His captain's chair had been returned to the open starboard wing after a brief tropical downpour. He looked across at Lake Champlain, noting activity on the flight deck a thousand yards off his port bow. The mighty elevators had already brought a dozen tracker aircraft to the flight deck, and he could see them being wheeled into position for takeoff. “Looks like they're getting ready to launch, Bob,” he remarked to his operations officer who was standing OOD watch. He looked back over his shoulder to the flag on the Bagley's mast. “I'll bet we come about thirty degrees to port for launch. What do you think?” It was always a mental game. Collier, looking up at the flag, nodded his agreement. “Can't argue with that, Captain.” And to his junior officer of the watch, he said, “What will our course to station be if the carrier turns about thirty degrees into the wind?” Both Collier and the captain knew within a few degrees, from their years of experience, but every junior officer had to develop these same instincts.
