Coast Guard Rescue 1705: A family grieves

T.A. Barnhart

I am watching the memorial service for Coast Guard Rescue 1705, being streamed from Air Station Sacramento, the home base for that lost C-130. As I watch,my son, Seaman Jesse Newman-Barnhart, is on board the USCG Midgett, returning to port in Seattle. Two days ago, he and the Midgett participated in a remembrance ceremony for the crew of Rescue 1705 off the coast of San Diego. They had arrived in port the day before, returning from patrol along the Pacific Coast of Central and South America. In a circumstance of such tragedy, that so many fellow Guardians could pay tribute to their lost comrades was bittersweet.

I wish it could be so, but I doubt this will be the last time Jesse will have to say farewell to a comrade.

On October 29, 2009, while searching for a lost boater off the coast of southern California, a Coast Guard C-130 with a crew of seven struck a Marine Corps helicopter with two on-board. Both craft went down, and all nine Coasties and Marines were killed.

Members of Coast Guard Rescue 1705, Air Station Sacramento

Lt. Cmdr. Che J. Barnes, 35, Capay, Calif., aircraft commander.

Lt. Adam W. Bryant, 28, Crewe, Va., co-pilot.

Chief Petty Officer John F. Seidman, 43, Stockton, Calif., flight engineer.

Petty Officer 2nd Class Carl P. Grigonis, 35, Mayfield Heights, Ohio, navigator.

Petty Officer 2nd Class Monica L. Beacham, 29, Decaturville, Tenn., radio operator.

Petty Officer 2nd Class Jason "Jake" S. Moletzsky, 26, Norristown, Pa., air crew.

Petty Officer 3rd Class Danny R. Kreder II, 22, Elm Mott, Texas, drop master.

Marine Corps helicopter pilot and co-pilot

Maj. Samuel Leigh, 35, Kennebec, Maine.

1st Lt. Thomas Claiborne, 26, Douglas, Colo.

The Marines were on a training exercise with other helicopters; the C-130 was doing what the Coast Guard does on a daily basis: search and rescue. Marines train daily for what something they do infrequently: actual battle. Coasties do not train for war; they perform their main duty on a daily basis. Due to the nature of the work, including the training, those in any of the services are at risk on a frequent basis. We tend to forget that even when we’re not at war, members of the service are killed and injured on a daily basis as part of daily operations.

Coasties train, of course, but mostly they do. The job of the Coast Guard is to be ready, day or night, to protect and rescue. This job is not one that can be set aside in the way a training exercise can be postposed. When a boat is in trouble at sea, they go. That’s their job. The worse the conditions, the more likely they are going to have to go out in them. It’s what they do, and it means every day is the possibility of a mission that is their last. (Not surprisingly, of all the services, only the Marines endure a tougher basic training than do Coasties — and not by much. I was amazed to learn what Jesse and his mates went through in their two months at Cape May last year.)

The Midgett, one of four sister ships that are currently the largest in the Coast Guard’s fleet, is Jesse’s first assignment. His goal is to be a rescue swimmer, one of those crazies who jumps out of helicopters into the ocean in the middle of typhoons to rescue fishing boats. He hopes to take the first step in that direction next year with a training assignment to North Carolina. Rescue swimmers face more danger than perhaps any service member not under enemy fire, but the training they receive is so extensive, the mortality rate is incredibly low. The Coast Trains all its people hard and well; that’s why so few die on duty and why most missions are successful.

But the danger is always there. The accident that killed these nine service members probably happened in a matter of seconds, possibly as the plane, moving twice as fast as the helicopter, dropped down to search closer to the water. The copter was struck broadside, a freak accident in circumstances that, in retrospect, had no margin for error. Two Marines on training; seven Coasties searching for a lost boater. Nine Americans doing their duty.

Watching the memorial service from Air Station Sacramento, I realize two things about the Coast Guard family. One, it is a small family. Jesse had to wait several months last year for a date to be set to begin basic training; the Coast Guard has relatively few members and is not running through a new batch of trainees daily or weekly as the other services do. Coast Guard stations tend to be small; cutters like the Midgett, with a crew of over 400, is an exception. Air Station Astoria has fewer than 100 on-duty including Reserve duty members. Many stations have a handful of Coasties, just enough for the mission and no more. The loss of a single Guardian reverberates throughout the entire Coast Guard.

The second thing I realized is that I am now part of that family. These are my son’s comrades; one day, this could be my son. Over the years, as he performs his duty and lives up the standards of the Coast Guard, I know I will continue to take great pride in him: as my son, as a Coastie, as a member and representative of the United States Coast Guard. I feel a tremendous sorrow for the loss of CG Rescue 1705; more than anything else, that tells me I am grieving for the loss of family members. A week ago, two days ago, I did not consider myself part of that family. I see now that I am, and for those in the family who have suffered such a loss, I wish peace and comfort.

Of course, for me, I am also a member of the family that is the Oregon National Guard, and my son’s service in Iraq has my emotions on a finer edge than might be otherwise. It is difficult for me to feel the same way about Alex’s service in the National Guard — now, during deployment, in the U.S. Army — especially since he is part of an occupation force I believe to be illegal and immoral. Yet as I look past that aspect of his service, I know he is as dedicated to the job, as he calls it, as his brother is to being a Coastie. For that reason, among many, I am just as proud of him.

And if Alex is able to keep his comrades safe with his presence, providing protection as the convoys roll through the backroads of Iraq, then he’ll have done a good thing. I hope he can do this in the context of a drawdown and an understanding from potential hostile forces that we are withdrawing and want only for the Iraqi people to build a peaceful nation. If Alex and the Oregon Guard can help bring this about, and can do without having to take lives, then in retrospect we may be glad of their service there (but honestly, I’m not holding my breath).

Here in Oregon, we owe much to both the Coast Guard and our National Guard. Both serve the state in tangible, meaningful ways. It seems that every few days, the Coast Guard is pulling a fisherman out of the water, rescuing a broken-down boat, searching for a lost swimmer. In normal times, the National Guard provides help during fire season, when floods threaten communities, during natural disasters and other dangers to the people of Oregon. They protect people, they save lives, and they do so at the constant risk of their own.

We tend to romanticize the military in this country, but there’s no need to resort to melodrama. We need only tell the unadorned story of our countrymen and women who choose to serve in uniform. The bare truth should always suffice. A cruel accident that kills nine brave Americans needs nothing more than the simple words of what happened off the coast of California: In the performance of their duties, seven Coasties and two Marines died in service to their nation.

We grieve their loss and honor their service.

By T.A. Barnhart Nov. 06, 2009