Tugboat, Pearl Harbor, Hurricane Iwa, A Lost Sheep

If you ever talk to a U.S. Navy sailor, you will find that most of us have a few sea stories under our belts that we are willing to share.  The story below is one of mine.  I have never told this outside of my immediate family; but on this Veteran’s day, November 11, 2009, I want to share it.

In 1982, I joined the U. S. Navy.  I graduated from college the previous year, but could not find a job.  I was stuck with a lot of education loans and my debt felt astronomical.  Our country was in a recession and without any work to be found, I needed to do something quick.  Instead of waiting a year to get an officer’s billet, I enlisted and joined as a Fireman.  With my recent college degree, the Navy school was easy for me and I aced all my qualification tests.

USS Waxahachie (YTB-814)

As a reward, I got orders to Pearl Harbor, Hawaii.  That was the good news.  The bad news was that I was assigned to a Navy harbor tug.  I reported to the USS Waxahachie (YTB-814) in June of 1982.

Being on a tug was a lot of work.  Our crew of young men and women struggled to get the heavy lines over to the ships and submarines and pull them out to sea or push them up to the piers.  There were four (4) tugboats that worked the harbor.  The workload rotated to share the load.  No crew was ever forced to work long hours seven days a week.

All 4 Pearl Harbor Tugs in action (1980s) Escorting the Destroyer, USS Sampson, DD63 in Pearl Harbor

The #1 boat did the majority of the daily moves and runs, while the #2 boat was just there if a move required two connections.  The #3 and #4 boats were on stand-by each day in the event that multiple ships or subs came in at the same time or if an aircraft carrier was scheduled to dock at the piers.  An aircraft carrier required all four boats to guide it in because of its enormous size.  When a boat was on the #4 rotation, the crew mustered (which means ‘checked-in’ in Navy terms), did some small maintenance or clean-up, drank some coffee, and were dismissed for the day.

That was how it worked the whole time I was stationed on the tugs, except for November 23, 1982.  Hurricane Iwa had other plans for our boats.  Since I was on the #4 boat that day, all I brought with me was my uniform.  I hadn’t packed a lunch and I wasn’t carrying any money.  My plans were to be shopping down in Waikiki by noon.  There would have been plenty of time to go back to my quarters and get what I needed.  I was there for the 6:30am muster.  Our boat had to take a quick run out to assist another tug, but we would not have to work any lines.

The announcement came over the intercom that we were not getting early liberty that day.  In fact, we were to prepare to stay all day.  We thought the Craftmaster or Chief Petty Officer was joking with us and we laughed and poked fun at him.  The second announcement was stern.  He told us that Hurricane Iwa had changed course during the night and was heading towards Oahu.  We needed to get as many ships out of the harbor as possible to protect them from damage.  Most piers had ships docked two deep or side by side.  Unless the boats moved out to sea to ride out the storm, they would be knocking against each other or smacking against the pier and pilings when the hurricane hit land.  The damage to both the harbor and vessels would be astronomical.  Our tug was diverted to pull one of the first ships out immediately.

All day, we pulled ships out of the harbor.  Our boat had no food because none of us expected to be there.  We dug through the galley and found old bags of frozen vegetables and bottles of ketchup and tried to make some soup in a crock pot.  We started a soup watch and whoever was on soup duty kept going back in the galley and adding water, ketchup, and whatever we could find to the pot.  Even though the crock pot was strapped down, we lost a cup of broth and ingredients every time we took a big wave.  The mush tasted horrible, but we had to force it down.  We were working extremely hard.

We must have pulled out 6-8 ships during the first 12 hours.  That might not sound like a lot, but multiply that by the remaining 3 boats.  We were clearing the harbor as fast as possible, but there were still boats and submarines at the piers.  Every vessel was filled with sailors and marines.  Everyone on the tugs was doing their part to protect our country’s ships, harbor, and military personnel.

The water became so rough that it was getting risky to pull anymore boats out of the harbor.  The last boat that we were able to pull out was the USS Goldsborough.  Our entire crew felt very scared as we released our lines and let them go.  The water was very choppy and we wondered if they would get past the big waves in time.

The Port Operations Officer gave the order that no more ships could leave the harbor.  The hurricane was getting closer causing an increase in wave height and wind speed and making it impossible for ships to get out to sea before the hurricane hit land and Pearl Harbor.  The tugs were sent back to our piers.  Our new assignment would be to hold the remaining ships against the piers by pushing against them to control the rocking and swaying.  Before we received our new instructions, we got a distress call.  The USS Goldsborough had taken a big wave and there was a man overboard.  Our tug had to go back and ride the area to try and find him.  We did what we were ordered to do, although we were just a harbor tug and not prepared to stand against big ocean waves.

As we approached our coordinates, the crew scanned for a body floating in the waves.  We couldn’t see anything.  There was nothing to see but teal, green water swelling around us and over us.  We realized that we were in trouble.  Our little tug was taking on big waves.  The waves had swept us too far out to sea and our tug was bobbing and rolling against 120 mph winds and 30+ feet waves.  All of our lines and rigging on deck were washed away.  Everyone was ordered to come to the pilothouse where the Craftmaster steered the tug.  Braced against the map table, we held hands and prayed.  Our little boat was in trouble.  The waves were going over the top of the pilot house.  I thought about my family and felt sad that I would never see them again.  There were no tears or screams as we all stood watching the water hit the windows over and over again.  There was complete calm among the crew.

The Craftmaster was a small man.  During an illness, he lost half of his stomach and at 6 feet, only weighed 95 lbs.  He couldn’t hold the ship’s wheel steady.  Another sailor was trying to help him when the Chief Engineer came up from the engine room.  Without hesitation, the Engineer grabbed the wheel, and very steadily, he held us against the biggest wave I have ever seen.  Our tug went down deep under this wave, like we were being flushed to the ocean floor.  As we rose up, there was a split second of calm.  The engineer saw an opening and turned the wheel to the left.

Within minutes, we were in safer waters, and pushing up against the piers at Hickam Air Force Base.  One of the sailors was injured in the engine room during the tossing and had to be removed for medical treatment.  The rest of us rode back to Pearl Harbor and remained there for another 12 hours pushing against ships to keep them from rocking and sustaining damage.

God was with us the entire ride.  (And believe me, there is no ride at DisneyLand or anywhere like that boat ride.)

In Psalm 107:28-30, our crew found comfort.

²⁸ Then they cried out to the LORD in their trouble,
and he brought them out of their distress.
²⁹ He stilled the storm to a whisper;
the waves of the sea were hushed.
³⁰ They were glad when it grew calm,
and he guided them to their desired haven.

Hurricane Iwa was a Category 1 hurricane and one of the most destructive hurricanes to ever hit Hawaii.

1982 Hurricane Iwa Destruction (Click link)

USS Goldsborough - Man Overboard (Click link)

Fortunately, the Lieutenant that was washed overboard was able to overcome the tumultuous seas and swim to safety.  He washed up near a runway at the Honolulu airport.  Even though we were safe, I’ve always struggled with why we went after him in the first place.  We were just a tug boat against a mighty sea.  He was washed overboard from something much more powerful than we were.  What chance did we have and why did we take the risk?  We were ordered to do it, but never once did anyone complain.  We had the chance to save a life of a shipmate.  We had to try to find him.  There was no other choice for us.

The parable of the lost sheep explains it the best.

Luke 15:3-6

³Then Jesus told them this parable: ⁴“Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Does he not leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? ⁵And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders ⁶and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.’ ⁷I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent.

Happy Veteran’s Day to my shipmates and to all the United States Armed Forces.

Tags: Devotion, Pearl Harbor, Psalm 107, Shared Devotion, Tugboat, Veteran's Day, Waxahachie