Headed home: What a long, strange trip it's been
Posted on Thursday, March 27, 2003 at 16:07 PT (Permalink)

Grant and I have earned our own call names, the traditional mocking nickname granted by peers at sea. Grant is "Griz" (refer to bearded photo); mine is "Night Owl" (too many 4 a.m. mornings at the laptop; refer to bags under eyes). It's day 21 of our embed. Three weeks, and I'm ready to jump and swim. What a wimp. These sailors aboard are marking their ninth month at sea.

I talked to the meteorologist/oceanographer aboard who has an 11-month-old at home. The kid was 2 months when he left. "I missed the walking phase, the talking phase, the cuddle phase." So many painful stories aboard - anniversaries, births, funerals missed -- I'm almost embarrassed to mention we're leaving. The sacrifices of life and love made aboard this ship are real and staggering. But off we go, and I think it's time.

I always love the stories outsiders write when they first come to Seattle: they see the city with fresh eyes, noticing all the rain-slicked quirks that become background to seasoned mossbacks. I definitely came in on this mission with fresh, bootcamp eyes - I've never covered the military, let alone a war. But we've slowly adapted -- and that means not only absorbing the culture, but being absorbed by it.

During a press conference, a reporter asked if "we" were setting a record for longest U.S. carrier deployment (not yet, but the Lincoln's headed for the Top Ten). She corrected herself: "Oops, I meant 'you' not 'we.' “

So, dear readers, before "they" becomes "us," these sailors are signing off the Lincoln, taking the slingshot launch-off the flight deck to Bahrain for a couple days R&R, then onto London and home. At least one of our escorts will be overjoyed. "The thrill is gone," he said as he led two reporters off to another photo op, looking sad and defeated. What a long, strange trip it's been.

-- M.L. Lyke

I'm an air-ruffled, helmet-hair mess
Posted on Thursday, March 27, 2003 at 14:06 PT (Permalink)

I'm an air-ruffled, twitterpated, helmet-hair mess. Went up in a helicopter, a twin-engine Seahawk used for anti-submarine warfare, search and rescue, anti-ship warfare, passenger and cargo lifts, and most recently, searching out Iraqi suicide boats, dhows carrying mines, or bloated camel and sheep carcasses -- four hooves to the wind -- that could be wired with explosive (I'm not making this up).

In the Black Knights squadron ready room - with Guns 'n' Roses blasting -- I got the "talk:" if the chopper goes down in the water, wait 10 seconds, until Seahawk flips over, then crawl out. "That way you don't get chopped up." A lovely image.

The pilots seemed to be wearing twice as much gear as I was. Was this "media opportunity" a ruse to dump pesky reporters? Sitting next to an open door, the wind making my lips blubber, I came as close to combat as I'll get in this war, when heli crew loaded ammo into machine gun and prepared to test fire. Dang. The extractor was broken on the gun. Saw a lot of sea, and landed aboard the fast frigate USS Reuben James to pick up mail and a couple of chaplains. Was a cold and holy trip home on the ch-ch-chopper.

-- M.L. Lyke

Happy Birthday To You!!!
Posted on Tuesday, March 25, 2003 at 07:18 PT (Permalink)

-- M.L. Lyke

War 'bonus' will buy you a box of Fruit Loops
Posted on Tuesday, March 25, 2003 at 06:55 PT (Permalink)

-- M.L. Lyke

Are the 'embeds' getting 'soft?'
Posted on Tuesday, March 25, 2003 at 06:51 PT (Permalink)

-- M.L. Lyke

'Cutting the guys a break'
Posted on Tuesday, March 25, 2003 at 05:51 PT (Permalink)

-- M.L. Lyke