SS EDMUND FITZGERALD

On Nov. 10, 1975, the bulk carrier SS Edmund Fitzgerald sank in a storm that enveloped Lake Superior - a disaster immortalized by songwriter and singer Gordon Lightfoot.

The crew of 29 perished. There was no time to launch the ship's lifeboats or send a Mayday message. The storm lashed the Great Lake with winds of more than 50 knots and waves of 25 feet or more.

“Lake Superior seldom coughs up her victims unless they’re wearing life jackets. As of this time, we have no reason to believe the men of the Fitzgerald had time to get into life jackets,” said Capt. Charles A. Millradt, commander of the Soo Coast Guard Station, quoted by the Associated Press. 

Coast Guard investigators attributed the Fitzgerald sinking to defective hatch covers on the 729-foot vessel, which was riding low in the lake with a load of taconite pellets for delivery to a steel plant near Detroit.

The Coast Guard launched a search aircraft from Traverse City, Michigan, after the bulk carrier Arthur M. Anderson reported the Fitzgerald missing to the Coast Guard station at Sault St. Marie by VHF radio.

The Coast Guard then asked the Anderson and other vessels to assist in the rough weather as the nearest cutter, the buoy tender Woodrush WLB-407, was 400 miles to the west at Duluth, Minnesota. The Woodrush arrived in about 24 hours, enduring high winds and large waves.

Searchers were "riding flares into the night for illumination," according to United Press International.

U.S. Coast Guard buoy tender Woodrush WLB-407

According to an official report on the sinking, the captain of the Fitzgerald had radioed the Anderson: "I have a 'bad list', I have lost both radars, and am taking heavy seas over the deck in one of the worst seas I have ever been in."

A Navy aircraft with a magnetic detector zeroed in on the wreck about 17 miles northwest of Whitefish Point, Michigan, on Nov. 14, 1975, according to an account of the storm by the National Weather Service.

Debris was also recovered, with some washing up on shore.

An underwater vehicle operated by the Navy photographed the site the next year. The Fitzgerald split in half and settled more than 500 feet below Superior's surface.

When the Fitzgerald was launched in 1958, it was the longest vessel plying the Great Lakes. The ship was named for the president of the Northwestern Mutual Life Insurance Company, which financed its construction.

In July 1994, Dr. Jim Cairns, coroner of Toronto, Canada, said research divers observed a partially decomposed body near the ship, preserved by extremely low water temperature, UPI reported. The body was left in its resting place. 

Fitzgerald's No. 2 Lifeboat recovered from lake

Wreck site

PHOTO GALLERY No. 7

Painting from the U.S. Coast Guard Collection of the cutter Snohomish aiding the lumber steamer Nika in heavy seas off Washington state in February 1922. After rescuing Nika's crew, the cutter proceeded to assist the British freighter Tuscan Prince, grounded off Vancouver Island, and the steamship Santa Rita. Snohomish then made Port Angeles, putting ashore 105 evacuees, according to Coast Guard archives.

Photo: U.S. Coast Guard
A German U-boat attacked the tanker SS Maine 16 miles south-southeast of Cape Hatteras Light, North Carolina, during World War Two. This is the view from an aircraft assigned to U.S. Coast Guard Air Station, Elizabeth City, on March 27, 1942.

Photo: U.S. Coast Guard
The U.S. Coast Guard cutter Storis (foreground) was the first American vessel to transit the Northwest Passage. It happened in 1957.

Photo: Petty Officer 3rd Class David R. Marin
Weapons exercise aboard U.S. Coast Guard cutter Boutwell on Jan. 30, 2009.

Photo: U.S. Coast Guard
U.S. Coast Guard  cutter Campbell in World War Two.

Photos: Wikipedia, U.S. Coast Guard
"You're in the Coast Guard now." The Coast Guard-manned troopship USS Joseph T. Dickman (APA-33) was launched in 1921 as a passenger liner. She was named the SS President Roosevelt by the United States Lines in 1922. Taken over by the War Department in 1940, the President Roosevelt was re-named and converted to an attack transport in the buildup to World War Two and served in the Atlantic and Pacific.

ANIMAL HOUSE - PART 3

AUXDOG

Photo: U.S. Coast Guard Auxiliary volunteer Kevin Shortell

Thunder, the Flotilla Staff officer for Canine Affairs (FSO-K9) at U.S. Coast Guard Auxiliary Flotilla 53 in Chesapeake, Virginia, attired in operational dress uniform on Aug. 5, 2011.

POLAR BEAR PATROL

During U.S. Coast Guard cutter Healy's most 2022 deployment to the Arctic and North Pole, Deborah Heldt Cordone, an Auxiliary Public Affair Specialist 1, snapped polar bear photos. This bear was sighted by crew members on the bridge, located a few hundred yards away off the starboard quarter. As the cutter came to a stop, the curious bear continued a few hundred yards from the bow and port side, then continued on its way.

IT'S A DOG'S LIFE - SAVED

Photo: U.S. Coast Guard
Petty Officer 3rd Class Austen Marshall, an avionics electrical technician and a flight mechanic at Coast Guard Air Station Port Angeles, calms a dog his aircrew rescued from a grounded sailing vessel near Vancouver Island, British Columbia, on Dec. 28, 2022. The aircrew rescued one person and two dogs from the vessel.


HAY THERE!

Photo: U.S. Coat Guard
A U.S. Coast Guard helicopter crew dropped hay bales to cattle stranded by winter storms in California in March 2023.


A ROUND OF A-PAWS

A patrol from U.S. Coast Guard Station Fort Lauderdale rescued "Bunny" the dog from the Intracoastal Waterway and reunited her with her owner.


PUPPY KISSES

Photo: Petty Officer 2nd Class Nate Littlejohn
U.S. Coast Guard Seaman Nina Bowen shows some love to Chief Bert, Station Elizabeth City, North Carolina's mascot, near the boathouse at the station on Feb. 17, 2017. Chief Bert is a retired explosive detection dog who worked for six years with the Maritime Safety and Security Team in Gavelston, Texas. 

INTERPRETER CORPS AT SEA

Interpreter Corps member Anatoli Raidenkov

 
By Glendon J. Buscher, Jr.
U.S. Coast Guard Auxiliary

The US Coast Guard Auxiliary Interpreter Corps is a component of the USCG Auxiliary International Affairs Directorate. The interpreters are Operations members of the USCG Auxiliary. They offer their linguistic skills to the US Coast Guard and other agencies of the Department of Homeland Security and Department of Defense. Members of the US Coast Guard Auxiliary Interpreter Corps meet the International Language Roundtable 2+ standards and already have provided over 50,000 mission hours, mainly in Coast Guard Operational Support.” It is the goal of the Corps to be able to make available a qualified interpreter wherever needed to augment the missions of the Coast Guard. Among the most challenging of these missions is deployment to a cutter.

Interpreter Corps member Anatoli Raidenkov recently deployed to the USCGC Stratton as a mission critical Russian linguist to support the cutter during a portion of its three-month Alaska Patrol. He served for thirty days from September 22 to October 22, a period that required him to take a leave without pay from his employment as Senior Export Compliance Specialist at Honda. Auxiliary interpreters are unpaid volunteers who offer their services as a force multiplier for Coast Guard missions. It is an honor to be such a volunteer. Anatoli is a native Russian speaker, who also speaks Japanese. He is a licensed Marine Radio operator and has assisted in disaster and humanitarian relief operations. A veteran interpreter, he has deployed on other Arctic missions. Last summer he volunteered for an air mission out of Kodiak, Alaska.

Assigned interpreters perform both synchronous and simultaneous interpretation and translation as needed and per the captain’s discretion. They are also on call if needed to assist in boarding foreign vessels to question the crew to ensure they are not engaged in smuggling, poaching, illegal fishing, or violating the security of the maritime boundary lines. During any patrol, there arise occasions, if needed, to be involved in search and rescue operations. As expected, there were occasions when Anatoli was awakened at two or three AM and called to the bridge for assistance.

The deployment of interpreters depends on the nature of the mission to which they are to be assigned. The Interpreter Corps must make its decision about who is to be deployed based on the security requirements of the cutter mission, the availability and language ability of an interpreter and on considerations of the level of security clearance needed for the mission. Therefore, not every deployment opportunity may be available to an individual interpreter.

USCGC Stratton (WMSL-752) is a Legend Class national security cutter named after Coast Guard Captain Dorothy C. Stratton (1899–2006). Stratton served as director of the SPARS, the Coast Guard Women's Reserve during World War II. The cutter has a length of 418 feet and the capability for deployment worldwide in support of homeland security and defense missions. According to recent news releases from the Coast Guard, Stratton’s mission was to patrol the US-Russian maritime boundary in the Arctic in furtherance of US national security strategy and projection of US sovereignty during a transit north through the Bering Strait towards the Chukchi Sea and throughout the Arctic. At one point the Stratton performed a series of patrol maneuvers jointly with CGC Kimball (WMSL-756) and later joined in a search and rescue exercise with the Canadian Coast Guard ship Sir William Laurier. An additional mission consisted of multiple outreach events with villagers and key leaders in indigenous communities at Savoonga on St. Lawrence Island and Utqiagvik and Kaktovik on Alaska’s North Slope.

Anatoli recently agreed to an interview to talk about his experiences. While his interpretation tasks were consistent with the mission needs of the cutter, given the national security aspects of the Stratton’s patrol, he could not share details about what specific linguistic assistance he was called on to perform.

He described the experience as a challenge and an adventure. It was not like being on a cruise line to the South Pacific or Hawaii. In addition to the importance of his interpretation work, he was eager to stress how much the presence of interpreters should also contribute to the morale of the crew. It is important to demonstrate that you are a valuable addition to the crew and to meaningfully contribute your special skills to the success of the mission. He also talked about what it is like to live on the cutter in Arctic conditions.

Anatoli flew to Anchorage, Alaska, and then switched to a tiny turbo prop to meet the cutter at the port of Dutch Harbor in the Aleutian Islands.  The flight and the arrival saw some of the sunniest weather they had seen in Dutch Harbor this year. After boarding the cutter and checking in with the officer of the day, he changed into ODUs. All temporarily assigned personnel are required to wear masks for the first three days.

When interpreters are deployed onboard, they become an extra hand to the crew.  The goal is to be one with the crew.  You will see and work with them every day. Auxiliary interpreters need to fit into the structure of the active-duty crew, so they need to shed any signs of “office” or “level of authority”. They need to have only the simple patch of membership on their ODUs. About half the crew consists of twenty-year-old recruits, who are just out of basic training, so there is a need to be sensitive to that fact.  The new crew members are nervous enough trying to identify the rank of their active-duty superiors without having to figure out the status of a newcomer.

For interpreters deploying on such a mission there are technically no age limits or medical requirements, only that they are in good physical condition so that they do not become a burden to the crew and to the operation of the mission. There is a full medical facility on board and there are fully qualified medical personnel to treat anything that comes along unless the situation requires evacuation by helicopter to the mainland.

The further north the cutter goes, particularly as winter approaches, the rougher the sea is more likely to become. The interpreter must be prepared to quickly overcome seasickness and find their sea legs so as not to become incapacitated and a burden to the crew. These factors can seriously impede the work of interpretation. Prior to Anatoli’s arrival there had been another volunteer who had to be evacuated by helicopter due to constant seasickness. It is best to purchase tablets or certain types of wrist bands that help prevent or mitigate seasickness. The cutter medical personnel will have some available as well.

Anatoli spent thirty days on the cutter but did not become seasick once. Perhaps this is because he had previously worked on a seafood processing factory ship in the northern Pacific.  These ships go out in the middle of the ocean and deploy amid groups of small fishing boats.  The small boats offload their catch onto the factory boat, which then processes and cans the fish. The type of fish they catch depends on the season and there are some seasons when it is illegal to catch certain types of fish. These may be subject to confiscation by the Coast Guard.

During the October portion of the patrol the cutter did not encounter or need to deal with any substantial ice floes. The national security cutter is built for speed and maneuverability as opposed to the icebreaker cutters, which move more slowly and are designed with sharp bows to cut like bulldozers through the ice pack. A consequence of that maneuverability and speed is that the floors inside the boat and on the deck are constantly heaving or moving at angles up and down. There is a “three points” rule onboard that states that you must always have at least three limbs in contact with some surface or metal bar to avoid falling. This rule is true even in the shower.

Anatoli was fortunate to be assigned a bed in one of the officer’s quarters, sharing the quarters with only one other person. The officers’ quarters are above deck. He described the bed as “like a little kid’s bunk bed” in that it had rails to keep him from rolling out when the ship rocks and rolls. This good fortune depends on the size of the cutter and the particular patrol. On some missions you might have to bunk in the crew spaces.  Apparently, when the rocking gets too high, there is a standing joke among the crew to cry out “just who is driving this thing??”

Anatoli had a metal locker to store his clothes and ODUs, although there was basically no room for luggage. He was responsible for cleaning his own quarters. He was also fortunate that there was a room with a washer and dryer a few feet away from his cabin.

Crew quarters are below deck and tend to be cramped.  There is limited space for storage or luggage and there is only a single room with three washers and dryers. If necessary, there is an ironing board available, Anatoli did not see a single person using it. Use of the machines is based on the principle, “if you see a machine that’s available, take it”. There was not a lot of time for washing or ironing clothes.

Fortunately, on this cruise there was no occasion when formal uniforms were required. The winter order of uniforms was in effect.  This consisted of ODU trousers, t-shirts, hoodies, or the fleece liner jacket, which has a rank tab on it, so in that case you will clearly see who has what rank. Hoodies are practical, foldable, and easily combined with a harder parka or winter coat. Hoodies are also a matter of pride, showing the person's unit or place (cutter, base, or team). The hoodies must be either dark Navy or black in color. They are easily and quickly washable.

As an interpreter assigned to a cutter, it is best to pack light and pack to keep warm.  Anatoli brought a couple of light soft-sided military duffel type bags. He was wise to avoid hard-sided luggage or shell-like luggage.  When he was going up or down a ladder on the boat, Anatoli was grateful to avoid having to hold onto his luggage and could just toss it up or down without fear of it breaking or cracking against the hard deck or floor.

Once onboard, unless invited by the chiefs or officers, interpreters will be assigned to eat with the crew. Anatoli was scheduled in with the crew and at least once a week was assigned to a cleanup squad. This consisted of being handed mops and towels, or other cleaning tools with which to clean and sanitize the mess and kitchen area.

The cutter is a busy place. There is constant noise on the cutter. There is not a lot of leisure. Weekends are generally observed and constitute the bulk of the leisure time, subject to whether you are on duty or on watch. During one of the weekend periods, Anatoli made a presentation on the history of the indigenous tribes of Alaska. He also taught some of the younger crew members how to play Chinese checkers. These activities proved very popular with the crew. The morale of the crew is a very important component of any mission. If you can contribute to it based on your specific skills, you should do so. Depending on the details of a particular patrol and on the availability of time, there may be opportunities for an interpreter to qualify in other Auxiliary skills or certain required qualification tasks. Depending on the details of a particular patrol and on the availability of time, there may be opportunities for an interpreter to qualify in other Auxiliary skills or certain required qualification tasks.

A big element of morale occurs when the cruise crosses the Arctic Circle.  There is a special initiation for those who are crossing the Circle at sea for the first time. These individuals are called “Bluenoses” and they go through this ritual to become “Polar Bears”. Each cutter has its own type of initiation, and the details are not to be revealed.  However, Anatoli did share that the initiation was not a one-day thing, or maybe not even a two-day thing and it involved water – and maybe not warm water.

When the cutter is in an Arctic environment, the crew are generally always inside the cutter unless there is a need to be on deck to fulfill a particular task. The goal is to keep the crew safe and generally out of extremely cold weather. Any boarding party leaving the cutter had to be attired in special dry suits up to their necks, PFDs, helmets, and well insulated clothing and hats. While crew members are inside the cutter, they can often not tell what the outside temperature is.  It is possible, however, to guess the height of the waves and swells from the heaving of the floor. According to a recent statement from the Stratton, at one point in its patrol, while heading north to the Arctic in rough seas, “the sea spray reached as high as Stratton’s mast, which is nearly 150 feet tall.”  During the period of Anatoli’s deployment, there was an occasion when the cutter was experiencing calmer seas, and he could go on deck to take a few pictures. He also had the opportunity to see the Northern Lights.

Anatoli left the patrol back at Dutch Harbor on October 22, at which time another Auxiliary interpreter came on board. There had been some other temporarily assigned duty personnel on board on the cutter as well, so to mark the farewells, the captain assembled the crew on the deck and then made several presentations.  The captain presented Anatoli with one of his personal challenge coins and the chiefs presented one of their own.  Getting a challenge coin is a big thing and part of an honored tradition. Anatoli has also created his own challenge coin to commemorate his trip to the Arctic and his crossing of the Arctic Circle. After leaving the cutter, he had a couple of weekend days during which he could see a bit of Dutch Harbor. He then flew back to Anchorage. The flight back took place unfortunately in some rather bad weather.

The US-Russia Maritime Border is approximately 1700 miles in length. Cutter patrols of this area are a necessary part of the protection of our national sovereignty and of preservation of the cooperative relationship between the United States Coast Guard and the Russian Border Guard. The deployment of interpreters on board cutters in this area is an important asset for these patrols. We are grateful to Anatoli and to all Auxiliary interpreters, for their willingness to volunteer for this task.

AUXILIARY INTERPRETERS

By Glendon J. Buscher, Jr.
U.S. Coast Guard Auxiliary

According to the site Ethnologue: Languages of the World, as of 2023, there are 7,151 languages now spoken in the world.  It is said that approximately 40% of them are endangered and have fewer than 1000 speakers. However, 23 of these languages are spoken by more than half of the world’s population. Babbel Magazine claims that in addition there are 573 languages that had previously become extinct.

As of 2023, the most widely spoken language (includes not just first language speakers, but all speakers) is English with 1.5 billion speakers. Although Chinese is the language with the most first language speakers, it falls to second in terms of number of total worldwide speakers, counting 1.1 billion speakers.  This is followed by Hindi at 600 million speakers and Spanish at 552million.

Unfortunately, not all the 8 billion people who live on planet earth speak more than one of these languages, so there is clearly a need for those who can communicate across the barrier between these languages. To overcome this difficulty the world needs interpreters and translators.

The Rosetta Stone

In fulfillment of its missions, the Coast Guard often interacts with foreign partner agencies and international institutions. At these times the use of interpreters is often necessary. To support the Coast Guard in these situations, the Coast Guard Auxiliary has formed an Interpreter Corps.  The Interpreter Corps exists as a body of volunteer Auxiliarists who have stepped forward to be on call to support and augment the interpretation and translation needs of the Coast Guard.

According to the Department of Homeland Security, one of the Coast Guard’s critical assets toward fulfilling its mission lies with the Coast Guard Auxiliary Interpreter Corps, which has over 363 volunteer interpreters, offers interpretation services in forty-eight critical foreign languages, and has provided over 52,000 hours of interpretation. Within each of the available language fields, the Corps tries to identify and make available a cross section of interpreters who are capable as needed for specific needs. The cohort of Spanish interpreters is the largest among the number of language volunteers available to the Corps. The Corps is always looking to recruit new interpreters.

Physician Jose Edwin Nieves (Edwin) is a native Spanish speaker and an experienced interpreter on the staff of the Coast Guard Auxiliary Interpreter Corps.  He also serves as the Auxiliary History Division Branch Chief-Archives, as a physician for the Department of the Army (MEDDAC), McDonald Army Medical Health Center, Fort Eustis, VA, and as an Associate Clinical Professor of Psychiatry at Eastern Virginia Medical School. His academic interests include military mental health, medical military history and late 19th-century Caribbean naval and maritime history. I recently interviewed him to get his perspective on the role of an interpreter in the modern world and particularly on the critical skills required to serve in that role.

As Edwin pointed out, even if a person speaks more than one language relatively fluently, it does not mean they can be an interpreter or translator. Perhaps they can facilitate communication in conversational or informal situations, but where precise and accurate restating of language is required, such as in formal, diplomatic, medical, or legal situations, formal training is needed.

Edwin stressed that interpretation and translation are not the same process. Translation is the written documentation of communication between a speaker of one language and a person who speaks another language. With translation, there is time to refer to dictionaries, glossaries, and other resources to produce an accurate recording of the speaker’s original language. Translators must also have their work subjected to editing and proofreading.

Interpretation, however, is the art of listening to a message in one language and verbally and accurately transmitting that message into a foreign language.  Edwin explained that, with interpretation, an interpreter must utilize his stored linguistic memory to verbally and either simultaneously or nearly synchronously transmit the message across the two languages. Sometimes, depending on the structure of the situation, the interpretation may occur consecutively to segments of the speaker’s utterance, usually after completion of a sentence or paragraph of speech. Edwin pointed out that, in simultaneous situations, for a confident and experienced interpreter there is usually only a two or three second interval between the speaker and the interpreter’s interpretation. In consecutive situations the time interval depends on the appropriate break in the speaker’s discourse, on average no more than five minutes apart.

Interpreters not only have to understand the words that are being said, but also the personal, situational, and cultural context of what is being said. On the personal level, this includes the speaker’s tones, emotions, inflections, and facial cues. Since body language also comes into play, the interpreter must also be effective in communicating gestures. Edwin stated that it is always his goal to look straight at the speaker to be sure to record these cues and, like an actor, to reproduce them for the listener. The best professional interpreters have completed studies in interpretation at some specialized training institutes. Being an interpreter requires physical, mental, and intellectual stamina.

The classic type of simultaneous interpretation occurs in the United Nations, in diplomatic situations and international conferences, and in large assemblies and meetings. This is where there is direct interpretation of utterance to utterance.

In his role as a physician, Edwin has acquired critical experience as an interpreter. He has often participated in Spanish interpretation during virtual telemedicine sessions, where there may be short additional delays due to transmission related technical issues. The lack of personal presence of the patient requires that the interpreter be especially vigilant to not take his eyes off the patient. It is important not to be distracted from observing the physical cues being given off by the speaker. Telemedicine is an interactive situation where the physician not only is interpreting what is being said by the patient but is also speaking back to and questioning the patient, while perhaps recounting the conversation as well to third parties who may be participating in the conversation.  Some of his telemedicine interactions were without video, which required additional questions from him as a physician to compensate for the lack of physical cues.

Edwin stressed that, in all interpretation environments, when conveying the speaker’s words back to the listeners, one should not say “the patient/speaker said”, but one should state the exact words uttered. Do not make assumptions or try to fill in what is being said.  If there is lack of clarity, the interpreter should not hesitate to refer back and ask for clarification. In any electronic communication there can be radio static, or in the case of visual transmission, there may be pixilation or interruption of the image. Edwin stressed that in all these communications it is necessary to be sure everyone receives a complete and accurate understanding. You can ask for the speaker to repeat and you can get feedback from the listeners by simply asking, “do you understand, do you copy, do you accept this?”

Sometimes, one or more of the participants in an interactive situation may be speaking excessively rapidly or in an agitated state, or continuously talking without pause. This makes interpretation and understanding more difficult. Edwin stated that all interpretation situations should optimally be conducted in the calmest possible manner. He stressed that you need to clearly indicate to the speaker that you cannot understand what is being said and that there needs to be a pause until things can calm down.  As Edwin pointed out, people have multiple roles, father, mother, friend, brother, sister, boss, etc. Clarify that you are there to interpret, that you need to remain emotionally calm and neutral even when everyone around is stressed. As a physician, Edwin has trained himself to remain calm, to focus, and to act as if he were going on stage. If there is a situation where too many people are giving out information you should be sure to ask who is the authorized person to give this information.

Medical interpretation, like legal, scientific, and other highly specific fields has a particular lexicology. Edwin as a physician has acquired that lexicon and, as an interpreter for the Coast Guard Auxiliary, also has the necessary nautical vocabulary. His advice is that, if an interpreter is not sufficiently familiar with a specialized set of terms necessary for accurate communication, assistance should be requested from another interpreter or reference made to interpretation services available by phone. If this assistance is not convenient or available, one should try to get the speaker to rephrase and clarify in more simple terms.  If time is not too critical, there are glossaries of these special terms that can be consulted. The Auxiliary Interpreter Corps has such glossaries for the most frequently needed languages.

Recognizing that languages change over time and that they borrow from other languages, interpreters should work to keep current with these changes. Even among the speakers of a language there will be differences in context, nuance, and currency of use. Some words may become obsolete, out of current use or degraded into profane use. Often in particularly inflected languages, use of cases, tenses, aspect can produce subtle meanings not obvious on the surface. Spoken Chinese, a tonal language, presents particular challenges, as pronouncing the word with the wrong tone can result in speaking a totally incorrect word.

Young people are frequent agents of change in a languages lexicology and their speech has often become more cryptic. In the Coast Guard and in his dealings with partner Spanish-speaking agencies, Edwin has often dealt with young recruits and has had to become familiar with their ways of speaking. Edwin constantly stressed that an interpreter’s task is to be one hundred percent accurate in passing on what was said. To achieve this, he is constantly working to keep current with all these aspects of the Spanish language scene.

Edwin has done research and translation in both current and historical sources.  Many of the Spanish historical sources, as is the case with other languages, have words and concepts that have dropped out of use, had very different meanings in the past, or are now nonexistent. In these cases, a translator will need to consult with historical experts, glossaries, and even comparative text analysis to understand these documents.  Across the world there exist ancient scripts, alphabets and hieroglyphic writings that now require decryption. The decryption of the Egyptian Rosetta Stone is an example of using familiarity with one known script to attempt to decode another. China is known for the thousands of characters that have existed historically in its written language, although only a few thousand are needed today. These historical documents can only be read by someone with deep historical knowledge.

Chinese Styles of Writing

According to Edwin, Hispanic languages can be divided into three basic groups, those of Spain, Central and Latin America, and the Caribbean.  Among these groups there are differences in the use of the third person plural, in directness or abstractness of speech and in the usual differences of lexicon and cultural context. He indicated that, while you will understand probably eighty percent of what is being said, it will be like an American trying to understand Australian English or British or Indian English. He takes pride in working to keep as current as possible by reading Spanish language publications and listening to the various Spanish language videos, movies, and television. We discussed the various Creole languages, such as Haitian Creole and the Dutch Creole spoken in Curacao and Aruba.  The languages are based on French in the case of Haiti and Dutch in the case of Curacao and Aruba.  French and Dutch speakers can probably understand much of what is being said, but Edwin advises that it would be ill-advised to use French or Dutch translators to interpret these Creoles since accuracy, not approximation is required of a translator. In the default of Creole interpreters, if there is not an alternative means of understanding, it is best to stand aside. This is generally true in all interpretation situations. Many medical and legal institutions will have corps of interpreters on call to bridge this gap.

We talked about a situation with a person who has dementia or other condition where they may not be able to communicate understandably.  This is a difficult situation. Edwin said that this may be due to difficulty with articulating the language or may be one of physical language incapacity. In this case the interpreter may need to defer to or request the help of some else who is familiar with the person and can evaluate the person’s issues. This may also require ascertaining if there is someone who has been designated authority to speak for this person.

I asked about interpreter work when a volunteer is deployed into a stressful situation on board an active at-sea Coast Guard patrol. If a cutter has one of its own crewmembers, who is also an interpreter, that person could be expected to be accustomed to the stresses of service on board and could more easily respond and interpret calmly.  But what if a volunteer came on board and could not fulfill the interpretation due to seasickness or a situation of high situational stress? Edwin replied that normally, the Commanding Officer would not want to take the crewmember away from their task to do the interpreting, particularly if that task is critical to the functioning of the ship. Probably if the stress or sickness is too much, the interpreter should step back; the Commanding Officer should decide who can best convey the needed information. Someone who is in command should not, however, be called upon. The Commanding Officer has resources that can be called on through the Interpreter Corps through remote communication.

Edwin had an occasion to participate in an international conference with members of the Coast Guard’s international partners. There were six meeting sessions. He was assigned to one of them. His job was not only to interpret what was being said, but also to be available to answer questions and/or pass questions back and forth to the speaker. This meant he not only had to process the information correctly, but he had to accurately frame questions and responses. He might also have had to clarify aspects of the questions that needed to be recontextualized or simplified. He very much enjoyed doing this.

Finally, I asked about whether people might join the Interpreter Corps if they were good only at oral interpretation or written translation, but not at both. He said yes, there is very much a need for either of these skills. There is also a great need for additional languages as well. The Interpreter Corps welcomes diversity and  accommodates any volunteer who qualifies. At present the qualification requires an oral and written proficiency exam. I inquired whether someone who was severely limited in speech or in vision to the point that they could not pass either the oral or written portion of the test could be accepted.. He said that if the hearing impaired person could communicate in sign language and the visually impaired person knew Braille, that would be likely be possible, but it was unclear what would be the case if no form of physical communication or written communication was possible. Most likely, this would have to be decided by the leadership of the Corps.

NANTUCKET LIGHTSHIP

"A smooth sea never made a skilled sailor." — Franklin D. Roosevelt

By Glendon J. Buscher, Jr.
U.S. Coast Guard Auxiliary

At a position 54 nautical miles southeast of Nantucket Island, contemporary navigators will find Light Buoy “N” (Station 44008 (LLNR 827). This buoy marks the southeast corner of the Nantucket South Shoals, an area of dangerous rips, shoals, sandbars, and shallow water as little as 3 feet deep. The shoals have been designated an “Area to Be Avoided” and comprise a rectangle approximately 23 miles west to east by 40 miles north to south, encompassing a total of 920 square miles. They lie at the intersection of the waters of the Gulf of Maine to the north and east and those of the Nantucket Sound and the New England Shelf to the west and south. The buoy marks the corner of the shipping lanes leading to the north and west therefrom. 

The maritime dynamics of Nantucket Sound, Nantucket Shoals and the adjacent New England Shelf are complex because of the interaction of the southward tidal energy flow from the western Gulf of Maine along Cape Cod meeting the northeastward tidal energy flow from the eastern New England Shelf. This results in the formation of tidal energy convergence zones southeast of Nantucket Island and a strong nonlinear, clockwise, rotary current interaction with high bottom stress in the zone of lowest sea elevation. 

In an article published by the Nantucket Historical Association entitled History of Lightships by Robert R. Reed, he recounts the following events in the early history of the Shoals. 

“The Shoals have been a place of great concern to coastal shipping throughout the history of navigation off New England. They were a notorious shipwreck site, with more than 100 of them occurring during the early centuries of American settlement. Overall, 700 shipwrecks have occurred on the shoals.” 

“In 1843 this problem was presented to Congress to support the placement of a lightship there. Congress responded favorably and the first lightship was stationed at Nantucket’s South Shoal on June 15th, 1854.” 

The first lightships were wooden sailing vessels that used whale oil to light their beacons. From the time of their deployment to the Shoals until 1983, instead of the present light buoy, the edge of the shoals was guarded by these lightships, called generically the Nantucket Lightship. These lightships would serve as a beacon for transatlantic voyages. They would be the last lightship seen by vessels departing the United States, as well as the first beacon seen entering the country. 

Nantucket Shoal Lightship Station was originally known as Nantucket New South Shoal Station, before the name was changed in 1896. The station has been served by several lightships. The vessels had their own vessel number and, when assigned to the station, painted on their hulls was the name Nantucket.  By the time the US Coast Guard took the Nantucket Lightship out of service in 1983, a total of eleven lightships had been stationed on Nantucket Shoals. Of these eleven, three remain in Massachusetts, Lightships LV 112, WLV 612, and WLV 613. They still have NANTUCKET painted in large white letters on their red hulls. The Nantucket Shoal Lightship Station was the last remaining lightship station in the country for four years when the Lightship was replaced by a navigational buoy in 1983.

In addition to the dangers posed by the weather and sea conditions, lightship crews were in danger of being struck by the ship traffic they existed to protect. Ships would home on their radio beacons at night and in fog but were expected to post lookouts and to turn away in time. The exact position of the lightships varied through the years to provide a greater safety margin from the shoals or to better serve shipping lanes. This position was the most isolated and exposed location in the entire lighthouse service, standing 40 to 50 miles out to sea, south of Nantucket at the southeastern tip of the dreaded south shoals. 

According to Robert Reed, “Any Lightship placed at South Shoal had to prove her seaworthiness. Her anchoring equipment had to withstand the continuous punishment dealt by winds and swells. The first Lightship to be anchored at the South Shoals was based on a sturdy ‘schooner’ styled hull commonly used in these waters. She had 2 masts on which, at night, large lanterns were hoisted. Whale oil lamps within these lanterns supplied the light, which at best, fog permitting, could only be seen for a few miles.” In contrast, the lamps of the later Lightship LV-112 had an intensity of 400,000 candlepower and could be seen for 23 miles. 

“The first Lightship had a rather brief tour of duty. In 1855, After just 18 months at the Shoal, her mooring failed and she was blown 50 miles to the west, where she went aground on Montauk Point, Long Island, New York. Nantucket’s second Lightship fared better, serving for almost 37 years, but not always staying in place. It is reported that she parted from her mooring at least 23 times while at the Shoals. In 1878 a Nor’easter blew her clear to Bermuda, some 800 miles south of Nantucket! She limped back to the Island without a motor, rigged only with 2 small tri-sails. The end of her service at the Shoals involved a last, unexpected journey. During a blizzard in March of 1892, she parted her chain, and for weeks there was no trace of her whereabouts. At last, she was sighted grounded on a reef at Noman’s Land near Martha’s Vineyard. The crew survived and the ship was sent away to be repaired." 

“An old whaling captain is once quoted as saying, 'The loneliest thing he had ever seen at sea was a polar bear floating on a piece of ice in the Arctic Ocean; the next loneliest object was the South Shoal Lightship.' An ex-captain of another lightship was also said to have said with obvious exaggeration. In addition to the obvious hazards posed by the weather and sea conditions, “If it weren’t for the disgrace it would bring on my family, I’d rather go to State’s Prison. Life on the lightship therefore presented itself to us as a term of solitary confinement combined with the horrors of seasickness.” 

According to an article published on September 4, 2004, in the Standard Times of New Bedford, lightships “would stay anchored at designated coordinate, flashing a bright light at night, bouncing a radio signal across the waves. Ships that are traveling toward land would get within range of the lightships by following shipping lanes, and then latching on to the radio signal and following it in. A lookout on the incoming vessel should then be keeping an eye peeled for the lightship and adjust the ship's course to avoid collision.” For the crews of the lightships, months-long watches onboard their ships were often long periods of boredom, punctuated by fear of being cleaved in half by bigger ships. Every month, a lightship service boat ferried relief crews to the lightship. 

The histories of these eleven serving lightships have been the subject of numerous articles and publications and have been quite exhaustively chronicled. The chronicles of two of these lightships, Lightship LV-117 and LV-112, are particularly worthy of recounting. 

Lightship LV-117 on station, Feb. 29, 1931

LV-117 was launched in 1931.

As described in an article entitled United States Lightship LV-117 in the Military Wiki feature, Shipwrecks of the Massachusetts Coast, “She was a steel-hulled vessel with steel deckhouses fore and aft, a funnel amidships for engine exhaust, and two masts. An electric lantern topped each mast, and an electric foghorn was on the main mast. Four 101 horsepower (75 kW) diesel engines drove generators, providing power for both the signaling apparatus and a 350 horsepower (260 kW) electric propulsion motor. She was stationed south of the Nantucket Shoals in a location 42 miles (68 km) south by east of Sankaty Head Lighthouse on Nantucket Island. The vessel was described at the time as "the newest thing in lightships, a great advance over the sailing vessels that had previously stood watch for over seventy years". She was moored in 30 fathoms (180 ft) by 2 in (5.1 cm) diameter steel chain cables attached to a pair of 7,000 pounds (3,200 kg) anchors.” 

“On February 8, 1931, LV-117 took aboard the eight-man crew of the fishing schooner Aloma, which sank 5 mi (8.0 km) from the Lightship. The men were taken ashore by the Coast Guard on February 9. During a storm on June 27, 1933, the Lightship broke her mooring chain and drifted away from her position. She was unable to regain it for several days. Not until the gales subsided on June 30, was her crew able to return LV-117 to her station.” 

“On January 6, 1934, the lightship had a less serious glancing collision by another liner, SS Washington, at the time the largest ocean liner yet built in the United States. The radio antenna yards were carried away and minor damage occurred to some hull plates. The near sinking caused great concern to the lightship's crew. In April 1934, radio operator John Parry told friends, "Someday we are just going to get it head on, and that will be the finish. One of those big liners will just ride through us.” 

This concern would soon come to pass. A story in the newspaper Standard Times of New Bedford recounted the details of the events. “It was nighttime, May 14, 1935, and the 130-foot Lightship was anchored where it always was; 50 miles southeast of Nantucket, smack dab in the middle of the terminus of the trans-Atlantic shipping lanes. That night, the bell tolled through a heavy fog to give ocean liner Olympic -- a 47,000 ton, 900-foot-long sister of the infamous Titanic -- its bearing and guide it past the dangerous shoals. “We saw the Olympic loom out of the fog a short distance away," remembered first mate C.E. Mosher of New Bedford in a newspaper interview two months later. "The visibility was only 500 feet. A crash was inevitable. I sounded the collision alarm. We all donned life preservers. Then we waited.” In the crash that followed, Mosher, the captain and two fellow crew members were saved. Five other men on board the 117, all Cape Verdeans from New Bedford, died.” 

The outcome of the collision could hardly be unexpected. The Olympic was almost 75 times larger than the 630-ton lightship. Although she was not moving fast, the momentum caused by her 52,000 tons weight completely overwhelmed the smaller vessel. It was said that Olympic's passengers barely noticed the collision. According to a First-Class Passenger, Sir Arthur Steel-Maitland, the collision registered onboard only as a ‘slight jar’. The only thing more noticeable was the altered vibrations from the engine. 

For the crew, obviously, it was a different scenario. When the collision came, Mosher recounted, "it was more like a hard push and a terrific shaking, a crunching and grinding. It was not a loud smash as one might expect.” The Olympic kept sailing through, but then quickly responded to the accident and lifeboats were launched. 

The Shipwrecks article referred to an article the New York Times for following details of the rescue attempts: 

“Nosing through the dense pall of the fog, the boats searched the area for almost two hours, while those on board the liner prayed for their success. A hatch drifted past, bearing the figure of an unconscious man. Shouts from the liner directed one of the lifeboats to the rescue. The same boat picked up a swimmer not far away, and the floating body of a man who appeared to be dead went past.” 

“After three-quarters-of-an-hour the starboard lifeboat came into view. As those who eagerly lined the rails saw that it contained only one figure aside from those at the oars, and that [figure was] motionless, they groaned. But a minute later the port boat appeared with five or six men in the blue 'monkey suits' of the Lighthouse Service. Two of those also appeared to be lifeless. One man in civilian clothes, Captain Braithwaite, sat stiff and upright ... a cut on his head bled profusely ..."

“The three boats managed to rescue seven of the lightship's eleven crewmen and brought them aboard, but three of the seven died in Olympic's hospital. Captain Braithwaite, First Mate C.E. Mosher, Radio Operator John Perry, and Oiler Laurent Robert all survived the disaster. Engineer William Perry, Oiler Justin Richmond, Cook Alfred Montero, First Cook I. Pinna, Seaman E.B. George, Seaman John Fortes and Seaman John Rodriques all died. The lightship had sunk so quickly that anyone below decks had little chance of surviving.” 

“Binks ordered Olympic to resume course for New York at 12.29 pm once it had become clear that there were no more survivors. The liner had suffered only minimal damage in the collision, comprising some dented hull plates which were repaired in a dry dock in Southampton in May–June 1934. She was allowed to leave New York at the scheduled time on May 17 after a brief inspection.” 

The lightship now lies on her port side at a depth of 200 ft (61 m). In July 1998, in what was reported to be a difficult and dangerous dive led by diver Eric Takakjian, it was reported that the wreck is entangled in many fishing nets. Nonetheless Takakjian described it as "fascinating" and "a really exciting and rewarding experience" to visit. He commented on his surprise on seeing how well-preserved it was. It had been rumored at the time that the lightship had been cut in half by Olympic. LV-117's aft mast lies alongside the hull of the ship, while the forward mast has been broken off, lying perpendicular to the wreck. 

 In 1998, a crew of underwater recovery experts, using underwater sonar, recovered the 1,200-pound signal bell from LV 117 during a diving operation in thirty fathoms of water. In 2004, the Coast Guard launched an investigation into the recovery of the artifacts and subsequently filed a lawsuit against the divers. Rather than face prosecution, they turned the items over to the Coast Guard and promised to not dive on the site again. 

Lightship LV -112 was built in 1936 at a cost of $300,956. 

It was the costliest lightship ever built in the United States. The cost was paid out of the $500,000 paid to the United States as restitution for the sunken LV-117. The vessel had a length of 148 feet, 10 inches and displaced 1050 tons, making it the largest lightship ever built. Lightship LV-112 was built with special safety features. Except for the war years of 1942-1945 and 1958-1960 when she was assigned as the relief vessel for the 1st District, the vessel was somewhat unusual in being the only lightship whose sole assigned station was Nantucket station. 

Upon the sinking of the LV-117, Lightship 106 was dispatched to Nantucket Shoals where it was stationed until 1936 when LV-112 was completed. LV 112 was hit by two hurricanes while on station. The first was Hurricane Edna on September 14, 1954. That hurricane had 110 mph winds and stirred up seventy-foot seas when it struck. Bow plates were smashed, the anchor chain was parted, the rudder was torn off, porthole windows were blown in, and the pilot house was severely damaged. Only a jury-rigged anchor, which held the bow into the seas, prevented further destruction. A second hurricane in 1959 caused the anchor chain to part again, and the lightship was blown eighty miles off station. 

On 21 March 1975, after surviving 39 years of storms and two hurricanes, LV-112 was transferred from Nantucket station and replaced by WLV 612. Her longevity was a testament to her stout construction. LV-112 served longer than any lightship vessel Nantucket Lightship Station. She was the last ship to serve a full tour of duty at the Nantucket Shoal Station. 

From 1975 until 1983, the WLV-612 was assigned as the Lightship Nantucket. At 2:30 a.m. on 20 December 1983 the Lightship 613 relieved Lightship 612 until 8:00 a.m. when she was relieved by a Large Navigational Buoy. Lightship 613 was the last Lightship on station in the US and on Nantucket Station. Both WLV-612 and WLV-613 are now privately owned by William B. Golden and Kristen Golden. 

Lightship LV-112 was decommissioned on 28 March 1975. She was ultimately purchased in October 2009 by the United States Lightship Museum (USLM) under the leadership of Robert Mannino Jr. and arrived under tow in Boston Harbor on 11 May 2010.  

In 2012, Nantucket Lightship/LV-112 was selected as a National Treasure, one of 30 historic sites in the United States by the National Trust for Historic Preservation. In 2014, American Express awarded a $250,000 grant to the lightship as part of the National Treasures program. The money was then to be used to rebuild the vessel’s navigational light beacon, foghorn, and on-board electrical systems, allowing it to shine for the first time in forty years. 

She is open to the public at the Nantucket Lightship Museum in the Boston Harbor Shipyard and Marina at 256 Marginal Street in East Boston, where it is open Saturdays, 10am –4pm, from the last Saturday in April through the last Saturday in October. The ship is not handicap accessible. 

What was it like to work aboard a lightship? In 2013, The National Trust for Historic Preservation published an interview by Rebecca Harris, a field officer in the Boston office of the Trust, with veterans of two of the Lightships: Peter Brunk, who was captain in the early 1970s, and Richard (Dick) Arnold, who served in the mid-1950s. 

Lightship LV-112 steaming to station

She asked them to recount some of the hardest parts about living and working on a lightship: 

“Arnold: Fog was the worst because it meant you had to run the foghorn. To run the foghorn, the air compressors had to run. They were really loud and vibrated the ship. It would wake you up out of a sound sleep. And the foghorn was deafening. Also, the tides on the shoals would run like a son of a gun and would make the whole ship heave.” 

“Brunk: In winter the weather was horrible -- you’d often get the equivalent of lake effect snow. It wouldn't be snowing on land but would be stormy at sea. Once, it snowed for 14 days and 14 nights straight. The wind was blowing so that it didn’t accumulate on deck, but it just kept snowing. Sometimes the weather would be so horrible that the relief ship couldn’t get out and we’d have to wait until the weather improved.” 

“Brunk: That was a rough place out there. You rocked and rolled. And I mean, just rocking and rolling." He remembers most were the rough seas, 90-foot waves, the fog, and the constant fear of getting hit by an approaching ship. "Every trip, we had four or five times, we'd have everyone get life jackets on, get the small boat ready ... and just get ready to get hit. The ship would come and ... sometimes you could hear them and you couldn't even see them, it was so foggy," Brunk said. "I've seen us blow the horn for 14 days and 14 nights — couldn't see anything. And in the wintertime, it was snowing all the time." 

Harris continued, “What was it like to be onboard during storms, especially hurricanes?” 

Arnold (who was onboard for Hurricane Edna in 1954) replied: “The winds were blowing at least 115 mph. The anemometer [wind gauge] broke at that point, so we didn't know how high the wind went, but we saw the sea getting bigger and bigger. A huge rogue wave was coming. The force of the water blew out four of the portholes and water surged into the pilot’s house. If I had been standing in front of one of the portholes that blew out, I figure my head would have been cut off. I’m thankful I wasn't in front of one when it blew.” 

“Brunk: It was rough. For example, my father passed away in March 1971, and just before then I was supposed to bring the Nantucket Lightship back to station while my father was ailing, but there was a storm brewing. I was worried because I wanted to be able to get back in case something happened to my father. The storm was bad, big Nor'easter with winds at 60 and 70 knots. Several ships nearby were in trouble and were seeking help. The Coast Guard tried sending a helicopter, cutters were afraid to go, and I couldn’t get off for my father’s funeral. The storm lasted for four or five days -- worse than a hurricane.” 

Harris further asked, “What are some of your favorite memories of life on board”? 

“Arnold: In 1955, I got married on one of my leaves, and for the occasion they gave me some extra time. For the official reason for the extra time, they sent me to motion projector school, which got me 10 extra days at home. After you were trained you were the one assigned to bringing back movies to the boat when you returned from leave and to show them. At the time it was real film -- you learned how to splice the film, repair film and the projectors, etc.” 

“Sometimes we would exchange coffee with fishermen for scallops. I loved the scallops. As a fisherman [before and after joining the Coast Guard], I knew just how to cook them. And I even liked them raw! Couldn't get any fresher!” 

“Brunk: They used to have beer and pizza on “hump day,” halfway through the two-week shift. Called it happy hour. If the weather was bad and the relief crew didn't get out, sometimes we had the relief crew’s beer too.” 

“We used to get movies, originally 14 movies per shift, but I managed to convince them to give the ship 28 movies a month, so we often watched two movies a day. Really good movies we’d watch a few times. I probably saw every movie released in 1971!"

_____

Sources quoted: 

History of Lightships by Robert R. Reed,

https://nha.org/research/nantucket-history/history-topics/history-of-lightships/NantucketHistorical Association

Nantucket Lightship LV117 Newsstory. www.uscglightshipsailors.org/nantucketlightship_lv117__ newsstory.htm, Standard Times, Sept 4, 2004; www.southcoast.com

United States lightship LV-117,  articles incorporating text from Military Wiki, Shipwrecks of the Massachusetts coast, 1931 ships.

https://military-history.fandom.com/wiki/United_States_lightship_LV-117 and from the New York Times as reported therein.

 Two Nantucket Lightship Veterans Recall Their Years Onboard by Sarah Heffern, November 18, 2013.

https://savingplaces.org/stories/two-nantucket-lightship-veterans-recall-years-onboard