Smuggling, the very crime which had caused the creation of the Revenue Marine, forerunner of the Coast Guard, was what the two-man crew of the Gilma I were charged with. Yet, as the forlorn little lobster boat, right, chugged back to Miami, she did not seem to be much of a prize and, indeed, would not have been considered one had the Coast Guardsmen not discovered Mary Jane on board.
"One hundred fathom curve. Ninety fathoms, eighty. Fifty fathoms and coming up fast!” The voice of the quartermaster calling out the soundings was getting louder and more high-pitched as we steamed full speed for the reef "Thirty fathoms.” This was the limit I had set for myself and ordered a turn to starboard. The rudders took hold and the ship heeled heavily as we swung to the right and the safety of open water. Filled with fury and frustration, we watched our quarry churn into the safety of the shoal waters surrounding Anguilla Island.
I had taken command of the Coast Guard Cutter Courageous a little more than a week before and this was my first patrol. The Cape Canaveral based ship is one of four 210-foot medium endurance cutters assigned to carry out a continuous surface law enforcement patrol in the busy Caribbean waters north of Cuba and enforce the various U. S. laws and agreements in the area. This involves such tasks as interdicting narcotics shipments destined for U. S. markets and preventing the entry of illegal aliens. The issue of aliens attempting to enter the country is an extremely sensitive one as the aliens, many from Haiti, often claim political asylum. Enforcement of the "anti-hijacking” agreement with Cuba is another delicate role. It could require the return of Cuban refugees who use force—e.g., commandeer a boat—in their escape. The highly visible white cutters also act as a deterrent against raids on Cuba by "exile groups” and as a calming influence in the frequent and heated fishing rights disputes between U. S. and Bahamian fishermen. Finally, the patrol vessels, underway and cruising in the 180,000-square-mile area, are repeatedly called on to assist distressed or disabled vessels and aircraft.
It was 17 September 1973, the third day of a two- week patrol. Things had been rather quiet as the ship worked her way south along the Great Bahama Bank. It was one of those warm cloudless days with the sun sparkling on crystal blue water so often pictured in the Caribbean cruise advertisements. We were patrolling in the vicinity of the Cay Sal Bank about 30 miles north of Cuba.
We had gotten in a couple of good hours of boat drill during the morning and the deck officers had just finished some "rubber docking” drills after lunch. As I stood on the wing of the bridge critiquing the various approaches that had been made on the soggy box that served as a target for the drills, the lookout reported a boat on the horizon heading for the Cay Sal Bank. The small contact was picked up on radar at a range of 8.5 miles. She was approaching from the southeast, possibly from Cuba or the Windward Passage between Cuba and Haiti. If she was a U. S. boat, we would exercise our unique authority to board any U. S. registered vessel on the high seas at any time.
The Courageous was brought around on a course to intercept the approaching boat. As we got closer, we could see that she was a well-built lobster boat common to the area. My suspicion was aroused by the direction from which she was approaching but I was sure that she would prove to be an innocent fisherman returning to Florida from the fishing grounds on the Bahama Banks. The boat appeared to be about 40 feet long with a low cabin extended across her broad beam. There was the usual radio antenna and a faded Florida fishing license number could be made out on the side of the white cabin. As we closed, I could see through the binoculars that this unusual fisherman carried no traps, markers or other conventional fishing gear. Instead, there were about 25 55-gallon drums on deck as well as other cargo carefully covered with a large tarp. We passed close under her stern to read the name. Two men visible in the cabin held her steady on course.
The name Gilma I was painted on the stern but contrary to law, the homeport had been painted out. A boat matching the description was quickly located in the register of Merchant Vessels of the United States. Thus, assuming the vessel to be U. S., even though no homeport or flag was shown, we turned and increased speed. During the time it had taken to intercept and identify the boat, she had continued steadily on toward the Bahamian Islands of the Cay Sal Bank. The Gilma had been about 11 miles from the nearest island, Anguilla, when we first picked her up and the range was now down to about seven or eight miles. We moved into position to stop her.
Using a "loud hailer,” we identified ourselves and directed the boat to stop for boarding. One of the men had come out on deck and looked at us with a puzzled expression. He shrugged his shoulders to indicate that he did not understand. The orders were repeated in Spanish. No response. All hands were at boarding stations now but the men of the Gilma seemed unimpressed by the riflemen on deck. One man on her foredeck began to make hand signals suggesting they were having trouble with their engines and could not stop. We ordered him to turn to seaward as we approached the shoal waters surrounding Anguilla Island at about 15 knots, but he simply looked the other way. The Gilma’s crew clearly had no intention of stopping to be boarded.
From the bridge wing controls, the 1,000-ton cutter was maneuvered alongside the Gilma, keeping her abeam of the bridge on the starboard side, crowding her away from the island and the safety of Bahamian Territorial waters. Apparently impressed by this maneuver, the stocky barefoot man on deck and his companion at the controls now indicated that they were ready to stop. As both vessels began to slow, however, they suddenly backed their engines and the Courageous with her greater momentum went sliding by. The Gilma ducked under our stern and made a run for the shoal water but, with our superior speed, we again overtook them and began forcing them away from the island in the other direction. The man on deck was now sitting rubbing his knee where he had scraped it on our hull during the first maneuver. Once more, with their greater maneuverability, they avoided us and continued their flight. As we again increased speed and tried to catch up with them a third time, we reached the 100-fathom curve and I played my last card. I ordered the gun crew to make a show of mounting the .50-caliber machine guns as if we were getting ready to use them. But my bluff was called and, at 30 fathoms, I turned. The Gilma made good her escape.
It was a silent, deeply disappointed group that stood on the bridge as I relinquished the con and left to make my report to Seventh Coast Guard District Headquarters. Mentally, I began reconstructing the events. From the time the open evasion began to the time we broke off, the chase had taken less than 15 minutes. It was doubtful that I could have explained the situation to District Headquarters and obtained permission to use greater force in that short amount of time, even if I could have left the bridge to do so. Yet, I still felt that somehow I had blown it. Was I a "gun shy boot skipper” who had not acted fast enough? Or had the incident simply taken place too close to a safe haven? I hoped it was the latter.
I explained to Miami what had happened and indicated that I would remain in the area for the night in case the vessel should reappear and reenter international waters, a very remote possibility. Now a "suspect vessel” report would go out on the Gilma I and she might be picked up entering the United States.
When I returned to the bridge after the phone patch, a new development was reported. We had kept the fleeing fishing boat under observation from the flying bridge with a long glass and binoculars. As she had drawn close to the shore of Anguilla Island, some three miles away, her crew had thrown drums and packages over the side. Even as the material was bobbing along the sandy shore line, the Gilma had disappeared around the northern tip of the island.
When we asked the District for permission to enter Bahamian wafers and investigate the jettisoned material, we were told to stand by, that a request would be made through proper diplomatic channels. One hour later, a reply was received: approval was denied. Out disappointment lasted less than an hour. A second message informed us that the Bahamian government had changed its mind. We were authorized to investigate.
Cautiously approaching the island from the east to within one and a half miles, we launched both boats. With the sun setting rapidly, there was concern that the material would sink or be carried away by the tide during the night.
A report from the officer in the first boat identified the material in the very proper legal jargon as "a leafy green substance." Pressed for a clarification the officer confirmed our suspicion: marijuana.
Both boats began hauling on board large grain sacks of rough-cut marijuana. It took three men to haul each of the three-foot-long, soggy packages aboard and the boats were quickly loaded to capacity. The sun had set behind the island and it was quickly getting dark. The ship was anchored as close to shore as possible and the boats recalled. Each boat had about 20 dripping, smelling bags on board which had to be unloaded before the boats could be safely raised. The sacks were unloaded, carried aft, and piled in a mound on the fantail.
The men on the fishing boat had apparently attempted to cut open the bags before heaving them overboard so the material could not be recovered. This must have taken too much time so the job was finished by heaving most of the bags over the side intact. As a result of the torn sacks, the Courageous stank of marijuana. There was a layer of soggy "grass" in each of the boats and the deck passageways leading aft were strewn with it. The crew swept the marijuana into piles and threw it over the side. The ship smelled like a wet barn during haying season.
Since it was estimated that each sack weighed about 200 pounds, District was told that we had recovered about four tons of marijuana, but that we had been unable to recover all the material because of darkness and would therefore anchor in the area for the night and retrieve the remainder in the morning.
As things began to settle down for the night, the executive officer posed a very practical question: "how do you secure four tons of marijuana?” Grams of marijuana can be secured, but ours was a problem of a much greater magnitude. It was resolved by sealing the torn bags as best we could and posting a continuous watch using senior petty officers. This ad lib solution later turned out to be an important legal requirement in court as the establishment of a "continuous chain of custody.”
From the markings on the grain sacks and bits of newspaper used as packing, it was determined that the origin of the material was Jamaica. This was the high grade "Ganja” much sought by the U. S. marijuana markets because of its greater potency. The plant thrives in the rich soil and tropical climate of Jamaica, growing to a height of 12 to 14 feet. The inaccessible mountainous regions of the island yield abundant harvests of the hallucinogen. While the government of Jamaica is making efforts to stop its production, the easy profits to be made and the great U. S. demand for it encourage its continued cultivation.
The next morning at 0800, the boats were launched and proceeded to retrieve more of the marijuana from the beach where it had washed up during the night. While we were waiting to recover the boats, we received a message indicating that a U. S. Customs aircraft was airborne on a surveillance flight en route to our position. About 0945, we received a call from the plane indicating that he was heading southeast along the eastern island chain of the Cay Sal Bank checking out boats in the area. About a half hour later, he called again reporting that he had located "our friend.” He had made a positive identification. It was the Gilma I and she was not far from our position, hugging the coast on the other side of the string of islands, well within Bahamian waters. Perhaps she had second thoughts about dumping her multimillion dollar cargo and was waiting to come back and pick it up. I filed another situation report with the District reporting that we had regained contact with the Gilma I.
The small boats returned to the Courageous with an additional 29 bags of marijuana and were hoisted on board. We also took on board one of the oil drums that had been dumped to check the contents and any markings. It proved to have contained diesel fuel. The additional drums had obviously been on board the Gilma to provide enough fuel for the boat to make the long run from Jamaica to Florida.
I received orders to depart Bahamian waters once I had the boats back on board and to stand by in international waters. There was the possibility that the Bahamians would send agents out to the Courageous to arrest the Gilma if she remained in Bahamian waters. I had the feeling that there was quite a bit of communication going on between the United States and the newly independent Bahamas concerned with exercising proper jurisdictional control over territorial waters while still cooperating as fully as possible.
The aircraft was maintaining a high altitude surveillance on the Gilma and we moved offshore about five miles to give her a chance to make her move. The aircraft reported other boats in the area that might be planning a rendezvous with the Gilma. One, a sleek high speed model, moved south into the area of Anguilla Island. We maintained our surveillance from offshore while the aircraft maintained an inconspicuous altitude of 7,000 feet.
The Customs plane was relieved on scene about 1300 by a Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA) aircraft. While in the process of changing the watch, they observed the Gilma I land its small boat in a rocky cove and carry some large green packages ashore. They hid them in the underbrush on the rugged western side of North Anguilla Island. The Gilma then got underway and started to move slowly north staying close to the islands. I discussed the action with the DEA aircraft and decided not to move in on the material but rather to wait and see if another boat would try for a pickup while the aircraft was keeping both the Gilma and the hidden material under surveillance. Recalling the time that it took to get approval to enter Bahamian waters the previous day, however, I immediately initiated a request to retrieve the material before dark.
About 1500, a Coast Guard helicopter arrived on scene and landed on the flight deck. Two agents were on board, one from DEA and the other from Customs. Evidently the volume of material that we recovered and the relocation of the Gilma had caused quite a stir.
At 1600, the high speed boat we had been watching hastily departed the area without attempting to rendezvous with the Gilma or go after the cache. The Gilma was still moving north and we were beginning to get concerned about the distance that she was putting between us. Authority was received to go in and retrieve the material on the beach. We got underway heading north and set flight quarters. The helo, which had chopped to our operational control, was used for the trip to the island to investigate and recover whatever had been hidden there. The DEA aircraft guided the helo into the little cove where the packages had been put ashore. The material turned out to be 12 more of the large grain sacks filled with marijuana. The sacks had been placed inside large green garbage bags, apparently to protect them from the weather.
Because the helo could not carry the whole load in one trip, one of the agents stayed on the island with the remaining sacks. Later, the agent would tell how, in the excitement of the discovery of the material, he had volunteered to stay with the marijuana. As the helo lifted off and flew across the island and out of sight, he began to have second thoughts. As the time passed, he began to envision the helo developing engine trouble and not being able to return. It would be dark soon and he thought about the Gilma or the high-speed boat returning to make the pickup. With six rounds in his revolver, he had begun to look for a defensible position on the barren island when he heard the sound of the returning helicopter. He didn’t try to hide his relief at getting off the island.
The District advised that the Bahamian drug agents who had planned to fly out and join us could not make it. We would have no authority to enter Bahamian waters to go after the Gilma. We were told that the Coast Guard and the Federal drug agencies wanted very much to seize the fishing boat but that it would have to be done in international waters. We were granted authority to use whatever force was necessary to take the boat.
The surveillance aircraft had kept us posted on the movements of the Gilma I as she made her way north along the western side of the island chain. To the north, the chain of islands became smaller and more detached with larger distances between the groups and several small passages between the islands. As we charted the Gilma's progress, the speed of the Courageous was adjusted to reach the vicinity of the Gilma just as it got dark.
We picked her up on the radar and the aircraft confirmed that she was the Gilma. The men on the boat were apparently unaware that they were under surveillance because from time to time they showed a light. The pilot reported that he did not have any night observation capability; it would be up to the Courageous to stay with the drug runner.
Darken ship was ordered and no navigational lights were set. We knew they could give us the slip if they knew we were following them. In the darkness, we closed to four miles behind our quarry.
It was time to make a difficult decision. The Gilma was approaching the last string of islands called "Dog Rocks." The rocks formed a line of islands about five miles long, running to the northwest. The Gilma was underway on the west side of the islands in the shallows of the bank. The Courageous was in deep water on the east side. There was a one-mile opening in the Bahamian territorial waters between Dog Rocks and Damas Cays, the rocky islands to the south. The water up on the bank in the area was charted at five fathoms or 30 feet. The Courageous was drawing ten feet. There were no aids to navigation and the chart carried such comforting little notes as "rocky heads", "reported errors in charted positions of rocks" and "strong currents."
My options were to stay on the safe side of the islands and hope to pick her up at the northern end, or to stick with her and take the Courageous into the shallows up on the bank. The decision had to be made quickly. I would definitely lose the fishing boat from radar if I stayed in deep water. If the boat should turn west once it got behind the islands and head over the bank, she would be lost for good. I elected to stay with the Gilma and take my chances on the bank.
We kept two navigational plots, one of the geographical position of the Gilma, heading straight for the rocks and, second, a plot of our own ship's movement. I stood on the darkened bridge of the ship transfixed by the Fathometer indicator, not daring to myself think of the possibility of a radar failure. The radar operator was quietly but steadily calling out ranges and bearings to the rocks and the Gilma. If we could maintain a range of exactly three miles from the islands, the chart indicated that we should have enough water. We would have liked to have had the Courageous move in slowly, feeling her way, but it was necessary to keep a minimum range to the fishing boat which was making a straight track while I was skirting a three-mile perimeter. Speed was slackened to five knots just as we approached the hundred-fathom curve. It was tense but surprisingly quiet on the bridge as we approached the bank. The Fathometer dropped from 300 fathoms. We shifted to the 100-fathom scales and then quickly shifted to the 100-feet scale. There was an anxious moment as the flickering light of the indicator rapidly rounded the dial, finally hesitated, and then steadied at 24 feet. The radar was solid and the soundings steady. Speed was increased to 12 knots.
The Gilma was using a spotlight to pick her way along the rocky islands. We were less than three miles away and, had they seen us, they could have passed through an opening in the rocks and escaped to the open sea. We, in turn, would have had to travel several miles around the islands to get into safe water to give chase. The bosun's mate of the watch was making continuous rounds to make sure the ship was darkened. It was still before taps and the possibility of a man opening a well-lit hatch to get a breath of fresh air was very real. The smoking lamp was out topside; the bridge indicator lights were dimmed.
We followed the Gilma in her slow progress north to the last and largest island. Here, we detected additional targets on radar, stationary and close to shore. This could be a planned rendezvous or merely fishermen anchored in the lee of the island for the night. The Gilma joined them. The presence of these additional targets presented another potential dilemma. What if one of the merged group should now depart? Would it be the Gilma? Should we follow her? What if they all departed in different directions? A course of action was roughed out mentally but we hoped that we would not have to deal with the problem.
Because the Customs aircraft had no night detection capability, he was released and with a sincere "Well Done.” Another plane was requested at first light if possible. We were informed that the District was sending out an 82-foot WPB to give us a hand. With her on scene, we would have both sides of the islands under radar surveillance. I had been continually worried that the Gilma would somehow get to the other side of the rocks and be shielded from our radar. The cutter, Point Barnes, arrived about midnight and as we assigned her to a station, we felt a little more confident of our chances of finally getting the Gilma. The Courageous was repositioned to the north just before the moon came up. As anticipated, it was full and bright and would have reflected on our white hull making us visible for miles. The Gilma was kept on our dark side.
In the morning, before first light, we planned to reposition the two cutters out of sight of the fishing boat with the Courageous to cover the north end of the island chain and the Point Barnes the southern end. Perhaps this would entice the Gilma to leave the sanctuary of the Bahamian waters. If she made a break for it across the "bank,” the Point Barnes was close enough to her draft to follow and had a considerable speed advantage.
With both ships in position and the plans for the next day discussed with the Point Barnes, I filed the final situation report of the day and went to the cabin to get some sleep. It was just after 0100.
Dawn found us in position just out of the line of sight behind the corner of the northernmost island; the Point Barnes was in position to the south. The Customs aircraft would be on scene about 0800. The .50 caliber machine guns were mounted and this time were loaded. We waited.
At 0730, we eased into a position where we could see four anchored fishing boats. One of the four had the profile and coloring of the Gilma, which was a relief. As we watched, we could see activity among the boats. The Gilma was underway and moving among the other boats. Finally, one of the boats got underway and headed for open water on a northerly course that would bring her close to our position. Although she might be a decoy to keep us busy while the Gilma escaped in another direction, it was decided to take the bait and intercept her as she entered international waters. We would be ready, however, to leave her and pursue the Gilma if she made a move. We boarded the Odin, which proved to be a legitimate fishing vessel manned by Cuban Americans. The skipper indicated that a boat had joined the group to anchor with them during the night. They reported further that the newcomers had worked on the boat most of the night, apparently trying to fix a damaged screw.
While we had the Odin alongside, we observed the boat believed to be the Gilma I getting underway and to our utter disbelief, she was heading slowly in our general direction. There could be only one logical answer, this was not the Gilma but one of her many twins. Our two days of cat-and-mouse surveillance and all of our anticipations were to be again frustrated.
Just as we were about to order the Point Barnes to move north along the west side of Dog Rocks and check out all the small cuts between the islands where a boat could be hidden, the Customs aircraft arrived on scene and reported that our suspect was underway and heading for us. He was asked for a positive identification on the vessel. The small single-engine plane swooped in about 25 feet above the water past the fishing boat and then assured us that she was, indeed, the Gilma I.
We were sitting right on the three-mile line with the Odin alongside, and the Gilma was now on a course to pass about 1,000 yards astern.
As the Gilma crossed the three-mile line, we cast off the Odin, and signalled the Gilma to come alongside. She meekly altered course and came along out starboard side. When she was made fast, the boarding officer and the two Federal agents went on board. The Gilma’s two-man crew was advised that they were under arrest and that their vessel was seized. They were given their Miranda warning in both English and Spanish. After they surrendered a lone sawed-off carbine, they were taken aboard the Courageous. Their docile mood changed, however, when they saw the mound of marijuana on the fantail. They became very excited and began to protest violently that we had no authority to board them as they were in international waters. The prisoners were separated and placed under guard.
When the agents began their questioning, the mystery of the Gilma’s strange action in submissively coming out to us was solved. The crew had been totally unaware that we had observed them dump the marijuana over the side or that they had been under surveillance by an aircraft. Our darkened ship procedures had paid off as they had no idea that we had spent an anxious night only three miles from them. While they were anchored during the night, they had cleaned up their boat and got rid of the most visible traces of the contraband. They intended to return to Miami, their homeport. When they saw the Courageous standing by offshore the next morning, they went to the other fishing boats and bought lobster and enough gear to look as though they had been fishing. After the Odin had been boarded, they feared that they would arouse suspicion if the other boats came out to be boarded and they did not. It was planned that they would apologize to the captain for not stopping to be boarded two days before but to explain that they were having difficulty with their engines and could not stop. When they saw the tons of marijuana heaped on the fantail, including that which they had hidden on the beach, one let out a low whistle and the other mumbled an expression of despair in Spanish. The two men were allowed to confer with each other for a few minutes. In view of the evidence that we had, they decided to cooperate and told the whole story.
The pair had been hired for $30,000 to transport the contraband. The arrangements had been made in a Miami bar. As is customary in drug dealings they knew only the contact's first name. Each time, and there had been other times, he had gotten in touch with them to arrange meetings. They had sailed to Jamaica with a third man, a representative of the buyer, where they picked up the load that had been purchased for about $100,000. They were to sail to a rendezvous in northern Florida where they would be met by small speedboats that would bring the cargo into shore. They explained that the third man had disappeared over the side at night in rough weather while transiting the Windward Passage. The agents spent a great deal of time talking with the prisoners and obtaining information.
While the prisoners were being questioned, men from the Courageous were systematically searching the Gilma. Several traces and scrapings of marijuana were found, cataloged and sealed in envelopes as evidence. Boxes of ammunition for two other weapons beside the carbine were found. The other guns were never located though and may have been thrown overboard or went over the side when the third man disappeared. A large machete, an address book, $1,000 in cash, and some notes and charts were also found.
The Coast Guard was responsible for the prisoners and their boat as they had been arrested on the high seas. The authority of the Federal agents did not extend beyond the limits of the United States and their role at this point was one of advice and cooperation. We arrested the Gilma's crew on a general charge of suspicion of violation of Federal narcotics laws. They were later rearrested by the agents on specific charges after the Courageous entered the territorial waters of the United States.
After the search, the Gilma's engines were checked. The boat was refueled and preparations were made to run her back to Miami as a "prize." It may not have been much of a prize but it was one we had sweated and worked for. As things calmed down, it was hard to believe that we had actually taken it. There were so many times when it could have escaped. The final capture turned out to be quite an anticlimax. We had anticipated another wild chase through dangerous waters with bursts of machinegun fire finally convincing the Gilma to stop. It didn't take much reflection however to realize that the way it happened was by far the best. No one was injured, the ship had not been hazarded, and the ultimate goal of seizing the Gilma and arresting the crew was accomplished.
In all aspects, it was a very successful operation. Credit must be given to the timely appearance of the U. S. Customs aircraft that relocated the Gilma and the DEA aircraft that doggedly kept her under surveillance.
The Coast Guard helicopter made one last search of Dog Rocks to ensure that no more material had been landed under the cover of darkness. When the pilot reported that there was nothing on the barren rocky islands, he was released to return to Miami Air Station. The helo had done an important job in getting the agents out to the ship while we stalked the Gilma. Having them immediately available at the scene to question the two prisoners proved its worth in intelligence gained and the success of the subsequent court case. With the helo, we were also able to recover the material secreted on the island while the Courageous continued underway to be in position to pick up the trail of the Gilma. The ship-helo combination had proven to be very effective.
As we prepared to get underway for Miami, the quartermaster piped "Away the Prize Crew,” reminiscent of the "Revenue Cutter Service,” forerunner of the Coast Guard.
We entered Miami harbor the next morning with the crew in tropical whites manning the rail. We were met at the harbor entrance by a boat carrying press and TV cameras. There was also an impressive number of reporters and a good representation of the various Federal agencies on the pier to meet us.
The capture of the Gilma I was reported as the largest high seas narcotics haul in the history of the Coast Guard. For our successful efforts in pursuing and ultimately seizing the Gilma and an unprecedented second drug seizure, the Moby Dick, one week later, the Courageous received the ultimate professional honor: a personal letter expressing the gratitude and congratulations of the Commander-in-Chief. On 14 February 1974, an equally welcome letter was received from the Department of Justice’s Drug Enforcement Administration. Both of the Gilma's crewmen had been convicted of conspiracy to violate the narcotics laws of the United States in the United States District Court held in and for the Southern District of Florida. . . .”
Commander Larzelere graduated from the Coast Guard Academy in 1958. Two years later, after a tour of sea duty on board the USCGC Androscoggin (WHEC-68), he commanded the 95-foot USCGC Cape Shoalwater (WPB-95324) doing rescue work out of Mayport, Florida. He then commanded the Coast Guard Loran Station, Molokai, Hawaii, and later served in the USCGC Unimak (WHEC-379). In 1965 he served successively as CO of the USCGC Point Comfort (WPB-82317), CO of the USCGC Point Banks (WPB-82327) and then as Division Operations Officer in Vietnam. Next he trained replacement crews for the 82-foot WPB. In 1971, he was selected as the first Coast Guard Aide to the President. A 1968 graduate of the Naval War College School of Command and Staff, he holds an M.A. in International Affairs from George Washington University. He now commands the USCGC Courageous (WMEC-622) at Cape Canaveral, Florida.