On The Scene: Challenges At Sea

CBS News Correspondent Cynthia Bowers is "embedded" upon a U.S. aircraft carrier in the Persian Gulf.

The only time I see the outside at all is when I go up on the flight deck, or when I walk past openings in the hangar that look out over the Persian Gulf. For the most part there is no sense of movement, so it's somewhat like an optical illusion looking out. It feels like we are on an anchored island with water rushing past. You just don't get the sense that we are moving.

Even after two weeks now on board, the flight deck is still as exciting as it was the first day. To stand within 15 feet or so of the wings of an F-14 Tomcat and feel the teeth-rattling vibrations caused by its powerful revving engines is difficult to describe. Hot air from the exhaust is blowing and you feel it in spurts. I noticed for the first time yesterday that each squadron has its own "pit crew." So as each jet takes off, an entirely new group of folks from mechanics to ground traffic to fueling units to ordinance units, etc. all rush into place to see their jets off. Being around these jet intakes is incredibly dangerous. There are pictures we've seen of helmets being sucked off the heads of workers who've come to close. Keep in mind, Lloyd's of London deemed this the four most dangerous acres on earth.

Any time I cover a story or beat for a significant amount of time there is a tendency to get bogged down in minutiae. Or so we are sometimes told by our superiors. The Washington Post reporter and I discussed this problem this morning. My feeling is, though, that if I didn't know something then there may be many people out there who also didn't know and while it may not be earth-shattering information, it's still worth getting out. So here I go.

Yesterday, the Navy began utilizing a plan that's been in the works for quite a while. A couple of nights ago, as ground troops began advancing farther north, planes were being forced to fly farther from the carrier and farther from the tanker planes that fly with them. The problem is the tankers, which are nearly 30 years old, fly much more slowly and at lower altitudes and thus slow down the progress of a mission to get to a certain area to begin providing ground cover. So last night, the Navy took its state-of-the-art F-18E Super Hornets and turned them into tankers.

The Super Hornets have three pylons under each wing on which to load bombs, but now some of the bombs are not being loaded onto all the pylons, they are being replaced by fuel tanks. This means an ensemble of fighter jets can keep flying fast, tank at higher speeds and higher altitudes and if for some reason the Super Hornet tanker gets in trouble with anti-aircraft fire, it can drop tanks and have the maneuverability for which it is known.

The S-3 Viking tankers were going to be phased out by 2007 and replaced by more Super Hornets, but in a show of flexibility the Navy was able to say, "We need to go to this now," and were able to do so even while in combat.

I'm not a military person at all. In fact, in my first reporter's notebooks I attributed quotes to the ship's commanding officer, not understanding the power structure on board. The man who has the dirty work of a daily pep talk on keeping the ship clean is the "XO" or executive officer, Ron Horton (whom I have now met — he's really a great guy.) The commanding officer, on board a ship, as many of you may know, is the captain. On this ship he is 47-year-old Kendall Card, a good ol' boy from west Texas, who still has the accent. I think it sounds like home to hear a Southern accent, and I enjoy listening to him talk. He's a NASCAR fan who follows Ricky Rudd. Card, too, has a daily message for the crew, but his is usually dedicated more to an update on the situation, such as "We're making good progress in this war and just keep on, keeping on." And always, he closes with "keep smilin."

The crew is into a routine now. From the ship itself looking out over the placid Gulf it's hard to tell there is a war under way. After all, fighter jets were flying missions before the war was declared.

All night now, bombs are moved around, aircraft brought down to the hangar by elevator and engines taken apart and put back together as needed. I've made the mistake of linking which door or hatch I enter to get to my workspace with a plane that was sitting nearby. Now every time I come down to the hangar the configurations have changed. Planes that were there are gone, other planes are there, and there are many wrong tries before I pause and think, "Oh, yeah, there's the door I need."

Hallways look so much alike and there are so many 90-degree turns, if I pause on my way somewhere I'm likely to panic and think I'm lost. If I just walk briskly, though, I generally get there. It's a case, I think, of my body knowing the way and if I just leave my brain out of it I will get there. It can be likened to driving a semi-familiar route and suddenly snapping to and thinking, "How did I get here?" or "Where am I?" Usually within seconds we come to our senses and recognize our surroundings. At night it can be tricky because white lights are doused in favor of red, so everything has an unusual glow, and it's a lot like driving in fog: No matter how familiar the road, it just looks so different as to be almost unrecognizable.

We are making good friends on board, generally with the people who have been assigned to escort us around. I look forward to being able to spend time with the Blue Wolf squadron which flies those soon-to-be-phased-out S-3 Vikings. Now when I sit on the bridge with the captain, which I've been lucky enough to do a couple of times, I look at the planes still out and see who the pilot is and "will them in" safely, monitoring their distance and their fuel until I see them safely on board. It's not something I expected to happen, but it's made for a much more enriching experience.

Last night the captain and I agreed that our personal success can be attributed primarily to work ethic rather than being particularly gifted. And I told him that, "I sometimes stop and think, 'If I hadn't worked so hard I wouldn't be where I am now.'" He laughed and said, "on board the USS Abraham Lincoln!" as if there are other places I would rather be. I said with all seriousness, stealing a phrase from him, "Yes, on board this great warship with this great crew."

By Cynthia Bowers