In the summer of 1966 I was a Midshipman on his 1^st Class Summer Training Cruise on the USS Coral Sea CVA 43. This ship was built in 1944 with all the armor that a battleship had. During 1^st Class Cruise a Middy is treated as a junior officer. He is given minor responsibilities and spends most of his time being exposed to the great variety of jobs that exist on a city at sea.

I was assigned as an assistant to one of the engineering department division officers and had a General Quarters station deep in the bowls of the ship beneath the 6-8 inch thick armored deck. The worst thing was trying to get to the correct watertight section of the ship and through the hydraulically operated hatches before they closed.

I spent most of the cruise just finding my way around that wonderful hunk of steel. Up under the front of the flight deck is the anchor windlass room with the huge mechanisms for dropping and retrieving those huge anchors. At the stern is a small open deck where no one is permitted during landing operations. At other times a lookout is stationed there and a few people can watch the wake of the ship. That is a cherished pastime. In between is everything you can think of in a self-sufficient town of 5,000 people. Water plant that changes salt water into potable water. A jail and police force. An electric power plant (actually several). A small hospital, barber shops, stores of various types, a church which is shared by all faiths. Add to that a 2 acre aircraft hanger, a 3+ acre airport, elevators that can move a couple of planes at a time, and 12 boilers to provide the steam to make it all work.

I spent the longest time trying to find the bowling alley that people kept referring to. Bowling just didn’t make sense, even on the biggest of ships. I turned out that one of the Junior Officer’s dining area’s ( or in Navy parlance – Ward rooms) was very narrow and ran from nearly one side of the ship to the other was called the bowling alley because of it’s shape.

One of the perks of being a Midshipman was that we didn’t have any true responsibilities. We were just made to feel we were. When an opportunity came up to see or do something unusual we could generally go do it. The opportunity to watch the machinery that pulls oxygen out of the air and liquefies it for use in the planes, a major rearming of a deck full of aircraft or even the spotters shack ( where every movement of every aircraft is choreographed) . Underway replenishment, or the operation of the arresting gear or catapults.

Finally, the chance of a life time, a flight on a bombing training flight in a, at that time, top of the line fighter. The F-4 Phantom.

I had been checked out on the ejection seat trainer on a previous cruise. Each time a carrier goes to sea it goes with a different mix of aircraft to fulfill the mission of the particular deployment. Each aircraft belongs to a squadron of, depending on the type of aircraft, four to eight planes. Each squadron has it’s own Ready Room. The Ready Room is a place where the pilots can relax as a unit, meet for briefings, and just relax between missions.

I found the proper Ready Room where I met the pilot (LT Mike Thomas) of the aircraft I would fly in and the RIO (Radar Intercept Officer) (LT Jim Farell) who would normally have flown in the back seat. This particular training mission would be a bombing run instead of a normal fighter run so in real terms the RIO would be superfluous. It would primarily be a test of the pilot’s skills. I was fitted for an anti-g suit ( a tight fitting lower body covering full of air-bladders that are inflated by the plane’s system as the gravity forces increase, to keep blood from pooling in your lower body), a helmet and oxygen mask and coveralls with the squadron markings. Finally the fire resistant gloves that give me the complete head to foot covering.

In the normal role an F4 is a fighter, designed to fend off enemy aircraft, in which case the RIO’s interpretation of the radar data would be vital. The F4, however was designed to be capable of several roles, bombing being it’s secondary roll.

First the pilot and I were briefed by the Squadron Commander on they day’s mission: a 1400 (2 p.m.) launch off the carrier, proceed to the bombing range on the coast of California., drop four 50 lb practice rounds at target J3 and return to the carrier before dark.

Next the pilot briefed me on what my responsibilities would be during the flight and emergency procedures. The first warning was to brace myself when we were positioned on the catapult because as soon as he saluted the catapult officer we would be off. Then I was warned that we would sink a bit after we left the deck before starting the climb out. That in case of an emergency he would tell me Eject, Eject, Eject – and if I took the time to ask what, I would be talking to myself. That was a bit of humor because the normal procedure is for the back seat to eject first and the front seat (the pilot) to eject second so the rocket from the front seat doesn’t burn the man in back. If the second seat doesn’t initiate ejection in time the front seat initiation will cause the rear seat to go a fraction of a second before the front seat. Incidentally, most Navy ejection seats exit through the canopy. The seat has what are called breakers which are above the height of your helmet and break through the canopy microseconds before your helmet reaches it. You never notice.

After launch, I would have nothing to do but enjoy the flight until we began the bombing runs. Then it would be my job to see if I could tell how close to the target the bomblets landed. Then when we returned to the ship I was to keep an eye on the airspeed and angle of attack.

Next it was a check with the weather office to see what the flight conditions were between where the ship was and the target, what the forecast was for the return, and what the winds were at various altitudes and what altitude was susceptible to producing contrails ( condensation trails are produced when the heat of the engine causes the humidity in the air to become visible) An altitude to be avoided on a wartime mission.

Then it was a stop at the mechanics station for aircraft assignment and briefing on any mechanical problems that had been reported on the particular aircraft and where it was spotted on the deck.

Next it was out to the catwalk on the port side of the ship which runs the length of the flight deck on each side. I follow my pilot towards the stern of the ship until we come to the ladder (navy for stairway) up to the flight deck where we will find our aircraft and plane captain.

The plane captain is the enlisted man who is specifically charged with taking care of a particular plane. Although he does not do all of the maintenance on the plane, he knows a particular plane and all it’s quirks and what has and has not been done to make it airworthy. He also insures that the pilot and RIO are properly strapped into the aircraft, that all the safety locks are removed and that the plane starts and it’s moveable surfaces all work properly. When everything is ready he will make sure the chocks (blocks of wood that keep the plane from rolling even if the brakes are off) are removed.

He greets us and follows us around the aircraft as the pilot makes a visual inspection of the entire plane from nose, to nose wheel and strut, all the latches on the side of the nose’s equipment bays, one wing’s leading edge, checks it’s moving surfaces, the blue dummy bombs under that wing and the mounts for them, makes sure they are firmly attached. The landing gear on that wing, including the hydraulic lines. Then the back of the wing, the condition of those moving surfaces. The latches along the side of the aircraft, then to the exhaust system for the twin engines, then the same procedure up the other side of the plane in reverse sequence. When he has satisfied himself that everything looks good he signals the plane captain and me that he is ready to climb in.

A single step has been lowered from the side of the plane leading up to the rear cockpit. I place a foot on this step and reach as far as I can and sure enough my hand finds a little door that opens to allows my gloved hand a place to grab. I pull myself up, and sure enough there is a hand grab just where it needs to be, and an appropriate place for the tip of my boot opens. Of course the plane captain (PC) is right behind me guiding my foot. The next grab is for the edge of the cockpit and in no time I find my self in the rear ejection seat with the plane captain hovering over me to insure I am properly and tightly cinched into the seat. The parachute is in the seat, as is a life raft and survival kit. The harness that ties you to the seat is a five point one, over each shoulder, each leg and one between the legs. Then the PC connected the anti-g suit to it’s connection and the oxygen/communications mask to it’s connection. Once he’s satisfied he reaches forward and pulls the safety pin from the pilot’s seat, then pulls the final safety pin from my ejection seat and climbs back down. He then pushes the step back into place. He proceeds to the front of the aircraft and signals the pilot.

The pilot tells me through the intercom to clear my hands from the sides since the canopy is closing. Then upon a signal with the plane captain he starts the port (left engine) and I see the gages come to life. Then the starboard (right) engine comes to life. Now, in cooperation with the plane captain he moves all of the controls through their full range of motion and cycles the engines. When both are satisfied that everything is working properly the pilot applies full brakes and signals the PC to remove the chocks from the main landing gear and disconnect the remote starting gear. He disappears for a moment. When he reappears in front of the aircraft he is carrying the blocks of wood, which are connected by thick ropes, over his shoulders to show that they have been removed. He indicates that we have been separated from the starting gear and points at the taxi director with both arms.

The pilot gets clearance from the flight control center and nods at the taxi director who signals how he wants the plane to proceed. The engines are spun up and the brakes released. We are passed from one taxi director to another as we move up the deck to the port bow catapult. As we approach the cat I hear the pilot getting his clearance to launch and am reminded to move my elbows and head back against the rest and prepare for launch. I feel the plane bump as the nose wheel moves into position on the cat. We can’t see it, but below us the nose gear is being attached to the catapult, the work is being inspected and people are scattering clear. A blast deflection shield has popped out of the deck behind us to protect the planes and people on the deck and we are ready for launch.

The pilot has his eyes locked on the Launch Director who sits between the catapults in a semi-recessed station in the deck with the buttons and dials that set the catapult to the correct pressure for the individual plane. When he is satisfied that the plane is ready and the catapult is up to the correct pressure he salutes the pilot. This is normally the only time salutes are exchanged during flight operations. Mike returns the salute and as his hand returns to the stick the Launch Director bends over to push the launch button.

Within less than 200 feet we are moving at more than 218 knots and accelerating on our own. My stomach feels the brief drop but then we are moving rapidly up and to the left. Over my left shoulder I can see the aircraft carrier rapidly shrinking into the distance. I notice my breathing has become rapid and shallow and concentrate on breathing the pure oxygen normally. Mike asks if everything is all right and I, of course say "yes sir" and realize he can hear me breathing through the intercom. I can hear an air controller passing us off to another radio frequency. I see the radio switch settings and Mike being told to level off at Angels 28 (28000 feet). There is civilian traffic above our flight path at 34000. As we approach 28000 feet I can feel the power backing off as we settle in to cruise at 630kts and headed for the California coast.

Mike tells me to reach forward and grab and squeeze the handles and pull the radar unit towards me. It is set to scan the air for aircraft now and he tells me to set it for surface scan. Now I can see the coastline of California. As we get closer I can actually see cars moving along the Pacific Coast Highway. Luckily, Mike has flown this training mission before and can make more sense of things than I can.

Before I know it we are inland and over the target area. Mike reports into the target range and is cleared for run one, a single bomblet on target 3Alpha. We are still at 28000 feet and all I can see below me is rolling hills and what must be scrub brush. Mike says " Here we go, try to see how close I come to the target". The aircraft rolls inverted and he pulls into an almost straight down dive. I feel the engines spooling down as the ground rushes towards us. As we approach 10,000 feet colors begin to register (above that altitude everything is grays and browns). Passing 8,000 feet the noise level goes way up as Mike rolls the a/c right side up and pops the speed brakes. Speed breaks are large sections of the plane that spread out from the sides of the plane hydraulically and increase the drag to keep us from gaining too much speed. The noise is startling after the relative quiet of the flight in. I still have no idea where the target is, let alone what it should look like.

We steady up on a heading and the speed brakes come in. We must be headed for the target, but I still don’t know what I’m looking for. We are coming close to the end of a canyon and there is a large white mark on the end wall of it, eureka, I’ve spotted the target just as Mike calls bomb’s away and the plane starts climbing, the engines start spooling up. We are in a sharp climbing right turn and I am craning my neck to find the target behind me and I spot what seems to be a puff of smoke slightly below and to the left of the white stripe. As I tell Mike about what I see I hear that we are cleared for a second run at the same target with another single drop.

The throttles are at full as we scream around to reposition for the next run. This time we never get above 2000 feet and at a speed of about 400kts the throttles come back. Now we are in a sharp diving turn to the right and this time I know where to look and what I’m looking for. We straighten out into a shallow dive and I spot the target just ahead. Again, before I fully understand where we are and what is happening I hear "bomb’s away", the power comes on and we begin another climbing turn, this time to the left. Now as I look over my shoulder I spot the smoke on the target but low and report to Mike. Once again the clearance to drop on 3A comes through, this time for two bombs.

I’m beginning to get the idea. I pick out the target canyon now as we head away from it. Again we make the shallow dive into the target and I spot it even earlier. I might just learn to do this after all. This time as we climb out I see both puffs of smoke just below the center of the target.

This time as we climb out we continue climbing. Mike thanks the range for it’s service, and switches to the frequency of our controller. We are told to climb to angels 32 for the return flight. During the climb I once again realize that I am not breathing right and my pulse is really high. This is fun stuff!!!

The flight back to the carrier is pleasant and I am able to spot the carrier on the scope and even pick it out from the other ships in the area. We get to almost over the carrier while still at 32000 feet and Mike tells me we are going to do a penetration to the carrier. This means a steep dive, like we made at the target range. He rolls the a/c inverted and pulls into the very steep dive, rolls right side up in the dive and pops the breaks and yanks back on the throttles. The altimeter is unwinding very fast! Once more Mike has changed radio frequencies and is talking to the ship to get landing clearance. Mike is told the ship’s course, where we are to enter the landing pattern and that we are #5 for landing. This means that there are four aircraft ahead of us. By the time we get the instructions it is time to pull out of the dive and join the landing pattern.

As we approach the pattern Mike is given his ‘interval’. This is the location relative to us of the plane that is to land just ahead of us. Mike spots the specified aircraft and its position tells him where he should be in order to give the plane ahead time to make a safe landing, clear the arresting gear and have the gear reset for our landing. Mike radios in our state – the factors that affect our weight, type of aircraft, number of souls on board, amount of fuel on board and any ordinance we might still have. All this is used to set the arresting gear cables to safely stop the plane without letting us run off the end of the deck and without yanking us to too sudden a stop. This is individually set for each aircraft just before it touches down. One of the advantages of the angled deck is that once someone touches down they go to full power automatically. If someone misses the four cables they will be able to get airborne again. With the old straight deck they risked crashing into anything on the forward deck.

When we rolled on to the final leg of the landing approach, the last straight to the deck portion of the landing the landing gear is lowered and the hook (which grabs the cable) is dropped into position. Mike called the meatball, a radio report to the Landing Signal Officer (LSO) that he could see the landing signal lights. These light indicate visually to the pilot if he is on the slope that will lead to a successful landing, is above that line, or is below it. While the pilot is keeping the lights lined up the LSO is checking his aircraft to insure that all the landing gear is in the right position that everything looks proper, that the plane is where it should be and that the pilot is in full control of the flight. He is also kept aware of the status of the arresting gear and the condition of the deck. If there is any doubt in the LSO’s mind about the safety of a landing he flips a switch that starts the landing lights flashing and he radio’s the pilot to WAVE OFF. That is a direct order to end the landing attempt and apply full power to go around again.

The pilot, of course, always has the right to wave off his own landing at any time. A wave off from the LSO gives him no option. He must not land, no matter what.

I was told to keep an eye on the angle of attack indicator. This was just for my own entertainment, but I really got involved in it. The angle of attack is the up and down wind angle relative to the wing surface. It is indicated by a set of three lights, a circle for proper angle of attack, an up arrow for nose too low and a down arrow for nose too high. Off in the distance I could see the deck, but had no real feel for how things were going. One of the things that I forgot to do and Mike forgot to remind me was to return the radar scope to it’s stored position.

I lost track of where we were at just the wrong time. All of a sudden I heard the engines spool up, the thud of the landing gear hitting the deck and my hands hitting the radar screen. Fortunately, the screen is tough and I did no damage to either my hands or the scope. As we were moving backward to release the cable from the hook I quickly put the scope back where it belonged.

Taxi directors were in place and quickly directed us safely out of the way of the next landing plane. We were soon positioned on the deck where it had been predetermined below decks where they keep track of every plane with little cutout shapes.

As soon as we were in place the wheel chocks are placed in position, the engines shut down and the canopy opened. The pane captain who helped me into the aircraft was quickly at my side to be sure that I got disconnected from the aircraft properly.

We were now on the starboard side of the ship and had to go down to the catwalk on that side of the ship until we got to a cross ship passageway that would permit us to get to the squadron ready room.

The mission was not over yet. Mike had to check in with maintenance to report anything he had noticed was not working up to par during the mission. Then it was a debrief with the Squadron Operations officer who went through the entire flight from launch to landing, including the report from the target range on Mike’s accuracy.

Finally, I checked in my flight gear and said my good bye’s to Mike and the other pilots I had met. I went back to my stateroom to sleep.

The 1hour 15 minute flight had taken just over 5 hours from the time I left my cabin until the time I returned. It was an exhausting and exhilarating 5 hours and confirmed my resolve to become a Naval Aviator.