“Cool, sir.”
“You gonna watch us?” Wilson asked with a smile.
“If I can, sir,” the teenager replied. Both knew that the flight deck was not open to a lot of sightseeing.
Dubose descended the ladder and then stowed it in the LEX. Standing next to 301 at parade rest, he waited for engine starts.
Across the deck Wilson saw Jumpin in 307 and noted several troubleshooters around the aircraft. Oh, oh.
Like clockwork, at thirty minutes before launch time, the Air Boss came up on the 5MC flight deck loudspeaker to set the familiar ballet in motion with his singsong cadence:
“On the flight deck, aircrews have manned for the fourteen-thirty launch. Time for all personnel to get into the proper flight deck uniform. Helmets on and buckled, goggles down, sleeves rolled down, life vests on and securely fastened. Check your pockets for loose gear and FOD. Check chocks, chains, and loose gear about the deck. Stand clear of intakes, exhausts, prop arcs, rotor blades and tail rotors. Let’s start the go aircraft! Start ‘em up!”
Dubose lifted his arms to signal ready, and Wilson gave him a thumbs-up to proceed. Dubose, like the other dozen Hornet plane captains on deck, signaled for Auxiliary Power Unit start, and Wilson lifted the switch to energize the APU that would soon provide starting air to the jet engines.
The jets scattered about the flight deck cranked to life, a whirring growl of machinery, and with the APU’s online, the plane captains led their pilots through engine starts in practiced order. A whoosh of air entered the engine bays to start the turbines as the pilots ignited fuel in what soon became a screaming, high-pitched whine of jets. The hummmm from the E-2 turboprops and the whirrr of the MH-60 Sierra plane guard filled in the background. Sailors in multicolored jerseys scurried about with varied tasks, flight deck tractors weaved among the aircraft, chiefs identified by their khaki trousers walked about supervising the young sailors like Dubose. Arguably the most dangerous work environment on earth was aroused to conduct another “routine” launch and recovery.
A warm breeze circulated among the aircraft as the ship moved through the gentle swells, the sun high overhead and the afternoon buildups gaining strength. To the west were two small rainclouds dumping gray sheets of water on the sea, and high on the tower mast the Stars and Stripes flew above the white and red signal flag for flight ops, FOXTROT.
With his canopy down to drown out the din, Wilson flicked on avionics and radios and punched in the frequencies and waypoint coordinates he would need for this flight. He did love it down here and, by the look of the flight deck, the crew did, too. As they went about their tasks in the warm sunshine, they knew that, if the ship went into the squall, many could find a reason to go below.