09 June 2011
I’d like to begin this posting with
some (possibly apocryphal) stories from the past…
Classic Tale No.1
The diminutive Navy A-4 attack plane was
taxiing toward its assigned runway when the pilot spotted an enormous MAC
(Military Airlift Command) cargo plane approaching the same taxiway from the
opposite direction. Keying his radio, he called the ground controller;
“Tower, this is Skyhawk 13, Interrogative the intentions of the C-54 on
my taxiway. Over.”
Before the tower could respond, the
intruding cargo aircraft came to a halt. The giant clam-shell doors in its nose
began to open as a sepulchral voice came over the Skyhawk pilot’s
headset; “I am going to eat you!”
*****
Classic Tale No.2
The USN battleship/aircraft
carrier/destroyer (it seems to depend on who is telling the story) was headed
for a port visit in the Baltic/Pacific/Mediterranean Sea, and her Officer of
the Deck was alert to other shipping “traffic” in the coastal
approaches. Raising the VHF mike, he transmitted “Vessel in position
such-and-such this is U.S. Navy Warship umpty-squnch, bearing two-three-zero,
twelve nautical miles from your position. Request you alter course to starboard
for a port-to-port passage. Over.”
Immediately the radio squawked,
“Negative, Navy Ship, you must alter course to starboard to leave me on
your port side. Over.”
“This is U.S. Navy Warship
umpty-squnch. Negative! This is a U.S. Navy Warship. You are required by the
international rules of the road to alter course to avoid risk of collision.
Alter course immediately! Over!”
After a few seconds, the VHF again piped
up. “This is a lighthouse. Out.”
*****
Classic Tale No.3
These naval aviators were practicing air
combat maneuvering (ACM), rehearsing actions that might save their lives during
actual battle. After one mock engagement the voice of a pilot came loud and
clear over the radio; “Man, I really fouled that up! I am so
fouled-up today!”.
In the carrier CVIC a watch officer heard
this blatant violation of proper Navy radio etiquette and keyed his mike:
“Aircraft making unauthorized transmission, Identify yourself.
Over!”
From the offending aircraft high above the
fleet; “Brother, I am not that fouled-up!”
*****
These three stories have been around for
decades—probably as long as there have been radios in aircraft and on the
bridges of ships—and there is no way to tell if any of them are true, or
perhaps just jokes that have been told so many times they have acquired the
veneer of legend. Certainly the second one, of warship vs. lighthouse, has the
most fame—even a beer commercial has been made using this gag—but
the others also ring true as samples of the shenanigans that can result from
picking up that ‘mike’ and engaging mouth before brain.
Some technical background for those who haven’t
spent years in the cockpit or the wheelhouse (take a nap for a few minutes,
Shipmates!); every aircraft and ship on or above the planet uses what is called
a “Very High Frequency” (VHF for short) radio for routine and
emergency communications with other planes or ships—these radio sets, variously
called “Talk Between Ships” or “Bridge to Bridge” by
operators afloat, look like old-fashioned CB radios, and like those units have
long “whip” antennae mounted atop a ship’s bridge structure.
They have fairly short designed ranges—meant for close-range
communications after all—but layering of warm and cool air in
Earth’s atmosphere can cause a signal to bounce a very long distance
(this is called “ducting”).
These radios have many channels available,
but the most vital is Channel 16, the “Hailing and Distress”
channel. This particular channel is monitored (or at least it should be)
by every vessel on the seas, and has saved innumerable lives when things have
gone terribly wrong aboard ship, fishing vessel, or yacht. In addition to using
it for “mayday” calls, ships call other vessels, agree to switch to
an unused channel, and carry on their discussion (either negotiation to avoid
collision or where the good fishing is today) on that “working”
channel. Along with Ch.16 there are specific channels assigned for traffic on
rivers, inland waterways, harbors and ocean “traffic separation
schemes”, again, to arrange safe passage and pass vital information for
those waterways. Without this important piece of communications gear and the
assigned channels I have no doubt that life would be a lot more difficult at
sea!
Okay; enough technical talk about the
wonders of modern radio and how things should be. Now let’s get to the
fun part—how things really are
worse @ Sea!
*****
Tales From The Other
Gulf
I worked in the Gulf
of Mexico offshore oil and natural gas industry for nearly four
years before being called-up to serve in Operation Enduring Freedom and
subsequently Iraqi Freedom. During most of that time I sailed in small vessels
servicing the enormous population of drilling and production platforms that
cluster off the coasts of Louisiana and Texas, transporting supplies, equipment
and personnel from such ports as Sabine, Fourchon, Galveston and Venice, which
lies not in Italia but on a tributary of the Muddy Mississippi.
It was while sailing in these small craft,
and learning the ins and outs of seamanship, that I was first exposed to the
discipline (or lack thereof) to be found on VHF circuits amongst the thousands
of small craft encountered on the Gulf of Mexico...
One of the great misconceptions about the
fishing industry in that body of water is the idea that all of those fishing
boats--be they pogie boats or shrimpers--are manned and operated by Cajun crews
and captains. The reality is that the fishing down there is done in very large
part by Vietnamese immigrants, and most of the fishing boats carry
"eyes" painted on their stems (to ward off evil) and names like Quang Tra or Nai Lin. The boats are manned by extended families, usually
captained by Father or Grandfather--meaning that for the most part, the days of
Forrest Gump and 'Lieutenant Dan' are over.
What does this mean for our discussion of
VHF follies? It means that, for much of the day, Ch.16 and many of the working
channels are dominated by a constant stream of chatter in Vietnamese! Hardly
what one would expect off the shores of Texas,
I know. The Coast Guard, whose personnel monitor and regulate traffic on these
circuits, are overwhelmed and would certainly have trouble exacting a fine for
abuse of VHF radio when most of the "traffic" is in a very
foreign language spoken at full speed!
As a helmsman and lookout in the supply
boat Wave Tide, working out
of Port Fourchon (Louisiana) at the time, I was so used to the continuous chatter in Vietnamese over Ch.16 that I nearly fell out of my seat
when, during a momentary pause in the stream of alien verbiage, a voice broke
in angrilly; "Hey, man--you in America now! Speak Spanish!"
*****
Every weekday around 0900 the boats
working out of Sabine, Texas
are treated to the pleasant voice of a woman over Ch.16; "Good morning,
this is the Jesus Saves with your
Word of the Day." There follows a long reading from Psalms or
Gospel, and then our lady friend aboard that particular
vessel closes with a blessing on all the boats and mariners aboard them.
Oddly, I have never heard anyone complain
about this blatant violation of VHF procedure despite the fact that Jesus Saves is blocking an emergency radio
circuit for ten minutes. I guess the Coast Guard personnel enjoy the sermon
too.
*****
Filipino Monkey? Do
What with a Camel?!
One of the biggest lapses in regulatory
judgement, in my opinion, is the requirement that all vessels carry VHF
radio, I'm joking, of course--this type of gear has saved the lives of
countless mariners and fishermen--but I could
wish that standards of training and discipline in their usage were
better! Wherever you are in the world the international hailing and
distress channels are choked with traffic, most of it having nothing to do with
safe navigation or survival on the high seas. Fishermen gossip about
their catches or each other's wives, bored watch officers chatter about union
dues and play "DJ" by playing their favorite music over Channel 16
(in the Persian Gulf and Gulf of Oman this is usually Arab music, which has
earned the practice the appellation "Radio Baghdad").
But the going gets really interesting
when, usually during the "midwatch" from midnight to 0400, so-called
qualified radio operators begin exchanging insults over the air. It
usually begins with a pretty lightweight "f-bomb" or two, followed by
some imaginative and in most cases impossible suggestions of
sexual relations with other operators and/or relatives, and then
things get weird. Perhaps the most bizarre insults to be
heard are those relating to nationality...every country and ethnic background gets slandered in remarkably short order, with favorite targets (at
least in this region) being Indians, Filipinos and Italians. Oddly, in
all my years of sailing these waters I have never heard any insults directed at
the U.S. Navy or other Coalition ships in the region--perhaps because we
are often all that stands between them and the pirate vessels?
*****
The Voice of the Devil
It begins the same way every time, day or
night; an urgent call for assistance over Channel 16. The Master of a
tanker, container ship or bulk carrier reports the sighting of several small
craft closing rapidly with his ship. Immediately all superfluous chatter on the
VHF halts as every operator within listening range becomes a vicarious
participant in the drama of a pirate attack on the Gulf of Aden or Arabian Sea. If the targeted ship is close enough,
we aboard Arctic
will prepare to launch our “Crusaders” armed with medium machine
guns and grenade launchers to assist, and immediately we will begin
coordinating our actions with whatever warship is closest to the stricken
vessel. They are already making turns for “flank
speed” on an intercept course as they launch their “birds”
and gather as much information from the Master as the merchant ship maneuvers
as best they can to avoid the pirate skiffs, which are far faster and more
agile than any full-sized ship.
The Battle
is really a race. The pirates know that once they get boarders aboard the
merchant ship and take at least one of the crew hostage they will have leverage
; they can then threaten action against the crew-member if the Navy units
do not withdraw. The task of the interdiction force is to get to the
scene of action and prevent the raiders from boarding. There are usually
only two possible outcomes to this kind of race; the pirates are driven off or
the ship is taken, the crew made hostage. This is the way piracy has
worked for centuries—the tools are more advanced but the tactics and
goals are the same.
We on the bridge spend hours listening to
the engagement proceed; the calls for help, offers of assistance from other
ships, the play-by-play of gunfire exchanges between our helos and the pirate
skiffs and motherships, and then, all too often, the voice of the pirate leader
as he declares victory in this battle. Unlike the Hollywood-version of a
Somali or Yemeni pirate he is neither hysterical nor overtly threatening; his
voice is the French-accented sing-song of the ex-colonial countries, but he
sounds cool and collected as he dictates terms of the Coalitions forces’
withdrawal. He allows the ship’s Master to speak on the radio and
confirm that the pirates do indeed control the ship, and then calmly advises
local traffic of his intentions. He is in charge, and in his tones we
hear the voice of our predatory enemy, the voice of the Devil.
Our helos withdraw, one warship is
assigned to escort the captured merchant ship as it makes it’s way to whatever
port the pirates’ bosses have directed her to anchor as the long
bargaining process begins in Dubai and Paris. As we return
to our normal duties and prepare to recover “Crusader” 00 and 17,
we try to relax, discuss the action and how we might do it a little bit faster
next time. We lost this particular battle, but the war goes on.
Tom Epps
Able Seaman
USNS Arctic
Gulf of Aden
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