My first deployment from Naval Security Group Activity, Athens, Greece to fly with Fleet Air Reconnaissance Squadron II (VQ-2) came June 14, 1985. We provided coverage of the TWA 847 highjacking which departed Athens and finally ended up in Beirut, Lebanon. The aircraft with its passengers and crew endured a three-day intercontinental ordeal during which one passenger, a U.S. Navy diver that had been stationed at Nea Makri, a base 20 miles from Athens, was murdered. Dozens of passengers were then held hostage over the next two weeks, until released by their captors. That deployment lasted four months for me after which I returned to Athens flying aboard EP-3P Orion aircraft with VQ-2.

My second deployment was a very sad one only because I volunteered to go back to the Nimitz at the request of my Commanding Officer after the crash of VQ-2 Ranger 12 Jan. 25, 1987, in which seven Crew Members of NSGA Athens and VQ-2 perished, including my good friend and mentor Rick Herzing. I flew with all of these individuals in the past and it was very difficult and frightening waiting for my first Catapult Launch especially after having viewed the flight deck video of the crash. Flying off the carrier was more exciting than any roller coaster you can imagine but probably the most dangerous job in the world and I’m not ashamed to admit that I was shaking in my flight boots on that first launch. Thank God VQ-2 had brought their best Pilot aboard to take us off and return safely to Nimitz. We remember our Fallen Shipmates every Year on the Anniversary of the crash and I make it a point to call Rick Herzing’s parents to express my condolences.

John J. Elko
CSC Security Specialist/Certifier
Global Security Solutions
Global Network Security
Annapolis Junction, Maryland

A light breeze massages its way through my hair. The brown sand drifts around my feet in the forever changing landscape. I’m standing on the peak of a high sand dune in the middle of the North Arabian Desert watching the sun silently dip into the horizon. The haze makes it a huge orange ball easy to look at, easy to watch as it sinks to the other side. The sky fades from orange to red to purple to a deep dark blue as the brighter stars to the east are starting to open their eyes for the night, sand dunes from horizon to horizon, as far as the eye can see. Small groups of camels dot the scene. A friend has a GPS and says we’re 50 miles from where we started. 50 miles in the middle of the most desolate, hot, barren landscape I’ve ever seen. And it’s quiet, very quiet. The only sound is the much welcomed, cool, late afternoon breeze busily sculpting and re-sculpting the dunes in a never-ending dance of desert evolution.

Finally, a break!!! We pulled into Jebel Ali, U.A.E. four days ago. Jebel Ali is a huge duty free zone and shipping terminal situated between Abu Dhabi and Dubai in the United Arab Emirates. It looks and feels a lot like a California or Nevada desert. Sand, sand, sand as far as the eye can see. It’s a white, fine, powdery sand that gets on and into everything—and yes, it’s still hot although not as hot as it has been. It’s has gotten quite a bit more forgiving the month we’ve been here. I can actually sleep with a sheet now. I had duty on the first day, which isn’t all that bad. You get the lowdown on where all the cool places are, where to go and how to get there. And it gets the inevitable duty day out of the way so you don’t have to worry about it. The first day I went to a seaside resort. After coming out here off and on for the last 15 years, I finally got to swim in the warm, super salty water with the sea snakes, man ‘o’ war jellyfish and sharks. After getting that out of my system, the rest of the day was spent in the shade of an umbrella letting my feet breath, cat napping in and out, enjoying being off the ship and being serenaded by a Fleetwood Mac CD.

The next day we venture into Dubai. The once two-lane road, now the four-lane Sheik Zayed Super Highway, takes us into the heart of Dubai. These are the richest countries in the world and the cities are among the cleanest. The ultra conservative lifestyle makes for a clean, safe modern place to visit. It’s a little more expensive than the places in Asia we’ve visited but that’s OK. Supermalls are sprouting, (go westernization!!!…), and construction is everywhere, each building or tower bigger or taller than the last. We spend the day downtown in the “Gold Souq,” 10 square blocks in old downtown where all the gold is purer and less expensive than in the malls. Think of the most elaborate type of gold jewelry and they have it, and have a lot of it, literally hundreds of shops to look over. The gold is almost yellowish orange in its purity. And of course “haggling” for a good price is the standard. After a dinner of local cuisine at Pancho Villa’s Mexican restaurant, we head back for an early night.

Yesterday, a bunch of us jumped into Land Cruisers for a day of runnin through the sand dunes and hills of the local deserts, riding camels and a huge bonfire cookout, which brings us back to the sand dune. After the serene moment of the sunset, we all pile back into the Land Cruiser and our “guide” takes us to the oasis for the cookout and barbecue. I got to ride a camel. It’s amazing to think about the old trade routes before the “Oil Boom,” and that for thousands of years the Arab’s have been riding these things for days at a time to the next town. We were joined by a few other tour groups and had a wonderful dinner and cultural experience. Outside in the sand dunes, under a huge Arabian night sky, we all sat around on pillows on top of beautiful Persian rugs. Music played on a Lute, more food, tea and coffee than we could all possibly eat, all local and all good (although sometimes “ignorance is bliss” when eating “local” like this…). Breathe in the sweet scent of the earth’s goodness from a hookah that was being passed around, all climaxing with the erotically seductive, writhing moves of a belly dancer.

Sooner than anybody wanted, it was time to go. The ride back to the ship was quiet, each of us in our own personal bubble reflecting on the evening. Along the dark two lane road that takes us back to the ship, through half-closed, sleepy and, for the moment, content eyes, I see a sign pass in the headlights: “Caution Camel Crossing,” and smile quietly to myself. There’s something you don’t see every day.

Brooks Davis
CSC Systems Engineer/Analyst
Space and Naval Warfare Systems Center
San Diego, Calif.

A couple of stories from my tour on the carrier USS America. 
The America was deployed to the Mediterranean in the spring of ‘86.  I was on the Kennedy that spring and literally got overnight orders to transfer to her (I had ticked off the detailer).  Four days after I flew on board the America in a C1-A COD off the coast of Sicily, the America got tasked to strongly tell Libya’s Mu’ammer al-Gathafi that the Mediterranean did not belong to him. We all knew it was for real when one walks through the crew’s mess decks and sees all the tables and chairs pushed to one side and crews assembling bombs and rockets to be sent to the flight deck and later delivery to Gathafi. Four days after I arrived we bombed a number of military targets in response to their attempts to launch rockets at the battle group from a number of small boats. The photos of that operation that my photographers shot were published in magazines and newspapers around the world.
During the next month, the America’s squadrons flew literally around the clock, seven days a week. I remember during this period looking up one day at the TV in our work space.  We had the channel on for the PLAD cameras (Pilot Landing Aid Television). The shot was from a camera buried on the flight deck. A rather big air crewman had stepped over the camera and was walking forward on the flight deck with probably a hundred or more pounds of aircraft tie-down chains over his shoulders.  The flight deck was so slick from the coating of oil and fuel from so many flight operations that the man was slipping and sliding like he was on ice. Despite these conditions flight operations continued to go on.
A day or two later I heard one of my crew hollered for everyone to look at the TV. Again we had the PLAD channel on and we all gathered round to watch in horror as an A-7E was slowly sliding sideways toward the port (left) side of the deck. Out of our sight an F-14 had turned up and it’s exhaust had caught the large A-7’s tail which acted like a sail and the A-7 was blowing sideways across the slick flight deck. The A-7 got all the way to the flight deck edge where there is a steel lip called a combing which is a little lower than a typical street curb. The plan hit the combing and then the right wing started to rise up. Our hearts were in our throats as we watched that plane’s right wing lift up until the plane was about 30 degrees to the flight deck. Suddenly, at the last possible moment before falling into the sea, it fell back down to the deck. Crewmen ran over and quickly checked out the plane and it was then directed to the waist cats (the two catapults on the angle deck) and it was launched.
Later that evening a pilot from that squadron came be. I told him what we had seen and asked him if he had seen the near accident and what had happened. He replied that yes he had see it, and that he was the pilot.  At the end, just before the plane’s wing dropped back down he had his hand on the eject levers and was all prepared to pull them to eject.  That night he was real cool about it, as those pilots seem to always be. As for me, well if that had been me at the very least I would have needed a new flight suit.
It was a few days later when we finally got time for a stand down from flight operations and the crews were able to wash down the flight deck and make it safer. It is a tribute to all the men who worked up there that even under those conditions of day and night flight operations on a “skating rink” that we did not have one serious accident.

Kennerly (Ken) Brown
Computer Sciences Corporations
Training Center of Excellence

I served as the Reactor Training Assistant on USS Nimitz from May 1999 to December 2000 and was responsible for administering the training program for the 400+ nuclear-trained personnel onboard. This task was especially difficult since the ship was undergoing a nuclear refueling overhaul in Newport News Shipyard at the time. My main mission was to prepare the reactor department personnel for the reactor safeguards examination following the refueling, a necessary milestone prior to bringing the reactors critical again. The crew was able to do this through a complex mix of training lectures, drills, oral and written exams, practical applications, and cross decking with other operational carriers.

I’m sure the ship looks nothing like it did while I was onboard. When I reported in May of 1999, the ship was in dry dock and most of the spaces were stripped down for refurbishment. Traversing the ship was made especially difficult because of the numerous hoses and ventilation trunks that passed through all the passageways, transoms, and watertight hatches. All services such as medical, berthing, and dining were provided by a barge located next to the ship. When the ship left the dry-dock and went pierside for steam testing, as the reactor duty officer, I was one of the few duty personnel not allowed to leave the ship, which included not being able to sleep or eat on the barge which remained in the dry dock at the end of the pier. There were only a couple of staterooms on the ship that were still habitable, and that’s putting it nicely. There were a few duty nights where I had to scrounge around looking for a rack that had a mattress. And the temporary showers and heads that were rigged up for us few souls stuck on the ship were seldom hot and seldom clean.

I left active duty following this tour and never was able to see the ship operational. But I was proud when Nimitz returned to the fleet again following her overhaul, knowing I had a small hand in ensuring she met her operational commitments and was ready for the global war on terrorism following the events of 9/11. I’m now a commander in the Navy Reserves, supporting the Naval Network Warfare Command, but at heart, I’ll always be a “surface nuke.“

Robert Carlisle
CSC Program Management Principal Leader

After the 10-hour esophageal transit, we’re finally here. And it’s HOT—damn HOT—desert HOT—camels don’t like this kinda HOT.  I think the reason these people are always fighting over here is they’re all grumpy because it’s so HOT. The temperature change within the last 24 hours has been extreme. I can think of a million places I’d rather be than here right now. I’ve been here before. The sea snakes, jellyfish, the burning oil wells that light up the sky at night and dark green flat oily water welcome me back. I wish I had a chance to give this area as fair an assessment as other places I’ve seen.

For the biblical history alone, this is considered by many religious scholars to be the original site of the Garden of Eden. The Tigris and Euphrates come together here in the land of Babylon and Persia. Genies, lamps and flying carpets … I would love to have the opportunity to go out and explore this region more. I think that makes this already challenging environment even more frustrating. However, this area is also known for radicals and people who don’t fancy Americans that much, so anytime we do get to go out, it’s under extremely controlled conditions.

It’s 120 degrees air temp, 90 percent humidity and about 140 degrees on the “roof” (flightdeck). I’m a firm believer that those guys don’t get paid enough. In the berthing where we sleep it’s about 80. The most important thing I brought with me is a small fan. Now, in my rack at night is like leaving the windows open on a summer night with a nice breeze. Yeah, that’s it. No cold water. Forget about taking a cold shower to cool off. The seawater is about 98-99 degrees. We don’t have water coolers, so it’s lukewarm at best. Such is life for the next three months. Fall’s right around the corner, right?

But on the other hand, we’re here to do a job. We’ve trained for two years and are at the peak of our training and ready for ANYTHING. Things are “by the book.” Normally, off the coast of SoCal, a fudge here, do this a little there, and it’s OK. Things out here are just as we’ve trained right down to the minute details. Gotta be dat way. People out here are playin for keeps.

Again, I can’t talk too much about “what and where,” but I’ll be right here, on station for the next three months.

Brooks Davis
CSC Systems Engineer/Analyst
Space and Naval Warfare Systems Center
San Diego, Calif.