Blue and Gold 1968-71

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.

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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.)

These recent days, 50 years ago, with Biddle back on the line in the Gulf of Tonkin, I spent more time than usual aboard helicopters. Biddle moved back and forth between SSAR and PIRAZ a couple of times within a few days, which meant I was on the road . . . uh . . . in the air often. 

One trip was of particular note in my journal. On 9 October 1969, we lifted off at 0700, which would not normally be difficult, but I had gotten into my rack at 0230. Here’s my journal entry about the ride: “Flew to LONG BEACH. Nasty trip. We went really high — above the clouds. The pilot has a thing about clouds. We had both doors open, so a good draft, and it was bitchin’ cold. I shivered for about 15 minutes straight. While shuttling between LB and MAHAN, our helo broke a wheel spring, so it flew home, leaving me. I then flew over to the MAHAN, and rode up with her to BIDDLE, then flew home.”

My very first helo ride had been back in June, when LT Libbey and I had gone ahead to the Gulf. Taking us from USS Kearsarge to USS Chicago was Helicopter Combat Support Squadron Seven (HC-7), Detachment 110, known affectionately as the “Big Mother Truckers.”

They handed us a welcome-aboard card with information and advice in case of emergency. Their last bit of advice was: “Do not panic! This is a right reserved for the aircrew only.”

Helicopters did much more for Biddle, of course, than give the intelligence nerd rides. They brought us supplies, movies, mail. Sometimes they landed on our helo deck, sometimes they hovered and lowered materiel to the deck. Those were brief visits. 

As SSAR, we carried for weeks at a time a helicopter detachment — pilots and crew members, probably also from HC-7. Their job, nearly every day, was to go to points off the coast of North Vietnam and be ready to conduct search-and-rescue missions for US pilots if needed. During our deployment, the US was not conducting bombing missions into North Vietnam, but US planes were conducting reconnaissance missions. I would receive information about the times and routes and would brief the helicopter pilots beforehand. My other interaction with at least one of the pilots, also nearly every day, was to play bridge with them after the movie. (Neither they nor I was on the watch list when Biddle was on the line. They were not ship’s crew. I was 24/7.)

Here’s a brief (1:06) video from the films taken by GMG2 George Boyles or GMG2 Jerome Kuczmarski. It shows helicopters in the various roles.

Landing and taking off from Biddle took both ship’s crew and aircrew, coordinating many elements. Here’s a gallery of photos from the cruise book showing a landing on board.

There were also celebrations. Not on every landing, though I always thought a safe landing deserved a celebration. Biddle took note of significant landings, including #300 and #600, as evident in the photos from the cruise book below.

But it was one of the last landings on board that deployment that . . . ahem . . . took the cake. On 13 November 1969, a helicopter from the USS Coral Sea (CV-43) landed after a routine flight, the purpose of which has been lost to history. I wonder if the crew was surprised at what happened on their arrival. For that landing was the 700th on Biddle since her commissioning, and 439th during this deployment, more than 150 more than in the 1968 deployment. 

But was there a cake? The cruise book does not have such a photo. It was, however, the occasion for a group photo of air and ship’s crew.

Here are other cruise book photos related to helicopters.

On our first day back in the Tonkin Gulf after Japan, 2 October 1969, tragedy struck. A C-2 Grumman Greyhound, a COD (Carrier Onboard Delivery) aircraft, crashed into the Gulf enroute from NAS Cubi Point in the Philippines to the USS Constellation (CV-64).

The six crew members and 21 passengers onboard remain listed as missing in action. Their bodies were never recovered.

The Biddle was among the ships assigned search-and-rescue duties that day. In my journal for the day, I wrote: “All we saw was wreckage, and pieces of bodies.” That may well be true, but, thankfully, I don’t have in my memory now images of body parts floating.

Exactly three months earlier, on 2 July 1969, a C-2 on its way back to Cubi Point from the USS Kitty Hawk (CV-63) had experienced a failure in the engine gearbox and propeller assembly that caused the loss of the entire propeller assembly on its port side. The propeller penetrated the plane’s fuselage, causing decompression at over 20,000 feet. The pilot, LCDR Peter Kennedy, was able to bring that plane safely to Cubi Point, actions for which he was awarded the Air Medal with Bronze Star. It was the first award for heroic achievement flying a COD.

Wrapping up Japan
While in port in Yokosuka, I had seen two OCS classmates who were the two other OCS students designated Special Duty (Intelligence). On 22 September, Mike Alin, who was assigned to USS Stoddert (DDG-22), came by and woke me up. He left later that day to go to Hawaii, to join his wife, who was in her eighth month of pregnancy.

Four days later, on the 26th, Clarence Pautzke, assigned to the USS Waddell (DDG-24), came by and we spent some time in the Officers Club. The three of us didn’t know each other at OCS, but we had received intelligence training together in Norfolk. Funny, huh, that we all ended up deployed to the Gulf of Tonkin together, too. Methinks we were part of an experiment. Wonder how it worked out.

The 26th was also our last full day in Japan. At some point that day, I had gone over again to the Exchange for a final buying spree. According to my journal: “Bought a pachinko machine, some clothes for family, filters, paintings, bronzeware, etc.” I think my parents later dumped that pachinko machine, but I still have the bronzeware.

As we left Japan, we had also said goodbye to LTJGs Rogers and Marsters, who had been notified previously of early release from active duty. LTJG Meyers hung around with us a while longer, and had a more interesting departure from the Biddle soon thereafter.

On a roll . . . and pitch
My journal noted that, on our departure from Japan, we had rough weather. On 27 September, I wrote: “Rolling 15-20 degrees. Didn’t feel especially great, but didn’t get sick. We were skirting Typhoon Elsie.” The next day: “Now we’re pitching, instead of rolling. Buried bullnose 45 times in two hours. 10-degree pitch.”

Stats
Through the end of September, I had compiled statistics about the deployment thus far, and entered them in my journal.

As noted, the stats are for me, not the Biddle. Remember, I had been ordered to leave the ship in Subic and go ahead to the Gulf back in June, so I had more days on the line . . . and not in port . . . than the ship. Basically, I was on the line just short of 50 percent of the time, in transit 30 percent, and in port almost 20 percent. You can also see that I was counting the days. Eighty-two days to go!

Quite a few of us took a Navy-sponsored tour of Tokyo on 21 September 1969. As you can see from the satellite view, the naval base at Yokosuka is maybe 60 miles south of Tokyo, on Tokyo Bay.

According to my journal: “Saw a couple of Olympic stadia (sic). [The 1964 summer games were held in Tokyo.] Went to a Japanese restaurant [duh] and had sukiyaki and beer. Very good. Ate with chopsticks. Then went to a shrine (Shinto), Tokyo Tower, and a show. Got back at about 1900.”

Someone, I’m guessing ENS Curran, took a couple of pictures of me at the restaurant. One downside of photography back then was you couldn’t check immediately to see if the subject was in focus!

The “show” to which I referred was somewhat of a surprise, considering our presence at it was Navy-sponsored. Here is the cover of the show program, with “pasties” added to keep the blog family-friendly. 🙂 The show wasn’t all uncovered women; there were clothed singers and comics. I don’t remember them really, but I still remember that young lady in the front.

Here’s a gallery of cruise book photos of Japan, most of them, I expect, taken on a tour such as this.

And here’s a couple of galleries of photos I took on the tour. First is of the swim/diving venue for the 1964 Olumpics.

And a temple.

A couple of days earlier, I had reported in my journal that I had joined LTJG Meyers, LT Libbey, LTJG Marsters, and LTJG Rogers on a sweep through the Navy Exchange. “Almost bought the place out.” This was mostly about cameras. I purchased a Nikon FTN w/50 mm lens for $233, a Tamron 80-250 mm zoom lens for $120, and various filters, lens caps, etc. Still have that iconic Nikon. Of course, I have not used it for many years.

 

On 17 and 18 September, 50 years ago, the Biddle held two ship’s parties in Yokosuka. I assume there were two so that those who had had duty could attend. I was lucky and went to both. My rating, according to my journal: “Wasn’t bad. Good show, free drinks.”

LT Bergquist and I (in background) paid rapt attention to CAPT Olsen.

Definitely a highlight from one of the nights was a solo by whom I believe was BTCM Schultz. The caption is the same as was in the cruise book.

It was also amusing to see the XO up on stage, being instructed in the intricacies of the hukilau.

And, of course, we had a Japanese cowgirl sing some country.

The rest was pretty standard (gallery below), but the evenings were a pleasant break and a chance for the whole crew to relax and have some fun together.

Fifty years ago today, Biddle arrived in Yokosuka, Japan, for 12 days of R and R.

I’ll post some things from that experience in the days ahead, but want now to look back at some events.

On Labor Day, 1 September, Biddle was running south, away from Tropical Storm Doris. The Chief of Naval Operations had been scheduled to visit us that day, but it was canceled because of the weather. I expect CAPT Olsen was more disappointed about that than I was.

Doris had developed into a typhoon on 2 September and, my journal notes, “Some CTs and Marines are seasick.” I also reported that “I didn’t feel absolutely great yesterday after dinner.”

Back on station on 3 September and we learned that the ship that was to relieve us — USS Jouett (DLG-29) — had been diverted to chase “some trawler.” 

On 5 September, we went up to PIRAZ again. First me, then Biddle. Flew to USS Sterett (DLG-31) at about 0800 and came back at 0945. First time in a helo while it was raining. USS Long Beach (CGN-9) relieved us late that afternoon and we returned to SSAR. I think the combination of the weather and the diversion of Jouett had led to this game of musical chairs.

On 8 September, we learned Jouett was coming. They had apparently lost the trawler in the Paracel Islands. That same afternoon, we were told we would be getting a special fly-by. Two F-8s would fly alongside the ship and fire a couple of cannon bursts. Picture/movie time! Everybody was out on deck with cameras. 

Here’s what happened, according to my journal: “SWC announced they would come on the port beam in about 8 minutes. About seven minutes later, SWC announced the jets were seven miles away. Thing was, it was difficult to hear him, because of the jets overflying us, from our stern. Just about nobody got pix.”

Jouett finally arrived at 2230 on 9 September. We were relieved about 0100 on 10 September and began a high-speed transit to Subic. Just after we were relieved, my journal reports, someone came up on the guard net and said, “Goodbye Vietnam! You suck!” Nobody knew who it was.

On 11 September, LTJG Meyers, LTJG Rogers, and LTJG Marsters learned they were on the list of junior officers to get early release from active duty, at the end of September. ENS Roberts was to take over as Communications Officer, ENS Curran was to become Missile Ordnance Officer, and ENS Graham was to become RPS Officer and Assistant CIC Officer. Here are cruise book photos of the officers involved.

The reduction in force was due to the drawdown in Vietnam. In the middle of 1971, I was on that list, too. But that’s another story. 🙂

It was common, I believe, 50 years ago that Navy crews on extended deployments at sea were given the opportunity to grow beards and mustaches, options not allowed otherwise by regulations. Biddle‘s crew in 1969 was given that chance.

These had to be manly beards, however. At some point during the first period online, the XO inspected crew members with face hair and selected “the best among them.” I chose not to compete (meaning I had failed at hirsuteness).  And then we went back to facial hair by regulation, i.e., none.

As our cruisebook reported about beards, “They started sprouting after Hawaii, were judged in the Gulf of Tonkin, and were shaved off before Subic.”

In 1970, when Admiral Elmo Zumwalt became Chief of Naval Operations, one of his early “Z-grams” changed regulations and permitted beards and mustaches. After things got a little “hairy,” regulations began to narrow what was permitted. Finally, in 1984, CNO Admiral James Watkins banned all beards, permitting mustaches that didn’t extend below the bottom of one’s upper lip. Current regulations are about the same, though waivers for beards can be granted by commanding officers for medical or religious reasons.