Mainland Ground Control came onto the circuit, ordering everyone to be quiet as he began re-forming the Chinese J-12 formation.
The Chinese leader saw a wingman ahead of him and started toward the other J-12. Two were better than one, but not as good as three.
Then, between the two of them, a pair of Raptors appeared. He pulled back on the stick, shouting for the other wingman to ascend and re-form on his left side. Behind him somewhere were the two Raptors. Were they the same ones he had been closing on? Couldn’t be. He had had them visually and they were running for altitude. There must be a second — even a third American formation out here. He pushed the transmit key and told Ground Control. Where was the other J-12 formation?
The left wingman appeared alongside him. The leader saw a shadow on his right, smiled, and let out a sigh of relief. His other wingman had found them. His formation was back together. As the aircraft eased up alongside, the smile faded. It was a British-marked F-35 fighter. Where did he come from? The leader looked to the left, and on the other side of the J-12 wingman, a second F-35 flew in formation. The Chinese leader quickly looked back to the right. The pilot in the aircraft raised his hand and did a two-finger salute. the Chinese leader didn’t know what else to do. He returned the salute. At least the enemy recognized him as a fellow fighter professional.
He looked at his weapons panel. He could easily engage, but they had his formation bracketed. Four — maybe six Americans, and he could see three British fighters. His missiles wouldn’t be out of the bays before they shot the two of them down.
The Chinese fighter pilot relayed the situation to Ground Control, who ordered them back to the mainland. He turned and nodded to the British fighter pilot, gave him another two-finger salute, and turned the J-12s toward the mainland. Five minutes later, two other F-22As flew by him. By now, he had lost count of how many fighter aircraft were between him and the coast of Taiwan. It could have been any number between six and ten. How this happened would be a question he would be fielding in the days to come.
“Mother, this is Black Leader; the Chinese are turning toward the mainland.”
“Roger. Raptor Leader Formation, join up with Black Formation. Raptor 10, this is where we confuse them further. What is your current altitude and course?”
“We are at angels twenty-eight and in a racetrack orbit about thirty miles from where Black Formation is located.” “Roger, ascend to angels thirty and come to course one-one-zero. The Chinese formations are returning to the mainland. Keep weapons tight.”
“You said formations.”
“Roger, the second J-12 formation was south of you and unable to participate in the exercise. The formation Black Leader passed down the sides is the one you disrupted minutes ago.”
“Roger.”
Franklin watched the icons close on his heads-up display even as he followed Mother’s directions bringing the two pairs of allied fighters into one four-aircraft formation. He was thoroughly impressed. Their tactic had always been to hit the enemy head-on and splash their asses. This had been more fun, more aerially challenging, and knowing how he would feel, those Chinese pilots were going to be one embarrassed bunch of fighter pilots at the officers club tonight. His eyebrows bunched. Do the Chinese have officers clubs?
THIRTEEN
“What do you think is going on?” Stonemeyer asked Andrew as the two started their umpteenth circuit of their area. “Have you ever been in combat? I was on this in the Sea of Japan when the Koreans tried to board us. You should have seen the master chief. He was a hero. Fought them single-handedly with the help of Potts and Mad Mary.”
“Mad Mary — don’t you think that is a horrid name for a woman?”
“Petty Officer Showdernitzel?” Stonemeyer asked, shaking his head. “Naw, she likes it… sometimes. Besides, it fits her. Her first name is Mary and she is as mad as the Mad Hatter.” “She is crude,” Andrew said with a trace of disgust. “She curses, she smokes, and she acts as if she is a man. She is an example of what is wrong with our nation today. God never intended for women to be…”
Stonemeyer put his hand on Andrew’s arm, causing Andrew to jerk away.
The look on the sailor’s face caused Andrew to realize his involuntary reaction hurt Stonemeyer’s feelings. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to people touching me.”
Stonemeyer looked down at his feet and continued walking.
Andrew walked alongside the young man, saying a silent prayer of forgiveness for his actions. Stonemeyer’s affliction of massive acne was God’s gift — God’s burden. It was the leprosy of the modern age. If God decided Andrew was to wear that burden, then he would be honored. He reached over and touched Stonemeyer on the shoulder. “I apologize, brother. When you touched me, I jumped. I should recognize that you are blessed by Him whom we worship with all our might.” Andrew pointed skyward.
Stonemeyer shrugged. “That’s okay,” he said with a shrug. “I should be used to it by now.” He waved his hand in a circle in front of his face. “I have used every cream they have in sick bay.” One arm cradled the shotgun, so he stuck out the other arm. “I cake myself with sunscreen every morning before I come out.” He dropped the arm and shrugged. “It does no good. It is as if I have these small volcanoes beneath my skin sending bubbles of oil erupting over my body.” He let out a self-conscious laugh. “You should see my sheets in the morning.”
Andrew dropped his hand from the man’s shoulder. The image caused him to shudder. God was a loving God, but then why did He demand so many sacrifices from His followers? He shut his eyes for a moment and begged forgiveness for such a question.
Stonemeyer shifted the weapon to the cradle of the other arm, raising his left wrist to glance at his watch. “Mad Mary will be here soon,” he said. His head spun toward Andrew. “I’m sorry. Petty Officer Showdernitzel will be here soon.” Andrew glanced around, seeing no one. “How do you know she’ll be here soon?”
“She likes to make the rounds during GQ. Check on her boatswain mates…” He raised his two hands, nearly dropping the shotgun, to make a sign of two quotation marks. “To make sure they have enough water. You watch. Some may call her Mad Mary, but she sure as hell can be like a gruff old mother when she lets her guard down.”
“She should be on land, bearing children and taking care of her husband.”
Stonemeyer laughed. “You really believe that, don’t you?” He shook his head. “I think you may be of a different religion than most of us.” Stonemeyer’s eyes scrunched as he looked at Andrew. “What religion are you? You’re not Mormon, are you?” When Andrew failed to answer, Stonemeyer continued. “Showdernitzel; she is the same age as most of us, but for all her grossness and profanity, down deep, here”—Stonemeyer patted his chest a couple of times with his left fist—“she has a heart of gold.”
Andrew felt the man’s eyes on him, but continued to look straight ahead.
“Do you think it is possible to have Christian values and not be a Christian? I think of Petty Officer Showdernitzel that way.” Andrew shook his head. “I’m of a Protestant sect from West Virginia.” He continued walking, ignoring that Stonemeyer had quit walking. “We have members in West Virginia, Kentucky, and Ohio. We are the true religion. Dedicated to the facts of the Bible and dedicated to hastening the return of Our Lord Savior. We believe you can have Christian values and live a Christianlike life, but if you don’t accept Him, God, and the Holy Spirit, then you are not a Christian and all the good deeds pale beside the atrociousness of walking outside of His word.”