The Pipeline: Launch
It’s not always a choice between right and wrong. Sometimes it’s between right and right. That is: right and easy, or right and hard.
Continued from The Pipeline: Switch.
A journal entry from Ian, three years later, in command of USS Johnston.
22 April 2017. SOCAL OPAREA, 2030
I sat down for a late dinner and immediately received a phone call.
“Captain, we just found out one of our tech reps has an emergency.”
It was Lieutenant Evan Wright, the operations officer. The tech rep was a contractor helping us troubleshoot our air search radar.
“His mother is in the hospital on life support and will probably not make it through the night.”
Yes, we needed our radar, but we were off the coast of southern California with no immediate threat. And he only has one mother. There was no question. My priority was clear.
“Okay,” I closed my eyes. “Let's get him home.”
It was 1915. Navy policy stated any helicopter transporting personnel must launch during daylight hours, before sunset, which today was in 30 minutes at 1945.
“Lonewolf 706 is up right now. I intend to call them back from their mission and set flight quarters,” he confirmed.
We were underway for pre-deployment training. Important, yes, but it was just training.
“Make it so,” I agreed. “And hurry.”
A moment later, the boatswain’s mate of the watch called away flight quarters. I turned on the site TV for the flight deck camera and ate my dinner slowly, watching from the wardroom how the team made it happen so quickly all on their own.
The helo landed at 1937. The contractor boarded. The flight deck crew began removing the chains. Then they stopped, looked to the landing signalman, apparently confused, and put the chains back on.
Fire flashed in my chest and my entire being focused the single purpose of getting him home now.
The phone rang as I snatched it from its cradle.
“Captain.” It was the officer of the deck. “We were ordered not to launch the helicopter because it is almost sunset.”
“Who gave that order? Sunset is in two minutes!”
“Yes, sir, we're trying to explain that to them.” He paused. “It was the Battle Watch Captain.”
The Destroyer Squadron Battle Watch Captain. The officer on the carrier acting as the direct representative of my commander, Commodore Conrad, who knows nothing about the situation and bears no responsibility for it!
“Officer of the deck, launch that helicopter.” It was 1944.
“But sir….”
“Write in the deck log that the captain gave you the order and launch the damn helicopter!” I barked.
“Aye, sir!”
The crew removed the chains, set green deck, and launched the helicopter just as the clock turned and the sun set.
There may be a time when I will not have a choice. But this was not it.
I finished my dinner in silence.
I emailed the commodore to explain what happened. He will read it and chew my ass. And I will gladly accept.
This is a work of fiction based on actual events.
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