This trip would be different from any previous time. I had only been to sea three times; all on a Navy supply ship. Its top deck was the size of a football field, three hundred feet long by seventy-five feet. My first two times at sea earned me the horrible nickname of “Puke Face.” I weathered the third, meaning I was fit to work when I was not curled up in a ball.
Now I am on an old aircraft carrier. The population was close to that of a small town, just over four thousand people, but not quite the same demographic group. We have no women! This enormous vessel is as wide as the supply ship had been long, then as long as fourteen supply ships wide. The Captain’s Bridge is three decks above the flight deck. There are three more, albeit smaller, decks above that, then radar towers and antennae towering farther up. The flight deck is almost one thousand feet long, and ninety feet above the water. There are fourteen floors from the lowest level along the keel, to the decks above the Bridge.
I have been onboard over six months. I have made many friends. It is surprising how many faces you can distinguish. In six months, I could recognize a quarter of the crew. My friends who had been onboard for a few years knew most everybody. When the repairs were done, we were pulled down river by a tugboat, and floated over to the U.S. Naval base. There we took on provisions and fuel. Now we are heading out into the ocean.
This is different. The carrier's pitch and roll was nothing like the supply ship. Once in the channel, we steamed under our own power, moved by propeller blades the size of a Volkswagen Beetle. Once clear of land’s view, we sped up. We really sped up! The whole ship is shaking as it powers its way through the water. The ship surged forward with its newfound freedom. We have enough horsepower “under our hood” to tow the whole crew behind us on water skis. I have been on two Navy ships, and there was quite a contrast between them. There are almost more pilots on the carrier than crew on the supply ship.
Tonight will always live in my mind as a truly unique experience, different from any other. I will never forget climbing up to the Captain’s Bridge, and then standing here, hands clenched firmly on the ship’s wheel, guiding the ship through the water. It is two a.m. on the night of a full moon. We have been turning for ten minutes, and still have twenty minutes to go; you do not turn an aircraft carrier around in a mile. For the last five minutes, I have kept the ship on course, my hands in control of a multibillion-dollar piece of equipment, with over four thousand people counting on me to keep them safe for “my turn at the wheel.”
