On 14 June 1969, Biddle crossed the International Date Line — an “adventure” bigger for some of us than for others on board.
The International Date Line (IDL) is basically the meridian of 180 degrees latitude — halfway around the world from 0 degrees latitude, or the meridian in Greenwich, England. That puts it in what amounts to the middle of the Pacific Ocean.
The buoy watch. Cruise book photo
Crew members who had previously had this rite of passage on one or more deployments wanted those who had not to “enjoy” the event by becoming the first of the crew to see the actual International Date Line. Lookouts were posted on the fo’c’sle. Junior officers were brought to the bridge and given binoculars to seek out the buoys marking the IDL. Buoys? Absolutely. You could see them on our radar scopes.
I admit the IDL veterans did a pretty good job. I was skeptical, but . . . lookouts? . . . buoys on the radar? I was beginning to take the hook. Then, as I joined other JOs in CIC to observe the approaching buoys on radar, I glanced to the lower left and saw that the “mode” dial on the NTDS console was on “test.” I had been shown how that mode could be used to create exercises, placing “targets” on the scope.
Aha! I recognized the buoys were part of a trick. I became a traitor to my fellow JOs and supported the continuation of the ruse. In the picture at the top of the post, LT Morris is pointing the direction of one of the IDL buoys to ENS Curran, who had originally been quite skeptical, too. I am at right, urging Steve to look harder.
The ruse all soon fell apart, but it made for a bit more lively evening than normal. We crossed the International Date Line at approximately 1950. Technically, we had moved from Saturday 14 June to Monday 16 June. June 15 never existed on our cruise. While the next day was a “work day,” the Captain let us have a “Sunday” and holiday routine.
Crossing the IDL has little of the tradition and scale of crossing the Equator, which calls for major day-long ceremony. We expected to “enjoy” that experience on our way home. There is a fantasy “Domain of the Golden Dragon,” which pertains only to those traveling west across the date line.
We had no formal recognition of our “achievement” crossing the IDL. Years after this cruise, I saw that the U.S. Naval Institute offered “certificates” for doing so, as well as other notable moments. I bought one, but then realized I would not be able to have the CO sign it, or have the ship’s seal applied, etc. It’s still ornamental and is a reminder of the event. Here’s a picture of it and below is a presentation of the text.
To all Sailors wherever ye may be: and to all sea serpents, crabs, mutineers, pirates of the Yellow Seas, and other other derelicts of Far Eastern seas, Greetings:
Know ye: On June 15, 1969 within the boundaries of my Draconic Realm there appeared the USS Biddle DLG-34
Be it known: that said renowned vessel crossed the 180th meridian in latitude 20°N
And all her Officers and Crew have been duly inspected and passed upon by my Venerable Body of Judges it is therefore my privilege to proclaim, with all the authority of my Sphere of Influence that ENS William McDonald having now been found worthy, he has been gathered into my fold and duly initiated into the
Silent Occult Mysteries of the Far East
And be it further understood: that he is now a member of my August Retinue and is therefore entitled to all the Rights and Privileges accorded such personages
Disobey this order under extreme penalty of my royal displeasure
On 10 June 1969, Biddle arrived in Pearl Harbor. At 0700, according to my journal, Diamond Head was visible in a hazy sky, “but it still looks beautiful. It’s too bad we’re only going to be here a day and a half.”
Yup, 36 hours in paradise after 15+ days underway. And it was raining when we pulled in. Still, it was Hawaii. First time I had ever been there.
During the several days before, steaming from the Panama Canal, I was standing CIC watches and getting into the wonderful world of intelligence reports. My journal entry for 2 June included “Spent all afternoon changing sub reports to conform to PACFLT.” On 3 June, I noted that I spent the day preparing an intelligence brief, but also reported that Biddle had had to slow because of “gyro loss” and engine problems. Perhaps that cut into our Hawaii liberty. On 5 June, I gave a briefing (to wardroom? Ops officers?) on special tactics to use against Soviet intelligence ships.
Back in Oahu, Jack Roberts and I went to the Pearl Harbor Officers Club, then downtown. I enjoyed filet mignon at Fort DeRussy, described in my journal as “the R+R center here.” I also noted that “You see a lot of guys around there on crutches.” We later walked around downtown and still later I joined other officers in attending the Romani Hotel’s “Topless Revue.” I noted in my journal: “Two dollars a beer.” Did I mention the price because it was high?
Five of us — Jack, Steve Curran, John Berquist, Frank Fox, and I — toured the island on 11 June. We had rented a 1969 Dodge Dart for $6.50 a day and $.06 a mile. 🙂 It was a state holiday — Kamehameha Day, honoring the king who first unified the islands — so things were crowded. First stop was Hanauma Bay and then Makapu’u Beach at the easternmost point of Oahu.
At Makapu’u, some or all of us tried body-surfing. I hope the others were more successful than me. Here’s my journal report: “. . . [T]his wave’s coming in, I wait, then start swimming down the crest. Next thing I know, my shoulder and head smash into the sandy bottom, and I’m flipped over and around, finally ending up being pulled back to the next wave by the undertow.” First time last time body-surfing.
Mauna Lahilahi Beach
Watched some real surfers at Sunset Beach. Then we went through Kolekole Pass, where we had an amazing view of mountains like none I had ever seen. On to the famous Makaha and Mauna Lahilahi Beach on the western shores of Oahu. Final stop before returning to the ship was Nu’unau Pali lookout, where, even at 2300 when we were there, you got a great view of the Windward Coast at night.
Hawaii photos from the cruise book
Among the supplies Biddle picked up in Pearl was $148,000 in cash, to be disbursed to the crew on payday. (No automatic deposits back then.) The ship also loaded 420 gallons of milk, 200 pounds of bread, and 50 gallons of assorted ice cream, among other things.
Events in the U.S. and around the world in June, while we were at sea.
Seventy-four U.S. sailors were killed June 3 when their ship, USS Frank E. Evans (DD-754), was accidentally rammed and sliced in two by the Australian aircraft carrier, HMAS Melbourne. Three of the dead were brothers from Niobrara, Neb. The ships had been conducting exercises in the South China Sea. (The Biddle had a close encounter with the ill-fated Evans a little later in the month.)
Blind Faith made its debut June 7 in London’s Hyde Park in front of 100,000. The latest “supergroup” combined Eric Clapton, Steve Winwood, Ginger Baker, and Ric Grech. Blind Faith released their only album and played their final concert in August.
President Nixon announced June 8 that 25,000 U.S. troops would be withdrawn by the end of September.
Grandpa Jones and Minnie Pearl, Hee Haw
Hee Haw aired on CBS for the first time June 15. The show was in the same time slot as the canceled Smothers Brothers Show. Popular with viewers but panned by critics, the show, hosted by Roy Clark and Buck Owens, would run for two years, and then another 22 years in syndication.
Oil slick on Cuyahoga River ablaze.
The Cuyahoga River, which runs through Cleveland, Ohio, caught fire June 22 when an oil slick on its surface ignited.
Photo of Judy Garland shortly before her death.
Actress and singer Judy Garland was found dead in her London home June 22 of a drug overdose.
The Stonewall Riots, a milestone in the U.S. gay rights movement, took place June 28 in New York City when angry bystanders threw bottles and rocks at policemen making a routine raid on the Stonewall Inn in Greenwich Village.
During the overnight of 31 May and 1 June, 1969, Biddle transited the Panama Canal and entered the Pacific Ocean. I took the picture above of passage through the locks at sunset.
We had arrived at the canal early on 31 May. Biddle was anchored at the entrance by 0630. According to my journal, we were anchored adjacent to a Soviet merchant ship, named something like Siltan Stanski.
A previous post had estimated that on 30 May we were somewhere between Jamaica and Panama, which are about 1,000 miles apart. At breakfast on 31 May, according to my journal, Biddle navigator LT “Bud” Daniels had commented, “I really don’t think the Captain believed me last night when I told him I didn’t know where we were.” Apparently, I wasn’t the only one kinda guessing.
We ended up where we were supposed to be and on time . . . maybe. Based on where we were in line to go through the Canal, we were not going to start to do so until 1630, which meant no liberty ashore in Panama City. For many of the days before we arrived at the Canal, those who had done it before and had enjoyed liberty ashore shared with us newbies lurid — and I mean, disgusting — tales of what we might see. I think it is probably fortunate that, not having seen what they described, I have no memory of stuff I wish I had never seen . . . at least, not from Panama.
Biddle started its transit even a little later, at 1700. My journal entry for 2200 31 May reported that Biddle was in the middle of Gatun Lake, not even halfway through the Canal. By the time I awoke on 1 June, we were through the Canal and in the Pacific Ocean.
CAPT Olsen, in a section of BIDDLEGRAM #2, gave a much more lyrical account:
Biddle in a lock. Cruise book photo
“. . . [W]e arrived at the Atlantic end of the Panama Canal on a lovely, sunlit day and anchored at Colon to await our turn to start our transit which began about 4 o’clock in the afternoon. We were lifted through the first series of locks, entered Gatun Lake just about dark and anchored because ship traffic up ahead was moving slowly. About two hours later we weighed anchor and began the first night transit of the Canal I have ever experienced. I shall always remember it. [I, on the other hand, was probably in the rack.]
“It was a windless, starry night; the temperature was just right; and the ship glided through the ghostly silence, in many areas seemingly just a dozen feet from the bank of the Canal. It was what I’d imagine the Garden of Eden would be like – without Eve, of course! As we neared the Pacific end, the channel narrowed and we found the sides of the Canal brightly-lighted with closely-spaced, blue florescent lights, just three or four feet high, which made the water glimmer like a mirror.
One of the “mules” pulling Biddle through the Canal. Cruise book photo
“We completed the transit at 3:30 in the morning, moored at Rodman Naval Station, but stayed only long enough to fuel before departing for Hawaii. [No chance for the swimsuit detail mentioned in his earlier BIDDLEGRAM.]
“As we left the Canal Zone and steamed south into the Gulf of Panama, we came within 400 miles of the Equator. Crossing the Equator is an historic event in the lives of men who go to sea and though we didn’t cross it this time, we hope to later in our cruise.” (But that’s another story, for later.)
CAPT Olsen sent several BIDDLEGRAMS to members of the crew’s families and friends of the ship during the deployment. The first was titled “BIDDLEGRAM #1 – 29 May 1969 – At Sea.” (I apologize for being a day or two tardy in posting this. Just lost track of date.)
“This is the first of a series of Familygrams which I will address to you during our cruise to the Western Pacific, for the purpose of keeping you personally informed of what your Biddleman and his ship are doing.
“As I write to you now, we are just 36 hours from arriving at the Panama Canal to begin the transit which will take us into the Pacific Ocean.
“The Canal, completed 55 years ago, is truly an amazing engineering achievement. You may be interested to know that when we enter the Atlantic side, we will be maneuvered into three locks in sequence, each of which will be flooded after we are inside. As we depart the third lock, we will have been raised 85 feet above the level of the Atlantic Ocean and will then be at the same level as the huge man-made, fresh water lake which is the central part of the Canal. Once we are at this level, we can steam at speeds of up to 18 knots until we reach a series of locks which we will enter in turn and be lowered to the level of the Pacific Ocean. The Canal is 44 miles long and curiously, the Pacific end is to the east of the Atlantic end!
“One of the benefits of periodically going through the Canal is that we can flush out all of our salt water piping, thereby ridding it of the sea weed and small sea life which thrive in salt water. We also will have a chance to wash down the entire ship with fresh water which we didn’t have to make with our own distilling plant! The uniform for this operation will be swimming trunks!
“By the time you receive this, we will have left Panama and be headed across the vast Pacific. You can span the gap with your letters. At the outset, with long distances between ports, it will largely be feast or famine. So, don’t lose heart, but keep writing and I can assure you that your Biddleman will be doing the same. Please note our San Francisco address and Zip Code.
“Before we sailed from Norfolk, we received several messages, two of which I would like to share with you. The first came from Congressman and Mrs. William H. Bates of Massachusetts. Mrs. Bates is our ship’s sponsor, that is, she is the lady who smashed the bottle of champagne on our ship’s bow and christened her:
“AS YOU DEPLOY AGAIN TO ADD TO THE PROUD RECORD OF BIDDLE, MAY WE WISH YOU AND YOUR HARD CHARGERS GOD SPEED, FAIR WINDS, AND FOLLOWING SEAS. MAY YOUR POWDER ALWAYS BE DRY.
“The second was from the Representative of the Commander Cruiser-Destroyer Force in Norfolk, Rear Admiral John R. Wadleigh:
“I HAVE FOLLOWED YOUR PREPARATIONS FOR YOUR SECOND DEPLOYMENT WITH INTEREST AND PRIDE. I AM SURE THAT YOUR CREW OF HARD CHARGERS WILL DO ANOTHER OUTSTANDING JOB. I WISH YOU EVERY POSSIBLE SUCCESS, SMOOTH SAILING AND A SAFE RETURN HOME. GOOD LUCK AND GOD SPEED.
“In closing, I’m attaching a fact sheet of key addresses and phone numbers, should you need assistance or desire information during our absence.
Very sincerely,
ALFRED R. OLSEN, JR.
Captain, U.S. Navy”
Among the addresses on the “fact sheet” was Biddle’s “telegraphic address,” to which telegrams would be sent:
John Doe, (RATE), (DIVISION)
USS BIDDLE (DLG-34)
Care of U.S. NAVAL COMMUNICATION STATION
SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA
30 May 1969 was Memorial Day. Began the day with my first midwatch (0000-0400). Got skunked — not a single “skunk” (surface contact) found on radar. Then, after a few hours sleep and breakfast, a surprise.
At 0930, the ship held man-overboard drills. A dummy was thrown off to either port or starboard and an officer with the conn, i.e., the only person on the bridge authorized to give speed and course orders to the helmsman, tried to bring the ship around and alongside the target, in a manner that allowed shipboard personnel to retrieve the dummy.
It was our fifth day at sea and, after the regular Officers of the Deck had taken their shot, Captain Olsen decided to let the new Ensigns (two in addition to me) give it a try. As a special duty officer, I was not authorized to be a ship-driver or to qualify as an Officer of the Deck Underway, so I expected just to watch. But noooooo . . . Captain Olsen, for whatever reason, ordered me to take the conn, too.
This would be the first time I had had control of even a motorboat, let alone one with the motors this one had. Thank goodness I was maybe last to have the conn for the drills, so I had seen and heard several officers before me. I was very nervous. I figured I had been tossed the opportunity to become a funny story for the rest of the deployment. “You shoulda seen what our Intel Officer did in man-overboard. Oh my gawd!”
I remember with awe what happened when I heard “Man overboard, port side!” and gave the order “Left full rudder (to move the ship’s propeller away from the “man overboard”), all ahead flank (top speed).” The stern of the ship lowered, the bow came up, and this man-of-war, nearly two football fields long, just leapt ahead. It was so amazing to me that it took a few seconds to come back to the issue at hand. I had to run to the portside bridge wing and find the dummy using binoculars.
The ship kept turning to port, increasing in speed. The officer with the conn (me), at just the right point, had to slow the turn and the ship’s speed so that the ship would approach the dummy, coming to rest alongside it, if at all possible. During the turn, I would have said something like “Rudder amidships” (put the rudder on the centerline, no angle) or “Meet her” (check but not stop the ship’s swing by putting the rudder to the opposite side). Then “Steady as she goes,” then “All stop.” In what I described in my journal entry that day as “One of the best examples of beginner’s luck I’ve ever seen,” the ship nearly stopped next to the dummy and it was “rescued” easily. It was the best recovery of the day.
Don’t remember for sure, but I think just about everyone on the bridge was in stunned silence.
On this day, we were “somewhere between Jamaica and Panama,” according to my journal. (That’s about a 1,000 mile distance.) We had slowed to arrive at the Panama Canal at the appropriate time on the following day.
An earlier post contained a “Welcome Aboard” pamphlet that gave physical statistics about the Biddle. The ship was also the “container”/home for about 400 men, give or take.
In the cruise book for the 1969 deployment, there are photos of 403 men — 29 officers and 374 enlisted men. At various times during the deployment, six officers left the ship either to different assignments or as part of early releases from active duty. I don’t know the extent to which that happened with enlisted personnel.
With the exception of the commanding officer and executive officer, everyone else on board was assigned to a department and, within the department, to a division. There were five departments. Below is the makeup of each. (This is in the weeds for many, but sailors and particularly other Biddlemen [the ship had been decommissioned before women could have served aboard] may appreciate the detail and may recognize a name or two.)
ENGINEERING
Five officers, 92 enlisted. Initially, the Chief Engineer and Department Head was LCDR Hansen. He was relieved in July by LT McCammon.
B Division
Cruisebook photo
The Boilermen (BT). Division officer was LTJG Rogers. Division chiefs were BTCM Schults, BTC Davis, and BTC Holland; members were BT1 Lee, BT1 Sweet, BT3 Weaver, BT3 Hamrick, BT3 Riley, BT3 Exell, BT3 Ford, BT3 Spieker, BT3 Mialki, BT3 Weidner, BT3 Spaulding, BT3 Enberg, BT3 Lockwood, BT3 Treadway, FN (Fireman) Miller, FN Clark, FN Pink, FN Hair, FN Vrobel, FN Stanbro, FN Pieprzyn, FA (Fireman Apprentice) Rodrigues, FA Snow, and FR (Fireman Recruit) Reddick.
M Division
Cruisebook photo
Machinist’s Mates (MM). Leading chief was MMC Kann. Members were MM1 Roby, MM2 Black, MM2 DeGuzman, MM2 Lindsay, MM3 Miller, MM3 Armstrong, MM3 Potvin, MM3 Kading, MM3 Byrd, MM3 Brown, MM3 Brooks, MM3 Nagy, MM3 Meadors, MM3 Sullivan, MM3 Nelson, MM3 Williams, FN Lindberg, FN Volker, FN Priebe, SN (Seaman) Crowder, FA Roy, and FA Brogan.
A Division
Cruisebook photo
Maintenance and damage control. Division officer and Damage Control Assistant was initially LT Wright. He was relieved in July by LT Combs. Leading chief was MMCS Lundgren and members were MM1 Ford, MM2 Troop, MM2 Bone, MM2 Ross, MM2 Bowman, MM3 Shaffer, MM3 Clark, MM3 Michalak, EN1 (Engineman) Bickhart, EN3 Lowthorp, MR2 (Machinery Repairman) Cawley, and FN Rafter.
E Division
Cruisebook photo
Electrician’s Mates (EM) and Interior Communications Electricians (IC). Leading chief was EMCM Albright and members were EM1 White, EM2 Caldwell, EM2 Stanghetti, EM3 Tompkins, EM3 Carpenter, EM3 Pompei, EM3 Lane, EM3 Groshek, FN Wisniski, FN Keith, IC1 Geiger, IC2 Carter, IC2 Cresawn, IC2 Colclasure, IC3 Badgley, IC3 Modrall, IC3 Johnson, IC3 Mitchell, and IC3 Bohdan.
R Division
Cruisebook photo
Shipfitters (SF) and Damage Controlmen (DC). Leading chief was SFC Pepple and members were SF1 Armolt, SFM2 (Shipfitter Metalsmith) Franke, SFP2 (Shipfitter Pipefitter) Cisowski, SFM3 Keith, DC1 Simacek, DC3 Reed, DC3 Guzowski, FN Barnes, and FA Strine.
SUPPLY
Two officers, 43 enlisted. Department Head and Supply Officer was LT Berquist, SC (Supply Corps).
S-1 Division
Cruisebook photo
Storekeepers (SK), Disbursing Clerks (DK), and Ship’s Servicemen (SH). Division Officer and Disbursing Officer was LTJG Fox, SC. Leading chief was AKCS (Aviation Storekeeper) Clifford and members were SK1 Padgett, SK1 Dunevent, SK2 Becker, SK2 Ormond, SK2 Parris, SK3 Wilson, SK3 Fluck, SK3 George, SH1 Riggs, SH2 Sullivan, SH3 Zandi, DK2 Meier, DK3 Fejes, SH3 Jett, SH3 Curtin, SN Purcell, SN Lindsey, SN Horvick, SN Travis, and SN LaRosa.
S-2 Division
Cruisebook photo
Commissarymen (CS) and Stewards (SD). Leading chief was CSC Matthews and members were CS1 Cookman, CS2 Locklear, CS2 Dunn, CS3 Evans, CS3 Porter, CS3 Schmidt, CS3 Browne, CS3 Boland, SD1 Ponder, SD2 Madrigal, SD2 Tulio, SN Powers, TN (Steward Seaman) Macasieb, TN Quicho, TN Sison, TN Enriquez, TN Table, TN Visain, TN Castro, TN Callado, and TA (Steward Apprentice) Hortaleza.
OPERATIONS
Nine officers, 104 enlisted. Department Head and Operations Officer was initially LCDR Steinbrink. He was relieved by LT Holtel in July.
OC Division
Cruisebook photo
Radiomen (RM) and Signalmen (SM). Communications Officer and Division Officer was LTJG Meyers, until October, when he was relieved by ENS Roberts. Chiefs were RMCS Porter and RMC Short. Members were RM1 Janke, RM1 Raynor, RM1 Mahoney, RM2 Dunn, RM2 Edwards, RM3 Nokyos, RM3 Cantrell, RM3 Tabor, RM3 Sucharski, RM3 Siwinski, RM3 Murphy, RM3 Higgins, RM3 Allen, SM1 Anderson, SM2 Martinez, SM2 Mrozcek, SM3 Young, SM3 Burthardt, SM3 Cureton, SMSN Clelland, SN Watson, and SN Creed.
Electronics Technicians (ET) and Data Systems Technicians (DS). The Naval Tactical Data System (NTDS) Officer and Division Officer was LT Marusa. Electronic Material Officer was CWO2 Deniz. Chiefs were ETCM Harrison, ETCS Reeves, and DSC Johnson. Members were DS1 Juhola, DS1 Plaskiewicz, ET1 Vincent, DS2 Patnode, DS2 Gaible, ETR2 (Electronics Technician Radar) Letter, ETR2 Fleck, DS2 Treadway, ETR2 Blees, ETN2 (Electronics Technician Communications) Arias, ETR2 Klindt, ETR2 Johnson, ETR2 Ramey, DS2 Schaefer, DS2 Merrill, DS2 Fyhr, ETN3 Miller, DS3 Hagstrom, DS3 Stanek, ETN3 Maraski, ETN3 Hinds, ETR3 Brummett, DS3 O’Neill, and DS3 Thomas.
NAVIGATION
One officer, 16 enlisted. Navigator, Department Head, and NX Division Officer was LT Daniels.
NX Division
Cruisebook photo
Quartermasters (QM), Yeomen (YN), Personnelmen (PN), Postal Clerk (PC), and our two-person Hospital Corpsmen (HM) medical team. Chiefs were QMC Willey, YNC Eppley, PNC Montagnaro, and HMC Flores. Members were QM2 Schnur, QM3 Sexton, QM3 Harrell, QM3 Erbe, HM2 McKay, YN2 Van Alstin, YN3 Wilkins (who was also ship’s barber), YN3 Holsinger, PC3 Leiderman, PNSN Hipper, SN Goldstein, and SN Black.
WEAPONS
Nine officers, 119 enlisted. Weapons Officer and Department Head was LCDR Wendt.
First Division
Cruisebook photo
Boatswain’s Mates (BM) and Seamen (SN). First Lieutenant and Division Officer was LTJG Armentrout. Chiefs were BMCS Chrisman and BMC Dickson. Members were BM1 Jeffries, BM2 Coken, BM3 Revell, BM3 Richardson, BM3 Dunn, BM3 Neil, PNSN Angelotti, SN Kendall, SN Weaver, SN Powers, SN Kopelow, SN Sefcik, SN Williams, SN Heiser, SN Payne, SN Humphress, SN Rivera-Vega, SN Burris, SN Schmidt, SN Titilab, SN Witham, SN Perez, SN Bienfeld, SN Dazey, SN Depetris, SN Kirper, SN Griffith, SN Howe, SN Mitchem, SN Owens, SN Baldwin, SN Burkett, SN Freeman, SN Hicks, SN Macomber, SN McDade, SN Strube, SN Barrie, SN Mullen, SA Diaz, SA Collins, SA Breland, SA Gurewitch, SA Brannon, and SA Henderson.
Second Division
Cruisebook photo
Fire Control Technicians (FT) and Gunner’s Mates Missile (GMM). Missile Battery Fire Control Officer was LT Morris. Missile Battery Officer was LT Seufert, until he was relieved in August by LT Cashman. Missile Ordnance Officer was LTJG Marsters, who was relieved by ENS Curran in September. Chiefs were FTCM Dreisbaugh, FTCS Clinko, and GMMC Gillichbauer. Members were GMM1 Webb, FTM1 (Fire Control Technician Missile) Valle, FTM1Walesby, FTM1 Hill, FTM1 Petrie, FTM1 Anderson, GMM1 Luck, FTM2 Harris, FTM2 Russell, FTM2 Galyen, GMM2 Jarrett, FTM2 Palmer, GMM2 Goodman, GMM2 Johnson, FTM2 Dickerson, FTM2 Reynolds, FTM3 Rigdon, FTM3 Decker, FTM3 Cross, FTM3 Boynton, FTM3 Royer, GMM3 Rose, GMM3 Smith, GMM3 Phillips, FTM3 Johnson, FTM3 Pajk, FTMSN Czelatka, and SN Edwards.
Third Division
Cruisebook photo
Gunner’s Mates Gun (GMG) and Fire Control Technicians Gun (FTG). Gunnery Officer and Division Officer was LTJG Fauth. Chief was GMCS Thomas and members were GMG1 Hamlin, GMG2 Rossire, GMG2 Mikolsky, FTG2 Jones, GMG2 Bednar, GMG2 Boyles, GMG2 Kuczmarski, FTG3 Evans, GMG3 Fleshmen, FTG3 Wilson, FTG3 Stasek, GMG3 O’Hara, GMG3 Lennon, FTG3 Moody, FTG3 Willis, GMGSN Fite, FTGSN Austin, SN Sharp, SN Roberts, and SN Dillihay.
Fourth Division
Cruisebook photo
Sonar Technicians (ST) and Torpedoman’s Mate (TM). Antisubmarine Officer and Division Officer was CWO2 Fridell. Chiefs were STC Sterry and STC Surges and members were ST1 Williams, STG2 (Sonar Technician Surface) Steps, STG2 Oliver, STG2 LeCouteur, STG2 Alwine, STG2 Metscke, STG2 Doolan, STG2 Sikes, STG2 Brooke, STG2 Brennan, STG3 G. Collier, STG3 L. Collier, STG3 Drennan, STG3 Kaczmarek, STG3 Uhrin, STG3 Blair, STG3 Pizzuto, STG3 Hunter, TM2 Cody, and TM3 Benson.
Don’t worry. There is not going to be a post about each day of this deployment.
I wrote my first letter home on 27 May 1969. I don’t think I posted it, though, until we arrived in Hawaii two weeks later. It repeated the concerns I had about seasickness and added a little detail.
“Well, just completed my 27th straight hour at sea. It’s not too bad. I haven’t thrown up yet, but I did pass up most of last night’s supper. I hit the rack at 7 p.m., stood a watch from 3 to 7 a.m., hit the rack again from 8:30 to 1130. [Besides CIC watch-standing, I still didn’t really have a job on the ship.] Boy, this motion makes you sleepy. It’s like you’re in a hammock all the time, swinging gently back and forth, back and forth, back and forth gulp. No, today, I’ve felt very well. I ate a big breakfast and a good-sized lunch. Of course, the sea has been quite calm, I understand.”
This image of the beginning of that letter shows one of the examples of Biddle stationery.
In my journal that same day, I noted we had progressed to “N. Florida.”
On this date in 1969 (a Monday then), at about 1000 (10 am to you civilians), USS Biddle eased away from Pier 23, Naval Station, Norfolk, Va., to begin a seven-month deployment to the Western Pacific (WESTPAC).
My cruise book photo. I look inordinately happy.
For those of us undertaking our first deployment, this was a big deal. Looking back, I consider the cruise the greatest single adventure of my life. (I think being a father has been my greatest adventure overall.) Based on part of my journal entry that day, however, my focus seems to have been on my stomach.
“Hadn’t thrown up as of 1830. (Didn’t eat much supper.) 1900 — hit the sack. Beginning to round [Cape] Hatteras. Oh God!”
I had never before been to sea. I had rarely been on a boat and certainly not out of sight of land. My ignorance about what going to sea entailed and my inexperience fueled my concern about becoming seasick and embarrassing myself. One of the most significant differences between being at sea and on land is that, at sea, the deck (floor) is never stable. Below is a short video taken from a wonderful collection of scenes shot on the deployment by GMG2 George Boyles and GMG2 Jerome Kuczmarski, and edited by Boyles. (These were taken on 8mm film, then transferred to video, then digitized, so technical quality has been diminished.) The beginning shows the wake behind the ship and the second shows the ship rolling, i.e., moving side-to-side along its longitudinal axis.
My shipmates and I were now embarking on a voyage of thousands of miles through the Caribbean Sea, into the Pacific Ocean, and on to Hawaii before setting foot on land again. (We had expected to have liberty in Panama City, but, as you’ll learn, that was not to be.)
Looking again at the picture at the top of this post, it’s interesting to note two of the ships also on that pier. The ship inbound of where Biddle had been was the German destroyer Lütjens (D-185). Across the pier was USS Norfolk (DL-1), the Navy’s first Destroyer Leader. The Norfolk had been launched in 1951 and was decommissioned in January 1970.
Cruise book photo
As one of the many unmarried sailors on board, I had no one on the pier saying goodbye. Many others did, however, and I only later came to appreciate the sacrifices they and their family members made during such deployments. While the ship was in radio communication with “the Navy,” individuals then had no personal means of electronic communication. Twelve babies were born while their dads were away at sea during this deployment. One father missed by only about a week, as his child was born on 2 June. The captain authorized him to use the ship’s communications system to connect with his wife in the hospital.
A band sent us off. Cruise book photo
I stood my first watch in CIC that day as well. I’m sure it was in a very secondary role, observing the experienced watchstanders.
At some point in the three weeks between reporting on board Biddle and our departure to WESTPAC, I spent several days attending a pre-deployment briefing in (maybe) Dam Neck, Va. It required an automobile trip and “Al” drove.
CAPT Alfred R. Olsen, Jr. Cruise book photo
The “Al” to whom I refer was CAPT Alfred R. Olsen, Jr., commanding officer of USS Biddle. I would have never referred to him then as “Al,” and don’t imagine I even thought of him with that nickname. He was “Captain.” He was 45 years old, a Naval Academy grad, and the person in charge of my life.
I think it was only the two of us from the Biddle attending the briefing, which was a few days in duration. It was at a Top Secret level, dealing with various threats posed by the North Vietnamese, Soviets, and Chinese. His offer to drive and for me to join him was one of those you can’t refuse.
We spent about 30 minutes each way in his typical suburban dad car. This senior captain and likely boot ensign made for an unlikely conversational duo. I pretty much tried not to say anything, except perhaps to affirm the wisdom of what I heard from CAPT Olsen with a “Yes, sir.”
And I did hear some wisdom . . . of sorts. Two I remember. One was CAPT Olsen’s take on RHIP — “Rank Has Its Privileges.” That was an incorrect interpretation, he argued. What people should have understood from the acronym, he said, was that “Responsibility Has Its Privileges.”
The other exchange I remember is when I commented on the proximity of the ocean. I had grown up in Western Massachusetts and had had very little exposure to the ocean. Most of my “beach” time was on lakes or ponds. At some point, I had somewhat dreamily commented to CAPT Olsen, “Ah, I smell the ocean.” He looked at me and said, “What you smell is rotting seaweed and dead shellfish.”
O . . . K.
Of course, I and the rest of the Biddle crew went on to share something like 60,000 miles riding with CAPT Olsen. But that’s another story.
CAPT Olsen was Biddle‘s second commanding officer. He had taken command about eight months earlier, in September 1968. Biddle was his fifth command at sea.
After graduating from the US Naval Academy in 1944 (early with the Class of 1945), he had served in the Pacific in WWII, the Korean War, 1958 landings in Lebanon, and the 1962 Cuban blockade. He had served on the cruisers Biloxi and Providence and the destroyer Allen M. Sumner. He had previously commanded the LST Ouachita County, destroyer escort Lester, destroyer John Paul Jones, and the destroyer tender Sierra.
In his 25 years of commissioned service, he had also served on the staffs of the Commander-in-Chief Atlantic Fleet and Commander Destroyer Force Atlantic Fleet, in the Office of the Chief of Naval Operations, and as Chief of Staff to Commander Cruiser-Destroyer Flotilla Four.
Post-Biddle CAPT Olsen left the Biddle in May 1970. He later was the principal surface warfare officer on the board that analyzed and reorganized Navy training. He subsequently served as the first director of the Surface Warfare Training and Personnel Division. He retired in 1974. For the next 12 years, he worked for Raytheon Service Company, primarily in logistics planning.
He died on October 31, 2015, in Arlington, Va., at the age of 91. He was buried with full military honors in Arlington National Cemetery. This is his obituary.
