Authors: Alan Maki
Master Chief (30 page)
On February twenty-fourth the commandant of the Philippine coast guard, Ernesto R. Ogbinar, presented me with their seventh “Plaque of Distinction.” I was very honored.
A few days after the Philippine coast guardsmen had graduated, Alfa Platoon was aboard the USS
White Plains
, AFS-4, headed for Chinhae, Korea. Our platoon was to participate in the annual Foal Eagle winter exercises with our Korean UDT/EOD counterparts. During those four weeks, we trained and operated together aboard a U.S. diesel-powered submarine, made a night combat equipment parachute jump near Masan on March twenty-fourth, and trained our counterparts in specific areas that they had requested. The training phase was
capped off with an FTX to test their and the instructor’s proficiency.
Prior to our static-line combat equipment jump on the night of the twenty-fourth, Doc Moore and I had the opportunity while we were in Chinhae to gain added expertise in tae kwon do. Several evenings each week I hired a Korean sixth-degree black belt instructor to teach me personally. My kicking improved rapidly and markedly. Occasionally, I sparred with other black belts at the gym, and held my own mostly because of my physical condition. I contact-sparred with a regular U.S. Navy fellow who weighed about 220 pounds. He was as tall as I and certainly larger in bone structure. He was a worthy opponent and in excellent condition. My Korean instructor called it a draw. Frankly, I was glad that I didn’t get my butt kicked.
On March twenty-third I received word that the members of the Cambodian class that I had trained at Niland during the spring of ’74 were all dead. Most of them had stayed at my home for several weekends before their return to Cambodia.
Otherwise, my stay in Korea was a very enjoyable one. I especially admired the Koreans’ industrious and respectful nature. Early every morning, I watched the citizens sweep the streets and sidewalks in front of their homes or businesses. All of the Korean homes that I visited were absolutely spotless inside and out. The Korean military forces and especially the UDT/EOD types were exceptionally well-disciplined and highly motivated regardless of the tasks. On April first PT1 Charles Chaldekas and I were presented with Plaques of Appreciation for our long hours of instructor duties.
After we returned to Subic Bay, I did get in a few free-fall jumps from CH-53 and CH-46 helicopters. We especially liked the 53s because they could reach high
altitudes in a very short time. Most of our free-fall jumps were from ten thousand feet.
During the months of March and April the Navy was very busy supporting the evacuation of all U.S. citizens, advisers, and Vietnamese allies from Saigon and other areas of South Vietnam. It was a sad time for all of us. Our country and our Congress had lost much “face” with our Oriental allies. The Navy and Air Force had originally planned to stage many of the Vietnamese refugees on Grande Island—located at the mouth of Subic Bay—and Clark Air Force Base, near Manila, for the short term. However, the Philippine government objected to the U.S. using Clark and Subic Bay as Vietnamese refugee processing centers. Consequently, the refugee processing centers were set up on Guam and Wake islands. Those were ugly and disgraceful days for my country.
On the first of April we received word that two U.S. Merchant Marine ships were commandeered by desperate South Vietnamese refugees and ARVN troops. Obviously, they had been fleeing from the North Vietnamese invading army. The two ships supposedly departed Da Nang, sailed down to Saigon and Vung Tau, but were denied entry at both points. They then sailed on to An Thoi, located on Phu Quoc Island near the Cambodian border. The situation was apparently bleak there also. The commandeers’ final decision was to head for Subic Bay, Philippines. The Merchant Marines aboard the two ships reported that people on both vessels were packed like human sardines—there was only standing room. The last word I received, on April eighteenth, was that after two weeks at sea, the poor refugees and ARVN soldiers were forced to stand in their own excrement for lack of anywhere to go to the head (bathroom). There were supposedly numerous robbings and killings, and starvation was a continual problem. Before the Philippine government
denied their entry, the two ships were sent to off-load and quarantine the refugees on Grande Island. I had been scheduled to be used as an adviser and interpreter until I was told that I must prepare to go to Taiwan. I never did find out if the two U.S. Merchant Marine ships made it to Guam or Midway.
On April twenty-sixth HM1 Doc Moore, EN3 Russ Brownyer, and I flew to the Republic of China (Taiwan) to train their Navy UDT/EOD personnel in the use of the Burnett Electronics Model-512 Underwater Acoustic Receiving System. The Model 512 pinger receiver was used in locating underwater training mines—or any other object that had a pinger installed within or attached to it—off the southern coast of Taiwan during the Chinese navy’s “Kang Ping #3 Maneuver” MINEX (Mine Exercise). Because I was EOD qualified, I worked directly with the Nationalist Chinese EOD divers in locating and retrieving the underwater mines using our M-512 pinger receiver.
When we arrived at Taipei, Lt. Jerry Fletcher met us at the airport. What a surprise! Dai Uy had been assigned as a naval liaison officer of the U.S. Embassy. He had married a beautiful Chinese woman named Janice. The next day, Dai Uy drove us down to Kaohsiung, where we reported to the Chinese naval base located at Tsoying. Lieutenant Fletcher introduced us to the commanding officer of the Chinese Navy Underwater Demolition Team, Captain Feng Chien. Captain Chien was approximately five feet nine inches tall, stoutly built at 180 pounds, in his early thirties, very charismatic and handsome. Later, Captain Chien introduced us to the CO, Lieutenant Commander Lee (O-4) and XO (lieutenant or O-3) of his small EOD team. I immediately recognized both of them. When I had first arrived at Key West in October 1972, they were just finishing their diving training and were leaving for
Indian Head, Maryland, for their EOD training. The following January, after I had graduated from Deep Sea Diving School, I saw them again for a time at the EOD School at Indian Head.
That afternoon, I trained several of the Chinese EOD personnel in the use of the pinger receiver in their swimming pool. The following day, all of us boarded a Chinese navy ship and proceeded to an offshore area where U.S. MK-55 underwater training mines had been dropped by U.S. Navy aircraft. We dived day and night for several days to depths of 100 to 120 feet in search of the mines. As an EOD diver, it was my first experience at actually locating and retrieving mines. The seas were calm and the water temperature was 80 to 85 degrees, with underwater visibility of up to thirty feet. We couldn’t have asked for better conditions.
By May fourth, the MINEX was over. We had retrieved all of the mines that still had active pingers. Several mines had been lost because the pinger batteries had failed for one reason or another.
That evening at 2230 hours we arrived in Taipei, and at 0110 hours, May fifth, we were on our way by aircraft to Clark AFB, Philippines. After our arrival at Clark, we took a bus for Subic, and arrived there at 0600 hours. We were quickly taken to the USS
Blue Ridge
, LCC-19, where the three of us scrambled aboard for our final fifteen-day journey back to the Silver Strand. On May thirteenth I received word from the
Blue Ridge
comm shack that they had a message listing all E-8 selectees. I was absolutely thrilled to learn that I had been selected as Senior Chief (E-8). That meant a one-hundred-dollar-a-month increase in pay.
Our journey was spent cleaning up several berthing spaces that had been filled with the news media, Vietnamese refugees, and U.S. Marines during the evacuation
of the last U.S. and Vietnamese from Saigon. I certainly didn’t blame the Marines for making a bit of a mess because of their hectic duties and schedules in setting perimeters in and around Saigon to keep the North Vietnamese Army at bay through April thirtieth, the day that the Government of South Vietnam collapsed. I also found myself to be the senior man of SEAL Team 1’s Alfa and Echo platoons, plus a group of Boat Support Unit’s personnel. All of the officers and chiefs had wisely chosen to fly commercial air to California at their own expense rather than ride the
Blue Ridge. I
can’t say that I blamed them.
The most recent bimonthly “Update” from the
Blue Ridge
crew had the following to say to their loved ones at home about their final days off South Vietnam:
BLUE RIDGE and her crew are going to be late coming home. We hope this supplement to our last UPDATE of this deployment will explain why.
As told elsewhere in this issue, we departed Okinawa on short notice at Presidential direction. We were ordered to Vietnam. There, the crew of BLUE RIDGE rose to unprecedented levels of courage and determination as its hundreds worked as one to aid people in desperate need.
It was the people we came to help. They are our reason for coming home late. They needed us, and we were equal to that need.
For BLUE RIDGE, it began the night of April 29, 1975, as a giant South Vietnamese “Chinook” helo settled uncertainly to the deck with a frightened human cargo. It was the pilot’s first shipboard landing.
It continued the 30th. One minute, all was calm, and the next there were helos swarming about like bees around a hive. Some landed precisely, some haphazardly,
and one careened into the side of the ship. Crewmen and evacuees dove to the deck as hundreds of pieces of metal flew through the air. An entire rotor blade soared high over the ship and landed behind her. More arrived at a somewhat slower pace during that day and night.
The number of craft seeking refuge aboard BLUE RIDGE overwhelmed her, and flight deck crewmen trained to lavish loving care on helos were soon pushing empty ones over the side to make room for new arrivals urgently seeking a landing spot.
There were well-known people coming aboard—U.S. Ambassador Graham Martin, Air Vice Marshal Nguyen Cao Ky, and many more.
Less well-known but capturing the hearts of the crew, a South Vietnamese pilot volunteered to ditch helos in the sea. He defied danger doing it five times.
Reporters, representing ABC, CBS, and NBC, and many news agencies came aboard to report on the vital world news.
But now the job is done. Your loved ones on BLUE RIDGE have done their part—done it well. On a somber note, but with pride, we are on our way home to you.
Finally, we arrived in San Diego on the morning of May twenty-first. Sunny southern California never looked so good.
It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better, the credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself in a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement; and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.
—President Theodore Roosevelt
After my return to the Silver Strand, I was assigned to the Ordnance Department. I was now on the other side of the fence—I had reluctantly become a REMF. However, I did maintain my jump and diving requalifications, set up CW classes, present weekly demolition classes, and go on special assignments. I never forgot my responsibility as an admin’er to support all platoon members (operators) to the best of my ability. My position as an admin’er was to serve and support all SEAL platoons as needed.
On November nineteenth PO2 Kasco was killed during a free-fall exercise. We had been jumping from a C-130 at
thirteen thousand feet above Rolls Farm, adjacent to the Mexican border. Because the weather was a bit cold, some of the guys elected to wear gloves during their free fall. Apparently, Kasco’s ripcord (Piggy Back system) had gotten loose and was flopping behind his right shoulder. Whatever the reasons, Kasco was unable to deploy either his main or reserve parachute and was killed.
The following February, 1976, a group of us went to Yuma Proving Grounds, Arizona, for a week of free-falling. On one particular day we decided to jump despite fifteen to twenty knots ground wind, because the DZ was deeply plowed. The only trick was to get up after our PLF and outrun the canopy as we sprinted downwind. When that failed, we were forced to release one of the two capewells, which collapsed the chute. It was great fun jumping from a Navy C-117 fixed-wing aircraft, and good to get away from the Strand for a spell.
In May six volunteers were requested to go on a two-week marathon from Oakland to Sacramento, California, and back, for a total of 550 miles. SEAL Team 1 had traditionally participated in the annual Seal-A-Thon in support of the California Easter Seal Society. The two primary goals of our participation were to stimulate donations to assist crippled children and adults through the Easter Seal Society and to coordinate with the Navy recruiters to aid their recruiting efforts. Because I was bored with my mundane duties as the ordnance chief, I volunteered. My ordnance officer, Lieutenant (jg) Fox, a Mustanger, was probably happy to get rid of me for a couple of weeks anyway. With that, Lt. (jg) Carl Knos, HMC Terry Bryant, AE1 Harry Kaneakua, PM2 Richard Rogers, HM3 “Brother” Booker, BM3 Harry Nush, and “Happy” Smitty headed for Oakland. Mr. Knos took care of protocol while the rest of us did the running.
Our first engagement in Oakland was attending a California
Golden Seals hockey game. We were given the game puck to carry to Sacramento to Governor Brown—who didn’t take time to accept the symbolic puck—and return it to the Golden Seals hockey team. The next morning began our seven-day-a-week relay through the communities, where we were interviewed by four television stations, three radio stations, and nine newspapers. Additionally, a number of mayors, city officials, Navy League and Fleet Reserve Association members, and high school bands and track teams were on hand for our arrival or departure ceremonies. The most we ran per day was seventeen miles. However, Harry Kaneakua did run a little over twenty miles one day just to prove to himself that he could.