"Well," Kendall responded as he grabbed Austin's helmet, "we can use the canopy off of Two Oh Eight."
"Yeah," Brad replied as he lifted himself from his seat, "that's about the only thing I didn't destroy." He still had not been down to see the aircraft he had flown through the trees and into the barricade.
Kendall stepped down to the deck as Austin and Lunsford climbed over the side of the Phantom. A small crowd had gathered, gawking at the splitter plate in front of the left engine intake.
Reaching the flight deck, Brad looked at the focus of everyone's amusement. "Just what I needed," he said to Palmer and Hutton when he saw the patrol boat painted on the side of the Phantom.
Hutton laughed, then handed the stencil and spray can to Kendall. "Think about it, Brad. Four more boats and you'll be an ace."
Lunsford stepped back two paces and framed the boat with his hands. "Why don't you guys paint a tree next to the boat?"
Chapter 12
Austin and Lunsford left their flight gear in the locker and went to the ready room. Bull Durham and Ernie Sheridan were there to greet the "boat blasters," as Austin and Lunsford had been tagged.
"We owe you one," Durham said, shaking hands with the two junior officers. "I didn't know what the hell you were doing when you rolled in and came screaming toward the boat. Man, I'm tellin' you, we were both amazed when that missile came off and plowed into that mother."
Lunsford shook his head. "So was I."
Sheridan, who was the spark of any party and enjoyed hanging around with the pilots, sat down in one of the high-backed chairs. "Seriously, we sure as hell appreciate what you guys did."
"Well," Brad replied self-consciously, "I just hope you don't have to return the favor."
"No shit," Durham laughed as he sat down on the armrest of one of the briefing chairs. "Have a seat, and we'll bring you up to date." Austin and Lunsford sat and gave him their full attention.
"Did you have any trouble getting into Da Nang?" Sheridan asked.
Lunsford cut off Austin before he could answer. "No, we didn't have any problems. The tree surgeon flew us through the most violent goddamn thunderstorm ever recorded in this hemisphere… with a hole in his canopy and no oxygen."
Durham and Sheridan, laughing out loud, were well aware of Lunsford's uneasiness in the air. They, along with everyone else in the squadron, respected the RIO for sticking to it and doing a good job.
"Then," Lunsford continued as Brad rolled back his eyes, "we made an emergency fuel GCA to a miraculous landing. That's when it got ugly."
Durham looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"We flamed out on the taxiway."
"You're kidding," Durham said.
"Fact," Lunsford responded. "The marines must have sent him out here to save their own inventory of airplanes."
The four men laughed, then continued to discuss the events of the past twenty-four hours.
Durham and Sheridan explained about the F-4 crew who had inadvertently shot a Zuni air-to-ground rocket into an idling A-4. The explosion had ignited another Skyhawk and set the aft section of the flight deck on fire. With both A-4s engulfed in a blazing inferno, the pilots had ejected. The two aviators had been rescued from the drink, but one of the pilots had sustained a broken ankle when he hit the catwalk before impacting the water.
The carrier was standing down from air operations for the remainder of the day. An underway replenishment was scheduled to begin at 0930.
A cargo vessel and an ammunition ship were currently positioning themselves alongside the ship. The difficult and time-consuming operation, known as an UNREP, would restock the carrier with food, fuel, machinery parts, and ordnance.
Rumors had been circulating to the effect that major air strikes were in the planning stages. Brad was quite interested to hear that MiG airfields might be included in the attacks. Durham believed that some of the restrictive rules of engagement would be lifted, allowing the carrier crews to hit in-country sanctuaries.
Another item of interest that had filtered through the wardrooms concerned a problem with the carrier's number two shaft. The huge drive shaft that turned a monstrous propeller blade had developed a vibration. The rumors circulating through the ship indicated that the carrier would depart Yankee Station early and proceed to Subic Bay for repairs. Those familiar with such matters estimated the ship would be in port for ten to fourteen days.
"Brad," Sheridan chuckled, "what did you do to your RIO? He looks and smells awful."
Austin laughed. "Yeah, we could use a thorough scrubbing." "After the animal act at the club," Lunsford said, feigning disgust, "we spent the night in a pigsty."
"By the way," Sheridan added, "the CO wants to see everyone in the ready room at eleven hundred."
Brad had shaved and showered in the communal latrine shared by the junior officers in his section of the ship. He had returned to his stateroom and was dressing when Harry Hutton walked into the room. "Did you hear that we may leave the line early?"
Brad grabbed his shoes. "Yes. Bull and Ernie mentioned that there was something wrong — I don't know what — with one of the propeller shafts."
Harry leaned against the bulkhead. "There is definitely something wrong with the shaft. I went down to the engineering spaces, just checking around, and a chief told me we had to return to port. Something about bearings, or whatever."
Smiling, Brad looked at Hutton. "That wouldn't hurt my feelings."
Harry displayed his lascivious grin. "Yeah, a little sack time with the sweethearts of Olongapo. How about that little dolly we met at the Black Rose?"
"If Big Ida is your idea of little," Brad laughed, "you need to see an optometrist."
Harry sat down, pondering the sexual attractions available in the liberty town of Olongapo.
Buffing his highly polished shoes, Brad looked up at the innocent, cherubic face. "Harry, let me propose something for our own good."
A quizzical look appeared on Hutton's face. "What, chaplain? You don't mean a tour to historical sites, or something like that?"
"No, Harry," Brad laughed, "nothing even remotely resembling a cultural experience. The last thing I want to do is influence your intellectual and artistic taste."
"Good."
"What I have in mind," Brad continued, "is getting away from this shit for a week or so. Olongapo is a goddamn cesspool full of drunks and whores. A little of that goes a long way as far as I'm concerned."
Harry smiled broadly. "Manila. They've got women there who will reduce you to a whimpering pile of protoplasm. We can get a steam and cream, too."
Looking at his watch, Brad stood. "I'm talking about Hawaii… civilization. If we can't get a military hop, then we'll go to Manila and catch an airliner."
Hutton's face lighted. "Yeah, American women for a change."
"Harry," Brad said, reaching for his hat, "I'm talking about first cabin. Oceanfront at the Royal Hawaiian. Room service. Breakfast on the lanai. Afternoons at the Mai Tai Bar… the works."
"Yeah," Harry responded, gleefully rubbing his hands together. "Bikinis as far as you can see. Let's do it!"
Brad, Harry, Nick, and Russ sat in the third row, waiting for the skipper to speak. The executive officer, Frank Rockwood, had just concluded his remarks about the squadron spaces being inspected in two days. He walked to his seat and sat down next to the CO.
Dan Bailey spoke quietly with Rockwood, then stood and stepped behind the podium. "Well, gents, we've got a lot of scuttlebutt going around that I intend to set straight. First, however, I want to say that we came very close to losing a crew yesterday."
Everyone glanced at Bull Durham and Ernie Sheridan. They sat in the front row with Jack Carella.