Vaughan’s radar screen showed a British Airways Boeing 777, flight BA154 on route from Cairo to London, but it was starting to stray a little off course. Vaughan was able to check his list of regular airline traffic. This flight was early, which was a little unusual, but flight schedules were often changed. Aircraft are located on radar by means of a transponder which emits a coded VHF radio signal giving identification details.
BA154 was 8 miles from the exclusion zone, and was slightly off course and heading their way. Vaughan set his VHF set to the local east heading frequency of 119.9MHz and began his transmission.
"British Airways 154, this is United States Warship USS Port Royal please acknowledge."
It was quite unusual for a commercial jet pilot to receive contact from a warship, so Vaughan had expected an immediate response. He was starting to get hot under the collar. When no reply was forthcoming he transmitted the same message fifteen seconds later. Again, there was still no response. It seemed to him that the cabin temperature had risen fifteen degrees in the last half minute.
Walters knew he was out of his depth and weighed up his options. It didn’t take too long for him to pick up a microphone.
Vaughan used the standard urgency procedure, and called Captain Steve Johnson, a slim, grey haired twenty five year veteran, and one of the most seasoned commanders in the US Navy.
"Captain, this is Leading Seaman Walters in the radar room, please acknowledge".
Vaughan was surprised by an immediate wide awake response.
"This is the Captain, speak".
"Sir, I have a commercial Boeing 777 transiting the gulf region. It is straying off course, and at this rate may just brush the edge of our exclusion zone" said Vaughan in a tone that was all business.
"Walters. What are the aircraft’s speed, altitude and heading?"
Vaughan should have anticipated this request and was silently kicking himself for taking twenty seconds to respond to this request.
"Captain, I think there must be something wrong with my system. I show the aircraft heading one six seven degrees, at seven thousand feet and speed of one hundred and thirty five miles an hour. It’s flight plan shows it should be at twenty four thousand feet, three hundred and fifty miles an hour, and climbing." The temperature in the cabin was rising even faster. Vaughan was now visibly sweating.
"Walters, I will be there in forty five seconds, check all your numbers, I want to know what the hell is happening when I get there."
The captain’s next call, accomplished while he was hastily pulling on his trousers was to the officer of the watch.
"Officer of the Watch, this is the Captain, sound general quarters, this is not a drill, acknowledge."
"Captain, this is the Officer of the Watch, I confirm sounding general quarters. This is not a drill."
Emergency radiation containment procedures are vitally important, but they make heavy reading. Brian was actually starting to enjoy the volume he was reading, when the klaxon horn sounded general quarters, followed by an audio announcement that this was not a drill. He slammed the book shut forgetting to mark the page.
The captain made it to the radio room three seconds early. This time Vaughan missed nothing.
"All my systems are operating correctly sir. Inbound aircraft BA154 has a bogus transponder. It should be a Boeing 777. But, performance shows this to be a small propeller driven aircraft. Perhaps there is some mix up with the codes."
The captain turned around and lunged for the microphone to call weapons.
"Captain to Weps, acknowledge."
"Weps to Captain, Seaman Peacock responding."
"Weps I am about to upgrade our status to battle stations. Get a sea sparrow on the rail for immediate launch!" yelled the Captain.
"Jesus Christ!.. Shit, sorry, I mean aye aye Sir", this was the first time Peacock had ever received an order to make ready a missile except as a drill.
"Sailor, load that bird and have it ready to fly yesterday, this is not a drill, I will be there in thirty seconds", the captain needed to be there in person.
"Captain to Officer of the Watch, upgrade our status to Battle Stations. This is not a drill."
"Officer of the Watch to Captain. I confirm sounding Battle Stations. This is not a drill."
Once again the klaxon horn sounded followed by the P.A. announcement.
Before he left the radar room, the Captain turned back to Walters, "I want to know how far that aircraft is from the exclusion zone. I will be in weapons, radio me every thirty seconds with an update." Captain Johnson took off at a dead sprint towards the weapons pod, nearly knocking over his Exec Officer Mark Douglas in the process. "Mark, get to the bridge and take over from the Officer of the Watch, we have a situation", he shouted without even breaking stride.
As Walters had experienced moments earlier, Brian Peacock at the missile controls was also sweating heavily when the captain stormed into the weapons room. Just as he entered, the first report came over the intercom system, "Radar room to Weps, Captain, inbound bogie just made a slow turn onto heading one eight zero now heading directly toward Ronald Reagan three miles from exclusion zone one hundred and thirty five miles an hour, descending through four thousand feet. Will breach perimeter in approximately two minutes"
"Walters, is there any response from the pilot?"
"Negative sir. I have been continually calling on the regular area frequencies as well as all emergency channels."
"Walters, patch the Weps intercom onto all aircraft emergency frequencies, I want to talk to the pilot."
"Yes sir, go ahead", Walters had finally anticipated one of the captain’s orders.
"Unidentified aircraft headed one eight zero degrees at four thousand feet towards US fleet. This is Captain Johnson aboard USS Port Royal. Be advised that you are headed for the three mile aircraft carrier exclusion zone, immediately turn around and leave the area. If you breech our no fly zone, you will be engaged, please respond."
Peacock was squirming in his seat, "Captain, what do I do?"
"Sailor, you do what you have been trained to do The second I tell you to, press that fucking button and splash that bogie. Are we clear?" The captain was beginning to sweat as well!
"Aye aye sir. The missile is prepared for launch, ready in all respects", the endless hours of drill had now taken over. He was still sweating but at least Brian was now in complete control of the situation.
Walters’ voice was becoming higher with each syllable, "Captain, radar room, unidentified bogie has descended to two thousand feet, course and speed unchanged, two miles from exclusion zone, time to security breech fifty seven seconds."
"Unidentified aircraft headed one eight zero degrees at two thousand feet towards US fleet. This is Captain Johnson aboard USS Port Royal. Be advised that you are headed for the three mile aircraft carrier exclusion zone, immediately turn around and leave the area. If you breech our no fly zone, you will be engaged, please respond. This is your last warning."
Fifty seven seconds seemed like an eternity to the missile technician. Peacock had time to check all his systems three times as well as making the mental calculation that the missile was probably wasting quite a bit of fuel, since if it were fired, it would find its target in around fourteen seconds.
"Radar to Captain, breech imminent", screamed Walters.
The missile room went deathly quiet for what seemed an eternity before the captain issued the order that was destined to end a young life. "FIRE!"
Peacock stabbed the red button with his index finger. The solid fuel rocket motor ignited and the first sparrow missile ever aimed at a light aircraft rocketed away from the starboard rail, and vanished into the ink black sky.