Feeling CAG’s look of apprehension, Wilson nodded. “Concur, and Annie is on it. Rick, can I talk to him?”
The Air Operations Officer handed him the radio handset.
Wilson took it and transmitted. “Three-zero-two, Firebird rep.”
Recognizing his skipper’s voice, Trench answered, “Go ahead, sir.”
“Just leave everything alone, you are inside fifteen minutes to landing. You’re doin’ great. Out here.”
“Roger, sir.”
Annie jumped back in. “You’re settling… you’re low. Pick the nose up. Okay, bunt nose down and hit altitude hold. Airspeed good, just under one-thirty. Just slightly right of course, six-point-five miles.”
What everyone involved knew, and what Trench sensed, was that the invisible last-chance “window” for the ship to lock him was looming just ahead. Actually, they were inside it, and Trench wanted them to lock him up now so he and Annie could stop struggling with calls over the radio.
“Three-zero-two, approach. Are you receiving landing check discrete?”
“Affirm!” Trench lied, hoping but not knowing if he had a good landing check. It was now or never. Annie kept the calls coming.
“Okay, stabilize. Trim the stick forces out. Doin’ good… roll a little left…. Approach, lock him now.”
“Four-zero-two, report coupled.”
“Trench, push the bottom push button,” Annie guided.
With his fingers, Trench felt for the push button that would link 302 to approach control, and pushed it.
“Coupled!”
“Sending commands—” the approach controller continued.
Trench felt the aircraft twitch and throttles move under his left hand. Yes! he thought as a wave of relief swept over him. The ship had him now.
“Command Control!” he transmitted.
“Roger three-zero-two, slightly right of course and correcting at five miles. Nice job.”
On the bridge, in Primary Flight Control, in Air Ops, and in Annie Schofield’s cockpit, all those monitoring the situation breathed a sigh of relief. While continuing to fly escort on Trench, Annie kept her jet at a safe distance from him so the ship’s final control radar would not jump over and lock her.
Wilson and the others in Air Ops watched the “dot” of 302 loom larger as it gravitated closer to the glide slope “crosshairs” on the PLAT camera mounted in the flight deck. All of them knew what could happen. The ATC or flight controls could “kick off,” and it would be too late to lock Trench inside the window. When the controller said, “Three-zero-two, you’re on course at four miles,” they knew they were committed. Above them on the flight deck, Wilson heard the Air Boss on the 5MC loudspeaker; “