Sponge held Wilson’s gaze. “You’ve got it, Flip.”
“Good man.”
“One thing though,” Sponge added.
“Go.”
“I don’t want to fly with the XO again this cruise.”
Wilson listened to his words and thought for a few seconds.
“I mean it. I flew with him a lot on workups; he’s my fighter section lead. He gives a shitty brief, and then he shits on you in the debrief when things go bad — which they often do. Know what we did last night? We were supposed to do 2v2 intercepts with the Bucs. XO calls their Skipper before the brief and bags out with some BS excuse about the weather and my training requirements. So we brief breakup and rendezvous training for me, like I’m back in flight school. We did six of ‘em — him in the lead the whole time and me chewing up my gas. There was no discussion of the weather, the diverts, pitching deck procedures, how many incoming and off-going tankers airborne. Flip, I should be the lead for him. No more. I’m done.”
Leaning forward in his chair with his elbows on his knees, Wilson stroked his chin. “That’s a tall order. I can minimize your time together, but it’s a long cruise. Once we draft it, the CO can still tweak the sked, and you could be paired with Saint.”
“Flip, I need a break from the XO.” Sponge looked almost desperate.
“I’ll keep you apart in the short term — no promises about the entire cruise.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“What are you going to do first?”
“Honestly, sleep. Too keyed up last night.”
“Good. We’ll find you some flight gear and bring it down for fit later. Don’t expect to fly tomorrow or the next day, so do the admin stuff you need.”
“Yes, sir. Thanks, Flip.”
“No worries,” Wilson replied as he got up to leave.
“He did what?” Cajun exploded, both angry and dumbfounded. His eyes narrowed on Wilson.
“Yes, sir, he called it early this morning.” Giving up the XO gave Wilson the perverse pleasure he had wanted all day.
“What did he say?” Cajun asked with disgust, as he got ready to study the flight schedule. With the JOs at dinner up forward and Nicky out of earshot at the duty desk, the ready room was more or less deserted.
“He said we’re entering a combat zone, and we’ve got to be at the top of our game. Need to look good around the ship, brief everything, and fly the brief.” Cajun knew Wilson was telling the truth, but sensed there was more. The fact that Saint had called the APM was transgression enough, but Cajun wanted to know if he had done anything else over the line.
