Flight of the Intruder

TWENTY-ONE

Jake left Tiger Cole at the bar in the Cubi Point 0 Club Without a carrier in port, the place was dead. Carrying a fresh scotch, he headed for the pay telephone, pockets weighted down with thirty dollars in quarters. He and Cole had arrived the day before, signed in the B O Q, and reported to the duty officer-as Camparelli had instructed them to do. At the bar Cole had said, “You should call.”

“It’s a lot to ask of her,” said Jake.

Cole shook the dice cup and rolled. “Call her.”

He selected a pair of threes and returned the other dice to the cup.

“Wish I had your problem.” He rolled again. A third three. “Go on.”

Jake felt as though he were feeding quarters into a slot machine.

Less than half his scotch remained when he heard Callie’s voice amid a hum and intermittent static.

“It’s me. Jake.”

There was a pause. “Jake! Great to hear your voice. I thought you were at sea. Where are you?”

“Cubi Point in the Philippines. I flew here yesterday afternoon in a cargo plane with another guy, my bombardier.”

There was another pause. “Are you on leave.

“Sort of.”

“Jake! You’ve been hurt!”

“No, no. I’m fine. Really, I’m okay. I’m calling from the O Club, and I’ve got a scotch in my hand.”

“If you’re drinking scotch, I suppose you must be all right.”

“Well, actually, everything’s not all right. I got into some trouble.”

“Trouble? What kind of trouble?”

He began searching his pockets for cigarettes. “I got into trouble with the navy. I did something wrong, didn’t follow orders exactly.”

“How serious is it? This trouble you’re in.”

“Oh, it could be worse. They’re not going to shoot me or anything. I’ll survive. I’m going back to the ship in maybe three days to deliver a new plane. But I’d sure like to see you before I go.”

“I’d like to see you, too. I really would.”

“Could you come?”

“Huh? You mean fly out to the Philippines?

Now?”

“Yeah. I know it’s a lot-“

“It’d be very difficult to leave just now. My job. It’s such short notice. Maybe-” “Callie, I need to see you.” Waiting for her reply, he cradled the receiver between his head and shoulder, and lit a cigarette.

“How would I get there?”

You fly to Manila. I can meet you there and bring you back to Cubi.”

“Why not stay in Manila?”

“Can’t. I’ve got to report to the duty officer here every morning.”

“It’s really serious, isn’t it?”

Jake took a breath before answering. “Yes. It’s pretty serious.”

“Hold on. I’ll see if there’s anything I can work out right now. You can hold, can’t you?”

“Sure.” After a few minutes he was told to add more quarters. He fed the slot as quickly as he could. A coin slipped from his hand, hit the counter, and fell to the floor. He didn’t bother to pick it up.

Finally she came back on.

“Jake?”

“Right here.”

“I can’t come until the day after tomorrow.”

“That’s okay.”

“I can catch a flight arriving in Manila at one-fifteen Saturday. That doesn’t give us much time together. you still want me to come?”

“You bet. I really want to see you.”

“Okay. I’ll be on Cathay Pacific flight 923.”

“Got it. Hey, I can’t wait to see you-and thanks.” After promising Callie that he’d relax and take care of himself, Jake made another phone call, then returned to the bar and came up behind Cole. “She coming, shipmate?” Cole acknowledged this with a hint of a smile. Jake went on, “This guy I know in the flying club here will fly me to Manila to meet her.”

Jake picked up the dice and put them in the cup. After a shake he turned it over on the counter.

Five aces.

They looked at each other, then stared at the sign behind the bar: “Five naturals buys the party, five aces buys the bar.”

Cole made a show of surveying the empty room “Barkeep,” Tiger called.

“Give me a double of the most expensive stuff you have back there. And pour Yourself one, too.” His blue eyes met Jake’s and the corners of his mouth twitched. “Without a doubt Grafton, you’re the luckiest man I’ve ever met.”

Jake stood with his arm around Callie while Harold made a thorough preflight inspection of the four-seat Cessna 172. Harold’s caution impressed Jake. Most pilots who had completed the first half of a flight would check nothing more than the fuel and oil before taking off again the same day.

Even so, Jake knew that he would not be at ease with Harold at the controls.

He was not comfortable in an airplane unless he was flying it.

“I hope this flight is better than my last one,” said Callie. She had complained about the turbulence on her flight from Hong Kong as soon after Jake had kissed her at the customs exit and given her a long hug.

“It was pretty smooth at four thousand feet coming over here,” Jake said.

Callie squeezed Jake’s hand and said, “I don’t want to hassle you, but when we’re on the plane maybe you could tell me about the trouble you’re in.”

Jake smiled. “These prop planes are pretty noisy. You have to shout to be heard. I thought that when we land at Cubi, we’d check into a hotel and then, if you’d like, we could go to the beach. I know one that’s sugar white and very quiet. I found it one day when I was flying. It’d be a good place to talk.”

Callie grinned. “Sounds like a good plan to me.”

The air was bumpy in the climb, but when the plane passed through 3700 feet, the ride suddenly became smooth. Harold’s seat was higher than those in the rear, where Jake and Callie sat, and the angle of the climb made it appear even higher. To Jake it seemed as though Harold sat on a throne. His bald pate shone in the afternoon sun. It saddened Jake to think that after one more flight in the Intruder, he would never again have control of his destiny in the air.

When they were flying downwind to the runway at Cubi Point, Jake estimated from the direction and slope of the windsock that Harold would be fighting about a fifteen-knot crosswind from the left on final approach-tough for a Cessna to handle. As Don Harold turned from left base to final he pushed on the right rudder to align the nose of the plane with the runway. Jake watched Harold put the Cessna in a slip by holding right rudder and dipping the left wing. Now the airplane could track straight down the final approach course in spite of the stiff crosswind. Jake heard a chirp as the Cessna touched down on the left wheel and then a softer chirp as the right wheel eased down and the plane settled on the runway. Jake said loudly “Good job! You caught the three wire!”

He and Callie took a cab to the Subic main gate They walked across the bridge to the nearby hotel. Earlier, he had paid the clerk a premium price for the best room available.

Callie surveyed the room. The dark green paint was peeling. Water stains blotched the ceiling and wall. A faucet dripped in the chipped porcelain sink. “I feel like I’m in the Hide-A-Wee Hotel for a sordid affair.

Saying nothing, Jake went over to try to stop the ieak- His hand froze on the faucet handle-a water logged black roach, about an inch long, lay upside down on the drain, with one bent antenna stuck to the bottom of the rust-stained sink. Jake stepped quickly into the bathroom and tore off a bundle of toilet paper When he came out, Callie was staring at a picture of black and white cow that stared back at her with lugubrious expression. It stood in a field of very green grass. “This print looks like it was cut from a dairy ad.

“American export art.”

He stood in front of the sink, half-hiding it from Callie- Reaching into the bowl, he scooped up the roach in the toilet paper, taking care not to squeeze to rightly. Callie’s voice came from behind.

“What’s that in your hand?”

“It’s, uh, nothing much-“

“What is it? A bug of some sort? Is that what it is?”

“Yeah.”

“What kind?”

“It’s a black bug.”

“It’s a what?”

Jake sighed. “It’s a cockroach.”

Callie sat gingerly on the side of one of the two single beds, causing its springs to make boinging noises. Jake reached for the closed toilet lid and hesitated; he decided to flush the toilet first.

“How big was that roach, anyway?” Callie called from the other room.

The toilet groaned and rattled as it filled up. “I didn’t measure it.”

“It’s a big one. I know it.”

He lifted the lid, plopped in the wad of tissue paper, and flushed again.

“My God, it’s bigger than I thought. Hasn’t it gone down yet?”

“Callie. Relax. I didn’t try flushing it down the first time.”

“Then why did you flush the toilet?”

“Just checking it out, that’s all. It really seems to be working great.”

The toilet gave out a screech just before it stopped filling up. Jake watched it long enough to know it wouldn’t overflow, then he went and sat down next to Callie. She was on the edge of her bed with her head in her hands.

Jake was relieved to see that she was tearless. “I know this place is the pits.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

She looked at him. “Does the bathroom have a shower or a bath?”

“No. But there’s a shower down the hall.”

“I have a brilliant idea. Why don’t we go to the Hilton instead? Or the Holiday Inn? That’d be fine too.

“I think we’re stuck. There aren’t any decent places around here.”

“Well, check the beds for crawling things. I want to be sure I’m not the next meal for something. If the beds pass inspection, I guess I’ll survive.

“Will you?”

“Sure. As long as I have you.”

The jeepney was orange and white, and frilly tassel jiggled from its canvas top. With Callie and Jake in back, it left Po City behind and headed out on a macadam road that was filled with potholes. The young Filipino driver seemed to delight in hitting the holes at full speed and ignored Jake’s pleas to slow down. His passengers were knocked about and, at times, propelled straight up into the air.

Callie asked, “How much longer?”

“Twenty or thirty minutes.”

“I don’t think I can last that long.”

“Hang tough.”

“If I were pregnant, I’d lose the baby after this ride.” The driver honked his tinny horn at some chickens in the road.

They got out of the jeepney on the outskirts of a small fishing village.

Jake persuaded the driver to wait for them by tearing a twenty-dollar bill and giving him half. Then they trudged more than two hundred yards to the beach.

Holding hands, Callie and Jake strolled barefoot on the clean white sand where it was soft and damp from dissipating waves. Jake liked it when the fizzing water of a wave swirled around his ankles and, as it receded washed between his toes and sucked at the san beneath his soles. Jake and Callie were alone on the beach.

Callie said, “That sunset is gorgeous “You should see one at thirty thousand feet.

“I’d like to. It must be spectacular.”

“It is. I hope I see another one from the air.”

Callie was wearing Jake’s Jersey City Athletic Club T-shirt; on her it looked like a nightie- Jake was bare-chested and he had rolled up his jeans.

They had walked a distance on the damp sand and now, they headed back toward the blanket they had taken from the hotel closet, the dark blue blanket that Jake suspected was navy-issue.

Callie asked, “What can happen to you’?”

“They could court-martial me. They could send me to prison.”

“Surely they wouldn’t send you to prison.”

“It’s a possibility. They’re conducting an investigation on the ship now.

When it’s over, they’ll probably decide to court-martial us.”

“But a court-martial is like a trial, isn’t it?”

“Yes. It’s the military’s version of it.”

“Then it could be decided in your favor.”

“Not likely.”

“But it could be.”

“Listen, what I did was damned serious. A few weeks ago one of my sailors lied to me. I wanted the skipper to hammer him good, but the Old Man decided not to. I wanted this guy disciplined because he lied, because he broke my trust. What I did is a lot worse than what that sailor did. They’ll come down hard on me, you can count on that. They won’t let me get away with disobeying orders, not something this big. The State Department will have to be told, maybe even the president.”

“I understand. I’m not trying to deny the seriousness of what you did. But I don’t think you should assume there’s no hope. Now what else could the navy do to you, short of sending you to prison?”

“They could boot me out with a dishonorable discharge. I’d have one helluva tough time getting a job in the civilian world with a dishonorable on my record. They could ask me to resign my commission, and give me an honorable. That way, I could at least get a flying job.”

“Anything else they could do?”

“Well, at the very least I guess they could give me a letter of reprimand or censure, which would be put in my personnel file. If that happened, I could stay in the navy for a while. But there wouldn’t be much point in it. I’d never be promoted. I’d be a lieutenant for the rest of my career.”

“Couldn’t they just bawl you out and leave it at that?”

“Slap my wrist and send me on my way? Fat chance. Any way you cut it, my career in the navy is over.” Callie didn’t respond.

The sun had been replaced by a bright three-quarter moon. The air was cooler and they sat shoulder to shoulder on the blanket. Callie’s arms encircled her drawn-up legs, which were almost hidden by the T shirt. “How will you handle it if it turns out you can’t fly any more?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’ll just have to adjust somehow. But I sure as hell won’t miss the war. The bombing. The killing. I’m sure tired of all that.”

“You’ve done your part.”

“I wouldn’t say that. I don’t like the idea of leaving the fighting to others. It’d be like … running out on the other guys.

Sure, the war sucks.

But I’ll quit fighting only because the navy makes me quit.” Then he added, “You think we should all quit. Now. Right?”

“Yes,” she said. “That’s my opinion. But we don’t want to get into that again, do we?”

Jake thought about it. “Nah. Who wants to talk about the war, anyway? The hell with it. Let’s go for a swim.” Jake moved about thirty feet to the left of the blanket to undress. While removing his jeans and underpants he stole some glances at Callie, who undressed sitting down, taking off her shorts and panties beneath the T-shirt, which she kept on. When she giggled it startled him. He’d never heard her giggle before.

“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, airspeed 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.”