Feature Story

ASTORIA, Ore. — Senior Chief Petty Officer Carlos Herrera, a boatswain's mate at Group Astoria stands beside a fisherman's memorial in Chinook, Wash.

Herrera has been a qualified surfman since 2001 and has spent 23 of his 30 years in the Coast Guard at small boat stations.

Herrera will retire this spring after serving exclusively in the Pacific Northwest.

U.S. Coast Guard photo by Petty Officer 3rd Class Nate Littlejohn.

ASTORIA, Ore. —  Senior Chief Petty Officer Carlos Herrera is saluted by Chief Petty Officer Ian Bauer during a retirement ceremony Friday, Apr. 9, 2010, at Air Station Astoria, honoring Herrera for his 30-year Coast Guard career.

Herrera has been a qualified surfman since 2001 and has spent his entire career in the Pacific Northwest.

U.S. Coast Guard photo by Coast Guard Auxiliarist Larry Kellis.

 

Farewell to a Surfman
By Petty Officer 3rd Class Nate Littlejohn 

ASTORIA, Ore. — A deep voice, though calm, commands attention from anyone within earshot.  The confident yet modest demeanor of this surfman expresses a sense of strength, compassion, and sound judgment. His experience and expertise, conveyed with a humble sort of pride, are evident within moments of meeting him. 

Senior Chief Petty Officer Carlos Herrera, a boatswain’s mate and surfman, retired this spring after a 30-year Coast Guard career spent exclusively in the Pacific Northwest.  Men and women like Herrera are the backbone of our seagoing service. His optimism and passion for the organization, as well as his ability to think quickly yet rationally, have led to his success.

In discussing his experience in the Coast Guard, Herrera attributes much of his success to the organization as a whole. He says teamwork and camaraderie have supported him at all 14 units he has had the opportunity to serve.

“I like the close-knit family atmosphere, the caring of the individuals,” added Herrera. “Sometimes other service members are your extended family. They take you in, regardless of rank. The camaraderie and the kinship were key to my success both in and out of the workplace. Everywhere I’ve served, people have gone out of their way to help one another.”

One example of the Coast Guard being there for Herrera occurred at the beginning of his career.  His son passed away as a result of a premature birth. A seaman apprentice at the time, Herrera did not have much money. The Coast Guard mutual assistance program provided Herrera with the funds to cover the cost of the funeral and burial.

“Not only did they help, they picked up the entire tab. I received a grant, I didn’t have to pay back a dime, and I was brand new to the Coast Guard,” he explained.

After examining his career, however, it becomes evident that while the Coast Guard provided the platform for Herrera to achieve, he is ultimately responsible for his accomplishments within the organization.

Herrera did not attend boatswain’s mate ‘A’ school, but chose instead to learn the trade at Station Seattle. “They didn’t have any supplemental advancement lists back then; there were 13 books of correspondence material we had to study for the end of course test before taking the third class servicewide exam,” he added.

Twenty-three of Herrera’s 30 years in the Coast Guard were spent at small boat stations. He says of all the search and rescue (SAR) missions he’s been on, there’s one that stands out in his mind more than any other.

On Nov. 16, 1991, the Coast Guard responded to a mayday call from the fishing vessel Western Seas located approximately 40 miles west of Fox Rock near Cape Blanco, Ore.  A crew aboard the 52-foot motor lifeboat Intrepid out of Station Coos Bay, Ore., set out in winds in excess of 80 mph and breaking seas ranging from 25 to 50-feet. 

“Master Chief John Dunn, a boatswain’s mate first class at the time of the case and the person responsible for driving the Intrepid, Todd Whitney, a machinery technician first class, Kenneth Behal, a machinery technician third class, Andrew Alexander, a boatswain's mate third class and I, then a boatswain’s mate second class, spent approximately eight hours battling the heavy winds and high seas to reach the distressed fishing vessel,” he said.   

Behal was nearly washed overboard at one point during the journey. After an especially treacherous wave smashed directly on top of the Intrepid, the submerged Behal floated out of his surf belt. Bravely, and at great risk to their own lives, Whitney and Herrera made the decision to unclip their surf belts and dive on Behal before he could be swept away.

It was determined that the Western Seas would require a tow after arriving on scene as the ship had lost power.  A five-pound lead monkey’s fist, a weight at the end of a line, was used in an attempt to get a heaving line to the stricken vessel so that a towline could be pulled aboard.  The monkey’s fist was repeatedly batted down by the winds as if it were a child’s balloon.

Finally, after 20 to 30 attempts, Herrera managed to get the line to the vessel in peril and establish a tow.  Just as soon as the 1,000-foot towline came taught and the 78-foot stern trawler was in tow, the Intrepid received another more urgent mayday call from the fishing vessel Arctic.  The vessel was taking on water in the pilot house, and the ship’s battery was fried.  The Western Seas was far enough from shore to avoid danger and would later be towed by another Coast Guard motor lifeboat. The Arctic was in immediate danger. Once all 1,000-feet of sopping-wet towline was heaved back aboard, Dunn, Herrera and the rest of Intrepid’s crew proceeded to the last known position of the Arctic.

Herrera noted that, hours later, the ravaged Intrepid crew arrived on scene expecting to come across a sinking ship.  However, the Arctic was still afloat.  The Intrepid’s crew passed the Arctic’s crew a radio to establish communication.  The Arctic’s crew had secured the pilot house door so no more water could enter.  The Arctic was put in tow and after approximately five hours of grueling battle with tumultuous waves and high velocity winds, a miracle happened.  The clouds suddenly parted. The sun came out. The swells subsided.

“It was an eerie feeling, like the man upstairs was looking after us and pointing the way home. I’ve heard of stories like that happening, but when it happens to you, it’s pretty awe-inspiring,” said Herrera.

The Intrepid towed the Arctic all the way to the entrance of the Coos Bay river bar, where they were relieved by a fresh Coast Guard crew after being on the water for over a day and a half. Though this experience may have sent many service members looking for a job on land, Herrera had other plans.

Though he had every intention of becoming a surfman prior to that now infamous November 1991 SAR case, Herrera wanted the opportunity to drive boats in heavy surf now more than ever.

After a tour on Coast Guard Cutter Orcas and another three years on the Cutter Bluebell, Herrera returned to Station Coos Bay.  In 2001, after years of training, Herrera became a surfman.

“Becoming a surfman was probably the greatest highlight of my career. There’s quite a bit of prestige and honor that comes with being a surfman, but contrary to popular belief, not all surfmen are big-headed,” he asserted.

“Some surfmen are type ‘A’ and then there are surfmen more on the reserved side who get the job done equally well. When push comes to shove, to be a surfman you have to be the elite of the elite. You have to be a good boat driver first and foremost.  If you don’t know boat handling basics, you won’t be able to maneuver that boat in the surf. You have to know how to read waves and have the foresight to see when that wave is going to break,” he explained.

The ability to read a breaking wave is just one skill Herrera acquired during his career. Perhaps the most significant, his ability to put others before himself, is what distinguishes Herrera as a true Guardian.

“I’ve had the opportunity to work with Senior Chief Herrera for almost four years now,” said Chief Ian Bauer, the ready-for-operations coordinator for Group Astoria, Ore.  “He’s genuinely concerned about his people.  He always puts his subordinates before himself.  I’m about to begin an important leadership position at my next unit.  He’s given me a lot of insight on what to expect and how to help my people.”

Herrera is a devoted, selfless man, invaluable to the Coast Guard and the many people whose lives he’s helped save.  We thank him.

 

Editor's Note: For the purpose of this story, the ranks and rates of those aboard the Intrepid are listed as they were at the time of the Nov. 16-17, 1991 search and rescue case.