In port . . . briefly!

Biddle arrived in Subic Bay 24 June 1969. Several days liberty ahead in one of the most infamous liberty ports in Southeast Asia! But not for me. 🙁

I had learned a few days earlier that upon arrival in Subic LT Libbey and I were to depart only a few hours later for the Gulf of Tonkin. We were the advance party to prepare for Biddle‘s relief of USS Chicago (CG-11). 

(Cue the whining. After leaving Hawaii on 12 June, I spent a few hours in Guam and then a few hours in Subic. The next time I would be in port would be 3 August. That calculates to 52 days spent all but several hours at sea.)

We tied up in Subic next to the USS King (DL-10) and to what remained of the USS Frank Evans (DD-754). These ships were poignant reminders of the danger of being at sea, even outside combat. On 23 May, four crew members on the King had been killed in an engine fire that also injured 15 crew members. This picture of the Evans shows the extent of the damage that occurred on 2 June when the ship was cut in two by HMAS Melbourne, an Australian aircraft carrier. Seventy-four crew members, including three brothers from Nebraska, were killed.

At 1230, LT Libbey and I went to Naval Air Station, Cubi Point. At 1445, our C-2 took off on its way to the Gulf, to USS Kearsarge (CV-33) on Yankee Station. I remember the takeoff taking a long time (the plane carrying a lot of supplies as well as some passengers), increasing my concern about the large hill at the end of the runway. I think we banked rather sharply once in the air.

I was not then a “happy” flier. I had not flown much by age 22, but had already had a couple of iffy flights. And I had never flown in such a small plane. Nor had I ever landed on an aircraft carrier. My anxiety level was rather high. As we neared the end of the three-hour flight, I noticed that a member of the aircrew, maybe younger than me, was “lounging,” relaxed at the back of the plane (the passenger seats faced backward), and looking at me.  I believe he sensed my anxiety, and played it a little. He told me that on the last flight to the carrier the pilot had missed the arresting cables and had had to go around. He played me right. Gulp.

Approaching Kearsarge, the plane moved up and down, and the wings tilted each way. As the plane reached the carrier, the pilot pushed the throttles forward to increase speed so he could take off if he missed the cables. Engines roared.  . . . He missed.

As we banked left to try again, I looked back at the crewman, with a look of alarm, I’m sure. He smiled as he said, “Told ya.”

Second time the charm. The plane approached again, accelerated, hit the deck, caught the arresting cable. We were pushed back into our seats, then the plane turned on deck, the rear gate of the aircraft lowered, and we walked out on deck. There was a lot of noise and wind as we were guided to a door and moved off the deck.

I spent the night on the Kearsarge, in the stateroom of its Dental Officer, a Commander, who was apparently TAD or on leave. Cool. Single occupancy Commander’s stateroom. Upgrade! . . . That night I realized being close to the catapult on a carrier is not an upgrade.

Next morning, I took this picture of a helo on the deck of the Kearsarge. Don’t know if it was the one in which LT Libbey and I were to fly to the Gulf. Just a nice scene.