Down South Perspective

Words & Pictures
By Allan Weisbecker

Between the months of May and August, 1994, the U.S. Coast Guard Cutter Nantucket saved 1,208 lives off the coast of Cuba. This account records one day in the life of the Nantucket and her crew.

Although her mission is one of supreme mercy, the view from the deck of the U.S. Coast Guard Cutter Nantucket borders on the apocalyptic. Having pulled a half dozen Cuban balseros from the turbulent Florida Straits, the cutter’s crew has soaked a wallowing raft in diesel fuel and set it ablaze.

Black smoke surrounds the ship and trails westward with moderate trade wind as other deserted rafts burn and founder. If not disposed of, the rafts will become hazards to navigation and false targets of rescue for the 30 or so Coast Guard vessels and their assisting Navy consorts involved in the mammoth search-and-rescue effort Operation Able Vigil.

The Nantucket accelerates toward another raft, adrift a half mile dead ahead, its frantic occupants waving alternately at the approaching cutter and a press helicopter hovering 50 feet above them, it’s blade wash raising a misty tornado around the balseros. The craft is so low in the water that the balseros appear to be standing on the sea surface itself.

A mile to the northeast, a Coast Guard Jayhawk helicopter circles a U.S. Navy frigate then banks southward, where some two miles distant several rafts drift just inside the 12-mile limit of Cuban territorial waters. The occupants are hoping that wind and current will soon put them within reach of rescue. The Coast Guard watches these people intently and is willing to violate Cuban sovereignty to save lives in imminent peril. The situation is made doubly tense by the presence of a Cuban gunboat cruising a few miles inside the limit.

Beyond the line of waiting balseros rises the sawtooth skyline of Havana. Only the taller buildings are visible from offshore, giving the startling illusion that the island itself is sinking. A coastal oil refinery burnoff and a thunderhead spouting veined lightning from the inland mountains the apocalyptic impression of a doomed land, with the rafters the vanguard of a mass desertion.

On the decks of the Nantucket, the freshly rescued balseros react to their sudden change in curcumstance in different ways: A young woman hugs her infant daughter, emotionally torn between unbridled joy at being delivered from the sea and fear of an uncertain future. A feeble, dehydrated old man mumbles a religious litany as he is carried to the bridge for medical attention. A wild-eyed young man rails at no one in particular that he is a Russian citizen. It may be a ploy to avoid the internment camp at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, but maybe not – his severely broken English is oddly accented and his fair hair and light complexion are decidedly non-latino. Two other men clutch the aft rail of the cutter, watching stunned as their raft burns to the waterline and sinks, vanishing as irrevocably as the lives they left behind.

Amidst the psychological turmoil the calm efficiency of the Nantucket’s crew prevents the situation from getting out of hand. Once on board, the balseros are guided to the aft deck where they are searched, courteously, for weapons and contraband (rarely is anything of the sort found). Those in need of medical attention are singled out quickly, and blankets and water are distributed.

The Nantucket has been doing essentially nonstop search-and-rescue operations for the four months she has been stationed at the Coast Guard’s Key West base (she was also an important player in the Haitian rescue mission Operation Able Manner); however, her crew shows no signs of impatience or ill temper. On the contrary, what stands out are touching acts of kindness: A bosun’s mate kneels by a young woman dressed in little more than rags and holds a seasickness bag for her. One of the two Marines on board reunites a preadolescent girl with her family after they become separated in the boarding process. One of the ship’s two Spanish-speaking crew members relays a distraught woman’s fear that her family’s photographs remain on the raft about to be set afire, another member boards the diesel-soaked craft to find them.

1625
The ship is idling just astern of a tiny sailboat with five men on board who claim to be escaped political prisoners and demand to be taken to Florida rather than Guantanamo. Electrician’s mate Julio Garcia is perched right forward on the bow, negotiating with the men, who insist that if not guaranteed haven on the U.S. mainland, they will refuse to abandon their boat and will continue sailing toward Florida. This creates an awkward situation, because the Coast Guard has no authority to force them to be rescued from international waters. It would be a simple matter to deceive these people, but Captain Andy Blomme instructs Garcia to make no false promises. Eventually, Garcia persuades them to come on board.

Although most of the craft encountered are fashioned of little more than inner tubes framed by scrap lumber, some are marvels of ingenuity and pluck. One such vessel – La Nina is meticulously inscribed on her stern – is constructed of metal piping filled with foam. She is obviously unburnable, so two Nantucket crew members board her with pick axes. As they commence perforation, a balsero rises from the group sitting on deck, claiming in heavily accented English, “She not sink! Never!” And indeed, after 20 minutes of strenuous hacking, La Nina wallows heavily in the water but seems to have no intention of going down. On the captain’s orders, the men give up and cast off the hole-riddled vessel adrift. One, still sweating from the failed scuttle attempt, approaches the balsero and asks if he is the one who built the raft. Getting a fearful nod in answer, the crew member offers his hand in respect and admiration. For the balsero, stripped of his dignity by circumstance, the gesture in monumental. He sits down, vainly attempting to hold back the tears.

1730
The Nantucket has been filled to capacity and a Navy boat comes alongside to ferry the balseros to a frigate, which will in turn transport them to the internment camp at Guantanamo. Coast Guard Lieutenant Rich Condit, on temporary duty on board the cutter, helps in the transfer by guiding each balsero to the boarding ladder. Although the work is routine and repetitious, he makes eye contact with each person, offering a nod and pat on the back as they leave the ship.

Operation Able Vigil is tough, demanding work – few of the Nantucket’s crew have eaten since breakfast – but even in private moments there is no resentment or intolerance on board the ship. In fact, when asked his opinion of the politics of the refugee situation, one crew member responds, “Politics are irrelevant to what we’re doing. We’re in the business of saving lives – and business these days is good.” Another, with an obvious lump in his throat, adds, “The toughest thing out here is to not have your heart broken.”

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2130
With darkness finally comes a break in the action. Except for the watch on the bridge, the Nantucket’s crew is below decks getting some much needed rest. Also slumbering are some 20 balseros on the aft deck, picked up in a flurry of activity at sundown, and without sarcasm referred to as “our guests.” Night rescues are possible, and meticulous lookout is kept, but the prevailing opinion is that we’ve swept our search area clear for the time being.

The Nantucket has had a long day, and not one free from mishap. Quartermaster Jose Rosa is on board a Navy ship, recuperating from a head injury sustained when panicky balseros rushed to one side of their raft during a rescue. The craft capsized, striking Rosa as he reached to pull someone into the Coast Guard Zodiac (a small, inflatable rescue boat). Rosa helped in the completion of the operation, then collapsed upon returning to the Nantucket. Word from the Navy is that he suffered a mild concussion and “has a monster headache” but will be returned in the morning. This is welcome news. The ship’s 16 crew members are a tight bunch, and every hand is vital in an operation with the nonstop pace of Able Vigil.

Acts of heroism seem all but routine on board this ship. Ten days earlier, the Nantucket had reached a crowded raft foundering in heavy seas. When pressed for details, the crew directly involved downplays their roles, claiming they were just doing what they were trained for. Others who witnessed the rescue, however, give their shipmates more credit, pointing out that three crew members dove into the turbulent water (made especially dangerous by the jagged remains of the shattered raft) and pulled out drowning people. The best summation of the incident comes from Captain Blomme’s night log of that date, words written solely for the eyes of his shipmates, reproduced here with his permission:

Long after my tour aboard Nantucket is over, I will look back on today’s events with the sinking migrant craft (it could hardly be called a vessel) and I will tell people “I served with heroes.” In one’s life, there are few moments that so immediately and truthfully test the soul as those today. Without question, we know that MK2 Kevin Brown, FN Beryl Brown, and SA Dave Ezquerra possess the selfless dedication that makes the Coast Guard the world’s life-saving service without equal.

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