Almost Paradise: Part 3 Omelek

(24 Aug. 86) After a briefing at the police station, we were transported to the ready room at the helipad where we were briefed and shown how to use the inflatable vests in case we have to ditch in the water. There were four officers and four Marshallese constables on board. We were relieving the 2-man crew on four islands, Meck, Eniwetak, Omelek and Gellinam on the east reef.

The chopper (UH-1 Huey) was warming up the engine as we climbed on board. When everyone was in place and buckled up, one of the pilots turned around and gave a thumbs up. An officer in the back returned the gesture. Seconds later, the helicopter rose about ten feet in the air, dipped it’s nose and began a run into the easterlies, pulling up and passing to the south of the control tower.

We left Kwajalein and began our run up the east reef, past Little Bustard, Big Bustard and Ebeye (Ebeje in Marshallese). I was like any tourist on vacation, gawking at every bit of scenery we flew over-a lone house on the first islet and a small cemetery on the second. Both islets are covered in coconut palms and other vegetation.

Ebeye is a different story. Only a few scattered coconut palms are visible but metal-roofed housing and squatters’ shacks fill the island from one end to the other. As we left the northern tip of the island I could see fires burning at the trash dump and a truck bringing another load of empty packages and used products from the modern world.

The rest of the islands we flew over are uninhabited except for one. It has a few structures on it and a broken-down pier. At our altitude of four hundred and fifty feet I observed hundreds of colorful fish swimming in the lagoon. Once I spotted a giant sea turtle closing in on the shoreline of an island.

After a few more minutes in the air we approached an island with a short runway on it. It reminded me of a very large aircraft carrier. A number of buildings and a pier line the lagoon side of the island and an imposing manmade hill containing missile silos overlooks Eniwetak Pass on the north end. This is Meck Island, future home of SDI (Strategic Defense Initiative or Star Wars) programs ERIS and HEDI. It isn’t operational now but work crews are in the process of changing all of that.

Our helicopter touched down on the runway in front of the fire station. One officer and a constable departed the craft, loaded down with personal gear and four meals prepared by the PDR (Pacific Dining Room) crew. After a brief meeting, the two men men being relieved of duty climbed on board, buckled up and we were off again, briefly.

We began a shaky run into a strong crosswind, banked left sharply and flew to Eniwetak Island, a mile and a half due west. Eniwetak is completely inside the lagoon and is protected from the strong easterlies by Meck Island. That probably explains why it has the tallest trees I’ve seen on the atoll so far.

The helicopter flew in over the short pier and jetties on the southern tip of the island and touched down a few yards away. I saw a dirt road on the right side of the narrow island that ends over six hundred yards north of the pad at a silver mobile home. And the trees on the left were tall with lots of undergrowth.

The next stop was mine. From Eniwetak we flew north over the uninhabited island of Kwadack. It, too, is inside the lagoon and heavily forested. As the helicopter passed overhead I saw a metal building in the center of the round-shaped island, someone’s home before the central part of the lagoon was evacuated for U.S. testing years ago.

A short time later I and Robert Aiaj, my constable and interpreter, watched as the Huey made it’s run northeast across the island, then turn north for Gellinam, the last stop. It will return tomorrow with a relief crew and possibly some technicians.

I followed Robert through some tall grass to a dilapidated small green mobile home, our post for the day. He had to yank on the mangled door to get it open and when it did, the bottom of the trailer’s front wall buckled out. Once inside, I pushed out on the wall and peered at the grass below. The rest of the home was somewhat better. Robert is a Marshallese in his mid-twenties and has a medium build. I mention this because many islanders I’ve encountered are overweight. I recently read an article in a Pacific publication describing this problem and attributing the blame to the popularity of western processed foods which contain high amounts of fat and salt.

Robert, besides being polite, is also a man of few words. His tour didn’t consume much time since Omelek is only a little over three hundred yards long and a hundred and twenty-five yards across at its widest point.

In the northeast corner of the island are two concrete buildings with intrusion alarms that are monitored at headquarters on Kwaj. If an alarm sounds they call us on our land line (underwater cable) and we have to respond. These buildings are used as fuel storage for the meteorological rockets that are launched from the northwest tip of Omelek. The launch pads consist of two steel posts and racks for holding the rockets. The weather rockets are very quick and very small, the largest measuring about five feet in length.

I volunteered to take the first shift and Robert was free to do whatever he wanted, which, for a Marshallese, is to fish. The only task for the on-duty person is to make a status call every hour to headquarters.

Rain squalls began passing over the island every few minutes and it was close to noon before the weather improved enough for me to take a more leisurely look at the flora and fauna.

A long sand bar extends onto the reef from the south end of Omelek. The tide was low and, looking south, I noticed the waves from the lagoon break on the edge of the reef, run across the surface and quietly meet waves from the Pacific near the center.

Looking south from the sand bar, Meck, Kwadack and Eniwetak are lined up from left to right and I took some photos of the structures on Meck with a telephoto lens. I keep the camera covered with a towel since the thick salt air will corrode anything unprotected.

An abundance of seashells line the shore on the lagoon side and I plan to do a little collecting later. The Marshallese word for seashell collecting is kallibukwe, something Americans over here do a lot of on the reef.

At the midpoint of Omelek is the pier and harbor. Ghost crabs, so named because of their transparent shells, scurried over the  boulders that  enclose the little port. Down by the boat ramp six brown leaves floated silently near the surface. The strange thing was they stayed in formation. I watched closely, trying to figure out what they were.

The leaves moved so slowly that I didn’t notice that they had changed direction while remaining in close formation. They continued their zig-zag, slower than a snail’s pace movement across the harbor-six brown paper cutouts that lived.

The wind picked up and more rain clouds raced toward the island. I didn’t stay at the pier very long because of the heavy downpour. Maybe later. My short list of  wildlife on the island, in addition to the white fairy terns, includes a small white moth, small striped lizards, grasshoppers, black birds about the size of a fairy tern and a large contngent of hermit crabs.

1800 – The sun reappeared, the tide was high and water had covered most of the sand bar. Waves from the ocean and lagoon were running together at full speed and the resulting explosion of salt spray reached heights of at least twenty feet. Looking south I can see abandoned Kwadack Island. Islanders had to leave their homes for missile testing many years ago, forcing overcrowded conditions at Ebeye, which brought disease and a loss of identity. After taking a few more pictures I decided to turn in for  a little rest.

In the short periods of time between rain showers I managed to cover much of the island twice. One thing that stands out is the number of hermit crabs here. The island is overrun by them.  These are the crabs that borrow seashells to live in. The shells range from the size of a quarter to seven or eight inches long. The crabs trade in their shells whenever they get too big to fit inside.

They will eat just about anything and spend the day crawling across the island in search of food, dragging their shells behind them. I noticed a small crab that obviously couldn’t find a shell to fit so it backed into the end of one shaped like a cone and about five inches long. As it struggled over rocks and grass, the tail end of the shell kept bumping against everything. Once it hit bare ground the little crab became a tractor, plowing a furrow everywhere it went.

Whenever they sense danger these hyperactive crustaceans will withdraw into their shells. After a short period of time they will carefully peer out, gradually emerge, then continue their journey.

Hermit crabs love to climb trees, dragging their mobile homes along with them. Each time I passed by a tree several dozen of the critters would withdraw into their shells. They had, of course, lost their grip on the trunk and all of the shells came clattering to the ground. Undaunted, they again emerged and began their slow ascent up the tree. When I passed by again a few minutes later (I forgot they were there.) – instant replay. Now I take a wider path around any trees I see with seashells growing on the trunk.

2130 – Robert came by with three baby terns he had caught. I took a couple of photos before he deposited the gray colored youngsters in the bathtub of our trailer. He said that he wanted to train the birds to fly away and return but I think they are destined for the dinner table. I was told that you don’t see a lot of fairy terns and other creatures, especially turtles and the giant coconut crabs, on any of the outer islands used in tracking missile launches.

2200 – The sky cleared and a strong breeze whistled through the trees. I spotted a skinny black and white cat but it quickly disappeared into the trees on the island’s north end.

The hermit crabs are night owls. I could hear their clacking everywhere, like castanets, as they bumped across the island. If I turned on my flashlight, the area covered by my beam of light became quiet. The only things visible were hundreds of lifeless shells. But when I cut the light off, the staccato sound of the castanets began again with the same frantic beat.

Night on an outer island was a new experience. The island became smaller when the light departed. A deep blackness surrounded me and the stars sparkled in the pollution-free air, like perfect diamonds. Meteorites streaked overhead from several directions. On one side waves from the lagoon tapped at the shore and on the other side the Pacific roared, the energy from its waves being spent on the coral reef two hundred yards out.