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Prose
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Transitions
By Roger Chagnon, Jr, Navy, Vietnam ERA
Writing Type: Prose
In 1972 I passed my qualifications to become a second class petty officer as a signalman in the United States Navy. Unfortunately, at this particular time, President Richard Nixon issued a wage freeze—in addition, all military promotions were frozen until further notice. So, I remained a third class signalman. After the wage freeze for military personnel was lifted, I reported to the ship's office to accept my advancement to second class. The officer in charge of personnel then informed me that I needed 12 months on my current enlistment contract in order to be advanced to second class. As it turned out, I had only nine months on my contract. I had set a goal for myself at the start of my enlistment that I would work as hard as I could to make second class. Therefore, I requested an extension to my then current enlistment contract of three months. The personnel officer called me to the ship's office, and I signed the advancement. Very soon I was informed that I could now wear the second class insignia. I then converted all of my uniforms over from third class to second class signalman.
I was scheduled to go home on leave and travel from San Diego to Westfield, NY until
my ship and squadron were called on very short notice to deploy to Westpac and
Vietnam. We were to help defend South Vietnam from a new attack from the North
Vietnamese forces. This deployment was very intense and most interesting. While
there, we exchanged artillery rounds with the North Vietnamese on many
occasions, and we performed our mission in admirable fashion. To this day I
still have a piece of shrapnel from a North Vietnam artillery round that
exploded close aboard. That piece was very ragged and sharp and would have left
a deadly wound.
As a signalman my duty station was on the signal bridge. The signal bridge is the highest continuously manned station on the ship. The sound of an artillery round passing close overhead is something that you are never prepared for. Training has no way to simulate the sound and the shock of being fired upon with heavy artillery by someone who wishes you great harm. Our ship, the USS Hanson DD-832, was the last ship to enter and leave Haiphong Harbor prior to it being mined.
During one mission on targets near the coast of North Vietnam, my watch mate, Alex, and I observed three muzzle flashes from the shore off our starboard quarter. We saw the flash, yet we never heard the sound of the rounds. That made sense because we were several miles from the shore. We knew that artillery rounds were directed to our ship. We were not sure where they would land. Very quickly we heard two detonations in the sea. Alex then turned to me and said "look at that stuff'." Alex did not actually say ‘stuff’ however this is a "G" rated story. You get the picture. Right then we received a close aboard explosion on the starboard side amidships. The Hanson received many shrapnel holes and Alex and I were spared serious injury by the starboard flag bag. The flag bag on a ship is a bit misleading in title. On my ship the flag bag was a steel, rectangular box located on both sides of the signal bridge containing all of the naval signal flags and pennants needed for visual communication using flag hoist. Such a very close call. If the round had detonated 50 feet further forward, Alex and I would surely have been killed or very seriously injured. I had then, as I have now, no desire for a Purple Heart.
My shipmates and I spent many nights on watch listening to Armed Forces Radio
and the DJ "Wolf Man Jack" on tape sent from Mexico with a 100,000 watt
signal and with his classic howl. If the ship was actively using the air search
radar located and rotating 30 feet over our head we had no radio reception at
all. To our good fortune we had many nights to enjoy the songs of the day with
no operating air search radar. When we were on watch every other day from 11:30
p.m. until 7:00 a.m., the best thing that we had to make it through the night
was our music. Of course, we always maintained a very alert and critical visual
watch while listening to the music. That was our duty, first and foremost. When
a ship called us on the signal light we responded immediately. When I became
the senior signalman watch stander I insisted that we maintain a very taut
watch. On many occasions we called the
aircraft carrier that we were shadowing for plane guard duty and they routinely
did not answer our flashing light calls. On a number of nights, we had to ask
the officer of the deck on the bridge of our ship to voice call them so that
they could notify the signalman to receive an
incoming visual message. Not the best way to stand a visual watch on
Yankee Station Vietnam. Clearly not the way that we stood watch.
To this day, I remember many of those songs and the time spent on watch during
quiet and stand down times. Our ship, along with all of the other ships
deployed in Vietnam, had some quiet times and also some very, very intense times while exchanging fire with the
North Vietnamese, and acting as plane guard units operating 1000 yards astern
in the wake of the many aircraft carriers deployed on Yankee station. In light
of the recent collisions involving Navy ships, we were constantly concerned
about the high volume of ship traffic on Yankee Station. At one point there
were four aircraft carriers (Constellation CVA 64, Enterprise CVA 65, Kitty
Hawk CVA 63 and Hancock CVA 19) plus their plane guard destroyers, numerous
support ships, and, of course, the Russian so called trawlers that were
obviously spy ships all maneuvering in the same area. On several nights when I
was not on watch, I returned to the signal bridge, loaded up on coffee and
chatted with my guys standing watch. If something bad happened, and it never
did, I would at least be able to see and react to it.
Upon our arrival back in San Diego, I requested the leave I had missed earlier
because of our quick deployment to the Western Pacific. I was granted 20 days
leave starting immediately. I gathered my leave papers, and informed my division
officer and my first class, packed a small travel bag, called the airport for
tickets, and signed out on the quarterdeck on my way to western New York. This
was to be a significant transition point in my life. My flight left at 11:55
p.m. and arrived in Buffalo, NY at 8:45 a.m. after a layover in Chicago. My
brother met me at the airport and we drove to Westman Drive in Bemus Point, N.Y..
It was the holiday season and Christmas was just a few days away. My brother
asked me if I would like a date during this holiday time. I said, What do you
have in mind." He said that the sister of his good friend next door might
be available for a date. We were nearly the same age so I said, "Set it
up, I am interested." My brother let me know that my prospective date was
Debbie Bowen and she lived nearby in Westfield, N.Y.. I called her and we set up
an evening for dinner. She suggested that we go to a restaurant in Dunkirk, N.Y.
by the name of Rusch's. I called Rusch's and made reservations for our dinner.
On the evening we were to enjoy a night out I drove to Westfield, parked on the
street in front of her house, and began my walk up the sidewalk. Suddenly, a
very large and beautiful German Shepard bounded from the bushes in the front of
the house and ran directly toward me. I had been raised with German Shepard
dogs and I knew that they could detect the smell of fear on humans. He should
have had a significant noseful. I did the best that I could to not appear afraid
and I held my hand down for this gorgeous dog to smell. He then knew that I was
a friend, and he actually escorted me up the front stairs to the house. I was
much relieved that this date was now on a positive track.
Upon arriving at the front door and ringing the bell, a very nice gentlemen answered
the door. I asked if he was Mr. Bowen and he informed me that he was Dick
Wilson. He then let me know that his wife was Debbie's sister and that they
were upstairs getting ready for our date. Dick then informed me that Debbie's
father passed away in 1968. Very soon she came down the stairs and I was
stunned at how beautiful she was. We had some conversation and then we left for
our dinner date. Dinner was very nice and when we were finished with our meal
Debbie took me on a tour of the campus of the State University of New York at
the Fredonia campus. We had a great ride and then we proceeded back to
Westfield and her home. We saw each other a few wonderful times before I had to
return to my ship in San Diego.
Within a few short weeks after returning to my ship, my personnel officer came
to me and asked me if I would like to re-enlist. He asked me if I had any duty
stations that I would want to be assigned to. I said that I would like to be an
instructor at the signalman school in San Diego. He looked into that and then
told me that there was a long waiting list for that assignment. I was very
puzzled because I had a few months left on my enlistment and so I asked why. He
said that I was highly recommended for re-enlistment, and I was also
recommended for an early out. Somehow these two options did seriously appear to
be diametrically opposed. He then informed me that the Navy was reducing
enlisted personnel levels near the end of the Vietnam conflict. He asked me if
I was willing to re-enlist. With Debbie strongly on my mind I said, “No thank
you, I will go home”.
I returned home to be reunited with Debbie and plan for the future. Soon our relationship would move to the next level. Our great feelings for each other blossomed to the point that we were soon engaged and then married on June 28, 1975. We continue to be best of friends and lovers to this day. We have two wonderful children: Heather and her husband David who make their home in Santa Rosa, Calif., with their children Caroline and Rachel, and Roger and his wife Jackie who make their home in Westfield, N.Y., with their children Ella and Roger IV. Our life has become a marvelous journey in comfort, experiences and monumental happiness. When I look back on my decision to transition from the U.S. Navy to civilian, married life, I clearly realize that I made the best decision possible.