| The Ball |
| Also “Meatball.” The amber light in the ship’s mirror which gives the pilot glideslope information. When it drifts low it turns red. A red ball is a call for action, if you plan to survive the landing. The Ball is such a presence in a naval aviator’s life that where the average human says, “See ya later,” the aviator says, “Fly the ball.” In the scene at right, on final approach about 3 seconds from touchdown on USS Shangri-La, the mirror is seen forward on the port side. The ball is close to centered (just a bit low), and we’re about on centerline. Looks pretty good, but add a little power to bring it up a skosh. |
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| Ball call |
The carrier pilot’s radio call to the LSO on final approach, as he rolls into the “groove” and sights the ball. The call includes the aircraft’s callsign, type, and fuel state, which the Arresting Gear Officer will use to set the gear’s braking power. For example, “Thunder 204, Hornet, Ball, State Three Point Five” - meaning the aircraft’s an F/A-18 (a “Hornet”) of the squadron using the “Thunder” callsign, with 3,500 pounds of fuel. The LSO may answer “Roger, ball” and Roger Ball has become the prototypical name for a carrier pilot. (Wonder if there’s ever been a real one...) |
| Barricade |
A 12-15 foot high contraption of vertical nylon straps that can be raised across the carrier landing area to trap an aircraft with a malfunctioning hook or landing gear. Going into the barricade often results in some minor skin damage. To the aircraft, that is. The pilot will be good as new as soon as the skivvies are laundered. |
| Beach |
1. Ashore. “On the beach” means “In town,” or anywhere but on the ship. To “hit the beach” is to go ashore. “I’ll be on the beach the next two days” (Transl: I’ll be riding out a drunk in the squadron’s admin).
2. When flying, “Over the beach” means “Over land”. Radio report: “Feet dry.” |
| Bells |
The ship’s bell has kept time at sea since bells were invented. The bell is struck every half hour and divides the 24-hour day into six 4-hour periods or watches. After midnight, 1 strike of the bell gives 0030; at 0100 two bells are struck, and so forth until 8 bells at 0400. Then the sequence begins again with 1 bell at 0430. Whole hours get an even number of bells, half hours odd. (I’m reminded that onboard ship the Navy thoughtfully avoids broadcasting the bells on the shipboard speaker system between 2200 and 0600.) So when a Navy husband says, “I’ll be home at six bells, love,” he means he’ll be back at 7 p.m. Or eleven. Or 3 a.m. Perhaps this convenient ambiguity explains the origin of the system. |
| Below |
You can’t say “downstairs” on a ship. It’s Below, or Down Below. A Navy man would never say “downstairs” at home, either. Like, “Billy, run below and get my hammer.” (Of course he would no more say “upstairs”: “Billy, if you don’t find it below, check topside.” And of course there aren’t “stairs” onboard ship.) |
| Bingo |
“Divert to alternate landing field.” Verb, noun, adjective, and expletive. In peacetime operations, carriers nearly always have a divert (bingo) field available. An accident can lead to a fouled deck, requiring all airborne A/C to bingo, or a single A/C may have a problem that prevents shipboard landing. The most common reason for bingo’ing is low fuel. At each flight, pilots are briefed on the bingo fuel state: the minimum fuel level with which you can safely reach the bingo field. If you reach bingo fuel and you’re still in the air, you’ll hear, “Your signal bingo.” Sayonara. The Navy spouse needs to know this term, because during the 3rd movement of a Mahler symphony, the aviator hubby will almost certainly say, “Let’s bingo.” |
| Black-as-coal |
Darker than just black. There is nothing blacker than a moonless, overcast, black-as-coal night in the middle of the ocean. That’s when CAG doesn’t fly. It’s not the flying. It’s bringing it back aboard! Nothing raises the pulse rate and pucker factor more than a carrier landing on a black-as-coal night. That’s true. It’s been measured. (The pulse rate, not the pucker factor - the world waits for a device to measure the latter.) Scarier than combat! |
| The Boat |
A blackshoe sailor never calls a ship a “boat”. An aviator never calls it anything else. To him, everything that floats is a boat. But the carrier is “The Boat”. |
| Boat officer |
One of the 4-hour watches a junior aviator may be assigned aboard the carrier. An in-port watch: you’re officer-in-charge of a liberty boat taking sailors ashore and back. Can be OK in daylight and good weather; you actually get to know some of the sailors. Can also be hell on a midnight return trip with 5-foot swells and 30 drunken sailors onboard. (Do see the “Liberty boat” link.) |
| Bolter |
An intended arrested landing where the hook fails to engage a wire, so the pilot has to go around for another attempt. There can be several reasons for this, but the most common is simply being high (not like on drugs!) on the glideslope and missing the 4-wire. Other reasons can be hook-skip (more often an excuse) or a damaged hook. A habit of frequent bolters is bothersome, because each bolter stretches out the carrier’s recovery time and upsets the Cyclic Ops timing. Nobody wants to be the squadron Bolter King. |
| Bulkhead |
There aren’t “walls” aboard a Navy ship. They may look like walls but they’re bulkheads. If you’re married to a Navy man, you’ve probably heard, “Where on this bulkhead should we hang this picture, honey?” And you learn to live with it. |
| Burble |
An area of air turbulence in the final approach groove right behind the carrier, caused by the island structure, particularly when the ship makes its own wind. You need to be prepared to add power when going through the burble; it acts like the proverbial “air pocket.” (When there’s enough natural wind that the relative wind comes down the angle deck, the burble will be away from the groove, to starboard, and is no problem. That is, there’s only the normal turbulence caused by a giant floating building in a strong wind.)
EJ |