VFW
August 1999
Pg. 30

Striking Serbia From The Sea

Reported from aboard the USS Theodore Roosevelt at the height of the air campaign against Serbia, this firsthand account gives a glimpse of life on an aircraft carrier in action.

By Paul Harris

Every evening they roared off into the darkening sky from one of the largest floating platforms in the world. The USS Theodore Roosevelt is the flagship of the U.S. battle group that cruised the waters off the fractious Balkans: home to 72 hi-tech surveillance aircraft and fighters and fighter-bombers with names like Hornet, Prowler and Hawkeye. They represent some of the best available technology of war at the end of the 20th century.

Just watching them take off into the setting sun was awesome. The best place to see and feel this was at the end of the flight deck as aircraft were catapulted into the air just 30 meters away.

Standing on the deck of the carrier -- in the obligatory protection afforded by goggles, earphones, helmet and life-jacket -- sense of hearing was suspended; sense of vision restricted.

To one side, the superstructure and antennas of the carrier reached up to the sky like some towering modern cathedral. Nearer at hand, an aircraft strained at a hidden leash.

It was like watching a surreal, silent movie before it was suddenly launched into space. There was something almost religious about the drama, the ritual and the setting. The illusion was suspended as the deck vibrated fearsomely below. And an aircraft was propelled down the channel and clear of the bows, reaching more than 130 mph in just two seconds. Afterburners glowed red as the dark silhouettes roared into the sunset.

During takeoffs, there were more than 500 ground crew swarming around the deck all with their own, vital functions. It was a seriously dangerous place as the aircraft took off and landed; as final pre-flight checks on bombs and missiles were carried out; as fork lifts and missile trolleys crossed the deck; as steam rose from the well-greased, slippery catapult tracking; and as aircraft moved into final position.

'Cop Preventing Crime'

Below decks, Cmdr. Philip Logan sat behind a desk -- "I'm just an administrator really," he said -- dressed in a red sweat-shirt emblazoned with the words BOSS GUNNER. He knows all about what goes on at the sharp end, below those descending bombs and missiles. He ordered, stored and dispensed the aerial munitions kept aboard. He had a team of 230 for that purpose.

"I've got 8 million pounds of ordnance aboard this ship," Logan said. He rattled off the names of the harbingers of death and destruction: CBU-99 cluster bombs, Hellfire, Slam, Wally, Maverick, Phoenix ($1 million apiece), Harm ($800,000 each) and -- the new kid on the block -- the JSOW (Joint Stand Off Weapon). It's a free-fall glide weapon guided onto its target by global positioning satellite systems.

Logan was a cheerful sort. "Yes, they all seem to be working as advertised," he assured. He was frank, too: "I feel like a cop trying to prevent [Yugoslav leader Slobodan] Milosevic from committing a crime. It doesn't feel like a war at all to me. Of course, it's different for the pilots -- they're being shot at."

On Target

Every day, NATO's Combined Air Operations Center (CAOC) flashed to the Roosevelt its target list. The aircraft were chosen -- there were F-14 Tomcats, F/A-18 Hornets and EA-6B Prowlers aboard -- and a load plan was drawn up based on the best weapons to take out selected targets.

The bombs and missiles were drawn from the armory deep within the ship and went up on deck no more than three hours before missions were to be flown.

Gathered below the towering superstructure of the carrier, the Ordnance Group -- members wear distinctive red coveralls with a wide black stripe -- distributed the munitions. There was no sense of urgency.

"A battle rhythm has been established," Logan explained. "Only when targets are suddenly switched is this interrupted." All the pilots had previously tested even the newest weapons. Before Roosevelt was deployed off the Balkans, pilots tried out bombs and missiles in Nevada.

The best place to view the returning aircraft -- "recovery" in carrier parlance -- was on Vultures' Row: the open air viewing gallery above the flight deck. As returning aircraft lined up in the night sky waiting to come down, you could only guess as to their missions.

If the weather was bad, they returned with their loads, unable to drop for fear of collateral damage. News circulated around the ladders and companion ways of this small city of some 5,000 men and women. Bad weather -- again -- over Yugoslavia and no successful missions.

You could sense the disappointment for the pilots and the thousands of support crew. Tomcat pilot Ash [note: first name only for security reasons], a good-looking 31-year-old -- all the pilots seem to have those rugged Tom Cruise looks -- said "all the emphasis is on no collateral damage, that's the most important thing." So no bombs were dropped that night.

'Military Theme Park'

The captain of USS Theodore Roosevelt came as something of a surprise. Commanding Officer David R. Bryant possessed the smooth charm of a consummate politician rather than the salty, abrasive manner of the mariner.

He paid tribute to the results of training and how well different NATO forces worked together. He stressed that "we are deployed for 26 weeks at a time."

The pilots were the front line guys in this war. In May, they could hardly conceal their impatience to get on with the job. Observed one Hornet pilot, "We're nowhere near our full operating tempo." Another explained, "The weather is our major limiting factor."

For the rest of the crew aboard the Theodore Roosevelt, stand-off weapons and kill boxes were the stuff of movies. Some sailors never even saw daylight for much of their 26-week "Med cruise," as they termed it. You needed permission to even get onto the flight deck. Most spent all their time down there in the labyrinthine steel corridors.

The Roosevelt battle group was just part of an enormous and sophisticated war machine as soldiers and Marines prepared to move into Kosovo. As a Marine officer put it at Tirana (Albania) airport, "We just got ourselves one big military theme park here in the Balkans."

Paul Harris, a free-lance Scottish war correspondent, is a regular contributor to Britain's Jane's Intelligence Review. He also is the author of two books on the Balkan wars.