“What’s so funny?” he asked.
Now she laughed. “You present such an interesting silhouette.” Jake looked down and understood what she meant.
Callie said, “I wish I’d thought to bring my sketchbook with me. You cut such a heroic figure.”
Jake turned away from her and said, over his shoulder, “You’re not going swimming with my T-shirt on, are you?”
“I might.”
“That’s my good shirt, you know.”
“Jake, do you really think it’s swimming that you’re UP for?”
Jake laughed. He sidled back to the blanket in a half crouch. She held up her arms and he helped her take off the shirt. They stretched out on their sides and held each other. Callie loosened her embrace and lay back on the blanket while Jake, still on his side, propped himself up on one elbow. With his fingers he gently fingered her nipples and felt them become erect under his touch.
He leaned over and kissed her breasts, then softly kissed her belly and ran his tongue around her navel. “That tickles,” Callie said with a chuckle. “Are you sure that cab driver doesn’t have binoculars?”
“They’d have to be infrared for him to see anything.
Anyway, he can’t see over this climb.”
Callie suddenly sucked in her breath and sighed as Jake’s hand, having traveled lightly up her thigh, stopped where he found moistness.
“You’re a beautiful person, Callie.”
Later they stood holding each other in the swirreling shallows, watching the dark waves glistening in the moonlight- The only sound was the rhythmic rushing of the sea.
The room reeked of insecticide. Jake concluded that the motel clerk he had bellowed at earlier had taken him seriously. The bathroom didn’t look much cleaner but Jake conceded that not much could be done with it. They dressed hurriedly for dinner, having decided that it would be wise to leave the windows closed to allow the insecticide to do its job well.
The dining room in the Subic Bay O Club was nearly empty. The picture window reflected the flickering candle on their table. Callie said, “I have a present for you.”
“What is it?” She handed him something flat wrapped in tissue paper. He opened it up. Callie said, “It’s a sand dollar. I found it on the beach today. A perfect specimen.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“It’s for good luck.”
“Then I’ll take good care of it. I need all the good luck I can get.” He swallowed some beer before going on. “What do you think about what I did-bombing an unauthorized target?” Callie finished chewing a cracker, then took a sip of her gin and tonic. “I guess I feel as you do. You shouldn’t have done it. But I can understand what drove you to it. And I know that I don’t think any less of you because of what you’ve done. You know how I feel about the war, but I have to admire you for risking your life-and your career-to do what you believe in. “I appreciate that. I’m sure glad you’re here.”
“I’m glad I’m here, too. But I regret that I didn’t bring my sketch pad with me.”
Although the windows in the room were wide open, the smell lingered.
Callie asked, “Where’re your pajamas?”
“I don’t own any. I always sleep in my underwear.”
“The modern gentleman,” she said, carefully turning back the bed covers and looking between the sheets before she climbed in.
Jake turned off the overhead light and felt his way to her bed. The springs groaned loudly as he sat on it, and she laughed.
“What’s’s so funny?” he asked.
“My friends think I’ve dashed away for a wildly romantic weekend. And here we are. In a dreadful hotel. And you in your underwear.”
“Next time, I promise champagne, roses, and violins.” He shifted his weight deliberately to provide crealing accompaniment. He said softly, “Callie, it’s been a great day.”
Her hand found his. “Yes, it has.”
He bent down to her lips. They were moist and firm and parted willingly.
Her breath was warm on his cheek. She still smelled of the sea. “I hope we have more days like this.”
“Kiss me again.”
His bed was more comfortable than he had expected, and he went to sleep quickly. When Callie left her bed and moved in with him sometime during the night, he turned on his side; she did the same and nestled against him. He fell asleep again luxuriating in her warmth and closeness.
Shortly after seven they checked out of the hotel and took a taxi to the B O Q. While they were having breakfast Jake kept looking for Cole. Finally he excused himself and called Tiger’s room.
“What’s up?” Cole asked groggily.
“You forgetting we have to fly today?”
“No.”
“Don’t you think you ought to haul your ass out of bed?”
“No. I checked in at ops yesterday.”
“When are the planes due in?”
“About ten-thirty. They called me a while ago with an in-bound report. Just show up at the field with your flight gear. I’ll take care of everything else.”
“Sounds good.”
“No need for you to check in with the duty officer either. I’ve got it covered.”
“Hey, thanks.”
“Anytime.”
After breakfast they took a cab to the aircraft parking mat beside the carrier pier. Jake put his gear and Callie’s overnighter in front of the line shack and paid the driver.
He and Callie sat on a bench in the sun in front of the small one-story tin building. It was warm, and the sharp kerosene smell of jet fuel wafted through the air. Jake heard a distant murmur. Then he saw the two Intruders, glinting in the Sun, far away over the mouth of Subic Bay. He said to Callie, “See them?”
“Not yet.” A half minute later she said, “Now I do.
The jets dropped their landing gear and flew the final approach in formation. Jake ducked into the line shack. “Here they come,” he told the crew chief. “Got a beer?”
“Plenty.” Jake took a six-pack from the refrigerator and gave the chief a five-dollar bill. Then he went and sat with Callie as the bombers taxied in, trailing shimmering exhaust gas, their whining engines growing louder. They stopped not more than fifty yards away and Callie plugged her ears. When the pilots shut down the engines, she said, “‘They’re so loud.” Jake walked out quickly to the planes and threw cans of beer to the men in the cockpits.
Jake brought the airmen over and introduced each man to her. She stood and chatted with them about their trip across the Pacific while Jake went back to the aircraft to supervise the fueling and servicing. When the crews had departed in a gray navy van, she returned to the bench and watched Jake hover around the sailors working on the planes, making a comment here, lending a hand there.
When he came back he asked Callie, “Want to see an A-6 up close?”
“I’d love to.”
As they neared the planes, Jake said, “Not exactly beautiful, with that blunt nose. Flies great, though.”
“The wings look huge.”
“Fifty-three-foot wing span. The top of the tail is sixteen feet off the ground. The plane’s fifty-five feet long.” “It’s big.”
“It has to be, to carry all the fuel and ordnance.” He put his hand on the nose of the plane. “It’s a great plane. Built by Grummand. They built it to fly.”
Jake led her around the aircraft, identifying major components and explaining their functions. Then he climbed up the boarding ladder and stepped on the air intake of the left engine. He stooped and held out his hand. “Come on up. You can sit in the cockpit.” She climbed up awkwardly and started to step on the pilot’s seat cushion. Jake said, “Not there.”
“Then where do I put my feet?” Jake showed her how to swing herself into the cockpit. Once she was seated she looked around.
“There must be some mistake,” she said. “This plane is too complicated for anybody to fly.” Jake laughed and described the functions of the altimeter, airspe
ed indicator, vertical speed indicator, and other primary flight instruments.
He skipped over the more complicated navigational instruments, the ecm gear, and other electronic equipment that would be difficult to explain in a short time.
He showed her the stick and throttles and told her how they worked.
She said, “All these buttons on the stick look like warts.”
“They’re there so the pilot doesn’t have to take his hand from the stick to operate them.”
“Which one releases the bombs?”
“This one.” He pointed to a red button on the side of the stick grip.
“I want to see you in the pilot’s seat.”
“Okay. Can you move over and be my bombardier?
She pulled her skirt up to her thighs and Jake helped her step over the center console and into the right seat. He asked, “What do you think?”
Callie had to look up at him because the bombardier’s seat was several inches below and behind the Pilot’s. “I’m awed. All these dials, buttons, switches, knobs. I can see why it takes two people to fly the plane.”
“All it takes is one. You could learn to fly it.”
“I couldn’t imagine it. They fell silent. The airfield was quiet and Jake could hear the tinkle of the engine compressor blades rotating slowly in the breeze. “It’s almost time for my last flight as a navy pilot.”
Callie sighed. “I wish I could make everything right for YOU.
“I wanted to fly because I love the freedom of it, but now I’ve ended up in a war. And I’ve learned how high the price is. I was stupid. I should’ve known that the navy didn’t pay for my flying so I could have a good time.
“I think you’re being too hard on yourself. How many pilots do you know who joined the navy wanting to fight in a war? They just wanted to fly too, didn’t they?”
“Sure, they all just wanted to fly. But I think most of them knew the chances were good they’d end up in Vietnam.” Jake paused. “Yeah, I knew it too. Maybe I even wanted to fly in combat. I thought it would be like in the books-knights-in-the-sky stuff. What I’m trying to say is that I never expected it to be this kind of war, the kind of absolutely nutty war we’re fighting in Vietnam.”
“Who would’ve?”
Jake looked away from Callie and saw Tiger Cole standing in front of the line shack. He was wearing his flight suit and his arms were crossed. Jake said, “Time to go.” Then he turned to Callie, smiled, and shook his head slowly. “You know, I think I love you.” When he leaned down to kiss her, she reached up and put her hands around his neck.
“What a lovely thing to say to your bombardier. Jake, I want you to fly forever.”
“Why do they call you Tiger?” asked Callie.
Cole’s eyebrows lifted a fraction. Jake said, “Because he’s a fighter. He’s a tiger.”
Callie said to Jake, “Do you have a nickname?” Jake shrugged and grinned.
She looked at Cole. “Does he?”
“Cool Hand,” said Cole. “Cool Hand Jake.”
“Cool Hand? Why’s he called that?”
“Because he’s cool when the shooting starts. Real cool.”
“I can believe that,” said Callie. “What about Sammy? Does he have a nickname, too?”
“He has one,” said Jake. “But not too many people know about it.”
Jake caught Cole’s eye. “Actually, it very private.”
Callie began to speak when Cole said, “Ops sent a message to the ship. We have to be wheels-in-the-well in forty minutes.”
“How’s the weather?”
“Good,” said Cole, “but we’ll have a stiff head wind.”
“Any problems?”
“No sweat.”
Jake said to Callie, “I’ll see if one of the guys in the line shack can run you over to the flying club. Be right back.” Callie and the bombardier stood facing the airplane “So this may be your last flight in a navy airplane too?”
“Yeah,” Cole replied, “but I won’t miss it like Jake will. He doesn’t fly an airplane-he puts it on and wears it.” Cole inspected the Intruder they would fly as Jake loaded Callie’s overnighter into a gray sedan beside the line shack.
“Please let me know what happens,” she said.
“As soon as you can.”
“I’ll write just as soon as I know something.”
“Got the sand dollar?”
“Right here,” said Jake, patting his left sleeve pocket. “Thanks for coming. That was beyond the call of duty.”
“I’m very glad I came.”
As she was getting into the car, Callie said, “Keep the faith, Jake.”
TWENTY-TWO
Sammy was seated at the duty desk when Jake and Tiger entered the ready room and laid their baggage across two chairs near the door. Four other officers in the room ignored the two men. Tiger bent over a table and began filling out the maintenance sheets as Jake walked over to the duty desk and drew up a chair Facing his roommate, he lit a cigarette and said, “Hey, shipmate.” Sammy’s face was drawn. “How was the beach, Jake?”
“Empty. No carrier in. Nobody there.”
“Did you call Callie?”
“She came down from Hong Kong.”
Sammy looked at his notes. “There’s some kind of hearing tomorrow at 1400 in the lounge forward of the dirty-shirt wardroom. A captain and two staff types from Washington. They must’ve jumped a plane within hours of the Skipper’s bomb. They got here yesterday and have been talking to everyone, me included.”
He paused and eyed his friend. “This is hot, Jake. Somebody’s going to fry.”
“Yeah. Me. What’d you tell them?” Sammy’s voice was barely audible. “I lied. Told them you never said a word to me that indicated you thought the targets were lousy and were looking to free lance. The Skipper didn’t buy it and reamed me good, but I stuck to it. Don’t sell me out.”
“You know I won’t.”
Sammy continued, “You and Tiger aren’t on the flight schedule. The Skipper wanted to see you as soon as you land. I’m supposed to call him. That bird you flew-what’s its condition?”
Jake shook his head. “A few minor problems. Nothing they can’t fix during the acceptance inspection.” He told Sammy exactly what the gripes were.
Sammy dialed Maintenance Control and passed on the gripes. He then dialed the skipper’s extension and told whoever answered that Grafton and Cole were back. He listened a few seconds, aye aye’d, and hung up. “The Old Man wants to see you, Jake. In ten minutes. He’ll send for Cole after he’s done with you.”
Jake stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray and stood up. Going back to where Tiger was hunched over the maintenance forms, he said, “Looks like it’s time to pay the man. I’m going to see Camparelli now. You’re next.
“Fine.”
Tiger’s cool got on Jake’s nerves. “For once it’d be nice if you were just a wee bit uptight.”
“I’m scared shitless,” Cole replied calmly.
Jake looked at him and managed a laugh. “Try to hide it. Don’t always wear your emotions on your sleeve.”
Jake hung his flight gear in the locker room and descended the ladder to his stateroom, where he dumped his suit bag in the middle of the floor and lit another cigarette. He smoked it down quickly and then left for Camparelli’s stateroom.
At his knock, Cowboy opened the door.
Jake entered and stood until the skipper, seated at his desk, waved him over to the bunk. A khaki shirt with wings hung on a hook on the back of the door. The Old Man looked tired, as if he hadn’t slept much recently.
Jake thought that was probably the case.
“Truth or consequences, Grafton.” Commander Camparelli’s eyes bored into Jake. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
Jake swallowed. “What do you want to know, sir?”
“I want you to tell me just exactly what you and that maniac Cole did. I want to be the first to hear what you’re gonna tell that Pe
ntagon headhunter tomorrow at your hearing. Speak, boy.”
“Sir, Cole and I tried to take out the National Assembly building in Hanoi with eight Mark Eight Three slick snakes after we hit the power plant at Bac Giang the other night. Apparently we missed.”
“Now tell me about the other unauthorized, unfragged targets you and Cole in your combine wisdom-which wouldn’t fill the head of a pin, decided to take out.”
“That was it, sir!
There was only the one raid. But I wish that we’d blasted that National Assembly into a pile of bricks. We’d have tried harder if we’d known it’d come to this.”
He knew he was exaggerating. They couldn’t have tried harder if the target had been Ho Chi Minh himself.
“What does Lundeen know about this?”
“Not a thing.” He could lie for his friends but not for himself.
“Bullshit, Grafton!” Camparelli Stood up and put his nose inches from Jake’s face. “You’re lying.”
“Hanging me and Cole’ll have to do, Commander.”
“How about Cowboy?”
Jake was startled and glanced at Parker, who betrayed no emotion.
Jake shook his head. “No, sir. Emphatically no. I talked Cole into the National Assembly job and we enlisted Steiger. Cowboy didn’t know a damn thing about it-and neither did anyone else.”
“‘Job.” You talk about a ‘job.” Just who the hell did you think you were-a couple of safecrackers or Mafia hit men? Come to think of it, those’ll be just about the only careers open to you after this, if you’re lucky enough to avoid Leavenworth ‘ Camparelli sat on the edge of his desk. He was silent for a moment. “Why? Why’d you do it?”
Jake examined the skipper’s lined face. “You hit it on the head the other night, Skipper. Stupidity. I just wanted to hit them harder than the frag list allowed. I figured if I was going to risk my ass and my bombardier’s, I wanted them to know we’d been there.”
“Well, you sure fucked up.” Camparelli shook his head. “If my career survives this, it’ll be a miracle-like a dog laying an egg. I’ve got too much invested in -the navy to want to kiss it all off.”
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