A day in the life aboard an aircraft carrier at
sea.
0330 – the alarm goes off in a coffin
rack in the Ops berthing. A hand gropes in the darkness behind the rack curtains
to silence the alarm. The curtains serve as a demarcation line – they mark
this space as the owners. This space is his only privacy, the only thing that is
truly his own in a berthing area shared with 100 other men, themselves stacked
in bunk beds three high, arrayed in cells that fade into the greater
darkness.
He is only 19 years old,
and a third class operations specialist and what he wants more than anything
else in the world is to go back to sleep. All around him are the exhalations of
75 deeply tired, deeply sleeping men – the rest are on watch and
it’s his task to relieve them in 30 minutes. When he gets there he has to
be fully awake, so he turns the reading light on above his rack, hoping that the
flicker and buzz of the light bulb as it starts up will help him shake off his
torpor. He shares responsibility for the safety of the ship, and the 5000 people
on board. Most of whom he does not know. Most of whom are still asleep, and will
be for hours.
His rating is
undermanned, but his watchstation is critical. The combination means that he
stands “port and starboard” watches – six hours on, six hours
off. For as long as the ship is at sea, or at least until more watchstanders can
be trained. He will never in all that intervening time get more than five and
one half hours of uninterrupted sleep. This has been his life now almost as far
back as he can remember. It will be this way as far forward as he can see. His
last time ashore - his last port visit - was over a month ago. The next one is
three weeks away. Both are unimaginably distant at 0330 in the morning. The one
passed seems to have happened in another life, to someone else. The one in the
future seems… theoretical.
He
looks at his wristwatch – 25 minutes until he must be on station. He
sighs, rubs his face, and jumps down to the deck. Other Sailors move with him in
the darkness, getting into their bathrobes, some merely putting on their
coveralls. He heads to the showers. With so few people moving about, he might
even take a “Hollywood” shower: Six or even seven minutes under the
continuous flow of hot, fresh water. It would feel luxurious. It would feel like
cheating. He smiles in the darkness, just thinking about
it.
Once dressed, he skips the chow
line – not enough time. He steps into the Combat Direction Center and lets
his eyes adjust to the darkness, lit here and there by hooded fluorescent lights
and blue-grey radar screens. The darkness makes it hard to stay alert, but the
effect is countered in part by the cold air that is forced throughout the space
to keep the computers and displays from overheating. And although his ship is in
the Arabian Gulf in the summer time, and it’s still beastly hot on deck,
even before the sunrise, he wears a pea coat at his watch station to keep from
shivering.
He arrives at his watch
console carrying a coke and a can of Pringles. The one will serve for him as
coffee would for his elders, the chief on watch as Ship’s Weapons
Coordinator, the Lieutenant serving as the Tactical Action Officer. The Pringles
are his breakfast. Or maybe his dinner – he’s not sure which. He
relieves the man on watch and settles into the freshly vacated seat. He runs his
eyes across the console, places his hand upon the trackball and sees that all is
as it should be. He sighs. Six more
hours.
"Sign on, young man, and sail with me. The stature of our homeland is no more than the measure of ourselves. Our job is to keep her free. Our will is to keep the torch of freedom burning for all. To this solemn purpose we call on the young, the brave, the strong, and the free. Heed my call, Come to the sea. Come Sail with me." - John Paul Jones
"Pardon him, Theodotus; he is a barbarian, and thinks that the customs of his tribe and island are the laws of nature" --George Bernard Shaw, "Ceasar and Cleopatra"
"And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music."--Friederich Nietzsche
