My Visit to a Mighty Ship

Foreword

It’s in their eyes. That is where you can see the strength and grace of today’s United States Naval and Marine Corps aviators.The high level of confidence that borders on cockiness can be easily seen if one takes a moment to look. Thinking back to when I was a young naval aviator I recall that we all had a feeling of indestructibility, an unconscious certainty that we would live forever. Today, as I observe these young pilots i can readily see that that feeling still exists. You can see it in their eyes.

How does the Navy and Marine Corps continue to attract men and women of this caliber? Many of these young folks could be on their way to lucrative careers elsewhere. Flying on and off aircraft carriers is one of the most dangerous and challenging occupations on earth. So why do they do it? Before I try to answer that question please let me tell you of a trip that I recently made aboard the USS John Stennis, one of the Navy’s newest nuclear aircraft carriers. The trip took place during the last few days of a very long eight and a half month deployment. Friends and family were invited to live aboard the carrier for the last few says of the deployment, going from Honolulu to San Diego. They call it a “Tiger Cruise.” I was a “Tiger.” My daughter, a Naval aviator stationed on board the Stennis, invited me to join her and I jumped at the chance. It was an experience I shall never forget.

The following story is a compendium of thoughts and opinions based on the somewhat disconnected diary I kept during that six day period. Before I get to the story of the trip let me offer a little back round. I am a former US Naval Aviator. All three of my children have chosen similar paths, two in the Marine Corps and one in the Navy. All three as pilots. I lost my first born in a tragic accident while he was in Navy flight training. Since that time my daughter and my youngest son have both completed Navy and Marine Corps flight training and obtained their “Wings of Gold.” My son has just completed transition training for Marine Corps H-53 helicopters and my daughter is finishing her second at-sea deployment as a Navy helicopter pilot. She has been on deployment for seventeen of the last twenty-two months. Now for the story.

The Story

At this moment I am sitting in a Delta Airlines aircraft bound for Honolulu. In a day or so I’ll be transiting the Pacific Ocean aboard the USS Stennis, the quintessence of incomprehensible military power. I know very little about the ship from a statistical standpoint. My intention is to go on this journey to learn, observe and to remember. I have had some experience with ships of this ilk but this particular ship is a whole different animal. The USS Stennis is the “now” version of the aircraft carriers I landed on so many years ago.

This will be a running diary, laced with opinions and thoughts of my time sailing the mighty Pacific as “crew” (term used very lightly) on board one of the world’s most exceptional warships. It all begins tonight with this flight from Seattle to Honolulu. I will stay in a downtown hotel for three nights, meeting with my daughter tomorrow. The time of that meeting will be subject to the schedule of the USS Stennis. I hope they are on time. Tomorrow I shall be see my daughter for the first time in a very long time. Although we have talked through computers and communicated by email, seeing her will be a very big treat.

About my daughter: over the last few years she has graduated from the University of Colorado, become a United States Naval officer, pinned on “Wings of Gold” as a Naval aviator and completed two exceptionally long deployments to Southeast Asia and the Middle East. It is easy to see that I am more than a little proud of her. My daughter is in Honolulu now and we have had a great afternoon/evening. She was obviously tired and yet she lit up each time she spoke of the friends she has made and the things she has seen and done on this deployment. There were moments when she seemed not to hear me as her mind raced about, trying to grasp the idea that it was almost over. Understandable. Eight months at sea were about to end. This is her second long deployment in three years, spending more than half of her first squadron assignment away from home. She is tired and yet she looked as if she had just walked out of a tenth grade classroom. Stunning.

On board the “Stennis” now. My state room is large and comfortable. I have the bottom bunk. My roommates are a twelve year old boy and a young gentleman named Mark from Portland, both guests of another pilot in my daughter’s squadron. I am quite lucky in the selection. I have already met some of my daughter’s friends and shipmates. These are men and women that she respects and likes. Some of the young people are tall with handlebar mustaches and some short with strong arms. Each of them has the look of intelligence endemic to young naval aviators. Firm handshakes and smiles abound. I am instantly impressed. These young pilots and crew members rely on quick wit, lightening reflexes and a fundamental belief that they will, indeed live forever. They are good at what they do and they know it.

We spent the first night in port but are now underway. I have seen a lot already and it is only noon on the first day at sea. The ship passed slowly, reverently by the Arizona Memorial, paying homage to the sailors entombed there. A solemn moment. I slept well last night (still in port). Having had a fair amount of space in which to rest. Sleep came easy. It was quiet. Tonight may be a different story. Ships this size have inherent sounds. These sounds defy description as well as one’s ability to locate the origin of the racket. Some of the sounds have names like “The Chain Monster.” There are scraping and banging sounds. There are flushing and draining and dragging and hammer-on-steel sounds. Some sounds are very similar to marbles rolling around on a steel floor. Some are horrendous roars, aircraft afterburners fully alight. The are bells ringing in perpetuity, most often signaling the passing of another hour.

The ship rolls slowly from side to side as it cuts through the blue Pacific waters. My stomach’s response is unbecoming. I have taken some sea sickness pills and may have to take more. I have not been to sea on a nuclear carrier in many years and it shows. I feel a little queasy. UGH! The ship’s Captain has addressed the crew and the “Tigers” a number of times today. He is obviously quite aware of the “foreigners” (my words not his) on board his boat. For the last five days of this arduous eight and a half month deployment he and his crew of thousands will be completing “end of deployment” tasks, working hard while trying to satisfy the needs and wants of an additional twelve hundred or so “civilians”, many whom have never seen a boat this size let alone been aboard one. From my perspective, the crew has handled all of this with a marvelous sense of humor. It cannot be easy trying to hustle up and down ladders to jobs throughout the ship when there are men, women and children clumsily ascending and descending the same ladders at a snails pace. Yet the crew dealt with it all beautifully. Incidental note on ships “ladders.” One’s grip is vital. Hold on tight to both sides of the handrails as you ascend or descend. Go slowly and remember to duck. Ouch!

Running shoes, T-shirts, white socks and shorts is the clothing of choice among “Tigers.” It was quite warm when we left Honolulu so that apparel was appropriate. As we continue on our journey to the coast of the contiguous United Sates I suspect it will get cooler. I brought clothing for all occasions so I don’t fear inclement weather. I believe the Captain stated a little earlier in the day that we may run into some worsening weather along the way. I am prepared.

My daughter will join me soon for lunch. She has been trying hard to sleep and has met with little success. Lucky for her I need little if any supervision. I am in “hog heaven” right now. This trip will be an endless source of fascination. She can rest as much as she likes. I don’t blame her. I wonder how I might find the C-2 pilots. That is the plane I flew in my first squadron and I would love to talk with the young folks flying C.O.D (Carrier Onboard Delivery).

Waiting for my daughter to go to lunch. We had a fine air show this morning featuring the fighters as well as a variety of other aircraft. They were all awesome. The C-2 was prominently displayed flying some very close formation with the E-2. Yesterday the practice version of the air show featured something I never imagined I would witness. The C-2 was leading two fighters in close formation. You have to have been in the Navy back in the day to appreciate the irony of that situation. Let me explain. In Naval aviation, fighters reign supreme. They are exotic, fast and they do cool things to the bad guys. There are other planes in the arsenal that can do damage but few do it in a sexier way than a fighter. At the risk of making a gross understatement let me add that fighter pilots are a very proud group. Then there is the C-2 Greyhound. Fat and flat nosed, wide in the middle and slower than “molasses in January” the C.O.D. has one job: hauling “trash.” “Trash” is a Navy euphemism for people, boxes, parts, tools, medicine, food and important papers. No bombs, no guns, no fiery jet engines and sadly, no glamour. It was with immense satisfaction that I witnessed a C-2 in flight, leading in close formation not one but two F/A-18 Hornets. A tight formation it was indeed and one where the cargo door on the C-2 was opened wide, fighters tucked in astern. The fighter pilots were obviously working hard to force their jet planes to go as slow as the C-2. Gear down, flaps down, hook down. It was really something to see. Great flying and a sight I will never forget.

Day three under way. Still looking for the C-2 guys. We have had two air shows in two days, one preliminary and one with all the bells and whistles. Bombs were dropped, bullets were fired, deafening “sound barrier” breaking was going on and it was fantastic. The helicopters finished the air show with my daughter’s Commanding Officer flying his aircraft close to the port side of the ship with an American flag hanging directly below the aircraft. What a fine way to end this magnificent display of air power.

The food has been good and the accommodations have been more than adequate. My daughter is packing as I write. I think I will head for the hangar bay. There are lot tons of logo T-shirts, hats and keychains to buy. Off I go.

Day three at sea (continued). Breakfast was mediocre this morning but we, the “Tigers” had a chat about days gone by, our children and their accomplishments. I am in the “Raptor” (my daughter’s squadron) ready room as I type while squadron members are dismantling all that identifies this as the “Raptor” ready room. Soon it will be like all other of the other ready rooms on board this magnificent ship, stripped of all identifying items such as large squadron logos and the like. All will be gone and the room, devoid of the “Raptor” identity will be made ready for the next squadron, the next deployment. Someone mentions “Two days left.” The crews are thinking of little else. The cleared-out ready room is just one of many signs that this deployment is ending. That end cannot come soon enough for those that have been out here for such a very long time.

My daughter continues to try to sleep. Meanwhile, we “Tigers” are having a ball. There have been some bumps and bruises but despite a few incidents of banged shins and scraped foreheads, each of us is having a great time. I think I will look for the C-2 guys. Man, they are hard to find. I watched the sun go down from “Vulture’s Row” (about 30 feet above the flight deck) last evening. There is beauty, even from the decks of one of the world’s greatest fighting ships.

Today will not be a busy one. I have chosen not to ask much of my daughter as I go about my way. She needs the rest and I have little to do of any real importance. There are still things to discover and to learn but I temper my activities with the idea that I have been on ships like this before. As interesting as they are it is not the reactor nor the planes that I care to learn about. It is the people. From the senior officers down to the youngest enlisted man or woman the people of this ship are of far more interest to me than the metal and steel. That is where the real story is to be found.

We are getting close to home port and the ship’s personnel are aware that they are very nearly home. We are within hours of arrival and I can see people hustling down the ladders to the hangar deck, loaded to the hilt with seabags that are stuffed with eight months of “at sea” life. At lunch my daughter wanted to visit with her friends rather than sit and listen to the reflections of a few old folks. I sat tight, content to let her go while we, the old folks, exchanged a few more laughs. She visited with friends and it was obvious she was aware that their time together was limited. There were about eight of these young folks and they sat together, talking, laughing and remembering. This very long cruise has taken it’s toll on the young officers and yet they still laugh. It is obvious that some of them have had enough of ship board life by the choices they have made for their next set of orders. ROTC, Naval Academy and Post Graduate School are all choices that do not have anything to do with underway deployments. They are done. At least for now. I still have not found the C-2 pilots but I am getting closer each day. I think I spotted one on the hangar deck earlier. These guys are illusive.

 I met the CO of the ship today. Gregarious and friendly to a fault this man has complete command of this ship. He gave a couple of orders to subordinates and there was absolutely no question who was boss on the bridge. He was not mean at all but was direct and to the point. I can readily see that this man loves naval aviation. I finally caught up with a C-2 pilot today. Tall, confident and fully aware that he has the most desirable job a pilot can have on board an aircraft carrier. He was humble and respectful and well aware of the fact that his job is a very special one. I really like this young man. I finally got some time in the seat of a C-2. The young man I spoke with loved to talk C-2’s. The C-2 pilots are beloved and envied on board a carrier. They have the task of leaving the boat any time the ship comes close to a port then remain on dry land, living in a hotel while running people and packages back and forth to the ship. They are envied (in a good way) because they collect per diem while they are doing all of this and spend the vast majority of any deployment on the beach. It is a very good deal, indeed. The C-2 looks just like it did many years ago save for a few minor electronic improvements. Sitting in the cockpit was great. It was suddenly 37 years ago and I was 25. I loved it. It was the one of the highlights of my “Tiger” cruise.

 The jets are gone. I watched as the last one was directed by the “yellow shirts” onto the catapult followed quickly by engines going to full afterburner. A crisp salute was given and they were off. The deck is now clear of all but the helos. They line the outer edges of the flight deck as if they are the iconic “circled wagons” of the old west. Tomorrow the crews of the two helicopter squadrons will rise early, stumble sleepily into the wardroom, eat what they can then head to the ready room for a cup of stale coffee and a quick morning brief by the CO. It will be the last such ship board brief on this deployment. The anticipation is palpable. Tomorrow the young aviators will don their flight gear to make ready to depart, twisting and turning as they work to get their heavy flight gear into place. They are ready to go home. Life will be significantly different in just a few hours.

I have spoken with a number of the pilots during my visit. In our talks, the word “family” is ever present. The US Navy tries to hard to mitigate the time away from home but it generally misses that very illusive mark. How do you compensate for so much time away? For example, my daughter and a handful of her squadron mates has been at sea 17 out of the last 22 months. Two complete deployments. It is easy to see that if the US economy were doing well it would be extremely difficult to retain young people of this caliber given the time away and the dangers involved. Make no mistake, this is tough duty.

 “Doc, Babba Ganoosh, Sly, Dieter, Finch,” are call signs given to these young aviators. I can only guess at the reasons behind the names. The aviators know what the call signs mean and that is enough for them. Doc, the flight surgeon, is handsome, quick witted and obviously prepared for ship board medical eventualities. He is a good friend to my daughter. They can talk. A father of two he will return home to his family certain in his future as a doctor. Stay in the Navy or get out, Doc will have “options.” Whatever choice he makes you get the feeling this young man will do well. One observation about “Doc”: There is not a pretentious bone in his body. His “Tiger” is a friend of many years, call sign “Scooteroh” a young man with a remarkably fluid, well developed sense of humor. They obviously connect on a number of levels. They are both very funny young men. “Babba Ganoosh”(sp?). Tall with an outstanding handlebar mustache he possesses a deep voice that any radio talk show host would envy. He laughs with my daughter describing how she flew very tight formation on his helicopter. A very likable young man. “Finch” is a Victor Mature lookalike who carries the weight of being the most well educated aviator in this very well educated group. A Naval Academy graduate that followed that fine education by earning a masters degree which speaks to the fact that this young man will do well regardless of his career choice. With a winning smile and a gift for jokes he flies with my daughter. I suspect they have a tremendous amount of fun. “Dieter,” father and career Navy hopeful is easy to talk with and willing to share his plans and aspirations. Family means a lot to him and he will soon be faced with the inevitable choices that one’s “family versus Navy career” begets. The Skipper (Commanding Officer) of the squadron has a shaved head and a perpetually serious look. This fact gives one the impression that he is a man with a powerful personality. Yet, when talking with him you are left a strong sense that he truly loves leading this small band of aviators and does so by setting clear goals and limitations. He trusts his officers to get it right. Very impressive, indeed. There are others that I did not mention and I am sorry that I did not do so. Overall I was taken by the straight shooting, no “BS” approach of the officers and enlisted personnel that my daughter has worked with over these last nine months. Personally, I would have been proud to serve with any one of them.

They are all off the ship now. During the preflight of her helicopter my daughter slipped on some oil, falling to the carrier deck. She was hurt. Not surprising to anyone who knows her she had paid a short visit to the flight surgeon, took two aspirin then gamely hustled across the flight deck, hopped on board her “chopper,” waved to me one last time and was gone. As I watched with no slight amount of emotion her helo reared back powerfully and departed from the stern of the ship flying down the starboard side for all to see. I would have shed a tear but I was too busy filming this remarkable occasion. What a moment for a dad.

The cruise is over now. We are docked and crew members are departing, families waiting along side the ship. Tears are shed, lives restarted.

Parting shots: So why do they do it? I keep coming back to the eyes for that is where the soul of today’s young naval aviator lives. The clarity, purpose, determination and self confidence of these young officers speaks to a higher purpose. They know that they make a difference. From the most junior enlisted to the admirals of the fleet there is a tremendous amount of pride in what they do, who they are, in their squadron and their ship. There is nothing comparable to it in the civilian world. I want to thank the people responsible for allowing an “old salt” like myself to spend six days on board this magnificent ship. I learned a lot, saw a lot and remembered.

Closing comment: The leaders of this country have the grave responsibility to use ships such as the USS Stennis and her personnel in a thoughtful, responsible manner. The last six days has made me realize that I, too, have a responsibility. That is to make certain that those leaders do not waste one ship, one life, one moment in the pursuit of meaningless endeavors. This trip was a stark reminder to me of that responsibility. I now am quite certain that I shall never forget my time on this magnificent ship, my years on active duty nor the debt that I owe to the young men and women of the United States Navy and Marine Corps.
Semper Fidelis,

A fighter pilots fervent wish:

“Lord I pray for the eyes of an eagle, the heart of a lion and the balls of a combat helicopter pilot."