It began one morning in early October 1967. I was in my stateroom on board the USS Kitty Hawk (CVA-63) thinking about getting up for morning quarters in the Combat Information Center (CIC) Office. The Kitty Hawk was in the Long Beach Naval Shipyard completing a second Restricted Availability as she prepared for our next Western Pacific (WESTPAC) deployment in November.
I was running late that morning. I had gone to the Long Beach Officers’ Club the night before with a group of other Kitty Hawk junior officers, and after several rounds of beers, the subject turned to shipboard rumors. The latest was about junior officers from the Kitty Hawk getting orders to Vietnam. We had heard about one junior officer who got orders as a forward air observer. Orders like that were uncomfortable to think about. Life expectancy was thought to be short. I was sure I would not be getting any such orders and boastfully voiced such confidence. After all, I was still a young ensign and had only been on one WESTPAC deployment. And, until we returned to San Diego in June, I was “George,” the most junior ship’s company officer.
Then, just as I was rolling out of my bunk, the telephone rang. My first thought was it must be my boss in the CIC Office wanting to know where I was. To my great relief, it was not. It was the shipboard telephone operator informing me that I had a long-distance call from Washington, D.C. My second thought was who would be calling me from Washington? A lieutenant asked if I was Ensign Moore and told me he was my junior officer assignments detailer. After confirming that I was Ensign Moore, he said he was calling to give me a heads-up about Vietnam orders that were being drafted. My third thought was of orders as a forward air observer. With much relief, he told me the orders being drafted were as the administrative assistant to the Deputy Commander, U.S. Naval Forces, Vietnam (COMNAVFORV). Okay, that sounded better than forward air observer orders.
After the call, my fourth thought was this was a prank. It must be one of the other junior officers at the officers’ club last night who wanted to get back at me for being so cocky. After morning quarters (I was not late), I placed a phone call to my detailer to confirm if he had called me. Yes, he confirmed he had called and then added that the orders would indicate I was to proceed to Saigon no later than 23 November 1967. Okay, that was not a prank. I was going to Vietnam!
Departing for Vietnam
My imagination went into overdrive. I thought Deputy COMNAVFORV must be part of a large headquarters staff with junior officers doing lots of paperwork and reports.
My World Airways flight departed Travis Air Force Base around midnight on Thanksgiving Day, 23 November 1967. Except for carrying mostly men in military uniforms, the flight reminded me of any commercial airline. After refueling stops in Hawaii and the Philippines, the plane arrived at the Tan Son Nhut Air Base, South Vietnam, shortly after noon on 25 November 1967.
I first realized I was no longer in the United States as the giant World Airways aircraft began its descent. It was an unusually steep and fast approach. It was not like any normal commercial aircraft approach in the United States. My second realization was as I was leaving the aircraft. The moment I stepped onto the stairs leading to the tarmac below, the bright sunlight, heat, humidity, pungent stench, and aircraft noise instantly overwhelmed my senses. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust. The stench was a curious combination of jet engine exhaust, vehicle exhaust, burning rubber, and cooking smoke. There were military vehicles everywhere, some moving, some parked; and U.S. and South Vietnamese gunships and fighter aircraft, some moving, some parked. I heard the roar of fighter jets taxiing and taking off. As I looked toward the back of our plane, I saw a line of flag-draped metal caskets waiting to be loaded onto the same World Airways aircraft that I had just left. I wondered how many of the men or women I just arrived with would be returning home in one of those metal caskets. I would never know.
We were escorted into a hot, humid airport waiting room with slow-moving overhead fans. The stench remained. We continued into another room where we were seated and given a short orientation briefing about Vietnam and our tour in South Vietnam by a bored Army sergeant. Afterward, we were divided by service. Army personnel, the largest group, were moved into one room, Air Force personnel into another, and Navy personnel, the smallest group, into yet another. A chief petty officer quickly checked our orders and directed us to buses located just outside the terminal building. I was directed to a specific Navy bus. After getting my luggage and walking toward my assigned bus, I noticed that all the bus windows were open, but covered with wire mesh. We were told the mesh was there to protect against the Viet Cong who liked to throw hand grenades into open windows from passing motorcycles. Along with the other Navy personnel, I got my gear onto the bus and found a seat. We were told the bus was going to the Annapolis Bachelor Officer Quarters/Bachelor Enlisted Quarters (BOQ/BEQ) on Plantation Road, just south of the air base. I had no idea where Plantation Road was.
As the bus left the air base, my first impression was of chaos, turmoil, noise, and mayhem. The road was clogged with every type of vehicle imaginable. A light blue haze hovered over the road in the mid-afternoon sun. Motorcycles seemed to be the main mode of transportation, driven mostly by young Vietnamese men in military uniforms with attractive young Vietnamese women in traditional ao-dai dresses seated side-saddle on the back. The bus moved tentatively through the traffic with scooters and motorcycles scrambling past on either side.
Suddenly, the stale air in the bus was overwhelmed by exhaust fumes. I became nauseous. I also was sweating heavily, and my clothes felt sticky on my body. I needed to change out of those heavy clothes that were more appropriate for November in Northern California. I had no idea how long it would take to get to the BOQ/BEQ, but the sooner the better. When we finally arrived outside the Annapolis BOQ/BEQ, my first thought was this building was an old warehouse. It must be a mistake. The building was a two-story concrete shell, one of many similar-looking buildings on Plantation Road. Dark green sandbags were piled around the ground floor of the building and dirty white 55-gallon drums were spaced along the road. I noticed white sheets hanging out to dry inside wire mesh screens on the second floor. An armed sentry was posted outside the BOQ/BEQ entrance.
The U.S. Naval Support Activity, Saigon operated the Annapolis BOQ/BEQ and was advertised as a transit billeting facility for incoming and outgoing naval personnel. When we arrived in the late afternoon, we lined up and checked in at the front desk. We were assigned a bed and issued two sheets, a pillowcase, and a towel. Blankets were not needed. My bed was in a large barracks-like room with lots of other beds in small cubicles with large overhead fans. At the other end of the room was a large communal-style shower room and toilets without partitions. Even though there was no air conditioning, the room was cool with just the slow-moving fans and low lights. After a long cool shower and something to eat at the small adjacent BOQ/BEQ canteen, I felt almost human again. I had no problem falling asleep that evening despite the usual noise of the barracks and the constant traffic on Plantation Road.
COMNAVFORV
The next morning, after breakfast in the small canteen, I went to the personnel office, co-located in the BOQ/BEQ, to arrange for bus transportation. However, before getting on the bus, I decided to call Lieutenant Bessire. I didn’t know who Lieutenant Bessire was or what he did, but he had mailed me a short, handwritten note with his telephone number and asked that I call him when I arrived in-country.
To my surprise, the call was answered, “Commander, U.S. Naval Forces, Vietnam headquarters.”
I asked if Lieutenant Bessire was there.
“Yes, sir!” was the snappy response. Moments later, he was on the line. “This is Lieutenant Bessire!”
Timidly I responded, “This is Ensign Moore. You asked that I call when I arrived.”
Somewhat abruptly, he interrupted, “Where have you been? I thought you were going to call yesterday.”
I was taken aback and surprised. Why would anyone at COMNAVFORV headquarters care when I arrived? Maybe I was in trouble. When I told him that I was about to get on the bus, I was again surprised when he told me not to, that he would pick me up. I wondered why, but I appreciated the offer. I expected to see Lieutenant Bessire in a Jeep. About an hour later, Lieutenant Bessire arrived, not in a Jeep, but in a large black Ford four-door sedan driven by a Vietnamese driver. I was stunned. As the driver was putting my luggage in the trunk, Lieutenant Bessire introduced himself as “Bob” and said he was the aide and flag lieutenant to the Commander, U.S. Naval Forces, Vietnam. I was confused. Why was the aide and flag lieutenant picking me up? He asked that I sit in the back seat with him. The car was spotlessly clean, air-conditioned, and had two dark blue admiral stars sewn in the center of a white slipcover that covered the back seat. I was sitting in a two-star admiral’s sedan! What kind of orders did I have?
Shortly before noon on 26 November 1967, Lieutenant Bessire and I arrived at COMNAVFORV headquarters on a beautiful tree-lined street in central Saigon. After quickly being waved through the main gate by armed security guards, the Vietnamese driver drove us around to the front of the three-story building. Except for the high-security fencing and concertina wire, the heavily fortified compound and building reminded me of classic Parisian architecture. We stopped in front of the flag entrance, two mahogany doors with two white admiral stars attached. The doors opened to stairs leading to the second floor. On the second floor, two large French doors opened into a spacious, air-conditioned office foyer with two private offices on either side. Immediately, two chief petty officers stood up and welcomed me aboard, by name. I was bewildered. After being introduced to the chief petty officers, Lieutenant Bessire explained that this was the office foyer outside the private offices of Rear Admiral Kenneth L. Veth, COMNAVFORV, and his deputy, Rear Admiral William Hiram House.
After a moment to absorb what he had just said, Lieutenant Bessire knocked on the door of one of the private offices. “Admiral, Ensign Moore is here.”
“Send him in!” came the loud reply.
With that, I was escorted into a large, well-appointed private office. After introducing me, Lieutenant Bessire promptly left the office and shut the door. I was standing in front of a huge, gruff-looking man sitting behind an oversized wooden desk. He stared at me over his reading glasses for a moment.
I was terrified. I had never met an admiral before. Within an hour, I had gone from the harsh realities of the Annapolis BOQ/BEQ to the surreal surroundings of the private office of a two-star admiral. Then, he stood up, came around his desk, and with a broad grin, boomed out, “Welcome aboard!” and extended his meaty hand and introduced himself as “Willy” House. He was so large I thought he must have played football in college. He immediately put me at ease with his gregarious personality and the hint of a twinkle in his eye. He asked me to take a seat and then proceeded to explain why I was in his office. I finally learned what an administrative assistant was. I was going to be his aide and flag lieutenant. House had recently been promoted to rear admiral himself and had just arrived in South Vietnam. Since the Chief of Naval Personnel had not yet created his aide and flag lieutenant billet, they simply assigned me to the generic position called administrative assistant until they could get authorization to create the new billet. My assigned desk was immediately outside his private office.
I quickly realized I would work more closely with him than with anyone else on the staff. It was going to be a seven-day-a-week job with no downtime. I would be responsible for coordinating his correspondence, work schedule, transportation, social schedule, living quarters household staff, and flag mess. In addition, I would coordinate the numerous luncheons he gave for senior government officials and dignitaries. I also would coordinate sundry requests from high-ranking U.S. and foreign military officers and the large contingent of visiting congressmen and senators. Finally, I would accompany the admiral to all meetings outside of headquarters, including all inspection trips at our various naval detachments throughout South Vietnam.
First Assignment
However, the first and most immediate job I was assigned was to prepare and move the admiral into his new quarters. The Army that was responsible for all housing in Saigon had assigned the admiral to a small villa at 161 Tran Qui Cap Street, several blocks south of the naval headquarters. When I met him, Rear Admiral House was living at Rear Admiral Veth’s quarters at 41 Le Qui Don Street, but he wanted to move out as quickly as possible. He gave me a deadline of 10 December to move him. I was overwhelmed when I first visited the villa. It was a mess. How was I going to get this place prepared for an admiral in just over two weeks? I was terrified that I was going to fail my first assignment with him.
I had to start from scratch, from getting a contractor, painting the whole place, installing Western-style toilets, obtaining furniture, silverware, chinaware, glasses, etc., and finally, remodeling the entire kitchen area. Fortunately, I was able to abscond with a brand new huge 17 cubic foot freezer and a large television set from the naval headquarters and have them delivered to the villa. Then there was the staff. I needed to quickly get a household staff pulled together, all with security clearances appropriate for a flag officer. Finally, I needed to establish the admiral’s mess and shop for the appropriate food and liquor. It was a daunting and complex task to be completed in such a short time frame, but with lots of help, I got it done and on time. I had passed my first test with the admiral.
Also in December, I was promoted, and Lieutenant Bob Bessire completed his 12-month tour in Vietnam and was replaced by Lieutenant (junior grade) Sam Miess. I was sad to see Bob leave. We worked well together, and he taught me a lot about my new position. On 19 January 1968, as Tet approached, my position was officially changed from administrative assistant to aide and flag lieutenant to Deputy Commander, U.S. Naval Forces, Vietnam. Less than two weeks later the Tet Offensive erupted throughout South Vietnam and changed the course of U.S. involvement in the Vietnam War.
I would remain Rear Admiral House’s aide and flag lieutenant for my entire tour of duty in Vietnam. Years later, I found out the staff fondly referred to me as the “House mouse.”
