Read Online Seal Team Seven #20: Attack Mode by Keith Douglass - Free Book Online
Authors: Keith Douglass
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could be out of here on an hour’s notice. We need all bags packed, ammo bags full, and all equipment double-checked. We’re all on standby. We might reclassify that after I check with the CIC.”
“Yes, sir, right away,” Gardner said, rolling over in his bunk. “Got my wrist alarm set.”
Five minutes later, Murdock stepped into the CIC and nodded at the CAG, the commander, air group, head man of all aircraft on board the carrier. He was an ex-F-14 pilot with an aviator’s style and still some of the old bravado. His name was Janos Olenowski. At forty-eight years he was on the top of his game and on the fast track to making admiral. He was a head shorter than Murdock, a little heavy, and always grouchy without a cup of coffee in his right fist.
“Captain, guess you couldn’t sleep either.”
“Never can times like this. Coffee runs my engine, Murdock. Here’s our latest. We’ve got two of our Hawkeyes working two-hundred-mile swaths out, as far ahead of us as their fuel supply will last. They’re in shifts working twenty-four. They can fly ahead of us two hundred miles and then scan out another hundred. With this big an ocean it doesn’t seem like much. But we’re making progress.
“Our F-14s have buzzed eighteen freighters so far and found that none of them match the configuration of the
Willowwind.
We’re still heading for the Marshall Islands unless we find some reason to change. Out last GPS puts us still about seven hundred miles from the capital of the Marshalls, Majuro Atoll.”
“Still too far to send out a stripped down F-14 on a recon?”
“Right. They max out at five hundred seventy-six miles for combat radius. We strip off all the missiles, we could push one to six hundred fifty miles coming home on fumes.”
Murdock pondered it. “Is there an airport on Majuro where an F-14 could land on a one-way trip?”
Captain Olenowski grinned. “Been thinking about that.There’s an airport there, but we’re not sure how long the runway is. I’ve got some radio men working on that question right now. Yes, that would be an option. Have to wait for first light to watch for any freighters in the flight path. Should happen in about an hour, they tell me.”
“You’ve got two Seahawks stripped and ready to take our sixteen men?”
“We have. Radius there is about three hundred seventy miles. They will be ready by daylight.” Captain Olenowski shook his head and stared hard at Murdock. “You and your men are the point of our spear on this one. We can’t sink the ship; we don’t have the men to attack her from small boats. So it’s up to your SEALs. It isn’t often that I talk directly with the CNO. The chief of naval operations told me yesterday that this task force is yours. Whatever you and your men need, you get. Ammo, food, bunks, aircraft. You ask, you get. Must be a good feeling for you.”
“Yes, sir. But it also feels like I’m pulling rank on you. My only concern is that we get what we need to accomplish the mission, that’s the bottom line. When do you estimate that we’ll be in a position to take a run with the Sixties to check out any freighters that look like suspects in or around the islands?”
“We’re coming in from the northeast, which puts us a hundred miles east of the farthest north atoll, called Sibylla. It’s five hundred miles from the capital atoll. It’ll be west of our course, so we’ll stay on line for the capital. That’s the best bet for a big ship to land.”
“Thanks, Captain. I’ll hang out here and watch developments if it’s all right with you?”
“Be my guest. How about some coffee?”
Down in the compartment the Navy had assigned the SEALs, Kenneth Ching was having trouble sleeping, too. He still hurt over half his body. The officers hadn’t noticed anything wrong with him. Thank God. Senior Chief Petty Officer Sadler had noticed it right off that first day after his beating, when he reported across the QuarterDeck. The senior
“Yes, sir, right away,” Gardner said, rolling over in his bunk. “Got my wrist alarm set.”
Five minutes later, Murdock stepped into the CIC and nodded at the CAG, the commander, air group, head man of all aircraft on board the carrier. He was an ex-F-14 pilot with an aviator’s style and still some of the old bravado. His name was Janos Olenowski. At forty-eight years he was on the top of his game and on the fast track to making admiral. He was a head shorter than Murdock, a little heavy, and always grouchy without a cup of coffee in his right fist.
“Captain, guess you couldn’t sleep either.”
“Never can times like this. Coffee runs my engine, Murdock. Here’s our latest. We’ve got two of our Hawkeyes working two-hundred-mile swaths out, as far ahead of us as their fuel supply will last. They’re in shifts working twenty-four. They can fly ahead of us two hundred miles and then scan out another hundred. With this big an ocean it doesn’t seem like much. But we’re making progress.
“Our F-14s have buzzed eighteen freighters so far and found that none of them match the configuration of the
Willowwind.
We’re still heading for the Marshall Islands unless we find some reason to change. Out last GPS puts us still about seven hundred miles from the capital of the Marshalls, Majuro Atoll.”
“Still too far to send out a stripped down F-14 on a recon?”
“Right. They max out at five hundred seventy-six miles for combat radius. We strip off all the missiles, we could push one to six hundred fifty miles coming home on fumes.”
Murdock pondered it. “Is there an airport on Majuro where an F-14 could land on a one-way trip?”
Captain Olenowski grinned. “Been thinking about that.There’s an airport there, but we’re not sure how long the runway is. I’ve got some radio men working on that question right now. Yes, that would be an option. Have to wait for first light to watch for any freighters in the flight path. Should happen in about an hour, they tell me.”
“You’ve got two Seahawks stripped and ready to take our sixteen men?”
“We have. Radius there is about three hundred seventy miles. They will be ready by daylight.” Captain Olenowski shook his head and stared hard at Murdock. “You and your men are the point of our spear on this one. We can’t sink the ship; we don’t have the men to attack her from small boats. So it’s up to your SEALs. It isn’t often that I talk directly with the CNO. The chief of naval operations told me yesterday that this task force is yours. Whatever you and your men need, you get. Ammo, food, bunks, aircraft. You ask, you get. Must be a good feeling for you.”
“Yes, sir. But it also feels like I’m pulling rank on you. My only concern is that we get what we need to accomplish the mission, that’s the bottom line. When do you estimate that we’ll be in a position to take a run with the Sixties to check out any freighters that look like suspects in or around the islands?”
“We’re coming in from the northeast, which puts us a hundred miles east of the farthest north atoll, called Sibylla. It’s five hundred miles from the capital atoll. It’ll be west of our course, so we’ll stay on line for the capital. That’s the best bet for a big ship to land.”
“Thanks, Captain. I’ll hang out here and watch developments if it’s all right with you?”
“Be my guest. How about some coffee?”
Down in the compartment the Navy had assigned the SEALs, Kenneth Ching was having trouble sleeping, too. He still hurt over half his body. The officers hadn’t noticed anything wrong with him. Thank God. Senior Chief Petty Officer Sadler had noticed it right off that first day after his beating, when he reported across the QuarterDeck. The senior
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