attempt had been made to fully integrate women into carrier-based units.
The official story was that Jefferson’s squadrons had suffered severe
combat losses in the Battles of the Fjords, and qualified women had been
needed to bring the carrier’s squadrons back to full strength. That
played well on CNN, but Tombstone knew that there were still plenty of
male NFOs available for duty. The situation was being used by the
politicians back home who were eager for the support of women’s groups
such as NOW.
As he took his tray to a vacant table and sat down, he couldn’t help
wondering what tune the radical feminists would be singing if the
Russian situation deteriorated far enough that a draft became necessary,
a draft that would put women in front-line foxholes next to men.
He thought again of his conversation with Barnes up in Pri-Fly. If war
erupted again between the resurrected Soviet empire and the West, there
would be no way to contain it. Conway and her “girls” would be right in
the thick of what promised to be a long, bloody, gruesome war.
“Hello, CAG. You look about as chipper as a man on the way to his own
execution. Surely the chow’s not that bad.”
Tombstone looked up. “Hey, Batman. Secure a chair.”
Lieutenant Commander Edward Everett Wayne, wiry, dark-haired, and
irrepressible, was VF-95’s Executive Officer. He was also one of
Tombstone’s most experienced flight officers. The two men had known
each other for better than four years now.
“So why all the unrestrained hilarity?”
“What?”
“Actually,” Batman said, stabbing a fork loaded with mashed potatoes at
the empty space above Tombstone’s head, “it’s that little black cloud
above you that worries me. I’m going to have to report that thing to
the Met office, you know. They take a dim view of micro-thunderstorms
going off loose aboard ship. Plays hell with their jobs. Makes ’em
look bad.”
Tombstone chuckled, the bleak spell of his thoughts broken. “Okay,
Batman. You can rest easy. Right after chow, I’ll trot up to Scott’s
office and get my cloud registered.”
Lieutenant Scott was head of Jefferson’s OA division, the Meteorological
Office. An “oh” was one of Met’s weather observations, taken once each
hour when Jefferson was underway, and every thirty minutes during flight
quarters.
“That’ll do it,” Batman opined, nodding and chewing. “Now tell Dr.
Batman what triggered that LBC in the first place.”
“LBC?”
“Little black cloud, of course. Aren’t keeping up with our official
navy acronyms, are we?” He shook his head. “Obviously, CAG, You’re
slipping, suffering deeply from the Strain of command.”
Tombstone sighed. “You got that right. I’m concerned about our
nuggets.
Our female nuggets.”
Batman grinned. “Woman trouble, Tombstone? That’s not like you. What
would Pamela say?”
Pamela Drake was Tombstone’s fiancee, a network anchor for ACN news.
“Leave Pam out of this.”
“I suppose we should. Although I imagine she’s just thrilled by the
news that we have girls serving aboard the Jefferson now. Her and about
six thousand other Navy wives and sweethearts who have to stay behind
while their men sail off into danger.”
“I’ve had some letters from worried wives already,” Tombstone admitted.
“God, this female aviator thing is nothing but one big headache, As if
we didn’t have headaches enough already.”
“Ah, don’t sweat it. Be like me. I love the women’s movement!”
Tombstone eyed his friend warily, sensing a trap. “You do?”
“Yup. Especially from behind!”
Tombstone closed his eyes, groaning. “You, Wayne, are a hopeless
degenerate.”
Batman nodded vigorously. “A Neanderthal male chauvinist pig, that’s
me.”
“Yeah, and you’re probably the last person aboard this boat I should
talk to about this. I still remember that incident in Bangkok.”
“Incident?” Batman’s eyes widened into blank innocence. “What
incident?”
“The Thai International Hotel? Skinny-dipping with a couple of
stewardesses in the hotel’s pool, with God knows how many civilians
watching from the lounge through a big underwater window?”
“I’m sure I have no idea what the captain is talking about,” Batman said
with sore-wounded dignity. “I would certainly have remembered the
incident in question had I been the alleged perpetrator involved. Sir.”
“Save it. You never did track that one stew down again, did you? What