Proximity: A Novel of the Navy's Elite Bomb Squad

by Stephen Phillips

  Billings lined them all up on the port side of the aircraft. The tall aircrewman checked his safety harness and pressed the ramp button again. The ramp opened allowing some air circulation in the plane.

  The first thing out of the aircraft was the boat. Billings and the aircrewman released all the cargo straps keeping it on the deck. Billings checked its parachute once more and gave the aircrewman the “thumbs up.” The crewman talked into his mike for a second and pointed at the light to the right of the ramp.

  When the light turned green, the two men pushed on the boat. It slid out the opening in the plane’s tail.

  The light turned red again and the C2 banked coming around for a second pass.

  Billings was all business now, quickly giving them all commands via hand signals. Willy was first in line; behind him was De Napoli, followed by Ash, January, Martin, Bailey, and Zeke. Billings would jump last.

  As the jumpmaster, Billings made one last final check on each man. He walked down the line tapping each piece of gear on each jumper top to bottom.

  Protec helmet, goggles, chute, reserve, fins, knife, flare.

  He inspected each chute closely without disturbing it, ensuring there were no outward telltale signs of it not being packed properly or that it was disturbed during their flight.

  It was time. The light fixture on the left side of the plane changed from red to green again.

  Willy stepped up to the ramp. Billings slapped him on the ass and shouted, “Go!”

  As De Napoli shuffled forward, Ash followed right behind him.

  Billings looked to see Willy’s chute just starting to deploy. He then slapped the senior chief on the back.

  “Go!”

  Ash could feel his heart pumping in his chest. He reminded himself not to hold his breath. He kept his eyes forward, seeing Willy’s chute fully open as De Napoli’s began to bloom.

  “Go!”

  Ash kept his body upright as he made two steps down the ramp. The third step was air. He tucked his head into his chin, slammed his feet together and brought his hands to the reserve pack on his front. He focused on his wetsuit booties waiting for the pull of the harness as his chute opened. It came violently; Ash felt the straps digging into his crotch and thighs and around his shoulders. The chute opened in seconds and slowed his descent. Ash looked up now to check the risers, the lines supporting him under the canopy. Then he inspected the canopy itself, ensuring that it was filled completely with air and that he was not slipping.

  When all seemed as expected, Ash looked around and enjoyed the ride. First he looked to the USS Normandy. He could make out the helo just aft of the flight deck. It was black and still smoking. The deck around it appeared scorched. From Ash’s position, it looked like a bug that had been stepped on. He noticed that De Napoli already descended further than Willy due to his weight. He also noticed the wake from a small boat near the Normandy. The ship must have deployed a chase boat to ensure the jumpers’ safety.

  That was smart, Ash thought to himself.

  The ocean seemed to rush up at him faster during the last hundred feet. Just before he hit the water Ash held his breath and closed his eyes. As he hit the water, he quickly he pulled the releases to free himself of the parachute. He did not want it to pull him under. Ash undid the bungee holding the fins to his lower legs and put them on his feet. As he bent over he felt cool water seeping down the back of his neck. In a few moments his body would raise the water temperature so that it would be comfortably warm.

  Ash finned a few feet away from his chute. He decided that separating himself from the canopy and the lines slowly sinking in the water would be prudent. Then he kicked hard, treading and bringing himself out of the water to conduct a quick survey.

  Zeke and Billings were still descending. Normandy’s launch had picked up Willy. He and a Normandy sailor were pulling his chute into the boat.

  As he continued a 360 sweep, Ash saw January, De Napoli, and Bailey in the water. He realized that he was closest to the F470 inflatable. Leaving his chute behind, Ash swam hard toward the boat.

  The inflatable was not moving. Its parachute fell off to the boat’s starboard side and was filling up with water. It was like a large sea anchor.

  Ash searched the water around the boat to ensure he would not become fouled in its lines. The port side was clear. He swam over, kicked hard again, and pulled himself into the boat.

  At initial look, all the gear appeared in good condition. Ash wondered if the weight of the water in the chute would pull the boat under or if the risers would part first. He pulled his knife from the sheath on his inside calf. Since there was tension in the lines, they cut easily. Each line popped with only three or four strokes.

  The lines disappeared quickly into the gray water. Ash caught his breath a moment and surveyed the ocean surface once again to check the status of his teammates. Willy was still pulling his chute into the Normandy’s boat. The ship was about a hundred yards beyond. De Napoli was between Willy and the F470, swimming toward Ash. In the opposite direction he saw January, Bailey, Zeke, and Billings all swimming toward him in the order they jumped.

  Ash set up the MARS engine and started it. Then he down the line of swimmers, picking them up one by one.

  EIGHT

  Nightfall on NORMANDY

  By nightfall, the whole detachment was recovered onboard Normandy. The Techs were able to save five of their chutes before they were lost to the sea.

  From the boat deck, the executive officer, the Normandy’s second in command, escorted them to the quarterdeck. The ship was still at general quarters. All of the sailors were at their battle stations. Only the damage control teams had free access to move about the ship. Ash saw a pair of Normandy crewmembers dressed in firefighting gear walking down the ship’s starboard side. They were surveying the damage. An entire hose team was staged just aft of the boat deck on the starboard side also, ready to respond if the helo caught fire again.

  January agreed with the XO that the quarterdeck was a great place to establish their response command post, called a “CP.” Located on the main deck just aft of the forward third of the ship, it provided a lot of open space to layout the detachment’s gear. As on all ships, the quarterdeck already had hardwire communication circuits with the bridge, combat, and with damage control central.

  The Techs began stripping off their wetsuits, drying off and drawing their flight suits again from waterproof packs. They donned the flight suits and steel-toed boots.

  January talked with the XO as he dressed.

  “I want the DCA up here, the senior pilot available, and the weapons officer.”

  The ship’s damage control assistant, or DCA, was Normandy’s officer responsible for responding to any damage the ship incurred due to fire, flooding, even collision. He was in effect, Normandy’s fire chief. The weapons officer was the department head responsible for all the weapons onboard, from the .45 caliber pistols used for security to the missiles in the ship’s vertical launch systems. After being summoned, all three officers arrived at the quarterdeck at about the same time.

  January moved to one side of the quarterdeck where they would be out of the way of the rest of his team. De Napoli directed the Techs setting up the hardened computer system, laying out equipment for easy access, and dressing out Ash and Zeke to go “downrange.” As he dressed, Ash paid some attention to his OIC coordinating their efforts.

  “Gentlemen, let’s start from the beginning.” January said. “What happened on the flight?”

  The young pilot was obviously distraught. Ash guessed he was not the Air Boss, the senior aviator normally in charge of the six pilots onboard the cruiser. That meant the Air Boss was one of the pilots on the flight. He could tell that it was difficult for the officer to gather his thoughts after having just watched three of his squadron-mates crash into the deck. One of which had already been pronounced dead.

  “Well, everything was fine until the end. Something went wrong, I don’t know what,
and they dropped like a stone onto the VLS. They caught fire immediately.”

  “Did they attempt to fire the weapon on this flight?” asked January.

  “No, it was just to test the systems.”

  “Are there any other weapons or ordnance on board the aircraft?”

  “No.”

  “What side is the weapon on?”

  “Port side.”

  “Have you been able to talk to them, ask what happened?”

  “No.”

  January turned to the damage control assistant. He also looked very young, probably an Ensign or Lieutenant Junior Grade. He was sweating profusely, probably from the stress, but he had an air of confidence.

  “Okay, DCA, tell me about the firefighting efforts.”

  “Right, I had my hot suit men extract the aircrew. We hit it with AFFF foam for about two hours and finally put the fire out. I think we basically controlled the burn until the fuel had all burned up.”

  “Did the missile ever appear to detonate? Or were their any smaller detonations?”

  “I don’t think so, what do you mean?”

  “Well there are probably carts in the missile ejection rack, explosive cartridges that eject the missile from the bird on the pilot’s command in case of failure or aircraft accident. I want to know if they or the missile cooked off.”

  “No, I thought of that, the weapon I mean. I specifically had a team on the port side send a high volume of water on it to try to keep it cool. That actually may have allowed the fire to burn longer because the water washed away some of the AFFF from the other team.”

  “Anything else I should know besides stuff in the VLS?”

  “Not that I can think of.”

  “Okay. I think you did the right thing, DCA. You probably saved some lives by using the water. Good work.”

  The weapons officer was a department head, a lieutenant commander.

  “Weaps, you know what I’m going to ask,” said January.

  “Status of the VLS. But first, let me give you a photo of the weapon as it now is.”

  He handed January a black and white photo.

  “This was taken from the aft VLS camera mounted above the flight deck. We zoomed in on the weapon there. You can see that it is blackened but does not appear melted.”

  “Yeah, doesn’t look like there are any explosives oozing from it either,” replied January.

  “Nah, it’s medium rare, not well done.”

  January called to the XO still on the phone with the captain.

  “XO, the DCA really saved the day here. This guy deserves a medal.”

  “I figured.”

  Hearing this, the DCA straightened a little, fully convinced now that he had done well.

  “Okay, Weaps, so what happened in the VLS?”

  “High temp alarms. Deluge system flooded it. Eductors drained the water overboard so we do not have a flooding problem.”

  “Are the temps high now?”

  “No.”

  “Has anyone gone in there?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Okay we’ll get to that later. What is in there?”

  “We have SM-2 surface to air missiles, Tomahawks, and four Vertical Launch ASROC torpedoes.”

  “Damn, loaded for bear, huh?”

  “Yeah. We’re deploying soon. We loaded out in Yorktown right before coming out here.”

  “Okay. Listen gentlemen, I need you or a trusted representative here so that I can be in communication with you during this evolution. How are we coming, Senior Chief?”

  “Ready, sir,” De Napoli answered.

  Now Normandy’s XO, weapons officer, DCA, and all of Detachment Norfolk stood in a semicircle around Lieutenant Commander January. Ash and Zeke were prepped to go downrange. Each resembled a medieval knight dressed in olive drab bib and pants with Kevlar lining. They would each complete the ensemble with spacesuit-like helmets before exposing themselves to the missile.

  “Okay. Ash is the P-1, Zeke P-2. I suspect we already know what the procedure is based on what the TECHDIV gave us, but we need a good recon to ensure we know up close and personal the status of the missile. They have already secured all electronic emitters except for their commercial surface radar, and that doesn’t pose any danger of setting this thing off with its e-mers.”

  “E-mers?” the DCA inquired.

  “EMR. Electromagnetic Radiation. We don’t know how this weapon is going to behave after the accident. It may receive a signal from EMR that may cause it to fire.”

  “Damn, I knew we used our EMCON bill when transferring some types of ammunition, but I didn’t think an accident....”

  “Oh yeah, but more on that later, DCA. We gotta get going. We’ll be using hardwire comms. Ash, Zeke, you guys ready?”

  “Yes, sir,” they said in unison.

  “Well, let’s get going.”

  Normally at night, ships at sea only illuminate their navigational lights. Normandy now had all of her deck lights on to draw attention to herself and to give the EOD Techs some additional light to work with. On the bridge they passed word on Marine Band channel 16 warning all other ships to stay clear.

  With their helmets in place, Ash and Zeke shuffled like toddlers bundled up for a day in the snow. They stepped through the hatch on the quarterdeck, and headed down the port side aft, to the VLS. Ash carried the response pack and Zeke brought the Mark-36 tool kit, spooling out the hard wire from the communications set.

  Zeke set the comms box next to the helo, placed the tool kit on the deck and opened it.

  “Anything else?”

  “Nah, I’m good,” Ash responded, his voice fogging the face shield. Zeke leaned over to the microphone and raised his voice.

  “P2 coming back up range.”

  “CP, copy.”

  Ash surveyed the scene. The whole aft VLS looked eerie. The deck lights cast long shadows over everything and reflected off water sloshing on the deck as the ship rolled. The helicopter hissed and dripped. The missile that had once been bright white and orange was now definitely black.

  The flight deck photo that the weapons officer provided was accurate. No explosive residue or fuel steamed out of the round. The missile appeared to be held firm underneath the missile ejection rack which seemed firm on the pylon protruding from the helo’s fuselage.

  “P1, CP.”

  “P1.”

  “P2 is back in the CP”

  “P1.”

  Ash stepped up to the missile with a flashlight in one hand and a pen and notebook in the other. He aimed the beam right on the seam where the MER met the pylon and where the missile met the MER. The seams were tight. Ash could not see the cable that sent the signal to the missile when the pilot squeezed the trigger.

  Ash stepped back again. He drew a quick diagram on his notebook of the general layout of the missile. Next he pulled out the digital camera from his tool kit. He took several photos of the missile from different angles and several photos of the general layout of the scene.

  “CP, P1. Initial look is as expected. Looks cooked.”

  “CP, roger. Have you pinned it yet?”

  “Damnit. Negative. Wait one.”

  Ash went over to the response pack and pulled out two toggle pins. Stepping back to the helo, he pressed a button on the end of each and slid them into two holes on the MER. After releasing the button, he gently tugged on each to ensure they’d hold. Now the missile ejection rack would not accidentally release the missile or drop from the aircraft.

  “CP, P1. Pins in.”

  “Good P1, Look for the battery box. See if that’s an option.”

  “Roger.”

  Ash shined his light on the missile again. He found the first seam where the nosecone of the missile met the main body of the weapon. From there, he guestimated eight inches back. He put his hand to the deck, soaking it with water. Ash rubbed the missile body where he thought the battery panel was. It was still warm to the touch, but Ash was able to rub off enough burnt pai
nt to find the edge of the panel.

  “CP, P1. I found it. Anything else I need to do before I come back?”

  “Negative. If you’re ready, come on home.”

  NINE

  Heat, shock, friction

  Back in the CP, Ash stripped off all of his protective gear. Sweat ran off him like he was a melting snowman. January noticed it right away.

  “Get some water, Ash. Calm down some, then we’ll talk about your recon.”

  “Okay, sir. Check out the photos in the camera.”

  January called to his team ten minutes later.

  “Okay guys, circle up,” said January. “Willy suggested a plan that I like. It’s KISS—keep it simple, stupid. Everyone, lets’ see if we can shoot holes in it. Step one, we go down and remove the carts, putting them into a CMC.”

  “What’s a CMC?” asked the XO.

  “Closed metal container, sir, like an ammo box. It keeps the emers out.”

  “Got it.”

  “I talked with the pilot and he says they have the missile’s shipping crate in the helo hangar. We’re going to put it back in.

  “First we access the battery compartment, disconnect the battery and put it in the emer safe plug on the two open ends. The aircrew has the plugs also. We’ll close the panel back up for good measure.

  “Okay, next we set the missile crate right underneath it. To do this we’ll need two A-frames and two chain falls. Essentially, we lift the crate up under and around the missile. Then we disconnect it from the MER. It will fall a fraction of an inch to the bottom of the crate. Once it is free we lower the falls enough to put the lid on, then lower it down to the deck.”

  The XO, weapons officer, DCA, and each member of the detachment quietly visualized each of the steps. The DCA spoke first.

  “I have falls. I don’t have A-frames. But, I could make them. Heck, we could make you a tripod.”

  “Actually better,” said January.

  “How high?”

  “Six feet,” Ash piped in. “Six feet will do plenty.”

  Bailey, silent until now, rubbed his chin as he thought.