Front Burner

by Kirk S. Lippold

  Up until this point, Chris and I had, for the most part, mutually coordinated our efforts to organize the crew and work with the lead members from each support agency that came aboard the ship. That approach would no longer work; too much was happening too quickly. Without ever discussing or even acknowledging it, we divided the duties. Chris would handle and deal with the operation and coordination of efforts internal to the crew and ship, while I would deal with the myriad personnel that were coming from ashore. Without even exchanging a word, our relationship as CO and XO had matured and transitioned to a new level. It was one of the blessings of having a great executive officer.

  Initially, the FBI’s evidence collection teams had planned to work independently of the ship’s crew. They did not know how well the crew was coping with the aftermath of the attack, and in their previous experience at post-blast crime scenes, they had not had people who had lived through the attack available to assist them. After the initial assessment survey on Sunday, however, Don Sachtleben, now the FBI lead forensic advisor on the scene, decided to take advantage of the manpower pool available in Cole’s crew and use them to supplement the evidence collection teams.

  This turned out to be the right decision. Working with the FBI and NCIS agents allowed the crew to participate in the vital task of evidence collection, helping to determine who had carried out the attack and bring them to justice. When off watch, crew members would not be left sitting around to bemoan their circumstances or worry about their fate; they would have work to do. Similarly, the FBI benefitted from having skilled experts familiar with the ship, its components, and how things operated in a shipboard environment.

  Time was of the essence. The crew knew that the faster the job of evidence collection could be completed, the faster they would get the ship back under their complete control. While it was always their ship, having a team of twenty to thirty law enforcement agents, plus other support organizations, crawling everywhere created a sense that for the time being they had lost ownership. Most just wanted to be done with this work so they could start the process of cleaning up all the debris topside and give the ship a thorough freshwater washdown. It would also mean being able to clean up the area around the mess line and galley, thereby reducing the growing stench of rotting food.

  Throughout the day, the FBI/NCIS forensic teams, including key personnel Supervisory Special Agent Leo West (FBI), Special Agent Cathy Clements (NCIS), and Special Agent Mike Martz (NCIS), worked to section off different areas of the ship and systematically gather evidence, which would all be kept aboard ship or transferred to other Navy ships so as to keep it entirely under U.S. control. For these seasoned investigators, the entire ship was covered in question marks. Specific material they looked to gather included pieces of wire, batteries, and other mechanisms to indicate the ignition source for the explosives, the type of motor used in the boat, or any other pieces that might provide a clue that would fit into the massive puzzle they were just starting to work on. They also looked for key components that would give them clues about the size and origin of the boat as well as how the explosives may have been positioned in it.

  Another major requirement of evidence gathering was to find pieces of the bombers whose bodies had been obliterated by the explosion. Their DNA would make it possible to identify them and give clues to how the attack had been so skillfully planned and executed. Pieces of bone, flesh, and teeth from the bombers had already been found on the ship and more was being discovered as the day wore on.

  Every piece of material that did not appear to come from the ship went through careful examination and review. On the forecastle, shaded by a tarp erected over the MK-45 5-inch/54 gun barrel, several tables held the evidence the crew uncovered. At each table, the investigators carefully pored over the material brought to them in bags and buckets, and then sifted through a screen. It was a slow and detailed process that went on for hours at a stretch before the team members would take a break inside the ship to gain some respite from the oppressive heat and humidity.

  Once sorted, bags of evidence were deposited in the ship’s classroom under the flight deck, and turned over to the FBI/NCIS team as the central office for evidence collection and documentation. Right next door, the ship’s career counselor’s office became the initial storage point for evidence. Since this space could be locked and maintained under strict access control, it was the best place for evidence to be received, logged in using evidence collection materials and forms—the FD-192, or green sheet, for the FBI—and secured until it could be taken off the ship.

  The crew knew not to walk through or disrupt key areas that might still contain undisturbed evidence. Looking back on the ship from the forecastle, the evidence collection team knew they would be spending days if not weeks getting into every nook and cranny in every possible topside location of the ship. Inside, in the area of the mess decks, galley, mess line, and chiefs’ mess, other teams slowly began to pick their way through the debris. Here, the location and sorting process was made even more difficult by lack of ventilation in Aden’s stifling heat and humidity, as well as the dearth of adequate lighting.

  From the moment Don and other FBI agents came on board, their focus was the collection of evidence. Within hours though, that focus subtly shifted; while evidence would continue to be collected, the recovery of crew remains became the overriding priority for everyone on board. In discussions with Jim Hanna, Chris and I were led to understand that the shipyard workers from the Norfolk Naval Shipyard would help us recover the remains of our shipmates from the wreckage above the waterline, and to brace structures around the blast area so that the ship could be safely and slowly towed out of port. Commander Scholley and her MDSU-2 divers would assess damage to the flooded spaces of the ship, figure out how to stop water from leaking out of those spaces to the rest of the ship, and conduct the underwater recovery of missing sailors. Planning for how to get Cole out of port was going on concurrently with these efforts and as the sailors’ remains were recovered and the ship was stabilized and readied, the plan to get Cole out of Aden and back to the United States would kick into high gear.

  That was not going to be easy. The first problem was how to stop flooding from the auxiliary machinery room 2 through the shaft seal into main engine room 2. That had been held at bay by the pumps, but if the ship lost power again, the engine room would flood all over again.

  Two divers, Hull Technician Second Class Bret Husbeck and Engineman Second Class Michael Shields, dressed out in full dive gear and helmets, made the first attempt to reenter the machinery room from the mess decks, straight down the vertical escape scuttle that had been shut late Saturday night to control the floodwaters. With their MK 21 dive helmets connected by hoses to their air supply and equipped with lights and a video feed to let supervisors provide guidance, they made their way down into the black hole and disappeared under the oily water.

  Surprisingly, they reported, the explosive force of the blast had not demolished the interior of the space or its equipment. Walking carefully on the deck plates above the bilges, they were unable to see any damage and determine how the floodwaters were flowing into the machinery room. But turning to the problem of the damaged seal around the propeller shaft where it passed through the bulkhead to main engine room 2, they were able to jam and wedge a long length of three-inch braided nylon towing line into the crevice surrounding the shaft, and stopped the leak.

  Once they were topside again, it was clear that the fuel and oil floating everywhere in the water had wreaked havoc with their equipment. It had started to interfere with the diaphragms built into the regulators inside their helmets, and the slick coating on wetsuits had to be quickly and completely removed to prevent the material from degrading. Also the seals around the connections for air, video, and communications would slowly decompose from exposure to the toxic mixture. This hazard was going to be a continuing problem, as was our power supply, and we needed the help of the divers to deal with that, as well.

/>   Our one working gas-turbine generator, number 3, had appeared to be running well after being restarted that morning, though the magnets in its lubricating oil strainer still were attracting shavings of metal, proof of excessive wear that would inevitably lead to its failure. But gas turbine generator 2, in the engine room we had just saved from leaks through the propeller shaft fitting, could not be restarted at all. An isolation valve somewhere between it and the flooded main engine room 1 was open, and the pressurized air that would be needed to start it was escaping the system. Everything was in order inside the now-dewatered main engine room 2. That could mean the leak was in the flooded supply office or the parts storage area directly above auxiliary machinery room 2—and if we were going to get the generator running, we would need to find it.

  Members of the crew had talked with the two sailors who had been working in that area at the time of the explosion—and been since evacuated to the United States for treatment of their injuries—and had learned that the only damage was probably to the port side wall and forward corner of the supply office, not farther back in the area containing spare parts for the ship and the isolation valve.

  So down went another set of divers into the murky floodwaters. Stepping up once again, Chief Pelly, who had helped rescue Seaman Lafontaine from the devastation of the galley after the explosion, volunteered to monitor the camera feed with the diving supervisor, to guide the divers to the likely source of the air leak.

  As the divers slowly made their way down the ladder near the mess line and into the flooded supply office, a large tear in the metal bulkhead in the forward port corner explained what had happened. At the top corner, that bulkhead had been torn open and forcefully blown into the space, allowing water to flood in through the ripped-open hull. We had been lucky to get everyone out of the now completely flooded supply office alive. Walking through the wreckage of furniture, filing cabinets, and papers floating in the water, the divers went toward the back of the ship to enter the space next door that contained most of the spare parts for the ship. The non-watertight door had been blown off its hinges and partially blocked their access. Initial inspection showed that the space had received only minor structural damage, but the force of the blast had knocked every loose spare part and piece of equipment and tossed it around.

  As they picked their way through the clutter at their feet, Chief Pelly carefully guided them to where he thought the valve could be located. Again, working slowly and methodically through the water, the divers quickly found the valve and within a few minutes had shut it off. Hopefully, gas turbine generator 2 would soon be ready to start.

  The crew was steadily restoring vital living systems throughout the ship. Air conditioning units were back online for the berthing compartments and workspaces in the back of the ship; the aft sewage system had been running smoothly for hours; and electrical power and lighting were slowly being energized in the forward part of the ship that had been in the dark since the attack. The Norfolk Naval Shipyard workers had quickly communicated their technical skills to the law enforcement and other support groups on board, and the FBI and divers took advantage both of their skills and equipment to build evidence collection boxes for the FBI and ladders for the divers to allow safe entry to the upper levels of main engine room 1.

  Things were beginning to look up. Then—Bang!

  A sharp, loud crack echoed across the aft missile deck and the flight deck as everyone within sight of my perch reacted, heads snapping around and bodies poised to hit the deck for cover. Without thinking, a shipyard worker had opened one of his large metal equipment storage boxes and after grabbing his tools, had let the large lid slam shut. The loud bang was not a noise he considered unusual, but it clearly had put an already jumpy crew on edge again.

  With a slight smile, knowing this had to be approached in the right way, I hopped down from atop the fender and intercepted the worker as he was walking forward with his tool bag. “Excuse me, but do you know where I can find the supervisor for you guys? I need to get in touch with him if he has a few minutes.”

  “Sure, I know right where he is. I’ll go get him for you, Captain,” he said, as he ambled off toward the amidships area of the ship.

  Chris and Master Chief Parlier were standing nearby and knew what I was up to but didn’t quite know how I would handle it. A few minutes later, the supervisor, Kenneth Baggett, came up to me.

  “Captain, I understand you were looking for me,” he said.

  “Yes, I was, thanks. I need you to do me a big favor. The crew has been through a lot these past few days and some of us are still pretty sensitive to loud noises. When your workers open their toolboxes, could you please ask them to make sure they gently close the lids? One of them just scared the bejesus out of everyone when he let the lid slam shut like shipyard workers usually do. Right now, I need a little help with this one,” I asked.

  Ken looked mortified. “Captain, I’ll get hold of everyone right away. I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I’m sure he didn’t even think about what he was doing. I’ll make sure everyone knows. I apologize. I’m sure he didn’t mean to do it,” he managed to say to me.

  I did not want him to think we were all skittish and overreacting, but I had also seen the crew’s response to the noise. I looked at him, smiled, and said, “Ken, it’s all right. Don’t make a big deal out of this. It’s just that the noise surprised everyone and if your folks can just take a few extra seconds to carefully close the lids, I don’t think there will be any problems. I really appreciate your help.”

  As he turned to walk away, he smiled, as he said, “No problem, Captain. We’ll get this fixed right away.”

  The crew had been watching. I walked back and hopped back up on my perch knowing that Chris and the Master Chief had observed my interaction with the supervisor. Now, with both of them standing near me, each had a bit of a slight smile on his face as I said, “Well, that shouldn’t be a problem again.” With the increasing stream of outside help flowing to the ship to assist in every aspect of getting through this ordeal, a deft touch in making them sensitive to the crew and their feelings would be an ongoing process. Confident the crew could handle anything thrown their way, I also knew that beneath the veneer of hardened capability and confidence, they were still very sensitive to the reality and the dangers of our situation.

  From then on, Ken and the Norfolk Naval Shipyard workers so effectively blended into the efforts of the crew and support teams that for all intents and purposes they were just another extension of Cole’s crew.

  The day seemed to be grinding on, when our lives suddenly turned on a dime again: at 1424, gas turbine generator 3 suddenly tripped offline without warning. Once again the ship was plunged into silent darkness as the engineers scrambled to find out what happened. Within minutes, they determined the cause to be the same as early Sunday morning; the generator had run out of fuel because it was impossible to monitor the fuel tank level.

  The crew was hardened by the past two days of work. Even so, you could feel discouragement creep in. While no one doubted we could keep the ship afloat, these types of setbacks frustrated everyone and kept them on edge.

  By 1500 that afternoon, the problem was solved as number 3 again roared to life. Power and lights came on quickly after that, and within minutes a normal routine returned to the ship, although with a heightened sense of anxiousness. Within a few hours, however, a more permanent fix to the fuel problem was made, allowing the fuel system of main engine room 2 to provide a constant flow of fuel to the online fuel service tank for the generator.

  Now Commander Scholley and her divers turned their attention to how we were going to get into the destroyed main engine room 1 to continue to gather forensic evidence and begin the search and recovery of the remains of the sailors there. The entrance to the space, just below the chief petty officers’ mess and next to the fuel lab, was almost completely flooded. There were at least eighteen inches of water over the deck grating at the upper level of the engine
room. The main entrance watertight door was buckled in about twelve inches, looking as if it had been punched at the center. The bolt dogs surrounding the door to hold it tightly shut and maintain the watertight integrity for the space were bent and deformed, as was the latching mechanism on the other side of the door. This access was definitely unusable. Using a cutting torch to gain access was not an option, given the amount of fuel and oil still floating in the water. While we might have been able to control a flash fire on the cutting side, if one started in the engine room, there was no way to effectively fight it. The danger of accidentally starting a fire in a space that could not be accessed was deemed too great.

  The next option considered was the escape trunk that led from the engine room up to the destroyed mess line, but a light lowered down into it showed that the trunk was too heavily damaged to be safe. So it was back to the ship’s damage control drawings for ideas.

  Since innovation and flexibility were now the new normal, the next option was to look at how air entered or left the engine room. Through fortuitous design, on the starboard side was a fan room that contained a ventilation duct providing fresh air to the engine room. A round ventilation motor and fan measuring about twenty-four inches across and forty-eight inches high could be unbolted from its mount to expose the duct, leading directly down to the upper level of the engine room. We had found our access point.

  While evidence collection and processing was a priority throughout the day, everybody was steeled for the more sensitive and essential mission that had now become the number one priority in the minds of every member of the ship’s crew: the extrication and recovery of our twelve shipmates who were crushed and entombed in the wreckage of the mess line, galley, and the destroyed engine room. Until we finished recovering their remains to begin that long journey to their families, no one could rest easy. Everyone wanted to get our shipmates headed home.