Debt of Honor - Tom Clancy [448]
"Come left into the wind," Claggett told Lieutenant Shaw. "We have to cut the rolls down for 'em."
"Gotcha, Skipper." Shaw made the necessary orders, and Tennessee steadied up on a northwesterly heading.
"Stand by the escape and capsule hatches!" the CO ordered next. As he watched, the helo came down slowly, carefully, and as usual, landing a helicopter aboard a ship reminded him of two porcupines making love. It wasn't lack of willingness; it was just that you couldn't afford any mistakes.
They were lined up like an army of mounted knights now, Sanchez thought, with the Japanese two hundred miles off Saipan's northeast tip, and the Americans a hundred miles beyond. This game had been played out many times by both sides, and often enough in the same war game centers. Both sides had their tracking radars on and searching. Both sides could now see and count the strength of the other. It was just a question of who would make the first move. The Japanese were at the disadvantage and knew it. Their remaining E-2C was not yet in position, and worse than that, they could not be entirely sure who the opposition was. On Sanchez's command, the Tomcats moved oft first, going to afterburner and climbing high to volley off their remaining Phoenix missiles. They fired at a range of fifty miles, and over a hundred of the sophisticated weapons turned into a wave of yellow flames climbing higher still before tipping over while their launch aircraft turned and retreated.
That was the signal for a general melee. The tactical situation had been clear, and then became less so as the Japanese fighters also went to maximum speed to close the Americans, hoping to duck under the Phoenix launch to launch their own fire-and-forget missiles. It was a move that required exquisite timing, which was hard to do without expert quarterbacking from a command-and-control aircraft, for which they had not waited.
It hadn't been possible to train Navy personnel to do it quickly enough, though a party of sailors did hold the wings up as two trained Army ground crewmen attached them to hardpoints on the side of the first Comanche. Then the fuel hoses were snaked to the openings, and the ship's pumps were switched on, filling all the tanks as rapidly as possible. Another Navy crewman tossed Richter a phone on the end of an ordinary wire.
"How did it go, Army?" Dutch Claggett asked.
"Kinda exciting. Y'all got some coffee, like hot maybe?"
"On the way, soldier." Claggett made the necessary call to the galley. "Who was that chopper from?" Richter asked, looking back at the fueling operations.
"We had to take out a 'can about an hour ago. He was in the way. I guess the helo was from him. Ready to copy your destination?"
"Not Wake?"
"Negative. There's a carrier waiting for you at twenty-five north, one-fifty east. Say again, two-five north, one-five-zero east."
The warrant officer repeated the coordinates back twice, getting an addilional confirmation. A whole carrier to land on? Damn, Richter thought.
"Roger that, and thank you, sir."
"Thanks for splashing the helo, INDY."
A Navy crewman stepped up and banged on the side of the aircraft, giving a thumbs-up sign. He also handed over a Tennessee ball cap. Then Richter saw that the breast pocket on his shirt had a bulge in it. Most impolitely, he reached down and plucked out the half-pack of cigarettes. The sailor laughed over the noise and tossed a lighter to go along with it.
"Stand clear!" Richter shouted. The deck crewmen retreated, but then another man jumped out of the hatch with a thermos bottle, which was passed up. With that, the canopy came down and Richter started his engines back up.
Barely a minute later, the Comanche lifted off, making room for -Two as his lead aircraft took an orbit position over the sub. Thirty seconds after that, the pilot was sipping coffee. It was different from the Army brew, far more civilized. A little Hennessey, he thought,