by M. L. Maki
“Carleton, you’re a fucking idiot. Shut up, just shut the fuck up about shit like that. You keep mouthing off like this, I will not even try to protect you.”
“No one will do anything to me. We need pilots. When I kick some more ass over Japan, everyone will know I’m a better pilot. She needs to put on an apron and work at some truck stop.”
“Just be quiet. Congress may very well pass legislation mandating that she take off her uniform, but you’re not helping yourself now.”
“Do you think she can lead the squadron, I mean really?”
“I don’t know. She’s new to it, but she has a level head.”
“She’ll fail. I’ll see to that.”
Holtz looks Carleton straight in the eyes, “You listen to me, John. Do not meddle. She will succeed or fail all on her own. Do you hear me? You do anything and your wings will not protect you. I’ll throw your ass in the brig. Am I clear?”
“Yes, sir, I’m just saying, I expect she’ll fail. I mean, we have ‘Bull’ Halsey running the show. There’s no way he’s going to put up with female aviators.”
HICKHAM FIELD HAWAII, 1848, 4 JANUARY, 1942
PFC Walter Duggery stops sweeping the end of the taxiway and leans on his broom. His buddy, Larry, walks up,” Hey, Dug, can I bum a smoke?” Walt digs out a pack and shakes one out, “We better smoke off the field or they’ll chew our asses and make us sweep the damn thing, again.”
“What’s all this about? Who cares about a bit of sand or junk on a runway? It’s just cement, fer Christ’s sake.” Then they hear a deep rumble out of the south. Looking up they see two large aircraft flying toward the field at low altitude. The grey aircraft fly overhead at about 500 feet with a deafening roar. The friends look at each other as the two planes roll to the right and turn.
Duggery says, “Damn it Larry, that was loud.”
“Dug, those planes didn’t have no props on them. What the hell?”
Then they hear a higher pitched whine coming from the south. A large twin engine plane, about the size of a B-25, comes in and lands, followed by another. The two planes taxi off the runway, turning toward the tower with a loud roar, the large props beating the air. Then the first two aircraft land, side by side.
Larry says, “Holy cow, Walt, I ain’t seen nuthin’ like them, ever.” The fighters follow the larger planes and open their canopies. One of the pilots waves at them and they wave back. After the planes are parked, the pilots remove their helmets, and the pilot that waved at them reveals tightly braided red hair in a bun at the nap of her neck. “Shoot me dead, buddy, it’s a girl pilot. This war just started looking up.”
USS CARL VINSON, WARDROOM 1, ALL COMMANDERS CALL, 0900, 5 JANUARY, 1942
The only woman in the room, Spike is sitting in the back with Swede. The Enterprise Task Force now comprises sixteen ships, and the captains and XOs of every command are in this room. Admiral Halsey, Captain Johnson, and Captain Murray enter, “Attention on deck!” and all stand.
Admiral Halsey walks up to the mike and says loudly, “Carry on,” blasting everyone’s ears. “Sorry, about that. Can everyone hear me?” They all chuckle and nod their heads. He continues, “Before we lay out the plan, I would like each command to stand, introduce themselves, their unit, and their XO. I’m sure you all know who I am. Standing to my right is my chief of staff, CDR Miles Browning. Next to him is Captain Chris Van Zandt, who served as Admiral Ren’s chief of staff before I nabbed him.”
Captain Johnson introduces himself and Captain Patterson, and Captain Murray introduces himself and his XO, and so on around the room. When it’s her turn, Spike stands, “I’m Lt CDR Samantha Hunt, CO of VF-154, the Black Knights, and this is my XO, Lt. Stephan Swedenborg.”
When they’ve all finished introducing themselves, Halsey continues, “Right, the Carl Vinson task force brings a number of new weapons to the fight. We need to update our formations and our battle plans to incorporate the new systems. First, as most of you have noticed, the new ships are rather short on guns. That’s because they use guided missiles instead. It’s a rocket that can be aimed in flight. They are extremely effective against aircraft, but they need clear lanes of fire. We’ll but putting the Long Beach and Horne outside the inner ring around the two carriers; Long Beach to port, Horne to starboard. In an aerial threat, the missile ships will orient toward the threat. The Fife and Jarrett will be out front and Commander Lamoure of the Fife will be ASW commander. The Vinson also has a number of ASW assets and Commander Lamoure knows how to use them. The supply ships will stay on the starboard side of the carriers and the rest of the destroyers will ring around the group. Questions?”
Captain Ellis M. Zacharias of the Salt Lake City asks, “Who is the AAW commander?”
“Ellis, I know that was your job, but it now falls to Captain Tenzar of the Long Beach. His radar and control systems far outstrip what our older ships can do.”
Captain Cassin Young of the San Francisco adds, “Yes, sir, but do the contraptions really work?”
Captain Tenzar says, “My missiles have a range of 85 nautical miles and can engage eight aircraft a minute with a 90% hit rate. Horne, with half the systems, can engage four more. We will not be able, completely, to eliminate a persistent swarm attack, but we can attrite them long before they are in your range. Should we encounter Japanese jets, we are the only platform capable of engaging them.”
Captain Young says, “Our gunners are good.”
Tenzar replies, “I have no doubt they are. This isn’t a question of skill. No gunner can hit an aircraft flying 1200 miles per hour at 40,000 feet. Jets operate in an envelope unlike anything you have ever seen.”
Halsey interjects, “Gentlemen, we are all on the same team.” He motions to Browning, who uncovers a map of the Pacific Ocean. “We will approach from here. During the approach, the Enterprise will do all the patrols and the cap, preserving fuel on the Vinson, who will maintain four fighters on ready 5 and continue ASW patrols. Once we are at our initial point, the Vinson strike group will focus attacks in the Tokyo area here and here and here. Upon the completion of the strike, we are authorized additional attacks, if it seems advisable. We will retreat in this direction. Vinson will maintain enough jet fuel reserves to fight for two days. I want all ships to keep fuel reserves at 80%. Questions?”
LCDR Sherman of the USS Dunlap, DD-384, asks, “Why 80%, Admiral?”
“If we kick over a hornets’ nest, I want to maintain the option to make a hasty strategic advance to the rear.”
Spike strives not to chuckle, and Swede quietly asks, “What’s so funny?”
“He’s quoting Wellington.”
“So?”
“Those who know, understand. Those who don’t, need to look it up.”
Halsey says, “Let’s break for supper. I want COs and XOs to split up. I want ‘41s and ‘90s at every table. You need to get a chance to know each other.”
Spike looks at Swede, “Rock, paper, scissor?”
“Nah, I’ll go,” and gets up.
She sits for a moment and realizes she should get up as well. As she’s walking between the tables, a lieutenant commander says, “Waitress, waitress, I need some coffee.”
She looks down at him and touches the gold oak leaf sewn on her right collar, sits down at his table, and sticks out her hand, “I’m ‘Spike’ Hunt, CO of the Black Knights fighter squadron.”
He looks at her hand for a moment, then takes it, “I’m Joseph Callahan of the destroyer Ralph Talbot. How is it women are allowed to be officers?”
“The US military finally came to its senses.”
“I don’t see it, but what do I know.”
A ‘90s lieutenant commander joins them, “Not much, if you’re disparaging her. I’m David Crocket, CO of the Eightballers. My helicopters flew you over here. CDR Hunt is, right now, one of the leading aces in the United States. She has over twenty kills, and, she sank three Japanese ships. How many have you sunk?”
Callahan sa
ys, “Damn, my apologies, ma’am. It’s just going to take some getting used to.”
“That’s alright, Commander. I get it. I do.”
Callahan asks, “So, what do you fly?” as a LCDR in khakis joins them.
“The F-14 Tomcat.”
“Any relation to the Wildcat I fly?” and sticks out his hand, “I’m Wade McClusky, CO of the Fighting 6th.”
She shakes his hand, “An absolute pleasure. You’re right, my Tomcat is a direct descendant.”
“Tell me about it.”
Spike glows, “She’s a supersonic, twin engine, two seat air superiority fighter. Her wings are variable geometry, meaning they sweep forward for slow speed maneuverability, and back, to go fast. And she is fast. She flies over twice the speed of sound and can climb to 45,000 feet in a minute. She’s the best fighter built in my day, no matter what the Air Force tries to say, and she’s a dream to fly.”
“You sound like a proud parent. Maybe we can finagle a seat swap on our way to Japan.”
Spike grins, “Let’s see what we can do. I would love to give you a check ride.”
“Hey,” Crocker says, looking offended,” I’ve been in the Navy twelve years, and I’ve never been offered a ride.”
Spike laughs, “Well, you never asked. When we have enough fuel, and Halsey approves, I would love to give everyone a ride. It gets me in the air.”
The stewards begin serving lunch. Crocker grins, “If I didn’t know what you were talking about, that comment could get you into trouble.”
She looks at him, “David, stuff it,” then pauses, turning pink. “I guess that doesn’t work, either.”
The men at the table laugh, and Callahan asks, “With girls on the ship, don’t you have trouble with…well, you understand, with inappropriate conduct?”
Spike answers, “It’s not tolerated. Every person on board signs a page 13 order not to, um, comingle. Violating the order is career suicide. And anyway, try it and I’ll break your arm,” and smiles. The ‘41s at her table look at her surprised, and Crocker cracks up.
CHAPTER 40
BLACK KNIGHT SQUADRON CO’S OFFICE, 1200, 6 JANUARY, 1942
Sam sits at her desk with stacks of squadron enlisted personnel service jackets on her desk, on the floor, and on a chair. She’s reading one and taking notes when ADC(AW) Paul ‘Mosey’ White walks in and grabs a cup of coffee, then leans against the door jamb. Without looking up, “Hi, Chief. What’s up?”
“What are you doing?”
“Reading jackets?”
“Why?”
“So, I know my people. So, I understand,” looking up at him.
“They’re all out there. If you want to know your people, why aren’t you talking to them?”
“Chief, I need to know where they’re from, and stuff. It’s all in these.”
“They know where they’re from. All this reading jackets makes people nervous. Spike, don’t go crawling back into your shell.”
Sam looks down, “Chief, I don’t want to mess this up.”
“Look at me, Spike. You manage from a desk, but you can’t lead from one. It’s more important to know that Joe hates the rain in Oregon, but love his mama, then it is to know his home of record is in Garibaldi, Oregon.”
“I’m screwing up, aren’t I?”
“Just like before, you’re trying too hard. You’re a good student, so when you feel overwhelmed your habit is to hit the books. You need to walk around and be seen. Talk to the guys, but mostly, listen. They want you to succeed, but more importantly, they want to see you in charge. Never second guess yourself or seem tentative in front of the guys. Doubt is a virus that can destroy a squadron.”
“Thank you, Chief,” and smiles, “How did you get so smart?”
“Chief Patterson, my first chief, he took a dumb assed Okie straight off the farm and tried to make a sailor out of him. I’m just recycling the lesson plan.”
“Okay, teacher, I’ll close the books and get out there.”
CARL VINSON FLIGHT DECK, READY 5, 1500, 6 JANUARY, 1942
Spike and Puck sit in their bird on ready 5, “Are you okay, Spike?”
“Yeah, I’ve been crazy busy, but I’m okay.”
“Since you’ve become CO, I hardly see you.”
“I’m just trying to get a handle on all the paperwork, and, oh my God, is there paperwork.”
“You know, I have your back, right? I mean, outside the cockpit, too. It dawned on me that you have to keep some distance or people will talk. Still, I want you to succeed. I want to help.”
“Thank you, Puck. I know and trust that. I have all these official things I have to do that eat up my time. I’m trying to get out and walk around the work areas, too. It’s hard to find any break time. About the only time I have is when I eat. You know, let’s eat together once in a while, that would work. That’s about as public as you can get, and I don’t take work to the wardroom.”
“I would like that. Should we arrange a chaperone?”
Spike laughs, “No, we need to be able to talk.”
“I agree. I know you’re missing the guys on the brain trust…and Dixie. How did you and Dixie get to be friends?”
“It’s not my story to tell. He’s just a really great guy.”
“Yeah, he is. He was a good CAG. Holtz is trying, but he isn’t of the same mold. I think you’re changing some, too, now that you’re commander.”
She braces herself, “Good or bad?”
“It isn’t always black or white. You’re doing okay, but it’s like you’re trying too hard.”
“I’m not always good at the people skills. I’m always afraid I’m screwing up.”
“I get that. The plain truth is, you do your best when you relax and be yourself.”
“I’ve always been told my ‘self’ is a bitch.”
“Whoever said that didn’t’ know you at all. You’re reserved, sure. I get that, I mean, I’m Sioux. You’ve never been cruel and bitches are cruel. If anything, you care too much.”
“Thank you, Puck. I’ll try. I want so much to get this right. You know, we have come a long way since you gave me hell over not talking to you. I think, in the air anyway, we jell pretty well.”
“I think so, too, can be better, but still pretty good.”
“Let’s be honest, this is all pretty new to both of us.”
“Yeah, but we need to get all of it right. We only have one shot, like sky divers. If you can’t get it right the first time, it’s a bad hobby to choose.” Spike chuckles, as Puck continues, “If you blow it as a squadron commander, there won’t be a second female in the position for decades.”
She shakes her head, “No pressure there.”
“Spike, it’s how it is. It’s the truth. We have to get it right.”
After a moment, she says, “Wow.”
“We both know Carleton is out there campaigning against you. Most people just take him to be a malcontent, or a jack ass, but some people are listening. You have to show them you can do it all so well, even the doubters believe.”
“That has been made extremely clear to me by several people already.”
“While I’m not telling you what to do, I don’t know either, I’m asking you if you will let me help.”
“Thank you, Eric. I need your help.”
“Another thing, I’m worried the Jap’s may have jets, too. None of the fields in Taiwan or PI can handle jets yet, so if an airfield came back, they may have limited range. When we approach Tokyo, though, we could walk into trouble.”
“If we aren’t ready to face jets, we could be in trouble. Do you have any intelligence on this, Puck, or is it a hunch?”
“It’s just a hunch, Spike. I don’t want to play chicken little because I could be way off base.”
There is a knock on the side of their plane. They start, look at each other, then look over the side. They see Admiral Halsey in a flight suit, “Commander, I want to fly.”
She turn to Puck, “Oh dear. We
’ll talk later, and thanks, Puck.” To Halsey, “Have you completed the safety training, sir?”
Halsey replies, as Puck exits the plane, “Yes, I think the ejection seat idea is a fantastic one, but we’re not going to play with them today.”
Spike laughs, puts on her helmet, and keys the radio, “Gold Eagle, Knight 1. Admiral Halsey is standing by for a check ride. Could you inquire the flight surgeon as to my parameters?”
“Roger, Knight 1. He is cleared, stand by.”
When Puck gets to the deck, he offers a hand to Halsey, who shrugs it off and climbs unassisted into the cockpit. Once he’s in, the plane captain climbs up to strap him in, “Son, I can do my own harness.”
‘Handy’ Washington says, “Sir, its policy. I’m supposed to check the straps. It’s part of the preflight.”
“All right, I just don’t want to be mollycoddled.” Washington finishes strapping him in, checks his helmet, and plugs him into the radio and G suit systems.
On the radio, Spike hears, “Knight 1, Carrier Group 2 is cleared to 6g’s.”
Halsey, on the intercom, asks, “Are you checking up on me?”
“Yes, sir, I sure am,” then, “Are you ready, Speedy?”
“Standing by, Spike.”
Washington checks her straps and kissing his fingers, touches them to the crown of her helmet. “Knight Flight requests startup.”
“Knight Flight, clear for startup.”
She completes the pre-startup check list, talking to herself, then starts the huge GE F110-400 turbofans. They rumble, then begin to whistle as they idle. She watches as the needles settle into the green, then “Gold Eagle, Knight 1, standing by for launch.”
Speedy, says, “Gold Eagle, Knight 212, standing by for launch.”
“Knight Flight, you are cleared for launch and unlimited climb.”
“Roger, Gold Eagle. Speedy, we will keep it at 200 feet at military until we have 500 knots, then light up and go ballistic.”
“200 feet until 500 knots, then light and zoom. Acknowledge.”
They line up on cats 1 and 2, “Admiral, either cross your arms and hold onto your harness, or keep them on your knees. Don’t touch anything. I know you’re a pilot, but this is unlike anything you’ve ever known. Once we’re in the air, I’ll answer any questions. Are you good, sir?”
