• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

By Root 804 0

he'd spotted three Japanese 'Val' dive bombers that ought to have followed the rest of the Hiryu air group to attack Yorktown but had gotten lost and headed towards his carrier by mistake. He'd killed two of them on his first surprise pass out of a cloud. The third had taken longer, but he could remember every glint of the sun off his target's wings and the tracers from the gunner's futile efforts to drive him on. Landing on his carrier forty minutes later, he'd claimed three kills before the incredulous eyes of his squadron commander - then had all three confirmed by gunsight cameras. Overnight, his 'official' squadron coffee mug had changed from 'Winny' - a nickname he'd despised - to 'Dutch,' engraved into the porcelain with blood-red letters, a call sign he'd borne for the remainder of his career.

Four more combat cruises had added twelve additional kills to the side of his aircraft, and in due course he'd commanded a fighter squadron, then a carrier air wing, then a carrier, then a group, and then been Commander, Air Forces, US Pacific Fleet, before assuming his current job. With luck a fleet command lay in his future, and that was as far as he'd ever been able to see. Maxwell's office was in keeping with his station and experience. On the wall to the left of his large mahogany desk was the side plate from the F6F Hellcat he'd flown at Philippine Sea and off the coast of Japan. Fifteen rising-sun flags were painted on the deep blue background lest anyone forget that the Navy's elder statesman of aviators had really done it once, and done it better than most. His old mug from the old Enterprise sat on his desk as well, no longer used for something so trivial as drinking coffee, and certainly not for pencils.

This near-culmination of his career should have been a matter of the utmost satisfaction to Maxwell, but instead his eyes fell upon the daily loss report from Yankee Station. Two A-7A Corsair light-attack bombers had been lost, and the notation said they were from the same ship and the same squadron.

'What's the story on this?' Maxwell asked Rear Admiral Podulski.

'I checked,' Casimir replied. 'Probably a midair. Anders was the element leader, his wingman, Robertson, was a new kid. Something went wrong but nobody saw what it was. No SAM call, and they were too high for flak.'

'Chutes?'

'No.' Podulski shook his head. 'The division leader saw the fireball. Just bits and pieces came out.'

'What were they in after?'

Gas's face said it all. 'A suspected truck park. The rest of the strike went in, hit the target, good bomb patterns, but no secondaries.'

'So the whole thing was a waste of time.' Maxwell closed his eyes, wondering what had gone wrong with the two aircraft, with the mission assignment, with his career, with his Navy, with his whole country.

'Not at all, Dutch. Somebody thought it was an important target.'

'Cas, it's too early in the morning for that, okay?'

'Yes, sir. The CAG is investigating the incident and will probably take some token action. If you want an explanation, it's probably that Robertson was a new kid, and he was nervous - second combat mission - and probably he thought he saw something, and probably he jinked too hard, but they were the trail element and nobody saw it. Hell, Dutch, we saw that sort of thing happen, too.'

Maxwell nodded. 'What else?'

'An A-6 got shredded north of Haiphong - SAM - but they got it back to the boat all right. Pilot and B/N both get DFCs for that,' Podulski reported. 'Otherwise a quiet day in the South China Sea. Nothing much in the Atlantic. Eastern Med, picking up some signs the Syrians are getting frisky with their new MiGs, but that's not our problem yet. We have that meeting with Grumman tomorrow, and then it's off to The Hill to talk with our worthy public servants about the F-14 program.'

'How do you like the numbers on the new fighter?'

'Part of me wishes we were young enough to qualify, Dutch.' Cas managed a smile. 'But, Jesus, we used to build carriers for what one of these things is going to cost.'

'Progress, Cas.'

'Yeah, we have so