On 24 July 1969, the trio of Ensigns aboard the Biddle — Curran, McDonald, and Roberts — became a quartet.
John Graham had graduated from Officer Candidate School the month before and attended a short Naval Justice School course in Newport, R.I. (He had been a student at Yale Law School when the draft suggested a stint in the Navy might be a good choice.) His orders, however, were not to a legal billet ashore, but to USS Biddle as Assistant CIC Officer (he was Legal Officer as collateral duty). How he got onboard that summer 50 years ago is a distinctive and interesting tale, which he relates below:
“Sitting at home in Richmond, Va., after my graduation from Naval Justice School, it finally hit me: ‘I’m going to Vietnam.’
“I joined the Navy to keep from going, but the ‘needs of the service’ prevailed. At least I was going to float rather than walk.
“In my brand new Ensign’s uniform, I presented myself at the airport and, upon boarding the American Airlines flight to San Francisco, was told that I was being upgraded to First Class. All of us in uniform and destined for Travis Air Force base were moved to First Class since the crew all knew where we were ultimately headed.
“From Travis, aboard a military airplane, we refueled in Honolulu and finally landed in Taipei, where they loaded us on yet another flight to Clark Air Force Base in the Philippines. Mount Pinatubo finished that base off in 1991.
“Transport in the Philippines then switched to a bus since Subic Bay was some two or three hours away by road.
“As the only officer (of all of two months), I was placed in charge of the 16 or so sailors (and several chiefs) on the bus and given strict instructions:
1. Don’t stop for any reason
2. Don’t let anyone on or off the bus
3. If you are stopped by bandits [What???] give them the blankets, but make sure that no one gets on or off the bus; and
4. Report to the command duty officer at Subic when you get there.
“Clear? Any questions? Off you go.
“About 15 minutes out from Clark, the senior chief came up to me and said ‘Sir, we have to stop. There is an emergency.’
“‘We’ve been ordered not to stop, Chief, what’s the emergency, Chief?’ I said.
“‘We don’t have any beer.’
“This was the first time (probably not the last) that I disobeyed a direct order, but the superior officer at Clark only mentioned one kind of emergency and this wasn’t that.
“Complete with all of our blankets and an ample supply of suds, we proceeded over hill and dale to Subic.
“Subic, and the contiguous companion base for the airdales, Cubi Point, was to be home for the next two weeks. The CODs (Carrier Onboard Delivery planes — C-2s as I recall) were down and there was no transportation to or from Yankee Station where the carriers were. (Editor note: At the same time on Biddle, we were aware that Typhoon Viola had grounded CODs.) Those of us awaiting transport reported each morning at 0800 and were dismissed about 0810. Olongopo is another story, not to be told in polite company. Food and drink were better at Cubi Point, so we mostly just hung around there until the CODs were back up.
“When the time came, loaded into one of (I think) six passenger seats in the C-2A, I think we took off. I say I think because the COD seats faced aft and there were no windows.
“Yankee Station was between an hour- and two-hour flight and after about that time the plane began circling and circling and what seemed to be descending — down, down, down. And then all hell breaks loose — the throttle is full, the wheels hit hard, we catch the hook, and stop immediately. An arrested landing on the USS Oriskany (CV-34).
“The Oriskany is like a floating hotel with scores of folks coming and going each day, and the transit officers’ quarters full of Marines, airdales, jet jockeys, helo pilots, fixed-wing prop-plane pilots, and just us ordinary blue-water sailors.
“The Biddle was 200 miles northwest of Yankee Station and it took two days for the transport crew to arrange my passage. I walked around the Oriskany and observed day and night air ops, the latter the nearest thing to Dante’s Inferno that I can imagine. Incredible noise, lights, dirt, dust, and people running and shouting in every direction. I thought that it would be nice to finally arrive at quiet sea duty.
“My number finally came up and I was escorted to the flight deck. The chief of the chopper that was to be my transport greeted me and gave me my [30-second] safety lecture. I strapped in and off we went. Taking off in a helo is certainly less exciting than an arrested landing at sea.
“So 200 miles later, the chief comes up to me and says ‘Sir, there’s a complication. ‘What is it, Chief?’ I said, wondering if there was any place that we could stop for beer. ‘There are two birds on deck,’ he said. ‘We can’t land.’
“‘Well,’ I said, ‘Do I have to go back?’ ‘No sir,’ he said, ‘we can still deliver you. Now stand up and put this horse collar on.’ Attached to a cable and winch, I was ready to go.
“With all my worldly possessions in one hand and my officer sword in my other, I was escorted to the hatch by the chief and looked down on “MY” ship tossing and turning some 100 feet below.
“As I was pushed out of the hatch (one doesn’t do something like this voluntarily), the chief gave me his final instruction: ‘Just remember, sir, don’t raise your arms.’
“Ensign Graham reporting for duty, sir.”