While 62 continued to gain altitude there was a definite change in the light outside of the cockpit windows. It was becoming rapidly brighter and the clouds changed to a blue-gray from the forbidding dark gray that they were moments ago. The aircraft's nose punched through the top of the clouds at 21,000 feet and the crew found themselves skimming through the tops of the altocumulus while the EC bounced in and out of the bright tropical sun,
Shortly after leveling out at 26,000 feet with the clouds below them rolling to the horizon in all directions, Rick headed for the cargo compartment to escape some of the tedium of the long flight ahead by eating an in-flight box lunch. He put on his headset. "Crew Chief is back on." Then made himself comfortable next to Leo in one of the empty airline type seats in front of an unused radio console before digging out the new paperback novel he had picked up on his way to the flight-line. Except for the occasional voice of a radio operator, the cargo compartment turned radio room, was a quiet place to relax and read.
The crew chiefs were snapped out of their reverie by the sudden increasing whine of the engines as more power was brought in. The nose came up a fraction of a second later and the EC started a climb with more power than the normal en route climb demanded. Rick glanced out the minuscule window in the over-wing hatch as he and Rosko hurried forward to the flight-deck. Through that restricted viewing port, the small portion of sky that was visible was very black and really ominous looking. When they entered the flight deck, Rick could see directly through the windshield where the sun was still brilliantly shining above them, but below and on all sides of the EC were huge black, writhing and rolling cumulus clouds. When he reached the nav's station he checked the altimeters. Both read barely 32,000 feet and were still slowly creeping upward. Rick caught the Nav's glance who gave a small shrug and rolled his eyes upwards with a small smile on his face.
Rick shook his head slightly and mouthed "fun" in response.
While Razorback 62 and her crew had been moving southward and just as they had entered their racetrack-shaped holding pattern over the Gulf of Tonkin, off the coast of North Vietnam. The predicted low pressure area had been moving steadily northward faster than predicted and building in strength. The tops of its cumulus clouds had grow in proportion to the storm's rapidly building strength.
They revolved back to the west side of the racetrack orbit on a southerly heading only to find that the tops of the cumulus clouds had grown considerably since their last orbit forcing the pilot to put the EC into a staggering climb for 34,000 feet to get over the group of menacing cumulus blocking their track. In front of them, more cumulus were building and although 62 was well above them for the moment, no one could say for sure how long they would remain above them. The fuel heavy aircraft would climb no higher until a lot more JP-4 was burned out of her tanks.
As a consequence of Mother Nature's show of power, 62's crew was sure that they were the only lunatics flying anywhere in Southeast Asia. There seemed to be nothing going on but the rains and wind. As no peace conference in Paris could, the monsoon had brought most of the war machinery on the ground to a grinding halt and for all intents and purposes the radios in the cargo compartment were silent.
Shortly after climbing to their maximum altitude, the pilot sent a message to the command post on Okinawa advising them of the weather that 62 was encountering and the lack of radio traffic in hopes that the CP would order them to return to Kadena or at least move further north, away from the troublesome low pressure area.
The answer came back rapidly. It said in plain language, 'Stay put, maintain your station, but climb at your discretion.'
The attitude change on the flight deck was obvious. The easy small talk over the intercom ceased. The young copilot's quick smile changed to tight lipped scowl and the pilot's usually smooth and youthful face was pulled up into a frown while he alternately scanned the altimeters and the fuel gauges as he was willing the still fuel heavy EC to climb.
After burning off three more hours of JP-4, the EC had struggled up to and barely grazing 40,000 feet and were again starting to punch through the tops of the still growing cumulus. The EC had slowly gained altitude, but it was slow going to reach her maximum altitude of 44,000 feet and the black menacing and ice-laden clouds continued to build faster than 62 was gaining the needed, remaining altitude
In less than 30 minutes, the pilot could no longer maintain their racetrack orbit. He was rolling up into 30 degree banks, the steepest bank the delicate radio equipment in the cargo compartment could handle, in an attempt to avoid the more deadly looking tops.
A second, more terse message was fired off to Okinawa. This time the pilot requested that 62 be allowed to leave station, head northeast away from the building low pressure area before turning north to Okinawa and home. Rick watched everybody start to get uptight again as they waited for the CP on Okinawa to come to their relief. The nav was monitoring the radio, intent on catching their call sign. The copilot was sipping one of his many cups of water while he tried to chew a dry sandwich from his in-flight box lunch. The pilot was a study of concentration as he was planning his moves as far ahead as he could see in an attempt to at least miss the worst of the growing cumulus clouds. At the same time, he was edging 62 a little higher as each pound of JP-4 burned off. All the time he was wagering a losing battle trying to maintain the orbit that had been assigned to them. On the other hand there was the boom operator. He was no longer bouncing around as his usual energetic self. The 'turkey' was stretched out on his seat, feet propped up on the sexton stool and with an expression of complete trust on his face. He was sound asleep.
An enlightening, but none the less disappointing message was received from the Kadena CP. Now 62's crew knew why they were still there and that their flight was not a completely stupid and illogical thing to be doing, orbiting over still growing cumulus clouds in a huge area of low pressure off of the coast of North Vietnam for no good conceivable reason. Later in the afternoon, from somewhere to the west and slightly north of them, another type of EC135 on a completely different kind of mission, would be flying towards them and like 62, he would turn north for Okinawa after crossing over the coast of North Vietnam. 62's mission was to play interceptor with the weather for the 'hog-nose' EC by sending weather updates to assure him and the CP on Okinawa that the front door would not slam in his face since the 'hog-nose' was now committed to a flight north away from the worst of the storm and the relative safety of the South China Sea and 62 was also available if the 'hog nose' ran low on fuel and needed a gas station in a hurry as well as to relay radio transmissions should he have trouble communicating with Okinawa. They had a coast crossing ETA for the other EC of about 1745 hours Okinawa time. Everyone on the flight deck hoped it would be then or sooner since three more hours of flying time would be drastically eating into their fuel reserves.
The message also removed all requirements to maintain a specific orbit. To the crew of 62 the simple phrase 'fly at will' made the whole mission easier to handle. Command post gave them the latitudes and longitudes of a huge block of air space to hold position in that made the only restrictions the lack of altitude, which would improve slightly and the maximum banks that the radio consoles could take before they would come crashing down onto the cargo compartment deck.
Having been relieved of maintaining any semblance of an orbit, the pilot freely rolled 62 up into a turn to avoid a top that minutes before they would have to penetrate adding more ice to the thin layer that was cracking and flaking from 62's skin. From now on the pilots would fly visually and let the navigator worry about their position. They dodged around gigantic mountain tops, cruised up dark walled canyons, skimmed the tops of monstrous white crowned buttes and always scratching for more altitude. After four hours on station, they had crept up to 43,000 feet. The tops were still growing around them and becoming more intimidating as time went on. The black canyons of clouds that they had easily flown up around and b
ack down a short while before were becoming deeper, darker and narrower.
The click of the intercom caught the crew chief's attention when the navigator spoke, "I just cranked the radar up as high as will go at 66,000 feet and I don't think that its hitting the tops of these clouds. I'm guessing, but I think the tops are over 80,000 feet. The last I knew a 135 wouldn't climb that high. Just thought you guys would be interested in that little tidbit of knowledge."
"Smart ass", came back softly through Rick's headset.
The tension on the flight-deck built some more as the fuel gages read lower and lower and the engines consumption started to eat into their reserves. The situation had reversed itself. No longer did they want to burn off JP4 to gain altitude. They now needed to cut back on fuel consumption to make it back to Okinawa.
The Razorback had reached her max ceiling of 44,000 feet and would climb no higher. They were trapped in an endless maze of towering pink mountains and majestic blue-black buttes. They could no longer reach the northern end of their block to break out into the clear for a temporary respite. The weather had flanked them in that direction also. No longer was the sun warm and friendly, it had settled in the west, behind the highest tops and more and more the EC was plunged into the gloomy, dull blue gray shadows that the giant cumulus were creating.
At 1730 hours the word reached them. The hog-nosed EC had crossed the coast safely. She had turned north and was highballing it for Kadena with fuel to spare.
"I've got it!" came over intercom. The copilot relinquished his controls when the pilot spoke. Immediately 62 started into a 30 degree bank to the right and 180 degrees around a huge cumulus towering thousands of feet above them. He rolled them out of a northerly heading going up another canyon and then twisted and turned them working the EC northeastward, away from the threatening, ice-laden clouds and brought them closer to home with each twist.
In a little over an hour and in the feeble light of a pale half moon, Rick saw the clouds laid out below them in a dark blue and black rippled surfaced carpet. The altimeters still read 44,000 feet to conserve their fast dwindling fuel reserves while they too were highballing it for Okinawa and home.
This time it was the power coming off that brought Rick out of his book. He looked with question at Leo who was half asleep in the airline seat next to him.
A shrug of his shoulders as Leo mouthed "Home".
The nose went down when the copilot brought up 10 degrees of spoilers and 62 started her descent for a long 'straight-in' ILS approach to runway 5. The wind had turned over 180 degrees since they had departed earlier in the day.
The fuel totalizer read 2800 pounds, give or take 4%, remaining in the tanks. That was just over 400 gallons of the almost 27,000 gallons of JP-4 that they took-off with earlier in the day. There was just enough JP-4 left for one approach. After that all they could do was hope.
The pilot was intent on the flight instruments when the EC charged down into the cloud bank. The rain came sparingly at first, but as they penetrated into the storm's belly it increased into a torrential downpour. The EC's tail started sidestepping in swift hard jabs when the cross winds slammed the tall vertical stabilizer. After a couple of solid bumps, everyone was grabbing and locking seat-belts and shoulder harnesses. The buffeting increased as the pilots slid the EC down the electronic chute towards the distant and still hidden runway.
The pilot with help from the autopilot was busy keeping the bucking and sidestepping 135 on the glide path. The rest of the crew was straining to look through the streaming rain which was whipping across the windshield, trying to be the first to spot the 'rabbit' running down the approach lights.
"I have the rabbit". hollered the eagle-eyed copilot before Rick spotted the ball of white light as it jumped from one set of approach lights to the next.
The red approach end runway marker lights quickly followed the 'rabbit', then a wet 'twippp' and solid thump of the mains coming down onto the rain blackened concrete. The pilot keyed his mike while the engines spooled down to a mellow purr and he settled the nose gear gently onto the white paint of the runway's centerline. With a soft chuckle he challenged the copilot, "First turn off?"
With a shy grin the copilot's left hand shot for the spoiler's handle. The pilot gave a slight affirmative nod and the handle was pushed full forward into the full up detent. Both pilots braked hard. The EC's nose dipped towards the runway and the nav grabbed the edge of his side facing table. The speed dropped and with a good natured shake of his head started to retrieve the papers that had slid off his table.
The pilot brought the aircraft to a stop on the taxi-way short of the first line of revetments. With a gloved finger he pointed towards the windshield. In front of them being pushed into the first revetment with the rain streaming off of its black, drooping bulbous nose was the other EC load of lunatics.
The flightline chief's pickup pulled up next to the flight crew bus just before Rick and Leo climbed aboard the bus with the flight crew.
"You two want a ride to your barracks." Bob Kruse hollered at them.
"That would be nice." Rick answered.
When he started down the ramp, Kruse asked, "Did you enjoy your ride today? Nice evening for a quiet flight down and back up the South China Sea I would think."
"When was the last time you flew on a tanker mission Kruse? Certainly not since you have been on Okinawa."
"As a matter of fact, I went last summer on a typhoon evacuation to Japan."
"Oh? That must have been exciting? Did you get the tanker wet in the rain?"
"If I remember correctly we parked our tanker in Yokota and then had a nice sunny three day R&R in Tokyo."
"Some people have all the luck don't you think Rick?" Leo asked. "If we were aboard 3653 I'm sure we would not had to have dealt with such lousy weather."
"I guess it wasn't such a fun trip, huh guys?"
"It wasn't too awful bad, Bob. Boring for hours punctuated by minutes of worrisome thoughts wondering if the beastly EC would climb over the next bunch of cumulus clouds."
"Actually it was kind of fun. Don't you think so Rick?"
"Got to admit it was an experience.
Let's get changed and go get some chow."
"Where in hell did you pick-up that sailor talk, Rick?" Bob asked when he stopped at the transit barracks.
"I meant to ask you, Bob. How come you're working so late? You should be home with your little Black Irish honey not traipsing around Kadena's ramps in the rainy dark."
"My honey said not to come home until I had her two boyfriends accounted for and home for dinner.
Meet us at the house in an hour.
No longer. Because she is going to keep worrying until she sees you both with her own two eyes.
I don't know how she knows, or hears when a trip is getting a bit hairy, but that is why I gave up flying. She worried too much."
"She's not Irish." Leo said.
"What?"
"I said that Cheryl isn't Irish. Why do you guys keep calling her Black Irish? I only spent one evening with her and could tell that she's not only not Black Irish, she isn't even Irish." Leo said as the crew chiefs went up the stairs to their room in the transit barracks.
"Actually, she started it. About four years ago right after I met them and started to hang around with them. She and Bob were kidding around. The girls had been acting up all day and so Cheryl threatened to send them to Parochial School. Bob thought that was a bit extreme and said so. Cheryl said that not only was she Catholic, she was Irish and wanted her daughters to have a good Catholic upbringing. Bob laughed at her and told her, 'right, you have brown eyes and dark brown hair so you're Black Irish. You're not even Catholic.'
"That's where it came from? From a hollow threat to the girls?"
"You got it. I doubt if either of them know or care what either of their ancestry is. I have never heard anything from either of them except when Chery
l gets ticked at Bob she becomes Black Irish and to quote her, "I'm Black Irish with the temper to match. So don't mess with me."
They are a cute couple aren't they?"
"I don't think that I've ever know a couple more suited and devoted to each other as they are, Leo."
"What are you going to say about your women? Sounds to me like Cheryl will be upset though she doesn't know either of them."
"It isn't them that she worries about. She worries about me. Whenever I got a girlfriend she wanted to know all about her and wanted to make sure I didn't get hurt.
I'm used to her. Had four years to learn how to talk to her.
But." Rick hesitated. "She won't really be happy until she meets one or both of them so she can pass judgement."
"I don't think that you're ready for her to meet Tomi. You hardly know Tomi and I don't hear you jumping into a relationship with her besides visiting and talking in the coffee house."
"You're pretty smart and observant for a kid. And the scary part is you're absolutely correct. Tomi is just a nice lady who I enjoy talking to."
"Sure. That's what Tomi is. I've listened to you dancing around her at dinner last night. Never really said much about her to give Cheryl a chance to zero in on how you feel about her. But I can tell you one thing."
"And what is that, my Friend?"
"Cheryl is already wise to Kimiko and the less said about her the better off you will be. I think you should let her meet Tomi though. That will get her off the attack plan that is brewing in her head about Kim."
"I think you have a point. But you changed your mind from a minute ago? About Cheryl meeting Tomi?"
"Yeah. I think so. Doesn't it make sense? She isn't going to give you any peace until she meets one or both of them."
Not a bad idea. I'd like to know what Cheryl thinks of Tomi and if she thinks she is ready for any kind of relationship with another man.
Damn. I'm thinking too much about Tomi and letting my imagination get ahead of me. I really doubt if she has any thoughts of being anything but platonic friends. Someone her own age and who lived and thinks about life like the baby's father.