By Steve Vogel
The Washington Post
ABOARD THE USS CARL VINSON IN THE NORTHERN ARABIAN SEA — The word spread quickly around this aircraft carrier: An F-14 Tomcat on a photographic reconnaissance mission over Afghanistan had suffered hydraulic failure and was on its way back to the ship.
High above the flight deck, in the primary flight bridge that serves as the carrier’s air traffic control tower, the air boss and his No. 2, the miniboss, swung into action.
The miniboss, a burly commander from Perry Hall, Md., snapped questions at a liaison officer from the Tomcat squadron: "Can he get his flaps down? What’s his wing sweep? I need to know all that stuff."
Since the Vinson departed its home port of Bremerton in July, the boss and the miniboss had launched more than 3,800 aircraft, and an exactly equal number had landed back on the ship. They wanted to keep that record intact.
On a carrier, the boss and the miniboss are the ones who choreograph the launching and landing of aircraft from a windowed tower, known as the pri-fly. The boss — a commander with close-cropped hair, a trim mustache and aviator sunglasses — and the miniboss on the Vinson are a particularly lively pair, hurling gibes at all who enter their domain and offering sardonic observations about Navy life.
"This is like being in the Chicago trading pits all day, except we get paid one-tenth as much," said the air boss, a Queens native with the voice and patter of a morning radio jock. Under Navy rules governing media coverage, neither the boss nor the miniboss may be fully identified.
The stresses and dangers involved in their work were evident during the incident with the Tomcat last week.
The air boss’s phone in the pri-fly rang constantly as senior officers around the ship called to make sure he was aware of the emergency. The normally garrulous air boss curtly informed callers he was in control of the situation.
"People have no idea when things go wrong how many extraneous phone calls we get here," the boss griped after the fourth one.
With nearly daily combat operations, the aircraft were running into occasional problems. "It happens," said the air boss. "We’re flying these airplanes hard."
"Let’s concentrate on clearing the deck," the air boss announced over speakers audible on the flight deck. "Man all ready stations."
A group of strike fighters, accompanied by support aircraft, was due to be launched toward Afghanistan. Besides, getting the jets airborne would free space on the crowded flight deck.
The air boss had pointed to a member of the deck crew below who was responsible for making sure the cables were correctly set. "If he doesn’t put it right," he said, "a half-dozen people would be fragged and you’ll end up with a $70 million airplane in the water.
"He stands on a hot deck for 18 hours a day. God bless him. How many Americans are willing to do that? How many American hands are being raised to serve their country?"
The crews rushed to hook up an F/A-18 Hornet to the catapult. Behind the jet, a blast deflector rose from the deck to protect deck crews from the inferno-like blast coming from the engine as the jet throttled to full power.
From the cockpit, the pilot saluted the shooter, signaling he was ready to go. The shooter, gesticulating with the pizazz of a showboating baseball umpire, touched the deck with his hand and gave the signal to launch the catapult. The jet sprang forward, accelerating to 150 miles per hour in three seconds.
In about 10 minutes, the entire strike package was aloft. "The deck is clear," the air boss called.
The ship was then ready for jets to land on its deck. "This is the most dangerous part," the air boss had said earlier. "If we screw this up, people die."
Four thick cables are stretched across the deck to catch the jet’s tailhook as the plane touches down. Rather than decelerate as they land, pilots push their throttles to full power, in case they miss the cable.
Spotters in the pri-fly scanning the sky to the north saw the Tomcat while it was still a speck.
It took a long, sweeping turn around the carrier to line up behind it and began descending. In the pri-fly, everyone held their breath. The Tomcat hit the deck smoothly and snagged. It quickly came to a rest, safe and sound.
The air boss smiled. "Oh, very nice," he said.
Associated Press
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