Category: USS Biddle

Don’t know why, but I never noted in my journal that we had a USO show on board. There were pictures in the cruise book, but I can’t assign it to a date.

We were on the line, certainly. We were one of the stops for a helicopter-borne troupe of performers. They gave us a couple of hours of fun, and I think most of us appreciated it very much. We were there on orders. They were volunteers, helping us feel a little better.

The performers were known as the “Maniackers” and the “Tony Diamond Show.” Diamond was a comedian who brought his crew to Vietnam four times, and was later an activist for veterans.

There were songs, jokes, guys in drag, women — out on the foc’sle. Of some distinction, one of the singers in the Tony Diamond Show was Maureen Reagan, oldest daughter of Ronald Reagan, then governor of California.

Here’s a gallery of photos from the cruise book.

On 7 November 1969, Biddle began her last period on the line. We were plane guard for USS Coral Sea (CV-43) for the next six days. 

The job, according to shipmate James Treadway, in his Hard Charger! The Story of the USS Biddle (DLG-34), “required Biddle to maintain a position approximately 1,000 yards astern when planes were launched or recovered.”

“After completing their sorties over North Vietnam, landing planes used Biddle’s position as a marker when turning base leg to final approach. The plane’s near-90-degree bank directly over Biddle allowed shipboard observers to peek inside the cockpit. When in this position at reduced throttle, a Phantom’s intake compressor makes a distinctive eerie moan that sent shivers down my spine. Occasionally, I could see flak damage, fluids leaking from holes in the wing, or smoke escaping from inside the fuselage.

“When the plane leveled off, the final approach and landing could be followed with large binoculars on the bridge wings. The symphony of thunder and light as the plane slammed into the heaving deck and the violence of the landing was truly remarkable.”

Here is video (1:06; soundtrack in the original) from the film shot by GMG2 Boyles and GMG2 Kuczmarski that shows some of what Treadway described.

Another facet of plane guarding was coming up to speed with the Coral Sea. Carriers launching or recovering planes headed into the wind and went fast. Biddle had to maintain position, at full, if not flank, speed.

CAPT Olsen may have been personally acquainted with the CO of the Coral Sea. Perhaps they were Annapolis classmates. In any case, in response to a “welcome” message from the Coral Sea, CAPT Olsen sent the following response. Note the “Hope we can get together” and sign-off “Al.”

Indeed, the hope was realized. According to my journal, the Coral Sea CO came to Biddle for lunch on 12 November. He had been preceded the previous day in the Biddle wardroom by Commander Task Group 77.5, also onboard Coral Sea.

My intelligence job in the role of plane guard was pretty simple — break down the Coral Sea flight plan and share with Ops. I wasn’t the only one to notice that my responsibilities had diminished. My journal for 9 November reported: “Had talk with XO today. Seems he doesn’t want ensigns going around looking (?) like they’re doing nothing. So, he’s going to be assigning projects to me.” For 10 November: “More from XO — he kind of wants me on the watch bill.” Ouch.

On the morning of 5 November 1969, Biddle conducted the somewhat rare gun shoot. I believe this video (0:46) is of that shoot. It is from the film shot by GMG2 Boyles and GMG2 Kuczmarski and, in the film, it occurs at about the right time frame.

Later that day, we pulled into Subic for a brief stop. My journal reports that I “went to the O Club for a couple of beers.” There’s a surprise.

Left later the same day for the line. Still rolling. “They found two fish on the 04 level today,” I wrote in my journal. “God.”

Shipmate James Treadway, in his Hard Charger! The Story of the USS Biddle (DLG-34), recalls a remote encounter with a Blackbird during the 1969 deployment:

“One day (or was it night?), while checking one of the display consoles in CIC, I noticed a single radar ‘blip’ just north of the DMZ. On the next sweep, about 10 seconds later, the unknown and untagged target had move almost 10 miles north towards Hanoi. At first, I thought it was false echoes or multiple targets popping up in different places. It was quickly evident that this was not a normal target — it covered the distance from the DMZ to Hanoi at 3,000 miles an hour.

“We had heard there was a top-secret plane operating in the area, but we didn’t know what it was called. Even the super-fast RC-5A Vigilante was not that fast. Later we learned it was a SR-71 Blackbird operating out of Kadena air base in Okinawa. When the still unknown blip reached the border with China, it just kept on going, knowing nothing could touch it at 80,000 feet.

“SR-71s were tracked several times by Biddle‘s radar. Bob Gerity recalled a similar encounter with a Blackbird: ‘The SR-71 incident occurred on my watch and was first sighted by RD2 Mullen, I believe, coming down from China. We put an “unknown” symbol on him and AW (Alpha Whiskey was Task Force 77) quickly told us to drop that track.'”

The pre-deployment briefing that CAPT Olsen and I attended had informed us that the SR-71 (then less than five years in operation) would be operating in our area and might occasionally appear on our radar. One day (or night?) operating online, a radarman called me over to show me a contact.

When a radarman assigned a contact in NTDS, the system would determine course and speed and place a “lead” symbol showing relative speed. On almost all air contacts, the lead might be one-quarter inch to one-half inch long. This contact had a lead of maybe three inches. The question to me was, “Whiskey tango foxtrot?!,” but translated. I figured it was a SR-71 and told the radarman that it had to be a system malfunction or something. “No worries.”

We left Hong Kong on the morning of 4 November 1969. For someone with a hangover — me — rough seas added to feelings of misery.

In my journal, I said, “Roughest weather so far. 30°+ rolls.” Lunch provided an interesting experience for me.

“I was sitting at the starboard end of the table,” I reported in my journal. The main table in the wardroom ran athwartship — port and starboard — with a single seat at each end. The menu was hot dogs and beans, with condiments, water, coffee, and bug juice, and the table was fully laden. Suddenly, the ship went into a trough. It rolled to starboard, rolling at what was later calculated to be 35-37°.

“All the stuff on the table came flying toward me,” according to my journal, “and, as I tried to stop it, I had to let go of the table. Well, a few milliseconds later, I was on my back, still in my chair, scrunched up against the adjacent table, amid a pile of plates and dogs and beans. Much laughter.”

While I did not note it in my journal, I still remember, in my mind’s eye, falling backward and, as I did, seeing, in that slow motion kind of way, a coffee cup and saucer going by my head.

In one respect, I had the last laugh. I left to clean up and spent the afternoon in my rack.

Our last full day in Hong Kong was 3 November 1969. That’s when I did most of my buying. Headed over to Kowloon, to the Ocean Terminal, which was relatively new, having opened in 1966 as Hong Kong’s first “shopping mall,” with 112 shops.

In addition to some silk, I visited a People’s Republic of China store and got a Mao poster. Also bought a couple of pieces of jade, as well as some pewter and leather. There were probably a couple of violations of regulations that day.

During the six days in Hong Kong, I had the duty twice and had to skip a tour of the New Territories north of Hong Kong on one day because of work. 

Two experiences, otherwise, stand out in my memory (besides the evening with Bunny). One may have been at the Hilton. A group of us were sitting in the lounge, watching a lot of Brits, Aussies, and Kiwis dance to a band. The band had been doing a lot of covers of British and American songs and then started a song I had not heard before. After only a little bit, I thought, “This sounds like a Stones song.” It was “Honky Tonk Women.”

The other was dinner at a place called “Peacock and Pheasant.” It was another XO find. Very British, very continental. According to my journal, the meal included: “escargot, turtle soup, Caesar salad, steak au roquefort, baked Alaska, wine, drambuie.” The XO took charge of the wine selection.

A few of us then went to a rock music club in Hong Kong, closed it, and looked for more. Headed over to Kowloon (must have been on a harbor ferry or water taxi) and ended up at a place called the Copacobana. Again, my journal: “Left there at about 0315, got back to ship at 0705.” Hmmm.

Here’s are two galleries of photos, the first of Hong Kong itself and the second is scenes of the mainland portion of the colony.

Biddle actually arrived on  29 October 1969, but, per my luck (or was it a nefarious plan?), I had duty first day in port. Thus, my first day on the beach in Hong Kong was 50 years ago today, 30 October.

Journal entry: “Went shopping.” Duh. Started at the “amazing” China Fleet Club. “Everything is there,” I reported in my journal. “I wandered around, just getting the feel of the place. Very nice sales girls.”

Fifty years ago, of course, Hong Kong was a British Crown Colony. It consisted of 236 islands and islets, many of them uninhabited, and a portion of the mainland of China. Total area was 398 square miles. In the 1960s, the population of Hong Kong was about 3 million. Now, it’s about 7.5 million.

After lunching at the Hilton (“buffet and a couple of beers for a couple of dollars”), I went to a tailor to order a custom-made suit. It was “Edwardian” and plaid. (I wore it rarely, as I think it had already gone out of style by the time I ordered it. I wish I still had it, or at least a picture of me in it.)

In the evening, I joined a bunch of officers, including the XO (CDR Donovan), to visit Kowloon, across the harbor from Hong Kong, on the mainland. First stop was an Australian folk club called the “GoDown Bistro.” I described the performances as “about four to five years behind the States, playing stuff like ‘Blowin’ in the Wind,’ etc.”

Then, my journal reports, the “XO then took us to World of Suzie Wong and got us girls.” I think by that I meant the XO, who had probably been there before, talked with the manager and arranged some “companions.” Here is a picture from that evening.

This ended up more innocent than I might have preferred. At closing time, the young ladies said good night and headed out to go home . . . alone. My role was to purchase numerous glasses of “champagne” and somehow converse. Maybe we danced. Glad I have the picture, because I don’t recall a whole lot from the night. In my journal, I wrote, “Girl’s name was Bunny (or maybe Money).” And “got back to ship somehow.”

Four more days in Hong Kong!

Biddle’s last day as PIRAZ or SAR in the Gulf of Tonkin was 27 October 1969. USS Long Beach (CGN-9) took over our North SAR job.

My journal entry for the day began: “We actually got relieved on time!”

I also expressed thanks that we were leaving the Gulf. “Truxton [then DLGN-35] (PIRAZ) and Long Beach are really screwing up.”

Things looked good. We were on our way to Hong Kong for six days liberty!

My journal also noted “Weather’s getting rough. And most of the way to Hong Kong is in the trough.”

We had learned earlier that we would be spending additional time in the Gulf in November, not in our former roles as PIRAZ and SAR, but as a plane guard. That additional time period qualified us for the Republic of Vietnam Campaign Medal and combat pay. “Money and medal!” my journal noted.

I had a little bit of worry (maybe more than a little) as we approached turnover about some Naval Gunfire Support graphics. I have no recollection of what those might have been, but I noted in my journal that, as I was preparing for turnover with the Long Beach Intel Officer, I couldn’t find them. “I hope I didn’t sign for them,” I wrote. The next day’s journal entry: “I never did have those graphics.” Whew!

In October 1969, the Biddle changed Executive Officers. CDR Ian Donovan arrived on 20 October and CDR Allen Smith III departed on 23 October.

I mentioned in an earlier post that I found CDR Smith a bit patrician, maybe because of the “III” in his name, maybe because of the Naval Academy class ring he wore. I also later came to appreciate the role of an Executive Officer, which does not always include making people serving under him happy. I recently learned CDR Smith was the son of a Navy captain and grandson of an Army colonel, both named Allen Smith. So I give him respect and some slack now about the III.

Didn’t give much of it back then. My journal for 20 October: “New XO came today. Looks OK, an improvement anyway.” CDR Donovan, a graduate of Ohio State, appeared more easy-going to me, I think. And there might have been a bit of kerfuffle between ENS McDonald and CDR Smith as he was departing.

Earlier in October, I had been “elected” Mess Treasurer. My name had been the only one put in nomination. Elected unanimously! This was a position not sought. I’ll explain.

In the arcane world of the Navy, particularly distinctions between commissioned officers and all others, enlisted personnel on board ship were issued uniforms and provided food, free of charge, while officers had to purchase the same. Officers of all ranks received, at the time, however, $47.88 each month in what was termed “Basic Allowance for Subsistence.” This was to be pooled among the officers in each ship’s “mess” or wardroom and used to purchase food and drink.

Just about every officer wanted his mess to spend the least possible each month. This resulted in wardroom cuisine that was “subsistence” at best. Low-end cuts of meat, pasta, rice, “bug juice.” But woe to the mess treasurer who didn’t keep that monthly charge as low as possible. It was his — now my — job to determine and to collect the monthly fees.

The mess treasurer also had to maintain the books, if you will. What was received, what was spent, what was returned . . . and you calculated the monthly “mess share.” The Executive Officer, as “President of the Mess,” had to review and approve the books. On 15 October, according to my journal, I computed the mess share to be $2.91, a decrease of $7.52 from the month before. (I cannot imagine how two dozen or so grown men could eat for 30 days for $2.91 each. UPDATE: ENS Graham has advised me recently that the amounts to which I referred reflected amounts above the monthly allowance. That seems more reasonable.)

When CDR Smith was to depart, I was to pay him his share of the mess. As he had not by then signed the new mess audit, I had to pay him the earlier share of $10.43, not $2.91. I guess even Commanders could use that extra $7.52.

CDR Smith left the Biddle to take command of USS Barney (DDG-6), on which he made a second WESTPAC deployment. Prior to the Biddle, he had served in various billets aboard destroyers and as Commanding Officer of the ocean-going minesweeper USS Affray (MSO-511). Shore assignments before and after duty on Biddle included Navigation Instructor at the Naval Academy and two Pentagon tours. He also served as Chief of Staff to Commander Middle East Force and as Commanding Officer of Naval Amphibious Base, Coronado. His final tour was as Deputy Chief of Staff, Support/Logistics, to Commander in Chief, U.S. Naval Forces, Europe. He retired in 1984. Among his awards were the Legion of Merit, Meritorious Service Medal, and Navy Commendation Medal with Combat V (twice).

CAPT Allen Smith III died at his home in Orange Park, Fla., from Lou Gehrig’s disease (ALS) on 9 January 1995. He left a widow, Donna; five children; and six grandchildren. RIP.

On 13 October 1969, Biddle spent part of the day away from our normal location on the line. Instead of cruising east-west a few miles off Vinh, we were up north, approaching Haiphong, North Vietnam’s major port.

Here’s how shipmate James Treadway talks about it in his Hard Charger! The Story of the USS Biddle (DLG-34):

“On a quiet, calm morning, I stepped outside for some fresh air and noticed that we were dead in the water and surrounded by hundreds of North Vietnamese fishing boats. Generally, we were far enough from shore that spotting a fishing boat was a rare event. So, why was Biddle dead in the water and surrounded by so many fishing boats, and where were we? Clearly, we were somewhere we shouldn’t have been.”

We were somewhere we had been ordered to be. I had learned from CAPT Olsen or perhaps LT Holtel on 10 October that Biddle would move north to Haiphong for a brief time. Task Force 77 or someone higher in the chain had noticed that the US had not operated a ship off Haiphong in quite a while and were now curious about what might happen if a ship “visited.” Whiskey tango foxtrot!? Were we to be “bait”?

While doing research for his book, Treadway asked CAPT Olsen about the visit to Haiphong. From the book, CAPT Olsen’s response:

“I believe it was midway through our third period on PIRAZ station when we received message orders to proceed north with our ‘shotgun’ destroyer under the cover of darkness to patrol off Haiphong, the principal seaport of North Vietnam, during daylight hours the next day, and then return to PIRAZ. The purpose was to accustom the North Vietnamese to U.S. Navy ships moving around the Gulf without hostile intent. It was a tactical maneuver . . . no intelligence collection was involved. It was a rainy day, no aircraft were airborne and we saw no ships.” [Except for fishing “junks,” I guess.]

Continuing Treadway’s account: “I had observed that most electronic equipment was turned off, apparently to not reveal our position. Eventually, Biddle slowly turned to the south and began to pick up speed.  . . . Soon, we were making flank speed south and kicking up a fine rooster tail. As we passed a Russian trawler like it was standing still, my binoculars found a bikini-clad woman on the trawler’s deck. Perhaps being in the Russian navy has its benefits.”

My journal for 13 October noted: “Up off Haiphong. Nothing happened. Slower day than usual. Only were up there 11 hours. Back down by midnight.”

That was not enough, however. Five or six days later, Biddle received new orders. We had to poke the North Vietnamese again and for a longer time. This time, 24 hours off Haiphong and overnight.

During the intelligence briefing we had received pre-deployment, we learned about North Vietnamese torpedo boat tactics. One night-time tactic was to float among fishing boats, slowly approaching the target, then light up, launch, and move away into the crowd of boats. I believe I conducted a briefing a day or so before we went north about such tactics for relevant officers.

My journal on 21 October: “Were up around Haiphong again. More action this time. Lots of MiGs up, some surface contacts, a couple of Soviet merships [merchant ships].”

CAPT Olsen: “This time we detected 20 or so military aircraft practicing touch-and-go landings during daylight hours. They knew we were there and were careful not to fly out over the Gulf. We encountered one large Soviet merchant ship departing Haiphong. After several challenges by flashing light, she identified herself and said she was en route to Vladivostok.

“I do recall the phenomenon of hundreds of fishing boats coming out after dark, possible from the island of Hainan, their black hulls silhouetted against the horizon. We kept them at a distance to preclude a torpedo boat or similar high-speed craft threading its way out of the pack and making a run on us. But I’m not sure whether this happened only during our two northern  sorties or whether we saw them on other occasions at PIRAZ station.”

I remember a nervous night. In CIC that night, we were not observing “hulls silhouetted against the horizon.” We were looking at lots of radar returns on screen, wondering if one or more of them was not like the others.

My journal on 22 October: “Well, we lived through the night. Went back down south at 0900. Nice to be back.”

UPDATE: Found this Biddle “newsletter” dated 12 October 1969, which alludes to our proximity to North Vietnam in a contemporary but now politically incorrect manner. The newsletter contained wire service articles and all the college football scores.

(Reminder: Hard Charger! The Story of the USS Biddle (DLG-34) is available from Amazon in either hardcover or paperback. Written by shipmates James Treadway (also a plank owner) and Rear Admiral Thomas Marfiak USN (Ret.), and Captain David Boslaugh USN (Ret.), Hard Charger! tells the distinctive tale of USS Biddle from concept to decommissioning and more.)