FROM A YOUNG NAVY LT ABOARD CARL VINSON

The port call to Mayport, FL is delayed, at least. Carl Vinson will remain in the vicinity of Joint Operating Area Haiti (JOA-H) until further notice. I’ll reiterate - not the benign trip around the horn I was expecting. Many now anticipate that we will resume our transit around Valentine’s Day, but that is purely Lieutenant speculation. Later is a possibility. If it were just a matter of fuel and provisions we could stay on scene longer than anybody would care to continue reading my droning comments. The unfortunate truth is that the ship has many other obligations that are most commonly related to scheduled maintenance. Boring as it may seem, the laundry list of work to be completed prior to preparations for a traditional deployment is long, necessary, and right around the corner. Even in light of Haiti, that is not forgotten.

Like most men wearing eagles on their collars, my Captain, a 1982 Naval Academy graduate, is one of those discerning individuals who frequently attacks a situation with three solutions. It’s a bit of a mantra. He likes redundancy in his problem solving. Each evening when I take the bridge with my empty cup of coffee and two apples, task number one is to read the Captain’s night orders. They are bound in a black binder bearing the title of what they are. His hand written passage follows guidance from the Navigator, the status of the ship, and the plan for the day. It is not infrequent that CAPT Bruce Lindsey reminds us to always have a couple of contingency plans. In the night orders he is referring to options with respect to ship handling and the avoidance of precarious situations. That same mentality, however, is how he addresses considerations of how long we should remain, what events are worth sacrificing in order to remain, and what the best course of action is for Carl Vinson. Moreover, he balances those considerations against what is right for American interests and what is necessary to meet the mission in Haiti. Time, succinctly, is on everybody’s mind.

They just keep coming. When in doubt, send more people. There are more than 12,000 troops and aid workers in JOA-H. Some are arriving so fast that a plan of employment will have to follow. I think every command under the umbrella of US Fleet Forces was required to send 2 bodies to Haiti. Lean forward and get here seems to be the theme. Let no man say that the United States did not do more than any other nation. Operation Unified Response is now host to approximately 27 US and foreign military ships and a rotation of merchant vessels floating in, anchoring, and departing on a regular basis. The US Coast Guard is doing an outstanding job of managing traffic and tracking vessels, while simultaneously manning an impressive aid station on land. Port Au Prince Bay is mottled with numerous ships lacking blatant individuality, save USNS Comfort, whose white paint and Red Cross draws immediate attention. Outside of the bay just west of Saint Marc Point on the open ocean side of the like named canal is the Nassau Amphibious Readiness Group, fresh on the scene and consisting of USS Ashland, Mesa Verde, and of course, Nassau. Several others are on the south side of La Ganave Island conducting slightly more distant support operations.

The media is largely camped out in Port Au Prince where the devastation continues to take its toll. What lacks coverage is the story of the outlying areas which were also hit very hard. The Marines, in particular, are conducting beach landings in the more desolate regions and are forging access routes through treacherous terrain. Not that I doubt the ability of Marines for one second, but I do find it remarkable that they are so incredibly efficient in this environment when they have largely been focused on the desert for the past 8 years. Regardless, they are here and as expected, they are jumping in with both feet.

Announcements on Carl Vinson that only a week ago conjured up a sense of anxiety are now commonplace. The 1MC rings throughout the ship and Sailors react, yet none are surprised to hear the activation of the walking blood bank, or the call for 24 man stretcher bearer teams to report to the flight deck, or the order for all Haitian linguists to report to medical. Remember, these are not medics or corpsmen. These Sailors are mechanics, cooks, electricians, boatswain mates, etc.. Whatever they are, they stop what they are doing and jump into action. It’s absolutely distinctive of military service. They say every Sailor is a firefighter, but many are blood donors and stretcher bearers as well. They are life savers.

Despite 19 patients visiting Carl Vinson as distinguished guests of the Medical Department, last night was the first night that I can recall not having a baby on board. I won’t say that anything is going back to normal, but I did take notice. All the same, our doctors and nurses continue to work around the clock. Without consideration for space and supplies, I wonder how long they can keep up their feverish pace. As an aviator I am accustomed to a certain amount of mandatory crew rest. It is expected that I get 8 hours of sleep before stepping onto a P-3. The studies are inarguable. Fatigue fuels human error. Even so, I feel that I have a certain amount of room for miscalculation. Doctors, conversely, do not have that luxury. 24/7 manning of the inpatient ward, outpatient services, force health protection, physicals, emergency casualties - they continue to do it all despite the odds, despite the manning, despite everything. This story will never get old.

Today is Sunday. On Sunday the Wardroom serves brunch. Almost every other day is the same. It’s a work day. There are no days off on Carl Vinson. If you ask me on Wednesday to name the day of the week, I probably could not. Only Friday and Sunday stand apart. On Friday the watch changes; it rotates backwards. I am now standing watch from 2200- 0200. The downside is that there is no sunrise, no scheduled flight ops, no setup for the morning events. The upside is that it is only 4 hours and I get a little more sleep. The sea is black, the wind picks up, and the stars are bright. It is a great time for personal reflection. It’s also predominately uneventful, so I pass the time by training others, timing turns, and jockeying the engines. Today, however, is Sunday. On Sunday the Wardroom serves brunch.

Chad

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