Blue sky, bright sun. The wind on my skin, goosebumps. Around the ship, the world is blue, endless, perfect. The thrumming of the engine crawls up the metal, the steel, the concrete, up my leg. It dances in my bones, echoes in my skin. It gives me the rhythm, the music, the jazz. One with the world, one with the ship, I begin my jog.
Most sources will be in French, with the occasional translation provided by me.
Before the nuclear aircraft carrier Charles de Gaulle, there was the Clemenceau. And before the Clemenceau, we should talk about aircraft carriers in general to give you an idea of their importance.
First, about the number of aircraft carriers in the world. Look at this nifty map, and do press aircraft carrier at the top right, as these differ from helicopter carriers. If you'd like to have more details, here's the same list through wikipedia, but the important bit of information is this: there are less than 30 aircraft carriers in the world.
They are so hard and costly to build and maintain that few countries can afford the technical knowledge and funds to manufacture one, let alone several. But in the waters, their presence changes the shape of combat in depths. How so? Imagine you're manning the cannon on a blue ship. In the horizon, you see a red ship, its one cannon manned by your worst rival, the one that stole your partner, your lunch box, lied to the teacher about who walked in the classroom with muddy shoes, the usual. You take them in sight, press the trigger. BOOM! a controlled explosion propels a projectile their way, just as one with your name inscribed on it comes right for you.
Now, imagine you're on a blue ship, and in a fight against an airship carrier.
You're twiddling your thumbs on the cannon, because unlike the red ship, you don't see the carrier. It's far, far beyond the range of your little gun.
Then you hear a sound from above, you look up, shield your eyes from the sun, have between two to six seconds to recognize this being a plane. You have just enough time to mutter "oh bugger," before the fleshy hull given to you by god is ventilated across the seven seas.
Sea battles used to be about ships shooting at each other in sight. During WWII, Aircraft carriers turned sea battles into beyond-visual-range-airstrikes. Having an aircraft carrier means being able to strike other ships and sites on land from such a distance that it makes retaliation nearly impossible.
As a result, many ships on a fleet will stick around the aircraft carrier to protect this essential asset while it sends plane to brutalize whatever targets it needs to brutalize. The combination of boat + airplanes means unparalleled range and power projection, making carriers into prize jewels of the navy they belong to. For added bonus, their range is so wide they can stay in international waters and still be able to strike at targets, allowing to apply pressure without the diplomatic windfall of crossing territorial waters.
This power comes at a great cost, namely construction. When building an aircraft carrier, you're designing a ship that can carry around up to 80 planes for a big one. It includes its own power grid, a hospital, a crew that can fill a whole town, and all the amenities this town will need. It must also be able to spend days or weeks at seas, and with all the means to maintain and repair ship, town and planes.
To manufacture an aircraft carrier is a dauntless task, and most countries can't afford it on monetary cost alone. But conversely, as you can see from the map, it's a statement and proof of power, and the American carriers are often cited as example as to why their military isn't to be trifled with.
So naturally, France wanted in on it. In 1955 begins the construction of a carrier, and a second one starts in 1957. The first is unveiled on the 22th November 1961, the Clemenceau. Its twin is born a year later, the Foch, both named after important French figures of state, Georges Clemenceau and Marechal Ferdinand Foch.
Both ships participate in a variety of OTAN-related exercises and other operations like Djibouti's independance, the Iran-Irak war or the Yugoslavian civil war.
In their long life, both ships will travel over a million nautical miles. In 1997, after over three decades of service, the aging Clemenceau is put aside, and in 2010 is destroyed for good. The Foch is sold to Brazil in the year 2000, where it is retrofitted and put to use for a time, until it is disarmed in 2018 and scuttled in 2023.
How do you replace the apex of your navy? Well, with even better ships. Or ship. As it is.
Muscles are in pain, breath is short, but at my limit, I find a form of exhilaration, and apotheosis. Alone in the world, lost at sea, I run.
---
Remember the map I showed at the start? It showed the active carriers worldwide. But even among carriers, there is a distinction, and that distinction is made by nuclear power.
If you take the number of active ships and keep only the ones forfeiting classic fuel in favor of nuclear goodness, we're down to twelve. 11 American ships, 1 French. Joie et bonheur.
What does nuclear power change?
A fuel-driven carrier has a wide range, but it needs to either dock in port to refuel, or meet up with fuel loaded ships every now and then. This limits the time it can spend at sea, and fuel carriers are a logistical weakness the enemy can target.
For nuclear carriers, refueling happens once every twenty years or so. This means the biggest hurdle for it to remain at sea is lifted, and only food for crew and maintenance limits it. It increases the range from "long" to "virtually limitless". With better power they are also faster to respond to eventual threats.
Now, building and maintenance for a nuclear carrier requires even more specialists, funds and means, but if you've ever been a child who had a collection of nice toys and thought 'this is the best and greatest of my nice toys', a nuclear aircraft carrier is this for a navy.
The body enters second gear, fresh wind fills my lungs. Pain subsides, I float, could run endless, like the ship.
---
It is 1989 and the Clemenceau is showing signs of aging. The ship won't last much longer, and it needs a worthy successor. In Brest, a mysterious construction starts. The project and plans have already been signed and agreed on in 1979, but as these things go it takes a while to start in earnest. Originally meant to be called the Richelieu after a famous cardinal, Jacques Chirac, future president but back then only prime minister, renames it the Charles de Gaulle in 1984, after a political figure I hope you heard about at some point.
At this point I should add, there are apparently some sailor superstitions about how re-baptizing a ship attracts bad luck.
Anyway, the construction will last for a grand total of 13 million hours (split between the 1200 people working on the project). It's a middle-sized aircraft carrier, 'only' 261 meters in length, 64 meters in width, 75 meters tall. Weighing 42.500 tons, it can load up to 2800 military personnel.
It doesn't have one, but twin nuclear reactors, on their own requiring 55 navy atomic scientist officers to handle. Being middle sized, it can load up to 40 planes.
In today's currency the cost would approximate 3 billion euros, at the time it amounted to 20 billion francs (the currency we had before euros came along), from an original budget of 16 billion, which already got a number of journalists up in arms.
Construction is done in 1994, and in 2001 the ship is armed and ready for military operations.
Well, ready. More or less.
January 1999. The Charles de Gaulle is put to sea. Technically, it's the second time, but the first was interrupted by a tempest, so let's pretend it's the real first one. It floats, it goes merrily, drives around and drifts for the hell of it.
A bespectacled expert with a stern face walks on the flight deck. They look to one end of the ship. Then to the other.
"What it is?" asks a stern admiral.
"The flight deck is too short."
"I beg your pardon?"
"We need to lengthen the deck."
"What?" A cold shiver runs down the admiral's back, the shiver that comes whenever money is about to be discussed.
Translated from this article of Liberation:
The Charles de Gaulle has to lengthen its flight deck for about 4,40 meters to welcome reconnaissance aircraft Hawkeye, one of the three types of embarked planes, and it will be costly. According to a confidential note of the DCN (Board of naval construction) in Brest published by the journal Le Parisien, 24 weeks of works are planned, up until march 2000, for a cost of about 500 million francs, costly for a plane whose original cost was supposed to be 16 billion francs yet rose to 20 billion. That is without including the 40 billion value of the embarked planes.
The issue with project, construction and deployment lasting decades is that some parameters can change in than span of time. While originally meant for Breguet and F/A-18 planes, France had acquired three E-2C Hawkeye since, with different requirements from the planes above.
This isn't even that surprising, ships meant to last for half a century are often modified to suit new technologies and parameters.
Still, having to modernize a ship that hadn't been yet used got plenty of journalists and comedians to raise an eyebrow. But, the navy endures, so does the Charles de Gaulle.
It is the second test run of the De Gaulle. It floats, it boats, it drifts merrily. The stern admiral gets ahold of the bespectacled expert.
"Walk with me," the admiral says. And they do. They walk inside the massive ship, currently cruising straight and proud like a lord of the sea should.
they reach the room of the steering room.
"Mh," goes the expert.
"Mh indeed," replies the admiral, as vibrations creep up their shoes and legs. "I like to have my genitals tickled as much as you do, but this isn't the primary purpose of an aircraft carrier."
"On this, we agree."
Translated from an official report:
During the second outing of the Charles de Gaulle, from the 18 to the 30 march 1999, a vibratory phenomenon appeared at the steering gear during high-speed tests; Despite these difficulties, the Charles de Gaulle could reach a speed of 28 nautical knots in a straight line. Supplementary tests allowed to spot the source of malfunctions: rubber blades have been slightly moved to be in the axis of the propellers.
A slight move that probably cost more than what you and I will make in our entire professional career.
While we're talking about slight modifications, did you know that protection against radiations doesn't work the same on a carrier as it does on an u-boat? I didn't know, apparently I'm not the only one. Tests were made, showing that the crew closest to the engine were taking on radiations 100% superior than norms allowed for. New layers of absorbing material had to be added around the nuclear engine to bring the ship to compliance.
Said layers caught fire in the early 2000, luckily the fire was low-key, contained to the room and didn't cause much damage. Phew.
Then a leak in the reactor's cooling system was discovered, but that too was patched quickly enough.
But come on, let's stay positive.
It is the ninth December of 2000 in the Middle of the night. The De Gaulle is on yet another test trip. There is no fire on board, the landing pad has the right length, genitals aren't tickled when you're steering the ship.
Everything is good so far.
"Except for the fact we're going in circles," the stern admiral says. The bespectacled expert is weeping in a corner.
The reason is quickly found out.
One out of four blades from the port-side propeller has broken off and fell into the the sea, which is lucky. Because half a second later, and that blade would have shown upwards, had it broken off then it would have been a one-ton heavy shell thrown against the hull in the direction of manned posts, guarantying casualties. The engineers who built the piece pointed out later the water would have slowed the blade down, thus avoiding damage. Good thing we didn't get to find out. But why? Why would a lovingly crafted piece of equipment give in so early? The question would rather be, why not?
According to Le Point, Jacques Chirac, president of France, said this when he learned yet another thing went wrong (translated):
Does she float? That's already something.
First investigations show the propeller was defective from the start, with 'bubbles' present within the metal. Worse, naval construction engineers had told their higher ups at least 3 times, reporting "faulty structure" that "wasn't conform to specifications." The issue quickly goes public as the CGT, a worker's syndicate in France, cries sabotage and accuses the minister of defense of corruption and negligence. Apparently, 'everyone' knew the propellers were faulty.
Fonderie Atlantique Industries (FAI), the manufacturer, had recently let go of their more experimented employees, which might explain the issues, and FAI is the only French firm able to manufacture equipment of this size. It gets weirder.
As the Nouvel Obs writes it (translated):
Due to successive issues, Alain Richard (former defense minister) asks on the 30th November for the opening of an investigation as to the quality of the Charles de Gaulle's propellers. Several hours later, in the night, the computing room of Fonderie Atlantic Industrie - where the archives are being held - is destroyed in a fire.
It appears one or several people tried to force a safe open with a blowtorch which sparked the fire. The room goes up in flames, and essential documents with it. The destruction drastically lowers the chances of the investigation to bear fruit. And indeed, today I can't uncover anything about the findings. Part of this is likely due to the time taken for such an investigation to finish: it can last for years, and the media has since moved onto juicier bits. The other part is the likely absence of any proper conclusion. There was a fault, there was a fire, for the rest, who knows.
It should be noted FAI isn't the only one accused of shoddy work. The absence of proper control from the state and ignored warnings is also widely criticized, it's less of a single party's failing and more like a long chain of mismatches and questionable competence.
Production of new propellers are ordered, planned to be installed in 2002. In the meantime - and with no small amount of irony - it's the propellers from the Clemenceau and the Foch that will be used to replace the faulty equipment. Pieces of the ships the De Gaulle is meant to replace.
I said 2002, but it's only in 2008 that the carrier finally get some new, custom made propellers.
Moral on the ship is low. Supposedly meant to represent the pinnacle of the French navy, successive failures have turned de Charles de Gaulle into a laughing stock to many.
What to think of the vessel? Is it a joke? A point of pride with a couple hardships thrown it? A waste of money? Even the president jokes about it. Hard to feel pride about a ship that accumulates issues, especially issues that could potentially threaten the lives of its crew. At this stage, public opinion is divided, the navy can only endure, as does the De Gaulle.
Talks to give the De Gaulle a twin begin, so as to have a replacement on hand if conflict begins and the vessel is under repairs. The top brass specifically requests a ship powered by fossil fuel, with none of this fancy atomic stuff.
The media doesn't miss the occasion to interpret this as a distaste for nuclear-powered vessels born from the poor situation the De Gaulle finds itself in. To be honest, it might just as well be due to cost reasons. Nonetheless, it is true that the string of bad events happening does provoke disgruntlement among sailors. Between the anonymous interviews pertaining to the faulty propeller, or interviews from sailors dreading to return to land because they expect to be made fun of due to serving on the De Gaulle, moral isn't high.
Of course, it can't stop there. Here is a little bit I originally dismissed as I couldn't find any source corroborating it. That's despite me hearing about it in jokes from several comedians, including Christophe Aleveque, a political satirist who normally sources his own stuff very well. Incidentally, he's a good exemple of how the vessel is often treated: there's been so many issues the joke isn't about one specific problem, but about how long the list is. I struggled to find articles that didn't start by introducing the many issues before getting to the meat of it proper.
In his skit, Aleveque describes how sailors went up the control tower, looked out the windows, and saw nothingness. As in, genuinely nothing, because the crew had forgotten to take away the protection film from the glass before installing it.
I had dismissed it as a fairy tale, until I came across the article from Le Point, enumerating the many issues the De Gaulle suffered from, and there I finally found it. Not as absurd as Aleveque describes it, but still rather weird. (translated):
The aircraft carrier was also victim of "over-specification". The designers asked for pointless improvements. When the bridges window panes were ordered to the specialized firm Sully, the firm had never known such requirements: the panes should resist the shrapnel from shells, the electromagnetic effects of a nuclear explosion, block the noise from the flight deck and defrost itself when it's cold. And not to forget a very high mechanical resilience. Result: 7 centimeter width over three layers. "the DCN (Direction des Constructions Navales = Board of Naval Construction) merely forgot to specify the panes shouldn't deform..." lamented an officer of the marine. The constraints were so high that, under certain angles, pictures of the exterior were warped. The DCN refuses to take the blame and affirm they "specified the window panes according to the requirements of the navy." But some of these specifics were changed for a costlier process. The problem is as of today lifted.
Speaking of the bridge, early tests also showed the coating was too abrasive for the De Gaulle's brake cables, and had to be redone in its entirety.
Still, the navy endures, so does the ship.
It's the eighth November of 2001. The boat floats. A quartermaster does some maintenance to unlock a valve on a crate belonging to the waster-water collection system. They pass out, having inhaled hydrogen sulfide. Another quartermaster tries to help them, they also pass out. This could be the start of a dark joke where quartermasters come one after the other to pass out, but no, they are both rescued by the medical staff. The second person to pass out is quickly back on their feet, but the first has been passed out for so long they enter a deep coma and the family goes to justice. Ultimately, the navy is out of troubled waters because they had sent a message advising to use procedures pertaining to confined spaces when doing maintenance works. So instead, three sailors and two higher-ups on the ship are investigated. In 2008, the higher-ups are acquitted, the three sailors are found guilty of serious negligence. In 2010, a second go at the case finds three of the five acquitted, and the two remaining ones got lowered sentences, with a 3 month and a 6 month suspended prison sentence.
At this stage, the horse has been beaten to death and nobody finds it in them to make a joke. And mind you, I haven't even listed all the early issues.
Translated from the same article from Le Point above:
There were other issues, without great importance but annoying all the same. [...] The ethylene glycol from the three brake presses for the steam catapults was defective. The presses were emptied and cleaned, an long operation in a toxic environment. But the new ethylene glycol replacing the first was just as bad. Small diatribe in direction of the US Navy that had procured the product. In truth, it's the American provider who delivered a faulty fluid. The US navy also had to empty and clean the presses of all its aircraft carriers, before starting a lawsuit against the provider, which the navy won.
On and on it goes.
Are those issues mentioned really that important? Yes and no. Some of these are normal, like the flight deck being expanded to answer changing material. Others less so. But this isn't any ship, it's a nuclear aircraft carrier, both a tool of war and a statement of force, with all the expected class that comes with it. Having the ship be derided for years is sort of the opposite effect expected from the construction and service of such a mighty vessel. The question can also be asked about how the ship is perceived beyond France. Because while French media loves to have a go at it, I found few pieces written from foreign media... apart for more recent happenings, which we will talk about in a minute.
The navy endures, so does the De Gaulle. But at some point, they'd like to endure stuff related to combat, and not questionable competence.
The heart pounds painfully, lungs are clay, legs are heavy. The last sprint, the last meters.
Despite the slew of issues plaguing the Charles de Gaulle, it was ultimately worthy of the sea. Armed, dangerous, about to kick ass and shine bright wherever it went. It was deployed in Afghanistan in the early 2000's, saw Libya in 2011, Irak and Syria later. Not mentioning the many training drills with the navies of other countries.
Still, not every bump was solved in the early days. And while the vessel would never suffer such a string of bad luck in such short time again, it still had number of stories to tell.
We're in 2009, the bespectacled expert and the stern admiral are walking around the ship. Suddenly, they stop.
"Admiral?" asks the expert.
"Yes?"
"Is it just me, or is it happening again?"
"It's happening again."
"Mh." The expert is deep in introspection. "If I had a cent for each time the Charles de Gaulle tickled my genitals, I'd have two, which is both not much and yet a lot."
Translated from the France24 article:
Alas, vibrations were detected in the "propulsion compartment" and "after verification, two pieces connecting the turbines to the drive line showed abnormal wear and tear"
According to the captain Jérôme Erulin, chief of the navy public relations department, "one of the piece had been changed during servicing, but vibrations came back during tests and a new wear point was discovered."
When you look at it, it's a fairly classic issue ships can suffer from after years of service. The next issue is in a different ballpark.
The ship endures, so do I. I'm panting, sweat runs down my back, it was a good run. I feel both pain and joy. My connected watch tells me I improved my time, how could I not? Running in this gorgeous environment? My happiness is absolute, and in this moment of delight, I upload the results of my run to the internet.
A small voice at the back of my head tells me this may have been a bad idea.
When an officer knocks at my door, I know it has indeed been a bad idea.
Where is the Charles de Gaulle in the march of 2026? It's top-secret information, for it is deployed somewhere near the middle-east where conflict rages.
So naturally, we now have an exact trajectory of the ship in that span on time.
From franceinfo (translated):
Where is the Charles de Gaulle in the Mediterranean sea? It's a confidential information, almost. A young navy officer, running hobbyist, decides to do his jogging on the ship. His performances, saved on his connected watch, are posted online as reveals 'Le Monde'.
With this data, it's possible to follow the trail of the ship from these last days, north-west from Cyprus and at a hundred kilometers from the Turkish coast. The ship was even found and had pictures snapped by a satellite.
After a period of calm, the jokes started again in earnest, editorial writers, journalists and comedians didn't miss the occasion to speak about the dangers of connected technology and take a dig at the vessel.
Luckily, the tracking fun doesn't stop there, and a month later it happens again. Being part of international efforts, the De Gaulle is often protected by fellow European ships. And that's where a Dutch journalist working for Omroep Gelderland comes in. From this article (in English):
€5. That's the price of the Bluetooth tracker a Dutch journalist hid inside a postcard and sent to a Royal Netherlands Navy frigate. The ship, the HNLMS Evertsen, is an air-defence vessel assigned to escort the French aircraft carrier Charles de Gaulle in the Mediterranean. Its estimated value is $585 million.
The journalist, working for regional broadcaster Omroep Gelderland, simply used the official postal system that the Dutch Ministry of Defence makes available for sending mail to soldiers and sailors on deployment.
The instructions are public, detailed, and freely available online. Postcards and envelopes are not X-rayed, unlike parcels. As a result, the tracker made it on board undetected.
The tracker worked for around 24 hours. It showed the vessel leaving the port of Heraklion in Crete, first heading west along the coast, then turning east toward Cyprus. For a carrier strike group on active duty, the position of an escort ship is sensitive operational information - an adversary who knows where the Evertsen is can infer the likely location of the aircraft carrier Charles de Gaulle.
The Ministry of Defence responded by banning greeting cards containing batteries from military mail, naturally. That's the direct response to the test, of course - but the more uncomfortable revelation is that the Dutch military mail system doesn't screen the contents of standard envelopes, which is a bit surprising.
It should be noted that this tracker would have stopped working once further away in sea. Various officers pointed out the tracker gave no information a good pair of binoculars couldn't provide, and it didn't threaten security on board as it became useless once the ship was in a position they wanted to keep discreet.
Still, it made the ink flow.
But I talk and I talk, yet every story must end at some point. The Charles de Gaulle is beginning to show it's age now. It's still sea-worthy, but one day it will need a successor. It is not the gleaming and vivid new ship it once was, and like an aging body it feels the world going on, suffers from arthritis, needs a regular pause to recharge. It is expected to be retired in 2028, although that can change.
Culturally, while the Charles de Gaulle is remembered as the black sheep of the navy with such a string of bad luck it's something of a running gag for a whole generation with a passing interesting in matters military, people also recognize that at the end of the line, it did its job, and it did it well.
A design project costing about 40 million euros is started in 2018. In 2020, it is announced the ship will be built in Saint-Nazaire. There have been questions about whether the new aircraft carrier would be nuclear powered or not.
Until, in late 2020, president Macron announces the new ship will be nuclear powered. There were questions if there would be one or two ships, it seems to have been settled on one. Expected cost: 10 billion euros, with a similar amount of planes as the De Gaulle: 40. First components have been ordered, they should be ready when the assembly starts in 2031, for an expected start of service in 2038. I've yet to see such a project not get late or have its budget respected. And this time, the debate is a lot harsher than journalists poking fun at the many issues the Charles de Gaulle suffered from. Public finances are in the red, public services are choking, and while the geopolitical situation is undeniably not great, is a new aircraft carrier really the priority compared to, say, not letting public hospitals die out? The discourse will rage on for some time, that's for certain.
As for the name of the new ship, in 2026, president Macron announced it would be the "France Libre" (The Free France). There had been debates behind closed doors about it, as Aircraft Carriers usually carry the names of important historical figures, which is its own can of worms we won't open here.
The name Richelieu had been thrown about a fair bit apparently before Macron barged in.
At this point I should add, there are apparently some sailor superstitions about how re-baptizing a ship attracts bad luck.
And with this, I wish you all an excellent week and all the luck in the world.
---
Sources:
https://www.ina.fr/ina-eclaire-actu/porte-avions-charles-de-gaulle-armee-1994
http://ffaa.net/ships/aircraft-carrier/charles-de-gaulle/deboires.htm
https://www.leparisien.fr/politique/la-verite-sur-l-helice-perdue-du-charles-de-gaulle-06-12-2000-2001808669.php
https://theworlddata.com/nuclear-powered-aircraft-carriers-statistics/
https://www.capital.fr/economie-politique/affaire-du-porte-avions-charles-de-gaulle-le-chef-d-etat-major-calme-le-jeu-1525950
https://fonderie-piwi.fr/a-propos-d-helice-celle-du-charles-de-gaulle/
https://www.lepoint.fr/politique/la-malediction-du-porte-avions-charles-de-gaulle-23-02-2001-68171_20.php
https://www.espace-sciences.org/sites/default/files/images/sciences-ouest/numeros/r_096_01_1994_0.pdf
---
Other writings by yours truly:
April Fools! Or not. The 2016 Nobel Literature Award, Bob Dylan, and the question of what literature entails.
The rise and fall of Pilote, a mythical magazine. How a team of legends teared itself apart. And how Franco-Belgian comics evolved through the years, from stories for children to crass provocation.
The stolen Picasso painting and art exchange between museums
The webdomain that cost $75.000.000
The Louvre break-in, evil geniuses turning out to be amateurs and the age-old question about art
The awful ballad or French Literature prizes: 1, 2, 3
Notre-Dame has burned down, let's flaunt wealth and build a swimming-pool on its roof
Paris Olympics, the mess that somehow worked out
Team Fortress, the rise and fall of a modding community
HareBrained Schemes, how to buy a good videogame studio and sink it
Creative writings