Tomcat 205, had scored two kills, confirmed by the circling Hawkeye
coordinating the battle. Batman and Malibu had chalked up three, while Big D
Sheridan and Fast Eddie Glazowski in 212 had gotten one. Tombstone looked up
at Coyote and grinned. “And you, hotshot, have just gone ballistic. Coyote
and Teejay, we pegged you guys this morning with five kills.”
The room exploded with cheering and applause. Someone pounded Coyote on
the back, making him slosh some of his coffee onto the deck.
“Of course,” Batman said, kidding, “the Coyote still has to learn that
real Navy flyers don’t go in for this candy-ass, long-range, Phoenix stuff!”
“Right on!” Lieutenant James Dubois, “Mad Dog,” exclaimed. “I ask you!
Would John Wayne blast the bad guy out of the saddle from a hundred miles
away?”
“If John Wayne had a Phoenix?” Teejay asked. “Damned straight he would!”
“You know,” Lieutenant “Loon” Baird said, “the real heroes are those
Norwegian Falcon drivers. They were mixing it up with those MiGs like pros.”
“Amen,” Trapper Martin said. He raised his cup in salute. “To White
Lightning!”
The feeling of belonging in that crowded room, of strength, was
overpowering. Coyote set his mug on a table. His decision to leave the Navy
was unchanged, but he felt closer to these men than he had for some time. A
part of them and what they stood for.
“Congratulations, Coyote.” Tombstone stood in front of him, hand
extended.
“Thanks, CAG.” Coyote took the hand and shook it. “Ah, listen …” He
hesitated, uncertain how to proceed. “Stoney, I’ve been way out of line these
last few days. I want to apologize … and thank you for keeping me on the
flight line.”
“Nothing to apologize for, hotdog,” Tombstone replied. “Anyway, I needed
you. We all do.”
“I’m beginning to understand that, CAG.”
“Good. Because we still need you, more than ever.”
“Why?” There was something about Tombstone’s tone. “What’s up?”
“There’ll be a full wing briefing later, but I can tell you guys the
details now. VA89 nailed the Kirov.” He was interrupted by a cheer. “All
right, all right. Settle down. Kirov is out of the fight, adrift and
burning. The guess is the Russians’ll have to scuttle her. The bad news is
that we didn’t get close enough to tag the Soyuz.”
“See?” Mad Dog said. “John Wayne would’ve gotten them up close and
personal.”
Tombstone grinned. “We’re readying another mission and targeting the
Soyuz. This time we’ll take the missiles in so close we’ll be able to shove
the Harpoons down their throats. Or into any other suitable bodily orifice.”
The men laughed at that.
“When, CAG?” Batman asked. “When are we gonna go? This afternoon?”
“Negative,” Tombstone replied. He shook his head. “Stores and military
expendables are way down, especially after that last A6 strike. We’re due to
rendezvous with the stores ships tomorrow, early. We’ll take on more missiles
and then hit ’em.”
“By tomorrow morning, that Russkie carrier could have scampered clear
back to North Cape,” Malibu said. “Bad scene, man. We’ll have to catch ’em
all over again.”
“Don’t count on it. OZ says that our strikes on Bodo and the other air
bases have hurt them, bad. They’re going to want their naval air to help
cover the airfields. That means Soyuz is going to stay where she is, at least
until they figure out where we are.”
Trapper laughed. “Which they won’t do because they’re stupid!”
“Not stupid,” Tombstone cautioned. “But definitely confused.” He
grinned at the men ringing him in. “if I was up against this bunch of
maniacs, I’d be confused too!”
That elicited more laughter. Someone extended Tombstone a coffee mug.
“Have some java, CAG.”
“Thanks, guys. I’d like to but I can’t. Planning session in Ops. You
men stand down and hang easy until we pass the word for launch tomorrow, hear?
VA97 has the duty today on BARCAP.”
Which meant the closest thing to liberty the Vipers could enjoy while
they were at war. They cheered as Tombstone ducked out of the compartment,
and the congratulations for Coyote’s kills continued.
Five kills … five dead men.
But Coyote could feel only the promise of being alive.