On this day:

too larry

Well-Known Member
All I can think of right now is they had a lot of hot clothes on!
Have you ever read A History of New-York from the Beginning of the World to the End of the Dutch Dynasty, by Diedrich Knickerbocker (1809)? There is a chapter where the Dutch traded the Indians some beads for all the land that could be covered by the clothes one man was wearing. He had on nine pairs of pants. lol

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diedrich_Knickerbocker
 

curious2garden

Well-Known Mod
Staff member
Have you ever read A History of New-York from the Beginning of the World to the End of the Dutch Dynasty, by Diedrich Knickerbocker (1809)? There is a chapter where the Dutch traded the Indians some beads for all the land that could be covered by the clothes one man was wearing. He had on nine pairs of pants. lol

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diedrich_Knickerbocker
Never heard of that part of the transaction LOL!
 

GreatwhiteNorth

Global Moderator
Staff member
Have you ever read A History of New-York from the Beginning of the World to the End of the Dutch Dynasty, by Diedrich Knickerbocker (1809)? There is a chapter where the Dutch traded the Indians some beads for all the land that could be covered by the clothes one man was wearing. He had on nine pairs of pants. lol

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diedrich_Knickerbocker
Land covered by 9 pairs of pants?
What is that, like 30 sq ft?
 

curious2garden

Well-Known Mod
Staff member
Satire uses exaggeration to make it funny. The Dutch did wear lots of clothes. And I read it several years ago when I was reading tons of real histories from the colonial period. Don;t remember the exact measurements, but there were shirts and under garments involved as well.
Until you've spun by hand you don't really appreciate that volume of textiles.
 

too larry

Well-Known Member
The College of Rock and Roll Knowledge

Captain Trips would have been celebrating his 77th birthday today. Of course we are talking about the one and only Jerry Garcia from the Grateful Dead.

We find it hard to believe that we lost Jerry almost 24 years ago.

Happy Birthday Jerry. What a long strange trip it was…… and Thank You!

What is the first thing that comes to your mind when you hear Jerry's name?



From wiki wiki: Jerome John "Jerry" Garcia (August 1, 1942 – August 9, 1995) was an American singer-songwriter and guitarist, best known for his work as the lead guitarist and as a vocalist with the band the Grateful Dead.

 

Grandpapy

Well-Known Member
The College of Rock and Roll Knowledge

Captain Trips would have been celebrating his 77th birthday today. Of course we are talking about the one and only Jerry Garcia from the Grateful Dead.

We find it hard to believe that we lost Jerry almost 24 years ago.

Happy Birthday Jerry. What a long strange trip it was…… and Thank You!

What is the first thing that comes to your mind when you hear Jerry's name?



From wiki wiki: Jerome John "Jerry" Garcia (August 1, 1942 – August 9, 1995) was an American singer-songwriter and guitarist, best known for his work as the lead guitarist and as a vocalist with the band the Grateful Dead.

Date:
June 10, 1990
Venue:
Cal Expo Amphitheatre
Location:
Sacramento, CA
Never made it past the parking lot:eyesmoke: great time!
 

doublejj

Well-Known Member
On August 1, 1966, Lieutenant JG David Brostrom and Engineman Second Class Jerry Phillips became the first United States Coastguardsmen to be killed in the Vietnam War. Their vessel, the U.S. Coast Guard Cutter Point Welcome, was mistaken for a North Vietnamese boat in the early morning dark, and three U.S. Air Force aircraft attacked the boat with cannon fire and bombs. The loss of two men to “friendly fire” was a tragedy, but it was also the occasion for incredible courage and sacrifice.

In the dark morning hours of August 1, 1966, a U.S. Air Force spotter plane dropped several flares directly next to a suspected North Vietnamese boat near the mouth of the Cua Tung River, off the coast of the Demilitarized Zone between North and South Vietnam. The spotter pilot and his Forward Air Control (FAC) officer, aboard a nearby C-130, believed the boat was likely attempting to run arms or supplies into South Vietnam for the Viet Cong insurgency. The FAC authorized a strike. Over the course of an hour, a B-57 Canberra bomber and two F-4 Phantom II fighter-bombers conducted strafing runs and multiple bomb drops against the suspected North Vietnamese junk. After three runs, they had not managed to sink the boat though it was dead in the water and the crew had abandoned ship in the predawn darkness. Suddenly, the FAC received a frantic message that stopped him short: The North Vietnamese junk that had been attacking for an hour was no enemy junk at all. It was the United States Coast Guard Cutter Point Welcome with a crew of 12 Americans and one South Vietnamese officer, all of whom had just been killed or wounded by “friendly fire.”

The USCGC Point Welcome was part of Coast Guard Squadron One, a fleet of 25 cutters and other patrol craft that had arrived in South Vietnam in July 1965 to assist the U.S. Navy with Operation MARKET TIME. Squadron One patrolled the entire South Vietnamese coastline from Thailand to the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) searching for enemy vessels smuggling arms, ammunition, and other war materials for the Viet Cong. On the morning of August 1, 1966, the Point Welcome was in the second day of a three-day patrol and about a mile off shore when the deck officer on duty saw four flares fall from the sky and splash into the dark waters nearby.

According to the rules of engagement, aircraft were required to fly a “recognition” pass with their lights on before firing on a surface target. If the vessel was friendly, they were to respond with their own lights with a pre-arranged signal. Since no such recognition flight had come, the Point Welcome’s crew—11 men plus a South Vietnamese liaison officer and a freelance journalist—assumed the flares were meant to illuminate nearby enemy targets they had not yet spotted. They made no attempt to identify themselves. A series of mistakes and judgement errors had thus set the stage for disaster.

A short while after the dropping of the flares, a U.S. Air Force B-57 Canberra sliced past the partially-illuminated Point Welcome, spraying the boat with 20-millimeter cannon fire. The Point Welcome’s executive officer, Lieutenant JG Ross Bell had two toes and a chunk of his arm shot away. Somehow, he managed to sound the alarm before he collapsed. The boat’s commander, Lieutenant JG David C. Brostrom, who had been below decks, scrambled to the pilot house and placed an emergency call to the Coastal Surveillance Center (CSC) at nearby Da Nang to say they were a Coast Guard vessel under friendly fire. As the CSC quickly attempted to raise I Corps headquarters to relay this information, the B-57 made a second attack run.

As the plane’s cannon shells again smashed into the cutter’s hull, several shells ripped through the pilot house, the communications equipment, and Brostrom himself, killing him instantly. Another shell struck Engineman Second Class Jerry Phillips in the back, mortally wounding him. Lastly, several shells ripped through the Point Welcome ’s stern, destroying its rudder and igniting a fuel fire. Chief Boatswain’s Mate Richard Patterson, an experienced sailor, grabbed a hose. He doused the flames by forcing the burning fuel overboard with the hose spray, then sprinted for the damaged pilot house while ordering everyone else below deck along with the wounded. Patterson knew a third attack run was surely coming.

With the radio and rudder shot away, Patterson had no way to call for help or to steer. He knew he had to present a moving target, so he slammed the throttle forward and commenced a series of zig-zag maneuvers, steering the cutter by alternating the port and starboard engines. Patterson attempted to reach the shore less than one mile away, but two F-4 Phantom II fighter-bombers appeared and commenced a third attack run. The Phantoms dropped cluster bombs and two 250-pound bombs, one of which hit the water so close that it lifted the Point Welcome momentarily out of the water. Approximately 30 minutes after the attack began, the cutter’s engines quit.

Patterson ordered the crew to abandon ship. Every single man had been wounded by shrapnel or shells, but the more able-bodied placed their wounded comrades aboard rafts while they swam alongside. About halfway to shore, the attacking aircraft received the urgent order to cease the attack, but South Vietnamese shore defense units, also assuming the now-swimming crew were enemy sailors, opened fire on the survivors with small arms fire. Finally, another Coast Guard cutter arrived to assist. The USCGC Point Caution maneuvered to shield the survivors before pulling them aboard.

The Military Assistance Command, Vietnam (MACV) convened a board of investigation following the attack. The board ultimately reported that both human error and poor institutional practices led to the catastrophe. The FAC aboard the nearby C-130 did not make a recognition pass with its mission lights on, as was standard procedure, and even though crewmembers aboard the Port Welcome had seen or heard the FAC aircraft, they did not offer the standard recognition signal. No one realized the boat was friendly until it was too late. Finally, and perhaps most crucially, there was little or no communication between the command headquarters of Operation MARKET TIME and the U.S. Air Force commands in the region, despite sharing the same area of operations. In the wake of the tragedy aboard the Port Welcome, MACV insisted that in the future aircraft needed to first contact the CSC in Da Nang to confirm no Maritime forces were in the area before commencing a strike.

While 11 men recovered from their wounds, Lieutenant JG David C. Brostrom and Engineman Second Class Jerry Phillips became the first Coastguardsmen to be killed in the Vietnam War. All 13 men aboard the vessel received the Purple Heart for wounds in battle and Brostrom and Chief Boatswain’s Mate Richard Patterson—who likely rescued the rest of his crewmates with his actions that morning—received the Bronze Star with a “V” device for valor. Brostrom and Phillips are memorialized on Panel 9E, rows 126 and 128, respectively, on the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall in Washington, D.C.1
 
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GreatwhiteNorth

Global Moderator
Staff member
Many Navy Seals in Vietnam wore cotton Levis....
They did so as the only thing better at shedding water at that time was wool & I can't imagine wearing that in the tropical heat.

On August 1, 1966, Lieutenant JG David Brostrom and Engineman Second Class Jerry Phillips became the first United States Coastguardsmen to be killed in the Vietnam War. Their vessel, the U.S. Coast Guard Cutter Point Welcome, was mistaken for a North Vietnamese boat in the early morning dark, and three U.S. Air Force aircraft attacked the boat with cannon fire and bombs. The loss of two men to “friendly fire” was a tragedy, but it was also the occasion for incredible courage and sacrifice.

In the dark morning hours of August 1, 1966, a U.S. Air Force spotter plane dropped several flares directly next to a suspected North Vietnamese boat near the mouth of the Cua Tung River, off the coast of the Demilitarized Zone between North and South Vietnam. The spotter pilot and his Forward Air Control (FAC) officer, aboard a nearby C-130, believed the boat was likely attempting to run arms or supplies into South Vietnam for the Viet Cong insurgency. The FAC authorized a strike. Over the course of an hour, a B-57 Canberra bomber and two F-4 Phantom II fighter-bombers conducted strafing runs and multiple bomb drops against the suspected North Vietnamese junk. After three runs, they had not managed to sink the boat though it was dead in the water and the crew had abandoned ship in the predawn darkness. Suddenly, the FAC received a frantic message that stopped him short: The North Vietnamese junk that had been attacking for an hour was no enemy junk at all. It was the United States Coast Guard Cutter Point Welcome with a crew of 12 Americans and one South Vietnamese officer, all of whom had just been killed or wounded by “friendly fire.”

The USCGC Point Welcome was part of Coast Guard Squadron One, a fleet of 25 cutters and other patrol craft that had arrived in South Vietnam in July 1965 to assist the U.S. Navy with Operation MARKET TIME. Squadron One patrolled the entire South Vietnamese coastline from Thailand to the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) searching for enemy vessels smuggling arms, ammunition, and other war materials for the Viet Cong. On the morning of August 1, 1966, the Point Welcome was in the second day of a three-day patrol and about a mile off shore when the deck officer on duty saw four flares fall from the sky and splash into the dark waters nearby.

According to the rules of engagement, aircraft were required to fly a “recognition” pass with their lights on before firing on a surface target. If the vessel was friendly, they were to respond with their own lights with a pre-arranged signal. Since no such recognition flight had come, the Point Welcome’s crew—11 men plus a South Vietnamese liaison officer and a freelance journalist—assumed the flares were meant to illuminate nearby enemy targets they had not yet spotted. They made no attempt to identify themselves. A series of mistakes and judgement errors had thus set the stage for disaster.

A short while after the dropping of the flares, a U.S. Air Force B-57 Canberra sliced past the partially-illuminated Point Welcome, spraying the boat with 20-millimeter cannon fire. The Point Welcome’s executive officer, Lieutenant JG Ross Bell had two toes and a chunk of his arm shot away. Somehow, he managed to sound the alarm before he collapsed. The boat’s commander, Lieutenant JG David C. Brostrom, who had been below decks, scrambled to the pilot house and placed an emergency call to the Coastal Surveillance Center (CSC) at nearby Da Nang to say they were a Coast Guard vessel under friendly fire. As the CSC quickly attempted to raise I Corps headquarters to relay this information, the B-57 made a second attack run.

As the plane’s cannon shells again smashed into the cutter’s hull, several shells ripped through the pilot house, the communications equipment, and Brostrom himself, killing him instantly. Another shell struck Engineman Second Class Jerry Phillips in the back, mortally wounding him. Lastly, several shells ripped through the Point Welcome ’s stern, destroying its rudder and igniting a fuel fire. Chief Boatswain’s Mate Richard Patterson, an experienced sailor, grabbed a hose. He doused the flames by forcing the burning fuel overboard with the hose spray, then sprinted for the damaged pilot house while ordering everyone else below deck along with the wounded. Patterson knew a third attack run was surely coming.

With the radio and rudder shot away, Patterson had no way to call for help or to steer. He knew he had to present a moving target, so he slammed the throttle forward and commenced a series of zig-zag maneuvers, steering the cutter by alternating the port and starboard engines. Patterson attempted to reach the shore less than one mile away, but two F-4 Phantom II fighter-bombers appeared and commenced a third attack run. The Phantoms dropped cluster bombs and two 250-pound bombs, one of which hit the water so close that it lifted the Point Welcome momentarily out of the water. Approximately 30 minutes after the attack began, the cutter’s engines quit.

Patterson ordered the crew to abandon ship. Every single man had been wounded by shrapnel or shells, but the more able-bodied placed their wounded comrades aboard rafts while they swam alongside. About halfway to shore, the attacking aircraft received the urgent order to cease the attack, but South Vietnamese shore defense units, also assuming the now-swimming crew were enemy sailors, opened fire on the survivors with small arms fire. Finally, another Coast Guard cutter arrived to assist. The USCGC Point Caution maneuvered to shield the survivors before pulling them aboard.

The Military Assistance Command, Vietnam (MACV) convened a board of investigation following the attack. The board ultimately reported that both human error and poor institutional practices led to the catastrophe. The FAC aboard the nearby C-130 did not make a recognition pass with its mission lights on, as was standard procedure, and even though crewmembers aboard the Port Welcome had seen or heard the FAC aircraft, they did not offer the standard recognition signal. No one realized the boat was friendly until it was too late. Finally, and perhaps most crucially, there was little or no communication between the command headquarters of Operation MARKET TIME and the U.S. Air Force commands in the region, despite sharing the same area of operations. In the wake of the tragedy aboard the Port Welcome, MACV insisted that in the future aircraft needed to first contact the CSC in Da Nang to confirm no Maritime forces were in the area before commencing a strike.

While 11 men recovered from their wounds, Lieutenant JG David C. Brostrom and Engineman Second Class Jerry Phillips became the first Coastguardsmen to be killed in the Vietnam War. All 13 men aboard the vessel received the Purple Heart for wounds in battle and Brostrom and Chief Boatswain’s Mate Richard Patterson—who likely rescued the rest of his crewmates with his actions that morning—received the Bronze Star with a “V” device for valor. Brostrom and Phillips are memorialized on Panel 9E, rows 126 and 128, respectively, on the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall in Washington, D.C.1
My best afloat unit bar none was Skippered by no less than Capt Ross Bell. A Maverick & a true sailor..
RIP my friend.
 

BarnBuster

Virtually Unknown Member


On this day in 1864, Rear Admiral Farragut took his squadron of 18 ships, including four monitors, against the heavy Confederate defenses of Mobile Bay.

Soon after 6 a.m., the Union ships crossed the bar and moved into the bay. The monitors Tecumseh, Manhattan, Winnebago, and Chickasaw formed a column to starboard of the wooden ships in order to take most of the fire from Fort Morgan, which they had to pass at close range. The seven smaller wooden ships were lashed to tile port side of the larger wooden screw steamers, as in the passage of Port Hudson, Mississippi River. Shortly before 7 o’clock, Tecumseh, Commander T.A.M. Craven, opened fire on Fort Morgan. The action quickly became general.

The Confederate squadron under Admiral Buchanan, including the heavy ram Tennessee (6 guns) and the smaller ships Gaines (6 guns), Selma (4 guns), and Morgan (6 guns), moved out to engage the attackers. Craven headed Tecumseh straight at Tennessee, bent on engaging her at once. Suddenly, a terrific explosion rocked the Union monitor. She careened violently and went down in seconds, the victim of one of the much-feared torpedoes laid by the Confederates for harbor defense. Amidst the confusion below decks as men struggled to escape the sinking ship, Craven and the pilot, John Collins, arrived at the foot of the ladder leading to the main deck. The captain stepped back. “After you, pilot,” he said. Collins was saved, but there was no afterwards for the heroic Craven. He and some 90 officers and men of Tecumseh’s crew of 114 went down with the ship. Captain Alden called them “intrepid pioneers of that death-strewed path.”

Alden, in Brooklyn, was to Tecumseh’s port when the disaster occurred; the heavy steamer stopped and began backing to clear “a row of suspecious-looking buoys” directly under Brooklyn’s bow. The entire line of wooden vessels was drifting into confusion immediately under the guns of Fort Morgan. Farragut, lashed in the rigging to observe the action over the smoke billowing from the guns, acted promptly and resolutely, characteristic of a great leader who in war must constantly meet emergencies fraught with danger.


The only course was the boldest through the torpedo field. “Damn the torpedoes,” he ordered; “full speed ahead ” (Flag Lieutenant John C. Watson later recalled that Farragut’s exact words were: “Damn the torpedoes! Full speed ahead, Drayton! Hard astarboard; ring four bells! Eight bells! Sixteen bells!”)

His flagship Hartford s wept past Brooklyn into the rows of torpedoes; the fleet followed. The torpedoes were heard bumping against the hulls but none exploded. The Union force steamed into the bay. Hardly past one hazard, Farragut was immediately faced with another: Buchanan attempted to ram Hartford with Tennessee. The Union ship slipped by her slower, clumsier antagonist, returning her fire but also being raked by the fire of gunboat C.S.S. Selma, Lieutenant Peter U. Murphey. Wooden double-ender U.S.S. Metacomet, Lieutenant Commander Jouett, engaged Selma and, though sustaining considerable damage, compelled her to strike her colors shortly after 9 a.m. Meanwhile, Tennessee also attempted in vain to ram Brooklyn. C.S.S. Gaines, Lieu-tenant John W. Bennett, advanced to engage the Union ships as they entered the bay, but she suffered a steering casualty early in the action. “. . . subjected to a very heavy concentrated fire from the Hartford, Richmond, and others at short range . . . , Bennett soon found his command in a sinking condition. He ran her aground near Fort Morgan and salvaged most of the ammuni-tion and small arms before she settled in two fathoms.

C.S.S. Morgan, Commander George W. Harrison, briefly engaged Metacomet to assist Selma prior to her surrender, but as the action took place at high speed, Morgan could not maintain her position and faced the possibility of being cut off and captured by two Union ships. Harrison determined to take her under Fort Morgan’s guns and later he saved her by boldly running the gauntlet of Federal ships to Mobile. Meanwhile, 300-ton side-wheeler U.S.S. Philippi, Acting Master James T. Seaver, “wishing to be of assistance to the fleet in case any vessels were disabled,” grounded near Fort Morgan attempting to get into the bay. The fort’s heavy guns quickly found the range and riddled Philippi with shot and shell, forcing Seaver and his crew to abandon ship. A boat crew from C.S.S. Morgan completed her destruction by setting her afire. The Union fleet, having steamed up into the bay, anchored briefly. Buchanan heroically carried the fight to his powerful opponents alone. Farragut reported: “I was not long in comprehending his intention to be the destruction of the flagship. The monitors and such of the wooden vessels as I thought best adapted for the purpose were immediately ordered to attack the ram, not only with their guns, but bows on at full speed, and then began one of the fiercest naval combats on record.”

For more than an hour the titanic battle raged. Steam sloop of war Monongahela struck Tennessee a heavy blow but succeeded only in damaging herself. Lackawanna rammed into the Confederate ship at full speed but, said Farragut, “the only perceptible effect on the ram was to give her a heavy list.” A shot from Manhattan’s 15-inch gun, however, made a greater impression on those on board Tennessee. Lieutenant Wharton, CSN, reported: “The Monongahela was hardly clear of us when a hideous-looking monster came creeping up on our Port side, whose slowly revolving turret revealed the cavernous depths of a mammoth gun. ‘Stand clear of the Port side!’ I shouted. A moment after a thundrous report shook us all, while a blast of dense, sulpherous smoke covered our port-holes, and 440 pounds of iron, impelled by sixty pounds of powder, admitted daylight through our side, where, before it struck us, there had been over two feet of solid wood, covered with five inches of solid iron. This was the only 15-inch shot that hit us fair. It did not come through; the inside netting caught the splinters, and there were no casualties from it. I was glad to find myself alive after that shot.” Hartford struck a glancing blow and poured a broadside into Tennessee from a distance of ten feet Chickasaw pounded the ram with heavy shot; steam sloops Lackawanna and Hartford had collided, but had regained position and, with Ossipee and Monongahela, were preparing to run down Buchanan’s ship. The intrepid Confederate Admiral had been seriously wounded and relinquished command to Commander James D. Johnston. The rain of shells knocked out the ironclad’s steering. Unable to maneuver and taking on water, Tennessee struggled on against her overwhelmingly superior foes despite the terrible cannonade that pounded her mercilessly.

Ultimately, Buchannan and Johnston concurred that Tennessee must surrender to prevent loss of life to no fruitful end. At 10 o’clock a white flag was hoisted. Farragut acknowledged the tenacity and ability with which the Confederate seamen had fought: “During this contest with the rebel gunboats and Tennessee . . . we lost many more men than from the fire of the batteries of Fort Morgan.”

(114 men received the U.S. military’s highest honor for Mobile Bay which makes it second only to the Battle of Vicksburg for the most decorated battle in U.S history.
((several reports say either 97 or 98 were awarded, bb)). So why were so many medals awarded for this engagement? That depends on who you ask.

"By the time you get to 1864, Mobile is a very strategically important place” says Edwin Combs, assistant professor of history at Miles College. “It’s the last remaining port on the Confederate Gulf Coast; it’s used for blockade running. Cotton goes out of Mobile to Cuba and then military goods and supplies come back in.)”

“One of the reasons so many of them are being awarded in the Civil war is it’s the only medal the Navy has,” says John Beeler who teaches history at the University of Alabama. “There are Navy Stars and other forms of commendation for conspicuous bravery above and beyond the call of duty which don’t quite rise to the level of the Congressional Medal of Honor. There are plenty of those now, but there’s nothing else in the Civil War so it becomes this sort of all or nothing mentality. If you’re going to give a naval sailor an award basically the only one you can give him is the Congressional Medal of Honor.”
 
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GreatwhiteNorth

Global Moderator
Staff member
On August 1, 1966, Lieutenant JG David Brostrom and Engineman Second Class Jerry Phillips became the first United States Coastguardsmen to be killed in the Vietnam War. Their vessel, the U.S. Coast Guard Cutter Point Welcome, was mistaken for a North Vietnamese boat in the early morning dark, and three U.S. Air Force aircraft attacked the boat with cannon fire and bombs. The loss of two men to “friendly fire” was a tragedy, but it was also the occasion for incredible courage and sacrifice.

In the dark morning hours of August 1, 1966, a U.S. Air Force spotter plane dropped several flares directly next to a suspected North Vietnamese boat near the mouth of the Cua Tung River, off the coast of the Demilitarized Zone between North and South Vietnam. The spotter pilot and his Forward Air Control (FAC) officer, aboard a nearby C-130, believed the boat was likely attempting to run arms or supplies into South Vietnam for the Viet Cong insurgency. The FAC authorized a strike. Over the course of an hour, a B-57 Canberra bomber and two F-4 Phantom II fighter-bombers conducted strafing runs and multiple bomb drops against the suspected North Vietnamese junk. After three runs, they had not managed to sink the boat though it was dead in the water and the crew had abandoned ship in the predawn darkness. Suddenly, the FAC received a frantic message that stopped him short: The North Vietnamese junk that had been attacking for an hour was no enemy junk at all. It was the United States Coast Guard Cutter Point Welcome with a crew of 12 Americans and one South Vietnamese officer, all of whom had just been killed or wounded by “friendly fire.”

The USCGC Point Welcome was part of Coast Guard Squadron One, a fleet of 25 cutters and other patrol craft that had arrived in South Vietnam in July 1965 to assist the U.S. Navy with Operation MARKET TIME. Squadron One patrolled the entire South Vietnamese coastline from Thailand to the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) searching for enemy vessels smuggling arms, ammunition, and other war materials for the Viet Cong. On the morning of August 1, 1966, the Point Welcome was in the second day of a three-day patrol and about a mile off shore when the deck officer on duty saw four flares fall from the sky and splash into the dark waters nearby.

According to the rules of engagement, aircraft were required to fly a “recognition” pass with their lights on before firing on a surface target. If the vessel was friendly, they were to respond with their own lights with a pre-arranged signal. Since no such recognition flight had come, the Point Welcome’s crew—11 men plus a South Vietnamese liaison officer and a freelance journalist—assumed the flares were meant to illuminate nearby enemy targets they had not yet spotted. They made no attempt to identify themselves. A series of mistakes and judgement errors had thus set the stage for disaster.

A short while after the dropping of the flares, a U.S. Air Force B-57 Canberra sliced past the partially-illuminated Point Welcome, spraying the boat with 20-millimeter cannon fire. The Point Welcome’s executive officer, Lieutenant JG Ross Bell had two toes and a chunk of his arm shot away. Somehow, he managed to sound the alarm before he collapsed. The boat’s commander, Lieutenant JG David C. Brostrom, who had been below decks, scrambled to the pilot house and placed an emergency call to the Coastal Surveillance Center (CSC) at nearby Da Nang to say they were a Coast Guard vessel under friendly fire. As the CSC quickly attempted to raise I Corps headquarters to relay this information, the B-57 made a second attack run.

As the plane’s cannon shells again smashed into the cutter’s hull, several shells ripped through the pilot house, the communications equipment, and Brostrom himself, killing him instantly. Another shell struck Engineman Second Class Jerry Phillips in the back, mortally wounding him. Lastly, several shells ripped through the Point Welcome ’s stern, destroying its rudder and igniting a fuel fire. Chief Boatswain’s Mate Richard Patterson, an experienced sailor, grabbed a hose. He doused the flames by forcing the burning fuel overboard with the hose spray, then sprinted for the damaged pilot house while ordering everyone else below deck along with the wounded. Patterson knew a third attack run was surely coming.

With the radio and rudder shot away, Patterson had no way to call for help or to steer. He knew he had to present a moving target, so he slammed the throttle forward and commenced a series of zig-zag maneuvers, steering the cutter by alternating the port and starboard engines. Patterson attempted to reach the shore less than one mile away, but two F-4 Phantom II fighter-bombers appeared and commenced a third attack run. The Phantoms dropped cluster bombs and two 250-pound bombs, one of which hit the water so close that it lifted the Point Welcome momentarily out of the water. Approximately 30 minutes after the attack began, the cutter’s engines quit.

Patterson ordered the crew to abandon ship. Every single man had been wounded by shrapnel or shells, but the more able-bodied placed their wounded comrades aboard rafts while they swam alongside. About halfway to shore, the attacking aircraft received the urgent order to cease the attack, but South Vietnamese shore defense units, also assuming the now-swimming crew were enemy sailors, opened fire on the survivors with small arms fire. Finally, another Coast Guard cutter arrived to assist. The USCGC Point Caution maneuvered to shield the survivors before pulling them aboard.

The Military Assistance Command, Vietnam (MACV) convened a board of investigation following the attack. The board ultimately reported that both human error and poor institutional practices led to the catastrophe. The FAC aboard the nearby C-130 did not make a recognition pass with its mission lights on, as was standard procedure, and even though crewmembers aboard the Port Welcome had seen or heard the FAC aircraft, they did not offer the standard recognition signal. No one realized the boat was friendly until it was too late. Finally, and perhaps most crucially, there was little or no communication between the command headquarters of Operation MARKET TIME and the U.S. Air Force commands in the region, despite sharing the same area of operations. In the wake of the tragedy aboard the Port Welcome, MACV insisted that in the future aircraft needed to first contact the CSC in Da Nang to confirm no Maritime forces were in the area before commencing a strike.

While 11 men recovered from their wounds, Lieutenant JG David C. Brostrom and Engineman Second Class Jerry Phillips became the first Coastguardsmen to be killed in the Vietnam War. All 13 men aboard the vessel received the Purple Heart for wounds in battle and Brostrom and Chief Boatswain’s Mate Richard Patterson—who likely rescued the rest of his crewmates with his actions that morning—received the Bronze Star with a “V” device for valor. Brostrom and Phillips are memorialized on Panel 9E, rows 126 and 128, respectively, on the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall in Washington, D.C.1
Captain Ross Bell
PointWelcomeLTjgRossBell-471x640.jpg
 
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