Posted on 09/07/2019 7:23:05 AM PDT by Chainmail
When I was a First Lieutenant of Marines in 1977, I was assigned to the 3rd FSSG in Okinawa and at the middle of my one-year deployment there, was given the job of embarking 225 Marines and huge amounts of equipment aboard an amphibious transport ship, the USS Mobile LKA-115. My mission was to take part in a large training exercise in the Philippines on the island of Mindoro, establishing a Landing Support Element (LSE) on the beach for a couple of weeks. Any of you have had experience with sort of thing know that it took many, many hours, late into the night to load and unload and reload that ship so that all of the things that had to come off first were loaded last and those priorities constantly changed as new equipment arrived. We had everything finally loaded as the dawn broke, just ahead of the time we had to sail, so I was a very pleased officer to finally have all of my equipment aboard and my troops accounted for and billeted, just ahead of casting off.
The voyage to Mindoro was beautiful and made much more pleasant since the ship’s Captain was one of those rare naval officers who liked Marines. My troops were given wide latitude to wander the ship and lots of good work to do to keep them occupied and we officers got to share duty watches as we navigated the constrained waters of the Philippine Archipeligo.
The only sour note was when I was standing deck watch in the wee hours of the morning, the ship’s Engineering Officer came to relieve me. After I had briefed him, he told me to “get off his bridge”. I asked him if he meant to say that and he said it again, “get off my bridge”. I told him that we were landing in the morning and that at some point after we were established I was going to have a cookout on my beach and the he should “stay off my beach”. We did have that party and he stayed aboard ship.
We landed without any hiccups and we set up our LSE: Motor Transport, Maintenance, Fuel Depot, Medical, and our own Harrier landing pad. We were supporting a huge multi-element exercise and we were an important cog in a large machine. The only strange thing for us was that because there were potentially hostile elements in the local population, we were not allowed to have any weapons in our position to keep from provoking anyone. We had several million dollars’ worth of critical equipment but our only defense was a concertina barbed wire fence and a couple of nightsticks.
But there I was, King of my little sector of my beach, complete with our own personal landing pad for the Harriers. The only issue we had with eh locals at first were nearly continuous raids to steal stuff. We were a rich country to them and they were poor, so it followed that we wouldn't miss it much. They’d crawl over and under our wire and even land by dugout canoe to take gas cans, rations, spare parts and tools – anything they could grab. They were quite friendly and left when you chased them off but they were also persistent, so we really had to be watchful, particularly one night when they tried to load a large generator onto one of their boats.
Then one night while I was sleeping in my uniform (as always) since you never knew when something might happen there, one of my troops woke me and said “there’s a man in our wire trying to buy a radio”.
I pulled my boots on without even lacing them and headed for that part of my perimeter where one of my guards was standing next to the barbed wire and across from him in our lights, I saw a middle-aged Filipino man and young and voluptuous and barely dressed Filipino woman. The man was apparently trying to buy the PRC-77 radio (with KY-38 encryption system) from my PFC with the young woman as an obvious inducement. I also saw that the man had a large pistol in a shoulder holster which in the days of President Marcos was likely not legal for him to be carrying.
In a loud voice, I ordered my Marine to move away from the wire – and the Filipino man told me “Don’t interrupt me while I am speaking to this man”. I told him loudly that I was his commanding officer and that he would do what I told him to do (though that PFC will still standing there, transfixed by that lady’s largish upperworks).
The Filipino gentleman then turned charming and said “all I want to do is to buy this radio from him”.
I told the man that it was not his to sell and I again told the Marine to move back from the wire.
As I was saying this, two young Filipino men stepped into the pool of light from the shadows and both of them had tall pompadoured hair and had red-painted machetes held across their chests and were staring at me.
I thought, “crap; my head’s about to be removed” but gathering my wits I yelled: “Corporal of the Guard! Call the Constabulary!” and all of my guests melted into the shadows.
Great bluff – since I didn’t have a Corporal of the Guard or any links to the Philippine Constabulary.
During that exercise we had a horrific helicopter crash that killed 35 Marines and my medical team was sent to recover the bodies. It took days to find everyone and my Corpsmen were very upset about it all, since most of them had never dealt with the dead before and they were worn out from dealing with the rugged terrain and the heat too.
But we had a schedule to keep and we began the very intense preparations to reemebark aboard the Mobile. All of our equipment had to be washed down and reloaded on vehicles and then loaded in the correct order on lighterage to go back aboard to their assigned parts of the ship. When my schedule came to the Medical Element they had done absolutely nothing to get ready. I went to their chief and told him that it was time for his stuff to be washed and readied for movement but he refused to move. He said that “they had seen too much death and they were not going to move until they felt like it". I told him that I understood, but it was time to go – and his element was holding up the whole complex sequence and the ship and the whole amphibious operation. He still refused, so I told my Marines to dump their large tent, which they did and the corpsmen and their chief came stumbling out as the canvas fell. We rolled the whole thing up – with their gear all wrapped up in it – and we loaded it aboard the waiting truck and sent it to the LCM for the ship. The chief came up to me sputtering with rage and I told him that I‘d seen a lot of death too (I am a Vietnam combat veteran) but that never held me up from doing my duty. They had their Admiral call my General when we got back to Okinawa and our General backed my decision.
We had one more incident of note on the way back to Okinawa. One of my PFCs came to me a told me that someone had stolen his seabag from his truck that was loaded down in the ship’s hold and that had all of his personal possessions in it. I went to the Captain and told him what happened and the Captain then announced to the whole ship that “unless the stolen gear taken from the Marine was returned, we would do stay right where we were – and no liberty in Okinawa for all hands”. He also said that there would be a period of time when the Officer’s Wardroom would be unattended to allow the thief/thieves to return the gear without being observed.
The time period arrived and ended and when we entered the wardroom it was stacked high with all sorts of Marine equipment (including my Marine’s seabag) and most of it didn’t come from my troops – it came from many previous units that had been embarked aboard the Mobile!
Sailors!
Very interesting story thanks for sharing.
It’s interesting to get a behind-the-scenes look , such as this one, as to what can happen on a training mission.
My Terry and the Pirates saga occurred on a barrier island off the coast of Quang Tin, then in I Corps, Viet Nam. Ferried to the island by two of the meanest looking Nungs, we tried to determine if the contingent of strange ethnicities needed medical supplies. We were unable to meet with their commander, reportedly a handsome older woman and known in the capital, Tam Ky, as the Dragon Lady. Her cohort had held the barrier island for years. After a pow-wow we were escorted back of the island to the mainland by four unblinking Asians. The unit was being paid by the CIA, and I have wondered whatever happened to them when I Corps fell to the Communists. If arrangements were not made for their exfiltration I feel sure they were slaughtered up to the Dragon Lady herself.
Great Sea Story!
Semper Fidelis
Gunny G@PlanetWTF?
TRUMP.45!FOREVER!
*****
USMC 1952~1972!
++++++++++++++++
Nice read. Well done.
Thanks for writing this and posting it — great stories. My nephew served five years in the Marines and did deployments to the Philippines from Okinawa. It sounds like his assignment was very much like yours. He’s been unable to tell us about anything he did there.
I always enjoy your stories. Great stuff.
Another one of the stories I written up for my kids - enjoy!
I call BS Chainmail. Nobody in their right mind wants a 77 set lol.
I suspect that the KY-38 was the main reason they wanted it..
LMAO.
Still state of the art in ‘77. Especially for a Filipino ‘warlord’.
I thought you would say that they became Democrats..wouldn’t be that big of stretch...
I’ve always found that even if you do say something, most people wouldn’t believe it. They can’t fathom the retarded things we did haha.
“He’s been unable to tell us about anything he did there.”
Probably because it’s still classified.
Chainmail,
Thank you for sharing your sea story. I think my Army ping list folks will like it.
Grey Friar
What ever happened to. Buzz Sawyer?
Great story.
You are a talented writer.
Great story! Thanks.
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