Welcome Aboard The CG Barque Eagle
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Click on chart for Eagle's current position
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Anchored 36 miles outside of Bremerhaven, Germany
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Eagle is a time machine. What I have found about this crossing is that it has afforded a real opportunity to experience and understand what seafarers and passengers took as commonplace 100 or even 200 years ago.
All photos are credited: U.S. Coast Guard photograph by Petty Officer Second Class Andrea Rask.
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June 1, 2005
The Coast Guard Barque Eagle, homeported in New London, Conn.
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Captain's Log by 1/c Morgan Roy for Capt. E. J. Shaw
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Whales, tales, and gales. That is how one can describe the last 15 days underway on Eagle. The Atlantic crossing provided so much more to those on board than a few whale sightings and squalls, however. To those on board it is almost impossible to describe to the outside world how a group of 140 cadets and 80 crewmembers can work together onboard the 295 foot Barque to accomplish the goals of teaching and sailing. The teamwork it takes to simply provide a meal, set a sail, or scrub a deck is phenomenal, and what is even more amazing is the enthusiasm of those accomplishing the goals together. Never was there an easy underway day, or a boring one. If divisions are not busy with training, maintaining the pristine appearance of the ship, or taking a moment to soak up the experience, they are getting much needed rest for the next exciting day. Some are still trying to come to the realization that they were part of a group that sailed across one of Earth's longest stretches void of civilization. Chatter on the mess deck during the noon meal usually involves plans for the upcoming port call. However, some can be heard describing how the water that surrounds us now feels no different than that near New London; perhaps setting foot on a different continent in a few hours from now will change their minds.
Eagle is closer to Bremerhaven, the place where Eagle was found and saved from war-torn Germany, than it has been in decades. This homecoming of sorts comes with great anticipation from the crew and cadets. Many cannot wait to see the shipyards near where Eagle was built from the ground up, in a city with great maritime history. The class of 2008 will be the first to see where Eagle, a tie among all future Coast Guard officers, was born.
With all the anticipation of mooring safely and getting some liberty on Thursday, the focus now is still on underway training. The winds have been cooperating and Eagle has been sailing briskly through the North Sea. Oil rigs fill both the port and starboard views from the waist. On deck, the third class cadets scurry about to finish up their task lists, get qualified as helm and lookout watch standers, and climb to the royal to check out the view below.
On Tuesday, 31 May 2005, Memorial Day was observed at afternoon quarters. Members of the Academy Glee Club sang a mix of patriotic songs, 3/c DeCarol Davis read an original poem, and FS1 Susan Levy also read a poem. A 21-gun salute was rendered by BM1 Donovan Lanier with assistance from 3/c Katie Ustler. A wreath full of names of lost and former service members was offered to the North Sea by BM3 Randall Patterson. Captain Shaw had some inspirational words to share before everyone onboard observed a moment of silence to honor those who gave the ultimate sacrifice fighting for our freedom today. The ceremony was very moving, and was even more special because we were underway during it.
31 May 2005 by 1/c Jarret Parker
A swivel of the anchor chain rusts in the salty air. Eagle will be anchoring just outside Bremerhaven before entering the port.
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My day in a nutshell...Woke up at 6 a.m. Went to the gym and ride a bike for 30 minutes. Took a totally sweet sea shower. Ate a great breakfast. Cleaned up my berthing area, made my rack, cleaned up clothes and shoes and triced up rack. Went to muster. Heard Chief Dickerson discuss the POD (plan of the day). Got really excited because we were having sail stations. 8:10: Went to a mast captain and mast safety officer meeting to learn what we would be doing for sail stations. 8:15 a.m.: Sail stations. Set our topgallant and royal staysails, hauled on the fore topgallant and royal braces. Secured from sail stations. Everyone did an awesome job and we ended with a huddle and cheer “Memorial day, Yay!!” 9:40: Went on a round with Senior Chief Vickerman to inspect berthing areas. Half were good, half will be reinspected because they were unsatisfactory. Then stocked soda machine with new sodas. Noon: Ate lunch. Because it was Mexican Monday, there were delicious quesadillas. In the ten minutes I was in the cadre lounge, I watched the New Jersey Devils beat the Pittsburgh Penguins three times. National Hockey League 2005 video game is a bit hit with the cadre. 1 p.m.: Quarters. Watched EM3 Josh Eck receive his Engineer Officer of the Watch qualification. Then had a man overboard drill. I was on the pilothouse for oversight. Recovered the man in 22 minutes, survivable in the 50-degree water. [Editor note: Twenty-two minutes included the training time-outs we took during the drill for instruction time. In a real emergency, around seven minutes is our goal.] 3:30 p.m.: Went on CIC watch. Relieved 1/c Saviano as conning watch for chow relief. 5 p.m.: Damage control drill with a main space fire in the engine room. Fire team went to work while the cadets mustered in their general emergency stations. 8 p.m.: Sail stations, where we doused staysails and topsails to the course. 9 p.m.: Set up movie on the mess deck. 10 p.m.: Brushed teeth, hit the rack.
31 May 2005 by Morris London, father of 1/c Jacob London
Eagle is a time machine. What I have found about this crossing is that it has afforded a real opportunity to experience and understand what seafarers and passengers took as commonplace 100 or even 200 years ago. Over the past week and a half, we have done what most modern travelers do in eight hours or less. But, as has been said about many things, there is richness in the journey. I suspect there’s no real way to comprehend how it felt to invest two to three weeks of your life in getting from the new world to the old world, except by doing what we’re doing now. Even though we have an engine, it doesn’t push us as fast as our sails can, and certainly no faster than many of the ships of the age of sail. We have plodded along, a couple hundred miles a day, while watches, days, and now weeks have slipped by as we wait to see the destination. And all the while the cadets and crew have been manning the ship in the same time tested way that thousands of square-rigger crews spent their lives. On this long slow trip there’s been time to appreciate why it took so many people working together to get one of these fine vessels from point A to point B.
Seaman Scott Fabian instructs cadets on stretcher bearing during a ship drill while a cadet poses as the victim.
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But for me there’s been time to appreciate quite a bit more. I am neither a cadet, nor a member of Eagle’s crew. As the father of a 1/c cadet, it has been my privilege to ride as a guest among those who sail her. And while the ship is a portal into the past, she is also a spotlight on the future, and how the Academy program is ensuring it will be bright.
We parents who have had only one child at the Academy tend to focus on what is happening at the moment. We reflect upon the years that to us have flown past while our cadet is in New London, and we think we grasp the changes in our sons and daughters. But we don’t. Some things, Eagle helps me realize, you can only see by comparison. Being among this crew of mostly 3/c cadets, led by a fewer number of 1/c, the growth that has occurred in the two years between them is as broad as the ocean we are about to put behind us. Don’t get me wrong; the 3/c are doing admirably, especially for being only halfway through their Eagle experience. However, the leadership, confidence, and concern for their charges’ welfare and advancement shown by the men and women of the cadre are a wonder to behold. The Academy is doing its job well.
This time machine has helped me look back on what my son was like, and what he was doing, two years ago. I remember some of the things he told us about his 3/c summer, and they really come to life now. Imagining my 3/c Jake in the actions of those I see around me, and watching my 1/c Jake at the same time is one of the best parenting experiences a father could ask for. If such a thing is possible it has increased my pride in him even more.
Electrician's Mate 1st Class Andrey Serdyuk takes a training timeout during a drill to instruct fellow shipmates.
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And through the training that is always going on aboard Eagle, the passage of time these two weeks has brought about changes in all the cadets that you can’t help but see. Eagle trains everybody. For just a little interest on my part they’ve even trained me. I’ve stood lookout in the middle of the night. I’ve steered a square-rigger under sail alone, “full and by!" In so doing I have stood next to many 3/c cadets. Leaving New Foundland they were still tentative at the wheel, and sometimes overwhelmed by simply reporting on the radio what they saw on the horizon. Now they all stand their posts comfortably and confidently. They speak loudly and surely when giving information and answering orders. No matter the situation, while always under the watchful eye of the officers and crew, it is the cadets who carry the ship, and each other, towards Europe. Eagle trains all its cadets. The 1/c cadets have a foot in each camp. They lead, teach, guide, challenge, correct and watch over the 3/c cadets. But, at the same time they are being trained too. They conn the ship, handle some of the administrative things required to keep a ship operating efficiently, organize and command their divisions. While all the 1/c cadets are fine examples of leadership and maturity, there is still some for them to learn before they can fully contribute to the wardroom of a cutter. The officers and crew are training the 1/c just as much, and just as well.
And in all that training, Eagle the time machine provides yet another look at what is quickly becoming the past; a time when people cared about what they did, and how they affected each other. Sadly today, I have rarely found a place where everyone cares so deeply about what they do, and understands so well how their actions impact others. Without exception, every officer and crewmember that I have met, from the Captain on down, truly loves this ship. With energy and enthusiasm, they embrace their responsibility to train tomorrow’s officers. They spout nautical trivia. They quote facts about Eagle’s history, and that of her sisters. They insure the important stuff is learned, not just quoted. If this is what the cadets take away with them into the fleet, if this is the future of the Coast Guard, then America can sleep well.
A few days from now I will step ashore again, and by so doing I will immediately leave the time machine behind. I can’t wait to see my wife and daughter, and find out what they’ve been up to while we’ve been virtually out of touch for two weeks. I’m anxious to tell them all about what I’ve seen and experienced aboard. I’ll rejoin my 21st Century life, with my 21st Century job in my 21st Century office and my 21st Century commute. It will be novel to use both hands in the shower again, since I won’t need one to hold onto a handrail all the time. I have a new appreciation for water conservation, but I admit I probably won’t turn the water off between wetting and rinsing when I get home. My drink will stay put on the dining room table without me having to hold it. Rarely will things be determined by where the wind is from, and if I casually spout names like main topmast staysail heavy weather jigger, or fore topgallant bunt-leech line, I might be the only one who knows what I’m talking about.
But I’m betting the Eagle experience stays in your head. All I will need to do to step back into the time machine is to recall the wonderful people I’ve met at all stages of Coast Guard careers. I can think back on the beauty and power of the sea, regardless of the weather. I can remember the pace at which things happen aboard, and the teamwork required. Best of all, I can relish the memory of two weeks at sea with my son, standing somewhere between front row seats and the sidelines.
I’m so glad I came.
30 May 2005 by 3/c Metzger
It’s the 30 of May and 9:30 p.m. on board Eagle, only an hour away from taps sounding off. But what makes this night different from any other night on Eagle is the events in history that have set this date aside from every other 364 days within the year, Memorial Day.
Cadets and crew come together on the waist for a ceremony to observe Memorial Day.
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The day was started off with the sound of reveille and the start of the workday. It was a beautiful day, unlike the other cloudy days we have had since we have been underway, 58 degrees and sunny. Following morning muster were the traditional sail stations in which we set the fore royal sheets to the course sheets, the main lower and course sheets, and the staysails. It was a perfect day to sail and Mr. Dahl’s weather reports were looking up for us as we were preparing to pull into port only three days away. After sail stations the training day started off, and cadets assembled all around the barque, accomplishing the everyday tasks but also learning more about themselves in terms of seamanship and leadership.
The afternoon set off a nonstop training day that was started with the man overboard drill that pushed everyone to his or her limits of endurance. We braced the fore around on an opposite tack to reduce the speed of the ship and continue on with the drill. Once the ship was not moving so much in speed, Eagle 2, the ready rescue boat, was launched to retrieve Oscar, the drill dummy. It was only within 22 minutes that Oscar was recovered and brought back safely to Eagle [Editor note: Twenty-two minutes included the training time-outs we took during the drill for instruction time. In a real emergency, around seven minutes is our goal]. Every element of our training was tested with the man overboard drill, from watch on deck responding rapidly, helm launching the MOM 9 [Ed. note: a self-deploying survival raft we carry on our aft rail], the crew getting ready in their positions in terms of rescue team, and the cadets on the evolution of hauling around on the foremast. It took everyone on Eagle to make this evolution happen quickly.
Seaman Holly Cordero dons her dry suit for a man overboard drill.
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Later that afternoon another training period was brought about in terms of the crew’s ability to respond to a class bravo fire in the engine room. With the sound of the familiar alarm of damage control training, all cadets reported to their positions in their respective areas. Although cadets were not involved in this drill, it provided cadets with the opportunity to watch and observe what happens during these drills and what needs to happen in order to have a rapid response. Cadets will have the opportunity to run the same drill themselves on Thursday.
The evening finally ended with its traditional sail stations that occurs every evening around 6:15 p.m. With all the events and training that had occurred throughout the day, cadets were prepared for anything that the conning officer had to offer them. A successful sail stations was accomplished and the mission of the cadets was completed. The evening ended with the traditional movie on the mess deck and a time to rest for the rest of the evening.
30 May 2005 by 3/c Eric Laurel
(L to R) 3/c Taylor Andrews and Greg Kotowitz haul around on the fore yard braces.
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Good morning, sun. Well I’m on the 4 to 8 a.m. deck watch now and the sun has already been up for a while. I am pretty tired. Last night was “Seinfeld Soup” Sunday, and with our grilled cheese sandwiches and soup dinners we watched a few episodes of Seinfeld. I feel old when I think about how that went off the air in eighth grade. Yesterday’s watch was pretty exciting; a helicopter flew in and looked Eagle over. It was from one of the oilrigs in the North Sea. We had many contacts on the radar yesterday as we pressed through the oil fields. We should be in Germany by Thursday, hopefully my track buddies and I can get liberty together and visit Hamburg to eat hamburgers (where they originated centuries ago?). During uneventful watches my mind shifts to home. My leave is in the middle of summer training, so I will be home in Oregon in two weeks. We should be scrubbing the decks soon so I am off back to watch as my shipmates down below in their racks dream of bratwurst, hamburgers, and Bremerhaven.
28 May 2005 by 3/c Rest & 3/c Reily
Congratulations to Food Service Specialist Napier on her promotion to 1st class petty officer.
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So… there we were. Peelin’ potatoes in the galley, in the North Sea, in a squall…According to Captain Shaw, great sea stories begin this way. Well, this isn’t a sea story that dwells on our “greatness” as “scullery technicians” nor does it teach any lesson. It’s just another sea story. We began our mess cook day at 5:30 a.m. on the mess deck. We headed to the scullery to get the midnight rations dishes out of the way before breakfast dishes came along. They weren't too awful, although there was a lot of sticky syrup. Having our “jamz” playing helped out our morale. But then came lunch, with rice, butterscotch pudding, grease from the beef in the chili and…a squall! Rice is great, except there are signs everywhere saying “Do NOT let the rice go down the drains, or ELSE.” Ok, ok, so maybe the sign does not say “Or ELSE.” It is just highly discouraged due to cloggage. Butterscotch pudding is great except it never really gets cleared off the trays before it meets us in the scullery. We tried to scrape it off with our hands, but the sprayer had different ideas of where the butterscotch should end up (let’s just say I now need to do laundry). Grease is great, except, well it is not ever really great so we tried our best just to clear that off the trays as quickly as possible without too big of a mess. But the grease decided to stain our hands a red-orange color from the tomato sauce. Mmmmmm. Being in the scullery you do not see what is going on outside, so our first encounter with the North Sea was a ginormous wave which came over the port beam and through the tray collecting window. That’s one way to wash the dishes, but we prefer doing the dishes with hot water when it is 40F outside. Our three close encounters to, well not quite death, but something awful were:
Health Services Technician 2nd Class Stormy Morgan climbs the shrouds on a not so stormy day.
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Every time the ship would heel past a certain point everything not bolted down would become airborne (including ourselves). At one point our spotless dishes (waiting to be taken down to the mess deck) were heaved into the grease and rice covering the deck, requiring them to be re-cleaned. This was followed by a fair amount of sailor’s choice words while we struggled to keep ourselves and our dishes off the deck.
The next close call was towards the end of the day when the bucket of slop was full. We normally dump our bucket of slop overboard, but we were now too close to land. It therefore had to be taken to the “muffin muncher.” Eagle has the saying “one hand for the ship and one hand for yourself.” So, 3/c Reily put one hand on the bucket and 3/c Rest took another. This way both still had one hand free. A wave came crashing over the deck, causing us to hold on for dear life as our feet slid out from underneath us. But don’t worry, the slop and the both of us remained intact and off the deck. We made it through the trash room, romped through the mountains of trash that couldn’t be thrown overboard, and delivered our slop to the “muffin muncher.” This concluded another day in the scullery. The cadets tomorrow will have their own set of tales, but that wraps it up for 3/c Rest and 3/c Reily.
20 May 2005 Lt. Aurora Fleming, Operations Officer
Cadets need not be reminded to be cautious around these blocks, known as "widow makers," for their tendency to thrash about in changing winds.
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While I don’t normally stand the 8 p.m. to midnight watch, I had mixed up the officer of the deck watch schedule a bit and I was standing what is normally Chief Pridham’s watch. 1/c Lee was the conning officer, and being a well-prepared division officer, he had prepared a few goals for the watch. He asked that we do some steering casualty drills to train up his division and allow them to get some sign offs for their required knowledge. I was more than willing to go with that plan, since drills have a great tendency to make exciting things happen sometimes, and this was no exception. Despite the fact that it was nearly 9:40 p.m., it was still fairly bright out on the water. The quartermaster of the watch had calculated sunset to be at 9:49 p.m., and it looked like they had gotten it right (not that I ever doubt my QMOWs). The seas were relatively calm for the North Atlantic, only a 6- to 7- foot swell, but the water had taken on that steely gray that it assumes when the sun is getting shut out early by clouds on the horizon; cumulus clouds gathered lazily overhead. No sails set, unfortunately, since the fates have been playing tricks on me, and making me look bad after I had promised that the predominant winds at these latitudes at this time of the year are out of the west…so it was a great idea to go to the northern latitudes despite the cold for our “summer deployment.” I gritted my teeth as another blast of 40-degree winds from the northeast tore at my face as I stood out on the windward bridge wing. A glance at the lookouts, bundled up to their eyeballs on the bow, showed them rising and falling like a roller coaster as the Eagle cut into the head on swell. 1/c London’s watch on deck crew was mustered on the boat deck huddled together in their foul weather suits and harnesses.
A glance back at the helm reveals the drill is still struggling on. The first emergency steering drill for a division is usually a fairly drawn out affair. Eagle's emergency steering requires two helmsmen and the QMOW to communicate via WWII-era sound powered phones, using language some have never used before, communicating commands to a helmsman they can’t see, and the aft helmsman cannot see the rudder angle indicator. This means that until they get into the rhythm of the communications, Eagle spends quite a bit of time zig-zagging about the ocean, as the break-ins try to become an effective team. After a quick risk analysis in my head, however, I reasoned that there couldn’t be a better time to do the drill. The Eagle was in the middle of the ocean, the nearest hazard to navigation was hundreds of miles away, there were no contacts on the horizon, no sails were set, so there was no risk of getting caught aback (where the OOD stops the Eagle's headway by driving the ship too close to the wind), and the cadets still had good light to work through the drill in.
3/c Decarol Davis and crewmembers put this wreath of natural line out to sea to honor our fallen armed service members.
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Communications finally established with the emergency steering unit on the fantail, 1/c Lee and I decided to test their ability to respond to commands. The conning officer gave an authoritative command, “right 5 degrees rudder” and soon, the Eagle started her slow turn to starboard. As we started to turn, the lookouts voice crackled over the handheld VHF radio in 1/c Lee’s right hand; “I have a whale….Off the starboard side (insert pregnant pause)..approx 20 yards.” “Left standard rudder Mr. Lee! Left Full!,” I shouted as I rushed to the starboard bridge wing. I heard 1/c Lee faithfully issue the command, but I knew we would never turn fast enough. As I came around the pilot house, I looked forward and saw 1/c London’s watch all standing on the starboard boat deck, waiving their arms excitedly and yelling “WHALE!.” I looked down to see an impossibly large whale immediately off the bridge wing, with its nose in the white foam breaking off our hull. The whale did an emergency stop, and twisted its massive body into a U-turn that I never would have thought possible for such a large animal. As half of the whale’s underside broke the service, I thought I saw his small crinkled eye, and I knew what it was thinking. “Crazy drivers!” as he flipped his flipper at me in the fading light.
A 1938 view of Eagle, then "Horst Wessel," from the bowsprit. This view has not changed over nearly 70 years.
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As the whale turned, I heard 1/c London’s watch on deck break out into cheers. The emergency steering finally started to respond, and Eagle slowly started her turn to port. And the whale swam off. 1/c London came back to the bridge after things had settled out, and we had secured from the drill, rocking on his heels with his face concealed in his sweatshirt hood. I asked what he and his division had been cheering about. He responded, grinning widely, “At first we were yelling because we thought we were going to hit the whale, and then we were yelling because we hadn’t.” I nodded, because I was pretty happy we hadn’t hit the whale as well. Once again, holding a drill scenario had not failed to add a new twist to what is never a dull watch. We later determined the whale to have been at least a 40-foot Fin whale, cruising along at the surface. The whale book said Fin whales are known as fast swimmers. And fast breakers, it would seem. With time, I am sure the whale will get bigger, the turn closer, the waves will get higher, and the winds will howl viciously. But that is what a good sea story is about, and I am glad to have some new shipmates to tell it with.
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