After an uneventful, boring, month long voyage across the Pacific Ocean, with a stopover in Pearl Harbor; we finally arrived on the island of Okinawa, in January of 1964. This island is one, in a chain of islands off the south-eastern coast of Japan. During WWII, this is where the Marines fought the “bloodiest” battle of the Pacific islands. More lives were lost here than those on Iwo Jima. The main reason the U.S. wanted this island was to use it as a launching site for the final invasion on Japan. And, the Japanese were well aware of that. It was also known as the “key to the Pacific” because of its strategic location. After the war, the U.S. leased this island from Japan and it became home base for the Marines and the Air Force. Now, twenty years later, it was going to be the launching site for future combat operations in South East Asia, namely Vietnam.
My duty station was in the northern sector of the island, at Camp Hansen. I was assigned to the Headquarters division of Charlie Company. I had a crypto clearance that was acquired during my OCS training at Quantico; that put me in a privileged position to be designated as the commanding officer’s jeep driver, and liaison. Because I knew how to type, I was also given a position in the front office as the communications and records keeper. This is where the First Sergeant and the top brass were located. The two main characters here that I immediately took a liking to – and the feeling was mutual - were First Sergeant Sadler and Gunnery Sergeant Tapley. The First Sergeant, or “Top” as he was respectfully called, was the picture perfect example of what a tough, war hardened Marine should look like. He stood about six foot four, broad shoulders, a husky build, and his face was cut like a Michael Angelo sculpture. He had a pronounced scar that ran off the side of his mouth, to his chin. His neatly starched khaki shirt displayed a chest full of his medal/ribbons that ran way up under his collar. The Purple Heart ribbon had a gold star on it--denoting that he had been wounded numerous times in combat. And, he had so many service hash marks on his coat sleeve, that they ran up to meet his First Sergeant’s, rank insignia. He was a “thirty-year-man.” Gunnery Sergeant Tapley, “Gunny” as he was called, was also a thirty year man. His appearance was more like a brute, and he reminded me of the actor (Earnest Borgnine) who played the sadistic brig-sergeant in [From Here To Eternity]. He was a real fighting boozer! He adopted me as his “son.” He would always say: “Let me tell you something son….” Another fond memory I have of him, is that whenever I had a question for him, he would respond by saying: “Shoot!” His answers were usually quick and blunt: “Negative!” or “That’s affirmative!” I loved that guy! He and I spent many a night, bar hopping and getting fall-down drunk in those shanty brothels that were commonplace on that island back then. Our escapades were too voluminous to elaborate on here; but I think you can imagine!
Once I settled in to the routine, I got acclimated to the area pretty fast. Just outside the base was this village (Kin Village), it was filled with bars and pawn shops--and of course you know what else! I frequented this one particular bar often (The Club Mikado), because of a naison there whom I was very much attracted to. Her name was Yoshiko. She was absolutely beautiful! She was taller than most of the naisons, and she had the look and finesse of a high-class fashion model; right out of Vogue magazine. She was super classy, in that blue sequined, silk kimono that she often wore. Since she was what the Marine top brass called “Officer’s-material,” I had a difficult time getting close to her. It proved to be dangerous too. The officers did not like me barging in on their territory. I persisted for weeks, and I finally got her attention. She and I fell in love with each other from the start, and we spent many enchanting, moonlit nights in those picturesque tea houses up in the hills overlooking Koza village. On weekends she would disguise herself, and we would find a seclude beach where we could have our own little party, and make out. I came to discover that she was fluent in a couple of languages; one of which was Russian. She was very intelligent. Her English was limited, but understandable. I recall her telling me that she went to a prestigious college in Hanoi, when she was a teenager, because her father was a distinguished officer during France’s early occupation of Vietnam, (French Indo-China). Her mother was Japanese, and was a teacher there. I loved it when Yoshiko spoke French!
The months moved along without much military action, other than a few combat exercises in the mountains. There was plenty of time for liberty and weekend passes; of which I took plenty advantage of. I was even fortunate enough to acquire the NCO’s, gray, 1940 Ford coupe; because he lost his license to drive. Yoshiko and I roamed the island in that car. We always had a couple of six-packs and a bottle of bourbon along for the ride. I made sure there was always a carton of camel cigs in the glove box. That car enabled us to find secluded beaches where we could elude the MPs. She would often disguise herself--for reasons I never was (and still am not) quite sure of. She would wear a black pants-suit with a wide brimmed hat, and those oversized sun-glasses! I nick-named her: Betty Boop.
There is one very poignant memory I have of the time when I got drunk and worn down with a violent stomach virus. I was burning up inside and in a state of delirium. Yoshiko took care of me, night and day. She would lie beside me and cuddle me, to keep me warm during the cold, rainy nights of that monsoon season. She fed me soup and rice, and nursed me back to life. When I was finally able to make it back to base; I was subjected to a “summary court-martial” and confined to base for one month. My sickness was taken into consideration for my lenient punishment.
The peace and tranquility of the island soon came to an abrupt end, when in early August of that year; President Johnson addressed the nation in an emergency radio broadcast: “This is your President speaking. This unprovoked act of aggression in the Gulf of Tonkin...the firing on our naval ships (the Turner Joy and the USS Maddox) by North Vietnamese torpedo boats will not be tolerated...any further hostile aggression will result in grave consequences...we will do whatever is necessary to protect our troops and defend our nation....” (This confrontation would go down in history as the infamous: Gulf of Tonkin Incident.) All Marines were quarantined to the base and put on full combat standby to be ready to mount-out to Vietnam at a moment’s notice. Because I had some “pull,” I was able to get into the village and spend some time with Yoshiko. I feared that this may be the last time I see her. We spent one memorable night in our favorite teahouse. During that night, I promised her that I would marry her. It was also at that time when she said to me: “Johnnyson...you Sayonara me. You not come back...I hara-kiri.” I could see in her eyes that she meant it, as she mimicked the act.
We were still in the early part of August 1964, and the North Vietnamese were now bombing the air base at Da Nang, from their positions around Monkey Mountain. My squad was ordered to board ship and proceed to rendezvous with the 7th Fleet in the South Pacific, as a show of force. I was assigned to a Marine detachment that would take part in secret (DESOTO) patrols that would recon the area around the Da Nang air base and gather information and intelligence for possible, future assault landings on Red Beach. We were also told to take prisoners if possible, for interrogation. One of my responsibilities (because of my secret clearance), was to communicate with the White House, via the radio room aboard ship, and wait for the go-ahead to make a solo, amphibious landing on the far end of the air strip, near Red beach. The answer was always: “Stand down. Await further orders....” The action in Vietnam was still considered a "conflict"... but that was all about to change in a matter of weeks.
We were aboard the Navy’s amphibious war-ship, the USS Monticello (LSD), which became part of the huge expeditionary force of the 7th Fleet, in the South Pacific? It looked like a city at sea, with all the ships being the skyscrapers. There were aircraft carriers, destroyers, battleships, mine-sweepers, LSTs and our LSD. We were ordered to break away from the huge armada of ships, and cruise in and around the outer islands off the coast of North and South Vietnam--mostly at night. We were in the Gulf of Tonkin; the same area where the USS Maddox was supposedly attacked. In the months to follow, we were harassed at night by, high-speed North Vietnamese torpedo boats, with infrared scopes, and threatened during the day by Russian mig fighter jets whizzing overhead. At night, while we cruised close to the shore, well within Vietnam's twelve nautical-mile, territorial limit; I watched the bright glare of the phosphorus flares that illuminated the mountainside, as they slowly descended from the choppers circling Monkey Mountain. I could hear the echoing “rat-tat-tat” of small arms fire, and an occasional, familiar “thump” of a mortar rocket, from the foot hills. On the ship’s deck that night, during my night-watch, I recall telling my buddy (Russell): “Rus...this is going to be a long and drawn-out war; and it could last ten years. We may be the first to go in.” He said to me: “Gus...your problem is...you think too much!” In retrospection, that jungle warfare lasted from late 1964 (Gulf of Tonkin) to early 1975 (the fall of Saigon); ten years.
There were these nightly radio broadcasts that I would listen to on the stern's wing-wall of the ship, from “Hanoi Hannah” telling us that we were “right under their thumb” and they could “crush” us at any moment. She would say: “How does it feel GIs?” Hearing that; one of the navy crew-men threw my transistor radio overboard. I recall that it may have also been that night, when one Marine supposedly jumped overboard, attempting suicide. We searched but never found the body. After several weeks on the ship, the Marines were getting edgy, and we wanted off that damn ship. We didn’t have any booze to help while away the hours, so I solved that problem by using my Aqua Velva after shave, and mixing it with Ronson lighter fluid. We also had grain alcohol that we confiscated from the quartermaster’s stash. “Improvise, adapt, and overcome!”
We finally got the go-ahead from Washington, to make a pre-dawn, reconnaissance landing on Red Beach. We got the “word” from the President, that we could make the landing on Red Beach, but to refrain from any offensive action...if possible. The purpose of the mission was to gather Intel information on the whereabouts and locations of the Vietcong positions in and around the mountain. We were ordered not to shoot unless we were shot at first. We were also ordered to avoid any contact with civilians we might encounter, and to guard (at all costs), the Prick-25 radio operator.
On the evening before the planned landing, we needed a closer look, so we maneuvered close to the shore line, below the mountain. As we drew in closer, my weapons-crew was positioned on the bow of the ship; in case we encountered any enemy fire. The rest of the ship’s crew were confined to general quarters, below deck, and the ship was ordered “all lights out,” as we slowly drifted in. I manned a fifty-caliber machine gun along with my assistant gunner (crazy Eddy). Suddenly, out of the swamp fog, a small group of sampans (small, brown-water type craft) appeared and were headed toward our ship. As they got closer, we began receiving incoming smallarms fire from them. I was given permission to return fire. I directed my fire in short bursts from one sampan to the other, guiding the tracer rounds towards the small boats, and sinking a few of them. During the firing, the .50cal’s tripod (although stabilized with sand bags), was sliding around on the slippery steel deck. Eddy tried to steady it and he scalded his hand because he forgot to put his asbestos glove on. The other Marines scattered for shelter. I continued firing on the boats. The rapid firing from my machine-gun was deafening, but I do recall a few rounds whizzing by me and pinging off the ships superstructure. I had good hits on the sampans because of my directing the tracer rounds into them.
The signalman spotted torpedo boats approaching from the rear. The General Quarters alarm was sounded and we scuttled to get below deck, fast! After being locked in, with all the compartment hatches secured; we sat up against the bulkheads, quietly waiting, and expecting to be blown to pieces over the South China Sea. My wild and vivid imagination got the best of me, as I tried to visualize this happening, in my mind. I imagined that it would be instantaneous and painless—-I hoped! Thank God; we managed to avoid any further confrontations that night. I reasoned that we had escaped being torpedoed, because Hanoi surely didn’t want to stir up a hornet’s nest, and bring the fury of the whole 7th Fleet down on them. We hadn’t made the beach landing yet, but my nerves were already frayed.
The next morning (pre-dawn) my squad was readied topside, to make the beach landing aboard one of the ship's landing craft. I have a vivid recollection of First Sergeant Sadler coming over to me and saying: “Gus...I want you to make sure you stay awake with that machine gun, so that you can protect me. I’ve had enough of this god damn shit! I expect to retire when we get back. What the HELL! am I doing here...anyway?” In an undertone, I recall saying something very stupid: “Yes...and maybe I’ll even get the Congressional Medal of Honor.” He said: “You...crazy bastard!” I regretted saying that IMMEDIATELY! Good thing he understood that my unbridled, gung-ho tongue had a tendency to say crazy things like that...off the cuff!
From this point on, the reality of what was about to happen and the fear of going into actual combat set in. I recall waiting my turn to go over the side and down the “scramble” nets, into the landing craft, wearing full combat gear, and carrying my (much lighter) M60 machine gun. We were reminded to “hold our fire” unless we were shot at first. When we reached the beach head, and the ramp dropped, we immediately began to take enemy fire from the tree line. (The Vietcong had obviously been waiting for us, and Hanoi Hannah’s threat became a reality.) The whole area erupted with blasts from exploding mortar rounds in the sand. It was total chaos! Some of the Marines were hit bad, right off. We low-crawled our way in towards the tree line, over the sand dunes. Eddy and I had all we could do, trying to set up the M60 behind a sand dune. Keeping my head down, I recall grasping my Saint Jude medal that hung around my neck, with my dog tags. Grace had given me that medal when I left. She said: “Saint Jude is the patron of hopeless cases...he’ll protect you Johnny.” I wasn’t one for trusting in idols or symbols, but (for what it’s worth), I did at that time. During a brief lull from the gun fire, Eddy and I attempted to rise up from the sand dune, and advance forward. As we did, I began to fire rapidly into the tree line (from my hip!) in a sweeping motion. (My uncle Vito would have been proud of me!) Those tracer rounds were still visible in daylight. Suddenly; there was a bright flash to my right side, and in an instant, the powerful blast knocked me over onto Eddy. We both went down in a hail of sand and hot fragments. My right ear went deaf, and I recall seeing a flurry of blinding white sparks, the moment before I passed out.
The next thing I recall, I was opening my eyes, and there were these men in white, looking down at me, with strange looks on their faces. I came to the realization that I was lying on a gurney, partially naked, feeling cold and listless. The back of my head felt like it was being whacked with a sledge hammer. The men had a worried look on their faces. One of them spoke up and said: “Marine...you are very fortunate. You’ve been out for a long time and about to comatose. We were worried! Your buddies brought you in to the ship’s sick bay. There were others in body bags. You’ve had a major concussion and head wounds from shrapnel. Be careful with the stitches."
I managed to pull myself together, get squared away, and made my way to the mess hall to get some hot coffee and something to eat. One of the crew noticed that there was blood on the back of my head. He also told me about their taking food out of the freezers, in order to make room for the dead bodies of the Marines. I didn't see Eddie anymore after that, so I assumed that he was one of the dead in those body-bags.
As if the previous action wasn’t enough trauma for me to process; what happened next (as ironic as it may be), was the sort of scenario that you would see happening in a Hollywood war movie. I got stranded, high up on the signalman’s bridge, when the (general quarters) alarm was sounded. I couldn’t get down fast enough. I was locked out! So I had to go back up on to the bridge. The signalman told me to stay put and out of his way. He said: “There’s a submarine on our tail and it looks like he’s positioning to torpedo us!” (I don't believe that North Vietnam had subs back then, so it was most likely a Russian sub.) From our vantage point, I could see the wide and turbulently foaming wake produced by the ship’s powerful engines that created a zig-zag pattern in the ocean between us and the sub. I had seen this maneuver in war movies, where a ship would zig-zag trying to avoid being hit by a torpedo. Next, I saw the sub’s periscope appear at a distance. All the while this was going on, the signalman was trying to get them to back off, hoisting up the signal flags to the masthead: (Kilo flag and the numerical 3 flag), when combined, signaled: (we wish to communicate with you – by signal-lamp) They wouldn’t acknowledge those warnings, so the signalman used the signal-lamp to send a Morse-code, by blinking the shutters accordingly. Still...no response! This went on for a while, like a cat and mouse game: Periscope up and periscope down...now you see me; now you don't!
Our ship was taking on high waves at the bow, and a fierce wind began to howl through the superstructure. Then, I heard this over the intercom: “All hands...that is ALL hands (meaning the signalman and me); we are entering into a typhoon. General-quarters...General-quarters...General-quarters...," And then the familiar horn blast: WAHHH!-WAHHH!-WAHHH! Yes...truth IS stranger than fiction. We climbed down and they opened the hatch to let us in. For the next few hours, our hatches were battened-down tight, as we were taking on huge waves over the bow and experiencing dangerous rocking from bow to stern. I remember thinking; WHAT NEXT!
Somehow, after all that, we made it back to Okinawa. First Sergeant Sadler survived! What took place over the next two months of 1965 is another whole dramatic story in itself. I was suckered into going on a “volunteered” spy mission into main-land China, to find a deserted Marine who had committed treason. After escaping being captured and tortured for information, by communist agents and surviving THAT escapade,and upon my return to Okinawa I was strictly forbidden to see Yoshiko. However, against orders, I did try to find her! And that’s how I ended up on a chartered jet plane, under armed guards (MPs), and flown back to the U.S. for an immediate (Honorable) discharge--at the convenience of the government. I even requested another year of service on Okinawa, of which I was vehemently denied. At the time of my discharge, the "conflict" in Vietnam had become a full-blown "WAR". There were massive troop movements from Okinawa landing at Red beach, and tons of bombs being dropped on Haiphong Harbor. The news media constantly reported daily "body counts” on the radio and television. Since we were engaged in a full-blown war in Vietnam; I never understood why the Marine Corps didn’t cancel my discharge, and send me back.
It wasn’t until a few years ago, that I finally got confirmation of the Red Beach landing and its aftermath. I received an e-mail from the lieutenant who was in charge of the mission to recover the wounded and the dead bodies. When I received that e-mail, I realized that I finally had something in common with my father: a purple heart. I received another e-mail from a crew-member who remembers them taking the food out of the mess-hall freezers to make room for the body-bags of the dead Marines. And, I also received another e-mail from one of the ship’s crew who remembered the submarine incident and the “typhoon!” Many of the other responses I got from questioning the aging crew members were non-specific, and they were vague about what they remembered. Some of their recollections were also contradictory. That’s understandable, because most of the officers and crew of that ship were not privy to the specifics of our actions and missions, while aboard that ship. They were classified as secret...at that time.
The missions we were part of, were classified as (DESOTO) patrol missions. The controversies surrounding the actual events that took place in the Gulf of Tonkin, in 1964-65, continue to be shrouded in the annals of a time gone by. The ship and its crew were awarded Expeditionary Medals for their participation in the (Gulf of Tonkin) “blue-water” missions, during combat activities in the Vietnam theatre-of-operations. The ship has since been decommissioned and was sunk off the coast of Hawaii in 2010. It lies at the bottom of the ocean...along with its secrets.
I recall previously about your marriage (?) to Yoshiko and your failed attempts to get her to come to the US. A very sad situation.
Your first beachhead and unfortunate encounter with a mortar certainly does add to your nine lives with one more place where you were destined to die, but didn't. It does seem strange that you tried so hard to get back into the fight. You must've had a death wish during that time to want to face the enemy again.
I'm not sure why you were ordered to be locked beneath decks when threatened with being torpedoed. A ship like yours should have had some kind of torpedo protection rather than being a sitting duck.
It is firsthand accounts like yours that are giving us old picture of what the Vietnam War was all about. For being noncommissioned, you certainly were placed in the midst of things from the very beginning. Maybe that's why you wanted to get back… The adrenaline.
Ron
There were some slight punctuation errors and these: "Hanoi [surely] didn't want…" "[… ship's] landing [craft]."
Jack Kelly was a child performer, son of New York model, Nan Kelly, brother of actress, Nancy Kelly, brother-in-law of actor Edmond O'Brien and cinematographer Fred Jackman, Jr. On TV, from 1957 until 1962, he was James Garner's brother on the show,
Margaret Kohel Evans invites her mother's grandchildren to a delightful visit with their grandmother, sharing charming memories of her across eighteen life themes.
After an uneventful, boring, month long voyage across the Pacific Ocean, with a stopover in Pearl Harbor; we finally arrived on the island of Okinawa, in January of 1964. This island is one, in a chain of islands off the south-eastern coast of Japan. During WWII, this is where the Marines fought the “bloodiest” battle of the Pacific islands. More lives were lost here than those on Iwo Jima. The main reason the U.S. wanted this island was to use it as a launching site for the final invasion on Japan. And, the Japanese were well aware of that. It was also known as the “key to the Pacific” because of its strategic location. After the war, the U.S. leased this island from Japan and it became home base for the Marines and the Air Force. Now, twenty years later, it was going to be the launching site for future combat operations in South East Asia, namely Vietnam.
