You did it!
You took the plunge- sort of literally- and joined the US Navy.
Maybe it was for the college money, maybe you're just feeling patriotic, or maybe the
Village People made a pretty compelling argument with their 1979 top 10 hit, In The Navy.
Either way, you're in it now, and congratulations, because you're getting a first-hand education
on why living on an aircraft carrier sucks.
As the Village People famously crooned, you can indeed sail the seven seas in the Navy,
but as soon as you get on board your carrier, you very quickly realize that you're going
to be seeing very little of any sea.
That's because you've been assigned to work below decks, and it's not long until you realize
that American warships are no pleasure yachts or even tourist cruise liners.
At about your third day away from port you finally have a bit of free time and the thought
hits you- you haven't seen the sun this entire time.
You've always loved the ocean, and you loved reading stories about great age of sail heroes
who circumnavigated the world and faced raging storms, salt spray on their faces and raging
gales tossing their hair about heroically.
Except you haven't so much as tasted salt water, and the only breeze you're getting
comes from the ship's air conditioning which seems to always either be far too cold, or
not cool enough.
You haven't glimpsed the sun since you came on board- what gives?
You didn't sign up to be a submariner!
Well, as you learn the flight deck is pretty much off limits to anyone but a few authorized
personnel.
As an active runway at sea, it is pretty much the single most dangerous workplace in the
world.
At any moment a million things could go wrong, and they have in the past.
It's not long before you hear stories of arresting wires snapping and whipping across the flight
deck, cutting off people's limbs who are unlucky enough to get caught in the path.
With the job of holding back tens of thousands of pounds of force, it's no surprise that
when these wires snap- and there's always a risk of a break- they can be devastating
for flight deck crew.
Then there's the possibility of a fiery crash, although you're happy to hear that the Navy
hasn't suffered one of those in a very long time.
Still, with jets flying in at over 100 mph on a flight deck bucking with the ocean, things
can and do go wrong.
One misstep could see you accidentally run out in front of a fighter jet being catapulted
off the deck.
And well, there's always the possibility of being blown off the deck by wind or the jet
blast of a plane revving up for takeoff.
It has happened, and with the flight deck being about 65 feet above the water, falling
into the ocean from that height isn't going to give you great survival odds.
So hanging out on the flight deck to take in some sunny weather just isn't going to
be an option.
In fact there's very few places where you'll even be able to see daylight aboard your carrier,
this is after all a warship.
The bulkheads are meant to try to protect from explosive rounds and mitigate the damage
of a missile strike, and portholes or windows make for terrible protection against either.
You could try to hit up the bridge to get a nice, 120 foot view of the ocean around
you, but you'd better have some pretty serious security clearance to even be up there or
you'll very quickly be spending your enlistment in the brig.
You decide you'll just have to make do with the Vitamin D supplements the ship's doctor
has prescribed you, as you resign yourself to your fate of not seeing the sun again for
weeks.
As your first few days in your new navy life wear on though, something else starts to gnaw
at you in the back of your head...
Everything is so cramped all the time!
The hallways are so narrow people have to often turn sideways to pass each other, and
the stairs to go up or down different decks are so steep it's like doing a round on a
stair master set to the highest difficulty- plus ten.
It's very quickly dawning on you that this is a war ship with one mission: kill bad guys
and break their stuff.
And everything about the ship is built around that mission.
Crew and crew comforts are a very distant second.
At least you're not hot bunking like they do on submarines though- although in war time
that could change at a moment's notice.
Aircraft carriers have in the past been used to ferry troops around, and that big flight
line still needs to be kept clear for carrier operations, which means everyone below decks
is going to be sharing everything- including bunks.
In peace time though you generally don't have to worry about that, and you shudder to think
about having to crawl into a bed recently shared by another crewmate.
Especially when you know that shower time is even more limited on a submarine than it
is on a carrier.
Your rack is small, and number three in a stack of three, itself in a bay full of 60
such racks- but at least it's your own and it has a small sheet you can draw back for
privacy.
Well, as much privacy as you can possibly get knowing that there's 59 other sailors
all around you.
If the bunks are bad though, the toilet is a nightmare.
Now, the Navy prides itself on discipline and orderliness, which means that the bathroom
is never truly the disaster zone it could be- but with a bathroom barely bigger than
an airline bathroom being shared by dozens of guys at a time, it doesn't take much for
disaster to strike.
Plus, it's hard to always keep things clean with that many bums sitting on the same seat,
back to back to back to back.
Oh, and when it backs up due to a plumbing problem, well, let's not talk about what happens
then.
Once more you're just grateful you aren't living on a submarine.
At least each bay of 60 personnel has a common area with a tv hooked up to the ship's satellite
system, so catching up on the latest shows isn't really a problem- though with a crew
of around 5,000 sailors, avoiding spoilers is all but impossible.
There's also the galley nearest to your spot on the ship, and if everything else about
living on a carrier can be quite difficult, at least the food is almost always excellent.
Here, the Navy definitely knows what it's doing, and it learned long ago that good food
means happy sailors.
And happy sailors means less problems for the ship.
Unfortunately with deployments that can be several months long, and replenishment of
supplies being weeks apart, this also means that things like fresh fruit and vegetables
can run out pretty fast.
It's mostly frozen stuff for you and your fellow sailors, but the cooks do a really
good job of keeping the food warm and tasty.
Smell is another thing you're having to get used to, and every single day your nose is
being assaulted by all matter of weird industrial smells.
You soon realize that despite how bad ass they look, fighter jets are incredibly delicate
machines.
And after each flight an army of engineers pours over them to ensure that they stay in
tip-top shape.
Not surprising considering that jets literally fly around by channeling a constant explosion
out their rear end.
There's the smell of the various fluids used to lubricate, protect, and maintain these
incredibly expensive and delicate fighting machines.
Grease for joints, glue to make sure delicate skin sensors remain affixed, anti-freeze to
keep the plane's guts working properly in sub-zero temperatures, all matter of strange
and very aromatic scents greet your nose every day.
And this is of course just the planes, the carrier itself is nothing but a titanic machine
that needs just as much careful love and attention.
At least there's a movie theater on board, and several gyms.
Matter of fact, it looks like the sailors have taken the liberty of sticking exercise
equipment in several places definitely not designed for it.
The more you think about it, the more you realize that if there's one activity on board
you'll always find a spot for, it's exercising.
There’s also girls to talk to, they make up about 1/5th of the crew.
One of the really old timers tells you that the biggest change with allowing women to
serve aboard combat ships is that the ship as a whole generally smells nicer, thanks
to all the men suddenly feeling motivated to shower more often.
You're excited for the opportunity to be a little flirtatious, anything to break up the
monotony of your life at sea- but then you very quickly realize that the odds are very
firmly stacked against you.
And then of the 1/5th of women, you have to navigate which ones are actually available
and not married.
You sigh as you resign yourself to your bunk once more.
It's a good thing you brought an Ipad with a bunch of books loaded digitally- it gives
you something to do and also, your personal storage space consists of one shelf and a
very thin locker.
At least you'll be able to use the ship's internet to download new books frequently,
and sometimes you can even order stuff to be delivered via mail to the ship.
Being able to talk with people back home is a big plus too.
As you lay in your bunk though you can't help but shake one nagging thought from your head.
If war were to break out, well, you'd be the first to know it because US Carriers are always
first on the scene- and if that war is against someone with any kind of air force or navy,
well, you'll also be first to know because you'll be the first to be targeted.
In fact, every potential military rival to the US, from Iran to China, has detailed plans
in place to try and knock US carriers out with submarines, missiles, or any number of
other systems.
That's right, you've got a great big bull's eye on your back, you're serving on board
the world's biggest, meanest ship, but also a total bullet magnet if war breaks out.
And that's just one of the many reasons you're starting to learn that life aboard a carrier
really, really sucks.
Maybe you're watching this from a carrier right now, in that case you're probably in
desperate need of entertainment- so why not watch why living on a submarine sucks and
find out why you're lucky to be on a carrier, or perhaps you'd rather check out this other
video over here?
Either way, you can't lose, so click one now!