Chapter 92

And so it played out that the first of the replacement pilots and planes for CVG-5 showed on the screen in Air Command when they had cleared the Bay and were 125 miles out. Falling behind he had near maxed the throttle to catch up. In the soup, he passed his flight and left them in his dust.

The dust he left was the last of the cobwebs in his tanks. He had no fuel to loiter and none to go around. He couldn't go back. When the air boss told him to land at the first opportunity, he lined up and radioed that THEY were the ONLY opportunity. The F-4D Skyray had used up her last chance. It was the Dick or the drink. The aircraft had been in service a year and this was not the time or place to lose the first one. The deck crew somehow cleared enough room for one shot. They wouldn't be ready to take the rest of the aircraft for four hours ... another hundred miles.

One chance ... four wires.

Slow and steep ... the mirror system was fairly new, the LSO knew his job. The F4D flamed out seventy five feet out and glided the rest of the way in.

Perfection. Trapped the third wire just like Quals.

The Deck boss said, "I hope there's no one else early ... I don't have anyplace to put them."

The Skyray had to sit there until the the fuel crew could drag hoses and fuel her. Not that it would do any good. The Essex class carriers could land on the angle but had to launch off the bow. The ship's airdales were contriving like mad to clear a place to put the plane. But they got it done. The Skyray was hooked to external power, restarted and launched in time to join his flight. Now the pilot was the man with the fuel and loitered in the area.

The helicopters were aloft and ready to pull a pilot from the chilly Humboldt current should the necessity arise.

In the middle of the landing circle a Navy blue two seat AD-2 appeared. The canopy rolled back and a diminutive pilot was revealed in the front seat while the rear seat was occupied by a tall figure. When it was their turn in the rotation, the AD made a perfect hook and was cycled to the AD parking area.

The wings folded, the cool down was observed, the wing root ladder set in place and the tiny pilot stepped off the wing and took her helmet off. A girl ... a redhead ... a wowzer of a redhead. She shook her head and the red hair cascaded and whipped. The rear seat ... GIB stepped down and the redhead grabbed him and danced a circle around him. Lip readers could read her shouts.

"I DID IT! I DID IT! I DID IT!!!"

A deck crewman headed for the aircraft but the tiny pilot grabbed him and yelled something in his ear. He made the deck hand-talk to call over an armorer. The redhead yelled in his ear and he nodded. He climbed up to the cockpit and checked things, looked down at her and gave the thumbs up.

The pair stepped into the bridge and the noise of dozens of planes cycling through their rotation, land, fold, park or trip to the elevator and lowered to the hangar deck for checking over, due to some complaint by pilot or deck boss was cut to within raised voice levels.

"Oh, David ... that was THRILLING!"

Pilots were entering the bridge and heading down to the ready room to discuss and dismember the flight and the landings.

The CO of the AD squadron stepped up and collared the pair and said, "I don't know who you are, but that's a Skyraider so you're with me."

Grace was stripping out of her flight suit and the gold oak leaf sparkled on her working uniform. She fished her cover out of her bag and wadded up her hair, stuck her hat on and saluted the CO.

He spluttered ... looked around and saw the Dick's Executive Officer. Grace saluted the exec and the exec saluted back. Grace grinned ... the exec grinned.

"I know you're just itching to bust out ... but wait until the debrief. I want to see how that goes," he said. "By the way ... good hook!"