Sea of Shadows eBook - Navy Thriller.com

188 JEFF EDWARDS
The voice of Antietam’s radio talker came over the speaker.
“Firewalker Two-Six, this is Antietam. My deck is green, over.”
The pilot keyed his mike. “Antietam, this is Firewalker Two-Six. Copy
your green deck. I am making my approach, over.”
Less than a minute later, the helo touched down on the ship’s gently
rolling deck with a thump that was barely audible over the din of the
rotors. It was as smooth a landing as the chief had ever seen. Of course, it
should have been; the seas were calm, and the relative winds across the
deck were nearly ideal. But not all shipboard landings were so easy. Navy
pilots and flight deck crews were trained to make landings under
unbelievable conditions, on heavy seas, in low visibility, with the ship
bucking and rolling, the winds shifting freakishly, and maybe an engine
failure thrown in for good measure.
A few seconds after they were down, a young enlisted man wearing a
purple flight deck jersey and a cranial-style flight deck helmet opened the
door from the outside. The roar of the helo’s rotors grew instantly louder.
The Sailor threw Commander Bowie a quick salute and shouted,
“Welcome aboard, Commander. Can you please follow me, sir?”
Commander Bowie gave the man a thumbs-up and reached to unbuckle
his safety harness. Being senior, the commander was first out, followed a
few seconds later by the chief. They followed the purple-jerseyed Sailor
across the flight deck at a quick trot, heads ducked to avoid the
helicopter’s thundering rotor blades.
The Sailor led them to a watertight door, which he opened for them.
They stepped through, and the Sailor stepped in after them and dogged it
closed. The noise level dropped dramatically.
“Welcome aboard, sir,” the Sailor said again—at a more reasonable
volume this time. “The captain is waiting for you in the wardroom. If
you’ll follow me, please.”
Commander Bowie nodded. “Thank you, son.”
The Sailor led them through a series of passageways and up several
ladders to officers’ country. When he came to the door of the wardroom,
he knocked, opened the door, and held it for them, but he didn’t enter.
They stepped past him into the wardroom. It was even fancier than the
wardroom aboard Towers, one of the perks—no doubt—of having a senior
full-bird captain as commanding officer.
Captain Stuart Whiley stood when they entered the room and beckoned
them further into his inner sanctum. He was a short, wiry man in his late