knots.
Yes, eighty. If you come across a trawler with a bunch of 50-gallon drums on the fantail, that boat is operating illegally. In either case, report it and we’ll relay the info to the Coast Guard. If they have a cutter nearby with a helo or a rigid hull inflatable, they can deal with it as a law-enforcement issue. You can’t — so just report back.”
One of the squadron commanding officers asked if they could contact a cutter direct to help coordinate an intercept. Hofmeister looked at the admiral and captain for guidance. Not receiving any, he answered, “Well, you could talk to them on emergency GUARD or find them on an HF frequency, but we don’t have any plan to assign discrete frequencies for direct coordination.” He looked again to his leadership for help, and CAG Matson stood up to address the group.
“Guys, we are not going to get involved with prosecuting the War on Drugs beyond reporting what you see, just as we would with any surface contact of interest. Maybe the E-2 will vector you to identify something for them, but that’s pretty much it. Same with low-slow fliers, and it is unlikely we’ll see any of those. This interdiction stuff is in the Coast Guard lane, and to keep all of us busy, we have our exercise and the ship has their engineering drills. If you see something unusual, sing out, and we’ll task some of the sorties to do routine surface search around the ship as we always do. Nothing new here.”
That was fine with Wilson, but he remained skeptical. Why bring the ship way down here, except to placate the State Department? Or the general in SOUTHCOM who wants some toys to play with so he can pretend to be a big time theater commander? Whatever the real reason, there were worse places to operate. Maybe, on the way home, they would get a port visit to Fort Lauderdale as a reward.
When Admiral Meyerkopf rose to leave, the room popped to attention. With the Captain and CAG in trail, he waited until he was almost outside before he released them with a terse “Seats.”
Annie gave Weed a smile. “Well, you gonna fly with us?”
Gesturing to Wilson, Weed answered. “If Kemosabe here will have me! Actually, we have about eight of us from OPTEVFOR on this test program. Seriously, can I bring one of my pilots to join the Firebird ready room? We’ll pay for the gas we use, and you’ll get extra sorties to pad your total. What a deal!”
Wilson smiled and nodded. “Sure, but who is the pilot? Not Chainsaw?”
Just then an imposing lieutenant commander in a flight suit walked toward the group. Well over six feet tall, he held Wilson’s gaze with his unsmiling, cold dark eyes as he approached. Weed introduced them.