Wings of Valor: A USS Enterprise Naval Adventure Novel (Fightin'est Ship in WWII series Book 4) by Scott Cook

Author:Scott Cook [Cook, Scott]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Spindrift Press
Published: 2024-07-04T00:00:00+00:00

SCOUTING SIX LRSP

Lieutenant Turner Caldwell tried to stretch his back. It’d been several hours now, and his SBDs seat was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. This was partly due to the tedium of the flight and partly due to the too-thin padding under his rump… which was getting numb.

“Sniffer-1, Sniffer-2,” Radioman’s Mate Richard Temple called over the radio from Charlie Wagner’s back seat. “1530 check-in. No enemy units sighted. However, we can see what we believe to be San Cristobal and maybe even The Canal to the northwest.”

Caldwell glanced to his left where a tiny speck of darkness stood out against the impressionist patterns made as puffy white clouds randomly blotted out the robin’s egg blue of the sky. That was Wagner, his wingman, flying parallel some three miles off. At their current altitude of fifteen thousand feet, the Dauntlesses and their crews had a horizon of more than 150 miles.

Caldwell picked up the mic himself, “Sniffer-2, Sniffer-1… confirm. Snooper flight, give me a sitrep, over?”

Twenty miles to the east, two more Dauntlesses flew in tandem. They were the other half of the long-range scouting patrol. They consisted of planes flown by Stockton Strong and Gerald Richie.

“Snooper-2, no joy,” said Richie.

“Snooper-1 same,” came the confident voice of Strong.

“Very well,” said Caldwell. “Let’s drop down to angels five for the last thirty before heading back to the barn.”

Everyone acknowledged and the sphere of the world that the men could see shrunk as they plunged down toward the sea. Even at that height, the edge of the world was still nearly eighty miles away. Further, the fliers could now make out wave patterns below them.

Occasionally, tiny flecks of white could be seen as rolling swells propelled by the southeast trade winds heaved the sea up high enough to crest. It was like looking down on a royal blue sky dotted with tiny stars.

“L.T…” That was Charlie Wagner over the radio. “Did you see that? Looked like a line of foam on the surface toward our two o’clock.”

Caldwell looked to the right of his nose but saw nothing but waves, “Negative, Sniffer-2… maybe it was a roller?”

Wagner didn’t sound convinced, “Well… could be, I guess…”

“Let’s see what… holy cow!” Caldwell sat bolt upright in his seat, ignoring the heated blade that jabbed him in his back. “Contact! Contact! Possible enemy submarine surfacing! Bearing zero-two-five… approximately twenty miles. I say again… surfaced submarine at two o’clock! Range twenty miles with possible heading of… one-eight-zero! Radio, Morse it in. Sniffer-two, do you confirm?”

“That’s a big ole Rodge, sir!” Wagner whooped. “We got eyes on ‘em.”

There was a momentary pause before Strong said, “Sniffer flight, we do not… wait one… Roger, Roger, Roger! Surfaced submarine! Except…”

“Except she’s bearing to our east and headed west, southwest,” interrupted Richie.

“What the…?” Turner’s radioman muttered.

“Two of them?” Caldwell asked no one and then thumbed his mic. “Sniffer and Snooper flights… we have two, repeat, two submarines.”

“Sniffer flight… permission to engage?” Strong asked, his voice vibrating with hopeful tension.

“Permission granted, all birds,” Caldwell ordered.

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