Fighting Her Father's War: The FIghting Tomcats

by M. L. Maki

  “I understand, sir, but we only have so many pilots, and these aircraft are not easy to learn. When we get close to the fleet we’re going to open the door so you can see out. We’ll orbit the fleet so you can see what we bring to the fight. We also have a little air show lined up.”

  USS CARL VINSON BATTLE GROUP SOUTHWEST OF OAHU, 1125, 3 JANUARY, 1942

  They approach the fleet at 1000 feet and slow to 20 knots as Yogi pulls open the door. Soon the Long Beach in the plane guard position can be seen with its distinctive box. Nimitz asks, “What the hell is that, and where are the guns?”

  Issa answers, “That, sir, is the cruiser Long Beach. Its main battery is guided missiles, rather than guns. I’ve heard it’s the first ship to down aircraft in combat using missiles.”

  “So, it’s new?”

  “No, sir, it’s nearly thirty years old. I don’t know the story of the box, I think it had something to do with a radar.”

  Then the Carl Vinson comes into view, and Nimitz says, “Mother of God, she’s huge!”

  Lt. Douglas on radio, “Yes, sir, you see the aircraft, two near the bow, and two toward us?”

  “Yes, I see them.”

  “The ones toward us are F/A-18s, all weather attack and fighter aircraft. The bigger planes on the bow are F-14s, air superiority and fleet defense fighters.”

  “They look too big to be fighters.”

  Issa says, “I know, but that’s what they are.”

  Lt. Douglas cuts in, “They are about to launch, the Tomcats are cleared for unlimited climb,” and the Hornets launch first. As they clear the waist cats, they roll off the afterburner and climb to 15,000 feet. The Tomcats launch next and fly level for a moment, picking up airspeed, then roll back into a vertical climb, continuing to accelerate as the climb to 20,000 feet.

  Nimitz says, “Oh, my Lord!”

  Douglas says, “You haven’t seen the half of it. I’ve been ordered to set down so you can watch the show.”

  CHAPTER 35

  USS CARL VINSON BATTLE GROUP, 1145, 3 JANUARY, 1942

  Eightballer 416 circles around to parallel to the carrier on its port side, side slips to line up over a circle painted on the deck. Matching her speed with that of the carrier, Lt. Douglas sets it down. Deck crew scramble to chock and chain, and Yogi steps out to check. He signals all clear and Douglas secures the engines.

  When the rotor is spun down, the rainbow side boys run out and form two lines facing each other. Admiral Ren, his chief of staff, Captain Van Zandt, Captain Johnson, his XO, Captain Nathan Patterson, Captain Klindt, and Captain Lee walk out to meet Nimitz as the 1MC announces, “Pacific Fleet, arriving.” The rainbow side boys, male and female, in clean, sharp-pressed flight deck uniforms of red, brown, yellow, green, blue, white, and purple, salute as Admiral Nimitz and his staff are helped down from the helicopter. “My God, it’s like I fell down a rabbit hole.”

  Issa replies, “I understand, sir.”

  Nimitz walks through the side boys as a boatswain mate pipes him aboard. Admiral Ren salutes then offers a hand, “Welcome aboard the USS Carl Vinson, CVN 70, Admiral. We call her the Gold Eagle. I’m Admiral Ren. This is my chief of staff, Captain Van Zandt. This is Captain Johnson, commanding officer of the Carl Vinson, his executive officer, Captain Patterson, the Reactor Officer, Captain Klindt, and Commander Air Group, Captain Lee.

  Nimitz returns the salute, taking the offered hand, “I’m very pleased to finally meet you. General McArthur was, emm, rather expressive. The gentlemen with me are Commander Morton, my intelligence officer, Captain Duncan, my operations officer, Captain Burbank, my logistics officer, and Lt. Grant, my aide.” They all shake hands.

  Duncan asks, “Isn’t Carl Vinson a senator?”

  Captain Johnson replies, “Yes, sir, this ship was commissioned in 1982, long after he retired. Please, this way, we have seats set up to watch the show. It’s brief, as we need to conserve fuel, but we felt it necessary so you can see what we can do,” and leads them to seating on the port side just aft of the bow cats.

  Admiral Nimitz stays standing, “How big is she?”

  Johnson replies, “One thousand ninety-one feet and ninety-one thousand tons of diplomacy.”

  Nimitz nods his head and sits down. Admiral Ren signals PRI-FLY and the Air Boss, Commander Forrester, begins, “Good morning, Carl Vinson and Air Wing 9. Greetings distinguished guests. I would like to bring your attention to the area forward of the ship, where you will see two F/A-18s of the Fighting Red Cocks performing a high-speed pass.” The aircraft dive, vapor flashing over their leading edges, as they break the speed of sound. It’s silent until the plane passes, then the ship is hit with a sonic boom. Each person on the flight deck feels the thud on their chest caused by the compressed air. The Hornets pull vertical, zooming up as they do a cork screw roll, then break over the top, rolling upright at 10,000 feet.

  Forrester continues, “If I could move your attention forward, a two-plane element of the Black Knight squadron is approaching at an altitude of 50 feet, doing a high speed pass.” Two F-14s, their wings swept back, approach silent, vapor on the leading edge of their wings. They pass portside, hitting everyone with a sonic boom. Instead of climbing out, they continue level for a couple of miles, roll on their side, pulling into an 8 G turn, and circle back to the carrier. Turning, they lose air speed, dropping to subsonic, then straighten back out, and stern to bow, pass over the flight deck at 300 feet and 500 knots, the roar of their engines deafening. Then, they go vertical, climbing to 15,000 feet.

  Nimitz asks, “The planes are silent until they pass the ship, why? And what is that boom?”

  Ren replies, “Sound travels in the air at about 600 knots, when the planes are flying faster than the speed of sound, they arrive before their own noise.”

  Forrester continues, “The Fighting Red Cocks will now demonstrate the accuracy of precision laser guided ordinance. The plane guard helicopter has dropped a float off the port side at five miles. Beefeater 2 will laze the target, and Beefeater 1 will drop two practice bombs.” One F/A-18 orbits at 10,000 feet and the other approaches the target. They can see two bombs detach from the second bird, falling side by side. They both hit within six feet of the target.

  Nimitz says, “Mother of God,” as Forrester says “Bulls eye! Now Beefeater 2 will drop a flare and Knight 2 will shoot it with a guided missile from two miles away.” As he speaks, the flare is dropped and the F/A-18 flies clear. Spike is flying 2000 feet above where the flare was dropped, she continues for two miles, inverts in a reverse Immelmann, and dives toward the flare. At two miles, a sidewinder drops away, fires its engine, and rockets toward the flare, correcting its path to fly within a couple of feet of the flare.

  Captain Duncan asks, “Was it supposed to explode?”

  Johnson replies, “No, Captain, it was a training round. We didn’t want to risk debris falling on the ship.”

  Forrester says, “The two aircraft of the Red Cocks and the two Black Knights are now going to perform a mock dog fight, illustrating the strengths of the two fighter types. They will meet in the merge off the port bow, and then, it’s game on.”

  They fly toward each other, supersonic. When they pass in the merge, the Hornets roll on their side, beginning a tight climbing turn, and the Tomcats go vertical, rolling over the top. Then, the two elements meet again with the Tomcats diving on the climbing Hornets. After the second merge, The Tomcats pull back into a vertical scissors. They cross a third time, both climbing to altitude, then again, and again.

  At 30,000 feet, the Hornets reverse into a dive, with the Tomcats in pursuit. The Tomcats seem to twist in the air, staying on the smaller Hornets. Then on Tomcat gets right on the tail of one of the Hornets. The Hornet jinks and turns, trying to lose its pursuer, but he can’t shake it off his tail, and it holds that advantage for several seconds. Then the Hornet pulls out, flying straight and level, and Forrester says, “That is a kill for the F-14. The Tomcat is the best fleet defense fighter in th
e world. The Hornet, though, is no slouch. The pilots of the Fighting Red Cocks gave the Black Knights a run for their money. Now, would the viewing group now walk aft, following the directions of the flight deck crew, to watch the recovery of the aircraft.”

  As they walk, Nimitz asks Ren, “Where did all this come from?”

  “We are from the future, 1990, to be exact. Our coming back was an accident due to a British experiment in the Australian desert.” He then explains everything they have learned. When he’s finished, Nimitz says, “I would have thought it impossible.”

  “I, as well, but here we are. We can safely watch the planes land from here.”

  Nimitz asks, “Why does the flight deck stick out of the port side of the ship?”

  Ren answers, “It allows a pilot to apply power and go around if they miss the wire. It also lets us launch and recover at the same time.”

  The Hornets trap first, coming in at 140 knots, with tail hook and landing gear down, and at full afterburner. As they catch the wire and are pulled to a stop, they throttle back to idle. Next, the Tomcats land, wings forward, and Nimitz asks, “Why do the engines get so loud, then so quiet?”

  “Thy go full power to have the energy to keep flying should they miss a wire. Now, I would like you to meet the pilots.” The Hornet pilots are just climbing out of their planes. Seeing the Admiral, they walk over and salute. “Let me introduce Commander Jeremy Winters and LCDR John Dillon, CO and XO of the Fighting Red Cocks.”

  Returning the salute, Nimitz shakes their hands, “That was good flying, gentlemen.”

  Winters say, “Not good enough.”

  “Which one of you got in their cross hairs?”

  Dillon raises his hand and points behind him, “Spike got me. She’s over there.”

  They all turn to look as, first Hot Pants and GQ, then Spike and Puck unass their planes. When they hit the deck, they all remove their helmets. On Ren’s orders, Hot Pants did not braid her hair tight to her skull as normal, so when the helmet comes off her flame red hair flies in the wind. With a rueful grin, Spike just finger combs her short blonde hair.

  Admiral Ren smiles, “I would like to introduce the F-14 Tomcat pilots and radar intercept officers who were flying today. The XO of the Black Knights, Lt. Samantha Hunt and her RIO, Lt. JG Eric Hawke, and Lt. JG Gloria Hoolihan and her RIO, Lt. JG Byron Standley.” They salute the admirals and shake hands.

  Nimitz says, “So, you ladies outflew the men flying the other planes?”

  Spike answers, “This time, sir. Frosty is really good.”

  “How many female pilots do you have?”

  Ren answers, “Right now, nine, and about twenty-five air crew. Also, we have over five hundred women on board. That’s about nine percent of the crew and air wing.”

  Nimitz says, “Could you excuse us for a moment?” taking Ren aside.

  Commander Morton shakes Hoolihan’s hand, “Incredible flying.”

  She smiles, “Thank you, Commander.”

  Captain Burbank shakes Spike’s hand, “How long have you been flying?”

  “Since I was thirteen, sir.”

  “They didn’t commission you that early, I hope?”

  She laughs, “No, sir, my brother and I paid for my flying lessons as a kid. I was commissioned an ensign at twenty-two, sir.”

  “You fly very well.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Lt. Grant steps up, “That was all staged. The aircraft are amazing, but I don’t believe any woman can outfly a man.”

  Spike looks him in the eyes, “Who are you, Lieutenant?”

  “I’m Lt. Emerson Grant, aide to Admiral Nimitz. If you’re really from the future, you’ve no doubt heard of me.”

  Burbank snorts.

  She says, “Grant?” and pauses a moment, “No, I don’t think so. What exactly are you saying, Lieutenant Grant?”

  “I’m saying, you were up in the front seat, and your co-pilot flew the plane. I think the whole woman in uniform thing is some strange act.”

  Puck says, “Just show them the plane,” turning to Grant, “I’m a RIO, not a pilot.”

  “Right this way, gentlemen,” leading them to her plane where the twenty-two Japanese flags can clearly be seen.”

  Burbank says, “Twenty-two kills? How does that compare to your fellows?”

  Puck replies, “A couple have seventeen, but she’s the best pilot in the air wing.”

  Lt. Grant stares at the flags, “I see, perhaps, I spoke in error.”

  Nimitz and Ren walk up behind them, and Nimitz says, “My God, that’s a lot of kills. Lewis, Emerson, Admiral Ren and I will be unavailable for some time. Please keep yourselves busy learning about this incredible vessel.”

  Ren says, “Lt. Hunt, Lt. Hawke, why don’t you show them to wardroom 3. I have posted watches over any forbidden areas, but otherwise, they’re free to roam the ship.”

  Burbank says, “Forbidden areas, sir?”

  “Yes, I can’t have visitors down in the reactor spaces. It’s not safe for you down there and it’s just not allowed. Perhaps Captain Klindt can arrange a tour later.”

  As the Admirals walk away, Grant asks, “What’s so special about wardroom 3?”

  Spike asks, “Have you had lunch?”

  Burbank says, “No, we missed breakfast, too, now that you mention it.”

  “Well, wardroom 1 is closed until dinner, but wardroom 3 is open.”

  HANGAR BAY 3, 1400, 3 JANUARY, 1942

  Sam walks through hangar bay 3 after taking the officers to wardroom 3 and hears Greg ‘Duck’ Newburg talking, “The squadron is great guys, really. They let me take the time to look after Ham, and everything.”

  MM3 Peter Gant, another survivor of the engine room 1 on the Stoddert says, “Yeah, Newburg, but you’re a fireman, not an airman. What do you know about airplanes?”

  “Yesterday I helped swap out an engine, the turbines ain’t much different, really, just smaller. Really, Pete, ya ought to ask for a transfer if you don’t like the engine room here. You, too, Donny,” speaking to BT3 Donny Petrakis, the only survivor of fire room 1 on the lost ship.

  Sam comes around a plane and joins them, “What are you doing, Duck, recruiting?” Newburg and the two petty officers snap to attention and salute. Newburg says, “Pete is complaining that they won’t let him qualify any good watches down in the engine rooms here. Ah, and Donny is a BT, ma’am, a boiler technician. They ain’t got boilers here. I thought, well, ma’am, I thought if they wanted…”

  Petrakis asks, “Ma’am, are you the pilot who pulled Greg and guys off the fantail that night? Greg won’t stop talking about you.”

  “Well, yes, but it was Lt. Hoolihan, too. I wasn’t alone.”

  “It was a good thing you did, ma’am, you being a pilot and all.”

  Sam grins, “Thank you.”

  Gant says, “No, ma’am, thank you. I hope you don’t mind, though, that I don’t want to become a wing wiper. Um, begging your pardon, ma’am,” turning pink.

  She laughs, “No, I understand. What’s the problem in the engine rooms?”

  “Only the nukes are allowed to stand important watches. I was main engine watch on the Stoddert, ma’am. I don’t really want to get stuck on DU watch.”

  “DU watch?”

  “Yes, ma’am, distilling unit, it’s the machine we run to make all the water you airdales waste.”

  “I’ll let that one slide, but on this boat, we at least try to get along.”

  Petrakis elbows his friend, but Gant continues, “My apologies, ma’am, no offense was meant. It’s just the truth. A few days ago, some airdales were washing planes and just let the hose run. We damn…darn near ended up on water hours.”

  “Do you know who they were?”

  Gant says, “No, ma’am, only they were washing F-14s with markings like this one here,” pointing to a Black Knight bird.

  “Thank you, I’ll take care of it. I’ll look into the issues in the engine rooms, too.”
>
  “Yes, ma’am.”

  CHAPTER 36

  BLACK KNIGHT ORDINANCE OFFICE, HANGAR BAY 2, 1425 3 JANUARY, 1942

  Sam walks through the hatch, “Hey, Fluffy, got a minute?”

  AOCS Bruce ‘Fluffy’ Bond, the squadron senior enlisted adviser says, “Sure, Spike, what’s up?”

  “I just got a complaint from reactor department. They said our guys let a water hose run when we were washing planes yesterday.”

  “Fucking nukes, they’re always bitching about something.”

  “Senior, when our people waste water, the whole ship could end up on water hours. That’s almost what happened. It isn’t the nukes fault. They’re doing their job trying to keep us in water.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll talk to the guys. It just irks me when the nukes come whining. They act like they’re all Einstein prima donna’s.”

  She grins, “They are Einstein’s, Senior. This command wants airdales and nukes to get along as best as possible. I’ve made good friends among the nukes and this animosity needs to end.”

  “I didn’t know you were slumming amongst the glow worms.”

  “Senior.”

  “Just kidding, boss. Okay, I’ll try.”

  WARDROOM 3, 0700, 4 JANUARY, 1942

  Sam is eating breakfast when Thud joins her with a tray mounded with an omelet, hash browns, bacon, sausage, biscuits, and two glasses of milk, “Mind of I join you?”

  “I see you decided to eat like a linebacker today.”

  Thud says a brief prayer under his breath, then tucks in. Between bites, “Admiral Nimitz has been on board for nearly a day, and we’ve heard nothing.”

  “Patience, Thud, he has a lot to take in. Anyway, their admirals, Thud, their ways are not our ways.”

  “They’re human beings, aren’t they?”

  “No, Thud, they’re admirals.”

  “What, are they aliens now?”

  “When they want us to know something, they’ll say.”

  On the 1MC, “Now muster the Captain’s brain trust to the admiral’s conference room.”