Summary: Animal and his RIO Lieutenant Leah “Butch” Cassidy have to punch out of their Tomcat after hydraulic issues renders the F-14 unflyable in the middle of the North Atlantic and are marooned on an island in the North Atlantic. Harm and Mac have to bully their way into convincing the Navy to cotinue to search for them while Animal and Leah make a life for themselves on the island.
"Homeplate, Fast Eagle 101, Angels 20..." Commander Toshio "Animal" Nakamura spoke into the mic embedded in his oxygen mask, "Two minutes past waypoint three heading two five zero,"
"Say your state, One Zero One..."
"State zero plus four five to splash." was Animal's response to the Combat Information Center on the USS Theodore Roosevelt, (CVN-71).
"Roger that, One Zero One...do you need a Texaco."
"We're One Five to Marshal...we should be fine before we get behind the boat."
"Copy that, One Zero One... We'll have a Viking up if you need one."
Animal grinned behind his oxygen mask, "How you doing, Butch?"
"Five by five, Animal...sure was a boring patrol."
"Like things exciting? At least the sky was clear of MiGs. Don't want to rattle the dragon too much unless we want to be eating Atolls for breakfast."
"You have a point there, Animal." Butch's voice was merry as her green eyes twinkled; her oxygen mask was tight to her face and her head was doing circuits around the instrument display looking for any anomalies in the readings. That was the job of the Radar Intercept Officer; the backseater in the F-14 Tomcat.
"Should be back on the boat in twenty." Animal's F-14 was the CO's bird. It was kept in good condition...but of course the rigors of being shot off the front end of the boat and constant banging of the aircraft main-mounts when trapping was not the best way to keep in continuing good health the multitude of components that made up their frontline fighter aircraft.
It was about three minutes later that everything went to hell in a handbasket.
"Oil pressure is down, Animal." Animal heard worry in Butch's tone as she scanned her panels.
"Yeah, stick's getting heavy...too, I think we got a hydraulic leak...somewhere."
"Combined and flight pressure dropping to zero..."
Animal's tone went no-nonsense, "Emergency checklist... Emergency Flight Hydraulicss switch.."
"Low..." Butch's head went down to the panels.
"Says we should divert, we're blue-water...no divert possible." Animal informed her.
"Horizontal stabilizers, reducing rate, No SAS/ARI."
Going down the checklist...and praying that the plane didn't depart controlled flight, Animal fought the controls.
"Landing Gear Handle" he reached for the handle to put it down. "Emergency Down...flaps twenty...Oh...s---- Combat, Mayday Mayday Mayday, Fast Eagle One Zero One, Hydraulics are gone, Oil Pressure Zero, stick is tight, Cannot control Attitude..."
"Fast Eagle One Zero One, What's your position?"
"Can't tell at this point, the front boards went out, I'm deadsticking it with no controls, The Electricals gone too. I'm going to point this thing towards the nearest island I can find and punch us out."
"Roger that, One Zero One, Godspeed."
Animal stomped on the rudder and cranked the stick over...hoping that the F-14 wouldn't depart controlled flight. He could see a pair of islands just over by his starboard, maybe he could get them close enough that they could swim for it..."Stow your gear, I'm gonna try to get us as close as we can before we punch it. "
"Oh, man, I was hoping we wouldn't have to do this today..."
"Yeah...neither did I..." As he felt the stick go completely tight..., Animal said, "Mask on, Leg loops tight, Visor down...Eject Eject Eject..."
Pulling on the ejection handle loops just above and to the rear of his helmet on the ejection seat. He pulled the loops and the unfurling curtain to protect him from flying debris. Butch's GRU7 ejection seat fired first, then two seconds later he felt a sharp kick at the base of his spine as his ejection seat fired rocketing him out of the F-14 Tomcat.
A few seconds later, he separated from his seat and he hung to his straps as the chute opened above him. Which meant that he had a clear view of the final moments of his bird and he felt a pang of despair as he saw his F-14 fall stricken towards the water...and impact...sending a cloud of spray...probably going straight to the bottom. Looking around he felt a huge sigh of relief as he saw the companion chute of his RIO floating down; it was wide open and slowing her descent.
"A rough way to end a day at the office." Animal muttered to himself. Hitting the water was a bit painful, but survivable at the rate of descent of his parachute. Pulling out his knife he sawed at the ropes freeing himself, just before they could pull him under. Then he sighted the shore of the island he had aimed for eight hundred meters away. He could make it. Hopefully Butch would do the same.
It took nearly twenty minutes to swim to shore and it was the longest twenty minutes of his life. He had excelled in swimming at ROTC, but that was being well-rested. This was after a Fleet Air Defense air patrol and being aloft for over four hours.
It was a relief to see Butch pull her self out of the water. Sopping wet from head to toe, still in her flight suit...as was Animal. "That was one hell of a swim..." she muttered, "Remind me when we get back to thank my swim instructor."
"Yeah, wasn't expecting to have to do that... I thought we were in closer...but apparently the wind was in the opposite direction."
"Well, our gear is completely soaked and our flight helmets and oxygen masks are probably at the bottom of the ocean somewhere, so we'd better get out of these things unless we want to catch a cold or something..."
"Well....you know, sir... young minds work pretty quick."
water.
"Wiseacre..." Animal raised an eyebrow.
Part Two: "We're Marooned"
Seeing nothing but desolate rock and grass and trees all the way up a steep slope, meant only one thing. There was no human habitation on this island. The simple fact that practically all the vegetation on the island was essentially coniferous also meant that they were above the line where you would find deciduous trees growing. That meant that it was going to get downright cold in the winter and that the summer, spring and fall seasons were short and that the winters would be long and bitter. It was going to be a serious test of their survival skills.
As they were descending on their parachutes, they found that no trees grew on the exposed sides of the mountains that sheltered them. That meant that the winds that would pelt this island during the winter were harsh subjecting anything growing on the island to extremes. They were lucky that they were in a sheltered cover surrounded on three sides by towering hills and cliffs of jagged rock. It would prove to provide them some protection.
The water was cool but it wasn't something that they would be able to swim in for very long...at least unprotected, a half hour at the most in the summer. Just enough to cool themselves off. Any longer and one's body temperature could plummet and subject them to hypothermia. And swimming was a definite no-no during the winter time; especially when it came to dealing with the possibility of snow. Exposed parts during wintertime would subject them to frostbite and worse.
"I think we should try and fish; we do need to catch some dinner. We also have to set up camp before nightfall. You have an emergency tent in your pack?
"Yes, sir, I do..." was Lieutenant Cassidy's response. After all, she thought, they were only supposed to be informal in the cockpit of the aircraft; not when their boots were touching the ground, unless the CO said that they could forego military formalities.
Animal sighed, looking up and around at the vista that unfolded before them...the long trek up to the summit would be quite laborious. The plain realization was that there was no one here. No one to care if strict military protocol was being observed. If they were back on the boat, on the ground, they would have to adhere to their Commander and Lieutenant roles; superior and junior officer but they were marooned. Far from civilization and only God even knows where the TR is at this point, "Don't worry about the sirs...Butch, we're not anywhere near civilization. don't think that anyone is going to care that we're not using strict formalities at this point.
She smirked at him, "Yes, sir..."
Animal rolled his eyes. Butch was impertinent but who cared. At least he was stuck on an island for the foreseeable future with someone that he could get along with. Crews had to be close in a F-14. Two male crew were as close as brothers, trusting each other with their lives; especially since they were going into combat together. Two female crew were the same ways as sisters-in-arms...but a male-female crew was about as tight-knit as a married couple. They each had to know each other's idiosyncracies. As with the other crew members, they trusted each other with their lives. He'd flown with Butch now for several years, ever since Scooter had been pick-pocketed by the Pentagon to XO a R&D department NAVAIR. Flying with Butch was a new experience. Saucy and capable, she manned the rear office of the Tomcat with practiced ease, remarkable for a junior officer with only six years in the service. Animal was a seasoned veteran at his twenty year mark. Frankly, he was fourteen years her senior. But Navy rules had put them together in the cockpit, the old hands teaching the young and eventually passing on the torch to them. This was Animal's second year holding the reins of the VF-41 Black Aces. his XO being Commander Kimber "Jugs" Benton. Well, looks like she gets to be CO now...if we don't get rescued soon. The Aces need a squadron commander.
Fishing, giving each other some space to contemplate over the day's events gave one a lot of time on their hands to ruminate over whatever thoughts came to one's mind. And a lot of things went through Animal's mind, like what if we don't get rescued... It was a sobering thought but a very distinct possibility. Of the many islands dotting the Atlantic, it was one of quite a number...and if they couldn't find a way to set up a signal they were as good as marooned here forever. One of the crushing things that he'd found out was that Butch's personal beacon had been irreparably damaged in the ejection...even though it was supposed to withstand the g-forces taken in such an event. And his was lying at the bottom of the ocean having slipped out of his pouch. So there was no way to even send out a signal letting them know that they were alive. If the TR couldn't locate them in their parameters of search coordinates suspected of where the aircraft had supposedly gone down, they would be considered lost at sea and presumed dead.
If Butch and he weren't rescued from that island and were declared missing and presumed dead, it appeared that they were going to get much more closer than regulations would dictate, because for them, they would be the only ones that would be able to be with each other. The other unpalatable thought was to be alone for the rest of their lives.
Part Three: "A Hard Conversation"
A lot of things went through Animal's mind as he concentrated on catching fish that afternoon and by the time nightfall came around he and Butch had managed to catch several fish that were edible for the firepit that they'd found. He and Butch were both starting to feel the cold and it was sweet relief to have finally lit the firepit and be able to sit and roast their catch over a hot flame.
"You feeling OK...bumps, bruises, no broken bones...sprains?" Tosh easily slipped back into the role of CO...trying to ascertain that his backseater was OK.
"I'm fine, I didn't break anything punching out and no sprains, loops were tight so nothing was flailing around when the bang-seat went off.
Good thing, Butch. Survival gets a lot tougher if you're injured..."
"Thanks for asking...though..." Butch said as she looked at her fish that she was roasting to make sure that it didn't catch on fire. Well cooked was preferred."
Quite the ride we had. Wasn't sure if we were going to make landfall..." Animal admitted soberly. "Punching out over water isn't the best possible scenario especially when we've both lost our beacons." He looked over at her.
"If I had some tools, I could try to see if I could get mine working...but yours might be a complete bust...considering it's sitting at the bottom of the ocean."
Animal muttered, "Thanks for reminding me..." Darned cheap velcro...made by the lowest bidder. When he got back; if he got back...he was going to send a blistering memo up the wire to DC telling Requisitions off about their propensity to go with the cheap end of the deal. It could have cost them their lives. You spend over a million training up a crew and you don't give them the best chance to survive because you skimp out on the other stuff. That Beltway bureaucratic bean-counter thinking was absolute horse-manure.
Taking a bite out of her fish, she commented, "This isn't bad fish, is it? I like the taste."
"Yeah, with red herring, you gotta watch the bones..." Animal replied picking a bone out from between his teeth.
Maybe if the bones sit long enough they'll become brittle enough to become fertilizer for any plants...
Butch looked soberly at him, the hard-edged competent naval officer was gone and the look of a scared mid-twenties young woman replaced her, "You think we're going to be here for a long time?"
Animal didn't want to frighten her, but he also had to prepare her mentally for that eventuality. "I hope not..." he said finally, "But the possibility is there that we may not be found."
"...and what happens in that eventuality?"
"I'm hoping we'll get rescued..." Tosh said trying to put a positive spin on things...trying to keep a cheery expression...
"but on the other hand...if a rescue isn't possible within two weeks of when we went down...." Animal looked at her and soberly said, "It's a grim possibility, that we won't ever get rescued. In that eventuality...we have to make a life for ourselves..." he said...as he looked at her with a serious expression, "...here on this little island..."
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