Midway

Midway

The ship’s office still had tags on the furniture; in fact the ETs still hadn't solved the computer and phone issues.  Of course, this being 1995 there was no WiFi to worry about or T1 lines.  Mighty ASSATEAGUE's most advanced technology was the 1MC; much to the chagrin of the crew the mic was at my desk.

"XO, you have a minute?"  The Captain walked to his office...the only truly private spot in the office or on the cutter.

When the CO asks if you "have a minute" you make the minute and follow him.

"Sir?"

"Good news.  Both Group and District approved the trip.  We are going beginning of June."

This particular good news was ASSATEAGUE's trip to Midway atoll...a cool 1000 miles to the west of Honolulu.

"We go some work to do before we go."

What I wanted to say was "Well that goes without saying...I mean really!!"

Again, much like the aforementioned "have a minute scenario" when the CO says we have some work to do there is really just one answer.

"I’m on it Captain."

And that was it.  I, along with the departments heads, had to plan a 25 day trip that would range about 2500 nautical miles round trip.  There is a great quote that applies to armchair soldiers (or sailors for that matter).  It states, something to the effect that tactics and strategy are for amateurs, logistics is for professionals.  I have never engaged in combat but I have planned some of these trips and logistics is the rule. 

One other piece that is rarely discussed is personnel and morale.  I know, you are thinking that this is the military, you are supposed to deploy--that's your job. In fact that is correct and on the news and in the movies soldiers and sailors engage in their duty with certain amount of super patriotism.  At the end of the day, however, they have families, commitments, bills.  To top it off, at 110 foot patrol boat is not the ideal candidate for 25 straight days.  I knew we would be at Midway a couple of days, but it’s a tall order nonetheless.

The weeks were busy.  Discussions with the Navy are, in the best of conditions, difficult.  Finding the specific departments that actually had administrative control over the non-operational Midway base proved challenging.  As XO, that job fell to me.

Interestingly, the Navy had recently refueled Midway with JP-5 for the last time.  The base, on the most famous atoll in history, was due to close (famous atolls…that may be a bit of an oxymoron).  A handful of naval personnel were on the island overseeing about 100 contractors from around the world--to shut it down.  I truly don't remember how much fuel they deposited in the farms but I thought it was in the millions of gallons.  Couple of issues with refueling there:  ASSATEAGUE's Paxman main diesel engines could burn JP-5 but it ran hotter than the normal marine grade fuel we used.  That mean it wasn't as efficient.  If you need a moment to look up Midway on the internet, please do so...this narrative will still be here. 

The 110 was a fantastic boat fast, agile, a real tip of the spear asset.  They allegedly had a 3000 mile range...I can tell you that is not quite accurate.  We would need gas at Midway--and Midway is the only place to do so in that patch of the Pacific.  We needed a solid sail plan to account for transiting to patrol areas, the possible need to sprint for LE or SAR cases, a certain amount of reserve if we diverted due to a storm...there are quite a few variables in this equation. 

Bottom line...logistics. 

In addition to that planning we had some strap hanger missions.  Boats don't venture out across that part of the Hawaii Island Chain; the news travels fast.  The National Marine Fisheries Services and the National Wildlife Service queued up to solicit ASSATEAGUE's cargo capacity.  Again, yep, logistics.  The thing, however, we were taking a patrol boat, not a tug and barge.  Deck space held damage control equipment, diesel fuel, weapons stations, a huge small boat (yeah, I know that doesn't make much sense, but work with me).  Cargo space wasn't part of the metric for these boats. 

First in line was NWS--they asked if would be at all possible to take a couple hundred gallons of gasoline to French Frigate Shoal.  Sounds easy...tell that to the EO.

"Chief, can we get some gas on the fantail to bring to some researchers?"  Seemed like a legit question to me.

Without even taking a breath. "No sir."  This wasn't, in any way, disrespectful.  It was a matter of fact as possible.  The Chief, with 20 plus years in the Coast Guard as a MK merely took the question as interrogative--and in his mind it was easy.  We carry limited amounts of gas onboard to run damage control pumps and those racks back aft are ready to dump over the side in a moment if there was a hint of a fire.  Adding four 55 gallon barrels simply made no sense.

I clearly needed a different tactic.

"Chief, if we needed to get four drums aboard, how would we do it?"

"We wouldn't."  If nothing else, the Chief was laconic. 

Attempt three: "Chief, we need to bring 200 gallons of gas to French Frigate Shoal."

"Why?"  Laconic, but not a negative...I was circling in.

"Wildlife service want to get some fuel to the scientists and observers there.  Generator I think."

"Does the Captain know about this?"

It was the Captain request.  "He does, this is coming from Group."

"Terrible idea, XO."  This would be a long trip.

"No argument here, Chief, but can you rig something?"

"Yeah, of course we can.  When?"

Sometimes...I mean..."Of course"???  I repressed the obligatory sigh. 

"Taking it aboard the mooring we depart."  And that was about it.

The engineers rigged a pallet system that we could ditch in an emergency with some semblance of safety.  One obstacle down...the easy one.

The Captain had corralled me a couple of weeks before we were due to leave with some news.  NMFS called the District, District called the Group, Group, talked to the Captain, and the Captain tasked the XO...see how that goes? Great system, unless you are the XO.

NMFS had four observes on Laysan Island about halfway between the Main Hawaiian Island and Midway (get it...mid way to Midway?  I crack myself up...) The island teemed with multiple fish and bird species.  One of the observers contracted Laysan Island Fever.  It’s a real thing...again...Google is your friend.  However, back in 1995--no Google, no Internet for that matter.  I had to call a few hospitals with little success.  Finally I found a contact that lead me to a professor at the University of Hawaii who was the world foremost expert on this particular fever.  Who knew?  I spoke to this professor who was excited about admitting a patient to a hospital with this malady.  He described the symptoms in medial terms that I can't pronounce let alone spell, so I will spare you.  In the end I had to ask for a slightly less technical description--

"Mono."

"Sir?"

"Laysan Island Fever...the symptoms are much like Mono.  Caused, we believe, by a beetle.  Its not contagious, your crew will be quite safe."

Easy for him to say.

"Thanks professor.  You can contact Group Honolulu ops in about three weeks on the details of their arrival."

In my discussion with NMFS we talked about ETA to Laysan, how long they would stay aboard ASSATEAGUE, the real possibility we could get diverted for a case, when we thought we would get to Midway and how their observer would get back to Honolulu.  More logistics.  Fortunately for the erstwhile observer we were rescuing, ASSATEAGUE was coordinating with the Air Station at Barbers Point to have a C-130 meet us at Midway with supplies and mail.  The aircraft would make a wide arc around Midway when we started our patrol and report any sightings for us to chase down.  The aircrew would refuel at Midway and take our passenger back to Hawaii.  Overall a simple plan really. 

The days leading to the trip required checking and rechecking charts and tracklines, reviewing fuel consumption charts, training, status of damage control equipment, final medical screenings...workdays flew by and the nights at home were difficult.  The planned departure was on a Monday--we gave the crew Thursday and Friday off to give them a long weekend.  At this point – it was the end of my tour - , I was living aboard ASSATEAGUE  in my stateroom...that weekend was horrible.

We planned to load final stores at 0800 and take in lines at 1000.  While the Chief fretted the extra gas we stowed that without incident; the cook made room for more food--under some mattresses, in the machinery Auxiliary space, can goods on the floor of my stateroom.  It looked like some scenes out of Das Boot (INCREDIBLE movie by the way and the best submarine movie ever made).

We set mooring stations at 0945 and underway a shade before 1000.  This was a slow steam event...we couldn't afford the gas to take it above clutch speed.  With the stop at French Frigate Shoals and Laysan it would be a six or seven day steam to Midway.  That didn't include any potential patrolling we may do en route.  The goal of this expedition was mostly cosmetic.  The international community recognized a 300 nautical mile Exclusive Economic Zone beyond a country’s borders...any borders.  So all these small island constituted potential economic windfalls for the United States, as long as the United States could show we maintained control over those areas.  With Midway closing that would be a potential problem.  Our mission was as much exploratory as enforcement.  If ASSATEAGUE was successful the future owners of Midway may be inclined to allow other cutters to stop there and top off on fuel to patrol further west.  If we conducted any boardings, that was a plus.  The hope was to find Japanese fishing trawlers and let them see the cutter.  Not a glamorous mission, but it was an amazing opportunity.  And besides, for a history nut like me, setting foot on Midway was a dream.

First, French Frigate Shoal.  Those couple of days to that cluster of small islands was uneventful.  The weather was nothing like I had ever seen (and to be honest, never seen since.)  It was glass.  The ocean didn't even have a ripple.  With 4000 nautical miles (or more) of fetch, these conditions were amazing.  At night the sky and the horizon remained indistinguishable--it was quite the site.  The sky, just as amazing.  This far away from any land mass provided an excellent backdrop--no background light pollution to obscure the sky.  

The Shoal was a small collection of islands just past the main Hawaiian Islands had its own place in the Battle of Midway--I will spare you the details, but anchoring where we did was just beyond cool!  I brought a copy of Walter Lord's "Incredible Victory" with me...almost like getting an autograph.

As usual, the Captain let the crew go ashore...unlike my stint at Palmyra (find the story about Roger on this blog…wow), I stayed aboard ASSATEAGUE as OOD.  The reports back from the crew were positive.  The observers were truly grateful for the gas...they weren't out but a supply ship had been delayed and the gas was the one item that worried them.  Transporting that one barrel at a time on our small boat was impressive.  The amount of worry between the Engineer and First Lieutenant would have been comical if not for the true danger in transporting the volatile cargo (while I am giving book recommendations…look for “Pacific Interlude” by Sloan Wilson)

As the day wore on the crew started making their way back to the cutter--we would remain anchored over night and weigh anchor the following morning.  One of the interesting items they returned with were glass floats.  Back 20, 30, 40 years ago, Japanese fisherman used these green glass balls as floats for their nets.  The Shoal seemed to collect their fair share.  The larger ones demanded a high price in antique stores.  One of the quartermasters brought me back two of these. 

Next stop would be Laysan Island and our "rescue case".  Patrol boats are great boats, but spacious was not an adjective associated with these cutters.  We made the Chief's spare rack ready for our guest.  It wasn't the best ride on the boat, but it was somewhat private and with the seas as calm as they were, this was a good alternative.  These boats has two main berthing areas,  Forward and Aft...Aft was the best...coolest spot not he boat and it road well...the senior members of the crew stayed there.  Forward berthing earned the nickname "Gravity Chamber"; these boats pitched badly and the ride up there in any weather caused the crew to come out of their racks, tossed around anything not lashed...and some things that were lashed, it was at time not possible to even use the head.  Obviously this is where we put the junior me members...Rank, truly hath its privileges.

The transit from French Frigate Shoal to Laysan passed quietly.  The only distraction was shooting stars for beers with my Captain.  Shortly after assuming command of ASSATEAGUE my CO reintroduced me to celestial navigation.  It became less an academic class and a truly a skill and art.  As a side benefit, you could find your position with the stars--and pre GPS proliferation this was a not to insubstantial skill to take underway.  We had one true sextant and an emergency one for abandon ship...Captain used the later.  He had to calibrate that instrument after every star he shot whereas I could set mine once and be good to go.  Even with the better equipment, he routinely kicked my ass.  We measured success as who was closest to the most recent SATNAV pass.  I think I prevailed but once.  Regardless, it was fun and it was a sense of pride to actually ply my trade. 

Aside from nightly cel nav shootouts we had drills, training, and cleaning around the clock. 

As we neared Laysan the Captain and his staff talked about what we wanted to do to evacuate the NMFS observer.  The Chief made his spare rack ready, the First Lieutenant got what charts we had to make a nav packet for the BM2--he would be the coxswain for going ashore.  As the XO (and I might add the medical officer...stop laughing...I was technically the medical officer) it fell to me to lead the crew going ashore.  We rounded it out with one of the Seaman from Deck department.  The Cook had reviewed the files from the University about the condition of the observer.  The Cook was the EMT so he passed for the medical expert (remember....Medical Officer in name only).  According to what we knew the observer would be tired and debilitated so rest was the best we could do.  No dietary restrictions and as long as they took a good shower there was no need to fear the disease from spreading to the crew.  Sounds simple...

We decided to arrive about mid morning to give the cox'n the best visibility on the transit.  The charts were last updated just after World War II and they lacked what most people would call DETAIL.  Laysan was surround, by the look of our outdated chart, by a couple of concentric coral reefs.  Those particular reefs would be mildly hazardous to the rubber hulled small boat. 

Prior to leaving Hono I worked a bit with NMFS; I asks them how the team would know we were there...they didn't a VHF radio and they communicated to Hono with a SATPHONE.  The coordinator with NMFS chuckled; the island was maybe a half square mile total with a total elevation of a dozen feet...they would see us. 

With a well informed crew and a solid, simple plan mighty ASSATEAGUE launched the small boat and we headed in.  The seas remained as calm as before and the morning sun let us see the sharp coral with exactitude.  This was not the simple plan we had developed. The chartlet we had was useless...the coral was EVERYWHERE our chartlet was someone less dense with these submerged disasters.  I told Boats I would get in the bow and try to find a hole in the reefs...there had to be one; our NMFS Observer made it ashore. 

Our on scene plan must looked haphazard front ASSATEAGUE's bridge.  We would speed up, slow down, zig zag, zag zig. Go left, right, in, out...you get the picture.  In the midst of the gyrations the VHF barked.

"ASSATEAGUE One, ASSATEAGUE."

"Go for ASSATEAGUE One" It was SN Gonzales who responded, Boats was busy trying to follow a combination of verbal command and hand gestures...I am sure I looked like an idiot--I hoped the Captain couldn't see me.

"What is the XO doing??”

Okay...that is not good...

The conversation devolved a bit so we stopped so I could get on the radio and explain my new master plan.  The details are not important--by the end of the conversation I wasn't sure if the Captain was exasperated in frustration or if was laughing at us...I choose the later.

Once we resumed our seemingly treacherous transit in, Gonz broke out the binoculars to scan for signs of life.  Which he found quickly.

"XO, how many people are supposed to be on the island?"

"Four total."

"And the guy we are picking up, he is one of the them?"

"He better be or the CO is going to be pissed."

"And you are sure he is going to be there?"

I have no idea where Gonz is going with this."

"Yes, I am sure.  We are the only boat to have been by here for 4 or 5 weeks.  Why do you ask?"

We were about through the reefs but a thousand yards still offshore and I haven't used the binos yet to get a good look at the beach. 

"XO,  there are four people there but they are all women."

............Uhhh........what?

"What is that?"

"Sir, I might be wrong but I think those observers are all women."

OK...I am trying to remember if anyone told me that.  ASSATEAGUE was an all male crew, we didn't have any berthing for one person.  Regardless of their gender we would have picked them up but made some DIFFERENT LOGISTICS arrangements.  Seriously...a bit of information that would have been useful about three weeks ago.  My head was starting to hurt.

"Okay...Boats keep making for the shoreline, can you beach this thing just below where that group is?'

"No problem sir."

We closed the distance at a reasonable clip and as we got closer I kept hoping there was someone who was sick in a tent, maybe on the other side of the island...something.  Problem was...the island was flat...the 12 foot elevation was generous...and I am pretty sure we could see the other side of the island...in fact we could see about the whole island. 

BM2 gave the engine a bit of goose as we neared the beach and dug the v-shaped hull deep in the sand/shell beach.  He killed the outboard and we took the anchor out and dug placed the flukes deep in the sand.  I told Gonz to stay with the boat and not let it drift away. 

During out little mooring evolution the four people slowly made their way to the boat.

"Um...ahhh...Hi."

I would never have made a good explorer.

"Good morning and thanks for coming!!" 

"Ok...your welcome."  I am truly a horrible conversationalist.

"Did you have anything from Hono for us?"  We did have a few items.  Two tightly wrapped bundles of mail that we wrapped in plastic and duct taped shut.  A couple of small boxes from NMFS and the cook made basket with some non perishable they might be able to use.  BM2 passed the haul to me and I gave it to the NMFS observers. 

They attacked the mail bundles with vigor...normally duct tape can withstand assault just shy of a Marine Amphibious Unit...in this situation it came flying apart, the plastic may been chewed off...I wasn't sure.  The other parcels lay strewn across the beach.  As the three of us watched the beach turn into a post office I didn't see anyone that I would call debilitated or tired or remotely sick.

"Umm..excuse me...does one of you need to leave the island?"

One of the foursome broke away and introduced herself.

"I do.  My name is Amy ******."

"Ahh..ok...I'm Jeff from the Coast Guard Cutter ASSATEAGUE."  As opposed the cruise ship out there…sometimes I am an idiot.

We talked a few minutes and she needed to collect a few things.  What those would be was beyond me but she said she needed a few minutes.  She introduced Carol to me and the BM2 and she offered to give us a tour. 

A tour...of what???

"That would be great thank you."

The tour, of an entire island, took about four and half minutes.  We saw the saltwater lake and sand...lots of sand.  They took us to the camp.  It was a few chairs, a foldable table with notebooks held down with some rocks, some binoculars, and another piece of equipment I didn't know.  I asked.

"That is one of the desalination kits we have, one of six we keep on the island.  Plenty to make drinking water."

There were sleeping bags strewn across a piece of line held up with V shaped stands.  No tent that I could see.  And about 15 white, five gallon buckets.  I had to ask...

"These are GREAT!  They are waterproof and can carry a ton of stuff."  Based on what I saw on their camp, I wasn't sure what that stuff was but ok.

Amy had three buckets and a backpack, BM2 helped her carry her "stuff" to the small boat while I talked to the three remaining observers.  Turns out they all were scientist in several fields and not just college kids counting fish.  Two had degrees in marine zoology, one in biology, and the fourth in ecology.  Amy was the ecologist and as well as studying birds on a remote Pacific atoll she had a grant that she used to study migratory patterns of wolves in Montana.  Yeah...wolves in a landlocked states to birds in the Pacific...I am not smart enough to make this stuff up.

As the four friends were saying goodbye, BM2 asked me if I radioed the Captain yet. 

"No...I have no idea what I am going to do.  I never thought to ask, just assumed it was a guy."

I think this was measure of what it was like in the Coast Guard at this point in my career.  Most ships were configured as single gender and the command staff were just now starting to make accommodations for women aboard all ships.  ASSATEAGUE was not one of them.  In fact there were only two patrol boats in the Coast Guard that had women aboard other than the CO, XO, or EPO.

I would burn that bridge with the Captain in about a half an hour.  Amy walked up to the boat with a package of letters to mail to family upon her return to Hono.  She moved to the bench seat while Gonz and I pushed the small boat back into the Pacific.  Amy waved to her friends and that was it.

I called the Captain to give him the name of our passenger to enter in the ships log.  He didn't say a word.  I took that as a good sign...only because I didn't want to think of what a bid sign would mean.  We had to navigate through the reefs in a similar fashion so it was a few minutes to get back to our floating home.

Once alongside with the sea painter attached we streamed along the starboard side and Amy and I climbed up while Boats and Gonz prepped the boat for hoisting into its cradle.

The Captain was at the rail:

"Welcome aboard, Amy.  I am Dick Kermond, ASSATEAGUE's Captain.  I see you met the XO."

"Thank you so much for the help! "

Our cook was right there and the Captain had him take her below to get something to eat. 

Once the athwartships door closed I turned to the CO:

"Sir, I SWEAR, I had no idea!  I didn't even think to ask."  To say I spoke with resignation is the best I can do, I am sure I was pitiful.

The Captain, one of the best officers I knew, laughed-

"I never thought to ask either...no big deal."

Other than were we would put her you mean.

"What do you think about berthing areas?"

"She can have my stateroom...we are only a couple of days out.  You and I can hot rack it."

Hot racking...if you have been in one of the sea services you know what that means...two people, one rack.  I was on the evening watch so the captain could sleep in my rack until midnight then go to the bridge or the Chief's spare rack.  It’s not the best situation, but it would do in the short run.

And that was it...I tended to get a bit worked up at times. (for those of you reading this that know me, that is NOT a news flash).  But it was a good solution.  The Captain had the biggest stateroom and we shared an adjoining head...it was most privacy she would be able to get. 

I went below to talk to Amy and give her a plan.  I found her on the mess deck watch a movie with a some toast and what looked like oatmeal.  She was all smiles.

"How are you feeling?  The Doc said this thing could wear you out."

"Today is a good day so far...when it hits it gets to me fast and I feel like I can barely move."

I gave her the plan, explained what to do in an alarm and answered a few easy questions about the boat.  I asked her if she needed anything.  She asked if she could take a shower and wash her clothes.  The shower we could do...but as you recall these are tip of the spear type ships--no laundry machines aboard.  I told here we could grab some clean shirts from the crew, maybe some sweats. 

"Do you have anything I could read?  I left the all the books on the island so the girls could read them."

Asking me if I have anything to read...that is a softball.  In my limited space aboard mighty ASSATEAGUE I had a cabinet dedicated to books.  I gave her the pick of the litter.  We spoke a bit about what to do in an emergency (get to the bridge), what do to if she had any questions (go to the bridge), if she couldn't find me or the Captain, (check with the bridge...we were nothing if not consistent).  

We had two days or so until we reached Midway so I expected more of the same; drills, training.  As usual, I couldn't be more wrong.

For some perspective, ASSATEAGUE was 900 or so mile west of Honolulu.  In the mid nineties we had no satellite communications aboard and no cell phone (not that it would have worked).  We used High Frequency radio to maintain contact with Communication Station Honolulu.  Every four hours we would attempt to call in and report our position, course, and speed.  HF waves can propagate across VAST distances; at times we couldn't raise Honolulu but we might get in touch with COMMSTA Miami or New Orleans.    In turn they would contact Hono via landline.  That was the best we had.  In addition we had a message system that used HF frequency to download packets of text data...at 600 to 1200 baud rate...you read that correctly...600 baud rate.  It was slow.  No need to embellish that with fancy adjective or images...600 baud...slow.   Nothing we did would happen quickly in this environment.  When we got to Midway they had an underwater phone cable to Hono...we could check in easily.  We also had our C-130 supply flight that was brining ship's mail.  I truly thought we would get to Midway with a hitch. 

I am such an idiot.

So the mission to show the flag promised to be boring, big ocean, little boats.  I thought we may see some Japanese trawlers but they would be transiting to open ocean.  Due to many international laws, agreements, treaties and customs there are limited scenarios where a Coast Guard cutter can board a foreign flagged vessel (that is a book for another day).  Even if we saw a ship we could approach, report the siting, gather some intel, ask them if we could board, but that was it.  U.S. vessels were subject to boarding anywhere in the world by Coast Guard cutters; but out here--they wouldn't make this far out.  And beside, the last part of the transit was through a marine mammal protect zone where there was no fishing.  If you looked at it on a chart it would be the equivalent of skull and cross bones, verboten, do not pass go, abandon all hope ye who enter here--that type of language.  I mean you would have to be an idiot to travel close to 1000 miles to fish in a area that was strictly off limits.

I was not the only idiot in this part of the Pacific.

Since our departure from Hono we had seen a total of zero vessels.  Additionally we had a total of zero radar contacts.  I mean we were alone.  Until...

It was 2000, maybe 2100, I was on the bridge with just the watch stander. He leaned with his head down on looking at the radar.

"XO?"

"Yeah Alf."

"We have a contact."

"No way...check the gain."

"I did, sir, checked the gain, changed the scale...I started a plot on it.  We got a contact about 10 miles out."

At that range we wouldn’t see much, if anything, but a fishing boat would send back a return.

We swapped places and I started a rapid radar plot while Alf went to the chart.  I gave him a bearing and range to plot.

"X, he is in the protection zone."

Now, like ASSATEAGUE this contact had every right to be transiting through the zone.  It would take about 12 minutes to get enough info on the plot to see what kind of course and speed they were making, which would give out first indication if this contact was fishing. 

"Alf, it looks like he is MVCS." (maneuvering various courses and speeds)

"Sir he is in the middle of the zone."

"OK...ok..." I was amazed.

I lifted the sound powered phone out of its brass cradle and cranked the handle a couple of times.  The phone in my cabin is not by the rack as it is on the CO's stateroom so there was a delay in the CO's response.

"Captain” he sounded wide awake, it was relatively early in the night and he was probably reading.

"Cap, XO on the bridge..." I gave him our course and speed and a briefing about the unidentified contact.

"You think he is fishing?"

"Not sure sir, we can see running lights but right now can’t make out if he is fishing.  But I think he is doing something.  We are looking at 30 minutes or so to intercept.  Set the LE detail?  I'll be the BO and take Guns, Alf, and MK2.  QM1 on the bridge?

"Sounds good.  I'll be right up to relieve you and you can change out."

"Thanks, Cap."

I gave Alf the break down and he took the 1MC:

"NOW ABOARD ASSATEAGUE SET THE LE DETAIL.  BOARDING TEAM IS XO, GM2, MK2, QM3.  COXSWAIN BMS CREWMAN SN STACKPOLE."

He repeated a second time.

"Alf, I got it, you can lay below and get started."

"See you in a minute X."

He saluted and made his way below.

About a minute latter the Captain came up followed quick by the QM1.  Wheels relived me, I requested permission to lay below, saluted and made my way to my stateroom.  Before I got ready I knocked on the Captain's door.

"Come in."

"Amy, how you doing?"

"Tired, but ok."

"We are probably going to do a boarding in a little bit.  It will get a little noisy.  You are more than welcome to come to the bridge if you like, hard to tell how long this will take.  I'll check in on you when we get back.

"OK, thanks.  Good luck!"

"Thanks."

I changed into a working uniform, steel toed boots, body armor, and weapons belt (cuffs, ASP baton, lock blade knife, two zip ties, flashlight, pepper spray, holster, and ammo pouch.)  I put my life jacket on and put a few extra light sticks in my pockets.  On the mess deck the boarding team was getting their PDW (sounds more military than 9mm Berreta) and three clips of ammunition.  We would also be each wearing a pyrotechnic vest with several types of flares.  Again that sounds cool but it was in case we feel over board the cutter would have a chance to find us in the dark.  It was a big ocean.  On a side note...I HATE swimming over my head in the ocean.  Top it off it was night next to a fishing boat.  Fishing boat, lots of dead fish. Nighttime, lots of dead fish, blood in the water.  Yep, sharks.  If you do some research you would know that tiger sharks make Midway a frequent stop...we were a few hundred miles from Midway.  Falling in the water at this point would send me into a psychological breakdown.  I digress.

The team talked through roles, a quick look of our regs for this part of the protection zone, some basic embarkation tactics and made our way to the boat deck.  I went to the bridge to get two radios and check in the final time with the Captain.

"Sir, what have you got."

"Well I give them A for effort.  Either they are the biggest idiots or they have balls the size of Mt Rushmore."

That was good.

"They are a fishing boat out of Hono, been gone a little more than a week.  They plan on another three weeks or so fishing then head back.  Five people on board.  From what we can tell they are all American citizens but they have a thick accent so I bet naturalized.  Wheels told them to make sure they maintain this course and speed and secure any weapons they might have.  They told him they had one rifle that will be in the gallery and secured.  They have a ladder and asked to come aboard on the starboard side."

"Sounds good sir.  John, we'll do a radio check when I get to the boat deck.  Channel 21?"

"Roger that sir, codes are good."

"Aye.  See you late."

I went down the starboard side ladder and talked to BM1 about launching the small boat.  It was a flat night so it should be routine.  Night time always adds a bit of risk but this was a pretty easy set up.  The boarding team was on the fantail, all loading weapons.  I took out my 9mm, slid in a magazine and chambered a round.  I put it back in my holster and secured the safety snap.

ASSATEAGUE changed course to get the best run up to the fishing vessel.  Launching the small boat is essentially and all hands evolution.  It was an awkward dance.  Lines to keep the boat steady made spiderweb all over the fantail. The small-boat davit was a good crane but it had to extend to it max reach to get the boat over the rail.  Once there the BM2 and crewman got in and rode the boat down.  BM2 would start the outboard and angle the boat into the side of the cutter.  The embarkation ladder went over and we all followed.  A final radio check and we were off.

It was maybe a half mile run over the fishing vessel.  As a matter of procedure, we slowly circled the boat and identified the four crew members on the fish deck and could see the master on the bridge.  They were making 3 knots or so, perfect speed to come alongside.  We got close and could see the BM2 looking for anything protruding from the hull that would damage the small boat--or now of us. 

Typically the crew of fishing boat want to be helpful and give the boarding team a hand up.  That was dangerous for us.  Too many things that could go wrong.  BM2 anticipated this and called the master of the fishing vessel.

"Skipper, this is ASSATEAGUE One...please make sure your crew stays forward of the embarkation point.  Put the ladder over and we will make our approach.  Please maintain your course and speed until the small boat is away."

"Yes, yes Coast Guard."

"XO, you want to approach?"

"Make your approach, Boats"

GM2 was ready to go first.  He was the best boarding officer on ASSATEAGUE and a former Navy SEAL (he joined the Coast Guard after a knee injury knocked him out of the special warfare community.)  And he was BIG.  Perfect for the first over the gunwale. I followed him up with the other two quickly behind.  In a boarding you want to get into a four person rectangle in order to maintain control. 

The skipper of the vessel was now with the crew.  In these cases we wanted to check the boat in what we called an initial safety inspection.  We told the skipper that the two boarding team members would make a quick sweep of the boat to ensure our safety.

"Yeah, yeah, Coast Guard.  The gun is in the galley."

I told MK2 to check that our right away and zip tie through the chamber.  There is nothing wrong let alone illegal about having a gun aboard, but we wanted to make sure that it was safe before we went further in the boarding.  As part of the safety sweep the two BTMs would be looking for anything out of the ordinary-- in open view.  Could be other weapons, drugs, major safety violation.  If it sounds boring...it is.  Unless its not, then things can get a little hincky.  In this case it was the boring kind.  My kind of sweep.

"Skip, can you please come to the bridge with me?  My team will talk to your crew, and have a few questions.  We will need to see your life rafts and life jackets, flairs, fire control equipment and the bilge."

"Ok, ok, ok." The captain of this particular ship was in his mid forties, in a pair of gym shorts and a black t-shirt.  The crew attired the same way, started with the boarding team and showed them the necessary equipment.  Strangely they were all barefoot.  Not something I had seen before.

The Fishing Vessel Ahi was about 75 foot long, green hulled and white trim, white superstructure.  Large black registration numbers painted just aft of the bridge.  The deck, as was typical, shimmered a bit with the accumulated slime from fishing.  Slippery, this detritus was dangerous to the crew.  Well worn and maybe too so fishing lay all over the boat deck.  The equipment was on the wrong side of a maintenance schedule and did not instill confidence; Ahi was a longliner fishing for ahi...go figure.  Miles of monofilmanet fishing line with long short steel hooks covered the deck.  The boarding team would report the catch.  Fishing enforcement in the Hawaiian Island was more about place than product (New England has restrictions on both).  For Ahi, where we plotted them fishing will be a problem.

The Captain handed me a zip sealed plastic packet with the ship's registration and crew identification.  The organization contrasted sharply with the superficial condition of the boat.  In fact, it was all in order.

"ASSATEAGUE, Boarding Officer."

"Go Boarding Officer."

"I have registration numbers and crew ID ready to pass."

"Stand by."

The bridge team would have two people ready to copy.

"Go boarding team."

Short range radio comms is relatively clear, even coded; I wasn't worried about that.  The wait would be calling that in to the COMMSTA, COMMSTA relaying that to District and District waking up the right people.  It was about 2300 June 7th 1995...wait for it.

The piece that I knew would cause delays: where they were fishing.  ASSATEAGUE has a solid fish bust...this was iron clad.  The issue would be what to do.  We were a week or so into a three plus week trip more than 900 miles west of homeport.  Typically we would escort the boat back to Hono and hand them off to the boat station.  I knew an option would be to send two people back as a prize crew.  That would be me and one other...not an appealing prospect on so many levels.

It took about 10 minutes to get the necessary information passed to the cutter; in that time the MK2 came to the bridge and had just minor issues with Ahi.  Nothing more than a warning really. 

"Boarding Team, ASSATEAGUE"

"Go"

"BINGO"

BINGO was the code word we used when the Captain wanted me to get to a place where we could talk privately.

"ASSATEAGUE Actual, the is the XO."

"XO, you know this is going to take some time.  I am going to have the small boat pick up some food and water and drop it off.  We are going to put the boat to the rail.  You are going to want to settle in for a bit."

This was expected.  I told the boarding team.  Once we got the food from ASSATEAGUE 1 I asked the Ahi's master if we could talk.

"Skip, we need to get some information from headquarters and that is going to take some time.  We have to ask you to not deploy your gear and stay in the area.  The crew can hit the rack if they like or keep working on deck.  Your call, sir.  We will stay out of the way."

"Ok, ok, ok.  You can go to the galley if you like, sit down, it’s cooler there."

The boarding team retired to the galley and the crew shut down the lights, stowed their gear (and by that...dropped it where it was) and they turned in getting some unscheduled sleep time.

The mess deck/galley was more of the same.  Dirty pots and pans filled the small sink along with half filled cans of juice and soda.  There were open containers of food everywhere and three or four brown burlap sacks of rice.  The Ahi's crew walked through the galley and didn't notice the filth around them. In fact, the crew we saw walked on the rice, not around, on the rice.  Barefoot.  I was never going to eat tuna again.

The wait is the worse.  It's not boring.  Its nerve wracking, we are there on this boat and they know something is wrong.  Calling for updates from the cutter is useless.  I have been on that side and when you have a crew on another ship the time is agonizing.

Waiting, waiting, waiting...0001 June 8th, 1995.  So, this is where I turned 26...on a fishing vessel in the middle of the Pacific.  This, along with my EAGLE birthday, about take the cake (sorry, I couldn't help myself). 

Midnight turned in 1am which slowly bled in 2.  More that two hours with only 30 minute "Ops Normal" radio calls.

"Boarding Team"  We all jumped a bit.

"Go"

"BINGO"

I took my radio and had the gunner's mate come with me to the foc'sle and had the two boarding team members go to the fantail. 

"Captain, XO, go"

"X, here's the deal.  We are going to issue a citation for violation of USC 2.45 (yes, I made that up...I have NO recollection of the code but you get the gist).  You are to instruct them to head back to Honolulu and provide updates on freq 5454 (again, it has been so long I have no idea what frequency they used but you get the point.  When they are close enough they are to contact the station on 16.  The station  will escort them to the pier.  Let the master know NMFS will be waiting.  You are to seize the registration and give them a claim tag. Tell them the paperwork will be sent back to Hono by Coast Guard aircraft.  When you are ready to come back, give us shout."

Usually this is a hard conversation with the master but in this case I think he was truly surprised to see us and knew he was in the wrong.  He nodded when I talked to him with his instructions.  He turned over his paperwork with no argument but I knew he was a worried.  He was the master, but not the owner.  I knew as soon as he could he would radio his contact and let the owner know.  This was big...the catch would be forfeit and put in escrow and there would be a substantial fine assessed to the owner and master. 

We wrapped up and called the small boat to get us.  We climbed down the ladder, got settled in a headed back to ASSATEAGUE.  They had remained about a half mile off the quarter the whole time.  It was close to three when we finally took the painter and landed alongside.  The team went to the mess deck...and the cook God Bless him...had a fresh pot of coffee going.  He had the grill going and did breakfast for the team.  The captain and I took our familiar places in the aft bench and I debriefed him on what we saw.  He told me that this was going to be a big case and that the district passed along a BZ to the crew.  This really was a crew effort.  The four of us on the boarding was more than a quarter of the crew and the whole crew was up ready to support us.  I took a few minutes to savior a dark black cup of joe. 

I called the bridge and told the QM1 I would grab a shower and come up and relieve him.  He said he would take a nap and come up around 7.  There is no better feeling that taking a hot shower after a boarding like that.  One thing the Island Class patrol boats could do was make water.  We did our best to conserve but we could take something a bit more than just a sea shower. 

I got to the bridge about 430 and took the watch.  The crew had settled in after a long and thankfully uneventful night.  It would be sometime the following mid morning before we got to Midway.  Today would be a catch up day.  No reveille for the crew and no ship's work.  There would be some training later in the morning just before lunch but after that some skeet shooting, movies, whatever the crew wanted to do.  Sometimes the days roll together and it was good to get the crew some time to unwind.  We still have more than two weeks to go. 

As far as deployments got, three weeks isn't too long.  But these boats were small and sometime it’s more difficult on a crew with little to do than too much. 

By the time I got up we were ready to do some basic DC training.  I tracked down Amy (that is really not a hard thing to do on a 110 foot boat).  She was on the mess deck with a plate of toast.

"Hi stranger."  Amy grinned but she still looked pretty tired.

"So, did you see any of that last night?  It wasn't too exciting."

"I was on the bridge when you were first over on the other boat.  I went downstairs after a half hour."

I smiled but didn't correct her error.  There are no stairs on a cutter.  You don't go downstairs, you go below. 

"So, today not much going on. If you feel up to it the guys are going to do some skeet shooting I think.  I am sure there will be movies today as well.  My guess will be "Tombstone” or “So I Married An Axe Murderer."  Yeah, don't ask, those were the two most popular movies. But I bet you can get them to put something else on if you like."

"I might go shoot some.  I have down a bit of that in the past."

"All right, sounds good."  I said my goodbyes and went to the bridge.

The captain was in his char doing some crossword puzzles.  He didn't mess around--he had books and books of the New York Times Sunday puzzles.  He was good.  He did them in pen too...and I don't think I had seen him miss one yet.  I was going to shoot a Local Apparent Noon shot of the sun to get some sextant practice. 

The pace of the day never wavered; it was good for the crew.  I did some final checks for tomorrow's transit into Midway and at 2000 took over the watch.

The next morning we piped reveille as usual and the normal routine returned.  Anytime you are getting ready to come to port there is a bit of anticipation.  Midway wasn't much of a port.  Even so, it would be nice to be tied up at night and secure the mains and generators. 

Special Sea detail was at 0900 and the crew took their stations.  We were about 6 miles out and still, couldn't see anything.  The radar return was negligible...something was there but we couldn't get any kind of details.  We steamed closer to the entrance buoy and had a solid return on that.

"Captain...are we really going to Midway or are we using the M buoy to tie off to” That passed for levity on the bridge.  Midway was only a foot or two higher than Laysan.  We were three miles out when we could start to make out the low structures of Sand and Eastern Island.  Eastern Island was a mile square and was abandoned.  In World War II it held a secondary airfield.  Sand Island was two miles square and had all the facilities including the working airstrip.

"Midway Control, ASSATEAUGE, request permission to make the approach.  You want us anywhere in specific."

"No, wherever you fit it fine. The further forward you make the easier it will be to fuel, but you are it.  The pier is all yours. No expected marine traffic for the next couple of weeks."

"Roger that.”

"Set Mooring Stations.  Mooring will be port side to."

I stayed as the OOD and CONNING officer but other than the QM1 the rest of the crew made their way to assigned mooring lines. 

"XO, all stations report manned and ready."

"Aye."

This would be an easy mooring.  And it was...no current, no wind...almost a one bell mooring...that elusive slot of perfection for a ship driver

It was going to be a busy day.  The amount of paperwork needed for our boarding was impressive, forms, evidence tags statements, in triplicate and needed to be hand delivered to one of the air crew.  We topped off on fuel and water and gave the old cutter a good fresh water wash down. 

The Coast Guard C-130 had landed about an hour before we pulled in the aircraft commander was waiting for us at the base commanders office.  The supplies from Hono were on the pier.  Milk, fresh fruit, vegetable, some STEAKS!!, and ice cream...to top it off ship's mail.  I was in the Coast Guard at the tail end of writing letters.  The crew gathered on the fantail for mail call. I turned over the administration of ASSATEAGUE to the BM1.  I went to the Captain stateroom to talk to Amy.

"Hey there...we made it one piece."

"Good news!  What's next?"

"I am going to talk to the base Master at Arms and see about getting you some berthing.  The C-130 knows about taking you back.  We will be here today and tomorrow and get underway the next day.  They will be dong a patrol for us, then refuel here and head back to Hono that night.  Think you can handle it?

"I think I can. You got any more books?"

"I think we can work out something!  Take a look and grab what you like."

I found the Captain, left the cutter for the first time in over a week and we got into one of the ancient trucks left over from probably World War II.   We met the base CO, AC commander, and a few others including the harbor master (that was a pretty grandiose title with the limited traffic).  We made some final logistics arrangements and we were off.  I got room for Amy and nailed down the final details on her trip back.  They told us we had the run of the base.  Base...that was also an optimistic statement.  Four or five buildings next to an airfield with no tower.  They did have laundry facilities and a small exchange and...and...a club.  They said it would be jumping tonight because they so many visitors (about 20...just wow).

When I got back I took a quick run (yes, please stop laughing, I used to run) the length of the field...it was HOT!  But worked up a sweat.  When I got back I grabbed my camera and got to walk around Midway Island.  I will spare you, the reader, the boredom of my waxing poetic.  I was on Midway...turning point of the war in the Pacific.  I walked among the  old buildings, the aux airfield, the beach.  Just amazing. This wasn't something in the history books, this was history.  Actually it wasn’t history it was real.  People, soldiers, sailors, airmen fought and died to defend three miles of coral atoll.  Hard to fathom but one of the most profound moments in my life.

The crew was chomping to hit the club...as was I.  I was looking forward to a couple of beers and maybe a game of pool.  We left en masse and migrated to the club.  It was a solid 15 or 20 minute walk.  On the way over we encountered two of the prominent native species.  Frigate birds and the much larger daunting Gooney birds.  Yes Gooney, give me a minute.  Frigate birds looked and acted like hummingbirds on steroids.  They could get right in your face and not care a whit what you did or didn't do.  They were small, fast, and a bit annoying.  Gooney birds however, different animal altogether (yep, another horrible pun...live with it).

Gooney Birds were huge albatross looking birds that lived most of their life at sea.  Their enormous wingspan allowed them to glide for miles and hours on the briefest of wind gusts.  They were designed for a life far from shore.  What this did horribly was land and take off on dry land.  They came to Midway to roost and raise their young.  It was obvious who they got their nickname.  And they were EVERYWHERE.  Full grown and babies--all over the place.  They were aggressive...and everywhere.  A protected species, I think they knew they were a class above everything else on the island.  They were in buildings, roads, the beach, the air field.  It made the transit to the club a bit hazardous, but nothing a deterred group of sailors couldn't handle.  We shooed them aside and generally made fun of the all the way the club.

Again, I will spare the night but know this...Heinekens were .50 cents a can, worse still a shot of Crown Royal was .25 cents.  Yeah, the whisky was cheaper than beer.  To top it off the harbor master was so glad to have someone to work with he left a $100 dollar bill on the bar for the Coast Guard.  It was going to that kind of night (see the trip to Palmyra to get some kind of comparison). 

Midway had a handful of active duty navy personnel attached, a few more naval civilians, and 150 contractors from all over the world.  There were a few women on the island, but Amy caused a bit of a stir.  The base XO told me to make sure she was escorted to her room that night...just to be cautious.  Amy had moved her meager belongings to her room that afternoon.  She told us that she would stop by the club later, and she was there.  She sat at the corner talking mostly to ASSATEAGUE crewmen and the aircraft crew.  She was in good company and I wasn't worried. Until...

The night wore on with more beer and whisky, repeated songs on the juke box, and sea stores from the crew.  I asked the bartender if we were causing any problems.  He said it was good to see such close-knit crew and he would stay open for another couple of hours.  As those hours unpacked the crew left in small groups and I was left with Amy. 

"All right, I think we are done."

"Yes we are.  I will see you off tomorrow?"

"Sounds good, I'll walk you back to the barracks if you like."

"Ok”

She seemed to know where we were going.  It was about 1 or 130 in the morning and noticeably darker.  I mean dark.  No street lights anywhere.  No worries.  We found the barracks and I left her at her door and told her we were leaving around 9 so if she wanted to come by at 8 we cold have breakfast.

"Thanks, see you then.  Do you know how to get back?"

I had no idea where I was.  But couple of things.  I was the navigator on an US warship (albeit a small warship) and there was no way I would admit to begin lost to our guest.  I mean how would that look?

"I'm good...back in less than 20 minutes."

I am an idiot.  You may have noticed a pattern.

At one point I found myself on the beach and nowhere near the pier.  I almost ran into the third major inhabitant--a Pacific Seal.  These are BIG and to be frank territorial animals.  The beach was not a fun detour.  At that point I couldn't even find the small collection of buildings that made up Base Ops or the Club or the barracks.  Its dark, I pissed off a seal and couldn't find my way back. 

The mind is a powerful ally--or in this case a vicious enemy.  I was convinced Freddy Kruger was stalking me as I aimless wandered the island.  Keep in mind...this island was less the two miles square and I was lost--totally lost.  Gooney Birds have a sense about them.  Fear, I think the can sense fear.  I would run into a gaggle and they no longer shooed away.  They circled me and had an evil look about them.  This was awful.  Just awful.  In my travels I came across a field.  I could see ASSATEAGUE...if I got across the field I think I saw a road and that had to lead to the cutter. 

The Field.

It could be the name of an HBO zombie series.  Except the zombies were Gooney Birds.  Hundreds of them...thousands of them...tens of thousands of them...maybe more....maybe less...ok  less.  I had to cross the field to make it back to the boat.

Never leave the boat...it was sage advice from a movie I did not heed.

So I made my way into the field.  I wish I could report I went into Coast Guard ninja mode and snuck past my life long and sworn enemy.  I wish I could report that but that would be a lie.  I put one foot in the field and not only did the congregated that honked...and honked...and gathered...and merged...and PECKED!! 

For the love of Pete.  I screamed at the white wall of death...no good.  Then I did something truly desperate.  I ran.  Yes, I ran (again this was my triathlon days so running was not the event it would be today but I was running from birds.)  The field was a good 3/4 of mile long...ok that is lie...it was maybe a football field but you run through field of rabid zombie birds trying to kill you and night and see how long it is.

Thankfully the road was there and it did lead to the cutter with somewhat fewer Gooney Birds.  It took my 15 minutes to make it back for a grand total of 90 minutes.  It was almost 3am by the time I made it back to the cutter. 

So, not only did I not reveal to Amy I was completely lost, I had to con my way back aboard the cutter.  I casually made my way to the bridge, told the watchstander...I have no idea what story I told.  I murmured something and retired to my stateroom.  I was safe...from the Gooney Birds...

The trip after leaving Midway was uneventful.  We said our goodbyes to Amy, gave her a hat, and I gave the cutters number and address.  We didn't find any other ships.  What did find was the International Dateline.  I am sworn to secrecy at what that crossing ceremony is like...but needless to say I entered the realm of the Golden Dragon. 

On our return trip we stopped in Midway to refuel, water and say hello to a few friends.  We had a surprise.

The base CO was there and asked to come aboard.  We were happy to have him took him tot he mess deck for a cup of coffee.

"So, you aren't gonna believe me...but your Distinct wants to you to medivac someone fro Lisiaski Island."

"You're shitting me." The CO added a couple other words but that was the gist. 

Turns out that someone the Laysan island clone was not feeling well either.  And they needed some replacement desalination kits.  The Coast Guard had already sent four compact kits that could keep the four people afloat until a resupply boat could make it out.  They also sent mail for us to deliver.  So we had to do it all in again.  I pulled the charts we and got the BM2 and Gonz and gave them a quick brief on what we had to do.  It would take a little more than a day to get there and it was basically on the way so we would lose any time going home.  Our plan included taking the same 5 gallon bucket Amy left with some more we could scrounge form the base and take the small island crew some fresh water we could make on ASSATEAGUE.  We would lose some on the way in but we six buckets; close to 30 gallons would keep four people going for a while.

The operation came off without a hitch, picked up Carrie from the island, delivered mail, took their mail and made gifts of our freshwater and desalination kits.  Then...

I will spare you, but they weren't short of water at all but thought we wouldn't stop by unless the Coast Guard thought they really needed help.  I will let you fill in how pissed we all were.  It also turns out that our medevac patient wasn't all that sick. 

To add insult...they asked me if I would put some letters in the mail when I got back.  I pointed out that they didn't have any stamps.

"That's ok...we put the return address the same as the mailing address.  The Post Office will just send it to the return address asking for a stamp..."

Yeah, it was that kind of trip...and with that we set sail for home.

P.S.

I was a softy...I bought some stamps back in Hono before I dropped them in the mail slot...