As an incredulous Wilson closed the ship and took extra glances behind him to see if Weed reappeared, his mind replayed the scene. What did I just see? What did Weed just do?
It made sense. That’s why we’re down here, he thought. Weed and his “Jedi Knights,” like the weird Mongo, are working with the new Fire Scout drones to attack drug smuggling submersibles. Wilson had heard of such drug-smuggling vessels. He wondered how many the drug runners had, and how did Weed know where to find it? He must have had tipper information but from where, from whom? Is this the kind of “testing” they are doing every day?
Wilson continued to replay the event in his mind. It was as if Weed had kicked over an anthill, seen the agitated ants swarm to the surface, and then blown them away. Wilson had seen Weed drop the Mk-76’s on the water — on the submersible — and if 25 supersonic pounds of kinetic energy hadn’t punched a hole in the vessel, it had scared them enough to “blow tanks” and surface. Or to open the hatch and abandon ship. It must have been enough of a signature for the Fire Scout to launch a missile, which Wilson figured was something like a Hellfire.
Then, Weed had finished them off.
The submersible had lifted one end out of the water and had sunk like the Titanic in her death plunge. Then Weed had strafed the spot it went down. Had Weed seen people struggling in the water? My gosh! We’re the Americans and, we pick up survivors. Wilson followed that thought with another that was just as disturbing. In an action of this type, witnesses — like Wilson had become — could pose problems.
Wilson remained troubled as he went through the motions of his practice bomb delivery on the wake. In a gentle dive he placed his string of Mk-76’s “behind” the spar as it dragged through the water 1,000 feet behind the ship. As he then went off to hold for the recovery, his mind unable to concentrate on anything except what he had seen.
As the recovery neared, he dropped his tailhook and joined the aircraft holding above Coral Maru in lazy circles. All were waiting for the aircraft on deck to launch and be clear of it for their recovery. Fuel was on everyone’s mind, and the aircraft maneuvered to fly over the ship in practiced sequence.
Wilson entered the circle at angels three, 3,000 feet. Below were two flights of Rhinos from the Raiders and Hobos, and across the circle was a section of two Hunter FA-18Es. Weed was also flying a Hunter aircraft, and Wilson searched for him. Wilson would have joined up on him and come into the break together, like the old days, when they were friends — like they were a few hours ago. But what had transpired