Life of a Radarman on the USS Yorktown during the
cruises in the combat zone in Vietnam coastal waters
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.
Scroll down for more stories-UFO over USS Yorktown
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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.
USS Yorktown under attack in the Gulf of Tonkin
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?
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. O ![]() 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
USS Yorktown and the UFO
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. They 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.