Category: WESTPAC Deployment

On this date in 1969, Biddle stopped in Guam. It was, at most, a pit stop for fuel . . . and movies. By late afternoon same day, we were on our way.

I worked with ENS Roberts on the cruise book until about noon. Liberty originally was to expire at 1300, but, due to a delay in refueling, it was extended to 1430. Hey! Time for a few beers!

We joined others at the Officers Club. Enjoyed a few glasses of a beer I had never had before — “Three Horses.” I was specially struck by the words “Brewed and bottled in Holland specially for the tropics.”

Wow. A Dutch beer got all the way out to Guam. Certainly the tropics.

I was also surprised to see an advance in technology I would not have expected to see for the first time in Guam. The jukebox played not only music, but also showed a brief movie. “With each song,” I reported in my journal, “you also got a little film showing girls in various stages of undress.” The films had nothing to do with the songs per se, but the film content was enjoyable nonetheless. Though a far cry from MTV, it was the first time I saw anything like it.

We picked up what I described as “some great movies” — Barbarella, Long Hot Summer, Play Dirty, Dr. Zhivago.

Most of the crew had used the few hours ashore to consume amounts of alcohol that were perhaps excessive. On the bridge, as we left the harbor and began rolling significantly, the helmsman demonstrated the effect of such behavior. He barfed. He was relieved, from both his post and his discomfort.

Next stop San Francisco! Only 5,800 miles of the Pacific to go.

On this date 50 years ago, we bade farewell to sweet Olongapo, as Biddle got underway for Guam.

We had spent just three days in Subic, of which one, of course, was a duty day. The XO, having heard I had been a journalist, had assigned me to write up commendations, but I was still able to get out for a little bit of shopping and horsing around.

My journal noted that on one evening I visited the “Chuck Wagon” and “D’Cave” and consorted, perhaps, with a young damsel named “Anita.” “Got very little sleep,” according to my journal.

One memory from Olongapo that sticks with me was visiting the “men’s room” in one of the aforementioned establishments. It had no running water. One stood on a plank placed on the dirt floor and peed into a shallow ditch. As one left, however, a fellow on duty would hold out to you a tray with a small towel. For a tip, of course. Such graciousness. I provided a tip, but refrained from using the towel.

(I have always pronounced Olongapo as Oh-LONG-a-poh. In researching recently, I came across an Aussie pronouncing it Ohlon-GAH-poh. Anyone know the correct pronunciation?)

My final purchases in Asia were at the exchange in Subic. Bought a set of Sansui SP-1500 speakers and monkeypod salad bowl sets for two couples recently married. Back then, speaker size mattered. These Sansuis were large. Glad we had the storage space on board.

According to my journal, I stayed up all night on the 17/18th working on “those stupid commendations.” Apparently, we held up the ship’s departure for a half-hour trying to get them done and submitted, I assume in hard copy.

Soon after getting underway, we also had a missile shoot, getting at least one hit.

On to Guam!

On 13 November 1969, Biddle was relieved as plane guard and headed to Subic Bay. It was the end of Biddle‘s duty on the line and the beginning of our long journey home.

Much earlier, I had mentioned that our original route back to Norfolk was to be via Australia, New Zealand, and Tahiti. Was not to be. There was also flirtation with an around-the-world cruise back, with stops in Africa and Europe. Was not to be.

Then there was the option of San Francisco or Acapulco. Officers with families opted for San Francisco, as it was easier for wives, especially, to greet their husbands. San Francisco, it was to be.

Maybe a stop at Pearl on the way? No. After Subic, we were to stop briefly in Guam and then make a straight shot to San Francisco. It would be 18 days at sea, except for a few hours on glorious Guam.

All in all, despite various disappointments, it was really good to be heading home. Goodbye, Vietnam! 

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!