Scott grimaced as he heard the order to head for the cloud layer. Currently, he was down low close to the oceans' surface, hoping that the reflections and clutter from the surface would go some way to mask the Corsair against the hostiles. Ramping the Corsair's engine up to higher speed, he pulled the nose skyward. The big intake gulped in air, and the engine strained as much as it could to give the power he wanted. The lack of afterburner was hurting, and the jets' sub-sonic speed was an issue in this particular instance. Instead, he was forced weave and yo-yo as he climbed to avoid a predictable course as he climbed. 
Each moment rocketing skyward was a tense one, and Scott felt like targeting sights were drawing circles on the back of his helmet with every minute he corkscrewed skyward into the blanket of water vapour. 
Finally, he felt the tension ease to a small degree as the Corsair punched into the wispy veil of vapour. Coming wings-level, he took position of the other aircraft of the unit, and rubbed the back of one glove across his eyes for a moment, before taking a deep breath and scanning the skies, craning against his straps to look over both shoulders. 
"At least here we might have some chance at defence," he said quietly over the squadron frequency. "If they have to close in for guns, we can evade better at close range, and their speed doesn't matter as much..." 
He tried to sound hopeful and positive, but his tone showed through - their chances weren't great, but at least they had something to claw hope from. He didn't harbour any chances of shooting down the bandits, not at all - just surviving would be fine. And, whatever deity was watching, the rest of them would make it through as well.