Carrier: A Guided Tour of an Aircraft Carrier

In the fall of 1997 trouble was once again brewing in the Persian Gulf. Once again, Iraq was defying the authority of the United Nations Security Council, trying to hide from the world the weapons of mass destruction Saddam Hussein had spent so much to produce. As usual, the Iraqi dictator railed against UN weapons inspectors' attempts to detect his research and production centers for chemical, biological, and nuclear arms. And once again, the world went to the brink of war.

As in previous years, this crisis required a U.S. response that was both rapid and clear. Quickly, units of the Army's XVIII Airborne Corps were put on alert; and the U.S. Air Force dispatched reinforcements to the aerial task force (based at Prince Sultan Airbase in Saudi Arabia) already enforcing the southern Iraqi "no-fly" zone. But this time there was a complication. For the first time since August of 1990, our Persian Gulf allies denied us the use of bases on their territory. Though we still do not know whether this action resulted from pent-up frustration over our failure to form a clear policy toward Iraq, or from fear of the reaction of their own Islamic fundamentalist factions, this much was clear. If America were to react to this crisis, then the response would have to come from U.S. ships sailing in international waters.

To this end, the newly installed Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Henry Shelton, sent the word down the chain of command: "Send in the carriers." Within days, the carrier battle groups (CVBGs) based around the aircraft carriers Nimitz (CVN-68) and George Washington (CVN-73) were sailing for the Persian Gulf, where they could quickly mount air and cruise-missile strikes against Iraqi targets should these be required. As the CVBGs rattled sabers, UN Secretary General Kofi Annan carefully constructed a diplomatic effort to persuade Saddam that further intransigence would lead to falling bombs. The persuasion-eventually-worked, and the inspectors were able to return to their jobs.

Meanwhile, the two battle groups spent almost six months on station in the Gulf, until they were relieved of their vigil in the spring of 1998 by two more CVBGs, centered around the carriers Independence (CV-62) and John C. Stennis (CVN-74). The U.S. kept two carrier groups in the Persian Gulf until late May 1998, by which time tensions in the region had relaxed. Back home in America, most of us gave little thought to the thousands of men and women on these ships. Even though we may have worried a great deal about the Iraqi crisis itself, they were out there, doing a vital and dangerous job for us, and generally making it look easy. This last is a significant point: Making it look easy is hard work. It takes practice, training, intense education, constant drilling.

The process of preparing a CVBG for an overseas deployment begins months before it deploys, and it takes the efforts of every person assigned to the group, as well as thousands of others who do not leave American waters. Let's look at part of that effort, as the GW (George Washington) group ratcheted up its combat skills in the summer of 1997.

Getting the Group Ready: Joint Training

This statement dates from the spring of 1972, soon after then-Lieutenant Cunningham and his valiant backseater, Lieutenant, J.G. "Willie" Driscoll, shot down five North Vietnamese MiG fighters and became America's first confirmed Vietnam fighter aces. Cunningham and Driscoll's success did not come out of the blue; their generation of naval aviators had been the first to be given a new kind of pre-combat schooling, called "force-on-force" training. Simply put, force-on-force training involves training units and personnel against role-players who simulate enemy units at the peak of their game. The first of these programs was the famous "TOPGUN" school, then located at NAS Miramar near San Diego, California. While the tools and curriculum were rudimentary by today's standards, the results were spectacular. The Navy's air-to-air kill ratio in Vietnam, the measure of aerial fighter performance, improved by an amazing 650 %. Not surprisingly, the other services took notice.

Today, every branch of the U.S. military has multiple force-on-force training programs and facilities, and each of these has been validated by the outstanding combat performance of their graduates.[73] CVBGs, like fighter pilots, do best when they have been tuned up by means of intense force-on-force training-a tune-up that's considerably complicated by the variety and multiplicity of roles a CVBG might be required to undertake. Today's CVBG is more than a group of ships designed to protect the flattop. When properly deployed and utilized by the National Command Authorities (NCAs), a CVBG's mission can range from "cooling off" a crisis to spearheading the initial phases of a major invasion or intervention.

Meanwhile, preparing a war machine as large and complex as a CVBG for a six-month overseas cruise is a huge undertaking. In fact, the various components of the group spend twice as much time recovering from the last cruise and getting ready for the next as they actually spend out on deployment. And all of this has grown more complicated in the last decade as a result of the changes in the NCA command structure stemming from the Goldwater-Nichols Defense Reorganization Act. Back in the 1980s, and before Goldwater-Nichols, the Navy was the sole owner and trainer of carrier groups before they were sent overseas. Today, that ownership has moved to another organization, the U.S. Atlantic Command (USACOM) based in Norfolk, Virginia.

Led by Admiral Harold W. Gehman, Jr., USACOM is a mammoth organization-in fact, the most powerful military organization in the world today. USACOM essentially "owns" every Army, Navy, Air Force, and Marine unit based in the continental United States. Its job is to organize, train, package, and deliver military forces for the commanders of the other unified Commanders in Chiefs (CINCs)-the heads of the various regional commands responsible for conducting military operations around the globe. Whenever the NCAs need to send an American military force somewhere in the world, the phone usually rings first in Norfolk at USACOM headquarters.

Goldwater-Nichols has also brought practical changes to the U.S. military. For instance, CVBGs now no longer operate independently of other units-or indeed of other services. So an air strike from a carrier may receive aerial tanking and fighter protection from U.S. Air Force units, and electronic warfare support from a U.S. Marine Corps EA-6B Prowler squadron, and have the target located and designated by an Army Special Forces team. This, in essence, is what is meant by "joint" warfare, and it's far removed from Cold War practices that gave the Navy few responsibilities other than the killing of the ships, aircraft, and submarines of the former Soviet Union. Needless to say, joint war fighting skills don't just happen. They must be taught and practiced before a crisis breaks out. The CVBG must practice not only "Naval" skills, but also "joint" skills with other services and nations.

This job falls to the joint training office (J-7) of USACOM, which lays out the training regimes for units being "packaged" for missions in what are normally known as JTFs or Joint Task Forces. Getting a particular unit ready for duty in a JTF is a three-phased program, which is supervised by individual groups of subject-matter experts. For example, on each coast a Carrier Group (CARGRU) composed of a rear admiral and a full training staff is assigned to prepare CVBGs for deployment. On the Pacific Coast, this is done by CARGRU One, while CARGRU Four does the same job for the Atlantic Fleet. The training CARGRUs supervise the various elements of the CVBGs through their three-phase workups. These break down this way:

• Category I Training-Service-specific/mandated training that focuses on the tactical unit level. Examples include everything from carrier qualifications to missile and ACM training at the ship/squadron/CVW level.

• Category II Training-This is joint field training, in which the various pieces of the CVBG come together in what are known as Capabilities Exercises (CAPEXs) and Joint Task Force Exercises (JTFEXs).

• Category III Training-This is a purely academic training phase, which takes place just prior to the JTF deploying. Composed of a series of seminars, briefings, and computer war games, it is designed to give the unit commanders a maximum of up-to-the-minute information about the areas where they will likely be operating and the possible contingencies that they may face.

These exercises provide a multi-level training regime for every member of the battle group, from the sailors in the laundries to the CVBG commander and his staff. And most participants will tell you that the pre-workup training is usually tougher than the actual overseas deployment. The old saying that sweat in training is cheaper than blood in combat remains true. In a world as uncertain as today's, we as a nation owe the men and women of our armed forces the very toughest training we can provide for them.[74] All of this brings us down to the men and women of the GW group in the summer of 1997, facing a terribly real experience, designed to test the limits of their endurance and skills.

Getting the Group Ready: Part I

The countdown to GW's deployment in the fall of 1997 actually began in February of 1996. That is when the battle group based around the USS America (CV-66) returned from their own six-month cruise to the Mediterranean Sea.[75] Since America had been scheduled for decommissioning and eventual scrapping, this was her final cruise. The GW would replace her. Other ships in this combined CVBG/Amphibious Ready Group (ARG) were scheduled for deep maintenance as soon as they arrived back home. Thus the Wasp (LHD-1) and the Whidbey Island (LSD-41) were headed into dry dock for almost a year of overhaul. Replacing them would be the amphibious ships Guam (LPH-9), Ashland (LSD-48), and Oak Hill (LSD-51). At the same time, a number of the escorts and submarines were swapped out, as the personnel at Atlantic Fleet Headquarters and USACOM packaged the new CVBG. Even though the CVBG would make just one cruise in this form, the plans are to reconstitute it again in a more permanent form for its 1998/ 1999 cruise.

In February of 1996, while the thoughts of most of the group's personnel were on their upcoming leave periods and visiting with their families and friends, at the USACOM and Atlantic/2nd Fleet headquarters planning for the CVBG's training and deployment in 1997 had already begun. For starters, there was the scheduling of minor overhauls for the ships assigned to the CVGB that would deploy in 1997, as well as managing the usual flow of personnel coming and going to new assignments. These months of relative quiet offered a time for getting the new folks up to speed, and a chance for those remaining in the group's units to attend technical and service schools or to take some leave.

By the fall of 1996, the various pieces of the battle group were ready to begin their Category I training. So, for example, the Guam ARG and the 24th Marine Expeditionary Unit-Special Operations Capable (MEU (SOC)) were beginning their own workups, supervised by teams of USACOM training mentors. Meanwhile, even as CARGRU Four personnel were deep into the training of the John F. Kennedy (CV-67) CVBG (which would proceed the GW group to the Mediterranean in the spring of 1997), the CARGRU staff had already begun to assign personnel to the GW group to start the workup process. At the same time, the various squadrons of Carrier Air Wing One (CVW-1) began to come to life at Naval Air Stations (NASs) from Whidbey Island, Washington, to Jacksonville, Florida. About half of these squadrons would also be breaking in a new commanding officer, normally a freshly frocked commander (O-5) who had just "fleeted up" from the executive officer's job in the unit. Along with the command changes came in-squadron training. A lot of it!

Getting a squadron ready to deploy starts with refresher/upgrade training for all the flying personnel in the unit. This brings everyone in the unit up to a common level of proficiency across a range of skills and missions. As they do this, the squadron maintenance chiefs begin to bring the squadron's aircraft up to standard. This is not to say that the aircraft have been allowed to go to seed. But since the squadron is not a "deployed" unit, and personnel were away on leave and at service schools, keeping every aircraft fully mission-capable has not been a priority. Deployed units get the pick of the "good" airplanes, as well as first priority on training ammunition and spare parts.

While the air units were starting on their road to deployment, so too were the crews of the ships of the battle group. And the officers and enlisted personnel were re-learning the details of their trade on short training cruises out of their home ports. During these cruises, the crews powered up all the ship's systems to find out the new capabilities and liabilities the yard workers had installed. Also, during these cruises the new crew members began the bonding process with their shipmates. This is especially important in the escorts (known as "small boys"), which will do so much of the work supporting and protecting the carrier and ARG.

For the men and women of the GW battle group, their final run to deployment started in May of 1997, with the departure of the John F. Kennedy battle group. Now that that group was on its way, the CARGRU Four staff could devote their full attention to making the GW group ready for their early October deployment. Several key training events, whose dates had been previously been set by the USACOM J-7 staff, began to have immediate importance. These included:

• Naval Strike and Air Warfare Center Rotation-Since "Boomer" Stufflebeem, the commander of CVW-1, had units spread over five bases in four different states on two coasts, the rare opportunities for getting his units together were more precious than gold. One of these golden opportunities happened at the Naval Strike and Air Warfare Center (NSAWC) at NAS Fallon near Reno, Nevada. For over three decades, it has been Navy policy that every CVW preparing to deploy do a rotation at the NSAWC. Over a period of three and a half weeks, the various CVW components are based at NAS Fallon, where they can practice the art of composite warfare together. While there, they undertake a series of air strikes against the target arrays up on the Fallon bombing range. Supervised by the Center Staff, and assisted by aggressor aircraft and ground units acting as surrogate enemies, the wing works up through a number of phases, culminating with the three-day Advanced Training Phase (ATP).[76] During ATP, the wing must conduct a series of large "Alpha" strikes (usually involving between two and three dozen aircraft) against targets up on the Fallon ranges. All of this training brings the entire wing, from pilots and planners to maintenance personnel and photo interpreters, up to combat standards. With the air wing now molded into a unified fighting unit, it was time to merge it with the GW and her battle group. The USACOM Category I training now completed, the GW group was ready to move onto the challenges of Category II.

• Capabilities Exercise (CAPEX)-In mid-June of 1997, after CVW-1 had returned from NAS Fallon, the ships of the GW battle group met off the Virginia capes to conduct what is called a CAPEX. This exercise, which was run over two weeks, was designed to integrate CVW-1 into the rest of the battle group's operations. This meant doing a number of things in a very short time. Once the battle group had assembled, the CVW-1 aircraft and crews flew aboard from staging bases along the Atlantic coast. What followed were several days of carrier requalification for everyone in the wing, including Captain Stufflebeem. With qualifications completed, the wing and battle group began a series of training exercises, designed to show the CARGRU Four staff that they could safely and effectively conduct strike operations. During this time, the rest of the battle group practiced various skills, such as simulated Tomahawk cruise-missile strikes, and combat search-and-rescue (CSAR) training. The CAPEX was a test of skill and endurance, designed to stress everyone in the GW battle group from Admiral Mullen down to the chiefs of the various ships' laundries. Again, all went well, and its end had melded the assorted parts of the battle group into a fighting unit. Next came the final part of the GW group's Category II training, the JTFEX.

• Joint Task Force Exercise (JTFEX) 97-3-Run over three weeks in late August and early September of 1997, JTFEX 97-3 was a "final exam" for the combined GW CVBG/CVW/ARG/MEU (SOC) team. JTFEXs-the crown jewels of USACOM exercises-are the largest and most complex series of exercises regularly run by USACOM. Even as the sea services are using them as benchmark exercises for Navy groups, the other services are utilizing them in the same way: to test their own fast-reaction units (such as the 82nd Airborne Division at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, or the 2nd Bombardment Wing based at Barksdale AFB, Louisiana).

With the Category II training completed, the ships and aircraft of the battle group headed home for a final leave period. During this time, the Category III training and briefings for the battle group staff and leaders took place around Washington, D.C. While their actual sequence and locations are classified, the briefings and war games were conducted by a variety of military and intelligence agencies, with the goal of sharpening the minds of the CVBG/CVW/ARG/MEU (SOC) leadership. When these exercises were finished, the CARGRU Four staff started preparing for the next group, which was based around the new Nimitz-class carrier John Stennis (CVN-74).

JTFEX 97-3

In the confusing (maybe anarchic is a better word) post-Cold War world of joint and coalition warfare, the USACOM staff must package and deliver to the unified/regional CinCs units that are ready to "plug in" to a joint/ multinational JTF. The JTF must start combat operations on almost no notice, and function in an environment where the ROE can change on a moment's notice. That means the units assigned to the JTF must be trained with an eye to functioning in a variety of scenarios that were unimaginable as recently as a decade ago. Some of these may even involve situations where conflict may be avoided (if a show of force is sufficiently effective), or where conflict may not be an option (in what are called Operations Short of War).

Training units for situations like these requires more than the simple force-on-force training that was good enough for the military services during the Cold War. Exercises like Red Flag (at Nellis AFB, Nevada) and those at training facilities like the Army's National Training Center (at Fort Irwin, California) were always based upon assumptions that a "hot" war was already happening. Because of this, the engaged forces' only requirement was to fight that conflict in the most effective manner possible. While the services teach combat skills quite well, teaching "short-of-war" training is a much more complicated and difficult undertaking. Only in the last few years (after high-cost lessons learned in Haiti, Somalia, and Bosnia) has progress been made on this daunting training challenge.

So far, the leader in this new kind of "real world" force-on-force training has been the Army's Joint Readiness Training Center (JRTC) at Fort Polk, Louisiana.[77] The JRTC staff, for example, was among the first to insert into traditional force-on-force training what the military calls "friction" elements and non-traditional ideas like "neutral" role-players on the simulated battlefield, and to include a greater emphasis on logistics and casualty evacuation. JRTC's focus on these kinds of layered issues have made it a model for other joint training operations run by USACOM (such as the JTFEX-SERIES exercises, which are run approximately six times a year-three on each coast).

The result of all this thinking has been a gradual evolution in the scenarios presented to participants in the JTFEXs. As little as three years ago, every JTFEX was essentially a forced-entry scenario into an occupied country that looked a lot like Kuwait, and the opposing forces were structured much like the Iraqis. The critics who were complaining that USACOM was preparing to "fight the last war" were making a good point. Today there'd be no justice in that criticism. Now, each JTFEX is made a bit different from the last one, or for that matter from any other. For one thing, USACOM has gotten into the habit of making the JTFEXs truly "joint," by spreading out the command responsibilities. By way of example, a JTF headquarters based at 8th Air Force headquarters at Barksdale AFB, Louisiana, controlled JTFEX 97-2 (run in the spring of 1997), while the first of the FY-1998 JTFEXs will be an Army-run exercise, controlled by XVIII Airborne Corps at Fort Bragg, North Carolina. Now that each of the services has opportunities each year to be the JTFEX "top dog," the scenarios have tended to become not only more fresh and innovative, but also more fair in the distribution of training responsibilities and opportunities.

The quality of JTFEX exercises has also been improved by means of what is called a "flexible" training scenario-that is, a scenario without highly structured schedules and situations. In more structured scenarios, for example, participants knew exactly when and how the exercise would transition to "hot war" status. In current JTFEXs, there is much more uncertainty. Furthermore, the actions of the participants can affect the "flexible" elements of the scenario, and these actions can be scored positively or negatively. It is even possible that participants might contain a JTFEX "crisis situation" so well that a transition to a "hot" war situation might never occur. But creative work by the USACOM J-7 staff makes this unlikely. Thus when a commander or unit does well, "friction" and challenges are added so no participant gets a chance to "break" the scenario. On the other hand, if a unit has itself been "broken" by the situations it faces, the exercise staff may choose to give it additional support or opportunities to "get well enough to go back into the game," as it were. You have to remember that exercises like the JTFEXs are designed to build units up, not break them down.

For the GW group, the focus in the late summer of 1997 was getting ready for their particular "final exam," JTFEX 97-3 (the third East Coast JTFEX of FY-97). With their deployment date scheduled for early October 1997, every person in the battle group was eager to get through the exercise and move on to the Mediterranean. But the USACOM J-7 training staff wasn't going to make that easy. To that end, several new elements were being added to the scenario in anticipation of new capabilities soon coming on-line. Within a couple of years, for example, the entire force of Ticonderoga-class (CG-47) cruisers and Arleigh Burke-class (DDG-51) destroyers will be receiving software and new Standard SAMs capable of providing the first theater-wide defense against ballistic missiles. Thus in JTFEX 97-3, the opposing forces were assumed to have a small force of SCUD-type theater ballistic missiles, some possibly armed with chemical warheads. The U.S. forces were not only expected to hunt these down, but to "shoot" them down with Patriot SAMs or with the Aegis systems on board several of the escorting vessels. The group's abilities in this area would be closely watched by USACOM.

In addition, CVW-1 was testing procedures for generating more sorties from the GW. This effort was based on a demonstration called a "SURGEX"-or Surge Exercise-run the previous July off the Pacific coast by the Nimitz battle group. SURGEX attempted to discover how many sorties a single carrier/air wing team could generate over a four-day period. By augmenting the air wing and ship's company with additional air crews and flight deck/maintenance personnel, and by adding the services of a number of land-based USAF tankers to support the effort, the Nimitz and her embarked air wing were able to generate 1,025 sorties in just ninety-six hours. This was almost 50 % better than had been planned (though flight and deck crews wore out rather quickly). By the late summer of 1997, the GW/CVW-1 team was already implementing these lessons. Though they wouldn't have the additional flight personnel used by Nimitz, the flying day would be extended, USAF tankers would be made available, and some new procedures for monitoring crew fatigue would be tried. By doing things smarter, it was hoped that the average of around one hundred sorties a day might be increased by as much as half.

JTFEX 97-3: Players, Places, and Plans

The scenario for this JTFEX 97-3 was inspired by the 1990 invasion of Kuwait by Iraq, with the coastal waters of Virginia, North Carolina, and South Carolina providing the primary battle arena. But thanks to the magic of today's electronics and GPS satellite technology, USACOM has been able to dispense with the actual geography of these littoral spaces and invent "synthetic" terrain for this and other recent exercises. Specifically, the USACOM staff created a series of "no-sail" zones off the East Coast that formed a simulated battlespace that looks a great deal like the Persian Gulf or Red Sea-long and narrow, with only a limited number of entrances and exits. It was into this arena that the GW battle group would sail during JTFEX 97-3.

For JTFEX 97-3 the opposing players would be known as Koronans, and the neutral victims of Koronan aggression would be Kartunans. Kartuna's homeland would be the center of the scenario's crisis. The Koronan forces would be played by various elements of the 2nd Marine Division at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, 2nd Fleet at Norfolk, Virginia, and some Marine aviation units from the Marine Corps Air Stations at Cherry Point and New River, North Carolina and Beaufort, South Carolina.

While the simulated Koronan military would be nowhere as large as that of Iraq prior to the invasion of Kuwait in 1990, it would nevertheless have some distinct similarities. For example, Marine F/A-18 Hornet fighter/bombers from MCAS Beaufort would simulate Mirage F-1Cs armed with Exocet antishipping missiles and MiG-29 Fulcrums equipped with advanced air-to-air missiles (AAMs). Several Spruance-class (DD-963) destroyers and Oliver Hazard Perry-class (FFG-7) frigates would simulate Russian Kashin-class missile destroyers and Chinese missile corvettes. Finally, Marines based at Camp Lejeune would play Kartunan ground units, while Lejeune itself would play the part of the Kartunan homeland.

The forces of the Allied coalition would, of course, be played by the GW battle group and CVW-1, as well as their attached Guam ARG and the embarked 24th MEU (SOC). Though a battalion of the Army's 82nd Airborne Division and a number of USAF KC-135 aerial tanker aircraft based at Langley AFB, Virginia, would also play, the focus of this particular exercise was naval and expeditionary. This meant that if combat units could not fly or float into the JTFEX 97-3 scenario, they would not participate.

One of the largest (and most interesting) of the participants was Standing Naval Force Atlantic (STANAFORLANT). STANAFORLANT, established in 1967, was the Cold War equivalent of a World War II Hunter-Killer (HUK) ASW group-but with a unique twist. Each NATO nation involved was to assign a destroyer or frigate from their Navy to STANAFORLANT, and then the total force was placed under a single joint NATO commander. This arrangement has the advantage of providing the STANAFORLANT commander with an eclectic mix of weapons and sensors, and with personnel whose training, talents, and experiences are widely varied. Ships from Canada, Germany, the Netherlands, the United Kingdom, and the United States of America form the permanent membership of STANAFORLANT (there are usually a half-dozen ships operating in it at any given time); but they are joined periodically by Naval units from Belgium, Denmark, Norway, and Portugal.

STANAFORLANT carries out a program of exercises, maneuvers, and port visits, and can be rapidly deployed to a threatened area in times of crisis or tension. Throughout the Cold War, STANAFORLANT provided a rapid-response escort group for NATO naval commanders, in case of a sudden "surge" by the submarine and naval forces of the former Soviet Union. Today, STANAFORLANT's mission has broadened from this Cold War mission. Now STANAFORLANT is one of several NATO ready-reserve naval units that provide sea control services to the alliance (another of these units is in the Mediterranean supporting operations around Bosnia); and it could easily be found enforcing a maritime embargo or providing disaster/ humanitarian relief. During JTFEX 97-3, it would practice all of these missions, and some others that would have been hard to imagine as little as ten years ago.

While STANAFORLANT would not technically be part of the GW battle group, it would nevertheless be attached to it. Since ships constantly cycle in and out of STANAFORLANT, there is no such thing as a "standard" mix of ships and weapons. However, the STANAFORLANT group that participated in JTFEX 97-3 is representative. Let's look at it:

As you can see, the STANAFORLANT group assigned to participate in JTFEX 97-3 was a compact, powerful surface action group (SAG) that could bring a wide variety of weapons and systems to bear on a particular threat or mission.

For this exercise, the command of STANAFORLANT fell onto Rear Admiral Peter van der Graaf of the Netherlands, a tall blond bear of a sailor, who was based aboard his flagship, HMLMS Witte De With (F 813). With his vast smile and hearty laugh, Admiral van der Graaf quickly became a favorite of the GW battle group. In fact, he would hoist his flag aboard the George Washington at one point during the exercise. That he was a superb ship handler and leader only made STANAFORLANT's presence in JTFEX 97-3 the more telling.

One other small, but useful, naval force took part in JTFEX 97-3: a special mine warfare component. This unit would test a number of new ships, systems, and technologies designed to counter what most professional Naval analysts agree are the single greatest threat to naval littoral operations. These deadly "weapons that wait" are extremely cost-effective. They are not only relatively cheap to make, but they don't have to be high-tech to do the job. In fact, many current mines have basic technologies going back decades. At the same time, like their land-based counterparts, sea-based mines can make areas of ocean uninhabitable for years at a time. The fact that four of the five U.S. ships suffering combat damage in the last two decades have been hit by mines (the supertanker SS Bridgeton, frigate Samuel B. Roberts (FFG- 58), Aegis cruiser Princeton (CG-59), and helicopter carrier Tripoli (LPH- 10)) only highlights the threat. I should note that three of these ships were damaged by mines whose Russian design actually predates the First World War.

Despite the obvious threat presented by mines, over the last two decades mine warfare has been allocated less than one percent of the USN budget. The problem: Mine warfare is not glamorous. Compared with commanding a sleek destroyer or submarine, or flying a combat aircraft, it is considered decidedly "un-sexy" by most naval professionals. Much like infantry combat in urban areas, it is a nasty, dangerous business. Clearing mines takes a lot of time, it's filled with headaches, it generates casualties, and failure is easy to come by-not a smart career move. All the same, if the U.S. sea services are to become a littoral-capable force, mine warfare will have to become an equal partner with surface, subsurface, and air components of the fleet. The Navy has been taking serious action to make this intention a reality.

For JTFEX 97-3, a "rainbow" mine warfare force of ships, helicopters, and personnel was assembled from units along the coast of the Gulf of Mexico. These units represent the state-of-the-art of USN mine warfare technology and doctrine. Under the command of Captain Bruce Van Velle (who would act as the unit's Commodore and the mine warfare component commander), the unit was composed of the units shown below:

JTFEX 97-3 was the first occasion that the Navy's new emphasis on mine warfare was included in a major Atlantic Fleet joint exercise. The core of the mine warfare component was the converted helicopter carrier Inchon (MCS-12). Designed to act as a command ship for the mine countermeasures force of mine-hunting helicopters and minesweepers, the Inchon is the largest, most capable ship to ever take on this task. For JTFEX 97-3, she would act as a mobile air base for eight RH-53E Sea Dragon mine-countermeasures helicopters and four hundred personnel from Mine Countermeasures Squadron Fifteen (HM-15, the "Blackhawks"). Based at Moffet Field near Sunnyvale, California, and commanded by Commander John Brown, the Blackhawks are a mix of active and reserve personnel who fly one of the most interesting aircraft in the Navy inventory. Their MH-53E Sea Dragon, a modified version of the Marine CH-53 Super Stallion heavy transport, tows mine-countermeasures "sleds" and other equipment from a few hundred feet above the sea, and is one of the most effective means of clearing lanes through mine-infested shallow waters. Looking much like their Marine CH- 53E brethren, the Sea Dragon is easily distinguishable by the large side sponsons filled with extra fuel, which the MH-53E guzzles at low altitude.

Along with the Inchon and her mine-countermeasures helicopters, four new Avenger (MCM-1) and Osprey-class (MHC-51) mine-hunters with their reserve crews would participate in the exercise in order to demonstrate new ideas and technologies. These included an autonomous mine-detection vehicle, along with an explosive mine-clearing system to clear lanes for landing craft in the surf zone of an invasion beach. This increased emphasis on mine warfare is long overdue, and the efforts being pursued during JTFEX 97-3 are just the first of what will be many badly needed steps.

JTFEX 97-3 was under the control of the 2nd Fleet commander, Admiral Paul Reason, who would watch over the exercise from the fleet flagship, the USS Mount Whitney (LCC-20). Aboard the Mount Whitney would be the various warfare component commanders (air, naval, ground, special operations, etc.) that would run JTFEX 97-3, as well as many of the exercise observation personnel. JTFEXs and other large-scale exercises require significant numbers of people to manage and record what is going on. Thus, JTFEX 97-3 required the efforts of several thousand military and civilian personnel to observe, document, and analyze all that went on over the millions of cubic miles of battlespace off the Atlantic coast. These included observation teams from the Center for Naval Analysis (CNA-a U.S. Navy-funded "think tank") and members of the Senior Officers Observer Team (SOOT). The SOOT team is made up of ship, squadron, and other commanders who are temporarily detached from their own commands and assigned to observe and evaluate the actions of their counterparts.

It was against this backdrop of objectives, plans, technologies, ships, aircraft, and personnel that John Gresham (my researcher for this series) and I traveled south to the Virginia Tidewater to take in the events of JTFEX 97-3 in late August and early September 1997-almost three weeks. Partly because space doesn't permit, but even more because much of what I saw concerned operationally sensitive issues, I cannot begin to tell you about all of what went on there. Nevertheless, I'll show you some of the high points, as well as some of what life is like aboard U.S. warships.

Sunday, August 17th, 1997

August of 1997 was hot and humid in the mid-Atlantic. As if the challenges of the coming JTFEX were not enough, the weather gods were going to make the sailors and Marines suffer. On the afternoon before the group sailed, it was hot. Really hot! So hot that a new high-temperature record of 104deg F/40deg C had been set that afternoon at the Norfolk Naval Base. In this kind of heat, officers and NCOs had to watch closely for signs of heat stroke and exhaustion in their enlisted personnel as they labored to finish loading supplies and equipment, while ships and equipment had become so heat-soaked that they would stay hot for days to come. Even the heavy-duty air-conditioning of ships like the GW and South Carolina was having a hard time keeping up with it.

To my good fortune, I managed to miss much of the heat wave, since I would fly into the exercise several days later. But for John Gresham, the heat and humidity would become part of his permanent memory of JTFEX 97-3. John arrived late in the afternoon, thus missing the worst of the midday heat. As he pulled his car up to the long row of carrier docks, he could see all manner of ships. Two other big Nimitz-class carriers, the Theodore Roosevelt (CVN-71) and John Stennis (CVN-75), were tied up in the deep-water berths next to the GW. The "TR" was about to head into Dry Dock 12 across the river at Newport News Shipbuilding for her first major overhaul, while the "Johnny Reb" was working up for her first overseas deployment in 1998.

Hauling his bags up the long brow to the hangar-deck-level entrance, together with what seemed like thousands of other officers and men, John felt very small and very diminished. And well he might. For in fact, the GW was full. Every single bunk, stateroom, and cot was filled; some were actually being shared by contractor, observation-team, and training personnel who were augmenting the normal ship's crew. Though Lieutenant Joe Navritril, the capable young Public Affairs Officer (PAO) for the ship and battle group, had managed to find a stateroom for me up on the 02 level, John had to make do in somewhat less comfortable accommodations lower in the ship. Meanwhile, as John waited for Lieutenant Navritril to escort him below, he was able to meet a number of the ship's officers, including Captain Rutheford and the newly appointed Executive Officer (XO), Commander Chuck Smith.

After the young PAO arrived, he and John headed into the interior of the ship and went below. Once they reached the third deck, they headed aft to a small fifteen-man bunk room that was being used for overflow berthing during the coming exercise-hardly what you would call "plush" accommodations. Yet a quick look showed that nobody under the rank of lieutenant commander, or less than a contractor's technical representative, was getting even these berths. So John, counting himself lucky, wedged his gear and large frame into a center bunk to get some rest.

Even after nightfall, the entire ship was still like a sauna bath from the brutal pounding of the day's sun. Despite the best efforts of the air conditioners, some spaces would not cool down during the coming voyage. Unfortunately, John's bunk room was going to be one of these (it was located directly over one of the reactor/machinery spaces). Stoically accepting what couldn't be changed, John and his shipmates settled down for the night, quietly sweating away the hours until the carrier sailed the following morning.

Monday, August 18th, 1997

JTFEX 97-3-Day 1: The situation in the Gulf of Sabani continues to grow worse, with the forces of Korona continuing to mass along the Kartunan boarders. Responding to requests from the Kartunan government, Allied coalition naval forces are being assembled to move to the Gulf to protect Allied interests, and to be prepared for possible contingencies such as evacuations of civilians and other endangered personnel.

After 0600 reveille, John rolled out of his rack to start the first of what would be many long, hot days at sea. Despite his cramped and steamy accommodations on the third deck, his location offered some advantages. For one thing, he was close to a nearby officers' head (bathroom), complete with shower facilities; and the main officers' dining room was located just a few steps forward of his berthing room. "Wardroom 3," the largest of the officers' dining areas aboard the GW, with room for over a hundred personnel to sit at once, is the social center of the ship. Service comes in two ways there. You can either pass through a cafeteria-style serving line, or you can have a mess specialist take your order.

This morning, since he wanted to have a good view of the sailing, and Captain Rutheford had announced that the ship would slip moorings promptly at 0700, John hurried through his breakfast. Afterward, he headed up to "Vultures Row" on the island and found a place outboard to watch the proceedings. "Yank" Rutheford was prompt, and the lines were slipped at the top of the hour. Overhead, an HS-11 HH-60G helicopter kept watch for signs of trouble, as well as to feed the traffic situation in the channel down to Captain Rutheford. Gently putting a few turns of reverse power on the screws, he eased the big flattop far enough away from the pier for the three tugs to take a hold on the carrier's hull.

All of these actions are done with exquisite precision and patience. On the one hand, the berths in this part of the harbor give a Nimitz-class carrier only about ten feet/three meters of clearance from the muddy bottom. On the other, the huge propellers tend to stir up the mud and sand, which can clog the delicate seawater inlets and condensers, and thus they are used carefully until the ship is in the middle of the main channel.

After backing carefully away from the pier, Captain Rutheford conned the ship in a wide reverse "Y" turn, leaving the GW aimed directly down the main channel leading to Hampton Roads. Calling, "All ahead one third," he now began the run down the channel to the right-hand turn that leads to Hampton Roads and the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay.

Meanwhile, other ships of the battle group and ARG were pulling out of their berths behind the GW, preparing to follow her down the channel. These included the cruisers Normandy (CG-60) and South Carolina (CGN-36), the Seattle (AOE-3), and the Guam. The cruisers would act as guards for the GW until the other ships of the battle group arrived to assist with that job. The Guam was on her way to meet up with the other three ships of her ARG, which were based down the Bay at Little Creek. From there, they would head south to Moorehead City, North Carolina, to pick up the personnel and equipment of the 24th MEU (SOC).

In fact, all along the eastern seaboard of the U.S., warships were leaving port to join up with the GW for the coming exercise. At the submarine base at Groton, Connecticut, the nuclear attack submarines Toledo (SSN-769) and Annapolis (SSN-760) cleared the Thames River channel and Long Island, heading south to join up with the rest of the group. Similarly, down at Mayport, Florida, the destroyers Carney (DDG-64) and John Rodgers (DD-983) and guided-missile frigates Boone (FFG-28) and Underwood (FFG-36) were clearing the mouth of the Saint John's River and heading north to the rendezvous point off of the Carolina coast. Finally, STANAFORLANT was finishing its trans-Atlantic run, planning to arrive several days hence.

While all of this activity was going on, the various elements of CVW-1 were finishing their movement to airfields in the mid-Atlantic region and preparing to conduct their "fly-on" to the GW the following day. For most of the squadrons, things had gone quite well. Most of the air wing would fly aboard the following afternoon, after which they would conduct several days of carrier qualifications prior to the actual start of the JTFEX scenario.

As they proceeded toward the open sea, the crew of the GW concentrated on getting things squared away after several months of berthing in Norfolk. All over the ship, electrical lines, hoses, and other pieces of equipment were being coiled, stowed, and put away. Even before the ship passed over the Hampton Roads Tunnel, there was a buzz of activity all over Gw. Captain Rutheford had several training evolutions to run before the carrier exited the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay-anchoring drills in the forecastle and tests of the various firefighting and damage-control systems. After GW passed the outer bay, Captain Rutheford ordered course 090deg (due east), and headed for the Virginia capes, where they met the two cruisers, and began a run south to pick up the air wing.

Tuesday, August 19th, 1997

JTFEX 97-3-Day 2: The war of words between Korona and Kartuna continues, with additional Kartunan military units being brought to a heightened state of readiness. In addition, Allied National Intelligence Sources have begun to track suspected Kartunan SCUD ballistic missile units to their training and test ranges.

That morning the GW and her cruiser escorts were operating in clear sunshine about 125 nm/230 km southeast of MCAS Cherry Point, North Carolina. Earlier they had broken into an area of high pressure and lower humidity, allowing the air-conditioning to get a start on removing the heat soak from the ships. Meanwhile, the GW flight deck crews were getting ready to take aboard their first jet aircraft of this cruise-not CVW-1 jets, but a group of USMC AV-8B Harrier II jump jets from Cherry Point. About 1100, the Harriers arrived, attracting lots of attention up on Vultures Row. Many of the young sailors had never seen a Harrier perform a vertical landing, a wondrous sight to folks used to the normal arrested landings of conventional carrier airplanes. After a short break for lunch, the Marines were off, so that the deck would be clear for the aircraft of CVW-1 arriving that afternoon.

1300 found the GW and her escorts steaming into the gentle southwest wind, preparing to take aboard the first of the aircraft from CVW-1. This was a particularly dangerous time for the pilots and crews of the air wing, since landing skills are easily lost without practice and it had been several months since their last "traps" aboard the GW during the CAPEX. For that reason, everyone on board the ship and in the air was being extra careful. Across the deck public-address system came the booming voices of the "Air Boss," Commander John Kindred, and his assistant, the "Mini Boss," Commander Carl June. Neither was risking ruining their perfect safety record during their assignments on board the GW. After making sure that the Landing Signals Officers (LSOs) were on their platform, the deck/safety crews were ready, the plane guard helicopter from HS-11 was overhead, and the cruisers were at their stations, the Air Boss and Mini Boss turned on the lights of the landing system and began to bring the air wing aboard.

One of the first to land was Captain "Boomer" Stufflebeem, flying an F/A-18C Hornet. Behind him came the approximately seventy aircraft of CVW-1. As soon as each plane was safely down and the arresting wire was cleared of the tailhook, the pilot was directed forward to a parking area ahead of the island. There the aircraft were either chained down or directed two at a time to one of the elevators, where they would be struck below to the hangar deck. There they would be carefully parked, sometimes with only inches between each bird. The crews then headed below to their squadron ready rooms down on the O-2 level, where they would check their landing scores from the LSOs. These scores were important to the flight crews, since each of them would have to requalifiy to land aboard the GW before being allowed to fly operationally in the coming JTFEX. For the next several days in fact, carrier qualifications would be the major activity of GW and CVW-1. Until each squadron's entire complement of air crew had successfully completed their required day and night "traps," the GW would be nothing more than a training base. All of this took several days of nearly round-the-clock flight operations, and was to be the first real test of endurance for the GW and her crew.

Wednesday, August 20th, 1997

JTFEX 97-3-Day 3: At the direction of the U. S. Department of State, all U. S. citizens in Korona and Kartuna have been ordered to evacuate due to the threat of armed conflict. In particular, due to the threat of Koronan armed intervention, the National Command Authorities of the United States have ordered the 24th MEU (SOC) to conduct a Non-Combatant Evacuation Operation (NEO). This will be composed of U. S. citizens and other at-risk personnel from the Kartunan capital as soon as they can take up station in the Gulf of Sabani. In addition, elements of the George Washington Battle Group, the Guam Amphibious Ready Group, STANAFORLANT, and other units will stand by to support the NEO and other operations as required.

My own expedition to join JTFEX 97-2 began at midday, when I boarded a VRC-4 °C-2A Greyhound Carrier Onboard Delivery (COD) aircraft of VRC-40 at NAS Norfolk. As I had been warned, the flight was fully booked and every seat filled. Everyone traveling out to the battle group had only the three COD flights to and from the GW as available transport.

Flying as a passenger on board a C-2 is unlike any other flying experience I've known. For starters, you sit in mildly uncomfortable "bucket" seats, facing aft in rows of four. Since payload and range are more important than creature comforts, the Greyhound has no sound-deadening material, and the air-conditioning system is decidedly crude, though robust. In the killing heat and humidity of the NAS Norfolk ramp, the vents spewed a chilling fog, which did not let up until we climbed to cruise altitude.

To help protect the passengers against the noise of the twin turboprop engines, we were each issued a "Mickey Mouse" cranial helmet with ear protectors. In addition, we each wore a "float coat" life preserver, just in case we had to ditch during the flight. When all of us were strapped in, the two crew chiefs gave us a safety briefing, then raised the rear cargo ramp, and the flight crew started the engines. As soon as these had warmed up, the aircraft was taxied to the end of the runway, and we were off.

Once the C-2A reached 10,000 feet/3,048 meters, the ride became more comfortable. The fog from the air-conditioning vents had become a flow of fresh air, and except for the constant rumble of the twin turboprops, everything was pleasant. As the aircraft turned southwest, we crossed over the coast and went "feet wet." From my small window, I could see the four amphibious ships of the Guam ARG loading up the elements of the 24th MEU (SOC). When they finished this task, they would join up with the rest of the battle group, now operating approximately 200 nm/370 km offshore.

It took us just under an hour to reach the battle group's operating area, at which point we were put into a wide port turn to hold for landing. Since qualifying pilots is considered more important than landing VIPs, we circled the battle group for almost a half hour before the command came from the GW's air traffic control center to get into the landing pattern. Soon after the Greyhound broke into the landing pattern, the flight crew gunned the engines and headed onto the final approach to the carrier.

Back in the passenger/cargo compartment, the crew chiefs ordered all of us to brace ourselves. After a big "thump" when the wheels touched down, I was jammed back into my seat as the tailhook snagged one of the arresting wires. Once the aircraft was stopped, the deck crews quickly disengaged the hook and began to fold the wings. The flight crew then taxied forward to a parking space ahead of the island, where the deck crews immediately began to chain the bird down.

Moments later, I was following the other passengers to a hatch in the island structure, and then down a ladder to the GW's Air Transport Office (ATO) on the O-2 level. There we checked in with the ATO watch officer, handed in our survival gear, and picked up our bags. By this time, John Gresham and Lieutenant Navritril had arrived to escort me to my stateroom on the O-2 level. After a shower and a quiet dinner in Wardroom 3 with John and Lieutenant Navritril, I went to bed. Even the pounding noise of aircraft launching and landing one deck above did not keep me from sleeping.

Thursday, August 21st, 1997

JTFEX 97-3-Day 4: The Koronan government has continued to threaten their Kartunan neighbors. They are claiming that the Northern Kartunan province of Khemis is legally part of the Koronan homeland, and are demanding its concession to avoid hostilities. Meanwhile, the various personnel to be evacuated during the planned NEO have begun to assemble at the American embassy in the Kartunan capital city of Temal.

I awoke at 0600, showered, and headed down the ladders to Wardroom 3 for breakfast. There I met John and Lieutenant Navritril. As we finished breakfast, Lieutenant Navritril informed us that we would be meeting with Admiral Mullen later that morning to discuss his plans for the upcoming exercise and his philosophy of running a carrier battle group.

Promptly at 1000, we arrived in the flag officers quarters in "Blue Tile" land on the O-2 level, and soon after that we headed into the admiral's sitting room. There Rear Admiral Mike Mullen, the commander of Cruiser-Destroyer Group Two (CRUDESGRU 2) and the GW battle group, warmly greeted us. Admiral Mullen is a surface line officer, one of the new generation of battle group commanders now sharing command opportunities with naval aviators. He is a handsome man, cool and intellectual; it's no surprise that he has a Harvard master's degree. At the moment, he was clearly preoccupied with getting the battle group set up for the coming JTFEX 97-3 exercise.

Spacing his remarks between the metallic roars of Catapult Number One (located directly above his stateroom), he discussed his vision of CVBG operations. Back in the Cold War, he explained, the Navy feared that the Soviet Union would try to eliminate the U.S. naval presence by sending multiple regiments of Tu-22M Backfire and Tu-16 Badger bombers armed with huge air-to-surface missiles (ASMs). The idea was to kill the CVBGs, after which Soviet submarines and surface groups would clean up the survivors with their own SSMs. It was against this threat that systems like the F-14 Tomcat fighter and Aegis were developed; their function was to shield the CVBG from waves of incoming missiles.

Today the world has greatly changed. With the bomber regiments of the Soviet Union a thing of the past, the threat of air attack on a CVBG has been so reduced that it is no longer necessary to maintain standing combat air patrols (CAPs) of airborne fighters. At the same time, the once-formidable fleet of Soviet submarines and missile ships is now either rusting at anchor, or else has been cut up into scrap metal. At this point the new CVBG tactics now practiced by Admiral Mullen and his contemporaries take the stage.

Today's CVBG tactics revolve around the reality that in the post-Cold War world very little threatens U.S. naval forces. The only navies in any way capable of hurting us are not likely to do that, since they are already friends like our NATO allies and Japan. Even if the friendship were somehow to cease, we could probably beat all of them together in a fair fight. All of this means practically that we can greatly reduce our commitment of aircraft and vessels to self-protection, and their resources can now be dedicated to the projection of offensive power. Now that they are relatively unconcerned about the military threat from other nations, CVBG commanders like Admiral Mullen want to be the military threat in a theater of operations. Obviously, Admiral Mullen does not plan to ignore enemy threats. To do that would be both foolish and irresponsible. Rather, he plans to leverage his best systems so as to defend the fleet with the greatest possible efficiency and effectiveness.

The practical consequences of all this doctrinal thinking is that the "Outer Air Battle" concept that drove fleet air defense tactics in the 1980's is dead and gone. Instead of massed CAPs of F-14 Tomcats and F/A-18 Hornet fighters, backed by a wall of SAM-armed escorts directed by the Aegis cruisers and destroyers, a more modest defense plan has been adopted. To that end Admiral Mullen now planned to depend on the SM-2 Standard SAMs aboard the Normandy, South Carolina, and Carney to project an air defense "bubble" over the battle group and ARG, while continuing their other jobs of keeping naval and submarine threats at bay. This would allow him to reserve the sorties of his Tomcats and Hornets for the job of delivering ordnance onto land and naval targets. In other words, the escorts would be doing a kind of "double duty" so as to allow the rest of the force to project offensive power into the littoral regions that would be their operating areas. Tomahawk and Harpoon cruise-missile strikes would be used wherever possible on fixed or naval targets, so that manned aircraft sorties would be saved for more mobile or more difficult missions.

For JTFEX 97-3, he would take the fullest possible advantage of both STANAFORLANT and the USAF KC-135 tankers he was being supplied with. Also, wherever possible, he would make use of special operations forces (from his own onboard SEAL (Sea-Air-Land) team and the 24th MEU (SOC) as force-multipliers and reconnaissance assets. Finally, though he was discreet in his references to them, Admiral Mullen planned to make full use of the two available SSNs, the Toledo and Annapolis. Both represented immensely capable platforms for a number of missions (such as intelligence-gathering, ASW, and Tomahawk cruise-missile attacks), and he clearly had big ideas for their use.

Just before our visit came to an end and we headed back down to Wardroom 3 for lunch, Admiral Mullen told us what he would stress the most in the coming exercise: safety. He had good reason to be concerned. There had been numerous deaths during the previous three East Coast JTFEXs. In JTFEX 96-2, for example, which was run in May of 1996 by XVIII Airborne Corps, thirteen deaths had resulted from the collision and crash of two USMC helicopters at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina. For the JTFEX about to begin, Admiral Mullen had just one simple objective: to bring every one of the participants home alive with all the important parts attached and in working order! He planned to accomplish this objective by a variety of means, ranging from "buddy system" checks of deck crews for fatigue, to regular drills for damage control and battle stations. As John and I left, we could only pray that these plans would work.

Friday, August 22nd, 1997

JTFEX 97-3-Day 5: As the Koronans continued their threat, the United Nations Security Council voted the first of a number of sanctions against them, in the form of a maritime embargo on weapons and petroleumproducts. This embargo was to go into effect immediately, and would be enforced by the military forces of the U.S. and her coalition allies. To support this operation, the coalition naval forces will move into the Gulf of Sabani immediately. Also, the Guam ARG and 24th MEU (SOC), supported by elements of the GW CVBG and STANAFORLANT, will begin to conduct the planned NEO from the American embassy compound in Temal.

This morning John and I were extremely busy, as we were about to move from the GW to the Aegis cruiser Normandy, where we would spend time with the "small boy" sailors of the GW battle group. As luck would have it, our rushing around turned out to be unnecessary. A heavy squall line had moved through overnight, leaving behind rough seas, high winds, and heavy patches of rain-and delaying our departure. Meanwhile, the high summer heat continued, with peak temperatures over 90deg F/32 Cdeg. All of this meant that flight operations around the battle group and ARG were extremely dicey.

Before our departure, we had a scheduled meeting with three of the CVW-1 squadron commanders down in the air wing ready room. Joining us for coffee and a chat in the comfortable, leather-covered ready room chairs were Commander Curt Daill of VF-102 (flying F-14B upgrades), Commander Robert M. Harrington of VFA-86 (flying the Block 10 F/A-18C Hornet), and Commander Michael Mulcahy of HS-11 (flying SH-60F and HH-60H Seahawk). The three men's comments about the aircraft they flew and the units they commanded turned out to be both candid and informative.

Curt Daill is every inch the classic F-14 Tomcat driver, with all the ego and ambition that go with the job. As commander of VF-102, he headed a squadron that was rapidly acquiring new and useful capabilities. Already flying one of the most powerful warplanes in the world with its F-110 engines and AWG-9/AIM-54 Phoenix weapons system, the "Diamondbacks" had recently added two new systems to their aircraft. These are the new Digital Tactical Airborne Reconnaissance Pod System (D/TARPS) and the AAQ-14 Low Altitude Navigation (LANTIRN) pod. The four D/TARPS pods assigned to VF-102 allowed them to take and transmit near-"real-time" targeting images while still over the target. This capability would allow Admiral Mullen to plan a strike on target just minutes after the D/TARPS-equipped F-14 locates it. The AAQ-14 LANTIRN pod (which has a built-in GPS/INS system) gives the F-14 community the ability to conduct day and night precision strikes with Paveway LGBs, as well as accomplishing wide-area reconnaissance with GPS positional accuracy. Both of these new capabilities made VF-102 one of the most desirable air units that a CinC might be assigned in a time of crisis.

Commander Bob Harrington, a quiet, intense man, who lets his squadron's actions speak for him, heads VFA-86. Another long-time Naval aviator who has seen his chosen flying community move in surprising directions, Commander Harrington has gone from operating A-7 Corsairs armed with "iron" bombs to taking up the F/A-18C armed with the most advanced PGMs.

Our third squadron leader, Commander Michael Mulcahy of HS-11, arrived just a little late. Though he didn't tell us then, we later learned that the skipper of the "Dragon Slayers" had just flown one of the first missions of the UN-mandated maritime embargo of the Koronan forces. Flying an HH-60H loaded with a SEAL team, he had swooped down on the fleet oiler Merrimack (AO-179), which was being used by USACOM to simulate a merchant ship transporting concealed arms and other sensitive cargo to Korona. Hovering over the oiler's deck, the SEAL team had "fast roped" down to the ship and conducted a simulated "takedown" of the suspected weapons cache that intelligence sources had reported there. After seizing the ship, the SEAL team had called for a prize crew from one the battle group escorts and turned the ship over to them.

"I haven't really been up to anything important this morning," Commander Mulcahy remarked as he coolly joined us in the ready room.

HS-11 is one of the few carrier aviation units that fly two different aircraft. In addition to the SH-60F variant used for submarine hunting, they also fly the HH-60H search and rescue (SAR)/special operations version. This means that in addition to helping protect the GW from submarines that might penetrate the so-called "inner zone," inside the protective ring of escort vessels, they also provide the battle group with the ability both to rescue downed air crews and to deliver and retrieve special operations teams. This is a wide range of roles and missions for a unit with only six aircraft (four SH-60Fs and two HH-60Hs), and it means that they almost always have a bird or two in the air somewhere.

Following our chat with the squadron leaders, John and I returned to our quarters to pick up our bags, and then we headed up to the ATO office with Lieutenant Navritril. There we checked in with the ATO watch officer, gathered our float coats and cranial helmets, and tagged our bags. Once we had taken care of these details, Lieutenant Navritril introduced us to Captain James F. Deppe, the CO of the Normandy. Jim Deppe, a tall, slim, handsome, native Texan, is a 1974 Naval Academy graduate who has spent his career in the surface warfare community. After serving most of his sea time on frigates (he commanded the USS Kauffman (FFG-59) from 1992 to 1994), he was selected to take over command of the Normandy in early 1997.

As we began talking with him, the ATO watch officer announced that it was time to head up to the flight deck and board an HS-11 SH-60F for the flight over to the Normandy. Grabbing our bags and other gear, we followed a yellow-shirted flight deck handler up a ladder, exited the island, and walked into a full-blown squall, complete with forty knot winds over the bow, blasting horizontal raindrops (heated to over 80deg F/27deg C by the local weather) into our faces! Leaning into the storm, we struggled across the deck between other aircraft preparing to take off. The Seahawk was parked on a spot over one of the waist catapults with its engines already turning.

Soon after we had crowded aboard and were strapped in, the crew got ready to take off. But as the pilot ran through his checklist and throttled up, he got a warning light indicating a problem in one of the T700 engines. Quickly, both power plants were shut down, and we were asked to leave the aircraft and head back over to the island. By this time thoroughly soaked, we descended back to the O-2 level and the ATO office, while flight deck crews cleared the broken bird from the deck and started up the next flight event. Within minutes, the voice of Air Boss John Kindred boomed over the flight deck PA system, soon followed by the roars of jet engines and the screech of catapults.

As we stripped off our soaked survival gear, the ATO personnel handed us dry towels and cold drinks. Then we sat down to wait. Fifteen minutes later, we were told that the Normandy would launch one of her own SH-60B Seahawks, which would collect us following the flight event currently under way. The bad news was that it would take at least three hours before they could land aboard the GW. We had a long wait ahead of us. The good news was that this would give us a chance to talk with Captain Deppe, and get some feel about how he and his ship were being used by Admiral Mullen.

As CO of one of the most capable Anti-Air Warfare (AAW) platform in the fleet, Deppe had been assigned the job of AAW coordinator for the entire force. Since most of the other warfare functions coordinators (ASW, Anti-Surface Warfare (ASUW), etc.) were based aboard the GW, and the Normandy had nothing like the secure, wide-bandwidth satellite communications systems that would allow secure teleconferencing, he had to make the commute over to the GW almost daily. This was necessary in order to attend secure conferences among the officers responsible for the battle group's defense. Add to this the relative novelty of the battle group tactics being practiced by Admiral Mullen, and you have Jim Deppe spending several hours in the air each day going back and forth between Normandy and "Blue Tile Land" in GW. This new way of running a CVBG is an extremely "hands on" way of doing business, and until new wide-bandwidth satellite telecommunications systems become more common in the fleet, you're going to see a lot of ship COs flying back and forth between ships.

It was almost 1500 (3 P.M.) by the time the last of the CVW-1 aircraft were brought aboard, and the waist helicopter landing spots cleared. The HSL-48 Seahawk had circled the GW for almost an hour, and the crew was clearly in a hurry to get back home, approximately 100 miles/161 kilometers away. By this time, the squall had cleared enough for us to cross the flight deck without getting soaked. This time, the preflight checks all went well, and within minutes, the crew was cleared to launch. After we lifted off, we headed east to rendezvous with the Normandy. Flying at around 1,500 feet/ 457 meters altitude, we stayed below the cloud base and ran flat out to the east. About halfway to the cruiser, I looked out a window and saw below a dirty brown streak in the water spreading out for miles. When I asked the crew chief about it, he frowned. "Pollution," he said. Some ship had passed through and pumped its bilge into the blue of the Atlantic. It occurred to me just then that an antiship missile might come in handy-pour encourager les autres.

Soon our new home, the Aegis cruiser USS Normandy, came into view. Steaming into the wind, she was making ready to take us aboard. The deck crews were making quick work of it. After just a single circle of the cruiser, the pilot ran up the wake of the ship, matched his speed to the ship's, and hovered over the helicopter deck. At this point, the crew chief winched down a small line with a "messenger" attachment at the end. When it reached the deck below us, a deck crewman scampered across to the messenger and inserted it into the clamp of the ship's Recovery, Assist, Secure, and Traversing (RAST) system-a system of mechanical tracks in the deck of the ship's helicopter pad. The clamp, which runs on the tracks, is designed to hold the messenger at the end of the line. The helicopter can then be winched down safely and securely onto the deck, even in heavy seas. Soon, we found ourselves on deck, and Captain Deppe was rushing up to the bridge.

The reason for his hurry was quickly evident. The huge bulk of the USS Seattle, the GW battle group's fleet replenishment ship, was showing on the horizon. We had arrived just in time for him to take over the delicate and sometimes difficult job of conning the ship while replenishing under way. After leaving our bags for the deck crews to take to our quarters, we followed him to the bridge-not an easy undertaking. To reach the top of the cruiser's massive deckhouse requires climbing some seven ladders. The effort was worth it, though, for up there we had a splendid view of one of the most beautiful dances performed by U.S. Navy ships.

I've always believed that the skill that separates great Navies from the also-rans is the ability to sustain a fleet at sea with underway replenishment (UNREP). Something of an American invention prior to World War II, UNREP is a little like an elephant ballet. The dynamics of conning a ship in close proximity to another are completely different from any other kind of ship handling, and Captain Deppe was about to give us a textbook lesson in the art.

Initially, he allowed Captain Stephen Firks, CO of the Seattle, to come up on Normandy and position his ship on the cruiser's port (left) side. Once this was done, the Seattle began to shoot messenger lines across the gap to the deck crews of the Normandy. After these were recovered, the deck crewmen pulled larger lines across and began to rig the refueling lines. For this UNREP, only two refueling lines would be set, since only JP-5 jet fuel for the Normandy's gas turbine engines and helicopters was being transferred, so there would not be any "high lines" for moving cargo or other supplies. There would also be no use of the Seattle's UH-46 Sea Knight Vertical Replenishment (VERTREP) helicopters, as the Normandy was still well stocked with food and other consumables.

Within ten minutes, the lines were rigged, and the refueling hoses were pulled across the hundred feet/thirty meters or so of space between the two ships. Each hose has a "male" probe, which locks into a "female" receptacle on the receiving ship. These can be rapidly disconnected in the event of an emergency, what the Navy calls a "breakaway." When properly set and pressurized, each hose can move several thousand gallons a minute of distilled petroleum products. As soon as the refueling probes were secured into their receptacles, the Seattle began to pump JP-5 over to the cruiser. Gradually, the pressure was built up, and the flow increased.

While all of this was going on, the two ship captains were carefully conning their vessels, making sure that the spacing and alignment remained constant. This can be difficult with ships of different sizes. Since the larger one wants to "suck" the smaller vessel into its side, maintaining station during UNREPs is a delicate business measured in an additional rpm or two of shaft power, or a twitch of propeller pitch. This afternoon all went exceedingly smoothly, and Captains Deppe and Firks (of Seattle) put on a show of ship handling that one could only admire.

Part of the beauty of this operation is that it is done virtually without radio or other electronic signals. To keep things simple and quiet, only lights and flags are used. After about thirty minutes of refueling, the call came up from engineering that the Normandy's fuel bunkers were full and the UNREP completed. As they uncoupled the hoses, the crews of both ships were careful to limit JP-5 spills into the sea, to minimize pollution. Not many of us realize how tough pollution-control rules are on the military, and how hard they work to be "green." Once the hoses were retracted back to the Seattle, the deck crews began to strike their lines and drop them over the side to be retrieved by the oiler's personnel. Now came one last ticklish operation.

Captain Deppe ordered all ahead two thirds (about twenty knots/thirty-seven kilometers an hour), and then began a gradual turn to starboard, a maneuver designed to make the breakaway from the 53,000-ton oiler as smooth and easy as possible. Deppe ran the cruiser through a full 360deg turn and almost 10,000 yards/9,144 meters of separation from the Seattle before he felt free to maneuver again. At the completion of this turn, he ordered the cruiser to head west to join up with some other ships of the GW battle group. After that, we all adjourned below to freshen up for dinner.

I was escorted to quarters usually reserved for an embarked flag officer-very luxurious after the cramped quarters of the GW. With only around 350 personnel, the Normandy is much more intimate and pleasant than the carrier. People can actually find privacy here and there on Normandy if they want it. Another nice thing about being on one of the "small boys" was the absence of the hundreds of extra VIPs, observers, media personnel, and contractors now on the carrier, making space and comfort more plentiful than aboard the GW. Perhaps the only thing I missed was the live video feeds from CNN and other networks provided by the onboard Challenge Athena system.

As we gathered in the Normandy's wardroom for dinner, I was struck by the youth of Captain's Deppe's officers. While the department heads were mostly lieutenant commanders, most of the others were lieutenants with less than five years service. Escort duty is a young person's profession, and around the table the majority of the faces were under thirty. Aboard the "small boys" of the cruiser/destroyer/frigate force, the officers' wardroom is the center of their social world. The wardroom table is a place of open expression, with rank and position holding little sway. Here problems are discussed, assignments made, and professional experience passed along to young officers. There is very little formality. The only real rule is that everyone stands for the captain, and waits for him to serve himself before everyone else does so. As for the food, it's as good as any you will find in the fleet. From the Normandy's small galley came a mountain of edibles, including a fine salad bar and excellent baked chicken and rice. The only problem you'll find is dealing with the roll of the ship. And therein lies a story.

The Ticonderoga-class (CG-47) Aegis cruisers were built upon hulls originally designed for the Spruance-class (DD-963) general-purpose destroyers. They share a common structural hull power plant and many other systems. However, the extra load of weapons and other equipment associated with the Aegis combat system has definitely "maxed out" the original Spruance design. The "Ticos," as they are known, displace fully 15 % more than a Spruance, much of which is located in the tall deckhouses that mount the four big SPY-1 phased-array radars that are the heart of the Aegis system. What this all means is that the Ticos are top-heavy. Not enough to make them unstable or prone to capsizing, mind you; but enough to make them less than comfortable for those who don't enjoy pitching, swaying, and rolling. In fact, they handle the seas quite well and maneuver like a small Italian sports car in the hands of a professional. However, they do roll a lot! In a heavy sea or sharp turn, they can heel up to 40deg from the vertical. It is not particularly uncomfortable, and does not tend to cause motion sickness. However, it does make activities like eating meals potentially exciting. And for us that evening, more than once the ship took rolls steep enough to force us to grab hold of plates and serving dishes.

After dinner, we were given a tour of the engineering departments and combat center. While Normandy is almost ten years old (she was commissioned in 1989) and coming to the end of her second five-year operating period, she is in terrific shape. In fact, I was amazed how well her crew has maintained her. Everything was spotless, even the deck corners; and all the sensor and combat systems were "up" and ready for action.

Normandy is representative of the "Baseline 3" Ticos, with improved lightweight SPY-1B radars (each Aegis ship has four of these) and new computers. Following the 1997/98 cruise, she will head into the yard for a major overhaul, which will completely update her Aegis combat system to the latest version. When she comes out of the yard sometime in 1999, she will be equipped with the new SM-2 Block 4 SAM, which will give her an ability to engage and destroy theater ballistic missiles (TBMs). Eventually, the entire fleet of Aegis cruisers and destroyers will have this capability, which will greatly reduce the risks from enemy TBMs to our forward-deployed forces. Today, the crew of the Normandy and the Aegis destroyer Carney were simulating some of the engagement techniques that will be part of that future capability.

After the tour, I headed down to the commodore's stateroom and sleep. John and I were scheduled to return to the GW in the morning, as we had been hearing rumors that the "hot war" part of the JTFEX scenario might start within a day or two. I had wanted to be aboard the GW when that happened in order to have the best possible view of the start of the hostilities. As it happened, things didn't work out according to schedule-to our great good fortune, for we ended up experiencing the most interesting day of the exercise.

Saturday, August 23rd, 1997

JTFEX 97-3-Day 6: The Koronan government today continued to pressure Kartuna by test firing several SCUD ballistic missiles on their test range. This is seen as a sign that they are bringing their theater ballistic missile combat units to a high state of combat readiness. In addition, the Koronan fleet has been surged out of their ports, and is currently moving into position to track and trail the Coalition Naval forces massing in the Gulf of Sabani. Meanwhile, elements of the 24th MEU (SOC) and Guam ARG have commenced their NEO of the American embassy compound in Temal. It is expected that this operation will be completed early on the morning of August 24th.

By Saturday morning, much had happened in JTFEX 97-3. Overnight, the Normandy and the other escorts had rejoined the GW, and the combined battle group had entered the northern end of the Gulf of Sabani. Passing by the (imaginary) Willo and Hirt Islands, the group turned south into the Gulf to support the Guam ARG/24th MEU (SOC) in their NEO of endangered personnel from Kartuna.

Meanwhile, the USACOM J-7 exercise leaders were working hard on the "flex" part of the scenario, trying to bait Admiral Mullen and his commanders into actions that would cause hostilities to break out immediately. For the admiral and his staff, their job was to keep a "lid" on the scenario for as long as possible-important in the light of the NEO the 24th MEU (SOC) which had begun in the predawn hours. Here was to be the "eyeball-to-eyeball" phase of the exercise, simulating the "short-of-war" realities that our commanders would face in an actual crisis. Even though this was a training exercise, you could feel the tension of the emerging situation. Everyone in the battle group knew that they were being evaluated for their readiness to go into a potential combat situation during JTFEX 97-3, and nobody wanted to let the rest of the force down.

All around the battle group, ships from the Atlantic Fleet were being used to simulate Koronan Naval vessels in an "aggressor" role. And numerous other ships were simulating neutral shipping traffic, trying to get clear of the emerging fracas, or to get one more cargo run in before the "war" started. The final proof that the "hot" phase of the exercise was about to begin arrived on a UH-46 transport helicopter's morning run in the form of the Normandy's SOOT team representative. This was Captain James W. Phillips, the CO of the Aegis cruiser Vella Gulf (CG-72), who had come aboard to observe the proceedings and to evaluate the performance of Captain Deppe and his crew during the exercise. Captain Phillips is a courtly gentleman who quickly attached himself to Jim Deppe, and they were soon chatting away like two old friends working out the best place to catch a prize bass. But you only had to look out a porthole of the Normandy's wardroom during breakfast to see that the game afoot in this pond beat the hell out of any fishing you might find ashore.

Things were about to get very interesting in this little patch of the Gulf of Sabani. About 1,000 yards/914 meters off the starboard beam, a Normandy whaleboat was taking a maritime inspection team to the frigate Samuel Elliot Morrison (FFG-13), which was currently playing the part of a neutral merchant ship. Breakfast was hardly finished when the word came over that the frigate had a real casualty who needed to be evacuated back to the mainland, an action that caused a problem for John and myself. The diagnosis was hepatitis, and the patient was being transported over in the whaleboat with a corpsman.

With only a single HS-11 sortie scheduled to fly from Normandy to GW that day, this meant that the casualty and corpsman would take our places on the Seahawk, and we would have to wait another day or two to return to the carrier. Captain Deppe made it clear that he would do his best to get us back as soon as possible. And besides, he went on to say, there was plenty of room for us aboard, and since it was Saturday in the "real" world, it would be pizza night on the Normandy. Since Normandy had one of the best galleys in the Atlantic Fleet, this sounded like making the best of a bad situation.

After the HS-11 Seahawk arrived and collected the casualty and corpsman, the ship passed into a comfortable high-pressure zone, which had the effect of dropping the temperature to a refreshing 80deg F/27deg C, and drying out the air to a sparkling clarity. Visibility became almost unlimited, with line-of-sight ranges running to almost 30,000 yards/27,400 meters. It soon became the most beautiful day I'd seen in months, with a flat calm sea and almost no wind. Meanwhile, the "bubble" of visible space around us had become crowded with ships.

Later that afternoon, around 1600 (4 P.M.), as I stood on the helicopter platform aft, I noticed something strange. One of the nearby ships suddenly closed from astern to around 2,000 yards/1,828 meters, and tried to move around us, much as a car tries to pass a truck on an interstate highway. A moment later, I felt the deck shudder underneath my feet, and heard the sharp whine of the Normandy's four LM-2500 gas turbines going to full power. In just seconds the cruiser jumped from twelve to thirty knots, and Captain Deppe radically cut in front of the other ship, blocking the pass. Somewhat dazzled by this maneuver, I looked aft at the other vessel, a Spruance-class destroyer that I initially expected to be the USS John Rodgers (DD-983) from our battle group. But then I noticed that this Spruance did not have the ASROC launcher of the John Rodgers, and a quick glance at her pennant number confirmed my suspicions. It was the USS Nicholson (DD-982)-a VLS-equipped Spruance simulating a Koronan Kashin-class guided-missile destroyer. Clearly the JTFEX 97-3 scenario was growing hotter. John and I headed forward to the bridge at a dead run to find out what was going on.

As we arrived on the port bridge wing, I saw the Nicholson trying to slip up our beam. Over at the edge of the bridge were Captains Deppe and Phillips, watching intently as the destroyer maneuvered. At the same time, the TBS (Talk Between Ship) radio circuit came alive with traffic from all around the battle group. Two frigates simulating Koronan guided-missile gunboats were maneuvering aggressively. Looking to one of the young lieutenants, I asked, "What the hell is going on?"

"They're playing chicken," he said, "like the Russians." The remark was like a trip through time for me.

Back in the Cold War, the ships and submarines of the Soviet Navy used to trail our CVBGs the way Nicholson was doing. This was a favorite tactic of the late Admiral Sergei Gorshkov (the longtime chief of the Soviet Navy), and took advantage of the "freedom of navigation" rules accorded ships on the high seas. The idea was to maneuver for a clear line of sight to the carrier the way they'd do just before the outbreak of a real conflict. In the "first salvo" of that war, the ships and subs would fire their missiles, torpedoes, and guns and attempt to put the flattop out of action. The only way to defeat this threat was for our own escort ships to maneuver aggressively, physically placing themselves between the enemy ships and the carrier. At times, vessels of both sides would actually "bump." Such aggressive maneuvering now and then increased tensions between the superpowers.[78] We used to call it "Cowboys and Russians," and I had thought that it was a thing of the past. 1 was clearly wrong.

Though it's not publicized by the U.S. Navy, the tactic of interposing an escort ship between an opponent and the carrier is still practiced; it resembles the "hassling" that fighter pilots engage in to keep themselves sharp. But "dogfighting" with billion-dollar cruisers and destroyers is riskier. Clearly the USACOM training staff wanted to stress Admiral Mullen and his staff into a situation where the Koronan forces could claim a provocation and initiate hostilities while the 24th MEU (SOC) was still conducting their NEO in Temal. The challenge was clear. If a Koronan ship was able to draw a line-of-sight bead on the GW, then the escorts would be required to "fire" on the offending vessel to keep the flattop safe. At the same time, because GW was conducting flight operations, there was very little Captain Rutheford could do to help combat the intruders.

For the next few hours, it would be up to the "small boys" of the battle group to keep the Koronan missile ships at bay. Clearly, the Normandy's Saturday night pizza tradition was about to go on hold for a while. Captain Deppe, immediately grasping the challenge, went to the task with a grin on his face. Opportunities were rare to maneuver his ship to its limits against a fellow skipper in an almost perfectly matched ship. This was just such a chance. Although there are clear exercise rules about how close opposing combatants are allowed to approach, these rules were about to be bent. In fact, the only rule seemed to be: Don't actually touch the other guy!

The next few hours went by very quickly, as we parried and thrusted with the Nicholson. The captain of the Nicholson (Commander Craig E. Langman) was extremely aggressive, doing everything he could to get past us. He never succeeded. Captain Deppe maneuvered the Normandy like a Formula I racing car, keeping the destroyer solidly away from the flattop. At times we raced ahead at over thirty knots, only to crash-stop within a ship length or two. Then we might sit for ten or fifteen minutes, with just a thousand yards or so separating the two vessels. Suddenly, the Nicholson would jam on the speed, and the maneuvering would begin again. Each time, Captain Deppe would match his counterpart move-for-move. At times the Normandy would heel as much as 40deg, and you could hear the sounds of pizza pans and crockery hitting the deck back in the galley. Other times, it would be a race to see if the Nicholson could inch ahead just a little, followed by a radical turn to try to gain position.

It wasn't until sometime after 2000 (8 P.M.) that the Nicholson and the other two Koronan intruders finally turned away, and the jousting was over. As Captain Deppe ordered the engines throttled back and began to con the Normandy to her assigned position in the defense screen, Admiral Mullen's voice came up on the TBS circuit. For several minutes, the admiral commented on the performance of each ship in the screen, after which he paid a glowing compliment to the skippers of the three escorts that had fended off the Koronan warships. After his hearty "Well done," you could feel the tension ease around the ship. Though we did not know it at the time, the GW battle group had passed a significant test; they had bought two more days of "peace" for the Kartunans and their coalition allies.

Aboard the Normandy, life began to settle back to normal. Down in the galleys, the mess specialists salvaged what they could of the pizzas they would serve at mid-rats. Though the 2300 (11 P.M.) feeding was heavy that night, many of the officers and crew chose to just hit their racks and grab some sleep instead. These were the veterans, who knew that what they had seen today was only the beginning of what could be another two weeks of "combat." Those with less experience and more adrenaline munched on thick-crust pan pizza, and chatted about the terrific ship-handling Captain Deppe had shown the entire battle group that day. As I lingered over a piece of the baked pie, I answered a question that had been in my mind for some time: Since the end of the Cold War, the surface forces of the USN have not had a serious enemy. Such a condition can breed complacency and lead to "sloppy" habits in commanders and crews. Jim Deppe's performance on the bridge of the Normandy this Saturday evening convinced me that our surface Navy still has "the right stuff."

Sunday, August 24th, 1997

JTFEX 97-3-Day 7: The 24th MEU (SOC) completed their NEO early today, and is evacuating the civilians to a neutral location. The aggressive actions of Koronan Naval forces yesterday have been reported to the UN Security Council, which has issued an additional resolution allowing expanded use of force in the event of further harassment. The only Koronan government response has been additional mobilization of their military forces.

The morning after the game of "Cowboys and Russians" dawned humid, overcast, and stormy. I awoke to a knock on my door from a chief petty officer at 0600 (6 A.M.). He informed me that the captain had arranged for a UH-46 VERTREP helicopter to pick up us and shuttle us over to the GW. Quickly showering and packing up my bag, I met John in the wardroom for breakfast, and we discussed our plans for returning to the carrier. Since the helicopter was due overhead at 1000 hours (10 A.M.), I took the time to go up to the bridge and thank Captain Deppe for his hospitality. Afterward, on my way down, I ran into Captain Phillips, who confirmed my own thoughts about the previous night's proceedings. He had noted Normandy's impressive performance in his report to the SOOT team leader aboard the command ship Mount Whitney. "Keep an eye out for things to break tomorrow," he added slyly. Armed with this information, John and I collected our bags, and then headed aft to the helicopter hangar to await our ride back to the GW.

At the hangar, a chief handed us float coats and cranial helmets, and gave us a quick safety briefing on the Sea Knight. And then at the appointed time, the UH-46 set down gently on the Normandy's helicopter pad. The big twin-rotor Sea Knight was a tight fit on the small landing platform, and you could see the deck personnel carefully watching the clearance between the rotor blades and the superstructure. We quickly boarded the bird and strapped into our seats. Two minutes later, the crew buttoned up the UH-46 and lifted off into the overcast. The ride back to the GW took about fifteen minutes.

In the ATO office, Lieutenant Navritril had good news for John. Since many of the VIPs, contractors, and other extra ship riders had flown home, he would now get to occupy a two-man stateroom up on the O-2 level near mine. He also let us know that the Challenge Athena link was working well, which meant that we could expect to see one of the opening-day NFL football games the following Sunday. "So take it easy," he told us, "and relax the rest of the day." Both of us gratefully took him up on this suggestion, and retired to our staterooms for a little "down" time. If things got "hot" on Monday, I wanted to be ready.

Monday, August 25th, 1997

JTFEX 97-3-Day 8: At dawn this morning, the armed forces of Korona began a general invasion of the Kartunan homeland. Elements of every branch of the Koronan military are involved, and have been identified, and are rapidly overrunning the country. The UN Security Council, the U.S. government, and the government of all coalition allies have condemned this action. Meanwhile, the UN Security Council has voted a number of resolutions, including one which encouraged "use of all necessary and appropriate force" to halt the aggression.

As soon as word of the invasion reached him, Admiral Mullen initiated a revised ROE, and put into effect the attack plans that he and his staff had been working on since we had sailed. One of his first acts was to activate Captain Deppe's fleet air defense plan. With Deppe designated as "Alpha Whiskey" (AW-the fleet AAW commander), the three SAM ships were spread through the area to fully cover all the high-value units. The Normandy would stay close to the GW, while the South Carolina would move closer to the Guam ARG (the superior over-land performance of her missile radar directors gave her better inshore characteristics than those of the Aegis ships). The Carney would act as a "missile trap," and work as the AAW "utility infielder" for the fleet. She would stay "up threat" of the main fleet, and do her best to break up any air attacks from Koronan air units.

This day would see the opening of the air campaign (which would follow the model set forth during Desert Storm). Today's air and missile strikes were designed to eliminate the Koronan ability to hurt the coalition fleet; CVW-1 would destroy the Koronan air defense system, air force, and navy, while Tomahawk cruise-missile strikes from the Normandy, the Carney, and the submarines would decapitate the Koronan command and control network. It was a good plan. Still, the key to making a plan work is to keep it flexible enough to respond to any countermeasures that an enemy might respond with. This meant getting the TARPS F-14's of VF-102 into the air to sweep the Gulf of Sabani, Kartuna, and Korona for targets worthy of CVW-1's attentions. With only four TARPS-capable F-14's, and whatever satellite imagery that could be downloaded from the Challenge Athena system, the battle group intelligence would be half-blind. Luckily, they would also have the services of the three VQ-6 ES-3's, giving them "ears" to supplement their eyes.

This day launched the entire group into wartime operating conditions; they would stay that way until the End Exercise (ENDEX) time, sometime the following week.

Tuesday, August 26th, 1997

JTFEX 97-3-Day 9: The Koronan military forces, continuing their invasion of Kartuna, claim to have taken control of more than half the country, and have flown numerous missions against the coalition air and Naval forces in the Gulf of Sabani (with results that are currently not known). Meanwhile, the coalition forces, based around the carrier USS George Washington (CVN-73) and her battle group have begun counterattacks against the Koronan invaders.

One of the first things you get used to aboard an aircraft carrier is you never find total quiet. Down below, you hear the machinery noises that are the heart and lungs of the ship. As you rise through the decks, the noises of the flight deck begin to make themselves heard, until you reach the O-2 level, where the "airport" is on your roof. Surprisingly, you can even sleep through all the noises of the catapults firing, arresting wires straining, the tailhooks and landing gear slamming into the deck, and the jet noise coming through the armored steel deck over your head. After a while the noises blend into one another and you just sleep in spite of it all.

On this second day of the "war," I wandered around the ship to get a sense of how the young men and women who were doing most of the work were handling both their work and what leisure was available to them. Down on the hangar deck, for example, I witnessed some amazing mechanical and technical exploits. Jet engines weighing five tons were changed with less than a yard's clearance between aircraft. Kids who don't look old enough to own a "boom box" back home handled million-dollar "black boxes." Sweat, oil, jet fuel, hydraulic fluid, metal shavings, and salt air all mixed into a pungent smell that says only one thing: You're in an aircraft carrier hangar bay. This is a land ruled not so much by the ship's officers, as by those mythic people who hold the naval service together-the chiefs.

In the Navy, there is a saying that officers make decisions and the chiefs make things happen. It's true. Here on the hangar deck, the bulk of the maintenance and repair work is done by senior enlisted personnel and non-commissioned officers (NCOs), who spend their days (and frequently nights) putting back into working order the aircraft that officers go out and break. Any machine, no matter how robust and well built, will eventually break or fail if used long enough. It therefore falls to these unsung heroes of naval aviation to do the dirty and not very well rewarded work of keeping the airplanes flying. How do the taxpayers of the United States reward these dedicated young people? While the pay of enlisted/NCO personnel has slipped a bit in the last few years (by comparison with what the average civilian earns), it is still light-years ahead of the near-poverty level of the 1970's. In fact, the Congress has recently voted a small pay raise, and it should be in pay envelopes by the time you read this.

As for accommodations, well, as we've already seen, don't expect a four-star hotel. With 90 % of the crew made up of enlisted/NCO personnel, so-called "personal space" for non-officers is almost absurdly lacking. Most enlisted and NCO berthing is made up of six-man bunk/stowage units, with an attacked locker unit. Each person has an individual bunk, bunk pan, and locker. Each bunk has a reading light, privacy curtain, and fresh-air duct, all packed into a space about the size of a good-sized coffin. The six-man modules are grouped into berthing spaces, which share a communal head/shower, as well as a small open area equipped with a television, table, and chairs. Normally, when you walk through these spaces, red battle lamps (to preserve night vision) illuminate the area and allow those off their work shifts to get some sleep. In the common areas there's usually a television going and someone is probably ironing their clothes.

The Navy, recognizing the necessary shortcomings of the personal accommodations, does what it can to make up for that by giving naval personnel the finest food money can buy. It's not fancy, tending toward good, basic chow, but the mess specialists work hard to throw in favorites like pizza, stir-fry, or Mexican dishes several times a week. In addition, the dietitians try to keep food relatively low in fat by offering fresh vegetables and salads whenever possible. For the enlisted sailors, meals are usually served cafeteria-style in the large serving area forward of Wardroom 3. One of the largest open spaces in the ship, this is the central focus of the enlisted personnel aboard ship. Here they can eat, talk, attend a class, play a video game, and perhaps escape the routine for a little while. There are also other diversions.

Workout facilities are located here and there throughout the ship. These have become extremely popular in recent years, as the "hardbody" culture has become fashionable. For more serious fitness enthusiasts, there are exercise and aerobic classes held on the hangar deck several times a day, as well as a jogging group that makes the circuit of the flight deck, weather and flight operations permitting. The ship's cable television system normally broadcasts over six channels from a small studio on the O-1 level under the island. Run by a technical team under Lieutenant Joe Navritril, it shows movies, news, ship's bulletins, and other programming. There is also a small cable radio station, which broadcasts an "eclectic" mix of rock and roll, blues, and jazz. A four-page newspaper, The Guardian, comes out every day at lunch. It is a delightful mix of news from "the world," as well as more topical pieces relating to daily life aboard the GW. Finally, movies (complete with bags of popcorn) and VCRs can be rented for off-duty video parties back in enlisted berthing areas.

An innovation made possible by the Challenge Athena system is personal E-mail over the Internet for everyone on board. This is handled through the ship's own onboard Intranet, which feeds into a central file server. Each person is assigned an E-mail account and address (aboard the GW, this ends with the suffix @washington.navy.mil). The messages are then routed through the server and Challenge Athena system to and from the Atlantic Fleet communications center in Norfolk, Virginia. This means that everyone on the ship with access to a computer (some are in common areas in kiosks for those who do not have personal laptops or office machines) can receive E-mail messages from home. Already, it is changing the face of shipboard life.

For example, the three thousand sailors and Marines aboard the amphibious ship Peleliu (part of the Nimitz battle group, which deployed from the West Coast a month before the GW CVBG) sent over fifty thousand E-mail messages in just their first month under way! The effect on crew morale has been astounding. The arrival of Naval E-mail has come none too soon for our sailors, since the old Navy draw-"Join the Navy and See the World"-has become all but obsolete. Over the last decade, the ships of our battle groups have made less than half of the port calls on deployment that they used to make. This means that seeing foreign countries, long a recruiting attraction, has been almost eliminated. Ever since the 1979 Iran Crisis, long (ninety-plus days) line periods have become the norm for CVBGs, and this has been tough on crew morale.

Wednesday, August 27th, 1997

JTFEX 97-3-Day 10: The military forces of Korona have today completed their occupation of Kartuna, including the capital city of Temal. The last elements of the Kartunan government evacuated to the country of Telari, which today announced its joining of the Allied coalition. Meanwhile, the coalition forces have been stepping up their attacks on Koronan military targets, reportedly inflicting heavy damage. The battle continues….

This morning found the GW battle group continuing to dish out punishment on the Koronans. The objective was to destroy enough of their armed forces to allow the Marines of the 24th MEU (SOC) to make a landing near the Kartunan capital city of Temal (in actuality, Camp Lejeune, North Carolina) sometime the following week. A battalion from the 82nd Airborne Division assaulting a nearby airfield would support this landing. This would allow follow-on forces to be landed from the sea and air.

Before this could be done, the Koronan forces would have to be reduced in size and power, and this was the job of the ships, missiles, and aircraft of the GW group. Already, significant progress had been made toward this goal. Though Koronan air and Naval forces had aggressively launched attacks on the naval units of the allied coalition, Admiral Mullen's detailed plans for protecting the ships of the force had been working to near perfection. Throughout the battle group, the various warfare commanders had been working hard to eliminate the specialized threats they were responsible for.

Captain Deppe on the Normandy (the group AW commander) had been especially busy in dozens of AAW engagements between his SAM ships and the planes of the Koronan Air Force. Deppe's disposition of his SAM ships had worked particularly well, with the Normandy absorbing most of the attacks aimed at the GW. The Carney and South Carolina also shot down their share of enemy intruders, with the result that the USACOM exercise controllers rapidly had to strengthen the Koronan Air Force, lest it be completely destroyed before the shooting phase of the exercise was only three days old. Once again, the J-7 controllers from USACOM were being forced to "ratchet up" the threat level of the exercise, just to keep it challenging for the GW group.

The Koronan Navy was put out of action equally fast. Because safe distances had to be maintained between the Koronan KILO-class diesel boats (being played by borrowed USN nuclear submarines) and the ships and subs of the GW group, exercise rules tended to make them sitting ducks. The Koronan surface ships died a little harder, though they did die quickly. Within hours of the outbreak of hostilities, every one of the Koronan missile destroyers and patrol boats had been hunted down and dispatched by the allied forces. Sometimes, their elimination came at the hands of aircraft firing standoff missiles like AGM-65 Mavericks and AGM-84 Harpoons. Particularly effective against the missile patrol boats were SH-60B LAMPS III helicopters from the escorts armed with AGM-119 Penguin air-to-surface missiles (ASMs). Using these little helicopters as perimeter security guards proved to be an efficient way of keeping the Koronan patrol boats at arm's length, without requiring a mission by an F/A-18 or S-3B to kill them.

There were also a number of surface engagements by ships of the GW escort and STANAFORLANT-not all going in favor of the allied coalition. In just a single day of surface combat, hits by simulated Koronan missiles (assumed to be Chinese-built C 802's) damaged the Carney, Samuel Elliot Morrison, and Seattle, putting them out of action (and the exercise) for various lengths of time. In addition, the Boone was assessed to have been hit by Naval gunfire. In return, the Underwood and HMS London were assessed to have sunk a Koronan missile patrol boat with RGM-84 Harpoon SSMs. Littoral Naval warfare is like knife fighting: close and bloody. However, by setting his units up to fight this way, Admiral Mullen was able to maximize the number of attack sorties that could be generated by CVW-1 off the GW. Though he risked his surface ships, he got the desired results on the beach.

Thursday, August 28th, 1997

JTFEX 97-3-Day 11: There have been reports today of various atrocities by Koronan military forces against the population of Temal, the capital city of occupied Kartuna. In addition, it appears that the Koronan forces are digging in to protect their gains against a possible counter-invasion by Allied amphibious and airborne forces.

Ever since our sailing, Captain Rutheford had made a point of exercising his crew with a series of battle drills-a deadly serious business aboard any warship, and particularly on an aircraft carrier. Most of the damage suffered by flattops in combat has come as a result of fire. It is the worst nightmare of carrier sailors, whose home is basically a big metal box full of jet fuel, explosives, and other combustible materials. Until a carrier like the GW is fully "buttoned up" (that is, put in a condition where it is most survivable), a fire can rage through it much like those that devastated the Oriskiney (CVA-34), Forrestal (CV-59), and Enterprise (CVN-65) back in the 1960's. Buttoning up usually comes when the ship goes to "General Quarters" (GQ) or Condition "Zebra." Since it takes time for sailors to learn to live and work at GQ, Captain Rutheford makes a point of practicing it regularly. Every Tuesday and Thursday evening at 2000 Hours (8 P.M.) while under way, the GW goes to GQ for several hours of combat and damage-control drills. It is at GQ when a warship truly becomes a living organism, with the personnel aboard acting as nerves, muscles, and immune systems, making it capable and strong.

It takes just a few minutes for the ship to get fully buttoned up and ready to take whatever punishment an enemy might care to dish out. Every person on the GW (even John and I) had an action station, where they are expected to be during GQ. So at 2000, we were manning our action station-a couple of desks inside Lieutenant Joe Navritril's small public affairs office on the O-1 level. From there we could sit, sweat a little (it's warm with all the computer and television gear), and listen to the drills around the ship. This evening, a firefighting training drill was going on several levels above us on the island. At the same time, weapons drills were being run with the Mk. 29 Sea Sparrow launchers. All around us, you could feel the crew bonding with the big ship, becoming as much a part of it as the nuclear reactors, plumbing, and catapults. It also is a time of great stress and concern, even during training. This is because the ship must still function while buttoned up. Moving from one compartment to another becomes difficult, as heavy hatches and watertight doors must be opened, and then redogged. There are chances for mistakes to be made, and this evening there was one.

One of the important jobs that must be done daily aboard ship is the testing of the various petroleum systems to make sure that their contents are pure and free of contamination like water or dirt. This evening, a young sailor was carrying several glass jars of samples down from the flight deck to the metrology lab for testing when he dropped one up on the O-2 level above us. Unfortunately, in the darkened compartment he lost track of the spill, and wound up slipping and falling in the slippery puddle. Almost instantly, there was an alarm over the 1MC system of "MAN DOWN!" and a call for a medical team. Within seconds the young sailor had a corpsman at his side, and a hazardous-materials team on the way to clean up the dangerous spill. I was struck by the way that the others in the compartment with John and me stopped what they were doing to wait for word on the young man, almost like waiting for a player to stand up after an injury at a football game. It was quiet for a few minutes, until Captain Rutheford came back on the 1MC to tell us that the sailor's injuries were slight (an injured wrist was all), and that the response teams had done a great job of taking care of him. As I stepped out of the public affairs office for a drink from the water fountain in the passageway, I saw the young man being carried down the ladder from above on a Stokes litter, not unlike a dozen eggs being cradled by a housewife on her way home.

A few minutes after the GQ alert was lifted, I headed back to my stateroom two levels up. I had to admire the way that the GQ had been handled. It was just like combat. It was at this moment that I knew the real truth about this ship. The GW and her crew were ready for whatever the coming deployment would bring, and God help the enemy foolish enough to try to hurt them. It would not be a fair fight. You can always tell a military unit that is functioning well: When it is stressed, you cannot even see them sweat!

Friday, August 29th, 1997

JTFEX 97-3-Day 12: Press reports from the Allied Coalition report the air and naval forces of Korona have been heavily damaged, and rendered effectively harmless. In addition, air units flying from the USS George Washington (CVN-73), USS Guam (LPH-9), and other naval vessels have been flying over 100 attack sorties every day since the outbreak of hostilities.

The payoff for all the efforts of the "little boys" of the GW battle group and STANAFORLANT was the ability of CVW-1 to concentrate on their real job-attack sorties against Koronan military targets ashore. Did they destroy the occasional air or naval target? Absolutely. And they did so with a ruthless efficiency when the targets were available. But an old saying explains what Admiral Mullen had in mind for his flyers:

The aircraft and crews of CVW-1 were really earning their keep only when they were delivering ordinance onto targets of value ashore. This meant that the fifty F-14 Tomcats and F/A-18 Hornets aboard the GW were flying morning, noon, and night to hit as many high-value targets as possible. In particular, they would give special attention to enemy units and systems that could threaten the Marines of the 24th MEU (SOC) and the airborne troopers of the 82nd Airborne Division when they came into play in a few days. These included targets like mobile antiship missile sites along the coast (which could hit the amphibious ships of the Guam ARG), mobile SCUD ballistic-missile launchers, and SAM/AAA sites in the planned invasion area. Along with these high-value Koronan targets, there would be attacks on the fielded forces of the Koronan military in and around Kartuna. Because it is the air crews who fly the planes and drop the weapons who give naval airpower its worth, let's take a closer look at how their dangerous job gets done on the GW.

If you want the best view of a carrier's air operations, there is only one place to go: Primary Flight Control-or "Pri-Fly" as it is known. This is the domain of Commanders John Kindred (the Air Boss) and Carl June (the Mini Boss). Kindred and June are the lords and masters of the GW's flight deck and the airspace around the ship. The Navy has for generations made it a practice to hand responsibility to highly qualified naval aviators for those jobs aboard carriers that relate directly to flying-jobs like catapult and landing signals officers (LSOs). These jobs have to be done right. People who do them properly are promoted. Those who don't can look forward to new civilian careers. Of these jobs, the captain's, of course, carries the greatest responsibility. However, right after the captain comes the Air and Mini Bosses. No other pair of individuals has so much influence on the core services (flying aircraft in support of Naval/Marine operations) the ship was designed to deliver. These two officers control virtually every aspect of the boat's air operations, from the pace and number of missions flown to how the aircraft are parked and serviced. This means, practically, that when the ship is flying aircraft, there is no margin for error despite massive stress, a thankless work schedule, and very little sleep. Clearly you need special people to be Bosses.

Since a good long look at Pri-Fly seemed essential to the total experience of carrier operations, I asked to spend a day there with Kindred and June. After climbing the five ladders from my stateroom to the O-7 level of the island, I joined the crowded and busy team in Pri-Fly. Along the port side overlooking the flight deck are three chairs, much like Captain Rutheford's chair on the bridge one level below. Here is where Kindred and June spend their days and nights. Soon after I entered, they very graciously invited me to sit in the center chair between them. It was an impressive view. On command from Commander Kindred, a chief petty officer behind me passed forward a steaming cup of coffee and the Air Tasking Order (ATO) Flow Sheet-or Air Plan for short-the document that explains and controls the day's air operations. Printed double-sided on a single legal sheet of paper, it is the daily bible for the flight deck. On one side is a set of time lines, with a line for each squadron or air unit participating that day. These time lines are then broken down into individual "events," each of which represents a particular planned launch/landing cycle on the flight deck. The flip side shows detailed notes about the flight schedule and the schedule of tanker aircraft, and is personally signed (they have to review it daily) by the GW's Air, Strike, and Operations officers.

As I read the Air Plan, I was struck by the number of flight "events" on the schedule. All told, there were nine of them, which was normal for this phase of JTFEX 97-3, Commander June informed me. Because of the Navy's recent effort to increase the number of daily air sorties, the two Air Department officers were trying to implement some of the lessons learned during the recent SURGEX by the Nimitz group. To support their SURGEX, Nimitz and CVW-9 had been heavily reinforced with additional air crews and deck personnel, allowing them to run over two hundred sorties a day. GW and CVW-1 had no such augmentation. Even so, there was still room for increasing the number of events and sorties over the fleet norms. More efficient use of personnel and resources (such as better organization of the hangar and flight deck crews) and enforced rest and eating periods between events had allowed Kindred and June to safely expand the five or six flight events of a "normal" day to as many ten or twelve. In this way, CVW-1 could easily run over 150 sorties a day for an indefinite period of time, should it be called upon to do so.

After taking in all that I could of the Air Plan, I lifted my head to watch as the two men took aboard a dozen or so aircraft from the day's second air event. Included in this gaggle was CAG "Boomer" Stufflebeem flying a VMFA-251 Hornet, who bagged a perfect "OK-3" trap. Meanwhile, another strike was getting ready up forward to head out on the noon mission (Event-3), which would concentrate on hunting enemy SAMs and mobile missile batteries. Most of the aircraft for this mission were on the bow, and would have to taxi aft once the area around the deck angle was clear.

As soon as the last of the Event-2 aircraft were aboard, the Air Boss called for the LSOs to stand down for a while and the landing light system to be shut down (the longer it is lit, the sooner it will wear out). Moments later, Commander June pointed out several helicopters in holding patterns. There would be just enough time to bring them aboard before the next event, he explained. During a window of less than fifteen minutes, two SH-60's from HS-11 and an SH-3 Sea King carrying VIPs from the Mount Whitney (LCC-20, the fleet command ship) arrived, and then were either parked, towed away, or flown off for the next event. Once the helicopters were taken care of, the flight deck went relatively quiet, while hundreds of people with colored jerseys swarmed about, doing their various jobs.

Up in Pri-Fly, the pace had hardly slackened. To my rear, the chiefs and representatives from the various CVW-1 squadrons were exchanging information and making sure that everyone was in sync. If anyone had a question, he would come forward and wait respectfully until Kindred or June took notice. After a short discussion, a decision would be made. As these continued, I turned my attention back to the flight deck, where-as always in my experience-I saw great energy and purpose, and no wasted movements, no unnecessary actions. It is the world's most dangerous dance-a dance made even more risky in light of the necessity to run the deck crews until the late hours of the evening because of the expanded number of air events. But for now, Kindred and June were working hard to get Event-3 into the air.

As I watched, I was amused to see then that some things never change-and shouldn't. In spite of the array of new computers and other available high-tech tools, Kindred and June still use many of the same tools and procedures that their predecessors in World War II might have used. For example, each man has a set of colored grease pencils to make notes on the thick windows in front of them to remind them about which aircraft are aloft and the state of their fuel.

"Why do you do that?" I asked.

"Some things computers and software will never improve on," they explained. "Computers and electronics might fail; an explosion might put them out of action; but grease-pencil marks and paper hardcopies will work as long as they still exist. Perhaps not as well or as quickly, but they will always work."

About 1150 hours, Commander Kindred picked up his headset and announced to the flight deck that it was time to start engines for the Event-3 launch cycle. Carefully, the aircraft handlers directed the air crews to taxi their aircraft aft for their launch from Catapults 3 and 4. Moments later, after everyone was in the proper place and Captain Rutheford had given his approval, Kindred gave the catapult officer permission to conduct the launch. Already overhead was the plane guard HH-60G from HS-11, as well as a USAF KC-135 airborne tanker flying from Langley AFB (in the simulated country of Telari).

First off the GW's deck were a pair of VS-32 S-3B Vikings configured as tankers, followed by a replacement VAW-123 E-2C Hawkeye AEW aircraft. These were followed by a quartet of VF-102 F-14's, two configured with D/TARPS pods for the noon reconnaissance run, while the others had LANTIRN pods for laser bombing. Following the Tomcats was a VAQ-137 EA-6B Prowler loaded for Suppression of Enemy Air Defense (SEAD) operations. Last off were a dozen F/A-18 Hornets, with a variety of loads-from HARM missile and LGB simulators, to live iron bombs for training runs on a local range. This was a large launch, with almost two dozen aircraft involved. More than that would make the ninety-minute Air Event cycle impossible to sustain, and would actually reduce the total number of sorties that CVW-1 could generate per day. It also made optimum use of the flight deck space, which even on a ship the size of the GW is limited.

Once the Event-3 aircraft had launched (it only took about fifteen minutes), the angle was reset for recovery of the HS-11 HH-60G on plane guard duty and the launch of its replacement. After this, activities on the flight deck slowed down, and there was time for a few bites of sandwiches brought up from below by one of the chiefs. By 1300 hours (1 P.M.), the F/A-18's were back in the landing pattern, preparing to come aboard. The relatively short range of the Hornets means that they normally operate within a single air event, while the Tomcats and other aircraft would come back at the completion of Event 4. For now, the deck aft was cleared, the arresting wires checked, and the landing light system turned on. The landing cycle took about fifteen minutes, after which the Hornets were rapidly taxied forward to the bow, where they could be refueled and rearmed to take part in other strikes later in the day. Also coming aboard was one of the three VRC-4 °C-2 COD aircraft, bringing its load of mail, personnel, and spare parts from NAS Norfolk. It would return to Norfolk with a load of nonessential folks. The ship had been packed since sailing, but now as Labor Day weekend approached, the many VIPs, news media types, and technicians were finding reasons to head back to the beach.

As for me, it was time to leave the two Air Bosses to their grueling task. They had six more launch/recovery cycles ahead before they could grab some sleep and get ready for the first launch the following morning.

Saturday, August 30th, 1997

JTFEX 97-3-Day 13: There are reports that Allied forces are preparing to invade the occupied country of Kartuna to evict the Koronan military forces. At this time, Allied public affairs officers will only report that operations against the Koronan forces continue, with no new information on results.

While most of America was getting started on their Labor Day holiday weekend, the participants of JTFEX 97-3 were just beginning to hit high gear. Captain Bruce Van Velle's mine-countermeasures force moved inshore to clear lanes for the amphibious units through Koronan minefields. This required that CVW-1 finish clearing out the last of the Koronan's coastal antiship and SCUD missile sites before the vulnerable amphibious ships of the Guam ARG began to operate close to the Kartunan coastline (actually near Camp Lejeune, North Carolina). Meanwhile, a continuous, twenty-four-hour-a-day CAP had to be flown over the amphibious ships, to protect them and the Marines of the 24th MEU (SOC). In fact, the transition to the amphibious phase of operations meant that there was even more for everyone to do, and even less time to do it in.

Now, because I wanted to find out how the air campaign was actually going "over the beach," I went to the one place where I knew I would hear the truth about such things-the pilot's "Dirty Shirt" mess. Located up forward on the O-2 level, it is a less formal place than Wardroom 3. Also, because of its informality and its more "meat and potatoes" diet, most officers in fact prefer the "Dirty Shirt." Here pilots can wear their flight suits to relax and catch a meal (hence the name). All the meals are served cafeteria-style, and are eaten on tables reserved for each squadron in the air wing. If you're an outsider, you have to ask to join them. They rarely refuse. This day I had an old Navy favorite, "Sliders and Fries" ("Navy" for cheese-burgers and French fries), and a glass of cold milk with some VF-102 "Diamondbacks," flying F-14B Upgrades.

This was an exciting time for the Diamondbacks, who had seen their community rise Phoenix-like from the ashes of their Cold-War interceptor mission to become one of the Navy's preeminent strike and reconnaissance platforms. The addition of the AAQ-14 LANTIRN targeting pod and the new D/TARPS reconnaissance pod has changed the face of the Tomcat community, making them once again the kings of the air wings. You could see the pride in the faces of the young pilots, who are now certain of a mission in the CVWs of the 21st century. They will eventually be the first community to receive the new F/A-18E/F Super Hornet when it arrives in a few years, and the new pods will make the time waiting all the more pleasant. During JTFEX 97-3, they had been heavily tasked, flying some fifteen to twenty missions a day (they had fourteen F-14 airframes aboard)-heavy usage for Tomcats. And since their missions tended to last two to four times longer than those of the Hornets, due to their greater internal fuel load and range, the Tomcat crews were getting more flight hours than the Hornet drivers.

When I asked how things were going, the variety of answers reflected the great range of their activities during the previous two weeks. While they all agreed that the new sensor and targeting capabilities of the LANTIRN pod were terrific, they had to admit that they were still learning how to get everything out of it. In particular, the Navy version of the AAQ-14, which has a GPS/INS unit built in, has opened new targeting possibilities. On the down side, the new pod is currently unable to send images from the LANTIRN back to the carrier in the same near real-time manner as the D/TARPS pod. But this problem is being worked on, and will probably be solved by late 1998. As for the new D/TARPS pod, they had absolutely no reservations (except for their small numbers). The addition of the digital line scanner and near-real-time transmission capability for imagery has given theater commanders their first real ability to find and target mobile high-value targets like SCUD launchers. With only four D/TARPS-capable F-14's per CVW, these are arguably the most valuable aircraft in the air wing.

When I asked about the current exercise, they all agreed that the Diamondbacks and their CVW-1 partners had done very well during JTFEX 97-3. The few air-to-air engagements during the exercise had been decidedly one-sided, with most ending in a hail of AIM-54 Phoenix and AIM-120 AMRAAM shots and the Koronan aircraft going down in flames. The reconnaissance missions had gone equally well, though the classified aspects of their tactics and equipment kept the air crews from discussing the results. The real smiles came when they talked about the bombing results with their LANTIRN pods and Paveway II and III LGBs. Thanks to their superior FLIRs, dedicated RIOs as operators, and excellent weapons, the Tomcats had become the scourge of the mobile targets ashore. Though there was a general feeling that Koronan SCUD and antiship missile launchers were probably dead by now, a few older Tomcat crew members who had flown in Desert Storm doubted this. They would go "SCUD hunting" one more time later that night, while others would hunt down Koronan artillery pieces, so they would be out of action before the Marine landing rumored for the following night.

At that point, it was time for me to move on. Deep fatigue was visible in the eyes of these men, and I wanted to intrude no more on their crew rest. All too soon, they would be climbing into their cockpits and heading into the night skies to once again hunt their "enemies." Meanwhile, the USACOM staff had a few more tricks up their sleeves to keep things interesting. And as I stopped by the public affairs office, I learned from Joe Navritril that a contracted civilian Learjet, pretending to be a CNN camera aircraft, had simulated a kamikaze dive into one of the escort ships. The Kamikaze attack had been defeated by a short-range SAM shot, though only just barely.

Sunday, August 31st, 1997

JTFEX 97-3-Day 14: The rumors of an Allied invasion near the Kartunan capital city of Temal continue, with reports of Allied Naval vessels beginning to conduct shore bombardments with gunfire. There is a feeling that the expected Allied invasion by coalition forces may be only a matter of days away.

This morning found everyone on GW busy getting things ready for the planned invasion. The actual time of the invasion was a secret to most people on the GW, including me. I assumed, like just about everyone else, that the Marines of the 24th MEU (SOC) would hit the Camp Lejeune beaches sometime around midnight of the following evening-a tactical time that had become more or less standard in the last few JTFEXs. Meanwhile, I wanted to head up to Flight Deck Control for a small ceremony that has been a tradition going back centuries. Today, Captain Groothousen, the GW's XO, would leave the ship and officially hand over the job to Commander Chuck Smith, a fast-tracked flier from the S-3 Viking community. In a few months, Groothousen ("Groot" to his friends) would take over command of the Shreveport (LPD-12), over in the Guam ARG, which was the next step on the way to command of his own flattop. Around noon, the ship's department heads met in the Flight Deck Control Room, where they said their final good-byes to "Groot." After he headed across the flight deck to the waiting COD aircraft, the various department heads left the room and went back to their tasks; but I lagged behind to watch the activities.

Flight Deck Control, at the base of the island, monitors and controls the movement of aircraft, personnel, and equipment on the flight and hangar decks. On a pair of scale models of the flight and hangar decks, movable templates show the location of aircraft (with their wings folded) and equipment (such as tractors, firefighting trucks, etc.). Meanwhile, on the walls there are a series of transparent status boards, upon which are noted (in grease pencil) the side numbers of every aircraft aboard the flattop. You can see at a glance on these boards what every aircraft based aboard the ship is doing, how it is loaded, and who is flying it. The models and templates are moved by skilled aircraft handlers, who know just how much room you need to park a line of aircraft in the smallest possible space. Decades of experience have gone into the procedures that run the flight and hangar decks, and it is likely that they will continue for as long as Americans take aircraft to sea.

That night, as the aircraft continued their round-the-clock shuttle over the beach, John, Lieutenant Navritril, and I joined Commander Smith for a short visit in his new quarters. The XO's quarters aboard a Nimitz-class carrier are quite pleasant, though the lack of time that he gets to spend there more than makes up for the few pleasures. With Commander Smith sitting at his desk, the rest of us found comfortable spots on the couches, and we talked of how he had come to be here tonight. He talked of the path to command of a carrier, and why he supports nuclear propulsion for future U.S. flattops. He also spent a few minutes talking about the fine people and procedures that Captain Groothousen had left him. As the minutes became an hour, he talked of his experiences on the way to this job, and how many good jobs the folks coming out of the S-3 Viking community were getting. About the only thing missing was a good cigar and a snifter of brandy to go with it. But the U.S. Navy is "dry" and smoking is rapidly leaving our ships as an allowable vice. What stimulation Chuck Smith would find aboard the GW, he would have to find on his own. As the new mayor of almost six thousand people, he undoubtedly would over the next two years. As we rose, the chaplain came over the 1MC to announce the command to darken ship for the night and say a prayer. Heading up the ladders to my stateroom, I again was reminded why I love the Navy so much. Here were thousands of young men and women, going to sea to preserve the kinds of things I love America for. As I went to sleep, I felt the safety of knowing that good people were around me.

Monday, September 1st, 1997

JTFEX 97-3-Day 15: There has been a news blackout by the Allied coalition forces, which would seem to indicate that the planned invasion of occupied Kartuna is imminent. Meanwhile, the Koronan government is calling for their forces to prevail in the coming "Maximum Battle," which will determine the fate of this region.

Almost two weeks earlier, Admiral Mullen had mentioned that Colonel Richard Natonski, the CO of the 24th MEU (SOC), was a "sneaky" kind of Marine. He proved it when he decided to invade Camp Lejeune before the sun went down. At 1600 (4 P.M.), the first elements of Battalion Landing Team (BLT) 3–6 began to hit the beaches and landing zones around the town of Temal (actually the communities around the New River inlet), and a battalion of the 82nd Airborne Division began to drop from the skies. I heard later that the Koronan troops (being played by several battalions of the 2nd Marine Division) had been caught getting ready to watch the opening game of Monday Night Football. The truth was that the colonel's bold move had stolen a march on them; and with the Koronan force already heavily depleted by air and missile strikes from the GW group, the 24th MEU (SOC) made rapid progress.

Through it all, the round-the-clock flight schedule continued, although you could see the fatigue in the movements of the air crews and flight deck personnel. They had done their jobs well.

Tuesday, September 2nd, 1997

JTFEX 97-3-Day 16: The Allied coalition forces landed yesterday near Temal, the capital of occupied Kartuna. Elements of the 24th MEU (SOC) and 82nd Airborne Division have seized a bridgehead, and are awaiting the arrival of follow-on forces. The Koronan forces are reportedly in retreat, headed back to their original borders. Other reports indicate that the exiled government of Kartuna will return to Temal sometime late today….

I awoke this last morning of the exercise to the sound of Joe Navritril knocking on my stateroom door. As I opened up, he informed me with a smile that the exercise would be terminated in a few hours. Since the reoc- cupation of Kartuna was essentially complete, he had already arranged seats for John and me on the midday COD flight back to NAS Norfolk. After packing, I headed to the wardroom for a quick breakfast. Around 1000 hours (10:00 A.M.), Captain Rutheford came up on the 1MC and addressed the ship. "The ENDEX [End of Exercise] time has been declared," he announced, "and we'll be home tomorrow. I am therefore ordering an immediate suspension of flight operations. I hope everyone can take a breather before we take the GW back to the carrier dock at Norfolk."

All over the ship, you could feel a collective sigh as the tension of the exercise passed.

During the next hour John and I paid our mess bills (yes, the Navy makes me pay to eat on their ships), bought a few patches and "zap" stickers from the squadron stores, and made our farewells. As noon approached, we headed up to the ATO, grabbed our float coats and cranial helmets, and waited for the word to move out to the flight deck. Soon after the command came, we marched up the stairs to the flight deck, where we had the opportunity to see one more impressive sight before the C-2A Greyhound taxied to the catapult. Now that the ENDEX time was now a matter of record, the ships of STANAFORLANT had requested to make a parade past the GW before they headed home to Europe.

Soon Witte De With, Admiral Peter van der Graaf's flag flying on her halyard, came alongside. As the rest of the multinational force passed in review, the crew chiefs buckled us into our seats and raised the cargo ramp. Once again, the familiar sounds of the COD aircraft filled our ears, and we prepared for the thrill of a catapult shot. Two seconds and more than a few heartbeats later, we were airborne, flying northwest toward NAS Norfolk. Our trip aboard the GW was over. But for the personnel of the battle group, it was a new beginning. School was out and they were about to graduate to the job they had all sought. A trip to the other side of the world to support American interests overseas.

Deployment: The Acid Test

In October 1997, John and I drove south one more time to say good-bye to the men and women who had been our shipmates the previous month, to walk the flight deck one more time, and see how ready the GW was for her six-month cruise. The first thing we noticed when we stepped aboard was the non-skid coating up on the "roof." During JTFEX 97-3, it had been worn to bare metal. Now it was factory fresh and ready to receive Captain Stufflebeem's airplanes. Down below, supplies were being loaded and personnel were bringing aboard the last of their personal items. Most of the crew would stay aboard that night. As the sun set over the James River, we returned to our hotel and asked for an early wake-up call, so we could take part in a very moving ritual: the sailing of the GW battle group.

Friday, October 3rd, 1997

The gathering began before dawn, as the families and friends came down to the carrier dock at Naval Station Norfolk to see the GW off. For most, there was a quick trip to the McDonald's across the street for an Egg McMuffin and some coffee. Most of the crew had stayed aboard the night before, including Lieutenant Joe Navritril, who had said good-bye to his family in Maryland several days earlier. All the officers and men were in their white uniforms, looking distinctly cooler than they had four weeks earlier. The tropical heat of summer had given way to a pleasant fall in the Mid-Atlantic region, and this morning was cool and sweet.

As a rose-colored sunrise began to appear over the eastern sky, the last of the preparations for sailing came to an end. Now it was time for a little public-relations work. Joe Navritril and several of his staff were herding television camera crews and newspaper reporters around the dock, shooting pictures of Captain Rutheford taking a ceremonial sword from a George Washington lookalike. Command Master Chief Kevin Lavin prowled the dock with Commander Smith, herding the last of the late arrivals aboard the ship. Both shook our hands good-bye, and headed aboard to get to their sailing stations. At the same time, the crowd of several hundred families and well-wishers began to hold up their signs of encouragement for their sailors on board the GW.

What followed was a duplicate of the sailing a month earlier, with Captain Rutheford again at the helm. With an HH-60G helicopter overhead for security and guidance, Chuck Smith ordered the last lines brought over and the brows raised. At precisely 0800 hours (8 A.M.), a signal was given, the American flag was raised, and over a thousand sailors in their best whites manned the sides. This impressive sight was made even more so by the emotions of the people left behind on the dock-some sobbing, some stoically silent, some talking nervously.

As the tugs pushed the GW into the channel, the crowd began to move to various points around the bay to watch the carrier head out. As John and I walked up the dock to our cars, we stopped and chatted with a young woman wearing a cruise jacket that must have belonged to one of the sailors on board. She just sat there watching the ship and her man move into the channel, then walked with us back to the cars. Her Sailor was a member of the CVW-1 staff, and they were planning to meet in Europe for the holidays. As we parted, though, John and I had the terrible feeling that she might not get the chance. The affairs of the world were going their usual chaotic way. Already that morning, the Nimitz battle group had been ordered to the Persian Gulf, to show the flag in the face of renewed tension between Iraq and Iran. And the crisis that would bring the GW to the Gulf was only a month away.

Now, though, the GW began to move down the channel, followed at ten-minute intervals by the Normandy, Guam, South Carolina, and Seattle. Again, at bases up and down the Atlantic coast, other ships of the battle group and ARG were sailing, planning to rendezvous off the Virginia capes the following day. CVW-1 flew aboard that afternoon, and the 24th MEU (SOC) was already loading down at Moorehead City, North Carolina. As I drove out of the Naval station several hours later, I passed by the British aircraft carrier HMS Invincible (R 05) and her battle group, which were making a port visit of their own. Ironically, these same ships would also wind up in the Persian Gulf several months later, along with the Nimitz and GW. Before that, though, there would be some of the planned exercises and port visits that had been scheduled before Saddam's newest troublemaking.

The GW battle group and Guam ARG took part in Operation Bright Star 97, the annual joint U.S./Egyptian maneuvers in the desert west of Cairo. However, by mid-November, the crisis over the UN weapons inspectors had broken, and the plans to split the battle group were already in the works. The GW, Normandy, Carney, Annapolis, and Seattle would make a run through the Suez Canal and Red Sea, following a short port visit to Haifa, Israel. The rest of the group would stay in the Mediterranean with the Guam ARG to support operations in Bosnia, and generally "show the flag."[79] On the night of November 20th/21st, the GW and her escorts went to GQ, ran through the Straits of Hormuz, and joined the Nimitz group in flying patrols over Southern Iraq. The men and women of the battle group never did get their Christmas in Europe.

There was a personal cost to the GW and CVW-1 during these operations. On February 6th, two VMFA-251 F/A-18's collided while on patrol. While both pilots ejected (albeit with injuries), Lieutenant Colonel Henry Van Winkle, the XO of VMFA-251, was killed. His would be the only life lost in the crisis with Iraq. The GW and Nimitz continued their vigil, until relieved by the Stennis and Independence groups. The Seattle was left behind for a time because of the need for extra logistics ships in the Persian Gulf. Moving back through the Suez Canal, the GW rendezvoused with the Guam ARG and her escorts, and headed home.

They arrived home several weeks later, and the eighteen-month cycle began anew. Along the way, more changes took place to the people that we had met. Captain Stufflebeem was relieved in late 1997, and became an aide to Admiral Jay Johnson in the CNO's office. Captain Groothousen took over command of the Shreveport about the same time, and continues on the path to command his own carrier someday. Though the various crises continue, the cycle never stops. The battle groups work up, go out, and come back. Let us hope that they continue that way.