The Bell Tolls for Thee, Maverick

This is no bullshit:  I witnessed the death knell of the naval aviator.

In you case you didn't notice amidst all the hooplah over the Zimmerman trial, the Northrop Grumman X-47B, an unmanned air vehicle, was successfully landed on the deck of an aircraft carrier in front of the CNO, SECNAV, divers admirals and press, and moi on July 10.

Well, I kinda sorta witnessed it.  I happened to be in a different compartment of the ship which had a flight deck video feed, so I was able to watch it from there.  So I didn't see it with my naked eye.  Of course, because I require glasses or contacts I never see anything with my naked eyes, or if I do it is extremely blurry.  Plus, consider that, my eyes are only providing me with information on the light bouncing off of different objects, so even then its subjective.  I mean, what if your red is different from my red?  Does that mean that "red" doesn't really exist?

Is your conception of reality starting to fall apart?  Take a deep breath, a shot of whisky, and pull it together.

Better?  Okay.  Let's crack on.

So if I didn't actually see it in person, at least I was on the USS George H.W. Bush when it happened. I was on the ship for a few days, as part of the Newport News Shipbuilding Engineer to Sea program, where 10 engineers get lead around the ship by knowledgeable peoples to learn more about how all the pieces and different departments fit together on an aircraft carrier.

Me on the Flight Deck of CVN77

Most of those engineers actually did fight their way up to the Island, past the press, some admirals, their ceremonial cookie bearers (don't laugh - it is one of the perks of office), and the CNO himself to get a view.  I passed on the opportunity so that I could get a tour of the reactor compartment in hopes that I would soak in enough radiation to gain super powers.  Unfortunately the plants on the CVN77 are shipshape and Bristol-fashion, so I still lack the ability to leap tall buildings with a single bound or open soda cans with my mind.

There was much rejoicing over the success.  That night in the smoking sponson all the men and women who were present in support of the X47-B, a seven year project which finally culminated in proof that an unmanned vehicle could indeed be launched from and recovered on an aircraft carrier, were all smoking giant stogies in celebration.  No doubt some of them would have preferred to get rip-roaring drunk, but such things are not allowed in today's navy, at least aboard ship.  Perhaps, feeling a little loose, they decided to mix Orange Soda and Grape Soda together in the wardroom, or have an extra bowl of ice cream after dinner.

I don't imagine everyone was happy.  My good friends Ted and Tank down in Pensacola told me they went out to a bar frequented by naval aviators that night and a few tears were shed as they tapped their brown shoes to "You've got that loving feeling" for one last time.

I myself have mixed feelings about it. I've watched pilots land F/A-18s on the deck of the USS Abraham Lincoln, and its probably just about the coolest thing I've ever seen -- definitely cooler than Didier Drogba slamming home the final PK to lift Chelsea FC to Champions League Glory, but probably not as cool as when in senior year I finally got to see Maxime McGulligan's birthmark, which bears a startling resemblance to Pitt the Elder and has the additional benefit of being in a fairly private place.

E-2 Hawkeye Landing on the deck of the CVN77 during Carrier Qaulifications.  

The romantic in me thinks it would be a sad thing if no one landed planes on aircraft carriers anymore. Watching the X47-B trap probably stirred feelings in many hearts -- my own included -- that were probably not dissimilar to a Captain Jack Aubrey watching a steam engine or naval gun demo.  You can't argue that what you are seeing is progress and it's probably not a bad thing;  and yet at the same time you know that things are going to change and some of the dash and daring of life is going to go away.

Setting one's emotion aside, it is clearly better to take the pilot out of the seat.  If John McCain had been flying a drone instead of an A4-E Skyhawk when he was shot down over Hanoi in 1967, he would have shrugged his shoulders, gotten his ass chewed out by his commanding officer, grabbed a cup of coffee from the coffee mess and comforted himself with the fact that tomorrow he'd get another chance.  As it was he ended up spending 5 and half years at the Hanoi Hilton being tortured to within an inch of his life.  The more we can  avoid that sort of thing from happening again the better, and its hard to pit any romantic feelings against that.

But all those Top Guns drowning their sorrows should not fret just yet.  The drone has its place, but currently it is unable to replace a top-notch fighter and is only capable of delivering limited weapons.  It is more likely than not that in the near future naval drones will spend hours above the battlespace gathering intelligence. Sure, they might take a pot shot at somebody or something if the opportunity presents itself (though I am not sure I agree with our current tactical regime for the drone, as sadly we seem to have a knack for striking weddings in countries we are not at war with just as much as we actually use them to kill terrorists), but more than likely they will just be directing those good old brown shoes towards a target so they can finally have the chance to fuck up someone's day and then request a fly-by back at the carrier, which will be denied, but they will do it anyway because they are hot shit.  And then the CAG will get really, really mad at them but send them off to Top Gun School anyway, because he has to give them their shot!  And so the pilot will end up trying to outdo another Top Gun student who looks like Val Kilmer and he'll get to show his aeronautics instructor some really cool chess openings over breakfast (and no, that is not a euphemism for sex, bur rather a recognition that it just so happens the instructor also really enjoys chess and so they meet at a coffee shop on Sundays with a board to discuss the merits of the Lewinsky Gambit and the Hermoine-Snape Defense), but just when things are looking up Goose dies and the kid goes into a tailspin of regret because it was his fault -- or was it??  But he (or she!  Remember that now females can be fighter pilots too!) drives around Pensacola on a motorcycle and she (or he!) finds it deep within him (or--a, fuck it) self to carry on and he passes the class and goes on to be a really great pilot.

Then one day he finds himself administering medicine and medical advice to cranky 80 year old Serbian Americans, because only someone who has landed a fighter pilot on the pitching and rolling deck of a carrier at night has the nerves of steel and ice of blood to actually be the primary care physician for those crotchety, old, angry people.

And I ask you: if we don't have naval aviators anymore, who will actually be able to do that?  Who will help them?  I don't know -- it is becoming clearer that the real losers in all of this are the 'viches of our Happy Republic.

Life is a vich and then you die.

PS:  Those naval aviators should take additional heart by the fact that the X47-B only completed two out of four landings.