You did it! You took the plunge- sort of literally- and
joined the US Navy. Maybe it was for the college money, maybe
you're just feeling patriotic, or maybe the Village People made a pretty compelling argument
with their 1979 top 10 hit, In The Navy. Either way, you're in it now, and congratulations,
because you're getting a first-hand education on why living on an aircraft carrier sucks. As the Village People famously crooned, you
can indeed sail the seven seas in the Navy, but as soon as you get on board your carrier,
you very quickly realize that you're going to be seeing very little of any sea. That's because you've been assigned to work
below decks, and it's not long until you realize that American warships are no pleasure yachts
or even tourist cruise liners. At about your third day away from port you
finally have a bit of free time and the thought hits you- you haven't seen the sun this entire
time. You've always loved the ocean, and you loved
reading stories about great age of sail heroes who circumnavigated the world and faced raging
storms, salt spray on their faces and raging gales tossing their hair about heroically. Except you haven't so much as tasted salt
water, and the only breeze you're getting comes from the ship's air conditioning which
seems to always either be far too cold, or not cool enough. You haven't glimpsed the sun since you came
on board- what gives? You didn't sign up to be a submariner! Well, as you learn the flight deck is pretty
much off limits to anyone but a few authorized personnel. As an active runway at sea, it is pretty much
the single most dangerous workplace in the world. At any moment a million things could go wrong,
and they have in the past. It's not long before you hear stories of arresting
wires snapping and whipping across the flight deck, cutting off people's limbs who are unlucky
enough to get caught in the path. With the job of holding back tens of thousands
of pounds of force, it's no surprise that when these wires snap- and there's always
a risk of a break- they can be devastating for flight deck crew. Then there's the possibility of a fiery crash,
although you're happy to hear that the Navy hasn't suffered one of those in a very long
time. Still, with jets flying in at over 100 mph
on a flight deck bucking with the ocean, things can and do go wrong. One misstep could see you accidentally run
out in front of a fighter jet being catapulted off the deck. And well, there's always the possibility of
being blown off the deck by wind or the jet blast of a plane revving up for takeoff. It has happened, and with the flight deck
being about 65 feet above the water, falling into the ocean from that height isn't going
to give you great survival odds. So hanging out on the flight deck to take
in some sunny weather just isn't going to be an option. In fact there's very few places where you'll
even be able to see daylight aboard your carrier, this is after all a warship. The bulkheads are meant to try to protect
from explosive rounds and mitigate the damage of a missile strike, and portholes or windows
make for terrible protection against either. You could try to hit up the bridge to get
a nice, 120 foot view of the ocean around you, but you'd better have some pretty serious
security clearance to even be up there or you'll very quickly be spending your enlistment
in the brig. You decide you'll just have to make do with
the Vitamin D supplements the ship's doctor has prescribed you, as you resign yourself
to your fate of not seeing the sun again for weeks. As your first few days in your new navy life
wear on though, something else starts to gnaw at you in the back of your head... Everything is so cramped all the time! The hallways are so narrow people have to
often turn sideways to pass each other, and the stairs to go up or down different decks
are so steep it's like doing a round on a stair master set to the highest difficulty-
plus ten. It's very quickly dawning on you that this
is a war ship with one mission: kill bad guys and break their stuff. And everything about the ship is built around
that mission. Crew and crew comforts are a very distant
second. At least you're not hot bunking like they
do on submarines though- although in war time that could change at a moment's notice. Aircraft carriers have in the past been used
to ferry troops around, and that big flight line still needs to be kept clear for carrier
operations, which means everyone below decks is going to be sharing everything- including
bunks. In peace time though you generally don't have
to worry about that, and you shudder to think about having to crawl into a bed recently
shared by another crewmate. Especially when you know that shower time
is even more limited on a submarine than it is on a carrier. Your rack is small, and number three in a
stack of three, itself in a bay full of 60 such racks- but at least it's your own and
it has a small sheet you can draw back for privacy. Well, as much privacy as you can possibly
get knowing that there's 59 other sailors all around you. If the bunks are bad though, the toilet is
a nightmare. Now, the Navy prides itself on discipline
and orderliness, which means that the bathroom is never truly the disaster zone it could
be- but with a bathroom barely bigger than an airline bathroom being shared by dozens
of guys at a time, it doesn't take much for disaster to strike. Plus, it's hard to always keep things clean
with that many bums sitting on the same seat, back to back to back to back. Oh, and when it backs up due to a plumbing
problem, well, let's not talk about what happens then. Once more you're just grateful you aren't
living on a submarine. At least each bay of 60 personnel has a common
area with a tv hooked up to the ship's satellite system, so catching up on the latest shows
isn't really a problem- though with a crew of around 5,000 sailors, avoiding spoilers
is all but impossible. There's also the galley nearest to your spot
on the ship, and if everything else about living on a carrier can be quite difficult,
at least the food is almost always excellent. Here, the Navy definitely knows what it's
doing, and it learned long ago that good food means happy sailors. And happy sailors means less problems for
the ship. Unfortunately with deployments that can be
several months long, and replenishment of supplies being weeks apart, this also means
that things like fresh fruit and vegetables can run out pretty fast. It's mostly frozen stuff for you and your
fellow sailors, but the cooks do a really good job of keeping the food warm and tasty. Smell is another thing you're having to get
used to, and every single day your nose is being assaulted by all matter of weird industrial
smells. You soon realize that despite how bad ass
they look, fighter jets are incredibly delicate machines. And after each flight an army of engineers
pours over them to ensure that they stay in tip-top shape. Not surprising considering that jets literally
fly around by channeling a constant explosion out their rear end. There's the smell of the various fluids used
to lubricate, protect, and maintain these incredibly expensive and delicate fighting
machines. Grease for joints, glue to make sure delicate
skin sensors remain affixed, anti-freeze to keep the plane's guts working properly in
sub-zero temperatures, all matter of strange and very aromatic scents greet your nose every
day. And this is of course just the planes, the
carrier itself is nothing but a titanic machine that needs just as much careful love and attention. At least there's a movie theater on board,
and several gyms. Matter of fact, it looks like the sailors
have taken the liberty of sticking exercise equipment in several places definitely not
designed for it. The more you think about it, the more you
realize that if there's one activity on board you'll always find a spot for, it's exercising. There’s also girls to talk to, they make
up about 1/5th of the crew. One of the really old timers tells you that
the biggest change with allowing women to serve aboard combat ships is that the ship
as a whole generally smells nicer, thanks to all the men suddenly feeling motivated
to shower more often. You're excited for the opportunity to be a
little flirtatious, anything to break up the monotony of your life at sea- but then you
very quickly realize that the odds are very firmly stacked against you. And then of the 1/5th of women, you have to
navigate which ones are actually available and not married. You sigh as you resign yourself to your bunk
once more. It's a good thing you brought an Ipad with
a bunch of books loaded digitally- it gives you something to do and also, your personal
storage space consists of one shelf and a very thin locker. At least you'll be able to use the ship's
internet to download new books frequently, and sometimes you can even order stuff to
be delivered via mail to the ship. Being able to talk with people back home is
a big plus too. As you lay in your bunk though you can't help
but shake one nagging thought from your head. If war were to break out, well, you'd be the
first to know it because US Carriers are always first on the scene- and if that war is against
someone with any kind of air force or navy, well, you'll also be first to know because
you'll be the first to be targeted. In fact, every potential military rival to
the US, from Iran to China, has detailed plans in place to try and knock US carriers out
with submarines, missiles, or any number of other systems. That's right, you've got a great big bull's
eye on your back, you're serving on board the world's biggest, meanest ship, but also
a total bullet magnet if war breaks out. And that's just one of the many reasons you're
starting to learn that life aboard a carrier really, really sucks. Maybe you're watching this from a carrier
right now, in that case you're probably in desperate need of entertainment- so why not
watch why living on a submarine sucks and find out why you're lucky to be on a carrier,
or perhaps you'd rather check out this other video over here? Either way, you can't lose, so click one now!
