“We’ll try,” Cameron said.
“That means no word came through from my son yet on the codename?” Robert asked.
“Nothing.”
“COMMODORE?” It was a voice over the CIC console.
Prentice pressed a button. “YES.”
“WE’RE IN RADIO CONTACT WITH HULK AND TIGER, SIR. THEY HAVE A VISUAL OF THE TARGET AND HAVE ESTABLISHED RADIO CONTACT.”
“PATCH ME IN ON THE FIGHTER FREQUENCY.”
“AYE, AYE, SIR. COMMAND NINE.”
Prentice only had to press a button marked “9” and was in immediate contact with Les Shilling.
“ZULU TWO-FOUR-THREE, THIS IS SCOUT ONE. DO YOU READ?”
“ZULU TWO-FOUR-THREE TO SCOUT ONE. I READ YOU.”
“WHAT DO YOU HAVE FOR US, HULK? OVER.”
“WE’RE A THOUSAND YARDS BEHIND HER. RADIO CONTACT HAS BEEN MADE WITH HAWKEYE THREE-SIX. THAT’S ALL. OVER.”
“UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE, THE BRIDGE WILL TAKE OVER THE RADIO CONTACT WITH HAWKEYE THREE-SIX. THAT’S ALL. OVER.”
“ROGER THAT, SCOUT ONE.”
Prentice tapped another button for the CIC. “STEDNER?”
“SIR?”
“PATCH ME IN TO THE SAME FREQUENCY AS HULK AND THE MARY JANE.”
“AYE, SIR. COMMAND TEN.”
Prentice gestured for Cameron and Shilling to move closer to the metal microphone on the console. “Do your stuff, guys,” he said, stepping back. “The radio communication is probably being monitored by the Japanese, but there’s nothing we can do about it.”
Cameron and Robert took seats by the microphone.
In order to convince Clayton, Cameron realized he had to use Baker Two, which was the callsign for Iwo Jima, where he waited out the Mary Jane’s mission forty-five years ago. Baker Two was the base and Cameron’s specific callsign was Dimples. “HAWKEYE THREE-SIX, THIS IS BAKER TWO. DO YOU READ?”
“I READ YOU, BAKER TWO.”
Cameron recognized Clayton’s Southern accent. “THIS IS DIMPLES ONE.”
“GO AHEAD, DIMPLES ONE.”
“TURN BACK, HAWKEYE THREE-SIX. MISSION IS AN ABORT. THE JAPS HAVE SURRENDERED. DO YOU READ?”
“GIVE ME THE CODENAME, DIMPLES ONE.”
Cameron swallowed hard. “THERE HAS BEEN A MIX-UP IN COMMUNICATIONS. LISTEN CLOSELY, HAWKEYE THREE-SIX. THERE—”
“HOW DO I KNOW YOU ARE THE REAL DIMPLES ONE?”
“LISTEN, IAN. YOUR AIRCRAFT IS THE MARY JANE. YOUR NAME IS IAN CLAYTON. YOU’RE FROM GEORGIA. THE BOMBER IS NAMED AFTER YOUR GIRLFRIEND BACK HOME IN ATLANTA. REMEMBER, THE ONE YOU SAID WAS STACKED? YOU HAD HER IMAGE PAINTED ON THE NOSE JUST BEFORE THE MISSION AT HAND. I FLEW WITH YOU IN EUROPE. THE EIGHTH AIR FORCE. REMEMBER THE NIGHT WE GOT DRUNK AND DROVE THE TRACTOR BACK TO THE BASE BECAUSE WE MISSED THE LAST TRAIN OUT?”
“NICE TRY, WHOEVER THE HELL YOU ARE. NOW I GOT A QUESTION FOR YOU. HOW COULD YOU BE CALLING FROM BAKER TWO? THE RECEPTION IS PERFECT. NO TRANSMITTER CAN REACH THIS FAR FROM THERE.”
Cameron slipped his hand over the microphone, and leaned to Robert. “Geez, he’s got us there. We didn’t have the technology back then.”
“Never mind. Keep going,” Robert advised his friend.
“TURN BACK, HAWKEYE THREE-SIX. YOU WILL BE MAKING A TERRIBLE MISTAKE.”
“IS THAT SO? GO TO HELL, WHOEVER YOU ARE. IT’S NOT GOING TO WORK, BUSTER. OVER AND OUT.”
Cameron grunted.
“Ah, at least you tried,” Robert said.
Prentice pressed his console button. “ZULU TWO-FOUR-THREE, THIS IS SCOUT ONE. ARE YOU THERE?”
“I’M HERE, SCOUT ONE. OVER.”
“HOW FAR TO THE COAST?”
“WE JUST PASSED IT.”
Prentice sighed for all the room to hear. “STAY ON HIS TAIL, ZULU TWO-FOUR-THREE. OVER.”
“ROGER, SCOUT ONE.”
JAPAN
Les had an idea and it was probably crazy enough to work.
“HAWKEYE THREE-SIX, THIS IS ZULU TWO-FOUR-THREE.”
“STAY OFF THE AIR! WHAT HAPPENED TO RADIO SILENCE?”
“WE’RE COMING UP CLOSE TO ESCORT YOU. YOU MAY NEED US. OVER.”
“WHAT!”
Les knew they weren’t being monitored by enemy radio operators, only modern-day friendly operators. However, they were 31,000 feet over Japan. The Japanese authorities could start asking questions. Flight paths were required in such instances. Worse, what if the Mary Jane slipped into 1945 again, alone over enemy territory?
Off starboard, Les saw three vapor trails a few thousand feet above him in the morning sky. He looked to his right. Tiger was fifty feet away. He waved his hand to catch Tiger’s attention. He pointed to himself, to Tiger, then to the B-29. Tiger nodded. He got it.
Les touched the throttles with his left hand. The rear view of Mary Jane came closer in seconds. He could almost reach out and touch the polished metal. Over the radio, he heard Commodore Prentice. “SCOUT ONE TO ZULU TWO-FOUR-THREE, DO YOU READ? SCOUT ONE—”
Then the transmission stopped cold. At the same time, Les felt a bang against his fighter, like a sudden wind turbulence. He looked up, twenty feet away, and saw the B-29’s tail gunner, a camera up to his face, snapping pictures of the F-18. Off to the side, tucked in close, was Tiger and his own F-18
USS MIDWAY
“SIR, IT’S STEDNER.”
Prentice hit the CIC button. “GO AHEAD.”
“THEY’RE GONE OFF RADAR.”
“GONE? WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY GONE?”
“HULK, TIGER AND THE MARY JANE WERE ON OUR SCOPE ONE SECOND AND THE NEXT SECOND THEY VANISHED. THAT’S WHAT I MEAN, SIR.”
Prentice turned to scan the faces in the room. “They didn’t. Tell me they didn’t do it.”
No one answered.
“THANKS, STEDNER. KEEP ME POSTED.”
“AYE, AYE, SIR.”
Prentice squeezed his forehead with his hand, as if he had a migraine. “I don’t believe this. They’re all back in 1945. They must be.”
“And I know how they did it,” Cameron said. “They all crowded in the same air space and when the Mary Jane went back to their own time, so did Tiger and Hulk. It sounds to me as if they planned it. Tiger and Hulk going back through time, I mean.”
“Why?” Robert asked. “Why would they do it?”
“Defend the Mary Jane. Think of the possibilities. An F-18 can track and eliminate multiple targets. Two F-18s would be a terror over the skies of 1945 Japan. I kind of wish I was there,” he smirked.
“But what if they don’t come back?” Robert said, with feeling.
“As long as they stay close to the Mary Jane, they’ll be back,” Prentice assured Les’s father as best he could.
“Let’s consider something else here,” the general said. “So far, we are all worried about the Mary Jane dropping this plutonium bomb in the present day. What if—”
“She drops it in 1945,” Prentice finished off the sentence for Cameron.
“Exactly, commander.”
“But it didn’t go off in 1945. We know that from history.”
“I know, commander. But history, here, now — for some reason — is not finished. Clayton could very well drop Fat Baby in 1945. Or enemy fighters may attack it. In that case, it was a smart move for Tiger and Hulk to go back to 1945 with the Mary Jane.”
“Maybe it was,” Prentice admitted. “I hope.”
“Also,” Cameron continued, “it might be a damn good idea to let Hulk and Tiger know, the next time we get them on the air, about the possibility of Fat Baby exploding in 1945. The fighter boys may be forced to shoot the Mary Jane down in 1945.”