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REGINA Travel Log: Week Nine
PO2 Steven Pring, HMCS Regina
March 31, 2003 – Day 58
Three weeks have passed since leaving Singapore and the possibility exists of another three before we make port. Like everything else about this deployment the destination and port dates are in a constant state of flux, to focus on or make plans for any specific date is a fool’s errand resulting in disappointment. Those of us who have been here before have our druthers as to which port we’d like to visit, but then as with most things each has its pro and cons. Where and when we’ll end up is unknown, but I doubt it would really matter where we stop so long as it’s soon.
April 1 – Day 59
News of a pleasant nature began to filter through the ship just after midnight; talk of an out of action period - 24 to 36 hours without the steady stream of hailing, escorting and boarding. Images of getting more than three consecutive hours of sleep, perhaps watch an entire movie from start to finish instead of a number of unrelated 10-minute clips are passing through my mind.
Were the oceans to dry up tomorrow, the navy could float on rumour. All at once your eyes narrow, you actually see the person relating this wonderful news, you begin to consider the source and then note the date.
Ha, ha, very funny, April fools.
Proceeding to your station you hear the same gag three, four more times, so by the time you’ve reached your destination you’re completely twisted.
Last night’s rumour was at least interesting. This one is just cruel.
Upon arriving in Ops you learn that it’s indeed true. We will be out of action for the next 36 hours. Now you’re really twisted. What a complete waste of all of that perfectly good righteous indignation.
Fast forward.
A sky of cracked alabaster porcelain inlayed with blue, smudged with vapid yellow and dull brown – desert sand held in permanent suspension. A gentle breeze warmed by the cloud-hidden sun cools the skin, stirring only the slightest ripple on the seemingly endless sea. On the horizon is the shimmering mirage-like image of a super tanker on a northerly track toward the straits, of no concern to us at the moment.
With minimum manning throughout the ship to allow maximum advantage of this rest period, life on board Regina has slowed to nearly full stop. A quick glance around the flight deck reveals some involved in setting up for the barbeque scheduled for later in the afternoon, but for the most part the scene depicted is one of self-imposed isolation provided by novels and Discman headsets; people, not crew members each seeking their personal centres, fortifying themselves in preparation for the next onslaught of weeks to come.
April 2 – Day 60
All good things must end and this out of action period is no different. Five hours ahead of schedule a possible mine sighting cuts our quiet time short. Full manning is once again set in place, our embarked EOD (Explosive Ordinance Disposal) team is closed up, and mine countermeasures initiated as we go screaming to the north at 28 knots. Less than 45 minutes later the suspected mines are dismissed as nothing more than Sadam’s recycling program – discarded oil barrels, crates and bags of garbage.
A quick pit stop for a bit of gas and Groundhog Day begins anew.
Two months down, five to go.
April 3 – Day 61
The ship re-supplied today, receiving the staples of life and of course a “Santa Drop” for the crew.
The day moved forward from there, as have all days up to this point; however, it was some hours later while working out in the hangar that the complete surrealistic lunacy of it all hit me full force.
“Port watch to escort stations, port watch to escort stations.”
As has happened on dozens of occasions since our arrival here in the Gulf of Oman, upon completion of that pipe, the hangar/gym becomes populated with members of the boarding party, semi automatic weapons and ammunition arrayed before them at the ready should they be needed to defend the ship or our assigned escort. A sentry is assigned to keep watch over the weapons while the remainder go out on patrol.
Fifteen feet away from this formidable arsenal is a universal gym where my workout partner and I match wits with lead weights. Further forward three people practice their dart game in preparation for an upcoming tournament, while against the forward bulkhead of the hangar a couple of Ordinary Seaman shoot baskets.
Just your average, nothing out of the ordinary evening at the gym; did I mention the arsenal of weapons?
Perhaps a testament to human tolerance, resiliency in the face of ever-changing situations where adaptation and acceptance are a means of survival, or maybe it’s a harbinger to our demise as a race when seeing an assortment of weapons such as these has become so commonplace they no longer elicit reaction.
April 5 – Day 63
As in any family news of a birth is something to be celebrated, news of twins doubly so. Today Regina’s family grew by two twin boys Jasper and Joshua.
Welcome aboard boys; your Daddy hasn’t stopped grinning since he got the news.
April – Day 64
In the minutia of daily life on board ship, especially one 6,500 miles away from home where close quarters and tense times work together to create an artificiality seldom found anywhere else, it’s not difficult to lose sight of what truly matters.
What matters are spouses raising families as both mom and dad in our absence; it’s the child from up the street who shows up every Sunday morning to do the yard work for $20, but who never seems to get around to raking up the clippings; it’s that lawn mower that no longer starts on the first pull, and it’s the “Honey-do List” tacked to the fridge awaiting your return that will never get completed so long as the TV holds out.
In six months no one will care about how many ships were hailed or boarded or the gross tonnage escorted through the Straits of Hormuz. A year from now the war in Iraq will be obscured in a bid for veteran remuneration and front-page stories on the invasion of Baghdad, and the lives lost in that campaign will be replaced by page six mention of fires in Iraqi oil fields – 500 words or less and no picture - squeezed in next to a quarter page ad announcing the latest no-money down, 0% financing deal.
For most of us life will go on, but for those who bore witness and go forward to teach the future, what message will they take forth? Whatever it is, clearly greater minds than mine will determine, but perhaps this time it will be sufficient to prevent us from returning [to the Arabian Gulf] for the twentieth anniversary of Desert Storm.
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