More Fairytales And Sea Stories

     




    Back in the 60's there was a TV show called McHale's Navy starring Ernest Borgnine and Tim Conway. It was about a PT boat crew and their madcap adventures in the Pacific during WWII.  As comedies go it was at times quite funny.  Little did I know that I would belong to a group that at times reminded me of McHale's Navy.
    I received orders to ACDIV 13 in June 1967, shortly before Linda and I were married and I joined up with them in November.  ACDIV 13 was part of an amphibious assault group that roamed the South China Sea off the coast of Vietnam.  Our group consisted of four LCM 8 and four LCM 6 landing craft commonly referred to as " Mike " boats.  When ordered we would load up Marines and all of their equipment and carry them to the beach, it was just like the movies of the D-Day Landings at Normandy during WWII.  During the next 18 months I served two tours in the war zone and we landed the Marines twice.  The rest of the time we performed odd jobs as necessary and got in and out of mischief quite often.
     We were a rag tag group not part of the ship's company ( I think that at times the ship's captain was glad of that ) and we were assigned to several different ships.  We were led by an officer fresh from OCS, he was usually an Ensign. There were 3rd and 2nd class petty officers assigned as boat coxswains for each boat.  Although I spent time on both LCM6's and 8's I spent most of my time on LCM8's.  This was a steel hulled, flat bottom landing craft about 60 ft. long 20 ft wide and weighed in at about 120 tons with a load capacity of 60 tons.
    The following stories are some of the escapades I was in - some of them would have made a good script for a TV show.

   A Day At The Beach

   The four LCM8's were loaded with an M-60 tank on each boat and were ordered to land them on a particular beach somewhere south of Da Nang. I think you need to know that an M-60 tank has a crew of 4 and weighs about 60 tons which is the limit for our boats. You also need to know that we drew about 5- 6ft of water with that much weight.
    As you close in on the beach it was not uncommon to run aground on a sandbar.  The LCM8 was equipped with four 671 GMC diesel engines which could boost us over most any sandbar - it was not uncommon to cross several sandbars. As we approached the beach each boat was about 75 -100 yards apart.  On this day we crossed 4 sandbars till we could go no further.  I looked down the beach and saw that the other boats were off loading their tanks and appeared to be in line with us and the dry sand of the beach was about 20 - 30 ft away. We lowered the bow ramp and I gave the go ahead sign to the driver,with his head sticking out of the drivers hatch, he slowly started forward as the rest of the tank crew sat atop the turret. As the tank neared the water the driver went faster, the nose plowing into the water that washed over the front of the tank. All of a sudden the tank disappeared beneath the surface with only about 3 ft of the whip antenna above the waves. The tank crew were swimming around with an amazed look on their faces and a few moments later the driver finally bobbed to the surface spitting salt water.
    Seems the last sandbar was not the last sandbar and there was a deep hole on the other side. The crew was not in a good mood as they swam ashore. It took 2 M-60 tanks, an M-60 tank retriever, and 4 UDT divers three days to locate and pull the tank ashore.

    Flight Of The Bumble Bee

   During a particularly bad storm which had us rolling out of our bunks for a couple of days, an old LST loaded with ammunition of all types broached stern first on a stretch of beach.   Imagine a ship designed for assault landings in WWII and never really intended for more than one landing, but was still in use some 25 yrs later in Vietnam. Well there it was with it's ass in the jungle and surf crashing against the bow. They said 80% of the compartments were flooded which should have qualified it as scrap but some one who wanted to make a name for themselves convinced the powers that be the ship could be salvaged and made right again. Who were we to argue?   The Navy spent a month removing the ammo via helicopter to a large ship just offshore. Ocean going fleet tugs started doing their thing getting the ship ready to tow off the beach and that's when we came in. Seems the tugs had a mast that was too high for helicopters to get close enough pick up equipment and carry it to the LST, where as we could come alongside the tug to pickup whatever was needed. We would then run in to the beach to drop off the material.
    This is where things got fun. We didn't go all the way into the beach.  We stopped in the surf along side the bow of the LST and secured our boat with a 4" hemp line, called a hawser, to our stern bollard. The LST would lower a jib boom crane down to us and we would place the ends of the cargo net on the hook so they could haul away and lift the cargo to their deck. Problem number one was that the surf was running about 8ft or better as another storm was moving in. The heavy surf made the boat move around like a cork in the water, in this case a cork in the ocean - a very upset ocean. There were times that I would be hanging by one arm to the crane's hook because the boat fell out from under me when the surf went out. There were times when I looked up and saw nothing but a wall of water in every direction.  At one point the surf was so bad that we couldn't get enough power to back out.  We got turned around side ways in the surf, almost tipped over and wound up going out forward with the waves soaking us . This was the only time I ever put on a life jacket without being told.
    While all of this was going on there was a helicopter ferrying personnel from the LST to a ship just offshore and back again. This was one of the older fat choppers not the Huey's they used for troops and gunships.
    We were taking a break at the time and watching all of the action when someone said, " look at the chopper."  There it was having just lifted off from the bow of the LST and the wheels were dragging in the water just beyond the surf line. We listened to the radio and learned that the the pilot could not regain full power and therefore could not lift out of the water.  Much discussion went on about what to do.  After the pilot tried everything he knew it was suggested that the pilot run the chopper thru the surf and on to the beach - but it was determined the surf was too  high ( we could have told them that ).
    The chopper continued to move around the water.  It reminded me of a bumble bee going from flower to flower and all the while it continued to lose power. Finally it was decided that the chopper would come close to a large ship that had large cranes that could swing outboard and pick up the chopper. The pilot was told to get close to the ship and turn off the engine then apply the rotor brake to stop the rotor from turning. Once the rotor stopped, the personnel in the chopper could bail out and we could rush in and tie a rope to the chopper to keep it from sinking. We would then tow the chopper to the ship. They said the chopper was designed to float for 10 min.
    What is that old saying about " best laid plans of mice and men ?"
    As the chopper moved into position we followed it and were ready with ropes. The pilot shut down the engine and as the rotor started to slow he hit the brake - which didn't work. The blades continued to turn as the chopper sank deeper into the water.  The blades hit the water and splintered into pieces and the chopper started to sink lower in the water. The personnel bailed out in the nick of time as the chopper disappeared, it went down like a rock. The pilot swam up to our boat and as I helped him aboard he asked if we got the chopper.  When I told him no he asked how long it floated.  I snapped my fingers and said " about that long ".
    UDT searched for four days and never found it.  The currents were fierce and swept it away.


Sometimes You Should Have Stayed In Bed
                                                                                                                               
    Ever have one of those days where you would have been better off had you stayed in bed ?  You know, the kind of day where nothing you do seems to come out in your favor. Well let me tell you about George ( actually I never knew his real name but George will do ).  George was a Boatswain Mate from one of the fleet tugs assisting on the salvage of the aforementioned LST.  George had been aboard the LST off loading the ammo when he got sand in his lungs and developed pneumonia. This got him 30 days bed rest on one of the large ships assigned to the LST debacle.
    I first met George on the day he was released from sick bay and was returning to his fleet tug.  Still a little weak and pale, he was eager to return to his duties. The ship put George on a helicopter like the one that sank and sent him out to be lowered to his tug.  Ah but wait, the tug has a tall mast that will not allow the chopper to lower things to the deck so the next best thing is to lower George to our boat and we will take him along side his tug.
     This is where I meet George. The chopper is overhead hovering about 25 ft up, I looked up and saw George sitting on the edge of a hatch in the bottom of the chopper with his legs dangling in air. The chopper crew is placing a harness under his arms that is attached to a hook and steel cable. George yells down to me to catch his bundle of clothes as he throws them down. I bent over to retrieve the clothing and there was George just laying there on his back with the harness and about 10 inches of cable still attached.
    As the chopper flew off I got down beside George to see if he was still breathing.  He moaned in severe pain, unable to move. We ran our boat over to the ship George had flown from  as they had a doctor aboard.  The ship lowered a Jacobs ladder from a hatch in the hull and the doctor and a corpsman climbed down. The doctor checked George out and determined that among other things he had a dislocated shoulder which had to be set so they could wrap him in a special litter to keep him immobilized. The only means to get him aboard ship was to haul him up with one of the cranes.
    Having diagnosed George's condition, the doctor explained to me and the corpsman how we were going to put George's shoulder back in place. George still in pain was not happy with the doctor's diagnosis and treatment regimen. George cussed the doctor as well as any sailor I ever heard, his vocabulary was quite extensive, George even threatened to kick the ass of everyone involved with the setting of his shoulder, also the crew of the helicopter. Undeterred and oblivious to the verbal abuse aimed at him, the doctor ran a sheet under George's armpit and gave the ends to me and told me to place my foot against George's shoulder. The corpsman was told to grab George's right arm and put his foot in George's armpit. All the while George, still in pain and cussing like a sailor, was now screaming and crying.
    The doctor grabbed George's dislocated left arm put his foot in his arm pit and on the count of three we all pushed or pulled as required.  George screamed loudly then there was a loud snapping sound that made me wonder if we might have pulled too hard. The breath went out of George and his body relaxed. After several sighs George was profusely thanking the doctor and was now prepared to show his gratitude by kissing the doctor's ass rather than kick it.  He even offered to have the doctor's baby.
    We wrapped George up in the litter and hooked him to the crane.  The last I saw of George he was dangling from the crane about 50 ft in the air.  I wondered if he was worried about another rope breaking. We heard later that George had some back injuries and a broken bone somewhere but he was going to be OK.  He was back in bed where he probably should have stayed that day.


The Worst Of Times

   Some times things happen that makes you shake your head and wonder if God is so smart why did he create stupid people.
    We were assigned duty aboard a new LPD - I can't remember the name. The ship had an officer in charge of the well deck who was quite proud of it's condition. The paint on the bulkhead was fresh and without scars, the timbers lining the well deck were new and had few splinters, the well deck was immaculate.  He also had his own version of tie off lines which had us a little scared.  Instead of the normal 2 inch nylon lines with an eye splice in one end, he had a 1 inch steel cable about 18 inches long attached to the nylon rope, the cable had eyes in both ends held together with about 2+ lbs of compressed lead or steel for each eye. We complained about these tie off lines but to no avail.
    When bringing Mike boats into a ship's well deck they are married together in pairs.  In other words, two boats are tied together side by side. The coxswains use only the outboard engines for power.  Now you have 240 tons of boat plus any cargo entering an enclosed space. There is probably 15 ft  of side clearance but it doesn't look like it.
    An amphibious assault ship has the capability to ballast down allowing water to enter the well deck and the Mike boats can float in.  Sounds like a simple process but it's not.  Depending on the condition of the seas and the experience of the well deck crew, entering a ship can be the most dangerous thing we would do all day.
    The officer in charge of this particular well deck had his own ideas about boat handling. He would ballast down in stages bringing our boats in inches at a time.  He used the action of the ocean swells to lift us up and move us forward. This was the way things were suppose to go, but then you had to keep an eye out for that rogue swell - the one swell that was bigger than the rest and came out of no where.
    The well deck crew of this ship worked on very narrow catwalks about 20 ft above the deck.  From there they would pass us the tie off lines which we applied to our cleats and bollards. When done correctly the lines were placed in such a fashion that the boat would not move until the tension was released.
    On this particular day we were the first two boats to come in.  There was very little water in the well deck and we bottomed out often until more water was brought in. The seas were running about 4ft which is not bad.  As the line handlers moved their lines forward the boats followed on the next swell . When the boats were in position, the line handlers took out the slack and tied off to their cleats.
    Out of nowhere a rogue swell hit us and shifted us forward.   The swell raised us high into the air, the line handlers took in the slack and then the swell was gone.  All 120 tons of our boat combined with the boat we were married to and the shortness of the tie off line created a catastrophic moment in time.
    When nylon rope stretches beyond it's limit and breaks it behaves like a rubber band, it returns to it's point of origin - the cleat on the catwalk. The force of the returning rope can break bones and put dents in steel bulkheads all by itself, add in several pounds of steel cable on the end and you have a deadly weapon.
    When that rogue swell lifted us up and moved us forward the line handlers took out the slack in an attempt to hold us in position. When the swell dropped us on the deck a steel eye attached to our cleat broke.  It was no match for the 120 tons of boat it was trying to hold back. The nylon line reacted as it was supposed to and returned to the cleat on the catwalk.  It carried with it the hunk of steel wire.
     On the narrow catwalk there was no time to react much less room to move out of the way. The line handler of that line was struck in the forehead by the wire rope and the force slammed him into the bulkhead behind. The boy's skull was crushed both front and back, he died instantly.
    None of us knew the boy ( I call him a boy because we were all still young enough to meet that qualification ). We learned later that the boy was due to be discharged soon.  He was going to fly back the the states in 30 days.  He left a young wife and baby boy.
    I never fired a weapon while I was in Vietnam, never saw the enemy, but on that day I had a hand in taking the life of that boy. He went home early in a body bag.  His son grew up without a father.  I learned how cruel and senseless life can be.