USS PUEBLO Being Retrofitted

Provided by Ralph McClintock

Part 1

The PUEBLO crew was not a happy crew. The mission was known in general, but was never admitted. It was a small ship with an oversize crew and a Naval Security Group detachment which was "separate". On January 9, 1967, Steve Ellis and I landed in SeaTac Airport, got our duffel bags and hailed a taxi to the ferry building in downtown Seattle. After catching the ferry, we arrived in Bremerton after 10:00 in the evening. We were directed to Building 433, where we were told to grab a bunk and finish check-in in the morning. We found a cubicle with two empty beds and stored our gear. Two guys returning from the base movie came in and introduced themselves. They were Bob Hill, an 18 year old sub school drop-out and Jay Maggard, an ex-paratrooper. Jay enlisted in the Navy while recovering from a head injury he had suffered in an auto accident. They had arrived that day and were assigned to the PUEBLO, but hadn't seen the ship yet. We agreed that after Ellis and I finished processing in we would meet them and go see the ship together. After breakfast they took off and Steve and I headed to the hospital via a base bus. I asked one of the dock workers at the bus stop if he had heard of the PUEBLO and if so, if he knew anything about it. He said it was tied up at Pier Nine and asked why we wanted to know, were we assigned to it or what? When we told him it was our new duty station, he responded that we must have really pissed someone off to pull duty like that. He said that from what he'd heard, it would be at sea most of the time and would rarely be in port. The PUEBLO would be operating in the Bering Straight area... our country's response to Russian trawlers, but we would be spying on the Russians.

Ellis and I rode to the hospital in silence. So much for it being a secret. It was a gloomy group that headed toward Pier Nine. The USS PUEBLO (AKL-44) was not a pretty ship to look at, and there were two of her type, as the PALM BEACH was directly ahead. We looked down at them as they lay next to the pier. With the various shades of zinc chromate and rust preventive paint on the hull and decks and the numerous tubes, pipes and hoses running over, through and on her, the PUEBLO looked more like someone in an intensive care unit than a ship of the line. No one said anything as we stared at this thing the Defense Department expected us to sail across the Pacific. They were both small, squat and ugly. Even after nine months of work in the shipyard, they would remain objects to be ridiculed by the crews. As prospective deck apes, the four of us had no idea what our part would be in the PUEBLO's mission. She was a spy ship, but that really didn't register. We climbed the ladder for our first visit to the USS PUEBLO by going down the ramp and across a barge. We wandered through the spaces that had lights and power and saw that there was still much work to do before the ship could be commissioned as part of the Pacific Fleet. The four of us, having finished a quick inspection of her 179 foot length, trudged off to find the rest of the crew.

We found Charlie Law, Quartermaster First Class, with Firemen Richard Arnold and Ed Bland in the yard snack bar. The seven of us, plus Chief Warrant Officer Lacy, were the sum total of the crew at this point. Charlie Law established his authority quickly without the need of chevrons. Law is the kind of man that impresses you with a presence that exceeds his physical being, and in Charlie's case he was a large man to begin with. He was a sailor first and foremost and made no bones about it. I don't recall anyone ever telling him a lifer joke. Charlie told us that our temporary office was in Building 50 (the oldest structure in the ship yard) and that we were expected to operate as a ship's crew, despite the fact that there wasn't much to do yet. Other officers and crew would be arriving soon and we would begin the process of preparing the ship for its commissioning. Charlie had no idea of the size of its crew, the number of officers, its purpose, mission or operating area...only that he heard that we should be in Japan in early spring. The enlisted crewmembers of the ship would operate in an informational vacuum for the next year. Except for what that one yard worker told us, none of us at our level ever learned anything more about the ship. In fact, we would eventually learn upon our return that our mission was so secret that our Captain, once he was on board, had a difficult time getting the ship outfitted and prepared because he couldn't tell anyone in the shipyard why he needed things. One can well imagine how all of this appeared to those of us peons at the bottom of the information chain. We were on a ship that would, at some time, go somewhere, to do something, for someone.

During the coming months, we came to accept all the strange goings-on as normal and not think about it too much. By the nineteenth we found out that we had a sister ship, she was the USS BANNER. The BANNER was stationed in Japan but so far had not operated south of Okinawa. Until Bucher (the new Captain) arrived, our schedule was up at 0630, breakfast at 0645, report to Building 50 until 1100, break for lunch, return to Building 50 at 1300 and knock off at 1530, and dinner at 1700. Bucher arrived on the thirty-first. We didn't have to wait long until his impact was felt, as the next day we had an all-hands meeting in which he explained that the schedule was 0800 to 1600, period. He further instructed us that we were not to discuss the ship's mission with anyone. We were not even to speculate about it amongst ourselves. It was an oceanographic survey ship and that was all anyone had to know.. Everything allocated to the ship was being stored in a warehouse until we moved on board. When we saw all of the foul weather gear, we had our first real clue of where we would be going. Foul weather jackets, intermediate cold weather gear, a King Kong look-alike outfit for extreme cold, thermal underwear, thermal socks, gloves, masks, boots, extra heavy boots, real cold weather boots and a supply of compasses that all pointed south. If Santa was going to visit us he would have to fly north to do it.

Part 2

On February 22 we moved on board the ship. About this time the "word" went out that we could soon expect twelve hour work days. By the end of the month we were working 12 hour days. By May 10, the work day was 15 1/2 hours long, with no end in sight. We figured we'd go to a 24 hour day and work backwards.

On the day before the commissioning ceremony we moved the ship to another pier. I was put on the deck force for the day and got to help with the line handling...it was fun to work like a sailor for a change. On the day of the big event many big wigs were on board. The crew had to wear their dress uniforms, medals and all -- it was a pretty impressive sight. I was resplendent in my white serving outfit, offering hors d'oeuvres to the dignitaries. Some political hack gave a speech about how the PUEBLO would help mankind reap the benefits of the deep. The highlight of the day for me was watching an Army general scuff his shoes on a shackle welded to the deck. Most of us thought the PUEBLO was a pig, but she was our pig, and we took a perverse pride in her. All of the hard work the crew did for the ceremony paid off, all metal was either painted or shone like a mirror. We were right proud of ourselves. My job as a mess cook was taking on new responsibilities and I was making the most of it. I was trading food to the guys in the engine room for instructions on how to operate the ship's laundry and permission to use it on weekends.

The washing machine was a creation out of a Captain Nemo nightmare and required diligence and a modicum of hand-eye coordination to operate. Once my clothes were dry I ran them though our very own Mangle -- I even had creases in my blue jacket. Because I was responsible for the food inventory, I ordered, stored, and supplied the galley as directed by Commisaryman Second Class, Harry Lewis. I received my own key to the galley, which was like having the keys to the kingdom. I had something others wanted and deals could be made. Lewis, Ralph Reed and I always kept some goodies stashed away in the reefer for our elicit trade. The others heading up this crack team were Steve Robin, a Communications Technician (CT) Third Class, Abelon, a Steward striker and Ed Lumsden, a CT striker.

It should be noted that a brief discussion of CT’s is in order. Prior to the commissioning they started showing up in ones and twos, God's gift to the Navy. These guys were not part of the ship's company, they were a detachment that reported to the National Security Agency. Their mission was to operate the special equipment in the Special Operations Detachment (SOD) Hut. These guys were normal people, but the Navy had pumped them up so much that they were above doing any kind of work aboard the ship other than the secret stuff they did inside their special hiding place. Naturally this led to quite a bit of friction between the ship's company and the detachment.

On May 22, I was rewarded for my devotion to duty. I had done such a good job doing the dishes and the shopping that I was permanently transferred from the deck force to supply. I was promoted to "Jack of the Dust", an old naval rate that had been eliminated around the turn of the century. The hours were long, but I wasn't in a duty section, didn't stand watch and had liberty whenever the work was done. I now had a key to the supply office and used it as my private hideaway after hours, and sometimes even during hours. On the 23rd I bought a box of House of Windsor cigars and passed them out to the crew, telling them that it was "be nice to people day."

Over a week had passed since the PUEBLO joined the fleet as AKL-44 and not one word of thanks, official or unofficial, was forthcoming. That's why I got the stoggies. That night I opened the galley for all on board to come in and grab a sandwich or a piece of cake. With my keys to the kingdom, I was the only one who was able to say thanks. Official word from the Navy finally came on what constituted a tour of duty on AGER’s. Two years unaccompanied or three years if one brought a wife to Japan. Just think --700 plus days at sea out of 1,095 total. One of our Chiefs with 23 years and going for thirty decided to pull the plug, no way was he going to do that kind of time on a pig like the PUEBLO.

Part 3

Ensign Harris was our refreshing, newly-arrived supply officer, two years younger than me. The Supply Department was glad to have him. Up to this point we had been a bastard organization without our own leader. Mr. Lacy, our Engineering Officer, had been doubling as supply officer. He was a good man to work for, but had more than enough problems already just trying to get the ship back in shape. Harry Lewis had asked Reed to break out 60 pounds of chicken for lunch the following afternoon. He placed it in the back of the galley where it was out of the way and the heat of the dish washer would help thaw it out. After breakfast the next morning, Mr. Harris told me that most of the crew would be going to fire fighting school, so there would only be about twenty five crew members on board for lunch. I told him that we should have known about it earlier because I had about 40 pounds of chicken that I would have to can. He instructed me to refreeze it, which was what we normally did, but I told him that it wasn't possible, as the food handling regulations forbid the refreezing of food. He apologized and left.

Now that I had burned my own bridge, I had to go ahead and cook up all the chicken. When lunch began I decided to make it an "all you can eat" chicken day. Since I had to get rid of all this stuff and only had twenty five guys to feed, I liberally dispensed breasts and thighs to all who came to dine. The mess decks sat 24, all the seats were taken, and there were still guys in line. I stuck my head out the door and saw sailors as far as the eye could see. I turned the serving over to one of the mess cooks and went looking for Mr. Harris to find out what was going on. Fire fighting school had been cancelled and the whole crew was on board. Great...I was down to necks, backs and legs and had the rest of the crew to feed, including the officers. Since it was an officer that had screwed this up, it was only fitting that they take the brunt of it. The rest of the crew got legs. The steward loaded up the platter with wings and backs and left for the ward room to serve the officers. The ward room was adjacent to the galley, making it easy to hear Bucher's reaction. His voice was still in the air when Mr. Harris entered the galley to chew me out. I apologized for letting him down and suggested that things like this could be avoided in the future if there was better communication between us. He accepted this and returned to the ward room for the balance of his ass chewing.

Before I went on leave, which was the one thing that was keeping me sane, I had plenty of work to do. If it wasn't done my leave would be cancelled, shortened, postponed, or rescheduled, depending on the threat of the day. One night I stayed up and worked until after midnight. The ship was quiet and I had to dump the trash from the supply office, so rather than lock everything up, I made a dash to the pier, dumped the waste basket, and shot down the ladder, only to find the Duty PO waiting for me. "Why didn't you secure this area? Do you know you can be put on report for this? Why are you always screwing up?" I had to take this crap and that's all it was...crap. It served no purpose other than make some jerk feel big. I promised never to do it again and he left. One of the tasks I had to complete that night was to type out the menu for the week -- Lewis would rough it out and I would add all the adjectives to make it sound like the Brown Derby. Since the dawn of time mothers had threatened their children that they had better learn to eat what was put before me, because when I got in the service they wouldn't have any choices. This did not apply to me; if Lewis put something on the menu that I didn't like, I would replace it with something else. I also liked to change things a little, like instead of Iced Cinnamon Buns, I would type in Iced Cinnamon Nuns. No one ever caught these gaffs, wasn't anyone reviewing my work? By the end of the week, I was desperate to separate myself from the service as much as possible. I took a shower, but put on the old uniform and went to the locker club where my civies were stored.

Dressed in my best Madras shirt, pressed slacks and penny loafers, I went to a movie all by myself. The movie was $1.25, which I slid through the window. I didn't want to ask for the service men's discount, I was not in the Navy for the next few hours. The girl slid my change back and said, "There is a discount for you guys in the service." I was insulted. It must have been the dull animal look in my eyes. Was there no end? The first week in July consisted of working ten to twelve hours a day. At the end of the week I left on leave, 21 days without the Navy.

The time passed all too quickly, and my return to Bremerton was inevitable. Our first venture on the water was a continuation of the screwups that had dogged the PUEBLO from the first time we had seen her. Our first sea trial was fairly uneventful and Bucher was proud to point out what a stable platform the ship was. Since Puget Sound was glassed off at the time we wondered what other kind of platform it could have been.

As a member of the supply department, and newly-anointed cook, I spent most of the day moving supplies to the galley and watching the scenery go by as we cruised among the many islands that make the Sound one of the most picturesque spots on the west coast. After lunch I went below to write a letter when one of the yard workers, having binged on a free lunch, came below to sleep it off in a bunk forward of Don McClarren's. Don was at the table working on one of his many crossword puzzle books and returned to his locker to get a sharper pencil. Our lockers were unique in that they were also our beds. To get inside the top, which was hinged on the back, it had to be lifted. While Don was rummaging around his locker, the yard worker ahead of his bunk rolled over and placed the toes of his shoes on the lip of Don's locker. Any one who has lived out of a locker for an extended period of time knows that the space is never adequate for the amount of material inside, thus the locker was never completely closed. When the yard worker's toes kept his locker from closing, Don opened his locker again and slammed it shut, bringing screams from the now-awake worker. Don stared at him with detachment and continued to apply body English to his locker. At last both Don and the man with the enlarging toes realized what the problem was and Don released his hold on the locker. The yard worker exited the berthing compartment muttering about what a bunch of jerks we were. Don and I discussed the event and figured that Don should have jumped on his locker and crippled the guy.

Later in the afternoon as we were returning to Bremerton, one of the lookouts reported to the bridge that a small boat was in trouble off our port side. Bucher reacted in a manner that was to illustrate the type of man that was in charge of our lives. In a display of his seamanship he brought the PUEBLO alongside the vessel and brought its passengers on board. Bucher had a flare for demonstrating his seamanship and loved putting on a display of his abilities. With great fanfare, the people were brought on board and Bucher invited them to be his guest for dinner the following Sunday.

Our second sea trial was an overnight cruise. In anticipation of any hi-jinks, Bucher had been ordered not to put in port that night, but to remain at sea for the duration of our trial. Bucher waited until after dark to radio in a request to put into Port Angeles to dump garbage. Such a request would have been denied during regular hours, but late in the evening some poor, junior officer had the watch and being unfamiliar with Bucher's method of operation granted us permission to put into the Coast Guard station at Port Angeles. The need to dump garbage was a straw man whose sole purpose was to get us to a dock with a bar in close proximity to our berth.

As a member of the sea and anchor detail, I was on the port wing of the bridge as Bucher took the helm and guided the ship into position for docking. With the ship was secured, the garbage dumped, the liberty call sounded. Bucher's policy of work hard, play hard was in full force and effect for most of the crew. I, however, was stuck with the watch in the galley and was unable to join the crew. In less than two hours the crew returned in mass. They had been 86'd from the enlisted men's club. The officers went straight to the bridge and the word went out on the 1-MC to set the special sea and anchor detail. We pulled away from the pier and put out in the channel where the anchor was dropped and we spent the night.