Blog #120 – Merging the Past with the Present
There are times in our lives when the past seems to merge with the present. For me, this was one of them.
I recently returned from a reunion of USS Kitty Hawk veterans, held in San Diego. Many of these same shipmates also recently returned from a different type of reunion of Kitty Hawk veterans—celebrating the end of her final voyage from Bremerton, Washington to Brownsville, Texas.
I’m a United States Navy veteran and served four years, 1973-77. I was fortunate to have two great duty stations: NAS Agana, Guam (’73-75) and aboard the aircraft carrier, USS Kitty Hawk, CV-63 (’75-77). My rating was an Aviation Boatswains Mate-Handler (ABH). I worked in Crash & Salvage on both duty stations. Basically, I was an aircraft Crash firefighter.
If you count the year Kitty Hawk spent in the Bremerton Shipyards (1976), that would be three “duty stations” for me. After the shipyards, I transferred onto the flight deck as a Yellow Shirt Director.
All in all, some of the best times of my life.
Aboard the USS Midway, CV-41…
As part of the Kitty Hawk reunion, we spent several hours aboard USS Midway, CV-41, a floating aircraft carrier museum docked in San Diego. I’ve been aboard her several times. But this time, it was a little different. I can’t explain why.
Photo credit: Andy Adkins
Of course, as part of almost any large tour, you wait to board a shuttle bus (Hurry Up and Wait). Then, once you’ve arrived at the museum, sit on the bus with 20 of your closest friends while the tour leader gets tickets & info (Hurry Up and Wait); granted, there were two busloads of us shipmates & families. When you finally get your ticket to board, there’s that one last line: the photographer who takes your (and your guest) photo for a souvenir (Hurry Up and Wait).
Not me… today, I’m on a mission.
I quickly walked aft through the hangar deck and made a beeline for the flight deck. That’s where I spent most of my short Navy career. That’s where I’d spend my time on this tour.
The flight deck is where I belong.
Those memories…
One of the first aircraft I spot on the flight deck is an A-3 Skywarrior. She’s big… no, she’s huge!
There was a squadron of A-3s adjacent to the Crash Barn when I was stationed at NAS Agana, Guam. Being a part of Crash, we learned everything we needed to know about this aircraft from a firefighting & rescue perspective.
When Kitty Hawk cruised by Guam during Westpac ’75, three of these “Whales” joined us for the cruise, flying directly from Guam. I mean, why not, right?
The A-6 Intruder “Rescue”
I walked up and stood next to an A-6 Intruder. Two things I distinctly remember about the Intruder. First, they were IMO, the loudest aircraft aboard Kitty Hawk.
As a Fly 3 Yellow Shirt director on the angle during flights ops recovery, my job was to direct aircraft out of the recovery area to make room for the next aircraft (see photo below of A-7 Corsair & Yellow Shirt director). We had about 45 seconds (during the day; 60 at night, if it was clear) between recovering aircraft. I’d stand near Cat #2 (port side bow catapult), maybe 15-20 feet away from an aircraft ready for launch.
The F-14 Tomcats in full afterburners were loud. But the A-6 Intruder… well, let’s just say it was the only aircraft where I reached up to press my foam-lined headset closer to my ears, hoping to drown out the bone-jarring noise.
The second thing that came to mind was an A-6 we recovered at the end of a flight cycle during carrier quals. The Air Boss decided to simulate a crash, using this particular A-6. No problem, we practiced this all the time. That day, I happen to be in the hot suit, riding on the back of the Crash tractor. So, long story short, I’d be the one to “rescue” the crew.
USS Dwight D. Eisenhower (CVN-69)
Photo credit: PH2 Gary P. Bonaccorso
(Click to enlarge)
The A-6 trapped and came to a complete stop on the flight deck. The Crash truck rolled, the Crash tractors rolled, firefighting hoses from both sides of the deck appeared with 5-6 flight deck personnel manning each hose (they were not engaged, but they simulated fighting the fire as part of the training exercise). All went according to plan.
As the “rescue man,” my job was to climb up the co-pilot’s ladder (starboard side of the aircraft), insert the ejection seat safety pins (I believe there were three), then unbuckle the co-pilot from his seat, pull him out, throw him over my shoulder, and ease my way back down the ladder.
All the while, trying not to laugh when he commented, “we’ve got to stop meeting like this.” That was after his question, “You’re not going to drop me, are you?”
The Admiral’s Boat
The B&A Crane (Boat & Aircraft) was another story. All Crash personnel trained on this huge crane that swung out from the starboard side of the ship. We used the crane in conjunction with elevator #3 (starboard side, aft) to lift either aircraft or small boats in and out of the water (for boat) and/or barge (for aircraft).
We anchored out in the harbor because Hong Kong didn’t have a pier large enough to dock Kitty Hawk. On our first day in Hong Kong, the Admiral decided he wanted his boat to tour the harbor.
The Boatswain’s Mates brought it out onto #3 elevator using one of our aircraft tow tractors. My job was to lower the hoist and hold it steady while the BMs attached a cable to the boat. No problem—Kitty Hawk was an enormous ship and rode the waves with ease.
The problem surfaced (pun intended) when I operated the B&A to lift the boat off the elevator with three BMs aboard, then swung the boat over to lower down to the water. The Air Bos’n (Bos’n Ty Robuck) was with me.
The seas were choppy and the BMs had their hands full trying to keep the boat steady in the water while simultaneously unhook the 1,500 pound crane pulley from the cables. It was not a simple task.
On the final try, the BMs successfully unhooked the pulley, but the boat surged back, thus exposing the true physics of man v. sea—the pulley smashed through the windshield.
Nobody was hurt. The admiral got his boat—albeit a little whacked up—and I didn’t get written up for it.
All in a day’s work.
The Sparrow Missile “Knife Sharpener”
(Click to enlarge)
Just outside the Crash compartment (starboard side aft of the island) is a space commonly called the “Bomb Farm.” There’s about 20 feet between the island and the starboard catwalk. This is where squadron ordnance men commonly store dozens of bombs, missiles, and other things that can cause extreme bodily harm and nightmares.
Before I arrived in Crash (and I emphasize, “It wasn’t me!”), someone from Crash “accidentally dropped” a ball peen hammer on the nosecone of a Sparrow missile, thus smashing the ceramic material into several pieces. Apparently, the ceramic material makes for a great knife sharpener.
It so happens that when I arrived in Crash as an ABH3 in March 1975, the Crash LPO (ABH1 Jeff Atteberry) assigned me a locker in the Crash compartment. Lo & behold, guess what I “found” in my locker?
Needless to say, I still have this as a prized possession. And yes, because I know you want to know: it makes an awesome knife sharpener.
Scary E-2 “Hawkeye” Night Landings
The E-2 is an all-weather, tactical airborne early warning (AEW) aircraft. I believe we had two of these aircraft aboard during Westpac ’75. They’re nicknamed “Hummers” because when they turn full power, they have a distinct loud hum. They were usually the second plane to launch, following the plane guard helos.
This was the only aircraft aboard that gave me a little anxiety. Not because of their propellers, though you’d certainly be cautious when around them. No… it was because these aircraft had such a wide wingspan when they landed, there wasn’t much room between the end of the wing and those of us manning the foul line.
Many times, the E-2 would be slightly off the centerline and we’d have to dunk our heads, thinking the wing was right above us. Of course, it wasn’t, but one can’t be too cautious.
Photo credit: Andy Adkins
Imagine this, though…
… a dark & stormy night. The wind is howling across the deck and the rain is coming at you sideways. As large as a carrier is, she bounces around and you literally have to hold on to something so you don’t slip and fall. It’s dark and the only lights you see are the red lights on the deck.
You know you’ve got incoming aircraft to recover, but you’re not sure which aircraft will be next. You strain to look aft to see any lights—you look for the red & green navigation lights on the aircraft. Usually you can tell what type of aircraft by the spacing of their landing lights and their approach. But in this case, you can’t see shit.
Then, suddenly, you spot a faint red, then a green light, and the aircraft is directly over the fantail, about 20-30 feet off the deck and his nose is pointed directly at you. He’s “crabbing” into the wind.
Holy crap, Batman! You and three of your closest friends sprint toward the island, about 50 feet away, to get out of the way, ‘cause you know what’s coming next.
About halfway to the island, you glance back and see the E-2 trapped normally, the Yellow Shirt on the angle directs him to lift his tail hook, fold his wings, and taxi off to the starboard Fly 2 area to make room for the next recovering aircraft.
You nervously look at the other guys who high-tailed it with you and then simultaneously let out a loud laugh ‘cause you realize it’s all in a day’s work.
Between a Rock & a Hard Place
I’m standing on the flight deck angle in the “crotch.” This is the spot where, 45 years earlier, I was a Yellow Shirt director. My job was to direct the trapped aircraft out of the recovery area quickly and safely to allow the next aircraft to recover—about 45 seconds.
On that particular day, we simultaneously launched aircraft off Cat #2 (port side, bow) as well as recovered them. An A-7 Corsair was on final approach. It was a clear, crisp, & cool day; the kind my mom used to call a “Champagne Day.” Beside me, about 20 feet away from my spot, was an F-14 Tomcat, ready for launch. The JBD (Jet Blast Deflector) was raised, deflecting the aircraft’s exhaust. I could feel a little of is coming my way.
Just as the shooter signaled for the F-14 to go to full afterburner, the A-7 Corsair hit the recovery area. And, like all good training, the A-7 pilot applied full power just in case he missed the arresting gear cable and boltered. That means, he missed the arresting gear and needed to go around for another try.
“The” problem: The A-7 caught the cable, but when the pilot applied full power, he also pulled back on the elevator… just a “tad too much.” Hence, his A-7 was in full power, about 15 feet off the deck with the arresting gear cable locked tightly in his tail hook.
USS Forrestal (CV-59) in Mediterranean Sea.
Photo credit: USS Forrestal 1981 cruise book.
(Click to enlarge)
“My” problem: I had three options. First, I could haul butt to my port side (the starboard side of the ship) and see just how quickly an F-14’s full afterburner would turn me into instant toast. Second, I could jump overboard and see how deep Davy Jones’ locker was. Or third, I could stand my ground and see what happens.
As soon as I stood up (I normally squatted down to avoid the wind resistance from the airflow over the angle and the exhaust from the launching jet), the Shooter immediately aborted the F-14 launch. The A-7 Corsair slammed into the deck, but nothing came apart: no fires, no collapsed landing gear, and no need to change skivvies. Everything was just honkey dory, though my friend Smitty, a fellow Fly 3 Yellow Shirt, came over and asked me if I wanted to take a little break. I took him up on it.
Then again, just another day in the life on the flight deck.
Final Parting Words
The 2022 Kitty Hawk reunion is now history. I wasn’t sure I would make it, but I’m sure glad I did. It was a blast meeting with other shipmates who served before, during, and after me. There were so many common experiences.
For some it was an opportunity to answer some questions from events that happened long ago. For others, it helped bring closer to some not-so-good experiences, including me.
Like many others at the reunion, I met new friends, shares stories of our times about Kitty Hawk, and reminisced about those old times. I know from a few conversations, they, too, merged the past with the present, especially when aboard USS Midway. That’s one reason these reunions are successful.
I remember back in boot camp, when the company marched to & from the chow hall, one company passing another… you’d often hear, “Anyone from Texas; anyone from New York; anyone from Virginia.”
At the reunion (we’re a “little” older now), you’d ask two questions. First, what division and second, what years were you aboard.
Then, some of us would say, “What? Speak up.”
Such is life on the flight deck of an aircraft carrier.
Hats off to the Kitty Hawk Veterans Association officers (and their wives), members, and everyone involved in putting this reunion together. I know the challenges and efforts it takes. But from my perspective, a job well-done. Bravo-Zulu!!!
I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again.
We are sons of different mothers,
but we were all raised by the same great lady.
Until we meet again,
Andy Adkins
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