As we began to load the preposterous number of vehicles, just to help us out, the wind picked up and it was horizontal to the landing beach. It was a wind-driven rain, cold, harsh, thick.

The beach master’s unit was overwhelmed in trying to keep the LCM8s from breaching and ending up sideways on the beach. The shore was nearly all large rocks, and it played havoc with the Mike 8 propellers. We were fortunate in that Anchorage was the designated ship for carrying the stock of extra LCM8 propellers. When the load was completed, we only had two propellers left in stock. There is no way we can assess how much time was spent just in swapping out propellers.

i was a whirling dervish. i had to be. As the well deck master, i had to control and manage the offloading of the LCM8s as they returned from the beach and then oversee the storage of the gigantic load. We loaded the two semi-trailer fueling rigs all the way forward under the mezzanine decks. We positioned the 24 M48 Patton tanks around the semis. Then, we just started to fill where we could. BM1 Hansburough and i became good friends. We were working the wing walls of the well deck, directing traffic moving all of the equipment as it came aboard.

About twenty hours into the load and right after i changed my working khakis due to being soaked with salt water, an LCM8 entered the well deck and bottomed out. As it lowered its bow gate, a errant wave tossed it slanted across the well deck. A flood light trailer fell on its side into the shallow water. BM1 Hansborough and i simultaneously ran from the well deck and down the forward ladder past the mezzanine deck to the well deck. We walked aft together until the well deck water was up to our ankles. We studied the situation and knew the flood light trailer could greatly delay the load and we simply didn’t have the time.

So, the two of us walked up to water up to our hips when we reached the flood light trailer. With great effort we righted it (much to my surprise). As we started to move it forward clear of the loading operation, the LCM8 coxswain had maneuvered to straighten his craft, not seeing us nor knowing we were just ahead of him. The two guys who could have kept this from happening were not on the sides of the well deck. They had this floodlight trailer problem.

i looked up. Staring down at me was the bow gate of the Mike 8. The coxswain was lowering her bow gate, and it was coming down on us. We gave the trailer a push and the massive gate missed us by several feet. Too close.

Upon reflection, i should have remained at my well deck command post. But assessing it now, fifty years later, i’m not sure anyone but Hansborough on the ship could have pulled it off…and the load operation continued.

Hansborough and i both retreated. He went to first division berthing and changed out his dungarees. i went to my stateroom and changed to a new set of khakis. i changed my socks but put back on the water soaked shoes, knowing i would likely get them wet again. i threw the soaked khakis in a pile. i suspect a good portion of that saltwater wasn’t just sea water.

If anyone had it worse than us, it was the beach master’s unit. The marines did not follow their load directions very well, many of the Mike8s breeched and went sideways. The LARCS ands the cranes worked full time keeping the landing craft perpendicular to the beach. In short, it was hell. It also took 44 hours to complete the load.

As we closed the stern gate and secured from 1 Alfa, i headed to the bridge as the Beach Masters returned on their LARCS and cranes. The Beach Masters loaded their craft in the well deck. Bosun messenger climbed the ladders to the bridge as Sea Detail was set. i was the Sea Detail OOD. When Bosun Messenger arrived on the bridge. Commander Aldana in his captain’s chair on the starboard side of the bridge motioned for the bosun who came to his side.

The bosun and i were both spent with over 44 hours without sleep and constantly working in a high stress situation.

“So, Bosun, how did it go?”

The bosun did not respond directly, noting, “There’s no such thing as a dumb Marine.”

The CO wondered, “What do you mean, Bosun?”

Bosun Messenger replied, “That’s a double negative, sir.”

i was laughing up my sleeve.

We got underway, stood out of Numazu Bay and headed for Okinawa. When we secured from sea detail, i was relieved and went to my stateroom. i had to complete a formatted, extensive “load report” to higher authority. i completed it and my first division officer brought me the draft radio message. i was in my rack when he showed it to me. i needed to edit and take it to the XO to screen before getting the captain to release it.

i woke up about three hours later in a panic, thinking i had not submitted the report on time.

i called my first division officer and he came to my stateroom. He told me to not worry that the load message had gone off on time. He then said i was reading the draf when i fell hard asleep. He had to pry the draft out of my hands. He got the XO to clear and the captain had released the message.

i was relieved. i had just had my first experience of being a first lieutenant in the ampbibious Navy. The next chapter was about to begin.

We stood in to Fukyoka at 0800. It was a bright, warm day. i rode into the base with the Supply Officer, LT Joe Carroll, and Bosun Messenger to determine where on the piers we would offload our opportune lift, a great deal of it medical supplies for chaplains to dispense to those in need.

Once settled, we headed back to the ship in the captain’s gig. As we headed back, i saw a potential disaster. The cables for the port crane were not where they were supposed to be. They were hanging loosely in long loops, not quite touching the water. Whatever happened, it did not look good.

BM1 Hansborough and BM1 Stubbe of the Beach Master’s Unit met us at the quarterdeck. The crane was broken. They were bringing the loose cables back on deck, but the time for repair was unknown. We doubled up on the starboard crane. We completed the offload late in the afternoon and got underway for Numazu.

Earlier, we had received the load message from the Marines. We were aghast. After conferring with the captain, and Bosun Messenger, we sent a return message asking for the type of vehicles. 175 vehicles was a huge number of vehicles for an LSD.

There was no response. We assumed since our mission was to support the evacuation of Vietnam, the load would be mostly jeeps, medical support, and personnel carriers to support the evacuation of personnel.

We were wrong.

A-Gang and the boatswainmates worked around the clock to repair the crane. They were remarkable and successful. By the time we arrived in Numazu Bay, the crane was operating again. Whew!

It was just after sunrise when we anchored. Mount Fuji was just a dim shadow above the coast line of the bay. We could make out dark shadows of a few vehicles but the fog and clouds shrouded a good view. Bosun Messenger, BM1 Stubbe, and the rest of the Beach Master’s Unit loaded on two LARCs. i joined them and rode next to the bosun to the beach. Soon through our binoculars peering over the cockpit, we began to make out vehicles. There were jeeps, medical vehicles, floodlight trailers, and some M135 cargo trucks, also used as personnel carriers. These we were expecting.

However, beside and behind them, were tanks, i counted about eight in that first bunch. As we came nearer, more and more vehicles became visible. Up to and on the ridge of the hill were rows and rows of more tanks, more trucks, semi-trailers.

“Bosun, can you see all of those vehicles?” i exclaimed excitely. He nodded.

“Are those more tanks?” What the hell would they want that many tanks for an evacuation?” i wondered.

Bosun Messenger gestured, showing he had no idea.

Then, he spoke, “I’m thinking they must have another ship coming in to take all of those to Okinawa, their home base over here.”

“i certainly hope so,” i reply.

Nope.

We beached and those wonderful LARCs rode right up on the beach. Bosun and i dismounted. A Marine first lieutenant approached us.

He was small but muscular. His accent was thick with Korea. “I’m First Lieutenant Kim, United States Marines,” he said formally, “i’m the MAU’s combat cargo officer.”

Unable to quell my curiosity, i asked, “How did you become a Marine?”

Kim replied, “i was adopted by a family in San Francisco, but they retained my family name. i became a US citizen and loved the Marines. i applied for OCS after college and received my commission.”

i congratulated him and we talked a bit more until i asked him for the load plan. Lieutenant Kim reached into his jacket and pulled out the large loading plan. We unfolded it and laid it on the hood of Kim’s jeep. Bosun Messenger and i looked at the plan and then at each other with incredulity.

i later learned that the marines were infamous for using a razor blade for trimming down the templates for vehicles used in load plans. The templates had a built-in additional size for the loading chains that anchored the vehicles to chocks in the deck. i now am sure that Kim had been trained to use this technique.

The plan filled every available space for storage. i studied it and then asked, “What are these 12 vehicles here?” pointing to the well deck.

“They are flood light trailers,” Kim replied.

“Do you know what that deck is,” i asked again.

“It’s the well deck,” Kim replied, wondering at my question.

“Do you know what those large vehicles are next to your floodlight trailers?” i continued.

“Oh, yes,” he said, “They are Mike 8s and an LCU.”

“That’s right,” i congratulated him and continued, “Do you know how we get them in and .out of the well deck?”

He looked at me, waiting for an explanation.

“We open the stern gate and then we ballast down until the Mike 8s and LCU can float and they drive them out of the well deck.”

He nodded.

“That means that your floodlight trailers and any other of your vehicles near those craft will be about six feet under water and will no longer work.”

Lieutenant Kim said, “Oh.” Then asked what we could do to get them on the ship.

Bosun asked him what was in all of the trucks. Kim told us that about ten of them contained the MAU’s heavy cold weather.

i exclaimed, exasperated, “Why would you want to take heavy cold weather gear to Vietnam?”

Kim tried to explain that he was ordered to keep all of the MAU’s gear and vehicles together. That made some sense to us, but we still had a major problem. There were too many vehicles to fit into the regular storage space. We told Kim we would load what we could and try to get everything aboard but might have to leave several of them behind.

Kim was not happy.

We returned to ship and reported to CDR Aldana, the captain. We jointly concluded that many of the larger vehicles like the fuel carrying semi-trailer and trucks with heavy cold weather would be left in Okinawa.

The load, my first and the most demanding i experienced as an Amphib sailor was about to begin.

We were a little of over two weeks before we were to get underway for a long time.

That’s when the Amphibious Squadron Staff decided an LST needed a first class boatswain mate more than me (i still scratch my head about that reasoning. So they transferred my most experienced first class boatswain mate to that LST. i was left with no ship’s bosun, one first class boatswain mate, and one boatswain mate chief with 15 years in, but who had been a Navy boxer with no significant experience as a boatswain mate other than passing promotion exams. He was a smart guy, a nice guy, BMC Justiani, but he was not in my department. He was the 3M supervisor (the Navy’s preventive maintenance program) for the ship.

A week before the departure date, the Beach Master’s Unit came aboard with its rather amazing amount of equipment, including LARCs, a truly amphibious vehicle that could be driven on land or water. Big honkers, too. They were 35 feet long with a ten-foot beam, weighing just shy of ten tons. The Cummins V8 engine provided 300 horse-power.

We ballasted down and the two LARCs with 19 men came aboard as soon as the well deck was dry. Their leader was CWO4 Boatswain Messenger. That was a blessed thing for me. Bosun Messenger became my advisor in nearly all things for this novice First Lieutenant. His first class boatswain mate, BM1 Stubbe, almost immediately began to help BM1 Hansborough in the deck department.

i breathed a bit easier.

On March 10, 1975, the USS Anchorage (LSD 36) got underway with the other ships of Amphibious Squadron Five, standing out of the San Diego channel headed for Pearl Harbor.

The transit was routine. We kept preparing for the normal ten-month deployment. After five days, we entered Pearl Harbor. i had been designated as the Sea Detail Officer of the Deck (OOD) and had the “deck” and the “conn” for my first entry into Hawaii. The duties, the maneuvering into the Naval Station with Ford Island on my left where the Arizona Memorial stood, remains one of the most awestruck emotions in my life.

i found Honolulu enchanting. It had yet to become the corporate tourist stop of the Islands. My focus was on my job. i did find my favorite spot for many years to come. i wandered off the primary streets and found a Chuck’s Steakhouse. It had a motif of a fishermen’s pub. i ordered a mai tai and then had the mahi mahi dinner with a chardonnay. It was like the perfect escape.

During the last few days, we loaded our Opportunity Lift (OPLIFT) cargo (when a ship deployed and had extra cargo space, various military commands and personnel could load gear and vehicles to go to various Western Pacific bases. Some of the cargo, like a few cars, were private. Most of the load was medical supplies. The penultimate day before we were to get underway, Commander in Chief, Pacific Fleet (CINCPACFLT) held a briefing for the Amphibious Staff and COs, XOs, and department heads of the squadron ships. We were told of possible exercises with allies, and some information on the status of the US/China/North Korea status. Nothing was mentioned of Vietnam.

And off we went. The seven ships of Amphibious Squadron Five were headed for the Naval base in Subic Bay, Luzon, Phillipines, the sailor’s closest thing to Fiddler’s Green. We would be relieving our sister ships of COMPHIBRON ONE. They would head back to their home port of San Diego. The seas of the Pacific were relatively calm, the steaming easy. Then, five days underway, the message came. OP Immediate (That meant do what the message said to do and do it in a hurry). Vietnam was about to fall to the Vietcong and North Korea. The two squadrons were to rendezvous off of Vung Tau, normally a resort city that was on the southern most tip of the Vietnam. Our mission was to participate in the evacuation of U.S. personnel and any dependents that were in country, as well as Vietnamese who had worked with the US during the conflict.

Except one ship was to steam independently elsewhere, the USS Anchorage. We were to head to Fukuoka, Japan and offload the large amount of OPLIFT we were carrying. From there, the Anchorage was to proceed to Numazu Bay and load the equipment for the Marine Amphibious Unit, which were onboard the other ships, and make haste to Vung Tau, offload the Marine equipment and supplies, and carry out orders for the evacuation.

This adventure was about to teach a brand new amphibious first lieutenant a thing or two.

i had mixed feelings about the next phase of my career.

i was a destroyer man. The Lloyd Thomas, the Hawkins, the Waldron, the Luce, and the Hollister were tin cans, greyhounds of the sea roaring into the white caps at 35 knots, shooting incredible five-inch shells out of those gun mounts, training in any multiple threat environment: visaged gray ladies that ruled the oceans.

Now, i was going to a completely different world. The only appealing aspect to me was boatswain mates, the backbone of the Navy from day one. i really had no idea of what my new job as the First Lieutenant on the USS Anchorage (LSD 36) would entail. i was glad to move my wife and daughter into Pacific Beach Navy housing in San Diego, but i was pretty much clueless about what would follow. i did know Anchorage would deploy with Amphibious Squadron Five in mid-March just after i reported aboard. i also knew the LSDs had a bosun, Chief Warrant Officer Boatswain. Knowing that i would have someone guide me through the learning process as STC Rogers had on the Hawkins, STC Jenkins had on the Luce, BTCM Miller (i think: still have to look up his name, ashamed i can’t remember) had on the Hollister.

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We moved into Pacific Beach Navy housing in late January. Moving has always been a major pain. This move was no less painful even though it was just over 100 miles. But we made it. We settled in and i reported for duty. After destroyers, the Anchorage seemed enormous. After i saluted the ensign and requested to come aboard, i was walked to the executive officer’s cabin. From there, we walked next door to the captain’s cabin. Charlie introduced me to CDR Lou Aldana. He was a tall, angular man with a dour countenance. During our talk, i found that he cared about his ship and his men. That made it just fine with me.

The captain also gave me his instructions on how the first lieutenant on an LSD should perform:

“You are like a farmer,” he began, “When it is not raining, your guys have to prep and paint the weather decks…all of the time. That is one of your most important responsibilities.”

It sounded mundane, but it true. The deck force and the deep hole snipes were the hardest working guys in Navy show business. i was about to discover that the deck force were not only “farmers” on weather spaces, they were always working on every aspect of amphibious shipboard life.

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i then found out the one person i was relying upon to help me through the learning process was no longer there. Bosun Holtzclaw, whom i never met, had been transferred about a month before i reported aboard. There would not be a replacement. i had no chief boatswain mate in the department and only one LTJG who had deployed before. Shortly after i arrived, my most experienced first class boatswain mate was transferred to a LST in our squadron as events had left the ship without one. i was down to one first class, BM1 Hansborough, who was in charge of first division, and a BMC, who had spent his 15 years as a boxer and currently was the “3M” coordinator in charge of the Navy’s preventive maintenance program, not even assigned to the Deck department. Challenges lay ahead.

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My wife Kathie and i were excited about being in San Diego. Our new neighbors had a daughter Blythe’s age of three, and they nice folks. And we were in San Diego, a place i had found intriguing since i read about it back in the early 60s.

When we realized, we were less than two miles from the beach, we resolved to get there as soon as possible. After we had unpacked all of the boxes and had our home in Navy housing in satisfactory shape, we drove down to the beach and parked. We walked to the beach. i was excited. i had never been to a Southern California beach. Kathie held Blythe as i shed my top shirt and shoes and ran to the water. i ran into the surf and dove into the first waves.

It was then i discovered the Japanese current brings cold water down from the Arctic Circle. As Bill Cosby noted in one of his skits (before he was convicted of his crimes) that when he hit the water, his body became “one giant goose bump.” The Pacific Ocean off the Southwestern corner coast is not warm until about two weeks in August.

i quickly emerged, grabbed the towel and wrapped it around me. Thus began my next adventure. In a month, i would be on the USS Anchorage as her first lieutenant, deployed to the western Pacific for ten months. i had no idea of the challenges ahead.