and big-wing aircraft. At least the deck had settled down and the wind had subsided.
Valley Forge had lucked out. A busted Hornet and a bunch of jets on the beach was a small price to pay for the decision to fly tonight. And it was a foregone conclusion that the Captain was going to recover what he could after clearing off the deck. The conditions had improved and everyone got aboard with no fodded engines — as far as he knew.
As he watched the Hummer fold its wings and taxi to its parking spot abeam the island, Wilson realized the night’s ordeal was basically over. But for Wilson, it was just beginning.
And everyone’s okay. Nerves may be shot, but everyone has all their fingers and toes, and we’re all breathing. Amazing. Wilson tilted his head back and yawned as he fought the urge to crawl into his rack and forget this night had even happened. This is going to be a long deployment.
The squadron, VFA-64, however, was not okay. Sponge’s plane, 406 was likely down for the cruise, and might never fly again. Sponge Bob was in sick bay for who knew how long, and no one knew what kind of pilot would emerge when he was discharged. Would he bounce back, or would he lose the confidence the squadron had spent the past year building into him?
Word of Wilson’s exchange with the XO was, no doubt, a major topic right now at midnight rations, or midrats. Summarily relieved of CATCC watch. Wilson replayed the image of Saint’s face as he relieved him. His own face, as well as his ears, flushed with blood as he fought to contain the flood of emotions that spread through his whole body — a mixture of rage, humiliation, and fear for Sponge’s life.
Should I have gotten up and left? No, he thought. I did the right thing. Leaving CATCC — with the eyes of all those witnesses on him under the crushing silence of embarrassment — would have been an act of capitulation. It had been bad enough just sitting there. He knew that issue was also being dissected at midrats, and he could imagine the discourse. “Man, if it were me, I would have said, ‘I stand relieved,’ and shoved the book in his gut on the way out.” Wilson slouched low in his chair staring at the gray locker in front of him, lost in his thoughts. Can I get through the next five months?
The door opened and Weed entered. He had just returned from the flight deck where he had accompanied the Maintenance Master Chief and airframe mechanics to assess the damage to
