Most of this action was centered around the plotting table, where the vessel’s commanding officer could be seen hunched over the charts, all the while barking out orders to a nearby lieutenant j.g.
Mac remembered Captain Kenneth Exman well. Back in the Caribbean eighteen months ago, they had hit it off splendidly. The Iwo Jima’s broad-shouldered CO looked fit and vibrant. His baseball cap covered a mop of bristly brown hair, and the captain’s full, rounded jaw and flat nose reminded Mac of his favorite coach back in high school.
It was the XO who informed the captain that their guest had arrived. Without hesitation, he looked up from the chart that he had been immersed in, met Mac’s stare, and smiled.
“Good to see you again, Mac,” he said warmly.
“Has it really been a year and a half?”
Mac walked over and accepted the CO’s firm handshake.
“It’s good to be back, Captain. Believe it or not, I genuinely missed this old lady.”
The CO affectionately patted the nearby bulkhead.
“I know we have plenty to gripe about, but for a thirty year-old vessel, the Iwo Jima can still get the job done.”
“Are you still based out of Norfolk?”
“That we are, Commander. I gather that your next question is what in hell we’re doing out here in the middle of the South Pacific.”
Mac nodded, and the captain continued.
“We’ve been stationed in the Mediterranean all fall. When those Iranian pirates hijacked that Brit oil tanker, we were sent down the Suez Canal and into the Persian Gulf to show the flag. Once the crisis was resolved, Command decided to make our life interesting and send us home the long way. We had just finished a port call in Subic Bay and were on our way to Pearl when we got the word to expect a visitor. I only learned your identity an hour ago.”
Mac seemed confused. Taking the Captain aside, he spoke cautiously.
“But how did you get involved with the find in the waters off Kwajalein?”
The CO’s wide brow tightened.
“I see that your briefing was as cursory as my own. To tell you the truth, Mac, I don’t know anything about any find. All I’ve been instructed to do is act as your transfer point and provide you chopper transport further southward.”
Mac was suddenly aware of the meaning of the XO’s cryptic comment earlier.
“I think I’m starting to see the big picture, Captain.”
“At least someone around here knows what the hell is going on,” said the captain, whose attention was diverted by a call from the air boss.
“It looks like we’re stuck with you for awhile, Mac.”
The grinning CO hung up the telephone.
“Seems that Harrier driver of yours is hot to get back to Oahu.
Would you care to watch him lift off?”
Without bothering to respond, Mac followed the captain over to the port observation window. Below on the flight deck, the AV-8B looked sleek and deadly in its camouflage paint. As the pilot switched on its jet engine, a throaty, high-pitched whine filled the bridge with intense sound. The roar intensified steadily until it reached almost deafening proportions. Appearing much like some sort of prehistoric beast, the Harrier proceeded to lift off vertically, straight into the air. Then, with a slight dip of its stubby wings, it gracefully turned its nose to the northeast and shot off in an incredible burst of forward speed.
Awestruck, Mac continued watching the aircraft until it was but a speck on the horizon. It was a gentle hand on his shoulder that brought back his thoughts.
“That’s quite a sight, my friend. No matter how many times I see it, it never fails to astound me. Now, how about joining me in my quarters for some chow? I should be able to get a decent meal into that belly of yours before your whirlybird’s ready to fly.”
Mac readily accepted the captain’s gracious offer. It was while washing up that he realized that he had left home so hurriedly that morning that he had neglected to shave. While pondering whether or not to borrow a razor, he stood before the mirror and momentarily studied his reflection.
He had inherited his full head of blond hair and his pale blue eyes from his mother. From his father he got a dimpled chin. The one feature that was distinctly his own was his nose. Broken during a collegiate football game and never set properly, Mac’s nose was unique.
Even Marsha referred to it as his “personality.” Because of his fair coloring, his eyebrows and beard were fairly nondescript, and he knew that he could easily miss a shave without anyone but his wife noticing. With this in mind, Mac decided to forget about obtaining a razor, and after soaking his face in a handful of hot water, continued on to the captain’s stateroom.
As he had proved during Mac’s previous visit. Captain Kenneth Exman was an excellent host. There was a genuine warmth to the CO’s smile as he greeted his guest and led him over to the table set for two.
“I think we’d better get going with the chow. There’s another squall line approaching, and we’d like to get you airborne before it hits.”
No sooner did they seat themselves when an alert orderly appeared with their salads and some hot rolls.
This was followed by a platter filled with grilled chicken breast, noodles, and a helping of broccoli in cheese sauce.
The Iwo Juno’s CO had originally been an aviator. A graduate of the Naval Academy, he’d flown the Grumman A-6 Intruder in Viet Nam, and had over 3,500 flight hours and over 700 carrier-arrested landings. Two and a half years ago he’d reported to the Naval Education and Training Center at Newport, Rhode Island, where he was enrolled in the prespective commanding officers’ course. Upon graduation, he assumed command of the Iwo Jima.
Mac liked the man’s no-nonsense attitude. He genuinely cared about his shipmates and wasn’t afraid to candidly express himself. This was the case as he described the Iwo Jima’s current deployment.
“I don’t have to tell you that I was worried as all hell when Command ordered us home by way of the Pacific.
Our steam plant is over thirty years old. It needs some major overhauls. Yet to make matters worse, not only did they cut our funding, but they rushed us through our last refit as well. I’ve got over 2,600 men currently on board this ship. With only a single shaft to propel us, we can’t risk even a brief interruption of power. So far my boys have managed to keep us going, but the Lord only knows how long our luck is going to hold.”
Mac polished off his broccoli.
“I still say that your crew deserves a lot of credit. Captain. The gator navy might not be glamorous duty, but just look who’s called upon when there’s trouble brewing. If you ask me, we’ve got our priorities all wrong. Nuclear-powered aircraft carriers and high-tech cruisers are great for worldwide conflicts, but for the low-intensity threat operations that we’ll most likely be facing during this upcoming decade, it’s vessels like the Iwo Jima that will lay down the law.”
“Well said, Mac. I’m glad to hear that someone out there calls it like it is. Now if we could only get the backing of Congress and the Pentagon.”
“You’re not asking for much, are you, Captain?”
A wide grin turned up the corners of the COs mouth.
“Here I go and invite you to chow, and all I do is bore you with my problems. So enough of my bellyaching.
How’s that family of yours doing? If I remember correctly, you’ve got a set of twins about five years old. At least those two should keep your mind off the Navy.”
“Actually, Andrew and Michael will be six next month,” said the proud father.
“And yes, when I’m home they keep me occupied every minute of the day.
Their new love is baseball. Marsha got them uniforms, and now they’re pestering us to let them join Little League.”