"Ante up," Harry reminded the group while he again shuffled the cards. The poker club had appointed Harry permanent dealer for the duration of the deployment.
The game continued another three hours before Sheridan, O'Meara, and Russo left. Each man was five dollars poorer than he had been at the beginning of the poker game.
Palmer and Lunsford helped clean the cluttered stateroom, then started to leave.
"Hey," Hutton said, rinsing his glass. "Stick around a minute. Our nugget captain has come up with a brilliant idea, and we thought you guys might want to pitch in with us."
Palmer looked at Austin. "What's up?"
"Well," Brad replied, sipping the last of his drink, "Harry and I plan to go to Hawaii for a week or ten days… as soon as we get to Subic. Thought you two might want to go with us."
Lunsford and Palmer looked at each other and smiled. "It sounds great," Palmer said, "but do you think the old man will let us go that far away while we're in the middle of a cruise?'"
"Sure," Brad answered, opening the small, portable refrigerator. He extracted a chilled soda and opened the can. "Care for a Pepsi, anyone?"
Nick and Russ declined.
"Rocky told me that we would have to put in regular leave papers, and that the old man would go for it. He said that after we got back — and he encouraged us to go — they'd tear up the papers and chalk it up to basket leave."
"Shit hot," Lunsford said, enthused by the idea. "I could use some R and R in Hawaii."
"If we can't hop a military flight," Brad explained, "then we'll run over to Manila and go commercial. I'll arrange a suite at the Royal Hawaiian… one that will accommodate all of us."
"It's only money," Hutton chimed in, grinning. "Brad's going to take care of the details. Besides, he's a rich captain now, so we know where to get a loan."
"Count us in," Palmer said, undulating in a poor imitation of a hula dancer.
"I'm glad you don't fly like you dance," Hutton said with a disgusted look.
Chapter 13
Brad Austin closely monitored his engine instruments as the starboard turbojet ignited and steadied at idle. The strike brief had been clear and concise. The eight Phantoms assigned to accompany the A-4 Skyhawk attack aircraft had various loads of bombs and Zuni rockets. The bomber-configured F-4s also carried two Sidewinders and two Sparrow air-to-air missiles.
Both combat air patrol Phantoms had full loads of four Sparrows and four Sidewinder missiles. Two additional F-4s, one loaded for the bombing mission and the other the spare CAP, were chained to the flight deck near the fantail.
Four F-8 Crusader fighters from another carrier air group would hit the target first to suppress the ground fire and antiaircraft weapons. They would make a strafing and rocket pass, followed seconds later by the Skyhawks and Phantom fighter-bombers.
The F-4s carrying 500-pound Mark-82 bombs and 1,000-pound Mark-83 bombs had been tasked with hitting the runway at Kep Air Base, thirty-seven miles northeast of Hanoi. The F-4s and Skyhawks carrying 250-pound Mark-81 bombs would hit the flight line and support buildings.
Brad taxied forward, the third aircraft in his four-plane flight. Each of the Phantoms in the flight carried twelve 250-pound Mark-81 bombs.
The first two heavily loaded aircraft taxied onto the port and starboard catapults, went to afterburner, then squatted down and roared off the bow of the carrier.
Brad gave the weight checker a thumbs-up, then looked at the windblown catapult officer. The yellow-shirted man wearing the Mickey Mouse headset gave Austin the signal to apply full power. Brad advanced the throttles to afterburner, said a silent prayer, rechecked his engine instruments, then saluted the catapult officer.
After a short pause, Austin and Lunsford were crushed into their seatbacks by the cat shot. As usual, Lunsford swore loudly as the Phantom hurtled off the bow.
Snapping the landing gear up, Brad looked at the aircraft rendezvousing in the distance. He raised the flaps and climbed another 500 feet before deselecting afterburner. Two and a half minutes after leaving the carrier, Brad joined the F-4s piloted by the executive officer, Frank Rockwood, and Bull Durham. Shortly thereafter, Nick Palmer glided into the number four position.
The flight rendezvoused with the tankers, topped off their tanks, checked in with the strike leader, then proceeded to their designated coast-in point north of Haiphong harbor. Kep was reported to be heavily defended by both antiaircraft emplacements and SA-2 Guideline surface-to-air missiles.
The A-4s would approach the air base from over MiG Ridge to the south, hitting the field as the last F-8 Crusader pulled off target. The Phantoms would approach from the northwest, turning at the last second to align with the runway and flight line.
Austin and Lunsford went through their usual combat routine. They covered the checklist, snugged their restraint harnesses as tight as they could yank them, then concentrated on getting the mental picture of the mission. Situational awareness was extremely important, and the aircrews had to conjure a vivid image of the positions and activities of the other flights by listening to the radios. Once all the strike aircraft were in sight, the task of sorting out priorities would become easier.
The Phantoms crossed the beach in loose formation. "Okay, Jokers," Dan Bailey radioed, "check in." "Two."
"Three."
"Four."
"Spade check," Rocky Rockwood ordered. He used a different call sign to avoid confusion between the two Phantom flights. "Two."
"Three."
"Four."
Bailey keyed his mike again. "Jokers and Spades come port three three zero."
The Phantoms continued on their northwesterly course, passing Kep to the north, then turned west.
"This is Red Crown on guard. I hold MiG activity coming off Kep and Phuc Yen… showing four flights."
"Joker, copy," Bailey responded, then called Jon O'Meara, the flight leader of the target combat air patrol Phantoms. "Diamonds, we need some MiG protection."
"Diamonds just stroked the burners," O'Meara answered, feeling the aircraft shudder as the F-4 went supersonic. "We're at your eight o'clock, four miles."
"Roger," Bailey replied. "Jokers and Spades, we go on stage in one minute. Check switches hot."
"Joker Two."
"Three."
"Four."
Frank Rockwood keyed his mike. "Spade One hot." "Two."
"Three."
"Four."
Brad could see the four F-8 Crusaders, far below, streaking in from the southeast. "I see the gunfighters… the Crusaders,"
he said to Lunsford. "Goin' at the speed of heat. We should be right on the mark."
"Yeah," Lunsford responded, watching the F-8s make a turn to their final run-in heading. "Gomerville is going to be shit city in about thirty seconds."
Brad saw the eight A-4 Skyhawks start their roll in. He could see that the Crusaders were blasting the base in an almost line-abreast pass.
"Jokers and Spades in hot," Bailey ordered, rolling the Phantom into a steep dive.
Rockwood offset his four aircraft to the left of Joker Flight. Spade Flight had the responsibility for decimating the flight line and support structures.
Rechecking his master arm ON, Austin turned his gun sight to bright and looked at his warning lights. All systems appeared normal.
"MiGs! MiGs!" Frank Rockwood warned as he wheeled into his bombing run. "Four at three o'clock, coming around behind. Diamonds, we need cover."
"Diamonds are engaged with three bogies," Jon O'Meara groaned under punishing g forces.
Brad rolled his F-4 to follow Rockwood and Durham, then darted a look at the A-4s. The lead Skyhawk pilot had just released his ordnance and was pulling up and snapping into a tight right turn.