"They could court-martial me. They could send me to prison."
"Surely they wouldn't send you to prison."
"It's a possibility. They're conducting an investigation on the ship now. When it's over, they'll probably decide to court-martial us."
"But a court-martial is like a trial, isn't it?" "Yes. It's the military's version of it." "Then it could be decided in your favor." "Not likely."
"But it could be."
"Listen, what I did was damned serious. A few weeks ago one of my sailors lied to me. I wanted the skipper to hammer him good, but the Old Man decided not to. I wanted this guy disciplined because he lied, because he broke my trust. What I did is a lot worse than what that sailor did. They'll come down hard o me, you can count on that. They won't let me get away with disobeying orders, not something this big. The State Department will have to be told, maybe even the president."
"I understand. I'm not trying to minimize the seriousness of what you did. But I don't think you should assume there's no hope. Now what else could the navy do to you, short of sending you to prison?"
"They could boot me out with a dishonorable discharge. I'd have one helluva tough time getting a job in the civilian world with a dishonorable on my record. Or they could ask me to resign my commission, and give me an honorable. That way, I could at least get a flying job."
"Anything else they could do?"
"Well, at the very least I guess they could give me a letter of reprimand or censure, which would be put in my personnel file. If that happened, I could stay in the navy for a while. But there wouldn't be much point in it. I'd never be promoted. I'd be a lieutenant for the rest of my career."
"Couldn't they just bawl you out and leave it at that?"
"Slap my wrist and send me on my way? Fat chance. Any way you cut it, my career in the navy is over."
Callie didn't respond.
The sun had been replaced by a bright three-quarter moon. The air was cooler and they sat shoulder to shoulder on the blanket. Callie's arms encircled her drawn-up legs, which were almost hidden by the Tshirt. "How will you handle it if it turns out you can't fly any more?"
"I don't know. I guess I'll just have to adjust somehow. But I sure as hell won't miss the war. The bombing. The killing. I'm sure tired of all that."
"You've done your part."
"I wouldn't say that. I don't like the idea of leaving the fighting to others. It'd be like ... running out on the other guys. Sure, the war sucks. But I'll quit fighting only because the navy makes me quit." Then he added, "You think we should all quit. Now. Right?"
"Yes," she said. "That's my opinion. But we don't want to get into that again, do we?"
Jake thought about it. "Nah. Who wants to talk about the war, anyway? The hell with it. Let's go for a swim."
Jake moved about thirty feet to the left of the blanket to undress. While removing his jeans and underpants he stole some glances at Callie, who undressed sitting down, taking off her shorts and panties beneath the T-shirt, which she kept on. When she giggled it startled him. He'd never heard her giggle before.
"What's so funny?" he asked.
Now she laughed. "You present such an interesting silhouette."
Jake looked down and understood what she meant. Callie said, "I wish I'd thought to bring my sketch book with me. You cut such a heroic figure."
Jake turned away from her and said, over his shoul der, "You're not going swimming with my T-shirt on,
are you?"
”I might.”
"That's my good shirt, you know."
"Jake, do you really think it's swimming that you're up for?"
Jake laughed. He sidled back to the blanket in a half crouch. She held up her arms and he helped her take off the shirt. They stretched out on their sides and held each other. Callie loosened her embrace and lay back on the blanket while Jake, still on his side, propped himself up on one elbow. With his Angers he gently rimmed her nipples and felt them become erect under his touch. He leaned over and kissed her breasts, then softly kissed her belly and ran his tongue around her navel. "That tickles," Callie said with a chuckle. "Are you sure that cab driver doesn't have binoculars?"
"They'd have to be infrared for him to see anything. Anyway, he can't see over this dune."
Callie suddenly sucked in her breath and sighed as Jake's hand, having traveled lightly up her thigh, stopped where he found moistness.
"You're a beautiful person, Callie."
Later they stood holding each other in the swirling shallows, watching the dark waves glistening in the moonlight. The only sound was the rhythmic rushing of the sea.
The room reeked of insecticide. Jake concluded that the motel clerk he had bellowed at earlier had taken him seriously. The bathroom didn't look much cleaner, but Jake conceded that not much could be done with it. They dressed hurriedly for dinner, having decided that it would be wise to leave the windows closed to allow the insecticide to do its job well.
The dining room in the Subic Bay O Club was nearly empty. The picture window reflected the flickering candle on their table. Callie said, "I have a present for you.”
"What is it?"
She handed him something flat wrapped in tissue paper. He opened it up. Callie said, "It's a sand dollar. I found it on the beach today. A perfect specimen."
"Thanks a lot."
"It's for good luck."
"Then I'll take good care of it. I need all the good luck I can get." He swallowed some beer before going on. "What do you think about what I did-bombing an unauthorized target?"
Callie finished chewing a cracker, then took a sip of her gin and tonic. "I guess I feel as you do. You shouldn't have done it. But I can understand what drove you to it. And I know that I don't think any less of you because of what you've done. You know how I feel about the war, but I have to admire you for risking your life-and your career-to do what you believe in."
"I appreciate that. I'm sure glad you're here."
"I'm glad I'm here, too. But I regret that I didn't bring my sketch pad with me."
Although the windows in the room were wide open, the smell lingered. Callie asked, "Where're your pajamas?"
"I don't own any. I always sleep in my underwear."
"The modern gentleman," she said, carefully turning back the bed covers and looking between the sheets before she climbed in.
Jake turned off the overhead light and felt his way to her bed. The springs groaned loudly as he sat on it, and she laughed.
"What's so funny?" he asked.
"My friends think I've dashed away for a wildly romantic weekend. And here we are. In a dreadful hotel. And you in your underwear."
"Next time, I promise-champagne, roses, and viols." He shifted his weight deliberately to provide creaking accompaniment. He said softly, "C e, it's been a great day."
Her hand found his. "Yes, it has."
He bent down to her lips. They were moist and firm and parted willingly. Her breath was warm on his cheek. She still smelled of the sea. "I hope we have more days like this."
"Kiss me again."
His bed was more comfortable than he had expected, and he went to sleep quickly. When Callie left her bed and moved in with him sometime during the night, he turned on his side; she did the same and nestled against him. He fell asleep again luxuriating in her warmth and closeness.
Shortly after seven they checked out of the hotel and took a taxi to the BOQ. While they were having breakfast Jake kept looking for Cole. Finally he excused himself and called Tiger's room.
"What's up?" Cole asked groggily.
"You forgetting we have to fly today?"
"No."
"Don't you think you ought to haul your ass out of bed?"
"No. I checked in at ops yesterday."
"When are the planes due in?"
"About ten-thirty. They called me a while ago with an in-bound report. Just show up at the field with your flight gear. I'll take care of everything else."
"Sou
nds good."
"No need for you to check in with the duty officer, either. I've got it covered."
"Hey, thanks."
"Anytime."
After breakfast they took a cab to the aircraft parking mat beside the carrier pier. Jake put his gear and Callie's overnighter in front of the line shack and paid the driver.
He and Callie sat on a bench in the sun in front of the small one-story tin building. It was warm, and the sharp kerosene smell of jet fuel wafted through the air. Jake heard a distant murmur. Then he saw the two Intruders, glinting in the sun, far away over the mouth of Subic Bay. He said to Callie, "See them?"
"Not yet." A half minute later she said, "Now I do."
The jets dropped their landing gear and flew the final approach in formation. Jake ducked into the line shack. "Here they come," he told the crew chief. "Got any beer?"
"Plenty."
Jake took a six-pack from the refrigerator and gave the chief a five-dollar bill. Then he went and sat with Callie as' the bombers taxied in, trailing shimmering exhaust gas, their whining engines Ipmuming louder. They stopped not more than fifty yards away and CAME plugged her ears. When the pilots shut down the engines, she said, "They're so loud." Jake walked w quickly to the planes and threw cans of beer to the men in the cockpits.
Jake brought the Amen over and introduced eat man to her. She stood and chatted with them about their trip across the pacific while Jake went back to the aircraft to supervise the fueling and servicing. When the crews had departed in a gray navy van, she returned to the bench and watched Jake hover around the sailors working on the planes, making a comment here, lending a hand there.
When he came back he asked Callie, "Want to see an A-6 up close?"
"I'd love to."
As they neared the planes, Jake said, "Not exactly beautiful, with that blunt nose. Flies great, though." "The wings look huge."
"Fifty-three-foot wing span. The top of the tail is sixteen feet off the ground. The plane's fifty-five feet long."
”It's big."
"It has to be, to carry all the fuel and ordnance." lie put his hand on the nose of the plane. "It's a great plane. Built by Grumman. They built it to U fly.'"
Jake led her around the aircraft, identifying major components and explaining their functions. Then he climbed up the boarding ladder and stepped on the air intake of the left engine. lie stooped and held out his hand. "Come on . You can sit in the cockpit." She climbed up awkwardly and started to step on the pilot's seat cushion. Jake said, "Not there."
"Then where do I put my feet?" Jake showed her how to swing herself into the cockpit. Once she was seated she looked around. ""ere must be some mis. take," she said. "This plane is too complicated fo5 anybody to fly." Jake laughed and discussed the huanc. tions of the altimeter, airspeed indicator, vertical speec indicator, and other primary flight instruments. H( skipped over the more complicated navigational instru• ments, the ECM gear, and other electronic equipmeir, that would be difficult to explain in a short time, Hit showed her the stick and throttles and told her hom they worked. She said, "All these buttons on the sticl look like warts."
"They're there so the pilot doesn't have to take hi, hand from the stick to operate them."
Wiich one releases the bombs?"
"This one." He pointed to a red button on the side of the stick grip.
"I want to see you in the pilot's sea."
"Okay. Can you move over and be my bombardier?" She pulled her skirt up to her thighs and Jake helper her step over the center console and into the right seat He asked, "What do you think?"
Callie had to look up at him because the bombardier's seat was several inches below and behind the pilot's. "I'm awed. All these dials, buttons, switches, knobs. I can see why it takes two people to fly this plane."
"All it takes is training. You could learn to fly it."
"I couldn't imagine it."
They fell silent. The airfield was quiet and Jake could hear the tinkle of the engine compressor blades rotating slowly in the breeze. "It's almost time for my last flight as a navy pilot."
Callie sighed. "I wish I could make everything right for you,"
"I wanted to fly because I love the freedom of it, but now I've ended up in a war. And I've learned how high the price is. I was stupid. I should've known that the navy didn't pay for my flying so I could have a good time."
"I think you're being too hard on yourself. How many pilots do you know who joined the navy wanting to fight in a war? They just wanted to fly too, didn't they?"
"Sure, they all just wanted to fly. But I think most of them knew the chances were good they'd end up in Vietnam." Jake paused. "Yeah, I knew it too. Maybe I even wanted to fly in combat. I thought it would be like in the books-knights-in-the-sky stuff. What I'm trying to say is that I never expected it to be this kind of war. The kind of absolutely nutty war we're fighting in Vietnam.
"Who would've?"
Jake looked away from Callie and saw Tiger Cole standing in front of the line shack. He was wearing his flight suit and his arms were crossed. Jake said, "Time to go." Then he turned to Callie, smiled, and shook his head slowly. "You know, I think I love you." When he leaned down to kiss her, she reached up and put her hands around his neck.
"What a lovely thing to say to your bombardier. Jake, I want you to fly forever."
"Why do they call you Tiger?" asked Callie.
Cole's eyebrows lifted a fraction. Jake said, "Because he's a fighter. He's a tiger."
Callie said to Jake, "Do you have a nickname?" Jake
shrugged and grinned. She looked at Cole. "Does he?" "Cool Hand," said Cole. "Cool Hand Jake." "Cool Hand? Why's he called that?"
"Because he's cool when the shooting starts. Real cool."
"I can believe that," said Callie. "What about Sammy? Does he have a nickname, too?"
"He has one," said Jake, "But not too many people know about it." Jake caught Cole's eye. "Actually, it's very private.
Callie began to speak when Cole said, "Ops sent a message to the ship. We have to be wheels-in-the-well in forty minutes."
"How's the weather?"
"Good," said Cole, "but we'll have a stiff headwind."
"Any problems?"
"No sweat."
Jake said to Callie, "I'll see if one of the guys in the line shack can run you over to the flying club. Be right back."
Callie and the bombardier stood facing the airplanes. "So this may be your last flight in a navy airplane, too?"
"Yeah," Cole replied, "but I won't miss it like Jake will. He doesn't fly an airplane-he puts it on and wears
it.”
Cole inspected the Intruder they would fly as Jake loaded Callie's overnighter into a gray sedan beside the
line shack.
"Please let me know what happens," she said. "I wil."
"As soon as you can."
"I'll write just as soon as I know something." "Got the sand dollar?"
"Right here," said Jake, patting his left sleeve pocket. "Thanks for coming. That was beyond the call of
duty."
"I'm very glad I came."
As she was getting into the car, Callie said, "Keep the faith, Jake."
TWENTY-TWO
Sammy was seated at the duty desk when Jake and Tiger entered the ready room and laid their baggage across two chairs near the door. Four other officers in the room ignored the two men. Tiger bent over a table and began filling out the maintenance sheets as Jake walked over to the duty desk and drew up a chair. Facing his roommate, he lit a cigarette and said, "Hey, shipmate."
Sammy's face was drawn. "How was the beach, Jake?"
"Empty. No carrier in. Nobody there."
"Did you call Callie?"
"She came down from Hong Kong."
Sammy looked at his notes. "There's some kind of hearing tomorrow at 1400 in the lounge forward of the dirty-shirt wardroom. A captain and two staff types from Washington. They must've jumped a plane within hours of t
he Skipper's bomb. They got here yesterday and have been talking to everyone, me included." He paused and eyed his friend. "This is hot, Jake. Sizzling. Somebody's going to fry."
"Yeah. Me. What'd you tell them?"
Sammy’s voice was barely audible. "I lied. Told them you never said a word to me that indicated you thought the targets were lousy and were looking to free lance. The Skipper didn't buy it and reamed me good, but I stuck to it. Don't sell me out."
"You know I won't."
Sammy continued, "You and Tiger aren't on the flight schedule. The Skipper wanted to see you as soon as you land. I'm supposed to call him. That bird you flew-what's its condition?"
Jake shook his head. "A few minor problems. Nothing they can't fix during the acceptance inspection." He told Sammy exactly what the gripes were.
Sammy dialed Maintenance Control and passed on the gripes. He then dialed the skipper's extension and told whoever answered that Grafton and Cole were back. He listened a few seconds, aye aye'd, and hung lip.
"The Old Man wants to see you, Jake. In ten minutes. He'll send for Cole after he's done with you."
Jake stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray and stood up. Going back to where Tiger was hunched over the maintenance forms, he said, "Looks like it's time to pay the man. I'm going to see Camparelli now. You're next."
"Fine."
Tiger's cool got on Jake's nerves. "For once it'd be nice if you were just a wee bit uptight."
"I'm scared shitless," Cole replied calmly.
Jake looked at him and managed a laugh. "Try to hide it. Don't always wear your emotions on your sleeve.”
Jake hung his flight gear in the locker room and descended the ladder to his stateroom, where he dumped his suit bag in the middle of the floor and lit another cigarette. He smoked it down quickly and then left for Camparelli's stateroom.
At his knock, Cowboy opened the door. Jake entered and stood until the skipper, seated at his desk, waved him over to the bunk. A khaki shirt with wings hung on a hook on the back of the door. The Old Man looked tired, as if he hadn't slept much recently. Jake thought that was probably the case.
"Truth or consequences, Grafton." Commander Camparelli's eyes bored into Jake. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
Flight of the Intruder Page 30