Blackmail

66 USS HARRY S. TRUMAN

Captain David Randle stood on the Bridge, one level beneath Primary Flight Control in the aircraft carrier’s Island superstructure, as Truman surged northwest into the darkness. Fifty feet below, the first four F/A-18 Super Hornets, their engine exhausts glowing red, eased toward their catapults. Along the sides of the carrier, additional Super Hornets were being raised to the Flight Deck from the hangar bays. As the twenty aircraft in Truman’s first cycle prepared for launch, Randle knew the Reagan, Bush, and Eisenhower air wings were doing the same.

Lieutenant Commander Bill Houston pulled back on the throttles, slowing his Super Hornet as it approached the starboard bow catapult. In the darkness, he followed the Shooter’s directions, his yellow flashlights guiding Houston’s jet forward. The Shooter raised his right arm, then dropped it suddenly. Houston responded by dropping the fighter’s launch bar, which rolled into the CAT One shuttle hook as the aircraft lurched to a halt. The Shooter raised both hands in the air and Houston matched his motion, raising both hands to within view inside the cockpit, giving the Shooter assurance that Houston’s hands were off all controls. The Shooter pointed his flashlight to a red-shirted Ordie — an Aviation Ordnanceman — who stepped beneath the Super Hornet, arming each missile.

A signal from the Shooter told Houston his weapons were armed and it was time to go to full power. He pushed the throttles forward until they hit the détente, spooling his twin General Electric turbofan engines up to full Military Power. He then exercised the aircraft’s control surfaces, moving the control stick to all four corners as he alternately pressed both rudder pedals. Black-and-white-shirted Troubleshooters verified the Super Hornet’s control surfaces were functioning properly and there were no oil or fuel leaks.

Satisfied his aircraft was functioning properly, Houston returned the thumbs-up and the Shooter lifted his arm skyward, then back down to a horizontal position, directing Houston to kick in the afterburners. Houston’s Super Hornet was heavy tonight, with ordnance attached to every pylon; tonight’s takeoff required extra thrust. Houston pushed the throttles past the détente to engage the afterburners, then turned toward the Shooter and saluted, the glow from his cockpit instruments illuminating his hand as it went to his helmet.

The Shooter returned the salute, then bent down and touched the Flight Deck, giving the signal to the operator in the Catapult Control Station. Houston pushed his head firmly against the headrest of his seat and took his hands off the controls, and a second later CAT One fired with the usual spine-jarring jolt. Houston felt his stomach lifting into his chest as the Super Hornet dropped when it left the carrier’s deck, then he took control of his aircraft, accelerating upward. His seat pressed into him as he ascended to twelve thousand feet, where he settled into a holding pattern while Truman finished launching its first cycle.