Most people watching this video are going to ask the same question:
“How in the world did you get away with sitting in the admiral’s chair?”
Here’s the part of the story that didn’t make it into the clip.
I was serving as the U.S. Air Force Liaison during a joint military exercise aboard the USS America in in August 1991. The ship had departed Norfolk and was heading out into the Northern Atlantic. The ship’s crew was “spinning up” and getting back into shape on their way to participate in NATO Exercise North Star – FleetEx.
My job was to teach the Navy intelligence officers and crew on the ship how to integrate our Air Force C-130 Senior Scout SIGINT collection platform into carrier operations, so they would be better prepared to do so should it ever be needed in a real-world combat scenario. There are a lot of details, mostly related to crypto for communications, understanding our aircraft’s capabilities and limitations, that sort of thing.
Shortly after coming aboard, I unexpectedly ran into the Commander Air Group (CAG)—the officer responsible for everyone wearing a flight suit aboard the carrier.
He stopped me in my tracks.
“You! Who the hell are you? That’s not one of my flight suits!”
After I explained who I was, everything changed.
The CAG had already been briefed that an Air Force liaison would be joining the exercise. He reached over, pulled every piece of insignia off my flight suit, stuffed it into one of my pockets, and said:
“Don’t wear any of that stuff. You’re only going to be on this ship for a short time, and I want you to get the full experience. You already have the clearances to go anywhere on the ship. Go wherever you want. Learn everything you can. And if anybody gives you any shit… tell them the CAG told you to be there. If they have a problem with it, they can take it up with me.”
The CAG knew I was assigned to the “Supplemental Plot” section of the ship. This highly secure space is strictly “off limits” to the vast majority of the crew. In order to access the space you need both the security clearance as well as the operational “need to know” – simple curiosity doesn’t cut it.
On a United States Navy aircraft carrier like the USS America (CV-66), the Supplemental Plot (SUPPLOT) is a highly secure, specialized intelligence workspace located within the ship’s island or superstructure.
SUPPLOT serves as the primary all-source intelligence fusion center for the Carrier Strike Group (CSG) while deployed.
Core Functions of SUPPLOT
- All-Source Intelligence Fusion: SUPPLOT continuously collects, analyzes, and fuses information from multiple highly classified intelligence feeds. This includes Signals Intelligence (SIGINT), Electronic Intelligence (ELINT), Human Intelligence (HUMINT), and satellite imagery.
- Indication and Warning (I&W): The space provides real-time warnings to the Admiral, the Carrier Air Wing (CVW) commanders, and the ship’s tactical watch standers about potential imminent threats from enemy aircraft, surface vessels, or submarines.
- Tactical Picture Management: Watch standers in SUPPLOT track and maintain a comprehensive tactical map of the operating area, verifying friend-from-foe targets well beyond the organic radar range of the strike group.
Key Watch Standers in the Space
SUPPLOT is staffed around the clock by specialized Navy intelligence personnel:
- Intelligence Center Officer (ICO) / SUPPLOT Officer: Overlooks the entire watch floor, manages the fusion process, and briefs senior leadership.
- Special Intelligence Communications (SPINTCOM) Operator: Manages the highly secure communication pipelines that stream top-secret intelligence to and from shore-based agencies (like the NSA or DIA).
- RDBM (Radar Data Base Manager): Updates and monitors non-organic tracks, feeding actionable intelligence data into the ship’s primary combat systems.
So the CAG knew that as the Air Force SIGINT Liaison representative, I already had unfettered access to the most secure space on the ship. His “go anywhere you want” permission was the closest thing to a golden ticket I’ve ever received.
For the next several days I explored nearly every part of the ship. I would eat breakfast with the lowest ranking junior enlisted sailors, lunch with the senior enlisted Navy Chiefs, and dinner in the Admiral’s mess. I watched nighttime flight operations from places few visitors ever see.
All of that serves as the back-story to this video. This was my one and only trip aboard an aircraft carrier, and I made the most of it. I can also say I did a “trap” – meaning I got to the ship by flying from Norfolk aboard a Grumman C-2 Greyhound, the U.S. Navy’s dedicated Carrier Onboard Delivery (COD) aircraft, landing on the deck with a “thud” catching the wire and coming to an abrupt halt.
Once my time on the America was over, about 10 days later, I departed the ship once again on the COD thanks to a “shot” – meaning taking off from the deck of the carrier, launched by the catapult, and going from zero to “let’s go” in about three seconds. There are not many Air Force guys who have done both a “shot” and a “trap.” I can claim credit for one of each.
Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t flying the plane. I was just the “self loading baggage” in the back of the plane. It was still a hell of an experience.
This video is part of War Stories, a series within The Analyst – Applied Critical Thought, where I share real experiences from twenty years in military intelligence, Special Operations, and investigative journalism—along with the lessons learned along the way.
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Transcript:
“You can go anywhere you want on this aircraft carrier, and if anybody questions you, just tell them to talk to me.” I went, “Thanks” — because I’d just been given the golden ticket. This was like Willy Wonka. So I thought about it and decided I’m taking full advantage of this.
I ate breakfast with the swabbies — all the younger enlisted guys. I ate lunch with the chiefs. I ate dinner with the admiral — I would literally just show up at the admiral’s mess and they’d sit me down. I went everywhere on that ship I could think of going. Any space I wanted to go into, I’d walk in and say, “What are you guys doing?” They had no idea who I was, so they’d just tell me. “Well, sir, our job here is to monitor these things and make sure nothing blows up.” Okay, great.
The best one was during the exercise — they were doing nighttime combat aircraft takeoff and recovery, in the rain. Aircraft on carriers take off on full afterburner, so you get this long blue flame, 30 feet coming out of the back of the plane. It was just a light show. I’m thinking, “Man, this is really cool — where’s the best place to watch this?” Probably up on the bridge. They’ve got a pretty good view up there.
So I go up to the bridge with a cup of coffee in my hand, and there’s this really nice leather chair overlooking the flight line. All the guys on the bridge looked at me and went back to their jobs. So I walked over and sat down in the chair. Turns out that’s the captain’s chair — the admiral’s chair, actually, in that case — and nobody, I mean nobody, sits in that chair.
Everybody on that bridge looked at me, and they all thought the same thing: “I have no idea who that dude is, but if he’s got the guts to sit in that chair, more power to him. I’m not going to question him.” So I sat there, put my feet up, drank my coffee, watched a few takeoffs and landings, and went about my business.