All About Trey

The Phone Rings . . . .

“Come up and take the Deck.” The voice said. As I slowly woke up, I realized it was my department head’s voice. But I was still out of it. It had been a long day and I was just too tired to really think.

“What?” I replied. Looking at the clock in my darkened stateroom, it was about 2100. I had the mid-watch in Combat and didn’t have to get up until about 2300.

“Come up and take the Deck.” He said again. But it still didn’t register.

“Sir, I’m not on the bridge this watch rotation. I’m in Combat. I’ve got the mid-watch.” I replied. Still groggy and confused.

“Come up and take the deck, NOW, LT X.” He responded quite forcefully.

The only appropriate response?

“Aye, Aye, sir.”

I fell out of the top rack. Threw my uniform on. Splashed some water on my face. My stateroom was on the 01 level aft, so I went down to the main deck, forward, and then started climbing up to the Combat Information Center (CIC) or Combat for short. After standing watch on the bridge for what seemed like forever, I was excited about standing watch in Combat. Sure I had done enough time in Combat to get qualified enroute to my Surface Warfare Officer qualification. But as soon as I got my SWO pin, it was back to the bridge. But for this cruise we were going to be doing a lot of anti air warfare exercises with the USS Abraham Lincoln, so I was pretty psyched to be back in combat where the real action was going to be.

I made it up to Combat and stepped into the overly air-conditioned and dark space lit up only green fluorescent combat system displays and focused red lights over navigation charts. It was dark to my eyes, but not that bad.

“Watch Sup?” I called out.

“Watch Sup’s on the bridge” someone replied.

“Watch Officer?” I tried again.

“The Watch Officer’s on the bridge,” came the reply.

“TAO?” I asked. My department head was standing Tactical Action Officer duty, so he should be here in Combat.

“TAO’s on the bridge,” came the response.

“Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” I asked in sarcasm and frustration. One of the first class petty officers came over to brief me before I went up to the bridge.

My ship, the USS Reeves (CG-24), was stationed out of Hawaii. We were assigned to the Lincoln battlegroup, but the USS Abraham Lincoln was out of Everett Washington, while the rest of the battlegroup (except for us) was out of San Diego. So our battlegroup exercises were conducted in the SOCAL OPAREA (Southern California Operational Area). However, San Diego is also home to two aircraft carriers. And one of them, the USS Nimitz, was conducting operations in the same OPAREA.

Aircraft carriers follow the wind. It’s all about the wind across the deck to support flight operations, so whatever course the carrier needs to maintain flight ops, the carrier gets. And at some point during the day, the Lincoln and the Nimitz began to operate in relatively close proximity. As the sun set, the Reeves was assigned plane guard position behind the Lincoln. The plane guard position is 2000 yards behind the carrier at 170 degrees. The plane guard ship is there in case there are any problems with the planes landing. At 2000 yards astern, we would be in a good position to recover any pilots who might have to eject from a bad landing.

Apparently as the sun set, the Officer of the Deck got confused and took station behind the Nimitz, not the Lincoln. And then to make matters worse, the Nimitz sent a flashing light message (which is typically used for Commanding Officer to Commanding Officer type personal communication) which said, “Who are you and why are you following me?”

Needless to say, this sent my commanding officer (who we lovingly referred to as the Anti-Christ) into the overhead and apparently heads were rolling.

“Sir they are calling for you on the bridge.” One of the enlisted guys said to me. I wasn’t fully prepped, but I headed out to the bridge. I stepped through to the bridge and then stood against the bulkhead for a moment. The bridge was dark. Pitch dark. I needed a few minutes to get my night eyes.

“LT X come up here now.” Said my department head. Relying just on memory alone, I stumbled up to the center gryo where I thought I had heard my boss. I still couldn’t see anything.

“You are on course 237, we’re at 2000 yards and 170 from the Lincoln. Flight ops will end at approximately 2200.” He said to me in a quiet voice. I started to ask a question when he said loudly, “This is LCDR Y, LT X has the deck.”

I wasn’t ready yet. I had questions. I still couldn’t see things very well. I could barely make out my boss handing me the binoculars that symbolize assumption of the watch.

“This is LT X, I have the deck.” I said loudly to the rest of the bridge team. And then he was gone. I looked at the gryo. We were still at 237. I needed to look at the radar, but I didn’t want to stumble over to it in the dark. I’d get my night eyes in a minute.

Then suddenly I sensed something behind me, and then a soft whisper in my ear:

“Do you know where you are?” the Captain asked.

“Yes sir” I responded.

“Then don’t fuck up.” He said. And then he was gone.

“The Captain has left the bridge.” The bosun announced seconds later.

Gee, this is going to be fun I thought. I never did make it back to Combat. Not on that cruise, or ever.

posted by Trey @ 9:32 PM