Thunderstruck: Carrier Fiction (Part IV) Ripped from the Headlines

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Part IV of the Code Yellow Series

Officer and a Gentleman

How can a warrior stretch his wings, bearing talons in flight, still behaving as a true gentleman at rest? Often pondering such thoughts, I watched my commanding officer aboard the USS John C. Stennis and in the rear seat of his FA-18 Hornet as his WSO (weapons service officer). Over years, missions, flatland, or ocean waves, I shadowed this man, observing his every move; reactionary for sure, I am paid to do what he does, drop what he wants dropped and land when he hits the deck.

My perspective as a Lt. Jr. grade, my subservient rank, even my support role in the aircraft; all put me in the background to his shining light, however, I am also the closest witness to the good days and the bad. We fly together, walk & talk together, drink together, play H-O-R-S-E basketball on off-hours; but my guess is that he doesn’t know me like I know him. Busy as an executive officer, wing commander, head coach, team morale leader, even big brother, Lt. Harrington cannot carefully watch me as I do him.

Nevertheless on a night like tonight when we had important work to do with the Code Yellow mission, warrior instincts took control of the program; he was steely-eyed and laser-focused. But when not under the pressure of battle, there’s a different story to tell: Lieutenant Harrington’s strength centered on how he conducted his affairs on the ship, but more than just effective Navy leadership.

Whether under pressure or just hanging around the flight room, he seemed always to be slightly lazy, calm, or “laid-back” as we often called the tall Texan. Even when Lt. Harrington was angry, one often received a bright smile with a twinkle in his eyes that belayed his frustration, only occasionally accompanied a tilt of the head. The combination of tilt, smile, wink, and calm only added a suggestion of “really?!”

He let you think about the situation long enough socratically, silently encouraging you to answer the malformed query yourself. It was the simple, hackneyed method of applying grace, patience, and virtue to a particular situation which worked so well for Lt. Harrington; it was not exaggerating to call him the “moral compass” of the ship’s pilot wing. He carried himself like John Elway, spoke like Matthew McConaughey, and worked like Nolan Ryan.

Often admonishing biblically that we must be content in times of plenty and want, Harrington led the air group by daily modeling this mindset, an enormous source of strength for the other pilots. He'd tell us about the apostle Paul writing Philippians from prison, yet able to reach into the inner resource of character, despite extreme pressure. Stress permeated this profession, the weather and mechanics of our equipment, ship and aircraft, failed us too frequently; further, the 6,500 crew members of the USS John C. Stennis were as mercurial as a tempest, adding the human element to the list of dangers bearing down upon us. As a result of one stable example, other leaders in the squadron emulated their lieutenant although almost sub-consciously, maybe because their egos were as big as any; nevertheless, since the lieutenant was consistent, fair, light-hearted, driven, friendly, ferocious, passionate, and dogged about excellence in aviation, they wanted to be that way too. Imitation is the most sincere form of flattery, especially in leadership.

The pilots' CEO, effectively, Lt. Harrington embraced the needs of others before his own, infusing grace and hope into the many opportunities he had to coach, cajole, encourage, and mentor younger pilots. It was not unusual to see him sitting next to a recent addition, talking and drinking coffee in the officer’s mess; they looked as if their relationship went back years, even to grade school. Lieutenant was as friendly, engaging, and cooperative with the newest member of our team as he was with me, his “back-seater,” the WSO partnered with him for almost four years.

It wasn't sentimental to use the word “generous” to describe our leader. That generosity was contagious. It is rare today in executive business leadership, where “exit strategies” and golden parachutes dominate attention in the higher ranks, to encounter a mentor and a true servant/leader like Lt. Harrington; one always thinking of his corpsmen, ready to sacrifice when necessary; even to his own detriment.

The Force

Eight squadrons of airplanes launched off of the carrier USS John C. Stennis, aka “Johnny Reb” in the US Navy, because of its roots in Mississippi; one of the oldest and most distinguished aircraft carriers in the fleet. Almost 90 planes rose out of their big grey mother, up above the Persian Gulf because of the “all-in” exercise called by the commander. They were all up in the air together, but almost 6,300 seamen were working simultaneously to get them all back safely.

Code Yellow instructions came from the DOD in Washington DC. They were as hot as anything you can hold in your hands: make noise, use technology (like satellite images which can see through the night), and apply all the force that FA-18 Super Hornets can strategically apply to the situation. Tonight, it meant circling down from a high orbit around the Persian Gulf, locking in on two sites which might contain a full-fledged nuclear weapons program of The Islamic Republic of Iran. If the fighters from the Stennis happen to encounter the Iranian Air Force (IRIAF), concurrent instructions are to meet any force with equal firepower. That small folder Lt. Harrington paraded to his team earlier in the evening carried with it the assembled might of one of the most powerful war-making machines ever invented: a United States aircraft carrier. Thunder reigned from above.

Hornet Harrassment

The first images sent onshore to analysts confirmed activity much more than mining operations. Several trips over the site produced hi-res photographic evidence of a nuclear factory in the Fordo mountain range near the city of Qom. Iranian diplomatic engagement, previously futile, might ignite again after realizing the serious nature of US Navy capabilities in the Persian Gulf, and the President’s willingness to flex his Navy muscles.

This evening, American air power would be used for diplomatic bullying and geopolitical hand-holding with Israel. Risking a global misunderstanding of timing, in light of the Syrian crisis flaring in the Middle East; nevertheless, firing a few warning shots could save a full-scale air war instigated by our Jewish allies. Iran’s uranium enrichment capability would have to be extinguished someday, just not tonight.

Harrington’s squadron would take their surveillance very seriously until they selected a few strategic targets to eliminate. The Hornet’s diverse array of weapons was staggering; WSOs would meticulously apply just the right firepower to match ancillary targets such as a road, a bridge, tracks, trucks, or antennae. The objective was to slow down any function supporting the Fordo site; and get all aircraft safely back to the ship.

Part 4 in a series of fiction ripped from the headlines:

©Mark H. Pillsbury

Code Yellow

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Code: Yellow

The evening hours passed quietly aboard the USS John C. Stennis, sort of like a middle-school slumber party, but not really. Instead of nail-polish and text-messages, men wrote hand-written letters on thick-cotton stationery and studied the Naval intelligence maps of Iranian air bases and nuclear facilities. The young pilots were part of a powerful, strike-force flotilla cruising the claustrophobic waters of the Strait of Hormuz, on the southern coast of Iran, the world’s busiest oil-shipping lane. The boys of the Persian Gulf: fighter jocks taking it easy in a rec room on a lazy Friday night in April.

Squadron commander, Lieutenant Harrington was almost oversized for the cockpit. The big Texan carried himself casually, even sauntering when there was room above deck. His sad eyes and perfectly cropped Naval hair gleamed against the perpetually tan face and neck of a professional pilot. His correspondence home always on bone-colored, embossed Crane stationery, a habit leftover from his traditional southern mother in Dallas. The lieutenant’s natural leadership centered upon a social intelligence based on close relationships not only with his WSOs but all the flying teams in his unit. He treated every pilot like his brother; frequently he could be found holed-up next to a colleague discussing business in the close quarters of a aircraft carrier, but with the tenderness and quiet of a counselor. Knowing every teammate intimately, including talents and weaknesses in flying ability and personality allowed him the kind of access and respect few commanders garnered in today’s Navy.

I am merely a NFO, Lt. Junior Grade. The NFO is the back-seat partner to the pilot, formerly known as the Naval Flight Officer. The modern Navy NFO position has naturally become more complicated. Back seat of a fully equipped and upgraded F-18 Super Hornet, the NFO is now called the WSO (“weapons system operator”) because of the stunning array of assault options it carries. More than a navigator, I am the lieutenant’s little brother who brings all the booze to the party. He gets me to the target and I equip him with more firepower than the most of the small armies of the world combined. As we internalize through years of training, nothing I do is unimportant or routine. Without a talented WSO, the pilot is a gifted aviator flying on gilded wings, but with no talons. Weapons after all, are what we do. The Hornet has half a dozen Raytheon® missile systems which allow precision strike capability in enough configurations to make your mind numb. Each plane is an air-to-ground and air-to-air aggressor; like a flying army of guns and bombs.

A calm Friday evening of “watch-duty” with quiet activity, soft music, and standard recreation in the briefing room, turned in just ten minutes into a beehive of preparation, determination, and steely readiness for battle? The simple phrases of a love-letter and a song transform into the rote instructions of a wing commander quickly organizing his squadron for deadly serious work.

The squadron commander made an unusual decision during what were called publicly “training exercises,” a move they called, “All-in.” Every fighter jet on the carrier would be up and active tonight, prowling the skies. At least once during a long cruise, protocol required that this exercise take place because someday during a real shootout, the battle group might just have to use all assets to win. This was the most dangerous night of their deployment, but it was also the most realistic.

All assets on the ship were scrambled; every crew activated and every pilot manned a stick. The launch process was grueling and dangerous in any scenario, but a night launch was always a little more stressful. Tonight’s “All-in” gambit assured the ship that until all the planes were safely back on deck, every crew member would sweat out the once placid evening. The lieutenant was no Jimmy Doolittle, but this was a major-league decision given the circumstances in the Persian Gulf, even the fuel tankers would circle the landing pattern until all fighter jets returned. Tankers too would have to “call the ball” of the landing system used on the USS John C. Stennis.

The squadron’s enemies were not so much Iran’s aging fleet of F-14 Tomcats based out of Isfahan, but the lack of fuel and light which hampered the performance of these aviators more than the paltry resistance of the Iranian military. Most naval aviators learned the carrier game on high-end Tomcats, or their instructors taught them about Tomcats early in their career. Not like the movie Top Gun anymore; an improved Super-Hornet skins a Tomcat every time, but a cloudy approach was the wickedest fight of all.

With a diplomatic meeting during the coming weekend in Istanbul, the United States and Iran are supposedly going to peacefully negotiate over Iran’s fledgling nuclear program; however, at the same time U.S. Naval presence in the Gulf reinforces the physical strength our diplomats wish to portray while they talk. Unfortunately, such “ancillary” transactional communications usually don’t create much traction, because they are impersonal and shallow; they may not drive someone away, but they don’t draw the other party closer either.

Military personnel worry about Iran’s capability to wage “asymmetrical warfare” by mining the narrow passageway called the Strait of Hormuz or by swarming U.S. vessels with small boats armed with a single missile. This type of guerrilla fighting accentuates the standard threats of Iran’s three Kilo-class submarines, or the mini-subs they bought from North Korea. Iran can launch short-range and long-range missiles, both from the ground, and from an aging fleet of aircraft. The only thing certain in the Persian Gulf is that the Iranian military threat is unusual and unpredictable.

“Saddle-up, Mark,” the commander squawked as he grabbed his parachute pack and Velcroed® his flight log book to his thigh. Tonight, I was Lt. Harrington’s WSO, which meant I was the lucky sap who would play night watchman for the entire staff during this squirmy “All-in” game that the Lt. had just called out.

“Everyone up tonight, boys,” he said gleefully as he strode up to the front of the briefing room, the back entrance of the conference area already crowded with the entire squadron. “C’mon, let’s get quiet,” he added, “I want the last plane up by twenty-two hundred, so listen up, I only have five minutes to talk to you guys.” 

Lt. Harrington smiled out with wattage that outstripped the dull fluorescent bulbs in the meeting room, beaming with the dangerous look of "we are all in on this one together!"

“I realize this is just an exercise, you guys know that we have to do one ‘all-in’ per cruise; but tonight a little birdie told me that the big bad Eye-Rainian air-force may be up there ‘practicing’ as well.”

You guys ready fo dat? He held in his hand a small, letter-sized Manila file folder with a bright yellow tab clearly visible even from the back of the room. They all knew what Code Yellow meant.

Fiction ©Mark H. Pillsbury