... Continued from print edition.
Sometimes the basket was dipped in the water before touching down into the lifeboat. The survivors had to work it around themselves, sometimes passing the basket over their heads to make room for the first person to get into the basket.
We began our first hoist. The pilots were now following commands from the flight mechanic hoist operator. He lowered the basket and advised the pilots as to the location of the basket with voice commands over the internal communication system. It went somewhat like this—“Basket going out the door, basket going down, 10 feet below cabin, 20 feet below cabin, come right 3, hold your position, basket going down, 3 feet from deck, hold, hold, basket in the hands of survivors, paying out slack, hold, hold your position, woman getting into basket, woman in basket, bringing up slack, prepare to take the load, you have the load, basket coming up, 20 feet from cabin, 10 feet, 5 feet from cabin.” At this point I reached out to grab a corner rail of the basket to hold it from swinging. The hoist operator brought the basket to the cabin doorway. Then we both pulled the basket inward while the hoist was lowered bringing the basket into the cabin.
Our first survivor was a woman in her nightgown. We would see many more survivors in their nighttime clothing or other light attire. Some were clinging to blankets. Most were wearing the kapok life preservers around their necks. Knowing how cold they must have felt just made us more determined. Like most of the survivors, men and women alike could not get up out of the basket after spending so many hours crammed wet and cold in a lifeboat or raft. Many were also suffering from motion sickness. We had to lift our first evacuee out of the basket, and I had to walk and carry her to the rear of the cabin. This action became my primary job throughout the hoists.
Fire Time+12:48, 12:38 p.m. in Yakutat.
LCDR Robert Knapp, who relieved LCDR Thuma ’70 in CG 1472, departed Yakutat for Williamsburgh carrying Doctor Hudson, the three PJs, and the medicines delivered to Yakutat by Rescue 831.
Fire Time+12:53, 12:43 p.m. at Yakutat. Kodiak’s HH3F CG 1469 LT John Whidden arrived at Yakutat from Kodiak via Valdez.
Fire Time+13:20, 12:10 p.m. at Air Station Kodiak. Air Station Kodiak’s HC-130 CG 1600 LCDR Davis departed Kodiak for Yakutat with Doctors Young and Nemiroff, Support Center Kodiak Fire Chief Venable, one relief HH3F crew consisting of LCDR Jimmy Ng ’72, LT David Glaser, Aviation Machinist Mate, First Class (AD1) Lien and Aviation Electrician’s Mate, Third Class (AE3) Forchette, two hospital corpsmen, and 400 pounds of medical equipment and firefighting gear. [Editor’s note: we are missing first names of some the individuals mentioned here.]
Fire Time+13:55, 13:45 on scene. Cutter Boutwell arrived on scene, assumed On Scene Commander from Kodiak’s CG 1500, but left control of the aircraft on scene with CG 1500. CG 1500 and the several HC-130s that rotated through that duty coordinated the aircraft on scene and kept track of their arrivals and departures. When Boutwell needed an aircraft action, Boutwell made the request to the HC-130 who would select an aircraft and direct the action.
A ray of bright sun greeted Boutwell’s arrival. It didn’t last.
Boutwell lowered her port motor surf boat (MSB) to remove occupants from lifeboats.
Boutwell recorded on scene weather: overcast, visibility two miles in rain, barometer 29.34 inHg, wind 035T at 30 knots, air temperature 50, sea 51, seas 035T at two feet, swells 075T at six feet. These observations are the first taken by a sea level observer.
Fire Time+15:36, 3:26 p.m. on scene. Boutwell began evacuating personnel from Lifeboat 4.
ENS Belmondo ’79: Canada’s Labrador 303 was hoisting from one lifeboat and Kodiak’s CG 1469 was doing the same from another lifeboat, so we took a lifeboat that didn’t have a helicopter working it. Initially we tried to take people out of the lifeboat using our small boat, but that didn’t work so we had to place the cutter alongside the lifeboat.
While we were hoisting people out of the lifeboat, Rescue 802 let us know he was low on fuel and needed some help to get to one of the vessels. Sohio Intrepid was about 11 miles from us. Visibility was now only about 1 mile. We had communications with all
the ships and aircraft, so after a couple tries we were able to get the Air Force helicopter safely to the Sohio Intrepid.
LT Rahl ‘73, the aircraft controller on scene, diverted Rescue 831 to locate and lead to Yakutat Canada’s Labrador 306. This aircraft experienced an inflight emergency en route the scene. The cockpit was filling with smoke from the wiring bundle powering instruments, radios and navigation gear. Labrador 306 was lost in the weather and losing communications and navigation instruments. Rescue 802 had confirmed having sufficient fuel to continue on scene until its tanker returned. In the event, leading Labrador 306 to Yakutat was much slower than anticipated. Rescue 831 was unable to return in time to refuel Rescue 802.
Jeff obtained approval from Sohio Intrepid Captain Max H. Lott for Rescue 802 to land. Later Jeff obtained approval from Captain Lott for Rescue 802 to ride Sohio Intrepid to Valdez.
Aboard Boutwell, Chief Hospital Corpsman Gatke checked each evacuee’s medical condition. He was able to identify those whose hypothermia required more treatment or whose condition might deteriorate and therefore require additional corpsman time. Three were ultimately identified. Four doctors were among the evacuees. They naturally congregated around Sickbay, but they were affected as much by the experience as the other evacuees, so the whole medical situation remained in Chief Gatke’s hands. He worked wonders.
Following this medical check, the men were taken to the Mess Deck, the women to the Wardroom. ENS Monyee Kazek ’80, the only woman aboard, managed the women. Wet clothes were removed, valuables packaged and safe-guarded. Each evacuee got as much hot shower as desired, followed by clothes donated by the crew, hot food and drink and a bunk. Women were lodged in a 10-person berthing area. Men were scattered among the other berthing areas. Most were too tired and relieved to be alive to do more than sleep.
ENS Kazek ’80:
I remember getting called to the wardroom when the rescued passengers were brought onboard and told that I was in charge of all
the women. My immediate response was “Sir, yes, sir!” but I have to admit that later on I thought, “What would they have done if I wasn’t aboard? The guys would have stepped up!”
I was pretty emotional and on a high from the whole drama of the rescue. I have to admit it validated all of what I joined the Coast Guard for. I’ve heard that your first tour as a junior officer determines whether you decide to make the Coast Guard a career or not. That held true for me. I was just 21 years old when the Prinsendam occurred. I turned 22 less than a month afterwards.
CAPT Krumm ’60:
Monyee came up to the Bridge while we were maneuvering alongside lifeboats and told me she had one woman who was in her 80s and was very modest. She only had on her night clothes and they were wet, so she was hypothermic as well. Because of her modesty, she did not want to get into the shower with Monyee in the next room. However, it was necessary to have someone close in case there was a problem. Monyee said she couldn’t get her to take a shower. If she sat there and continued shivering, she would get worse, possibly die.
I didn’t have time to fool with this, so I told Monyee to tell her she can take a shower with you in the next room or she can take one with me in the next room. Those are the only two choices she had because she has got to get warm and get dry clothes on. So Monyee just smiled and said “Yes, sir!” and went out the door. I didn’t hear about it again. I didn’t have time to be diplomatic about it.
Fire Time+18:35, 6:25 p.m. at Yakutat. With Rescue 802 safely tied down aboard Sohio Intrepid and secure for the transit to Valdez, Rescue 831 was out of business. It returned to Yakutat and embarked Rescue 802’s relief crew. While at Yakutat, Rescue 831’s aircraft commander, the senior Air Force officer on scene, remained in his aircraft continuing his efforts with RCC Elmendorf and the On Scene Commander to locate PJs Cassidy and Rios and to find someone to pay for his fuel at Yakutat. The PJs were not located. It appears Canada may have agreed to pay for the fuel.
LCDR Sinclair ’67 at the Yakutat Lodge: Back in Yakutat, Mike Wrighter and I and our crew, and the other crew (I remember Mike Wade, and for some reason don’t
remember John Whidden with him, so maybe they were different helicopter crews), were all trying to get permission from RCC Juneau to begin resting so we’d be available for another flight in the early morning if needed. We were given lots of “not yet, stand by” even though we were clearly overextended and very tired, and Kodiak had relief flight crews already there.
While we were standing around whining about not being allowed to start our “rest clock,” the USAF HC-130 crew dragged in, looking tired and somewhat bewildered and confused. (They’d never been involved in a terminal full of patients before.) They immediately asked if we’d seen their PJs, and we quickly realized there was an accountability problem. I think it was Mike Wrighter who got on the phone to RCC Juneau and tried to explain that we might have a boat still missing, but he wasn’t getting through the joy that the case was done. Mike put the USAF crewman on the phone who strongly expressed concern that the two PJs were NOT accounted for.
Fire Time+19:10, 7:00 p.m. in Juneau.
RCC Juneau Controller Mike Hazel ’77 hung up his headset following a call from RCC Elmendorf: I think we’re missing two PJs.
LT Nies ’76:
I can remember telling Mike they were probably somewhere safe. We did not really know who was where. We knew they weren’t in Boutwell. That was about it. I figured it would take Mike just a few more calls to track them down. With passengers and rescue units scattered all over, it took a while to sort out whether the PJs were truly missing.
CAPT Krumm ’60:
I distinctly recall having a radio conversation with the Coast Guard HC-130 pilot. At the time we were considering heading to Sitka with our survivors. Since we had no new info about the two PJs, and head counts were shaky in the accuracy of the number of survivors, Boutwell would stay on scene and start searching with Woodrush until we found them in a lifeboat or they were located ashore or on Williamsburg or Sohio Intrepid. This I believe was before we got any direction from RCC Juneau.
Fire Time+19:58, 7:48 p.m. on scene. Boutwell received RCC Juneau’s direction, “Locate missing PJs.” This conclusively negated the basic premise that all the
lifeboats and rafts had been accounted for. Boutwell departed the vicinity of Prinsendam to return to the area of lifeboat recoveries to search.
Weather was overcast, visibility two miles in rain, barometer 29.10, wind 045T at 28 knots, air temperature 46, sea 52, seas 045T at four feet, swells 080T at ten.
Fire Time+22:45, 10:35 p.m. on scene. Boutwell arrived at the lifeboat area, marked by Prinsendam’s position and the relative positions of the lifeboats, and began an expanding square search with track spacing of 500 yards about the datum of 57-43N 141-21W, a position CAPT Krumm ’60 picked about five miles downwind of Prinsendam’s current location.
Fire Time+23:10, 11:00 p.m. on scene. Woodrush arrived on scene. Boutwell assigned Woodrush an expanding square search with 500 yard track spacing six miles downwind of Boutwell’s datum in case lifeboat drift was greater than that assumed for Boutwell’s datum.
Weather was overcast, visibility one-half mile in rain, barometer 29.02, wind 040T at 25 knots, air temperature 51, sea 50, seas 045T at four feet, swells 080T at ten.
Fire Time+24:40, 12:30 a.m. on scene.
PJ John Cassidy in Lifeboat 6: I spotted on the horizon what appeared to me at first to be a lighthouse beacon. It was pretty windy but I knew of no lighthouse on the coast of Alaska, so I was really beginning to wonder how far we had drifted. Either case, it was the first sighting of anything that might be looking for us. I lit off three emergency flares one right after the other. The light quickly no longer appeared to be sweeping with the appearance of a lighthouse beacon, but rather it was held steady in our direction.
Cutter Woodrush observed faint white lights and a possible red flare to her north and passed this to Boutwell
After PJs John Cassidy and Jose Rios had come aboard Boutwell, John reported he had watched Boutwell conduct our search, and therefore, knew when to release his flares.
LT Nies ’76:
Think about it. Woodrush slogged her way to the scene and then was first to locate the missing boat!
CAPT Krumm ’60:
Poor Woodrush. She got to the dance late and missed “all the glory.” Buoy tenders never get the credit they deserve. I know. I served in three of them.
Steve Corcoran:
Lifeboat 6 held the 2 PJs and 20 passengers. I watched them come aboard. They were in much better physical condition and spirits than those we removed from Lifeboat 4, our first lifeboat, primarily I believe because of the care they received from PJs Jose Rios and John Cassidy. They rigged the canopy, located food and water, instituted rationing immediately, and prepared their passengers for a night in the boat. The passengers were calmed by the PJ’s presence and reassured by their competence.
Maneuvering Boutwell alongside the lifeboats today was one of the very few times in my one year with Captain Krumm when he took the conn. Normally the OOD did whatever was necessary on the watch, the notable exception being underway replenishment when I had the conn.
Our Captain had that very rare ability to let us do our jobs without his coaching. As a result, he knew what his crew would do. Any necessary training or guidance would occur well after any event or well before. I watched an OOD get into trouble and watched the Captain watch him get into trouble. The OOD finally recognized the situation and declared, “I’m in trouble!”
Captain Krumm calmly replied, “Yes, now get yourself out.”
Fire Time+26:40, 2:30 a.m. on scene. Woodrush assumed On Scene Commander.
ENS Belmondo ’79:
We released the HC-130 and had Woodrush stand by the burning Prinsendam until Mellon’s anticipated arrival later in the morning and then we headed for Sitka. I went to bed at about 3:15 a.m. and slept on a couch outside the Executive Officer’s stateroom as there was a survivor from one of the lifeboats in my bed. Because of the stormy weather, it was a very rough ride to Sitka.
The next morning, October 5th, Mellon arrived and assumed OSC from Woodrush. Both stood by Prinsendam. A search confirmed all lifeboats, life rafts, and Prinsendam’s cutter were located and confirmed empty. When evacuees walked off Williamsburgh in Valdez, the
evacuee count was confirmed. All who had been aboard Prinsendam arrived in Valdez, or Yakutat, or Sitka. October 5th, the evacuees Boutwell brought aboard became cruise ship passengers again. They were warm, dry, fed, and swarmed over Boutwell. They were getting their cruise. One commented, “I would recommend Boutwell for another cruise. It was a lot more fun than Prinsendam!
CAPT Krumm ’60 reported, “None were lost.”
Now, I told you these stories so Toby could tell you this one.
081430Z October 1980, 6:30 a.m., Yakutat:
Air Station Kodiak’s LT Ken Coffland ’71 with AT2 Toby Dombrowski departed Yakutat in Sitka’s CG 1472 for Prinsendam
AT2 Toby Dombrowski: I was sent back to Yakutat with a different flight crew. Holland America was trying to salvage the Prinsendam. On October 7, a nine-member team which included four CG Sitka firefighters, the Kodiak Fire Chief, the Prinsendam Captain, his Chief Engineer, the former Prinsendam Captain now Holland America Vice President van Noort, and Mellon’s damage control officer had been flown back to Prinsendam the day before. Prinsendam was being rigged with a towing hawser with the intent to be towed to the nearest port. We flew back to the Yakutat airport to stand what we called a port and starboard duty with a Sitka helicopter crew. We arrived in the evening and were lodged at the GlacierBear Lodge. That evening we met with the Sitka crew in the rustic bar of the lodge. We held a coin toss to see who would have the night ready crew. We won the toss, but I’m not sure we were the lucky ones. There was one problem brought to attention of both crews. Our Kodiak helicopter required a maintenance inspection which grounded it until accomplished. The Sitka crew was more than happy to turn their helicopter over to us.
CG aviation had introduced a nationwide standardization program at all air stations. In theory, flight crews could go to any air station that had H-3 helicopters and find the aircraft cabin layout with SAR board, dewatering pump, Stokes litter, and rescue basket in the same locations on any H-3 aircraft.
So it was decided we, the Kodiak crew, in the event of a night SAR would fly the Sitka Helicopter! I wish I could remember the tail numbers of the two, but I don’t. We went to bed shortly after that. I’m not sure what the Sitka crew did, but it was their well-deserved night off. The Glacier Bear lodge was a hunting and fishing lodge and still is today. There were motel-style rooms behind the lodge. We were put into rooms on the second floor, two per room. The flight mechanic and I were in one room, and the pilots were in the room next to us. I had no problems sleeping that night and went soundly to sleep believing nothing would happen that night.
Sometime in the early morning I awoke to pounding on a door and a loud bang! Someone next door let out a yell, “Ouch!” followed by footsteps and then the sound of a door opening. I could hear muffled voices but could not understand what was being said. I started to get up and then there was a knock at our door. The local public safety officer had come to let us know we were being summoned by Juneau RCC, and we needed to call them ASAP. There was a problem on the Prinsendam. The officer was willing to drive us to the airport. We dressed in a hurry and jumped into his car. As we headed to the airport, I was putting a band aid on the forehead of our aircraft commander. He had been startled from his sleep and in the pitch dark was trying to get to the door when he slammed into a wall that stood out. It was his first battle wound of the night, and we were going to have more.
We arrived at the Yakutat airport which was only a few miles away. It was very dark in the pouring rain. The wind was blowing a steady 20 to 25 knots. Our brains were just starting to wake up, and we went over to the Sitka H-3 and went inside to grab flashlights. We couldn’t find them at first, because the helicopter was laid out differently than ours. So much for standardization. It wasn’t going to work for us tonight. Eventually we found flashlights and oriented ourselves to the other things inside the cabin. The flight mechanic and I began doing the preflight in a downpour.
The pilots left to make phone calls and to look at the aircraft flight record. When they returned they briefed us. RCC in Juneau was informed by Communication Station Kodiak that they received a radio call from the nine firefighters requesting immediate extraction. The fires were growing in intensity and combined with sea and wind conditions it
was getting worse. Cutter Mellon was only a few miles away from the Prinsendam. There was another concern the pilots brought forth. When the pilots reviewed the Sitka aircraft log, there was a carried forward discrepancy, I believe it had to do with a flickering instrument, but I don’t remember which one. CGAS Kodiak considered it a grounding discrepancy. The pilots decided it was something we could live with under the circumstances and accepted the aircraft for flight.
It was still very dark as we taxied out to the runway. Lifting off we were flying into the beast of a storm pelted by hard driving rain and wind gusts. As soon as we were airborne, I established my HF SSB radio guard with Communication Station Kodiak. I reported our position and flight “Ops normal” and that we were feet wet meaning we had just crossed the shore and now were over water.
I was beginning to start a navigation plot of our route when suddenly I heard a pop and then the chilling words from the aircraft commander over the ICS intercom system, “We have smoke in the cockpit and I cannot see my instruments. I am declaring an emergency!” The pilots were already on the radio trying to raise the airport and going through their emergency checklist. Immediately, I was on the HF radio transmitting “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday” and giving our position and description of our problem. Communication Station Kodiak acknowledged our emergency. I don’t know if they made any phone calls to Yakutat. I could now smell what appeared to be burnt electrical wiring. As quickly as the smoke appeared it dissipated. The pilots swung the helicopter around, and we headed back to Yakutat Airport.
I was trying to keep Communication Station Kodiak informed and then a little light in my head came on. I remembered another flight with a similar incident, and I shared it with the pilots. On a training flight in rain, our windshield anti-ice transformer in the bow compartment had caught fire and billowed smoke straight up into the cockpit. It happened during the day time and wasn’t as traumatic. It was a common problem when the right conditions were met, usually horizontal rain. Water leaks down and collects in a puddle effectively shorting out the transformer. It was a poor design. The circuit breaker usually protected the circuit and tripped. A quick check of the circuit breaker confirmed it was popped.
As we made our descent to the airport, we were amazed and comforted to see the Yakutat volunteer fire department already there with their fire engine.
We landed at the airport. The aircraft commander asked me to jump out and raise the clamshell to check the bow compartment for further evidence of fire. I confirmed it was the transformer and verified it was no longer burning and nothing adjacent to it had been affected.
Once I was back in the helicopter, the aircraft commander called a briefing over the intercom system. It went something like this. I know we had some setbacks and this aircraft is not 100 percent. He pointed out there were four of us versus the nine souls on Prinsendam who were wondering about their fate. He genuinely wanted to make sure each of us fully understood the risk and that we were willing to continue with the mission, emphasizing if we weren’t, he would understand. He received unanimous thumbs up from all of us. I always had a lot of respect for him. He truly cared about his crew. He didn’t have to do that.
CG1472 evacuated the nine people from Prinsendam to Mellon
LT Nies ’76:
My recollection is that this incident was the nail in the coffin for the idea of putting people aboard Prinsendam at sea to fight the fire. No one in Juneau was willing to risk the chance we would be unable to remove them in another emergency.
The fire in Prinsendam continued to spread. Glass ports failed. Water entered. List increased. At 8:30 a.m. October 11th, she lay on her starboard side. At 8:33 a.m. Prinsendam sank bow first in 8,838 feet in position 55-52.8N 136-26.6W, 79 nautical miles 207T from Sitka and 168 miles 129T from her October 4 distress position.
Prinsendam Hostess Susan Stevens: I loved that ship.
In October, 1980, then LCDR Stephen Corcoran, as Operations Officer in BOUTWELL, participated in Prinsendam rescue operations. BOUTWELL was On Scene Commander.
In 2017, Stephen completed the book None Were Lost, the history of Prinsendam’s last cruise, the fire, the abandon ship, the rescue of all 519 passengers and crew from open lifeboat on the Gulf of Alaska, and the efforts to save Prinsendam.
In 2011, BOUTWELL’s YNCS Stan Jaceks convened the second gathering in Seattle of his Prinsendam Rescue Association and inspired my writing the history. Coast Guard helicopter crews told their stories. These stories were too good to lose.
Academy graduates, Jim Sylvester ’71 and Len Pichini ’62, advanced the project from a limited concept to a comprehensive history six years later. Jim, as President of the Alumni Association, provided a link to Len Pichini, leader of the Prinsendam Mural project, and told me about Prinsendam passenger Jeannie Gilmore. Len made available his extensive records and the report of Netherlands Court of Inquiry, all acquired in his mural research. Jeannie provided her first-person experiences of life aboard Prinsendam and aboard her lifeboat. Without Stan, Jim, and Len, there would be no history. Without Jeannie, there would be no life in the pages.
Jim Sylvester suggested this article to celebrate the contributions of Coast Guard Academy graduates who ensured None Were Lost.