CARRIER CRUISE (Part One)

The adventure began on the 20th of August 2007 and continued seven days. It was an experience never realized before and one which I will probably never witness again. For sea going Navy types, it was probably pretty routine but to an old U.S. Air Force retired guy, it was a once in a lifetime journey.

The U.S. Navy calls it a "Tiger Cruise" and its an event that happens yearly. I called it a reality check. We are far too comfortable in our ordinary lives to appreciate what the military sacrifices for us that allows us to live those ordinary lives. Much of the world may not like us; we may not ever be able to bring peace to troubled lands, despite our efforts, we may disagree on whether we should even try. Nonetheless, I would much rather see us encounter our enemies in their land than fight them on the cities and streets of the United States.

Life aboard the U.S.S. John C. Stennis (CVN 74)was anything but comfortable and I was one of the "Tigers" that had it easy. The Stennis is powered by two nuclear reactors, which permit the ship to go more than a million miles before refueling. The flight deck is over a thousand feet long. (Almost four football fields long.) It is nearly a football field wide at the flight deck. From keel to mast it is equal to a 24 story building. And yet, as huge as this vessel is, it can still speed at an amazing 30 plus knots or about 35 miles per hour plus!

Members of the Navy on board the Stennis were permitted to sponser others, usually family, to ride the last few days of their current sea duty. Our son, Scott, a Navy LT, (0-3) sponsored me and we were sort of glued at the hip while I was on board. The ship has a combat load displacement of 97,000 tons and can carry 80 plus tactical aircraft. We walked all over the vessel and I took hundreds of pictures. As might be imagined, there are many levels above and below the flight deck, with steep ladders to be negotiated. It easy to fall or get lost, which I proved,repeatedly. Empty space is scare and it is easy to trip over, slam against or bang your head against a number of protrusions.

The most common inconveniences are noticed first. For instance, mealtime. I ate once with the lower ranked enlisted men and women. (Perhaps one in ten members on board is female). But I also ate twice at the middle grade cafeterias, commonly called chow or mess halls and also, on other days, ate at the Admiral's Mess. The food, the food preparation, and the food servers all got better as the rank got higher.

When eating with the lower grades, the lines are long, the dining area crowded, with low ceilings, the heat and steam almost stifling. Fixed tables with attached chairs are fastened very near to each other. Small, divided tin trays are your plate. The noise is deafening and the elbow room sparse. The food is poorly prepared and therefore much less desirable. However, it's a grand place to work on your diet.

By contrast, the Admiral's Mess is spacious. Seating is by assignment only an there is plenty of room to spread out. Salads and Soups begin every meal. Your main course is served to you as you sit. If you want dessert, it is also brought to you. You may choose your favorite beverage. Your tableware is fine china and silverware with pressed, cloth napkins that match the decor. This is where the visiting V.I.P. eat their meals. Beautiful pictures of ships and Congressmen, Capital buildings and Memorials, line the beautiful walls. There is a huge, flat screen TV at the entry to the dining room with soft, stereo music piped in. Sumptuous couches and couch chairs are made of the best and most expensive material. The food is expertly prepared, with menus that outdo a five star hotel. The military maxim is ever present, that is, R.H.I.P. (Rank Has It's Privileges) Your waiters wear fine uniforms and are more than congenial. In short, you overeat and don't want to leave. Less than 10% of the crew of 5,200 plus get to eat this way.

Sleeping quarters are not for the claustrophobic or light sleepers. Noise from normal ship functioning can be horrendous. Takeoffs and landings, just two decks above, outdo the snores of a thousand spouses. The four catapults that launch aircraft with engines at max power and full afterburner, not to mention the huge machine that attaches and regulates the four flight deck arrestor cables, that help stop the aircraft on landing, produce enough noise to wake the dead. This is combined with the stirring of your shipmates, coming in and out at all hours of the day and night, since the carrier is manned 24 hours a day.

Open bay sleeping areas feature narrow, short bunks. There is not enough room at the shoulders to roll over in bed. To do so, you must get out of the bed and climb back in on your other side. Group latrines are primitive, smell bad and are crowded. Water to the showers is not always hot and the showers are turned off at certain hours to operate the steam machinery of the flight deck. Officers latrines fare little better except that not so many are assigned to one latrine. Shower shoes, robes, personal towels and toilet article bags are a must. It's sort of like camping out for many days at a time.

Officers sleeping areas are somewhat better. The bunks are bigger and you can roll over inside of them without getting out but you cannot sit up. Six F-18 pilots shared a room about the size of the average American living room. Other officers may qualify for three or two to a stateroom, but still must share the latrine down the hall. A very few have private staterooms, such as the ship's captain or the Admiral.