When the noisy new neighbors floated into North Locust Point in early June, residents living near Baltimore’s harbor greeted them with groans.

Living next to the two gigantic military cargo ships is like living on an airplane, or next to an enormous mosquito — if the mosquito were almost 1,000 feet long and more than 100 feet wide. The humming never stops, residents said.

“If I stand in my bathroom, on the back deck or in my garage, I hear it all the time,” said Penelope Freire, one of several residents who say they haven’t rested since the ships’ arrival at North Locust Point Marine Terminal.

The grey-hulled behemoths tower over nearby townhomes and condos, filling the air with diesel fumes and shining powerful floodlights in residents’ windows. Since their arrival, residents have contacted local authorities repeatedly about the disturbance, without a clear response or resolution.

Both of the government departments overseeing the ships say it’s the other’s responsibility to resolve the noise.

For years, two other large military cargo ships — the Antares and the Denebola — berthed at the same piers, but those neighbors were somewhat smaller and much quieter. Those ships were part of the nation’s reserve fleet, managed by the U.S. Maritime Administration, ready to move military cargo to a war zone on five days’ notice.

They were moved to Texas last summer after Baltimore’s port reopened in the wake of the Francis Scott Key Bridge collapse.

The new ships — the USNS Pomeroy and the USNS Charlton — had been part of the Military Sealift Command’s prepositioned fleet, berthed in the Indian Ocean and loaded with Army equipment to be delivered on a moment’s notice. In 2008, an article in the Guardian listed both ships as possibly being used for imprisoning terrorists post 9/11 during the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq.

They’re now being transferred to the Maritime Administration, which is why they’re docked at the pier that the agency, known as MARAD, leases in Locust Point. But these new neighbors dwarf the old ones. The size of Navy aircraft carriers, they tower over the warehouses and tank farms of industrial Locust Point, and they’ve been running 24/7.

Peter Emanuel, who lives next to the pier, close by the former Under Armour headquarters, loved spending time outside, whether barbecuing on the balcony, reading in the sun or strolling with his dog. After a month of noise, he’s left North Locust Point for now.

“The noise became too much for me, and I decided to spend some time away at the beach,” Emanuel, who is now in Delaware, wrote in a text to The Banner this week. “I will come back when the noise stops.”

The sealift command and MARAD both said the noise is coming from the ship’s diesel generators, needed to power them while they’re docked. Both also said the generators would be turned off as soon as the ships had shore power, although neither said when that might happen.

Shore power connects ships to land-based electrical power and reduces emissions.

The Maryland Port Administration, which owns the piers, referred questions to the vessel owners.

Jennifer Hunt, a spokesperson for the Military Sealift Command, said the ships were moved to Locust Point because that’s where MARAD wanted them. She added that MARAD controls the shore power, not the sealift command.

MARAD spokesperson Brenna Jeffries said the opposite.

“Because we don’t own the ships, we can’t really control any of that,” Jeffries said.

Neither agency could explain why shore power has not been connected.

Several residents said neither agency had responded to their concerns.

“They’re saying we’re not even worthy of a response,” said Emanuel, who works for the Department of Defense. “It’s the total lack of consideration and the total disdain for the community.”

Residents of Locust Point, which has a rich maritime history, are accustomed to noise, from cruise ship horns and train whistles to the sounds of the Domino Sugar plant. But they have struggled to adapt to the new ships.

At night, Emanuel said, he blocks out the ship’s humming with a noise machine, its lights with a blackout curtain. He questioned whether Baltimore —and these piers — are appropriate for these military ships.

Nolan McCoy, another resident whose balcony overlooks the harbor, said the noise has caused him and his wife weeks of distress.

As vice president of the neighborhood association, McCoy has taken the lead on reaching out to local authorities about the noise and light pollution.

City Councilmember Zac Blanchard said that several residents had approached him about the issue and that the sound affects an estimated 200 condo units along the harbor.

“People are mad, and I obviously have no influence over this government stuff,” said Blanchard, who has contacted the Maryland Port Administration for answers.

In a June 16 letter to McCoy, Maryland Senate President Bill Ferguson said he understood “the serious concern that you and other community members have regarding the persistent noise, light and emissions disturbances from the ship.”

He said that he also reached out to the Maryland Port Administration and to the city’s congressional representatives, and that he would continue to coordinate with those offices.

Ferguson could not be reached for comment.

McCoy said he’s still awaiting a clear answer.

Meanwhile, he cannot open any windows or go outside because of the diesel smell.

“We used to go to sleep with the windows down, and I swear at night it gets louder,” he said.

Asked what she would say to whoever is in charge, Freire said she “would ask them if they would like to look out of their window into a wall of gray steel.”

Last week, the ships suddenly turned off their highest floodlights, which were illuminating the residents’ windows at night.

Without answers, neighbors are waiting to find out what happens next — from inside of their homes.

“I just want the lights and the noise to go away,” McCoy said. “That’s it.”