Landing a carrier aircraft starts in the aircraft cockpit, when the pilot makes the break into the ship's landing pattern. The pattern itself is controlled by the Carrier Air Traffic Control Center (CATCC) located one level down from the flight deck. The CATCC is a miniature of what you would find at any major airport, and it functions in exactly the same way. The controller's job is to "stack" the aircraft, prioritize them into an oval-shaped pattern about a mile wide and four miles long around the port side of the carrier, and "stagger" them, so the LSO has the necessary time to bring each aboard. (They can land an aircraft about every thirty seconds under good conditions.) The aircraft in the pattern are prioritized by their "fuel state," a polite way of saying that the first planes to be brought aboard are the ones that are about to fall into the ocean from fuel starvation. Just to be sure this does not happen, the carrier usually has an airborne tanker overhead during flight operations to refuel airplanes too close to the Empty point on their fuel gauges.
When the landing event has been properly organized, the "Lens" is turned on, and the first pilot in the pattern makes the "break" out of the pattern to line up on the stern of the carrier. During the "downwind" leg of the pattern, the pilot drops the plane's landing gear, tailhook, and flaps, makes sure the radio is set up on the LSO frequency, and turns left toward the boat. Assuming all this has been done properly, the aircraft should start its final approach at eight hundred feet altitude, about three-quarters of a mile from the stern of the carrier, and just fifteen seconds from touchdown.
As the aircraft finishes its break, the LSO orders the pilot over the radio to "Call the ball!" This tells the pilot to let the LSO know that he has spotted the amber "meatball" of the landing system. If the pilot does see it, he or she calls "Roger ball!" back to the LSO to confirm that. At this point, the final ten-second dash to the deck is on. On the LSO platform, the LSO and an assistant are watching and judging the aircraft's attitude. Highly experienced pilots themselves, LSOs are expert judges of all this. In his or her hand, the LSO holds what is known as the "pickle." This controls a series of lights near the LSO platform, which are visible to aircraft approaching the stem. As long as the aircraft continues properly on course, the pilot gets a green "OK" light. But the LSO can also activate "more power" and "wave off" lights with the "pickle." The LSO can also coach the pilot by radio, but this is not normally done. Since an enemy could intercept radio signals in wartime conditions, "emissions control" procedures (called EMCOM Alpha in its most extreme form) dictate that combat landing operations be done only with lights. If the aircraft is set up properly, it should now be about thirty feet over the fantail, with airspeed of around 130 knots/240 kph, and a decided nose-up attitude. At this point, the pilot and LSO have done their part of the job, and it is the turn of machinery to finish it.
Handling this task is the ship's arresting gear system, located in the middle of the 14deg angle aft. Stretched across the deck are four braided steel cables (called "wires" by the crew), numbered 1 through 4, from rear to front. The wires are spaced about fifty feet apart, and each is hooked to a pair of hydraulic cylinders located one deck below. If the pilot and LSO have set the landing up properly, the aircraft should hit the deck in the roughly two-hundred-foot/sixty-one-meter-by-fifty-foot/fifteen-meter rectangle formed by the wire system. If this happens, the tailhook hanging from the rear of the aircraft should snag one of the wires. If a successful "trap" occurs, the aircraft and hook pull the wire out of its spools belowdecks, and the hydraulic cylinders slow the aircraft to a stop in about 300 feet/91.4 meters, in just two seconds. The crew is then thrown forward in their straps, and lots of negative (forward) "Gs" nearly push their eyeballs out of their sockets.
Once the aircraft is safely aboard, a green-shirted deck crew member called a "hook runner" clears the landing wire from the hook, while a "blue shirt" plane handler starts directing the pilot to taxi forward out of the landing area. When the aircraft is clear of the angle, the arresting cable is retracted and made ready for the next landing. While all this is happening, the LSO is writing down a "score" for each pilot's landing. They grade two factors. First, the general way the pilot actually flew the approach and landing. An "OK" means that this was done safely and to accepted standards. Second, the wire the pilot "snagged." As we saw earlier in the first chapter, the favored target is wire number 3, which provides the safest landing conditions and the least strain on the aircraft. Landings on wires 2 and 4, while acceptable, merit a lower score; but hitting wire number 1 is considered dangerous and usually brings the pilot counseling from the LSO.
Each pilot's landing scores are posted on what is known as the "greenie" board down in the squadron ready room for all to see. These scores are accumulated, and by the end of an entire cruise, a "Top Hook" award is given to the pilot with the best landing record. The scores also frequently affect the ratings of the pilot's airmanship, which affects their future promotion hopes. Great "Hooks" may go to test pilot school or become instructors, while those with lower scores may never fly off a ship again.
In the first chapter, I had occasion to mention one of the rules that every Naval aviator learns early: As soon as the aircraft hits the deck, push the throttles to full power. In this way, if the tailhook fails to snag a wire (called a "bolter"), he has the necessary speed to fly off the end of the angle, and get back into the landing pattern for another try. Bolters happen fairly rarely these days, though every Naval aviator still experiences them now and again. Sometimes the tailhook skips off of the deck, or just fails to connect. Whatever the reason, the 14deg angled deck makes it possible for the pilot to go around again, and get aboard another time. Angled decks have saved more aircraft and aviators' lives than any invention since the development of tailhooks. The pilot just climbs out into the traffic pattern and sets up for another try. There also is an emergency net or "barrier" that can be rigged to catch an aircraft that cannot be otherwise snagged by an arresting wire. This, however, is something that no Naval aviator cares to try out if it can be avoided.
Continuing the tour of the flight deck, you can see scattered around the perimeter of the deck many different fittings and nozzles. These provide everything from jet fuel to AFFF (Aqueous Film-Forming Foam). There is also a seawater deluge system, for nuclear/chemical washdowns and fighting really bad fires, as well as "chutes" where deck personnel can drop ordinance in danger of "cooking off," should they get too hot from a deck fire. This is another of the many risks faced by flight deck personnel, though they would tell you that not doing the "dangerous" things on "the roof" is a good way to get everyone aboard killed. These are brave people, who do heroic things every time a flight evolution takes place. I defy any nation to effectively operate sea-based aircraft without such folks.
Moving on to the island, you open another hatch, head inside, and climb up six ladders to the 010 level and the Primary Flight Control, or "Pri-Fly," as it is called. Here, some six stories above the flight deck, is the control tower for the carrier, where all the operations of the flight deck and the local airspace are handled by the Air Boss and the "Mini" Boss, his (or her) assistant. They are surrounded by computer displays showing everything they need to help them control the air action around the ship.