 CP 2010 | CDRE Thomas Negus, USN November 9 2010 06:58:10 PM And just like that it was over. Chilean Major General Carlos Mezzano, Deputy Force Commander for United Nations Stabilization Mission in Haiti (known as "MINUSTAH") stood onboard this magnificent flagship and thanked the CONTINUING PROMISE team for their efforts in support of the United Nations response to the effects of Hurricane Tomas. He then officially concurred with the release plan endorsed earlier in the day by the Government of Haiti, and with his consent, U.S. Southern Command released us back to our normal schedule of operations. Our efforts in Haiti were formally over. We have now completed CONTINUING PROMISE missions to eight nations - returning to Haiti during what we called 'our ninth mission.' We leveraged what we had learned on our journey to integrate into the United Nations mission in Haiti. We were familiar with the land, the people, and the resources available to help in case of a hurricane or other disaster. Perhaps most importantly, when we picked up the phone to call someone, we weren?t calling strangers, we were talking with friends. Now that is over. Our full spectrum of capabilities was not needed and for once Haiti was spared the darkness that could have descended. We are now on our way to a brief stop in Guantanamo, and then we head home. It is another spectacular day at sea - a study in blues between the sky and the sea. We must comply with U.S. Department of Agriculture prohibitions regarding the transportation of agricultural products or foreign soils into the U.S. after our foreign travels. That means the entire flight deck must be scrubbed clean, and so vast numbers of Sailors and Marines are out working away under the beautiful sky. It is a joyous work; hoses spraying, brushes scrubbing, white soap suds snowing sideways in the fresh Caribbean breeze. The air is permeated with a joy whose origins lie in the work that has been done over the past several months. Everyone aboard has sweated in the sun, everyone aboard has given of themselves in the delivery of humanitarian assistance and the creation of hope. That knowledge - that joy! - of having done a hard thing well together for great purpose, now infuses the atmosphere, and is made tangible in the laughter and splashing and easy banter among the scrubbing masses sweeping down the length of the great flight deck. The sun is out, our work is done, we are heading home. Joy indeed! CAPT Thomas Negus November 7 2010 04:35:24 AMThe two grey Marine helicopters flew low over the winding dirt road. The road was puddled, but not impassable. Motorcycles mostly, but some larger vehicles too, made their way along the light brown track - slowing occasionally, but other times driving right through, splashing out great waves of water that even from our vantage in the helicopter above, could be seen to sparkle in the morning sun, celebrating the fact that it seemed as though Haiti was spared. This morning, at the request of the government of Haiti and in support of a much larger United Nations effort, our helicopters canvassed the southern peninsula of Haiti and reported back their findings to United Nations headquarters in Port Au Prince. I flew into Port Au Prince this morning to meet with our US Ambassador, Mr. Kenneth Merten; the representatives from United States Agency for International Development-Office for Disaster Assistanec (OFDA); and to pay a call on the United Nations Force Commander, Major General Cruz, to see how best we could support the UNs response efforts to the storm called Tomas. We surveyed the road and the towns along the coast as we flew towards the city. We flew along the coast from halfway down the 'southern claw' towards the still recovering city of Port Au Prince. We flew over the port city of Petit Goave - a city of palms, and bustling street vendors, and waterfront views. Though there was evidence of standing water in some streets the Saturday Market was open, and there were large crowds about in the streets. Farther to the east, we flew over the ironically named Grand Goave (Petiti Goave is actually much larger). I saw the same tent camps that sailors from the USS BATAAN helped erect back in February after the terrible earthquake. I saw the town center-now opened because the church that collapsed during that earthquake has since been removed. Here too I saw soggy but bustling streets. We rounded the gentle bend of coast between Grand Goave and headed towards Leogone - this city was devastated by the earthquake, and I will never forget flying over this sad city of affliction on January 18th, the day the Navy and Marine Corps team arrived to begin our relief efforts. The town then was utterly flattened; buildings appeared squashed, fires burned in various sections, the town's grand cathedral collapsed and leaning crazily on its side. Today when I saw Leogone again, the town was much cleaned up, streets no longer filled with rubble, but covered with a foot or so of water. Cars were driving through the brown water covering the streets. People too were walking about - among its other miseries, Loegone is located on a flood plain, and flooding is not uncommon. Nonetheless the intrepid spirit of the people here perseveres and life in Leogone goes on? We reached Port Au Prince and made our way to UN Headquarters and found that reports throughout Haiti were mostly the same. Soggy yes; desperate, no. The worst has passed, and though there are still significant difficulties, there are no tragedies. Anxiety is low, and relief is high. As we departed the operations center the sun was shining and bright cumulus clouds were resting atop mountains that have looked down upon so much sorrow over the past year. Thankfully today, they were not crying. CDRE Thomas Negus, USN November 4 2010 11:04:39 PM We sail into the grey ahead while cloud and sky wrestle for supremacy above. We are steaming towards Haiti at best speed, our great flagship's massive wake a testimony to our resolve. The seas are not exceptional, windswept whitecaps dot the slate grey sea. They are expected to grow through the night as we approach, but are not forecast to be a significant impediment to the mission at hand. Clouds however, are another story. Tomorrow, we will rely on our helicopters to sweep over the southern peninsula of Haiti and tell us, and the world, what they see. But clouds will bedevil us if it is not clear, so we hope for a break in the mottled yonder. As dawn breaks and skies clear we will get a better understanding of what we can do to determine Haiti's needs in the wake of the passing of the storm named Tomas. Our meteorological officer, LCDR Michael Loomis, explains that storms develop their own personalities; and Tomas it seems is of a precocious sort. He has cloaked himself with uncertainty from the outset, never developing a clearly definable agenda. He has frustrated forecasters and frightened those of us at sea. Our fear is his whimsy, our resolve our only recourse to his capricious course. If he tracks a little to the West little should happen, a little to the East and Tomas could heap widespread misery on an already stricken land. So through the night CAPT Chassee will steer this great ship, directing her onward towards a land that knows not what dawn will bring. What will happen of course no one can know, thus we steam forward into the wake of the storm. What we will find we do not know. CDRE Thomas Negus, USN November 4 2010 12:42:55 AM The sea is again speckled with white; the ocean a deep, deep blue. Early morning showers have left the ship clean. A thin film of water clings to the decks, glistening in the morning sun. It is a pleasant morning with clear sky and sharp horizon though a few lingering grey clouds slowly drift over the horizon behind us. Our flagship IWO JIMA sails onward towards waiting station south of Puerto Rico, from which we will rush towards Haiti following the passage of Tomas. We will spend the day studying all of the organizations with whom we may possibly work if called upon to respond in Haiti. Our purpose will be to integrate into the vast array of capabilities that already exist on the ground, remnants of the international community's commitment to the stricken land. It will be our job to augment those people and capacities already there - complementing the inherent capabilities provided by the government of Haiti and the many international and non-governmental organizations that call Haiti home. They are preparing to respond to whatever Tomas may bring, we are preparing to help them. We are preparing by ensuring our equipment is ready to go. Earnest - and tireless - technicians climb all over and comb throughout our helicopters ensuring they are in top shape for what may be some very busy days. Green shirted electronic experts talk above the heads of most when pinpointing a problematic control system. A few quick conversations and a scurry for parts and the problem is solved; the helo gets readied for a test flight. We are preparing by ensuring we know the condition of Haiti today. We pore over maps learning among other things, where the United Nations compounds are. The UN has maintained significant numbers of troops in Haiti for years; they were instrumental in the aftermath of the earthquake where their local knowledge and years of experience were relied upon as they distributed life saving supplies and provided basic security. We will help them in the response to this pending storm. It is a clear morning, a refreshing day out here at sea. The environment inside our magnificent flagship is the same. People are focused, not frenetic. It is not a time of crisis, there is a calm confidence that permeates our planning. We have done this before. We have spent four months working together in complex environments providing help to people in need. The relationships we made and knowledge we gained during our last stop in Haiti are proving valuable. We know who to call depending on where we are asked to help. Though we pray we won't be needed, we're ready if we are. CDRE Thomas Negus, USN November 2 2010 04:29:52 PM The call came in the night. We were ordered to cease our operations in Suriname, begin a backload of all CONTINUING PROMISE personnel and equipment back aboard ship, and set sail to best position to respond to a potential hurricane strike on Haiti. Hurricane Tomas is bearing down on the exceptionally vulnerable population of Haiti and they may need our help. We are going to be there if they need it. At dawn, personnel packed up their gear and headed to our various work sites established throughout the Surinamese capital city of Paramaribo. We began the orderly though expeditious re-assembly of the CONTINUING PROMISE team back aboard our flagship. Our great enterprise shifted gears from planned humanitarian assistance in Suriname to potential disaster relief in Haiti. Helicopters buzzing overhead, phones ringing around the ship and around the city, and emails popping into computers everywhere are the sounds of shifting gears. Sad farewells were unexpectedly conducted. Thirty civilian NGO partners all had arrangements to return to the States following the completion of the mission in Suriname, so they had to leave a few days earlier than anticipated given our necessary departure. We found ourselves speechless at the suddenness with which we had to separate; we sang the songs of life together over these past several months. It was hard to say goodbye. But duty has no pause for sorrow, and the entire team worked throughout the day. After all people had been recovered aboard, our last farewell's given to those going ashore, all equipment accounted for or delivered, and all possible fuel pumped onboard from a refueling barge, CAPT Chassee gave the order to lift the ship's great anchor. CONTINUING PROMISE was again underway on our journey of the sea. Praying for the best and planning for the worst is a military trait. We are desperately hoping that Tomas shall pass Haiti by; we are earnestly preparing in the case that it does not. If the hour of need arise, then CONTINUING PROMISE will be there - back in Haiti where we began this magnificent journey; once again offering our hands to the least among us; once again continuing the promise that turns our efforts into hope.
CDRE Thomas Negus, USN October 31 2010 11:09:33 AM The Surinamese sunset closed another CONTINUING PROMISE day. Orange and blue melted into a darkening grey, and swells from the North gave our flagship a gentle rock. The last helicopter had landed, all were aboard, and you could tell it was Saturday because of the pizza and wings (Food is one of the few ways to keep track of the days of the week on a long deployment - sliders (cheeseburgers) for Wednesday lunch and pizza and wings for Saturday dinner are long standing Navy traditions). I sat next to two Project HOPE volunteers, and they shared observations of their day over spicy chicken wings. They spent the day enjoying a subject matter expert exchange ("SMEE" in Navy talk -we have to have acronyms for everything!) with obstetricians and came away thoroughly impressed with the knowledge and capabilities of their counterparts in Suriname. Though they lack the resources that most U.S. doctors are used to, Surinamese doctors were exceptionally well versed in the latest information and distinguished themselves for their innovation in the face of their constraints. A few seats over the director of surgical operations for CONTINUING PROMISE, Dr. Tara Wilson, described some of the patients she screened today as I started on my first of several slices of pizza (pepperoni and garlic). I understood enough of what she described to appreciate that she and her team of surgeons will remain busy performing over 50 life altering surgeries during our time here in Suriname. At the table behind me, veterinarians from Army Reserve and the NGO World Vets were busy discussing the best way to hold a goat when administering a vaccination shot. Goats are a bit easier to handle than the enormous cattle and wiry dogs they mostly see, and just as important to the livelihood of their owners. Suriname has prepared a busy program for our veterinarians, and it was fun as I joined them for ice cream to listen to their various goat-handling techniques (seems that grabbing their horns is best). As I got up to take my tray to the back, I paused for a moment and listened to the pleasant communal buzz of the many conversations around the room; conversations as varied as the skills and background of the people who have gathered on this incredible journey of the sea...conversations that individually described technical focus or specific events; conversations whose collective hum captured the character of this CONTINUING PROMISE team. CDRE Thomas Negus, USN October 29 2010 11:38:11 PM We stood at attention, and I could feel the suited shoulders of the Suriname Ministers of Defense and Justice on either side of me as they swayed microscopically through the Surinamese anthem. A young woman beautifully sang the foreign Anthem and the Air Force band artfully blended the end of her performance into the beginning drum roll of our own. Anthems complete, the line of dignitaries in the front waited for the Vice President of Suriname, Mr. Robert Ameerali to make the first move, and once perceived, we all sat down together. The CONTINUING PROMISE opening ceremony had begun. We were seated in the atrium of the hospital that is hosting our primary medical site in the center of the city. It was warm, but open windows and a number of large stand-up fans kept the air circulating as one after another we walked to the podium and spoke. Red, white, and blue bunting and posters of our mission from previous countries were arrayed about the room. Eight microphones and recorders were positioned on the podium, and as many cameras seemed to be rolling behind the rows of spectators - Suriname is news hungry and this was big news. Our Ambassador, Mr. John Nay, spoke about the durability of a relationship with Suriname that extended back 220 years - the U.S. opened a Consulate in this very city of Paramaribo in 1790! I spoke of our conviction in the value of strong partnership and thanked the assembled guest for the great reception we have received. The Minister of Health provided a well informed and detailed overview of the many services CONTINUING PROMISE is providing during our stay. Finally the Vice President addressed the cameras and crowd. He was very appreciative of the opportunity to host CONTINUING PROMISE again - the mission visited Paramaribo in 2007 - and in addition to thanking "His Excellency, the President of the U.S., Mr. Barack Obama" (common terminology for distinguished people in Suriname), he thanked the American people for their generosity and hoped that humanitarian missions would continue in the future. With the end of his remarks, our band played a fanfare as we filed to the front of the clinic area and cut a ceremonial ribbon symbolizing the opening of CONTINUING PROMISE operations. We enjoyed a tour of the facility and the distinguished entourage got an opportunity to see all of our services in action as our medical providers treated Surinamese citizens. Several of the Ministers joked about getting in line themselves, particularly when we were visiting the eye clinic. Overall, this was a very well organized ceremony that highlighted the eagerness with which Suriname has waited for our visit, and the long line of citizens reinforced the words of thanks from the Ministers inside. It was a wonderful way to welcome CONTINUING PROMISE, and a wonderful way to start the mission. Our work has begun. CDRE Thomas Negus, USN October 28 2010 11:54:19 PM The sky was alternately a threatening grey or a brilliant blue. Large clouds hovered over the coastline of Paramaribo, Suriname and a winding ribbon of advancing rain was snaking its way to the center of the city and our helicopter landing zone. Over our shoulders out to sea, the sky was a brilliant Caribbean blue. We found ourselves flying between the two. CONTINUING PROMISE leadership was headed into the capital of Suriname to conduct a survey of the sites at which we'll work for the next ten days. Looking at the progressing wall of rain, I wasn't sure we'd be able to make it. Thankfully pilots know how to fly better than passengers know how to worry and we landed very easily a few minutes ahead of the rain. But as we descended, the sprawling city of Paramaribo spread out before us. Paved roads intersected with dirt streets, brightly colored roofs intermingled among the slightly more prevalent corrugated tin. I saw the President's palace at Suriname River's water's edge, and a collection of dual-steepled churches interspersed with an assortment of quad-minareted mosques. Suriname is a culturally diverse land hosting peoples of East Indian, African, Indonesian, Chinese, and European descent. Once on the ground, the variety of languages on signs and storefronts gave evidence of all of these influences. Paramaribo is much more of a city than we have worked in on this journey thus far, and the traffic was initially a surprise. There are stucco'd buildings with curved walls and mirrored glass windows next to ramshackle huts defined by parallel planks. Our primary medical site will be on the ground floor of a city hospital - some areas actually have air conditioning. There are four widely read newspapers. We see people reading them and we see them used as insulation in houses. It is a diverse city of contrasts - as any city is I suppose. We traveled down Dr. Martin Luther King Way as we leave the hospital, and there are advertisements for beers and cars and insurance on billboards on both sides of the street. We pass a crowded cemetery where the sarcophagi are separated by thin stands of tall grass. In many respects we could be in just about any city anywhere; there is energy and urgency and traffic common to all municipalities around the world. But we are in Paramaribo, Suriname where our doors will open tomorrow. The day has been spent preparing and setting up, and the entire CONTINUING PROMISE team is eager to begin anew. CDRE Thomas Negus, USN October 27 2010 11:13:10 PM "All Departments make preparations for getting underway - Departments Heads make readiness reports to the Executive Officer on the Bridge!" barked out the invisible voice over loudspeakers throughout the ship. USS IWO JIMA was getting ready to pull up the anchor and set sail for Suriname, a scant overnight trip down the coast. Walking about the decks on this respite day between missions there is an easy feel of anticipation; anticipation at working in a new country - a new adventure - our eighth on this incredible journey; and a confidence from having done so much already. Certainly Suriname will provide its own unique challenges. We will again be anchored 16 miles off the coast since the gentle continental slope only slowly gets swallowed by the sea. We conducted no flight operations today intentionally. Because of the great distance between the ship and the shore, our missions in both Guyana and Suriname rely exclusively on air transportation. This means that all involved in the maintaining, moving, controlling and flying of helicopters have been working exceptionally hard in a demanding environment, in an arena that has no tolerance for even the slightest imperfection. So today was a day of rest - a one day weekend amid a three week run. Engineers far below returned to their chemistry tricks. Boilers once more breathe fire as they generate steam, driving 40,000 tons through the ocean as power has once again been conjured from elemental fire to drive us ever forward. Cargo mates have already brought the last of the humanitarian pallets to the hangar bay for lifting ashore. The cavernous storage areas now stand empty, steel walls echoing only memories of the palletized manifestations of hope and care they used to contain. Meanwhile this great ship rocks rhythmically, ever seeking balance between steel and sea, while watch officers look out attentively beneath a brilliant night, giving their orders in reverent whispers. Millions of tiny lights flicker against the black overhead, as if the heavens are seeking their own balance between dark and light. It is easy to understand how gods first came from the stars. It is easy to understand the captivation of the sea. Tomorrow we arrive in Suriname, and all of the magic of this incredible enterprise called CONTINUING PROMISE will again unfold in a new area, as we meet and help new people, providing our message through our effort, our conviction through our sweat. Tonight though we will revel in the mysteries of the sea. CDRE Thomas Negus, USN October 27 2010 02:34:11 AM
The sun was setting, coloring all it touched with a late summer orange. The closing ceremony had just finished; the last speech given, words of friendship and thanks had been genuinely shared. The Prime Minister and his entourage were off in a Marine helicopter, flying back to Georgetown and their Guyanese lives. A large crowd of people and school children still mingled in the aftermath of the ceremony at Corentyne High, watching helicopters and listening to our band and taking the opportunity to visit and talk. Our intersection with Guyana was coming to a close. We stood waiting for our own helicopter to take us back to the ship, and I thought through the work CONTINUING PROMISE had done here in this land of jungle and sun. I remembered our first arrival and being struck by the sheer immensity of the landscape, the unbroken horizon and canvas of sky. I saw the inestimable Major Stroble, our Rosehall site leader, buoyantly smiling while drenched in sweat as she directed the set-up of our first clinic in the back of the school. A series of Sailors and Soldiers carried boxes of supplies and equipment from trucks into tents, carefully avoiding the donkeys and cows that wandered about. I remembered the beauty of the steel drums that beat out the Guyanese Anthem, sounding like a song made of rain as the sky darkened above. I saw the exacting work of our surgeons, burrowed in their surgical dens deep in the ship, as they conjured up the mysteries of sight and wrote their poetry with the sinews of life. I remembered the children coming to Corentyne High, nonchalantly crossing the single-plank bridge across a canal. Above all I saw the smiles of those involved, from the children who grabbed paintbrushes to refurbish their school, to the songs of welcome sung in the jungle deep, welcoming our medical professionals into their village lives. Our helicopter arrived and we were pelted with dust, but that did not diminish the number of people that remained to say last farewells. The Chairman of Region 6, Zulfikar Mustapha, introduced me to his wife then called his son over for a final group photo. Words were shouted above the rotory roar, and we clasped hands tightly and embraced quickly; and shared a few more goodbyes and knowing glances and quick waves with others who remained. And when it was over we got in our helicopter and flew to our ship, while kids crossed the canal as they took their planked bridge home. |
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