The Art of War c-17

by Keith Douglass

  All around the chamber, the delegates stirred, looking uneasily at one another. All, except those from the Middle East. They sat frozen in position, as though waiting for a signal. And Ambassador Sarah Wexler, representative of the most powerful nation on Earth, realized with a sinking heart that the lessons she’d learned so many years ago still held true. The floor of the UN was not the place to resolve these matters. No, the deals were always made in the back rooms. She resisted the impulse to glance across to T’ing.

  The seconds ticked by, and Wexler fought to not let the tension show in her face or demeanor. She remained standing, projecting confidence and determination, waiting. Ambassador Wells made a movement as though to stand, then stayed in his seat. She knew now that he, too, understood how things worked.

  Finally, the utter stillness broke. In one smooth motion, the ambassador from Iran stood. Without looking at the rest of his allies, without saying a word, he turned and left the room.

  The silence continued long enough for his first footsteps on the tiled area to be heard, the rustle of his garments, the small noises that people make when they walk. But then chaos erupted, several nations screaming for immediate recognition. Ambassador Wexler stood silent and implacable as she watched the rest of the Middle Eastern delegates walk out.

  This battle had been won. The question remained who would win the war.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Flight Deck

  USS United States

  Saturday, August 8

  1330 local (GMT –5)

  Tombstone snapped up a salute as the band began playing Hail to the Chief. It was a cool fall day in Norfolk, Virginia, the kind of day that gave Virginia its reputation as a place for lovers. The last warmth of summer baked into the flight deck and he felt the familiar discomfort in his feet.

  He glanced down at the nonskid, sucked down the rich smell of it into his lungs. Would this be the last time he stood on a flight deck, felt the heat radiate up through his shoes?

  And the flight deck itself — so pristine, the gritty feel of the nonskid not yet worn down by the controlled crashes that constituted carrier landings. There was not a trace of oil, fuel, or any other foreign substance on it, no sign that it had ever been even walked on. Everything on the ship was like that — just as it had left the craftsman’s hand, not yet marked by the crew that would someday sail in her. It made the massive aircraft carrier feel a little bit like a model home… perfect, yet not yet inhabited.

  Suddenly, the president was standing in front of him. The band still played, blaring out the exuberant notes. The president studied his face for a moment, then glanced pointedly at the empty chair at Tombstone’s side. Despite the standing room only crowd, Tombstone had insisted on it — it was only right to save the seat next to him for the only person he wanted there that he couldn’t have. Although people had flown in from all around the world to be at his retirement ceremony, there was a massive, aching hole in his heart.

  The president returned Tombstone’s salute then held out his hand. Tombstone dropped his salute to take it.

  “How are you doing, Admiral? Really, I mean — not what you tell the rest of the world.”

  Tombstone started to temper his answer, to let fall the words he’d learned to say so easily over the last month and a half. But gazing into the president’s deep blue eyes, he realized it wouldn’t wash. But if he started talking, started telling the president how he was really doing, he knew he would never be able to make it through the ceremony.

  As though he were reading his mind, the president’s gaze softened. “We’ll talk later. Whatever I say in public, know this — your service to this nation has been beyond measure. And I’m for one profoundly grateful for it. Now, let’s get on with this before these old farts start dropping their salutes out of sheer boredom.”

  The president turn to the crowd as Hail to the Chief ended and returned their salute. Tombstone’s uncle stepped forward to introduce the president, but the president waved him back. With his voice pitched to reach the open the microphone, he said, “They all know who I am, Admiral. And it’s not me they’re here to see.”

  The president’s protocol officer turned pale, as did the chief of naval operations. But when the president wants to speak first at military ceremony, there’s not much anyone can do about it.

  The president approached the lectern. He paused, giving the crowd a chance to settle down. “I would give anything if the circumstances were different,” he said simply. He looked back at Tombstone and said, “We’re assembled here today to observe the retirement of a great naval officer — and a great man. At some point in the program, we’ll go over the exact details of his career. You probably already know them as well as I do. But as I reviewed Admiral Magruder’s record, I found myself repeating one word — and perhaps some of you can guess what it was.

  “Patriot. Admiral Magruder has been on the front lines of every conflict this nation has faced for the last several decades, putting his life on the line to protect our way of life. And, perhaps more difficult — as the admiral will tell you himself — he has had to make decisions that affected the lives of others. I can tell you from personal experience that while the danger may be less immediate, there’s no more difficult agony that one faces. And in the end, his sacrifices have been greater than those most of us have been called upon to make. And yet here he stands — a patriot. I think that’s not too strong a word.

  “I could go on for hours, you know. Members of Congress tell me I often do.” There was a small, appreciative chuckle from the crowd at that. “But this is his ceremony, and I’d rather hear what Admiral “Tombstone” Magruder has to say, as I’m sure you would. Admiral?” The president stepped back from the lectern.

  His uncle nudged him. “Go ahead, Stony. It’s all yours.” Tombstone stood, and found that his knees were trembling slightly. He called upon every ounce of iron will that he possessed and forced himself to walk to the lectern.

  Not like this, oh not like this — not alone again. I never knew how much I needed her until she was gone. And now… I don’t know if I can face what is coming. To lose Tomboy, and now to lose the only other thing that ever mattered in my life…

  He gazed out over the front row, and saw a drawn, pale Batman sitting there in the midst of the other admirals. If there was one person who understood the agony coursing through him, it was Batman. His best friend had not yet been able to speak a full sentence to him, his voice growing thick and harsh every time he tried. Tombstone knew that his old friend held himself personally responsible for Tomboy’s death.

  It was only at Tomboy’s memorial service two weeks ago that Batman had finally been able to look in his eyes. Gazing at the torture there, Tombstone had felt his own loss recede just the slightest bit. Tomboy was gone — nothing would bring her back. And not even having a body to bury made closure even more difficult. Tomboy was officially MIA — missing in action — rather than KTA, but it was only a matter of a few weeks before she would be officially declared dead.

  But the survivors had to go on, one way or the other, as they had before.

  Tombstone had pulled Batman into a hard hug, and the rest of the crowd had drawn away for a few moments to give them the privacy they needed to each express his own grief.

  “You never think this day will come,” Tombstone began, surprised to find this voice sounded steady. “Those long hours you spend pulling alert-five, the countless days spent sitting in the Ready Room, studying, hammering facts and data and emergency procedures into your head, the midwatches you stand… time seems to stand still, you watch the minute hand barely moving on your watch, but in the back of your mind you know that it’s only a matter of time until you walk down that flight deck and climb up into the most powerful fighter in the world. And that thought, that’s what keeps you going. That, and thinking of the people that you’re protecting every time you put on your flight suit, every time you fly a boring mission. And when you’re just starting out, it seems
that it will last forever. That’s always who you’ll be, a fighter pilot.”

  He paused for a moment and gazed out over the crowd. Some of the older men and women had a look of recognition on their faces, but most of them seemed a bit baffled. What was it he’d heard last cruise — that the average age of a sailor onboard Jefferson was only twenty years old? Few people appreciated the sheer numbers of young people that were the backbone of every military force, yet looking out over the crowd, he was struck by how much older he was than most of them.

  He didn’t feel old, dammit. Okay, maybe a few aches and pains, but he wasn’t old.

  But in this community, he was. A sudden peace settled over him. Yes, this was the right thing to do. Step aside, make room for those moving up. And go on to build a second career, one that thank god still involved flying, but apart and separate from the military.

  I’ll always be a fighter pilot, he thought, with a rush of insight. Always. Even after I’m too old to crawl down the tarmac and strap my ass into an aircraft, it won’t matter. I was born to be a fighter pilot and that’s who I’ll be until the day I die. So let this new assignment bring what it will — it won’t change who I am, who I’ve always been.

  “I’m leaving you a Navy facing increasing commitments around the globe,” he continued. “You’ve got some powerful new weapons to use — like this aircraft carrier we’re on. But it won’t be enough — it never is. And although I haven’t asked him, I think perhaps my uncle wouldn’t mind if I told you what he told me a few months ago.

  “The battle group’s not the aircraft carrier. It’s not the airwing or the combatants that protect her. It’s not the mass of metal or the spare parts or even the submarine that goes with us.

  “The battle group is you. All of you. It’s your dedication, your commitment, your courage and your steadfastness that makes this Navy what it is. And I know you’ve got what it takes — I’ve served with too many of you not to know that this is the finest fighting force in the world.”

  Tombstone paused again, not sure he could continue. But he would. He owed them that much. “So. It’s yours now. The battle group, the people, all of it. Treasure it, and use it wisely to defend this nation. As I have tried to do. Now, with my thanks to each and every one of you, I bid you farewell.”

  Tombstone snapped off a salute, held it for a long moment, then turned and walked away from the podium.

  GLOSSARY

  0–3 LEVEL: The third deck above the main deck. Designations for decks above the main deck (also known as the damage control deck) begin with zero, e.g. 0–3. The zero is pronounced as “oh” in conversation. Decks below the main deck do not have the initial zero, and are numbered down from the main deck, e.g. deck 11 is below deck 3. Deck 0–7 is above deck 0–3.

  1MC: The general announcing system on a ship or submarine. Every ship has many different interior communications system, most of them linking parts of the ship for a specific purpose. Most operate off sound-powered phones. The circuit designators consist of a number followed by two letters that indicate the specific purpose of the circuit. 2AS, for instance, might be an antisubmarine warfare circuit that connects the sonar supervisor, the USW watch officer, and the sailor at the torpedo launched.

  C-2 GREYHOUND: Also known as the COD, Carrier Onboard Delivery. The COD carries cargo and passengers from shore to ship. It is capable of carrier landings. Sometimes assigned directly to the air wing, it also operates in coordination with CVBGs from a sore squadron.

  AIR BOSS: A senior commander or captain assigned to the aircraft carrier, in charge of flight operations. The “Boss” is assisted by the Mini-Boss in Pri-Fly, located in the tower onboard the carrier. The air boss is always in the tower during flight operations, overseeing the launch and recovery cycles, declaring a green deck, and monitoring the safe approach of aircraft to the carrier.

  AIR WING: Composed of the aircraft squadrons assigned to the battle group. The individual squadron commanding officers report to the air wing commander, who reports to the admiral.

  AIRDALE: Slang for an officer or enlisted person in the aviation fields. Includes pilots, NFOs, aviation intelligence officers and maintenance officers and the enlisted technicians who support aviation. The antithesis of an airdale is a “shoe.”

  AKULA: Late model Russian-built attack nuclear submarine, an SSN. Fast, deadly, and deep diving.

  ALR-67: Detects, analyzes, and evaluates electromagnetic signals, emits a warning signal if the parameters are compatible with an immediate threat to the aircraft, e.g. seeker head on an antiair missile. Can also detect an enemy radar in either a search or a targeting mode.

  ALTITUDE: Is safety. With enough air space under the wings, a pilot can solve any problem.

  AMRAAM: Advanced Medium Range Anti Air Missile.

  ANGELS: Thousands of feet over ground. Angels twenty is 20,000 feet. Cherubs indicates hundreds of feet, e.g. cherubs five = five hundred feet.

  ASW: Antisubmarine Warfare, recently renamed Undersea Warfare for some reason.

  AVIONICS: Black boxes and systems that comprise an aircraft’s combat systems.

  AW: Aviation antisubmarine warfare technician, the enlisted specialist flying in an S-3, P-3 or helo USW aircraft. As this book goes to press, there is discussion of renaming the specialty.

  AWACS: An aircraft entirely too good for the Air Force, the Advanced Warning Aviation Control System. Long-range command and control and electronic intercept bird with superb capabilities.

  AWG-9: Pronounced “awg nine,” the primary search and fire control radar on a Tomcat.

  BACKSEATER: Also known as the GIB, the guy in back. Nonpilot aviator available in several flavors: BN (bombardier/navigator), RIO (radar intercept operator), and TACCO (Tactical Control Officer) among others. Usually wear glasses and are smart.

  BEAR: Russian maritime patrol aircraft, the equivalent in rough terms of a US P-3. Variants have primary missions in command and control, submarine hunting, and electronic intercepts. Big, slow, good targets.

  BITCH BOX: One interior communications system on a ship. So named because it’s normally used to bitch at another watch station.

  BLUE ON BLUE: Fratricide. U.S. forces are normally indicated in blue on tactical displays, and this terms refers to an attack on a friendly by another friendly.

  BLUE WATER NAVY: Outside the unrefueled range of the air wing. When a carrier enters blue water ops, aircraft must get on board, e.g. land, and cannot divert to land if the pilot gets the shakes.

  BOOMER: Slang for a ballistic missile submarine.

  BOQ: Bachelor Officer Quarters — a Motel Six for single officers or those traveling without family. The Air Force also has VOQ, Visiting Officer Quarters.

  BUSTER: As fast as you can, i.e. bust yer ass getting here.

  CAG: Carrier Air Group Commander, normally a senior Navy captain aviator. Technically, an obsolete term, since the air wing rather than an air group is now deployed on the carrier. However, everyone thought CAW sounded stupid, so CAG was retained as slang for the Carrier Air Wing Commander.

  CAP: Combat Air Patrol, a mission executed by fighters to protect the carrier and battle group from enemy air and missiles.

  CARRIER BATTLE GROUP: A combination of ships, air wing, and submarine assigned under the command of a one-star admiral.

  CARRIER BATTLE GROUP 14: The battle group normally embarked on Jefferson.

  CBG: See Carrier Battle Group.

  CDC: Combat Direction Center — modernly, replaced CIC, or Combat Information Center, as the heart of a ship. All sensor information is fed into CDC and the battle is coordinated by a Tactical Action Officer on watch there.

  CG: Abbreviation for a cruiser.

  CHIEF: The backbone of the Navy. E-7, 8, and 9 enlisted paygrades, known as chief, senior chief, and master chief. The transition from petty officer ranks to the chief’s mess is a major event in a sailor’s career. Onboard ship, the chiefs have separate eating and berthing facilities. Chiefs wear khakis, a
s opposed to dungarees for the less senior enlisted ratings.

  CHIEF OF STAFF: Not to be confused with a chief, the COS in a battle group staff is normally a senior Navy captain who acts as the admiral’s XO and deputy.

  CIA: Christians in Action. The civilian agency charged with intelligence operations outside the continental United States.

  CIWS: Close-In Weapons System, pronounced “see-whiz.” Gatling gun with built-in radar that tracks and fires on inbound missiles. If you have to use it, you’re dead.

  COD: See C-2 Greyhound.

  COLLAR COUNT: Traditional method of determining the winner of a disagreement. A survey is taken of the opponents collar devices. The senior person wins. Always.

  COMMODORE: Formerly the junior-most admiral rank, now used to designate a senior Navy captain in charge of a bunch of like units. A destroyer commodore commands several destroyers, a sea control commodore the S-3 squadrons on that coast. In contrast to the CAG, who owns a number of dissimilar units, e.g. a couple of Tomcat squadrons, some Hornets, and some E-2s and helos.

  COMPARTMENT: Navy talk for a room on a ship.

  CONDITION TWO: One step down from General Quarters, which is Condition One. Condition Five is tied up at the pier in a friendly country.

  CRYPTO: Short for some variation of cryptological, the magic set of codes that makes a circuit impossible for anyone else to understand.

  CV, CVN: Abbreviation for an aircraft carrier, conventional and nuclear.

  CVIC: Carrier Intelligence Center. Located down the passageway (the hall) from the flag spaces.

  DATA LINK, THE LINK: The secure circuit that links all units in a battle group or in an area. Targets and contacts are transmitted over the LINK to all ships. The data is processed by the ship designated as Net Control, and common contacts are correlated. The system also transmits data from each ship and aircraft’s weapons systems, e.g. a missile firing. All services use the LINK.