970 Vietnam
The wind racing by his canopy brought Finn back from his temporary dream state, on his letdown to the boat off the coast of North Vietnam . He couldn't hold onto consciousness and wondered if he was bleeding out. Had Mathe's calls brought him back?
Captain Matthew (MÄ?the) "Rock" Stone watched his buddy L.T. Jonathan "Finn" Finley's descent, as he rode his wing from a distance, and helplessly watched the rapidly decaying control of Finn's aircraft. "Hold it together, pal. We're almost home," called Mathe, as he watched the fuel stream drain out of Finn's aircraft-way too on the brink of his jet's exhaust.
Finn tried to stay his head . Holding onto hope, he took a look at the gauges to reconfirm his problems. He felt the energy getting sucked out of his machine and himself and pressed his mic button. Holding onto hope, his fingers found the acceptable buttons and knobs inside the cockpit to fight his emergencies-but he knew he was rapidly succumbing.
"Mathe, unsure I can stretch this glide to the boat," he said, trying to sound confident.
Finn slowly rolled the "scooter" towards the shore, thinking that his chances for survival were better over land. He was well into North Vietnam , and he would find how out into the security of the South. Blood within the water on an ejection was the last item he wanted after hearing stories of aggressive shark populations off the shoreline. Finn's mind raced.
He continued to stare out of the cockpit into the empty sky ahead and felt as if he wasn't there. Time appeared to compress as he held the stick a touch tighter and alternated between accepting his fate and fighting for his life.
Vice-like fear crept in and out of his thoughts for his chances of survival as his G-suit torso appeared to be tightening by itself. He was slowly releasing the pressure of speed, time, altitude, distance, fuel, and system calculations-common flying concerns just appeared to fall away. The inner battle to offer in to his emotions, to scream and leave the work for somebody else, to only steer the machine was getting stronger.
Deep in North Vietnam airspace, during a heavily damaged fighter, lieutenant Johnathan"Finn" Finley thought to himself: Don't take the straightforward way out-work to survive your wounds. you've got support, the ship is expecting you, and Taco and Mathe are on your wing- you'll make it. Then there was the opposite voice-but then...
The Engine Fire red light suddenly blinked intermittently then glared full-on from Finn's A-4 Skyhawk instrument panel-and told it all.
"My God! Fire! God no! Not today, not now-please!" Finn yelled.
He thought he heard the crackle of hot metal from the rear of the airplane and felt the warmth rising. alittle wisp of smoke rose from the cockpit floor, and therefore the jet jumped. He was suddenly watching the dirt and everything else, on the cockpit floor rise to eye level and suddenly drop. It only took a second.
Mathe followed Finn's jet down, on his wing, looking over at him in shock and horror, and therefore the frustration of not having the ability to assist his pal. it had been eating him alive. Suddenly, Finn's father's words-spoken to both boys long ago-popped into this head:
"Boys, don't let yourselves ever become a two-headed coin-you will never win! you almost certainly haven't seen one, but they were common in my era, and that they are often much trouble if tons is riding on the flip. You guys are considerably alike-more than you're dissimilar in some ways . A two-headed coin are often a strong tool within the wrong hands, so take care together with your abilities and therefore the direction you're taking in life. Sometimes the wrong-decision paths are easily taken."
Finn was frozen, caught between covering every inch of ground to the security of the ocean and therefore the carrier Raleigh (CVA-23) in his rapidly decaying machine-and the truth he didn't want to admit: his firecracker of an airplane could explode at any moment. Coming to his trained senses, he slammed the PCL (power control lever-the throttle) off, pushed the fuel shutoff lever to emergency off, and pulled the emergency generator handle to increase .
Holding on for dear life, he yelled to his jet, "I need fuel now but fire, no, no, no."
Finn fought for control, held the stick tighter, squeezed her harder-trying to urge the eye she wasn't giving him-to control her, to fight her if he had to. Even so, she yawed into a rapidly decaying roll and spin. The fog bank below was close to swallow both of them, as he continued to strain and yell for control of the machine.
Finn's survival vice-holding onto life but fighting the chance to leave-was reaching critical mass. Eject before it's too late, he told himself. Mathe and Taco's voices were screaming at him to punch out-but persisted for a touch more distance-ever closer to his carrier , or was it shore? Confused and in and out of consciousness-he wasn't sure anymore.
Losing consciousness for a flash the jet suddenly departed flight again and commenced to tumble with fire enveloping the cockpit. Finn's jet was now flying backward-a true ass ender.
"Please, God, get the nose to return around, out of the flame so I can leave," Finn cried.
The hot rod slowly begins to show it's nose toward the fog bank-down.
He's beyond worrying about the pilot who makes no mistakes-the close-to-perfect pilot, in his mind-the most consistent OK three-wire grabber within the squadron.
"I got to live," he cried, and suddenly, "God, I even have no control!"
"I can't save the plane and unsure about me," he mumbled.
Calm took over Finn-nothing mattered much to him now. Not the pain in his groin and cheek, the warmth and fire; not the green color security of his jet's cockpit, the locker room/cockpit smell of oil, jet fuel, sweat, nor the dry, rubbery on-demand O2 he breathed. His concern for the wind whistling through the holes in his airplane-underneath and right beside him didn't seem so important now.
There was Captain Matthew (MÄ?the) Stone, fellow "Talon" and buddy, frantically, giving him hand signals while flying next to him and Taco, in trail, yelling for him to eject.
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