A buffet hosted by a five-star restaurant is probably the closest analogy anyone could make to spending a day with the Coast Guard. When everything is so impressive, no one thing stands out.
But that sentiment is fine with the men and women who wear the uniform of the U.S. Coast Guard–38,000 on active duty and 8,000 reservists. The missions of the Coast Guard are diverse, and, according to many in its service, what keep the job challenging, interesting and enjoyable.
Their motto, Semper Paratus, which means “always ready,” more often than not translates to “always ready for anything.”
The U.S. Coast Guard was begun in 1789 as the U.S. Lighthouse Service. It has been under the auspices of the Treasury Department, the Commerce Department, and, since 1967, the Department of Transportation. Nine Coast Guard districts operate throughout the U.S. coastal and Great Lakes areas, as well as Alaska and Hawaii. In wartime, the Coast Guard is absorbed by the Department of Defense and controlled by the Navy. The Coast Guard has sent personnel to serve in all major wars the last two centuries.
“The reason we are under the Department of Transportation is that the Department of Defense is not authorized to enforce U.S. law on civilians,” said Lt. j.g. John DeBok, assistant operations officer at Coast Guard Group Key West, Fla. “In the form of boating arrests and enforcing fishery and endangered species laws, military police don’t have the authority over civilians.”
But while the law-enforcement issue is the driving force that keeps the Coast Guard under the jurisdiction of the Transportation Department, the main mission of the Coast Guard is that of saving lives through search and rescue and, to a lesser extent, protection of the marine environment.
Equipment used by various Coast Guard stations is as diverse as the geographical areas in which it is used, ranging from icebreakers and buoy tenders to helicopters. The equipment people hear about most often, however, is the Coast Guard cutter.
“Cutter” is a particular tall ship from many years ago, but the traditional term became more generic, referring to any of the Coast Guard’s armed power boats. A cutter is basically any Coast Guard vessel 65 feet or longer with living accommodations for the crew. Cutters usually carry a motor surf boat and/or rigid hull inflatable boat. Polar Class icebreakers also carry an Arctic Survey Boat and Landing Craft.
The Seventh Coast Guard District, headquartered in Miami, is the busiest. The southernmost district, it covers 1.8 million square miles and encompasses waters around Florida, South Carolina, Georgia and the Caribbean.
“The reason the Seventh is the busiest district,” said DeBok, “is because of the (search-and-rescue) load. The population here is on the water year-round. A lot of our (search and rescues) during winter are tourists from up north who may not have much experience on the water.”
As DeBok was speaking, a search and rescue was under way near the Dry Tortugas, 70 miles from Key West. The Nantucket, a 110-foot cutter, was searching for two people from separate fishing vessels who had been caught when Hurricane Mitch reversed its course from Central America and blew back into the Gulf of Mexico as a tropical storm.
“They have already found one person in the water, unfortunately deceased, and are still looking for the other one,” DeBok said.
Cutter Nantucket returned to port a day later, and in less than 24 hours, would be under way again, relieving the cutter Sitkinak from a drug intervention mission with a visitor aboard.
– 8 a.m., Nov. 8. After a brief Morning Colors flag ceremony and a command navigation briefing, the Nantucket leaves Key West. She is headed to 90 miles off the southern Bahamas. Quartermaster 3rd Class Justin Boes, from Nashville, is showing a visitor the particulars of the cutter.
“Standard on the bridge (the area from which the vessel is operated) are two people–the officer of the deck, who drives the boat and the quartermaster of the watch, who plots courses and gives recommendations,” says Boes. “As a quartermaster, my job is to plan trips, lay out charts, make sure the radios work. I use DGPS, which is a differential global positioning system, which uses satellites.”
Though DGPS allows Boes to plot what he does on paper and transfer it to computer for state-of-the-art navigation, he needs to know the most ancient way of plotting a course, celestial navigation. Barely finished explaining the heavenly art form, Boes moves on to the latest equipment the Coast Guard has acquired, a new radar system. “It gives a video image of what’s out there up to nine miles away,” he says.
Do such high-tech armed services require college degrees for enlisted personnel? “No,” Boes answers, “just training. Every single day, we train, train, train.”
The same 17 crew members, including the commanding officer and executive officer, man the Nantucket. A navigational drill begins this morning as the Nantucket heads for open seas. Before escorting the visitor from the bridge, Boes tapes paper over a number-filled board. “Don’t lift that piece of paper or we’ll have to detain you,” he warns with a smile. “Since you’re a civilian, we have to cover up these codes.”
Up on the flying bridge, an open-air area from which the boat also can be steered, the visitor meets Lt. Andy Tiongson, the Nantucket’s captain. From Somerville, Mass., Tiongson has been in the Coast Guard nearly 10 years. “My father was in the Coast Guard, and so is my wife,” Tiongson says.
What the Nantucket’s captain likes most about his work is that it is never the same.
“Just before we did the (search and rescue) off the Dry Tortugas the other day, we interdicted a migrant smuggler who had 14 migrants on board,” he says. “I like the shifting roles and responsibilities. Anything can happen. We’re on our way to a counter-narcotics operation now, but if we get a call with something going on in the area, we could be diverted to a (search and rescue) or to pick up illegal migrants, or whatever. You never know.”
The Nantucket typically has two weeks per month in port for maintenance. Then, during the two weeks of “on call” status, the cutter will be out an average of 10 days. “Maybe eight of those days we’ll actually be dealing with things,” says Tiongson. In a month, Group Key West averages 91 searches and rescues, saves 18 lives and $3.5 million worth of personal property and seizes $11.5 million worth of narcotics.
“We’re busy all the time,” says Tiongson. “We’re close to where the drugs traffic is heaviest, where the migrants try to enter the U.S. illegally, and because of the weather, people are always on the water. We get a lot of support operations from other districts on a `can-spare’ basis because of the heavy work load in this area.”
Though Coast Guard vessels are armed, they seldom use force. Law enforcement-trained boarding teams have bullet-proof vests, handcuffs, pepper spray and firearms, but more often than not, the equipment is unnecessary.
“We arrest people and bring them on board, sometimes handcuffed and guarded, but in many cases, they roam freely on board,” says Tiongson.
Typical time on board consists of four-hour watches, with eight hours off. “But that’s misleading,” says Tiongson. “Because if we’re in a (search and rescue) or whatever, during someone’s eight hour off time, he’s going to be busy during that time, too.”
– 11 a.m. Heading out to open seas, the water becomes rough enough for even the captain to admit it. “Man,” says Tiongson, “it’s getting nasty out here.”
There’s an emergency medical technician on board. Matt Dederick, of Fayetteville, N.C., is not only a Coast Guard mechanic, but he also spent a month in training to become an EMT. “I deal with seasickness a lot,” Dederick says.
His services are required today; the rough conditions cause the cook to slice a large gash in his finger while preparing dinner.
– 3 p.m. After an uneventful trip, the Nantucket reaches the rendezvous point with the Sitkinak. As both vessels remain stationary, a small orange boat zips between them. A man with duffel bag and a Bahamian accent climbs onto the Nantucket. “He’s a representative from the Royal Bahamian Defense Force,” says Boes. “There’s a Bahamian representative on board whenever U.S. vessels operate in Bahamian waters and vice versa.”
The Nantucket’s earlier visitor climbs into the small rigid-hull inflatable boat and is whisked to the Sitkinak for the return to Key West. Standing on the flying bridge is the Sitkinak’s captain, Lt. Harry Schmidt, from Oak Forest. Schmidt, a 1986 graduate of Oak Forest High School, is also a graduate of the Coast Guard Academy, New London, Conn.
“We started out on a routine patrol six days ago,” says Schmidt. “We were out when Tropical Storm Mitch kicked up the seas in the Florida Straits. We were working in 16-foot seas and ended up doing two (search and rescues) in the Caysal Bank area, which is part of the Bahamas.” All vessels remained intact and no lives were lost.
“In the second (search-and-rescue) case, we thought it was a fishing boat, but it turned out to be a tanker,” Schmidt says. “They had lost their engines, and they were adrift and in danger of running up on one of the banks. They were five times our size, and it wasn’t like we could put them in tow. We stayed with them and worked with another 700-foot tanker who offered to put them in a short tow until they could get help to get their engines fixed.”
The rough seas the last few days have been exhausting. “About half the crew still gets sick to some degree, but they still do their jobs,” says Schmidt. “The seas were so high during the storm (Mitch), that when I was sitting up on the bridge, all I could see was a wall of water.”
There’s an old Coast Guard saying: “You have to go out, but you don’t have to come back.”
“We don’t ascribe to that,” says Schmidt. “When we get a call, we assess every situation, and it’s up to the captain to decide whether a situation is too dangerous to take on. But when we go out, we expect every single member of our crew to come back.”
– 6 p.m. It’s dinnertime. “Dumb and Dumber” is showing on the VCR and cook Chris Clockson, from Hampden, Maine, is serving a tasty bill of fare. “Tonight is roast pork, rice pilaf and corn,” he says. The crew, unsolicited, raves about Clockson’s cooking, and even the captain admits to having gained weight since taking command of the Sitkinak.
“I try to keep the menu varied,” says Clockson. “When we’re in port, you’ll find me at Winn-Dixie or Publix on a $1,200 grocery shopping spree, but I do all the meal planning, shopping and cooking. Anything from baby back ribs to shepherd’s pie.”
– 7 p.m. Someone runs into the mess, breathlessly announcing, “We’re picking up migrants.” A groan erupts from the diners, as they had been at sea for six days and had been looking forward to sleeping in their own beds that night. Picking up migrants can mean four more days at sea while the Immigration and Naturalization Service screens and interviews the people. When it is found out this is a prank, the jokester is chased out of the mess.
Clockson is showing off some burn marks and bruises on his arms. “I do get slammed around a lot down here,” he says. “Don’t ask me how I do it in 16-foot seas. Sometimes the meals end up on the floor.” On the floor lays a pie he baked for the evening’s dinner.
Working the cutters is not easy. Those working in the engine rooms are subjected to temperatures up to 160 degrees, while the boatswains get tossed around on the decks. “Life aboard a cutter is just plain hard work,” says Schmidt. “People do burn out and rotate to other duty (such as telecommunications, administration, aviation and health services) after a few years.”
Even so, one crewman on the Nantucket said: “This is the best job in the world, and I wouldn’t want to be doing anything else.”
– 8 p.m. Land ho! Back at the Coast Guard station, a few groups of wives and children are waiting and waving as the cutter pulls into port. Once on terra firma, the visitor is not exactly kissing the ground, though close. At the very least, she is left with a new sense of appreciation for what those in the Coast Guard do, under conditions in which many of us could not even remain standing erect.
WHEN GUARD MAKES LANDFALL
When it looked as though Hurricane Georges was about hit Key West a few months back, the Coast Guard mobilized. As Lt. j.g. John DeBok, assistant operations officer, tells it:
“We copy the Navy’s evacuation plan. We evacuated our families to Patrick Air Force Base in central Florida, and we left a command cadre of about 25 people in Key West. All our assets were either out of the water or had left the area. The cutters all sailed to the Yucatan for storm evasion, and a few of our smaller boats sailed to northern Florida.
“Ahead of time, we broadcast the information that during the storm, we would be unable to render any assistance to anyone for any reason. Following the storm, we started getting calls about overdue vessels. Most of them were eventually accounted for, but there were two that have never been found. They left the area for storm evasion and haven’t been heard from since. The cases have been suspended from active searches, but cases are never closed until we can positively identify either parts of a vessel or a body.
“After the hurricane, one of our primary missions was to get all the navigational aids accounted for, find out what buoys had moved off course, and get these operational again. Around here, it doesn’t take much to go aground because of the nature of the waters.
“After the hurricane, the Port of Key West was closed. It was unsafe to transport any large vessel in here because of sunken or floating debris in the channels. There was a lot of effort and time put into getting things back into working order.
“One of the things you don’t hear much about is our involvement with the community. So we like to toot our own horns about the fact that after Hurricane Georges, we were out in the community helping with emergency clean up, cutting trees and everything that goes along with the aftermath of a hurricane.
“It didn’t take us long to resume operations after Georges. We were back up to normal operating tempo within hours after the storm.”
