Wingmen (9781310207280) Read Online Free

suits it.” Jack smiled and leaned back in
his chair. “So you came here from Deal’s Deadly Dealers?” He was
surprised at how fast the personnel office had hustled him up a
replacement pilot. It told him that Air Group Twenty was indeed
probably due to embark and sail sooner than Air Group Eight, a
vital bit of intelligence.
    “Yes, sir. I
hear I was transferred to replace a guy in the brig.”
    “House arrest
only. Don’t believe everything you hear.” Jack glanced down at his
desk. The jacket lay open to the hastily written fitness report.
“Lieutenant Commander Deal says your attitude and cooperativeness
aren’t up to par. What do you have to say about that?”
    Fred looked
sincerely puzzled. “I don’t think he liked me very much. I never
quite understood him.” He wondered if his little act was successful
and was relieved when the squadron commander tore the fitness
report out of the folder, wadded it into a tight little ball, and
dispatched it into a wastebasket behind the desk.
    “Jerry Deal and
his boys are the worst bunch of crazies this side of
Tongatabu.”
    Fred smiled.
“That’s funny. He said almost the same thing about VF-20.”
    “Let me guess
how he put it. The worst bunch of screw-ups this side of Vella
Lavella?”
    “Yo-yos this
side of Bora-Bora.”
    Jack sighed and
stretched, then put his hands behind his head. Suddenly he looked
very serious. “Jerry Deal loses more pilots than any other
skipper,” he said. “He teaches them to go charging off after
anything in the air without thinking about the consequences. They
get into fixes they can’t get out of, and the guys they’re supposed
to protect get clobbered. I’ve seen it happen.” He thought for a
moment. “Don’t repeat that to anyone.” Fred nodded. “I teach
cohesion,” Jack went on. “Clearly stated objectives and control to
achieve those objectives, with sections sticking together like glue
and divisions doing what they’re told. I teach radio discipline.
Last year we almost lost the Enterprise because the pilots jammed the
circuits with bullshit, and they couldn’t vector us onto the
incoming Jap planes.” Jack shut his eyes for a moment, remembering
that violent day.
    There was a
lull. Fred spoke first. “Any word as to when we’ll be sailing?”
    “Only
scuttlebutt, but it shouldn’t be too long. Ironsides has been in Pearl over a
month,” Jack said, using Constitution ’s nickname.
    “Good,” said
Fred. Then, to offset the implication that he was overeager for
killing: “I’ve seen all of Hawaii. A change of scenery might be
nice.”
    “You’re not
alone. Most of the guys are anxious to leave, even though they
don’t say as much.”
    Aircraft
engines sputtered and roared to life outside the building, and Fred
looked toward the window.
    “Well,” said
Jack, “back to work. Have you moved to this side of the island
yet?”
    “Not yet,
Skipper.”
    Jack pressed a
button on his desk, and a harried-looking enlisted man in working
whites opened the door. Jack told him to get a driver and a vehicle
for Fred and to have a room prepared at the BOQ with the rest of
the squadron. The enlisted man disappeared.
    “Take the rest
of the day off to get settled,” Jack said. “Tomorrow’s Sunday and
we don’t fly. Monday morning we do. Check in with the XO and he’ll
assign you to a plane and fill you in on details.” Jack stood; the
interview was over. “Nice having you in the squadron.” They shook
hands.
    “Yes, sir,”
said Fred. When he reached the door, he looked back at the squadron
commander. He felt good about him and expected a smile or at least
a nod. But Jack Hardigan was already hard at work.
     
     
4
    Ensign Fred Trusteau
was unofficially but overwhelmingly accepted into the squadron of
Fighting Twenty on the Saturday night of his arrival. His
initiation concerned a cherry stem and a girl.
    After driving
across the island of Oahu to retrieve his uniforms and toilet gear,
Fred checked