“Roger, sir.”
By scraping together what they could, and by using the miracle of 3-D printing, Air Wing Fifteen could load live bombs on their jets.
Hours later, Weed and Olive led six other Rhinos on an armed reconnaissance search west of Iwo. Four sections of two jets would search sectors, and, when enemy vessels were found, call the others over to attack with the four 250-pound bombs they each carried after the Ordnancemen performed their magic. One Hawkeye and Growler would support them, as well as two Romeos to help with targeting. Weed was overall lead.
It was late afternoon when the jets accelerated down the runway. Weed and his wingman Jumpin’ headed south. Olive and her wingman, Flamer, took the southwest sector with the others fanning out to the west and northwest. The plan was to fly out 150 miles, turn right for 75 miles, and return to Iwo. If nothing, they would search southeast, but they expected to find something on the first legs.
Olive and Flamer cruised at a medium altitude as they weaved through the afternoon clouds, which were more blessing than curse. With radars off to avoid detection, they conducted a visual search aided by their FLIRs. After 100 miles, all they had found was a car carrier heading south. Then the E-2 called.
“Snipers, Lookout. Follow your pointer.”
Olive saw her data link point 270 at 60. She entered an easy turn that Flamer matched as she slewed her FLIR to the pointer. On her helmet display, a green diamond set against a cloud was the cue Lookout was leading them to; beyond the cloud, and under that diamond, she expected to find a contact of interest.
She cut through the edge of the small cloud and saw a blue hull on the water, heading south and trailing a small wake. That’s it! she thought and porpoised her nose to get Flamer to join as she set up an orbit.
“Lookout, we got a VID on your contact heading south at five knots. Sending you a picture. Weed, we’re two-three-six for one-thirty in a left turn. Waitin’ for you.”
Weed rogered her and, after comparing positions, set a course and speed to intercept. The Growler and Romeos aided the E-2. This was the Chinese intelligence collector they wanted.
Flamer was next to Olive, and she signaled him by forming a gun with her hand as if cocking the trigger back. Flamer nodded and lifted his MASTER ARM switch to ARM.
In less than ten minutes Weed and Jumpin’ arrived. Olive kept the lead and waited on Lookout. She did not have to wait long.
“Sniper from Lookout. Cleared to engage.”
“Roger, Lookout, Snipers cleared to engage. Snipers, fence in. Tapes on.”
Ready for combat, the four Super Hornets circled north and west. Olive decided to bring them out of the afternoon sun in a high dive. With their old — and unguided — bombs, they would roll in left and use a constantly computed aimpoint on the water as they watched the vessel steam into it. Olive saw the geometry was going to lead them starboard and amidships of the vessel — not preferred — but she didn’t want to pass up the concealment the sun gave her. The vessel continued to plod south with no change in course or speed. They weren’t seen.
“Lead’s in,” she radioed, and pushed the throttles to military as she pulled her Rhino across the imaginary “cone” to establish her visual dive. Looking down at the trawler, she saw it turn into her. They see us now, but they can’t escape.
Olive pulled the throttles back as she overbanked down and left, almost inverted, as she placed her nose in front of the target. The weapons solution line came into view on her Heads-Up Display, and, as she bunted and rolled wings-level, she placed it in front of the ship. She had to estimate the vessel’s course and speed, her dive rate and altitude, and monitor the solution cue. From this high altitude and steep angle, she did not expect any return fire until she pulled out after the bombs came off….
Sudden pain, as excruciating as anything she had ever experienced, seared her face as if she were on fire! She pulled off and slapped at her face, jerking the visor up to beat down the flames. Her neck was burning, and she couldn’t breathe! She stopped flying the airplane, and her arms were flailing at the blaze in front of her — no, on her! Olive was no longer focused on anything but putting out the fire and tried to hide from it by pulling herself in as best she could.
When the flames subsided, Olive was looking at blue water that was coming closer. She didn’t know what had happened, didn’t know where she was. A moment ago she was on fire and now she wasn’t. She could see whitecaps ahead but ignored them as she panted hard from the experience of surviving a cockpit fire. She still felt some residual tenderness on her neck and arms. The water color deepened.
Olive realized she was moving fast toward the water. She didn’t know what to do to, how to avoid it. Then she realized where she was — in a Super Hornet! She saw the altimeter pass 1,000 feet….
Shit!
Olive yanked back on the stick before preparing for the 9.4 g’s that fell on her like an avalanche. The force knocked the breath out of her as her lungs were smashed against her spinal cord, and it pushed her head down into her neck as her g-suit squeezed at maximum inflation to keep blood in her brain so she could see, and think, and act. Her vision grayed and tunneled as she fought to make sense of the green HUD information, and, in her subconscious, she heard the aircraft aural warning tone: “Flight Controls. Flight Controls.”
She let off the g and sensed the waves were on either side of her. She was still trying to gather her senses. Did someone call?
“Olive, abort, abort, abort! Snipers keep jinking! Bring it east!”
Who was that? Weed? Deputy CAG Hopper is calling. She heard his voice but was still trying to figure out what was going on.
“Anyone see a chute? Jumpin,’ you with me?” Weed continued, alarmed at what had befallen the first two jets in the dive on the boat.
“Affirm, sir! Comin’ out your right four o’clock! No chute!”
Chute? What’s going on?
“Olive! You with us? Olive! Pull up!”
Olive realized she was only 200 feet above the water with airspeed falling. She “woke up” and pushed the throttle forward while lifting her jet away from danger. Less confused now, she keyed the mike.
“Weed, I’m with you… lost sight.”
“We’ve got you, keep heading east. Gate! Keep the jet moving, Jumpin’ Joe.”
Olive tried to turn her neck right, but it was painful. She turned right and looked over her shoulder as best she could, picking up two jets and looking for a third. She realized she hadn’t heard Flamer. Where’s Flamer?
“Olive check,” she transmitted.
“Olive from Weed. Your wingman went in next to the contact. No chute. Never pulled up.”
Olive absorbed the words. She pulled right to take a better look and saw the fishing boat in the distance, still in a turn. Not far from it, a gray cloud hovered over the water and bloomed above it. On closer inspection, she could see the water underneath was disturbed.
Weed took charge.
“Lookout from Sniper three. We’ve aborted, and Sniper two is down next to the contact. No chute.”