SEA STORIES

The Sea Bag, submitted by Allen (Bones) Jones

2012-03-05T05:33:00.000-08:00

The SEA BAG

Allen (Bones) Jones

There was a time when everything you owned had to fit in yourseabag.

Remember those nasty rascals? Fully packed, one of the suckersweighed more than the poor devil hauling it. The things weighed a ton and someidiot with an off-center sense of humor sewed a carry handle on it to help youhaul it. You could bolt a handle on a Greyhound bus but it wouldn't make itportable. The Army and Air Force got footlockers and WE got a big ole' canvasbag.

After you warped your spine dragging the goofy thing through a busor train station, sat on it waiting for connecting transportation and madefolks mad because it was too big to fit in any overhead rack on any bus, train,and airplane ever made, the contents looked horrible. All your gear appeared tohave come from bums who slept on park benches.

Traveling with a seabag was something left over from the"Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum" sailing ship days. Sailors used tosleep in hammocks, so you stowed your issue in a big canvas bag and lashed yourhammock to it, hoisted it on your shoulder and, in effect, moved your entirehome from ship to ship.

I wouldn't say you traveled light because with ONE strap it was aone shoulder load that could torque your skeletal frame and bust your ankles.It was like hauling a dead Green Bay linebacker.

They wasted a lot of time in boot camp telling you how to pack oneof the suckers. There was an officially sanctioned method of organization thatyou forgot after ten minutes on the other side of the gate at Great Lakes' orSan Diego's boot camp.

You got rid of a lot of the 'issue' gear when you went to a SHIP.Did you EVER know a tin-can sailor who had a raincoat? A flat hat? One of thosetight knit swimsuits? How about those 'roll-your-own' neckerchiefs... The onesgirls in a good Naval tailor shop would cut down & sew into a 'greasysnake' for two bucks?

Within six months, EVERY fleet sailor was down to ONE set of dressblues, port & starboard, undress blues, and whites, a couple of white hats,boots, shoes, a watch cap, assorted skivvies, a pea coat, and three sets ofbleached-out dungarees.

The rest of your original issue was either in the pea coat locker,lucky bag, or had been reduced to wipe-down rags in the paint locker.

Underway ships were NOT ships that allowed vast accumulation ofprivate gear.

Hobos who lived in discarded refrigerator crates could amass greaterloads of pack-rat crap than fleet sailors. The confines of a canvas-back rack,side locker, and a couple of bunk bags did NOT allow one to live a Donald Trumpexistence.

Space and the going pay scale combined to make us envy thelifestyle of a mud-hut Ethiopian. We were global equivalents of nomadic Mongolswithout ponies to haul our stuff.

And after the rigid routine of boot camp, we learned the skill ofrandom compression, known by mothers world-wide as 'cramming'. It is amazingwhat you can jam into a space no bigger than a bread-box if you pull a watchcap over a boot and push it with your foot.

Of course, it looks kinda weird when you pull it out, but theyNEVER hold fashion shows at sea and wrinkles added character to a 'salty'appearance.

There was a four-hundred mile gap between the images on recruitingposters and the ACTUAL appearance of sailors at sea. It was NOT withoutjustifiable reason that we were called the tin-can Navy.

We operated on the premise that if 'Cleanliness was next toGodliness' we must be next to the other end of that spectrum...

We looked like our clothing had been pressed with a waffle ironand packed by a bulldozer. But what did they expect from a bunch of swabs thatlived in a crew's hole of a 2100 Fletcher Class tin-can?

After a while you got used to it... You got used to everything youowned picking up and retaining that distinctive aroma... You got used to oldladies on buses taking a couple of wrinkled nose sniffs of your pea coat, thengetting and finding another seat.

Do they still issue seabags? Can you still make five bucks sittingup half the night drawing a ship's picture on the side of one of the damnthings with black and white marking pens that drive the old master-at-arms intoa 'rig for heart attack' frenzy? Make their faces red... The veins on theirneck bulge out.... And yell, 'What in God's name is that all over yourseabag???'

"Artwork, Chief.... It's like the work of Michelangelo... MYship... GREAT, huh?"

"Looks like a comic book..."

Here was a man with cobras tattooed on his arms, skull with adagger through one eye and a ribbon reading 'DEATH BEFORE SHORE DUTY' on hisshoulder, crossed anchors with 'Subic Bay-1945' on the other shoulder, n eagleon his chest, and a full blown Chinese dragon peeking out between the cheeks ofhis rear... If ANYONE was an authority on stuff that looked like a comic book,it HAD to be the MAA.

Sometimes, I look at all the crap stacked in my garage and homethen close my eyes and smile, remembering a time when EVERYTHING I owned couldbe crammed into a canvas bag.

Have a great Navy Day!

Earlie J. Reynolds FTM3, Plank Owner

2012-02-29T10:47:00.001-08:00

After completing Boot Camp, I received my first set of Orderson September, 1963. They directed me to report to NACOMSTA Honolulu Navy 85 (USSWaddell DDG-24). I had time trying to find out what the Waddell was. I foundshe was a ship that was not completely built yet.

The first time out of port was when Captain Boyd learned that80% of the crew had never been on a ship at sea before. Fleet Training Center SanDiego came next. They told me, “We are going to make you a Fire Control Man.” Ijust came from 2 weeks of firefighting and I didn't really want to be Fire Control(a missile man). I didn't know anythingabout missiles. Guess what, they made me the First Black Missile Man in theNavy.

My General Quarters Station was Antiaircraft Lookout TDT 2(Target Designated Transmitter) above the bridge. The TDT was a Binocularattaches to a set of arms and mounted on a pedestal. There was a button on eacharm. The right button, when pressed, would light on Weapon Control Console. Whenthe PT boats attacked TDT 2 was on target and we became the first ship to fireon North Vietnam.

We had some excitement one day at the Seal Beach Ammo Depot,offloading ammo & missiles. A missile (with a live war head) on the railslipped and fell to the deck. Do I run to the pier?? There are still 800 roundsof 5'54 projectile below decks. Then I thought about Port Chicago.

Waddell was the first ship to go digital (Tubes to SolidState), MK 74 Missile Fire Control System.

That’s me in the center foreground

November 1967 I was transferred to the Long Beach Naval Shipyard,Fire Control Mechanic Shop X36. My first job was on the Waddell. The next dayWaddell gets under way for Sea Trail. Was I on candid camera?

How to Simulate Shipboard Life

2012-02-24T11:16:00.001-08:00

I got this from a fellow navy vet; it was good for some belly laughs; thought you might want to pass it along to the rest of the Waddell gang. ENJOY!

ETR3 Bob Fowler, ‘76-‘78

HOW TO SIMULATE SHIPBOARD LIFE

1. Sleep on the shelf in your closet. Replace the closet door with a curtain. Have your wife/husband whip open the curtain about three hours after you go to sleep. They should then shine a flashlight in your eyes and mumble, "Sorry, wrong rack."

2. Renovate your bathroom. Build a wall across the middle of your bathtub, and move the shower head down to chest level. When you take showers, make sure you shut off the water while soaping up.

3. When there is a thunderstorm in the area, find a wobbly rocking chair and rock as hard as you can until you are nauseous. Have a supply of stale crackers in your pocket.

4. Put lube oil in your humidifier and set it to "high."

5. Avoid watching TV with the exception of movies, which are played in the middle of the night. Have your family vote on which movie to watch, and then show a different one.

6. For ex-engineering types: leave the lawn mower running in your living room for eight hours a day.

7. Have the paperboy give you a haircut.

8. Once a week, blow compressed air up your chimney, making sure the wind carries the soot onto your neighbor's house. Ignore his complaints.

9. Buy a trash compactor, but use it only once a week. Store up garbage on the other side of your bathtub.

10. Get up every night just before midnight. Have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on stale bread. (Optional: Canned ravioli or cold soup.)

11. Make up your family menu a week ahead of time, and do so without looking in your cabinets or refrigerator.

12. Set your alarm clock to go off at random time during the night. When it goes off, jump out of bed and get dressed as fast as you can, being sure to button the top button on your shirt and to stuff your pants into your socks. Run out into your back yard and uncoil the garden hose.

13. Once a month, take every major appliance completely apart, and then put them back together.

14. Use eighteen scoops of budget coffee per pot, and allow each pot to sit at least five hours before drinking.

15. Invite eighty-five people to come and visit for a couple of months.

16. Install a fluorescent lamp under your coffee table, and lie under it to read books.

17. Raise the thresholds and lower the top sills of your front and back doors, so that you either trip over the threshold or bang your head on the sill every time you pass through one of them.

18. Lock-wire the lug-nuts on your car.

19. When baking a cake, prop up one side of the pan while it is in the oven. Spread the icing really thick on one side to level off the top.

20. Every so often, throw your cat into the swimming pool, and shout, "Man Overboard, Starboard Side." Then run into the kitchen and sweep all pots, pans and dishes off the counter and onto the floor. Yell at your wife and/or the nearest kid for not having the kitchen "stowed for sea."

21. Put on the headphones from your stereo, but don't plug them in. Hang a paper cup around your neck with a piece of string. Go and stand in front of your stove. Say -- to nobody in particular -- "Stove manned and ready." Stand there for three or four hours. Then say -- once again to nobody in particular -- "Stove secured." Roll up the headphone cord and put the headphone and paper cup in a box.

Reflections of a Blackshoe

2011-12-30T11:22:00.000-08:00

Gil Hansen

The title of this poem is "Reflections of a Blackshoe" and the author is VADM Harold Koenig USN Retired. An interesting side note. At the first Waddell reunion held in Baltimore, MD, Gil Hansen acting as the Chaplin addressed the missing shipmate table which was a remembrance of our shipmates who have passed away. Gil read this poem as part of his presentation. He changed the last sentence to "I was a sailor, I was part of the Waddell and the Waddell will always be part of me." Later during the banquet I was approached by several former Waddell CO's and XO's in attendance requesting copies.

Bill Brewer

A Sailor Once:

*** I liked standing on the bridge wing at sunrise with salt spray in my face and clean ocean winds whipping in from the four quarters of the globe. The ship beneath me feeling like a living thing as her engines drove her swiftly through the sea.
*** I liked the sounds of the Navy - the piercing thrill of the boatswains pipe, the syncopated clangor of the ship's bell on the quarterdeck, the harsh squawk of the 1MC, and the strong language and laughter of sailors at work.
*** I liked Navy vessels -- nervous darting destroyers, plodding fleet auxiliaries and amphibs, sleek submarines and steady solid aircraft carriers.
*** I liked the proud names of Navy ships: Midway, Lexington, Saratoga, Coral Sea, Antietam, Valley Forge - memorials of great battles won and tribulations overcome.
*** I liked the lean angular names of Navy "tin-cans" and escorts - Barney, Dahlgren, Mullinix, McCloy, Damato, Leftwich, Mills - mementos of heroes who went before us and the others - San Jose, San Diego, Los Angeles, St. Paul, Chicago - named for our cities.
*** My ships Washoe County, Windham County, Terrell County, Saratoga, Dale, and Richmond K Turner. Also don't forget Porter and William D Porter.
*** I liked the tempo of a Navy band blaring through the topside speakers as we pulled away from the oiler after refueling at sea.
*** I liked Liberty Call and the spicy scent of a foreign port.
*** I even liked the never-ending paperwork and all-hands working parties as my ship filled herself with the multitude of supplies, both critical and mundane in order to cut ties to the land and carry out her mission anywhere on the globe where there was water to float her.
*** I liked sailors, officers and enlisted men from all parts of the land, farms of the Midwest, small towns of New England, from the cities, the mountains and the prairies, from all walks of life. I trusted and depended on them as they trusted and depended on me - for professional competence, for comradeship, for strength and courage. In a word, they were "shipmates"; then and forever.
*** I liked the surge of adventure in my heart, when the word was passed: "Now set the special sea and anchor detail - all hands to quarters for leaving port," and I liked the infectious thrill of sighting home again, with the waving hands of welcome from family and friends waiting pier side.
*** The work was hard and dangerous; the going rough at times; the parting from loved ones painful, but the companionship of robust Navy laughter, the "all for one and one for all" philosophy of the sea was ever present.
*** I liked the serenity of the sea after a day of hard ship's work, as flying fish flitted across the wave tops and sunset gave way to night.
*** I liked the feel of the Navy in darkness - the masthead and range lights, the red and green navigation lights and stern light, the pulsating phosphorescence of radar repeaters - they cut through the dusk and joined with the mirror of stars overhead. And I liked drifting off to sleep lulled by the myriad noises large and small that told me that my ship was alive and well, and that my shipmates on watch would keep me safe.
*** I liked quiet mid watches with the aroma of strong coffee – the lifeblood of the Navy permeating everywhere.
*** And I liked hectic watches when the exacting minuet of haze-gray shapes racing at flank speed kept all hands on a razor edge of alertness.
*** I liked the sudden electricity of "General quarters, general quarters, all hands man your battle stations," followed by the hurried clamor of running feet on ladders and the resounding thump of watertight doors as the ship transformed herself in a few brief seconds from a peaceful workplace to A weapon of war - ready for anything.
*** And I liked the sight of space-age equipment manned by youngsters clad in dungarees and sound-powered phones that their grandfathers would still recognize.
*** I liked the traditions of the Navy and the men and women who made them. I liked the proud names of Navy heroes: Halsey, Nimitz, Perry, Farragut, John Paul Jones and Burke. A sailor could find much in the Navy: Comrades-in-arms, pride in self and country, mastery of the seaman's trade. An adolescent could find adulthood.
*** In years to come, when sailors are home from the sea, they will still remember with fondness and respect the ocean in all its moods – the impossible shimmering mirror calm and the storm-tossed green water surging over the bow. And then there will come again a faint whiff of stack gas, a faint echo of engine and rudder orders, a vision of the bright bunting of signal flags snapping at the yardarm, a refrain of hearty laughter in the wardroom and Chief's quarters and mess decks.
*** Gone ashore for good they will grow wistful about their Navy days, when the seas belonged to them and a new port of call was ever over the horizon.
*** Remembering this, they will stand taller and say, "I WAS A SAILOR ONCE. I WAS A PART OF THE NAVY, AND THE NAVY WILL ALWAYS BE A PART OF ME."

67, SEA DRAGON

2011-01-06T08:13:00.000-08:00

This short story was at first a rough draft written by me some twenty or twenty five years ago as something my grand babies could read and know what sailors and their “papa” did during the Vietnam War. After many years memories fade and sometimes we embellish our memories. I hope to avoid embellishing and tell this story as I remember. I served on the USS Waddell DDG24 from commissioning to June of 1967. I turned 19, 20, and 21 years of age on the warship so most of my naval career was spent on the guided missile destroyer. I served four years active duty and two years reserve duty subject to recall.

I as many other former veterans do have this obstruction in our brains about “our” stories because we find them insignificant compared to our brothers that gave their lives in war or operations for our country no matter the war or conflict. For myself I have a great feeling for our veterans who did return home scarred, maimed and disfigured for life. I admire those veterans very much. I think of them daily. I was lucky….the times we were fired upon…most of us never received a scratch. Again, we were the lucky ones.

The ships log should confirm most of this action but does not translate to what I and other sailors on the Waddell especially gunners mates, bridge personnel and people assigned to Combat Information Center (CIC) witnessed during this incident. I was assigned the surface radar in CIC during general quarters and witnessed these happenings.

It was late March 1967 and the USS Waddell (DDG24) had been released by Operations Tactical Command (OTC) of COMPHIBRON One aboard the USS Princeton (LPH5), to proceed to the north Tonkin Gulf to conduct Sea Dragon patrols. Sea Dragon Patrols were intended to interdict waterborne communication and logistic craft (WBLC) targets and stopping the flow of troops and supplies on shore. Sea Dragon Patrols were carried out by Destroyers and Cruisers.

The Waddell departed the area after performing (NGFS) naval gunfire support for the Marines and their ARVN counterparts south of the DMZ in the mouth of the Cua Viet River on operation Beacon Hill. Most of us were not aware that the intense build up of NVN troops and the stepped up exchange of fire with shore guns was to be later seen in the TET offensive in late 1967 and early 1968. The Marines along the DMZ were in battles and fire fights daily with the North Vietnamese Army and sappers units filtering south helping to clear the way.

Within hours of leaving the Cua Viet area the Waddell linked up with the USS Cunningham (DD752) and proceeded to conduct Sea Dragon Patrols just north of the DMZ near Dong Hoi, North Vietnam a staging area for North Vietnamese troops and logistics moving south. As stated above, Sea Dragon Patrols were geared to stop infiltration of men and equipment along the coastal supply routes both in country and along the coastal waterways. The missions included various shore targets…. radar sites, artillery, troop concentrations, ammunition storage, and staging areas to list a few along with harassment fire. We had been in Vietnam long enough to know that things could change quickly.

It was near the end of the winter monsoon season where the weather is a little cooler with rain and drizzle, low cloud cover and fog. On days when the weather was more accommodating we had the targets designated by Navy A1 Sky raiders or S2 trackers. At times the Army O1 Bird Dogs. We also had the luxury of having Combat Air Patrols (CAP) in the area for assistance if it became necessary.

During the last two days in March the Waddell and Cunningham (along with the USS Cogswell (DD651) until relieved to other duties) took on troop concentrations and staging areas around Vinh Linh in the southern most part of North Vietnam receiving shore battery fire on several occasions. These duals with the North Vietnamese batteries were usually short and intense.

On Saturday afternoon, April 1st. the Waddell and Cunningham were approaching the mouth of a small tributary near Tho Ngoa north of Dong Hoi, North Vietnam. Visibility was varying from five hundred to a thousand yards with light rain and fog. Both ships were headed north to fire on assigned targets meaning targets spotted in the area days earlier by reconnaissance aircraft or other resources and assigned to Sea Dragon ships in advance. This type of work did not require perfect weather. The two ships were in the usual and expected zig zag pattern required in the area when danger was perceived as imminent and to help avoid radar tracking from shore batteries. At approximately 1307, Radarman aboard the Waddell noticed seven small “fast moving craft” (FMC) water borne craft starting to enter the Tonkin Gulf. The Commanding Officer (CO) of the Waddell notified ComDesRon 19, on board Cunningham that our intentions were to engage these FMC. Normally in this type of weather pattern we were experiencing the surface radar could show clutter and make tracking small craft difficult. On that day the reception on the surface repeaters was excellent.

As the fast movers broke into the Gulf and proceeded in our direction at a distance of 9000 yards the Waddell fired one 5” 54 caliber round at the leading three craft. Normally before any surface craft would get close to a Warship the craft would be identified and most likely engaged by our CAP aircraft. With the low visibility, fog and rain our CAP assistance was of little use even though they were available in the area. Another hindrance was the FMC were closing fast and little time was available to use any assistance from others other than the Cunningham. As the first round hit near the first FMC craft the Radarman could see the echo of the splash on his surface radar. Using this gift of the rounds hitting the water on our surface radars each time we fired the Radarman on our surface radar and the gunners mate on Mount 51 walked our ships gunfire onto the leading craft and sunk the first three almost immediately. The remaining four craft retreated back into the tributary. Assuming they were hidden by a small jetty at the mouth of the tributary was a mortal mistake for the FMC crews. The Waddell continued to walk the 5”54 rounds on the craft until all but one had disappeared. The seventh craft melted into the shore line on up into the tributary. As was the SOP (standard operating procedure) for unidentified surface craft the FMC went into the log as “Waterborne Logistic Craft”.

USS Obrien DD-725

Later that afternoon the USS Canberra (CAG2) joined our task unit. On April 3rd. the USS Obrien (DD725) relieved the USS Cunningham to other duties. Our task unit continued the normal Sea Dragon Patrols until the 6th. Of April when with CO of the Canberra acting as SOPA (senior officer presently afloat) and OTC (Officer in Tactical Command) and with screen commander ComDesDiv 232 on O’brien the three warships headed further north on special operations. The sailors on all three ships knew that whatever this mission was it was the first time crewmembers were asked not to play radios and all emitting type fire control and radar were turned off.

Even with measures to run quite our ECM (Electronic Counter Measure Equipment) showed shore based fire control was following us up the coast both in North Vietnam and Hainan in China. The Waddell, Canberra and the Obrien moved northward to the area of the Song Ma River which leads from North Vietnam down past the infamous Thanh Hoa Bridge and into the Tonkin Gulf.

The skies on that morning began to fill with fighter aircraft and bombers. From 0926 April 6th. Till 1026 the area around Thanh Hoa was alive with activity. I cannot verify our targets that day from records but it does not matter. As the three ships closed in on the mouth of the Song Ma, in column, 6000 yards apart and zig sagging to try to avoid tracking radar and shore fire North Vietnamese shore batteries opened up on all three ships The Waddell had in excess of 100 rounds fall around the ship while the Canberra and O’Brien were receiving the same welcome. Most rounds were air burst falling from twenty yards to one hundred yards from the warships. The Waddell and the Canberra received superficial shrapnel damage while the O’Brien managed to steer clear of damage.

A Long Beach newspaper ran a story a day later with the headlines “L.B. Ship HIT NINE TIMES BY RED VIET BATTERIES”. The crew of the Waddell was sent the article from family members in Long Beach to the ship while we were Subic Bay, Philippines. We did consider ourselves lucky again after this operation in the Thanh Hoa area.

There are so many true and interesting stories that can be told by the sailors of the seventh fleet while in Vietnam and the area. Everything from horrendous fires on our carriers to tough rescues at sea. It’s up to you and me to make the effort to record our history. Who else will do it?

Note:

Later suggested that the FMC were Chinese built Swatow class gun boats. Approximately 80ft. by 20 ft. wide.

Thanh Hoa Bridge known as the “Dragon Jaws” was bombed more than any other target in North Vietnam by Air Force and Navy aircraft. Finally taken down on May 13, 1972 by Navy A-7 Corsairs using laser guided bombs but I have also read reports it was Air Force F4 Phantoms that did the deed?

Operation Beacon Hill was conducted by the 3rd Marine Division between March 20 and April 3 1967 in Quang Tri Province.

JD Caldron

67, WESTPAC

2011-01-05T13:28:00.000-08:00

My name is Carl Frederick Barnhart, though I never use my middle name.My father, Francis Elmer Barnhart, was an undercover spy for the CIA.  This is important here only in that I spent my Junior High and first half of High School in the Philippine Islands.  This made my life a little different in a few ways:  I never learned to play American Football.  I also found a book about transistors, which were brand new then, fell in love, and here I am at age 62 still playing with transistors.  I also lived in the middle of military bases and destroyed city buildings from World War II, which triggered a strong interest in history and the military.

Back in the states, I applied for an appointment to the U. S. Naval Academy during my senior year, and applied to Cornell University, where family connections helped with the scholarship.  I ended up ranked about 6 out of 12 nominees for two appointments that my representative made, so I matriculated at Cornell.  I got the "Authorization to Report" the weekend before finals - the Academy took all nominees without appointments, ranked them, and used them to fill the final slots.  I made that cut.  Needless to say, I got no studying and little sleep that weekend.  I decided to go to the Naval Academy, mostly because it would not cost my parents anything.

When Plebe hazing started (at 0001 on our 4th day) I had no idea what had hit me.

I graduated "with distinction" 4 years later.  That means I was great academically.  In reality, I knew I was not command material.  I still would rather play with my transistors.

I went to missile officer school en route to the Waddell.  Unfortunately, by the time I graduated and got to the ship, they already had a missile officer (Skip Trease), so I got Deck.  For someone more comfortable with machinery than people, this was an interesting time of my life. After a year, I not only knew that I wasn't command material, I have avoided management the rest of my life as a result of that time.

I eventually took over Gunnery, and eventually learned how to aim the 5"/54 guns, which were deadly accurate at 12 miles, when properly set up.

I left the Waddell and went on to the USS Oriskany (CVA34), and served another Vietnam tour with her.  It was a very different view of the war, one where we never even saw the land we were defending.

When my 4 year obligation was up, I knew that I was not going to make the Navy a career, so I left and went to Stanford for graduate school, married, and had two children: Melynda and Christopher. When my doctoral adviser ran out of money (he was funded by the U.S. Navy), I went and got a job with IBM. 28 and a half years later, IBM sold my contract to Cadence Design Systems, and that is where I am now, still playing with transistors.

The Waddell, in it's early years at least, was a ship that I could feel a definite kinship to - brilliant in many ways, tripping over it's own feet in others.

Click Here to view ALBUM

I reported aboard in her 3rd year, left in her 5th. During her entire early life she received commendations and carried the battle efficiency "E" and several other "E"s as well. She was the best destroyer in the squadron, and one of the best in the Navy, by objective measurement. She also had a major collision at sea, destroyed a pier in Long Beach, had a major grounding at Midway Island (requiring her to be towed back to Pearl for repairs), and we damaged a fueling pier in Guam.

A Side Note by Don Berkebile For Midway, we had just set “sea detail” and were following in the wake of a tug that was late coming out to meet us due to arrival time error ashore by the Coast Guard. The other ships in the Division were astern in a column formation. I think the tug cut a corner too close and the channel was not marked well. An incident waiting to happen. I thought we were too far to the left—but in the so called channel. With the Commodore, staff, Captain Walker, and the sea detail on the bridge it was crowded.

A Side Note by James Caldron I remember a tug pushing the Waddell to the pier, but can't remember the name. We were at Midway 8 days waiting for a fleet tug to tow us back to Pearl Harbor and that took 9 days. I recall spending 30 days in dry dock for repairs. The crew of the Waddell was limited to a small area on Midway Island. We drank the island dry by the second day. The Navy sent a plane load of beer to keep us occupied until the fleet tug arrived. I don't recall a departing ceremony as the ship left the Island. Could have been a small one and I just missed it.

These pictures are in drydock in Pearl after the grounding. Externally, we had a dent in the Sonar dome that had to be cut out and replaced, and both screws were destroyed. The three pictures of the screws are not mine; I don't know who I got them from any more. (Rich Gartrell?)

Click Here to view Album

The "Highlight" of the VietNam cruise in '67 was, of course, being shot at off North Vietnam.  The North Vietnamese used portable artillery, so we never knew where it would be set up.  They apparently used a couple normal surface-search radars to accurately plot our location and lay the guns; the guns did not have their own targeting Radar that we could recognize.  They also tended to target all guns on one ship at a time.

We were in a shore bombardment line about 6000 yards off the beach when the shells started falling.  We immediately headed to sea, laying smoke, and firing back with Mt 52, walking shells along the beach using our Radar.  It took over 20 minutes to get out of range. In the middle of our flight we get a call from the Cruiser with the Admiral wanting to know why the !@#$#@! we're breaking ranks and running all over.  By the time we were out of range, it was noon, and at noon our orders were to proceed to Subic Bay, PI, so we just sailed on over the horizon and didn't come back.  I always wondered what the North Vietnamese commander put in his battle report.  The 3 inch block headline "LONG BEACH DESTROYER HIT NINE TIMES" in a home-town newspaper was bad enough.

I remember a count of 155 rounds against us, based on a sonar tape count of surface and sub-surface bursts, with an estimate of about another half air bursts.

My battle station was "AA Forward", which meant I stood in the open on the signal bridge looking for any incoming aircraft below the radar.  It also meant that I was in a perfect position to take pictures of the incoming explosions, which I did until one went off close aboard to starboard, behind me.  I heard the shrapnel go by me that punched the hole in the signal bridge window, and saw the spray of glass.  Apparently, that round did most of the damage to the starboard bow that I recorded in the rest of the pictures, and also narrowly missed the Captain who wasn't even wearing a helmet!  After that, I got myself and the men on the open bridge inside the gun director barbette, not that the 1/4" aluminum was much protection. Mt 52 worked overtime that day as the blistered paint of its barrel attests.

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We did carrier guard duty on occasion, but most of the time was on the gunline.  Our 5"/54 guns were good for about 25K yards, and quite accurate, and were generally laid by map coordinates and spotted by spotter plane.  In my few months of Gun Director officer, I only ever got one visual target to shoot at.

Long range shots (01) took a high angle, closer (02) took a low angle.  In (03), you can see the spent brass being ejected just prior to the next round being fired.  (04), I made sure I captured the actual green cast of the smokeless powder gas re-exploding outside the barrel.  Why they gave us smokeless instead of flashless when we did most of our work at night I never understood.  Even just one round a minute (we stayed awake shooting all night mostly harassing the Vietnamese and trying to keep them awake all night) would accumulate a reasonable pile of brass (05).  Most of it went to line the bottom of the Tonkin Gulf (08). We had to continually dab the dings in the paint made by the brass with red-lead.  The longer we were out of port, the worse it looked.

The empty cases for the powder also piled up.  They wanted these cases back, but we didn't send them back to the ammunition ships when we rearmed at sea, so they piled up aft, or wherever there was room, till we got back to port.

Just after I moved from Deck to Gunnery, the davit for the Captain's gig let loose while it was being hoisted, and injured the new Deck officer and a couple of the crew.  I had to take the gig into Danang overnight, and got a picture of Waddell as she sailed away.  Out of curiosity (I needed to request my next assignment), I spent the night on a coastal patrol boat.  A dull night, luckily.

It was a lot of fun sailing with our Australian Navy sister, the Hobart.  Damn, did those Aussies know how to handle a ship!

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Every few days we would go get refueled, re-armed, and re-stocked with food and movies. This involved a lot of waiting.

Once in a while we would have to send the Captain over by highline. This was done with the men of the crew manning the highline and the ropes to pull him back and forth. This tended to be an all-hands exercise without regard to rating, because so many men were needed. In any kind of seas it was difficult to maintain the highline tension and keep the Captain out of the water, and I'm sure thoughts of an accidental dunk passed through many a head.

What can I say. Homecoming is the highlight of any cruise.

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A day or two out, we had refueled from a tanker headed west, and had gotten the movie "Goodbuy Columbus", which was adult theme and somewhat racy for it's day. I had the mid-watch on the bridge that night. When the water soundings report came up. there had been a massive spike in fresh water usage coincident with the showing of that film. I found that extremely funny, though almost no one understood why. (Think cold showers.)

We all were very attached to the Captain. I was very glad that all the things we green junior officers did to create problems for him didn't seem to damage his career. He was a good man.

My girlfriend is in the front of the crowd on the pier.

We did a LOT of ASW work during training. Several ASROC shots, and even a torpedo tube shot. Of course, we had to rescue the torpedoes afterwards. We spent more time doing that than training.

Some memories:

- There was often a cotton-candy fog off San Diego, but if you had a sub to work with, you worked. Often we would be maneuvering inside the minimum range of the surface search radar. On at least one occasion, the XO climbed the mast to the crow's nest, which happened to be above the fog, and called down bearings and aspects and rough range of the masts of the other ships.

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- Things went well more often than not, but on occasion.... Once, in a full-blown war game, we launched a missile (telemetry warhead) at a close in target hidden in low clouds. The missile raced off true, only to appear back out of the cloud a moment later flying cross-wise and down. It had obviously looped the target. Assuming that counted as a miss, we fired a second missile (real warhead - there was only one telemetry receiver on board so second birds were always live.) The gyro wasn't locked for launch and the bird flipped, rotating around it's warhead, motor leaving a perfect helix of smoke off the starboard side. Everyone topside was yelling "Destruct!" at the top of their lungs into the sound-powered phones, no matter what circuit they were on.

- Same war game, the missile redeemed itself. A high altitude, high speed BQM-37 drone (essentially a delta-wing expendable rocket with a repeater to make it look like a real plane) was coming in on us. We were in a "missiles free" exercise. Perfectly clear weather. The repeater in the drone had failed, and we first detected it at about 45 degrees elevation to starboard, 60,000 feet altitude, Mach 1+, flying level and straight, going to go right over us. The missile radars locked and the bird was away. Because we had detected it so late, the predicted intercept point was on the other (port) side of the ship, and that the missile sped away at about 60 degrees elevation to port. From the reconstruction, the BQM-37 ran out of fuel at just about the same time we fired, and nosed over into an 85 degree supersonic dive straight at the ship. After 4 seconds of boost, the missile looked for and immediately located the target (it worked on Doppler, and that sucker was giving a lot of Doppler shift, even if not much signal. The bird went into a hard turn arcing back over the shoulder, and directly impacted that small drone almost directly overhead. Debris landed on both sides of the ship. That drone had run a perfect attack profile by accident, and the telemetry missile took it out. Nice.

- A long range maneuvering gunnery shoot against a towed barge, right after a gun alignment. The first ranging ladder was almost exactly on (spotting was by radar, since at 25,000 yards, the barge was on or slightly below the horizon.) We shifted to "fire-for-effect" at maximum rate of fire while the ship followed an evasive track. Based on the splash count (how do you count and locate the splashes of 20 wounds in 15 seconds?), the judges on the tug gave us a very low score until they got back to port and had to dig several of our sand-loaded shells out of the barge. A near perfect shoot.

I've always known that blowing things up was a heck of a lot of fun, as long as no one was getting hurt.

67, Mortars

2011-01-04T10:07:00.000-08:00

Bill Brewer There is another incident not mentioned during the 66-67 cruise. I don't remember the exact date because I'd been awake for 30 plus hours and was dead tired. The Waddell was sent to cruise around two small islands to give the crew some much needed rest. The islands were supposed to be uninhabited. Somehow North Vietnam forces managed to set up mortars on both islands. As the Waddell sailed between the islands there were four explosions which rocked the ship from side to side. At the time I was in the wardroom showing a movie and trying not to fall asleep.

My memory is a little fuzzy, but I believed Ed Hernandez, Gil Hansen and Jim Therale were in the wardroom at the time. I was sitting beside Jim Therale when the explosions occurred. I looked at Therale and he jumped out of his chair. I pulled the plug on the projector and placed it on the deck in the wardroom. About that time GQ was sounded and the 5-inch 54's started returning fire. By the time I got to my GQ station it was all over. I remember vividly when the ship rocked I was instantly wide awake. I don't remember if I returned to the wardroom to finish the movie. Most likely I did, there was no way I was going to get any sleep after that anyway.

I did not witness this, but I heard a search party was sent to both islands the next morning and not much was left of the mortar units. Another job well done by the Waddell. I'm sure there are some pieces I left out that others can fill in or correct.... It has been a long time.

Ed Hernandez The XO, Jim Thearle; Chief Engineer, Gil Hansen, Bill Brewer [on the projector], and I were watching the “Cardinal”. I heard what sounded like an explosion and saw the screen move from side to side. I got up and started heading to my general quarter’s station. The other people asked “Ed where are you going? I responded it is time to go.” I was up to the top of the ladder leading to the radio shack and crypto room prior to general quarters being sounded.

After we secured from general quarters I think that Bill Brewer and I returned to the wardroom and watched the rest of the movie. It was a good movie and it is still available for viewing.

I do not have any idea what kind of weapon caused the explosion but know that it was loud

Don Berkebile I remember two events, this one and one a little further north which occurred on the mid-watch a day or so later. I was on the bridge for the second one and maybe the first one too. For the second one (I was OOD and Bill Gaik was in CIC (I think), we fired about ten rounds in response with the after mount and then keep steaming north. I don’t remember how many rounds we fired on the incident Ed mentioned. Both events ended quickly without any additional firing. I remember targeting the nearest island and spreading the rounds on the island(s).

Ed Hernandez I seem to recall the name Hong Gia Island as being in the area where we were steaming. I tried to look it up on the Internet but it seems that a bunch of martial arts studios in your state [Don] have taken over that name.

66, Busy Week

2011-01-03T08:27:00.000-08:00

Recent events have roused 44 year-old memories, which should be preserved and shared. This document will piece together a story based on those memories of shipmates and documents that they have provided. It is limited to one week of action in February beginning on the third. This was a very active week.

The best way to explain life aboard a war ship in a war zone is to think about a lot of 24/7 work, almost no social time, and very little sleep. This results from being on port and starboard watches (4 hours on and 4 hours off), at General Quarter stations almost daily, and getting supplies, fuel, food, mail, and ammo at night. The main factor why this seemed more like hard work instead of fighting a war was the fact that Waddell was always several miles offshore and we did not have to come face to face with the Viet Cong. There were incidents during the first week in February that reminded us that there was an enemy.


USS Waddell DDG-24	USS Brinkley Bass DD-887

February 3, 1966
The day after arriving on station, the Waddell and the USS Brinkley Bass (DD 887) were working together as Task Unit 77.0.1, South SEARCH AND RESCUE (SAR) Station, about five nautical miles east of Ngoc Lam, North Vietnam, just north of the 19th parallel.

As on previous SAR duty we operated with a number of Helicopters from carriers and land bases. The choppers on this day were from the carrier USS Ranger. We had been warned that big shore batteries in North Viet Nam were very active and we should be ready to engage if ever called upon to get close to the shoreline.

Flint River 605 Check-Six.com

On February 3rd, 1966, only a little over a month after his arrival on the USS KITTY HAWK (CVA 63), LT Gerald L. Coffee and his navigator, Lt. Robert T. Hanson (assigned the call sign “Flint River 605”) were on an intelligence gathering mission against a heavily defended portion of North Vietnam. After their first photo run of their target, they radioed that they were going to overfly it one more time.

At 1313 local time, their aircraft, a RA-5C, Naval Bureau #151625, was hit by enemy fire. The primary damage, a hydraulic system failure, caused Coffee to lose control of the plane, and it spun out of control. It was observed to explode as it hit the water near the coast of North Vietnam, east of Nghe An Province, near Cap Bouton. No parachutes were seen, but the broadcast from an emergency survival radio beeper was heard by an escorting aircraft, call sign "Black Lion 112", and based on this information, a Search-And-Rescue (SAR) effort began in what the North Vietnamese later called "The Battle of Quynh Luu".

Noon, February 3, 1966

About noon, both destroyers received a call that a pilot was in the water, very close to the borders of China and North Viet Nam. The Bass was south of the area, Waddell to the north, when the call came in. Choppers were called and both ships proceeded at ‘Full Speed’ toward the downed pilot. Upon arrival, the pilot was seen alive and afloat in the water, very close to a harbor, next to the Red China border. He was only about 800 yards from the shore, and he was in very dangerous waters. The assigned helicopter was delayed some minutes in arriving.

The very big guns from above and behind the harbor and inland on the mountain side opened fire on Bass and Waddell. Two large Chinese Junks approached the pilot, one from the north and one from the south. Bass and Waddell each began to return fire on the big guns and also fired upon the junks. The chopper arrived and was about to recover the pilot, but as the cable was lowered toward the pilot; the chopper took a direct hit in the middle of the fuselage. The pilot of the chopper reported that his technician was hit and that he must retreat because his ride was falling apart. He quickly pulled back and headed to sea. A report was received that the chopper fell about 5 miles to the west and the pilot and co-pilot were rescued by our second ‘SAR’ chopper.

The Bass got a hit on one of the junks; it flamed out, and later sank. The second chopper became involved in the rescue of the crew of the downed chopper and they could not respond immediately to our operation. As both ships were dealing with shore batteries and self-defense from those big guns, the second junk, coming from the south, pulled the pilot aboard. He was captured, alive. After about 15 minutes of trading fire with shore batteries, the Task Force Commander decided it was time to retreat to safer waters. The Bass fell into column behind the Waddell, and both commenced zigzag maneuvers. The big guns were becoming more accurate as we came into their best range. They were most effective as we reached 11 miles at sea. After moving out of their range and before losing sight of the harbor, we could see some of the total of 33 NAVY AND AIR FORCE aircraft dropping bombs on the gun emplacements and on the back side of the harbor.

This marked the first time that shore bombardment by U.S. Navy ships had taken place in North Vietnam. For more info about the downed aircraft and its crew, read APPENDIX 1.

February 4, 1966
Daylight hours were used to continue operating with choppers in a number of ‘SAR’ missions. At about 1900, Waddell and Bass headed southeast to rendezvous with the USS Navasota (AO 106) for refueling.

CIC LOG ENTRIES USS WADDELL (DDG 24) February 4, 1966
2155 Maneuvering to take standby station on USS Navasota (AD 106)

2214 Base course is 3150 (T); Base speed is 12kts, first line on deck. Commenced personnel transfer on amidships highline.

2254 All lines clear.

2310 On lifeguard station, secured the refueling detail.

2321 c/s 12kts, USS England (DLG 22) alongside to port of Navasota; highline of personnel commenced.

2337 Personnel transfer completed, USS England (DLG 22) clear.

Formal Board of Investigation
2330 Station assignments in the replenishment formation were as follows: ENGLAND alongside NAVASOTA to port, BRINKLEY BASS 2000 yards ahead of NAVASOTA and WADDELL as lifeguard 1000 yards astern of NAVASOTA.

2335 COMDESDIV 132 made the following signal to WADDELL and BRINKLEY BASS: “Execute to follow, Form 1, Juliet Papa 4 Bravo Course 277, Speed 20.”

2338 COMDESDIV 132 executed his Form 1 signal.

Upon execution of the Form 1 signal WADDELL came to base course 277°T, speed 20 knots, and assumed formation guide.

Upon execution of the Form 1 signal BRINKLEY BASS commenced a standard rudder turn to the left to 215°T at 12 knots, proceeding to her assigned station 1000 yards astern of WADDELL.

2340 COMDESDIV 132 executed a signal by the immediate execute method to change formation speed to 25 knots.

Upon execution of the speed 25 signal both WADDELL and BRINKLEY BASS increased speed to 25 knots.

Shortly after execution of the speed signal the conning officer in BRINKLEY BASS ordered left standard rudder, new course 155°T.

CIC LOG ENTRIES USS WADDELL (DDG 24)
2341 Brinkley Bass approaching on collision course, bearing 304.5°T, successive bearings showed 10° of right bearing drift.

2342 Commanding Officer assumed position of conning officer.

2344 Left full rudder, left hard rudder, collision alarm sounded. Rudder shifted to right hard. Collision sustained starboard side amidships.

2349 All engines ahead 1/3rd, c/c 0300 T, Steering control lost on the Bridge, after steering assumed control.

2352 All engines stopped. Set General Quarters.

2353 General damage sustained: 4 foot by 5 foot hole, frame 107-127, plus some structural damage. No personnel casualties. Steering control regained on the bridge.

LT David Breithaupt (USS Waddell)

After we completed refueling, I relieved LT Reid Pendleton as OOD. After the Bass broke away from refueling, the Bass was ordered to take a position astern of Waddell. I took a position standing on the starboard wing and continued to monitor Bass’s bearing. As it became clear to me that the bearing was not changing, I informed the Captain, who was on the wing as well. We called Brinkley Bass, inquiring as to their intentions, and received no response. I said to the Captain that I was going to come left now to avoid a collision, even though Waddell was supposed to maintain course and speed. The Captain said no, I’ll take the Conn. I think he was certain that the Brinkley Bass would maneuver, assuming that their Captain would be on deck. When we were finally in extremis, the Captain then made a very slick move in order to have the Bass hit the Waddell rather than the Waddell’s bow making first contact with the BB. Since the Waddell was new construction, its steel was of a material to withstand some impact whereas the Bass could have suffered even greater damage than did occur. The Captain probably saved a lot of lives with that maneuver.

LTjg Terry Trisel (USS Waddell)

When our refueling was complete, I was relieved as JOOD and found my bunk for some needed sleep only to be awakened by the collision alarm. While putting my shirt and pants on, I felt Waddell shudder as the collision occurred. As I left for my battle station I took a quick peek out at the starboard main deck and saw nearly everything had been ripped off.

After reporting to the bridge that the hull was intact, with no leaks, I left DC Central to inspect the starboard hull, below decks. There were places where the frames were bent, but none were broken. All of the hull plate welds were holding.

Topsides on the main deck was another story, there was a lot of damage. Life lines, and davits had been ripped off and the aluminum, main deck, bulkhead amidships was crumpled. At the crew’s mess scullery, the bulkhead was missing.

Our Damage Control teams worked through the night and well into the next day making repairs to restore facilities and make us weather tight again.

FTG1 Fred Nickols (USS Waddell)

I was in the plotting room, just below the mess decks on the port side and across from the engineering office. I was crapped out on the deck in front of the computer in the plotting room having been there for a considerable amount of time with no break and so I was using the refueling time to catch a few winks.

I was awakened because I was tilted down the deck toward the port bulkhead. There was also a considerable amount of creaking and groaning. The escape hatch from the plotting room into the mess decks was open and the main hatch to the plotting room was not dogged down. I ordered my guys to button up and to re-man our battle stations. I put on my sound-powered headset that was plugged into the JC circuit and, sure enough, everyone else began getting back on too. Soon enough I learned what had happened.

I learned something very important that day: People in crisis typically have one of three responses; (1) they panic and run, (2) they panic and freeze or (3) they keep their cool.

RD3 James D. Caldron (USS Waddell)

I spent most of my time in the Combat Information Center (CIC), which is home to the Radarman at sea. I was on the 2000-2400 watch the evening of the 4th.

The days and nights for that time of year were more than you could expect. The winds were unusually strong, but the skies had been clear and the temperature was in the mid 80's. It was almost like being off the coast of southern California. The Gulf waters were a little choppy, but to sailors used to riding a tin can, these waters were calm.

We had picked the Navasota up on surface radar earlier and were starting to close. I had been relieved off watch by a fellow Radarman early. About 2340 I left CIC and went to our berthing compartment. I had planned on getting as much sack time as possible because we were on port and starboard watches. My head had just tilted back when the intercom cracked and a hurried voice yelled, “STAND BY FOR COLLISION, STARBOARD”, and then immediately, General Quarters was sounded. It did not take long to reach the ladder to the hatch overhead, exiting our berthing compartment. I believe all of us in the compartment reached the ladder at the same time. The Damage Control people had just battened it down solid. They did their job too well for this sailor.

I felt the Brinkley Bass hit us starboard side and felt the ship shutter as the Bass dragged down our side. There were about ten or fifteen sailors in the compartment, located just below the 01 level, at water line. There was not a thing we could do at that moment but wait and for me at least, hope that I would not hear any running water. There was no panic among the group. Nothing was said at the time that I can remember. I do know that I was thinking that if my time had come, I sure did not want to go this way. I would venture to guess that all of us in that compartment that night had, for lack of a better word, some pretty dumb thoughts running through our heads. To our relief the Damage Control party opened the hatch about fifteen or twenty minutes later and the first thing I remember doing was going topside and breathing lots of fresh air as I headed for CIC.

FTM3 Earlie Reynolds (USS Waddell)

I had left the Special Sea and Anchor Detail early to get some chow, before a mid-watch in after steering. While in the chow line, “STANDBY FOR COLLISION STARBOARD SIDE” alarm sounded. The starboard bulkhead opened up and the Brinkley Bass joined us for mid rats. Their right anchor tore through the ship’s office and wiped out the scullery.

FT2 John Cherriman (USS Waddell)
I was on the mess deck having MIDRATS, when the announcement came, “STANDBY FOR COLLISION STARBOARD SIDE”. Those on the mess deck all moved in unison to the port side. I don’t know why, but I felt a little amused at this. Then the thought of being amidships and if this ship sinks, I am in big trouble. I don’t have my life preserver with me! (I can’t swim very well).

FTG2 William Stover (USS Brinkley Bass)

I was on watch in the gun fire director, just to be relieved for the mid-watch by another Fire Control Technician. I had on a headset which allowed communications with the bridge. I heard the commands to cut speed to 2/3rd and to bring the ship to the left to start a column maneuver. The captain was apparently in his sea cabin just behind the bridge.

A lookout (Seaman) yelled that we were on a collision course. Others were screaming. The Captain heard the noise and came running onto the bridge. He ran to the wing hatch and immediately began to take action. He screamed very loudly a series of commands. He yelled, ’This is the Captain, I have the Conn, Right Full Rudder, All Emergency Back, sound the Collision Alarm, and brace for shock. At this same time, my watch relief had just climbed upon the top of the director. The hatches on the top of the director were open. He put his head inside and calmly told us that we were going to collide with the Waddell. I stood and looked out of my hatch and then braced for shock.

I watched in amazement as the Bass collided with Waddell. We hit at mid-ships. The Bass rode up and down as the collision was in progress. A rooster tail of sparks 100 feet high emanated from between the Bass and Waddell. As the Bass pulled away from Waddell, I could see light coming from the holes just ripped into the hull of Waddell. The Bass drifted to a stop and then began to sink in the bow area.

The ship’s crew was quick to respond. Within a few minutes we heard that there was no loss of life. Everyone brought mattresses, wood and tools including pumps. Within a few minutes the decision was made to ask for assistance because we were losing the battle with inflow of water. We had completely destroyed 40 feet of the bow. The gash was about 20 feet high. Although most of the damage which provided holes and allowed inflow of water was above the water line, water was coming in from the ship’s bobbing in a heavy sea state. The USS Navasota responded to our call. They put a big boat in the water with timbers, pumps, tools, other materials and a Damage Control Team of 16 Seamen, led by LT James Henry Breem. Together with our crew this Damage Control Team fought water inflow through the night. By morning they had saved the ship. The Bass was afloat.

February 5, 1966
RD3 James D. Caldron (USS Waddell) We were lying to, just after midnight on the 5th, while the damage was being assessed, and to check for casualties. The Ship turned on Break Down lights and we were mustered on station. There were no injuries and no personnel missing. The C.O. of the USS England (DLG 22), relieved us as TU 77.0.1, and departed the area. The report from the Bass was one shoulder injury to her crew. At 0435, the Break Down lights were turned off and Navigation lights were turned on.

Waddell

Brinkley Bass

FTG2 William Stover (USS Brinkley Bass) A chopper, from the USS Ranger, arrived about 0900, to ferry the Damage Control Team from the Navasota. The last of the personnel to be lifted onto the apron of the chopper was the team’s Chief Petty Officer. Disaster struck again, just when the Chief was being brought on board the chopper. The chopper lost stability, turned at least 180 degrees and flipped upside down. In the process, I stood in amazement as I helplessly watched while the Chief fell from the chopper as it flipped. The chopper hit the water, exactly on the Chief, about 10 feet from the fantail of the Bass. I slide down the ladder to the deck below and again fixed my sight on the chopper. Personnel on the fantail and the main deck and our own dash flight deck were throwing life jackets and life rings into the water. I found life rings where I was, and heaved them into the water. The sea state was high and the Bass was basically dead in the water. The Bass and these men began to drift apart. They were grabbing life jackets and life rings which would support them if they remained in the water for a prolonged period.

RD3 James D. Caldron (USS Waddell) Three sailors were missing and were not recovered. The Waddell, still able to move about freely even with the damage, directed her efforts into closing on the downed helo to pick up the survivors. We closed to within 100 yards of the helo, and were called off from the rescue. A few minutes later, a second helo from the Ranger arrived to pick up the survivors. We were close enough to the downed helo to yell at the sailors setting on the helo that was upside down in the water. We could have picked these sailors out of the water at that time, and to this day I know those sailors wondered why we went past them and turned away. We tried to tell them that another helo was in route, but I do not think they could hear us. All of this took place between 0900 and 0930 that morning of the 5th. For more on the missing sailors, read APPENDIX 2.

What transpired from 1235 to 1250 the afternoon of the 5th is why, in describing events such as this to anyone but servicemen, seems unbelievable? Another helo, from the USS Ranger, ferrying personnel from the Navasota to the Waddell and the Bass, crashed into the sea. The cause of the crash was tail rotor failure. Among the passengers on the helo were five sailors from the crash earlier in the day. A helo from the USS England picked up all personnel from this downed helo.

The Waddell headed to Subic Bay, PI, late in the evening of the 5th, along with the USS Navasota. The Waddell remained in the Naval Repair Facilities, Subic Bay, until the 24th of February, 1966, and headed back to Vietnam and Naval Gun Fire Support missions in the Vung Tau area with the USS Topeka (CLG 8).

FTG2 William Stover (USS Brinkley Bass) After receiving her temporary bow in Subic Bay for the trip back to the States. The Bass pulled into Da Nang, South Viet Nam the next day. Navy UDT guys went down and checked out damage below the water line. They welded chain in strategic places and advised the Captain to proceed to the Philippine Islands at 5 knots. We proceeded to Subic Bay, Philippine Islands arriving sometime on February 7, 1966.

APPENDIX 1

Name: LT Gerald Leonard "Jerry" Coffee, USN
Unit: Reconnaissance Squadron 13, USS KITTY HAWK

Both LT Coffee, who had endured a broken right arm & dislocated elbow, and Hanson successfully ejected and parachuted into the gulf. Several vessels were put out from the shore to capture the crewmen. Coffee was picked up by militiamen in one of the boats, the same Vietnamese who, moments before, had nearly killed him by firing a barrage of bullets into the water. He was now a Prisoner of War (POW).

LT Coffee recalled that he had seen his navigator alive in the water about 12 meters away and thought that he had been picked up in one of the other boats. Coffee also reported that, shortly after his capture, a guard indicated by gestures that LT Hanson was dead and had been buried on the beach. Coffee was shown his identification card.

On February 12, 1973, Lt. Coffee was part of the first group of Prisoners of War released as a part of “Operation Homecoming” - the first flight of 40 U.S. prisoners of war left Hanoi in a C-141A. He had been held in captivity for 2,566 days.

On January 21st, 1974, Hanson, who had been promoted to Lieutenant Commander while his status was “Missing in Action,” was legally declared dead. On November 3rd, 1988, the Vietnamese, who had previously denied knowledge of LT Hanson, "discovered" and returned his remains to American authorities, who positively identified them as Hanson's on February 17th, 1989. His name appears on Panel 04E, line 135, of the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington DC.

APPENDIX 2

MM3,Bill Rudolph, USS Navasota (AO-106) when the collision between the Waddelland the Brinkley Bass took place, some of my shipmates were sent over to theBass to help with repairs. I was initially picked to go, but someone else onerank above me pleaded with the Chief to take my place and he did. On theirreturn trip to the Navasota the next morning, I was in the engine room when thefirst helicopter went down. I was on deck watching as the second one went down.One thing is missing from the excellent reports on the Waddell's and Bass's websites: The survivors said that when they were floating in the inflatable rubberdingy after the second crash, another helicopter came to their aid and thepilot dropped a ladder for them to climb up. The Navasota crew in the dingydeclined to board another copter and, like good seamen, trusted themselves tothe dingy in the waves, preferring to wait for a destroyer to rescue them. Theranking crew member in the dingy, First Class Petty Officer, Scoville, gave thefinger to the helicopter and yelled "hell no." I don't rememberwhich destroyer picked them up, but they all refused to get in another helicopter.So, they ended up in Cam Ran Bay for a few weeks until they got a ride toClark Air Field on an Air Force plane. And we picked them up in Subic. Theshipmate who took my place survived and filled me in on the details.

http://navy.memorieshop.com/Navasota/index.html

Three Lost atSea

Feb 5, 1966;While the SH-3 helicopter was designed and equipped for anti-submarine warfare,it was commonly used for intership transportation among the 7th Fleet shipsoperating in the Gulf of Tonkin and South China Sea areas.

The USS NAVASOTA(AO-106) was a fleet oiler which replenished the warships with fuel oil,aviation gasoline, and jet fuel. During operations offshore Vietnam, threeNAVASOTA crewmen were lost at sea when the SH-3A (BuNo 149926) they were aboardenroute USS RANGER (CVA-61) went down. As with most at-sea losses, theirremains could not be recovered. The three men were

Chief ShipfitterBernard J. Sparenberg, Baltimore, MD;

Shipfitter FirstClass Glenn E. Asmussen, Washington D.C.; and

ShipfitterSecond Class Dan D. McConnaugehay, Artesia, CA.

APPENDIX 3

USS WADDELL (DDG-24)

FPO San Francisco 96601

8 April 1966

Dear Families and Friends of WADDELL,

As Commanding Officer of this Ship and her seasoned crew it is my pleasure to write to you in an attempt to bring you up to date on events aboard WADDELL since the last Family Gram of 1 December 1965.

One of the most pleasant tasks of my naval career was to assume command of WADDELL, the finest ship in the Navy. I reported aboard and relieved CDR C. J. BOYD in Hong Kong Harbor on 25 January 1966. Almost immediately I could sense the high morale and dedication to duty that is prevalent throughout the ship. The destroyer men in WADDELL can be proud of our fine ship and you can be justly proud of your men who are aboard.

Since last December the time has passed quickly. We were called upon to perform tasks that required many long hours of hard work. However, we did not mind the workload because the tasks were interesting and, most of all, significant to the war effort in Vietnam. Yes, the time did pass rather quickly: all except that is, with the last several days in transit back to Long Beach. Knowing our job was done and that many loved ones were waiting at home made those last days drag out to where minutes seemed like hours. But today we are back in Long Beach after a six and a half-month absence. Today many families are reunited with loved ones who were missed for so long. For others whose families, unfortunately, are not close enough to welcome us home, the wait will be a little longer. However, through a very liberal leave schedule all will have the opportunity to visit with their families soon. The sacrifice of separation is not without its rewards. We have to make our country safe from the ravishing’s of war and we have helped other not so fortunate people fight for freedom and human dignity. There is always much fulfillment in knowing that an unpleasant job has been well done.

The whole month of December and a few days in January were spent deep in the Tonkin Gulf on special operations. Unfortunately, the details of these operations cannot be given. I can say, however, that the mission was vital to the war effort and required all the skill and ingenuity the men of WADDELL could muster.

During the Christmas Holiday the crew tried to capture some of the Yuletide spirit by decorating the ship, caroling, and having a big Christmas Day dinner. Three Christmas trees and the trimmings were brought aboard and stowed prior to departure from Long Beach. These were brought out and set up as well as many beautiful displays that were ingenuously designed by various Divisions. Everything imaginable from electron tubes to pipe cleaners were used in concocting these displays. Each was a work of art, and the committee for determining the best display really had their work cut out for them.

In December, many gifts of cookies and candy were received on board from individuals and groups who simply wanted us to know that they cared about us and our welfare. Needless to say this had a profound effect on the whole crew. Where names and addresses were included, many of the crewmen replied with letters o f sincere appreciation.

During the month of January, WADDELL was off the line, so to speak, and most of the time was spent in upkeep, and rest and recreation (usually referred to as R & R). The ports visited were Sasebo, Japan and Hong Kong, BCC. No doubt most of you will be receiving souvenirs from these very interesting places.

Towards the end of January it was time to get back on the line. After a short visit to Da Nang, Vietnam, WADDELL proceeded back to station in the Tonkin Gulf.

It was in the Gulf of Tonkin that WADDELL sustained extensive damage in a night collision with the USS BRINKLEY BASS on the 4th of February 1966. WADDELL’s repairs were rushed to completion by the crew and the Ship Repair Facility in Subic Bay, Republic of the Philippines in an extremely short time of 15 days. Once again WADDELL crewman showed the stuff they were made of. When the chips were down they became more determined than ever to get the job done and to get back on the line where our services were needed. Upon completion of repairs WADDELL was then assigned support duty near the entrance to the Saigon River. While on station, WADDELL fired over 2100 rounds of five inch ammunition amounting to well over 70 tons of explosives at Viet Cong targets which included assembly areas, supply dumps and enemy structures. Spotters consistently reported “Extremely accurate long range fire” and “Beautiful: Right on the money”.

Upon completion of Naval Gunfire Support duty WADDELL returned to Subic Bay, R. P. for a brief upkeep period. In Subic Bay, Destroyer Division 132 was reunited and sailed together for Long Beach via Guam, Midway and Pearl Harbor.

Since departing Long Beach, last September, WADDELL has steamed a distance equivalent to 2 times around the world and has burned nearly three million gallons of fuel oil. Because we spent a very large percentage of our time at sea far from the services of a port, we were required to undertake 37 underway replenishments which were supplied by U. S. Navy auxiliary ships that provided fuel, food, mail and material. We have stopped at many interesting ports of the world, having visited Hawaii, Republic of the Philippines, Republic of Vietnam, Japan, Okinawa, Hong Kong, Guam and Midway.

In the foreseeable future, at sea periods will be at a bare minimum. From now until about the first week in May, WADDELL will be in a leave and upkeep period including tender (repair Ship) availability. There will be a couple of weeks of local at sea training operations and toward the last week in May WADDELL will enter the Long Beach Naval Shipyard for permanent repairs of the collision damage.

Now that we are back in Long Beach, I am looking forward to the pleasure of meeting many of you personally. You are not only welcome but urged to visit on board when you can. The coffee is always on and there is a friendly cup waiting for you.

Sincerely,

G. J. WALKER

CDR, USN

Commanding

65 Rescue

2011-01-02T07:19:00.000-08:00

J.D. Caldron In the Waddell's' first cruise book their is a mention of the rescue of Cdr. Charles Peters by the Waddell while enroute to WestPac. I was in CIC at the time this event happened. I had the opportunity to say hi to Chuck Peters and always wondered what happened to him after he left the Waddell the following morning. This nagged at me for some reason for 25 years.

About ten years ago while surfing the Prodigy military web, I asked a few people connected with flying in Vietnam what had happened to Cdr. Peters after he left the Waddell and how was he doing. I received a reply from John Paisley who knew Chuck Peters and flew in VA56 embarked in Intrepid.

He said that Cdr. Peters misread his altimeter while trying to land on the carrier, seeing 0 feet as 1000 when he flew into the water that night.

Anyway, the sad ending is that Cdr. Chuck (Black Pete) Peters was later killed in Vietnam while flying with the VA155 Flying Foxes. He did eject and had good chute but was never seen again.

I printed this reply to my inquisition and would like to send it to you for posting on the Waddell web site if desired. I wonder how many sailors remember that night. A Waddell lookout saw the small red light (breast light) while Cdr. Peters was in the water. I remember the night being a very dark night.

Also, I checked out the web site for VA 155 and confirmed information sent in my earlier memo to you. This info can be located at http://www.skyhawk.org.

The history chronology states:
July 1, 1966:
Attack Squadron One Hundred Fifty Five's commanding officer, Commander C. H. Peters, Silver Fox in A-4E Skyhawk BuNo. 152017 side number NL 511 was shot down and killed in action by North Vietnamese Triple A fire while leading an attack on petroleum facilities at Duong Nham, North Vietnam.

Also, VA 56 on the Intrepid was Cdr. Peters training squadron. When he crashed off the coast of California in 65, I think he was flying off the Ticonderoga. I will confirm this fact.

I was commissioned with Chuck Peters from the NROTC unit at the University of Colorado in 1946. He left the Navy and spent a year with the highway patrol in Nebraska. I assume it was icy cold and he got the opportunity to rejoin the Navy and go to flight school. At our fiftieth reunion in 1996 my classmates and I presented a plaque for the ROTC unit wall to remind the young graduates that although there is nothing more exciting and enjoyable than a Navy career, sometimes the highest sacrifice is required. I have been trying ever since to get Charles Peters name put on the wall of the Student Union of the University of Colorado. Although he was a veteran of three wars, they only place Colorado residents names on the wall for the Viet Nam war and he was from Nebraska. I feel this is bull, he was defending Colorado as well as Nebraska and the Student Union was paid for by fees from all students. I talked to the Provost last week and he said he would help. Mr. and Mrs. Oral Lester(Slim) Moore, his brother in law and sister live at 210 The Uplands, Berkeley CA. 94705-3575 , (510) 655 3575. Slim served aboard the Hornet when she was sunk. He was also commissioned from Colorado's NROTC unit. Thanks for remembering our good friend. As Ops Officer of the USS Collett I tried very hard to pick up aviators from many of the bird farms we plane guarded in Task Force 77 during the Korean war. Helos were just starting to be used in daylight and they would usually beat me to survivors and at night many planes would go in on launch and not come up. I did not happen to have the watch when several were retrieved. Getting superheat off and the boat alongside was something we were good at. Enjoy your next reunion, I am attending one in Reno next week with the Collett and the Lyman K Swenson.

Regards,
Robert L Kneedler

Former LT. USN Robert Kneedler, Ops Officer USS Collett, and USS Corry,
CO PCS 1380, CO LSSL 82 , Aide to Commander Middle East Force, XO LSM 344 and 385.

Bob Boles, RDMC, USN, Retired The person who saw the life jacket light, bobbing in the water was a signalman, as I recall. When the boat picked the pilot up and returned him to the ship, I was at the area where he was recovering in the stokes stretcher, near sick bay -- and asked him what was happening as he went in -- I am fairly certain he said all he recalled was looking down and back at the radio freq. selector, to change to land launch, and he hit the water-- he was a very tall man, and we all wondered how he could get in and out of the aircraft, being so tall. He was very lucky that the 'skivvie waver' saw his light - we had looked for a long time for him, after back tracking our position from the DRT in CIC.

65 Repair

2011-01-01T07:04:00.000-08:00

Fred Nickols, FTGC The Waddell was getting ready to deploy to WESTPAC. It was Sunday night, our fire control radar was on the fritz, and we were headed out to sea the next morning.

We had traced the problem to the high-voltage box, a notoriously unreliable component in an otherwise pretty reliable radar, but we didn't carry a spare and the supply depot at the Long Beach Naval Station where we were tied up didn't have one either. Nor could they get one shipped to us in time. One could be waiting for us in Pearl Harbor when we arrived but, in the mean time, the Waddell would be without its radar and, consequently, its main battery of 5" guns would be out of commission. That's no way for a ship of the line to put to sea.

Down the pier was the USS Henry B. Wilson, a ship just like ours, with a fire control radar just like ours.

Along about 2000 hours, I've figured out what I'm going to do. I told Frank Sisto, my second class, to meet me on the quarterdeck at 2315. In preparation, we carry the high voltage box from our radar down to the quarterdeck and stash it on the off side.

At 2315 sharp, Frank and I are on the quarterdeck.

"What are we gonna do?" he asks.

"It's better that you don't know,” I said. “Just play dumb."

Frank and I picked up the high voltage box and headed down the brow to the pier. The high-voltage box is quite heavy and, because it's also quite compact, it's difficult for two men to carry. We made our way slowly down to the end of the pier where the Wilson was tied up. We carried it up their brow at 2330 on the button.

The OOD is a first-class petty officer, a Quartermaster.

To him I said, "My name is Chief Nickols, off the Waddell down the pier. My weapons officer and your weapons officer made a deal to swap out the high-voltage boxes in our radars. We're going to WestPac in the morning and can't wait for a new one to come in so the new one’s going to be shipped to you. Would you have your messenger escort us up to the director so we can do the swap?"

Frank and I immediately started moving forward up the main deck.

"Oh yeah," I said, turning back toward the quarterdeck, "you guys are about to be relieved, so would you tell your reliefs that we're on board and that we'll be coming back down in about half an hour?"

The Quartermaster, still not sure what to do, but perfectly willing to let his relief have the final responsibility, nodded and motioned for his messenger to escort us. Things were going according to plan.

Once we were in the barbette, the equipment room underneath the fire control director, I played my next card.

"Look," I said to the messenger, I know you want to hit the rack, so why don't you go back down to the quarterdeck and send your relief up here?"

Anxious to hit the rack, and doubtless appreciating my thoughtful consideration, he did as I suggested. A few minutes before midnight, the new messenger shows up.

At about 0015, we had the Wilson’s high voltage box out of its cabinet. Ours was sitting on the deck; no point in putting it in. The new messenger escorted us back down to the quarter deck.

Grinning at the new OOD, a Chief Radar man, I said, "Chief, would you get all upset if I didn't salute your quarterdeck on the way off. This damn thing weighs a ton and I don't wanna put it down and pick it back up unless I have to."

"No sweat, Chief," he says, and motions us off.

On the way down the brow, I turn back and said, "I know you're going sleep late in the morning, but when you get up would you tell your Chief Fire Controlman that I said thanks for the loan of the high voltage box?"

"Sure thing," he said, giving me a very snappy salute.

The next morning, promptly at 0800, we slip our lines and pull away from the pier, headed for Pearl Harbor and points west. Our fire control radar is back in operation. I'm up on deck, just in case.

As the last line is cast loose, I see two men in khaki running down the pier from the direction of the Wilson – a Chief and an officer. It didn't take a genius to figure out who they were.

They stood on the pier where we had been moored and even from a distance I could tell they were considerably agitated. Finally, the Chief flips the finger in our general direction and they head back down the pier toward their ship.

I went up the bridge to wait for the weapons officer to be relieved from his duties as OOD for the special sea and anchor detail. I needed to tell him why his main battery was back in operation and help him figure out how to deal with the skipper, the X.O. and the message traffic that ought to be coming in any minute now.

Howard Richmond, Ens I have always thought that the following true story was a good indicator of the morale on the Waddell and the pride that we all had in her. It happened one Sunday in Long Beach, and of course on that sunny day I had the duty.

We were moored outboard of one of our sister ships and were scheduled to go to sea on Monday for exercises, including firing a couple of our missiles. Around 3:00PM, the Messenger of the Watch found me and asked me to come to the quarterdeck.

When I arrived I was greeted by the CO of our sister ship and two rather abashed FTs from the Waddell. I greeted the CO with all appropriate pomp and circumstance and asked how I might be of service. He then told me the following story.

He had come aboard his ship to check on some things and was making a tour of the ship when he observed two men working in one of the fire control systems in the aft of the ship. They had removed a part and were buttoning everything up when the CO realized he didn’t recognize the men. He asked who they were and they introduced themselves as FTs from the Waddell. The CO asked what they were doing and they explained that Waddell was going to sea the following morning and the fire control system for our missiles was inoperative due to the fact that a replacement widget had not arrived as scheduled.

Since the Waddell had never missed a firing commitment our guys thought they would just borrow the widget from our sister ship for the day and return it when we returned to port Monday afternoon.

I bowed and scraped accordingly and then did what any self respecting CDO would have done, I asked the CO if it would be ok if we borrowed the widget for the day, and of course I would inform Captain Boyd. The CO laughed and agreed to the loan and Monday we went to sea and had two hits.

On our return the widget was returned. This true story really exemplifies the attitude, pride, and intensity that made the Waddell the amazing ship she was, fueled by the commitment of the crew to make sure she succeeded. This memory is one of my happiest.