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The author was at sea with the Ranger (CV-61) task force when it was diverted from the Persian Gulf to Somalia early in December 1992 and encounted the 120-foot dhow Chamsagar, bound for the Yemeni port of Aden. At least 250 passengers mostly women and children—were on deck and another 250 or more were crowded below for this desperate run to freedom from anarchy and starvation. This account of a naval humanitarian-relief mission is an excerpt from Dr. Cuyvers’s companion
book________ slated for release by the Naval Institute this fall—to a forthcoming
Sea Power series on the Public Broadcasting System network.
Like everyone else on board the Valley Forge (CG-50), I had no idea we would be sailing off the coast of northern Somalia on Monday afternoon, 7 December. Just two days earlier the ship, along with the Ranger, had been ordered from her station in the Persian Gulf to Mogadishu (from operation Southern Watch to operation Restore Hope). The assignment represented a radically different mission, from monitoring the Iraqi nofly zone below the 32nd parallel to providing relief to starving Somalia. No one expected any military opposition of consequence off the Somali coast, yet it was thought a good idea to have a carrier on hand. The Ranger, at that time the nearest to Mogadishu, was the obvious choice.
I didn’t mind the diversion, for the operation would provide a splendid first-hand look at the “. . .From the Sea” doctrine in action. And being on the Valley Forge that day also gave me a chance to witness the U.S. Navy’s first assistance in Operation Restore Hope—an unscheduled encounter with a Somali refugee boat—in which the Aegis cruiser played a starring role.
It was around 1700 that afternoon that Captain Billy Cornett was informed by the combat systems officer, Lieutenant Michael Sweeney, that one of the ship’s LAMPS MK 111 helicopters had spotted a “wooden ship, probably a dhow,” which seemed to be packed with people on deck who were waving. “We don’t know whether they are trying to attract attention or whether they are just waving,” Lieutenant Sweeney added. Captain Cornett, who had been in the midst of explaining one of the ship’s radars to me, thought about the sighting for a moment, and then ordered the helo to make another pass to figure out what these people needed, if anything- It turned out that they needed help. The helicopter pilot Lieutenant Commander Jim Gillchrist, was able to establish radio contact with the dhow and was told that the ship was filled with hundreds of Somali refugees, urgently in need of food, water, and medical assistance. This sort of request is not taken lightly at sea. Captain Cornett coordinated with the battle group commander, Rear Admiral William Hancock on board the Ranger, who agreed to divert the Valley Forge to render assistance. He also requested a medical detachment from the carrier, which arrived shortly thereafter.
The blue display screens in the combat information center showed that the dhow was some 30 miles away but, with the helo still circling the boat, we were able to listen in on its conversation with the Somalis. Since neither the captain of the dhow nor any of his crew spoke English, one of the passengers was doing the talking. “What kind of assistance do you need?” we heard Commander Gillchrist ask. We could hear the response clearly, though it was filled with static: “We are Somali refugees. There are more than 500 people on the ship, many of whom are sick. We also are short of food and water.” Commander Gillchrist asked other questions, but the reply was always the same: “We are refugees from Somalia and we need help.” Eventually we did find out, however, that the dhoW was headed for Aden in Yemen, and that at least two thirds of the people on board were women and children.
At first, Captain Cornett tried to talk
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the dhow into turning toward the coast to obtain the needed assistance, but having just fled the country the Somalis obviously preferred to press on. Besides, there probably Wasn’t much assistance to be had along the coast. We also began to gather that the dhow captain was not very keen on the attention his boat was beginning to attract. Perhaps this was understandable, because there is little that is legal about loading 500 people in a boat that is certified to carry maybe half that many. He probably didn’t have permission to bring these people into Yemen either. Our questions regarding the ship’s name and nationality therefore remained unanswered.
By midnight that Monday the dhow had come into view, and half an hour later the Valley Forge was steaming next to her. We now could see her name, Chamsagar, but no flag. She was perhaps 120 feet long and quite obviously crammed with people on deck. In fact, it struck me that there were probably far more people in the dhow than in the Valley Forge, which was nearly five times as long.
After some coordination with the English-speaking Somali on the bridge, a first attempt was made to bring the dhow alongside so that food and medical supplies could be transferred. The waves proved too high to do this safely however, and it was decided instead to try the maneuver again in the morning, during daylight.
Through the ship’s binoculars we counted about 250 men, women, and children on deck of the dhow the following morning. All looked relatively well fed and clothed, though we had no idea about the other 250 of them below deck, of course. Looking at the dhow bobbing up and down in the waves, I imagined that it probably wasn t a Very comfortable place.
Since the waves remained too rough to bring the Chamsagar alongside, Captain Cornett decided to transfer the supplies by helicopter, something that one of the helos Proceeded to do with pinpoint precision. In all, about 250 gallons of water, 100 loaves of bread, 240 pounds of uncooked rice, ten cases of assorted cereals, and several bags and cases of fruits and vegetables were transferred from the Valley Forge to the dhow. All were eagerly unpacked by the Somalis, and distributed among the people on board.
The executive officer, Lieutenant Commander Alvin Smith, joined me while I was watching the transfer of supplies. He looked tired but happy. “No sleep last night," he confessed. “We had a little strategy session during the night, to figure out how we could best help these people. But you know, seeing them get this food, and seeing how happy they are with it, makes all of it worthwhile. In fact, it makes the last four months worthwhile. We hardly ever get to see those we help.”
I remember looking at him, and then at the people on the dhow, who were happily munching away and waving. He was justifiably proud—I thought, as was the entire Valley Forge, for that matter. As far as I could tell, the ship and her crew had gone well beyond the unwritten code that calls upon seafarers to help one another.
Later, I discovered that Commander Smith’s observation was shared by just about everyone on board the Valley Forge. Although humanitarian missions are routine now to navies, ship crews seldom get to see those they are helping. But that contact can be very important. The assistance rendered the Somali refugees definitely boosted morale on board the Valley Forge.
Much the same way, humanitarian assignments such as operation Restore Hope could provide a morale boost to a Navy faced with the uncertainties brought along by a changing world. Time will tell whether being the world’s good Samaritan is a politically and economically viable mission for the U.S. Navy. If it isn’t, my experience with the Valley Forge and the Ranger tells me that it won’t be for lack of support from Navy personnel.
Dr. Cuyvers is Executive Editor of the Sea Power television series.
Coals to Newcastle
I was the executive officer of the USS Johnston (DD-821). We alternated between the (Atlantic) 2nd Fleet and the (Mediterranean) 6th Fleet. In January 1953, we were scheduled to depart Newport, Rhode Island, for Londonderry, Northern Ireland, as part of the Northern European Patrol. Our supply officer was concerned about the possible lack of foodstuffs available in that area. Among other staples, he ordered about 100 extra crates of potatoes. We stowed them everywhere we could find an inch of space—under the torpedo tubes, in the lifeboats, inside the
40-mm. gun mounts, etc. .
The trip across the Atlantic took about a week in typical North Atlantic winter stormy weather. But each day there stood the gallant supply officer, dressed in arctic foul weather gear, followed by storekeepers and seamen, lashing down crates of potatoes that had broken loose. I can still hear him now—in ice cold weather, the ship’s bow plunging deep into the raging sea, while waves of freezing saltwater cascaded across the decks and superstructure—the supply officer bellowing, “Lash down that crate of potatoes sloshing around under the torpedo tubes!!!” We didn't lose a single crate!
Finally, we entered the quiet waters of Lough Foyle, and tied up to an extremely long dock at Londonderry. Stacked on the dock were what seemed to be a million crates—40 wide, 20 high, and about 500 yards long—full of Irish potatoes!
Vincent J. Colan