RANDOM THOUGHTS FROM THE BACK SEAT By Jeff Orchard
An Airport On Your Roof
I've always wanted to live near an airport. I have to admit though, that you haven't lived until you've taken a "Navy shower" in a stainless steel shower stall that is swinging through a 22 degree arc with 40,000 pound airplanes landing literally 15 feet over your head. And the term "landing" doesn't really do it justice. It is more of an aborted touch-and-go.
As many of you know, I recently had the opportunity to join my son Zach for a “Tiger Cruise” on the USS Carl Vinson (CVN-70) on the final leg of his trip home from a deployment in the Persian Gulf. The "Carl", as it is called by the crew, is a four and a half acre steel runway held up by a container of over six thousand people. It weighs 95,000 tons and floats on the ocean. The trip was five days and we departed Pearl Harbor at 4 P.M. on November 7th headed to San Diego with a load of 70 very neat airplanes. We had some very wet weather the day before we were under way, but the sky began to open as the mooring lines were pulled aboard and we slipped from the dock.
Even the tugboats were gray that pulled us away from the dock and backed us into an adjoining pier area for a 180 degree turn into the channel. The sky was still mostly overcast but a few splashes of sunshine were getting through to highlight the pineapple fields on the hillsides in the background. The executive officer came on the intercom and asked the crew to stand at attention and then to salute as we passed the Arizona Memorial. I was at the very back of the ship, one deck below the flight deck watching the pure white memorial slip past and was struck with both a profound sense of sadness and stark irony. The sadness was for all the lives not lived and the irony showed just how far we've come in 51 years. Just behind me and a little to my left, less than a thousand feet away, were a Japanese cruiser and submarine, both flying the rising sun. They were in port for a ceremony that officially changed the command of the Navys' Pacific Fleet. I spent a good part of the next five minutes blinking back the wetness in my eyes as I reflected on the meaning of sacrifice.
Life on an Aircraft Carrier consists of work, sleep and standing in lines. There are lines for food, the coke machines, telephones, haircuts, sometimes the bathroom (although in an emergency, you can find one), the Seven/Eleven (really), the post office and the bank. I overheard one of the "Tigers" even say he had to stand in line to get out of bed.
My rack (bunk) lived up to its nautical term. Stacked three high on both sides of a two foot wide passageway, these racks were 30 inches wide, 23 inches high and 6 1/2 feet long. The horizontal surface, which I hesitate to call a mattress, lifts to expose an area to store everything you own in. Dark blue curtains and a fluorescent tube against gray steel walls round out the decor. The blanket was even gray. Fortunately, the sheets were white.
Navy food is everything you've heard about. Breakfast had choices like grits, hash browns, hard boiled eggs, rice, hash, scrambled eggs, pancakes, beans, fried eggs and several kinds of mystery meat. All the tables are equipped with bottles of ketchup, soy sauce, A-1, chili sauce, Louisiana Red Hot, Tabasco Sauce in the giant industrial size bottle and Texas Pete hot sauce. They give you a lot of food, but you might not eat it all, if you catch my drift. They say the best fed members of a Carrier Battle Group are the sharks. There was fresh fruit of some sort at every meal, usually apples or grapes.
Lunches were hamburgers, hot dogs, french fries, mustard greens, beets and beans, and the usual assortment of condiments. Dinner was far more elaborate, with meat (the only description I can offer), mustard greens, beets and beans. Nobody complained a lot. I guess they just tolerated it as part of life, like we tolerate a commute down route 93.
Zach and all of his shipmates were proud to show off their ship and everyone was anxious to explain their job in as much detail as you could absorb. I attended 36 classes in the 5 days I was at sea on topics ranging from the operation of the specialized firefighting tools required to a tour of the "control tower" where the Air Boss is king. In between we got briefs on the F-14 Tomcat, the F/A-18 Hornet, the EA6-B Prowler, the S3-B Viking, A-6E Intruder and a couple of others that I can't remember. The one that impressed me most was the COD, a twin engine turboprop cargo plane that delivered mail and personnel at any time, day or night. It had Navy markings and folding wings and right over the door there was a US Postal Service sticker... "We Deliver". Rumor had it that this airplane is the best maintained on the ship.
The Airshow on the second day out was the best one, bar none, that I have ever seen. There was an air-to-air refueling demo, minimum radius turns by the sub-chaser and live bomb displays. The "Wall of Water" produced by 40 bombs dropped by 8 airplanes simultaneously is spectacular. Even though it was over a mile away, the sound and concussion were sizeable enough to turn the heads of the observers looking away. Shades of Crocodile Dundee.
The highlight of the show for me was a low pass from an F-18 that started as a pretty fast pass aft (say that fast 3 times) off the port side that turned into a steep climb to the right. The jet went above a low layer of cumulus and continued the turn into a dive, back down through the clouds, aimed just ahead of the bow of the ship...going really fast. I knew what was coming, because I could see him but couldn't hear a thing. I braced myself and was reaching up to cover my ears when the F-18, just above the water less than a thousand feet away, was consumed in a flash of cloud. The image will stand with me for a lifetime....the nose and leading edge of the jet emerging from a flash of white, the cloud generated in humid air by the sudden change in air pressure as the Hornet passed through the sound barrier. Just about 1.383433 second later, a man swung a twenty pound sledgehammer into my chest. Twice. I was at least expecting something, but an awful lot of people around me had no clue. I ended up a few inches off the deck, considerably lower than most of my companions who were surprised... then beaten severely. You can do an awful lot of people watching in a split second as gravity retains its hold and you settle to the deck. I was awestruck. A lot of people were really, really surprised.
I met some very good people on the ship. On one of my frequent explorations, on the last full day at sea, I ended up on the navigation bridge and was quietly watching from a corner. I was amazed to see that the ships helm (steering wheel) was only about 14 inches in diameter. There was a pair of E-6's from the mainland using the flight deck for carrier qualifications. I realized that the guy sitting in the leather chair on my left watching the flight operations was the Captain. I watched him for a minute and then asked his aide if it was OK to talk to him. I just wanted to thank him for the opportunity to be on the cruise. He was very gracious and welcomed me to the bridge. I saw for myself why his crew gave him a lot of respect.
The best part of the whole trip for me was the chance to be a real part of my sons life for a few days. I watched as he got an award presented in the Foc'sle. I got to see him as a competent, confident person, with a great sense of duty and an even better sense of humor. I had a chance meeting on the flight deck with Admiral Moore. After a little bit of small talk, I finally blurted, "Admiral, I'd like to thank you. Three and a half years ago we sent you a 19 year old boy. From what I've seen, you're going to send us back a 23 year old young man".
So Zach, this one's for you. Thank you for a great time. Your moms and I are really proud of you. Press on. That is all.
Copyright 1996 by Jeff Orchard