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Baltimore Harbor

Canton Pier

January 16, 2010

4. To Haiti

In a battered, industrial corner of the Baltimore harbor, at the end of a gravel road filled with pallets, cast iron pipes, steel cables, electrical cords and cargo boxes, four-dozen people huddle in the cold, still dark, early morning hours to wish the U.S. Naval hospital ship Comfort well as it prepares to set steam for Haiti.

Meanwhile, Steve White sits at dock’s edge with a walkie-talkie, directing his tugboat crew as they lower two 35-ton diesel generators on deck. The sun has come up and the Comfort is almost ready. Fifteen welders and electricians are the last off ship. They’ve worked 36 hours without sleep.

The 894-foot ship with red crosses on its sides will carry 560 medical personnel, four x-ray machines, a CAT scan, and as much as 5,000 units of blood to the earthquake-ravaged country, where they will treat hundreds of the most severely injured.

Trying to stay warm in a gray, hooded U.S. Navy sweatshirt, Lauren Wishart of Severna Park, looks out as another tug pushes the Comfort to open water. Her son, Lt. Aaron Wishart, is aboard.

“He’s stationed in Norfolk and I saw him yesterday,” she says. “He told me he’d be down there a minimum of two months. I’m doing what a mother has to do, seeing him off.”

A crane lifts away the gang blank. Lineholders pull thick, 120-foot ropes off the bow and stern bollards. “If you’ve got a pair of gloves—feel free to lend a hand,” Jim Tighe, from Dundalk, jokes with an onlooker.

Rosalie Smith, 65, and Audrey Smith, 68, best friends from North Baltimore, attended an NAACP meeting last night where a hat was passed to collect donations for victims of the earthquake.

“You feel so helpless,” says Audrey Smith. “But we wanted to come down. It tugs at your heartstrings. I wish we could go with them and cook and serve meals to the troops.”