The remainder of the transit from Vung Tau to the Naval Station Subic Bay was uneventful. We anchored in Subic Bay mid-morning. It was the only time i had been on a ship at anchor there, but it looked like the entire Seventh Fleet was in the bay. i was glad we would be there only for several hours.

But there was business to take address. The CO, Lou Aldana, directed Rob Martin, CHENG, and me to take the captain’s gig to the squadron flagship to communicate with Pacific Fleet about boat supplies we needed for engineering and the our ship boats. We were directed to the pilot house to wait for access to the top secret crypto circuit. There were only the two of us on the bridge where a speaker for the circuit allowed us to overhear the caller in front of us.

i don’t remember his name but he was the amphibious commander for the evacuation. He was talking, er, listening to the guy on the other end of the phone. That guy was the commander in chief of the Pacific Fleet. Apparently, the amphib admiral had held a press conference and said something of which his boss did not approve.

It was the most classic chewing out rages i ever heard on any Navy radio circuit ever. It lasted almost ten minutes.

When it was concluded, the amphib admiral stepped out on the bridge en route to his cabin. Rob and i acted as if we had not heard a thing. We communicated with the necessary folks, got our parts expedited, and headed back to the Anchorage.

After all of the marine equipment and vehicles were offloaded, along with the two South Vietnames LCM-8s, Anchorage weighed anchor and got underway in the afternoon and anchored in Manila Bay the next day.

In a conversation with Mike Dixon last week, I recalled my dinner in Manila in 1975. I was First Lieutenant on the USS Anchorage (LSD 36). We reached Manila after our Pacific transit; operations in Iwakuni, Numazu, and Okinawa, Japan; a typhoon avoiding South China Sea transit; the evacuation of South Vietnam dubbed Frequent Wind; a return transit to Subic Bay Philippines for another offload; and finally liberty after more than two months at sea.

Note: this section is taken from a Democrat column written in 2014. Mike Dixon, a close friend and basketball, baseball playing buddy, walked over that bridge in 2021.

I was Command Duty Officer the first day, the most difficult duty in any port visit. The duty engineer and I had no more than a couple of hours of sleep between us when our liberty launch took us to shore mid-way through the second day.

Although tired, we were determined to have fun. In the hot and humid late afternoon, we wandered through downtown Manila. We eventually entered a respectable looking cafe. Our exterior assessment did not match the interior. It was a local disco.

Too tired and hungry to leave, we were escorted to a red imitation leather booth accompanied by a blaring, live rendition of “Staying Alive.”

In broken English, our waiter recommended a local favorite entrée, a spicy goat stew over rice.

The stew was the spiciest food I have ever eaten. Vietnam peppers, Korean kimchi, and even a renegade jalapeno in a Southwest corner border restaurant could not compete with our Manila disco meal.

I’m sure it was not on Homer Hunter’s menu in his 1930s restaurant off the square.

As we concluded our meal, a manager sat down with us and offered to show us something. We walked back through a long hall in the back of the main room to a large window. It was a one-way pane, allowing us to see into the other room but appearing as a mirror on the other side. In the other room, many women, clad in flimsy négligées were milling around or just sitting on the wooden benches. Our guide informed us we pick out one of those women to have for the rest of the night for twenty dollars.

I was taken aback. It was about as emotional for me as watching all of those Vietnamese escaping their homeland with their families in unseaworthy craft. It looked like these women was even more abused than those refugees, slaves.

i was disgusted but remained silent. Declining the offer, we left and went back to the hotel, falling asleep. The next morning, we caught the first liberty boat back to our ship. Anchorage weighed anchor and got underway the following day.

After seven days, Anchorage and the host of other ships weighed anchor off of Vung Tau and got underway in early May 1975. Nearly all, if not all, headed toward Subic Bay and then on to other liberty ports.

i believe all except Anchorage had refugees on board. While off of Vietnam, we were ordered to pick up two additional LCM8’s that had been used by the South Vietnamese before the fall. Although we were already crammed, we somehow managed to add these two 73-feet long, 21-feet wide landing craft. i don’t know how but we did it. i can only remember we turned a lot of craft and other vehicles at angles in the well deck, fitting them like a jigsaw puzzle. i do remember the Mike 8 boats sitting cockeyed at the aft end of the well deck.

The requirement to offload these two craft in Subic is likely the only reason we went to Subic Bay. Perhaps for that reason, Anchorage was independently steaming, not accompanying other ships. i was OOD on the mid-watch (00-04) on the first night, roughly 150 nautical miles into the transit. There were no contacts and the seas were comfortable.

Around 0200, we began receiving strange radio messages from another ship: “This is Clara Maersk, radio check, radio check.” As the calls kept repeating and getting a bit stronger, i decided to respond.

“Clara Maersk, this is United States Navy ship, Anchorage, roger, over.

She responded. The master was trying to reach any US Navy ship. The Clara Maersk had come upon a ship sinking in the South China Sea en route to Hong Kong. She rescued 2000 refugees and was attempting to find a ship that could take them aboard.

The Clara Maersk was likely several hundred miles from Anchorage. i did not know and was attempting to maintain communication while determining what do do — including waking the captain — when our communications was lost..

Once again, i felt remorse at our country not being able to do more to allow this folks to remain in their homeland.

Anchorage continued on her way to Subic. i wrote a note to myself with the ship’s name and carried on. After all, i had a whole bunch of other things on my mind.

NOTE: GWLO, Old Hong Kong, https://gwulo.com/node/57141, contains an article about the Clara Maersk offloading 2000 Vietnamese refugees in Hong Kong shortly after my communications with the master of the cargo ship. i was checking my facts when i came across the article. i am glad i found out Clara Maersk and her refugees made it to Hong Kong.

This sea story was published as a column in The Lebanon (Tennessee) Democrat, one of those i wrote weekly for that newspaper under the heading “Notes from the Southwest Corner” for ten years. Published in 2008, i believe it best captures my feelings about the end of the Vietnamese “conflict.” i have only made small edits even though much of this is repeats from recent posts.

SAN DIEGO – In 1975, I witnessed international history.

Having been on destroyers since commissioning in 1968, I was transferred to the U.S.S. Anchorage (LSD-36) from the U.S.S. Hollister (DD 788). It was my first experience with the amphibious Navy. The First Lieutenant, my new position, was directly involved with every aspect of the ship’s primary mission, i.e. putting troops, vehicles, and cargo ashore.

I was a novice and one month away from a seven-month deployment to the Western Pacific. My delicate position was exacerbated by the cruel twist of the manning czars in Washington, D.C. I had one experienced junior officer; and one chief boatswains mate, who had been a boxer most of his Navy time. The ship’s complement called for two experienced junior officers, one boatswain warrant officer, three chief boatswain mates, and three first class boatswain mates.

To say the least, I was learning on the job with long days and midnight oil. This did not include moving my family to San Diego and subsequently preparing them to go to Texas while I was deployed.

During the move from San Pedro to San Diego, my parents called to tell me my beloved Uncle Snooks, Alvin Hall, had died suddenly from a heart attack. Uncle Snooks and my aunt, Bettye Kate Hall, had been more like second parents than aunt and uncle.

So I was dealing with a personal loss in the middle of the madcap preparations to deploy. As with all of my deployments, it became much easier once we “let go all lines” and steamed out of San Diego Bay, March 28, 1975.

This particular deployment has enough sea stories for a book. I will omit most for now. The Anchorage and the six other ships of the Amphibious Ready Group (ARG) proceeded to Pearl Harbor, departing after a flag briefing indicating the deployment should entail nothing unusual.

At sea five days later, the ARG received a radio message, which announced takeover of South Vietnam by the North was imminent. Six of the seven ships were directed to steam southwest and join the outgoing squadron off the coast of Vung Tau, Vietnam. The Anchorage was directed to steam to Japan, off load cargo and load the equipment of the Marine Amphibious Unit (MAU). Then, the ship was to join the task force.

There were many delays and adventures en route. Anchorage reached the rendezvous May 2. The evacuation of South Vietnam, dubbed “Frequent Wind,” essentially over but the rescue 35,000 refugees had just begun.

Because the ship was overloaded, we did not take on refugees. Our participation was limited to daily, all-day boat operations, and taking on two landing craft (LCM 8’s), which had previously been the U.S. Army’s boats.

So early each morning, I would go out on deck with my morning cup of coffee to start the day. After launching the Mike 8s, I spent most of the day at the handrails, watching the day pass in the calm seas.

I would watch Navy, Marine, and Air America helicopters make continuous landings on the four aircraft carriers, USS Okinawa (LPH-3), a helicopter carrier and our squadron flag ship, and USS Tripoli (LPH 10). An amazing number of Americans and Vietnamese escaped from Saigon via these helicopters.

Even more incredible, as first light crept into sunrise, the horizon would be filled with every type of craft, jammed with people. For three days, the deluge of humanity kept coming over that horizon until sunset faded into dusk. Before the task force weighed anchor and headed east, more than 35,000 people had been embarked.

Estimates of the total number of evacuees ranged between 70,000 and 100,000. I believe the number was higher. I cannot imagine how many didn’t make it. I don’t believe I have ever been so moved as I was standing on that deck, watching those South Vietnamese coming and coming and coming over the horizon. They were putting their families, old folks and babies, on craft I would not board on a pond, much less the South China Sea.

I don’t intend to discuss politics here. I certainly didn’t have a better answer then, and I would not have one now. Yet as I watched those people risking their lives and the lives of their families to run from their country, their home, I recall thinking, “There has to be a better way. There has to be something we could have done to let these people live in their home.”

As a shipmate eloquently recorded in the Anchorage cruise book, “It’s sad to see a country die.”

i have been posting my sea tales in a number of Facebook groups that were not directly related to amphibious ships, mostly destroyers. As i was posting this account of my experience in the Amphib Navy. I pretty much covered the waterfront in my 22-plus years of active sea duty. i do not wish to offend anyone. So, if you do not like these posts in mostly destroye FB groups, please let me know and i will desist.

Anchorage had been underway from Numazu for a couple of hours when we received a radio message from the chain of command. It directed us, rather than going to Vung Tau, to stop in Okinawa at the Navy’s base on White Beach. Studying the message, we decided they must want us to unload some of the equipment that couldn’t possibly be used in the evacuation of Vietnam, with the code name (Hah!) “Frequent Wind.”

We arrived in just over two days pulling into the pier mid-morning. After we had tied up, two Marine colonels came aboard and were escorted to the Captain’s cabin. Shortly afterward, the petty officer of the watch passed the word on the 1MC, “First Lieutenant, report to the Captain’s Cabin.”

I climbed the ladders to the Captain’s Cabin and entered. CDR Aldana introduced me to the two Marine colonels. One was from CINCPACFLT to observe all that was happening. The other was the Marine Amphibious Unit (MAU) Commander. He was a thin man of medium height with the marine buzzcut, a pencil thin mustache with a swagger stick by his side.

He immediately dashed my hopes of an offload. He wanted to add more. I was flabbergasted. “Where?” i thought, This is crazy.” i looked toward CDR Aldana. It has been a long time, but I don’t think he actually said anything to me, but from his head nods and gestures toward me, i knew he was giving me the okay to go head to head with the MAU commander.

“Colonel, sir,” I began, “We are overloaded now. Our flight deck is jammed with flood light trailers and medical vehicles. Our ramps are not designed to carry equipment, but ours from the main deck to the mezzanine deck and the mezzanine deck to the well deck are full.”

“The colonel was unfazed, “We have to load this equipment! We must maintain unit integrity.”

My argument was not going well. I said, “But sir, I understand the need to keep the MAU and its equipment together, but you can’t possibly use all the trucks that are loaded with heavy weather gear in an evacuation in a tropical climate. You certainly know more about your MAU than I do. I do not understand why you need 24 tanks to conduct an evacuation.”

I felt like I was not going to win this battle. Then, I received some help from an unexpected source. The colonel from CINCPACFLT, fortunately senior to the MAU Commander, prodded the swagger stick colonel and said, “You know he’s right, John. We can bring everything back here and reestablish the MAU’s integrity when the evacuation is over.”

Swagger Stick got a dejected look. He conceded and told me (and the CO) to offload the heavy weather gear trucks and about half of the tanks. I was elated.

Of course, that ended up being a 22-hour offload. The ramps were clear, but the flight deck was still crammed with vehicles. As soon as we finished the offload, we got underway around 1600. I breathed a sigh of relief.

But within four hours of heading south in the Philippine Sea, we received yet another radio message. We were return to coast of Okinawa where a CH-46 helicopter would land on our flight deck and be carried to the evacuation.

We were back to scrambling as we reversed course, moving equipment, heavy equipment in the open sea, not the most comforting event to encounter at sea. The ramps which once held the M54 trucks with heavy weather gear now had medical vehicles and flood light trailers, secured with the greatest jury rig of tie downs one might imagine.

But we cleared the flight deck proper even though there was equipment stacked right up to the demarcation line for the actual helo landing spot. As we tied down the last vehicle, we received a message from the helo. I donned my safety vest and flight quarters helmet. I was now the Air Officer, but more of a safety observer as my Landing Signalman Enlisted (LSE) did the tough job of directing the landing of the CH-46 on a small spot on a rolling LSD in the open sea.

Success. We once again headed south. We should have had time to get to Vung Tau and distribute our load amongst the other amphibs before the evacuation.

Of course, there was another monkey wrench thrown into the works. A typhoon was developing in the South China Sea. The Navy weather guessers erring on the side of caution did not want the Anchorage to get caught in the storm. We were ordered to go east of the Philippine Islands and wind through the islands The Anchorage turned west before Samar, passing north of Panay and Mindoro and sliding up the west coast of Luzon into the US Naval Base at Subic Bay.

When we arrived in Subic, we were informed we had to wait a bit longer after the typhoon had cleared as there were sailors flying in from the states and would ride us to Vung Tau for transfer to their next duty stations. So our delay was extended again.

We went across the South China Sea with an Speed of Advance (SOA) faster than normal, attempting to get there before the evacuation started. But the delays kept us from our goal. Frequent Wind began on April 29 and began in earnest April 30. We arrived in the early morning, Thursday, May 1 and went to our assigned anchorage.

Our problem was the entire Task Force 76 was engaged with the extreme volume of helicopters and small craft bringing out refugees, both American embassy folks from Saigon and others using every means of escape.

We were hogtied. The Anchorage was so full of vehicles we were stymied. We could not take on evacuees. This may have been a good thing in that our captain was more concerned about security than helping the refugees. He had devised a plan to put all of the evacuees in the well deck in essentially tents and manning the wing walls with fire hoses in case problems arose.

I wanted so much to be involved in the evacuation but was glad we would not take on any evacuees with those plans. We launched our LCM8s to assist in helping the refugees find a Navy ship that could accomodate them.

No, my job was to watch.

Listed below are the Navy ships/commands involved in Operation Frequent Wind and the subsequent recovery of refugees fleeing their country.

Task Force 76
USS Blue Ridge (command ship)
USS Oklahoma City (Seventh Fleet flagship)
Task Group 76.4 (Movement Transport Group Alpha)
USS Okinawa
USS Vancouver
USS Thomaston
USS Peoria
Task Group 76.5 (Movement Transport Group Bravo)
USS Dubuque
USS Durham
USS Frederick
Task Group 76.9 (Movement Transport Group Charlie)
USS Anchorage
USS Denver
USS Duluth
USS Mobile
Other ships joining the task force :
USS: Hancock
USS Midway

Note: Each carrier was carrying Marine, and Air Force (eight 21st Special Operations Squadron CH-53s and two 40th Aerospace Rescue and Recovery Squadron HH-53s^[12]) helicopters.

Other Amphibious ships:
USS Mount Vernon
USS Barbour County
USS Tuscaloosa

A guided missile frigate:
USS Worden

Eight destroyer types for naval gunfire, escort, and area defense:
USS Richard B. Anderson
USS Cochrane
USS Kirk
USS Gurke
USS Rowan
USS Cook
USS Bausell

The USS Enterprise and USS Coral Sea carrier attack groups of Task Force 77 in the South China Sea provided air cover while Task Force 73 ensured logistic support.

The Marine evacuation contingent, the 9th Marine Amphibious Brigade (Task Group 79.1), consisted of three Battalion Landing Teams (BLT); 2nd Battalion, 4th Marines (2/4), 1st Battalion 9th Marines (1/9), 3rd Battalion 9th Marines (3/9) and three helicopter squadrons HMH-462, HMH-463, HMM-165 along with other support units from Marine Aircraft Group 39 (MAG-39).

Task Force elements came from Wikipedia

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.