9 posts tagged “aviation”

Don't worry, it has nothing to do with fish (even if Troy McClure might prefer otherwise). I was spending some quality time browsing YouTube for videos of the plane my husband will be flying, and I felt the need to share them with (or inflict them upon, depending upon your level of fascination with airplanes) my dear readers.

This first one is of a trap, or carrier landing. Man, the COD is a big hoss.

This one is a montage of video and photos of the COD set to music. It's certainly no "Pump It," but there are some fairly cool shots.

A vital step in the process of getting settled in the new house has been completed: we have high-speed Internet access. Compared to the hoops of fire we had to jump through to accomplish this back in Texas, getting connected here was a breeze. Score one for Cox; we'll see how the rest of their service stacks up.

Having said access allows me to do exciting things like share the news of what M will be flying as his fleet aircraft. We found out this morning that he will be a C-2A Greyhound pilot. The Greyhound is the COD, which stands for Carrier Onboard Delivery, meaning that he will be flying cargo and people and what-have-you to aircraft carriers. I plan to tell new acquaintances that my husband is a Greyhound driver and watch them try to puzzle out what on earth a bus has to do with Naval Aviation.

...and yes, I'm absolutely okay with that! Naval Aviation will make you say some pretty strange things sometimes, and being able to say -- with a straight face, mind -- that I was absolutely ecstatic to find out today that my darling husband is a hooker is definitely one of them.

Okay, further explanation is probably in order: M has been away since late last week on the carrier qualification (CQ) detachment, and I'd been waiting on the edge of my seat ever since for the word that he completed the necessary traps (landings aboard the aircraft carrier) to earn the right to call himself a tailhooker. The tailhook, of course, is what the planes landing on the carrier use to catch a wire to decelerate themselves. The video below shows an earlier CQ det, and it might give you an idea of the sort of thing my husband's been up to recently.

I don't think I could be any more proud of M right now. He's worked hard for this accomplishment and I know he'll be fantastic in whatever comes down the pipeline next. Right now, though, I just can't wait for him to get home so we can celebrate!

Anything will start to seem routine if you hear about it enough. There are days that I forget that not everyone's husband goes to work in a flight suit, especially living around and socializing mostly with student naval aviators and their spouses. Every once in a while, though, there are days that remind me what a cool job my husband actually has. This past Wednesday was one of them.

M has been extremely busy lately preparing for carrier qualifications, often leaving early and coming back late, sweaty and exhausted from three "bounce periods" a day. The husband of one of my good friends is also getting ready for the upcoming CQ detachment, so Annie and I had been missing out on time with our men. When M mentioned something about a barbecue out at the auxiliary landing field where the CQers were bouncing, I mentioned it to Annie. After a little hemming and hawing over how we would probably be the only spouses to drive out to the middle of nowhere for a poorly publicized barbecue, we finally convinced each other that it might just be an adventure. And hey, it's not like we were doing anything else that day.

The drive turned out to be forty-five minutes of uninterrupted South Texas desolation, and upon our arrival, we learned that not only were we indeed the only wives who showed up, but a scheduling quirk meant that our husbands weren't even going to arrive for another hour. No one quite knew what to do with us, but we stuck around until the guys arrived by van. They weren't real sure what to do with us either, but we eventually snagged some tasty slow-cooked chicken and everyone's mood improved.

Getting to have lunch with the guys was all well and good, but Annie and I had an ulterior motive: we had never actually seen our husbands fly before, and we wanted to stick around long enough to see their bounce periods. We thought we would be able to watch from a distance, take pictures of all the planes, and maybe get a chance to ask later which ones were people we know. When we heard that we might have the chance to be able to watch from the LSO shack, though, the possibilities of this venture looked better and better.

We didn't get in touch with either of the LSOs for such a long time that we thought we were out of luck, but just before we were about to give up, "Demar" walked over and asked us if we'd like to come out. There was no hesitation in our "Yes, please!" We joined him on the ride out to the shack, where we met up with "RJ," the other LSO who would be waving our husbands' passes.

A quick note of explanation: A Landing Signal Officer, or LSO, is someone who controls aircraft as they approach and land on aircraft carriers. They are highly trained and can tell just by looking whether a pilot is on glideslope for a good trap, has too much or too little power, or whether they need to move right or left. LSOs grade each landing, as well. On an interesting note, the highest grade one can ever get is just "OK." Got it? All right, moving on...

My husband was in the first bounce group, and I was excited just to be so close to the action. I watched his first couple of passes from outside, and man, those jets are loud. We're talking chest-vibratingly, shack-shakingly loud. Annie and I were lucky that Demar had some extra sets of earplugs.

On the third pass or so, though, RJ handed me the radio and gave me some instructions. When the time came, M called the ball, and as RJ told me to, I pressed the button and piped up, "Roger ball, Sweetie!" I think that threw him off just a little. The next time, RJ said, "Here, tell him this and watch him do what you say." I said, "Right for lineup... waveoff, foul deck!" and what do you know, M did exactly what I said. I got a little chuckle when I observed, "Gee, all I have to do to get him to do exactly what I want is to tell him over the radio?"

M's bounce period finished up, and I guess he still liked me even after I surprised him on the radio, since he waved to us as he taxied by. While we were waiting for the next group (which included my friend's husband) in the air, Demar showed us the famous "meatball" and explained a little bit about what they're looking for in a good carrier landing.

Well, I could write on and on, but every English teacher I ever had told me I should show, not tell. I don't think video is quite what they had in mind, but hey.

Having a spouse in the military brings its share of annoyances, certainly, but it also opens the door to getting to see and do some pretty cool things. How many other people get to see that kind of seriously cool aviation up close? I think I'm pretty lucky.

After many happy months of using various lovely pre-made themes, I decided to jump belatedly on the bandwagon and try my hand at making my own banner. This one was cobbled together quickly, but it'll do for a while.

Why do you live where you live?
Submitted by memtony.

Because this* is where the Navy sent us. :-) Methinks I will be saying the same about every place we live for the next couple of decades. I've seen some cute plaques expressing the sentiment, too; I'm surprised they're not required decorating elements in military households.

* "This" being a small town in South Texas with plenty of empty airspace for budding Naval Aviators to learn how to fly jets.

I have it on good authority that this makes it look significantly more exciting than it actually was. :-)