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They are called "work-ups"-a deceptively simple term that in two words says the world's most powerful Navy is getting ready for a little practice. The 100,000-ton carrier, the USS Abraham Lincoln, containing 5,500 sailors and 80-plus aircraft, would rendezvous with the rest of its fiercesome battle group off the California coast to work out tie kinks before its crew could consider themselves ready to do what they do: go to war.

This work-up would be different, however-at least, from my point of view, because I would be privileged to be part of the action.

It was with the grace of a train wreck that we slammed onto the deck of the Lincoln as it steamed off the southern coast of California last November. An arrested landing is the fitting punctuation to an hour-long flight in the carrier on-board delivery (COD)that windowless plane on which everything from mail to fresh meat is ferried from land. I supposed I was the latter.

There is no mistaking your arrival on an aircraft carrier. As the ramp on the COD drops open, your senses-previously deprived throughout the dim, droning flight-are immediately attacked by caustic jet exhaust that's being wafted by along with a hurricane soundtrack. Following the hunched-over line of "walking cargo" who were exiting the plane, I twisted past the business end of a shrieking Hornet that was taxing to the bow.

The nerve-dulling noise makes your skin and bones vibrate and arouses some primeval mechanism of self-preservation inside you. It widens your eyes and rattles your very fiber. Here, the human voice is useless for communication, and the multicolored-shirt deck crew practices a carefully choreographed dance in which every movement communicates something vital to the operation. For me, there is no other place on earth like a carrier deck during flight ops. It is pure heaven-with just a tiny bit of hell tossed in for flavor.

I was back on the boat at the invitation of VF-31. The Tomcatters, as they are known, fly the latest variant of the F-14: the "D." With its 27,000-pound-thrust afterburning engines, it is commonly called "the Super Tomcat" The purpose of my visit was to report on the expanding roles of the F-14 as a ground striker as it filled the vacuum left by the retirement of the Navy's last dedicated attack platform, the A-6 Intruder. The Lincoln battle group was beginning its composite training unit exercise (COMPTUEX) and I was to be treated to a full lineup of flight ops and related war-game drills.

After stowing my sea bag and spare camera gear in my stateroom, I made my way up to '"vultures' row," the observation deck high on the ship's island. Even above it all, the noise was awesome. The ship was in a hard left turn and listing to the right-sorry, starboard-a good 15 degrees. We were turning into the wind, and by the configuration of the deck, it was obvious the next event was about to be launched.

Typically, the daily flight plan describes a rhythm of events called "cyclic ops." Flight deck events (or "evolutions") consist of a launch and a recovery. Obviously, however, the first event of the day is usually only a launch, unless there is an inbound COD to recover.

Subsequent events always begin at the four catapults, or CATS, since the deck is fouled with outbound aircraft. Once that event is airborne and the deck has been cleared, the previous event's airplanes are recovered or "trapped." Often, these 11/4-hour cycles start before dawn and continue unabated until almost midnight It should be noted that there are no rotating shifts for flightdeck personnel. In other words, the person working CAT 1 for the first event is the same tired soul who works CAT 1 for the last event It makes for some very long days and nights.

# posted by Medical Information : 1:13 AM