by M. L. Maki
CHAPTER 17
FLIGHT DECK, USS CARL VINSON, 0430, 22 DECEMBER, 1941
KNIGHT 211, SPIKE AND PUCK
A carrier flight deck is at its most chaotic when launching an alpha strike, a maximum effort by all aircraft and crews. It’s the kind of attack the Navy did against the Japanese carriers at Midway. As the ground crews prepare the aircraft, the pilots and RIOs pre-flight their birds. Each think about their chances of returning, but pilots are not a fatalistic lot. To do their job well, they have to believe, without doubt, that they are the best SOB in the sky. However, when there are sixty-four aircraft flying toward the same objective, the possibility of something going wrong is there. Getting them all in the air is not less dangerous, the timing has to be exact.
Spike and Puck strap into their bird with the help of Airman Joe ‘Handy’ Washington. He’s their plane captain, responsible for putting every switch and mechanism in its proper position, so it’s ready to fly. Part of that, is making sure the pilot and RIO are correctly strapped in. As he checks Spike’s straps, he kisses the fingers on this right hand and taps them on the forehead of her helmet. Spike gives him a puzzled look. He just smiles and shouts over the noise of the flight deck, “For luck.” She smiles and gives him a thumbs up.
When it’s time, Spike is directed to close the canopy and proceed to CAT 2. Thud’s plane is behind her. It’s organized chaos. The folks in Flight Deck Control move scale replicas of the aircraft on a scale replica of the flight deck, called an Ouija board, to make sure each craft has room to get into position before it is moved. The order of movement is determined by the fuel and ordinance load out of each plane and the distance to their target. The yellow shirts perform the movements choreographed in Flight Deck Control by waving hand signals with yellow flashlight wands. Nothing moves without the direction of a yellow shirt.
The flight deck crews have to keep their heads on swivels as more and more planes start their engines. The blast from a jet engine can send a person tumbling down the deck, or blow them off the deck into the water. It’s even more dangerous in the predawn darkness.
Spike’s ’14 is directed forward by a yellow shirt. Then she’s told to turn, and she is passed off from yellow shirt to another until her plane is aligned with catapult. At the right point, they signal to stop and lower the ‘T’ bar that engages the catapult. Then, they draw the catapult forward a bit, until it’s tight to the ‘T’ bar. Then the jet blast deflector is raised. She keeps the engines idle, waiting, watching the yellow shirt controlling her launch. His right hand is holding a green light wand straight over his head and his left is holding a red want behind his back. As long as the left hand stays behind his back, things are good. If he shows the red wand, the launch is aborted.
Crewman crawl under the plane, installing a hold back bar designed to prevent the catapult from moving until there is enough pressure to prevent a cold shot. When the catapult fires without enough force to get the plane airborne, that’s a cold shot, resulting in a destroyed aircraft, and wet, pissed off crew. It’s also a quick way to die.
The hold back bar is installed and checked, and the ordinance flags are pulled. As each crewman runs out from under the aircraft, they give the thumbs up, showing the catapult officer their check was good. When the last crewman is clear, the catapult officer lowers his hand to chest high, the signal to run up her engines. Once the engines are stable at full military power, she looks over her instruments, “And, we are green. How are we looking, Puck?”
“All systems look good, Spike.”
After one final look at her instruments, making sure the engines are at full power and the temperature readings are good, she turns on the navigation lights, salutes the catapult officer, and returns her hand to the stick, pulling it back a bit into flight trim. The launch officer leans over, lowering his hand to the deck with a straight arm, and then points his arm to the bow, his wand straight forward. That’s the signal for the catapult operator in the booth to push the button that actually fires the catapult. The F-14 is accelerated down the 252-foot long catapult, pushing the aircraft to its take off speed of 175 knots. It shoots off the bow of the Vinson, its tail dipping as the nose comes up, and they fly. The feeling of falling is disconcerting, but normal. It all happens so fast, their senses and even the instruments can’t keep up. A catapult launch is really a leap of faith.
“Knight 211, airborne, climbing to angels 30, course 200 for assembly point ‘Whiskey’,” says Puck to Gold Eagle.
“Roger, Knight 211. Good hunting,” replies the air traffic control center.
On the intercom, “Are we still green, Puck?”
“Yes, Spike, we look good. Are you going to try that thatch washing machine idea Thud came up with?”
“Yeah, I think so, if we can. It has merit.”
“Okay, when we’re in it, I’m going to focus on avoiding collisions. You’ll be using the guns, anyway.”
“True.”
“If you need my head in the plane for radar work, just say so, okay?”
“Yes, Puck, not a problem.”
“We’re going to be talking to each other, right? Like we said?”
“Yes, Puck, we’re going to be talking. I’m sorry if I seem distracted just now. We’ve a lot of young hotshots out here, and they’re not taking the dangers seriously.”
“Got that, thank you. God, it’s good to be back in the air.”
BACK ON CAT 2, KNIGHT 212, THUD AND SPEEDY
“Speedy, is the board green?”
“Si, Senor Thud, we are ready to launch into the big blue.”
“Roger that, Senorita.”
Thud completes the procedure and salutes the catapult officer. There’s a strong kick in the ass as the plane accelerates to 175 knots. They reach the end of the flight deck and settle a bit as the wings take the load. Thud gently pulls back on the stick and the aircraft begins its climb. In a calm voice, Thud says, “Yee Haw.
ASSEMBLY POINT WHISKEY, KNIGHT 211
The Vinson launched her planes 400 miles north east of Luzon, and 400 miles east of Formosa. Point Whiskey is 100 miles south of the battle group and is where Gold Eagle Strike 3 is assembling; Swede’s flight of F-14s from the Black Knights and the F/A-18s of the Fighting Red Cocks. Spike is making lazy left turns with Swede and Hot Pants ahead, above, and to the inside of the turn. She can see the sun beginning to rise at this altitude, but the ocean below is still in darkness. Spike says on intercom, “God, there are a lot of birds on this.”
Puck replies, “My first alpha strike. Thud is high and behind.”
“I know, Puck.”
“Just starting into the rhythm.”
“Okay, we’re going to talk. We’re going to work together, Puck.”
Five thousand feet above them, the E-2C and S-3s are orbiting, escorted by four Tomcatters. One thousand feet below, the Red Cocks are assembling. Five thousand feet below them Gold Eagle Strike 2, with Book’s four F-14s, the A-6’s of the Knight Riders, and two EA-6B’s of the Wizards, are assembling.
On the radio, “Knight Flight 3, Beefeater 1, Beefeater squadron is assembled and ready,” says LCDR Jeremy ‘Frosty’ Winters, the skipper of the Red Cocks.
“Roger, Beefeater 1, we are ready as well. Frosty, you have the lead,” replies Ghandi, Swede’s RIO.
“Okay, gentlemen, lock your ‘X’ foils in the attack position and accelerate to attack speed. Descend on me,” says Frosty.
On intercom, Puck says, “God, there’s always one.”
“I don’t blame him. I’d probably do the same thing,” says Spike.
“Yeah, may the force be with you.”
“And also, with you,” replies Spike. With the ‘14s above and behind the ‘18s, Spike has a great view as Luzon becomes a smudge on the horizon. The Hornets are flying in elements of two in a loose chevron as they descend, their lights visible against the dark ocean. Forty miles east of Luzon, they pull out of their dive at 400 feet, and start their turn west. On the radio, “G
round search on,” says Frosty, turning on his synthetic aperture radar for mapping ground features. As they approach Luzon over Baker Bar, they climb to avoid the coast range which can reach 5,000 feet.
KNIGHT 212
Approaching the mountains, Thud says, “Speedy, snow in PI?” The light from the rising sun behind them glints on the snowy peaks.
“Si, Senor Thud, it snows in Mexico too, when you get high enough.”
“I think I see some lights to the north,” says Thud.
“I think that’s Dipaculao according to the map. We are on track.”
“I will be bumpy as we cross the mountains.”
“Si, Senor, I will hold on.”
KNIGHT 211
Passing over the first peak, it does get bumpy. The Hornets dip into the valley between two peaks, the Tomcats on over watch above. The sun rising slowly behind sets the whole world on fire. Puck says, “Aircraft to the northwest at 25 miles, maybe six, Spike.”
“Okay, get the word out.”
“Tallyho, bandits northwest at 25 miles.”
Ghandi says, “Roger, Puck, we see more to the south. Split elements and engage. We got the southern units.” Spike and Thud roll their ‘14s onto their right side, pulling back on the stick.
“Time to go to work, Spike.”
“Yeah, turn on the radar.”
Puck says, “Speedy, illuminate.”
Spike asks, “Okay, what’ch got?”
“Eighty tangos passing north to south at 3000, 15 miles,” then to Speedy, “You guys engage the north four with AIMs.” On intercom, “Spike, I have lock, 10 miles.”
“Okay, two sparrows.”
Puck on radio, “Fox 1, Fox 1,” as she pickles off two AIM-7 Sparrow missiles; a Mach four medium range air to air missile, its own seeker head can guide it, but it is more accurate using the powerful AWG-9 radar on the ’14 for initial guidance. To keep the radar on target, they keep flying toward the oncoming planes. But at Mach 4, it only takes the sparrows 7 seconds from launch to detonation. They follow the missiles in at 550 knots, clearly seeing the explosion as one of their missiles hits. Pucks says, “Bulls eye! Splash one Zero.” A moment later, Thud’s missiles fly home as well and two Zeros fall from the sky.
ZERO FIGHTER
Warrant Officer Tadashi Hisakawa has flown the A6M fighter for three years. From the small village of Akita in northern Japan, where his father is a chemist, his whole family was proud of him joining the Navy, and even more so when he was selected to be a pilot. The A6M is his first love, and his experience in China with the 11th Air Fleet, makes his confidence high. Then he sees his squadron mates blown from the sky in front of him. He sees two bomber size aircraft moving so fast, he can’t believe it. He raises the nose of his plane and pushes the throttle forward to attack. As they close, he sees a sparkling just to the left of the cockpit, and realizes they aircraft is shooting at him. It’s his last thought as eight 20mm rounds hit and shred his aircraft.
KNIGHT 211
Spike lines up on one of the remaining Zeros, “Guns, guns.” A quick burst and the plane explodes, “Got it.”
“Thud, low and right.” To her right and below, another Zero explodes, courtesy of Thud. She climbs vertically, slowly rolling inverted, to see below.
Speedy says, “Scratch one Zero.”
Puck says, “Thud, below, behind and right.”
Then they hear GQ, “Fox 1, Fox 1,” as he and Hot Pants engage the southern targets.
The sky fills with aircraft as the Red Cocks start their bomb runs to the west. Puck, seeing fighters to his left, “Tangos, 10 low at 15 miles, heading for the Red Cocks,” on the radio and intercom.
She rolls the plane and pulls, “Grunt.” Diving, then rolling upright in the dive to engage.
Puck says, “Shit, Spike, it’s like ants at a picnic. They’re everywhere.”
“I know.”
“Thud, behind, and to the left.”
On the radio, GQ says, “Guns, guns, splash one. Shit, yeah, splash two.”
Spike lines up a pass on two Zeros flying across her front in close formation. “Guns, guns,” firing two quick zips of the 20mm, then pulls and rudders hard over, “Grunt.” Both Zeros explode. She banks hard to the right, looking for more, “Grunt,” and pulls the stick to her belly.
They hear Speedy on the radio, “Crossing over you, Spike, you got one six high,” as they engage a Zero attempting a dive on Spike. Then “Guns, guns, nailed him, your clear, Spike.”
“Thanks, Speedy.”
On the radio, Gandhi says, “Fox 1, Fox 1, Frosty, there’ll be a few leakers.” Frosty says, “Roger, Gandhi. Beefeaters circle north. I’m dropping smoke on the forward edge of battle, keep it low and fast.”
Spike says, “I’m going to yo-yo.”
“We will yo-yo, Speedy,” then on intercom, Puck says, “Thud right, behind.”
She pulls the stick back to the right and hits rudder, climbing and rolling over the top, looking for more targets. Ahead a line of six G3M Nell bombers pass left to right about four miles away, at about 500 feet, their distinctive twin tail and the meatball on the wings making the identification easy. Spike drops out of the yo-yo, lines up on the Nells and dives.
“Thud still right and behind.”
On the radio they hear GQ, “Fox 2, Fox 2,” as Hot Pants fires two AIM-9 Sidewinders. The Sidewinder is a short-range heat-seeking missile. The thermal seeker locks onto the hot exhaust coming off Zero’s engine cowls, but her target turns to evade and the missiles lose track. “Shit, guns, guns, sidewinders don’t work.”
Speedy says, “Spike, we’re engaging Zeros to the south, the bombers are all yours.”
Spike says to Puck, “I’m wrong. We need to protect the Red Cocks.” She flies past the Nells and hits a Zero crossing low. Then pulls out just above the forest canopy. “You’re right, Spike. Thud is a couple of miles back.”
On the radio, Frosty says, “Cluster, then napalm, make your pass, Beefeaters.”
Puck says, “The ‘18s are about 30 miles west, looks like they found targets.”
On the radio, Speedy says, “Shit, they’re everywhere. Guns, guns, splash two.”
Spike rolls left, climbing, “Puck, where’s Thud?”
“Roll over the top, I think he’s five o’clock low.”
She completes the Immelmann and now faces east into the rising sun. Puck says, “Got him on radar, 12 miles, and he’s in the shit. Ready tone.”
“How do you know we’re not targeting Thud?”
“Zeros can’t go 600 knots, shoot, damn it. One missile,” then on radio, “Thud, we’re cleaning your six.”
“Roger, Fox 1,” says Spike. The missile flies true, hitting a Nate fighter as it dives on Thud. The exploding fighter hits its wingman, and Puck says, “My God, a twofer.”
Spike laughs, “Sorry, Puck. Let’s get with Thud.”
“Okay, Spike.” On radio, “We’re coming up behind you, Speedy. How’re you doing?”
“It’s like we knocked over a bee hive,” says Speedy, as Thud rolls to his right, rudders down, firing his guns at a Nate, hitting it, completes his roll, then hits another, “Splash 1.”
On her way to Thud’s position, she sees a KI-30 Anne bomber flying just above the jungle, she rolls over in a dive, fires the 20mm, splashes the Anne, then turns to join her wingman. Pucks says, “Splash 1.”
Thud has another Nate in his sights, when it suddenly turns and dives toward the ground. He cannot line up without risking going into the ground himself. Speedy asks, “Can’t get him. Can you, Puck?”
Spike inverts, rudders over, and leads the fighter, firing a quick burst. The Nate explodes. Puck says, “Yep, got him,” as they roll back upright, starting their climb from just above the trees.
On the radio they hear Gandhi, “Where are you, Puck?”
“We are north and east of the invasion beach about 10 miles.”
“Okay, we’re south of you. Keep to the north quadrant and we�
�ll stay south.”
“Roger, Gandhi.”
“Grunt, Puck,” says Spike, as she engages two Zeros trying to roll in on Thud. “Guns, guns.” The lead plane staggers in the air as the left wing just falls off and the plane drops into the jungle. The other dives into the trees, then they see a fireball. Puck says, “Splash 2.” On intercom, “He crashed, does that count?”
“Don’t know,” and pulls the ’14 level, “Anyone bothering the ‘18s?”
“Turn right so I can see.”
“Turning right.”
“Twenty aircraft, angels 2 and 300 knots, heading their way. They’re 40 miles out, Spike. We need to close.”
“Okay, tell Thud to form on us. Accelerate to attack speed,” and smiles.
Puck says, “Speedy, twenty bandits at 40 miles, form on us.”
On the radio, Gandhi asks, “We’ve cleaned up south, heading toward the ‘18s. What do you have, Puck?”
“Engaging twenty bandits from the north.”
Thud comes up on Spike’s wing, and on radio, Speedy asks, “Afterburners?”
Spike says to Puck, “Yeah, Hit, zoom, then thatch weave.”
“Roger, Speedy, light ‘em up.” On intercom, “He’s 8 left, Spike.”
The adjustable wings roll back to 68 degrees as the fighters quickly accelerate past the speed of sound. Something they’ve never been allowed to do over land. The booming shock wave is heard for miles. On radio, Gandhi says, “Okay, Puck, we’re coming, too.”
Puck says, “We have four more AIM-7s, Spike, let’s use them.” The incoming Zeros are arranged in two groups of ten, one higher than the other. “Okay, Puck.”
“Speedy, hit the high group. We’ll hit the lower, then we’ll zoom through them and thatch.”