Wilson stepped onto the LEX, removed his videotapes from the machines behind the ejection seat, put them in his helmet bag, and descended the ladder. Mongo brushed past Airman Dubose and reached toward Wilson’s bag. “I’ll need those tapes, sir.”
Bristling, Wilson clutched his bag, and bared his teeth under his helmet visor. “Excuse me, Lieutenant Commander, I am post-flighting my aircraft!” CAG stepped in to defuse the situation.
“Guys… guys…. Let’s go below. Nice job, Jim,” he shouted as he put his hand on Wilson’s back, pulling him toward the island. CAG turned to Dubose, who was as puzzled by this reception as was Wilson, and pointed to 301. “Nice looking jet, airman! Keep it up!” Dubose nodded as the three pilots walked away toward the island, shrugging his shoulders at more strange officer behavior he couldn’t begin to figure out.
Wilson fumed as Mongo led them to a catwalk abeam the island and descended to the O-3 level where he undogged the hatch so CAG and Wilson could enter the ship. Once inside and away from the flight deck chaos, they removed their helmets. CAG spoke over his shoulder as he led them down the passageway.
“Jim, we need to go to CVIC. No worries, but we need to talk there.”
The carrier intel center was where Wilson was going anyway to debrief, as would any aviator after a hop. He could see that he was going to be debriefed by CAG himself on what he had seen out there. But one thing was sure: From this point on, he would not allow Mongo to step into his ready room, much less fly one of his jets.
Once at CVIC, the sentry buzzed them in, and CAG led them past the tables of intel officers taking aircrew debriefs. Among them was Shane who smiled at her CO. Wilson nodded back, mindful of the need to look as normal as possible, despite his high-ranking escort.
A conference table sat in the middle of the small room they entered, and workstations with computer monitors ringed the perimeter. Charts of the area were displayed on the bulkheads, and in one upper corner the ubiquitous PLAT monitor showed the recovery that continued on the flight deck. They heard the roar of a Growler trapping aboard one deck above them.
Mongo closed the door behind them and went to a file cabinet to retrieve a folder. CAG motioned for Wilson to take a seat.
“Jim, what did you see out there?”
Feeling Mongo’s hostile stare on him, Wilson began. “I saw a Rhino, flown by my friend, drop 76’s in a patch of ocean. Suddenly, an object, which I assumed to be a submarine, surfaced where he was bombing, and a