Free The Intruders by Stephen Coonts Page A

a strange land,” Jake murmured, referring to himself and
McCoy.

The Intruders
    “Something like that,” the Real agreed. He pulled off his steel-toed
flight boots and tossed them carelessly on the floor. “This tour is
going to be an adventure,” he added sourly.
    “TA-huh.”
    “We’ve got an all-officers meeting in the ready room in about an hour.
I’m going to get fourteen winks. Wake me up , huh?” “Okay.
    McCoy turned over in his bunk and was soon breathing deeply.
    Jake snapped off the overhead light, leaving only his desk lamp lit, the
little ten-watt glow worm. He tilted his chair back against McCoy’s
steel foot locker and put his feet up on his desk.
    Thinking about Le Beau, he snorted once, but his thoughts soon drifted
on to Callie. The gentle motion of the ship had a tranquilizing effect.
After a few moments his head tilted forward and sleep overcame him.
    The skipper of the squadron was Lieutenant Colonel Richard Haldane. He
was a short, barrel-chested, ramrod straight man with close-cropped
black hair that showed flecks of gray. In this closed community of
military professionals his bearing and his demeanor marked him as an
officer entitled to respect. He took Jake aside after the all officers
meeting-boring administrative details in a crowded, stuffy room filled
with strangers-and asked him to sit in the chair beside him.
    Haldane had Jake’s service record on his lap. “We didn’t get much of a
chance to talk last night, Mr. Grafton, but welcome aboard. We’re glad
to have someone with your carrier experience.”
    “Thank you, sir.”
    “We’re going to assign you to the Operations Department. I think your
experience will be the most help to us there.”
    :’Yessir.”
    “During this transit to Hawaii, I want you to put together a series of
lectures from CV NATOPS.” CV NATOPS was the bible on carrier operations.
The acronym stood for fixedwing carrier naval air training and operation
procedures.
    “We’ve been through it several times while working up for this
deployment,” Colonel Haldane continued, “but I’d like for you to lead us
through the book again in detail. I want you to share with us
everything you know about A-6 carrier operations. Do you think you can
do that?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Richard Haldane nodded his head a millimeter. Even sitting down he
exuded a command presence. Jake sat a little straighter in his chair.
    “I see from your record that you have plenty of combat experience, but
it’s experience of the same type that most of the officers in this room
have had-bombing targets ashore.”
    “Single-plane day and night raids, some section stuff, and Alpha
strikes, sir, plus a whole hell of a lot of tanker flights.”
    “Unfortunately our combat experience won’t do us much good if we go to
war with the Soviets, who are our most likely opponent.”
    This remark caught Jake by surprise. He tried to keep his face deadpan
as Haldane continued: “Our part in a war with the Russians will probably
involve a fleet action, our ships against their ships. Mr. Grafton,
how would you attack a Soviet guided-missile frigate?”
    Jake opened his mouth, then closed it again. He scratched his head. “I
don’t know, sir,” he said at last. The truth was, he had never once
even thought about it. The Vietnam War was in full swing when he was
going through flight training, when he transitioned into A-6s, and
during his three years in a fleet squadron. The targets were all
onshore.
    “Any ideas?”
    Jake bit his lip. He was the naval officer and he was being asked a
question about naval air warfare that in truth he should know something
about. But he didn’t. He decided to admit it. “Sir, I think the
answer to that question would depend on a careful analysis of a Soviet
frigate’s missile and flak envelope, and to be frank, I have never done
that or seen the results of anybody else’s look. I suspect the Air
Intelligence guys have that stuff under lock and