Stand BY-Y-Y to Start Engines

by Daniel V Gallery

  While dinner was being served in the wardroom that evening, word boomed over the loudspeaker: "Now hear this! All personal messages must be in the radio room by twenty hundred."

  "What's that all about, Willy?" asked Parker.

  "Everybody is allowed to send personal messages to their families the last night at sea, telling them when they'll get in."

  "Hmmm," said Parker. "Might be some good human-interest stuff in them. Could I see them?"

  "No," said Willy, "they're supposed to be private, you know. And most of 'em just say 'home by six-thirty in the morning. Don't get up.' "

  Later that evening a group gathered around the TV in the wardroom listening to the news...

  "Washington, D.C. - The flying saucers which have been seen all over the country this week appeared over Washington last night. They were seen both visually and on radar over the National Airport and also in the restricted air space over the White House. Fighter planes were scrambled from Andrews Air Force Base to intercept them but were unable to make contact. A continuous air patrol is being flown over the Washington area to intercept all unidentified incoming traffic. The NACA and Air Force refuse to comment on the objects seen last night."

  "Holy cow," said a listener. "Little men from Mars!"

  "Aw, it's probably just another gag like the one Orson Wells pulled when they scared the pants off everybody in New Jersey," said another.

  "This is no gag," said a believer. "The man said the Air Force scrambled fighters from Andrews. They must of thought something was up there."

  "People have been seeing them all over the country for a couple of months now," said another; "and all the reports aren't by screwballs, either. Weather observers, college professors, and even airline pilots have seen them. They can't all be wrong. The Pentagon thinks there's something to it because they just set up a special task force called UFO, Unidentified Flying Objects. They're going to collect all the reports, feed the data on them into a computer, and find out what the hell is really happening."

  "They better allow for the GIGO factor," said Willy.

  "What's that?"

  "Garbage In - Garbage Out."

  "It's all very well for you to sit there and wisecrack," said the believer, "but it's no joking matter. I think those things are real and we'd better by a damn sight take them seriously."

  "You guys are funny," observed Willy, "I tell you about a known scientific fact like the green flash and none of you will believe it. But you hear a fairy story on the radio about little men from Mars and you swallow it whole."

  "The newspapers have been full of stuff about saucers, too," said the believer. "Newspapers don't go for every wild rumor they hear on the radio. Most editors are skeptics and they check pretty carefully before they print anything."

  Ace Parker frowned and shifted uncomfortably.

  "Nuts," said Willy. "Most of them will print anything that will make headlines and sell newspapers."

  "You're exaggerating now, Willy," said Parker. "Some of the tabloids do that, but the responsible press are pretty careful about what they print."

  "Oh, yeah?" said Willy. "How about the AP stories on the Loch Ness monster, and the Abominable Snowman. Editors are supposed to be real sharp characters, but some of them remind me of the Marine recruiter who shipped a midget in the corps."

  "All right. Come on. How could a midget get in the Marines?" demanded Parker.

  "That's what the general raised hell about when he saw the guy," said Willy.

  "Okay. How did he get in?"

  "The little son of a gun lied about his height," said Willy. "And some editors will believe anything you tell them if you just whisper it to 'em in a dark corner."

  "Come off it, Willy," said Parker. "You booby-trapped me once, but that was a special case where you could stack the deck on me. You couldn't do it again. Most editors are shrewd cookies who can spot phony stories. They have to be."

  "Matter of fact," said Willy, "they'll sometimes blow up nothing into a big story if you give them half a chance. They can take a routine story that you give them in which everything you say is plain fact, hang a slanted headline on it, and make a spectacular bum out of you."

  "I'm beginning to think you've got a grudge against the press," said Parker. "They won't usually do that to you unless you've got it coming to you. I will admit, though, that the headline you put on a story can make a lot of difference. Like the time the goofball got loose in the bug house, raped one of the nurses, and escaped. That was just a routine story till some genius of a headline writer got hold of it."

  "What then?" asked Willy.

  "He headlined it 'NUT SCREWS AND BOLTS,'" said Parker. "A half a dozen old ladies cancelled their subscriptions but hundreds of new subscribers signed up."

  "Well, anyway," said Willy, "you guys watch the headlines in tomorrow afternoon's San Diego papers, and you'll see what I mean."

  "What the hell are you cooking up now, Willy?" demanded Commander Cue. "Whatever it is, I probably ought to issue strict orders against it."

  "I'm not cooking up anything, Cap'n," said Willy. "But I may turn a burner up a little bit under something they've already got cooking."

  "Are you holding out another scoop on me, pal?" asked Parker.

  "No," said Willy. "It hasn't happened yet. But it will. Tomorrow morning. Look in the afternoon papers."

  Next morning Willy was assigned to fly one of the early warning radar planes ashore. As the air crews manned the planes just before sunrise, Willy said to his radarman, "Bluberry, I want you to pay careful attention to everything I say on the interphone while we're flying in, and to put it all down in your logbook. I'll want you to take some radar bearings for me, so get your set warmed up."

  "Aye aye, sir," said Bluberry, fiddling around helping Willy adjusted his shoulder harness before retiring to the after cockpit.

  Soon the flight deck bull horns boomed "Stand by-y-y to start engines." Starters whined, the flight deck burst into thunderous song, and the ship started swinging into the wind.

  Usually on a deck load launch there will be one or two aborts when pilots turn a plane down because she drops off a few revs on the right mag or the oil pressure is a little low. But not on the morning when they are flying back to the beach! Crocks that have been hangar deck lilies for the whole cruise are hauled up to the flight deck, and expert mechanics manage to get them coughing and wheezing. Cautious pilots who ordinarily can detect one plug missing in a double-banked engine will nod their heads as if she was snorting like a wild bull on the open range during the warm-up. When Fly One gives the "are you ready?" sign, they shove their fist out, thumb up, and go staggering down the deck practically flopping their wings to nurse the old crate into the air and head for the barn.

  Willy went off the catapult that morning, which is much easier than flying off. When you fly off you've got to hold her straight along the center line of the deck, easy her off at the bow, and go into a climbing right turn, watching out for the slipstream of the guy ahead just as you go over the bow. But from the catapult, it's just WHAM and there you are... a little groggy from the G forces, but in the air and on your way.

  The air group rendezvoused over the ship 200 miles offshore and headed for the beach just as the sun was peeping over the horizon. Since the guppy plane is a lot slower than the fighters and bombers, Willy headed in by himself.

  Soon after they got squared away on. the course to North Island, Willy picked up the interphone and said, "Bluberry, make a note. I see a brilliant saucer-shaped object about five degrees on the starboard bow."

  "Aye aye, sir," said Bluberry, scribbling in his book.

  "It seems to be a little smaller than a full moon," said Willy, "and it's too bright for me to look right at it; take a look yourself, Bluberry, and see if you agree."

  Bluberry stuck his head up into the plastic canopy over his cubbyhole, looked out ahead, and said, "I don't see anything but the sun out there, sir."

  "I'm not asking you fo
r any opinions about what the thing is," said Willy. "All I want to know is, do you see a brilliant saucer-shaped object out there a little smaller than a full moon?"

  "Well... uh - sure," came the reply.

  "Now take note, Bluberry," said Willy. "We're headed almost right toward that thing. I'm going to give her the gun and see if we can catch up with it." So saying, Willy shoved his throttle against the stop and the air speed meter wound up to 350 knots.

  "Are you sure you feel all right, Mr. Wigglesworth?" asked Bluberry.

  "Sure, I feel fine," replied Willy. A couple of minutes later he said, "We're not gaining an inch on it. Now I'm going to see if we can climb up as high as it is," and he hauled back on the stick and started climbing.

  "I think you're nuts, sir!" said Bluberry.

  "You're entitled to your own opinion about that, Bluberry," replied Willy. "But you can get in trouble if you go around saying things like that about your superior officers in this Navy."

  Pretty soon Willy said, "Take another look now, Bluberry, and see if you think we're any closer."

  Bluberry looked, said, "Nossir, not a bit," and tightened up his shoulder harness, checked his Mae West, and mentally reviewed the bailout and ditching procedures.

  Next Willy said, "Beam your radar out there five degrees on the starboard bow and see if you can get an echo off it."

  Blueberry cranked his radar screen around and probed the sky for a minute, muttering some remarkable observations about the feeble mindedness of present-day naval pilots. "No return from out there," he reported on the interphone.

  Willy throttled back to normal cruise and said, "Make a note in your book that for the past ten minutes, this thing has been ducking in and out behind the clouds and that now it has disappeared in that big cumulus to the east."

  "Aye aye, sir," said Bluberry.

  As they neared the coast they flew under a solid deck of cumulus cloud about a thousand feet above them. Willy called on the interphone and said, "Stick your head up again, Bluberry, and see if you can find that thing anywhere."

  Bluberry poked bis head up, looked all around, and said, "Nossir, I don't see it any more."

  "Neither do I," said Willy.

  When they landed and taxied up to the line, Bluberry scrambled out on the wing to help Willy out of his shoulder harness and asked, "How do you feel now, Mr. Wigglesworth?"

  "I'm fine," said Willy. "Now I want you to come into the office with me, listen, and make a tape recording while I phone a story in to the paper. They may ask you to verify some of the facts I give 'em, but don't go popping off with any opinions. Just stick to the facts."

  In the office Willy started a tape recorder going, dialed the San Diego Union, and got the city editor on the line. "This is Ensign William Wigglesworth, U.S. Navy, sir," he said. "I am attached to VF Squadron 103 on the USS Guadalcanal. I just flew in from the ship and on the way I observed a phenomenon that may be of interest to you."

  "Uh huh... what was that?" asked the city editor.

  "I observed a brilliant saucer-shaped object in the sky. I tried to -"

  "What's that again? A flying saucer, you said?"

  "It was the shape of a saucer," said Willy. "I tried to catch up with it, but I --"

  "Wait a minute," said the editor, "I want to get another man on this line and take this down - get on that other phone," he barked at a rewrite man, "and get this story... All right, Mr. Wigglesworth, start over again. What were you saying about a flying saucer?"

  "I was flying in from the Guadalcanal this morning about 150 miles out from San Diego at 5000 feet and I saw this brilliant saucer-shaped object a little on my starboard bow - "

  "How big was it?" asked the editor.

  "Not quite as big as a full moon," said Willy.

  "What was it doing?"

  "It ducked in and out among the clouds for about ten minutes and then it went into a big cloud and stayed there."

  "Okay. What were you doing at this time?"

  "I flew wide open for about five minutes after I sighted it, making 350 knots, but I couldn't catch up with it. I climbed from 5000 to 20,000 feet, but didn't seem to get any closer."

  "I'll be damned," said the editor. "How clearly did you see this thing?"

  "Perfectly," said Willy. "It was good clear air and I could see it just as plain as day except when it ducked into the clouds."

  "Did it seem to be taking evasive action?" asked the editor.

  "Well, I don't know if you could call it that, sir," said Willy, "but I couldn't catch up with it no matter what I did."

  "Could you see any windows or anything in it?"

  "No," said Willy; "it was too bright and too far away. I tried to get closer, but I couldn't. Couldn't get any radar return off of it, either."

  "Holy catfish!" said the editor. "Tell the composing room to hold the front page," he said in an aside to one of his helpers... "Lemme get your name and unit right."

  "Ensign William Wigglesworth, U.S. Navy. Attached to fighter squadron 103 on the USS Guadalcanal."

  "That's fine, Ensign Wigglesworth. Did anyone else see this thing?"

  "Yessir. My radar operator saw it too. I'll let you speak to him," and he handed the phone to Bluberry.

  "Hello," said Bluberry. "Yeah. I was in the rear seat of Mr. Wigglesworth's plane this morning and I seen everything he did. It was just like he told you."

  "Give us your name and home town," asked the editor.

  "J. Bluberry, radarman 1/C, from Fremont, Nebraska."

  "What do you think it was?" asked the editor.

  "You'd better ask the pilot about that," said Bluberry. "I'm just the radarman."

  "The pilot said you couldn't get this thing on radar. It that right?"

  "It sure is," said Bluberry. "I pointed the radar beam right at it and turned the power way up. No radar return at all."

  Willy took back the phone. "That's about all I can tell you, sir," he said. "I thought you might be interested."

  "We sure as hell are," said the editor. "This is a big story. Stick around where you are for a while, will you? I want to send a photographer down to get pictures of you and your radarman. He'll be there in ten minutes."

  "Okay," said Willy. "We'll wait."

  As the editor hung up, he yelled at his rewrite man, "Fix that story up right away." Then to his helpers, "Banner headline. Right-hand column, front page," and to another, "Put this story on the ticker to AP. Tell our radio and TV stations. They'll probably want to get exclusive on this while it's still hot."

  Ten minutes later, the Union's photographer showed up at the hangar all out of breath and got pictures of Willy and Bluberry standing alongside their plane. "What's this all about?" he asked. "The office said something about you guys seeing flying saucers."

  "No comment," said Willy.

  "Oh. Playing it cozy and clamming up to put the bite on the radio and TV people, are you? Well, all I got to do is get pictures."

  Meantime things were happening in the newspaper office. The front page for the afternoon edition was pulled and reset with the saucer story in the right-hand column under a banner headline. Associated Press came back on the teletype from New York and asked for comment by the Admiral on the saucers seen in his bailiwick. Both the TV and radio stations wanted immediate interviews with Willy and Bluberry. The editor got Naval District Headquarters on the phone, and after some argument they put him through by sideband to Admiral Day on the Guadalcanal. Admiral Day stated that he knew nothing about this alleged saucer sighting, but agreed to have a press conference as soon as his ship got in around noon. A dispatch went in from the Admiral to the air station to have Wigglesworth and the CO of his squadron report to the Admiral as soon as the carrier tied up. Meantime, AP in New York had queried the Pentagon about this saucer sighting in the Pacific Fleet and CNO shot a dispatch to the Guadalcanal asking the Admiral what was coming off here. By the time the Guadalcanal tied up, the afternoon paper was on the street with a headline, local navy
pilot chases flying saucer, a delegation of reporters and radio and press men was pacing impatiently up and down the dock, and quite a head of steam had been generated.

  When Willy trooped up the gangway with the press delegation, he had the afternoon paper in one hand and his tape-recording machine in the other. When he was shown into the Admiral's cabin, Commander Cue was already there. So was Ace Parker. The reporters and TV men had to wait outside.

  "What's all this uproar you've stirred up about flying saucers," demanded the Admiral, "and why wasn't I informed by dispatch about this when it happened?"

  "Admiral," said Willy, "a lot of people have jumped to some far-fetched conclusions. There was no reason for telling you anything about this. In fact there was nothing to tell about at all until they blew it up into something."