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GWOT I - USN - Birds Away
Aug. 3rd, 2023 08:42 pmGWOT I - USN - Birds Away
I am back on the carrier.
During the three weeks I was gone, my stuff was thrown in a duffel and thrown in a compartment. It will turn up someday.
After a short shower and a borrowed change of uniform, I have written three short reports. The boarding of the freighter, our landing and raid on the power facility, and my actions in 'investing' the city.
There are Marine officers to do that sort of work. I am a Naval officer and I am needed on a warship.
The 1MC roars suddenly.
"Vampire! Vampire! Vamp..."
The deck rocks, the 1MC cuts out mid word, and I curse not having a helmet.
I rush myself to the hangar deck.
It is like deja vu. Another fucking hangar deck fire.
This time I go directly to a damage control compartment, flip open a locker, look at buttons and press four. Jets of foam shoot out in strategic places. Only then do I put on a set of fireproofs (which are not!) and get to a hose line.
Someone has to take point. Then others follow.
That is why I am here. That is what I do.
"All hands, all hands. Fire and explosion on the hangar deck."
The last time I heard that, secondary explosions killed all firefighting personnel on the ship.
I don't even pause.
###
We have the fire controlled. Dump the fireproofs, get myself up to PriFly. Not much I can do in CIC but watch. A year of training I just don't have. But I can hum the tune and fake it as a deck officer.
"Find me ammunition," the air operations officer delegates to me.
Every compartment on a ship contains something. Software says what. I know the software. But who has been updating it?
We need ammo handlers. Some are dead. Weeks ago for some, just now for others.
The handling equipment of the ship was a low priority for replacement. We barely have pallet jacks, let alone forklifts.
But there's a logic to where the ammunition could have been stored. Even on shore, even doing pistol work in alleys, the three dimensional plans of the carrier are engraved on my brain.
I borrow a clipboard and start blocking the problem out.
###
Four aircraft. That's what we have. According to doctrine, they should take turns in pairs as a standing air patrol to protect the carrier.
Fuck doctrine. We have Marines who need close air support. So no CAP. Single fighter air strikes are the name of the game.
Missiles and bombs. A priority for the pilots. You must bring back your plane. Do the best work you can but don't take chances.
We lose two of the four within the day. Six reinforcements arrive. We lose three of those the following day.
One up. We'll take what we can get.
###
We are sailing north, parallel to the Chinese coast ten miles out. Just far enough to have warning if shore batteries fire on us. Close enough to give damaged aircraft a chance to land, or at least ditch over water where the only enemy is sharks.
The Chinese are tough, intelligent opponents. We are fighting for revenge. They are fighting for their lives, and also for revenge.
We should have expected the lame duck maneuver.
It nearly cost us a carrier. Again.
###
"Midnight Six, Midnight Six, I am bingo fuel and have electronics and stabilizer damage. Need to land immediately."
The IFF was valid. The pilot's voice, a controlled frantic. The mission and recovery vector, correct.
What we didn't know was that Midnight Six was already dead.
Later analysis indicated that he had been the victim of a well planned air defense artillery ambush so that a rocket-assisted STOL jet could take his place, without anyone noticing the switch.
###
"Enemy carrier, twelve kilometers. Radar reflection values approaching fine discrimination."
"Birds away."
###
"What the hell?!?" Loudly, in the CIC, "Kill Track 23-6 With Birds! Kill Track 23-6 Now!"
It had spawned a forest of secondary tracks and gone supersonic. But it had not, as prewar doctrine suggested, changed bearing to escape.
Twelve incoming missiles. A thirteenth, somewhat slower with two souls aboard.
###
This time I was in PriFly, giving an ammunition status report. So I saw the frantic activity and had time to duck under the console as the Plexiglas shattered for the fourth time this war.
Not everyone was so lucky.
A headless corpse spraying blood sat at the status desk.
I ignored the dead and the wounded alike and picked up the CIC phone.
"Disable IFF. Batteries release on all tracks!" I ordered.
If anyone else was coming in, they were dead too.
But if we didn't splash all thirteen, the hypothetical friendly aircraft wouldn't have any place to land anyway.
###
The Godfart of the kinetic CIWS was desperate. Then it turned to a high whine.
My fault. Out of ammo.
The cracks of the laser CIWS were too far apart. Not my fault. Battle damage.
The pairs of Sea Sparrow close in defense missiles lit off. Trying for enemy missiles before they got us.
It looked like someone was coming in to land.
I thought for a horrid moment that I had made a dreadful mistake.
The trajectory was not for landing. The aircraft was too small.
It was for colliding with the 'island,' the very part of the carrier where I stood.
Without thinking I switched the intercom to 1MC.
"Kamikaze dead aft! Brace for shock!"
I made no effort to escape.
That would be abandoning my post.
###
When I came to, a thin rivulet of blood was running down my face. I levered myself up.
A ball of flame was dead aft. Close but not on board.
A pair of Marines, getting up from where they had also been knocked down by the shockwave, were rapidly reloading a portable launcher.
The PriFly displays were dead. I grabbed two ratings and pointed out sectors to watch by eyeball.
"Now hear this," I thundered again. "Defensive weapons free."
The Marines - for all I knew the only remaining defenders of the ship - started sweeping the horizon with the infrared seeker of their hand held anti air launcher.
I switched frequencies to Air Guard. This was worth betraying our position over. Besides the Chinese already knew where we were.
"Do not approach this ship or you will be subject to immediate defensive actions! Do not reply." I set the message to delayed repeat.
With our IFF and radars out and radios questionable, and four fighters in the sky, they needed to know that they had no home to return to
I opened the storage software when I found a working computer. I needed to find that ammunition. I did.
"Now hear this. A loading party will report to Compartment 232 dash 1 dash 7. Take the CIWS ammunition to the aft mount at once!"
###
I stood at attention before the Commanding Officer.
I was ready to explain. I resolved not to try to defend myself.
"You give me no choice," the Captain thundered.
He threw a set of tabs at me.
"Put those on. Report to the alternate CIC. Start training. I need officers with killer instincts. You can learn the systems and you can listen to the enlisted who know them. By the time we get CIC fixed, you will know something of what you are doing.
"Son, you bet my carrier on your judgment.
"And. You. Were. Right. Dismissed."
I am back on the carrier.
During the three weeks I was gone, my stuff was thrown in a duffel and thrown in a compartment. It will turn up someday.
After a short shower and a borrowed change of uniform, I have written three short reports. The boarding of the freighter, our landing and raid on the power facility, and my actions in 'investing' the city.
There are Marine officers to do that sort of work. I am a Naval officer and I am needed on a warship.
The 1MC roars suddenly.
"Vampire! Vampire! Vamp..."
The deck rocks, the 1MC cuts out mid word, and I curse not having a helmet.
I rush myself to the hangar deck.
It is like deja vu. Another fucking hangar deck fire.
This time I go directly to a damage control compartment, flip open a locker, look at buttons and press four. Jets of foam shoot out in strategic places. Only then do I put on a set of fireproofs (which are not!) and get to a hose line.
Someone has to take point. Then others follow.
That is why I am here. That is what I do.
"All hands, all hands. Fire and explosion on the hangar deck."
The last time I heard that, secondary explosions killed all firefighting personnel on the ship.
I don't even pause.
###
We have the fire controlled. Dump the fireproofs, get myself up to PriFly. Not much I can do in CIC but watch. A year of training I just don't have. But I can hum the tune and fake it as a deck officer.
"Find me ammunition," the air operations officer delegates to me.
Every compartment on a ship contains something. Software says what. I know the software. But who has been updating it?
We need ammo handlers. Some are dead. Weeks ago for some, just now for others.
The handling equipment of the ship was a low priority for replacement. We barely have pallet jacks, let alone forklifts.
But there's a logic to where the ammunition could have been stored. Even on shore, even doing pistol work in alleys, the three dimensional plans of the carrier are engraved on my brain.
I borrow a clipboard and start blocking the problem out.
###
Four aircraft. That's what we have. According to doctrine, they should take turns in pairs as a standing air patrol to protect the carrier.
Fuck doctrine. We have Marines who need close air support. So no CAP. Single fighter air strikes are the name of the game.
Missiles and bombs. A priority for the pilots. You must bring back your plane. Do the best work you can but don't take chances.
We lose two of the four within the day. Six reinforcements arrive. We lose three of those the following day.
One up. We'll take what we can get.
###
We are sailing north, parallel to the Chinese coast ten miles out. Just far enough to have warning if shore batteries fire on us. Close enough to give damaged aircraft a chance to land, or at least ditch over water where the only enemy is sharks.
The Chinese are tough, intelligent opponents. We are fighting for revenge. They are fighting for their lives, and also for revenge.
We should have expected the lame duck maneuver.
It nearly cost us a carrier. Again.
###
"Midnight Six, Midnight Six, I am bingo fuel and have electronics and stabilizer damage. Need to land immediately."
The IFF was valid. The pilot's voice, a controlled frantic. The mission and recovery vector, correct.
What we didn't know was that Midnight Six was already dead.
Later analysis indicated that he had been the victim of a well planned air defense artillery ambush so that a rocket-assisted STOL jet could take his place, without anyone noticing the switch.
###
"Enemy carrier, twelve kilometers. Radar reflection values approaching fine discrimination."
"Birds away."
###
"What the hell?!?" Loudly, in the CIC, "Kill Track 23-6 With Birds! Kill Track 23-6 Now!"
It had spawned a forest of secondary tracks and gone supersonic. But it had not, as prewar doctrine suggested, changed bearing to escape.
Twelve incoming missiles. A thirteenth, somewhat slower with two souls aboard.
###
This time I was in PriFly, giving an ammunition status report. So I saw the frantic activity and had time to duck under the console as the Plexiglas shattered for the fourth time this war.
Not everyone was so lucky.
A headless corpse spraying blood sat at the status desk.
I ignored the dead and the wounded alike and picked up the CIC phone.
"Disable IFF. Batteries release on all tracks!" I ordered.
If anyone else was coming in, they were dead too.
But if we didn't splash all thirteen, the hypothetical friendly aircraft wouldn't have any place to land anyway.
###
The Godfart of the kinetic CIWS was desperate. Then it turned to a high whine.
My fault. Out of ammo.
The cracks of the laser CIWS were too far apart. Not my fault. Battle damage.
The pairs of Sea Sparrow close in defense missiles lit off. Trying for enemy missiles before they got us.
It looked like someone was coming in to land.
I thought for a horrid moment that I had made a dreadful mistake.
The trajectory was not for landing. The aircraft was too small.
It was for colliding with the 'island,' the very part of the carrier where I stood.
Without thinking I switched the intercom to 1MC.
"Kamikaze dead aft! Brace for shock!"
I made no effort to escape.
That would be abandoning my post.
###
When I came to, a thin rivulet of blood was running down my face. I levered myself up.
A ball of flame was dead aft. Close but not on board.
A pair of Marines, getting up from where they had also been knocked down by the shockwave, were rapidly reloading a portable launcher.
The PriFly displays were dead. I grabbed two ratings and pointed out sectors to watch by eyeball.
"Now hear this," I thundered again. "Defensive weapons free."
The Marines - for all I knew the only remaining defenders of the ship - started sweeping the horizon with the infrared seeker of their hand held anti air launcher.
I switched frequencies to Air Guard. This was worth betraying our position over. Besides the Chinese already knew where we were.
"Do not approach this ship or you will be subject to immediate defensive actions! Do not reply." I set the message to delayed repeat.
With our IFF and radars out and radios questionable, and four fighters in the sky, they needed to know that they had no home to return to
I opened the storage software when I found a working computer. I needed to find that ammunition. I did.
"Now hear this. A loading party will report to Compartment 232 dash 1 dash 7. Take the CIWS ammunition to the aft mount at once!"
###
I stood at attention before the Commanding Officer.
I was ready to explain. I resolved not to try to defend myself.
"You give me no choice," the Captain thundered.
He threw a set of tabs at me.
"Put those on. Report to the alternate CIC. Start training. I need officers with killer instincts. You can learn the systems and you can listen to the enlisted who know them. By the time we get CIC fixed, you will know something of what you are doing.
"Son, you bet my carrier on your judgment.
"And. You. Were. Right. Dismissed."
