TRAVEL TALES:War maneuvers aboard aircraft carrier

Through a fortuitous meeting with a retired military officer friend, I learned of a little known Navy program. The U.S. Navy is promoting itself as the place for young men and women to grow up, better themselves, learn a trade and become productive citizens. They’re looking for business and community leaders to experience the Navy first-hand and then tell their friends and neighbors about their experiences so the word gets out to prospective recruits.

When my wife, Elaine, and I arrived at San Diego’s North Island Naval Air Station we realized one of my life-long dreams. I was in the Army during Vietnam , but I would have preferred to serve in the Navy. We received an invitation to fly out to the aircraft carrier John C. Stennis, otherwise known as CVN 74. That means it was the fourth Nimitz-class, nuclear-powered aircraft carrier produced. It was launched in 1995 and was just updated with new radar, communications gear and state-of-the-art defensive weaponry. It’s berthed in Beaverton, Wash., but routinely undergoes training exercises off the coast of Southern California.

A crew of three made us comfortable as a retiring aviator captain gave us the welcoming speech. He told Elaine and I what we were in for, along with the other nine visitors joining our band of civilians. He explained the ship was named for John C. Stennis, the Mississippi senator almost single-handedly responsible for developing our fleet of modern, nuclear-powered aircraft carriers. After an hour or so we were fitted with helmets (called “cranials”) and ear protections, along with a life preserver (“horse collar”) to be used in an unexpected water landing. A big C2A Greyhound taxied up to the tarmac by the terminal. This beast was a twin turboprop freight plane designed and produced for one purpose only: to ferry people and parts to and from aircraft carriers.

We flew for 40 minutes or so out to the Stennis, which was involved in naval warfare maneuvers with its entire 10-ship strike force, about 125 miles southwest of San Diego. The pilots let us visit the cockpit, one by one, and have a look around. When we arrived we were put into a holding pattern, kind of like LAX on a busy evening, because the FA-18-A Hornet fighters were landing one by one.

When we landed, the back of the Greyhound dropped down like a cargo plane and we exited one by one. This was not like being any other place, to be sure. There were dozens of people and planes on the flight deck. We were met by three sailors who were assigned to us for our visit. A commander, a lieutenant and a chief petty officer. They welcomed us aboard and immediately took us to an area under what’s called “the island,” which is the 100-foot tower off to the side of the flight deck that houses the ship’s brains. There we watched what’s called a cycle. That’s when the steam catapults throw 20 or so Hornets and Super Hornets into the air, one every 60 seconds. Loud? The only thing I can compare it to is watching 8,000-horsepower AA Fuel Dragsters compete at Pomona.

We were escorted on a tour of the ship, to include meeting with Capt. Brad Johanssen. This guy is in charge of roughly 5,900 officers. Johanssen told us that the Stennis, just refitted, had undergone its sea trials with civilian engineers manning the ship six months before. Then, a couple of months later, the military crew assigned to the ship had reported for duty. Three-thousand proved their worth by taking this enormous ship (1,092-feet long, 258-feet high, 258-feet wide, 99,000 gross tons, 18,800 meals served each day) through its paces. And now, along with its companion vessels, two Arleigh Burke-class destroyers, two Aegis Class cruisers, a Los Angeles Class nuclear sub, two supply ships and a tender, the Stennis had to prove itself as a strike force while undergoing simulated warfare exercises. They had hired, the captain told us, a Swedish submarine, to try to “kill” the Stennis. I think he said we bought them a tank of gas and agreed to pick up their bar tab back in San Diego when the exercises were finished. So, we’re throwing planes into the sky and retrieving them on a pitching deck every 90 seconds at 30-plus knots with arresting cables while taking 30-degree zig-zag turns avoiding a death-shot torpedo from our Swedish friends. Very cool stuff.

Later that evening we were permitted to observe “night ops.” That means the 10 p.m. cycle of take-offs and landings was conducted in the dark. And I mean dark. They use special low-intensity lighting during the take-off portion, simply because it’s so dangerous. Once the planes have taken off, however, it’s a different story. The lights are turned off, and it’s completely dark, except for the pencil-thin high-intensity lights shooting straight up every few feet from the runway landing zone. That’s to keep enemy subs from seeing anything when viewing the ship from the water line.

After 30 minutes, the cycle of planes that had just blasted into the sky lined up for their dramatic return. One by one they found the 500-square-foot patch of deck they had to hit for their tail hooks to snag one of the four arresting cables. Every 90 seconds another Hornet slammed down, and hard, folded up its wings, and was parked off the landing surface in about 15 seconds. Later, maybe midnight or so, we were shown to our quarters. We, the members of this elite little group of citizens, had roomy two-to-a-cabin rooms with a sink. We were so tired that we all collapsed and fell immediately into a fitful sleep.

We got our wake-up call by phone at 5:45 a.m. and were eating breakfast with the crew by 6:15. Thereafter we were allowed to wander around the flight deck, take pictures and visit with the air crews as they washed and pampered and tuned the jets prior to the 10 a.m. cycle.

We were then taken to the anchor room at the ship’s bow. There we were briefed by a chief petty officer whose job it is to maintain two 66,000-pound anchors and two 1,200-foot long chains, each link of which is 3 1/2 feet long and weighs 366 pounds.

Now the tour took us to the hanger deck. This is the 80-foot-tall room under the flight deck where the planes are stored while being repaired or not in use. This “room” is about 800 feet long and 250 feet wide. To put this in perspective, you could have two football games going on end-to-end with enough room left over for 1,000 spectators to cheer on their teams. The jet shop came next. The engines of these planes create such a vacuum when cranked up they will pick up anything that isn’t nailed down from the flight deck of the ship. A screw or bolt or washer sucked into the intake of these engines results in an immediate — and expensive — catastrophic failure.

Later that day we were treated to a private briefing by the fleet’s admiral. The admiral covered the ship’s propulsion system. The Stennis, along with America’s nine other carriers, is nuclear powered. It has two reactors that produce enough power to push this ship along at 30-plus knots for 25 years without refueling. It also powers the steam catapult, and the lights, and it heats and air conditions the ship and desalinates up to 300,000 gallons of water a day.

The admiral also briefed us on the defense systems employed by our carriers. If a plane or a missile was to breach the defenses thrown up by the other ships in the strike force — a very unlikely scenario indeed — the Stennis has its own defense mechanisms. It has several types of sea-to-air and sea-to-sea missiles it can launch in an instant. It also has four Phalanx electric Gatling guns at each “corner” of the ship. These .50 caliber, computer-controlled, GPS-guided machine guns look like 8-foot tall R2-D2s with 10 gun barrels poking out. They are capable of firing 4,500 rounds per minute at anything dumb enough to get within range. They each put up a “wall of lead,” we were told, so dense that nothing can penetrate. Impressive.

Following a leisurely lunch with the pilots, it was now time to go.

On to the flight operations center for our final briefing before launch. And launch is the proper term. It was explained to us that we were going to be hitched up to the catapult and shot into space. The process would take us, we were told, from zero to 150 knots in 1.7 seconds. This would result in a momentary 5-positive G load on our bodies, or, put another way, I would weigh 1,100 pounds for a short time. Having never experienced such a thing, I didn’t know quite what to expect.

The plane taxied into position. The wings were unfolded. The blast shield was raised behind us. The engines were revved to maximum power. The pilot screamed, “Here we go!” just as we went.

Wham! There was that instant feeling of terror, to which I responded with a loud expletive which nobody could hear, and then it was over; we were then skimming along 100 feet above the waves, slowly gaining speed and altitude. Forty minutes later we were landing at North Island and our little odyssey came to a close.

What most impressed my wife and me in retrospect was that this amazingly complex, $4.5-billion ship operated so coolly and flawlessly. The average age of those on board is 20. Barely out of high school, these kids are working 16 hours a day, eight days a week with precision and without drama. The pilots are right out of “Top Gun.” Most are in their mid-20s. Most are Naval Academy grads, and all look like they’ve just come out of central casting. To a person, the pilots and crew expressed their commitment, their enthusiasm, their love of our country and their respect for our president. The morale couldn’t have been higher. I had the feeling while there that I might be in the single safest place on earth.

The Stennis and its complement of war ships reassembled off San Diego and then proceeded to the Gulf to support our efforts in the war on terrorism.

My wife and I commented to ourselves upon our return that we felt whole lot safer now just knowing that the Stennis and its sister ships are on patrol and these kids are looking out for us. We also were of the belief that a stint in the Navy is a very good choice for any young person who wants to learn and to serve. The kids we met on the Stennis have a leg up on others their age when it comes to maturity, discipline and focus. We also wondered how we would do justice to the experience we just had when describing it to others. This little essay is that attempt.

Join us in thanking the men and women of the United States Navy, as well as all others in uniform, for their service and patriotism. Remember them in your prayers.

is a CostaMesa resident.