On 26 April 1966 the Enterprise launched her first sortie of the day as the sweep second hand on the bridge clock clicked past the vertical at precisely noon. The last plane of the flight schedule “trapped”—made the final arrested landing — at 0037 the following morning, 27 April. At that moment, before the last plane was unhooked from the arresting gear, CO, Enterprise assumed his role of commander, Task Unit 77.6.2, consisting of the Enterprise and two destroyers, and commenced a series of verbal orders in the clear — not encoded — over the voice radio on TBS to Task Unit 78.4.3, a URG made up of an oiler, an ammunition ship, and a general-stores ship escorted by two frigates (DEs). The initial orders were for the two units to come to new courses so that each group would head directly for the other, and increase speed. The URG was directed to increase speed to eighteen knots and the carrier unit to twenty-five knots.
The two task units were now closing directly toward each other at a speed of fifty miles an hour, with no lights showing, visible to one another only as greenish blips on the ship’s radarscope. Taking position at the naval tactical data system (NTDS) console, I could see the entire tactical situation on a large cathode ray tube (CRT). By manipulating the controls of the NTDS console, intercept courses could be laid out, maneuvering board problems worked, and the course and direction of every ship on the screen monitored. Otherwise, all of these course and speed requirements had to be computed with pencil on a printed-paper maneuvering diagram.
From their initial positions, the two formations were maneuvered so that they would meet head-on in about ten minutes. That was the objective: to join up the carrier with the service force unit as quickly as possible and accomplish the replenishment of ammunition, aviation fuel, and dry stores. Speed tempered with safety was the important factor. Long overtaking tail chases were an anathema.
Five minutes before rendezvous, the URG was ordered to turn to the replenishment course, a heading selected to put the relative wind on the port bow of all of the ships — the optimum wind and sea conditions for maneuvering in this evolution — and to form a line abreast maintaining eighteen knots. The captains of the URG ships, with many replenishments in their logs, had anticipated this order, and as the URG ships completed their turn to the replenishment course, all three ended up in a line abreast, a thousand yards apart, at the prescribed replenishment speed. Meanwhile, by working the NTDS, the time to turn and a course were computed that would put the carrier one thousand yards on the port beam of the oiler, which was in the center of the UnRep formation on an opposite course at twenty-five knots.
All vessels of both groups were still in “darkened ship,” that is, showing no lights at all, and only three radio voice transmissions had been made. As the carrier reached the point directly on the port beam of the oiler, which was now on the UnRep course at eighteen knots, the helmsman was ordered, “Left standard rudder.” At twenty-five knots, the Enterprise answered the helm in a lively fashion, eighty-nine thousand tons of ship kicking up a wide phosphorescent wake and commencing to heel outboard as she entered the turn.
The air officer had announced on his flight deck bullhorn, “Stand by for a turn to port” to warn all the plane handlers on the flight and hangar decks to hold the brakes on their aircraft or insert chocks under the wheels of those planes that were not tied down or did not have a plane captain in the cockpit. The planes were being moved to respot the deck after the final plane recovery. The carrier’s deck would take a five- to seven-degree list during this 180-degree turn, and unless properly secured, the aircraft, like the cannon on the frigates of old, would roll freely unless braked or tied down. As the carrier approached the 180-degrees of turn, the helmsman was ordered to “Steady up” on the formation replenishment course. If the maneuver was done correctly, from an accurate distance abeam using the prescribed rate of turn and the proper ship’s speed, the Enterprise rolled out on the replenishment course exactly twelve hundred yards astern of the oiler, moving directly up the oiler’s wake at an overtaking rate of seven knots.
Now the oiler’s wake could be seen, delineated by the phosphorescent turbulence on even the darkest nights. The carrier’s course was then adjusted to parallel the oiler’s heading, 120 to 150 feet — an eyeball estimate — to the left of the oiler’s track in the ocean. In a support operation, the carrier always makes the approach on the replenishment ship and always comes along its port side. The carrier’s bridge is located on the right-hand edge of the flight deck, and that is where the conning officer conducts his approach, from the right wing of the carrier’s bridge, about 150 feet above the waterline. As yet, the oiler was only a black blur in the night darkness, and a sailor stationed in the very prow of the carrier called out to the bridge over his sound-powered telephone when the Enterprise’s bow was even with the oiler’s stern.
At this point the order was given—“All engines back full”—breaking the silence of the pilothouse. During the entire operation there was minimum talk. No conversation, only reports, orders, and acknowledgments. All the lights on the bridge were out or dimmed to preserve the night vision adaptation of the conning officer and his assistants.
The order to “back full” was executed simultaneously in all four engine rooms, slowing the propeller shafts from 139 rpm to zero in less than a minute by introducing steam to the turbines in a reverse direction and decelerating the propellers at a standard rate to keep all shafts in synchronization. In the ninety-eight-degree temperature and the earsplitting din of each engine room, the throttleman, a veteran first-class petty officer, closed his eighteen-inch throttle wheel with practiced skill, his eyes glued to the steam gauges in front of him to respond to the bridge’s orders in exact accordance with a precise deceleration schedule. An error on his part could cause a collision, wipe out replenishment fuel lines, or dangerously stress the nuclear power plant.
As the carrier moved up the port side of the oiler, low-intensity floodlights came on at the replenishment stations on both ships to illuminate small groups of sailors in dungarees and bulky kapok life vests. All wore various colored plastic hardhats to identify their duties at that particular replenishment station. Again, there was total silence; no talk or movement except as was necessary in the pursuit of their duties.
As the carrier’s bridge came into position, about one hundred feet from the left wing of the oiler’s bridge, the order was given: “All engines ahead two thirds, make turns for 18 knots.” I adjusted the timing of this order, based upon my shiphandling experience with the Enterprise, so that the Enterprise’s relative movement stopped when the two bridges were directly abeam and both vessels were making a good eighteen knots through the water without any relative movement ahead or astern.
At this point the carrier’s bullhorn, directed to the oiler, called out, “Stand by to receive the line firing gun. On the oiler, all topside personnel take cover.” That meant to get behind a bulkhead, spray shield, or piece of machinery. A boatswain’s mate from the carrier was now clear to fire the line-throwing gun to propel a projectile, a 6-inch-long, half-inch-diameter brass rod, across the upper decks of the oiler. This projectile had a lightweight line attached, the messenger to which heavier working lines were married. The boatswain with the line-throwing gun aimed at a forty-five-degree elevation over the bridge of the oiler and pulled the trigger. Out flew the bronze rod over the oiler, falling into the sea on the far side. At the sound of the report, the sailors on the oiler leaped out of their protected locations into their assigned positions for the replenishment evolution. On both ships, every sailor topside has a specific assignment in which he has been trained and become an expert. There are no spectators, no loafers or lollygaggers. Any sailor without a specific duty remains clear of the replenishment stations and operations.