Monday, July 1, 1996
US aircraft carrier heads into Irish waters

Landing on an aircraft carrier is like no other landing. Taking off is worse. The Taoiseach, Mr Bruton, half the Cabinet, opposition leaders, chiefs of the security forces and a small group of other VIPs will experience it today when they fly to the USS John F. Kennedy for lunch, sightseeing and a briefing.

On landing, the 20-seat C-2A Greyhound fixed-wing is caught by a chain, the arresting gear, and brought to an abrupt halt to stop it flying off the end. On take-off, the plane - called a COD - and its strapped in, helmeted and goggled passengers, are catapulted off the deck and into the air.

The JFK is now in international waters in the Celtic Sea 50 miles south of Cork and 100 miles west of Penzance. It will put down anchor in Dublin Bay tomorrow at 9 a.m. when its escort vessel, the nuclear powered USS Mississippi, which has been hovering around during the current three days of exercises, veers off towards France. A 300-metre exclusion zone will be in force around the aircraft carrier.

Yesterday, two plane loads - some 40 people - were flown out for lunch. They included Brig-Gen Pierce Redmond, Mr Frank Murray, secretary to the Government, Mr Ray Bates, the head of the National Lottery who organised the draw for 10,000 members of the public to visit during the next week, Mr Kieran McGowan, chief executive of the IDA, and a number of media representatives.

The statistics of the JFK are awesome - a deck bigger than Croke Park, as tall as Liberty Hall, to name but a few. It is the biggest non-nuclear powered aircraft carrier in the world, and approaching by air, one can only gasp at its size and activity. Dozens of planes line the deck each side of the runways and crews scurry about constantly. Yesterday, the flight deck was abuzz. Indeed as the visitors' plane circled before landing, the pilot announced that it appeared busier than Chicago's O'Hare down below. Fighter aircraft F14 and F18 Tomcats, S3 Vikings and the strangly-shaped AWAC radar planes were being catapulted off every few minutes. Noise, vibration and steam marked each departure; a lengthy bang marked the arrivals. The planes for the Dublin and Galway fly-overs were counted out and counted back in again.

On the bridge, Capt Gerald Hoewing welcomed each group of guests as they arrived to survey the scene below him. Colour-coded airmen and sailors commanded the deck - yellow float coats for operations, purple for fuel, brown for maintenance and so on. Every couple of hours several hundred men proceeded in a group down the runways on a FOD - foreign object damage walkdown - aimed at retrieving the minutest particle of stray metal that might be ingested by a plane and damage it. During this break in flights, rock music blared from the public address system.

All the dozens of different activities on the flight deck were visible and co-ordinated from the bridge, the control tower and the observation deck. A camera recorded every movement so in case of mishap there would be a record to correct the fault. The fighter planes reach 150 knots at take off in 21/2 seconds; the passenger CODs 120 knots in up to three seconds. It is small wonder that everyone is seated with backs to the cockpit and strapped in so securely.

Below the flight deck is the hangar deck where Thursday's July 4th party will be held. Below that again are wardrooms, restaurants, shops, numerous offices and briefing rooms, lounges, and accommodations for the 5,200 crew. But there is no bar - it is a dry ship and highly safety conscious. During operations yesterday, a helicopter hovered in case a rescue was called for and the silver-suited fire crews stood by.

The JFK took about a week to cross the Atlantic from its home port in Florida. At the briefing before lunch in the officers' wardroom, Capt Hoewing told his guests that the JFK - "a fantastic piece of machinery" - was christened by Caroline Kennedy in 1967 when she was nine years old. A huge percentage of the crew had Irish blood, he said, and were very excited about seeing the country. Capt Chuck Wyatt said the USS JFK was the executive branch of American diplomacy. If this mighty warship was put off someone's coast, they would get the message. If they didn't, they had bombs on board.

Tuesday, July 2, 1996
American week starts with 'JFK' arrival

The arrival of the huge aircraft carrier, USS John F Kennedy, with its crew of over 5,000 to its mooring 1 1/2 miles off Dun Laoghaire Harbour at 6 this morning begins Dun Laoghaire's "American Week".

There will be free entertainment, ranging from traditional music to children's entertainment and fireworks. There will also be helicopter and boat rides.

Specific American activities will include country rock with Cousin Vinny, jazz and blues with Ben Prevo and friends, a display of classic American cars and Harley Davidson motorbikes, and line dancing.

There will also be trips to see the ship, but for ticket holders only. However, because many were unable to get tickets, some of the carrier's fighter aircraft will be on display in Dublin Airport during the week.

There will be traffic and parking restrictions in Dun Laoghaire, and motorists are advised to avoid the area. Iarnrod Eireann has announced increased capacity on off-peak DART trains, and latenight trains on Thursday for families watching the fireworks display. The trains will leave Dun Laoghaire after the display at 12.15 a.m and 12.30 a.m. Family return tickets cost £5.

The Stop the Warship Campaign will hold a march and rally in Dun Laoghaire today. The group objects to the warship's presence on the grounds that it prejudices Ireland's neutrality.

The Workers' Party has called for a boycott of the visit, which it also says prejudices Irish neutrality.

Wednesday, July 3, 1996
Good-natured chaos as 'JFK' arrives in Dublin with a fanfare of jets

A kind of imperial pomp not seen since its Kingstown days has returned to Dun Laoghaire with the arrival of the US aircraft carrier, the 'John F. Kennedy', writes Jim Cusack, Security Correspondent

The arrival of the US aircraft carrier, the John F. Kennedy, in Dublin Bay somewhat discommoded the nude gentlemen bathers of the Forty Foot.

The ship hove into view with a fanfare of jets roaring over Glasthule and Sandycove yesterday morning, and brought a horde of unwanted sightseers with binoculars, cameras and camcorders.

The uninvited visitors gleefully snapped views of the gentlemen's bare backsides against the backdrop of the world's most powerful war machine.

The visitors saturated the area during the day, jamming the narrow roads between Dun Laoghaire and Dalkey. The chaos spilled over into Dun Laoghaire harbour as rented ferries and pleasure boats carried thousands of people to the ship's anchorage, about a mile off the Forty Foot.

It was, on the seafront at least, good-natured chaos. Even the first group of about 500 people mildly accepted the three-hour wait for the ferry to the carrier.

On board, an assortment of media people were treated to "opportunities" of stunning banality.

The centre of interest appeared to be the fact that the ship and its crew of 5,000 had transported a second-hand ambulance from a town in Florida to Wicklow as part of a goodwill twinning exercise.

The left-hand-drive ambulance with 79,000 miles on the clock was displayed on one of the hangar elevators that normally transport warplanes. It was presented to Wicklow councillors during a ceremony which went largely unnoticed in the ship's cavernous interior.

Any journalistic inquiry about the role of the ship's warplanes in actions such as the war with Iraq and the attacks on Tripoli in 1986 were patted down with the answer that: "We are for democracy."

At one point, a Dublin journalist desperate for quotes found himself interviewing one of the ship's dentists, eventually asking if life at sea presented any particular problems from a dental perspective.

Reporters scuttled around the hangar asking the crew members if they had any Irish connections.

The ship's crew were polite in the extreme, accommodating and informative about their skills. The visitors thrilled to the rides up and down in the huge aircraft elevators.

They roamed at will through the ship's interior, blocking miles of steel corridors. The crew remained polite if somewhat stressed, repeating the mantra: "Excuse me, sir, excuse me, sir, excuse me ma'am." The visitors left happy and, to the relief of the hard-pressed crew, none fell overboard.

As evening drew in, the harbour, which is also hosting a fun fair on its East Pier, became besieged. The weather held and the JFK lit up like a fairground against a perfect sunset over Dublin Bay.

It was, as one of the residents pointedly remarked, as if Dun Laoghaire had returned to its Kings town days, except it was the Americans instead of the British this time.

Thursday, July 4, 1996
Visit of the JFK

When the National Lottery decided in May to organise a raffle for tickets to visit the USS John F Kennedy, it showed an accurate judgment of public opinion. Hundreds of thousands of people applied for the 10,000 available tickets, and many of those who were disappointed were happy to pay large sums in order to get aboard. Enthusiasm turned to frustration on Tuesday evening when guests had to be turned away because of high seas and yesterday because of a breakdown in the landing gear. The much-hyped visit for Independence Day has shown - perhaps reassuringly - that there are some things the mightiest navy in the world cannot anticipate and, when they happen, does not have a ready answer for.

Obviously there is strong, popular support for the visit, which reflects the long-standing connection between Ireland and the United States. The link may have become more pragmatic and less sentimental in recent years with EU membership and the development of a complex pattern of international relations. But it is still an essential part of our history, and an important element in our development strategy. That does not exclude the right to be critical about many aspects of US policy or to point out that its greatpower status must be exercised responsibly. The JFK has quite legitimately been the focus not only of welcome but also of vocal protest.

To argue, however, that the presence of the vessel in Dublin Bay compromises this State's neutrality, or involves it in complicity in the series of naval actions in which the vessel has taken part, or that rejecting it would somehow have effected a dissociation from the economic benefits of the Gulf War that this State - in common with other non-belligerents - has accepted, is hardly tenable.

If the JFK had violated our non-nuclear legislation or our stated policy on nuclear weapons, that would have been another matter. But an assurance has been given - contrary to the previous practice of refusing to comment - that it is only carrying conventional arms. The positive balance of our relationship with the United States far exceeds anything that would have justified rejection. It is also worth pointing out that the visit has created no precedent in terms of military contacts with other nations or with the United States specifically. Canadian, Soviet, French, German and British warships have visited these shores since the 1980s. This list of nations whose vessels have been in Irish waters is not exclusive. The process involves no commitment beyond friendship. US ships have been among the most frequent and regular visitors.

Why so many people wanted to see the JFK may be a question for the sociologists. Some of the disappointed visitors who were interviewed on television, spoke of a family day out for their children. No doubt there was also the sporting chance offered by the National Lottery, the pressure of fashion, the possibility of being one of a small arbitrarily-chosen elite. For some, the sight of a massive feat of engineering or a vicarious glimpse of history was the lure. The motivations, and the near-hysteria that goes along with these occasions, may say many things about our society, but the political message is much less clear.