The Aquitaine Progression Read Online Free Page A

lost their commanding officer. Lieutenant Senior Grade Gordon Ramsey had been hit by a fluke rocket that had winged out of its trajectory over the coastline and zeroed in on Ramsey’s fuselage; the explosion had filled the jet streams, death at six hundred miles an hour in the air, life erased in the blinking of an eye. A severe weather front had followed hard upon the squadron; there would be no more strikes, perhaps for several days. There would be time to think and that was not a pleasant thought
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    “Lieutenant Converse,” said a sailor by the open wardroom door
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    “Yes?”
    “The captain requests your presence in his quarters, sir.”
    The invitation was so nicely phrased, mused Joel, as he got out of his chair, acknowledging the somber looks of those around the table. The request was expected, but unwelcome. The promotion was an honor he would willingly forgo. It was not that he held longevity or seniority or even age over his fellow pilots; it was simply that he had been in the air longer than anyone else and with that time came the experience necessary for the leader of a squadron
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    As he climbed the narrow steps up toward the bridge he saw the outlines of an immense army Cobra helicopter in the distant sky stuttering its way toward the carrier. In five minutes or so it would be hovering over the threshold and lower itself to the pad; someone from land was paying the Navy a visit
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    “It’s a terrible loss, Converse,” said the captain, standing over his charts table, shaking his head sadly. “And a letter I hate like hell to write. God knows they’re never easy, but this one’s more painful than most.”
    “We all feel the same way, sir.”
    “I’m sure you do.” The captain nodded. “I’m also sure you know why you’re here.”
    “Not specifically, sir.”
    “Ramsey said you were the best, and that means you’re taking over one of the crack squadrons in the South China Sea.” The telephone rang, interrupting the carrier’s senior officer. He picked it up. “Yes?”
    What followed was nothing Joel expected. The captain at first frowned, then tensed the muscles of his face, his eyes both alarmed and angry. “What?” he exclaimed, raising his voice. “Was there any advance notice—anything in the radio room?” There was a pause, after which the captain slammed down the phone, shouting, “Jesus Christ!” He looked at Converse. “It seems we have the dubious honor of an unannounced visitation by Command-Saigon, and I do mean visitation!”
    “I’ll return below, sir,” said Joel, starting to salute
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    “Not just yet, Lieutenant,” shot back the captain quietly but firmly. “You are receiving your orders, and as they affect the air operations of this ship, you’ll hear them through. At the least, we’ll let Mad Marcus know he’s interfering with Navy business.”
    The next thirty seconds were taken up with the ritual ofcommand assignment, a senior officer investing a subordinate with new responsibilities. Suddenly there was a sharp two-rap knock as the captain’s door opened and the tall, broad-shouldered general of the Army George Marcus Delavane intruded, dominating the room with the sheer force of his presence
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    “Captain?” said Delavane, saluting the ship’s commander first despite the Navy man’s lesser rank. The somewhat high-pitched voice was courteous, but not the eyes; they were intensely hostile
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    “General,” replied the captain, saluting back along with Converse. “Is this an unannounced inspection by Command-Saigon?”
    “No, it’s an urgently demanded conference between you and me—between Command-Saigon and one of its lesser forces.”
    “I see,” said the four-striper, anger showing through his calm. “At the moment I’m delivering urgent orders to this man—”
    “You saw fit to countermand mine!” Delavane broke in vehemently
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    “General, this has been a sad and trying day,” said the captain. “We lost one of our finest pilots barely an