FRONT ROW Part 4 (last).

☆The Admiral’s personal staff included a newly-promoted LCDR Flag Aide, also known as ‘the Loop’ for the circular braid worn on the sleeve of his uniform to designate the fact that he was on the Admiral’s personal staff.  I have served on an Admiral’s personal staff much later in my career, and thus I have worn this braid; I tell you even though I liked that job a great deal, and worked for a great boss, the thought of myself wearing a loop made me feel slightly queasy, like I had sold out, somehow.  In the 80‘s, all JO or LCDR Loops were assumed to be brown-nosing and butt-kissing careerists, looking out for their own personal welfare over the good of the team, until proven otherwise.

The 'Loop' worn by members of an Admiral's personal staff, to include the Flag Aide, often known as 'The Loop.'  This was a term of derision in the 80's.  I still get a little queasy when I think about wearing a loop.

Admiral Carlson’s Loop did virtually everything possible to confirm the bad stereotype. I suspect he might also have lost his lunch money to fighter guys at some point when he was a JO, he seemed to share and amplify the Admiral’s dislike of them in general.  He was clearly loyal to the Admiral, which is a good thing I suppose.  But the skinny, gawky bespectacled S-3 NFO was sarcastic and smug, and wielded his position to get what he wanted.  In my mind’s eye now, I remember him as Robert Carradine’s character Lewis from the 80’s movie Revenge of the Nerds, only with the disposition of a bent trashcan. 

Robert Carradine in 'Revenge of the Nerds.'  The Loop looked a lot like this, only a much nastier version.

The Black Knights were assembled in Ready Room 8, waiting for the Admiral.  Our Skipper and XO gave us a little pep talk before, emphasizing how the Admiral was extending an olive branch with this gesture, and how we needed to give him a chance.  They said the Admiral was even going to answer questions in a good-faith effort to explain what had been said about the Black Knights in the Wardroom.  

At the appointed time, we were all seated in our Ready Room chairs, waiting.  The Admiral didn’t show.  But his Loop did.  He walked in alone and said he needed to talk to the Ready Room first before escorting the Admiral down for his talk.  He stood in front and proceeded to lecture us.  ‘I’m here to tell you how this is going to go. There will be no talking or moving about.  You fighter guys will show the Admiral the respect he deserves.  No laughing, no whispering, no jokes or smart-ass comments.‘  I remember feeling outraged that he was talking to a group that included our CO--he was in our Ready Room, our turf!   A murmur started--who does this guy think he is?  The Loop powered right over it.  ‘And another thing--excuse me, AND ANOTHER THING--‘ he paused, waiting for the murmuring to die down; ‘the Admiral will ask at the end if there are any questions.  There will be no questions...not from the audience.  I’m not going to let anything from you guys embarrass him, or put him on the spot, or make him look bad.  You will write down any questions you have on this pad,’ he handed out a pad of yellow legal-sized paper to the far side of the Ready Room, ‘and I will decide which ones are suitable to ask the Admiral, and I will then ask him only those questions.  If you guys understand all that, I will now go get the Admiral  and escort him down.’

'Write your questions on this legal pad...'

He left, and there was general revolt. ‘You’ve got to be kidding!’  ‘F*** that guy!‘  ‘We’re not taking THIS!’ ‘We ought all walk out so they come back to an empty room’ ‘ YEAH!’  The XO stood up, clearly just as outraged, but he put his hands out in a ‘calm down, sit down’ motion.  ‘OK fellas, look...there’s already enough bad blood between the Admiral and the Air Wing, and CAG, and us,’ he started.  ‘Let’s not make this any harder on CAG or on Skipper.  Let’s just get through this just like the Loop said, let someone else antagonize the Admiral.  Let’s get through this, and get him out of here so we can go about our business.’  The rioting masses settled down.  We didn’t like it, it was against our principles, but we could behave and control our outrage for a few minutes.  For CAG, and for Skipper.

After a short time, the Loop came in through the back door and shouted, ‘ATTENTION ON DECK!’  We stood, and the Admiral came in.  ‘As you were.’  We sat.  ‘Well, thanks for letting me come down and speak with you today,’ he started.  ‘I wanted to clear the air on a couple of things...’.  He was seemingly contrite when he started talking, and I thought, maybe this will actually be an apology.  But after about 30 seconds, his tone became that of a lecture, ‘...and it seemed like the maneuvering was an intentional provocation to me.  I know now that it wasn’t, but it sure wasn’t very smart, and at the time I couldn’t imagine how anyone could deliberately try to provoke an incident, how anyone could do anything so unprofessional, and so stupid, unless it was on purpose...‘ It got worse as he went on--and turned into a longer variation of the same speech he had given CAG in the wardroom.  By the end of about 15 minutes, the Admiral had worked himself back up into a full lather again.  

The Loop was off to the side of the Ready Room scanning the audience like a Nazi guard looking for signs of defiance among the prisoners.  Occasionally, he would nod his head for emphasis on key words that came out of the Admiral’s mouth:  ...unprofessional (head nod)...careless (head nod)...foolishness (double head nod)...bunch of undisciplined idiots (head nod and an small ‘Amen’).  We were just stone silent, and took it. 

At the end, the Admiral seemed to realize he had gotten caught up again in the emotion of the event, had forgotten and strayed from his purpose for coming, and was just basically railing at us.  He stopped almost mid sentence, and said awkwardly, ‘well, I didn’t mean to get worked up again about the whole thing...uh, that’s not why I came down...uh...I understand maybe you guys might have some questions for me.’

The Loop came to life.  ‘Yes Sir, they’ve been writing down their questions on a pad,’ as he rapidly scanned the back of the Ready Room, looking for the legal pad.  

Just then, on cue, as I was sitting in my Ready Room chair in the far right corner of the front row, that yellow pad came over my head from somewhere behind me, into my lap.  ‘Thunk.’  I grabbed with both hands and looked at it.  There was one question on it, one and only one, written in big letters at the top: “WHY DOES IT HURT WHEN I PEE?”

My eyes stared unblinking, my brain uncomprehending, my jaw dropped.  The Loop locked onto the pad in my lap, ‘Here is it,’ and sprinted over to grab it.  He put his hands on the pad and pulled it, but my hands would not let go.  He scowled at me and tugged, harder, and I tugged back, shaking my head, thinking, ‘no...no...You don’t want this pad...’.  Finally he wrenched it free, and saw the one question we had managed to write down: “WHY DOES IT HURT WHEN I PEE?”  He scowled at me, clearly holding me responsible for the writing.  ‘Admiral,’ he hissed as his glare stayed locked on me, ‘there are no questions worth asking from THIS bunch.’  Then he threw the pad back at me and turned abruptly, shouting ATTENTION ON DECK so loud it startled me.  We all stood, and the Loop and his Admiral walked out.

As the door closed, instantly the crowd of JOs exploded--‘What did you do?‘  ‘What did you write down?‘  I was still in shock, starting to say ‘I didn’t do anything, the pad just came over my head,’ and someone had grabbed the pad and read out loud, ‘WHY DOES IT HURT WHEN I PEE?‘ and the room erupted in laughter.  Pandmonium.  Even the Skipper and XO were laughing, hard.  People were slapping me on the back, crowding around the pad to see it, ‘That’s GREAT!‘ “Genius!‘  ‘Brilliant!‘  ‘That was AWESOME--did you see how pissed off the Loop got?‘  Try as I might to explain I wasn’t the author, no one bought it--‘Sure, it just ‘came over’ your head,’  ‘Yeah, RIGHT!‘   ‘Way to GO!’

And in that moment, the Ready Room made its collective mind up about me.  This plumber, who picked the worst seat in the front row, who struggled with everything,  became an instant cult hero for having the stones to defy the Admiral who hated all fighter guys and his pretentious nerdy Loop who frankly needed a good ass-kicking.  And just like that, my ‘unwritten probation’ was over.  Even as I struggled with mastering an aircraft maneuver or more advanced tactics in the future, I would be given the benefit of the doubt from that moment forward.  To this day, at the end of a brief whenever the briefer asks whether anyone has any question, about half the time the phrase, 'WHY DOES IT HURT WHEN I PEE?' pops into my head almost involuntarily, making me smile and remember.

Whitey and I at a Padres game in the 89-91 timeframe.

The funny thing was, no one else claimed responsibility for writing the question.  Credit for it stuck with me for the rest of my time in the squadron, no matter how much I protested my innocence.  Not until 17 years later at a Black Knight reunion held during Tomcat Sunset, marking the retirement of the F-14 from service, did the real author come forward.  Why my good friend and old roommate elected to remain silent is still beyond me--maybe he thought I needed the boost, maybe he’s just the kind of guy that does good deeds anonymously and enjoys it.  But whatever the reason, his generosity keyed an event which marked the turning point in that first tour for me.  Whitey, I thank you, my friend, for getting me off probation and being accepted.

Whitey and his lovely bride visited in 2005, about a year before he let the cat out of the bag that he had authored the famous question.  We remain good friends today.

And it would not be the last time that I would realize that in this business, it was better to be lucky than good, if you can’t be both. 

END

FRONT ROW Part 3

☆So it was when two Black Knight F-14s, crewed by four JOs, went to execute this photo mission, using over-water navigation points on their high-altitude profile, in a lead-trail formation.  I wasn’t there, but it appears they drifted closer to that international border than planned...and, perhaps, maybe just a wee bit inside (only from the photos could the true story be gleaned--and I never personally saw them).  Regardless of which side of the border the Tomcats were on, none of this activity had been coordinated with the locals.  This was probably not good, as the Pakistanis had fought a couple of wars with India over the past couple of decades, and the Pakistani Air Force had shot down several Afghan aircraft straying into Pakistani airspace as late as November 1988.  Pakistan was clearly vigilant in guarding its airspace, and nervous about intruders.  So the Pakistanis sent up a couple of US-made F-16 fighters to investigate these unknown, high altitude air contacts, off of any known air route, approaching (or in) their airspace.  

Pakistani export versions of the F-16A/B Falcon.

As the F-16s came within visual range, the trail F-14 got tally and called a pair of unknowns at his right four o’clock, swinging the wingline.  A fighter aircraft positioned in your rear quarter has an offensive advantage; from early tactics fighter pilots are taught to deny this advantage to any opponent.  Our intrepid Black Knight called his tally to the lead, and instinctively turned into the F-16s.  An F-14A at high altitude is not a nimble fighter--and at max endurance airspeed with a heavy photo recon pod, it wallows like a pig.  But the sight of an F-14 planform turning back into them must have surprised the Pakistani pilots.  The lead F-14 heard the call from the wing, and immediately turned back into the trail, and picked up the tally-two.  

The Pakistanis must have not expected this either, and perhaps didn’t realize there were two fighters initially.  As they passed the first F-14, now continuing his piggish turn in a 360º to get into an offensive position from their perspective, the F-16s realized they had another fighter in front of them, bearing down.  The F-16s would be ‘sandwiched’ between the two unknown, possibly hostile fighters, presenting their tailpipes to one of them.  They may have even identified the aircraft as F-14s; but they weren’t necessarily American, as the Iranians also flew F-14s, and relations between those two countries were not the best.  Iranians were thought to be crazy, unstable--there was no telling what they might do at that time.

Being the meat in the sandwich made the Pakistanis nervous.  The F-16s jettisoned their drop tanks, which fighters will do in a dogfight to reduce drag and improve maneuverability when they feel threatened.  Jet aircraft drop tanks aren’t trivial pieces of equipment; a set may cost several hundreds of thousands of dollars depending on the aircraft type.  But clearly the Pakistanis felt threatened by this set of maneuvering fighters, and felt compelled to make themselves more competitive.  The F-16s made the second merge happen with the lead fighter, then decided they’d seen enough; they turned tail and hauled ass back toward land as fast they could, toward Pakistan.

F-15 jettisons a drop tank during test.

The F-14s returned to CONSTELLATION; the scene after they recovered was ridiculously similar to the scene from TOPGUN, with the crews high-fiving each other on the  flight deck as if they had just shot down invading enemy MiGs.  From their perspective they had been intercepted, but had quickly turned the tables, forcing the F-16s to flee.  The exuberance was that of young fighter pilots and RIOs, and was completely forgivable.  The fact that what had happened could be described as ‘an international incident’ was not in their minds, at least not yet.  

But it was instantly in Admiral Carlson’s mind.  I cannot say with certainty how long it took for word to arrive from higher headquarters to the ship that the Pakistanis were angry about a US violation of their sovereign airspace by two fighters off the CONSTELLATION.  But it came fast, and got there about the same time the crews were debriefing after the long return leg home.  When the Admiral heard (likely a one way conversation with higher authority), he was livid, and his anti-fighter bias helped him immediately jump to the conclusion that the Black Knight crews had intentionally provoked the incident.  He stormed off to find CAG; CAG was not in his office, he was in the forward wardroom at the evening meal, with dozens of other aircrew and officers from the airwing and ship.  There’s an old adage that says, ‘praise in public, punish in private,’ but the Admiral could not contain himself.  He shouted at CAG in that public forum, causing a highly embarrassing scene, and accusing the fighters of being undisciplined, uncontrollable rogue pilots who were deliberately trying to provoke an incident so they could generate a MiG kill, like off of Libya.  The Admiral told him to get the crews and get his and their asses to his office in five minutes, then turned and stormed out of the now-completely silent and paralyzed wardroom.  Not everyday you get to see an Admiral chewing CAG’s ass in public.

CAG was completely shocked.  He had not heard anything yet about the flight, had no idea what the Admiral was talking about.  But he hurried down to the debrief rooms to talk to the crews.  There he got the story, and quickly pieced together what had happened, and most importantly, that whatever happened was not an intentional provocation--heck, we were pulling into port there in a few days.  Angrily he stormed back to confront the Admiral with the story; what ensued was a tense shouting match in which the Admiral accused CAG of lying to protect the aircrew, and the CAG telling the Admiral if that’s what he truly thought, then he needed to find another CAG.

The news of what had happened in the air was quickly overcome by the fireworks of what was happening on the ship--pickled F-16 drop tanks were now secondary.  The aviators in the airwing quickly rallied around CAG--any leader who was willing to risk his career to tell the truth about what had happened and not be intimidated by his boss’s  unreasonable rage, had guts and nerve.  His actions in the aftermath earned CAG near universal loyalty of his airwing. 

CVW-14 Insignia, our CAG during the 88-89 deployment.

In the hours that followed, the Admiral cooled down, and his staff had time to fill him on what had actually happened in the air.  The crews simply maneuvered, legally, in international airspace (that’s our story and we’re sticking to it), and if the Pakistanis misinterpreted their intent, got spooked and pickled their drops, that was their problem (I heard later an unconfirmed story that the US government paid for the cost of the tanks in a gesture of good faith, though).  There would be no repercussions to anyone involved.  There was some sort of fence-mending meeting between the Admiral and CAG later that night.  

But it wasn’t over.  Throughout the airwing and ship, the damage to the Admiral’s reputation was done--CAG was the hero for standing up for his crews, and all the barely-concealed dislike for the Admiral turned into openly expressed hostility, as the word of his accusatory rant in the wardroom spread throughout the ship.  That our Battle Group leader would express such a notion of disdain and think his aviators were so undisciplined and unprofessional--yelling so much at CAG in the wardroom--meant he didn’t understand us or respect us.  His stock dropped universally overnight throughout the airwing.  It was bad.

It didn’t take long for the Admiral’s staff to understand they had a real public relations nightmare on their hands.  As we approached the Karachi inport, the plan was hatched by the staff for the Admiral to go to each Ready Room and explain that his words were taken out of context; that he didn’t really think all the things he had said.  It was sold as an opportunity for the Admiral to repair the long-standing rift with the aviators in the airwing; that he would invite open dialogue, and entertain questions from each Ready Room, as he visited each one.  Well, this was a change--it seemed hopeful.  The Admiral would start this campaign in the Black Knight Ready Room....

Karachi Sheraton, location of the Black Knight Admin in-port. 

FRONT ROW Part 2

There was a reason for that timing...

☆AS I WENT through the F-14A Fleet Replacement Squadron, it was clear I was not a natural.  I had some issues working against me, as my early path in the Navy was not the smoothest: a failed marriage in Training Command and protracted divorce, sometimes acrimonious and bitter; a catastrophic aircraft mishap and ejection out of a TA-4J Skyhawk; the death of a close friend from AOCS, the trauma of being the one to wake the widow in the middle of the night to tell her she was now a widow.  All before age 26.  That which does not kill us, makes us stronger, eventually.  But there were times when I felt like I was hanging on by the slimmest of margins, and it’s safe to say, at times I was distracted from learning my craft.  

Despite the added distractions of San Diego in the 80’s, I somehow graduated the syllabus, though toward the bottom of my class, and toward the bottom of the last 100 students who had finished the F-14A syllabus.  I was selectively sent to a squadron that would not face a deployment for the better part of a year, to allow me time to get up to speed.  The squadron leadership knew this when they received my name, and I was paired with strong flightleads and no-nonsense RIOs who had previous instructor or test flying experience--to keep a watchful eye on me.  And it was necessary.  By the time the deployment loomed, I was making progress, but others who had checked in after me, were ‘getting it’ faster than I was. It’s safe to say the Ready Room was unsure of how I would be on cruise.

Black Knight Cruise photo from the 88-89 deployment.

When I first checked into the Black Knights in March 1988, I was one of the most junior officers. I got stuck with a chair in a heavy traffic area in the back of the Ready Room with a bad view of the movie screen.  By the time deployment rolled around in December of that year, several of the more senior JOs had rotated out of the command, and others more junior to me had check onboard; I had bubbled into the lower-middle class section in Ready Room hierarchy.  When my turn came to pick my chair for the entire deployment, miraculously, there was one chair left in the front row--it was all the way in the extreme right corner next to the wall, but much better than the one I had, or so I thought.  It wasn’t perfect; to see the movie screen for a roll’em or the front whiteboard for a brief, you had to hold your head past a 45 º angle; after a few minutes, my neck was tired and it became apparent that this front row seat wasn’t such a good deal after all.  But it would be my home in the Ready Room for the next 6 months, and I made the best of it.

We made the best of being deployed and underway during Christmas 1988--hats and 'modified' carols  sung in each Ready Room.  You make the best out of bad situations and make your own fun, or you're miserable.  We chose to make our fun. 

The Black Knights deployed on USS CONSTELLATION in early December 1988.  Christmas was spent underway; New Years’ was in the Philippines (no fireworks law enforcement there, like a war zone).  On 04 January 89, the ship was still in port Cubi Point, when news from the other side of the world broke that two F-14s from the VF-32 Swordsmen had shot down two Libyan MiG-23 Floggers in the Gulf of Sidra.  This was big news.  Aircrew throughout the Air Wing were understandably excited; the ship was abuzz with what might happen next in the Mediterranean, and whether we might find ourselves part of it.  As we left Cubi Point PI headed for the Indian Ocean through the South China Sea, our course was supposed to take us near the coast of Vietnam.

Port call on the island of Diego Garcia in the Indian Ocean, 1989.

CONSTELLATION’s Battlegroup Commander was an Admiral named Carlson.  He was not well-liked or highly regarded among the Air Wing JOs.  He was comically short, a sourpuss on the edge of being ill-tempered, allegedly hard on his staff and those who worked for him, and it appeared that he took himself way too seriously.   He was an aviator, having ‘grown up’ as an electronic attack Naval Flight Officer (NFO), but he seemed to distance himself from all the good things about aviation.  He didn’t like to fly, for one; he didn’t even seem to want to talk about aviation, or to other aviators.  He barely concealed his disdain for fighter pilots; he believed we were a bunch of undisciplined cowboys with little regard for authority (only partially true).  The prevalent theory was that he must’ve been picked on by fighter guys when he was a JO, who beat him up and took his lunch money (in all fairness, we can be a fairly ruthless and asinine bunch).  These traits combined to make him an easy target for jokes and cartoons throughout the Air Wing and ship, for which he had little sense of humor.   

F-14 cockpit silhouette; with the seat all the way down and a short RIO, the backseater's head would barely show over the side of the aircraft.

The one time Admiral Carlson flew as a guest RIO with the Black Knights, he had a joke played on him.  His seat was preflighted by a JO, who ran it all the way to the lowest position in the cockpit, then pulled the circuit breaker which controlled power to the seat, so that the Admiral was unable to adjust the seat height once he was strapped in.  He struggled with it until completely exasperated, and just flew that way, unable to see forward over the instrument panel, barely able to see over the sides of the cockpit to the outside.  The next day a cartoon appeared in the ship’s airplan which showed the top of his head barely above the canopy rails, like a little kid in the backseat of the car.  He was furious, as the butt of a joke, ridiculed and mocked by fighter guys...again.  The joke seemed like a good idea at the time to us, but it didn’t make the life of the Air Wing Commander (CAG Bud Orr) any easier.

In the late 80’s, the Soviet Union had an arrangement with the Vietnamese government to use the former US airbase at Cam Ranh Bay to forward deploy its MiG-23 Floggers.  Soviet Floggers occasionally came out toward US carriers to test US response; it was a little game of chess, requiring discipline, restraint and professionalism to intercept and escort a sometimes uncooperative adversary.  

Soviet MiG-23 Flogger.

But in the light of the Libyan shootdown, the Air Wing’s excitement in the aftermath, and Libyan claims that the aircraft shot down were on a reconnaissance mission without intent to provoke, Admiral Carlson became concerned that fighter pilot bravado in CONSTELLATION’s Air Wing might cause an international incident with the Soviet Floggers out of Cam Ranh Bay.  The story was he was concerned we’d go pick a fight, ‘fishing’ for a MiG kill.  CONSTELLATION adjusted her course to stay well clear of any possibility of encounter with the Soviets.

Commercial routes throughout Indonesia and the South China Sea.

This widened the rift between the Admiral and the Air Wing on the ship--more cartoons and jokes about the Admiral being scared of the Soviets, and some justifiable indignation that he was making decisions assuming the worst about the discipline of his fighter crews.  We sailed east of the Spratly Islands in the South China Sea, closer to Borneo than Indochina, and passed through the Straits of Malacca into the Indian Ocean.  After some operations around the Maldives, we would eventually head north for a portcall in Karachi, Pakistan--the first US carrier there for a number of years.  

Sir Salman Rushdie's controversial work, which was the catalyst for unrest and riots throughout the Muslim world in the late 80's.

The timing of this scheduled visit was interesting; it coincided with the controversy in the Muslim world surrounding the publication of Sir Salman Rushdie’s work, ‘Satanic Verses.’  Reports of unrest, riots and violence directed at UK and US consulates in Pakistan led to the prevailing notion that the Karachi port visit would be cancelled.  When it became clear that the port visit would occur as scheduled, the ship’s navigator found he didn’t have any recent photos of the anchorage;  it was decided that a pair of F14A’s, each loaded with a standoff photo reconnaissance pod, would launch on a long range, max-endurance mission to get imagery, staying just outside of Pakistan’s internationally-recognized 12-mile sovereign airspace/waterspace boundary.  It’s my guess that this mission wasn’t requested by higher headquarters, or approved by it; we were simply going to make it happen.

Tactical Air Reconnaissance Pod System (TARPS),  a 1700-pound pod that carried several cameras and film, and other sensors to capture imagery on the ground.

The F-14A had this long-range photo capability, it was true; but what it lacked in those days was an accurate inertial navigation system (INS), and there was no GPS.  The F-14 was designed as an open-ocean fighter against large numbers of Soviet Bear and Badger long-range bombers.  It was not originally designed to deliver precision weapons (that came later, in the mid- and late-90’s), so there had been no need to give it a state-of-the art navigation system.  The INS was notorious for drifting off-position after only a short time; it would still provide a good attitude reference platform for instrument flying, but it would routinely be several miles off of the actual position over the ground....

FRONT ROW Part 1

THERE are two types of hierarchies in a Navy Fighter squadron.  One is based on seniority (how long you’ve been there), important for watchstanding, the types of ‘ground jobs’ one is eligible for, and ‘pecking order’ for Ready Room seating.  The other is based on merit, existing in the eyes of your peers, the other junior officers (JOs for short--Lieutenants and below): it’s the earned reputation and acquired status from the sum of your actions.  It’s how well you fly around the ship, how aggressively you fight the airplane, your handling of pressure, your liberty exploits, your leadership to your Sailors, and your general contribution to esprit de corps of the Ready Room.   

When you’re a new guy in your first fleet squadron, you arrive under an unwritten probation.  Those aviators already established in the Ready Room try and figure out whether you have the mettle to be a reliable wingman, the piloting skills to bring the aircraft back safely in any conditions, the cool head and imagination it takes to be a liberty buddy who will be both trustworthy and worthy of their company.  Aviation is a harsh business that demands a high level of performance; those who can’t adjust to this crucible of pressure and scrutiny, will be culled from the herd sooner or later. 

This probation lasts until the collective decides you have the skills to survive and that you’re ‘ok.’  For some, the ‘natural’ pilots with God-given abilities who were born to fly Navy fighters off carriers, the period is short, a couple of months, many even weeks.  For those that struggle with anything--mastering the aircraft systems, in-flight refueling, boarding rate, landing grades (and every landing is graded throughout your career, no matter how senior you are), adjusting to the Ready Room--that period is much longer, perhaps a year or longer, until they earn acceptance.  Those who have to work hard at almost everything for a long time are not-so-endearingly referred to as ‘plumbers.‘  I was a plumber.

New pilots to their first fleet squadron were either 'rock stars' or 'plumbers.'  I was a plumber.

But this is a story of good fortune, of how my relatively low place in the seniority pecking order resulted in one catalyzing event, because I literally happened to be sitting in the right place at the right time--boosting my status in the eyes of my peers to Ready Room hero, and resulting in my acceptance.  A plumber understands that it is better to be lucky than good, if you can’t be both.

Ready Room photo from the early days--unknown squadron.  They haven't changed much over the years. 

For the unfamiliar, a Navy Ready Room is the gathering place onboard an aircraft carrier for all the aircrew from one squadron.  It’s the both soul and nerve center of a squadron at sea.  It’s where the business of Naval Aviation is conducted: flight planning, briefs and post-flight analysis; aircrew training and LSO debriefs; and All-Officer-Meetings (AOMs) for the Commanding Officer (CO) to communicate to his/her officers.  On the walls are charts and corkboards covered with diagrams, weather forecasts and divert information, required reading about the ‘emergency-of-the-day’ to be discussed in every brief, intel photos of threat nations’ aircraft and surface-to-air missile (SAM) launchers.  At the front of the room are chalkboards for briefing (later replaced by whiteboards and markers), and in the back greaseboards for tracking the flight schedule (later replaced by flat screen TV/video displays).  The Ready Room is a squadron’s identity and sovereign territory.  Aviators from other squadrons are welcome, provided they understand they are guests and act accordingly; disrespecting trespassers and invaders will be dealt with swiftly, and face the possibility of forcible ejection.  

On no-fly days, or after flight operations are complete, Ready Rooms become part clubhouse, part fraternity house.  They can be noisy with cards or backgammon, or movies (‘called ‘roll’ems)’; or they can be quiet, a good place to catch up on paperwork, study aircraft system manuals (NATOPs), pore over Tactics Manuals (TACMANs), or write a letter home (later replaced by e-mail).  On a no-fly day you’ll eventually congregate to the Ready Room sooner or later just to ‘see what’s going on.’  A good squadron with good morale will cultivate a positive atmosphere that attracts folks to the Ready Room on no-fly days, making folks want to be there--a bad squadron with poor morale will always be almost-empty, unless mandatory JO presence is required.  

The iconic Ready Room chair, your office, home, and personal space on deployment  

An iconic part of each Ready Room are the sturdy metal ready room chairs, designed in the 1930-40‘s.  The are heavy, created to stay still during heavy seas; they recline slightly, and each has a sliding drawer underneath the seat, and pivoting tabletop swiveling from the armrest.  They are comfortably padded in brown leather (some commands get them re-covered in squadron colors).   Each officer has his/her own Ready Room chair.  It is your personal office, your private space, and the neighbors around set the tone for you deployment.  Choice of chairs is made at the beginning of each deployment by seniority; CO and XO always sit in the front, usually flanked and followed by the squadron Department Heads, then the JOs, from most senior to least.  The most junior JOs get the least desirable chairs. 

VF-154 BLACK KNIGHT emblem.

My first fleet squadron was the ‘Black Knights‘ of VF-154.  The Black Knight Ready Room on USS CONSTELLATION in the 80‘s was Ready Room 8, nestled in a large space between the arresting gear engine rooms for the 1- and 2-wire (very loud, distinctive metal/hydraulic screeching noises when an aircraft caught the 1-wire).   The space was a little ‘wider’ than it was ‘long;’ it had a few less ‘rows’ of chairs and more chairs in each row than many Ready Rooms on the ship.  

Ready Room 8 on CONSTELLATION, late 1989 while operating in the North Pacific.  Aircrew are donning heavy anti-exposure suits, or 'drysuits,' designed to lengthen survival time in the event of ejection over the cold waters.

The Black Knights in those days were an assortment of odd characters (as most squadrons were, I suppose); a mix of hard-drinking womanizers with the abstemious, including a Mormon; former football-playing jocks alongside slide-ruler-toting geeks and nerds.  We were a collection of All-Americans, misfits and strange agents, sometimes goofballs, sometimes brilliant.  But there was an ethos of openness and accountability, cultivated through the Fighter community in that time.  You needed to be able to trust those you flew with in dangerous conditions and in combat; that trust was borne out of an absolute honesty with each other, to the point of brutality.  There wasn’t much room or tolerance for ‘spin‘ or sugar-coating--if your performance on a flight was bad, you needed to own up to all aspects of that, or your peers would hammer you to get the message across.  It wasn’t mean-spirited; this honestly was the necessary basis for trust in bad-weather/pitching-deck flight conditions, and would be necessary in combat.     

One of my role models during that 1989 deployment, at the Royal Perth Yacht Club during a formal Dining In.  You can dress us up, but you can't take us anywhere...

One more thing the Black Knight Ready Room consistently was in the late 80‘s--it was always entertaining.  The wit and humor of the Ready Room was incredible--thick skin was necessary for survival.

Skipper (left) and his pilot participating in one of the Black Knight traditions, the Arena--those who have brought discredit to the Black Knights during flight ops that day are subjected to 'stoning' by paper wads.  Some of these paper wads were reinforced or enhanced.  I was 'stoned' many times my first deployment for my various transgressions.  It was a great training tool...   

I got to the squadron in March 1988 at the beginning of the ‘work up cycle;’ I had the opportunity to go to sea several times for the various exercises a ship and Air Wing do together before deployment.  There was a reason for that timing....