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My Daughter's Two Birthdays

By Joe Miller

While I was stationed with the Naval Security Group (NSG) at Lin Kou Air Station on Taiwan in 1963, I met and fell in love with Hui-fang. (Linda was the western name she chose when she began work at the Taiwan Defense Command's EM Club in downtown Taipei.) After nearly six months of dating, the exposure of our secret relationship (by a so-called buddy) resulted in the determination that there was a potential "security risk." We in the NSG were not allowed to develop personal relationships with individuals or families among the local population. Since I was not willing to give up this relationship, I was removed from intelligence work in early 1964 and posted to Sung Shan Airport as a courier while awaiting orders for transfer to "regular" Navy duty.

Joe, Hui-fang and Lisa (at one year), late 1966

Hui-fang and I decided that we would go ahead with the rather tedious process of obtaining permission to marry. We were successful in fighting through all the obstacles the Navy (and some corrupt Chinese cops) put in front of us, and we were married on June 9, 1964 by a Canadian missionary, a day and a half before I shipped out for sea duty with the USS Ticonderoga (CVA-14).

While I was at sea with the carrier group, sailing up and down the Western Pacific (WestPac) from Japan to the Philippines and off the coast of Vietnam (North and South), Hui-fang completed all the paperwork for her move to the States. By November, she was settled in with my folks near Chicago until our ship returned to San Diego from WestPac in December 1964.

The Ticonderoga was scheduled for an extended dry-dock period at Hunters Point, San Francisco from January to July of 1965. Hui-fang and I decided that she would fly out to the West Coast so that we could spend that period living together. We got a great little flat a block and a half from Chinatown.

To this day, though Hui-fang and I split up in the 1980s, I recall the wonderful time we spent together in San Francisco. In late February 1965, we learned that she was pregnant with our first child. The doctor told us the baby would likely be born toward the end of October or early November. Our ship wasn't due to redeploy to WestPac until after that time, so I expected to be around for the birth of our first child. Hui-fang and I were ecstatic with the anticipation and excitement.

However, the growing war in Vietnam was getting in the way. Rolling Thunder began in February '65, requiring more carriers on station, but none of us in the Ticonderoga's crew expected that to change our deployment date. Then the first official combat units landed near Danang in March. Soon we were informed that the "Tico" could expect to head back toward WestPac in late September or early October. Damn! There weren't many on board who were very happy to hear this news.

The temporary household that Hui-fang and I had enjoyed for nearly six months was coming to an end. I took some leave, and in early June, we boarded a train to Chicago. We spent three days together traveling across the country, without pressures of work or other military trappings. We even celebrated our first wedding anniversary on that train, rolling somewhere through the western plains. We had less than a month together at my folks' place, where Hui-fang would stay until my return, now scheduled for sometime in early 1966—we hoped.

On the afternoon of my flight from O'Hare back to San Diego (where the ship was now waiting), Hui-fang came along in my dad's car. When we arrived at the airport parking lot and I pulled my sea bag from the trunk, she started to cry. Deep sobs mixed with anguished cries that I should not leave. She would not leave the car to accompany me to the departure gate. I choked back my own tears and swallowed the anger that I felt at being pulled from her. By this time, we had been married just over a year, and we had spent about six months together. She was pregnant and I was heading off to WestPac again. I would not be back until well after the birth of our first child. But we all know the military's response to this sort of thing. "If the government had wanted you to have a wife and family, they would have issued you one."

By late October, following ORI (Operational Readiness Inspection) in and around the Hawaiian Islands, the "Tico" again arrived off the coast of Vietnam, first to "Dixie" station in the south. We then steamed toward "Yankee" station in the north sometime in November—in the so-called hazardous duty (combat) zone. This gave everyone a little extra pay and free mail privileges. It also meant that communications were solely directed toward flight ops and the general operational needs of the carrier. In fact, I recently realized that we were probably "on line," that is on station, during the major battle in the Ia Drang Valley. Though we were further north, I expect that our aircraft may have been even busier as a result. And here I was awaiting some word about the birth of our first child, in the midst of nearly nonstop war activity when no war had been declared. I had no way of knowing what was going on back home.

Finally, on November 19, 1965, a delayed telegram (dated November 12) from my dad was handed to me. The printed words shouted to me: I was now the father of a healthy and beautiful baby girl, Lisa Ellen Hui-mei Miller. Baby and mother were doing just fine. Lisa and I would not meet until February 1966, when she was three months old.

That is why I always feel my daughter has two birthdays, because she was born to the world one full week before she was "born" to me. So on November 12 and 19, I shall again say to my daughter "Happy Birthday, Lisa!" Both times!

(For those who may not know, Lisa is on the National Office staff of VVAW and is the copy editor and fact checker forThe Veteran and other VVAW publications.)