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.
A young Navy maintenance technician works on an HS-11 helicopter in the hangar bay of the USS George Washington (CVN-73).
JOHN D. GRESHAM
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 officers’ mess in Wardroom 3 aboard USS George Washington (CVN-73)
JOHN D. GRESHAM
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 fore
ign 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.
“Give me a fast ship for I intend to go into harm’s way!’”
Captain John Paul Jones, Continental Navy
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 be
ing 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.
Commanders John Kindred (the Air Boss, left) and Carl June (the Mini Boss, right) in Primary Flight Control (Pri-Fly) aboard the USS George Washington (CVN-73).
JOHN D. GRESHAM
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:
Carrier (1999) Page 39