Going to the bakery early Sunday morning was something I always looked forward to. As soon as we got in the door, I'd run up to the counter and grab the next number token so we didn't have to wait any longer than necessary. If mom didn't call them on Saturday to order a coffee cake, we'd wait to see what was left when they called our number. I'd watch the board count up, one by one, rechecking my token, waiting for the numbers to match so we could get our prize and hurry home to enjoy it.
Waiting for one's number to be called at the bakery or at the DMV is one thing. Being in a life-threatening situation and wondering if this is it, the day that your number comes up, is another story all together. But now, it's time for a crash course in being on a destroyer in a gun mount during a war.
I was a Navy Gunners Mate, not by choice. During gunline operations, I would man one of the two 5" gun mounts on my ship, the USS Lynde McCormick DDG-8. There was plenty of automation in our guns, such that under normal firing situations, the mount crew of three didn't handle the 2-piece rounds that could be fired at over 30 rounds/minute. Men 2-3 decks below in the magazine would load shells and powder casings into a pair of stacked loader drums. The rounds were "assembled", sent up via a hoists, feeding into carrier arm that would swing up into the mount next to the barrel. At the right moment, the gun captain would pull a spring-return lever that would load the round into the barrel, the breach would close, ready to fire. In another part of the ship, the fire control computer was given coordinates supplied by land- or air-based spotters, and when all was ready, the gun mount would train and elevate to the proper firing attitude. All that was left was for the gun captain press a detent and move the lever to the "Fire" position. That would have been me.
During a firing mission, you might shoot as few as two rounds before stopping, or you might shoot 20, which still took less than a minute to accomplish. When a round was fired, the entire mount shuddered, but there was no concussion, no BOOM inside the mount, even with both hatches open. It was as if Thor was standing outside, whaling away with a huge, plastic, dead-blow hammer at the side of the mount. Inside, the machinery is flying in and around the barrel, and outside, the spent powder casings clang onto the deck at the same interval as the bang of Thor's hammer, just a little behind the beat. It was exhilarating and frightening in the same moment.
I mentioned that the gun crew never handled rounds. Not exactly true. If a spotter called for illumination, we would have to cycle the system to bring up each complete round, hand lift each powder and shell out of the carrier and lay them on the floor of the mount.This would continue until the carriers contained the illumination shells that the magazine crew had swapped for explosive rounds. After such a mission, the magazine crew got to come topside and carry each shell and powder back down to the magazine, 55# powders and 70# shells. Too bad, so sad. ðŸ˜
What else can I tell you? I made two WESTPAC cruises (economy class, inside cabin w/3-tiered bunks, no porthole, four meals/day, all the exercise and fresh air you could handle), during which time we conducted 167 firing missions. We fired a total of 5994 rounds. During the first cruise, our missions were restricted mainly to areas at or near the DMZ, and we fired at total of over 4700 rounds in 132 missions. We fired many different types of projectiles; along with standard explosives, we fired high capacity explosives, illumination shells, and WP or white phosphorus. I know this because I found a database with details of every gunfire mission for every ship that participated in the Vietnam War. I requested a spreadsheet for all 167 missions which my ship participated in during my assignment, and received 40 columns of information which I trimmed to 13, fitting it on five landscaped pages.
During the second cruise, our gunline duty was much shorter, but no less intense. We spent our entire time at the southern tip of Vietnam. Venturing around to the southwestern coast of the country, our mission was to support the South Vietnamese Army (ARVN) while they engaged the NVA and/or guerilla fighters. For us in the mounts, we were never told what or who we were firing at. My spreadsheet has a blank column titled CASUALTIES. No data does not equal no casualties.
On this date, December 14, 1971, exactly 48 years ago, I went on watch in the forward gunmount, called Mount 51. My watch would have begun at 0900, to last until 1200, lunchtime. At 0908 we commenced firing on what was called An Xuyen province. In less than an hour, I'd be looking at that board, watching, waiting for my number to come up.
Continued in number up
© 2019 John Robin Swanson
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