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1965: A Sailor Recalls the First Year of the "American War"

By Joe Miller

Yep, I was there — but not really "there." As a US sailor during the 1965 build-up and increased intensity of action against Vietnam, this was a year of change for me — for many of us, inside and outside the military.

Cardinal being greeted aboard Tico by Capt. Miller (Commanding Officer) and LCDR Zemites, Catholic Chaplain.

Nineteen-sixty-four ended with our ship's return to the States from the Western Pacific (WestPac) in mid-December, and I was doing some serious rethinking about my place in this "place" — that is, as a crew member on the USS Ticonderoga (CVA-14).

In 1964, I lost my top secret clearance and got kicked out of the Naval Security Group on Taiwan, got married to Hui-fang, and was transferred to sea duty on board the Ticonderoga in June. Then there were the Tonkin Gulf "incidents," which, if I had not thought about war in Vietnam before, certainly provoked more thought and introspection. We lost three pilots and two enlisted crew members, one of which just disappeared while we were at sea. The crew searched the ship for a couple of days, but we never found him. Oh, and I cast my first ballot (absentee) in a presidential election — for Barry Goldwater.

My shipboard duties had also changed. I no longer worked in the Weapons Department Office. The ship's chaplains required a petty officer (I was E-4) to help run their office and the ship's library, as well as to take responsibility for setting up religious services. So, I was transferred to that office, which also meant that I was to supervise three other enlisted men.

After we reached San Diego, I took leave to fly back to the Chicago area, where my Hui-fang was living with my parents. She had arrived in the States back in November of 1964. We spent Christmas and New Years together.

Our ship would be sailing up to San Francisco for an extended (six months) dry dock period before our next cruise to Westpac and offshore operations in Vietnam waters. So, Hui-fang and I made plans for her to fly out to San Francisco, where I would find us an apartment for that period.

Once the ship got to Hunter's Point shipyard in late January, I found a small studio apartment just outside of Chinatown. Hui-fang arrived a few days later, and we began our first real time together as a married couple.

Each day I took the bus to Hunter's Point to carry out my shipboard duties, strolling through the unknown mix of chemical dust kicked up by the construction crews (perhaps a little less toxic than the aviation fuel fumes we all breathed in during operations at sea). Then I would catch the bus back to our apartment each evening (except for the occasional duty night). It was almost a normal situation.

Since we lived within walking distance to Chinatown, we would often shop there. Hui-fang kept herself busy with English lessons. We would go to movies together and take long walks around the city. Sometime in March, we learned that she was pregnant with our first child — the child would be born sometime in late October or early November, the doctor said. Our ship was due to return to Vietnam duty sometime in the fall.

This period in a semi-civilian state, not spending twenty-four hours a day captive on board the ship, also gave me the opportunity to seek answers to some of the questions that had arisen since the 1964 "incidents." Of course, everything else that was going on around us during this period — the Free Speech Movement, the civil rights struggle, the early sprouts of the counterculture movement — also provoked thought and deeper questions. It all seemed connected, at least in my mind.

We were bombing the shit out of North Vietnam with "Rolling Thunder"; the first official combat troops had been sent to Danang; students and civil rights marchers were being attacked here at home; teach-ins about Vietnam were now being held on campuses all over the country. What was going on? So, I began to read everything.

There was this great bookstore just off Union Square where one could buy books and magazines on any subject. One of the first books in this effort was William A. Williams' "Tragedy of American Diplomacy." This opened my eyes to another perspective on the US role in the world, something other than the usual American celebration.

What about our deepening involvement in Vietnam and US policy in Asia? Bernard Fall's "The Two Viet-nams" helped to answer many questions and raise more. I found books by the Australian journalist Wilfred Burchett of great value in getting a view of the "other side," especially his "Vietnam: Inside Story of the Guerilla War." I also read everything I could on the civil rights struggle and the student movement. I regularly shocked the hell out of the Nation of Islam folks when I would buy their paper on the street while in uniform. Ramparts magazine became a main staple of mine; my subscription was mailed to me on the ship. I wanted anything that would counter what the official political and media line was at the time.

Since I was solely responsible for ordering books for the ship's library, a fairly large space on a carrier, I combed through the US Navy supply catalogs for any books on Vietnam. As a result, the Ticonderoga probably had the best collection on Vietnam of any ship in the Seventh Fleet. If the ship's crew and the air crews were going to rest and relax in our air-conditioned space, they would at least have the opportunity to perhaps pick up a book about the war in which they/we were involved.

In June, the ship was scheduled to leave dry dock and return to San Diego. My time with Hui-fang was ending; she would return to my parents' place. I took leave, we packed up our stuff, and we got on a train back to Chicago. We spent our first anniversary on that train, June 9. We arrived in Chicago three days later. I had to report back to the ship in San Diego by June 30, so we had a couple of weeks away from the Navy completely.

The day I had to fly from O'Hare Airport to San Diego is burned in my memory. My dad drove Hui-fang and me to the airport. She was in tears and sobbed that she did not want to see me go. Of course, I felt the same, but there was no option. She stayed in the car while dad walked me to the gate. We had no idea when I might be back, no idea when the next Westpac cruise would start.

Once back in San Diego, the crew learned that the ship would head back toward the war earlier than many of us hoped. LBJ announced increases in combat troop deployment to more than 100,000. Many of us sat in the ship's lounge and watched the riots in Watts. What was happening? On August 19, I wrote a letter to the Secretary of the Navy Retention Task Force, explaining why I would never re-enlist.

We finally left San Diego on September 28, heading for operational readiness inspections (ORI) off Hawaii (a little over a week, as I recall). We were in port at Pearl Harbor for a week or so; I would leave the ship to just walk around Oahu. We were just filling time until the inevitable departure for the war zone.

By October 25, the ship had officially entered the operational zone of Westpac. By this time, it was very clear that I would not be around for the birth of our first child.

By November 5, we were officially "on-line" (in the combat zone) carrying out air operations against the "enemy." The heavy bombing of North Vietnam as part of "Rolling Thunder" was now a part of our duty whenever we were on "Yankee Station" (in the North). Support operations were part of our duty when we were on "Dixie Station" in the South. Three carriers at a time shared this responsibility off the coast of Vietnam. Those not "on-line" were able to go to liberty ports in the Philippines or Japan. The pilots and the air and deck crews were doing most of the heavy lifting in this process. We were all a part of it, however, no matter what our jobs might be.

My job left me with lots of time to think and worry. What was going on back home? How was Hui-fang doing with the pregnancy? I got letters from her and from others in my family trying to keep me up to date. In the so-called 'war zone" mail did not always get to the ship on a timely basis. I did not want to be there. I did not see any purpose to being there — I did not see any purpose to any of us, Army, Navy, Air Force or Marines, being there. My feelings were personal, sure. They were also political as a direct result of my experiences and my reading about the origins of this war. There was no turning back for me in 1965.

As I have written elsewhere, operations during this first "on-line" period prevented me from even learning of the birth of our daughter Lisa Ellen Hui-mei until a week had passed. The telegram was dated November 12, but I did not get it until November 19. I was happy and pissed off at the same time. I should have been with my wife and baby daughter.

Another significant event from this first period of "on-line" operations in 1965 is the accidental loss of one of our fighter planes and the pilot on November 30. Of course, we had lost planes and pilots before, from other accidents and from combat. This time, the F-8 Crusader that went overboard not far from Japan, was carrying nuclear weapons. None but very few of the officers and crew knew this at the time. [See "US-Japan Ties Worsen on News That Warhead Was Lost in 1965," New York Times, May 9, 1989].

When this first "on-line" period ended on December 2nd, we headed for some in-port time in Yokosuka, Japan. I went on a tour and bought souvenirs for my wife and other family members. This is another difference I must point up with those in more direct combat-related operations. We had these breaks from war operations somewhat regularly, while those in the field might only get one R&R period during their tour of duty, if they lived that long.

We were back "on-line" by December 21. We would end the year engaged in flight operations, mainly in the South, since LBJ announced a temporary bombing halt in northern Vietnam as part of his so-called "peace offensive." This meant that our time on "Dixie Station" might be relatively calm.

So, we were treated to some special visitors. No, it wasn't the Beatles, or the Beach Boys, not even the Kinks. You would have thought it was World War II or Korea.

On December 22, we were entertained by fifty-year-old Martha Raye, the famous comic actress and singer. She had been entertaining the troops in-country, and decided to fly out to us for a show. It was great; she was well-received. This was entertainment from our fathers' generation. It was a nice distraction in any case.

Four days later, the ship was visited by another "entertainer," Cardinal Francis Spellman of New York, the mentor and sponsor of the late Ngo Dinh Diem and opponent of the liberalization inside the Catholic Church. He held a late Christmas mass on the hangar deck, surrounded by the machines of war, a war he certainly supported. The Chaplains' Office crew had to make sure the set-up was ready, and I had some small part in the service. Our Catholic Chaplain, LCDR Zemites, was a proponent of the changes made by Pope John XXIII, so I often wondered what they talked about in private. Following the service, the Cardinal left, and our next visitors flew right in behind him.

For the first time in his career, Bob Hope brought his Christmas Tour out to a ship at sea. Again, kind of a World War II feel here, but, with younger female entertainers. Movie star Carroll Baker and singer-dancer Joey Heatherton were the big draws for this crew of nearly 4,000 men. There were the usual Hope jokes, with efforts to make them current by attacking "draft-dodgers" and making fun of the Beatles. A lot of that fell flat with this younger generation of rock 'n rollers who were not sure they wanted to be out here either.

As the year came to a close, we were headed for another port visit in Subic Bay. I would celebrate the New Year knowing that I already had orders stateside for my final duty station in the Navy. By February 18, 1966, I would be back with my wife and be able to meet my three-month-old daughter for the very first time.

However, the war was just heating up. It would be with us all for years to come.

Joe Miller, US Navy, 1961-1968, Naval Security Group, 1961-1964, USS Ticonderoga, 1964-1966.