Park Meadows
One of the most terrifying moments of my early life was the night I sat alone on the starboard catapult of the USS Saratoga waiting my turn to launch. I had already flipped on my exterior lights signaling the catapult officer that my jet engine was roaring at 100% and I was ready to go. Thankfully, this “cat” officer was very experienced. He knew when to touch the deck, initiating the sequence of events sending me hurtling down the flight deck from zero to 150 knots in 2.1 seconds. That particular night the Saratoga was operating in unusually heavy seas. When I close my eyes, I can still see the bow spray breaking over the bow and landing on my canopy. As unnerving as that was, I had faith in the catapult officer. He knew how to time the ship’s movement. He launched me into the black void when the bow was pointed down towards the angry sea. Theoretically, and in practice, if the catapult officer knew how to time the ship’s motion, the deck would be rising as I r
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