platform. But the Cats were known for landing and taking off in tight places. So just as this first airplane went into its final approach at high speed, there was a blinding explosion. To the astonishment of all on deck, the sky just below the falling airplane was suddenly full of yellow fire.
Those watching had to shield their eyes, so bright was this flash. But once the initial shock wore off, it became apparent that the airplane was not in trouble. This was, in fact, the standard procedure for AirCats landing in a confined area. The flash came as a result of six rocket bottles that had been lowered from underneath the AirCat scout plane’s wings.
The rockets served as a massive and sudden air brake, counteracting the AirCat’s forward speed and giving the big fighter bomber just enough of a kick in the ass to slow it down to a reasonable landing speed. The airplane hit the carrier deck a second later, bounced once, then came down hard again. At this point four more, small but brilliant, explosions went off—the rocket bottles were firing again, this time straight forward, serving as a ground brake for the aircraft. By the time the smoke cleared from these flashes, the bouncing aircraft had come to a stop, not far from where the deck gang had gathered. In all, the huge fighter needed but 175 yards in which to land safely. With the scream of its engines and the flash of its rocket bottles, it was made for a very impressive entrance.
Serving as the makeshift deck crew, the Unit 167 members ran out to push the expended scout plane out of the way. It was a good thing they hustled, because sure enough, another Cat was coming in right on its tail. And there was another one behind that. And another behind that.
It went on like this for the next half hour. The thirty-six airplanes touched down at forty-five-second intervals, and it was all the deck crew could do to push each one out of the way before the next one banged in. It was a hectic operation but in the end, a successful one. The huge HellJets came in last. Landing in the same manner as the smaller brothers, there was just enough room left on the deck for the last bomber to come down.
Then all was quiet again.
Per Y’s previously issued order, as soon as the last AirCat was aboard and secured, word was radioed ahead to the huge Bro-Bird. Within seconds the big seaplane’s engines began turning and its towlines became taut.
Then the order went out to the accompanying tugboats. Those with lines began moving forward, flanking the monstrous seaplane. Those on the ass end nuzzled their noses up against the carrier’s rear. Slowly but surely, the whole conglomeration began to move.
Awake now, and somewhat coherent, Y watched this operation from the bridge. Their course was due south. In front of him was the map with the burned hole put there by Vogel the ghost. Y shivered every time he looked at it, but he knew that another map just wouldn’t do. Not that he felt this map was lucky or blessed in any way. Rather, he thought it would be very unlucky to get rid of it.
So here it was.
They were under way only twenty minutes before there was a knock on the bridge door.
Y called out to come in, and the twin commanders of the AirCats stepped through the door.
They surprised Y by saluting him. He returned it quickly, then shook hands with both men, though a bit nervously.
After receiving a brief report stating that all of their airplanes had come aboard safely and that they were looking forward to the journey, Y told the pair to sit down. They did, taking the navigator’s and engineer’s chairs, respectively.
Y studied them for a moment. In the daylight it was his first chance to get a good look at their mugs. Both men were in their early fifties, and their faces were full of previously unseen character. The lines and wrinkles on their cheeks and brows told of many air battles fought and won. The wrinkles around their mouths told of many glasses of liquor drunk and
Those watching had to shield their eyes, so bright was this flash. But once the initial shock wore off, it became apparent that the airplane was not in trouble. This was, in fact, the standard procedure for AirCats landing in a confined area. The flash came as a result of six rocket bottles that had been lowered from underneath the AirCat scout plane’s wings.
The rockets served as a massive and sudden air brake, counteracting the AirCat’s forward speed and giving the big fighter bomber just enough of a kick in the ass to slow it down to a reasonable landing speed. The airplane hit the carrier deck a second later, bounced once, then came down hard again. At this point four more, small but brilliant, explosions went off—the rocket bottles were firing again, this time straight forward, serving as a ground brake for the aircraft. By the time the smoke cleared from these flashes, the bouncing aircraft had come to a stop, not far from where the deck gang had gathered. In all, the huge fighter needed but 175 yards in which to land safely. With the scream of its engines and the flash of its rocket bottles, it was made for a very impressive entrance.
Serving as the makeshift deck crew, the Unit 167 members ran out to push the expended scout plane out of the way. It was a good thing they hustled, because sure enough, another Cat was coming in right on its tail. And there was another one behind that. And another behind that.
It went on like this for the next half hour. The thirty-six airplanes touched down at forty-five-second intervals, and it was all the deck crew could do to push each one out of the way before the next one banged in. It was a hectic operation but in the end, a successful one. The huge HellJets came in last. Landing in the same manner as the smaller brothers, there was just enough room left on the deck for the last bomber to come down.
Then all was quiet again.
Per Y’s previously issued order, as soon as the last AirCat was aboard and secured, word was radioed ahead to the huge Bro-Bird. Within seconds the big seaplane’s engines began turning and its towlines became taut.
Then the order went out to the accompanying tugboats. Those with lines began moving forward, flanking the monstrous seaplane. Those on the ass end nuzzled their noses up against the carrier’s rear. Slowly but surely, the whole conglomeration began to move.
Awake now, and somewhat coherent, Y watched this operation from the bridge. Their course was due south. In front of him was the map with the burned hole put there by Vogel the ghost. Y shivered every time he looked at it, but he knew that another map just wouldn’t do. Not that he felt this map was lucky or blessed in any way. Rather, he thought it would be very unlucky to get rid of it.
So here it was.
They were under way only twenty minutes before there was a knock on the bridge door.
Y called out to come in, and the twin commanders of the AirCats stepped through the door.
They surprised Y by saluting him. He returned it quickly, then shook hands with both men, though a bit nervously.
After receiving a brief report stating that all of their airplanes had come aboard safely and that they were looking forward to the journey, Y told the pair to sit down. They did, taking the navigator’s and engineer’s chairs, respectively.
Y studied them for a moment. In the daylight it was his first chance to get a good look at their mugs. Both men were in their early fifties, and their faces were full of previously unseen character. The lines and wrinkles on their cheeks and brows told of many air battles fought and won. The wrinkles around their mouths told of many glasses of liquor drunk and
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