Category: USS Biddle

USS Chicago (CG-11) finally relieved Biddle on the morning of 1 August 1969. It was several days overdue, principally because of the presence of Typhoon Viola.

Before heading to Subic, we had to deliver something to Danang. The Meredith had delivered the North Vietnamese fishermen to us that morning and we were to drop them and their rafts off in Danang. The fishermen were berthed in the helo hangar and their rafts on deck.

Speaking of our shotgun, the Meredith had issued a press release on 30 July reporting their rescue of the fishermen. As my journal noted, “. . . didn’t even mention us.”

Indeed, the May 1970 issue of U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings, in its “Naval and Maritime Events, July 1968-December 1969” lists among items for 30 August 1969 the following: “The destroyer USS Meredith (DD-890) rescued five North Vietnamese fishermen from three rafts adrift in international waters 70 miles north of Dong Hoi off the coast of North Vietnam. It was the second group of North Vietnamese fishermen rescued by the Navy within the past three days.”

Here’s video from the film shot by GMG2 George Boyles or GMG2 Jerome Kuczmarski, showing the transfer of the fishermen to Biddle.

 On the transit south, we rendezvoused with the cruiser St. Paul (CA-73), flagship of Commander Cruiser-Destroyer Force Seventh Fleet, a rear admiral. The admiral came over to Biddle for lunch. Among the things he mentioned then was that trips to Australia were being reduced significantly. They would only go, my journal noted, “to particularly deserving ships.”

There’s been allusions to this in previous posts, but we had been told Biddle would return from this deployment via Australia, New Zealand, and Tahiti. Dream trip, or what! I didn’t know anyone personally who did it, but there were rumors, at least, that some guys had reenlisted to get that trip. Hearing that the trip might be in jeopardy was a bummer.

The admiral also indicated Biddle might spend its third line period off Korea.

While the admiral was on board, Biddle was about three miles offshore, just south of the DMZ. “Saw some air strikes,” according to my journal. Very soon after the admiral returned to the St. Paul, it began Naval Gunfire Support.

We arrived at Danang at 1830. My journal noted what happened then: “A PBR came out to pick up the NVN. All sorts of guys with M-16s. One of them gave the peace symbol. Some mortar rounds started coming in on the hillside north of us. As soon as the NVN were off, we hit flank speed getting out of there.” We were too big a target to hang around.

During the morning of 30 July 1969, Biddle‘s helicopter reported seeing a very small  raft with two fishermen, obviously from North Vietnam, aboard and far out to sea. My journal reported: “They had been blown out to sea (it had been pretty rough out) and they needed help.” At the time, Typhoon Viola had been creating problems, e.g., delaying our relief and shutting down CODs.

“We tossed them a line,” according to my journal. “They came to the side of the ship and we gave them food and water. A couple of spooks talked to them.” (“Spooks” were our onboard contingent of Vietnamese-speaking Navy types.) 

“They didn’t want to leave and be left alone at sea. We told them another ship would be by to pick them up and sent the Meredith [DD-890]. The Meredith (our shotgun) already had picked up another guy this morning.”

Some more photos from the cruise book.

CAPT Olsen’s second BIDDLEGRAM was dated 15 July 1969. (Sorry for delay in posting, but it took a long time to arrive in the mail. 🙂 No, again lost track of days.) I used some of it already in earlier posts, so I’ll include the rest of it here.

“On 1 July we arrived on station off Vietnam. Rear Admiral RUDDEN, Commander of the Cruiser-Destroyer Group SEVENTH Fleet, sent us the following message:

“WELCOME BACK TO THE CRUISER-DESTROYER GROUP SEVENTH FLEET. AS A PROVEN VETERAN, YOU KNOW THE CHALLENGING TASKS THAT LIE AHEAD. I AM CONFIDENT THAT YOUR OFFICERS AND MEN WILL ACCEPT THE CHALLENGES AND PERFORM LIKE THE TRUE PROFESSIONALS YOU ARE. I LOOK FORWARD TO VISITING WITH YOU AT THE EARLIEST OPPORTUNITY.

“He is right. BIDDLE is a proven veteran! Forty percent of the Ship’s Company are making their second cruise to these waters in less than a year. As a result of their experience and the competence and enthusiasm of our new hands, the training and teamwork we have developed during the past months, minutes after arrival on station, BIDDLE was operating as if she had never been away!

“What are we doing? Well, we serve as a navigational reference point for our aviators who continue to fly reconnaissance missions in the North and we carry two helicopters whose primary purpose is the rescue of any pilot who may have to ditch his aircraft. In our experience, none has. We also are, in a real sense, a sentry or picket out ahead of the main force, in position to keep an eye on the foe and to sound a warning should any threat develop. In our experience, none has. 

“That brings me up-to-date. All hands are busy and working long hours. Our weather has continued to be exceptionally fine. We have had one cookout topside and will have more. Our beard and mustache contest will be judged at the end of the month and prizes awarded for the best!

“Our mail service has not been as steady as we had hoped, but overall we cannot complain. And we hope you’re getting our letters in a timely fashion. Nonetheless, as Dean Martin says, ‘Keep those letters and cards coming,” — and your BIDDLEman will do the same. May I add that one photograph is worth several letters. So, please send a recent snapshot to your BIDDLEman.”

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.”

On 20 July 1969 (a Sunday then), Biddle‘s crew enjoyed a cookout on the fantail. (You’ll notice that there is much discussion today about the moon landing. In our case — and for all others on our side of the International Dateline — the date of the moon landing was 21 July 1969. There will be a post on that tomorrow.)

This wasn’t the first cookout, as my journal for 20 July reads, “Had another cookout today.” It is the one from which we have pictures . . . and film/video!

Perhaps it was the first appearance of our band — the . . . anybody remember if they had a name? It wouldn’t have been “The Hard Chargers,” would it? Anyway, they performed on the helo deck, which is why you see people in line in the photo at top looking up.

My journal noted that SN McDade was the singer and FTG3 Evans played bass. Welcome any additional identifications. (I know about the bass, because Evans was playing my bass guitar. I could not play anything on that guitar, and never could. My talents, if evident in anything, were not in music. I think I got the guitar to appear to be cool in the eyes of young women. Yeah, right.)

Below is a photo of me “enjoying” (maybe “examining”) some kind of sandwich, next to whom I believe is QM3 Harrell. I think this might have been an earlier cookout, because I don’t think I would have been wearing that cover if the ship’s ball caps had been available. (This photo shows that, of course, all I needed then to look cool was a bass guitar.)

Here’s video of the 20 July 1969 cookout from the film shot by GMG2 George Boyles or GMG2 Jerome Kuczmarski.

The Biddle spent most of its 1969 WESTPAC deployment during peak typhoon season, and the first instance of what that meant took place 10-12 July 1969.

Tropical Storm Tess was approaching the Gulf of Tonkin on 10 July and Biddle was heading south . . . quickly. We had been told to expect winds of 60 knots. Then we had an update: Tess was now a Typhoon and winds of 70 knots were projected.

My journal entry for 10 July included: “1800 — it’s now raining and windy. Whitecaps appearing.”

Below is a quartet of photos demonstrating Biddle‘s roll, perhaps during this transit south. Rolling, of course, was a common occurrence, though not commonly to the extent shown in the album. Photos were taken at midship and athwartship.

On 11 July, we had evaded the typhoon and were heading, more slowly this time, back into the Gulf. By 12 July, things were back to normal.

On 9 July, I reported in my journal that I “did beautiful on mail today. Got 7 letters, a postcard, the [Boston] Globe.” I also noted that we had conducted UNREP at 2330 that night and that “Captain suggested today I get a haircut.” Oh yeah . . . military.

Our first several days on the line in early July 1969 were busy. Operationally, the “routine” was not yet routine to most of us, those who had not deployed to the Gulf before. There were many new things to learn and the sense of responsibility about what we were doing made it seem all the more important to learn them quickly and accurately.

A significant dose of reality for me, and I bet for several radarmen, came on 2 July when we saw our first MiGs . . . on radar. MiGs were the then-Soviet jet aircraft flown by the North Vietnamese. The variant flown at that time was, I believe, the MiG-17. “[Seeing MiGs on radar] was actually fairly exciting,” I noted, with perhaps a bit more nonchalance than was real, in my journal. “They came down from Hanoi (Bullseye), then turned back.” They reappeared in the same fashion on 4 July, maybe to note the holiday.

I was especially busy, getting the Intel shop going. I was staying up until 0230 or 0300 most nights, preparing information for the day ahead. Occasionally, I also had to brief the Commodore (Commander Destroyer Squadron Seven) onboard and his staff at 0600.

Crossing the Pacific, we had replenished supplies in Panama, Hawaii, Guam, and Subic Bay, with supplies being loaded on board while in port. On line, we conducted “underway replenishment” (UNREP) and “vertical replenishment” (VERTREP) for the first time. Indeed, on 5 July, we did both UNREP and VERTREP in the morning, as well as conducted an “ASCM” exercise (I’m guessing that stands for “anti-submarine countermeasures,” but I hope someone can help me out with that acronym).

UNREP particularly was a complicated series of operations. The supply ship would be on a particular course and speed. Biddle would have to approach from the stern of the supply ship, coming up alongside at the proper distance and maintaining the same speed. (That evolution was one reason I was happy to stick to occasional man overboard drills to drive the ship.) I would have expected the supply ship to fire one or more “shot lines” across to Biddle, which would allow a messenger line and then transfer rig lines to attach file hoses, etc. Our cruise book, however, shows one of Biddle‘s crew firing a shot line. (Again, assistance from someone more involved in the evolution is most welcome.)

Sometimes UNREP was how we would receive mail, movies, etc. VERTREP, which involved helicopters approaching Biddle‘s stern, hovering over the helo deck, and then lowering supply containers was another efficient way to deliver some cargo. Sometimes both operations took place simultaneously. The danger of two ships operating so closely and the complexity of the operation overall made for an “exciting” morning. Connecting had its own level of excitement and complexity, but disconnecting was “extra special.” All in all, I think UNREP was most appreciated after it had concluded without incident. 

Here is a gallery of Biddle cruise book photos showing UNREP and VERTREP.

Biddle relieved the Chicago on 1 July 1969 and LT Libbey and I got to go home. To the Biddle, that is.

We transferred from the Chicago around 1700, maybe by boat. Here’s film, shot from the Biddle by either GMG2 George Boyles or GMG2 Jerome Kuczmarski, of the Chicago awaiting her relief that night.

Biddle was now PIRAZ (Positive Identification Radar Advisory Zone).  In that role, its radio call sign was “Red Crown.” We were accompanied by a  “shotgun” destroyer whose main role was to protect Red Crown from North Vietnamese torpedo boat attack. At least on this first stint, Biddle‘s shotgun was USS Meredith (DD-890).

Biddle‘s station was offshore from Vinh, North Vietnam. The ship would usually steam on an east-west line, back and forth. Not the most exciting route for bridge watch standers. To the east of Biddle in this position was the Chinese island of Hainan.

Being on the line, for me, meant going to work. First night back on Biddle, I noted in my journal that I had stayed up until 0230 working on intelligence matters. 

I actually went to “new” quarters when I returned onboard Biddle. We had picked up a staff and contingent of “snoops” in Subic and/or Danang and that made for slightly crowded conditions. Ensigns Curran, Roberts, and I were now berthed in what was termed “CPO [Chief Petty Officer] overflow.”

Our “stateroom” had four racks rigged in a stack along the bulkhead. Not a lot of room among them. No one could “sit up” in bed. I remember having the lowest rack, which was only several inches off the deck. Rolling out of bed was pretty much the only way to exit.

While LT Libbey and I were “working hard” in late June 1969 preparing for the transfer of responsibilities from USS Chicago to Biddle, the rest of the crew was having . . . fun!

Naval Base Subic Bay was adjacent to the city of Olongapo, a legend among Navy ports of call. Shipmate James Treadway, lead author of Hard Charger: The Story of USS Biddle (DLG-34), described Olongapo this way:

“Subic’s on-base facilities for R and R were minimal, making Olongapo the only place a sailor or marine could go to have a drink and some fun. There weren’t many rules in Olongapo — you could get just about anything you wanted, or did not want — including dead.  . . .  The drinking was heavy, the music was loud, women were available, and fights were common. At least that is what I’ve been told.”

According to CAPT Olsen, writing in Biddlegram #2, “Enroute to the Philippine Islands, we steamed 11,490 miles in 29 days with only two days in port!”

“From Guam to the Philippines,” he wrote, “we crossed the Philippine Sea and transited San Bernardino Strait, scenes of two of our Navy’s great victories over the Imperial Japanese Navy in World War II. Today these waters are placid, blue and unmarred by the history they’ve seen. Our port of call in the Philippines was Subic Bay, a snug harbor, protected by rising hills against the wind and sea, and site of a large U.S. Navy Base, which our friends, the Filipinos, permit us to use.”

After a few days at Subic Bay, Biddle transited to Danang, the Navy’s principal port in the Republic of Vietnam, for replenishments and some SAR (search and rescue) training.

Below are some video clips (1:39) from the films shot by George Boyles and Jerome Kuczmarski, both GMG2s, around the time of these events. They show Biddle steaming, US warplanes, a PBR (Patrol Boat, River), and Biddle‘s two boats. The audio was added by George Boyles.