had indicated in his
closed-circuit TV speech. He still didn’t know any details of the plan
Magruder was putting together, but he knew any fight with the Soviets would be
a desperate one. And after the last fight, Coyote wasn’t sure he could face
another one.
He thought back to the night Magruder had come aboard. She must love you
bugging out for sea duty again so quick, Tombstone had said. And he had made
a flip reply. You know Julie. No complaints there. He had always looked at
it from his own selfish point of view, never seen what Julie must have gone
through each time he let his love for blue skies and thundering jets lure him
back to duty. Magruder had lost Pamela Drake over the same stubbornness.
Pamela had been strong-willed and forceful, willing to fight for her side.
Julie wasn’t made of the same stuff, so she had let Coyote leave her time and
again.
His latest brush with death had reminded him of what he’d almost lost.
He had almost given up flying after Wonsan, but that had been an instinctive
reaction to the whole situation he’d been through in Korea. In the long run
he hadn’t changed his viewpoint that much. This time it was different. This
time, Grant knew, he could finally say for sure that his family meant more to
him than anything else. He couldn’t keep playing the daredevil flyer when
each time he went up he might never make it home to his wife and daughter.
His hands gripped the rail more tightly. That left him with a tough
decision to make right now. Any aviator could turn in his wings any time,
just walk away from duty if it got to be too much, if he thought he had lost
the edge. There was nothing to stop Willis E. Grant from doing the same right
now … nothing except his own sense of duty.
It’s your instincts I need. Your nose for tactics. Magruder had turned
to his experience when he needed help. And although Admiral Tarrant had been
talking to everyone, his words had hit home too. Each of you has a vital role
to play.
Batman Wayne was more than capable of taking over command of the squadron
… but Coyote couldn’t just turn his back on his men now. Viper Squadron was
down to half its original strength, and they needed every pilot they could
muster. He couldn’t leave them in the lurch now, on the eve of their most
difficult test. Even if it ended in disaster, he had to go up with the
others.
He turned from the rail and headed for the ladder, his mind made up.
When he got home–if he got home–he would find out what Julie wanted. He
would give up flying, even give up the Navy, if she asked him to. But in the
meantime, he couldn’t let his shipmates down.
1431 hours Zulu (1431 hours Zone)
CAG office, 03 Deck, U.S.S. Thomas Jefferson
In the Norwegian Sea
Lieutenant Roger Bannon raised a hand to knock on the door, then
hesitated. He had screwed up his courage to come to see Commander Magruder,
but now that he was here he found it hard to go ahead with his plan.
He couldn’t keep postponing this movement. Bannon gritted his teeth and
rapped softly on the door.
“Come!” Magruder’s voice called out, sounding distracted.
The commander was sitting at Stramaglia’s old desk, pouring over an open
file folder that matched ten more stacked beside his elbow. It was plain that
Magruder hadn’t taken any time to clear away his predecessor’s personal
effects. A mug on the desk still held a pair of Stramaglia’s notorious
cigars, and there was a picture hanging on the bulkhead beside the door of
Stramaglia and his teenaged son at an air show Stateside. It was hard to
believe Stramaglia was really dead. It looked like Magruder was just keeping
his chair warm until CAG turned up again.
But he was dead, and now Magruder was in charge. The commander looked