by S. L. Menear
The 727 and fighters were fifty miles from the coastline. Two fighters flew ahead of the Boeing’s wings, and two maintained firing positions behind the airliner.
Jeff keyed his mike. “Attention, Egyptian fighters: Bücker thanks you for escorting our airliner to the coast. The USS Lawrence Lee sent me to escort the Boeing. Stand down and return to base.”
Jeff glanced at his watch. Four minutes before backup arrived.
“Negative, Bücker. Airliner must land in Egypt or we will shoot it down. Return to your ship.”
“Stand down. You have no justification to shoot down an unarmed aircraft leaving your airspace. I have you on film.”
Three minutes.
“We have orders. Airliner must not leave our airspace.”
“The Boeing is under the protection of the U.S. military. Any hostile action will be considered an act of war. Call your commander.”
Jeff watched the Boeing approach the coastline and checked his watch. Down to two minutes.
“Bücker, if the airliner reaches the twelve-mile limit offshore before we receive new orders, we must shoot.”
“Stand down, or I’ll be forced to engage. Let’s not start a war over one airliner. Wait for new orders.”
Jeff maneuvered behind the two fighters that held firing positions on the Boeing.
One minute.
The AWACS gave him a radio frequency to contact the Boeing. He selected comm 2. “Boeing airliner, this is Bücker. Continue straight ahead to the sea. American fighters will protect you.”
“Jeff?”
“Sam?” Oh dang!
Comm 1 blared into Jeff’s helmet. “Airliner is approaching twelve-mile limit. Tell them to turn back or be fired upon.”
“Hold fire! American fighters have missile lock on you. Stand down.” Jeff selected missile lock and got tone on the fighter behind Sam’s aircraft on the left.
As if on cue, four American fighters appeared and acquired their targets. The Egyptian fighters pulled up and bugged out.
“Thanks, gentlemen,” Jeff said. “Try not to cut it so close next time.”
Jeff blew out a sigh. He switched the mike back to comm 2. “Sam, what the hell?”
“Long story, ultra-secret. Our military will get all the credit.”
“Understood. Confirm there’s a 767 parked in Aqaba.”
“Affirmative. Are you here to escort us to Naples?”
“That’s me rocking my wings in front of you. I’ll take you to the Lawrence Lee where freshly fueled fighters will escort you to Naples.”
“Thanks, Jeff, I mean Bücker. I’ll stay on your six until you land on the carrier.”
No longer afraid of being blown out of the sky, I throttled back to cruise speed and shadowed Jeff’s Super Hornet over the Mediterranean Sea.
“Well, we made it out of hostile airspace.” Lance blew out a big sigh. “So, what’s the deal with Jeff’s callsign?”
“It’s short for Bücker Jungmann, Jeff’s antique German biplane. Jungmanns are fully aerobatic and fly like a dream with instantly responsive controls. His airplane’s a beauty.”
“Sweet. I’m sure nobody in the Navy has ever used that callsign before. Jeff’s one of a kind. I’m glad he’s our chief pilot.” Lance grinned.
“Me too. He’s the best of the best. He totally saved our butts back there.” I relaxed a little.
When I switched off the autopilot, I felt major changes in the feel of the 727. The right wing was a lot heavier than the left one.
I glanced at the fuel gauges on the engineer’s panel, and my breath caught. The quantities in the left-wing tank and center tank were much lower than the right tank and steadily decreasing.
“Lance, we have a fuel leak. Feed all three engines from the right tank and turn off the pumps in the left and center tanks.”
Lance moved to the engineer’s panel. “The soldiers Carlene saw must’ve shot holes in the tanks. We’re not going to make it to Naples.”
I pulled out the aircraft flight manual. “This baby has nose-wheel brakes in addition to the main brakes. With the light-weight configuration, a good headwind, and the carrier making maximum knots, we can pull this off. I’ll touch down in full reverse thrust.”
“Where? You’re not talking about a carrier landing, are you?”
“Ditching an airliner in the open sea is rarely survivable. Look at the size of those rollers.” I pointed down at the rough seas. “A carrier landing is our best chance, and it’ll give the Navy an opportunity to recover all the intel and interrogate the terrorists.”
“Dang, woman, life with you is never dull!” He sighed and shook his head. “Ask Jeff how long the landing deck is from end to end.”
I called Jeff to explain our emergency and my plan.
“Sam, have you lost your friggin’ mind?” Jeff said. “You can’t land a 727 on a carrier. The skipper would never allow it.”
“Bücker, our passengers and intel will guarantee your skipper makes admiral in record time. Now, how long is the landing deck from the approach end to the far edge?”
“It’s 795 feet, but we only use half of that starting where the arresting cables are positioned.”
“We’ll fly short final at 110 knots. Judging by the seas, the headwind must be at least 20 knots. With the carrier making 40 knots or better, we’d have an effective ground speed of 50 knots or less when we touch down in full reverse. And we have the added benefit of nose-wheel brakes. I know I can do it, Bücker. I’m counting on you to sell this to your captain. Tell him to call AWACS on SATCOM for the info on us. In the meantime, I’ll throttle back to save fuel.”
“All right, I’ll try. If he agrees, we’ll have to clear the area near the island and at the departure end of the landing deck. You’ll need the entire length, and we wouldn’t want your wing tip to hit a parked airplane. Stand by.”
After a brief wait, Jeff called. “Boeing, this is Bücker. Permission to land denied. Captain Kingston suggests landing near the carrier for rapid rescue. Sorry, Sam, I tried.”
“Bücker, ask again. I promise I won’t put his carrier at risk. You know I can do this.”
“Stand by, Boeing.”
A baritone voice with a British accent boomed over our radio speakers. “Attention Boeing approaching the USS Lawrence Lee: This is Admiral John Stone of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy. Is my son aboard your aircraft?”
“Affirmative, sir. He’s fine, but we’re running short on fuel and awaiting permission to land on the U.S. aircraft carrier.”
“May I have a brief word with him?”
“Make it quick. We’re about to get very busy.” I grabbed the mike and keyed the PA system. “Jack, report to the cockpit immediately.”
Jack rushed into the cockpit.
I handed him a microphone. “Your dad wants to speak with you. Make it fast.”
“Go ahead, Admiral.” Jack sounded stiff and formal at first.
“Glad you’re all right, Son. I have an important question: How good is your pilot?”
“I have complete confidence in her. She’s top notch, Father.”
“Tell her she can land on my aircraft carrier, HMS Queen Victoria, if the Lawrence Lee refuses permission. We’ll find a way to make it work. See you soon, Son.”
“Thank you, Father.” Jack handed back the mike.
Lance grinned. “Well played, Admiral Stone! The man understands the game.”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked.
“Admiral Stone knew the captain of the Lawrence Lee would be listening. He all but guaranteed we’ll get permission to land there now.” Lance smiled at Jack. “It’s good to have relatives in high places. Thanks, Jack.”
“My pleasure. Best I strap in and brace for the carrier landing. Do your magic, Captain.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Jack.” He saluted me, and I returned it before he left the cockpit.
“Boeing, this is Captain William Kingston of the USS Lawrence Lee. Are you certa
in you can land safely on my ship?”
“Affirmative, sir. I can fly this Boeing like I was born in it. The aircraft is light, we have additional braking, and we’ll be in full reverse thrust when we contact the deck. After we stop, I’ll shut down engines one and three and leave the center engine running for the exit. Send your best men to escort the people off and strip the aircraft. When they’re finished, I’ll back off your ship to clear the landing deck for the fighters.”
“Are you planning on going off the aft deck with the airplane?”
“No, sir, I plan to use an escape rope and jump out the forward galley door once the airplane is on a steady backward course. Do you have a SEAL team aboard that might be willing to catch me?”
“Affirmative. SEAL Team Six is standing by. You have permission to land. Deck is ready. Don’t make me regret this. The air boss will take over now.”
“Thank you, Captain Kingston, I promise to keep your ship safe.”
“Boeing, this is Air Boss. Bücker is landing. You’re number two. Rodeo will guide you in.”
“Understand Boeing is number two for landing.”
“Sorry, Sam, I’m flying on fumes. See you aboard. Good luck. Bücker out.”
I grinned at Lance. “Rodeo is Matt’s call sign. He used to ride broncos. This should be fun.”
“Your fighter-pilot brother is stationed on the Lawrence Lee?”
As if on cue, Matt’s voice filled our radio speakers. “Boeing, this is Rodeo. Ready to make Navy history, Sis?”
“Affirmative, Rodeo, lead us in. Expect 110 knots on short final.” I spotted the carrier in the midst of the battle group. Our floating airport looked tiny, like a water bug.
“Dang, that ship looks small. It was a lot easier landing on a carrier in a flight simulator, probably ’cause I knew I couldn’t die. This is gonna be tight.”
I addressed the passenger cabin: “Attention Pete and Inga, prepare the cabin for a hard landing. Everyone put on life vests and pull your seat belts tight. Expect touchdown in five minutes.”
“Want me to get you a vest?” Lance glanced around the cockpit and felt behind his seat.
“No way are we getting wet on this landing. I’m not about to mess up with my brother watching. Sit tight and give me flaps five and the landing checklist.”
I glanced at the fuel panel on the engineer’s station. “Left and center tanks are empty. Right tank is almost dry. We have gear down with three green lights, flaps forty, and speed one-ten.”
“Boeing, call the ball,” the air boss said.
I keyed my mike and focused on a horizontal row of fixed green lights intersecting a vertical array of red and yellow lights—a signal system called the meatball. “Boeing has the ball.”
“Rodeo has you on speed, centerline, and glide path. Hold steady, Sis.”
“Boeing is cleared to land.” The air boss sounded matter-of-fact, like he cleared airliners to land on his ship every day.
“Damn it, we just lost number one!” I felt the airplane yaw and compensated with the rudder as I eased the number-two throttle forward.
“Boeing is below glide path,” Rodeo said.
“We lost the left engine.” I kept my voice steady.
“Boeing is back on glide path. Watch your speed, Sis.”
“We’re stabilized now, Rodeo.”
“We’re coming up on five hundred feet. Speed looks good.” Lance scanned the panel.
“Give the cabin six bells. I’m going to full reverse a few seconds before touchdown so we get max stopping power. I’ll call it.” My heart hammered against my chest as we neared the carrier.
How close do we have to get before the ship looks bigger?
“The friggin’ deck is pitching. Better time this right, or we’ll drive the gear up into the belly when we smash into the deck. Three hundred feet to touchdown.” Lance clenched his jaw. “If we survive, we’re damn well having high-adrenaline sex this time.”
“Seriously? You’re thinking about sex now?” I took a deep breath. “If we can keep at least one engine running, we’ll make it. When I plant the nose wheel on the deck, stand on the brakes with me.”
My throat was dry, and every muscle felt taught, like tightly tuned guitar strings. We were mere seconds away from touchdown, and the ship still didn’t look any bigger.
“Two hundred feet.” Lance was all business.
I waited until we passed 150 feet. “Selecting full reverse thrust now.”
I was at the point of no return. There would be no chance of going around for another try or arresting the descent with power. We had to miss the fantail and glide to the landing deck.
Two engines roared in full reverse as I hauled back on the yoke. The runway was so short it vanished from view when I pulled the nose up for the flare.
“We lost number three.” Tension cracked Lance’s voice.
With only the center engine operating, the yaw from the dead left engine was balanced by the dead one on the right. I centered the rudder and nose as the main wheels slammed into the deck. If not for my five-point harness, I would have been thrown out of my seat.
I pushed the yoke forward and stood on the brakes as we rushed toward the end of the runway deck.
“It’s gonna be close,” Lance said. “We’ve got about two hundred feet left. There’s the net.”
The big Boeing ploughed into the net and ripped it from the deck. We stopped with our nosecone poking over the lip and our nose wheel five feet from the end.
“Lance, switch electrical power to the number two generator.”
He leaned over the back of his seat to switch generators.
I selected idle thrust on the center engine as a fire light illuminated on the panel.
I keyed the radio. “Boeing has a wheel-well fire. Probably hot brakes.”
“Boeing, deck crew is extinguishing the fire. Wheel chocks are in place. Open aft airstairs.”
I turned to Lance. “One and three are secured. Tell Pete to open the aft airstairs.”
I spoke to the air boss. “Opening aft airstairs. Need fuel in right wing tank for the evac. Advise SEALs my people have weapons and are guarding the prisoners.”
“Understood, Boeing. Brake fires are out. SEALs are boarding.”
I addressed the cabin: “Attention, SEALs are coming aboard. Hand over your weapons and follow their orders. We need everyone off as fast as possible.”
Lance pulled out his knife and cut the escape rope out of the compartment near his side window. “I’ll secure this to the handhold at the forward galley door.”
“I’ll prepare the cockpit.”
While I set the cockpit controls, the terrorists and my people were swiftly led off the aircraft. A large group swarmed the airplane to strip computers and electronic devices from the command center.
“Excuse me, Captain Starr, I’m Lieutenant Joe Kernan with SEAL Team Six. I understand your copilot will be backing the jet off the deck.” A lean, muscular man with intense blue eyes stood behind me.
“Negative, Lieutenant, I’m responsible for the exit. I’ll need a bungee cord to keep the throttle in full reverse when I leave the cockpit. And I need your team to wear as much padding as possible and position themselves at one-hundred-foot intervals along the landing deck starting two hundred feet behind the parked Boeing. The man closest to the fantail should wear a life vest in case I can’t jump before I get to him and we go over the end.”
“We don’t need padding. A little lady like you won’t hurt us when we catch you.” His body looked like molded steel.
“The padding is for my protection. I break easily. Slamming into you would be like hitting a block of concrete. My body wasn’t designed for high impact.”
“Understood. Maybe you should let your copilot do it. He looks fit.”
“I was responsible for bringing this jet aboard, and I’ll taxi it off. I’d think you’d prefer catching a one-hundred-and-twenty-pound woman rather than a two-hundred-pound man. My way’
s safer for everyone.” I locked onto his intense eyes and held my ground.
“You’re the captain. I’ll get my men ready and send someone with a bungee, helmet, life vest, and netting for you.” He nodded at the pistol in my hip holster and held out his hand. “Give me the weapon.”
I pulled off the holster and handed it to him.
“The combat knife too.” He pointed at the sheath on my other hip.
“I might need this during the exit. Let me keep it for now.” I offered my best smile.
A man stepped in the cockpit doorway. “Lieutenant, this airplane is wired with explosives. We haven’t found the detonator device. Captain Kingston wants the Boeing backed off the deck ASAP.”
“Understood. Has the jet been fueled?”
“Yes, sir, and the men will finish the strip job in three minutes.”
“My men will be ready.” Lieutenant Kernan turned to me. “You heard what he said about the explosives. Not too late to change your mind.”
“I’m good to go as soon as I get a life vest.” I checked the fuel gauges and noted the right-wing tank had sufficient fuel for the reverse-thrust exit.
“One more thing, Lieutenant, make sure my copilot is safely inside the ship. He tends to be stubborn when it comes to what he sees as a damsel in distress.”
“I’ll take care of it.” He jogged out the door.
Moments later, a man handed me a life vest. “Put this on and wear this netting over it so it’ll be easier for a SEAL to grab you. Here’s your bungee cord and helmet.”
“Thanks.” I did as he instructed and checked the lifeline in the forward galley.
The rope was secure with the door open. All I had to do was slide down the rope to the deck while the airplane was accelerating toward the fantail in full reverse.
What could possibly go wrong?
Inside the cockpit, I sat in the left seat and keyed the mike. “Boeing pilot is ready. Waiting for clearance to back off landing deck.”
“Roger, Boeing, close the aft airstairs and stand by for clearance.”
“I’ll be off radio while I secure the stairs.” I ran to the back, closed the aft airstairs, and glanced around on my way to the cockpit.
The airplane was empty. Wired explosives were exposed along the sides of the fuselage where the sidewalls had been torn off. Thank God I didn’t see any blinking red lights or timers counting down.