USS Finch (DER – 328) Destroyer Escort Radar
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By
Robert T. McDowell
I entered the Navy 31 May 1962. After ten weeks of Boot
Camp and twelve weeks of Shipfitter school I received orders to the USS General
WA Mann. This was sometime in December 1962. The Mann had been a civilian cruise
ship before the Second World War, but was converted to a troop transport when
the Navy needed ships to transport troops. It was one of four troop transports
that operated from the west coast. The Mann’s schedule never varied. We loaded
troops, their dependents, and all their possessions at the
The trip took about a month or maybe a little more. We
would be in
I served aboard the Mann for approximately a year and a
half. I was a fireman apprentice (E-2) when I came aboard the Mann, but shortly
after that I passed the test, and was promoted to fireman (E-3). On 16 November
1963 I passed the test, and was promoted to 3rd class Petty Officer
(E-4). My rate was Shipfitter Metal Smith.
Just five days after I came aboard the USS Finch we got
a new Captain; Lieutenant Commander George I.
Thompson became Finch’s new Commanding Officer on 20 July 1964. Ceremonies
were conducted in the ship's homeport of
The west coast was divided up in sectors, and each
sector was manned at all times. I never really knew where we were
geographically, as we were far enough off the coast so as not to be able to see
land. I suppose it had something to do with the twelve-mile rule and
international waters. The Finch was active in one of these sectors about a month
at a time; then we would pull into port for about a month. It was great duty
compared to the Mann. I had my car there, a nice little “64” GTO, and when
in port my buddies and me had a good time... drinking, chasing girls, and all
the things that young stupid kids do. I was too young to get into the bars and
nightclubs so the girls I hung out with were considered teenyboppers.
Whenever I had a three day weekend I would head home to
I was promoted to 2nd Class Petty Officer
(E-5) on 16 January 1965, and was then volunteered for the engine room throttle
watch, which was four hours on and eight hours off around the clock. Before that
my watch duties had consisted of taking soundings of the fresh water, ballast
and fuel tanks. I actually liked the throttle watch, as I was in charge of
answering the bells and changing speeds. I really enjoyed doing maneuvers; it
was like a game trying to see how fast you could respond to the bridge’s
commands when they would change speed or direction. We could turn that little
ship on a dime. In order to turn the ship sharply you had to put one screw in
reverse and the other in forward, and in a matter of minutes you might have to
reverse what you were doing, and go in the opposite direction. When doing
maneuvers they would really put you through the paces. The officer on the bridge
would change his throttle indicator and a bell would go off in the engine room,
and I would change my throttle indicator, and a bell would go off on the bridge,
which would let the bridge duty officer know that we were in sync. Then I would
immediately adjust the speed of the ship accordingly.
You can call it bragging or fact, but I was very adept
at this task, and was considered by my peers to be the best on the ship. If you
couldn’t handle the job you would be replaced, and quickly. Not very many
sailors wanted the throttle watch, as it was a pressure packed job, but to me it
was a lot of fun.
Sometime in the spring of 1965 we began hearing rumors
that we might be getting redeployed to
The
Shortly before arriving in
“Oh lucky me,” I thought, as I heard the intercom.
It was time to search our first junk and it was my watch. I was so scared I was
about to soil my self. “Away the motor whaleboat away,” I would grow weary
of hearing that message over the intercom before my tour in
We ran to the armory; picked up our pieces, and then to
the whaleboat where a large outrigger crane lowered us by cables into the water.
I had to get the diesel started as soon as we touched the water. With that done
we set out toward a fairly large junk. I was trying to keep my Thompson
available and ready for what I was sure was going to be a firefight. It was
while inserting the clip into my gun that I dropped it clip into the bilge, and
search as I might; running my hand to and fro in the oil contaminated water I
could not locate the clip. “You friggin klutz,” I said to myself,
“you’re going to get your dumb ass killed all because you got buck fever,
and dropped your clip in the bilge.” It was like a bad dream. Here I was about
to go into battle, at least that’s what I thought, and me with no bullets. I
finally had to give up, as we were pulling up along side the junk to board and
search it. Luckily for me everything went well, and after the Exec and a couple
of others searched the Junk we headed back to the ship. It was only after we got
back and had secured the motor whaleboat that I finally managed to locate the
oil-drenched clip. This was a lesson well learned... never be without extra
clips. I went to the armory and found a canvas bag with a shoulder strap, and
loaded it up with extra clips; placing it along side my Thompson so I would be
ready for the next time we were called upon to search a junk, which wouldn’t
be a long wait. It seems like that’s all we did. Between searching junks and
standing throttle watch I was one worn out sailor.
I only spent about seven months in
I spent my off duty hours sunbathing, fishing and
lifting weights. I ran the movie projector in the Shipfitter shop when we had
the time, and learned how to splice film with the best of them. Talk about
primitive technology. Looking back it seems that we had an endless supply of
movies to watch. I was never into pornography, but there were a lot of private
non-sanctioned skin flicks as well.
I can only touch on the high points of my tour in
Another incident I remember was comical in nature. We
pulled into a nice little bay where the shoreline was heavily covered with the
foliage associated with that part of
I can’t remember the occasion, but for whatever
reason we took the whaleboat into an Army base at Quinon. I still have photos of
myself, and several others taken, while in the whaleboat on the way in. I
can’t remember if there was a dock or if we just beached the whaleboat as we
did so many other times when checking out villages located on the shore. I
remember walking into a barracks full of Army guys and after spending a short
time talking to them I was very glad I had made the decision to go in the Navy
rather than the Army or the Marines. I greatly admired these guys, and what they
were going through, and felt something akin to guilt; knowing that so many of
them wouldn’t be coming home, and thinking that my situation was so much
better than there’s. Barring something totally bizarre happening I knew my
chances of surviving
I remember Finch having a big beer blast on a deserted
Captain Thompson did his best to make our situation as
tolerable as possible. I remember several times anchoring in a secluded peaceful
inlet and hanging rope ladders over the side and swimming for hours. We would
dive off the top of the ship, climb back up the rope ladders and do it again. We
actually went swimming on Christmas day in 1965. I quit participating in the
swimming activities as my time began winding down to discharge time. I wasn’t
taking any chances with sharks or anything else that might be lurking down
below. I’ve never been all that crazy about swimming in really deep water
anyway; too vivid of an imagination I guess. I could just imagine some sort of
sea monster waiting there in the deep to bite my legs off.
We searched junks pretty much every day; never really
finding anything of any value. Once we found a GI ammunition box being used to
store fishing gear, and another time we found an AWOL South Vietnamese soldier.
We had a Vietnamese liaison officer aboard the Finch who would pick out what he
thought looked like a suspicious junk and then he would, by using a big
bullhorn, make known our intention to board and search their vessel. Any junk
that didn’t comply would be sunk.
One day a suspicious acting junk, after being warned,
made a mad dash for shore. As they were beaching their boat the ships three-inch
guns took out the entire junk and crew. I could see bodies flying through the
air. There were no survivors. There was a saying among the sailors that if a
junk stopped and allowed us to board and search them they were South Vietnamese,
but if they ran they were Viet Cong.
One occasion I’ll not soon forget was a junk being
hailed to stop and be boarded, but for whatever reason they weren’t getting
the message, and just kept going on their merry way. I think they were close to
getting blown out of the water when it was noticed that the junk carried a group
of catholic nuns and priests. That would have been a terrible tragedy, and would
have made all the headlines back home, but who’s to say they were really what
they appeared to be. There was all kinds of chicanery going on, and it was hard
to know whom you could trust. Especially when we were hearing about little kids
riding their bikes by Army jeeps and dropping grenades into them. The Viet Cong
knew all the tricks and used them in many different ways to disrupt the American
forces.
I think the scariest event that I experienced was when
our Exec decided that we were going to beach the whaleboat, and search a village
located in a stand of trees not far from the edge of the beach. There was a high
cliff with a watchtower structure built on top of it. This must have looked
suspicious to the captain or once again maybe the ship had orders to check it
out. The enlisted man never knew what was going on until he was knee deep in it.
Anyway we beached the whaleboat and walked right through a deserted village, but
it was apparent it hadn’t been vacant long as fires were still burning, and
food half eaten had been left behind. I just knew we were walking into an
ambush, and there would have been no way to ever get a shot off; talk about
sitting ducks. The Exec took a couple of sailors with him and they made their
way up a well-worn mountain trail to the structure located on top. We were left
standing around like lambs for the slaughter while they checked out the edifice.
Pretty soon they came back down and the Exec ordered us all back to the
whaleboat and back to the ship. Soon after getting back the small structure was
blown off the top of the cliff by the ship’s three-inch guns. I guess it was
good target practice if nothing else. I thought it was a stupid move by the Exec
to take a bunch of untrained sailors into a Vietnamese village that we had no
way of knowing if they were friendly or hostile. I think most Vietnamese were
afraid of both sides in that travesty of a war.
Every once in a while a Vietnamese Navy Junk would come
up along side of the ship, and we would converse back and forth; mainly about
Zippo cigarette lighters. The Vietnamese sailors would do anything to get a
Zippo. Sometimes they would come aboard and actually walk around the ship, which
I thought was pretty dumb, but I guess they must have been invited. They were a
rough looking bunch and their smell could almost make you lose your breath.
I’ll bet they went through hell once we pulled out of the war. Everyone had to
be reprocessed to get their thinking straight again, and I can only imagine what
that consisted of.
I’ll never forget one junk that was brought along
side of the ship. I was kind of daydreaming looking down at the kids, and all of
a sudden I noticed this young boy of about twelve who had six fingers on each
hand and six toes on each foot. What was amazing is they weren’t deformed
looking or anything like that; they were perfect. I guess he was further along
the evolutionary process than the rest of us. I wish I’d had my camera with
me; that would have been a Pulitzer Prize winner.
I think what I hated most about searching junks was the
trauma caused to the occupants on the boat. Most of these people were just
trying to catch enough fish to sustain their meager diet. I remember the scared
look in the their eyes, as they waited for us to complete the boarding and
searching of their vessel, which many times was also their home. They had no
idea what we were up to, but they did know what we were capable of doing should
one of them make a wrong move. There was fear and trembling as they huddled
together talking under their breath as they watched our every move. All it would
have taken was for one of the Vietnamese men to make a wrong move, and any one
of us could have opened fire possibly killing innocent people.
I guess the best way to sum up my tour of duty in
Then the bad news came; all Navy personnel had been
involuntarily extended for an undetermined length of time. What a
disappointment; I was totally devastated! It seemed like fate had just played
the cruelest joke possible. I had forty-five days left; almost, but not quite
within reach, and then it was gone. A couple of my friends who were married with
kids just about freaked out. I think one of them even had to be medicated. What
a slap in the face, and the worst thing about it was the length of the extension
was undetermined. We didn’t find out until a couple of weeks later that it was
a four-month extension. Now instead of a month and a half to go I was back to
five and a half months to go. Four months can seem like an eternity when
you’re tired, and your joy and excitement of going home has been totally
crushed.
I still have the article from the “Stars and
Stripes” newspaper. See excerpt below:
*******
4. Effective 2400, 15 September 1965 at expiration of enlistment or enlistment as extended, enlistments of regular Navy personnel will be involuntarily extended for a period of four months under authority of 10 USC 5538 unless member voluntarily extends his enlistment or reenlists in accordance with current directives.
*******
Well, even with the extra time it was finally coming to
an end. I along with four other sailors from the USS Finch were being taken by
motor whaleboat to the USS Navasota, a refueling ship, which was on its way back
to Subic Bay, Philippines. The old motor whaleboat that I had spent so much time
in was taking me to freedom. In just a few days I would be flying out of Clark
Air Force base back to
Note:
Those of us who searched the junks, and went up the rivers in a motor whaleboat
were the original Brown Water sailors, and nobody ever mentions it. We
were there before the Swift Boats and the River Boats; searching junks and doing
whatever else we were called upon to do.
Maybe one day we will be recognized for what we did
before the Brown Water Sailors got there. I saw my first Swift Boat about
a month before I left
They just had a higher profile due to the publicity
they received before arriving on the scene. I never saw a River Boat until later
and then only in a picture. The River Rats got the glory and they deserve
every bit of it.