“CINCNAVSPECFORCE, arriving.” The call over the carrier’s loudspeakers was nearly lost in the thundering propwash. With its engine pods tilted up and its huge propellers serving as lift rotors, the VC-22 Osprey eased in over the landing spot on the Enterprise’, forward flight deck. Smoothly, it settled onto its undercarriage trucks. By the time Commander Nolan Walker had reached it, the VTOL’s tailgate had lowered, allowing the sole passenger to disembark.
“Admiral Macintyre,” Walker yelled over the declining wind roar, “I’m Commander Walker, Admiral Tallman’s chief of staff. The Admiral sends his compliments and welcomes you to Task Force 7.1. The Admiral also apologizes for not having you piped aboard properly. However, we are spotting the strike to launch at this time.”
“Forget it, Commander,” Macintyre yelled his reply in return, handing the cranial helmet he had worn back to the Osprey’s crew chief. Redonning his officer’s cap, he continued, “We don’t need to worry about protocol just now.”
As the Osprey’s engines spooled down, the operational clamor of the carrier’s deck was beginning to come through: shouted orders, the wind and sea rush of the carrier’s passage, the howl of the deck-edge elevators as the strike birds were lifted topside.
With warloads beneath their wings, a row of big F/A-22 Sea Raptors hunkered down along the flattop’s deck edge, their plane handlers and aircraft captains paying attendance to them in the dimmed red glow of the work lights. Each was being meticulously positioned to feed into the catapults like bullets into the chamber of a gun.
“The Admiral is waiting for you up in Pri-Fly, sir.”
“Very good. Commander. Let’s go.”
“Welcome aboard, Eddie Mac.” Tallman gave Macintyre’s hand a quick, solid shake. “Glad you could make it in time for the show.”
“Yeah, well, that’s one of the advantages of setting up a new command — you get to set your own doctrine. With me, that includes sitting in on any major op involving my people. I hope you don’t mind having an observer cluttering up your decks.”
Macintyre was careful to emphasize the word “observer.”
NAVSPECFORCE had a critical role to play within Storm dragon. The Cunningham and her people were at the very heart of this operation; however, Seventh Fleet would be providing the guts and the muscle. This was Jake Tallman’s show, and there was no time for playing any power game.
Tallman gave an acknowledging nod. “No problem. You want to take a break before we get into it?”
“No. I’m set. Let’s go.”
Tallman led the way back into Primary Flight Control, the aviation operations center that circled the rear of the Enterprise’s island structure. This was the home of the carrier’s air boss and his staff, now illuminated only by ranked CRT screens and the starlight filtering in through the big observation windows that overlooked the flight deck. Those windows were buzzing in their frames as the men entered. An SH-60 Oceanhawk was just lifting off the flight deck. With its running lights flaring, the ASW helicopter payed off to clear the carrier and climbed away to the northwest.
“The clock has started on the operation and we have initiated the Stormdragon time line,” Tallman said. “That was our Combat Search and Rescue helo launching now. She’ll top off her tanks aboard the Cunningham and be in position off the beach when our air strike goes in over Shanghai.”
“Where is the Duke currently?”
“Moving into the Yangtze approaches.” Tallman nodded toward a computerized chart table that carried the graphics of the strike zone. “She’s scheduled to go full stealth in about an hour, and to open fire in about two.”
“Thanks.”
Macintyre stepped across to the chart tank and gazed down at the lone position hack hovering just outside the gaping dragon’s jaws of the Yangtze.
“May I send a message out to her, Jake?”
“Sure. Nolan, set him up.”
The Chief of Staff spoke quietly to a radio operator seated at one of the communications consoles.
“All right, sir. Go ahead.”
“Thank you, Commander.” Macintyre thought for a moment, recalling a conversation.
“From CINCSPECFORCE. To Commander A.L. Garrett, C. O., USS Cunningham. Good luck out on the forefront of battle.”