I had mixed emotions when I was invited to join the Carl Edwards media contingent on a trip to the USS Dwight D. Eisenhower aircraft carrier. I’ve never enjoyed flying. In fact, I sometimes get downright nauseous at the thought and this would definitely not be a typical commercial flight. Instead it involved a landing and takeoff aboard an aircraft carrier.

  Cue stomach turn.

  Still, I could not overlook the fact that this would be a once in a lifetime opportunity. Some of my friends were envious but others responded with a heartfelt, ‘Glad it’s not me.’

  It did little to calm my nerves upon reading the first paragraph of the liability release form I received. “Catapult launches from, and arresting landings aboard, aircraft carriers at sea are inherently dangerous and involve substantial risk of injury or death.” As if that was not bad enough it went on to include; “Naval aircraft are designed for the typical age and physiological characteristics of Naval aviation personnel, and may involve additional risk for personnel of other ages and physiological characteristics.” As much as I hate to admit getting old, I’m pretty sure I fell in the later category. 

  Then of course the real kicker was the Next of Kin form. Furthermore, the plane ride was not for those who are claustrophobic or suffer from motion sickness. Naturally, I occasionally battle both.

  I signed at the bottom with a voice in my head screaming, ‘And you still want to do this? Are you crazy?’

  Yet, on Tuesday morning I found myself sitting inside a VIP lounge at the Norfolk Naval Base listening to disquieting safety instructions from one of our pilots- a guy with the call sign of “Frenchie” who looked eerily like “Goose” in the movie Top Gun. All the while I’m thinking, ‘Goose died in that movie, didn’t he?’

  There were 12 of us in all. Edwards and his PR rep, a Speed TV crew, DJ Rick Ramble, WRIC’s Yainni Kourackis, a group from RIR and myself.

  “Frenchie” instructed us that not only do the seats on the C2 Greyhound face backwards but there is no air conditioning and it would be very noisy. He also emphasized that the C2 was far from a commercial flight by stating we could possibly see steam or hydraulic fluid dripping during the trip- just what every nervous flyer likes to hear. Next, to add to the level of anxiety, I was suited up with necessary safety equipment; cranial helmet, goggles and floatation vest, with accompanying dye-marker and whistle, (just in case we survive a crash into the ocean).
  Somehow I ended up being one of the first to board the plane by the rear ramp, which was the equivalent of entering a noisy cave. Bending under the low ceiling, I made my way a few feet down the narrow aisle, two seats to a side, and settled in beside RIR President Dennis Bickmeier. He seemed to be a good person to sit next to because this was second flight to an aircraft carrier, having also done so years earlier with the Anaheim Angels.

  With Bickmeier’s assistance, I finally managed to latch the complicated cross harness and settle into my seat, heart pounding as the rear ramp sealed us inside. The interior of the transport was well worn and utilitarian- nothing pretty but something that gets the job done- hopefully. There were only two small windows the size of cantaloupes a few rows ahead of me. The little bit of light inside the cabin entered through them, but the outside world was not visible from my angle.

  The plane began to taxi and that was when I first noticed the steam seeping up through the floor of the craft. A drop of hydraulic fluid hit my left arm, then another. Beside me, Bickmeier had dozed off.

  The cramped darkness with no view of the outside world was disorienting and it was difficult to sense which direction we were heading but it seemed like we were going to taxi all the way to the Eisenhower.

  Eventually we took off and something strange came over me. I was remarkably calm. Somewhere along the way I came to the realization that while this was a grand adventure for me, it was merely a drive to work for the military personnel aboard. It wasn’t long before I too was dozing.

  Nearly an hour passed before the announcement came that we would be landing in 15 minutes, then to get a small taste of commercial flight, we were put in a holding pattern for a half hour.

  In the virtually windowless cabin I could feel the descent but had no idea when touchdown would take place. When it did, it came abruptly and was somewhat like bottoming out your car on a back road then hitting the brakes REALLY hard. But because I faced backward, the seat absorb most of the shock.

  When the rear ramp lowered and I exited the plane I quickly understood I was entering a different world. Bright light, a blast of air and heat assailed me as I stepped onto the deck of the USS Eisenhower. The exhaust from the jet engines nearby easily lifted the temperature over 100 degrees despite the steady Atlantic wind blowing across the flight deck.

  A sailor from Chicago later told me that when stationed in the Middle East, the temperatures reached 160 degrees on the flight deck while the humidity was so heavy it caused rain inside the hangers.

  A quick trip three decks down to meet the command staff was followed by more safety instructions, equipment and a return to the flight deck. Outfitted in a white turtleneck to protect my clothing, white floatation vest to protect me from drowning, white cranial to protect my head and goggles to protect my eyes I was overcome by the sensation that I was entering a very dangerous environment.

  On the flight deck that was narrower than the length of a football field, I stood at the 30-yard line and watched as one after another F-18 touched down across the 50. The arresting cables reeled out of the deck less than a foot away emphasizing how good these pilots are to pull off such a pinpoint landing.

  On the opposite end of the deck 1000 feet away the catapult launch was no less thrilling or dangerous; feeling the exhaust heat, the overwhelming noise and the blast of thrust as the F-18’s rocketed off a little over a dozen yards away from where I stood.

  I then followed Edwards to the hanger deck where he greeted a line of sailors that stretched down and across the cavernous chamber. It surprised me that these sailors seemed just as pleased that the rest of us were there along with Edwards. Wherever I went, sailors wanted to talk to me and ask me as many questions as I had for them.

  I learned that by coming to the Eisenhower we had joining the likes of the Harold and Kumar, the Harlem Globetrotters and the cast of Avatar, who had also visited the craft. However, our visit while the vessel was under way was a rare occasion.

  But without a doubt, the biggest surprise of the day surfaced later in the mess hall when from behind me came a question I never would have expected 200 miles out to sea. “Are you from the Mechanicsville Local?”

  Out of the 3200 sailors aboard, I was greeted by MCC Select Jeremy Jackson, a graduate of Lee-Davis High School, whose parents Carl and Linda live less than a mile from the Mechanicsville Local office. Like everyone else I met, Jackson was very appreciative of our visit and how much the support meant to sailors. “It means a lot of me personally,” Jackson said. “Some people really don’t approve of the military, but to have you all come out here, it reminds us that people still care.”

  The visit wrapped up with a return to the command crew where each of us was presented with mementos from our once in a lifetime experience. 

  Then came more safety instructions for the return flight; the most dangerous, physical and mentally stressful event of the day. Earlier in the mess hall we were given specific instructions to prepare for our first catapult launch from an aircraft carrier. “Get something on your stomach, but don’t eat a lot and don’t eat anything greasy.”

  Suited up in a floatation vest, cranial, hearing protectors and goggles, I climbed back aboard the C2 to quickly discover the temperature inside had climbed considerably since exiting earlier in the day. I quickly belted myself in and tighten the straps but somehow the cross buckle that should have been over my belly button ended up near by hip. The crewman who assisted us took one look at it, shook his head, rolled his eyes and just made sure it was tight. There was no time to redo my mess. As he continued on to make certain everyone else was secure, I nervously checked and rechecked the harness to make certain I was immobile.

  Once again blind to the outside world, I could sense the nervous tension in the craft as it bumped its way across the flight deck and into launch position. The engine roar built to near deafening levels and the crewman pumped his fist into the air three times signaling that it was time for me to cross my arms over my chest, clench the harness, brace my feet against the seat in front of me and tuck my head forward. And…pray.

  The steam generated catapult rocketed the 53,000 pound C2 from zero to 128 mph in three seconds. For me it was similar to the takeoff of the Volcano ride at Kings Dominion, except in this case I was facing backward and pulling more Gs.
  “Fifty-three thousand pounds they accelerated like that,” Edwards said dismayed. “I deal with a lot of speed and acceleration and stuff like that, but nothing like that, that was crazy.”

  The roaring blast was followed by a cushion of air as the plane took flight and I thought, ‘Oh, that’s not so bad.’

  But there were more unexpected thrills to come.

  A minute later without warning the C2 suddenly went into an insane climb forcing everyone into their harnesses once again. In the disorienting darkness of the cabin, the look of surprise and uncertainty was visible on many faces as the plane started to roll over into a banking dive. The one calming factor was the crewman in the back who looked on with bored disinterest.

  I later learned that the C2 was merely clearing the takeoff corridor from the carrier so F-18s could continue their training.

  Across the aisle, Edwards, who is also a pilot, unbuckled his seat belt and headed forward. Moments later one of the pilots came to the back and I was unsure if she had been dismissed by the NASCAR driver for that crazy maneuver.

  “I can’t tell you what we did up there,” Edward said. “But I learned a lot and had a lot of fun.”

  Unfortunately the flight back was not nearly as pleasant as the trip out, but then again it wasn’t designed to be. Dripping with sweat due to heat, the bumpy flight seemed to take hours. There was no possibility of dozing on this flight but it gave me plenty of time to reflect over what the military endures on a daily basis.

  After exiting the plane back in Norfolk, it took a while to absorb the events of the day. What I thought would be a thrilling adventure turned into an eye-opening experience.

  What we consider daring and dangerous is an everyday life of routine to the military. However, the one thing these strong men and women cannot provide for themselves is a constant reminder that they are not off in the world alone. We think of the physical sacrifices every person in the military make to secure our freedoms, but the physiological toll is high as well. Though at ease facing hazards every day of their lives, they are separated from family and loved ones and need reassurance that they are not forgotten.

  Edwards summed up the memorable day best. “It’s a reminder of what our armed services are out there sacrificing.” 

  -and a memorable lesson from a once in a lifetime experience.