A quarter mile to go, almost there, five seconds, all the world he cared about a-tiptoe, holding its breath. The big tanker pulling abeam the fighter on approach.
The blue shirt working his way aft to the deck edge elevator, tripping across an night enshrouded tie-down chain, reeling suddenly to his right, arms grasping for purchase in the darkness, legs churning underneath him, fighting for his footing, stumbling across the foul line before falling to his knees, head bowed. Disgraced.
The arresting gear officer facing forward on the starboard side aft, his back to the approaching Hornet, seeing the blue shirt fall across the foul line and taking his thumb off the dead-man switch, like he’d been trained.
The deck status light turning from green to red. The sudden shout on the LSO platform, “FOUL DECK!” The momentary pause, considering, rejecting, releasing: “Wave-off, wave-off. Foul deck.” Hitting the guarded button on the pickle, the red lights flashing on their backs. Regretfully. Nothing to be done – just the way things are.
An explosive, unitary curse on the bridge, in the tower, in the cockpit of the AT2′s jet undergoing maintenance. A chorus of disbelieving shouts and curses in CATCC, in the ready room, in maintenance control, across the ship.
Full power and catch the AOA, harsh language in his mask before taking a ragged breath and keying the mike, “311 airborne.”
“311 approach, roger. Take angels one-point-two, your tanker at right one o’clock and one mile, report plugged and receiving.”
“311.”
Christ, the JG thought to himself, raising his landing gear, waiting … there. Now up come the flaps and fighting the tendency for the jet to settle back into the darkness as the flaps retracted, down into the greedy darkness. Christ, a foul deck wave-off after all that work – haven’t I got enough to contend with? This run of negative thoughts was increased rather than reduced as he got his cockpit scan moving again, a safe rate of climb having been established. His eyes flickered down to the fuel display – 4400 pounds total, but just 2200 useable, he reminded himself. Two thousand pounds and change just stuck there on the starboard wing, useless. And 2200 pounds of useable gas was just 400 pounds above barricade fuel state.
Barricade, he thought, shuddering. The JG felt a familiar brown buzz in the back of his skull, the voices trying to get louder, the demons trying to get out of the boxes he had stuffed them into during the approach. Again the cockpit pressed in on him – not gradually this time, but with a sudden vigor, like a savage beast leaping out of the darkness. He momentarily shrank within himself, feeling the same helpless fear of the night before. Here we go again, the thought: Cue the music. The circus has come to town.
He could imagine the flight deck crewman looking up to the air boss in his tower for guidance: Rig the barricade net? Even as that worthy was no doubt on a phone conference with the ship’s Captain and LSO’s – hell, maybe even the admiral. Using the barricade would cause well over a hundred thousand dollars of damage to his aircraft, a “Class A” mishap on his permanent record. And it wasn’t like a barricade was a walk in the park, either. They were last resorts, dangerous as hell – reduced hook-to-ramp clearance and shutting the engines off on the LSO command. No motors airborne? Talk about committed. He briefly wondered if anyone had ever even attempted a barricade arrestment in a Hornet, a plastic jet, wracking his mind: Yes, he remembered – at least once before. Paddles showed us the video back in the replacement squadron. Back when all of this seemed just so much fun and none of it was hard.
Focus: Best to focus on the task at hand, a small voice reminded him, there’s work to do and you’re now at 2100 pounds useable gas. There’s the tanker at one o’clock, gear and flaps are up. Air-to-air mode and GUN ACQ selected on the weapons control switch – good lock.
Having a task to perform, a task he knew he could accomplish, quieted the voices of doubt and fear in the back of his skull, pushed the bulkheads out just that littlest bit. Three quarters of a mile and 110 ten knots of closure – a little hot – tanker must be: Yes, he’s already turning and I’m going acute – need to go to lag, ease back, control the closure. Hate to under-run, not when I need the gas so badly. And not when I’m so damned low – never tanked at 1200 feet before, and certainly never this low at night. It sure would be nice just to climb a bit. Get away from the water. Which is always there, the JG thought, unconsciously parroting one of his flight leads. Even when you can’t see it.
He took his eye off the tanker for a moment to reset his radar altimeter warning pointer, setting it back up to 1100 feet – back up from the 500 foot level set for the approach. Back immediately to the rendezvous, and there was the big tanker waiting for him, 1000 feet away, closure under control, and yes: the basket is already streamed, good man – two thousand pounds. Let’s do this the first try.
Once again aboard in close formation, port side to the tanker. “Cleared in, 311″ on the UHF, the tanker pilot’s sense of shared urgency overcoming the Navy’s usual custom of comm-out refueling procedure. Once again the low rumble of the refueling probe extending, the disturbed air coughing hoarsely against the canopy. Once again the customary sight picture, forward easy, forward, a little right wing down, right rudder, up and in. Push the hose forward, amber light to green, eyes flickering to the fuel gauge, and yes! Good transfer. “Approach, 311, plugged and receiving,” thought: Seems only moments ago. Answering himself, because it was.
“311, Approach, roger, report Texaco complete.”
“311.”
“Three-eleven, one-oh-four.”
“Go ahead.”
“Been talking to your rep in CATCC. They say tank you three-point-three useable for your next approach.”
The JO pondered this briefly, did the math silently, concurred: He’d burn eight hundred pounds for the approach, putting him back on the ball with 2.5 – too low for a bingo, but right at max trap weight, what with all the gas stuck in his starboard drop tank, plus the FLIR pod and the missiles.
“Roger, sounds good.” Relaxing now a bit further. Get a bit of gas, he thought. Try it again. I can keep this up as long as you can.
Quickly – far too quickly! – the green light on the refueling store turned amber again. The tanker pilot’s voice: “311, you’re complete. See you on deck.”
“311, roger,” waspishly, thinking to himself: That’s what you said the last time.
Backing out slowly, slowly out of the basket. Head check right – no traffic. Cross under to the starboard side, up and forward. The natural temptation was to leave, to switch off freq and leave the tanker pilot to his own devices, but no: Standard operating procedure and courtesy required him to stay in starboard echelon until the refueling hose was securely stowed back inside the pod. A red-lensed flashlight moving back and forth rapidly in the tanker’s cockpit – back to comm-out procedures, the JG thought. He looked aft and watched as the refueling drogue and hose snaked back towards the stowed position of the refueling pod, smoothly, rapidly, and then suddenly stopping, six feet out, waving in the air. Not quite home.
A pregnant pause. The JG suddenly aware of his breathing in the O2 mask again, a hoarse rattle. In. Out. In. Out.
“311, 104, I’m showing a fault light on the retract.”
“That’s affirm, 104. Your basket stopped about six feet from the stowed position. You’ve got some hose left out.”
“Roger, recycling.”
The JG watched with increasing interest – nothing.
“Did it go back out?” the tanker pilot asked, his own voice rising in tone.
“Negative.”
“Roger, I’m going to try the override,” adding after a moment’s pause, “What luck? I’m still showing a fault light.”
“Yeah, it didn’t move at all. Still trailing about six feet of hose and the basket.”
A new voice breaking in on prime freq: “311, approach, say your state?”
“311, ah – two-point-nine useable.”
“Copy 2.9. Report ready to come aboard.”
“311, wilco.”
“311, 104 – go ahead and start down. I’ll continue to troubleshoot up here. See you on deck.”
“311, roger. Approach, 311 is ready to commence.”
“311 approach, roger. Switch button sixteen, check in.”
“311.” The JG switched off the tanker frequency and up to approach, checking in as directed. He rogered radar vectors to the downwind heading of 175, and then in a moment of curiosity, dialed the tanker control frequency in to his aux radio receiver, heard the tanker pilot talking to what he presumed was the Departure Controller.
“Ican’t, ah. Can’t retract or deploy the hose, Departure. I’ve tried override and that’s all that I’ve got left on the checklist. One-oh-four is a sour tanker.”
“Copy, 104, sour tanker.”
“Departure, say bingo for FA-18 Charlie’s?” the tanker pilot asked.
“FA-18 bingo 3.3, divert airfield is Bahrain International.”
“OK, you guys realize that 311 is now below bingo and I’m sour, correct?”
A new voice breaking in on the UHF, the ship’s Captain by the sound of it. God almighty himself, sounding pretty weary: “That’s right, 104. He’s trick or treat, the hard way. He doesn’t know it yet, but he has to land here – we’re out of options. We’ll give him one look at the wires, then rig the barricade if we have to. If that doesn’t work we’ll eject him alongside, fish him out with a SAR helo. You worry about you, and that fouled store.”
“104, roger.”
“Oh, and 104?” the Captain added, “He doesn’t need to know about this.”
“Copy that, sir.”
No, thought the JG. He certainly doesn’t.
First reaction to this chapter: Sweet Jesus!
Second reaction: Could not pull a needle of the pilot’s @#! with a tractor!
Can’t wait for the next one!
It seems that snakes can move from one cockpit to another in mid air.
As for the kid in the cockpit, in my circles he would be termed a “s#!t magnet”. I am so in Lex’s world and the moment that Lipstick 6 had to nudge me out of the brain lock.Another fine addition for what should become the next Great American Novel.
Lex, shame on you. You made me swear!
Wonderful writing, as usual.
But I can’t help but notice you seem to have a sadistic streak that I hadn’t suspected…
Lex – Good Lord, snakes everywhere!!! This dude could really use St. Patrick right about now.
BTW – if I recall, the skipper’s not on deck yet, is he? Would he call up his kid on the sqdn comm and pep-talk him or let just let him go (being a professional aviator and all that)? Not much time, I know, seeing as how the kid’s about to commence again. Interested in your opinion seeing as how you were the Old Man at one point.
Thanks for yet another great installment – but can we get more than a sip of the fine wine (or scotch/whiskey/pick your poison) next time? Starting to feel like a junkie being strung along…need a bigger fix each time.
Brian
So, the options close in. Not enough fuel to bingo, no tanker, a night trap with an asymmetric load. One trap.
Bring him home, Lex.
Good stuff, Lex.
I just thought the previous episode had me at “PuckerMax”!
If this kid doesn’t get on deck soon I’ll die of constipation and never know what happened.
Ok, 2.9 useable and gotta get the sour tanker aboard before you can even think about rigging the barricade. Our trusty protagonist (sp?) gets one look at the deck and then the tanker is right behind him, assuming the tanker gets aboard first try (certainly not a given the way our luck has been so far!) and 10 minutes to rig the barricade (under best conditions when the flight deck knows it is coming and everyone is ready), I’m thinking that we gonna be on the ball with nothin but sailboat fuel left in the tank. Sorry Lex, just going back to the old days and trying (desperately) to get back out in front of the problem.
I can tell you one thing, Paddles will be in “Lip Lock” mode on the next pass…
Great stuff, waiting eagerly…
Nose
Lex,
The last option the Captain mentioned was a ditch and SAR Recovery. Wouldn’t it be easier to jettision the bad tank instead? I’d ditch only if there were absolutely no other options left.
Why, yes as a matter of fact I AM sweating. Terrific writing.
Lex, I’m concerned about you.
Really.
Are you getting enough sleep?
I mean, just how much time do you *spend* of a night, when you *should* be sleeping, working on these knuckle-nibblers?
Nice work at torturing us all, Lex. Not to mention the poor little dear in the cockpit that you won’t let off the hook.
Love it.
And a lovely example of what happens when you eavesdrop on that which is not meant for your ears. Speaking from experience, it’s ALWAYS something that would have been better for you not to know.
This is off topic, and it migh not be something you want to see.
USS Oriskany, a decommissioned aircraft carrier, is sunk 24 miles off the coast of Pensacola, Wednesday, May 17. The 888-foot USS Oriskany was sent to the bottom of the sea, forming the world’s largest man-made reef.
http://www.floridatoday.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20060518/VIDEO/60517026/1006
Eek! I just had a thought… The JG’s lead isn’t down yet. And are there others? With the fouled tanker, they’re gonna have to get down before the JG, ’cause if he has to do a barricade it’ll be awhile before the deck is ready again, yes?
Or would the ship be able to get another tanker up there quick, just not quick enough for the JG?
OMG – this poor guy’s situation is definitely anti-pretty. Bring him down, Lex.
You know, this is starting to get interesting.
If I’m not mistaken, the kid’s skipper is still up there too. So you’ve got at least 3 Hornets airborne, plus who knows what else – I don’t think this was actually the end of the cycle – so you likely have an E-2 (he’s good for several hours, but no refueling capability), and (presumably) a couple more Hornets and maybe a EA6 also looking to come back. And an S3 too?
Seems to me that the smarter option might have been after the FD waveoff to send the kid to Texaco and then on to the beach and go ahead and recover everyone else – or drop the tank and be done with it.
You’re not in a hot war, and to suddenly be looking at a barricade (and a lengthy FD in its aftermath, if I’m not mistaken – likely to push the rest of the guys airborne to the beach) or ditch situation just because a wing-tank won’t transfer seems rather overkill. Saving the jet from barricade damage or outright loss would seem like a reasonable line of thinking. Am I missing something here?
Funny how we’re already at the long green table and we don’t even know what happened in the end yet.
C’mon Lex – the PLAT LSO’s are restless…
Q: How do you keep hundreds of suckers in suspense?
A: Ask Lex, he knows….
Although I have to admit, secretly I love it. My cardiologist, on the other hand…
Lex, Sir – Respectfully, I’m gettin’ real aggrafretted at you. Fbl, I told him last episode I was about to decide he wasn’t such a nice man. He’s proving it!
Btw, I guess I can hold my breath longer than I thought… Good stuff!
Another beaut Lex.
No bingo range/bearing (opsec)? I can’t think. Hmmmm. No handy S-3′s in this all-Hornet wing. Launch the alert tanker off’n the bow-now.!
As far as the “kid” eavesdroppin’..another lesson learned. That’s for xose, cose and opso’s!
The barricade is effective. I’ve seen two (non-Hornet) and it works…but of course those 2 were case 1.
Fellow Blgosphere LSO Brian- re those other thirsty Hornets. I’d venture that while 311 was w/o and tanking they were still landing jets every coupla. Give Lex some slack!
B2
Plane guard destroyer alerted, SAR helo spooling up, someone’s passed the word to sick bay…just in case…
We’re all twitching Skipper –this is too good. Everyone here with aviation DNA is mentally working out the “what if”s…
Good stuff, Lex. I’ll keep my mouth shut on other options and continue to enjoy the ride. The long, long, long ride.
This method of torture reminds me of “24.”
Lex, You’ve been warned “the PLAT LSO’s are restless” whatever the #@#&% that means and your readers are whining and hyperventilating… so for the third time,I suggest you get on with it and get that young Nimrod on the deck. Best
P.S. Brian’s alternate scenario appears to this untutored dog to be a reasonable one worthy of comment.
Lex et al,
Not trying to be too picky on this, just thinking about the bigger picture whirling around the boat. The decisions being made are certainly going to be reviewed, and reviewing the actions of others is the definition of a PLAT LSO. Played it many hours myself in the RR’s of Indy and Midway.
Besides, half the fun of Rhythms is being able to dicuss it with the author.
Brian
Lord, what a rabble! Work my fingers to the bone punkin’ out two of these things in a six day period, and what do I get? Faster! What about the other guys? Have you thought about Air Force tanking? What’s a PLAT LSO?
Heh.
I’ve half a mind to just leave him up there a spell.
And after he’s done all the hard yakka and got on deck VIA the wires (3 of course) and made a hero out of himself and is taxiing to the bow thinking it’s all over, his brakes are going to work, right?
Oh God, if we’re not careful Lex is gonna work himself right into a full-blown snit and it’ll be another three months before the JG comes down from there.
Seriously Lex, two episodes so closely spaced were a real joy… and an agony when I realized they weren’t going to bring on the denoument any quicker.
Ah, surely you know, FbL: It isn’t about the destination, it’s about the journey.
Ah, surely you know, FbL: It isn?
Ah, surely you know, FbL: It isn’t about the destination, it’s about the journey.
Very true, sir. But patience has never been on of my many virtues. And of course it would be age and experience that would recognize the current applicability of that truth long before youth and exuberance do…
[Ah, surely you know, FbL: It isn?
[Ah, surely you know, FbL: It isn’t about the destination, it’s about the journey]
Are we there yet?
Lex – a PLAT LSO is what we called anyone sitting in the RR watching the PLAT and commenting on so-and-so’s technique (or lack thereof) in the groove. I’m sure you had your own term for the same activity.
As for the second-guessing, I’m an E2 guy – that line of thinking about the overall recovery situation etc. Is old habit. Did have to org a sudden trip for a bunch of Indy jets to Bahrain one time because a waist-cat shuttle got stuck and fouled the deck. (Maybe I shouldn’t put ideas in your head – Lord knows where we could end up next).
Anyway, it’s a pleasure reading, even if it’s in 5-minute snippets.
Brian (new C/S PLAT???)
You, sir, are a mean individual…. I guess we’ve still got room for a generator failure or two on final.
Lex,
I’m fairly new to your blogito, but I’m fairly old on the roman numberals. Part XLX ? I shouldn’t be surprised….talking to a burrito will do that.
Yeah, I’m a bit fuzzy or Roman numerals (for example, I have no idea what “L” is… but an “X” both before and after did confuse me. But then again, I just chalked it up to my ignorance.
“Now launch the Yo-Yo tanker”, is all that I could think of right now.
Rigging the barricade at night with too many planes still up there and this guy at trick or treat, is just asking for problems. Yet again this is where the Air Boss and the skipper of the boat get to make the tough decisions. I wonder if anyone has done any figuring on whether they can get a tanker airborne fast enough for 311 to take gas and maybe ask the CentCom air rep in Qatar to push one of those nice big USAF tankers over a little bit so 311 can get some more gas and make it to Bahrain. However, knowning Lex’s evil streak the minute 311 would hit the USAF tanker poor kid would induce the sine wave and cause the basket to snap back at him and cause him to start driving a convertable Hornet
…Just ran across Rythems a couple days ago and it’s got me in big trouble – can’t get any work done for reading ‘just one more episode’. Anyway, great stuff, keep it up.
[...] (Previously) [...]