Life of a Radarman on the USS Yorktown during the
cruises in the combat zone in Vietnam coastal waters

Pat Dingle OI RD3 64-68

I was a USS Yorktown radarman 3rd Class Petty Officer and also was a temporarily a Master at Arms (one of the USS Yorktown's policemen).  My life aboard was limited to the dark, cold CIC Combat Information Center and now and then lookout duty on the 07 level. At least there I got to watch flight operations and all the guys on the flight deck. Nearly four years aboard and only made it to the mess deck, hamburger line and my rack. The very fast pace action in CIC, particularly in Vietnam, I'll never forget. Stories about us under attack by two North Vietnam PT boats, our orders to proceed to Vietnam the first time, rescuing downed airmen, the time we almost beached on the coast of North Vietnam during a refueling and much more.

From bootcamp to the middle of the action.  The USS Yorktown races to Vietnam for the first time

Upon completion of boot camp at NTC, San Diego, I was sent to the USS Yorktown berthed at Pier E Long Beach California in July, 1964. I was in awe upon seeing her for the first time. What a huge ship. I came aboard to learn I had been assigned to the OI, operations intelligence div. We were the Combat Information Center or radar men along with other such duties.

It figures.  In boot camp I had requested sonar on a sub and here I was, a radar man aboard a anti-submarine ship. We left Long Beach several weeks later for a regular 6 month West-Pac cruise. We arrived in Pearl Harbor and spent about a week there. The Navy was turning out to be everything I had hoped it would be, a great job, foreign travel, exotic ports, it don't get better. But it did.

About a week out of Pearl, reroute to Japan, I was off duty in the sleeping compartment when suddenly the ship turned hard to port and picked up speed. We were doing approx. 30+ knots, you could tell by the way everything was vibrating. I thought to myself what the hell is going on?

 I knew there were no air ops scheduled. We were on a straight run to Japan. Then a boatswain whistle came over the 1MC (public address) system and then " Stand by for a special announcement" "This is the captain speaking. If all went according to plan, elements of the 7th fleet attacked North Vietnam 30 minutes ago. Our orders are to proceed to Vietnam. I don't know if we are at war or not. I'll keep you advised. That is all".

We were stunned as well as pumped up. Of course all of us were aware of the incident involving the North Vietnamese attacks on the USS Turner Joy and USS Maddox a month or so earlier but no one had ever brought up the speculation that we would ever go there. And now we are on our way at full speed. That was in January, 1965.

The Inside Story from Inside the USS Yorktown

Memorable events from our first deployment to Vietnam, three tours there, to the capture of the USS Pueblo. I left the Yorktown after that and flew to Treasure Island, San Francisco for discharge, the day before my 21st birthday. All this from the perspective of a guy in CIC, where we could "see" up to 300 miles, had all the war maps and knew where everyone was located, including North Vietnam Army sites. We had the additional advantage of radio head sets to communicate with airmen of ours and other carrier strike forces. It was quite a show for a kid in my seat.

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 Where the heck are we?

Most sailors out to sea do their duty, go to the mess decks for breakfast, lunch and dinner.  Get some ice cream at night, watch a movie and then "hit the rack."  Every day out to sea is just like the day before for the black gang down in the hole, or the yeoman in personnel.  They knew generally speaking what ocean we were in and when we would be going to a liberty port again.  But other than that, 90% of the crew had no idea where were were or what we were doing.

Much has been written about the Yorktown steaming at Point Yankee in Vietnam. I don't think we were actually ever there! As I recall, Point Yankee was an arbitrary location approximately 200 miles out in the South China Sea about due east of the area of Saigon. It was used to assign operational areas for ships of the 7th fleet. Most of the attack aircraft carriers operated off South Vietnam. The Yorktown patrolled vast areas more closely aligned with the DMZ and far north into the Gulf of Tonkin. The reason was our primary mission changed from anti-submarine warfare to that of air-sea rescue. North Vietnam did not have any subs nor much of any navy. There was however a great need for rescue work, especially as the air war escalated. All US airman soon learned that if shot up, try to fly out over water for the best chance of pick up. That's where the USS Yorktown and her Sea-King helicopters were waiting.

USS Yorktown under attack in the Gulf of Tonkin

 

I remember Bill Wages, he is a very sharp guy and was someone we all looked up to in CIC. The night of that event, I recall about 0200, Bill was on duty in the surface section of CIC while I was on the air side. I know we were on patrol off the coast of North Vietnam, well north of the DMZ, as we often were. We normally steamed anywhere from 75 to 150 miles from shore. It was during our first war patrol in Vietnam and North Vietnam waters in early 1965. I was on duty monitoring an emergency radio network in the air section of CIC when all the Flag officers rushed up and handed me a message, saying "send that out FLASH". As I took the message, I looked up and the Admiral was right there looking down at me saying "send that EMERGENCY" I keyed the mike and read the message as I broadcast "Alfa Whiskey this is Alfa Sierra, FLASH FLASH, EMERGENCY EMERGENCY, two high speed contacts closing, bearingxxx rangexxx speed 45 knots, request CAP over. It hits me we're under attack as I wait for Alfa whiskey ( USS Ranger) to respond. The Admiral and his staff  are anxious so I repeated the message. Nothing, no response from the Ranger. All I could do is shake my head, neg. They grabbed the note and took it to another radarman in another area if CIC as my radio had drifted out of frequency during the past hour. I was given that message to contact the USS Ranger who was controlling the Combat Air Patrol, CAP, whose mission was to give air cover to the whole fleet, 24-7. I don't know if it was our aircraft that took the boats out or the CAP. I remember I stayed hours after my watch was over just to listen in on the after action and capture of the enemy sailors. I stayed after my watch to listen in on the after action as the USN tried to rescue the North Vietnamese sailors. One of our helicopter requested permission to shoot the sailors in the water who refused help. Permission denied, so one of our destroyers put a small boat in the water and fished them out. Several years later I read in Stars & Stripes that there had been a POW swap of 500 South Vietnamese for 25 sailors from the North. That had to be the ones who came out in the Gulf of Tonkin that night to attack the Yorktown. Had they been Chinese and not North Vietnam, that would have been an international event the world would know about. One last detail, The Yorktown did not go to General Quarters ("all hands man your battle stations") during that attack so I think the PT boats were still some miles away from us when the US Navy got them.
 
I think it was our second tour in Vietnam when I became friends with the ships Air Intelligence Officer or AIO. We were in a small class learning to speak Russian, taught by the ships doctor. At the time I wanted to join the CIA upon discharge. Yeah I know, who didn't. Anyway, I made arrangements with the AIO to go out on patrol in a Sea King the following week as a ride along. Several days later, one of the helicopters was lost off the coast of North Vietnam. Within a day or two we found some wreckage including the pilot's seat with his torso still strapped in.

It's my recollection that the incident was deemed shot down by enemy fire. I personally was not involved but I remember we had CPOs on some of the radar stations in CIC for a day or two until things got back to "normal". Right after that the policy changed and ride along were no longer allowed to go out with air crews so I missed that opportunity. It's important to know this story is not about me but the tragic loss of a USS Yorktown airman.

If We Ain't Here, Where Are We?

 

During the Yorktown's first Vietnam war patrol in early 1965, we were operating north of the DMZ (De-Militarized Zone) and deep into the Gulf of Tonkin. CIC (Combat Information Center) had numerous maps on very large plexiglass boards that we would track bogies (enemy airplanes), known SAM (surface to air missile) sites, potential targets etc. As a young seaman, it was often my duty station to stand behind the boards with sound powered phones on and mark the location, speed, course of whatever the guys on the radar scopes were tracking. The officers, flag and staff, would have the big picture by glancing at my maps from across the very dark room. The maps were lit internally so only the outline and my marks were visible.

I remember we were there many months with an occasional port call then right back to duty. Once, we steamed so far into the Gulf that Hanoi and Haiphong were just to our north west, well within range of our radar and the Red Chinese island of Hainan was to our east. I was tracking communist jets all over the area north of Hanoi and in southern China. This was before the air war really picked up and we were shooting them out of the sky.

It was about this time I received a letter from home. My mother had enclosed an article from the local newspaper. It was datelined Washington DC and quoted a Pentagon spokesman as saying there are no USN ships in the Gulf of Tonkin. Say what? I showed the clipping to everyone and we all had a big laugh over it. We tried to argue with our officers that all our equipment sucked and didn't work and they all had to agree, newspapers and spokesmen don't lie. I remember that article stayed posted in CIC for weeks until the joke wore off.

After 1965 I don't recall we ever traveled that far north again although Yorktown aircraft and helicopters did on a regular basis for air-sea rescue. I read on the Yorktown website we had picked up over 100 downed airman during our tours of duty in Vietnam.

 

Pat Dingle OI RD3 64-68

 
When radarmen first report aboard they're assigned simply duties in CIC to see what they can do and what they need to be taught. Some guys pick it up quickly while others take more time to get it right. For the first few months most seamen have Petty Officers within a few feet of them watching very close and would take over if things got hairy and the boot could watch and see how it was done. How long all this takes to learn depends on how much time we had at sea cause a radarman is worthless in port when CIC is shut down but that's another story.

I must have picked it up well enough because I soon had some good stations in CIC. It may have helped that I had the attention span of a gerbil so sitting at a scope watching the sweep go round and round was entertaining. It was like a new picture every 30 seconds.

One of my favorite duty stations was the long range emergency air search radar. There I had my scope, a radio headset tuned to the emergency net and above me, a radio signal direction finder. I could see and hear for several hundred miles and if conditions were right, three hundred miles. I was not on sound power phones connected to everyone else on the CIC system. That station was within ten feet of others yet it seemed isolated and totally focused. When a pilot was hit, I was the second one to know and his rescue may depend on what I do.

The static in my headset was broken a number of times with "MAYDAY, MAYDAY." I did about five things at once. I would look at the direction finder above me to see if it picked up the signal. If it did, I'd adjust the dial to get the bearing from the Yorktown and write it on my scope. At the same time I would call out MAYDAY so the guy at the other end of CIC on the sea chart could mark the location of the Yorktown at that moment. At the same time I would see if the sweep on my scope picked up the emergency IFF sent out from the hit plane. If it did, I'd run my "bug" to that weak signal on the scope. That would give us the distance of the plane from the Yorktown. If all that happened at once, we would know where that plane was in relation to the Yorktown. I would be on that pilot or pilots until they went down or out of range. Then it was up to others and fate.

Sometimes I would see the emergency IFF for one or two sweeps then nothing. Sometimes I would hear the pilots say MAYDAY then nothing.

All of those shotdown were over North Vietnam, if they could fly out to the gulf, they had a chance of rescue by us or by some other means.
 

 

 

Yorktown Nearly Beaches in North Vietnam

 

It was 1966 and our second tour of duty in Vietnam. We were steaming about in the South China Sea in our patrol area in the vicinity of the DMZ. I'm now a seasoned seaman with two years in CIC. About midday I stepped out on a catwalk to watch the refueling operations going on. A Navy tanker was along our starboard side about a hundred feet away with all those hoses, ropes and stuff connecting the two ships. That was always a cool thing to watch.

Shortly, I went back inside to go on duty in CIC. When you enter, you're in a small, dark anteroom lit with red night lights. Your eyes had to adjust before entering the very dark CIC. My watch that day was to man the main surface radar scope.

Protocol requires you to stand behind the man you're relieving and have him explain each and every contact on the radar scope. Every blip had a designation, course, speed, and priority. As this was going on I asked about the mass to the west of us. He replied " that's weather". I just stood there looking at that mass. Something didn't look right to me. The guy started to get up and I told him to wait a minute, I wanted to check something.

I walked over to the sea plot table that showed the Yorktown as a moving dot of light under a chart. I looked at that then up at a gage that showed our course and speed, then back to the chart and it hit me. "OH SHIT!" I turned to the watch officer and told him, "that's not 'weather.' That North Vietnam!" He looked at his scope in front of him and I watched as his eyes got really big. He immediately called up to the bridge and informed the Capt.

As I was relieving my guy, the PA system came on with EMERGENCY BRAKE AWAY, EMERGENCY BRAKE AWAY. Now that mass was about fifteen miles away as we made a really hard turn to port. I was told later that the deck crew had used axes to cut the ropes and hoses from the tanker. At this point lookouts reported palm trees on the horizon.

I don't know how far forward the Yorktown travels while making a turn but I know it's a ways. My guess is we came about ten miles from the coast of North Vietnam. At the time, we were around fifty to one hundred north of the DMZ.

All's well that ends well. Would anyone like to speculate as to what might have happened if the USS Yorktown had run aground on that coast in 1966? I have from time to time these past forty years

When I walked ten feet or less from my station to the chart table and looked at it, I saw the moving light (bug) that was us. The chart showed the coast of N Vietnam a short distance to the west. I looked up just over my head, above the chart, and saw our course was westward and our speed was (guessing now) about 15-18 knots. We're going to meet with short bad guys in no time.

Again, I left out the part that the CIC watch officer was sitting at his own radar scope about 5 feet from the chart and was watching the "weather" approaching for at least the last hour or so. When I (an E-3) told him that's not weather, that's North Vietnam, his eyes got big and he immediately notified the bridge. He did not question me at all. Thinking back, I assume my look and tone told him all he needed to know to act. Thinking back, I guess his ass would have been on the line had we beached.

As I took my chair at the scope, I heard EMERGENCY BREAKAWAY repeated several times on the 1MC and within about 5-8 minutes or so the Yorktown made a very hard turn to port. I was busy tracking our ships nearby and calling out positions, CPAs (closest point of approach) on the sound power phones to be charted in CIC and bridge so the Captain and other officers in charge will know what the hell is around us. CIC ain't all combat information ya know.

I had been watching the underway rep from a catwalk just before going inside to go on duty so I know they had a lot of thick ropes, a bunch of heavy fuel hoses, mail or airdale on a pulley kind of thing going between the two ships, stuff boatswain mates know how to do. I was told later in my shift that they had used axes to cut all ropes and fuel lines and that fuel had spilled all over the deck as they were chopping away. The oiler was still pumping until they got the word we're turning...right now.

Pat Dingle OI RD3 64-68

USS Yorktown and the UFO

 

This is a story about a curious event that took place about 1966. We were days out of Pearl Harbor enroute to Japan for a port call then on to Vietnam. I was one of four lookouts on duty on the 07 level, two forward, two aft. I was on the forward station.

We were steaming west with our four destroyer escorts on station approx. 2-3 miles out, each on our quarter beams. It was about 2200 hours and the weather was balmy with clear skies. There was no activity; just a straight run to Japan.

The other lookout and I looked up and saw a light in the sky coming towards us from the port side! We were surprised because CIC had not said anything to us about an approaching aircraft. It looked like a bright landing light coming at us. We called down to CIC on the sound power phones and reported the aircraft. They responded with "negative, no plane on radar" Meanwhile the light kept coming closer and getting bigger.

Picture: Not what was seen

The light is now almost overhead and rather large. Then it stopped. It just stayed over us for several minutes with no sounds coming from it. CIC kept insisting there was nothing showing up on radar. The bridge watch was also reporting the light as was the two aft lookouts. We were all on the same phone system.

After several minutes of hovering over us, the bright light went much brighter and lit up the entire task group almost like daylight. We looked at each other and said "we don't have anything that can do this and they [the Russians] don't have anything like this. What the hell is it". Now the whole ocean and destroyers were lit up for a number of square miles. The really bright light went off leaving the original stationary light as it was. Then it started to move from port to starboard and then shot away and faded from sight within several seconds. All this without a sound.

I estimate that between the guys on duty aboard the Yorktown and four destroyers, there had to be a least a hundred guys that witnessed that incident. Now I have to tell you I'm the kind of guy that has to kick the tires before I can tell you what I saw. All I know is what I just related. I'm curious know if any readers of this site saw that or if Brian S. knows if we or the Russian had anything flying those days without sound and evade radar. And no, I've never seen anything like that before or since.

 

Another UFO amazingly similar encounter with a US Navy aircraft carrier 1971 click here

Liberty in every sailor's favorite port; Hong Kong

During another liberty, about four of us from OI were exploring the mean streets of Hong Kong down by the docks. We came out of an alley full of small shops to a dead end. We were now on the docks with cargo ships on one side and warehouses on the other. There were many more junks at that location then there were foreign ships. As salty sailors, we didn't feel like backtracking so we went ahead thinking we'll just hang a left at the next alley. Little did we know the next alley out was about a mile away or so it seemed.

We had just started our walk along the dock, taking in all the sights and smells, when we were noticed by all the "longshoremen". I've seldom seen more daggers coming out of someone's eyes outside of a cartoon. These little commie thugs must not have liked American sailors and did they ever let it show. They kinda filled in behind us shouting out something we thought was unkind. It sounded like what they were about to do to us or, at the least, what they wanted to do. At this point we were committed to keep walking ahead rather then turn and confront the gathering mob.

 There were nothing but high walls on our left and dirty Hong Kong water on our right. the dock was about forty feet wide. The band of brothers following us was getting louder and larger as we went along. Every Chinese on every junk stopped what they were doing and just watched. Some joined in but not on our side. Many had those hook things in their hands and would wave them at us. They stayed about twenty feet behind as we kept a normal pace and heartbeat.

That's about all I remember 'cept we finally came to an alley, hung a left and got swallowed up in a million Chinese on the streets. Nothing to it, we just never took another stroll along the docks of Hong Kong again.

I guess those coolies don't like to be distracted while working.

 

"Welcome to my Web said the spider to the Yorktown Sailor..."

Me looking around my den at a poster of a Soviet female factory worker with her index finger to her lips with Russian text I think says "loose lips sinks ships", my Order of Lenin medal, my East German police badge and the Soviet fur hat with the Red Star hammer/sickle emblem embedded in the front, reminded me of the night I was nearly nabbed by the Commies.

Being an old China hand when this incident took place may have saved my young ass from reading Mao's little Red Book in the original text. More times then not, when the Yorktown hit port in westpac, I would take off alone exploring the areas well off the beaten path. I would go where my smarter shipmates dared not venture. I was reading James Bond books at the time and they weren't. That and the fact I was kinda cute but not too bright.

This time in Hong Kong I went over to Kowloon and kept walking west out of the downtown area and into the native or coolie parts of Kowloon. I could tell the folks there were not used to seeing American sailors in that part of town by the hard looks I got by most people. As they didn't say or do anything, I kept on taking in the smells and sights as I walked deeper into their hood.

After several hours of walking I was getting a bit thirsty so I kept an eye out of a place to wet my whistle. This area was really rundown but packed with small shops, apartments and narrow streets, what I knew as alleys back home in the USA. I finally came across a hole in the wall kind of dive with a Coke sign out front. It's been hours since I've seen anything with English on it but it's the same everywhere in the world; Coke means food or booze, maybe both.

I walked into the dim, grungy little joint and sat at on a stool at the bar. The place was empty except for the guy behind the bar. Judging by his reaction to me sitting there I would guess he had never seen a sailor before. He came over jabbering something so I said 7-7, which also works any where in the world. Not having any destination in mind, I decided here I am, so start drinking. A few Chinese guys came in but left quickly. I guess they didn't like the bartender.

After a hour or so a middle European guy in his forties came in and sat a few stools down from me. He spoke English with a heavy accent and said he was off a ship in the harbor but spoke Chinese pretty good as far as I could tell. We soon were talking about China, politics etc but nothing about Vietnam. I was studying Mao, the Long March and what not as a "China Watcher" aboard ship so I was interested in this guy's take on things as he seems to live here.

 Hours and many 7-7s later the guy asked me just what did I do aboard the Yorktown. I replied radarman and let it go at that. We were trained and cautioned to never discuss duty while ashore. He never asked a thing about my duty after that first question but shortly asked if I wanted to sneak across the border nearby and spend some time in the real China, not England's colony. He quickly added he knew the border guards at a spot nearby where we could get across for a little while and I would not get into trouble for "going over". Nobody would know I was in Red China.

Yeah, Right. Me at 6'1" dressed in a white Navy uniform wouldn't be noticed. I may be semi-drunk but I'm not that stupid. I didn't react at all to that effort to turn me over to the Commies but GQ was sounding in my head. I said something about that would be an adventure of a life time but I have to report back aboard ship shortly so lets do it tomorrow when I have more time. We agreed to meet at this same bar about noon the next day, had a drink on it and I got the hell out of there. I knew we were very close to the border and I knew there were enough Chi-Com guys in that bar at the moment to force a kidnap. Better to agree to go willing the next day and say it like I meant it.

The next day I must have forgot the meeting cause I got laid over on the Hong Kong side instead of getting screwed by Commies on the Kowloon side and worse in Red China.

 

After Liberty in Manila, the Phillipines

A month or so ago I wrote a short sea story about when the Yorktown participated in S.E.A.T.O. exercises during May-June 1966 in the South China Sea. It wasn't much of a story cause what can you say about steaming around with Brits and Aussies but it did bring to mind something important to all of us, liberty.

All the ships pulled into Manila bay for liberty and on the first day liberty boats took us ashore. We knew we had to act fast because liberty was over at midnight and it took the boats a hour or so to get from the ship to the docks. We went ashore that afternoon and hit the bars. Sometime that evening, while bar hopping, us guys from OI div. found a bar that had a lot of Aussie sailors in it and there we stayed. Everyone was drunk and having a good time. I was talking to two Aussies and found out they had to sign up for six years in order to join the navy as that was considered "easy" duty. Well I can tell you we had many a drink on the injustice of that.

Sometime during the evening guys started swapping hats. Everybody thought that was the funniest thing they had ever done. Switching navies was never easier. The Aussie I was drinking and I had the same thought at the same moment. Right there in the middle of the bar we stripped down to our skivvies and traded full uniforms to the cheers of those around us. After that I was sure I was talking with a perfect Aussie accent and the drinks kept coming.

About 2200 Shore Patrol came around telling us it was time to head to the docks. Of course everyone objected but because we all were in a good mood, after another drink or two we did start making our way to the liberty boats. In fact we went enmass, Aussie and Americans, just to continue the party. At the docks we all boarded the same liberty boat as we were one tight crew that night.

The boat first stopped at a Aussie ship and 5-6 of those guys reluctantly went aboard. Now the whole group of about fifty guys in the boat began to realize the night was coming to an end and the mood changed. We wanted to keep our new friends and the Aussies wanted to serve with us on the Yorktown. Besides, they were wearing American Navy hats so they had a right to join our Navy. All this time I was standing near the back of the boat just taking it all in as I weaved back and forth on wobbly sea legs.

By the time we reached the next Aussie ship to unload the rest of the Aussie sailors they didn't want to go. The boat pulled up to the sea ladder and only a couple of guys stepped on. Their OOD began shouting orders to come aboard and one by one they did. There was a bunch of big guys on the ship to control the sailors as they reached the deck and I thought this must happen a lot. One or two Aussies held out and wouldn't go aboard without an argument. The OOD and others up there were really pissed off and insults were passed back and forth. Most of the Americans in the boat were starting to get into it as well. The last of the Aussies finally went aboard and were grabbed by sailors and manhandled down below. I've never seen anything like that in my life.

I thought it was all over but the OOD and others were still screaming and shaking their fists. I couldn't figure out what was going on. Then I finally realized all their attention was on me. What the hell did I do. There they are standing at the top of the sea ladder demanding I come aboard. I'm trying to look indignant while saying I'm an American over the loud cheers and jeers of everyone in the liberty boat. Well they couldn't hear me and I had forgotten I was wearing a complete Aussie uniform. When the OOD shouted down to me that I was under arrest I realized this was getting serious. The guys in the boat must have thought so too because things got quite for a moment. I knew I had to do something, I wasn't getting through to the OOD and his back-up. I did the only thing I could, I shouted at the top of my lungs, FUCK YOU.

Oh Christ, they're all scrambling down the sea ladder to board us, capture me and slap me in irons aboard a foreign ship. Thank God the Bosun driving our liberty boat must have thought my response was very American because as they hit the bottom of the ladder, the Bosun backed the boat up about ten feet and I was safe. It was bedlam aboard the boat as we escaped that Aussie ship and made our way back to the Yorktown. Half the guys were giving me a thumbs up and slapping me on the back while the other half threw up over the side.

We all made it back and I climbed the Yorktown's sea ladder with the rest and requested permission to come aboard. I remember our JOOD just shaking his head and looking a little sad as he motioned for me to go below. I can remember thinking just before I crashed that I now have cool Aussie uniform, I'm in my very own rack aboard my ship and had that night risen to the occasion and had acted in the best tradition of the United States Navy.


 

"All I knew was that an American pilot had died."

There were approximately 30 duty stations in CIC while underway, divided by the surface picture and the air picture. A third small secret room was electronics counter measures, or ECM. Lookouts and bridge watch rounded out our duties.
One night, off the coast of North Vietnam, I was manning the emergency long range air search radar watching for any activity. I also wore a radio headset tuned to the all services, ie. Air Force, Navy, Marines, emergency network.
All of a sudden there was an emergency blip on my radar screen about 200 miles out and deep in North Vietnam. I marked my scope as a voice came over my headset "Mayday, Mayday, Mayday".

Then the pilot went into a bored, sing-song voice "Mayday... Mayday... Mayday....", as he was going down.

That was it. The blip disappeared and not another word was heard.


The jet blew up or flew into the ground just moments after being hit. By the sound of the pilots voice, I knew he realized there was nothing he could do and was resigned to his fate.
That incident occurred in the span of approx. 20 seconds and that moment in time will remain with me the rest of my life.

I never knew who he was or what branch of service he was in.

I just knew an American pilot died.

Another pilot goes down but much different results

I think it was in 1966 during our second tour off the coast of North Vietnam near the DMZ when this incident took place. I've mentioned several times that in combat zones CIC stayed at modified GQ. That means we stood watch for 5 hrs on, 7 hrs off, 7 hrs on, 5 hrs off the entire time the Yorktown was on station. That meant radarmen could sleep a few hours twice a day, take a shower and grab a bite on the way to go on duty. That was just fine with us and anytime I was away from CIC I felt I was missing out on all the action there. There were boring times in CIC but not many.

I came on duty one evening before dark and was relieving my guy on the long range air search radar and air search radio. He was telling me about a rescue under way in North Vietnam miles inland from the coast. There were two helicopters on the scene and the pilot of the downed jet was still on the ground.  OK, I got it, you're relieved. We were not directly involved, just monitoring the situation and briefing the CIC watch officer.

I sat down at the scope and put on the radio headset and within minutes it was a whole different picture. The pilot bailed out of his aircraft and came to earth on top of a small, wooded hill. There were too many trees so the helicopters couldn't land to pick him up. Red Plateau: Memoir of a North Vietnamese SoldierThey reported he was alive, jumping up and down and waving his arms over his head.

Just then the second chopper reported hundreds of NVA soldiers arrived, surrounded the base of the small hill and were firing at the rescue crews. If that wasn't bad enough, it's now getting too dark to lower a sling to the downed pilot. I'm going bugshit in a safe, air conditioned space 150 miles away and there's nothing I can do.

The helicopters reported they were taking too much ground fire, it was too dark and the entire hill was surrounded by the NVA (North Vietnam Army) and they were moving up the hill to the pilot. He was still on top jumping up and down waving at the choppers. The rescue was called off and the choppers were ordered to return to base. I distinctly remember screaming in my head NO, NO you can't leave him. All I could think about was that pilot watching his rescue fly away, knowing his enemies were coming up to get him. Bugshit doesn't really describe me but it's close. I went off duty at the end of my watch and just lay in my bunk playing it over and over in my head.

The next morning, before daylight, I was back on watch at the same station. As I took over I was told there had been no activity on his watch. And so it goes in CIC. An hour or so later there was radio traffic, the choppers are back to try again at daylight. I thought too little and way too late but I was glad they returned. As the sun came up they moved in and reported all the NVA had left during the night. Well no shit. why wait for napalm, I'm thinking to myself. Then a rescue chopper excitedly reported "I see him, he's alive" That downed airman was still on top of the small hill and started jumping up and down again upon hearing the choppers. They lowered a sling and pulled him up to safety. Now I'm bugshit all over again but this time in a very happy way. Good thing I was a teenager at the time. My heart couldn't take it now.
 

That pilot had burrowed into the ground as the NVA soldiers made their way to his location. He was actually stepped on several times during the night as they beat the bush looking for him. He was described as a "human mole." And he made it out alive to tell the story.
 

I'm writing this today, Father's Day 2006, 40 years later, with the hope that pilot went on to raise a large family, has grandchildren and he's home now enjoying it.  Lets keep a good thought for him. He went through a lonely hell that night.

Just thinking back this morning to forty two years ago to March, 1965. When I started posting here a year or two ago I just wrote short stories of events as I remembered them, hoping guys like Dean would correct my errors. (he did). Now, with more extensive research (watching the military channel on TV) I've got a better understanding of what the Yorktown did in the Vietnam War.

The Gulf of Tonkin incident involving the USS Turner Joy and USS Maddox took place on Aug 4th 1964. I was in bootcamp at the time and recall being informed about it during class. I'm sure we all wanted to go then and there to kick ass on the commie bastards but our 1st class CC kept us in line and on base.

Following bootcamp I was assigned to the Yorktown in Long Beach as a radarman in OI div. Not long after reporting aboard, we left for a routine west-pac cruise in late 1964 and Vietnam was just another place of unrest in the world that had nothing to do with us. As far as I knew. During that west-pac tour, in Jan 1965, Navy and Air Force planes made a limited attack on North Vietnam. That's when the Yorktown received orders to steam full speed to Vietnam (see story above)

We arrived in Vietnam waters in Feb 1965 and patrolled the North Vietnam coast and far north in the Gulf of Tonkin. The attack carriers of the 7th fleet were stationed to the south off of point Yankee. All this was long before the Marines landed or a large Army buildup (now called surge). The air strikes being conducted on a limited bases were running into air defenses that were knocking our guys out of the sky. There wasn't anything in place at the time to rescue downed airmen over North Vietnam. That's when our mission changed from anti-sub warfare to search and rescue. The Yorktown was there in Feb for a major air war called Rolling Thunder, starting in March 1965, forty two years ago.

Jets from the Yorktown took part in air strikes as I've written about. One of our Sea King choppers was shot down with all the crew lost. I was tracking Migs, NVA SAM sites, seeing our guys on my scope get hit, hearing the last words of some of our pilots as they went down, doing my part in the pickup and rescue, watching for threats from North Vietnam, not far to the west of us, etc etc.

That was March, 1965. The following month, April, I had been in the Navy 11 months and turned 18 yrs old. I can't think of any place I'd rather be on that birthday but in CIC aboard the USS Yorktown doing my duty. Anyway, that's what I'm thinking about this morning, 42 years later, and thought I would share those thoughts with other former, old sailors of the USS Yorktown.

I would never disobey a direct order. There are, however, other ways to get around all those Navy rules and regs. The story I'm writing only applies to officers. Never try this on 1st Class POs or Chiefs, they've been there and already done this more times then you've had years on earth.

During the 1966 tour to Westpac and Vietnam I was a salty seaman on my second full tour. Everyone knew liberty in port was over by 0000 (midnight Warren) and you had to be on board by then. No exceptions for guys of our lowly rank and everyone of us knew that was just wrong ( one of many injustices we had to endure).

While at sea I received a letter from a sweet young ho I met in a bar in Tokyo. She was learning to write in English and did get her thoughts of what she wanted to do to my body across quite well.I was highly inspired. The Yorktown was due to pull into Sasebo in a week and I needed to get to Tokyo. You'll remember Sasebo was on another island hundreds of miles from Tokyo. What's a guy to do?.....so I did.

I went directly to my division commander, a LTJG, and explained how I had met this Christian family the last time we were in Japan and how they had invited me to spend a week with them the next time the famous USS Yorktown came back to Japan and how it would be such an honor for them to have me stay with them, etc etc etc. This went on for a good ten minutes as I displayed my most innocent look while talking trash about "good relation between the USN and local, Christian Family Values".

That LTJG just sat behind his desk looking at me without saying a word but I could tell he was thinking it's his duty to find a flaw in my story. I knew I had to stop talking and put the burden on him to decide this request before he could get to the 1st class PO or Chief for advice. His eyes lite up ( he thought he had me) and ask to see the LETTER.

I'm dead but my body language didn't give me away cause he couldn't see my nuts being sucked up. I gave him a snappy salute, said AYE AYE Sir ( that should have tipped him off, I never did that before) and went down to my locker to get the LETTER, the one that told all the nasty things she wanted to do to me. I took it out of the locker and reread it hoping some how the words had changed. They hadn't.

Every sailor has had that moment in time when you're committed, through no fault of your own, mostly, and all you can do is full steam ahead, come what may. I took the incriminating letter back up to the LTJG and handed it over. I stood at attention as he handled the envelope, turning it over, looking at the post mark (Tokyo), looking at the writing, obviously not written by someone versed in English. To say it was a tense time.......he opened the envelope and started to pull the LETTER out to read it. And stopped.

There is a Sailor God, and gentlemen officers who don't read other's mail. The LTJG just handed it back to me and said "permission granted". Within the hour I told the Chief the Division Commander granted me a weeks leave, the paperwork was done and my nuts came home.

When we hit port I was gone in a flash, traveled on trains, ended up in Nagasaki, had a great time and reported back aboard the Yorktown in time to resume my duty to the United States Navy. Did I ever get to Tokyo? Of course not, ya can't get there from Sasebo. Oh yeah, I'm also glad the LTJG in charge of CIC never thought to look at a map.

Fighting the War on Drugs-one supplier at a time
"I was a drug buyer for Uncle Sam's Navy"


Editor's note: Pat Dingle became an undercover policeman while in the Navy.  He was sent ashore to buy drugs and thus expose who the drug sellers were.  A dangerous assignment in the Navy but it was the beginning of a life as a policeman once he was discharged from the Navy.

I almost always wore civilian garb, blue jeans, black leather jacket (Harley Davidson, still have it) M/C boots etc. That's what I was wearing when I went to boot camp but they made me ship it home the next day. I had a locker downtown like most guys where I would change out from uniform to civvies.

I rode a '59 Triumph 650cc with "ape hangers" & straight pipes, no mufflers or drove my '55 Chevy 2dr so I was able to work all over southern Calif. The further ya got away from Long Beach the less you looked like a sailor but the bottom line was ya ain't a hippy so you have to be in someone's army. Most of the time they would suspect I was a cop at first, being somewhat paranoid types, but a little good BS and Navy ID would save my butt from getting kicked, burned or blown away.

Play-acting a sailor? I was a sailor!

My cover, if I needed one, was I knew sailors aboard ship that did drugs and I wanted to be their source. I didn't do drugs myself but I could make a bundle selling when we went to sea. The dealers understood that logic. The thing to never forget while working undercover is keep it as real as you can. And, have very good instincts. Mine have saved my life many times over the years.

In early 1967 the Yorktown returned to port in Long Beach from her second tour in Vietnam and Westpac. She was to spend much of '67 in dry dock, I have no idea why. I spent nearly the entire time as a MAA on the beach, TAD to ONI, and would only sleep and eat on board the Yorktown when I wanted to or was broke. It was a very convoluted chain of command thing but the Navy insisted that I let someone know if I was alive or not at least now and then. Of course I resisted the idea of any restrictions on my time, whereabouts or investigations. Hell, I didn't know what I was doing so why should the Navy? Being the good RD3 I was, I just said AYE AYE and went off to do my thing.

Late in the year the Yorktown was to go out to sea for a week for sea trials. I was hot on the trail of some civilian bad guys and couldn't leave for a week. I went to the XO, Capt Smith and explained the situation to him. He had orders cut for me to be assigned to the transit barracks on base and to report to the base legal officer once a day by telephone, without explanation. (undercover ONI agents be ghost like).

All went according to plan, the Yorktown left to do all that Navy stuff, I disappeared into the shadows of Long Beach or maybe it was that movie theater on Beach Blvd, can't remember. Anyway, I would stay out most of the night when evil people were doing evil things and sleep during the day. I was calling the base legal officer once a day and had checked into the transit barracks. I had a small room all to myself and life was good as it should be. That was the first day.

On the morning of the second day, real early, I was rudely woken by a 1st Class PO who seemed enraged by my slumber. He starts yelling for me to get my ass up and turn to. I think I calmly told him I worked all night and I'm going back to sleep. Not what he wanted to hear. By his reaction I would think that was the first time anyone ever told him to buzz off. Personally I've never seen a 1st Class PO that pissed off before. He's bouncing about yelling I'm in charge of these here barracks, your ass is mine, you work for ME. The Navy has to have an acting school for 1st Class POs and Chiefs to be that good.

Being a lowly RD3, I did raise up on my elbow then calmly said I don't work for you, get out of my room and call the base legal officer. He stopped cold, stared at me a while then backed out and shut the door without another word being said. I went back to sleep without a care in the world.

I saw that PO a day or two later in the hallway. He saw me too and froze. The look on his face told me he did in fact call the legal officer. I have no idea what the officer told him about me but what ever it was, it sure chilled his shit. Not a word was spoken by either of us as I nodded to him on my way out the door. I never saw him again. Other then that time I always obeyed orders, mostly.

Makes me wonder how he's telling the story today on his ship's forum.

Getting the "respect" I deserve and then a swift "comeuppance"

In 1967 the USS Yorktown had completed two full tours in Westpac and Vietnam, made a run to the Philippines, unescorted, to return shot up aircraft to the USA for repair, all during my time aboard. Now it was time for our ship to spend most of 1967 in the dry-dock at Long Beach for repair. I have no idea just what was repaired during those many months. I only came aboard sometimes to eat, sleep or get paid.

Upon our return to the states I was a MAA assigned to the Office of Naval Intelligence (ONI) (read story above) as an undercover narcotic agent or "nark" to many of you...then. I was told at the time I was the first sailor to start this "pilot program" so there were no policies in place, we made it up as we went along. Working as a lone ranger reporting to no one but our XO or ONI now and then was a heady place to be for me. I was, as they say, to the manor born. I really took advantage of the situation for most of 1967.

At one point I was told to go to the Navy base in San Diego for a meeting. I don't remember the reason but it lasted most of the day. Afterwards I remember thinking I could drive back to the LA area during heavy traffic or hang out in San Diego for a while and go back later in the evening. Then it hit me, I was right next door to the Naval Training Center, NTS, my old boot camp. The one that tore me down then built me back up as a sailor in mid 1964. It might be fun to walk over and visit my old barracks. That's a good plan.

I walked through the gate in to the parade grounds. The time was late afternoon and classes were out for the day. There were "boots" all over the place just milling about in groups of 3-4. I cut across the grounds heading for my barracks thinking I'm glad I'm a salt now and don't have to put up with this crap anymore. I may have been a little smug at the moment, given where I've been, what I've done, and my current secret assignment. That and my hat had the right salty curl on the rim.

I was day dreaming as I approached the first group of boots who startled me by saluting. I looked around then realized it's me they're saluting. I just walked on thinking what the hell? then it hit me. I'm a 3rd Class Petty Officer, they have to salute me in boot camp. Twenty feet later another group saluted me and this time I returned it with a very salty salute of my own. Sometimes I'm quick on the uptake and can recognize an opportunity when I see one. There are hundreds of boots out here. My plan was to make every one of them salute me.

I set off in a zig-zag pattern in order to walk past all of them boots so they could see for the first time just how a real salt sailor salutes. If I'm not mistaken, I also stuck out my chest somewhat so they could get a gander of my row of ribbons. Trust me, it don't get better. I'm walking fast, having the time of my life with so many recruits standing at attention saluting ME.

That's when I heard it. ARank Insignia loud, deep booming voice surrounding me, coming from afar. I heard it again, this time the words. It said "WHAT TA HELL ARE YOU DOING?" I looked around and saw a short 1st Class PO scurrying across the parade grounds towards me. Then I noticed the look on his face, very red, and the fact he had more hash marks on his sleeve then I had years on earth. I thought oh shit, what did I do?, couldn't be me.

 ChevronsI just stood there kinda baffled as he ran up to me and got in my face, towering over me. Well, actually he only came up to my chest but you know how an E-6 or above can seem to tower over a guy, 'specially an innocent guy like me. He chewed my ass as he demanded to know just what the hell I was doing on HIS parade grounds. For the first few minutes he didn't slow down enough for me to answer, then when I did, that just set him off all over again. I think the message he was trying to tell me was once you leave boot camp, thou shall not come back as a lowly 3rd class PO and screw with his troops. It took him forever to say it but OK, I got it, jeez.

I turned my sorry, humbled ass around and walked back to the gate area, never having the chance to see my old barracks. Along the way I continued to return the salutes of the boots I encountered but somehow it wasn't as much fun on my way out as it was going in. Not with a 1st Class PO burning a hole in my back with his eyes the whole way. It was a lonely ride back to the LA area but I got my mind right, went back to adventure, romance and intrigue, the day I was taken down a notch or two behind me.

The End

In 1968 I knew San Francisco for so many reasons although I had never been there. It was the "Happening Scene", the "Love In", the center of the Cultural Revolution sweeping America. (Pictures by shipmate Warren.) It was the birth of the Hippie Movement, make love, not war, (we knew you could do both). San Francisco was symbolic of sex, drugs and rock & roll to the nation. To sailors of the 7th fleet, it was symbolic of back to the real world and discharge.

During the time I was aboard the USS Yorktown, every deployment from Long Beach to westpac and Vietnam, someone in CIC would post "CONUS" (continental United States) and the number of days until we were due to return, on one or more of our chart boards. This was always done before we were out of the Long Beach harbor. The number would be something like 230 days the day we left but, events in Vietnam some how added weeks or months to each tour. Every time you first went on watch in CIC, your eyes scanned over dozens of dials, gages, charts and the CONUS.
The data was different each watch.

When the Yorktown left again in Dec. 1967, I was what many guys aspire to and Chiefs hate, a short-timer. The fact of my past 6-7 months as a lone ranger with ONI didn't help my attitude or relationships. I seemed to have lost that "team spirit" and 1st class POs and Chiefs mysterious knew, beats me how. Anyway, I'm a RD3, the senior guy in CIC, I know my shit and can hang in there, do my duty until April when my time is up then adios. What could go wrong when a guy's got a plan?

January 27th, 1968, 24 hours away, in the Sea of Japan, USS Pueblo attacked, calling for help. Yorktown en route at best speed, every other ship is days to a week away.
My team spirit came back with a vengeance to say the least. January 31, TET goes down in Vietnam, CIC is the hub of all this intel and I've never been more cranked up in my life. Reports come to me saying every sailor west of Chicago is extended until further notice. I spit on such information, they couldn't pry me off the Yorktown.

Well, that was then. I wont rehash the Pueblo story here but by the time we left the area I was one pissed off sailor. I have little to no memory of the next few months until we had to put into Yokosuka for an unscheduled stop approx. April 20th.

Me and three other guys I didn't know all walked off the ship that first day with orders to Treasure Island in San Francisco for discharge. We took a Navy bus on the base to an Air Force base nearby. There, late that night, we boarded a civilian jet airliner filled with servicemen and took off heading east at 500 mph. It was the first time I had ever flown in my life. It was great. I wouldn't, couldn't sleep for fear of missing a star or cloud or anything else I watched out the window. I'm flying to San Francisco.

We touched down in Hawaii at the Honolulu airport and went through customs while the plane refuelled early the next morning. The four of us Yorktown sailors stayed together and just hung out by the boarding gate. None of us wanted to miss our flight to San Francisco and the real world. The plane took off after several hours, we all knew the next stop would be Travis AFB about a hour out of San Francisco, home to Treasure Island, the base where sailors get discharged. There was very little talking on that plane. I guess everyone was keeping their thoughts to themselves. I know I was.

We landed at Travis that afternoon with the normal confusion of paper work, finding your sea bag and asking anyone where do we go from here? The four of us Yorktown sailors were still together at that point. We were told we could wait for a Navy bus to take us to TI or we could take a cab now at our expense. We all just looked at each other and jumped in a cab without a word. All of us were rather tense by that time and didn't say a word during the drive. The driver knew better then to say anything to these four up tight sailors with things on their mind. Chances are he didn't speak English anyway and if he did, we didn't want to hear it. Not this close to San Francisco.

As we drove down the eight lane freeway, I looked ahead to a highway sign with an arrow pointing San Francisco, right lanes. As we eased over to the right lane and approached the SF sign, the driver, at that very moment reached up to his transistor radio on the dashboard and turned it on as we headed to the city. The number one hit song in the country blurred out loudly "If You're Going to San Francisco, be sure to wear a flower in your hair" by Scott Mackenzie. We exploded. We screamed, slapping each other, high fives, going ballistic for the next mile or two until the song ended. We nearly died cause the driver had a heart attack or something but we didn't care.

I don't remember much more, I was discharged a day or two later on 4-24-68, the day before my 21st birthday. The Navy was kind enough to buy me a plane ticket home to Las Vegas so I was able to fly for the second time in my life.

Many things have occurred in my life before and after that cab ride to San Francisco but nothing more symbolic then that city and song coming together at the same moment in time. To this day if I hear that song on the oldies station, the hair on my neck stands up and I get a lump in my throat. If that's a flash back, everyone should have such good luck,....... and memories.