Car wreck

Well, I wasn't hurt and things have worked out.

I have been driving back and forth between Yorktown and Washington at least once a week for the past year. I guess the law of averages finally caught up with me.

The first week of August I was coming over the bridge three miles from home at 1:30am when fatigue, anticipation, no cruise control combined to have me stopped and ticketed for 63mph in a 45 zone. (Last and only ticket I ever had was in 1991 back in Maine.) So, now I am hypersensitive to my speed, and driving home last Wednesday at 5:30pm when the light turned yellow while still short of the solid painted lane line I clamped on my brakes. I am just NOT in the mood to run any lights while waiting for court.

The only new car I have ever owned was hit from behind as I stopped at an intersection five miles from home after driving a load of my household goods for three and a half hours 158 miles back from D.C. The guy who hit me was driving a black 2007 Chevy four-door flat-bed wrecker with a load on back. With temporary Tennessee tags! I could see nothing but his grill in my rearview suddenly veer left out of sight, where I guess he pinged off a teenage girl driving a Hyundai before deciding to come back into my lane instead. Tore off my left rear corner then skipped around to the front and tore off that corner, the headlight and bumper. Still enough force to drive me across the intersection with my foot on the brake.

Goddammit, I just filled the gas tank ten minutes before. Estimator at the collision shop pointed out six inches to the right and I would still be in the hospital. Or still on fire.

As it is, some lessons perhaps ...

GEICO is my insurer and when I called in the claim they said I could either ask them to pursue the claim, or I could ask the other insurer (State Farm) to handle it. If I ask GEICO to do it, I write a check for my $1000 deductible while they make repairs then go after State Farm for reimbursement. And have a claim against my coverage on my record.

When I called State Farm they immediately accepted responsibility. They authorized a rental car over the phone for the duration of "reasonable repairs." They told me I could use any auto body shop I wanted to. When I told them where the Troopers had it towed (convenient) the claims guy said he could not get an adjuster out there until next week. And I could not take anything out of the car until then. BUT ... if I went to a collision shop on State Farm's list, I could take everything out as soon as they got it because there was no need to send a separate adjuster.

I asked for their list and picked one. Get this: State Farm paid for a wrecker to go get my car and paid off the original wrecker that towed me from the scene of the accident. So I went and emptied it yesterday, getting all my things out of the trunk and interior back to Wolf Creek. Not only that, but after only having my car overnight One Stop Collision Shop on Geo. Washington Hwy US 17 in Grafton, Virginia already had a five page detailed estimate of repairs ready.

$6700.00 Plus or minus. About.

Now, if this was a 2004 Pontiac it would have been totalled, but a Honda Civic retains a lot more value. Damages would have had to come out to more than the KBB value of $11,200.00 to write it off.

In addition, Mike at One Stop showed me in person every single item on the estimate, pointing out what would be replaced, and what would need to be checked for replacement. Including such details as "Window might break in removal" while at the same time explaining that if it did then State Farm would also pay to replace the broken one. Bad news: because my ruined tires weren't new I have to pay $25 allowance for the wear on the ones they replace. (*JOKE*)

You better bet when I picked up the rental car I made sure to pay the $14.95 per day for the optional total loss collision damage insurance - I still have a few more round-trips to D.C. to make - and, I'll be damned, when State Farm called me this morning to check on how things were going and discuss the detailed estimate with me, I mentioned that to the woman and she said, "Oh, we'll take care of that too. I will call them right now and take that off."

Jeebus! Now I know why insurance is so expensive.

I just mowed the lawn, the sun is setting, and there are two bunnies hopping around my front yard in the cooling evening air. I guess things will be alright.

The only Saint I have ever known

Gram at 94. God bless her.

Dog Days

August, and waiting the past two weeks for some kind of rain. The hottest days of the year, where the air is thick enough to swim in and you sweat just sitting still outdoors. Seasons are my calendar. This hot slow season is one favorite of mine. Virginia is such a wonder ... the variety of flowering plants, trees, and shrubs is a never-ending delight, marking the weeks' passage like so many pages of a botanist's calendar.

Where else on earth do trees bloom in color to take our mind off the heat?










Purple Myrtle: This is an old tree and could use some judicious pruning. Someday.









White Myrtle: I planted this one myself a few years ago. It was three feet high at the time.










Smoke Tree: Took some to track this down. Wiki says it's native to one small Tennessee county. No idea how it got here but I am so glad it did. Blooms purple, turns to smoke by late Summer.











Hydrangea: What I'm told anyway. I call it "butterfly" or "popcorn ball" bush. Brilliant white buttery balls are actually painful to look at from the second story bedroom in early morning sun.

Next up: Sugar Magnolia (oh heavenly scent) ...

My Final Public Address

Remarks delivered to the graduating class of basic petty officer training, Yorktown Virginia 3 August 2007

Thank you. I am Master Chief Phillip Wolf and it has been my distinct honor and privilege to serve these past three years as the Rating Force Master Chief representing the Boatswain's Mate rating at Coast Guard Headquarters. I would like to express my appreciation to Captain Ewalt and Senior Chief Stein for this opportunity to address the graduates and guests of BM "A" School Class 15-07.

I don't know whether you knew this when you received orders to this school, but by now you must all realize just what you have gotten into. Besides delivering every Coast Guard mission by operating boats and cutters, Boatswain's Mates are also universally recognized by their strong leadership. This leadership is developed quite naturally by being placed in charge of people. Starting with your very first coxswain letter, or first bridge watch, you are going to be in charge of directing others to accomplish your mission.

I am retiring at the end of August 32 years after I joined the Coast Guard. In this, my last opportunity to take literally the Center Stage, I am going to claim my right as an old salt to take extra time to mention some people I have found to be important in my own career. I hope you will enjoy some of these stories as I introduce you ....

* * * * *

When I graduated boot camp and reported to BOUTWELL I hoisted my seabag over one shoulder and walked the length of Pier 36 in Seattle looking up at the superstructure thinking "What kind of Gods they must be who can drive such a massive ship" I soon found out. Captain J. C. Guthrie was a slim, grey, man with wrinkled crows feet around his eyes from gazing into a thousand sunsets at sea. He was ancient, about as old as I am now, and we were all pretty sure what the J. C. stood for.

I don't mind telling you that I quaked in my boondockers every time I had to enter the Cabin and approach the Old Man: "Captain, the hour of noon approaches. The officer of the deck sends his regards. Ship's chronometers are wound and compared. Request permission to strike eight bells and sound the ship's alarms and whistle."

If he ever said anything more than "Very well. Make it so" to Seaman Apprentice Wolf, I would have jumped out of my skin.

Underway he could be seen late on an evening watch standing over at the weather rail, fists plunged deeply into his great black bridge coat. I swear I saw the OOD one time bring him a position report at twenty hundred. Captain Guthrie looked at the slip of paper, up at the stars in the sky, back at the slip of paper, and finally at the Ensign: "That's about right."

* * * * *

Later, when I was in Alaska, I had a shipmate who would go snowshoeing with me up Douglas Mountain outside Juneau. We were up there one bright sunny winter day, taking frequent stops to enjoy the scenery as we climbed higher. About the third rest we could make out a single figure way down at the bottom of the trail starting his way up. On the next break he was closer, and we could see it was a tall, strong man making the motions of a cross-country skier. My friend turned to me and said, "Wouldn't it be a gas if that was the District Commander? I know he likes skiing."

Sure enough on the following stop, Admiral J. B. Hayes caught up with us. "Hello, Boys!" He boomed. "Say, did one of you happen to drop one of your gloves? I found this on the trail." "Why, yes, Admiral ... that is mine!"

So I like to tell the story of how the Commandant of the Coast Guard skied up a hill to give me back my mitten.

* * * * *

Senior Chief Boatswain's Mate Rick Hooper on PLANETREE up in Juneau didn't know my 22 year old face from Adam. But when I blew the engine on my Land Cruiser one frigid January day, this crusty Deck Chief towed it himself and let me use his garage and wood burning stove while I honed the cylinders and replaced the heads. Took me two weeks. Then, when I was getting out of the service in 1980, he strapped it up and boomed it over onto the buoydeck to take it to Seattle, saving me the drive down from Alaska. Senior is now the President of the Las Vegas Chapter of the Chief Petty Officer Association. God bless you Rick.

* * * * *

I went to college on the G.I. Bill and was out for seven years. When I returned in 1987 I was a thirty-one year old seaman on board another buoytender, BLACKHAW, out of San Francisco Bay. This was back in the day when you hauled chain across the deck with long steel hooks, swung a sledgehammer to beat steel shackles closed, and manhandled five foot cubed blocks of concrete sinkers by getting a gang together and putting your shoulder into 'em. I worked for a BM1 known as Doc Holliday. Now, Doc and formal education had never got along real well and he kinda resented a smart guy like me out there. I had to work twice as hard as the rest of the kids on Deck Force to even get a grunt of appreciation out of him.

I'll never forget Doc used to hold court on the Messdeck, with all his seamen and strikers gathered around soaking up his words of wisdom. One such day, the Captain himself walked on the messdeck and right up to Doc, wanting to discuss upcoming buoy ops. Trouble was, some one had seen fit to staple up the sleeves of his foul weather jacket. When the Skipper wanted to walk out forward and discuss arranging the deck, there was Doc trying to get his arms through the jacket without taking his eyes off the Old Man. He looked like he was wrasslin' himself. And losing.

But I will tell you this: Doc was a sheer wizard at arranging a bouydeck. We would load up in homeport and pack that thing tighter than a drum. Then Doc would look at me and say "Wolf, go get another shot and a half of that 3/4" chain. And another 12,000 pound rock."

I'd look at him: "Doc, ain't no way it's ever gonna fit."

"Jes do what I tell you and go git it."

And sure enough, it would.

Over a year out there on a dangerous buoy deck doing extremely hard physical labor, and not once did anyone ever get injured or hurt. Not even a scratch. Doc wouldn't let you out on his deck 'til he was good and sure you could handle it.

* * * * *

Skip ahead a few years. Now I'm on CHEROKEE, an old World War II Navy tug converted to a Coast Guard Medium Endurance Cutter. I'm a Second Class again, and one day I'm working up charts for a January fisheries patrol coming up out in the North Atlantic. I look up and Captain Tom Bernard is on the Bridge. "Afternoon, Cap'n" and I salute him.

"Wheels" he says, "I'm wondering if you could work up the mileage for me from the middle of George's Bank to Bermuda. I'll be in the Cabin."

"Sure thing, Cap'n" I says, dreaming of pink sand beaches and tropical drinks.

Six months later, we're back in homeport, D1 Patrol come and gone, back on the bridge doing charts for yet one more patrol. Captain Bernard again appears on the bridge.

"QM2, I been wanting to thank you for not telling anyone what I asked you about."

"I don't understand, Captain."

"About the mileage to Bermuda, remember? I asked LANT Area for a port break in Bermuda as a treat for the crew but they wouldn't approve it. And if you had told anyone what I was thinking, it would have spread throughout the whole crew. All it would have done is make people angry over something that just wasn't gonna happen. I have always appreciated that."

* * * * *

Oh, just a couple more. Let an old guy talk, will ya?

Master Chief Boatswain's Mate Diane Busey and Master Chief Lorie Pruitt, who sat on the Officer in Charge Review Board that certified me for Command. Master Chief Busey by all right should have been the first woman named Master Chief Petty Officer of the Coast Guard, and without Master Chief Pruitt's counsel, guidance, and advice I would have never made it.

* * * * *

Lastly, Master Chief Garry Moores.

A Son of Lubec, just like Hopley Yeaton, he was a legend along the Downeast Coast of Maine by the time I arrived aboard POINT HANNON as a Second Class, having spent three tours there already and now back for a second time as Officer in Charge. Master Chief Moores forgot more about shiphandling than I will ever know.

I was so proud when I learned I was the dock jumper. That's the crewmember who has to get to the fishing pier, or the blocks of granite at the quarry, or the seawall, or whatever, and handle the mooring lines when no one else is around. Then I found out it was also the crewmember you can most afford to lose in the drink because they're not much good at anything else.

Anyway, I would stand outside the lifelines on the bow, and if I so much as hopped Master Chief would let me have it. "Phil, if I can't get close enough for you to step across, just hang on and I will back up and make another approach."

I learned by watching the Master Chief that so long as you keep your screws in good water and know at any given moment just where your bow is and where it is moving, you can make a patrol boat do anything. When we would go anchor in Rogue Island Master Chief would take the back entrance. The coxswains back at Station Jonesport were afraid to take the 44 footer through there. I'd stand on the bow and point out the granite rocks just below the surface but I could have saved my effort really. Master Chief had grown up lobstering all along that coast and could probably draw you an accurate chart of every track strictly from memory.

Also, when we would bring a fishing trawler in for a catch seizure, and Master Chief Moores figured there would be press and tv cameras waiting, he maybe used way too much throttle pulling in to the Portland Fish Pier. But you also knew that at the very last moment he would kick the rudders, split the throttles, then jam them to All Stop in time to float, bobbing, right up to kiss the pier.

Driving home from Portland, if the weather was bad, we would take the inland route. There was only one bad stretch where if the bar was breaking on Petit Manan you had to go outside to get around. Sure enough one day I'm driving back and it is blowing fresh from the Sou'east and on the long Northerly stretch to Moosabec Reach we are taking swells on the starboard quarter. This results in steep rolls where the port rail is dragging through green water, and I am scared whether she is ever going to come back up.

I swear, right in the middle of one of these death rolls I hear a "thump. thump-thump!" The trap door in the deck from below flies open and Master Chief hops through up on the ledge, with a cup of coffee in his hand. A full cup of coffee!

"Master Chief, have they ever lost an 82?"

"Rolling over? Nah, she'll always come back up. The HANNON can take more than the crew can."

Of course, he had come up just to see what the heck I was doing to his ship. But I have never felt more reassured than seeing him with that cool, no-big-deal attitude. And the cup of joe.

Leaving Cape Cod Canal on a Sunday, having been relieved of SAR Standby in Woods Hole early, we are standing out to sea through Massachusetts Bay. There is this huge, gentle, groundswell, about three feet high and maybe fifteen, twenty seconds apart, coming right out of the Northeast. What that means, I know now, is that there is one big blow far far out to sea, and it is coming to get you.

This was the Great Halloween Storm of 1991. The book and movie called it The Perfect Storm. And we are just trying to get home.

Twelve hours later I am still on watch. The swells are now twenty feet high and six or eight seconds apart. I know they were an easy twenty feet because I had been logging them as fourteen and Master Chief chewed me out. We are abeam of Isles of Shoals off the coast of New Hampshire and Master Chief asked me if we should turn and try to make it in. "Master Chief, big as these seas are we don't dare turn sideways to 'em. I don't see any choice but to keep taking them right on the head."

When BM1 Westcott called me on the bridge to say he was too seasick to take the watch, I told him: "that's alright, Bud ... I want to see the wave that's gonna kill me."

All day and into the night, I am driving the cutter like a surf boat: powering up the face of the advancing wave, then chopping the throttles at the top to shimmy down the back. Somehow, somewhere in the middle of that long night, we finally spot the three colored sector beam on Portland Head Light and reach a lee.

Master Chief Moores: I apologize. I will never be blind-sided by the weather ever again.

* * * * *

There are a hundred others I don't have time to mention. Right, now back to YOU

What I am trying to say is, you are going to have a blast. This is a great job, but it is the people you will meet who make it worth doing. And you can't be a great leader until you first learn to be a follower of great leaders. When you get to your new billet, don't be in a hurry to hook up with people. Take some time to look around. The real characters, the real leaders, will be very easy to pick out. Trust me, they will.

And when you make coxswain, or leading petty officer, or Chief Boatswain's Mate, or ... the ultimate ... Officer in Charge ... don't be quick to judge someone. Hold your water and consider if you will that someone maybe sees something you don't, or sees the same things you do in a different way. Listen to what they are saying and try to figure out what it means to you.

And that fine day when you reach the top, and it all comes down to you, you will have a huge storehouse full of tools you can use to create your own way of leading people.

It's not hard for me to imagine that there are more than a few Warrant Bosuns, or Chiefs, and a whole string of XPOs telling some kind of Master Chief Wolf story right now. “Remember that time Master Chief got that look in his eyes and said, 'Watch this here'?”

Go home. Have fun on leave. Come back and take good care of my Coast Guard.

Thank you.