A Veteran's Journey

Trivia Questions (Answers @ end)

1. Who said, “Count your rainbows, not your thunderstorms.”?
2. Match the following one-liners with the appropriate movie:

“There’s no crying in baseball.”	Goldfinger
“If you build it, he will come.”	A League of Their Own
“Shaken, not stirred.”	Toy Story
“To infinity and beyond!”	Shawshank Redemption
“Man up and vanished like a fart in the wind.”	Field of Dreams

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Thanks to those who commented on my previous blog, #124—Nighttime on the Flight Deck, Part 1: Launch. Several comments were spot on and reminded me of things I’d forgotten. Here’s a few more shared “memories:”

• “F-8 was my favorite night launch. The big corkscrew fire breathing dragon.”
• “Ahhh! Memories from flight deck, V-1 Midway & night ops. The JP & AV-gas, sorties of A/4’s, F/8’s, F/3’s, the Cod, Whales, & Spad’s… Man I miss this part of my soul.”
• “Pucker factor goes way up for pilots grabbing the wire at night.”
• “Loved working the deck at night during flight ops, all the activity and the adrenaline rushing, there nothing else like it.”
• “I agree with your appraisal of the Phantoms… sheer power, and, just an overall badass plane! You know that, when you can actually feel the roar in your chest, when they hit full AB… and at night, the light show was amazing… Anyway, thanks again for helping to keep the memories fresh.”

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USS Kitty Hawk (CV-63). Westpac ’75
Somewhere in the South China Sea

They say that working on the flight deck of an aircraft carrier is the most dangerous job in the world. For this 20-year-old, it’s kinda hard for me to believe; especially since I’ve got high school friends who never made it back from Vietnam.

Normally, aircraft launches and recoveries are routine; it didn’t matter if it was day or night… at least for me. I’m in Crash & Salvage, part of V-1 Division, part of the Air Department, part of Kitty Hawk’s “ship’s company.” We’re on a 6-month Westpac cruise, currently out on a 3-week training exercise. My “home” is the flight deck.

“I hate nights like this, especially during flight ops.” My good friend, Buddy Laney, was standing beside us near the foul line, next to the idling Crash tractor. It’s our “normal” spot to be during recovery operations.

“It was a dark and stormy night… so much for Snoopy’s writing prose, right, Chet?” Buddy was a third class petty officer from Atlanta with a huge smile and a kind word for everyone.

“No argument here.” I had to practically yell, even though Buddy was standing right next to me. “Even wearing all this rain gear, I’m still drenched down to my skivvies.

“I’m glad I’m not the one flying in these conditions.”

We both grab onto the Crash tractor as the ship crashes into an enormous wave, throwing us off balance.

“Who the hell would fly on a night light this?” We both knew the answer: Naval aviators!

It was nearing midnight. We’d launched the last cycle of aircraft an hour ago and recovered all but four: the E-2 Hawkeye—our extended “eyes” for enemy whereabouts; the plane guard helo circling somewhere out there; a KA-6 Intruder tanker; and a lone A-6 Intruder.

Actually, the A-6 Intruder is the holdup, so to speak. He’s already made two attempts, missed the arresting gear, and boltered. He’s up there somewhere refueling from the circling KA-6 tanker.

Out of the corner of my rain-splattered goggles, I spot Bos’n Robuck heading our way. CWO2 Tyrone Robuck is the Air Bos’n and in charge of Crash. He’s a short skinny man from Louisiana. But with two Vietnam tours as a Marine behind him, he’s seen more than his share of bad nights. In fact, we joke that he walks with a port list because he had so many ribbons on his chest.

“What’s say, Chet? Lovely weather for ducks, eh?”

That was Bos’n Robuck’s way of saying he’d rather be anywhere other than up here. He wouldn’t tell you that, though. Standing on the flight deck during a horrendous rainstorm like this is no fun. I hunted ducks when I was younger and can tell you from my limited experience that ducks would not fly in this shit!

It’s not the rain or wind, mind you. It’s the “near impossible” flying conditions.

Thank the Lord we’re in the South China Sea. At least, it’s not freezing cold like it was in the Sea of Japan.

“I don’t know, sir. I think we’re all a little worried about that Intruder. He’s boltered twice and from what I just heard over the radio, he’s refueling. How many times can he miss the recovery?” I think I spoke for all of us on the flight deck, including squadron and recovery personnel.

The VA-52 “Knight Riders” were the most decorated squadron in the history of the A-6 Intruders. I’m sure I’ve seen this pilot launch and recover dozens of time during this cruise. Yet, here we are waiting for him to land… safely.

It’s moments like these that you begin to think about the “what ifs.” What if he’s not able to land on the carrier? There’s no alternative landing area out in the middle of nowhere. What if he and his co-pilot have to eject? In this weather, would the plane guard be able to spot them, then rescue them? What if they don’t make it and leave behind their wives and families?

Yeah… it’s at that point when I tell myself these guys are professionals, they’ve landed in conditions worse than this, and they’ll make it back… safely.

“Gary. Hey, Borne!” I have to yell at Gary Borne, who’s standing only a few feet away from me. Even though there are no jets turning and burning nearby, the rainstorm keeps pounding on our cranial helmets and goggles, making it hard to hear anything, let alone someone trying to carry on a conversation.

“Yeah, Chet. What’s up?”

Like me, Gary was a third-class petty officer. We were both stationed at NAS Agana, Guam, before transferring to Kitty Hawk. Gary had been on Guam before me and left a few months before my 15-month tour was up. He’s one of my best friends in the Navy.

“Gonna play some poker tonight after we get done here?” I was trying to keep my mind off the A-6 Intruder. Gary was a poker player and played a few hours almost every night after flight ops. I wasn’t that good—I’d learned the hard way while in Guam to stay away from gambling.

“Don’t know. May be a long night. I may just chill in the berthing compartment and skip out on tonight’s game.”

Gary was right. It had already been a long day. We usually began our day on the flight deck about 0900 with flight operations beginning around 1000.

Well… my day actually started earlier since I’m a radio DJ on the ship and have my own spot from 0600 to 0800. “Good morning to ya’, Kitty Hawk. It’s six o’clock, time for the Country Chet Adkins show.”

Yep, that’s me, helping to wake up the crew every morning while at sea. It made for a long day. But like all the other DJs on the ship, I wouldn’t give it up for anything.

“I can’t keep thinking about this A-6. I don’t think I’ve seen the same pilot bolter more than once or twice in a cycle. Have you?”

“You worry too much, Chet. He’ll be fine.” Gary’s good about keeping calm, even during the storm.

The Air Boss announces over the 5MC, the flight deck PA system, “Standby to recover aircraft.”

On stormy nights like this, the ship rocks side to side as well as up and down. I’m sure there are technical nautical terms for it, but for me, it’s all I can do to keep my balance. I’m not the only one, either.

The rain keeps hammering down and because we’re always heading into the wind during flight ops, I learned early on to face the fantail. If I look toward the bow, the rain drops are so big, I swear they leave welts on my face. Thank God for my safety goggles.

Usually on clear, calm nights, we’d be able to see aircraft approach the carrier coming up the starboard side of the ship, about 800 feet ASL, break 90 degrees to the port side, one at a time, a few seconds apart, then turn down angle at 180 degrees to the ship, then turn toward the ship to line up for landing. It’s a sight to behold.

That is… on clear nights.

Tonight, we won’t be able to see the aircraft’s red and green navigation lights until he’s already over the fantail.

Speaking of which, did you know there are exactly 37 “Chet-size strides” from the foul line, where I’m standing, to the safety of the island superstructure? That’s me hauling ass as fast as I can. Gary is also over six feet tall and, with equally long strides, could keep up with me. Buddy Laney & Bos’n Robuck? They’re fast, but short legged. They’d have to take many more steps than us.

I don’t know why I remember that just now. Perhaps I’ve made that hasty retreat too many times on nights like this.

I think most of us are anxiously awaiting the A-6, sending “you can do it, you can do it, you can do it” instructions (or, for some, prayers) toward the pilot. I’ve watched too many training films where the aircraft strikes the ramp and… things don’t turn out so good.

I can see his nav lights; he seems way off center, closer to the island (our side). I know it’s a judgement call, but he continues his approach.

Out of the four arresting gear cables, pilots normally try to catch wire #3. That’s the third one from the fantail. Pilots are “graded” by the Landing Safety Officer on the entire approach and landing, something that stays with them their entire career. I’m sure tonight’s landing will count, but I’m equally sure neither the pilot nor the LSO give a rat’s ass about keeping score on this one.

But this time, he’s way off center. For some reason, I’m not hightailing it like I normally would. Gary, Buddy, & Bos’n Robuck aren’t moving either. It’s almost as if we stand our ground, it will collectively help the pilot land… safely.

And you know what? He traps. He didn’t grab #3 wire, but he grabbed #4—the last cable before bolting again.

My good friend, Jimmy Smith, is up at the angle. I can barely see him through the downpour. He’s a Fly 3 Yellow Shirt, and his job is to let the pilot know he landed safely, caught the wire, and to help direct him out of the recovery area.

I swear I saw Smitty not only direct him to turn out of the recovery area but also give him a quick salute. Sort of like a “glad you made it” and “welcome home.” I think we all feel that way. I’m sure the pilot and co-pilot are happy to be back aboard… safely.

We aren’t done yet; we still have three more aircraft to recover. But after waiting on this particular A-6 Intruder to land, I think we are all somewhat relieved.

The E-2 Hawkeye lands with no problem. Normally, they’re the ones that give me the willies, especially at night, since their wingspan is almost as wide as the landing area. But tonight, no problem. Dead center.

Next, the KA-6 Intruder tanker. Again, no problems. Last, but not least, the plane guard helo, from the HS-8 “Eightballers” squadron, lands.

All aircraft aboard… safely.

Until we meet again,
Andy

Answers

1. Alyssa Knight (age 12).

“There’s no crying in baseball.”	A League of Their Own (1992)
“If you build it, he will come.”	Field of Dreams (1989)
“Shaken, not stirred.”	Goldfinger (1964)
“To infinity and beyond!”	Toy Story (1995)
“Man up and vanished like a fart in the wind.”	Shawshank Redemption (1994)

Previous posts mentioned in this blog:

• #124—Nighttime on the Flight Deck, Part 1: Launch
• #10—“You Light ‘em, We Fight ‘em”
• #23 – Rough Sea: Sea of Japan
• #54—Westpac ’75 Aircraft Carrier Squadrons
• #53—You Always Remember Your First
• #39—Good Mornin’ to ya, Kitty Hawk!