January 2011- USS CARL VINSON (CVN 70), somewhere in the Persian Gulf.
It’s 1330h, just after lunch. I’m climbing the 12 decks of ladders (stairs) from Damage Control Central up to the ship’s navigation bridge, hovering some 50 feet above the flight deck. The daily routine of combat flight operations is underway. Every two minutes or so, I hear the loud crash of the catapult launching an F/A-18 Hornet from the flight deck. The explosive concussion of the jet’s take-off momentarily distracts me from the butterflies in my stomach as I proceed to the bridge to take charge of the ship and 4500 souls for the next five hours. “I am ready to relieve you, sir,” I announce to the off-going Officer of the Deck (OOD) with a salute. “I stand relieved,” he replies, returning my salute. “Attention in the pilot house,” he barks. “Lieutenant Commander Hunt has the deck.”
This daily evolution has not gotten any easier for me with the passing months of deployment. The question that constantly plagues me is, will I perform my duties expertly or will I make a mistake that damages the ship—or worse, costs a life? The stakes are high. We are performing combat missions, launching and recovering dozens of aircraft every hour around the clock. My responsibilities are to ensure that the bridge team carefully plots and executes the correct course, avoids other maritime contacts (including hostile forces), maintains our flight operations box, responds swiftly to engineering or steering casualties, and regularly drills on emergency procedures like “man overboard”, fire, etc. I keep vigilant watch on our radars, communicate with the Tactical Action Officer (TAO), receive visual reports from lookouts, calculate the changing wind speed and direction over the deck, and give navigation orders to the helmsmen steering the ship. It requires peak performance and sustained attention for hours at a time. Although I’ve been well-trained, I’m always anxious about what unknown dangers might be lurking just over the horizon.
It is around this time that I listened to some recorded talks from a “Fellowship of Catholic University Students” (FOCUS) conference that a friend had shared with me. One of these presentations featured a young woman talking about St. Joan of Arc, a celebrated name I recognized from the history books but knew very little about. Imagine my surprise when this speaker suggested a modern-day metaphor to approximate what it was like for young Joan to suddenly find herself in command of the French Army:
“Imagine being a woman in today’s military launching combat aircraft from the flight deck of an aircraft carrier.”
Well, I’m sure my jaw dropped because it sounded like she was speaking directly to me! By the way, did I mention that I was the only female OOD on our ship at that time, and also the most senior ranking woman in our ship’s company? So the comparison with Joan’s story landed especially close to home for me.
From that time on, I began to develop a devotion to St. Joan. As I learned more about the French heroine and her amazing story, I gradually sensed a newfound courage growing in my chest. The daily climb up to the ship’s bridge no longer filled me with dread. It was as if Joan were cheering me on, saying, “If I could face the formidable challenges of my own day, you can surely do this!” In my voracious reading about her, I learned that she was also the favorite hero of my confirmation saint, St. Thérèse of Lisieux. I soon began thinking of both saints, honored together as co-Patronesses of France, as my “spiritual sisters.”
In the ensuing years of my naval career, I continued to turn to Joan in difficult times for prayers and encouragement. This was especially true during my last deployment in 2019 with a special operations task force to Baghdad, Iraq. In some ways, it was my most difficult deployment because of my growing dissatisfaction with the apparent strategic futility of America’s presence in the region. Maybe that is why I decided to retire shortly after my return. In any case, even after I retired from the Navy, I found that my relationship with St. Joan of Arc continued to grow. In uniform or out, life presents constant challenges and disappointments that can get anybody down. I find that my friendship with Joan fortifies my faith and helps me to respond to life’s demands with courage and constancy.
I suspect that most people who have worn the cloth of their nation will come away with a few scars, either physical or emotional. Like many veterans, I bear both. But it gives me comfort to think of Joan, wounded more than once on the battlefield, facing her fears and questions with impeccable courage, dedication, and fidelity. She literally restored the hope of her nation and secured its future—and for all her heroism, she was repaid with betrayal. But as readers of Pilgrim Warriors will learn, St. Joan of Arc triumphed in the end—and her message to us is that we can too!
Amy is also the co-host of Heroic Hearts, a podcast about the heroic lives of St. Joan of Arc and St. Thérèse of Lisieux.
Amy's Story
That's an incredible and inspiring story Amy. God bless you on this initiative! It will provide many blessings for those who participate. I look forward to hearing more!
This is a wonderful expression of St. Joan of Arc's ability to be 'present' in our modern day needs. I am fascinated by what you wrote here, Amy. Thanks for sharing it. I also just heard a connection to St. Joan of Arc through Fr. Chad Ripperger. I will send it to you.