A day on board a US nuclear-powered aircraft carrier

The US Navy Grumman C2 Greyhound transport plane made a sharp turn over the West Philippine Sea, a few hundred meters behind the lumbering hulk of the USS Carl Vinson.

I glanced behind me, gave a bland smile at the other journalists and civilians, our stomachs sinking and rising from the sudden shifts in direction. We had, after all, been told to expect a rough landing.

To offset the violent G-force experienced during the landings all the seats except for the ones in the cockpit faced backwards.

"Here we go! Here we go!", the two crewmen at the rear of the plane shouted over the intercom, waving their hands in the air like kids on a rollercoaster.

The plane shuddered as it lost altitude, bounced momentarily on the carrier's flight deck and came to a violent, stomach-churning stop as the arresting cables caught the aircraft before it fell off the other end of the ship.

The sudden arrest of the plane's momentum felt like an invisible hand pushing me deeper into the seat and pushing all the blood from my internal organs. We were later told it took just around 2 seconds to bring the Greyhound to a complete stop from its approach speed of 180 miles per hour.

"I'm a bit dizzy," my cameraman Jojo managed to squeak beside me as the plane folded its wings and found its place beneath the shadow of the towering superstructure of the ship.

All the airplanes on the aircraft, from the sleek F18 fighter jets to our dumpy Greyhound, could fold their wings. Even the helicopters' rotors could be folded flush to the length of its tail. This allowed the carrier to house around 90 aircraft and bring its frightening fighting force to almost any place on the planet.

As we staggered away from the plane, F18 fighter jets were being launched from the ship using a system called the catapult.

The steam-driven contraption drove a piston running beneath rails cut into the asphalt flight deck. When attached to the launch bar of the aircraft, it could hurl jets and other airplanes from a standstill to 180 miles per hour in under three seconds.

The USS Carl Vinson is a veritable mobile airport with a fighting force of more than 40 F18 fighter jets, two surveillance planes, submarine hunting helicopters and the endurance to sail for years on end without refueling because of the two nuclear reactors powering the boat.

Nearing the superstructure, we passed a part of the deck where all the military ordnance for the jets sat baking under the sun. I could pick out the smart bombs with tiny cameras on their noses and distinct articulating fins. There were also the AIM Sidewinders designed to bring down enemy planes.

This was the United States' not so subtle way of proclaiming its presence in the disputed waters of the West Philippine Sea.

"This is a very visible, tangible presence, that the United States is here. Again we will be here. Think about these 70 years of peace in the Pacific. AS USS Carl Vinson Strike Group, we're doing our part to keep that chain in place," explained Rear Admiral John Fuller, the strike group commander, as he observed the fighter jets being catapulted from the flight deck.

Fuller was a tall, imposing, African-American built like a mountain. He had a shaved head; a thick neck that rose from massive shoulders, and arms that ended in large hands. If a Rear Admiral, a senior officer, looked like this, I wondered what the fighting men would probably look like.

The six foot-five something officer wedged his hulk into a swiveling chair bearing a single white star indicating the rank of its occupant. From his vantage point he could not only see the ocean around the ship but also observe the formidable fighter jets being prepared on the flight deck several storeys below.

"Best job in the world," Fuller declared to no one in particular, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

Lurking below that horizon, out of sight because of the curvature of the Earth, the destroyer class warships of the carrier strike group formed a protective perimeter around the carrier.

A typical carrier strike group is also known to have a few submarine escorts depending on the mission.

The Americans did not tell us which specific part of the West Philippine Sea we were in.

However my phone's GPS indicated we were somewhere north of the disputed Scarborough Shoal, a few hundred kilometers off the coast of Zambales.

Presence

If Rear Admiral Fuller is to be believed, the USS Carl Vinson's passing through the West Philippine Sea is a routine mission, devoid of any sinister agenda.

The nuclear warship's patrol came a few weeks after pictures of what look to be completed Chinese military installations in several reclaimed islands in the area surfaced.

Some of the crew members we interviewed said the trip was largely uneventful despite the presence of Chinese military ships in the area.

Camille Panes, a Filipino-American logistics officer on the carrier, summed up the relaxed nature of around 4500 crew members on board.

"The biggest thing I've been looking forward to is this port call in the Philippines. I'll get to see my family and that's about it. Every day is work work work. It's the same thing every day," she said.

A navy sails on its stomach

As we progressed deeper into the bowels of the ship, the mouth-watering smell of broiled steak filled the air. We were nearing the galley where the officers were having their lunch.

And what a meal they were having. 

The short corridor leading to the galley was flanked by two buffet counters. On the right, pastries like chocolate chip cookies sat on baking pans waiting to be devoured. Chocolate bars and candies lined the shelf above the trays of mashed potato, rice, fish fillet and bread.

On the counter to the left, freshly cooked steak sat simmering in fat beside a tray of steamed king crabs and boiled corn on the cob.

The corridor opened into the main mess area where additional buffet tables for salad, vegetables and fruit were laid out. Coffeemakers and soft drink dispensers hummed in a corner, impatient for more takers.

There was even a counter for several flavors of ice cream with a choice of rainbow sprinkles, chocolate chips or walnuts.

Over servings of crab and steak, I told the officer giving us the tour that here more than anywhere else the saying that a fighting force sails or marches on its stomach was never more true.

She replied that all crew members regardless of their rank had the same meals. Some of the kitchens on the ship operated 24 hours a day to cater to the different shift schedules. Running a nuclear-powered aircraft carrier was a 24/7 affair.

"How good of a way of life that we can lead on board the ship in terms of our recreation, our food. It all leads to good output by the sailors and our officers in general," Lieutenant Jeffery Telo, another Fil-American officer on board, later explained as we were briefed on the less glamorous aspects of running the carrier $3.8-billion aircraft carrier.

The price of running a single aircraft carrier, not including the salaries of crewmen, runs around one million to two million dollars a month. On a recent port visit, Telo told us they spent around $300,000 alone to hire buses to take the crew to hotels for offshore billeting.

"We maintain a nest egg of around $2 million," Telo added.

Hearing these figures being thrown about as a matter of fact made me wince. I remember taking my meals with some officers on board one of our newer Hamilton Class ships where our sailors made do with limited servings of fried fish and a small saucer of vegetables, which I was made to understand, were taken from their daily meal allowance.

Keeping the sword sharp

To maintain the readiness of one of America's deadliest fighting forces, life on board carriers like the USS Carl Vinson is a constant flurry of activity.

Almost every day, the fighter jets launch from the ship to conduct routine air patrols across the disputed waters. The individual flights usually last between one to two hours while planning takes around three hours.

"If you are working less than a 12- to 14-hours day that is a rare day," one of the F18 fighter pilots told us during a tour of the hangar where the jets were being serviced.

The pilots we talked to would not say if they have had any contact with the Chinese in the area.

If they did have contact, there were certain protoccols to follow.

But for the majority of the journey, it was all about preparing for the unexpected, even in the middle of the sea.

"You would be surprised. You are in the middle of the ocean but there is still a lot going on and a lot of this is our own training and proficiency. A lot of the missions we do requires a couple of our own air force. Maybe we go practice air-to-air wars... In the past we worked with partner nations flying out here. It is 100 percent equivalent to a sport so it is a perishable skill and we always have to practice. Our margin for error is so small," the same pilot told us.

Jets screaming

We ended the tour observing the F18 jets screaming off the catapults and landing on the flight deck. Before taking our positions on an observation deck, beside the bridge, we were given additional earplugs to put underneath our earmuffs.

Despite the protection, the noise was still deafening as the fighter jets screamed off the catapults. 

To land, the jets approached the carrier from behind, extending their tailhooks and catching them on the four arresting cables stretched across the landing area.

Once hooked the jets take out a few meters of the cable before coming to a complete stop. Upon release, the cables snake back into spools hidden under the asphalt deck.

Color-coded crew members attended to the aircraft before takeoff and after landing. Green for the cargo handlers and crew in charge of the catapult, yellow for aircraft handlers and catapult officers, white for medical personnel and safety observers, red for ordnance and explosives disposal.

I saw an F18 turn gracefully behind the carrier and make its approach.

A group of the green shirts however had scurried into the landing area and were screwing something on the deck.

Another green shirt stood impassive between them and the approaching plane, his arms crossed over one another in an x.

The plane stopped descending and flew over them and thundered past our observation deck a few hundred feet away. 

The superstructure shuddered as the jet flew by.

As the jet circled back to do another attempt, another F18 rocketed off the carrier, steam hissing from the catapult rails.

We would later experience the sheer force of the catapult. Strapped once again to our seats on the Greyhound, we felt how it was to go from 0 to 180 miles per hour in under four seconds.

"It was so sudden that it felt like I left my soul behind on the deck," someone would later joke about the experience.

Journalists who have interviewed American personnel about their role in the dispute between the Philippines and China in the West Philippine Sea have come to expect vague, non-committal answers on whether Big Brother will back us up if things go awry.

Rear Admiral Fuller's final words were no different, albeit, to me at least, they sounded clearer this time around.

"Part of the United States Navy's job is to provide presence that makes our allies and friends comfortable and we're here to promote stability, prosperity. We are here to make sure we follow rules, norms and laws. Essentially this is what we do to help with our global presence," he said.

"We have rules of engagement that we are specifically required to follow. We will follow what international rules says and will respect, even if there are disputes there, what the international claims are about the features at sea," he added. —KG, GMA News