As the admiral talked, Wilson wondered why he had gathered all commanding officers here for this routine stuff. And why the dramatic entrance? Meyerkopf was different from other admirals Wilson had observed. He appeared to be uncomfortable around the aviators. Wilson also noticed the admiral did not discuss air wing training.
The admiral continued.
“While we can conduct this training anywhere, Fleet Forces has sent us here to show the flag in this part of the world. Carriers haven’t spent time much time in these waters in years as they’ve been wed to Central Command needs in the Middle East. SOUTHCOM has been asking for carrier presence for some time, and even this short cruise down here is welcome. We’ll be operating in the middle of the Caribbean basin, between Hispaniola and South America, with a swing by Panama and Nicaragua. You aviators will fly and do what you do during this time, but the focus will be on the upkeep of Coral Sea’s nuclear plant, which is critical to the tasking of this capital warship.”
The focus? Wilson thought. He sensed his fellow aviators, sitting silently around him, were also troubled by Meyerkopf’s tone-deaf remarks. By gauging their blank stares, Meyerkopf realized he was not connecting and picked up the pace.
“We are also in these waters to help prosecute the War on Drugs, to help the Coast Guard stem the flow of illicit narcotics into the United States. Eighty percent of this traffic is seaborne, and the routes traffickers use are many and varied, from the Pacific coast, through the Yucatan Passage, Windward and Mona Passages, and up the Lesser Antilles and the Bahamas. When you come across cigarette boats, low-slow flyers, submersibles, or anything that looks suspicious, report it, and we’ll contact the Coast Guard to prosecute it.”
Wilson knew this was something the aviators could get excited about, but he had been there and done that. The vaunted War on Drugs that had begun in the late ‘80s was, by any measure, a failure. While there were individual battles won — most notably the battle for the soul of Colombia, at one time a narco-state — the cartels had just moved over to friendlier Venezuela. It seemed the decades-long efforts by the U.S. to stem the tide of drugs had done little more than put a small dent in the pipe. Handing off air and surface contacts to the overworked and overextended Coast Guard had not stopped the trade, and American kids — and their parents — were puffing and snorting away, while sending a constant demand signal to willing suppliers.