Gulf Of Aden

Last night was the start of our Persian Gulf encounter. OTTAWA has been tasked to locate and board numerous vessels of interest in the Gulf of Aden. Our ship is the only one in the task group we are operating with who is able to board under these conditions. We jumped right into the thick of things too, with our first boarding being a Red Operation, night boarding – the most dangerous flavour. I was a bundle of nerves awaiting that first pipe, “Port Watch to Boarding Stations.” I am not a part of the ship’s boarding party, the reason being rather obvious; I am not all that intimidating… in fact I would argue that I am perhaps the very definition of a ‘soft target.’ So no need to fret about my personal safety, Mom. It is evolutions like this boarding of potential hostile vessels that leave me wondering, “don’t we have professionals for things like this?” The scary thing is, we are the professionals. The people I live with here in this ever-shrinking tin can, that I interact with while we bob around in this vast sea, are the heroes of our country. We are no different than those young boys and girls fighting at the front lines in Afghanistan. It shakes you to the bone to know that these people with all their fears and dreams are dealing with situations the average Canadian will only experience through a watered down version retold in a high school history book. The world becomes a whole lot smaller when the faces you are seeing on TV during the six o’clock news’ “death watch” are the faces you’ve known through your time at basic training. I think what I am trying to convey is that “we” are no different then “you.” These are mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, brothers and sisters who are carrying weapons and sneaking around in the dark places of the world trying to find the spark of humanity in amoungst the rubble of war. I know that we have been trained for this very purpose, but can a person ever truly feel prepared? It is hard not to feel small in the face of adversity. It is hard not feel intimidated by the strength of resistance. It is hard to stand strong when confronted with hate and the threat of violence. We took a detour two days ago to come alongside in Djibouti, Africa to embark more food supplies, as all our stores we took on in Goa, India were either contaminated or turned (I’ll write about India soon). It was exciting to leave the ship and stand on Africa soil, even if we were really only standing on a concrete jetty. The piers were skirted by concrete sea retaining walls that over time sailors have painted murals to leave their mark. Many ships were represented from all over the world – we even took the opportunity to claim our own piece of real estate painting a large Canadian flag with a Griffin replacing the maple leaf. The magnitude of our endeavor was felt though, when we spotted the graffiti of the USS Cole. She laid that eternal mark a few weeks before the bombs tore Her hull apart in Yemen, 12 October 2000. It is things like this that keep us safe. They serve as reminders of the true nature of this sail and speak loudly to those who might become complacent. For me, it invokes a promise that I make with my soul to strive to live each day to its fullest and take no thing, no matter how insignificant it may seem, for granted.May you all take the time this Remembrance Day to ponder those who are serving abroad for a global healing. Please remember that they are not heroes or extraordinary… they are simply men and women like you. We all can have an impact on this world, whether our actions are televised or not.