Hummer-Hole Hazard - Brief Article

One of the benefits of flying E-2s is that our aircraft are almost always spotted in the "Hummer hole," beside the island. Because of the valet parking, we are rarely forced to wander about the flight deck looking at numbers. Since E-2s generally launch at least 15 minutes before everyone else and recover last, another benefit is that we walk to the aircraft at a time when the fight deck is fairly quiet. Because of these benefits, however, Hawkeye aviators may not be as adept at walking around a busy flight deck as other aviators in the air wing.

We were scheduled for the first launch of the day. Our mission was to run a medium-sized strike against the carrier. After a thorough brief, we suited up and began walking up to the flight deck. To expedite taxiing and launching, the flight deck recently had begun spotting the first E-2 to launch just aft of JBD 2, facing the starboard side of the ship.

Because we would man up, start engines and be airborne 15 minutes before the others, the new spot didn't seem like it would pose any problems. Five minutes before our scheduled launch time, however, I was close to putting my foot through the computer, which had refused to load after more than 20 minutes of troubleshooting.

As mission commander, I elected to down the aircraft and man a spare that had been spored in the Hummer hole. When I had climbed out of the aircraft, it seemed like all hell had broken loose. The noise was deafening. Hornets and Tomcats--each with extremely large intakes--were taxiing all around our aircraft on their way to the waist cats. One of the Hornet pilots taxiing past looked down at me and gave me the thumbs-down signal. I nodded to confirm that our aircraft was down. I'm sure he was as surprised to see an E-2 guy as I was to be there.

Vikings were starting engines beside us. The deck was setting up to shoot no-loads on cat 1. Maintenance personnel were running about trying to fix other planes. Yellowshirts and blueshirts were busy moving aircraft around the deck. It was, in essence, a normal day on the flight deck. The only difference was that I was not in the safe confines of the CIC. Rather, I was alone in the middle of a sea of non-skid and moving aircraft.

Within minutes, the situation quickly deteriorated to "What the hell am I doing here?" I had been inching my way aft with no Way to get across the seemingly endless line of Hornets heading to the waist cats. I thought, "As long as I stand next to this turning Hornet and he doesn't move, I'm OK." Of course, the Hornet started moving. I was alone again. Could it get any worse? You bet.

Above the whine of the jet engines, I began to hear a low humming noise that was getting louder. I looked up and saw the C-2 taxiing toward me. Unless I moved quickly, I was going to get whacked by one of the Greyhound's props. Unfortunately, I still had no place to go. With the Hornets taxiing aft, I was worried about getting blown down right in front of the COD and into its props. The copilot of the C-2 looked down at me and waved, basically letting me know that he saw me and was watching out for me. Yet, I still had to cross the line of Hornets. Finally, an FA-18 heading aft was turning and directing his jet wash elsewhere. In the brief amount of time before the next aircraft came up, I dashed across the line of taxiing Hornets in this unseemly game of Frogger. At last, I was safe in the comfortable confines of the Hummer hole.

I took a deep breath and relaxed because only then did I realize that I had been unconsciously expecting to be hit by something during the entire trip.

In our crew debrief, the main topic of conversation was the journey to the Hummer hole. It turned out that I wasn't the only one having problems. Having gotten across the line of Hornets, the other crew members found themselves uncomfortably close to the intakes of a turning Prowler. In retrospect, I'm not sure what I could've done to prevent this near-disaster. That is not to say that I didn't learn some valuable lessons.

Sailors relearn the first three lessons every day on deployed carriers: When on the flight deck, never relax, keep your head on a swivel, and watch out for each other. The fourth lesson is that naval aviators tend to concentrate solely on ORM issues or lessons learned that affect only the flying portion of the flight. In particular, when on the boat, the most dangerous part of the fight may not be actually flying, but simply getting to the aircraft.

Lt. Heravi flies with VAW-116.

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