Pensacola, Fla.
The plane on display outside the museum would look large and lethal even if it were not carrying a full load of bombs and missiles. It is an F-14 “Tomcat,” the kind of plane Tom Cruise flew in Top Gun.
Inside, there are dozens of other planes on display. Some are made from wood and canvas, their engines less powerful than those in the average suburbanite’s lawnmower. It would, you think, require more courage to strap into one of those than to fly the F-14. Attempting to land one of those crates on a ship would, you think, be borderline insane. But the narrative inside the museum—running from primitive biplanes to the F4U “Corsair” to the F9F “Panther” to the A-4 “Skyhawk” all the way to that F-14—is that it not only can be done, but done with competence and courage and even style. This is the story of naval aviation. More precisely, of American naval aviation.
The distinction probably isn’t necessary. The story of naval aviation is almost entirely an American story. The United States is the nation that mastered naval aviation and built carriers by the dozens on its way to becoming the world’s sole superpower and master of the seas. It is a compelling story and one that you can read, here in Pensacola, at the National Naval Aviation Museum.
Judged strictly as a place to spend a few hours while on vacation, perhaps with the kids or grandkids, the museum is a wonder. There is no admission charge, though donations are certainly accepted. And you will be charged to watch the IMAX film of the Blue Angels. The Blues are based in Pensacola, and if you are here on certain days in the spring, you can catch one of their practice flights. You will need to come early, however, or bring your own canvas chairs, because the bleachers are quickly filled.
There is an atrium in one of the museum’s buildings where the A-4s the Blues flew until the mid-’80s hang from the ceiling in perfect and close formation. Your eyes will be drawn back to those planes, again and again, as you walk around admiring the other exhibits. The only thing missing is the sound of jet engines.
There are, however, other sounds, faithfully thematic. As you examine one display, you will hear the call of a bosun’s pipe, followed by the words “Now hear this, now hear this.”
There are video displays and interactive exhibits. You can “fly” a simulator or stand, more or less, on the deck of the carrier Carl Vinson during launch and recovery. It is only a film, of course, but the air in the room is stirred up by a fan to simulate the 30 knots of wind coming across a carrier deck during flight operations. It is a very friendly and accessible place. If there are any of those signs sternly warning against touching the exhibits, they are not conspicuous.
Because it is the story of naval aviation, there is bad along with the good. There is an exhibit on the terrible fires and explosions on the carriers Oriskany and Forrestal during the Vietnam war as well as the lighter-than-air disasters of the Akron and Shenandoah. If it flew and has anything to do with the Navy, Marines, or Coast Guard, there will be something here to acknowledge it. This includes the space program, since many of the astronauts learned to fly here in Pensacola.
And they are recognized here, along with many other notable names in the history of naval aviation. John McCain’s decorations are on display, behind glass, outside an exhibit depicting the POW experience in Vietnam. The torpedo plane known as the “Avenger” that is on the main floor of the museum has the name of “Lt. Jg. George Bush” stenciled below the cockpit. The name stenciled on the Corsair is “Maj. Gregory Boyington.” A different sort of personality but rightfully here.
Others honored on wall plaques include Joe Foss. He received a Medal of Honor as a Marine, flying Wildcats in the Pacific, and his smiling face appeared on the cover of Life magazine. He went on to become governor of South Dakota, commissioner of the American Football League, and president of the National Rifle Association.
And that, right there, might capture the spirit of this place and account for the way a visit leaves you feeling invigorated. You can walk past an F-8 Crusader and recall that this is the plane John Glenn flew coast-to-coast, setting a new speed record. And then, across the room, there is an F9F Panther like the one Glenn flew in Korea, when his wingman was Ted Williams.
The Right Stuff? Yes, you could say that.
The larger story, the one that you can’t make tactile, is the history of carriers and carrier aviation. This story is still being written. The Carl Vinson, for instance, is now deployed in the South China Sea on “routine patrols.” Whether the Chinese like it or not.
There have been plenty of people, “experts” among them, who did not believe that carriers and naval aviation were feasible or, in any case, strategically relevant. General Billy Mitchell, the Army’s fiercest advocate of airpower, believed that heavy bombers had made all warships, including the carrier, obsolete. This was also the argument made by Giulio Douhet, the influential author of The Command of the Air, whose mantra was “The bomber will always get through.”
There were admirals in the U.S. Navy who, before Pearl Harbor, argued that carriers were good for raiding and scouting but that the battleship was still the centerpiece of naval warfare. The United States began the war with seven operational carriers and was down to only one at a grim point in 1942. The Navy ended the war with more than 100 in the fleet and more on the way.
Many of these were quickly decommissioned and a few were sunk in tests of the atom bomb. The Truman administration took the side of strategic airpower against the Navy and carriers. Construction of new, bigger carriers was canceled. There were still a few in the fleet when the Korean War began. One, the Valley Forge, was deployed and conducting operations nine days after hostilities began.
The argument didn’t really end with Korea. For a time, it appeared that the speed and power of next-generation aircraft would make them too much for carriers to handle. But new designs and technology solved the problems and carriers served during Vietnam and have been deployed in all the nation’s wars and near-wars since then. As the Carl Vinson patrols the South China Sea, the George H. W. Bush is on station in the Mediterranean Sea, a platform for conducting strikes against ISIS and other targets.
President Donald Trump traveled recently to Newport News, Virginia, and delivered a speech from the carrier Gerald Ford, which is under construction. It is the latest in an evolutionary line stretching back through the Cabot, with its wooden flight deck, which is replicated here, all the way to the Langley, the Navy’s first carrier, which was converted from a collier in 1920.
President Trump has vowed that the country will have a 12-carrier navy. There will be opposition. The argument will be that the ships are too expensive and too vulnerable. If drones cannot sink them, then they can fatally disrupt flight operations. And then there are submarines and missiles.
It is an old argument, in contemporary clothing. Walking through the displays at the National Naval Aviation Museum, you can’t help thinking they miss something about carrier aviation. Namely, that it is inherently aggressive. That these are the kind of vessels that John Paul Jones had in mind when he said that all he desired was a fast ship, “for I intend to go in harm’s way.”
If he were around today, you just know that he would be on the bridge of the Carl Vinson. And eventually immortalized here.
Geoffrey Norman, a writer in Vermont, is a frequent contributor to The Weekly Standard.
