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SALVAGE OPS/PORT AND STARBOARD WORKING PARTIES

FOXHOLE Days went by, days of 24 hour hard labor. Everyone had a job to do, and we did that to exhaustion. Initially, we slept on board, changing racks (bunks) with the guy who worked the next shift. Some racks were soaked, and they stayed that way, but who cared. We needed sleep between long hours of energy draining travail. BOOM! Mortar off the port quarter...cloud of dirt rising. IC2 George Swofford and I were standing on the bridge when it hit. We decide to go down to the main deck just so we didn't catch one of those things in the face. To preserve strength, crewmen were choppered out to the USS Mars for chow. That became a daily routine until I was sent to the Sands of Iwo. Well, at least there was sand. "We need you on the beach," said the jg. "You'll be rigging to assist the SalvOps Unit. Take seaman Simon and fireman Pitonyak with you. You'll need weapons and combat rations too, because you're going to be there for the duration." Shit, piss, fuck, I said to myself. Didn't we come here because the RVNs were routed to the sea? Did I want to spend nights on that beach with VC in the nearby hills? Hell no. Did it matter what I wanted? Hell no. Simon and I set up camp about 50 yds away from a tank the Army had left to cover our flanks. And for communication with the ship, the SalvOps CPO gave me a radio that could not receive a chirp, so he said he would fire a round into our camp fire to signal a call-up. Camp fire? Okay. That makes sense?! But what if we want to call you? By the way, we couldn't dig a deep foxhole because the sand kept rolling back in. So, to maintain our shallow cover, we shored the sides with styrofoam, about 18 inches down. Aw, so what? It wasn't that deep, but it was better than nothing. With that done, we lit the fire because it was chilly at night. It didn't matter about the illumination since the ship was lit up like Dick Clark's New Years Rockin' Eve. The VC were selling tickets. Anyway, there we were, sitting by the fire when a round kicked up a chunk of wood. Hey, we've got mail. It was the CPO on the radio and telling us to standby for a chopper that was coming in the next morning to haul away mooring lines from the beach. Roger that. The next morning, Simon decides to have toast and eggs for breakfast, get himself a taste of normalcy. So he tosses a can of c-rat eggs and c-rat bread into the fire. Shortly, he asked whether I thought it was done. I said yes. He said he'd leave it a little longer. But the cans began to burn and swell. Then, quickly, Chef Simon kicked them out of the fire. After they cooled a bit, he used a church key on the bread can, expecting to see a nice piece of toast. Inside instead was a tiny black crispy ball that rolled out of the can and into the fire. Now that was worth a laugh when no one felt like laughing. You know I can't remember making a head call out there...had to though. The chopper arrived on time and we used the Army tank to flake down the mooring line, since that was impossible to do by hand in the sand. Once that job was done, we waited for the helo to close in--and we took the sandblast beating of our lives. The things you do for God and country. The next night, we were awakened by small arms fire. As tracers darted down the beach, Simon and I got ready--grabbed our weapons and prepared to kill and die. We thought Pitonyak was already dead, since he was alone downbeach where the tracers were going. We had a dirt's-eye-view, watching tracer rounds ricochet, curve around us. Abruptly, the firing ceased, but we stayed put until sunrise. God knows I wanted to get into that tank. Pitonyak was fine, and the Army tank crew said there were 9 VC killed, but we never saw their bodies, only a small bra that was reportedly left by one of the attackers.

CHOW WAGON, LIFE SAVER

Sixteen days at Duc Pho were made easier by the pilots and crews of Chinook choppers from the USS Mars AFS-1. They brought chow and ultimately rescued several hands (including myself) from the deck of the refloated and battered Clarke. We went up by sling.
"Don't look down," a crewman told me. "When you get up there, use one hand to guide yourself through the hatch."
"Okay," I said. Then, zip...I was snatched from the deck, swinging high above the ship, and on my way up to that little hole in the belly of the chopper. Was I scared? You bet. Days earlier, one of the chinooks crashed into the sea. I'd come too far for that to happen.

"DIDI MOW. Let's get the fuck out of here."

(photo courtesy Chinook-Helicopter.com)



ITEM #57 HCU-1 EVENTS 1967

"The CLARKE COUNTY was retracted from the beach, using beach gear, on 1 Decenber, after which emphasis was shifted to clean-up, patching, and repair."

DANANG HARBOR, December 1967 Compared to Duc Pho, Danang was a safe harbor. Never mind the brooom baboom from cannoneers. Or the starshells. We felt safe there. It was Christmas Time, and we had a lot to cheer about--life, hope, leaving Vietnam. For most of us, Duc Pho was the last Vietnam assignment.

SPLIT SHIFTS Part of ships's company, the "riding crew," remained aboard the Clarke for the tow from Danang to Subic Bay, P.I. The rest of us were loaded into the LCVPs and during the night we departed for an LSD and a ride. In an unprecendented maneuver, I told the coxswains to marry the two boats and proceed at full throttle into the dock of the LSD. That worked. As soon as we were inside the ship, the LSD stern was raised, the water was gone, and we sat high and dry inside. Next Stop: "Sudah Bay"

GIMME SOME KIND OF SIGN GIRL Dry land, barracks, payday, and Olongapo... Party Time!!!!!!!! Hello P.I., Shit River, and Jitneys. Monkey meat on a stick with San Miguel Beer. You now the drill...Girls,Girls, Girls...Skivvie Hunters beware.

RIDING CREW STILL AT SEA Unfortunately, our compadres on the Clarke were still at sea. But when the ship arrived, we saw for the first time how badly damaged she was. We could walk into it through the hole in the bottom. In fact, that became the routine entryway. The quarterdeck, if you will, was a 180ft gash.

BACK TO GUAM: Deja Vu All Over Again The riding crew and ship remained in the P.I. The rest of us went back to Guam. Again to barracks life, where I spent days stowing Clarke County machinery. The CC was towed into port that January of 1968, exactly one year after arrival in Vietnam. And while the yardbirds began an evaluation of the damage, we anxiously waited to hear how long repairs would take. Six to eight months was the estimate. Hallelujah, I said. Because that meant no more Vietnam, at least for me. My time was up in August that year. But for BM2 Harry Bud Douglass, a transfer arrived, sending him to the Sedgwick County and right back to Nam. He would follow that up with another tour. Harry was a 30-year man who retired a CPO in 1985. From that point on, the original Little Creek crew began its departure by way of transfer or expiration of active service. One by one we went home, or to other duty stations, as replacements arrived--rookies with little more than bootcamp training, who waited for the Clarke to be refitted, much the same as we had done two years earlier. According to Lt. Alan Johnson, who reported onboard in January 1968, and whose experience is briefly noted in a ClassMates biography, Clarke County was laid up nearly a year before departing to Japan, where her inexperienced crew was trained for service in Vietnam. War goes on.

AFTERMATH OF DUC PHO In retrospect it is clear to me now that Duc Pho was a bit of good luck. Of course, explaining that is difficult, at least. Perhaps it was just another gift of fate, a final act intended to keep safe the Clarke's crew. After all, no one died. In fact, no one aboard was ever wounded by hostile action. We generally slipped in and slipped out from places where other LSTs suffered damage and casualties, the worst of which was inflicted on the USS Westchester County LST-1167. Its KIAs represent the Navy's largest loss of life by a single combat action during the Vietnam War. The Clarke County Little Creek crew may well have suffered a simlar fate, but it didn't. And it didn't because Duc Pho knocked us out of the war. We went through hell on that beach, yet being on that beach is what caused us to miss the '68 Tet Offensive. Had we succeeded at Duc Pho, we would certainly have been meandering the narrows of some muddy river and right in the middle of the NVA's greatest all out attack. Speculation? Yes. Who knows what might have happened? One thing is sure: a whole lot of people are pleased that the original Clarke County Vietnam crew never found out.

DOG TAGS~Personal Recounts So far we know that Harry Douglass, Art Deschenes, Ronald Frazier, Charlie Bates, Moe Monroe and Larry Biddle were sent back to Vietnam after Duc Pho. GOT A SEASTORY TO TELL? Remember the Boom Boom Club in Korror, and the free-for-all with a truck load of islanders? How about the guns and caves at Chi Chi Jima?...Or the bow door at Silver Strand? The liferaft incident? Send your tales to: lclintwhit@hotmail.com Here's one I recently received from Richard Ashley: Although he doesn't remember exactly who else was with him that day, in Hong Kong, Ashley and a few others got so drunk that they were tempted to get into a cab headed for Red China. The driver, our shipmate recalls, was willing to take them to a skivvy-house across the border. Imagine that at a time when communist operatives in Victoria City were looking to create friction between American servicemen and Chinese civilians. Bingo! Our man Art Deschenes (pictured below) has confessed to being one of those Hong Kong risk-taking bluejackets.

GUAM IS GOOD? Hafa Dai for at least 8 months. But to be sure, the boredom of Guam is lots better than the war noise of Vietnam. The ship is in need of a great deal of repair. In the meantime, I do Shore Patrol with AFPD Guam, a "10-22" at the LaPaloma Club in Agana. Or base Security at the EM Club. And month by month--April, May, June, July--I get shorter. Then, finally, it's 2 weeks and a wake-up. Time for the final flight, the journey home. Did I ever look back? Not for 10 years, maybe longer. Yet when that did happen, it came about because I suddenly realized the importance of what we had done. Those who weren't there in the rivers, on the shore, in the jungle, or in the air didn't have to say thanks. Not then because we Nam vets had learned to say that for ourselves. Michael Harris, a Riverine sailor, sums up the experience: "We all did our jobs, and we did them well."

Michael Harris USN in Vietnam

Clarke In Drydock

Photo Courtesy David Totten

Clarke's Holed Underbelly

Site of the long gash, port side forward.

Photo David Totten

Too Short To Sweat It

That's me, BM2 Lloyd C. Whittaker, smiling like Popeye because it's all down hill. This photo was taken at Guam in 1968, months after Duc Pho.

BACK TO THE WORLD I'm headed home--and with much to be thankful for.

SOUNDS OF THE LATE 60s, EARLY 70s.

"This is a groovy party, man...I can dig it." "La la la la la la means I love you." "This is the dawning of the age of Aquarius..." "Has anybody here seen my old friend Martin?" "I'm just sittin' on the dock of the bay, wasting time."

TREASURE ISLAND and SAN FRANCISCO "Places To Go, People To See, And Things To Do..." Here's where you get out of the Navy and rejoin the world. When you arrive at the airport there are rows and rows of boot GIs, lined up to board Braniff Airliners bound for Vietnam. They stare at you, wide-eyed and curious. Some are frightened, and you know why. Not so far away bearers carry coffins, the remains of some sailor or Marine or soldier or airman killed in Vietnam. That's where you've been; and that's where these rookies are going. Maybe you feel for them, since they don't know what to expect. But you don't show your feelings; you walk by, headed for the exit and the bus or the cab that will get you closer to home. It's 1968, and the war will go on for 5 more years. It will go longer than that inside you. Not for yourself, but for the fallen, the guys who gave all. As time goes by, you grow closer to them--the dead. You're alive and intact, and your life goes on. Nevertheless, you grieve for those lost to the war...men you never knew. And why? Because they were just like you--young, brave, scared, and doing their duty. In the meantime, you feel the joy of a homecoming in a time when America is zesty and bright, born again, and struggling to make itself better. A cable car, a go-go joint, a scotch and soda and a piano bar, a stroll in the park with a girl on your arm--these are things you've dreamed of.

BEST TELEVISION

Gunsmoke~
Wild Wild West~ Big Valley~
Laugh-In~ Mannix~
Star Trek ~ Mod Squad~
Voyage to the Bottom
of The Sea~ Marcus Welby~
Hawaii 5-0~

San Francisco

Check out the the old Plymouth in the foreground. The Chevy behind it is early 60s.


Bill Stute film

1968 THE YEAR THAT MARKED THE 60s HEADLINE NEWS 1. MLK, RFK Assassinated 2. TET OFFENSIVE: turning point in America, though people forget the Viet Cong lost that campaign. 3. PARIS STUDENT RIOTS 4. VIETNAM WAR AVERAGE WEEKLY GI DEAD AT 500 5. DEMOCRATIC NATIONAL CONVENTION: "The Whole World Is Watching." 6. CHICAGO 7 7. NIXON WINS NOMINATION 8. ABSOLUTE BLISS: The Maharishi 9. PRESIDENT JOHNSON WON'T RUN 10. SOVIETS INVADE PRAGUE 11. WATTS 12. 2001: A Space Oddyssey premieres 13. TOP SONGS: Judy In Disguise, Green Tambourine, Love Is Blue, Dock Of The Bay, Honey, Tighten Up, Mrs. Robinson, Grazing In The Grass. This Guy's In Love With You... 14. SDS, BLACK PANTHERS, SNCC: "Burn, Baby, Burn!" 15. RETURNING GIs LABELED BABY KILLERS 16. REDS OPEN UP ON KHE SANH 17. KHE SANH RAID FAILS 18. NIXON WINS! 19. NASA PREPARES FOR LUNAR LANDING 20. "PUFF THE MAGIC DRAGON" ALSO KNOWN AS "SPOOKY": Douglas AC-47...

SLEEP THE SLEEP OF THE SAVED? Home safe, at last? Maybe so, but no place is truly safe in the 60s. First, President Kennedy is assasinated in 1963, then Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert Kennedy are shot to death in 1968. And by that time, college campuses had become battlefields for anti-war protestors while returning GIs were ostracized for doing what they had to do. A cab driver in San Francisco told me to get out of uniform. The 60s decade was a turbulent time; yet it was an exciting time, too. It was a very good time to be young, a veteran, and so schooled as to not sweat the small shit. "It don't mean nothing," the motto of the Vietnam foot soldier, served to stiffen the backs of veterans. And, as former Chrysler Corp. President Lee Iococa said, "They were called and they went." Nuff said. NOW MEET SOME OF THE MEN WHO WENT

SHIP'S COMPANY ON-LINE Bill Stute David W. Totten Arthur Deschenes Larry Biddle Ronald Frazier Robert Hargrove Jerry D. Acord Harry (Bud) Douglass Art Clexton John Brewer Nick Kafasis Ron Roy Alan Johnson Adrian Dowell Dale Iwen Marcus Dunsmore Harold Black Ulias Wilson Rolland Monroe Steve Murdoch Sammy Laguitan Roger Guyton Patrick Daly Gerry Fadal Dennis Dougherty Darold Sprague Sam Lewis Robert Farley Thomas Lewis Richard Ashley Hugh McQuillan Wilburn Shaw Lou Barresi Lloyd Whittaker