As nightfall retreated across the Pacific Ocean, the Pearl Harbor Naval Shipyard, normally placid at this time of day, was a frenzy of activity. Although the skies were clear, a cyclone of men and machines had converged on a large gray warship moored in Dry Dock One. Heavy cranes lifted ordnance across the wharf onto the ship, while smaller cranes swung pallets of supplies to sailors waiting topside. Along the wharf to the south, in a small building serving as the ship’s temporary offices, Captain Charles “CJ” Berger stood at the window, oblivious to the cacophony of sounds around him. He stared at the naval message in his hand in stunned silence.
It was an impossible task. He’d been given seven days to get underway and another twenty-four hours to piece his aircraft carrier together enough to conduct flight operations. Four squadrons of Super Hornets, along with two squadrons of Joint Strike Fighters and a slew of Growlers and Hawkeyes, were scheduled to land aboard his carrier in eight days, where they would be packed inside the Hangar and on the Flight Deck, butts to nuts as if it were a crowded men’s locker room. As Berger wondered how he would fit all of the aircraft aboard his carrier, he looked up toward the dry dock, and the collection of gray parts one might call a ship.
USS Ronald Reagan was in the middle of a yearlong overhaul, scheduled to replace USS George Washington as the Fleet’s Japan-based carrier. However, now that George Washington had been sunk, it looked like that replacement would occur sooner than planned. Unfortunately, the shipyard had spent three months tearing Berger’s ship apart and had just begun the painstaking reassembly with refurbished and replacement systems. There was a modicum of good news; this was a non-refueling overhaul, so both reactors and their engine rooms were still operational. Propulsion would not be a problem. However, the Flight Deck was in tatters, all four catapults and the arresting wires completely disassembled. It would take a Herculean effort to undock the ship—two weeks minimum—and another month to reassemble the required systems and train his crew to safely conduct flight operations.
There was a knock on the door and Berger acknowledged. Captain Tim Powers, his Executive Officer, arrived with the Shipyard Commander, Captain Debra Driza, and a half-dozen civilians. His XO’s face was flustered. Although they hadn’t exchanged words after the XO handed the message to Berger this morning, he no doubt shared his Captain’s opinion the task was impossible. However, the first words out of Captain Driza’s mouth indicated the Shipyard Commander did not share those feelings.
“We’ll have you underway in seven days as directed, CJ.” The civilians shot uneasy glances in Driza’s direction as the Captain continued. “Hull integrity will be restored and we’ll flood down the dry dock in seven days. Will you be able to bring at least one reactor and engine room up by then?”
Berger was caught off guard by the Shipyard Commander’s optimism. It took a second to digest her question, realizing the onus had been placed upon his crew. “Yes,” he answered. “We’ll be ready to get underway.” Berger still grappled with the impossibility of the shipyard’s task, but pushed past it. “What about supplies?”
“As you can see, we’ve already begun,” Driza replied, “but we’ll only have enough time to load one month of consumables and sixty percent of your ordnance.”
Berger nodded, a frown on his face. “That’ll have to do then. Will we be able to top off JP-5?”
“Yes, jet fuel won’t be a problem.”
“What about my catapults, arresting wires, and elevators?”
“We’ll work around the clock until you undock, and we’ll have shipyard Tiger Teams aboard to continue reassembling your critical flight systems along the way. You should have at least one arresting wire and elevator in operation by the time the air wing arrives. The Tiger Teams will continue working as you transit the Pacific, and your carrier should be fully operational by the time you reach Japan.”
Berger nodded again, not yet sharing the Shipyard Commander’s optimism. They needed a minor miracle. He turned to his Executive Officer. “Round up the department heads. We’ve got some work to do.”