Now that we got that whole landing on a carrier thing out of the way, we can really start looking at where we might go next without jinxing ourselves. One thing is for sure, if I had a quarter for every time I explained the likely scenarios to a curious family member or friend, I would be shoe shopping every day of the week. So I thought I'd spell it all out here once and for all.
First things first, there are a couple of things to remember.
1. Josh has to go to what's called the FRS (Fleet Readiness Squadron) or RAG (I have no idea what this stands for or means) for one year before he goes to his regular flying squadron. This is where he will learn how to fly either the FA-18, Harrier or Prowler.
2. The FRS/RAG may or may not be the same location as his first three-year tour as an aviator.
3. The FRS lasts about one year, while the first flying tour lasts three years.
This means we could go somewhere and have to move again in one year, or we could go somewhere for FOUR STRAIGHT YEARS! There are a few ways this could all play out:
If he gets FA-18s
Fleet readiness squadron locations (one year)
MCAS Miramar (San Diego)
NAS Lemoore (middle of nowhere California)
NAS Oceana (Virginia Beach, Virginia)
Three-year tour locations
MCAS Miramar
MCAS Iwakuni (yep, that's Japan folks)
MCAS Beaufort (South Carolina)
If he gets Harriers
Fleet readiness squadron locations (one year)
MCAS Cherry Point (North Carolina)
Three-year tour locations
MCAS Yuma (Arizona)
MCAS Cherry Point (North Carolina)
IF he gets Prowlers
Fleet readiness squadron locations (one year)
NAS Whidbey Island (Near Seattle)
Three-year tour locations
MCAS Cherry Point (North Carolina)
I'm sure there are just a few of you out there who actually care, but now that this is clear as mud we can start taking bets. Any takers?
Monday, December 19, 2005
Friday, December 16, 2005
All I want for Christmas is my first trap
On December 11th, at 1 p.m., I strapped into my T-45C and tried to maintain my composure as I thought about my first trip out to the aircraft carrier. My heart was pounding in my chest, my hands were sweating and I was breathing as if halfway through a marathon. We taxied to the runway as a four-plane flight, my lead next to me on my left and two of my classmates on my right. We took off and headed toward the ocean. The ship was 110 miles off the coast, so I had a lot of time to think about what was about to happen. "What the hell did I get myself into?" was the dominant thought at the time. I tried to maintain my position off of my lead, but I kept looking forward, searching the ocean for the JFK, the aircraft carrier on which I was about to attempt to land. Finally, about twenty-five miles out it came into view. If my heart was beating fast before, now it was racing. I have never in my life been as nervous as I was at this moment.
We circled above the boat at about 5,000 feet four or five times as we waited for our turn to come in and land. Finally the airboss calls my lead and says, "You're signal charlie, hook down, your chicks hook up." Translated that means it is time to come in and land, lead will take a trap and me and my classmates would do our first two passes as a touch-and-go. We came up behind the ship at 800 feet above the water and going 310 knots. As we came abeam the ship my lead says, "I am at 1.1 miles abeam, go down on two radio, be the ball, good luck!" I almost passed out, I couldn't believe this moment was finally here. After two-and-a-half yearts of flight training I was finally going to land a jet on an aircraft carrier. Was I ready, could I do it, what if I screw up? Too late, time to break and see what kind of man you are. Seventeen seconds after my lead broke away, I rolled into a 60-degree angle-of-bank turn, put out the breaks, and eased on the Gs so I could slow down enough to get my gear down. At 200 knots I dropped my gear, set up for a good abeam position, and slowed to approach speed--about 125 knots. When I was abeam the landing area, I eased into a thirty-degree angle-of-bank turn, started a slow descent, and headed for the ship. As I rolled out behind the ship, I made my ball call, "163 Goshawk ball, 1.8, tango four." My heart was in my throat, making it difficult to talk. I picked up the ball, made my power and line up adjustments and before I knew it, touched down on the landing rap. I did it and lived! I threw the power up to full throttle, brought in the speed breakes, rotated and took off again. That was just a touch-and-go, and I had to do one more. I climbed to six hundred feet, turned downwind and did it all again.
After the second touch-and-go, it was time to go hook down. This meant I would be catching a wire, hopefully, on the next pass. My fuel was getting low and I knew that I only had one or two shots to catch a wire or I would have to fly an emergency fuel profile back to the beach and try again tomorrow. So I rolled out behind the ship, ready to trap. I made my call, adjusted my line up, added some power and BAM! I went from 125 knots to stopped in less than 200 feet. I thought my heart popped out of my chest. I was in a daze for a second and then i realized ... I'm stopped, I'm alive, now what do I do? Then I looked up and saw the yellow shirt (taxi director on the boat) giving me the throttle back signal. I brought back the power, turned right and taxied out of the landing area to get fuel.
After getting fuel, I taxied up to the catapult, the contraption that literally shoots you off the front of the ship like a slingshot. I was directed into position, then the catapult director gave me the tension signal. I took my feet off the brakes, brought the power to full throttle and wiped out the controls. The jet squatted like a bull ready to charge. I checked over my gauges once more then looked at the catapult officer and saluted. I put my head back against the seat, locked my elbows and waited. Then all hell broke loose. The catapult fired and I was hurled down the ramp like a bullet out of a rifle. I reached 135 knots in less than a second and a half. I felt weightless and about swallowed my eyeballs. I let out a pathetic scream like a little girl, and then BOOM! Silence. I was flying away from the ship. My senses slowly came back to me and I flew the jet away from the ship, to do it all over again.
All in all, I did about twenty of those evolutions in two days. I qualified on the 12th of December, and I have never been more relieved. Landing on the aircraft carrier was the most exciting thing I have ever done in my life. Getting shot off the catapult was like nothing I could have imagined, the greatest ride in the world. What a rush!
We circled above the boat at about 5,000 feet four or five times as we waited for our turn to come in and land. Finally the airboss calls my lead and says, "You're signal charlie, hook down, your chicks hook up." Translated that means it is time to come in and land, lead will take a trap and me and my classmates would do our first two passes as a touch-and-go. We came up behind the ship at 800 feet above the water and going 310 knots. As we came abeam the ship my lead says, "I am at 1.1 miles abeam, go down on two radio, be the ball, good luck!" I almost passed out, I couldn't believe this moment was finally here. After two-and-a-half yearts of flight training I was finally going to land a jet on an aircraft carrier. Was I ready, could I do it, what if I screw up? Too late, time to break and see what kind of man you are. Seventeen seconds after my lead broke away, I rolled into a 60-degree angle-of-bank turn, put out the breaks, and eased on the Gs so I could slow down enough to get my gear down. At 200 knots I dropped my gear, set up for a good abeam position, and slowed to approach speed--about 125 knots. When I was abeam the landing area, I eased into a thirty-degree angle-of-bank turn, started a slow descent, and headed for the ship. As I rolled out behind the ship, I made my ball call, "163 Goshawk ball, 1.8, tango four." My heart was in my throat, making it difficult to talk. I picked up the ball, made my power and line up adjustments and before I knew it, touched down on the landing rap. I did it and lived! I threw the power up to full throttle, brought in the speed breakes, rotated and took off again. That was just a touch-and-go, and I had to do one more. I climbed to six hundred feet, turned downwind and did it all again.
After the second touch-and-go, it was time to go hook down. This meant I would be catching a wire, hopefully, on the next pass. My fuel was getting low and I knew that I only had one or two shots to catch a wire or I would have to fly an emergency fuel profile back to the beach and try again tomorrow. So I rolled out behind the ship, ready to trap. I made my call, adjusted my line up, added some power and BAM! I went from 125 knots to stopped in less than 200 feet. I thought my heart popped out of my chest. I was in a daze for a second and then i realized ... I'm stopped, I'm alive, now what do I do? Then I looked up and saw the yellow shirt (taxi director on the boat) giving me the throttle back signal. I brought back the power, turned right and taxied out of the landing area to get fuel.
After getting fuel, I taxied up to the catapult, the contraption that literally shoots you off the front of the ship like a slingshot. I was directed into position, then the catapult director gave me the tension signal. I took my feet off the brakes, brought the power to full throttle and wiped out the controls. The jet squatted like a bull ready to charge. I checked over my gauges once more then looked at the catapult officer and saluted. I put my head back against the seat, locked my elbows and waited. Then all hell broke loose. The catapult fired and I was hurled down the ramp like a bullet out of a rifle. I reached 135 knots in less than a second and a half. I felt weightless and about swallowed my eyeballs. I let out a pathetic scream like a little girl, and then BOOM! Silence. I was flying away from the ship. My senses slowly came back to me and I flew the jet away from the ship, to do it all over again.
All in all, I did about twenty of those evolutions in two days. I qualified on the 12th of December, and I have never been more relieved. Landing on the aircraft carrier was the most exciting thing I have ever done in my life. Getting shot off the catapult was like nothing I could have imagined, the greatest ride in the world. What a rush!
This is me and my fellow pilots in the hangar bay on the JFK. This is most likely the last time the JFK will be used for carrier qualifications.
It was night time and nobody was allowed outside, but we snuck out to snap this picture off the side of the ship. We are about 45 feet above the water on a 3-foot-wide platform. Kind of scary.
This was taken after the first day of flying down in the briefing room. It is a Navy tradition to grow out a moustache when you go to the boat. My friend Lee looks like an 80s pornstar! I grew one out for about a week, but then shaved it off. It drove me nuts.
My friend Rashaad Jamal and me looking out the hangar elevator on the side of the ship. Rashaad just finished the program and is headed to San Diego.
We spent the night on the JFK. It was a pretty cool experience, especially since it was just one night and not six months. This is my bunk. Eight of us stayed in this room, which was surprisingly comfortable.
When I got home, Mandy had made this awesome banner for me. Another Navy/Marine Corps tradition for when you go to the boat. She is so crafty!
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Freezing in Utah
Last week I scored a trip back home to Utah for the annual Connect PR Christmas party. While I was there, I got to hang out with the fam and catch up with some friends. It was great to see everyone, but FREEZING cold--I mean like 12 degrees. Apparently I have become more of a southerner than I thought because I wanted to cry in that weather. Also, it snowed so much that our party moved from Sundance to a restaurant in Provo. All in all though, it was a good time.
I got to meet Hank the Dog for the first time when Brynn and Nate came over for dinner. Hank is their new 12-week-old Australian Shepherd and joins Brynn, Nate and Bandit the Cat as the newest member of their family. He has one blue eye and one brown eye and his tail is cut off! He will be some serious competition for Jackson-boy and Marley for top dog in the family.
It was so fun to have dinner with Mindy, Amy, Emilee and Danielle for our Christmas gift exchange. We ate at Baci and had some good laughs about old times and random people we used to know.
Sunday, November 27, 2005
Thanksgiving in the Smokies
This year we opted not to go home for Thanksgiving. Instead, we decided on a Thanksgiving/anniversary trip in the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. We rented a cabin up in the mountains and made our Thanksgiving dinner. We also did some exploring in the tourist-trap towns of Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, as well as the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. We missed our families on Thanksgiving, but had a nice, relaxing trip.
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Happy Birthday Marines
On November 10th, the Marine Corps celebrated its 230th birthday. Marines around the world gathered in groups large and small to commemorate the founding of the world's greatest fighting force. The ceremony includes the reading of General Lejeune's birthday address as well as a message from the current Commadant, General Hagee. The celebration also includes the cutting of the Marine Corps birthday cake with the first piece going to the oldest Marine in attendance and the second piece to the youngest.
Me and my buddy Tim Hudson.
Mandy and Timmy's wife Stephanie.
The Ladies breakin it down on the dance floor. Notice no husbands are out there. Marines are too tough to do the "Electric Slide"!
This looks like an advertisement for Cingular wireless. Those other Marines are really tall! That is Jason Raper next to me, then Scotty Buerstatte, and Kris Harris (no relation to our Chris Harris!)
Fun with Dad
Josh's dad came for a visit in early October and we were busy with lots of airplane-related activities (how else do you keep someone entertained in Meridian, Mississippi). We took him over to the squadron to fly the plane in the simulator and also went down to Pensacola to the aviation museum.
And one of the Blue Angels' Jets
At the Naval Aviation Museuem in Pensacola, Florida.
He was a natural in the simulator...
I won't be quitting my day job any time soon...
Josh took him to see his plane, the T-45, up close
More airplanes at the Pensacola Aviation Museum
And one of the Blue Angels' Jets
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