Panama Canal

Hello!

For all of you who have stuck by me from the halls of Oyster River and the dining halls at Notre Dame, congratulations, we have FINALLY circumnavigated the Earth by sea with tonight’s successful passage through the Panama Canal!  What an amazing experience and ride this has been.

The journey began around this same time in 1993 when I flew to Panama City to meet USS RENTZ for my first time underway as a commissioned officer.  Back then these kinds of operations were simply labeled Counter Drug Ops and I had some experiences I will never forget.  A trip to the Mayan ruins in Tikal, Guatemala highlighted that cruise for me.  I still recall the Combat Systems Officer yelling at me from the top of one of the pyramids as I ran down the entire steps to the bottom.  It was a silly thing to do, granted, but I made it to the bottom safely and will forever remember the view from the top overlooking the jungles – one of the most beautiful and amazing things I have ever seen.  That was my first experience connecting my life to the great history of humanity.

In between, I have sailed West from San Diego and East from Norfolk always getting as far as the Persian Gulf where my ships have supported various missions from Desert Fox to Operation Enduring Freedom to Standing NATO Maritime Group 2.  When I pass through 20 years of service next month, I have many adventures and accomplishments to reflect upon.  Since things have been quiet on deployment, I didn’t really think I had much to write about.  But each time I send one of these out, my friend and fellow Sailor, Pete, responds with his own adventures from his Navy days spent flying over Vietnam and I realize I have not tapped into my own adventures over the years since ’88 or ’92 depending on where you count from. 

I guess I should start.

Next time.  Tonight, I want to share with you a true adventure of a lifetime.

Our Panama Canal Pilot, Captain Olson, could have been a character in a Christopher Moore or Carl Hiaasen book.  Bow legged like no person I have ever met, skin leathered from a life at sea and riding Harleys, his firm grip gave me immediate comfort that we were in good hands.  We were number 26 for the day – the lucky 13th ship headed South through the Canal.  But 24 was running late and we had to loiter.  This set him off on a good Sailor’s tirade over the radio with the Port Authority… editing out some typical descriptive words from the mariner’s vocabulary he proceeded to dress down the dispatcher for bringing us past the breakwater when the locks were not ready for us.  We did an extra loop around the harbor and took our place in line behind 24 and proceeded down the first cut to the Gatun Locks.  On the way we passed a yacht from, as best I could determine, Norway, with a bunch of cheering drunk revelers who would follow us through the locks like a pilot fish.  Fortunately, I have nothing too explicit to tell over a beer later, but, needless to say, they provided us with a good laugh to get us started and as they got drunker, better laughs along the way.

Returning to the pilothouse after doing some “international relations” on the bridge wing, I found my new XO, Lee, looking for an outlet to plug in a speaker.  “I don’t work without music,” the good pilot had told him.  Seems the first locks would be set to a soundtrack of the Eagles.  Having burnt out on Hotel California in Flanner Hall, I am not normally a fan of Glenn Frey, Don Henley, Joe Walsh and the boys – but exceptions can be made to tastes when they are served by a good chef.  “Heartache Tonight” started off the playlist and I secretly hoped it wouldn’t be a regretful opener to the set. 

As we approached the locks the first thing all of us felt was a sense of awe, history, and the kind of giddiness children get when they get to do something really, really cool for the first time!  Sure my nerves stood on edge as we approached the wall of the first lock, but Captain Olson quickly took charge and my best conning officer, Cliff Bukowsky nailed the approach.  After the Canal linehandlers boarded, a crew of two rowed, yes, rowed in their row boat to collect the tending lines that would be used to haul aboard the wire ropes that would connect us to the mules that would tow us through the locks.  Mules are powerful electric locomotives that ride on either side of the locks keeping the ship centered and moving through the canal after the dock floods.  Pretty cool little system.

The date on the locks, 1913, gave us that sense of connection to some amazing history.  After much talk about the Discovery Channel special about the building of the canal we all had a new found respect for both the good and bad of progress and the anti-malaria pills we take every Monday.  This water that lifted us the 80 some-odd feet to the level of Gatun Lake has lifted so much history!  Warships from WWI, WWII, Korea, Vietnam, Persian Gulf – some of the greatest warships ever constructed.  These same waters lifted the mammoth Battleships that were so big their fair-water planes carved ruts into the walls.  My little Frigate was truly joining the company of Giants!  Amazing.

As the first lock flooded and we elevated, I stood on the platform where the FFG missile launcher used to sit and reenlisted a good friend and fellow former-HAWESMAN, FCC Josh Key.  The gates opened and the mules began to move as he repeated after me his oath of enlistment.  What a moment.  I owe much of my success in command of both NIC and HAWES to Chief and his great wife, Corrie, who served in the Family Readiness Group on both ships.  A true honor for me, especially today, the 119th birthday of the “Chief.”

The rest of the trip can best be described in the words of my new Training Officer, “It is like driving a ship through Jurassic Park.”

Nine hours later, we emerged in the Pacific Ocean at a sea level just a few feet higher, all of us proud members of the Order of the Ditch.  And I had finished my circumnavigation of the earth by ship as the former Rodman Naval Base where I board RENTZ back in ’93 passed by to Starboard.  There was no heartache tonight, just a “Peaceful, Easy Feeling” having connected with so much personal and Naval history.

And I couldn’t have done it without the support of all of you along the way.  Thank you, we did it!

Much love!

Steve

Deployment: Right Whales

Hello!

Some of you may have heard or read about Joseph Campbell, you may have even seen a PBS special he did with Bill Moyers many, many years ago called The Power of Myth. Campbell writes about the stages of life's journey and draws upon the myths and stories told throughout time and cultures for illustration. I guess I am telling the stories to understand my own journey, to know where I have been, where I am at, and where I am going. How did 20 years in the Navy happen?

It wasn’t supposed to happen! I was going to get out at my first opportunity! I joke with people and say I just never found a way out.

The summer of 1991 I was madly in love with a young Air Force ROTC cadet at Notre Dame when I left on my final Midshipman cruise onboard USS PUGET SOUND. I met the ship in Naples and would listen to a tape of Billy Joel music a friend made for me and think and write about this young woman. This, I am sure, comes as NO surprise to many of you. She, too, had summer training to attend to, hers in Arizona.

During training she got very sick and was hospitalized for several weeks, the news I got was that she was in critical condition. I felt helpless. The best I could muster was flowers via a friend. As I worried, I remember sitting with the young officer assigned to be my running mate on the ship and telling her that I would never make a career out of the Navy because I never wanted to be at sea when one of my family died.

Well, the girlfriend got well and dumped me and I made a career out of this! So much for that!

I tell that story because the last couple of years have been hard on my family. My beloved grandmother did her best to wait me out so that I could be there when she passed away. After 100 wonderful years though a difficult last few, she finally passed away as my ship left Boston in 2010. That trip to Boston was full of so many peak experiences that I will surely share more of later, but it ended with me at sea when one of my family died.

Shortly after I took command of NICHOLAS about a year later, one of my First Class Petty Officer's lost his grandmother. I invited him into my cabin and listened to him tell me about her and then left to give him a quiet place to get his bearings.

Later that same night, Jodee, Bobby and I attended the double feature of the final Harry Potter movies. When Harry is preparing for his final battle with Voldemort he has to face his fears and is visited by the spirits of his dead parents and his mentor. They tell him that he has all the strength he needs because he carries a part of them with him - it is because they loved him that he became a great wizard. It is that love that gives him the courage to face his mortal enemy.

Strange thing, fate. The OS1 and Harry Potter gave me a path for my own healing.

When ships leave Boston, they transit through Cape Cod Bay, a refuge for what remains of the Right Whales. We have been trained to transit slowly and keep a close watch for these great creatures of the sea so as to not cause any more harm. When my Grandmother passed away, I was on my ship in Cape Cod Bay. A pod of whales surfaced very near to us. As the last one dove back into the Bay it raised its fin up as if to wave goodbye.

Much Love,
Steve

Deployment: Open ocean

Hello!

When I was old enough to drive, my favorite trip would be the long way to Wallis Sands in Rye, NH. I can probably still do the drive in my head. I would stand on one of the rocks and process all those crazy teenage emotions that muddle things up. Looking past the Isles of Shoals, I would wonder what was out there. Being a pretty religious kid, my thoughts would often turn to God as if the real bread of life should have been broken on the altar of that rock along with the waves relentlessly driving ashore.

If asked, I would tell you I joined the Navy because my sister, Cheryl, took me to USS MASSACHUSETTS in Fall River, or my Grandmother took me to Mystic Seaport. I might also tell you that I had to join the Navy to pay for college. None of that is a lie, but it isn’t the whole truth either. Standing on the beach, staring at the sea... (thank you Robert Smith) the whole truth lies in those hours spent thinking about what lies past those Isles that are such a part of the mythology of the NH Seacoast.

And you know what I found out? Nothing... there is nothing past those Isles, lots and lots of nothing. But, if you think nothing is not magical you have never been to sea. Sitting on my bridge wing chair, I look at ocean all the way to the horizon. The clouds seem low enough to reach out and touch. Sometimes they block the sun, but when it breaks through, it lights up a golden path that eliminates any wonder why the original mariners went to sea in barely sea-worthy craft thousands of years ago. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought it led to the Pot of Gold. Where is the canoe, give me an oar! Nothing is beautiful.

On my first deployment almost 20 years ago, I crossed the Pacific. And just as a point of reference, the Pacific is really, really big... and deep. We used very small scale charts to cover the largest area of the ocean and would navigate on one chart for days with nothing but ocean for thousands of miles in every direction. Charts include depths, and the depths of those seas were as intimidating as the distances to landfall. Talk about nothing. If you ever wonder what inspires a Mariner to believe in God, it is Nothing. Lots and lots of Nothing.

Whatever I believe in today is a lot different than what I believed in as a kid, but you know what, it really isn’t. I believe in Nothing, and it is beautiful and much more powerful than me. And it cannot be contained in a church or by a single creed or flag or border. I have been fortunate to save a few mariners' lives the past couple of years. When there is no hull to keep you afloat, the only thing keeping you from becoming Nothing is the compassion and commitment of a fellow mariner who still has a hull to sail on.

Much Love
Steve

Deployment: Early days

Hello!

It is nearly 2 AM, and I am still awake. To some this will come as no surprise; I have never really liked to sleep. But why am I still up at this hour? Is it the weight of responsibility? Insomnia? Or maybe it is the night sky at sea that keeps me awake. There is nothing like it, more stars than I could have imagined as a kid. I bet I could connect the dots and tell some story even the Greeks didn’t think of when they were writing all those myths we had to learn in middle school.

Many of you have known me for a long time, some just a short while, but I don’t think I have ever really told any of you what it is I do, or why. The kid you knew, whenever that was, never would have imagined being in command of his own warship at sea headed out on deployment. But, here I am, on my way with some of the best Sailors I have ever worked with, so I guess I am not that kid anymore. Maybe it is time for me to tell you this story.

It began on Tuesday, when at long last, after two years in command, I waved farewell to my wife and kids. They stood on Pier 4 at Norfolk Naval Station along with the families and friends of the nearly 200 NICHOLAS Sailors who will sail with me down to the Caribbean where we hope to stop drug-runners from putting cocaine in the hands of kids on American streets and money and weapons in the pockets of terrorists. I can tell you that nothing sucks more than this moment. Bobby gave me two hugs. Jack asked, again, why I had to go. Emma did what she does best: smile… still just a little too young to understand. And Jodee gave me a kiss, both of us knowing how we would rather end the day.

Day one at sea we tested all our weapons one last time: the main battery, our 76mm Otto Molera; our lead crew-served weapons, the port and starboard 25mm guns; and our Close-In Weapon System built to shoot down incoming missiles, the 20mm automatic Gatling gun. All fired without a hitch, brilliant.

Day two the seas came. I have never liked rounding Cape Hatteras, and this time was no different. The winds and seas were the worst I have ever been in: 60 knots of relative winds on the bow and 10-12 foot seas. If the seas didn’t make us sick a gastro-intestinal virus did. The second 24 hours were rough to say the least. From the vantage of my cabin, it felt like a relentless roller coaster as we skipped over some waves and slammed into others, each time the sea spray pelting the front of the super-structure that makes my forward bulkhead. As much as I would have liked to sleep, it wasn’t going to happen. As on every ship, the first days are spent fixing the things that don’t want to work right. My Sailors worked on IP services, a diesel engine, potable water, air conditioning. You name it, there was a challenge. We had to cancel a scheduled refueling at sea due to the seas and the fact I didn’t think I had enough healthy people to pull it off safely. Against the Gulf Stream we pressed on, heading south to our first commitment.

Day three we arrived off the coast of Jacksonville, embarked the Coast Guard legal detachment that will lead our efforts against the drug-runners, our two helicopters, and the remainder of our aviation detachment. The team was assembled. We completed our final deployment certification: the Airborne Use of Force, giving us the authorization to fire 50-caliber weapons from the helicopters that make an essential part of our team to disable the fast-moving speed boats used by the smugglers. The day ended with a nighttime refueling at sea while we watched a rocket take off from Cape Canaveral. Refueling at sea may be commonplace to us in the Navy, but it is far from easy. It is fundamentally one of the most dangerous things we do. Imagine driving a 4000-ton car 15 MPH connected to a 10000-ton gas station at 150 feet and you get the idea.

Day four we transited to the Bahamas where we completed our final material inspection, the measurement of the sound we put in the water that serves as the basis of our plan to protect ourselves against detection by an enemy submarine. Couldn’t pick a nicer day or place to do this.

This evening, now that we have completed all our “final” things, we are headed south into the Caribbean, where I will check in with my bosses in the Fourth Fleet and get our initial assignment.

I suppose some of that sounds pretty exciting, and I guess it is. But for me, that isn’t why I grew up from that kid to take command. I just like creating an environment where young people want to come to work and excel, where they want to be a part of something bigger than themselves. I don’t really know how to measure success, but I did love the thumbs up my 25mm gunner gave me after he finished firing his 55 rounds – one ammo can’s worth of bullets. And I enjoyed serving my most Junior Ensign dinner as he sat in my chair in the wardroom, the only seat available. And I smiled as I listened to Ozzy Osborne’s Bark at the Moon blare over our loud speaker as we pulled away from USNS JOHN LENTHALL after our refueling. And I know it meant a lot when I thanked STG3 Standish for working his ass off to fix the fan coil unit that cools one of the critical spaces on my ship.

Command at sea is unlike anything this kid could have imagined. But mostly, I am awake because, truly, there is nothing like the night sky at sea.

Attached are some links to websites of my sputtering on about heading out on deployment and a picture you might like. Enjoy. More will come. I hope you enjoy the start of this story and stick around for more. Maybe by the time I am done, you will understand why I never got out when I said I would.

Much love,
Steve

http://wvec.mlnwap.com/News/Military

http://www.wvec.com/video?id=137474303&sec=566327

http://www.wavy.com/dpp/military/uss-nicholas-deploys-tuesday