duty in June of 1956. Capt. L'Ecuyer administered the aptitude test to me upon induction. I had the pleasure of working with her in later years when she worked with the First District Reserve Program. I would see her when I worked summers on extended active duty. I found the article on the port security units quite interesting. I was assigned to a PSU upon completion of my active duty. I did my active duty on a cutter, which I believe is not done with reservists anymore. There were two types of units in those days: port security and vessel augmentation. I remained in port security units for most of my 24 years of service. the port security units were just getting organized, and I can't say they were very exciting. In later years, they began assigning personnel to active duty stations for their training. Today's units seem like a whole different thing and much more active than the units were at the beginning of the program. Joining the Coast Guard Reserve was one of the best things that I ever did. I learned much over the years. For a guy who reported for active duty with no uniforms (the Reserve unit made me turn them in) to my commissioning six years later, the Coast Guard was a valuable experience. I enjoy the Reservist very much as it keeps me part of the family. Continued success on a most informative publication. Lt. Cmdr. Robert Kitchen, USCGR (ret.) Sir, you honor us with your service, your memories, and your kudos. Much obliged for all. Capt. L’Ecuyer was a force, and I wish I’d had the opportunity to meet her and thank her for leading the way. As for your comments on PSUs, they ring with the echoes of Capt. Handy’s similar thoughts on the early days of the initiative. Capt. Olson’s PSU story was a hit with many, and we’re glad to share it. The loss of Chief Welch Thanks for the excellent piece in A Light on Yesteryear, "You have to go out: The tragic death of Chief Elias Welch." It is gripping and compelling, and brings deserved attention to a sorrowful event that has long-lasting reverberations. But, after reading it—and re-reading it—I came away with questions. Why, specifically, has Chief Welch never received posthumous honor, or at least official acknowledgment, for dying in the line of duty? Why, specifically, was Ensign Vitt not similarly recognized for his valor? Why were Chief Welch and the seaman sent out without wetsuits in those dangerous conditions, when other qualified and properly-equipped members were available? Finally, what was the "hubris" the author refers to, and whose was it? Nothing in the article indicates it, or points to anyone. I ask these questions—and have these concerns—as a former coxswain, active in Maine during the very time of Chief Welch's death. Having operated in similar conditions to those he encountered, I'm fully aware of the risks and challenges this work entails. So, surely Chief Welch's ultimate sacrifice, accident or not, deserves enduring official recognition of some sort. Thank you for the fine article, the magazine generally, and your attention. Lt. Cmdr. Charles W. Johnson, USCGR (ret.) Good questions! Hard to imagine the same happening today. I 4 RESERVIST � Issue 1 • 2021 followed up with William Bleyer, the author, for his feedback: "Commander, I have been unable to access the logbooks from the Staten Island or review the court of inquiry into the incident which was held by her executive officer. However, it appears it was quickly investigated, closed with a minimum of attention, and forgotten. Service on an icebreaker in the late 1960s was often dangerous, and the loss of a BMC, the hubris of his commanding officer notwithstanding, was probably institutionally viewed as within the cost of doing business at the time." Thank you for the memories! I briefly knew Chief Welch. He was the chief when I was in boot camp in Alameda, Calif., in October 1967. I remember him well because he had such a countenance standing in the JOOD shack that any recruit requesting maintenance items was left stuttering in fear, then to be drug through the window by the shirt and having a very close encounter with “The Chief.” Though, after a while, I got the feeling that it was an act, and he just wanted us recruits to get things right. There was only one recruit in our company (Echo 60) who could avoid the experience, and that was Seaman Recruit Dalrymple, who would, with his southern accent, state his name in an exaggerated way, causing Chief Welch to laugh out loud. After we discovered that, Dalrymple was the only one from our company who went to the window for supplies. I was stationed aboard the Northwind out of boot camp. It was in 1969, while we were on our way across the top to meet the Manhattan that I learned he was the chief on the Staten Island, and not surprisingly, I learned he was popular among the crew. But we also learned of his death, and it was truly a sad day. I remember we were off of Nome, Alaska, when word came about the tragic accident. At muster the following day, our captain called for a moment of silence for him. We didn’t know many details, so it was nice to read your story in Reservist. On my first assignment aboard the Northwind, I served as assistant boat keeper for a couple of cruises and once, when out in the surf boat, we got tossed the line and it became entangled in the prop when coming in for hoist on the davits. It was scary, because, briefly, we were spun around and drug stern first to the side of the ship. Fortunately, no injuries, except our pride. I was surprised so many of the Staten Island’s boat crew were without wet suits, because aboard our ship, all were required to wear them when out in the boat. Senior Chief Petty Officer Ed Weum, USCGR (ret.) Thanks, Senior. Hearing your story reminds me how small the Coast Guard was, and how, to this day, people seem to be connected by only a few degrees of separation. Some feedback, directly from the author: "Thank you for the information! Every tidbit about Chief Welch that people pass to me helps with the follow-up article I'm trying to write about his life and career." Seabags, not suitcases Although I am impressed by the commitment and persistence of Lt. Kevin Lowery in pursuing a career afloat, I am distressed to see his achievement being presented as something new or
