Fear Naut on Patrol

Saturday, November 19, 2005 was a long-awaited day for me.  Not only was I to be sworn in as an Auxiliarist at our flotilla’s meeting that morning, but I had been invited along as a trainee on a routine safety patrol scheduled to follow the meeting.

Coxswain Joe Tambe, facility owner and crew Rich Lagrand, crew Michael Newmen, and myself launched the facility, Fear Naut, following the meeting and headed out to cover our area of responsibility (AOR).  Conditions were calm and clear: it was a perfect day on the waters of Southern California. One of the Auxiliarists aboard had advised me to expect “a boring four hour boat ride.”

The first part of our patrol was indeed uneventful:  We contacted a few boats to ask if they’d seen an overdue sailboat, chatted with a pair of kayakers about life jackets, and patrolled our area looking for anyone in need of assistance.  I was busily absorbing all the details: The radio calls to check in with the USCG, rotation of duties amongst the crew, a man overboard drill with a fender as the person in the water.

Near the end of our scheduled patrol, I was at the helm taking instruction from Rich, while Mike and Joe covered watch duties in the cockpit.  Suddenly Mike called out, “Aircraft in the water! We have an aircraft in the water!” His tone of voice told me that this situation was not a drill. I leapt from the helm and Rich took control of the boat, simultaneously bringing us around and turning on the safety lights.

He radioed Sector to report the situation and our location, then issued a Mayday call while speeding to the scene of the crash.  By the time we arrived on scene, approximately two minutes after Mike had sounded the alarm, small pieces of debris and personal effects and a slick of jet fuel were all that remained on the surface.  The plane had plunged into the ocean nose first and sank in approximately 30 seconds.

Fear Naut and other response vessels ©NBC Universal Photo: NBC4.tv

We searched for survivors and found none.  We then turned our attention to recovering floating debris and monitoring the fish finder for indications of the downed aircraft’s location.  When the Harbor Patrol arrived, we surrendered the recovered debris, which included a flight plan, upon which the craft’s tail number was recorded, and provided statements to the officers aboard.  Later Rich relayed transmissions between a USCG helicopter and Sheriff’s helicopter, trying to assist them in establishing direct radio communications.

Later in the day Sector Los Angeles released us from the scene and we returned to our launch ramp.  Our flotilla commander, Norma Lococo, alerted by cell phone, arrived at the dock to speak with the crew about the incident.  Later Critical Incident Stress Management contacted us and scheduled a debriefing to evaluate our stress following the incident.

Now that I’ve been a member for a short while, participated in more training missions, and completed a few qualifications, I realize that I learned a number of important lessons from this experience:

First, “Semper Paratus” is not an empty expression.  Anything can happen out there, and one must be prepared.  I recall, vividly, thinking, as we sped to the scene: “I hope I’m not called upon to do something that I have not yet learned to do!”

Second, training drills do work.  The crew responded swiftly, decisively and appropriately to the emergency.  This response comes from practice.  Had any of the plane’s occupants survived, we could have quickly rescued them.

Third, we are truly an integral part of Team Coast Guard.  This teamwork was demonstrated in our contact with the USCG helicopter and with the crew of the Defender class patrol boat.  It was further displayed in the follow-up contact and meeting with the crisis management team.

-SK