We spent most all day at anchor, the mood still quiet. The news on the TVs still just more of the same – lots of wreckage, and then more.

Side note: About this time, they tended to show a shot taken from a news helo flying the length of Folly Island. There was house after beach house only marked by the foundation and piles of construction material rubble. Except one house. It had a fewe missing shingles, but was otherwise unaffected by any visible damage. It turns out, later on, the secret was revealed: When the house was built, the owner had every material “upsized” one increment. 1/2 in plywood was 3/4 in, 2x4s were replaced with 2x6s in the plans. Moral of the story: If the construction code was for 120MPH (I think that was the then current standard, then one size up of everything would stand over 150MPH storms.

Anyhow, during the day, the ships that had sortied from Charleston began to return, going to the anchorages as assigned by SOPA (senior Officer Present Afloat) – Most likely COMCRUDESGRU TWO. It became apparent the port was going to be closed and we couldn’t just hang around a decimated port. We were directed, in groups to head to other ports, in our case, Mayport.

Once more, the getting underway checklist was broken out and the Ship prepared with little other than professional communications required, to get underway/ We would sail through the night to get there.

I know, this story reminds you of “Castaway,” but trust me, it was a time of numbness for many, much like for Tom Hanks character let on a deserted island for years.

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The day was long. Longer still because of the heavy emotional burden. Here was a ship full of people who always got the job done, sitting mere miles from a job worth doing, for self, for family, for shipmates, for just someone who needed help, and we were not allowed to go there. Additionally, were weren’t being told to go anywhere else, either. The sky, once again the brilliant blue we had seen near Miami the day before, and behind the many storms we had collective seen at sea among the lot of us. The waves were essentially non-existent, too.

The bare essentials of the routine for being anchored, and life aboard a ship continued, but mostly people stood on deck, staring at the devastated beach, or on the signal bridge, waiting for a turn to scan the beach nearby. If below decks, they were in the berthing compartments, watching the news on over the air TV.

Even the unmarried sailors and officers had a load on their minds, foremost for most was the status of their vehicles parked at the piers, not far from the water’s edge in most cases. Not having someone to drop you off at the pier on the day you sail is the condition that got them to that state of mind.

So as we swing at the anchor, in limbo, the mood was quiet, pensive and tense.

Late in the afternoon, the Bridge-to-Bridge VHF radio spoke a familiar voice, that of Chief Petty Officer Steve Hatherly. Just this morning, he had climbed aboard a zodiac and headed into the Coast Guard Station, which was at the tip of the Charleston Peninsula, and now he was calling us from the Naval Station, several miles away, across a city without power or public transportation at the moment. Steve was always the resourceful one, and to this day, I never have found out how he did it, but at that moment, we didn’t care. I recall a large number of people crowding the bridge near the Captain’s Chair, listening intently as Chief Hatherly read off the list of who he had contacted, providing status of each family. He had managed to reach at least 3/4 of the people listed on the Alpha roster, all within a work day’s period, in the middle of the devastation.

I recall three homes of families of the crew were uninhabitable, but all of them were safe with neighbors or other families of the crew. Smiles and sighs of relief began to break out. He finally was about to wrap up his report, and he said to let the Doc (HMC Mentzer) that the windows of his van had blown out due to the storm’s over-pressure, but it was otherwise fine. Then he said “I have bad news for the XO.” It was quiet on the Bridge. He then said “A tree fell on his RX-7.” It had been parked at the Mother-in-Law’s house for that trip to sea, as my family had moved in anticipation of orders following the upcoming deployment. Deployment you say? Yes, in just 40 days, we were scheduled to sail for the Persian Gulf, and our homeport was pretty much destroyed.

We ate chow that evening, knowing a little more of the conditions ashore, but still without plans. The Charleston ships that had sortied, still were no where near getting back, having run far to the north east for safety. We turned in, not knowing what the next day would bring.

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Having steamed all day and night in the wake of Hugo, we arrived and sun up off the coast of Charleston. We selected an anchorage and headed there, being the first Navy ship back. We had been preceded by a Coast Guard Cutter, a converted Navy salvage ship, skippered by a classmate of mine from the Naval War College.

We did not have permission to enter port. The shortest distance the buoys had shifted was about 1/2 a nautical mile. Most all of the range markers had been destroyed. The larger concern is that the channel had shifted with the push of the storm going through the area, rendering it unsafe for transit to the Naval Base up the Cooper River. The sea floor in the vicinity of Charleston Harbor is mostly fine silt, so that fear was real.

What did we know? For one, the crew, about 1/2 of the of the 189, had families ashore. What we didn’t know is how they were. We knew it had been a devastating storm, as we could plainly see the Ben Sawyer turntable bridge from Mt Pleasant sitting at a god awful angle into the sky from our vantage point jsut off the shore. With the “Big Eyes,” the large binoculars on the Signal Bridge, you got a better idea of the almost complete devastation of the houses on the beach along the Isle of Palms.

With our external TV antenna, we began picking up news reports from the local stations, as they came back on the air. I recall just staring at one reporter, looking like he was stnding in Francis Marion Forest, saying “I’m standing on (can’t recall the main road, but it was one of the main roads in Charleston)….” I was mesmerized by the thick background of pine branches behind him.

It was quiet walking the decks. Not much work was being done, as our minds were obviously focused on the unknown.

The Captain called me to the Bridge. The Coast Guard cutter was sending a zodiac boat into the Coast Guard Station, and asked if we wanted to put some ashore. He told me to get Chief Hatherly, and an “alpha” roster (a recall list, with the home names and addresses of the crew, as well as spouse and children’s names). Order the CO gave to STGC Hatherly: “Take the roster and do the right thing. Grab a toothbrush and get to the Quarterdeck.” Off Steve went. About 10 minutes later, he was climbing down the Jacob’s ladder to the zodiac alongside.

It was to be a long day of not knowing much.

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About noon on this day 19 years ago, we were abeam Miami and the weather was exceptionally excellent, as it is behind a major storm. The sky brilliantly blue, the sea darker, and the waves very small.

Hugo was now a Category 4, about 240 miles SE of Charelston, SC, our homeport. Hugo was about 340 miles NE of us. The CO and I decided to turn north and begin to follow the storm. At that location, when we decided, our track to the sea buoy off Charleston was 000^oT, due north.

The journey home then began with a wide turn in the sea traffic, and we slowed, taking one engine offline. Having once before followed a strom home to homeport (Guillermo in the Pacific in 1979), I knew it was not wise to run right up behind it and assume you knew here it was headed.

Hugo had increased dramatically in strength, having pulled in the energy off the hot water of the Gulf Stream, as it had crossed in in the night, and had now set it’s sights on the low country Carolina area. It was heading that direction at about 19 mph. The exact landfall was still a question.

We went about our duties, minus a heavy dose of specific Navy related tasks. We were just mariners on the way home, with the thoughts and fears about our family and friends in the path of the storm.

The ships in Charelston had sortied, heading to the NE, “crossing the T” of the storm. I later heard more details, which I will discuss in this story chonologically.

The day had pretty much wrapped up. Yes, about this time. We were out of homeport, supposed to be out at sea and really had no plans, so work like we would have been doing, had we been at sea went on this day. Besides, a major storm was approaching, so there was some planning going on.

About 2200 (10PM), which was also Taps in the daily routine, the CO phoned me and said “XO, I’m nervous. You get the ship ready to get underway and I’ll get permission to sail.” My tasking was established and I rounded up the department heads. The Ship came back to life as all hands went through their duties.

Shortly afterwards, the CO told me we had been granted permission to get underway by the COMDESRON 8 Duty Officer, who had also notified the Naval Station to get us tugs and a pilot to return to sea.

Within moments of midnight, the CARR pulled away from the quay wall and made the turn out the short channel to enter then St James River and head for the sea. That trip, a delightful one, being the shortest sea and anchor detail, even at night was handled professionally. When we got to the Sea Buoy, we kept both LM2500 main engines on line, an abnormal procedure, but we wanted the speed. The lee helm was directed to advance the throttle to flank speed as we also executed a turn due south to make a run for the Strait of Florida.

Hugo had not yet settled on where it would strike, but we knew heading to the north east would have us “crossing the T” of the storm, and it was a big one. In addition, we’d end up on the “dangerous” side of the storm, and if it recurved, following the hot water of the Gulf Stream, we’d have to run far to the East, and then south, circumnavigating the entire weather phenomena. Taking the course we did also had it’s risk. like getting trapped between land and the high winds, but our plan was to get south fast to knowing there was less of a chance the storm, being where it was then, or turning to a south western course.

The night was quiet, but tense, as the we plotted Hugo and rode a port quartering sea, feeling ourselves surfing down the large wave fronts.

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Tuesday morning began in with the standard shipboard routine. Reveille, breakfast for the crew, muster for instruction and inspection, Officer’s Call and turn to, commence Ship’s work.

On the other hand, it was not routine, as we couldn’t fulfill our assigned duty of providing deck services for HSL-44. Later in the morning, the CO got us working to enter port at Naval Station Mayport. With permission, we moored that afternoon on the quay wall at the north east side of the basin, starboard side to. The Chief Staff Officer of Destroyer Squadron 8, offering us a hand since this wasn’t our homeport.

The reason for the circumstances? Hurricane Hugo, which was about 700 miles SE of Mayport, with 110 mph of wind, generally headed somewhere towards the East Coast.

A meeting on the base in the afternoon yielded a decision by the Naval Station Commander, a helo pilot by trade, that there would be no sortie for storm avoidance. His determination was made on the capability of the basin to take up to 60 mph of winds.

That decision didn’t sit well with my CO.

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It was a typical Monday morning at Charleston Naval Station for USS CARR (FFG-52). Once more, the crew had come aboard before sunrise and added their efforts to that of the duty section to get the ship underway. The Getting Underway checklist was completed and the CO gave me permission to get the ship underway.

Off we sailed, without exceptional circumstances, to head outboard in the tight channel, “riding the ranges” as was the convention for navigation in the lowlands of Charleston Harbor. Reaching the sea buoy, we left two engines on the line, turned due south and enjoyed the bright day. Preps were in place by the Operations and Engineering Departments to perform that late afternoon as scheduled: Ready deck for Helicopter Anti-Submarine (Light) Squadron 44 (HSL-44) landings to keep their new and old pilots and aircrews proficient.

On such assignments, we knew the drill: We could sprint from Charleston early in the morning and be on station in the Jacksonville Operations Area (JAXOA) bu late in the afternoon, the transit being considered “local,” which allowed us to circumvent the normal transit speed limitation of 16 kts overall speed for the MOVREP (moving reporting) system. This trip south of homeport was no exception.

Comms were established with the helos and we commenced deck qualifications while the sun was still shining brightly. As the day drew on, with the deck crews, the fueling crews and the operations personnel keeping the helos coming and going, dusk was settling in. I don’t recall exactly when it occurred, but it was sometime after nautical twilight, when the helo on approach requested to be chocked and chained on deck, so our assigned detachment Officer-in-Charge, LCDR Marty Keanny could come aboard and speak with the CO. PREGRA and Marty disembarked and headed through the hanger and forward to the Captain’s Cabin.

After Marty left, Captain Wade Johnson called me to come up to his cabin. He told me Marty let him know HSL-44 would be heading to Warner-Robbins AFB first thing in the morning. That of course, left us on the OPSKED to bore holes in the JAXOA until Friday with no helos to land on us.

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Note to the President of Iran, and his photo-shopping Revolutionary Guard commanders: FA-18s aren’t stopped by seaborne mines….I know, details, details…

H/T: Commenter Pastorius @ LGF.

Update 7/5/2008:

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From DefenseLink:

More Than 1,100 Troops in Iraq to Re-enlist in Independence Day Ceremony
By Jim Garamone
American Forces Press Service

WASHINGTON, July 3, 2008 – More than 1,100 servicemembers stationed in Iraq will celebrate the nation’s birthday tomorrow by re-enlisting, the senior enlisted leader for Multinational Force Iraq said today.

Army Command Sgt. Maj. Marvin L. Hill said 1,157 soldiers, sailors, airmen and Marines will re-enlist at the Al Faw Palace at Camp Victory, in Baghdad. This may be the largest re-enlistment ceremony since the all-volunteer force began in 1973, Hill said via phone from Baghdad.

This is becoming an annual blockbuster event for the command. Last year, 588 servicemembers re-enlisted.

“We are extremely proud of the accomplishments we have made in security on the ground as well as proud of all of our great warriors for the work they are doing since they arrived in theater,” Hill said. “We recognize the sacrifices they make and the sacrifices their families and communities make as they serve in Iraq.”

These servicemembers know the cost of war and they are still re-enlisting, Hill said. Some serve in “the most austere conditions — meaning they are in patrol bases and combat outposts,” he noted. Some of the re-enlisting servicemembers are in places where the troops “hot-bunk it” — that is, they take turns using limited sleeping space — and burn human waste because they lack plumbing. Others are based in more comfortable surroundings.

The vast majority of the servicemembers tell Hill and others that they are re-enlisting because “they are doing what they joined the military to do,” he said.

“If they joined to be a rifleman, they’re doing it in combat,” the sergeant major said. “If they joined to fix helicopters, they’re doing it and doing it in combat.”

Often in years past, he said, some warriors probably felt they weren’t doing what they joined the military to do, he said.

“Now, since we’ve been fighting this global war on terrorism … these warriors are doing what they joined to do,” he explained. “They can see the fruit of their labor and see the fruit of the sacrifices of those who have gone before them. It makes them feel good about what they are doing.”

The ceremony will be broadcast on the Pentagon Channel, Hill said. Multinational Force Iraq Commander Army Gen. David H. Petraeus will preside. Hill and Petraeus will speak at the ceremony, then Petraeus will administer the oath of enlistment.

A 50-gun salute will honor of the nation’s birthday, and then all will sing “God Bless America.” The ceremony will end with a medley of service songs.

All components of the military are represented in the ceremony. Officials said 738 active-duty soldiers, 188 National Guard soldiers, and 122 Army Reserve soldiers are re-enlisting, along with 54 Marines, 39 sailors and 16 airmen.

“…to support and defend the Constitution of the United States of America…”

Commitment in capital letters, with 1,100 raised right hands taking an solemn oath.

Update 7/4/2008 later in the day: Early this AM, when posted, this was what was to be. Today, it is now part of history and 115 more service members came to the event, for a total 0f 1215 re-enlistees in the combat zone, while the Nation is at war, while many of use are preparing for friends and family to come over and sit without worry, to watch fireworks displays. Wow…just wow. How can we thank them?

Required reading: Fred Fry’s Maritime Monday 116 and Eagle1’s “How to aim ship’s guns (Part III).”
BT

Not all who make contributions wear a uniform. Today, my thanks to a Department of the Navy civil servant who labored long into the nights and on weekends, so sailors could better prepare for battles at sea.

Allen Stennett was his name. I belive I have the name right phonetically, but I may not have it spelled correctly. Allan worked for “Code 2” at Naval Surface Warfare Center (NSWC), Pt Hueneme Division (PHD), Fleet Combat Direction Systems Support Activity (FCDSSA) on the Fleet Combat Training Center, Atlantic (FCTCL), Code 2 was the Programming Department, largely composed of civilian personnel. Allen was assigned to the Battle Force Tactical Trainer (BFTT) project in the 1993 – 1995 time frame whan I walked the halls of FCDSSA. At the time, the project had stretched the limits of the workforce, for it was not merely a programming challenge, but a systems design project, using some of the then newest off the shelf technology of the VME card chassis and single board computers. In addition to absorbing that challenge and attacking it with an aggressive approach, the BFTT Team, added a digital voice capability (we now have it on our desktops called VOIP) to simulate radio circuits, within the program. In addition to being “interesting” at those levels, Capt Kahler, the program manager, had managed to convince many other program managers that much of what was needed for the project already existed in developed work, and this project could knit together all that software to the financial benefit of the taxpayers. That, of course, was an unheard of practice, beacuse it would require the sharing of the rice in each bowl in DC for he projects affected, and therefore sharing power.

Allen was a major playing, under the radar, in the early stages of the develpment of BFTT. He worked on the database issues and on more than one occasion, his name came up for developing some software tools to manage the inputs from other commands and agencies, that helped the project make the rapid advancements it did under the program management of Capt Herb Kahler, USN.

It was often I would be walking the halls at the end of the day to catch up on last minute things before getting my last things done, that Allen would still be at his desk. I would check in with him regulalry, and finally one late day, I told him how much I appreciated his extra efforts and how he needed to get home to his family, for his committment to the taxpayers was a regular working schedule, not the 24/7 I had. Besides, I told him his work was being tracked like a regular schedule, and future progam managers would wonder why they couldn’t attain the same production rates as BFTT demonstrated, because he was skewing the numbers.

I just wanted to put the name of a hard working, dedicated Civil Servant on the record, as a counter to the numerous slights, slams, not so complimentary names and jokes about those who’s pay check come from the US Treasury, but don’t wear the uniform. They, too, are part of the success of the US Military, and in this case, the US Navy.Fried Green Tomatoes on dvd