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 90° F/32 C°. 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 80° F/27° 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 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.
Captain Jim Deppe, the CO of USS Normandy (CG-60), cons his ship while refueling under way from the USS Seattle (AOE-3).
JOHN D. GRESHAM
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 360° 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 personne
l, 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.
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