THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, October 21, 1994 TAG: 9410210661
SECTION: FRONT PAGE: A5 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY DENNIS JOYCE, STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: NORFOLK LENGTH: Medium: 90 lines
``Abort, abort, abort,'' came the urgent call over the ship's radio the night of Sept. 18.
``Now what?'' wondered members of the Nashville's crew, who were about to launch an invasion of Haiti.
``We were bringing the bombs out,'' said Marine Gunnery Sgt. Floyd Rhoden, who directs the ship's helicopter flights.
Then, just like their countrymen at home, the crew of the amphibious transport dock heard the details during President Clinton's live speech to the nation. He announced that an 11th-hour agreement had been reached for Haiti's military leaders to step down.
For the crew, who returned to Norfolk on Thursday, the announcement brought relief tinged with disappointment.
``This ship was at its highest state of training and readiness,'' said Senior Chief Petty Officer Richard Tredinnick, 37. ``We were thinking, `We couldn't be any better trained than we are now.' ''
For the captain, though, there was no relief. News of the agreement had come to him from his communications channels, but he wasn't sure that Haitian forces ashore had gotten the word. The Nashville's target, the northern city of Cap Haitien, had been without electricity for 1 1/2 years.
``We were more worried on this end of the island than they were in Port-au-Prince,'' said the skipper, Capt. Thomas G. Otterbein. ``We had rules of engagement for war and rules of engagement for peace. Did they know it was peace?''
The Nashville's advance forces, including Navy SEALs who had been back and forth in secret before the scheduled landing, expected gunfire when they went ashore.
``We were aware there was no invasion, but we went in there fully prepared for one,'' Otterbein said.
They had nothing to fear, though. Their potential adversaries lifted their guns only to control crowds that had gathered to welcome the Americans.
A day later, the bulk of the Nashville's 450 Marines were ordered ashore, aboard 14 armored amphibious assault craft and a half-dozen flights on helicopters from the nearby amphibious assault ship Wasp.
``It was a textbook amphibious assault. The timing was just perfect. It was a joy to watch,'' Otterbein said.
The Navy's part of the mission was largely over. A month of intense assault training with the Wasp in Puerto Rico and at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, had ended in a peaceful occupation.
For the next month, they carried out their normal duties aboard ship and resupplied Marines ashore.
For the Marines, the next month was anything but normal. A unit from the Wasp, on patrol Sept. 24 in Cap Haitien, was challenged by Haitian security forces outside the main police station and opened fire.
Ten Haitians were killed, and a Navy interpreter, drawn from a pool that included Creole-speaking members of the Nashville crew, suffered a gunshot wound.
Then on Oct. 5, a Marine aboard the Nashville shot and killed himself while the ship was on a port visit to Puerto Rico. Otterbein called the crew together and spoke to them from the flight deck, offering counsel for those who needed help dealing with the tragedy.
Stress remained high for families at home, too. Unlike regularly scheduled six-month deployments, this one remained open-ended. They didn't learn until six days ago that this deployment would end at two months.
``My son is very attached to his father and he truly believed his father was not coming home,'' said Jane Garrant, 34, whose husband is the ship's senior mess specialist. ``Usually you can put the date on a calendar and watch for it, but not this time.''
Soon, all the pieces began falling into place: Attacks on pro-American crowds fell off, top military leaders left, and ousted President Jean-Bertrand Aristide returned.
But not until the day of Aristide's celebrated arrival, Saturday, did the crew and families learn the Nashville was ordered home.
Still, as volatile as Haiti is, many wives kept their fingers crossed until the moment they saw the ship during the homecoming Thursday at Norfolk Naval Station. They hoped that no harm would come to Aristide and that their husbands wouldn't be needed there again.
``The best protection he could have had this last week,'' Garrant quipped, ``was a group of Nashville and Wasp wives.'' ILLUSTRATION: Photo
MOTOYA NAKAMURA/Staff
Crewman Chris Giles, shown aboard the Nashville Thursday, holds his
2-month-old daughter, Courtney, for the first time. Giles' wife,
Shanette, is at left. The Nashville returned to Norfolk after
operating off the coast of Haiti.
by CNB