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It was a dark stormy night aboard the USS Nimitz and the Hornet drivers were doing their best to get aboard.

Or so I was told by one of them during the Wednesday night “cattle call” that used to be held at the Miramar “O club, back when girls just wanted to meet anyone in a flight suit because of some Tom Cruise movie. I had been on the boat a few days before, renewing old acquaintqances, soaling in the ambiance that is a ready room of a fighter squadron (pre-female), and having sliders and bug juice for dinner in the dirty shirt mess.

Ah, the life.

But, my visit was over and I returned to shore on the COD flight agreeing to meet up with a few of the Hornet drivers on Wednesday night. You'd have to understand what the Navywas like then, some 26 years ago, when the movie came out.

So many women wanted in to the O Club on Wednesdays that the Navy agreed to let them in free, osentibly to promote Naval Aviation or something. So every accountant, desk jockey and maintenance officer from Miramar to Tustinshowed up in a new flight suit. Some even sewed on patches purchased at an Army-Navy store.

None who hadn't earned them had the gall to wear the cherished Wings of Gold, however, as they knew they'd get their tail bounced out by actual fighter pilots. But the women didn't seem to know the difference, or they didn't care.

They always ask the same question, "What do you fly?" And the base purchasing officer, in his fresh, new flight suit would answer, "F-14 Tomcats, what else?" And he was hooked up for the night.

Anyways, I saw a couple of guys from the squadron, grabbed my beer and walked over to them.

"Man, you should have stayed aboard!" one exclaimed.

"Why? What happened? " I asked.

"Well, we were having night ops, doing some carquals (Carrier Qualifications) for new guys and it was a little rough. Some of them were way over their heads, but atleast they were getting them down."

"Yeah, so?"

"Well, the last nugget was in the pattern and he was having problems. Everybody could see that. When he showed up on the PLAT screen (A TV that points straight up the glideslope and is shown in every compartment aboard ship, including the Captain's, officially the Pilot's Landing Aid Television), we could see he was low.

"Paddles (LSO) wwas on the daio shouting at him, 'more power, more power,'but the kid was sinking and it seemed like he was going to hit the spud locker (the stern of the ship)."

And did he, I asked?

"No, he went into full burner, and when it looked like he was going to hit the boat, he ejectd."

"Get out," I said.

"Oh, it gets better. Once he was gone, the Hornet cleared the deck and snagged a three-wire and jest sat there on the flight deck in full afterburner."

Now a Hornet in full afterburner is a fearsome sight to see in the air, imagine it sitting on your deck, putting out a gazillion pounds of thrust and straining against the wire, which probably hadn't been replaced in a week. Needless to say, it lit up the night.

"What happened next?" I asked.

My friend smiled.

"The Captain and the CAGwere highly pissed, for one thing. Those of us standing on Vulture's Row couldn't believe what we were seeing. A perfectly good Hornet sitting on the deck, without a canopy, blasting away in full afterburner. They could probably see us in Coronado and we were a good twenty-five miles out."

The Hornets weren't armed of course, but if the wire broke and the Hornet was free of its shackles, all hell would break loose on the deck and anything in its way would be toast.

"So what happened?" I asked.

"Well the Captain gets on the 1MC(the shipwide intercom) and yells, 'somebodygo shut the plane down.' Only nobody moved. Would you?"

"I see what you mean," I said.

"Then the Air Boss in PriFly(primary flight, like an air traffic controller) got on his mike and told the deck crew to shut the plane down. Still, nobody moved.

"Pretty soon, everyone with any kind of rank was ordering someone, anyone to climb aboard that rumbling, shaking, loud-as-hell jet to pul the power off," my friend laughed. "It was starting to get embarassing."

Anyone ever go out?

"Well, finally they found seaman apprentice who'd been aboard for about a weekand was the lowest rung on the ladder, explained to him how to shut the jet down and promissed him a promotion if he'd go do it, so I was told."

"And did he?"

"Never got the chance, you know a Hornet in full burner will eat up its fuel in minutes(this was back when they had about 45 minutes of range) and it just sort of ran out of gas, it quit."

Good grief, I said. (Actually a lot more profane, but you get the idea)

"Here's the funny part," my friend said. The LSO went down to the squadron ready room and gave the jet an OK-no pass on the squadron greenie board, but flunked the pilot. (The greenie board is posted for everyone to see and rates everyone's landings, no matter who they are; new guy to Admiral. An OK-no pass is the highest rating.

"And what happened to the pilot?"

"Oh, the rescue chopper picked him up and dropped him soaking wet onto the deck where he was escorted down to the ready room, shown the greenie board and he was told that in the entire history of Naval Aviation, it was the first time that a plane had a higher score than the guy driving it. It was hillarious."

"Is the guy still flying?"

"Yeah, a desk at Miramar. They told him he can have his wings back as soon as the CAG gets over his desire to have him hung from the yardarm."