The rotor wash kicked up salt spray over the front window. He looked out the empty side window, watching the dark blue water. Then he looked back at his radiant and moved the cyclic and collective to level himself and squeeze out all of the potential energy of the rotors.
“Twenty feet. Fifteen feet. Ten knots. Ten feet.”
The impact was about two seconds before he expected it, and hard. He jolted forward in his seat, restrained by his harness. The force was similar to a ten-mile-per-hour car crash. The helicopter’s fifteen thousand pounds crashed into the ocean and immediately filled with water.
To his horror, he felt his feet and legs getting wet. It seemed strange to see the familiar electronics suite get covered with rising dark blue water. Plug reached up and pulled off both engines to the OFF detent. Then he pushed the rotor brake all the way forward. For a second, he thought the helicopter might maintain its upright position. Then the terrible rollover began.
Helicopters were very top-heavy. Once in the water, the engines and transmission weighed it down, causing the aircraft to roll completely upside down as it sunk underwater. The cool seawater rose up his waist and chest. He remained strapped in to his seat harness. The water kept rising as he tilted sideways, and it covered his neck. Then one final breath before the water covered his mouth and nose and scalp…
Plug held his breath as the world turned upside down and dark. Victoria’s last words to him over the radios replayed in his head.
Remember your training.
It didn’t seem so silly now. Grab hold of a reference point. Put your breathing device in your mouth now.
As the helicopter’s generators kicked offline, only a few lights remained on. The world was quiet. He quickly put the underwater breathing device into his mouth with his free hand. He blew out to clear the water out of the mouthpiece and breathed in precious air. Holding on to his seat with his left hand, he felt around for the seat belt latch, which would unlock the five harnesses that kept him strapped in. He didn’t feel upside down now. Now, he had no idea which way was up.
His eyes stung from the saltwater and whatever oils were leaking out of the helicopter into the sea. He began to panic because he didn’t think he was moving fast enough. If the helicopter sank too deep, he could get the bends.
Click.
He released himself from his straps and began floating to his right, but held his place with his left hand. He reached out where the window was, gripped the empty metal edge, and pulled his body through, kicking for extra propulsion.
A moment of panic as his boot got stuck on the rim of the window, but then he kicked free. Wriggling out of the sinking aircraft, he pulled the black beads around his vest and felt himself rising up to the surface as it inflated with air.
“On final.”
Victoria leveled off from her turn and aimed her helicopter directly up the long white wake of the destroyer. A grey smoke from the bridge area trailed up into the sky.
“Roger, on final,” came the voice of her young copilot.
They were landing on a smoking, damaged vessel, which had yet to respond to their communications. Not that they had a choice. The bright yellow FUEL LOW light shined on the master caution panel, demanding attention.
Victoria pulled back on the cyclic with her right hand and lowered the collective lever with her left. The speed began to bleed back. She made a radio call over the external comms.
“Farragut Control, Cutlass 471, on final, no comms, declaring an emergency. We see that you have received damage. Request you maintain course and speed for five mikes.” She turned and looked out her right window. “And if anyone hears this, we need fuel and our other rescue swimmer.”
Victoria switched frequencies to the VHF channel that Plug and her helicopters were using to communicate. “476, 471.”
Nothing. Plug was in the drink. God, she hoped they were alright.
“Point five miles, landing checklist.”
Juan was already flipping switches and rattling off the steps of the before-landing checklist.
The airspeed indicator slipped below forty knots, but it felt like they were barely closing in on the ship.
Juan said, “They’re booking it.”
“Yeah.” She pushed the stick forward and pulled in more power to close in on the ship.
The ship rolled hard left, white salt spray shooting up and covering part of the flight deck. The rolls were much more intense than normal due to the speed the destroyer was traveling at. They must have been going close to thirty knots.
“Over the deck.”
She caught a glimpse of one of the hangar personnel doors opening, and a face peeking out. Whoever was in there must have heard the sound of the aircraft as it made its way over the back of the ship. Then the face disappeared back in.
She positioned the helicopter over the center of the flight deck and held it hovering. The ship was in another big roll, this time to the right. It was a pattern. Every few seconds, the pendulum swung back and forth in opposite directions. She timed the pattern in her mind, holding the helicopter in a perfect hover, waiting. She kept the aircraft just high enough that the wheels wouldn’t get caught by the moving surface beneath them.
There it was.
The roll started coming back in the opposite direction. Victoria timed her power reduction to drop the aircraft right on her landing spot at the exact time that the roll would make the ship even with the horizon. The result was a perfect landing.
They immediately began rolling hard to the left, but the helicopter weighed about seventeen thousand pounds, and physics would keep them in place. Unless the rolls got too severe…
The man who had opened the hangar door came running out, holding the dark metal chains they could use to tie down the helo.
“Fetternut, go help him out please.”
Her aircrewman immediately unstrapped and grabbed one of the chains, hooking it to a metal tie-down point on the helicopter and fixing that to a tie-down point on the flight deck.
“Juan, you have the controls. I’m going to go get us fuel.”
“Roger, boss. I have the controls.”
She unstrapped, carefully moved out of her pilot seat without hitting the flight controls, and slammed the cockpit door shut. Then she walked back to the cabin and looked at the group of wounded soldiers.
She scanned the faces. Chase wasn’t among them. He must have already walked into the hangar while she was unstrapping. She gripped the side of the helicopter as the ship rolled back and forth.
“Do they have a doctor on board?” one of the soldiers yelled over the noise of the rotors. His face was caked with dirt and dried blood. His eyes were tired but alert.
“No, but we have corpsmen.” Victoria tried to sound out her words so that the man could read her lips.
He frowned. “So do we,” he yelled back. “Let’s get us to somewhere we can treat the wounded.”
There were now several men from Victoria’s maintenance crew running out from the hangar wearing headgear and vests, ready to help.
Once inside the hangar, her maintenance chief was waiting at the door, blocking her view. “Ma’am, the command master chief’s been looking for you. We got hit, ma’am.” His eyes were wide. The younger petty officers next to him watched them both, eager to hear the conversation.
The hangar door flopped open as the ship rolled. Whoever had come in last hadn’t secured it. She stood with her legs spread apart wider than normal, her knees bent. It helped her to balance as the ship rolled so much. Why were they still going this fast?