The Last Dragon

Chapter Three

The Carrier John C. Stennis idled off the coast of Crete awaiting the arrival of the Soviet Ambassador. Ambassador Toloff was not well liked by Captain Marcus, but duty was duty and he would receive the Ambassador as ordered. Captain Marcus paced the flight deck of the newest Nimitz class carrier and marveled at it's size. 1,092 feet in length and all under his command.

Captain Marcus drove his crew hard, wanting them to be in top shape for anything to come. Noticing a group of them standing on the port side he walked over to see what they were up to. The Captain broke into a run when he realized that they were shaking his poodle "Squat" over the side of the ship, yelling as he went, "Put my damn dog down NOW!". The crew turned in unison, the dog shaker quickly put the dog down on the flight deck. "Just emptying her sir", he said.

Snatching up Squat, the Captain said, "I don't want to ever see that again, what the hell were you thinking!".

"Poodle puddles sir, she keeps leaving poodle puddles".

"I don't care if she leaves poodle puddles in your bunk! Don't shake my dog over the side of the ship again!"

"Yes sir"

Squat was probably the ugliest poodle ever born. Mangy, long legged, and armed to the teeth when it came to poodle puddles. The men hated the dog, but the Captain loved her with a passion. She had been through many tours with him and he wasn't about to see her mistreated. Cuddling the mongrel, the Captain made his way back to the tower, the seamen would see extra duty for treating Squat that way.

The PA squawked the warning of arrival. The Ambassador's craft would be arriving in 45 minutes. Captain Marcus ordered the crew into full dress to greet the arriving Ambassador. The Captain would just as soon shoot the helicopter out of the sky as allow it to land on his flight deck. The Soviet Ambassador was cocky, arrogant, and cruel to the American crew. He was known for his cutting remarks, how he ever advanced to the level of Ambassador was beyond the Captain's reasoning.

Standing on deck, the Captain and most of the crew awaited the arrival of the Soviet helicopter. Tracking gave regular updates on the craft's coordinates as the men stood in waiting. Finally the helicopter was within visual, and the men turned to face it. Coming in from the aft side, the helicopter approached the carrier. A white smoke began flowing from the aft of the chopper as the craft hovered just off the stern of the ship. "Mayday mayday", the message roared over the PA. The craft is reporting mayday. The Captain ran to the tower as the helicopter began to circle the carrier, a thick white smoke trailing the craft.

Grabbing the headset, the Captain yelled, "Land the damned craft before you end up in the drink, and if you don't and do, we'll leave you there!" The craft's pilot confirmed the order to land, and circled the carrier once more, the thick smoke washing over the flight deck. Finally the chopper moved towards center deck and after hovering for a bit settled down easily. The chopper's crew emerged quickly and aided the Ambassador in disembarking. They then began opening the aft compartments of the craft to check on the problem. Captain Marcus ordered his mechanics to assist in repairs to the Soviet chopper.

Ambassador Toloff awaited the arrival of the Captain on the flight deck, he wasn't about to go anywhere until the Captain formally "received" him. The Captain rushed to meet him, snatching up Squat as he ran from the tower. "Damned Russians", he said under his breath.

Toloff had his official smile on when the Captain arrived, he looked at the mutt with characteristic disdain. "We don't allow pets on our ships", he said.

"I understand why, our ships don't smoke like that", "you should check the oil before you operate a helicopter", replied the Captain.

The chief approached the Captain and snapped off a fancy "we've got company" salute and reported to the Captain that the soviet flight crew rejected their offer of assistance in repairing the chopper. "Fine, fine then let them fix the piece of junk themselves", the Captain then turned to Toloff and invited him in for drinks and a bite to eat.

The Ambassador was his usual "full of himself" self as he reported to the Captain the details of his important mission to Iraq. Of course the Ambassador told the Captain that the mission involved talks of a disarmament nature. The Captain suspected otherwise, knowing that the Ambassador was more likely to be involved in closing an arms sale. The Captain could only hope that they were selling the same helicopters to Iraq that the Ambassador had chosen for his ride.

Squat growled at the Ambassador through lunch, then he growled at the Ambassador during the ship's tour, and then he growled at the Ambassador as he prepared to depart. Growling was something that Squat did well, and during the farewell's Squat poodle puddled the helicopter's landing gear, that was what Squat did best. The ships crew took a liking to Squat after that.

The Soviet craft lifted off cleanly from the flight deck, no trace of the previous engine problems as the helicopter headed off to Benghazi for it's next stop. The Captain was glad to be rid of his "guest", and headed back to work, ordering the men at ease.

Life aboard the Stennis was no party, endless drills and launches. The ship was at a heightened level of alert due to complications in relations with Iraq. Tomcats roared from the runway non-stop and the tower kept an eye on the Hawkeyes as they rotated shifts above the Med. It was no party that's for sure, it was life as usual aboard a carrier and now with the crew coming down with the flu it was made even more trying.

Captain Marcus carried Squat to the infirmary, he had found her lying listless at the end of his bunk. She wasn't herself, breathing with some difficulty and not interested in food. That was not her normal self. The med tech looked her over and said that she probably had eaten something she shouldn't have. She was known to eat the dry lock sheets in the mess kitchen, that was probably it. The med tech reported that the crew didn't have the flu, just a bad cold and all were being treated. The Captain accepted some antihistamines since he wasn't feeling that great himself.

Flight drills were canceled due to the bug that had raced through the ship's crew. All men were ordered to take it easy and to get well or else. The Captain didn't have much in the way of sympathy or a sense of humor. The Captain by now was certain that the crew had caught the cold from the commie Ambassador and had a notion to radio in a complaint. He didn't, he thought it was a better idea to hit the sack for a while.

Squat was dead. The Captain held her close and petted her. She had been a good dog, whatever she had eaten had done her in and he was bound and determined to talk to the cooks about their disposal habits. He decided that a burial at sea would be appropriate once the crew was up to par. Gingerly he carried his pet to the sick bay....the new ships had morgues, that is where she belonged, maybe they could dig up a small flag too to cover her with. The ship seemed more unsteady this morning as the Captain made his way down the corridor. The deck seemed to roll, it could be the effects of the antihistamines though, he thought. I'll have to switch to something else.

The Captain told the med tech that his dog was dead and asked that she be taken care of with all speed, as a sailor is due. The lifeless eyes of the med tech stared back across the desk. The Captain, not fully understanding the deceased nature of the med tech, shouted at him to snap to. Foamy red spittle gurgled from the med tech's lips in response....

Clutching Squat, the Captain rushed to the tower, upon achieving the flight deck, he looked around and saw the bodies of crewmen strewn across the deck. And, to the fore of the ship, land looming. He dropped Squat and ran to the tower, his legs rubbery. The tower was quiet, no new shift had arrived, the old shift had already assumed room temperature, the Captain was not feeling so hot himself. The Captain grabbed up the headset and relayed all stop, full astern, and then SOS. The carrier continued on to it's destiny.

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Memo: Internal

Date Stamp: 010798

Time Stamp: 16:00:23

Subject: Carrier Stennis

To: All Associates

From: Richard Sanders

Director: Intelligence

Be advised that the Carrier Stennis has run aground at Rhodes. All hands lost. Ships medical logs indicate a virus of some type infected the ships crew. Individual entries are symptomatic in reporting illness progress. Suspect the reports indicate Anthrax Eclipse. Toxicology reports to follow.

Richard Sanders

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