PUNK’S WAR

A rousing debut tale about the jet-flying set in which heroism, high-tech expertise, and a warts-and-all look at the Navy get equal measure.

It’s that uneasy period post–Desert Storm—the US (under the UN banner) and Iraq continuing to view each other gimlet-eyed. Lieutenant Rick Reichert (“Punk” affectionately), an F-14 Tomcat pilot, is stationed in the northern Arabian Gulf, on the three-billion-dollar carrier Arrowslinger—“The Boat” in Navy parlance. And he’s disenchanted. He hates being separated from the woman he loves, particularly since he’s begun to sense that her willingness to play Penelope to his Ulysses is on the wane, distance taking its toll. Also, he distrusts and despises his Queeg-like skipper, Commander “Soup” Campbell, whose ambition is boundless and whose path to promotion is littered with the outmaneuvered, the exploited, and the more deserving. What Punk loves is the flying, and the fliers—the good people in his squadron—though embarrassing words to that effect would never cross his 25-year-old lips. After months of unproductive wariness and enervating stalemate, there’s suddenly an incident. Iraqi jets are in the sky, in the no-fly zone, and Punk and his squadron-mates are ordered to confront them. Sensing an opportunity for glory—the kind of grandstanding he’s become famous for—Commander Campbell preempts one of the junior pilots, disrupting the orderliness and efficiency of the mission. Once aloft, he quickly compounds his ineptitude, crashing his plane and almost causing the death of the RIO (radio intercept officer) flying with him. Punk, on the other hand, performs valiantly, but in one of those painful ironies that Carroll clearly regrets and just as clearly appreciates, Campbell’s career turns out to be disaster-proof.

Written by a man who spent 15 years flying Tomcats, and who has also served as a consultant on such films as The Hunt for Red October: a convincing, often amusing, surprisingly unflinching account of those who go up in the air in ships.