Author's Note

I've been kicking this story around for a lot of years. It started out to be the first part of a three part memoir. I have decided, instead, to write it as a historical novel.  The ship was real as were the time and the locations.  In the ‘truth is stranger than fiction category' many of the incidents in this novel have been described more or less as they actually happened.

I have decided to use my own name in this novel as well as that of my friend and shipmate GM1 Daryl Carlson who has been deceased for many years.  This is intended to add a biographical quality to the novel and provide a small memorial to Guns Carlson, who was a Sailor's Sailor. The rest of the names have been changed to protect the innocent as well as the guilty.  My Basswood shipmates will recognize the characters and I use the term ‘characters' advisedly.  Novel my ass, any old sailor who gets his hands on this book will recognize it for what it is.  A damned straight, this ain't no shit, sea story.

Fictional incidents as well as some embellishments to real incidents have been added to improve the story line and to add entertainment value and some tense moments for readers.  The Basswood actually was in Vietnam in 1967.  We worked in the rivers, bays and all up and down the coast and we did have Navy Seals on board during part of our time there.  However, the joint operations with the Seals and the combat action segments described in the book are all fictional and a product of the writer's imagination.

To those of you who have not had the good fortune to experience lush Pacific Islands and exotic Asian countries, it is my intent to take you there through the eyes of a young sailor.  I hope you enjoy the trip.

Prologue

It was an early evening in August 1968. Guns and I were sitting in our favorite corner of the Merchant Marine Club having a goodbye drink and reminiscing about our past two years together on the Coast Guard Cutter Basswood.  Guns was rotating back to the states in the morning, flying out of Anderson AFB on the other end of the Island.

The Merchant Marine Club was located just a short walk from where our ship tied up in Apra Harbor on the Island of Guam. The only other place to have a drink was the big Navy Base EM Club, but who wants to drink with 500 Squids.  No, the Merchie Club was fine with us. It was a rough and tumble place like a Wild West Saloon. The only people who patronized the bar were Merchant Marine sailors and a few Coasties.  You would buy a bottle of your favorite booze and sit and nurse it until you were ready to leave. That's what Guns and I were doing.

"Shit Doc it seems like only yesterday that you were coming up the brow in Hono and reporting for duty."

"Yeah, time flies when you're having fun Guns and we've certainly been having fun. Well, except for our little dust up in Vietnam"

 "No shit, who'd a thought a couple of old liberty hounds like you and me would get mixed up with the God damned Navy Seals.  And getting our asses shot at no less."

"Well, other than that, you've gotta admit it's been a hell of a tour. We've sailed all the way from Blue Hawaii across the wide ass Pacific.  You know Guns I counted them up the other day.  We've been to forty-seven different islands and five Asian countries not counting Vietnam."

"Yep, Doc and some of the best darn liberty ports in the world, most of them more than once.  What a ride it's been.  Do you realize that we'll probably never see a tour of duty like this again?"

"Now that's a damned shame, but you're probably right."

"Hey Doc you remember when you first arrived in Honolulu, before I took you in hand and showed you the ropes?"

"Yeah you sure straightened me out or I'd have been stroking it into my socks like the deck force kids down in the Zoo (crew berthing).  You told me "Shipmate you're wasting your time trying to pick up the tourist chicks down on Waikiki.  It's the sixties, you have short hair and you're in the service.  You have to go native."

"Well you were right Guns. I started frequenting the Japanese and Korean bars. I learned a little of the lingo, ate the food and pretty soon I was getting more ass than a toilet seat.  In this part of the world the word is ‘go native' and it has served me well every place we've been in the last two years.  You've been a great tour guide shipmate and I'm really going to miss your skinny ass".

 "Not if you get the orders you requested to that 180 home ported in Sangley Point in the Philippines.  The first night you hit the beach in Cavite City and hook up with one of them pretty little Filipina gals you'll forget all about old Guns".                                                                                      

"No way man, I'd be wishing you were right there with me a Brave Bull in your hand (Guns favorite drink) and your own girl sitting on your knee.  It doesn't matter anyway.  There's no way the Medical Brass are going to leave me out here for back to back tours.  They say it's not good for Corpsmen because we tend to go wild and get too independent and that makes us a little rough around the edges for civilized clinical duty in the States.   And that's probably where I'll end up, in some damned outpatient clinic handing out band aids and aspirins to desk sailors.  So, what do you think about your orders"?

"Could be worse, I've been stationed in Boston before.  It's a good sailor town and there are plenty of Sailor Bars down on the waterfront where my ship ties up.  The ship is one of those new 378 foot Cutters.  If I'm lucky she might pull a Cadet Cruise to Europe.  I couldn't get in anymore trouble there than I have here, probably less since you won't be there".

"That's probably true, speaking of trouble, do you remember when we took that 50 caliber machine gun you had just repaired over to Ft. Shafter Army Base to test fire it and ended up shooting up one of their field exercises?  That seems funny now, but it was just a lucky break that we didn't kill one those Dog Faces".

"Those Grunts didn't have a very good sense of humor did they?  Shit that was good live fire experience for them, helped make their training more realistic.  At least that's the way I've always looked at it.  How about when you got that Albatross caught in your fishing line and killed it when we were on the bird watcher patrol".

"Oh yeah, I was trolling off the Fantail. We were making about 9 knots, good speed for trolling.  That damned bird went for my lure and got tangled up in the stainless steel leader.  All the bird scientists were out on deck watching me fish.  I'll never forget the horrified looks on their faces when I hauled that dead bird aboard".                                                                                                              

"Well Doc, you can look at it this way, you disproved the old Sailor Myth that killing an Albatross is bad luck.  That happened right before we left Hono for Guam and the long Westpac which was the best damned sea duty of our careers. Although I do sometimes wonder that we've both lived to talk about it". 

"Guns did you ever consider, over the course of the last two years you and I have provided material for sea stories for a whole new generation of Coasties". 

"That ain't no shit Doc".

            We went on like that for about three hours.  Each of us remembering and relating our favorite stories from the past two years.

            "It's getting late and you've got an early day tomorrow Guns. We best haul ass back to the ship".

"Damn, I guess you're right shipmate. It's time to go."

The next morning I met Guns up on the Quarter Deck.  He was looking sharp in his Dress Blues.  I gave him a hug and shook hands with him. Then he threw his sea bag up on his shoulder and I saluted him as he went down the Gangway.  He climbed into a Government van and he was gone.  I never saw Guns again.