Free Rules of Engagement (1991) by Joe Weber

when you break out."
    "Two Oh Two, copy," Palmer acknowledged, adding a small amount of power. His low-fuel state was becoming more critical by the second.
    Brad leveled off under the ragged overcast. He flew in and out of the scud at 400 feet.
    "Two Zero Eight," the Air Boss radioed, "extend downwind. We're rigging the barricade now. Say fuel."
    Glancing at the fuel-quantity indicator, Brad could hear Lunsford trying to control his breathing rate.
    "Two Zero Eight, one point six."
    The radar-controlled approach had consumed more than a thousand pounds of jet fuel.
    The LSO conversed with Austin for the next three minutes. H e s uggested a flat approach, due to the extra speed. Brad felt more comfortable having the carrier in sight during the entire approach.
    Dropping out of heavy rain with a single engine, battle damage , overspeed, and low fuel was a carrier pilot's second worst nightmare. The worst would be to find yourself in the same situation at night.
    "Two Zero Eight," the Air Boss radioed, "turn inbound. We'll be ready in less than a minute."
    "Two Oh Eight, turning inbound."
    Lunsford tilted his head back, eyes closed. "Austin, you better get your shit in one bag."
    "Ready deck," the Boss radioed from high in Pri-Fly. "Bring it home."
    Brad reduced power until the F-4 trembled, then added a nudge of throttle. His breathing became a series of gasps. Feeling claustrophobic, he ripped his oxygen mask loose and sucked in the refreshing ambient air.
    "Phantom ball, one point one," Brad reported as he held the yellow-orange meatball a fraction below the centered position.
    "Lookin' good," the LSO said calmly. "Stay with it."
    Brad tweaked the power back and forth, nursing the damaged fighter toward the rainswept flight deck. He was twenty-five seconds from the round-down when the Phantom again shuddered.
    "Keep it together," Lunsford said through gritted teeth.
    Focused on survival, Brad blocked out every sensory input except the spot where he intended to land. Watching the deck rush toward him, he concentrated on his lineup and the meatball. He was committed to land on this pass.
    Lunsford sucked oxygen. "Oh, merciful God . . . help us." "Power to idle!" the LSO coached, using body English to work the Phantom down. "Raise your nose!"
    Brad waited a second, then slapped the throttle to idle as the round-down flashed under the Phantom. He pulled back on the stick an instant before the fighter crashed into the flight deck, shearing off the nose gear.
    A horrendous screech filled the cockpit as the F-4 slammed into the huge nylon-webbed barricade. Both men were savagely thrown forward into their harnesses as the fighter slewed to a s udden stop. The nose-gear assembly bounced over the tangled barricade, ricocheted off the angled deck, and splashed into the sea.
    "Sonuvabitch!" Lunsford spat, then let out a sigh of relief. His tongue was bleeding from the inadvertent bite during the controlled crash landing.
    Brad quickly shut down the left engine and started releasing himself from his restraints and hoses. He was vaguely aware of the frantic action taking place around his demolished airplane.
    Two men scrambled up on the canopies and started pulling away the twisted nylon straps. Seconds later, Austin and Lunsford felt the brisk sea air sweeping over them as the canopies were raised.
    A half dozen rescue personnel helped the stunned crew out of their destroyed jet fighter. Brad and Russ were led to a hatch in the island superstructure. They were surprised to see the CO standing inside the opening. He had watched the barricade landing from Pri-Fly before rushing down to the flight deck.
    "You guys okay?" Dan Bailey asked, clearly awed by the magnitude of the crash landing.
    "I've been better," Brad answered, removing his helmet, "but I'm okay . . . physically."
    Bailey looked at Lunsford, who had also taken off his helmet. The CO saw the trickle of blood in the corner of the RIO's mouth. "You look like you need to sit