“WHAT?! Dammit!! Mother-f…!” Marty O’Shaunessy was not having a good recovery. He needed the alert tanker to launch immediately to get more gas in the air, and instead he gets this. He shook his head in disgust and grabbed for the phone.
“Roger, one-zero-five. Stand by,” the Boss said.
Wilson heard O’Shaunessy plead with the Boss. “Can you put a tractor and tow bar on him? Push him to the Cat! We need that gas airborne!” Wilson knew there was no time even for that desperation measure, maybe not even time for 105 to taxi to the catapult normally.
Sponge was expected at the ramp in minutes.
“Fuck!” O’Shaunessy said, as he slammed down the receiver.
When Air Ops next heard the flight deck loudspeaker through the deck, it was the Air Boss. “C’mon! We’ve got a Hornet at five miles! Chop! Chop!” Things were obviously not going well on the roof.
The Boss was not happy with the barricade progress. The nylon netting was laid out on deck and was attached to the two barricade stanchions embedded into the deck. However, the heavy strands were tangled and bunched together, and some of the plates were not yet in position. The Flight Deck Officer and Bos’n were everywhere. They shouted orders, grabbed sailors, jumped over nylon straps, and checked the connections to the stanchions. While Shakey and the other LSOs watched, they were joined on the platform by a new LSO. It was Stretch.
“Are we havin’ fun, guys?” he said with a grin. Stretch was a perpetual optimist.
“Hey, glad yer here,” Shakey answered. “We’re set. Just briefed him. He’s about one-point-five now… See him out there?”
“Yeah… I’m not night adapted, so you and Dutch wave him. You’ve been doing great out here tonight. And remember, if he’s not set up, pickle him early.”
“Roger that,” Shakey said.
The Air Boss exploded again on the 5MC microphone. “All right, get out of there! Raise the barricade on signal!”
From the platform they heard more shouting as dozens of sailors scurried away into the catwalks and behind the island. Moments later, the Flight Deck Bos’n gave the signal and watched as the barricade assembly rose into the air, carried aloft by the two large stanchions.
In the subdued Air Ops space, Wilson and the others watched the barricade ascend, its heavy vertical nylon straps fluttering in the wind, into the PLAT’s field of view. In the distance, on the left side of the picture was Sponge, represented by the pulsing external lights of an FA-18. Saint was still there in Air Ops and still in his flight gear. He sat off to the side and concentrated on the PLAT.
