WORKING CLASS HEROES This is a world of hard work, noise, sweat, grime, dirt, mud, grease, splinters, scratches, scrapes, mosquitoes and sore muscles. This is a world of work that starts at sunrise and ends whenever the job gets done. A world of working class heroes. This is the Coast Guard Cutter Pamlico, a 160-foot construction tender homeported in New Orleans, and those who crew it know what it’s like to get their hands dirty. “We work long hours here, sunrise until past sunset - twelve to fourteen hours a day usually,” said Fireman Ryan A. Pearson. The crew of the Pamlico has been placing and repairing aids to navigation in Americas’ waterways since it was commissioned Aug. 11, 1976, and its current crew does what all those who have served on it before have done- work hard to keep those who navigate these waters safe. With more than 1,200 navigational aids in an area of responsibility that covers 130 miles of hurricane-ravaged coastline and bayous and goes up 250 miles from the mouth of the Mississippi River, it’s a pretty big endeavor, but somebody has to do it. Preparing to embark on their current mission, the crew uses the massive crane located on the ship’s deck to lift large wooden piles, much like oversized telephone poles, from the dock and stack them on its deck. Then they steam down the river, the black hull of the Pamlico pushing through the brown water. When they reach a point that needs a navigation marker the captain, Chief Warrant Officer David Lewald stops the ship and calls over the loudspeakers, “OK, set your spuds.” With this, the crew lowers the large metal pylons that are attached to either side of the ship into the muddy bottom below to hold the ship stable. It’s time to go to work. Old, broken or substandard navigational aids are pulled from the water and repaired as needed. Some of these aids are held down by large concrete anchors, which are covered in thick, foul-smelling mud. When they are pulled up from the water they must be cleaned before they can be stored. The mud gets everywhere, on the deck, on their clothes, and in their hair. “It can get very dirty,” said Pearson. After the old markers are stored, the crane is used to lift the wooden piles, which are guided by ropes and greasy winches, and then placed vertically into the water. A diesel-fired hammer, known to the crew simply as “The Hammer,” which is attached to the crane then slips over the top of the piles and pounds them down. Again and again it strikes, each time with a thunderous bang, until the pile is firmly driven into the earth at the bottom. When this is done the crew attaches navigational aids to the piles such as lights, horns and reflective signs, which they have pre-prepped, drilled, and assembled. Then they move on to the next one. The piles are covered in splinters, just waiting to stab a finger. The mud from the submerged anchors splashes onto the deck, making it a sticky, slippery, smelly mess. The sun beats down relentlessly from the sky, and everywhere the crew turns there are more and more mosquitoes. “It’s not that bad here as long as you like working,” Seaman Sean “Pat” Patrick said, his white teeth shining brilliantly in contrast with the grime that covers his face.Chief Petty Officer John W. Cuddy, the engineering petty officer, who is a father and husband said that he had gotten used to the work, but that it was long hours away from his family.Everyone has to spend time away from their loved ones, but some of the crew have a fresh perspective of the work they do. Seaman Corey Walter, who is the “new guy” on board, having only reported to the ship two weeks ago said that although the work was hard, he thinks it’s pretty cool. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever done before. You do get pretty dirty though.” The work is not only dirty but also dangerous. Making safety a top priority. “You’ve got to make sure everyone maintains a lot of situational awareness and that they know what’s going on around them,” says Petty Officer 1st Class Kevin E. Bowman, the ships safety supervisor, as he turns and quickly walks across the muddy deck to warn the men working on a navigational aid to keep their eyes on a wake coming towards them, which might upset the platform they are standing on. “Things can get pretty bad pretty quickly out here,” he says as he walks back.“There’s a lot of joking after hours, but during the day we work well together as a team,” said Petty Officer 3rd Class Nathan “Nate” Griffin, the construction deck supervisor. Their work seems to be appreciated though. “If you sit on the bridge at night you can hear the boat pilots and captains talking to each other on the radio about how nice it is to see that the channel markers are being fixed,” said Petty Officer 2nd Class James A. Meissner. “It’s a rewarding job that lets you actually see the results of what you do.” Fireman Justin “J.T.” Taylor said that although the job can be pretty stressful at times, it’s not all work on the Pamlico. After the workday is done and the captain has set “condition bug zebra,” meaning to close all of the outer doors so that the swarms of mosquitoes can’t get in, it’s time to relax. After a well-earned shower, the crew spends their time playing video games, watching television, working out and playing card games before they hit the rack. It’s a job that has to be done, and the crew of the Pamlico are the ones to do it. Through all of the noise, sweat, grime, dirt, mud, grease, splinters, scratches, scrapes, mosquitoes and sore muscles, they shine like the beacons they place as a perfect example of the Coast Guard’s motto “Semper Paratus.” Always Ready.
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