HOM: Notes, Boats & Gloats, All In A Tangle!

Since I can't dig up details or dates for the next few months, I guess it's time to dump out the disjointed bits of lint from the bag of memories and post them. ---------- Jerry Bailey replaced Paul Bennett as Captain. He seemed to take the oddball crew he'd inherited in stride, though there were a few bumps along the way. He was a less aggressive skipper than Bennett -- he did not push the operating limits of the boat or system as hard, and was a little bit more "Blue Water Navy" in mindset. When the CO left the ship, however briefly, the event was to be marked by "Crockett, departing!" and two bell chimes over the 1MC, then the flag on the fantail was to be lowered to show he was not aboard. There were several occasions when he had to ask me why his flag was in the wrong mode for his whereabouts, but he was always laid back about it. I was in the mess deck when he came down one morning, poured a cup of coffee, and asked me if there was any sugar. I asked him if he wanted one lump or two, which startled him into asking if we had cube sugar now. He was thrown off stride a bit when I explained that we had humidity and lumps, not cubes. He opted for a teaspoon to mash and measure his sugar. A buddy of mine from the Battleship New Jersey visited me on the 88. We were drinking coffee on the mess deck when Captain Bailey came walking in, barefoot, dressed in skivvies, and and carrying an empty coffee cup. (Yes, the Navy fueled itself on coffee!) We exchanged a casual "Good morning, Handcock", "Good morning, Sir", and he filled the cup and left with his dose of caffeine. My friend asked who the officer was. When I told him it was our captain, he got all "WHAT! You've gotta be kidding!" He was used to the Real Navy, where senior officers moved in a cloud of pomp & ritual, and when the CO walked in everyone jumped to attention. I was sorry to read that Mr. Bailey died a few months ago. He was a good officer and better than most others I served under. ---------- One classic example of Small Boat Navy administrative style on the Crockett was when one of the new crew members, an E-5, got drunk at the club in Cam Ranh and punched one of our commissioned officers. In the regular Navy, this would have meant a court martial, jail time, a blemished record, and a ruined career: On the 88, he was punished, but left with a clean record. ---------- I mentioned that I appointed myself the ship's librarian so I would have some reading material. I scrounged/cumshawed/traded/stole/bought books from other boats, ships, shore facilities and anyplace else with reading material and tried to get books other folks asked for as well as ones I wanted to read. Most of the crew appreciated my efforts; a few didn't. Chief Thayer started pressing me to get a copy of Roark's "The Wake of The Red Witch" because it was his favorite movie. I finally located a copy for him, and then he complained that the book sucked because it didn't follow the movie. ---------- Looking back at the river & Seafloat, I felt a lot of satisfaction. With our presence, the river was a safer place for the Vietnamese. The hospital ship anchored at the base was an asset for them too. When we first went up the Song Cua Lon, it was all VC-controlled Enemy Territory, Indian Country. When we left, the little villages were springing back up, the charcoal kilns were working and there were civilian boats fishing and hauling wood on the river. Looking at them and the progress there, it made some sacrifices worthwhile. I guess the word for that feeling of accomplishment is "closure", something that was denied to a lot of combat troops. ---------- It is a small world. I was chatting with one of the maintenance guys at the PCF facility when he told me he was heading home on leave. I asked him where "Home" was, and he said he was from a little town in Montana. When I asked him which town, he said "Kalispell". His brother was produce manager at what is now Albertsons, & I knew him. ---------- Boats. I haven't said much about the junks, sampans & motors on the river. The gray Vietnamese Navy (VNN) Yabuta junks we shared the river with, in a bow to Asian superstition, had the traditional eyes painted on the bow so the craft could "see" where it was going and not run aground or hit anything.

The civilian boats were rowed, poled, or powered by "Long Tail" outboards that allowed great maneuverability and very shallow water operation. Some of the Longtails had good sized engines attached and were quite speedy. These Longtails were an Asian thing, but are now sold by outfits like Cabela's, as seen in the ad below. Typical river traffic: ---------- We used our own small boat, the Whaler, to do a drop-off & pick-up on a SEAL team on the Delta, running them in to shore with the Whaler and then retrieving them later. They came back with a VC prisoner, an older guy, for interrogation, and we transferred the team and their captive to an LST. I guess the SEALS promised the VC that he would be released if he told all he knew of current Vc operations in the area, and with some added encouragement he did spill all. The SEALS kept their word and released him, but they did it when the ship was 20 miles off the coast. Splash. I suppose this was like the Army guys who would release prisoners unharmed -- from choppers hovering 1500 feet up over the jungle. Splat. If you weren't there, then don't judge. The enemy you spared today would be trying to kill you tomorrow. ----------- TBC (Me) (Home)