The pace accelerated as they completed their final pre-flights. He
glanced over at her as she completed the last of her BIT checks, the
built-in test batteries that verified the A-6’s radar and computer
systems were operational.
Screw her. If she wouldn’t even try to be friendly …
“System’s hot,” she said. “Ready to roll.”
“Roger.” A green light was showing from the island as a safety officer
gave a last thumbs-up. Willis was all professional now as he looked out
the cockpit to where the deck officer was standing ready, and gave a
crisp salute.
The officer returned the salute, touched the deck, and Jefferson’s
catapult hurled Willis and Sunshine into the sky.
1635 hours
Flight deck
U.S.S. Thomas Jefferson
Seaman Apprentice David James White had been aboard the Jefferson for
less than six weeks. His entire Navy career thus far had Spanned less
than four months, for he’d reported aboard straight out of boot camp at
NTC Great Lakes, with only a ten-days leave in between to say good-bye
to his mom and to his girlfriend Judy back in his home town of Ridgely,
Ohio.
He wasn’t sure yet whether he liked the Navy. At eighteen, the largest
social group he’d ever been a part of was his high school, and he still
felt utterly lost among the miles of gray-painted passageways, the noisy
horde of strange faces filling a vessel that had been described to him
as being as large as an eighty-story building lying on its side. There
were six thousand people aboard the Jefferson; that was twice the
population of Ridgely, far more than he could possibly expect to meet
and get to know personally if he stayed aboard for a full two years of
sea duty. He wasn’t aware of them so much as a vast crowd as he was
aware of them as strange faces. The only time he saw lots of men all at
once was during a flight deck FOD walk-down, but it seemed as though he
would never get to really know anyone.
Upon reporting aboard, White had been assigned to the deck division.
After three weeks of “P school” orientation, where he’d learned the
basics of flight deck theory and been given a course in first aid, he’d
been given a slot with the blue shirts, the chock and chain men who
secured parked aircraft to keep them from rolling. He’d started making
friends … and his initiation into the Ancient and Sacred Order of the
Blue Noses a few days ago had opened up a whole new world to him. Only
now was he beginning to see himself, not as a stranger in this bizarre
and alien world, but as part of something larger than himself.
It had been a good feeling.
Then had come the battle on Friday, and moments of stark terror. And
after that had come the word that some kid named Pellet had hung
himself. Oh, God, how could things like that happen? What had he
gotten himself into? In hours, it seemed, the good feelings of
belonging and being accepted had evaporated. Most of the guys White
knew had withdrawn into themselves somewhat after hearing about Pellet’s
death. The only antidote the officers seemed to know was work … work
and more work. White had forgotten when he’d slept last. He was
exhausted, and the exhaustion dragged at both brain and body like leaden
weights.
He’d been helping a crew unchock the A-6 Intruders parked forward of the
island. Someone handed him the two massive chocks that had immobilized
one Intruder’s wheels, and someone else had pointed across the deck at
the place where they were supposed to be stowed.
Though P school had provided a kind of basic orientation to the flight
deck, White’s actual training so far had been strictly on the job, with
various petty officers telling him what to do even when he had little
understanding of what he was doing or why. Carrying the chocks, he
trotted across the flight deck, toward the waist catapults across from
the island and aft.
The entire flight deck was one great storm of raw noise and swirling
movement. Men in colored jerseys surged back and forth in some