by Andrew Watts
He smiled. She was such a machine. He knew how much she cared about her men. It drove Plug crazy that she was unable to express it. I mean, life isn’t hard. You love someone, you say it. You hate someone, you punch them in the face. You work hard, you play hard. Plug had done both.
Life had been fun while it lasted. His heart was beating faster. Shit…
He found himself talking out loud. “Well, better get this over with.”
He turned off the radar altitude hold and slowed his aircraft to a crawl about a mile to the port side of the ship.
“One hundred feet. Ditching checklist. Windows—jettison.”
He pulled the red-and-yellow handle, breaking the safety wire. Then he punched the Plexiglas and let it fall to the sea. He looked at the other helicopter. They were on short final now. Just coming over the deck. Good. That meant they would make it. He hoped that this was all worth it.
He was just about to bring the aircraft into a five-knot forward hover when he ran out of fuel.
The noise level decreased dramatically as the number one engine flamed out. His left hand instinctively dropped down the collective lever to preserve the rotational energy of the rotor, and get closer to the ground before the number two engine…
Ah. There it went. Total flameout.
The digital cubes that told him the status of his engines plummeted. He let the helicopter fall, holding the nose slightly forward to retain his forward speed.
It was the quickest autorotation of his life.
“Fifty feet. Flare.” He gritted his teeth and clenched his stomach and he brought the nose up, trading off his airspeed for rotor turns—this slowed his rate of descent.
The rotor wash kicked up salt spray over the front window. He looked out the empty side window, watching the dark blue water. Then he looked back at his radiant and moved the cyclic and collective to level himself and squeeze out all of the potential energy of the rotors.
“Twenty feet. Fifteen feet. Ten knots. Ten feet.”
The impact was about two seconds before he expected it, and hard. He jolted forward in his seat, restrained by his harness. The force was similar to a ten-mile-per-hour car crash. The helicopter’s fifteen thousand pounds crashed into the ocean and immediately filled with water.
To his horror, he felt his feet and legs getting wet. It seemed strange to see the familiar electronics suite get covered with rising dark blue water. Plug reached up and pulled off both engines to the OFF detent. Then he pushed the rotor brake all the way forward. For a second, he thought the helicopter might maintain its upright position. Then the terrible rollover began.
Helicopters were very top-heavy. Once in the water, the engines and transmission weighed it down, causing the aircraft to roll completely upside down as it sunk underwater. The cool seawater rose up his waist and chest. He remained strapped in to his seat harness. The water kept rising as he tilted sideways, and it covered his neck. Then one final breath before the water covered his mouth and nose and scalp…
Plug held his breath as the world turned upside down and dark. Victoria’s last words to him over the radios replayed in his head.
Remember your training.
It didn’t seem so silly now. Grab hold of a reference point. Put your breathing device in your mouth now.
As the helicopter’s generators kicked offline, only a few lights remained on. The world was quiet. He quickly put the underwater breathing device into his mouth with his free hand. He blew out to clear the water out of the mouthpiece and breathed in precious air. Holding on to his seat with his left hand, he felt around for the seat belt latch, which would unlock the five harnesses that kept him strapped in. He didn’t feel upside down now. Now, he had no idea which way was up.
His eyes stung from the saltwater and whatever oils were leaking out of the helicopter into the sea. He began to panic because he didn’t think he was moving fast enough. If the helicopter sank too deep, he could get the bends.
Click.
He released himself from his straps and began floating to his right, but held his place with his left hand. He reached out where the window was, gripped the empty metal edge, and pulled his body through, kicking for extra propulsion.
A moment of panic as his boot got stuck on the rim of the window, but then he kicked free. Wriggling out of the sinking aircraft, he pulled the black beads around his vest and felt himself rising up to the surface as it inflated with air.
“On final.”
Victoria leveled off from her turn and aimed her helicopter directly up the long white wake of the destroyer. A grey smoke from the bridge area trailed up into the sky.
“Roger, on final,” came the voice of her young copilot.
They were landing on a smoking, damaged vessel, which had yet to respond to their communications. Not that they had a choice. The bright yellow FUEL LOW light shined on the master caution panel, demanding attention.
Victoria pulled back on the cyclic with her right hand and lowered the collective lever with her left. The speed began to bleed back. She made a radio call over the external comms.
“Farragut Control, Cutlass 471, on final, no comms, declaring an emergency. We see that you have received damage. Request you maintain course and speed for five mikes.” She turned and looked out her right window. “And if anyone hears this, we need fuel and our other rescue swimmer.”
Victoria switched frequencies to the VHF channel that Plug and her helicopters were using to communicate. “476, 471.”
Nothing. Plug was in the drink. God, she hoped they were alright.
“Point five miles, landing checklist.”
Juan was already flipping switches and rattling off the steps of the before-landing checklist.
The airspeed indicator slipped below forty knots, but it felt like they were barely closing in on the ship.
Juan said, “They’re booking it.”
“Yeah.” She pushed the stick forward and pulled in more power to close in on the ship.
The ship rolled hard left, white salt spray shooting up and covering part of the flight deck. The rolls were much more intense than normal due to the speed the destroyer was traveling at. They must have been going close to thirty knots.
“Over the deck.”
She caught a glimpse of one of the hangar personnel doors opening, and a face peeking out. Whoever was in there must have heard the sound of the aircraft as it made its way over the back of the ship. Then the face disappeared back in.
She positioned the helicopter over the center of the flight deck and held it hovering. The ship was in another big roll, this time to the right. It was a pattern. Every few seconds, the pendulum swung back and forth in opposite directions. She timed the pattern in her mind, holding the helicopter in a perfect hover, waiting. She kept the aircraft just high enough that the wheels wouldn’t get caught by the moving surface beneath them.
There it was.
The roll started coming back in the opposite direction. Victoria timed her power reduction to drop the aircraft right on her landing spot at the exact time that the roll would make the ship even with the horizon. The result was a perfect landing.
They immediately began rolling hard to the left, but the helicopter weighed about seventeen thousand pounds, and physics would keep them in place. Unless the rolls got too severe…
The man who had opened the hangar door came running out, holding the dark metal chains they could use to tie down the helo.
“Fetternut, go help him out please.”
Her aircrewman immediately unstrapped and grabbed one of the chains, hooking it to a metal tie-down point on the helicopter and fixing that to a tie-down point on the flight deck.
“Juan, you have the controls. I’m going to go get us fuel.”
“Roger, boss. I have the controls.”
She unstrapped, carefully moved out of her pilot seat without hitting the flight controls, and slammed the cockpit door shut. Then she walked back to the cabin and looked at the group of wo
unded soldiers.
She scanned the faces. Chase wasn’t among them. He must have already walked into the hangar while she was unstrapping. She gripped the side of the helicopter as the ship rolled back and forth.
“Do they have a doctor on board?” one of the soldiers yelled over the noise of the rotors. His face was caked with dirt and dried blood. His eyes were tired but alert.
“No, but we have corpsmen.” Victoria tried to sound out her words so that the man could read her lips.
He frowned. “So do we,” he yelled back. “Let’s get us to somewhere we can treat the wounded.”
There were now several men from Victoria’s maintenance crew running out from the hangar wearing headgear and vests, ready to help.
Once inside the hangar, her maintenance chief was waiting at the door, blocking her view. “Ma’am, the command master chief’s been looking for you. We got hit, ma’am.” His eyes were wide. The younger petty officers next to him watched them both, eager to hear the conversation.
The hangar door flopped open as the ship rolled. Whoever had come in last hadn’t secured it. She stood with her legs spread apart wider than normal, her knees bent. It helped her to balance as the ship rolled so much. Why were they still going this fast?
The group of soldiers spread out, sitting in the empty hangar and treating their wounded. One of her younger petty officers ran to go get the ship’s corpsmen and more medical supplies.
Victoria said, “Chief, we need fuel now. We need to go back up. 476 just ditched.” She tried to say it as calmly as possible.
“They ditched? Holy shit.” He turned and said, “AD1, go get the fuelies now! Get 471 refueled.” He looked back at Victoria. “Ma’am, it might be hard to get all the ship guys, but we’ll take care of it.”
“Why can’t you get the ship guys?”
“Some of them are still doing damage control. They had a fire around the bridge.”
“I saw that. Was anyone hurt?”
He didn’t answer. “Ma’am, the CMC needs to talk to you. He asked to speak with you immediately when you land.”
“If the master chief needs to talk to me, he can come here. I need to take off again. We need to go…”
Then she saw her brother. He was talking to the same soldier who had been in her helicopter asking about corpsmen.
She tried not to run. A quick walk. They made eye contact and then Chase stood and gave his sister a hug.
She stepped away, nodding, fighting back tears and smiles. “Glad you’re okay.”
Chase grinned. “Glad you came in time.”
“Are you going to tell me what this was all about?”
“I need to, yes. And I need to speak to your ship captain.” He held up a backpack. “We need to get this to Panama as soon as possible. Within the next few days, or it becomes useless. It’s extremely important, Victoria.”
She looked at the bag and then back at her brother. “Alright. I’ll—”
“Airboss.” The ship’s command master chief hurried into the hangar. “A word please, ma’am.”
She looked at her brother and said, “Can you give me a few minutes?”
He nodded.
Victoria and the master chief walked to the corner of the hangar, out of earshot of the others. Enlisted men and women hurried in and out of the hangar, providing aid to the wounded.
Victoria said, “What happened?”
“About an hour ago, we got hit by an anti-ship missile. It struck the bridge and a few spaces forward of the bridge.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
He had a funny look in his eye. “Ma’am, it is my duty to tell you that you are now the senior line officer on board. The captain and XO were both killed in the attack.”
She shook her head. “What?”
“The captain and XO were killed. I checked the lineal numbers. You are now the senior line officer on board. Per Navy regulations, you are now in command of the ship. Ma’am, I suggest you appoint one of your junior pilots to handle any immediate concerns here and follow me to the combat information center, where we can get you up to speed.”
Victoria couldn’t speak.
Several hours ago, her biggest problem of the day had been hauling cargo beneath her helicopter from the supply ship to her own.
Then a simple radio call had changed everything. She had flown her helicopter into a jungle combat situation, rescued a group of what she presumed were Special Forces, and flown back to find out that her ship and the ships in company had been attacked.
Now she was being thrown into command of a surface ship. She was a helicopter pilot. She wasn’t even high-ranking enough to be a commanding officer in her own community.
“Master Chief, are you sure? I mean, am I really the one who—”
The CMC didn’t give her time to contemplate it any further.
“Ma’am, respectfully…we’re in the middle of an emergency. I assure you that I am doing this by the book. Now I need you to come with me.”
She had let her guard down when they’d landed. In the air, she had automatically compartmentalized. She’d blocked out any thoughts that might distract her from making good decisions and completing the mission. She realized she would need to treat this situation the same. She could think about it later. Right now, she needed to take charge.
“Yes, of course,” she said.
Aviate. Navigate. Communicate. The mantra of all pilots. While it took a literal meaning in the air, it applied to everything in life as a metaphor. She needed to prioritize. There were several vital things she needed to accomplish in short order. And she didn’t need to be the one to do them all herself.
She looked up and saw her rescue swimmer. “AWR1, go hold the controls for LTJG Volonte and tell him I need to speak with him immediately. Send him to Combat. That’s where I’ll be.”
The rescue swimmer looked at her like she was crazy. He would normally never sit in the pilot’s seat, let alone as the only person at the controls of a spinning helicopter. Despite the fact that it was tied down, it was still highly irregular. “Yes, ma’am.”
She called to her brother, “Chase, I’ll be right back.” She left him with a confused look on his face.
“Let’s go, Master Chief. Bring me to Combat.”
Everyone in Combat was wearing their general quarters gear. White fireproof cloth over their heads. Gloves. Sleeves rolled up. Victoria took in their faces. They each looked drained and shell-shocked.
The command master chief began, “OPS, I’ve informed Air Boss of her new…status.”
Victoria realized that she had just been part of the most informal change of command she’d ever witnessed. OPS had been the senior officer on the ship until she had landed. He had been in command. Now she was.
He nodded at her. “Welcome back, boss.” He looked like hell.
“Can you bring me up to speed?”
“The fires are out, and there is no more flooding. But we lost fourteen personnel, including the captain and the XO. Another ten are injured. We suffered a steering casualty when the bridge got hit. Had some trouble transferring control to Engineering. That’s been resolved.”
She looked up at the displays. They were traveling at twenty-eight knots. “Why the speed?”
“At first, it was because the captain gave the all head flank order. And then we had the steering casualty, so keeping this course and speed was our best method of evasive maneuvering.”
“And now? Why are you still going this course and speed?”
OPS didn’t like the question. “Because a fucking submarine just sank all the ships that were next to us and hit us with a missile. And I’m trying to make sure it doesn’t finish us off.”
She didn’t like the attitude but understood the stress that he was under. That they all were under. She took a deep breath. “Okay. What are your intentions?”
“I’m getting as much distance as I can between us and the location of the attack. I’ve put out distress calls, but satco
m is still down and we haven’t reached anyone on any other channels. I intend to keep us from getting sunk. We’re headed west right now, but I’ll turn us north and slow us down soon. We’ll listen and try to get a fix on the sub—”
“What do you know about it? Did you have any warning?”
OPS turned to the sonar station. Three sonar technicians were looking at their displays. Two wore headsets covering one ear while they talked. “They can give you a better idea of what they heard. But it happened quickly. We had about two minutes’ notice. They picked something up. Transient sounds—torpedoes. We think they sank the Colombian diesel boat first. Then the next thing we knew, we were being attacked. Damage control parties were running around the ship, the lights went out for a bit, and all hell broke loose. Look, I don’t need to be judged, alright? I did what I thought was right and got us out of there. As far as I know, none of those other ships made it—”
Victoria said, “We flew overhead. They have people in the water in lifeboats. We’ll commence rescue operations once the helicopter gets refueled. And I’m not judging you. I just want to know what happened and then we’ll decide what to do next.”
He looked surprised to hear that there were survivors.
“Ma’am?” One of the junior officers held out one of the phones.
She took it. “Air Boss.” She wondered if she should keep calling herself by that title. She didn’t feel comfortable calling herself the captain.
“Boss, it’s Juan. What’s up? AWR1 said you wanted to talk to me.”
She turned from the group in combat and lowered her voice a bit. “Juan, I need you to be in charge back there right now. Get Caveman. Listen, you two are going to be doing the SAR flight to pick up Plug as soon as you’re fueled up.”
Silence on the other end. Juan and Caveman were junior pilots. They had never flown a Seahawk helicopter without an aircraft commander. But Victoria needed to get things done, and her normal procedures and precautions were out the window right now. Despite the dramatic chain of events, she realized that it still came as a surprise to the young pilot.
“Juan, do you understand?”
