Chopper crash, the whole story updated

I confess. Before Ken Burns' Vietnam War documentary aired in 2017, I thought little of my own experience. After watching it, I wanted to learn about specific incidents that have surfaced over the last fifty-odd years.

I contacted the Naval History and Heritage Command via the Web. I wanted copies of the deck logs for my time aboard the USS Lynde McCormick DDG-8. Via email, I was informed of the cost of the documents; the archivist also included Command History Reports (CHR) for my ship from the calendar years 1970-72.

Along with all of my letters I sent home during my service time are Familygrams, letters written by the Commanding Officer and mailed to the crewmen's families every 4-6 months. The CHRs are also written by the CO: however, these are a narrative of the major events that the ship and crew experienced but were designated as classified until further notice. These documents contained enough details to point me in the right direction and begin my research. [What follows in double-quotes is the first of several emails I got from former crewmates who actually witnessed the crash. You will find several more eye-witness accounts throughout this page.]

    “I am impressed with the time and effort you have put into this

incident.  I have found the details most interesting.

    Eye-witness accounts are problematic and not always completely accurate

to the actual facts.  I note that some of the details that I remember of

the incident fall into that category.  But still, after nearly 49 years,

the memory of that helicopter suddenly disappearing in a splash has

stayed with me.  I am, to this day, leery of helicopters.

    You can publish my name and email with your article if you wish.

Thanks,

Tom Pohrte, EM2, DDG-8, 1970 - 72”

MY OWN RECOLLECTION OF THE CRASH
I had many jobs aboard my ship. The one I had the most fun at was when the ship was transiting a harbor, usually entering and leaving port. With two guys from my division, we would go to the bridge to assist the navigator. The two would stand on the wings just outside of the bridge to site landmarks and relay coordinates to me. I stood just inside the portside wing beside the navigator, simultaneously jotting down the details and calling them out for him to plot our course and verify we stayed in the safe waters of the channel.

On December 6, 1970, we were in Da Nang harbor. I was at my station on the bridge. We were holding position in the water while preparing to recover and hoist aboard the Captain's Gig (an enclosed boat) and stow it away on the starboard side amidships. With nothing else to do, I was looking out over the bow. I saw a helicopter approaching, perhaps 20-30 feet off the water. It was a clear, calm day. As the chopper passed down our port side, I saw two GIs in the open area behind the cockpit laughing and waving. They flew by quickly, so I stepped out and onto the port wing to watch the chopper leave the harbor for points unknown.

Except instead of continuing on its level course, the chopper suddenly pulled up and started a turn to the left, disappearing behind the ship's superstructure. Although I couldn't see the chopper, I could still hear the beats of the rotors, and as I stepped back into the bridge, I could hear them getting louder as the chopper seemed to be coming back up our starboard side. It's what happened next that was stuck in my memory all those years, a memory that would float to the surface and sink again, a mystery without an answer.

I returned to my station beside the navigator. I looked across the bridge and out the hatchway where my other bearing-taker was standing on the starboard wing. I expected to see the chopper at any moment, passing up the starboard side, as the beats of the rotor became louder and more compressed. This was not to be.

There was a sudden crunching, a smashing, a not-explosion, a shattering of things, and a shattering of lives. A huge and very black cloud blotted out the view across the harbor, where a moment earlier I could see the white-painted USS Sanctuary, the naval hospital ship currently stationed in Da Nang, just a few hundred yards away. At that point, there was a flurry of activity on the bridge; orders were issued, people were running and shouting and otherwise doing what they were trained to do. From that moment, my recollection of the incident ends.

    “I think of that day a lot as I was on deck with headphones on waving at the guys on the chopper.  They were hanging out the doors flying way too close to the water when one of the runners caught the water and flipped over.  I have always wondered how many survived that crash.  It threw debris all over the deck I was standing on.  We got the rescue boat in the water as quick as possible.  Short of memory after that!“ K.R., FTM2

When I left my ship in January of 1973, I left everything related to the previous four years in a dumpster at the Long Beach Naval Shipyards. Many of the people I served with who were aboard at the time of the crash were long gone by the time we finished the second WESTPAC deployment in the middle of March 1972. I had no shipmates in my address book -- my own fault, no doubt intentional.  But then along comes the Internet and cell phones and searchable databases and the Freedom of Information Act and everything else we have become accustomed to for researching and reconnecting with the past.

    “I witnessed the crash as I was on watch on the signal bridge remember it very vividly that day in Da Nang harbor as the chopper made several passes diving towards the water and climbing back up on it’s third pass the back tail blade hit the water flipped and crashed I was told two died and either one or two survivors were taken to a hospital ship [USS Sanctuary] that was stationed in the harbor.“ R.G., SM3

I am a member of my ship's reunion website. The site has a few more than 1200 registered users, all of which have input various details of their time stationed aboard the 8-ball, as we often called the McCormick. The names and years of duty are easily searchable so that I was able to find everyone who was aboard during the years of 1970-71. There were perhaps 100 in all, but only 67 had included email addresses. Armed with that listing, I created an email that I sent to each of them, asking if they had any recollection of the crash.

    “I was on the signal bridge as the Huey buzzed down our port side crossed our fantail sideways then balanced out for a run up our starboard side. They were flying extremely low and approximately equal to the signal bridge the left front skid cut water first then the right. Then both grabbed the water and the Huey slammed into the water, then forcing the nose of the craft into a nosedive, breaking the Huey in half forcing the tail section over the top of the main body of the craft, turning the cab upside-down. I was not one of the members on the personnel boat, I watched everything from the Signal Bridge 20 power Binoculars. I witnessed the rescue of the pilot and copilot and recovery of the enlisted crewmembers. I also noticed alcoholic beverage cans floating in the water originating from the crash site. 

    To the best of my knowledge, this is what I remember, this happened right in front of me on a clear sunny day.” L.B., SM3

I was elated when I got my first reply. "Yes", he said, "I was there on the starboard side when it crashed. I saw one skid catch the water, and then..." Well, by the time I wrapped up my email campaign, I had eleven former shipmates with a story to tell. But guess what? Each of them had vivid details, some quite elaborate, each seeing the chopper from different angles. They each saw the crash, but the granular details of the event are fundamentally different from one man to the next.

    “I was stationed to the McCormick about the same time as you were--Spring

1970. As to your specific request about the helicopter crash, I did witness it.

    We had entered Da Nang Harbor and were proceeding slowly to our

anchorage.  I was not assigned a specific watch so I had wandered up to

the boat deck to watch the retrieval of the Gig.  I was standing a

couple yards aft of the Starboard davits.  The hospital ship Sanctuary

was anchored a couple hundred yards to Starboard. We had almost crossed

her "T."

    A Huey helicopter came flying out over the bay maybe at 100 feet or so

of altitude.  They paralleled us (to Starboard) flying to our rear and,

once astern of us, made a sharp turn to their right to parallel us to

Starboard again in the same direction we were moving.  At this point, the

pilot put the Huey into a shallow dive and began to skim the wave tops

flying between us and the Sanctuary.  The gunners were waving at us from

the loading door on the Port side of the Huey.

    As the helicopter was flying at wave-top height, it dipped its Port

skid, touching the water, then disappeared in a splash.  I stood there

staring at the scene until I noticed fragments from the helicopter were

peppering the ship.  I looked around and the other crewmen on the boat

deck were hunkered down behind whatever cover they could find.  I was

just standing there stunned.

    The Gig was half-way up to the davits and was immediately dropped back

into the water.  The Gig motored over to the crash site.  I heard later

that they retrieved the Co-Pilot and took him to the Sanctuary, still

alive I think.  He may have been thrown through the windscreen--I don't

know for sure.  At any rate, when the Gig finally returned to the

McCormick, the Gig crew had the Co-Pilot's scarred flight helmet with them.

    I don't remember hearing anything more about the incident afterward. 

Thank you for contacting me.

Tom Pohrte, EM2, DDG-8, 1970 - 72”

Don't you just love a good mystery? Reading a mystery novel is one thing. Living with a mystery is something else. I got to live with this one for nearly 50 years, and I may have never been able to solve it, nor wanted to, had I not been inspired to find peace with my war experience.

So what did happen in Da Nang harbor that sunny Sunday, December 6, 1970? The Command History Report looks like this:

Near the end of my research, I was able to locate the website for the unit in Da Nang where the chopper was stationed. The site's webmaster had been able to acquire and include the service records for every chopper ever assigned to the unit. What follows is a portion of the above-mentioned chopper's record, the details taken from the inquiry which followed within a couple months of the crash (I believe that's the time frame. The bearing taker on the starboard wing as well as one of the crewmates who responded to my email request were present at the inquiry as witnesses of the crash.)

Accident Summary:  THE AIRCRAFT WAS IN A FORMATION OF UH-1H'S ON A FLIGHT FROM DANANG, RVN TO QUANG TRI, RVN. THE PURPOSE OF THE MISSION IS CLASSIFIED. THE FLIGHT OF 4 DEPARTED THE REFUELING FACILITY AT MARBLE MOUNTAIN AT APPROXIMATELY 0935 HOURS AND MADE A STOP AT THE HELICOPTER PAD AT XXIV CORPS HEADQUARTERS TO PICKUP SOME EQUIPMENT. THE FLIGHT PROCEEDED FROM THE XXIV CORPS PAD AT APPROXIMATELY 0945 HOURS WITH AIRCRAFT 69-15184 FLYING IN NUMBER 3 POSITION, VERY LOOSE TRAIL FORMATION WITH 30-60 SECONDS SEPARATION BETWEEN AIRCRAFT. THE AIRCRAFT INVOLVED IN THE ACCIDENT TOOK OFF FROM XXIV CORPS WITH THE CARGO DOORS CLOSED. AS THE FLIGHT PROCEEDED ACROSS THE DANANG BAY TO THE NORTH, CW2 MCATEE NOTICED A DESTROYER IN THE BAY. HE VEERED TO THE RIGHT OF THE FLIGHT PATH AND
DESCENDED TO AN ALTITUDE OF APPROXIMATELY 1 TO 5 FEET ABOVE THE WATER. WHILE IN THIS FLIGHT ENVELOPE, THE CREW CHIEF AND DORR GUNNER OPENED THE CARGO DOORS OF THE AIRCRAFT. THE AIRCRAFT WAS FLOWN PARALLEL TO THE PORT SIDE OF THE DESTROYER. UPON REACHING THE STERN OF THE SHIP, CW2 MCATEE MADE A CYCLIC CLIMB TO APPROXIMATELY 200'. HE DECREASED AIRSPEED TO APPROXIMATELY 40 KNOTS AT THE TOP OF THE CLIMB AND EXECUTED A SHARP LEFT TURN. UPON COMPLETION OF THE TURN, CW2 MCATEE BEGAN A POWER DIVE, HIS FLIGHT PATH WAS PARALLEL TO THE STARBOARD SIDE OF THE DESTROYER. WHILE IN THE DESCENDING ATTITUDE, THE AIRSPEED INCREASED TO 95 TO 100 KNOTS. CW2 MCATEE AND WO1 NEAL FAILED TO RECOVER FROM THE DESCENT AND IMPACTED WITH THE WATER. A FIRE AND LOW ORDER EXPLOSION RESULTED. THE IMPACT WAS MADE WITH LEVEL SKIDS, INDICATING THAT RECOVERY FROM THE DIVE WAS ATTEMPTED. THE ATTEMPTED RECOVERY WAS UNSECCESSFUL DUE TO EXCESSIVE AIRSPEED AND A FAILURE ON THE PART OF THE PILOTS TO REACT TO A HAZARDOUS AIRCRAFT ATTITUDE. CW2 MCATEE WAS OCCUPYING THE LEFT SEAT AND HE ESCAPED THROUGH THE LEFT CARGO COMPARTMENT. WO1 NEAL OCCUPIED THE RIGHT SEAT. THE ENTIRE RIGHT SIDE AND TOP OF THE PILOT'S COMPARTMENT HAD SEPARATED FROM THE AIRCRAFT AND HE EXITED THROUGH THE TOP OF THE HELICOPTER WAS SUMBERGED WHEN THE EXITS WERE ACCOMPLISHED. NEITHER THE AIRCRAFT COMMANDER OR PILOT SAW THE REMAINING MEMBERS OF THE CREW. APPROXIMATELY ONE MINUTE AFTER THE CRASH, THE AIRCRAFT COMMANDER AND PILOT WERE RESCUED FROM THE WATER BY A BOAT FROM THE DESTROYER AND TAKEN ABOARD THE HOSPITAL SHIP USS SANCTUARY, WHICH WAS ANCHORED SEVERAL HUNDRED YARDS AWAY. SMALL FRAGMENTS OF THE VARIOUS AIRCRAFT ASSEMBLIES REMAINED ON THE SURFACE OF THE WATER FOR A MATTER OF SECONDS. WITHIN ONE TO TWO MINUTES AFTER THE ACCIDENT, ALL DEBRIS AND WRECKAGE HAD SUNK BELOW THE SURFACE. NO SIGHTING WAS EVER MADE OF THE ENLISTED CREW MEMBERS DURING THE EARLY AFTERNOON OF 6 DECEMBER 1970. VARIOUS PORTIONS OF THE WRECKAGE WERE RECOVERED DURING THE WEEK BUT EFFORTS, BY NAVY DIVERS, TO RECOVER THE REMAINS OF THE CREW CHIEF AND DOOR GUNNER WERE UNSUCCESSFUL. ON 10 DEC 70, THE BODY OF THE CREW CHIEF, SP4 EVANOFF WAS RECOVERED FROM THE SHORELINE WHERE IT HAD BEEN CARRIED BY THE CURRENT. TO DATE, THE BODY OF THE DOOR GUNNER HAS NOT BEEN RECOVERED.
(The above was unedited; all-caps and misspellings are as they were.)

Note that there are names of three of the four crewmen provided in this record. The full record for Helicopter UH-1H 69-15184, as it was designated, is a full four pages long. It includes more details, including the door gunner's name. He still is and probably always will be MIA.

[This next email response is by far the most elaborately dramatic of the lot. This man is one of a handful of men from the ship who were at the inquiry.]

    “I remember the crash real clearly.  I was standing on the starboard side when a lot of things seem to happen all at once.  I recall a swift boat up ahead of us looking like it was on fire.  However, it was only a 50 gal trash can which one of the crew put a lid on.  What I heard was going on, the swift boat took some shore fire, they acted like they were hit thus the fire and standing still.  The chopper was gunfire support and hoping to spot something on the shore so they could shoot at it.....All that is hearsay but how I remember it -

    NOW - the crash - the chopper came down our starboard side and I saw the crew clearly, a rear gunner, copilot, and pilot.  They came by real fast but it looked slow.  I remember seeing the rear gunner with one hand on his M60 (or whatever machine gun he had) the pilot and copilot were looking at us and waving giving us the peace sign... Then the pilot went straight up in the air (fast) and did like a little loop!  I thought, " WOW - I did not know they can do that" - he then came down fast and they were still waving.  It seemed like when he tried to pull out of the dive the tail rotor hit the water. 

    The next part was right out of a dream...Bang - it hit the water.  I could see a part of the rotor blade come toward me and everything is going in slow motion.  I was standing in front of some type of structure and was trying to get down seeing that rotor blade coming.  I had the presence of someone else trying to get to the same spot I was and being a former Linebacker lifted up my arm quickly and hit the guy right under the chin and lifted him up just enough to get down first.  He came down on top of me.  Turned out to be the XO. Next, we all got up and I was waiting for the loud explosion with lots of fire and stuff (movie stuff).  The initial loud crack of fiberglass breaking all up was pretty much all I heard but the water was somewhat on fire and lots of debris in the water.  Looked like parts of the helicopter and cans.  I saw the copilot right in front of me - helmet still on and he was alive.

    I learned later the copilot's brains were kind of stuck in his helmet and he died.  I don't think they ever found the gunner.  The pilot seemed to be alright but he kept asking for his men (by name). He later was court-martialed. I know because I was interviewed and have a statement someplace around.“ M.P., YNSN

Life aboard a US Navy destroyer is mostly routine and measured, even in a war zone. With the notable exception of a gunfire mission, I remember many hours passing with little fanfare. Yes, there could be small blocks of insanely frenetic activity, but you quickly returned to the routine of watch-standing, equipment maintenance, cleaning and painting, and of course eating and rack time. Entertainment was where you found it while at sea (but that's another story).

    “I was on the McCormick from 70 to 72 in the forward Fireroom and remember going on deck and seeing some of the rescue things going on, I just remember a pilots helmet floating on the surface and part of the helo, which I think we later sunk it. Been a long time ago.”  D.W., BT3

The morning of December 6, 1970, was anything but routine. The eleven shipmates who responded to my email request for details regarding the chopper crash each had their own perspective view of the incident, with only one man recalling who was near him at the moment of impact. The number of passes the chopper made, the motion and attitude of the chopper 15 seconds before the crash, the number of crewmen in the chopper, what those men were doing, were all just a bit different from one man to the next. There was agreement about there being debris/shrapnel flying around, but no one was so much as scratched or required any doctoring. One of the witnesses was, in fact, the corpsman, who remained aboard while the doctor assigned to our ship participated in the recovery of the crew. There was one detail that half of the guys agreed upon: there were beer cans both full and empty floating on the water at the impact site.

    “I was an FTM3 at the time and onboard the Lynde D. McCormick in Da Nang harbor when the copter crashed off the starboard side and witnessed that event. I was topside just aft of the forward 51-C missile radar. The low flying chopper made a fast pass down the port side past the stern then it made a hard left turn (the rotors were perpendicular to the water) and then proceeded up the starboard side, still flying fast and very low to the water, when just prior to midships the skids on the chopper hit the water causing the chopper to pitch forward and the rest is history. In what seemed like an eternity (only a few seconds) the men on the chopper started to pop up in the water one at a time, almost like in a cartoon, they each were crying out for help as they surfaced, then the beer cans came floating up both full and empties.” T.R., FTM3

    “I have thought of that crash way too much over the years.  Always see it like I was still standing there watching them come in low waving at us beer in one hand just waving having a good time!  I can even see the brand of beer.  I don’t quite understand how anyone could be missing though.” K.R., FTM2

Along with the shipmates' personal recollections of the crash, there is the detail found in the official deck log for that day, as entered by the OOD (Officer of the Deck) on the bridge at the time.

Good penmanship wasn't of prime concern, I guess, nor was emotion or opinion. Note that according to the timestamp, the entire incident lasted just 22 minutes, from impact to the order to get underway for the gunline off the of the DMZ.

    “I do remember the helicopter crash, I watched it go down after it made several low passes in the harbor, it appeared to me that the rotor hit the water during one of its low turns and it flipped.   I was not on the crew that went out, though I normally would have been (ship's corpsman).  I was getting in the boat when someone from the bridge called out to let the doctor go. We had a doctor riding with us at the time.  There was a hospital ship in the harbor and the wounded were taken there.

    I was topside probably just outside of sickbay.  I got the impression they just playing games, and made several passes to other ships in the harbor.  I never saw any of the men, the Helo pilot had a fractured femur, from the doc that went on board.“ W.F., HMCS Ret.

At the chopper's unit's website where I found the incident report, I was able to communicate with the person who had compiled all of the data for the choppers assigned to the unit in Da Nang. Here is a portion of the conversation we had:

Webmaster

Army helicopter crews had very dangerous jobs so were easily tempted to blow off some steam.  Showing off for some ship bound Navy guys seemed to be good relief and a fun way to do that.  Unfortunately water operations were not commonly part of Army helicopter pilot training so the pilots were likely surprised at how difficult it is to tell how close you are to water as water is not three dimensional.  Navy helicopter pilots had radar altimeters that told them their height above the water for that very reason.

Huey cargo doors were normally open during flight operations unless it was too cold for the guys in the back.  The doors slid open on tracks like a back door on a mini van.  About a third of Army helicopter casualties were caused by accidents being a combination of young pilots (19 to 25 years old), dangerous operating environment (dust, rain, wind, night, ground obstructions, jungle etc) and nearly constant exposure to small arms fire rarely getting above 1,500 feet above the ground and landing on average every 15 minutes in confined spaces.

By the way, both pilots are no longer living.

Thanks for your information.  I will add it to our records.

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Me

I appreciate your perspective regarding the job and the stressors inherent to the position of a helicopter pilot, in particular the pilots in Viet Nam. Were you a pilot or other crewman back then? Upon reading the accident report I had just one important question: did the families of the deceased crewmen feel they were told the facts of their soldier's death and were they given an opportunity to participate in or even attend the inquiry that must have been held after the incident?

I wanted to mention that my son-in-law is a Chinook pilot with the 160th SOAR.

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Webmaster

I flew Chinooks in Vietnam accomplishing almost 1,000 hours of combat flight time in about nine months.  The Chinook was an amazing helicopter in the 1960s and still is today.  It is scheduled to continue service until at least 2060 meaning it will have been in service for nearly 100 years.  There is an article about the Chinook in the current issue of the Smithsonian Air & Space Magazine.  See The U.S. Army’s Lift-Anything, Go-Anywhere Helicopter Your son-in-law is not only flying one of the best aircraft in the world but also he is in probably the best helicopter aviation unit in the world.  You should be very proud of him.  By the way, the Army taught water landings in the Chinook transition course as the Chinook was/is designed to float.  So that is how I know about the difficulty of judging height above the water as I have made several landings in water.

The Army has an excellent accident reporting system designed to prevent future accidents.  As part of that reporting process, assignment of fault is kept confidential so that pilots will be less reluctant to tell the truth as the truth can save future lives.  The trade-off for this process is that the public is not privy to this private information meaning that next-of-kin of those involved may never know the full story.  However, what you saw on our web site is available using the Freedom of Information Act so anyone can get a good idea about what happened without knowing what discipline the living crew members may have received.  On top of this system remember we were at war.  A lot of people were getting killed, unfortunately, some unnecessarily.

Our experience with next of kin is that those whose loved ones' remains have never been recovered have the hardest time accepting information.  One of the crew member's remains falls into this category.  Also in our experience surviving crew members struggle with survivor's guilt for the rest of their lives.  The bonds among these men were and continue today to be closer than family. 

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Pretty heady stuff, a real eye-opener for me. You might want to check out the website at the link above. The man I was talking to authored the first story served up in the article, "Medevac in the Mist". He knows of what he speaks. But...

Today is December 6, 2020, a Sunday just as it was fifty years ago. Fifty years have passed since that day when I experienced a senseless loss of lives, although I consider myself fortunate. I was not on the starboard side of the ship, did not see the mangled chopper disappear beneath the surface of the bay under a black cloud of smoke, and have to dodge flying debris.

    “I remember an Army chopper crash in Da Nang Harbor sometime but I couldn't tell you the year. I was on the fantail during the event and those guys were drunk and making gun runs on us. The door gunner was throwing beer cans at us and as they made a run the pilot banked too close to the water and his blade hit the surface. As the chopper exploded it threw parts all over our fantail. Two guys floated to the surface and were picked up, but I don't recall by who. I also remember 1 helmet floating in the debris but no one was in it. We learned later that all 4 had died in the event.” T.S., HT2

I generated five emails to those nine men over the course of two weeks. In the end, I got one response thanking me for my efforts, suggesting that we communicate in the future and try to hook up at the ship's reunion in June of 2021. As for the others – well, I wonder if I buried them (and their memory of the crash) under too much detail and facts. Perhaps they felt cheated at losing their memory of the crash to all those cold, hard facts.

    “I was the OIL KING on the 1970-71 cruise. I remember this day well. A couple of friends and I was walking forward from the fantail and were next to the aft hatch. The chopper was coming from the aft of the ship. It was flying really low to the water. When it was just off the side maybe 40 yards or so it started to tip forward I imagine to lift off and I heard loud laughter(?) coming from the chopper. The front of the landing gear strut caught the water and it flipped fast. Then I felt heat and parts flying all around us. Above below and even between us. I felt small particles stinging my face and arms. It happened so fast. Next, we looked and I saw flames on the water and several beer cans floating .around. Now I am not saying they came from the chopper being Da Nang Harbor. It wasn't the cleanest place I have been. Anyway, that is what I remember of the incident. Hope this will help. We were so lucky that none of us were hit with anything of size, but pieces were all around where we were standing. You don’t forget those things.” D.S., BT3

My research extended over two months, beginning with the acquisition of the very crucial Command History reports. The real work began when I learned the crash date. With that date and the fact that two men died on that date in one incident, I went to The Wall-USA and searched that date. With the names in hand, I learned as much about those men and their fate as I could. I provided links to all of the references I found for the two fallen soldiers. Here are two:

Alvin Lee Evanoff

Walter Joseph Taylor Jr.

The final word on this topic is just that. Here is the last email I sent to my shipmates; a memorial to those men and the end of my story.

Taps: The Final Word

SP4 Alvin Lee Evanoff and PFC Walter Joseph Taylor Jr.: sitting in the back of a chopper, they were having about as much fun as you can have on a sunny Sunday morning. Never mind that it was December 6, 1970, in Da Nang harbor, and they were enjoying the last moments of their lives. At the time, none of us knew these guys. It would take me another 49 years to learn what happened, to finally put names and faces to those unfortunate men who surely felt they had the world by the tail before that world came crashing down around them.

Our lives are full of events, some of which were soon forgotten, others so fresh that they could have happened yesterday. This one lands squarely in the latter group. Relish the fact that you can remember anything at this age (lol), keep your experience as the one that counts, and keep a place in that memory for the two men who ran out of time. They deserve that much. Rest in peace, Alvin.

Update, 13 September, 2024 My curiosity demanded that I find out the status, if any, of MIA serviceman PFC Taylor. I was relieved to find a detailed reference to him, which can be found at:

https://dpaa-mil.sites.crmforce.mil/dpaaProfile?id=a0Jt00000001UKrEAM

Rest in peace, Walter.

© 2020-24 John Robin Swanson