Spartan 104 then trapped on a lucky four wire, and CATCC came on the radio to Sponge: “Four-zero-six, turn left to downwind. Fly heading three-five-zero. Report abeam.”
“Four-zero-six,” answered Sponge.
Wilson thought that Sponge Bob sounded cool. Despite his relative inexperience as an aviator, and despite a baby face that resembled the cartoon character, he could handle this. Maybe this experience will be good for him, thought Wilson. He needs to add a few lines to that face. CATCC was sending more aircraft to waiting tankers overhead. O’Shaunessy called to launch the alert 15 tanker, a Super Hornet. “Tell ‘em I need it in ten minutes,” he said.
Ding ding, ding ding… ding. The 1MC bells sounded again… 1830. Wilson turned his attention to a Hawkeye lined up left on the PLAT and watched it settle on a one wire and roll out on centerline. The familiar whooumm of the turboprops at full power penetrated the space. That sound was followed by a deep whhaaa as the prop pitch reacted to the throttle setting on deck. Now, there were three Hornets and a Viking left to recover, and Sponge was first in line.
On departure frequency, Wilson heard “Cutlass three-zero-five, report plugged and receiving.”
“Three-oh-five, wilco.”
Wilson glanced at The Big Unit, whose eyes remained locked on the PLAT. Both watched the flickering strobes of Sponge on final at three miles, but Wilson knew he, too, had to be listening to the departure frequency transmissions and thinking about the young Buccaneer pilot struggling behind the basket overhead.
* * *
All the aviators in the room had been there. In their minds, they climbed off the bolter with the pilot, raised the gear, switched frequencies to receive instructions, activated the radar and commanded it to automatically acquire the assigned aircraft. Even as their eyes joined the pilot’s eyes in search of the tanker, the idea of being in a low-state aircraft far from land lurked in the corners of their minds…
There it is! That cluster of lights at 2 o’clock high. The pilot levels off at 2,000 feet and holds 250 knots, on altitude, controls the closure, and gets on bearing line. The pressure is on to join up and plug on the first try. As the pilot draws near, the flashing strobe lights illuminate the outline of the tanker, and the basket suddenly extends out of the refueling store. With his left hand, the pilot reaches down from the throttle and extends his refueling probe. With his left foot, he feeds in some bottom rudder to align the fuselages. Stabilized on the tanker’s left wing, he sees the tanker pilot make a circle with his flashlight — the signal to plug.
