Memoir
The Flight Deck: Danger Zone
Everything will kill you
“Keep your head on a swivel.”
Everything on the flight deck will kill you. Jetblast will roll a teenaged Sailor down the flightdeck like a bowling ball. It blasts you overboard despite the safety netting. A snapped arresting gear cable can slice a man in half or cut off his legs. The intake of a jet engine will suck in a young plane captain and kill her instantly.
Walking into a spinning propeller guarantees a horrible death with pieces of flesh splattering the fuselage, the wing, landing gear, and Shipmates. Projecting antennae, the sharp edges of wingflaps, pitot tubes, will put you down like a sack of potatoes and leave you with bleeding head and stitches.
Or take an eye out. A folding ladder will pinch a finger off. A wedding ring can snag and rip the flesh from a finger down to the bone. Protective gear only works when you wear it.
“Fight quarters. Flight quarters. All hands man your flight quarters stations.”
“Cranials on, chinstraps buckled, goggles down, sleeves down, life vests on and buttoned, gloves on. Secure all loose gear. All hands man the bow for fod (foreign object debris) walkdown. Be safe out there. Keep your heads on a swivel.”
Working the flight deck is one of the most dangerous places on Earth.
And it is THE most exciting.
It’s 120 degrees in the Gulf and we’re launching in combat!
“Let’s Go! Let’s Go! Let’s Go!” I duck-walk under the wing, the roar of the trembling jet just feet from my head. I run my hands along the aft fuselage, my counterpart on the other side doing the same thing. Looking for loose screws, fluid leaks, loose panels, fuel leaks, is that bulge under the paint corrosion? Is that vibration normal? Is that weapon secure? That piercing squeal is the hydraulic system. I work my way back. One more look at everything for anything that can bring a jet down. The pilot is my branch officer, a Lieutenant, a good guy, talks to the guys in the shop. Asks about families back home. Bought a round for all the Plane Captains at the Bull and Bear in Singapore last portcall. “Let’s Go! Hurry up, Hurry up!” I can’t hear the words but I read lips pretty well. She’s clean. I make for the wingtip and crouch, one hand on the deck my other arm raised high to give the thumbs up. I wait.
The omnipresent Air Boss sees everything from his perch high above the flightdeck:
“YOU! In the port catwalk. Get your ass below deck!” “What the hell is the holdup, FIST 405?” “Get that aircraft off the damn catapult!” “I want that plane captain and his supervisor up here in two minutes!” “You in the starboard catwalk! Wave if you can hear me.” Only an idiot waves. (Yes. Some do :)
The Air Boss is GOD. And he spills coffee all over his jersey. Every day.
The Hornet is loud. As loud as the Intruder. The roar of the engines pounds in my head. She’s at full throttle! Afterburners! Look at those blue flames! Excitement buzzes throughout my body. My heart pounds like a sledgehammer. Feel it? Feel it? The hold back keeps her tied to the deck, but she wants to fly. Now! She trembles, she shudders. Let me go, she says! Wait for it. Wait for it. The bow sinks. I grit my teeth ‘til they hurt. The fillings vibrate in my mouth. Fists clenched so tight. White knuckles. My head pounds. My bones are shaking! Intense. I’m so damn tense. The marrow in my bones vibrates. I clench my jaw as tears form in my eyes. My brain shakes inside my skull. I love this! God how I love this! I can’t stop the tears or the feeling inside. It’s like…love. Gratitude. Fear. Awe. Is this what God sounds like? The bow rises! The horizon disappears!
She’s off! She flies! She dips below the flight deck and my stomach sinks. But her wings bite and she rises! She flies!
Aft of me, landing aircraft catch the three wire, release, taxi to the bow for the next shot, another aircraft catches the three wire, taxis out of the way. Away off the port bow, the SAR helo stands by to swoop in and rescue….
Here comes another Hornet. Oh, no! A bolter! The pilot missed his landing! He’ll circle and try again.
The jet blast deflectors lower. The next two Hornets taxi up. JBDs rise. Both bow catapults are ready. Here we go again!
“Let’s go! Let’s Go! Let’s Go!”
Nonstop with the launches and traps, Sailors run about the deck carrying tool boxes, fuel hose, electrical cables, grounding straps, tie-down chains; loading missiles, rockets, ammo; tractors tow generators, engine start carts, and electric carts; firefighters sit at the ready; corpsmen standby for the call. Between the foul lines of the catapults, a crowd of troubleshooters, aviation mechanics: parachute riggers, life support techs, engine mechanics, electricians, avionics techs, metalsmiths, safety reps, QA personnel wait to be called to make a decision on an aircraft problem: quick fix, or does she get yanked off the catapult? Quick! Quick! Make the call, Sailor. That’s what you’re paid for! Can that goddamn aircraft fly or not? Make the call, Sailor!
Meanwhile, aircraft taxi, launch, trap, taxi, launch, trap, taxi, launch, trap
Flight quarters occurs at all hours and in all weather conditions. Snow and ice? Rain? We got planes to launch. 120 degrees in the Gulf? Doesn’t matter. We have ground troops to protect and targets to take out. Fourteen hour days are the norm aboard ship. A busy Sailor can’t get into trouble. Not that there are many places in the middle of the North Atlantic or South Pacific to find trouble.
But it makes the days go by faster, and it leaves more time for aircraft maintenance and training. And safety lectures.
FACT: Before the Navy married its safety and maintenance processes into one maintenance “Bible” in 1959, the mishap rate among Navy and Marine Corps aircraft was about 54 major mishaps per 100,000 flight hours. That number has fallen to fewer than 2 major mishaps per 100,000 flight hours. That’s a huge decline in lives lost and aircraft destroyed. That’s why Sailors say the NAMP, the Naval Aviation Maintenance Program, was written in blood.
The aircraft carrier flight deck is LAX or JFK without the calm, the serenity, the two hours-before-flight-stroll perusing magazines and men’s shoes or Gucci handbags; without Starbucks and P.F. Chang.
It’s 4.5 acres of controlled chaos.
Chaos Controlled by the NAMP
Principles of the NAMP are:
- Strict adherence to quality and safety procedures
- Repair of aeronautical equipment and material at the level of maintenance that most efficiently uses resources in achieving operational objectives.
- Application of systematic planned maintenance to minimize material degradation of aircraft, engines, and equipment.
- Collection and analysis of data to support changes to improve the efficiency, effectiveness, quality, and safety of naval aviation maintenance.
The NAMP is why Joey and Becky Sue come home on leave every year: They practice safe…wait for it…fix (groan).
“Liberty Call, Liberty Call. All hands rating liberty may leave the ship.” The author is in this photo….
I hope you enjoyed this small slice of my Navy experience. This was my life. Everything after is seriously chill. At least I have the photos and memories ⚓
