23 May, 2001 / 6:46 AM

We will be joining Don and Margaret here shortly down at the Shearwater Restaurant (at the Hotel Del Coronado) for some light breakfast on this most exciting day. We are all flying out to spend the night on the aircraft carrier USS Carl Vinson (CVN-70) today. I must admit that I am more excited than I have been in some time. This is truly a great adventure!

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23 May, 2001 / Aprox. 3:00 p.m.

I am sitting in our officer's stateroom aboard the USS Carl Vinson. I can hardly believe it! What an incredible day ... And what incredible sights we have seen.

We arrived right on time this morning at the Naval Air Station (NAS) North Island. It use to be an island all on it's own but has since more or less become part of Coronado. We arrived at the gate, explained that we were there as part of the Distinguished Visitor's program and were directed at once to the headquarters of COMNAVAIRPAC in building #8. It turns out that it is the original building that started the naval air station. Joe Ciokon, the Deputy Public Affairs Officer (PAO) was standing out front and directed us to park in the Admiral's parking space. He was most personable and soon we had most of the rest of our group together. Joe took us into the headquarters building and down to the conference room. There we met Captain Gary Hall. Captain Hall is astoundingly entertaining and had come to brief us. He introduced himself as "call-sign Viper" with a wink and a glint in his eye. 'Viper' was the commander from the movie 'Top Gun' and since he didn't actually have one he decided to borrow that one. Capt. Hall is the Admiral's Personal Assistant and came down representing the Admiral (who was busy, well, running the navy). He briefed us on the general role of the navy and of carrier forces in particular. My favorite joke was when he explained that "ACNYM is the navy's acronym for acronym." EVERYTHING in the navy has an acronym, apparently even 'acronym.' This explains why we had to learn COMNAVAIRPAC as meaning Command Naval Air Pacific. We would be swimming in a sea of navy 'alphabet soup' for the next two days. Captain Hall put a wonderful human face on the navy for us right up front.

Before we departed for the carrier, however, the Navy took us over to the DSRV (Deep Submergence Recovery Vehicle) area and showed us some amazing things. We saw the Avalon ... a recovery vehicle that is in semi-mothballs due to funding cutbacks. (So what do they do if a sub goes down?) Then we saw the Scorpio (a large robotic submersible that had been used in several recovery operations including the Alaska Airlines crash) but which was suffering from funding cutbacks. We also saw a high-tech submersion suit that is also being phased out due to funding cutbacks. We were sensing a theme.

We then returned to the command building. Laura and I followed the van in our car over to the DV Airport Terminal. There we waited for the COD (Carrier Onboard Delivery) aircraft to come and pick both us and several other transferring personnel out to the carrier. While waiting at the terminal, we were joined by a navy Captain and Lieutenant who were flying out to do inspections and drills on the carrier's nuclear plant.

Now, many years ago when I first owned an Atari 800 computer (up to 68k of ram, wow!), I use to enjoy playing with a nuclear plant simulator. It was blocky graphics and had sound effects right out of pac-man but it also did a fair job of teaching the basics of how a nuclear plant works. I was curious about something and so I turned to the Captain sitting next to me. "May I ask you a question?" I asked.

"Sure," the Captain replied.

"Well, how do you cool the primary loop in the reactor core?"

He looked at me with suddenly bright eyes. "Well, that's quite a question! How do you know about the primary loop?"

I swallowed. All I had done was play a simulation game years ago on a computer that probably wouldn't make a very good pocket calculator these days. Now here I was sitting next to the real deal and he was wondering if he really should be talking to this security risk next to him. How could I explain to him that everything I knew about nuclear power was from an Atari game? In the end, this wonderful Captain turned out to be a warm and open man and we had a wonderful conversation.

Soon it was time, however, for our briefing, which was a bit abbreviated as we were pressed for time. Each of us was presented with our 'horse collar' life vests. These were complete with inflatable, life preserver and survival kit. I hoped the survival kit came with instructions on just how to use it. We were also given 'cranials' -- a funky helmet perhaps best described as a WW-I Snoopy helmet with ear protectors and two curved plastic armor plates attached. Don Perrin took a picture of himself and I would swear I saw him as Red Leader in one of the Star Wars films -- that or a pod racer.

The C-2 'Greyhound' turboprop was soon on the ground and we were taken outside, geared up and with our goggles on. We quickly found a seat on the aircraft. All of the seats face backward toward the rear of the plane. That helps on the landing, no doubt, but makes for a difficult catapult off the carrier. I never did find out why they used that particular arrangement.

Another feature of the C-2 is that it only has two small windows in the entire cargo compartment. This means that once the ramp and tale doors close, you're pretty much sitting in a box with no idea of what is outside. The briefing they gave us, however, told us that we would know we were landing because (1) there would be three sharp turns to our right followed by (2) the aircrew waving their arms franticly as a signal which would almost immediately be followed by (3) a 'controlled crash.' We would be going from 130 mph to 0 within approximately two seconds. After around an hour of flight in our little sealed box we found those sharp turns VERY sharp.

The landing was exhilarating. Pressed back into the seat was such a wonderful rush. There was a magic to it that is hard to describe. More magical yet was that in that moment we had been transported to a wondrous world. When the rear cargo ramp had closed, we were taxiing around at the NAS North Island. It was like being Dorothy Gale from 'The Wizard of Oz'. We were bounced around in a cyclone box for a while, were slammed with certain authority into our seats and when the doors opened up again -- we were in another, mystic world.

There before us was the forward edge of the carrier's 'island' ... the tower on the starboard side of the flight deck. Jet fuel fumes filled the cabin. S-3 Viking ASW aircraft were parked to one side. We had no time to contemplate these marvelous things, however. We had been told with firm assurance that the deck of a nuclear aircraft carrier is the most dangerous 4.2 acres on the planet and that we should follow our lead at once.

I barely remember crossing that short space of deck and going down several steep ships ladders. I was in awe of the reality of it all. Within moments we were escorted into the Officer's Wardroom down on the 03 deck. It is a spacious room with a large screen television, decorative plants and several leather couches. On coffee tables in the room were arrayed fresh baked cookies, coffee, ice water and assorted cut fruit for our welcome. We were welcomed by several of the officers there and were then escorted to our staterooms.

Our Officer's Quarters were very pleasant. Don Perrin and I shared one room; Laura and Margaret shared another. Carpeted in a deep blue color, Don and I each had our own desk and chair. There was a sink and mirror in the room as well and a set of bunk beds with navy blue sheets and a very nice fluffy blanket. The background hum of the ship filled the room, punctuated by an occasional rush and rumble as the catapults roared overhead. It was better than I had hoped ... not that we would get to spend much time there! The navy had a VERY full schedule for us.

Our first stop was the Hanger Deck. You could play two complete games of American Football, end to end on that huge deck if it weren't packed with aircraft, helicopters and other craft. It was an awesome sight in itself but the first thing that caught my eye was the gigantic oval portal out the starboard side of the ship. It was the access to the #1 elevator ... an elevator on which they can raise two aircraft at the same time. Unless the seas are too rough, they prefer to keep those huge portals open to allow the air to circulate freely on the hanger deck, so beyond we could see the blue Pacific Ocean and the beautiful sky above.

The ocean was moving past us VERY fast. So steady was the carrier under my feet that it was not until that moment that I realized the ship was moving through the water -- and I mean REALLY moving. I asked our host LT. Andrew Sharp just how fast we were moving. He pulled out his tethered phone, called someone and asked them. "We're doing about 27 knots," he replied. I was astonished. You could water-ski behind this boat ... though I wouldn't recommend jumping the wake.

Those tethered phones, by the way, are a wonderful revolution is the way things are now done aboard navy ships. They are called BUTT phones (an 'acnym' for something like 'boat utility tethered telephone') but the name is perhaps more directly appropriate to the back pocket where they are more commonly stowed. They are, indeed, tethered by a flexible cord to each officer and chief aboard ship. Each unit is like a cellular telephone wirelessly linked to an enormous series of antennae set in the various compartments of the ship. These antennae are then connected to a hard-wired telephone system in the ship. Every officer, then, has his or her own access 'phone' number. While general broadcasts over the ships speakers are still heard from time to time, there is no longer the need for "Captain to the Bridge!" sorts of calls or trying to chase down an officer in an in-ship phone tag as he moves from compartment to compartment on board. You simply call his phone number and reach him wherever he or she may be.

A small compartment just aft of the number one elevator housed the hanger deck plan. On a table here was a layout of the hanger deck with little wooden cutouts representing the 'footprint' of the various kinds of aircraft. They use these to determine which aircraft need to be parked in which location for maintenance and repair. One of the seamen had an artistic bent and hand painted the unit insignias for each of the planes right onto their wooden counterparts. It was a nice expression of creativity.

The deck configuration of an aircraft carrier starts with the hanger deck, which is located on what they call the Main Deck. All decks below are named as 'Second Deck' and 'Third Deck.' Decks above are also numbered but slightly differently ... '01', '02' (pronounced 'oh-one' or 'oh-two'). The carrier flight deck is located on 04. We started on the hanger (main) deck and set out for our next objective: the 'Vulture's Row' on 010. Yep, that's ten decks up those wonderfully steep navy stairs that are more like ladders with wide rungs than stairs.

Before boarding the ship, we were told that we would be expected to climb ten to eleven flights of stairs during our tour. As Margaret pointed out later, 'Yeah, but they didn't tell us how many TIMES we had to climb ten flights of stairs!'

I have to say that we never felt it ... our adrenaline was engaged by then. We arrived at the 010 deck and were told it was time to put our ever-present earplugs in our ears. We were going outside onto Vulture's Row.

Vulture's Row sits just aft of the 'pri-fly' or what we might think of as the 'control tower' for the ship. It is six decks above the flight deck, looking down on the arresting gear and the number 3 and 4 catapults. We watched a series of F-14 Tomcats and F/A-18 Hornets be rocketed off the deck. We then watched several others come in for arrested landings. We were surprised at the number of 'bolters': planes that missed the arresting gear and had to go around for another try. There weren't many but they DID occur, which is why it is such a good thing that the pilots apply full throttle when they hit the deck. Never count on the arresting hook until the plane comes to a full and complete stop.

We then returned to the Hanger Deck and had our group picture taken in front of an F/A-18 Hornet by a ship's photographer. Shortly afterward we were taken back into flag territory (you call always tell by the deep blue tile on the floor) and into a spacious office with actual portholes. (This is a ship of war, not a cruise ship. The number of windows and portholes on this ship are the next closest thing to zero.)

This room turned out to be the Captain's Port Office, meaning the office the captain uses to receive dignitaries while the ship is at anchor or in port. It is much larger than his usual office. Our group fit easily around the long conference table. Freshly baked, warm cookies (chocolate chocolate-chip this time) were waiting for us but before we could appreciate this too long ... the Captain arrived.

The current captain of the Carl Vinson is Captain Bruce Clingan. No, I did NOT mention anything about having a 'Klingon' for a captain. On reflection, however, the captain reminded me of many of the better qualities often ascribed to that Star Trek race: a noble warrior, superbly capable, driven, proud and honorable. He was gracious but obviously had a great deal on his mind. I am quite sure that while he felt our group was important to the mission of the ship, we were certainly also one item on a very full checklist. His answers to our questions were occasionally automatic as though he had answered them many times before ... and I have no doubt that he had. I certainly can understand that: I wonder how many times I've answered questions about how Margaret and I write together with the same level of automatic response. Meeting Captain Clingan gave me great insight into the ship. It was a tremendous privilege.

Also present was the DCAG ... the Deputy Commander Air Group also known as the 'Deputy.' He had invited two guests aboard who were part of our tour and had joined the group. Personable and easygoing, the DCAG was also impressive in a different way: a man of such confidence in his own ability and power that he never felt the need to show it.

It was a wonderful opportunity to visit first hand with two supremely powerful men. A United States Navy aircraft carrier is (by itself) the fourth most powerful 'nation' on the planet. Meeting the people in charge of such force was a rare privilege indeed.

Among these men were the general officers of the ship that we then met at a special dinner held for us in the Officer's Mess. Commander Michael C. Manazir was our host. Cmd. Manazir is the ship's XO -- Executive Officer -- and second in command. The table was impeccably set and the dinner served once of the finest I've ever had: a wonderful teriyaki chicken, thin egg rolls, rice pilaf and a great chocolate cake. Laura sat next to the ship's chaplain, Father Kelly, while the ships Ordinance Officer sat between us. Left of me was the Materiel Officer with our friend the DCAG down the table past the XO. The XO made a charming welcome speech, saying it was a rare privilege to be meeting with people who were "outside the usual rice bowl" of DVs (Distinguished Visitors) that came through. I guess they don't often get science fiction and fantasy writers as guests aboard.

We made a quick stop at the ship's "7-11" (small store) where we bought some water. Back to the staterooms for a few minutes and then on to see the arrestor cable machinery. I wondered how they got all those huge planes stopped at full thrust. When the aircraft drags out the cable, the force pushes 500 gallons of hydraulic fluid through a 1-inch opening in ¼ second. That looked like one very DANGEROUS room to work in.

Then we went back to the wardroom to dawn 'float coats' & cranials for a trip topside to see night carrier operations. While we were waiting we watched the ship's own evening newscast. The carrier has it's own television station (crew can also watch four movie channels as well and have access to both email and the internet). We watched the ship's nurse conduct training drills (we would get to meet her the next day) and saw several reports on various things around the ship. The quiz of the day was to name not only the four Beatles by name but the original drummer as well. We discovered that George Harrison is the least well known of the original fab four.

Donning our cranials and 'float coats' (special life vest/survival kit jackets) it was time to make the climb in the dark up to the LSO: the Landing Signals Officer platform. This is located near the back of the ship on the port side just off the landing deck. It was a good thing it was dark because I couldn't see how far down the water was from the LSO platform. There is no railing on the outside of the platform ... I assume so that if a plane somehow misses the runway too far to the left on approach, the LSO can leap from the platform and into the safety net below. Past that net, by some fifty feet or so, is the very deep Pacific Ocean. It was also crowded, with ten visitors plus the four LSO guys on the deck. Laura kept getting shuffled to the outside of the platform and was NOT comfortable. I shifted places with her and found myself standing on a slotted metal deck plate with no railing and a net 'somewhere' between me and the ocean below. I tended to lean toward the carrier deck quite a bit!

Several of our company had brought video camera and one of the other guests even mistakenly set off a flash. The LSO was NOT happy about that or the backlighting from the video displays on the cameras. Theirs is a deadly serious business conducted almost entirely in the dark. They rely on their night vision to get those aviators down safely.

The tour continued with a visit to the CIC: the Combat Information Center. This is the heart of the ship's defensive and offensive battle systems: the location from which the ship is 'fought' during hostilities. We noticed most of the displays were blanked out: screen saver equivalents with the words 'Top Secret' at the top. They were obviously prepared for visitors. The room looks exactly like you would expect it to look: a compact, high-tech war room. I was taking pictures with my own video camera at this point. The officer giving us the briefing saw me and said "Please don't take a picture of this machine." He was pointing at a machine I happened to be filming at the time. My camera went off in a moment. I've since looked at the tape. I don't actually have pictures of that machine -- but I DO have the officer on tape saying not to film it. Then we went to AirOps for a few minutes and learned about air traffic control around an aircraft carrier.

That tour completed, at last it was time at 10 at night to drag our poor worn-out bodies back to our rooms. There were mints on our pillows and cookies on our desks when we returned. They are big on cookies on this ship ... when we arrived we got cookies, when with the captain we had really GREAT cookies (double chocolate chip) and now there are cookies in our room.

I can't think of anything cooler than this is. Watching F-14's and F/A 18's taking off at full throttle from the most dangerous 4.2 acres on the planet. This ship rips along at about 27 knots and we hardly feel the motion at all. The labyrinthine interiors are almost becoming second nature to me. I am most impressed.

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24 May, 2001 / 7:30 AM

This morning we were awakened by the boson's whistle at 6:00 and a phone call from Andrew to get us out of bed and up to the forward mess. We had breakfast with the crew.

We were encouraged to sit with the crew and mingle with them. The navy wanted us to get to know the crew and who they were. I sat down next to a young man who was reading a sci-fi anthology. It turned out he was with the ships library. (Mr. Matheny) The young woman across from me (Aragon, I think) was with Nuclear down in the bottom of the ship. Her job was to keep track of the amount of radiation everyone gets, which, according to her, is practically none. It apparently is about the same as from sunlight. She was originally from Albuquerque. She has had two years of training and two years at sea. She has two years to go and then would like to become a National Geographic photographer and travel the world ... all over again.

They have brought us back to our rooms for a little rest. The navy sure keeps itself on time and very busy ... we certainly have been on time to everything and extremely busy. We will be resuming the tour shortly. Should be another exciting and interesting day.

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26 May, 2001 / 3:49 AM

It is early in the morning. Laura can't sleep ... This is usually a wakeful time for her and I had no time after the brief break two days ago to enter any notes. So I thought this a good time to continue my log entries.

After our little break after breakfast, Lieutenant Sharp gathered us all up and took us up to the O3 deck and as far forward as one can possibly go to the Forecastle. This large single deck high room was strikingly painted and certainly the most colorful aboard ship. This was the province of the Deck Division: the men and women who do the manual work about the ship. Here we saw the massive anchor chains, took a peek through one of the two bow portals. Our Deck Division guide even opened a side hatch on the bow so that we could climb up on the slanting plates and look down and out at the anchor and bow suspended far below us. Don and Laura both climbed up to take a look. Laura was terribly impressed with the view but then took one look at me and said, "you won't like this much." She knew that I have often had a very real fear of heights and occasionally get vertigo from it. I looked up at her and said, "When will I ever get this opportunity again? I'll do it and think about it later." So I found myself climbing up on the structural beams, laying against the interior side of the hull plates and gazing down through the gaping hatch at the enormous anchor, bow and water some 60 feet below. It was, indeed, an awesome sight. I was so impressed with it that it has taken me until now to realize just what it was that I did!

Then it was back up the Island. I thought perhaps we were going to visit the Pri-fly or possibly the bridge but much to my delight, he lead us through the island access hatch and out onto the then-quiet flight deck. The most dangerous 4.5 acres on the face of the earth and we were being invited to walk it's length!

It was the most impressive moment of the tour for me. Being out on that deck with the wind coming over the bow and being able to walk its impressive length. Those pictures tell the real story and I certainly hope they turn out. We were the guests of the 'fly-two' on the deck who was from Texas. I wish I could remember his name. He was a most polite officer and a delight to speak with. We stood over the #3 arresting cable, walked the length of CAT2 and stood at the bow end of the deck. It was a time I'm sure I'll never forget.

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26 May, 2001 / 7:54 AM

A couple of hours rest and I'm back at my notes.

After this incredible experience on the flight deck, we were taken once more down to our quarters and told it was time to pack our bags. Several of us asked if we would be going to the ship store and pointed out that we would like to be able to pack the items we purchased before they catapulted us off the deck. I got the impression that this particular aspect of the sequencing of our visit had not occurred to them in the planning. Lieutenant Sharp quickly got on his BUTT phone and worked out that we would get to see our bags once more before we took off.

They took us to the rear of the hanger deck. There we were shown the test stands and heavy machine areas were major aircraft concerns are taken care of. Crated engines for the various aircraft can be assembled here and other machine shop repairs take place. They were running a test on an engine in a test stand at the rear of the ship (that's where they do it) so we got to see that conducted as well.

Then it was time to visit the ship's store and spend all the money we had ... possibly even more money than we had. After all the jackets, t-shirts and hats were purchased, Don Perrin was good enough to advance me some additional funding to cover my bill. No credit cards on navy ships ... just cash, thanks!

One interesting moment was my discovery, right in the center of the ship's store, of a round hatch in the floor. I looked at the small brass labeling plate on the round hatch and discovered it to say something like 'reactor refueling access port.' I then looked overhead and saw that that section of the ceiling was made up of a very large round section obviously intended for removal. There, in the ship's store, we were standing directly over one of the two nuclear reactors. Well, I thought, I guess they had to put the store SOMEWHERE.

With all my newly acquired treasures in hand, we then were taken back to the Officer's Wardroom for a meeting with the ship's nurse. Her name was Jeanie Freeman. We had actually seen her the night before on the ships television channel talking about the emergency training they had run earlier in the day. Our entire group was, perhaps, the most impressed with her of anyone on board. She was bright, sharp, intelligent and genuinely happy in her work. This was the life that she had chosen and was more than excited to be here. Her enthusiasm and obvious competence was inspiring. She toured us through her sickbay. If I'm ever sick or injured at sea, I want Jeanie Freeman there to look after me.

We were then taken, as promised, up to the ship's library. We discovered it to be a very nice place on the outboard port side of the ship. The books, however, were all donated and they were lacking the latest of our own books. We decided to adopt their library and see to it that we got some books to them right away. There were several seamen there with copies of our books and who had read our work. Seaman Matheny (whom I had sat next to at breakfast) had finally come around to believing that we were, indeed, on his ship. He apologized for being somewhat in a disbelieving daze when we first met. He was all smiles by then. We signed as many as were presented. It was remarkable to me that so many of them were present. We didn't have much time to spend there (the navy runs a very tight ship indeed) but it was a good experience.

After this tour we were gratefully reunited with our baggage. Repacking everyone's suitcase in the crowded carrier halls was something of a juggling act but we took care of it quickly.

Our final stop on our whirlwind tour was the Chief's Lunch. It was interesting that Lieutenant Sharp stood on the deck above Chief's Mess and sent us down. The Master Chief PAO was at the bottom of the access ladder to receive us. Officers (unless invited) are not generally welcome in the Chief's Mess ... and it is apparently a rule that is sacred. The Master Chief PAO (Public Affairs Officer) Joe Coffey was a wonderful man with whom Laura and had lunch. He explained that the Chiefs are like the 'middle management' of the navy. Officers make the big decisions, seamen put the muscle behind the task but it's the Chiefs that make it all happen ... they translate the decisions into action.

As we were having lunch could feel the increased vibration under the floor plates. The ship was really hauling somewhere we knew but, being down on the Third Deck (the lowest part of the ship we visited on our stay) we didn't know why until later. Our own flight had been somewhat delayed because of a fog bank. The ship was running quickly to the southeast so that it would reach a clear spot in the weather to resume flight operations. They must have really been tearing up ocean!

At the end of the meal, we were required to 'pay our bill.' By law, the navy may not pay for a civilian's meals or, technically, anything while they are aboard. The day, including meals and our VIP Carl Vinson hats came to $40 U.S. In cash—a sum we all gladly handed over.

We then met Sharp at the top of the ladder again. (Must not mess with the Chief's Mess!) He took us back up to the 03 deck under the island. We cooled our heals for a while there waiting for our delayed transport. The DCAG came by once more (Deputy Commander Air Group) and visited with his friends and us. Then the ATO came by with our horse collars and 'cranials.' It was time to suit up for the bit CAT launch!

We knew that this was going to be tougher than the landing. The seats would all still be facing the back of the aircraft. This means that we would all be hanging from our harness during the acceleration of the catapult launch ... Not nearly as pleasant as being pressed back into your seat as we were during the landing. The instructions given us were more extensive than for the landing for this reason. To launch, we were required to cross our arms and grab hold of the harness with each hand. We then were to put both our feet up on the seat in front of us and lean into the harness. This semi-fetal position keeps everything in place and insures nothing gets broken.

The ATO (Air Transfer Officer) lead us up the outboard side of the island (the ordinance side) and around the front. Most of the seats were already taken by the navy personnel who were taking the ride as well. We had been instructed to stay strictly in line with the person in front of us and not to cut any corners on our convoluted route. In short order, however, we wound our way across the once-again dangerous flight deck. An F/A 18 Hornet was launching just as we came up ... things were going to be busy once more on "the roof." We took our seats quickly and went about getting ourselves secure in the harness and seats.

Then, as so often happens in life, we waited. Real adventures often have that 'hurry up and wait' feel to them. We were delayed taking off and they shuffled us around the deck for a while. That was to be expected: carrier decks are so crowded with planes, equipment and men that it reminds me of a puzzle that is in constant need of shifting around. From my seat, I could just barely see out one of the two windows in the rear of the plane, so I was probably the only guy aboard the back of that plane who had any idea of where we were and what was going on outside. Then we got word to put our feet up. I vaguely wondered if this was something that they did just for the visitors ... that somehow is wasn't as bad as they were making out. When they gave the word, however, I noticed that every single navy person aboard followed these same instructions when told to prepare for the launch. It was going to be that rough. The engines revved up, the guys in charge of us at the back of the plane waved their hands in the air from their own position to let us know it was time. Curled in my position, I realized that if I just turned my head slightly to the right, I could see out the window during the launch. There was the edge of the deck with the sea beyond. I remember thinking that we were on the number one catap...

An involuntary yell was suddenly being pressed out of my chest. The deck was rushing by but it was hard to tell from my blurred vision. The roar, even with both the earplugs and the cranial was incredible. It was the longest, most exhilarating two seconds of my life. Suddenly there was a BANG and the aircraft seemed to stop. Actually, we had just reached the end of the catapult and were off the carrier deck and flying. It only felt as though we had stopped. After the rush of such acceleration, normal flight seemed to us as though we were standing still.

Unbeknownst to me, a little drama during take off had taken place just behind me. Laura was seated just forward of (behind) my seat. She had dreamed a dream the night before that she had put her little HP Jornada PocketPC in her pocket during the catapult launch and that it had fallen out. So, when she got read to get aboard the airplane, remembering her dream, she put her little hand-held PC in the front pocket of her purse. Not the word POCKET. Anyway, when the signal came to grab the harness and prepare for launch, the band on her watch caught the front flap of her purse, flipped it open and ... you guessed it ... her Jornada fell to the deck of the plane. There was no way to stop the launch. A few of the crew aboard tried to stop it with their feet but none could reach it. It lay open, its cover wrapped around a leg at the back of my chair. Laura glanced at the navy man next to her as if to ask if she should reach down for it. He wagged his finger and her and shook his head in warning. She closed her eyes and the catapult fired.

The crewman at the tail of the plane brought back the Jornada ... or most of it. It is something of a tribute to those fine people at Hewlett Packard that despite the smashed case and the broken screen, the device actually STILL turned on and we were even able to transfer her files off of it later. However, the impact was so great that the flash card ejected itself from the housing. That was one violent take off!

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28 May, 2001 / 8:36 AM

The flight back was a noisy and also a strangely quiet one. My wife and I passed notes back and forth about her Jornada in flight. The earplugs and the cranials, coupled with the constant drone of the engines, makes for something of a sensory deprivation experience and is conducive to reflection. We would land in due course of things at the Naval Air Station North Island where we had started from just the day before. Laura and I would spend the next two days in San Diego at our favorite hotel and had planned many interesting things to do. Yet somehow my life had changed and would never be the same again. In the course of thirty-two hours I had seen and experienced things that would leave me fundamentally altered forever.

It is now days later and my wife and I are still talking about that incredible adventure. She had dreamed each night of being back aboard that amazing ship. I can honestly say that I miss it.

Today is Memorial Day here in the United States. It is traditionally a day where we remember and honor not only our own kindred dead but those who have died in the service of their country, in the defense of their nation and in the preservation of those ideals that they believed were important enough to give their lives for. I cannot help, however, but to also remember this day those young men and women who are doing no less right now in the halls and compartments of the USS Carl Vinson. I have seen their bright and tired faces. They cope with difficult conditions, combating mind-numbing boredom and occasionally raw terror. They are intelligent, driven and very real individuals doing a Herculean job. It is the faces of Capt. Hall, Capt. Klingan, Cmd. Manazir, Lt. Matt O'Neal, Lt. (SG) Andy Sharp, Chief Coffey, Nurse Jeanie Freeman and especially Seaman Aragon and Seaman Matheny that are on my mind today. I honestly miss them ... and I am grateful to them for the job they are doing. A part of my heart sails with them wherever they go, and my best wishes for peace for them when they return home.

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