and they stepped across the pattern of yellow and black warning stripes on the
deck that marked the elevator deck’s rim. “Hello, CAG,” Batman said, shouting
above the noise. “What brings you down here?”
“A couple of dinged-up Intruders and not enough Vikings,” Tombstone said.
They backed out of the way as a tow tractor began maneuvering an S3 onto the
elevator. “Congratulations on your kills this morning,” he added. Batman was
being credited with bringing down a Sukhoi and a cruise missile over the
Romsdalfjord moments after the Russian attack had begun.
“Another day, another Sukhoi,” Batman quipped. “Getting routine, you
know?”
Tombstone walked to the edge of the elevator deck and looked down. The
water, transformed into a frothing white by the passage of the gray steel
cliff of Jefferson’s hull, roared and hissed a few yards below. Looking up,
he could see the damage, crudely patched, where a missile had struck the
carrier in the fjord. The elevator had been repaired, however, and seemed to
be working well. The carrier’s damage-control parties had certainly earned
their pay this morning.
Outside, the noise levels were lower. Batman pulled his ear protectors
off so he could hear. Tombstone removed his own helmet. “Too bad about
Coyote,” he said.
“Yeah.” Batman turned his helmet in his hands. “Y’know, Stoney, he
could still be alive.”
“Maybe. I hope so.” Tombstone turned his gaze on the aviator. “But for
now, you’re CO of the Vipers.”
Batman nodded. “I figured.” He jerked his head, indicating the oval
opening in the ship’s side leading into the hangar deck. “I was down here
checking on some of the turkeys. Two-oh-three and Two-one-oh both took some
damage. Plane crews’re checking them out now. They should have them back on
the line in another six hours.”
“Good.”
A warning klaxon sounded, and with a jerk, the elevator deck began moving
up, carrying the Viking, the tractor, several crewmen, and the two officers
with it.
Tombstone remembered how once before he’d thought Coyote was dead, during
the crisis with North Korea a couple of years earlier. Somehow his friend had
walked out of that one. Batman was right. Maybe he would do it again.
But he knew better than to think too much along those lines. It was
futile and it was distracting at a time when he needed to focus his full
attention on his duties as CAG. It was his responsibility to order men into
situations they might not survive. It wasn’t a pleasant responsibility, but
it was part of the package … and part of the price paid for that morning’s
victory.
The air wing had lost thirteen other naval flight officers that morning,
good men, all of them, with wives, sweethearts, families, promising futures
back in the World, lives …
None of them would be coming back.
Batman dropped a hand onto Tombstone’s shoulder. “I, ah, just wanted to
tell you, Stoney. You’re doing a hell of a job as CAG.”
“Thanks, Batman.” He gave a shallow grin. “I’d rather be driving a
Tomcat.”
“Yeah. That’s where I got you beat, old man. Me, I like life simple.
None of these power games for me!”
Maybe, Tombstone thought, the ultimate test of leadership is being able
to send shipmates, friends, out to die.
Batman’s acceptance of the situation somehow made it–not better–easier.
A blast of raw noise assaulted their ears, and both men donned their
helmets again. The elevator clattered to a stop at the flight deck level, the
black and yellow stripes matching with counterparts along the elevator-shaped
cutout at the deck’s edge.
The roar came from a big, twin-rotored CH-46E Sea Knight, descending from
the solid roof of overcast. Jefferson was finally within helicopter range of
II MEF and her UNREP ships, and vertical replenishment operations had been
proceeding since that afternoon. In the distance to the west another Sea
Knight, an HH-46 off one of the UNREP vessels, was dwindling toward the pearly
glimmer where sea met sky. On the deck, seamen labored and sweated over piles
of off-loaded munitions. Pallet after pallet of supplies had already been
dropped off. Most numerous were the Harpoons, still in their packing cases,
accumulating on the deck faster than men and mules and forklifts could stow