A Veteran's Journey

Trivia Questions (Answers @ end)

1. Who said, “It’s hard to win an argument with a smart person, but it’s damn near impossible to win an argument with a stupid person.”?
2. In what movie (and who said it) did we hear, “Son, your ego is writing checks you can’t cash.”?
3. In what song (and who sang it) did we hear the following:
   Here they come again, mmmm-mm-mm
   Catch us if you can, mmmm-mm-mm
   Time to get a move on, mmmm-mm-mm
   We will yell with all of our might

Last week, I wrote about a day in the life of Crash & Salvage and a lot of folks responded, many of which had the C&S experience. This week I’ll write about the “other” job of an ABH (Aviation Boatswains Mate-Handler) — a Yellow Shirt aircraft director.

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Spring 1977. USS Kitty Hawk, CV-63.
Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean.

Damn… Whoever tucked that Turkey into that spot on the fantail sure had their act together. They must’ve worked in a sardine factory before the Navy; it’s packed in tight. It’s only 0900, and I’ve already got my first challenge of the day.

I love the smell of that fresh ocean air before we start flight ops. Glad it’s sunny and warm and not raining. Today’s gonna be another fine day in the Navy!

“Good job packing in that F-14 Tomcat,” I say out loud to everyone on the Kitty Hawk flight deck who can’t hear a word I say—too much wind blowing down the deck and too much noise. The Captain has already turned the ship’s bow into the wind. It won’t be long now until we start the day’s first cycle.

It’s my job as a Yellow Shirt to get this guy out, safely and (hopefully) without a scratch. I take a closer look and see there’s about three to four inches on each side of this 15 million dollar “Aardvark” from VF-114 fighter squadron.

Last year, during Westpac ’75, the Aardvarks, along with VF-213 Black Lions, flew the F-4 Phantoms. That aircraft had been around for ages and had wings that folded up. They were a bit smaller than these Tomcats with the new swept-wing design. The non-military world would learn more about these in a few years in the movie Top Gun (1986).

USS Kitty Hawk, CV-63 had just spent a year in the Bremerton Shipyards in 1976, part of which was retrofitting to take on the newer, heavier F-14 Tomcat, affectionately called a “Turkey.”

I got this—no problem. But… don’t get cocky, Adkins. I don’t need a “crunch” on my record. Let me check my spot sheet—he’ll be #3 up on Cat 3 waist cats.

I catch the pilot’s eyes—he’s looking directly at me through my safety goggles. I don’t know him personally, but recognize him by his name on the side of the fuselage and by his eyes—kind and trusting. We’ve “met” several times before as Pilot and Yellow Shirt. This one “listens” to me.

We don’t talk to each other directly—that would be too much noise chatter on the radio sets, both for him and for me. He only talks with the Air Boss in Pri-Fly (Primary Flight Control). Instead, I “talk” to him using hand signals. I “direct” him when and where I want him to go. That’s my job—Aircraft Director.

I point to both sides of him and hold my two hands up in front of my face, indicating about 3-4” on each side. A quick nod—he understands. We’ve been through this drill before.

The aircraft’s Plane Captain is a good kid from New York—a little arrogant, but still a solid PC who takes his job seriously. He’s standing by, having already inspected, pre-flight checked, and started the Tomcat’s twin engines. A little nervous, his head shifts from me to his aircraft and back. He knows it’s a tight fit and a couple of small turns to taxi him out.

I give him a quick nod and hold up the OK symbol with my right hand and receive the same signal back. Still, I can tell he’s anxious, but ready. But he knows his aircraft doesn’t move on the flight deck unless under the control of a Yellow Shirt (i.e., me).

The Blue Shirts have removed the six tie-down chains and already working with another Yellow Shirt in Fly 3. These guys are good, too. After several months of 16 to 18-hour days of flight operations, we’re an effective team. I know them all by name—or nicknames. Hardly anybody goes by their actual name.

Mine? I’m Chet Adkins, a name “assigned” to me by John Melcher, a fellow ABH I met in Guam. I play guitar and sing country music and when I first arrived at NAS Agana, Guam, my first duty station, in October 1973, “Melch” started calling me, “Chet.” It stuck with me my entire short four-year career in the U.S. Navy (1973-77).

But I digress…

“OK, Chet. Let’s get that Tomcat rolling.” ABH1 Frank Bethune, the Flight Deck LPO (Leading Petty Officer) lets me know over my radio headset I need to move the aircraft. “Mac… keep an eye on Chet. He’s got a tight one.” I like Frank, a big guy who used to box before joining the Navy. He watches over all of us in V-1.

“You got this, Chet; I’m right behind you,” ABH1 MacKay is the Fly 3 LPO and always has our back. He’s got a bitchin’ copper-colored, super-charged, 3-speed, four-wheel-drive 1973 Dodge RAM back at our home port of San Diego. Mac’s from Colorado.

This is what I live for—working on the flight deck as a Yellow Shirt director. I’ve done this hundreds of times, but every time I get an aircraft ready to move, I still get that rush—something that not too many people get to experience.

But then, I’m United States Navy.

OK, Chet. You know what to do.

We use hand signals to let the pilot know what we want him to do. Hands up in front—like a goal post, or a bank robber under arrest. Slowly bring them together down in front of my face, keeping the elbows out, just like I learned in ABH “A” School in Lakehurst, NJ. Slowly, slowly—not too fast, or the pilot will think I want him to move faster. He knows it’s tight, so slowly bring him out of that spot.

Gotta turn him a little to my left so his wingtip doesn’t scrape the F-14 on his starboard side—that would be a bad day for us both. Drop my left arm down toward the ground at 45 degrees, but touch my index finger and thumb on my right hand, still up in the air to let him know to turn only a tad. He nods—that trust still in his eyes.

Good. Now straighten him up. OK, we’re clear of both Tomcats on either side. Whew, that was close.

Glad there’s nobody behind him. He may have goosed it a bit, and I’d hate to think someone would have been blown overboard by his jet exhaust. I’ve been blown down many times—no big deal. Just stop, drop, and roll, so to speak. But grab onto a flight deck pad eye—they’re all around.

I don’t try to have my own “style” of directing. I’ve seen others who do, but… not me. I’m directing “by the book.” Mac, however, uses quick hand signals, especially when he’s out in the open. Mac is “vertically challenged,” that is… short. With sandy red hair and a neatly trimmed goatee, he’s the kind of director who seems to have had one too many cups of strong black Navy coffee. You know… hyper. But he’s also one of the best directors on the flight deck.

ABH3 Tony Davis, another great director, from Maryland, I think also has his own style. It’s hard to describe, but you know it’s Tony when he’s directing. “Loud and proud,” as I’d describe it. A little over enthusiastic, but then, Tony’s up on the bow in Fly 1 with ABH1 Mayberry, Fly 1 LPO. It’s a little tighter fit up there—not as much room.

OK, Chet, you’ve cleared the Tomcat out of his parking spot. I turn my head and spot Smitty, another Fly 3 director about twenty yards behind me standing next to the JBD (Jet Blast Deflector), ready for me to pass the Tomcat along to him to get him ready for launch on Cat 3. We don’t walk while directing the aircraft; it can give the illusion that the aircraft is moving while it’s not. That would be especially bad during night operations.

“Like the way I packed that Turkey in for you, Chet?” Smitty says with an audible chuckle.

We all joke with each other. That’s what you do when you’re family. But we also keep an eye on each other as well as the other 200+ personnel on the flight deck. The last thing you want is to be responsible for someone else’s misfortune.

I like Smitty. He’s from Texarkana and married his high school sweetheart, Connie. He’s one of my best friends on the ship and initially trained me as a Yellow Shirt when I first came out of Crash. We’d been good buddies during Westpac ’75 and hung out a lot while in PI.

Move this guy along, Chet. You’ve got another three Tomcats on your spot sheet to move and get ready for launch. This is only the first launch cycle of many for the day.

I glance at the Pilot and give him a quick nod–he returns it. Trust and confidence.

As I pass this Turkey along to Smitty, I quickly glance back toward the fantail to find my next spot. Found him. This one will be easier.

The best thing? The best thing is that I get to do this for another 16 hours.

God, I love my job. Livin’ the dream, baby! Just another day in Paradise.

Stay safe, my friends.

Until we meet again,
Andy

Andy Adkins is a US Navy veteran (’73-77) and the author of several books. His newest novel, NEVER FORGET, is the story of A Vietnam Veteran’s Journey for Redemption & Forgiveness. NEVER FORGET is FREE (eBook, PDF) for all veterans. Download your FREE copy HERE.

Previous posts mentioned in this blog:

• #67—Flight Ops: A Day in the Life of Crash & Salvage
• #54—Westpac ’75 Aircraft Carrier Squadrons
• #30—USS Kitty Hawk @ Bremerton Shipyards, Part 1
• #53—You Always Remember Your First
• #35—US Navy ABH “A” School
• #3—Between a Rock and a Hard Place
• #10—You Light ‘em, We Fight ‘em

Answers

1. Bill Murray.
2. Top Gun (1986), Stinger (James Toklan).
3. Catch Us If You Can (1965), Dave Clark Five; written by Charlie Peacock, Todd Clark, Hillary Scott.