A Blackhawk helicopter in the midst of practicing landings and takeoffs near Deep Lake in Colorado’s White River National Forest.
“Dad, Dad, Dad! It’s a helicopter!” My five-year old son is excited by some of the same things I am: food, all things military, mountain biking and beer.
After his customary pretend sip, he usually gives a critique of the beer-du-jour that sounds something like this: “That’s a pretty good beer.” A pause…and wait for it. “And it’s disgusting!” Afraid to be contrarian, he is not.
Seeing a Blackhawk landing about a mile from our campsite on the military crest of the nearest mountain top was neat. Seeing it 10 times a day for 3 days was even better, especially with the helicopter circling right around us. I got a shout out from my son every time we heard it.
Our campsite at Deep Lake. Beautiful but the 30 miles of dirt road to get there is a hard pill to swallow.
Later that afternoon, when four Blackhawks and a Little Bird were RTB’ing and flying in line just above the horizon, my son, daughter and I stood and unabashedly stared. What a sight.
His only complaint: “Dad, it’s not a Backhawk. It’s not black.” With logic like that, it’s tough to argue with him.
All the way at the stern, or rear of the ship, Brandon Null spends his days working with a team of sailors that fix jet engines. They even get to chain them down and test fire them out the stern behind a blast door.
At the tail end of the USS Nimitz, Brandon Null in the jet shop doesn’t pull any punches when talking about what he and his crew do.
“This engine right here costs about $3.7 million dollars, produces about 20,000 pounds of thrust,” and he gets to fix it.
A GE jet engine, from an F/A 18 if memory serves me. Exotic metals, lots of screws and a never-ending list of precise torque values are only a few of the things the sailors in the USS Nimitz’s jet shop get to work with every day.
Null was clearly enthusiastic about and devoted to his job, the immense responsibilities it includes and spoke humbly about how expertly he seeks to perform it.
I’ve replaced a turbocharger in a diesel engine, but this is a whole different animal.
It was cold in his “office.” Null detailed some of the precise temperature requirements his test equipment has, and what might happen if it gets too warm in there.
The racks of servers in his sealed test workspace support a multitude of switches, dials and throttle controls that–when they are testing–link up to an engine secured outside, visible through a really thick observation window. The noise during their six-hour test runout must be incredible, even in here.
It’s spotless in here, or as spotless as a machine shop could be. That makes sense because one misplaced tool or screw could damage an engine.
After hearing his story of being severely injured during the test run out of an engine, I unsuccessfully struggled to hold back tears of pride and respect for him. That experience was formative for him and as he says, “I’m going to be doing this job for as long as the Navy allows me to.”
A look inside the afterburner assembly of the jet engine that Null and his team were working on when I spent a few minutes with him in his fascinating world.
The reverence Null has for keeping his shipmates and his pilots safe by giving his all—every day—made me reevaluate the drive and passion I bring to my life.
| Thanks to the United States Navy for the opportunity to visit the USS Nimitzand see and experience first-hand what life aboard looks like. |
Echo Park Campground, Dinosaur National Monument. Even the mosquitos are monumental here. If you go, bring bug spray and lots of it.
I’d said hello and asked how he was doing. I got one of those smiles, the it’s-been-one-of-those-days ones. “I had a bad night last night,” he told me.
Greg smiled at me and the kids as we walked into the visitor center of Dinosaur National Monument. He smiled, but all was not well with him.
“We’ve all been there.” I said. “But I’ll bet what you really mean is that you had a great night; it was this morning and afternoon that sucked.” He smiled again. There may have been a slight nod in my direction.
I had to apply for a play permit in order to kayak around Steamboat Rock on the Green River in the Echo Park Campground. Sounded easy, but as with most things the government seeks to regulate, some red tape was involved. The permits are free and as long as it’s a permitted activity, they–the National Park Service–have to issue them. Reading the final product, you can be fined, or worse, if you don’t have one. The wax paper is smudged, but if you look carefully, there is a subparagraph on when disembowlment is authorized. Or maybe that paragraph is about visitor center hours; it’s hard to discern.
Greg first had to check with a law enforcement ranger to see if I was able to do what I was asking. (It was ok’d.) Then he realized that someone had stolen his special pen. It’s actually a very special pen…the only pen in the office that is able to write on the waxed paper play permit triplicate form. Greg never found that pen. If you were the one who took it home for whatever reason, please send it back. Greg would really appreciate it. They’ve promised amnesty on any pen theft charges.
Drive two miles from Dinosaur, CO to the park entrance. Go 30 miles on a narrow but paved road to Echo Park Road. Turn right on Echo Park Road: it’s rough, steep, and impassible after it rains. Did I mention it’s really, really steep in spots? After about 8 miles on Echo Park Road, hang a left and go another 5 miles on another very bumpy road to the campground. You’ve arrived.
“You can’t kayak downstream from Steamboat rock,” he told me.
“Can I go upstream?” He looked at me with an expression suggesting that his day was not getting any better.
“You can kayak directly across from the campground and land at the base of Steamboat rock and explore it from there.” he countered, politely.
“Here’s what I’m thinking Greg, and please take this as me just thinking out loud. If the kids and I kayak around Steamboat rock, say on the downstream side and then the upstream side, to look at it, I can’t imagine anyone would get upset with that. So I’m not going to ask permission to do that, because we’ve already agreed that this permit–the one that needs a special pen to complete–says I can go directly across.” I hoped that my tone suggested that the government regulations on precisely where I could kayak may be a little over the top. Besides it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission, right?
The infamous Steamboat Rock on the Green River.
I’d like to think that Greg agreed with the hypothetical situation I had brought to his attention, but we still had many more blank spaces to fill in on the wax-coated form. “What day will you be kayaking?”
“Do I need to fill out a form for each day?” I was hoping that he was joking.
“Yes.” So that answers that.
“We’re planning on being there 4 days, so I guess I have to fill out a form for all of them?” I was going all in here. I had noticed the increasing difficulty Greg was having in making visible, legible marks on the insidiously coated play permit. He made another futile scratch and looked from me to the kids.
In mid-2019, rates were $10 a night if the water is working, $6 if it isn’t. For these views, it’s a no-brainer. Tents and truck campers only, RVs would never survive the roads.
“Why don’t I just add all the days you might kayak onto this permit?” Whew. The bluff had worked. Or perhaps Greg thought as highly of the red tape as I. The kids and I waited until we got outside for the victory dance.
My time on the USS Nimitz while she was off the coast of Mexico (and the USA) is something afforded to few civilians and an experience I will never forget. (photo courtesy of US Navy)
The US Navy afforded me the opportunity to spend a night on the USS Nimitz…I flew out and landed on the carrier and was catapult-launched off the following afternoon. I climbed countless ladders, stepped over hundreds of knee knockers and toured the ship exhaustively. I was amazed at the competence, professionalism and teamwork of her crew. The following are a few of the things that fascinated me.
No vacation days.
While all work schedules are different, when at sea, you’ll generally be working all week long (that’s all seven days of the week, you don’t get weekends off.) Most of the sailors I met work about 12 hours a day. The Air Boss works from when the first plane goes up until the last one lands. The Captain has a tiny bed off of the bridge and sleeps when he can.
Getting lost is easy.
With 4.5 acres of flight deck, almost 1,100 feet in length, thousands of bulkheads, knee knockers and frames, something like 17 stories and very, very few windows, it’s easy to get turned around. Even though every bulkhead is marked with its location on the ship, getting lost is a requirement. One of my escorts said it took her months until she was comfortable navigating the ship. Sometimes to get where you need to go you’ll need to go down a deck, then pop up somewhere else and come back to where you need to be.
Energy drinks rule the roost.
Over one 24-hour period, the Monster energy drink machines on the USS Nimitz sold $30,000 worth of products according to a ship’s store sailor. They charge $2 a can.
It’s a young person’s game.
Average age aboard is probably 20. See my comment about energy drinks above.
You work until your job is complete.
Like the Air Boss, there are lots of jobs that, done correctly, don’t have a time card attached to them. You’ll be working until there is no more work to do. While that may sound harsh, life on a carrier comes down to teamwork. As I heard countless times, everyone has to do their part. In an emergency, this large team is all that they have. “This is just the attitude you want from your employees…your salaried employees that is.” said Captain Kevin Lenox, smiling.
Mail rules.
Internet access is very limited. Communal computers in the library are in high demand and the ship goes “dark” whenever operationally required. That can be a lot. So good old snail mail is often a sailor’s best friend.
“Teamwork, a tradition”
I passed this slogan in the hanger bay many times during my visit. I didn’t really give it a too much thought until after I got back home. The Navy averages about 35% turnover annually. (That’s turnover, not retention; I don’t know the retention numbers.) Each year, over a third of your team changes. That means training. Lots and lots and lots of training; all the time. I saw a general quarters drill, heard a propeller shaft emergency call at 2am and virtually without exception, everyone I spoke with mentioned the word “team.” Guns, bombs, millions of gallons of jet fuel, two nuclear reactors…It can come down to life and death here very quickly, and these sailors know training as a team is their lifeline.
Everyone passes through the hanger bay at some point. It’s a simple message, but on a warship with lots of dangerous things close by, it’s an important one. (photo by author)
You serve the needs of the Navy first.
Talking with a sailor in the bomb assembly area really drove this home. For his first two months he “learned how to operate a broom and dustpan.” Not exactly the bomb assembly he spoke with his recruiter about. Now that the Nimitz is out to sea again, he’s working on bomb assembly, right where he wants to be.
Colds spread like fire…both are equally welcome on a ship.
About 5,ooo people live on an aircraft carrier. 4.5 acres big, about 17 stories tall. Handrails, doorknobs, hatch latches, bulkheads, and shower-stalls all get touched. A lot. The sailor in the medical suite laughed when I asked how quickly colds and the flu go through the ship. Lots of fluids, Mucinex and rest (if you can get it) is his most common prescription.
The flight deck is one of the most dangerous environments in the world.
As the Air Boss says: “I put you in a boat coat and cranial and send you out on the flight deck. Here you go, now go do your job.” Training and safety are paramount here. Jet fuel, munitions, landing helicopters, launching jets, landing jets, huge cables…everything is large, loud and moving very fast. It’s incredibly fast paced and dangerous work. After cat 1 one fires, you turn around, race 20 feet and then do it again for your cat 2 launch, avoiding jet blast and retracting cat hooks in the process. If you don’t pay attention, you may end up dead. Now imagine how hard this is when you’re tired and working in 120-degree heat.
The three wire on the USS Nimitz. Nimitz is the first carrier to test and use press fit arresting wire connections in lieu of the labor-intensive, hot molten metal process. (photo by author)
Clothes get washed. and usually you get them all back.
The ship’s laundry will take care of yours. Put it in a big bag and send it off. Most of the time it all comes back to you…washed and dried in your bag. Bags rip and tear though, so putting your name on all the clothes you want to get back is just as important here as it is in grade school. Self-service laundry is also available. TIP: if you go in the middle of the night, you’ll probably snag an empty machine.
The Chiefs’ Mess is an incredible place to eat.
The chiefs like what creature comforts they can arrange for themselves. Somehow the best cooks work for them. Out of their own pockets, they’ve paid for four great large-screen TVs in their mess, which also has hard and soft-serve ice cream (and pierogis on the day I visited). Oh, and their lounge off the mess includes about 20 huge recliners and a massive TV. They come together as a team to pay for these upgrades themselves (and disassembled the recliners and then reassembled them in their lounge in order to get them there). The pecan pie was wonderful. Oh, and their mess coffee isn’t too bad either.
The chiefs work very hard and know how to enjoy what comforts they can arrange to bring to their lives at sea. (photo by author)
| Thanks to the United States Navy for the opportunity to visit the USS Nimitzand see and experience first-hand what life aboard looks like. |
Travis Mason (at right) can walk, talk and splice a line at the same time. With over 20 years in the Navy and a job he loves, his passion comes across readily while he’s explaining life in the forecastle of the USS Nimitz. Note the line on the floor he’s preparing for an upcoming underway replenishment of aviation fuel. (photo by author)
Amidst 350-pound anchor chain links and directly above USS Nimitz’s twin gold-painted 60,000-pound anchors, you will find Travis Mason in the forecastle.
The forecastle (pronounced folks ul) of an aircraft carrier for those unused to mariner-speak is in the bow (or front) of the ship.
Mason spoke with passion about the training he gives to the crew he oversees—a whopping 40% of whom are new to him every year.
Loud, very loud is how Mason described the noise of the anchor chains going out.
I have a hard time imagining what 40% turnover looks like, never mind what it does for job efficiency. Mason isn’t phased though, perhaps because over his 20 plus years in the Navy, he’s learned how to make things work. “We do a lot of training,” he says.
Interspersed with his commentary, a primal rumbling, rattling and screeching indicated that the steam catapults above our heads were launching aircraft…a lot of them. Imagine a screeching fan belt, banging metal trash can lids at near deafening volume; shake the ground you’re standing on and add heavy, feel-it-in-your-chest bass—that’s as close to what a catapulting aircraft feels like in the forecastle as I can describe. Mason just smiles the whole time. “Yeah, that happens a lot. Seems to happen whenever I’m talking in here.” He smiles again and continues splicing a hemp line.
As you’d imagine, the forecastle was spotless, each chain link painted a gloss black. He detailed an aircraft carrier’s anchoring procedure—with the ship in a slow reverse, the anchors are dropped, followed by link after link after link of chain. “It’s the chain that really holds the ship in place,” he explained. The ship will swing around on her anchor chains through the night; special swivels built into the chain prevent them from getting tangled.
And how does one coil the massive links when they are pulled back into the ship? It’s not an issue at all says Mason. “They pretty much take care of themselves.” They are so large, he says, that they’ve never gotten tangled and he doesn’t see how they ever could.
Spotless, well-painted and everything in its place. Mason said that as soon as the anchors come up, his sailors are cleaning and then painting the chains.
Mason’s hands were busy splicing a line together the majority of the time he spent with us. Hearing him speak so openly about the love he has for his job and the fact that after his upcoming retirement he’s going to be “doing the same thing, just not for the Navy” in the Pacific Northwest that he will soon call home made me smile—as well as the advice he has for the crew working for him—“I know they don’t all want to stay here. So I want to see them do what makes them happy.”
I attempted the bowline on a bight that his whirling hands effortlessly produced, but I need a few more decades of practice to even come close to Mason.
| Thanks to the United States Navy for the opportunity to visit the USS Nimitzand see and experience first-hand what life aboard looks like. |
As Captain Kevin Lenox of the aircraft carrier USS Nimitz tells it, everyone will get their chance to be the most important person on this 1,092-foot, 4.5 acre floating piece of American sovereign territory.
And at about 2 a.m. on July 13th, 2019 one sailor did just that. Noting a slight clicking noise on the number 2 shaft, he called it in and the shaft was shut down to prevent any damage. “At that moment, that sailor was the most important person on this ship,” said Lenox. “I can’t be everywhere and I rely on everyone working here to do their jobs.”
(at right, Captain Kevin Lenox of the USS Nimitz. photo by author)
Climbing up and down a tight ladder way to check each of the four engine shafts is something that you can either speed through in 45 minutes and then take a 15 minute break or you can do the job thoroughly like the sailor did today explained Lenox.
A scheduled refueling of 1.5 million gallons of aviation fuel was delayed but Lenox was unconcerned. I need a driver “who can keep it to half a degree” and with one propeller shaft shut down, it makes the job considerably harder, said Lenox, adding that he regularly meets with groups of crew-members new to the ship and reminds them that at some point, each one of them will be the most important person on the Nimitz.
| Thanks to the United States Navy for the opportunity to visit the USS Nimitzand see and experience first-hand what life aboard looks like. |
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