Nick Palmer believed they should get the damaged fighter on the carrier as quickly as possible, unless Austin needed fuel. Palmer would be tight on fuel, but he felt confident that he could fly to the ship without a problem. "Need any gas, Brad?"
"Negative. I've got enough to make the boat."
Palmer steepened the climb and reset his IFF. "Red Crown, we're okay on fuel, but my wingman has had a fender bender and we need a ready deck on arrival."
"Wait one," the controller responded, punching up another frequency. He contacted the carrier, relayed the weather information, and informed them about the inbound emergency.
Chapter 6.
The dimly lighted ready room had become crowded since the message about Brad Austin's plight had been received. The mood was somber, with the usual noisy banter replaced by a quiet uneasiness.
Dan Bailey rushed into the compartment, followed by Frank Rockwood. After they received a quick brief from the duty officer, both men hurried to Pri-Fly.
Bailey and Rockwood discussed the situation with the Air Boss, then the XO went below deck to the Carrier Air Traffic Control Center. He would listen to the radio conversations between the controller and the pilots. If anything significant happened prior to the time Austin contacted the Air Boss and the landing-signal officer, Rockwood would relay the word to Dan Bailey.
Brad and Russ meticulously went through their pocket checklists, discussing various emergencies they might encounter. Lunsford read the single-engine landing procedure while Brad replaye d t he drill in his mind. Landing on board an aircraft carrier with one engine secured was not an emergency procedure they actually practiced. A carrier-arrested landing was difficult enough with both engines operating. Landing the critically damaged fighter with an engine secured was something only a test pilot should have to do.
"Joker Two Zero Two, Red Crown."
"Joker Two Oh Two," Palmer replied, feeling the tension draining from his neck.
"You have a priority deck on arrival, and the strike has been canceled. Come port ten degrees. The ship is one one five for one zero five miles."
"Copy that," Palmer replied, then added, "we have a confirmed MiG kill. A MiG-17."
"Congratulations!" the exuberant voice replied. "We'll pass the word along to your ready room."
Brad keyed his mike. "Red Crown, Joker Two Oh Eight. Pass the word that Two Oh Two downed the MiG."
"Will do. Contact Strike out of two two thousand." Palmer replied, "Roger, Red Crown."
The two Phantoms climbed to altitude while Austin and Lunsford prepared for the next phase of their harrowing flight--the single-engine carrier landing.
Nick Palmer, elated over his MiG kill, checked his altimeter. The instrument indicated 21,700 feet. Close enough. "Checkerboard Strike, Joker Two Oh Two with you out of two two thousand."
The response was immediate, as usual. "Roger, Two Zero Two. Drop Two Zero Eight on the ball, and we'll take you on the next pass. We have eight aircraft ahead of you, but we don't expect any delay."
Palmer acknowledged the radio call and leveled at 27,000 feet. He slowly reduced power to remain at 250 knots. His TACAN indicated seventy-two nautical miles to the carrier.
Brad was worried about two items--the weather at the ship and the slow-speed flight characteristics of his battered Phantom.
The nose radome was shattered, exposing the crushed radar antenna and myriad wires. Two of the wing leading-edge slats, one on each side, had been ripped off. Austin could see buckled wing panels and exposed innards in the right wing. He also noticed that the wingtip was deformed.
Keying his radio, Brad called the carrier and asked for the current weather conditions.
"Joker Two Zero Eight, we have intermittent rain squalls with a ragged ceiling three hundred to four hundred feet. The visibility is varying between one half to one and a half miles."
"Copy, Checkerboard," Brad replied, then keyed his intercom switch. "You've been
"Negative. I've got enough to make the boat."
Palmer steepened the climb and reset his IFF. "Red Crown, we're okay on fuel, but my wingman has had a fender bender and we need a ready deck on arrival."
"Wait one," the controller responded, punching up another frequency. He contacted the carrier, relayed the weather information, and informed them about the inbound emergency.
Chapter 6.
The dimly lighted ready room had become crowded since the message about Brad Austin's plight had been received. The mood was somber, with the usual noisy banter replaced by a quiet uneasiness.
Dan Bailey rushed into the compartment, followed by Frank Rockwood. After they received a quick brief from the duty officer, both men hurried to Pri-Fly.
Bailey and Rockwood discussed the situation with the Air Boss, then the XO went below deck to the Carrier Air Traffic Control Center. He would listen to the radio conversations between the controller and the pilots. If anything significant happened prior to the time Austin contacted the Air Boss and the landing-signal officer, Rockwood would relay the word to Dan Bailey.
Brad and Russ meticulously went through their pocket checklists, discussing various emergencies they might encounter. Lunsford read the single-engine landing procedure while Brad replaye d t he drill in his mind. Landing on board an aircraft carrier with one engine secured was not an emergency procedure they actually practiced. A carrier-arrested landing was difficult enough with both engines operating. Landing the critically damaged fighter with an engine secured was something only a test pilot should have to do.
"Joker Two Zero Two, Red Crown."
"Joker Two Oh Two," Palmer replied, feeling the tension draining from his neck.
"You have a priority deck on arrival, and the strike has been canceled. Come port ten degrees. The ship is one one five for one zero five miles."
"Copy that," Palmer replied, then added, "we have a confirmed MiG kill. A MiG-17."
"Congratulations!" the exuberant voice replied. "We'll pass the word along to your ready room."
Brad keyed his mike. "Red Crown, Joker Two Oh Eight. Pass the word that Two Oh Two downed the MiG."
"Will do. Contact Strike out of two two thousand." Palmer replied, "Roger, Red Crown."
The two Phantoms climbed to altitude while Austin and Lunsford prepared for the next phase of their harrowing flight--the single-engine carrier landing.
Nick Palmer, elated over his MiG kill, checked his altimeter. The instrument indicated 21,700 feet. Close enough. "Checkerboard Strike, Joker Two Oh Two with you out of two two thousand."
The response was immediate, as usual. "Roger, Two Zero Two. Drop Two Zero Eight on the ball, and we'll take you on the next pass. We have eight aircraft ahead of you, but we don't expect any delay."
Palmer acknowledged the radio call and leveled at 27,000 feet. He slowly reduced power to remain at 250 knots. His TACAN indicated seventy-two nautical miles to the carrier.
Brad was worried about two items--the weather at the ship and the slow-speed flight characteristics of his battered Phantom.
The nose radome was shattered, exposing the crushed radar antenna and myriad wires. Two of the wing leading-edge slats, one on each side, had been ripped off. Austin could see buckled wing panels and exposed innards in the right wing. He also noticed that the wingtip was deformed.
Keying his radio, Brad called the carrier and asked for the current weather conditions.
"Joker Two Zero Eight, we have intermittent rain squalls with a ragged ceiling three hundred to four hundred feet. The visibility is varying between one half to one and a half miles."
"Copy, Checkerboard," Brad replied, then keyed his intercom switch. "You've been
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