On the other hand, Macho was impressed. Thrust to weight? Turn rate? Slow-speed handling? Wonder Woman had done her homework, and here, on day one, was talking to her aviator squadronmates on their level.
“Are there any questions?” Shane asked the group with a pert smile.
There were none, and Wilson looked over his shoulder to see for himself. “Nice job, Shane. Thanks,” he told her. Flushed with pride, she returned to her seat next to Macho.
“Well done!” Macho whispered and patted Shane’s knee.
“Thanks!” Shane replied. She radiated satisfaction with her performance, which she hoped made a difference to the fleet strike-fighter squadron. She felt she was off to a good start with a great group of people, like her cool roommate, Tiffany, er, Macho.
CHAPTER 9
As he sat at the head of the table in his flag meeting room surrounded by Coral Sea’s brain trust, Admiral Roland Meyerkopf was perplexed.
To him, with his submarine pedigree, a nuclear-powered ship was a nuclear-powered ship, and if it floated on the surface or submerged under, it mattered little. No, it was all about the plant, and in the case of Coral Sea, the plants. The carrier he was on had two Westinghouse AW4 nuclear reactors that drove four massive shafts that delivered a mind-boggling 260,000 shaft horsepower that pushed the 100,000-ton steel mass of Coral Sea over 30 knots and could do it non-stop for twenty years if the machinist mates could keep the shafts and reduction gears lubed. Indeed, this national asset would serve the Navy and the nation for half a century before it wore out and needed to be decommissioned. During those decades, it would serve many roles: deter aggression and occasionally respond to it; deliver relief supplies; project national power, or the threat of it, well inland. And Coral Sea could do this from anywhere on earth.
A capital warship of this stature was vital to the nation’s military policy of forward deployment, the 800-pound gorilla that could be moved to trouble spots quickly and remain on station for weeks or months to maintain — or restore — stability ashore. In that sense, to Meyerkopf, the tactical war fighting capability of these ships was a sideshow. To him, the nuclear carrier fleet — like his submarine navy — was in greater danger from neglect and accidents, the insidious march of corrosion and mismanagement of planned maintenance shipyard availabilities that put unnecessary wear and tear on the plant and associated equipment. Vigilance through exhaustive and repetitive training, strict adherence to preventive maintenance schedules, and thorough inspections could mitigate this danger. Therefore, Meyerkopf was the right man at the right place at the right time.
He wasn’t the captain of the ship, but it was the flagship and the center of gravity of his strike group. As the senior officer aboard, he certainly shared some responsibility for her upkeep. After giving Sanders a fair shake, Meyerkopf’s measure of him was that he was shockingly detached from the engineering spaces, delegating them to his Executive and Reactor Officers in a way that appalled Meyerkopf. Sanders seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time pressing the flesh like a politician as he strolled through the passageways and mess decks, handing out his silly and monotonous daily “awards” to junior sailors only a year or two removed from their everybody-gets-a-trophy civilian upbringing. When Sanders wasn’t “campaigning for office,” he was on the bridge when the Airedales flew, day and night, another disturbing waste of time. Surely the aviators were professionals, and appeared to depart and return to the ship without trouble. No need for coddling by the captain for hours on end. The wing commander, Matson, seemed to be doing his job with the flight suit crowd, but running a ship was something Meyerkopf knew how to do, and Sanders clearly needed help.
With this focus, Meyerkopf asked probing questions about the plant each day in his morning staff meetings. The operational employment of the ship, even deployed far from home waters, would take care of itself. His flagship wasn’t going to deteriorate on his watch.
“Captain, these elevated dosimeter readings in Main Machinery Room One concern me.”
Sanders, ready for the daily quiz, answered with confidence.
“They concern me, too, Admiral, and while radiation levels are within limits, the Reactor and Medical departments are working side-by-side to find causal factors while closely monitoring our personnel. The XO reports to me each day. This has our full attention.
Meyerkopf frowned as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, mindful of the dozen senior officers present. He did not want to humiliate Sanders but needed to make a point — for the benefit of all. “Captain, the data indicate Coral Sea has elevated readings compared to other carriers, and they seem to elevate once underway. I mean, does it have your full attention? Do we need to ask for an assist team to fly down and help? Is it a training issue, or is it a sign of impending mechanical failure? What is it?”
“Sir, while the readings are elevated, they’ve remained steady. They are within limits, and we are watching them like a hawk.” Sanders regretted his last point, mentally scolding himself for not saying I am watching them.
Meyerkopf exhaled as he reviewed the report in front of him. “Rick, we can’t live this way. What if the readings get out of limits?”
“Sir, if they do, we can shut down Number One and operate on Number Two to complete the mission down here. Meanwhile, yes sir, if an assist team from Norfolk can visit us and give it a look, we’d love that. We’re always open to help and to increasing the knowledge of the crew. While we wait for their arrival, we are still operating the plant within limits.”
Shooting Sanders a sharp look, Meyerkopf pursed his lips. Enough for today, he thought. Point made. Operated by aviators the whole time, Coral Sea was less than ten years old and, in his view, showed signs of premature aging. It was good, he reflected, that the Navy occasionally assigned a submariner who “grew up” around nuclear power to oversee a carrier strike group and ensure the sound material condition of its vital flagship for future operations.
After Sanders’ come-around was complete, the meeting adjourned with no discussion of the air wing flying operations other than the previous days’ sortie count and expected weather for today. Meyerkopf seemed uncomfortable — or disinterested — in what the aviators were doing, even in support of the significant muscle movements involved in Assured Promise, drug interdiction ops, or unmanned helicopter test operations. As they left the room and entered the passageway, Sanders’ eyes met those of CAG Matson, and they both grinned knowingly.
“I guess bad press is better than no press, huh?” Sanders said under his breath.
“Yep, are there airplanes on this ship? Wish I could take some of the heat off,” the Air Wing Commander answered his friend.