The USS Kitty Hawk (CV-63) was far more than a giant aircraft carrier to the thousands she called home. To them, she was a city in the sea—half workplace, half neighborhood, and half school of hard knocks. Commissioned in 1960 and more than 1,000 feet long, she was a marvel of her time. But to the seamen who dwelled within her steel walls, the real memories were not of machines but of friendships, struggles, and lessons learned at sea.
Life at sea was a constant cycle of noise, duty, and movement. Over 4,500 men worked together, ensuring that each system functioned, each task was completed, and each life was saved. For many, it was their initial true venture into adulthood—one of excitement, fear, and change all at once.
Gone machinist’s mate Corey Urband remembered the time his friends were in school when he was “30 feet below the waterline, halfway around the world from home.” Another soldier, Rich Bratlee, grew up in a Montana town of just 3,000 and now found himself living among 6,000 shipmates. Even small things like escalators full of rushing sailors became a tradition of the KittyHawk, often causing laughing heap-ups that crew members reminisced about for years.
But not every problem was yet visible. Like most vessels of her generation, the Kitty Hawk had been built with asbestos, which was highly valued in those days for its fire-resistance and insulating properties. It was everywhere on the ship—engine spaces, boiler rooms, pipes, and even some machinery.
For the men who labored in the sweltering, poorly ventilated space beneath the deck, exposure to asbestos dust was simply a matter of course. The real cost revealed itself decades later, when the veterans began to fall ill with diseases such as asbestosis, lung cancer, and mesothelioma.
Many of the sailors have reported heart-wrenching stories of their diagnoses—diseases that developed years after the men left the service. Some were eventually compensated, but the effects resonated wider than they did, affecting their families as well. Current-day veterans are advised to have annual check-ups, and support is provided to those continuing to battle diseases brought on by asbestos.
Life aboard was not only a physical risk but also a psychological challenge. The ship weathered rough occurrences, such as the 1972 race riots that created indelible wounds but also paved the way for lasting change. In 1973, six sailors were killed in a fire on board, but it also revealed incredible bravery and sacrifice.
These instances forged resilience and allegiance, something that stood long after the sailors had left the sea. Reunions and memorial services continue to honor that bond, keeping the spirit of the Kitty Hawk alive across generations.
When at last she was decommissioned and left on her ultimate voyage—16,000 miles to a shipbreaking facility in Texas—the farewell was thick with bittersweet nostalgia. There were veterans and their families gathering to remember, to collect souvenirs, and say goodbye to the ship that had once helped form their early lives.
Chris Green, International Shipbreaking Limited’s President, guaranteed that the breaking up would be with respect and honor, commending the service and sacrifice of everyone who had lived within her steel walls.
In the end, the story of the USS Kitty Hawk is not the story of a warship. It’s the story of endurance—of a vessel that carried generations through changing times, and of the women and men whose character, determination, and will were forged upon her decks. Her legacy continues, not just in books, but in the lives of all who served aboard her and in the lessons that they taught.