It's 1965, and the Cold War verges on nuclear conflict. The Soviet Union has escalated tensions, threatening the West with annihilation.
Patrolling the waters a few miles outside Washington DC, USS Wright comes to life as vessel and crew prepare for the unthinkable.
Originally an aircraft carrier, this ship has been transformed. Its vast flight deck, once lined with fighter jets ready for combat, now hosts a forest of antennae and satellite dishes. These instruments of communication have replaced the roar of jet engines with the silent buzz of signals bouncing across the globe.
A helicopter approaches, cutting through the sky with urgency. It lands smoothly on the deck, now cleared of any aircraft but fully equipped for its new role. Out steps President John F. Kennedy, immediately greeted by the ship's commanding officer. Together, they move briskly inside, descending into the bowels of the USS Wright.
In the heart of the ship, a secure room houses a bank of color-coded telephones. Each one is a direct line to a different branch of the U.S. defense network, from the Pentagon to missile silos scattered across the country. This array of phones stands ready to orchestrate a unified response to any threat.
Even deeper in the bowels of the emergency operations center, there is a reinforced room shrouded in secrecy, requiring a top-secret key code to enter.
Before there were Doomsday planes, there were Doomsday Ships, created to ride out nuclear apocalypse. USS Wright was ready to do just that.
