A Veteran's Journey

Trivia Questions (Answers @ end)

1. Who said, “No one can deny the excitement of visiting another world.”?
2. In what TV show did we hear, “People can live a hundred years without really living for a minute.”?
3. In what song (and who sang it) did we hear:
   Nibblin’ on sponge cake
   Watchin’ the sun bake
   All of those tourists covered with oil
   Strummin’ my six string
   On my front porch swing
   Smell those shrimp, they’re beginnin’ to boil

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They say working on the flight deck of an aircraft carrier is the most dangerous job in the world.

You’ve heard me say this before… while I agree that working on the flight deck is dangerous, during my time aboard USS Kitty Hawk (CV-63), I was never shot at, nor did I endure artillery shells dropping all around me. In short… no one was trying to kill me (at least as far as I know).

I have many veteran friends who have experienced way more danger than I, so I’m not going to argue here.

The point of this article is to relay to you my own personal experience and why, even today, 45 years later, I still get goose bumps thinking about those times on the flight deck. Normal workdays at sea were usually 16-18 hours. But I always asked… what else did I have to do?

I was an Aircraft Boatswain’s Mate Handler (ABH)—that Navy rating held two primary roles. One was an aircraft crash firefighter, the other a Yellow Shirt director. I was fortunate to have experienced both during my short 4-year career (1973-77). My first duty station was NAS Agana, Guam—assigned to the Crash & Rescue Division. We worked 24 hours on and 24 hours off for my entire 15 months in Guam. It was great duty and, on my days off, I was able to explore many areas of the island.

I left Guam in February 1975. After 30 days leave back in my hometown of Gainesville, I flew out to San Diego to meet my new ship, USS Kitty Hawk, an aircraft carrier based at North Island. Since I’d been a firefighter in Guam, I was assigned to V-1 Division / Crash & Salvage. At that time, CWO2 Tyrone Robuck was the Air Bos’n and in charge of Crash. ABH1 Jeff Atteberry was the Crash LPO (Leading Petty Officer) and ABH2 Shelby “Big Willie” Williams was the assistant Crash LPO. I was one of two ABH3s in Crash—my good friend Gary Borne (R.I.P.) was the other.

Continuous Movement

Even though I’d been in the Navy for almost a year & a half, I was still a rookie when I got out onto the flight deck. The airfield at NAS Agana, Guam, had parallel runways (12,000’ and 10,000’) and served both the Navy and commercial aircraft. Plenty of room to drive the Crash trucks.

The flight deck was slightly smaller—about a total of four acres (compared to 1,700+ acres at NAS Agana, Guam). Picture 50+ aircraft snugly parked in various spots around the deck. Yeah… and that’s just when we’re not at flight operations.

When at sea, flight ops, at least back in my day, usually began around 1000 and lasted through midnight. Crash had to be on deck an hour before and remain an hour after flight ops.

The ship would first launch 10-15 aircraft, then move aircraft around (“re-spot”) to ready for the next launch. Then, an hour later, we’d launch another 10-15 aircraft—usually in less than 10 minutes. After the last bird of that launch cycle was gone, we’d re-spot the deck in order to recover the first set of aircraft launched an hour earlier.

And we’d do that ALL.DAY.LONG and into the night.

When I mention constant movement, it’s hard to imagine all those aircraft moving about—some on their own power with the pilot at the controls, others towed with a tow tractor with a squadron Plane Captain in the cockpit at the controls.

All the movement happens with a Yellow Shirt director making sure the right aircraft is in the right spot at the right time. The aircraft movement is controlled by the Aircraft Handler, whose “office” is in the island. His “desk” is often called the Ouija Board, and he relies on small aircraft cutouts with various nuts & bolts and other identifying objects to tell him whether a specific aircraft is ready to move/re-spot.

Teamwork

During flight ops, about 200 personnel are on the flight deck. Each individual has a job, and each wears a colored jersey, colored float coat (life vest), and colored cranial helmet to identify their specific function.

For example, in V-1 Division, we had Yellow Shirts (aircraft directors), Blue Shirts (aircraft handlers & tractor drivers), and Red Shirts (Crash). V-2 Division (those who worked on the equipment for launch & recovery) wore Green Shirts. V-4 Division (those who worked with fuel for the aircraft) wore Purple Shirts and were fondly called “grapes.” V-5 Division personnel worked with the aircraft control and wore White Shirts. V-3 Division worked on the Hangar Deck and wore the same Yellow & Blue Shirts we did.

Squadron personnel wore a variety of colors, too. I’ll spare the details, but the point is when you’re on the flight deck, everyone has a job to do and, for the most part, they do it well. It takes a lot of coordination and teamwork to make things run smoothly. And God forbid, if something goes wrong—and yes, it did, more often than you’d think—everyone had their “emergency” job and post.

That’s what makes everything work smoothly—teamwork.

Average Age 19-20 Years

I was 20 years old when I reported aboard Kitty Hawk. The average age of those working the flight deck is between 19-20 years. Back then, we just did our jobs, much like any other military branch. Watch out for yourself and watch out for your buddies. Plain and simple.

But at the tender age of twenty, I’d already been driving fire trucks for more than a year in Guam. I mentioned there wasn’t much room to maneuver trucks on the flight deck. But we did what we needed to do. We were always in the way and even though you’d try to anticipate aircraft movement, the Yellow Shirts would usually kindly let us know to “move your ass, Adkins.” All in jest, mind you.

Constant Danger

I’ve written about the A-7 Corsair that launched off Cat #2, only to have left a 500-pound bomb on the flight deck. Fortunately, it didn’t explode and no one was injured.

I’ve also written about the helicopter incidents: one that crashed into the ocean on the port side and the one helo whose starboard landing gear collapsed onto a squadron shipmate.

I’ve written about the main engine room flooding that caused the ship to list enough on the starboard side in the middle of the night where we moved all aircraft and equipment to the port side to help right the ship.

One day while I was a Yellow Shirt director up at the angle of the recovery area, an A-7 Corsair landed, catching the arresting gear with his hook. But thinking he didn’t, the pilot applied full power and rotated up… about 6-8 feet off the flight deck before the arresting gear cable pulled his ass back down in one big smack. I was about 20 feet away.

Yeah… things happen and when they do, it’s usually quick and there’s little time to think—only time to react. And that’s when your training and teamwork come into play.

There are other multiple documented incidents of flight deck emergencies, including arresting gear cable snapping and the damage that 1” thick cable does to aircraft and… shipmates. And I’ve written about “rigging the barricade” used to recover aircraft that either lost their tail hook or a main gear. Fortunately, that never happened during my time, but there are plenty of YouTube videos just in case you’re curious.

And those poor airdales who wandered too close and got sucked into a jet’s intake at the wrong time or walked into an aircraft’s propellers… it ain’t pretty.

As I think back to my time on the flight deck and the dangers I faced, the two main things I came away with are one: don’t take life for granted—it can be taken from you or a loved one in an instant. And two, always be aware of your surroundings. “Keep your head on a swivel;” that advice that Big Willie gave me in March 1975 has stuck with me throughout my life.

Fresh Air, Clear Water When at Sea

From the flight deck, looking down about 60 feet to the surface, the water is so blue and so clear that now and then I’d spot a humpback whale off the bow, or a school of dolphins racing each other to see who could keep up with the ship. Or I may have witnessed a school of flying fish. If the sun was just right, the light glistens off their transparent wings as they sail 200 meters on an ocean breeze just a few feet above the calm water.

At night, there is no light pollution in the middle of the ocean… anywhere. Everything is so clear and so well-defined. The mystical, moist night air fills your lungs with peace and contentment. I remember lying down on the steel deck and looking up at the sky, lit by millions of twinkling stars. It’s almost as if the stars call to you with a warm, “Hi and welcome to tonight’s special show, created just for you.”

And with the glass-like ocean surface, you literally cannot tell when the water on the horizon ends and the starry sky begins. The low moon seems to beckon us to walk on its reflection across the calm waters.

Sunrises, Sunsets

I’ve written about this before, but for me and many others who’ve served aboard a ship, when you’re at sea in the middle of the ocean, the sun is brighter, the sky is bluer, and the air is cleaner. Unless, of course, you’re in the middle of a horrendous rainstorm… at night… and standing behind the JBD (Jet Blast Deflector), sucking down the burning exhaust of an aircraft fixing to launch.

But, I digress…

Sunrises and sunsets at sea are nothing short of spectacular. No two are the same. The various combinations of oranges, yellows, reds, peaches, and every hue and shade in between are breathtaking. Throw in a reflection off the ocean surface and it’s a sailor’s cocktail, waiting for your very soul to drink in.

Yeah… I can easily reminisce about those days on the flight deck. One thing that always stood out, though. During the day and into the night, we’d be flying aircraft, which means the day flew by so fast and there was nothing like the adrenaline rush one might feel.

Then, after flight ops ended, and you had some downtime before turning in, the nights were so calm. Quiet, serene, tranquil—you couldn’t help but feel there was a higher being out there, holding you in their arms and providing so much peace. You just felt like you were being swallowed up in nature’s unbound beauty.

As one sailor put it… “Out there, I realize I’m just one small being on one ship in one ocean on one planet in one galaxy in one universe. Yet surrounded by all this awesome beauty, I feel I’m on top of the world.”

Amen to that, brother.

Until we meet again,
Andy

Answers

1. Bernard M. Oliver.
2. Gilmore Girls (TV; 2004), Logan Huntzberger (Matt Czuchry).  
3. Margaritaville (1975), Jimmy Buffett; written by Jimmy Buffett.

Previous Posts Mentioned in this Blog:

• #81—Flight Deck Dangers: Launch & Recovery
• #36—Gone in an Instant
• #64—General Quarters! General Quarters!
• #101—From the Flight Deck: Indescribable Beauty