Bill McDonald – Blue and Gold 1968-71

Official final day

This date in 1971 was, I believe, my last official day on active duty in the Navy. I had left Commander, Naval Special Warfare Group, Pacific back on July 24, but I’m pretty sure there was some travel time permitted.

My final active duty fitness report covered the period 1 March 1971 to 29 July 1971. It wasn’t issued, however, until October 1971, the next normal reporting period. I expect I received it while I was in grad school. After my less-than-stellar initial fitness report, this report continued the upward trajectory started by my second FITREP from the command.

These were the comments:

“LTJG MCDONALD has developed into a professional, competent Intelligence Officer. His contribution to the staff and many planning functions was excellent. He became a dedicated, sincere, thoughtful naval officer. His knowledge in the intelligence field expanded quickly through effort and study. His weekly intelligence briefs were extremely effective. His contribution for the intelligence play of Special Warfare exercises was truly outstanding.”

The evaluation of my overall performance of duties was the highest available and the overall evaluation of me as an officer was “One of the top few.”

Among the 16 personal characteristics evaluated, I was rated “one of the top few” in nine, “above the majority” in four, and “is not exceeded,” the top rating, in three. Those three were “imagination,” “loyalty,” and “moral courage.” I remember, still, having a catch in my throat when I first saw the rating for moral courage. That characteristic had been the lowest rated in my initial fitness report. God love CDR William Robinson, who wrote up this report.

At home in Springfield, Mass., I was basically hanging out. I made quite a few visits to Boston to see old friends. I started my transition to semi-hippie, letting my hair and mustache grow. And I got ready to attend Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism. But that’s another story.

A reminder: While my active duty had ended, my time in the Navy was simply on break. I kept the Navy informed of each of my changes in residence and submitted my annual Officer Qualification Questionnaire on time each year. I was even promoted to Lieutenant, and happily accepted.

Sometime in 1979, eight-plus years after leaving active duty, the Navy finally called my bluff. They sent me a letter saying this was not the way it was supposed to work. I should have either affiliated with a reserve unit to fulfill my initial obligation or resigned my commission.

I had recently married and realized the Naval Reserve might be a good part-time job to boost my income. I learned that Naval Reserve Intelligence Program units drilled at Naval Air Station, South Weymouth, not far from my home in Franklin. I remember visiting the Reserve Liaison Officer to get info about signing up. He handed me the application and pointed out the question, “Have you ever experimented with marijuana?” “You answer ‘No,'” he instructed me.

Long story short, I spent 17 years or so in the Naval Reserves. I was promoted to Lieutenant Commander and then Commander. I was Executive Officer in several different units, including a Naval Criminal Investigative Service unit. My broken service years bit me in the butt, however. If I was not promoted to Captain before 26 years after I was commissioned, February 1995, I would be forced to leave.

The Naval Institute, I believe, offered a service record review to help someone get a sense of whether they would be promoted. I requested one and the answer was not likely. In another case of something coming back to bite me, the officer who did the review referred to my first FITREP from Commander, Naval Special Warfare Group, Pacific. Karma, baby.

I was able to serve for 20 “good years” by completing several correspondence courses. They gave me enough “retirement points” to have that year 20 qualify. My record says I served for 20 years, zero months, zero days. Can’t cut it closer than that.

Here’s a couple of photos that serve as bookends of my time in the Navy. One was taken at Officer Candidate School (1968), the other was my official “executive officer” portrait (early 1990s).

The Ensign-to-be in that top photo never expected to be the Commander in the other one. That’s one of the things that makes life interesting.

FYI There may be additional posts in this blog. I plan to continue to contact people and find out what they were doing 50 years ago. And I continue to find things at home, though the upheaval of COVID-19 on schedules, lives, emotions, etc., has dulled the quest. The interest, and I, will return.

Straight shot home

At some point on the second day of my drive home in 1971, I believe, my AM-FM stopped working. No worries. I had an eight-track tape player in the car and tape cartridges . . . two of them. Even though they were two of my favorite albums — American Beauty by the Grateful Dead and Bridge Over Troubled Water by Simon & Garfunkel — listening to them during 10-12 hours and more driving each day got old fast.

That wasn’t the main factor that encouraged me to get home as soon as possible, but it may have played a part. I can remember at least a few times just screaming as I drove to add some sound besides car engine to the ambience.

I know that two nights after I left Green River, Utah, I stayed in Terre Haute, Ind., just over the state line from Illinois. Those towns are 1,350 miles apart, so I have to assume I stayed somewhere in-between, in Kansas or Missouri. Don’t know where. The only times I stopped during the last three days of my drive were to refuel, eat, make a head call, or stay the night. It was a driving grind.

Leaving Terre Haute, I originally planned to stay next in New York City, crashing at Jack and Pat Roberts’ place. I had not contacted them ahead of time, of course, but communication was just not as easy then as it is now, so dropping in unannounced was, I think, considered less offensive than it would be now.

As I started to get close to NYC, though, I began to consider a straight shot to home. Springfield, Mass, was only 2-3 hours beyond New York. Heck, based on the last several days, that was a short jaunt.

Done deal. Just kept going. I pulled into Springfield late this night 50 years ago. I still remember cruising down Sumner Avenue on that summer night, windows open, noticing some old haunts and some changes. I assume at some point I had notified my folks that I was going to be coming home, but I think I was expected a few days later.

I remember my father being surprised at my arrival, not annoyed just surprised. I expect I caught him just before he left for his 11 pm work shift, otherwise I would have spent the night somewhere else, maybe a friend’s place nearby. But I stayed the night at home.

My mother was not there. She was due to return the next day from a trip to Ireland she had taken with family and friends. I accompanied my father to Logan Airport, where she got the pleasant surprise of both her and her son coming home.

That straight shot from Terre Haute to Springfield was 950 miles, maybe 15 hours of driving. I believe it is still my personal record for distance driving in a day. It was worth it.

Heading home – Day 2

I think I got up a little late in Las Vegas and headed out to southern Utah on this day, 50 years ago. I actually don’t remember if I had intended to visit Zion National Park or just saw signs for it and figured it would be a good idea. Even though I think I spent only a few hours there, I found it to be an amazing place.

I recall pulling over in Zion, turning off the engine, and sitting on the car’s hood, listening. Besides the occasional sounds of birds, the only sound I heard was the creaking of the car metal as it expanded in the heat.

Here are some photos from Zion and the surrounding area. (Use arrows to advance the images.)

Much of Interstate 70 in Utah was two-lane and undivided. I remember being somewhat daunted by the approach of 18-wheelers at a combined speed of about 140 mph. Their wind wash moved my car sideways more than I liked.

Here’s a scene I’ve found so typical of roads in the West. Maybe it happens everywhere, but I have a ton of such pictures from out here. The skid marks, I expect, foreshadow a sad tale.

As nighttime approached, I started to look for a place to stay. Eastern Utah was then, and likely still is, a pretty isolated area. Between the infrequent small community that might have been a reason for a highway exit existed many miles of desert. The image below is a satellite view of the area currently.

I depended on road signs to tell me how far the next community was. I remember driving by Green River and seeing signs saying “No vacancy” so I continued. After driving for quite a few miles more and feeling sleepy, I thought it risky to keep going. I figured maybe there was another option in Green River and I returned. At least I knew it was there.

Traveling down the main street, really the only street, in Green River (population 952, 2010), I saw a couple of motels with no vacancies. Then, however, I saw what appeared to be a hotel. It didn’t have a sign indicating vacancies or none, but a light was on, so I figured I’d check.

The “lobby” of the hotel contained a couple of pieces of aluminum lawn furniture. There was a “front desk” with a bell on it and, beside it, a room from which I could hear the sound of a TV. I rang the bell.

A guy with overalls, but no shirt, as I recall, came out and asked, “Can I help you?” I asked if a room was available. He said there was one left. I took it and, as usual, paid in cash. I don’t remember what it cost.

He showed me up to the second floor and to the room. Bathroom, he said, was at the end of the hall. Outside the room’s window, a neon light was in operation, fitfully. On the wall, a fly swatter hung on a nail. The window, which was open because of the heat, had no screen.

I don’t remember if I had a restful or troubled sleep that night. I just remember being happy to have gotten through the night and to leave the next morning. I wish I had taken photos of the interior, but, before I left Green River that morning, I took a picture of the exterior.

Salina Hotel, Green River, Utah. Book it. It’s unlike any hotel in which I ever stayed.

Heading home – Day 1

When I learned I would be released from active duty early, I considered taking a long way home. I thought about just driving up the West Coast from San Diego to Vancouver before turning east. Then I realized I would be adding about 1,400 miles to an already 3,000-mile journey. I might have done it had I a companion, but, after spending a total of less than a month at home in the past 34 months, I wanted to get home.

I spent most of this day 50 years ago doing a final checkout at the BOQ, packing up my car, and hitting the road for Las Vegas, first stop on the trip east.

Back in those days, Coors beer was only available in several states west of the Mississippi River. Thinking of my Coors-deprived buds back East, I stashed a case in my trunk.

These days, San Diego to Las Vegas is a straight shot on I-15. In 1971, State Route 15 started in Riverside County and was not a multi-lane road all the way to Las Vegas. I bet I got a map, but not a TripTik, from AAA to find my way home. I assume I took State Route 395 north out of San Diego. (Interestingly, that route would have brought me quite close by where I live now.) Connected to the 15 near San Bernardino and headed out through the Mojave Desert to Nevada.

At some point, I heard an odd noise, or series of sounds, from the trunk. I pulled over to check out what happened. The scent of warm beer wafted from the trunk as I opened it. The jostling and heat from the desert (it’s mid-July, remember) had caused several cans of Coors to explode. (I’m pretty sure I considered the effort to bring Coors east as noble but in vain, and dumped whatever was left when I got to Vegas.)

This was my first time visiting Las Vegas and, arriving at night, it was a spectacular sight. Not sure how I picked out a hotel, probably just by seeing a “vacancy” sign. It was, however, at least slightly above the quality of places I usually stayed on road trips. A bellboy accompanied me, bringing my bag up to the room. Awaiting his tip, he asked me if I wanted any “company” for the evening. I declined. Pretty sure I was tuckered out and spent my first night in Vegas in my hotel room. . . .alone and asleep.

Next morning, I drove around a little bit and took these photos of “the strip.”

Getting _really_ short

“I’m so short I can’t reach the door handle.” . . . “I’m so short I could walk out under that closed door.” “I’m so short . . . .”

I had heard statements like these from my predecessor as Intelligence Officer at Commander Naval Special Warfare Group, Pacific in early 1971 as he approached the conclusion of his active duty. Being “short” meant that your time to leave active duty was drawing near, you were a “short-timer.”

Around this time 50 years ago, I was very short. I believe I only had this weekend — July 17-18 — to go before my final day in Coronado (at least until 1982).

It wasn’t originally supposed to happen that way. I believe I would have normally been due to be on active duty until February 1972, three years after receiving my commission as an officer in Newport, R.I. As mentioned before, however, U.S. involvement in Vietnam was winding down. Troops were being withdrawn and the various services were looking to reduce the number of active duty members, and the expense they represented.

The Navy had announced, probably in the spring, an early-out program for officers. One had to request it and have that request approved by his or her command. I very much wanted to end my active duty early so that I could join the Class of 1972 at Columbia’s School of Journalism. I had been accepted into the Class of 1969 while a senior at Boston College, but had to postpone attending because of pending Navy duty. Columbia had offered me admission to a later class once I was able.

Would I be able to enroll in September, though? I held a billet.

I had mentioned that I had begun to work closely with CDR Robinson, the Chief Staff Officer. As had the XO on USS Biddle (DLG-34) back in 1969, CDR Robinson thought I could present ideas in writing fairly well and I was assigned to draft various administrative reports. He asked that I look at future staffing levels in anticipation of a lower level of activity involving Vietnam, indeed expecting no activity soon.

The Intel shop at COMNAVSPECWARGRUPAC had billets for two officers — the Intelligence Officer and Assistant Intelligence Officer. I had moved up to Intelligence Officer with the departure of LT Webber, and there was a LTJG ordered to the command to be my assistant.

In the draft staff organization I submitted to CDR Robinson, there was a billet for only one Intelligence Officer. The reduced scale of operations did not require two officers, especially since the Assistant had previously deployed with SEALs in-country.

Concurrent to this study, I also had contacted Columbia requesting confirmation that I would be permitted to enroll that September if I was no longer on active duty. Columbia sent me a letter with that confirmation.

Armed with the letter from Columbia, I met with CDR Robinson. Pointing out that my proposal for staffing of the Intel shop called for one officer and that a second officer was due to report shortly, I submitted my request for an early release from active duty along with the letter from Columbia. It may be purely conjecture, but my memory is that CDR Robinson, after looking over the forms I had submitted, gave me a look that said, “You got me.”

He recommended my request be approved by the CO and it was. I was going to get out early!

There was a luncheon for me at some point, with bon mots and digs from several colleagues. I don’t remember much from this brief event and Fred Palmore, one of my closest colleagues, remembers it not at all.

I still have the plaque I was given, however, and it is pictured here.

The last line reads,” Outstanding as usual. Yawn.” I think CDR Robinson was a little puzzled by that when he read it as he presented it to me. He was the senior officer who most often attended my weekly intelligence briefings to the staff. It was not uncommon for him to nod off briefly during my scintillating presentations. When I concluded the briefing, the lack of my sonorous voice would occasionally startle him awake. Sometimes failing to stifle a yawn, he would say, “Thanks, Bill, Outstanding as usual.”

I don’t remember doing anything special on that last weekend. I certainly expect I spent some time with Fred and his wife, Pam, and with Randy Middleton and Rusty Russell, other JGs on the staff.

I do remember, however, earlier getting a release-from-active-duty physical at the Navy hospital in San Diego. After reviewing my chest x-ray, the doctor told me there was a spot on one of my lungs. After reviewing my chart, which described the low-level “crud” I had experienced in late summer 1970, he figured the spot was from a bout with San Joaquin Valley Fever. (At Columbia, I had another chest x-ray, in which they found no spot.)

I also remember having to check out from various departments at the command. At the supply department, located “on the beach” near where SEALs and UDT trained, the petty-officer-in-charge asked where I was heading. Told him I would be attending graduate school in New York City. I remember him remarking about how cold it got there, and then issuing me a camouflage heavy jacket with liner. This may well be admitting to a violation of something, but I still have that jacket 50 years later (maybe there is a statute of limitations). It kept me warm many days in New York and later.

Sometime earlier, I had tried my hand at taking “selfies.” Not at all as easy to do then as it is now, I placed my SLR on a tripod and set a timer. You couldn’t just look to see the results. You had to send the film out to be processed so it was several days before you could review what was captured. I always used slide film at the time.

Below is a collection of such old-fashioned selfies. Some give a glimpse of the civilian I was soon to become. (Click on the image to see larger images and then arrows to see others.)

July 1971

Stuff that happened this month, 50 years ago.

Jim Morrison, lead singer of The Doors, was found dead in his bath in Paris, France, on July 3. He was 27.

On July 5, President Richard Nixon certified the 26th amendment to the US Constitution, which lowered the voting age from 21 to 18.

US National Security Adviser Henry Kissinger made a secret trip to the People’s Republic of China on July 9. On a reported flight to Pakistan, part of a “fact-finding trip” and diplomatic visit to Asian nations, the plane carrying Kissinger turned north and landed in Beijing. While the international press were told Kissinger was temporarily sidelined with a stomach ailment and recovering at a mountain resort in Pakistan, he was instead meeting with Chinese Prime Minister Zhou Enlai for three days. President Richard Nixon, in a nationwide address on July 15, announced he had accepted an invitation to visit China, which would take place before May 1972.

The South Tower of the World Trade Center was topped off on July 19 at the height of 1,362 feet, making it the second-tallest structure in the world, exceeded only by its neighbor tower to the north.

Fiddler on the Roof became the longest-running musical on Broadway with its 2,845th consecutive performance on July 21. The record had been held by Hello, Dolly! Fiddler on the Roof had first been performed on Broadway on September 22, 1964.

Apollo 15, carrying astronauts David Scott, Alfred Worden, and James Irwin, launched from Cape Canaveral, Fla., on July 26, beginning a four-day journey to the Moon. After landing on the 30th, Scott became the first person to drive a wheeled vehicle on the Moon on the 31st, while Irwin rode along as a passenger. The trip covered about 2.5 miles from the landing site before returning.

On July 29, I was officially released from active duty in the US Navy. More about that to follow.

Leon!

On this evening, 50 years ago, I joined Fred and Pam Palmore in attending a concert at the San Diego International Sports Arena. The concert featured Leon Russell, with Freddy King and Buddy Miles also on the bill.

Note the prices on the poster above. If you didn’t get a ticket in advance, you had to fork over $5.

I don’t remember a whole lot about the concert, except that I remember at the time thinking it was particularly fun. The set list for the show is not available but songs at concert in LA the following night included Wild Horses (cover of the Rolling Stones), Give Peace A Chance (cover of John and Yoko), and the Leon Russell songs, Ballad of Mad Dogs and Englishmen and Delta Lady.

UPDATE: Fred Palmore recalls, “I remember a large top hat outlined in lights hanging over the piano. He played with a backup group of singers he called ‘The Shelter People.'” Fred and Pam remained big fans of Russell and went to see him play in a small bar in Richmond, Va., many years later.

Though not from this specific concert, here’s a performance of Delta Lady around this time 50 years ago.

Leon Russell died in 2016. Always liked him. His voice was distinctive more than excellent, but his performances were lively and his style special. RIP.

June 1971

Events in the US 50 years ago.

Lew Alcindor, named most valuable player in the National Basketball Association in 1970, announced on June 3 that he had changed his name to Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. The name change was in keeping, he said, with his conversion in 1968 from Roman Catholicism to Islam.

US President Richard Nixon, on June 10, ended the trade embargo with the People’s Republic of China, which had been in effect for 21 years. Nixon authorized the export of “non-strategic items” to China and removed all restrictions on imports from China.

The 19-month occupation of Alcatraz Island in San Francisco Bay by American Indians from various tribes ended on June 11. The occupiers lived in the closed federal penitentiary there. By the time the last group was evacuated, only 15 remained on the island.

President Nixon’s daughter, Tricia, married Edward Cox on June 12 in the White House Rose Garden. It is the most recent wedding to take place there.

On June 13, the New York Times published the first installment of the “Pentagon Papers,” classified Department of Defense information about US strategy in Vietnam. After the Times was quickly enjoined from publishing more, the Washington Post independently began publishing content from the Pentagon Papers on June 18. The US Supreme Court voted 6-3 on June 30 that the Times could publish the classified information, rejecting governmental injunctions as unconstitutional prior restraint on speech. Publication of the Pentagon Papers by the Times resumed the following day.

President Nixon announced on June 17 the start of a “War on Drugs.” Describing drug abuse as America’s number one public enemy, he said that, in order to defeat it, “it was necessary to wage a new, all-out offensive.”

Southwest Airlines, a low-cost airline based in Texas, began operations on June 18, serving Dallas, Houston, and San Antonio.

For the first time since the Vietnam War began, the US Senate voted 57-42 on June 22 to remove all US troops by the end of 1971, on the condition that North Vietnam and the Viet Cong release all US prisoners of war. The House of Representatives rejected the measure six days later, 176 for-219 against.

Fillmore East, an iconic rock music venue in New York City, was closed on June 27 after only three years, by concert promoter Bill Graham.

The US Supreme Court voted 8-0 on June 28 to overturn the conviction of Muhammad Ali, four years after he had been convicted of refusing induction into the Army. The court determined Ali had been improperly drafted after claiming conscientious objector status.

At sea . . . briefly

View from space. San Clemente middle left, Southern California above.

In May 1971, I went to sea again, but for a much shorter time than while on USS Biddle. Naval Special Warfare Group Pacific held an exercise and, as part of it, several of us from the staff embarked on an amphibious ship and spent a few days, I believe, in the waters off San Clemente Island, 50-60 miles off Coronado.

Some weeks before, I was responsible for writing up the exercise scenario. I recall it very vaguely, something perhaps about the opposition seizing the embassy on Freelandia, or otherwise threatening us or a friendly nation. I drew up orders of battle, describing the types of forces, their armaments, location of bases, etc.

While on the ship, I provided Intel briefings to SEAL platoons, which were to achieve various objectives, all of them forgotten by me now.

I’m very surprised I have no photos from this activity. Perhaps it was because most SEAL actions, in an exercise as in reality, took place in the dark. But I coulda/shoulda taken pictures of the ship, the island, etc.

Colleagues, such as LTJG Palmore, were out there, too. Fred’s fitness report for the period singles out his performance as a bridge officer, though I assume most of the activities there were fulfilled by ship’s crew.

San Clemente Island is the southernmost of the Channel Islands, a set of eight islands off the coast of Southern California. Best-known among them is Santa Catalina.

Twenty-one miles long and narrow, San Clemente has about 57 square miles of land. It ha been owned by the Navy since 1934 and remains an active site for training by a wide range of units, including SEALs and other Special Warfare elements.

Doing better

Came across another fitness report, this one covering 10 October 1970 through February 1971. According to it, I was performing a lot better than reflected in my initial FITREP at Commander, Naval Special Warfare Group, Pacific.

You may recall that my earlier FITREP recommended I not be considered for retention in the Navy beyond my initial commitment. Among my grades in “personal characteristics,” my lowest were in “moral courage” and “judgment.” That report had been written upon the departure of the commanding officer, relatively soon after I had expressed objection to prospective orders to Vietnam. This report was part of the regular schedule.

This report was signed by a new CO, CAPT R.F. Stanton, but very likely written by the Chief Staff Officer, CDR Robinson. I had worked with him for a longer period of time, of course, and more closely. I had advanced from assistant to the position of Intelligence Officer at the beginning of February, succeeding my boss, LT Webber.

“LTJG MCDONALD has continually improved in performance during this period,” CDR Robinson wrote in the COMMENTS section. “He has proved to himself and others his ability as an extremely capable Intelligence Officer. He is a superb briefer and supplies this staff with valuable information necessary in the conduct of its mission. LTJG MCDONALD is recommended for positions of greater responsibility should he decide to stay in the Navy. He is recommended for promotion when due.”

In the lexicon of Navy fitness report writing, not stellar overall, but not terrible.

In terms of “grades,” my overall performance in various categories was rated as equally the top level of “outstanding” or the next lower level of “outstanding.” My overall evaluation was in the top rung of “An excellent officer of great value to the service.”

In “personal characteristics,” most of the ratings were “One of the top few.” Four — moral courage, industry, imagination, and personal behavior — were in the top rung of “Above the majority.” (Must have been my shenanigans at CDR Robinson’s holiday party and subsequent traffic citation.)

For the first time, however, I had a grade in the uppermost category of “Is not exceeded.” The characteristic was “military bearing,” described as “His [sic] military carriage, correctness of uniform, smartness of appearance and physical fitness.” !!