It’s been hot in San Diego the last couple weeks. Cargo shorts and flip flops, t-shirts only out of mere modesty. The heat only really broke last weekend. Now it’s back to what we think of as “San Diego” weather, like it’s some sort of entitlement. Warm, sunny days. Cool evenings, perfect for sleeping with the windows open, the eucalyptus breathing in through the window. Cold, misty mornings – sweater weather.
The mist burns off.
Got up this morning early to finish off some homework, threw on some rags and – knowing it would be cold downstairs in the kitchen – a pair of ugg boots to keep my feet warm. Thought a bit about the day as the coffee pot gurgled and spat. It’s quiet at 5AM. No one needs any help on the homework or wants to talk about their day. You can think, you can get things done. It’s my time.
The house began to stir after an hour or two, meaning it was my time to pack up and get moving, head south. Get to work. I threw the uggs into their corner – I don’t leave the house in those things – and wondered what to wear instead. Rooted around for a bit not finding what I was looking for before settling on the Marine desert boots I picked up last year. I’d gotten them almost as an afterthought. Suede boots, Vibram soled. Good for bogging around in dry weather, dove hunting and the like. They’re lighter, more comfortable that the steel-toed flight boots I wore for most my career.
The suede does take a stain though. When I first bought them, I wondered briefly how the Marines get the blood out.
I wore them for the first time since summer today. First day it seemed cool enough.
–
On the morning of the 11th of September 2001 I was in my rack aboard an aircraft carrier returning from forward deployment in the Arabian Gulf. We were only four days away from being home, having picked up about a thousand of our “Tigers” in Pearl Harbor – family and friends who’d ride the ship home with us. See their Navy at sea, watch an airshow, take some tours. See how we lived.
I’d gotten to bed a little past 0100 the night prior. Even on a carrier returning from the line, the Operations Officer’s job is a busy one. I was muddy-headed when the phone rang in my stateroom at just a little past 0520 local. My Tactical Action Officer down in CDC had been watching the news of the burning north tower when the second plane, UAL 175 from Boston flew into the south tower. “Turn on the TV, Ops,” he said. “You’re going to want to see this.”
I stared at the images there for a full five minutes, shocked, uncomprehending. The repeated clip of the second jet banking slightly before going home. Watched the perpetually blow-dried set struggle uncomfortably to find a handle on the moment. Reduced, for once, to inarticulate commonality with the rest of us.
Threw my coveralls on, called the captain on the bridge. He was seeing it too. I ran down to CDC to try to get the picture before briefing the CO more fully. Asked the ship’s intel officer to join me there, but he begged off – too busy. I could catch him on the way up to the bridge. Not long afterwards we received a chat message from PACOM. The Pentagon had been hit, alternate command centers were activating. All commercial air traffic was shut down. Stand by for orders.
Made it up to the bridge just in time to see the south tower collapse on CNN.
“This will change everything,” I said to the Captain, not quite knowing what it was that I meant. Cruise? The country? The world?
“In ways we can’t even imagine,” he replied to me. Grimly. Added: “There’s going to be a fight.”
–
I’d relinquished command of my Hornet squadron in the spring of 2001, taken some time off, gone to schools and joined that ship in June. It’s not easy to give up the reins of command, a man can get used to being large and in charge. It’s hard work to serve as a carrier ops officer. Long hours, high stress, you’ve never got it all entirely in one sock. It’s like fielding fly-balls at night during batting practice. There are a lot of balls in the air, none of which is allowed to drop to earth ungloved and one or two of which are always lost in the lights. It’s not particularly rewarding work – it never goes away.
But somebody’s got to do it.
Harder still to join a ship already on the line. There’s so much you’re responsible for, so much you don’t know. Who on your team can be relied upon unquestioningly, who must be supervised carefully. Who will lead, and who will follow. What buttons to push when things start going off track. There’s very little time to learn these things when the ship is on a wartime footing in the Arabian Gulf, the air wing patrolling the southern no-fly zone in Iraq, being shot at, shooting back. Your span of control is much broader than it ever has been before, even while your depth of control is necessarily shallower. One man can not know everything, he cannot be everywhere.
It can take a man out of his comfort zone.
–
When August of 2001 came along, the month when commanders receive their fitness reports, I thought about it long and hard: There were a dozen or so commanders on the ship, working for my captain. All of us competing among ourselves for position in the FITREP races. A good finish could mean the difference between early promotion to captain and early separation from the service. It’s up or out.
I asked the CO for a private audience.
“Captain,” I said, “I know you’re writing FITREPS and I don’t presume anything about where I might fit in, but I just thought you should know that there’s no need to waste a bullet on me. I’ve decided to retire next year. I’m hanging ‘em up. Here’s my letter.”
The CO read the letter quietly, handed it back to me, asked, “What do you want to do?”
“Oh, I guess I’ll do the airlines thing,” I told him. “Money’s not bad, work’s easy. I’ve done my bit, and I’m pretty beat down. I’m ready for a break.”
“Hold on to this letter until we’re home for a month, Lex,” the Captain replied. “We’ll get you some time off when we get home, and I think you may change your mind.”
“Yes sir,” I replied, thinking to myself, not very likely.
–
The Ops Coordination Meeting which ordinarily took place in the Flag War Room at 0900 was canceled. Too much going on, see you at 1000 for the Morning Flag Meeting. There were a bunch of new faces in the War Room at ten, people who ordinarily wouldn’t have attended. People who wanted to know. Who wanted to understand. A sourly grimacing chief of staff kicked them out. I remained behind.
We’d done our homework and we were ready to answer all questions put to the ship. We were closer to Hawaii, but we’d off-loaded crew there to make room for the Tigers, and most of them would have already flown home. Best to continue on to San Diego and pick up our stragglers, drop the Tigers off. We could refuel and re-arm on the way out. We’d been on deployment for six months. We could be back on the line in three weeks and a bit if we didn’t stop anywhere else along the way.
But the fact of the matter was the ship was tired. Our flight deck non-skid was worn to bare metal forward of the four wire, that’d take weeks to repair. We were trailing a shaft due to a wiped journal bearing and repairing that damage was beyond our capability – shipyard work and at least a month-long project. We had also discovered a cracked rudder pin. We could continue to operate with rudder restrictions for a while before anything failed, probably. But the rudder pin was another serious project requiring through-deck cutting and hot work, not to mention underwater diver support. It would take at least six weeks, best case. More like two months. Then there were the boiler tubes.
She was an old ship. But she was willing. She’d have gone.
–
No, we were finally told. Not this time. Rest a while and repair your ship. We may have need of you in time.
Enterprise, who had taken our place in the line and was already heading home, put her rudder over, returned to station and awaited further instructions. By morning she was in range of targets in Afghanistan. Carl Vinson, her intended relief, joined her on station after a high speed transit, as did Theodore Roosevelt, surged from the east coast two days after the attacks. Kitty Hawk put to sea carrying only a small detachment of her own air wing, as well as a number of quietly lethal professionals from the Army, with their own quietly professional helicopter squadrons.
While we set about our repairs, my old squadron went to war aboard Vinson. It killed me that I was not there with them. I was savagely proud that they were there.
I knew them: They were warriors, they knew how to take it to the enemy. They were good.
–
That retirement letter sat in a drawer in my stateroom desk for months before I thought of it again. We had repaired the ship and made her ready for training – a necessary prerequisite to fighting her again – when I chanced across it almost by accident. It felt like something someone else had written. It felt like an anachronism.
I crumpled it up, threw it away. Went back to work. There was another fight coming and we needed to be ready. Now it’s six years later and I’ve written another letter. Staff work, someone’s got to do it. But I’ve done my bit.
And I didn’t even think about the boots I’d chosen to wear this morning until I was half-way down to work.
Combat boots, I thought to myself. Today of all days.
Huh.
Made me cry, Lex… for a lot of reasons, both macro and micro.
The only thing certain is change. It’ll be alright. In fact, it’ll be great, just different.
As always, nice job putting words to it.
For most of us life has changed and yet for some it’s the same as it ever was, today’s date no more significant than any other. Sad.
Wow.
Whole ‘nother perspective.
Well said, Captain.
Good job, Lex, on telling the story and on stepping up to the plate.
This day fills me with so many emotions that I have real difficulty sorting them out. When it all happened, I had a terrible time with the stories about the individuals who were killed — I couldn’t bear to read about them at all. I could watch and read about the buildings and the firefighters and every other part, but not the people. It was just too much … too overwhelming. I knew that once I started to cry, I would not be able to stop. I still have trouble with the people. I can and have read a few of the stories, but only a very few and only one or two at a time.
I feel fierce pride for this country, at the same time. Pride for the people who go to work and do their jobs, no matter how hard or difficult, but still try their best and find success at the end of the day. That’s what those firemen and police did that day. That’s what those construction workers did the many days after. That’s what our military are still doing.
And I still sit here and shed tears in gratitude for all of them.
On September 11, I was already on the other side of the fence. I watched the first tower fall from the corner of Wall Street and Broadway, three blocks away. I struggled to make it the block to my Broadway office and heard the second tower fall (couldn’t see it through the smoke). Finally made it home by 2300 that night. The next morning I walked into my old Chief of Staff’s office at the Sub Base and told him I wanted to come back to do my part. He told me that the Submarine Force wasn’t going to have much of a dog in this fight and that I could do my part by getting the country back to work. That’s still sound advice Lex. There will always be another staff officer. Those of us on the “homefront” have a different part to play. Do something productive, make the country just a little bit more productive and send the radical Islamists the message that they can never defeat a strong United States.
A thought provoking read for a thought provoking day. Best
Sea Wolf just provided us all with some very sage advice. I often feel the need to become actively engaged again. What is always hard to accept is that there are others that can address the field ops better than I can anymore. Where I need reminding of from, time to time, is that I make an impact doing exactly what I am doing on a daily basis.
Thanks Sea Wolf for the reminder.
Cap’n,
Your tale speaks of the heart of a warrior, tired and worn but still a warrior. One can sense the warrior’s soul crying out for vengence; willing and wanting to join the fight. But, like the Indian Chiefs who sent their young braves out to fight, he must stay home. The fierce pride he feels as his braves go to war without him; knowing they will acquit themselves with honor. All because he taught and led them.
With respect, sir, I find it difficult to not see you in a position of leadership in whatever role you find yourself. You are the sort of man who will do what is right and proper and to Hell with those who say no. I heartily agree with Sea Wolf, use your instinctive and trained abilities to lead and show these repugnant, hateful thugs what makes America great.
To the memory of this day, I feel gratified that you and the rest of my Navy were ready to answer the call.
That morning I knew I would be wearing green again at some time in the future – I figured it would be about two years before I’d be called up from the IRR. Meanwhile I would finish my degree, meet the girl of my dreams (on Sept 16, actually) and get married. She knew she could wake up some day as an Army wife.
I was off by 7 months, largely, I suspect, because of Iraq – I was back in green in February 2003. Out again by September…. and back in by my own call in April of ’06, supporting those who may (and in fact are) still in the fight.
For all who were serving on that day, for those who continue to serve – thank you. Service means more to me than wearing the uniform either, as Sea Wolf so rightly pointed out.
That said – Lex I’m glad to know you were “out there”, active and fighting at the beginning of this thing. Thank you.
Like nearly everybody else stateside, I spent 9-11 glued to the TV, and checking voice and e-mail. Waiting for “the other shoe to drop” –for additional attacks. We were watching the CAP listservers for more information and specific alerts. A big concern was the nationwide grounding of all CONUS aviation traffic and the potential for crashes –accidental or otherwise –that could call us out. Fortunately nothing further happened that day.
In the first week that followed, I would stop by Wing Headquarters almost daily to check for updates and handle anything that needed doing in ground operations. Aside from more detailed equipment inspections and procedure drills, we had no mission taskings. Very frustrating, but self-deployment is a big No-No in CAP. Other state Wings were fully involved and it was our turn to wait. If they needed us they’d say so.
Six years later, those days kind of run together , but some things still stand out in memory:
The morning of the 13th, walking in to Wing HQ to check my mail slot, thinking I was the the only one in the building, I opened the door of the main briefing room. It was filled with teenage cadets sitting on the floor assembling ground team equipment. The moment they saw me–and I’ll never forget this–they ALL STOOD UP AS ONE. Each one was wearing their search web gear. The senior of the group, a cadet master sergeant said “Sir, we are ready.” “Who sent you?” I asked. “Nobody sir, we just ran the unit phone chain ourselves and came here.” the sergeant replied. I knew their squadron commander was out of town, so they had acted on their own initiative. “Okay, you all need to go home. I don’t have a mission tasking for you.” I told the group. The cadet sergeant spoke up even louder: “Sir, you don’t understand–WE ARE READY NOW!!” The room was quiet for a long moment when I didn’t answer. All the cadets must have thought they were in big trouble. And they couldn’t have been more mistaken. They stood like statues waiting for my reply. For what seemed like the longest time, I didn’t know what to say. At last, I spoke to the group quietly:
“I KNOW you are all ready, that you’ve all BEEN ready. And since nobody else is here to thank you , I will. Your country thanks you. ” After that I had the cadet sergeant take them outside for drill.
I needed to get the cadets outside doing something physical, and I sure as hell didn’t need them see me starting to rain on the mail I held in my hands. I checked the direction finding gear they had just assembled, and it was correctly done. They really were ready. A few minutes later, two other adult CAP members arrived, who could take over supervision of the cadets until their parents picked them up. I had the adult senior members inspect the Wing vehicles [again] that were parked outside, and have the cadets clean and inventory [again] all the equipment packed inside. They had all mobile equipment out of three vehicles and laid out on ponchos on the grass by the time I left ten minutes later.
As I got in the car with my staff droid paperwork, before I drove away I wondered if this was what Stonewall Jackson felt when he was at VMI–love, sadness, pride…
Lex,
Didn’t Disney do a movie very, very loosely based on your ship and that day? (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0397113/)
Have you seen it and would you care to comment?
[...] Go read the rest. [...]
Craftsman, they did make a movie about it. I never saw it, but some of my old shipmates gave me a hard time about it. Said the OPSO was a lieutenant junior grade who had a crush on the captain’s daughter.
Now, my captain’s daughter was about 17 at the time, and beautiful though she was the old man would have disapproved. I need not mention the Hobbit.
What hasn’t made me angry today has made me cry. Score another one in the crying column. Good post, Lex – thanks.
An engaging post. Thank you
I still remember where I was, what I was doing and what I was thinking on that frightful day. Thank you to all who have served in the past, present and those who are continuing to fight for our freedom. I put an entry on my blog about the memories of that day. Thanks for sharing Lex
I actually watched it, mainly so I could see what my kids were learning about that day. Strip out the obligitory romantic sub-story and the message was pretty decent.
I was at home having a glass of wine with my dad at the time (happened late night our time). Spent most of the night watching the news. Fielded a phone call from my brother who was stuck at a bar with TV but no sound wondering wtf was going on, complete with some girls from NY crying in the background.
Freaky for me as I spent the first 6 months of 2001 living in the US, I have a photo of me standing on top of the WTC from June.
Lex- Thanks for sharing another perspective on a historic day. Well told!
Your personal discussion with the CO seeking to advance the careers of others rather than your own (then deemed short) is a sign of honor, and professionalism that is both noble and rare. Good on ya!
Re the future- Our country is doing well with kinetic weapons, but we are being beaten badly in the jousts for public opinion (at home and abroad). There is a real need for people other than the wacky leftists who can write, and speak and guide public perceptions and opinion. You have the gift.
You can still be in the fight defending freedom. Maybe not as much fun as fighting from the cockpit, but a load of the right words hitting the right target at the right time are desperately needed to help us win. Someplace bigger than a blog, and reaching out beyond the members of the choir.
I don’t know how, or where, you get hired on for such a task, but damn, you’d be good at it.
I was at FT Leavenworth, KS for a Division Warfighter Exercise (of all things) on 9/11. I watched the entire 42d Infantry Division (Mech) (NYARNG) Commander and Staff absorb the events as they occurred on CNN. We all walked out of the briefing room and into the G3 of the 35th Infantry Div. They many of them KNEW friends, family and neighbors in the WTC, it was THEIR city in THEIR State. All we could do was offer our condolences and provide them with whatever assistance we could for them to depart immediately by rental vehicles or G-jets. I won’t forget that day. A year later I spent the first anniversary in the Balkans at a ceremony at a US Embassy.
I work In NYC and was just that day back from vacation in Amsterdam, heard a scream on the 20th floor where my cube was, ran to see just after the first plane hit, watched for a timeless time till the second plane hit. Says I to my self. I’m out of here, this is two blocks from the Empire State bldg; granned a buddy and we started walking; quiet, no cars, people walking in the middle of the street (7th ave., six lanes, never clear, not today) Try the subways, no trains running,keep walking south, weird quiet, more people nobody knows anything, cell phones are out. Radio in a bar says 25k people in each tower, the number doesn’t register. I have friends who work there, oh sh**, are they dead? Keep walking, get to the Williamsburg bridge. A line of cops with real guns drawn. say the bridge is closed, sorry, don’t know what to say, keep moving. Look up at the towers and one of the isn’t there, oh God. Keep walking to the Brooklyn Bridge, can see people walking across, cops stop us again, sorry, closed, sh**, walk back uptown to the Manhatten Bridge and find an unguarded staircase, only 5 stories, climb up and join a mass of people, nobody knows nothing, keep walking. For the first time there is a breeze, good for about a a brief period and then the smell hits, nasty, stays nasty for a week in Brooklyn, couple months in Manhattan. Once over the bridge it is only a mile or two to home. TV is out, no cell phones, radio is spotty at best, land phones are out and then come back and then go out for good. I get home and spend the rest of the day in an information blackout looking out the window at the smoke and the hole in the sky where the towers used to be.
James, it’s like that day all over again just from reading your post, especially since I was just watching the rebroadcast of 9-11 on MSNBC (who’da thunk they’d be the ones to do that?) I had to stop and set the Tivo to record the whole thing later on tonight instead of watching part of it now. Today needs to be honored with watching the whole thing, even it if is Katie Couric. We need to remember the whole of it, not the pieces we remember from faulty memories six years ago.
Sorry ~ it’s an emotional day, if I let it be one. Looks like it’s getting ahead of me now.
The rage never goes away. It was temporarily sated by the quick campaigns in Afghanistan and Iraq, but it never goes away.
The pilot of one of the Trade Center jets was a squadron mate from my first squadron who saved my life in Naples and the pilot of the Pentagon jet was an F-4 pilot in our airwing.
It’s personal.
Concur with John’s comment regarding your future, Lex.
A random course of events led to me seeing, in extreme coincidence, the live feed of the second plane going in.
I called the Marine Corps and let them know, in not so many words, that I was willing, given a parachute, weapon, and ammunition, to go into harm’s way, and avenge those who could no longer answer the call.
The Marine Corps, in not so many words, informed me that they had it covered, and my returning to service would not be necessary.
I would have gladly gone, if they’d have let me.
On 10 Sep, our CAG OPSO jumped in a jet to fly a two-plane with his relief to Fallon for a conference. They’d complete turnover there, and fly back. But once airborne, the outgoing OPSO’s Hornet developed problems that required him to turn back. Over the radio he quipped, “Turnover complete!” Three days later, the new OPSO finally got clearance to fly back home. It was the strangest thing, he said, to go an hour at a time and not hear a single radio transmission, the skies were so empty.
James Fehr – that you can talk about it so clearly and calmly is evidence of an inner strength that most of us , hopefully, will never have to discover within ourselves.
P-3W – letting it “get ahead of you” will ensure that you will not forget, ever.
We had a nice service here in Balad, and we have a memorial set up with all he names and pictures of the victims
Sir, I visit your site almost everyday. I’ve never left a comment but, I feel compelled to share my story or maybe just to talk about it, I don’t know.
Like everyone else I remember that day as if it were ten minutes ago. I was in an HS squadron at NAS JAX. On that day I was TAD to NAS Jax H-60 FRAMP on a short break between lessons. Our AD1 came out of the instructor’s lounge and grabbed the first people he saw, myself and a fellow squadronmate. ” You two, you gotta see this.” I figured it was a big deal considering no one ever goes into the instructor’s lounge save for the instructors themselves. I looked at the TV and thought that it had to be an accident. Nobody said anything until the second plane hit, even then it was just a gasping, ” Oh my god.” Our instructors told us that “everything was going to be different” and “nothing will be the same.” Immediately, both of us knew we had to contact or squadron as did all the other TAD students. They told us they were canceling our TAD and to go home and pack our seabags. It took me about two hours to get off base and home. I had my gear packed in five minutes, it’s amazing what you can do when you’re completely focused. It took me another two hours to get on base and to the hangar. To tell you the truth, I don’t really remember the pack-up, or even getting to the aircraft for the flight, or even the flight to Norfolk or the ride to the USS George Washington itself. But, I do remember how focused and intense we and the ship’s crew were. The next morning we were in New York Harbor flying around the city. Those of us on the flightdeck were focused on the task at hand but, I know that I couldn’t stop staring at the smoke and knowing at the bottom of that column were our countrymen going through hell. Searching, screaming, bleeding, and dying. Just for going to work on a Tuesday.
Just thinking about that day and how my life has changed as a direct result (super long story) brings so many emotions for me, it’s tough to sort them all out.
I’ve deployed twice to the gulf, lost buddies in other services, got out of the Navy, and struggled with my purpose as a civilian. Reading your blog makes me feel more American and more proud of it. I’s good to know I’m not the only one who has the same thoughts and ideals. Your posts enlighten, comfort, and inform. Keep up the great work Sir, and I’ll be reading…
Smitty
Lex, My Brother in Law was on the Carl Vinson during that time in fact one of his last emails to me, he talked a little bit about when the ship was taking over duties of the Gulf. I use to follow the ship via its own website.
He is the same rank as you, but is currently billetted at the NSA and will be turning in his papers shortly.
For me that day, it was like most cities a little chaotic. I work in the tallest building in the city, which also happens to be in landing path for most planes coming into Cleveland. So our building was evacuated first, then the Mayor ordered the evacuation of the entire downtown area. The rumors of a bomb on one plane and another plane flying near Cleveland that was unidentified (later to be #93). Put everyone on edge. When walking, everyone would look up as a plane would pass over downtown. Then the planes stopped, then all you heard was the noise of gridlock as everyone tried to leave the downtown.
Then at night, there were no sound of the occasional plane either taking off or landing.
Smitty, Excellent comment…agree with your sentiment re this blog…a good bunch of guys and of course the Lex Babes ( you know who you are) makes this an enjoyable and on occasion (thanks to me) an informative snark filled place …so don’t be a stranger…it’s impolite to lurk you know… and fire away. Best
I am retired Army and want to relay my experiences around that day. I was in Bucharest, Romania teaching an Intel Seminar to representatives from 11 Balkan countries. We all sat in shock and watched the planes hit on CNN. Their sympathy was tangible while my crew was in shock. Then a few days later, on that Friday, we had a closing ceremony. Before the ceremony we spoke of innocents (and innocence) lost and the heroes who went into those buildings. Then we stood at attention precisely at Noon with the windows open – all traffic stopped, and every church bell in the city pealed for 5 minutes. I understand it happened all across Europe. We all stood there silently, with tears rolling down every face. A powerful moment. Now I have two kids in the fight. Never forget – never forgive.
Thanks Snake, will do.
I sometimes ask myself where we went wrong.
Using “we” as in all of us, everyone in the world (or more accurately, what mostly comprised my world at the time). Not only was the US obviously and properly united and determined in its grief but from my point of view, my world was united beside you and around you. United in your grief. And shock and horror and anger. And willing to stand beside you as you took the next step, whatever that might be.
That was the take I had on it shortly afterwards. Not only do I vividly remember the day itself but I also remember walking around stunned for weeks, months afterwards. And finding I so needed to talk about it. Even just in going to the grocery store kind of interactions. And I found that it only took two or three words from me and the stranger next to me was suddenly completely engaged in the same conversation. Like we all wanted or needed to talk about it, figure it out and someone just had to take a breath and let it out.
I remember Lex posting once about being at sea and a French or German … I forget which… ship coming along side and dropping a banner over the side displaying their support. That made sense to me. It seemed right. It felt right. That was the way it was. And then … something happened. And now the mess … is just a bigger mess. That’s what it looks like over here.
To Smitty and the rest of you, thank you for sharing your stories in such great detail. I believe that it is important for all of us to remember what happened in order to honor those who have passed and those still fighting for us. Lex, being non-military myself I find your blog very enlightening and enriching. For that … I thank you. I have two very young sons and hope that someday they will have the passion in their beliefs that you have exhibited in your journel entries.
as the daughter, grand-daughter, neice, cousin and aunt of military men and women i never forget that you are willing to stand and fight and say “not on my watch, i will not submit, i will not quit, you will remain free.” as the mother of a 17-year old boy – soon to be a man – who has just “dep”ed into the navy (he hops for special warfare), i sometimes wish i hadn’t taught him so much about love of god, family and country.
but in reality there are no words i would use to disuade him. it is humbling to me that this young man, like so many others who came before him, is so ready and willing to do that of which i am so afraid.
i am humbled by those who stand in harm’s way for all of us to use (or abuse) the freedoms guaranteed in our u.s. constitution. thank you lex, and smitty and james and snake and everyone else who took the time to respond here. and thank you to all of you for your service and defense of our country and our constitution.
Lex,
I was out there on the Big E when it all broke out. That night was interesting. I also remember us and the Connie steaming together early in August. We were all getting itchy, because just before the Enterprise pulled into the Gulf one of Saddam’s SAM sites put an SA-2 missile near a Tiger Tail’s E-2 over international waters. There was thought that we might do a two carrier bombing raid against Saddam. After a big build up, the Connie out chopped from 5th Fleet control, we went to Dubai. Liberty was restricted to the sandbox for us, all because some video tape with OBL on it came out claiming the US was a threat(we found that bit out later). Then we were relieved by the Chucky V and planned to head south across the equator and home.
I was on my two week Annual Training with the USNR at Kings Bay, in Squadron Ops. The Chief came through the door and told us to turn on the TV. We turned on Fox just after the second tower had been hit. We had a SSBN inbound from patrol in the channel with dependents already on the pier, so we went to work to deal with both. We got the boat in the turning basin, flipped her around and got her back out to sea while fielding calls from the scared and upset wives. Once things called down a bit, I sat back and noticed the Chief staring at the TV. Only later did I find out that he was from north New Jersey and that his niece worked in one of the WTC towers and a nephew worked in another building nearby. It turned out that neither had made it to work yet and were safe. Still, for one of us, that day was truly personal. Yet that Chief set it all aside and got the job done.
ET1(SS)
Ok, this isn’t the type of post where I should be making a joke, but I couldn’t resist.
Lex,
Were you the inspiration for this movie?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zom2AsKrXwk
And if so, can you get me in touch with Hayden Panettiere??
Lex,
I was on ENTERPRISE as a TAO during that cruise.
I recall the turnover we did with you guys half by MS Chat and the other half by PPT briefs. I recall chatting with my TAO counterparts in your CDC as you guys steamed south and out… (I remember the CWO4 TAO you had chatting to me that he was getting off in Hawaii to fly home with his wife. I heard he has passed on since.. sort of a RADAR and Sparkey friendship ala MASH, never met him, yet I knew him..)
ENTERPRISE had just chopped the SOH the night of the 10th of September, we had a new OPS O and a new Admiral.
We were headed to South Africa to cross the line and visit a new liberty port.
My roommate woke me up with the TV on in our stateroom. UTTER Disbelief that a plane could accidently crash into the WTC, then the second one, first a spot on the sky then watching the impact live… wow, total disbelief and life changing event.
Ship was dead in the water. Ship changed course. Ship headed north.
7 October 2001 we did our “ammo off load” and saved a few days of steaming in the VACAPES for it.
Taking the tired BIG E into the Yards after that cruise was like going to a funeral. Terrible to see my shipmates leave the ship to go on to ticket punches while a handful of us stayed behind in the yards…
Your words mean a lot because I was there shipmate.
Bruce Kessinger was the warrant officer, great guy. Died suddenly about a month after we returned from our 2003 deployment. Terrible shock.
Now there was a guy who could tell a sea story.
Lex,
Bruce! That was him. I recall getting the scoop on who was who in the zoo and the “Pilipino Monkey and Stinky Indian” radio show hours of play. He was a good man from where I sat. He kept sending me turnover after you guys went to Singapore or Australia or wherever you portcalled after we relieved you.
Bruce,
Rest in Peace Shipmate…
[...] But more relevant to TFD, guess what I came across? What’s ironic is I had never even heard of this movie until a few days ago. [...]
[...] Neptunus Lex was operations officer on an aircraft carrier when the news came in. Read the comments, too. [...]
[...] Neptunus Lex was operations officer on an aircraft carrier when the news came in. Read the comments, too. [...]