During Thanksgiving of 1974, as a member of the USS Midway’s crew, I visited Hong Kong (then a British Crown Colony), and met a woman who had just retired from embassy duty in Saigon, South Vietnam.

When she found out I was in the US Navy, she told me that my ship would probably hear more about the Vietnam War, as “Charlie” was building up a big offensive just north of the city of Da Nang. After we parted ways, I forgot our conversation.

Around mid-April of 1975, the Midway was making a port visit for a few days in Subic Bay, Philippines, and I went off the ship for three days, then returned for work. The day I returned to the ship, I told one of my buddies, “I am going to church on Sunday” This was April 18th. He said, “No you are not, we are going to Vietnam!” A few minutes later, the commanding officer, Captain Lawrence C. Chambers, announced that we were going to Vietnam to possibly be involved in an evacuation of South Vietnam. Some of the guys in my shop were told they would be going ashore and remain behind to support aircraft from the ship that were remaining behind, while others would be staying with the ship.

Those of us who did remain on the ship were told to evacuate our berthing area to make room for refugees. Several of us went to our berthing area to collect our bed sheets and pack important objects from our lockers, as we were being moved for the refugees. We went to another sleeping area, then we all decided that we would rather sleep in the shop.

On about April 20th, we were all told that, as we were in a war zone, we were now eligible for postage-free mail service for all personal mail. All we had to do was to write “Free” where the stamp is supposed to go. One day, I went up to the flight deck and saw a bunch of Air Force helicopters, maybe about ten of them. They were the United States Air Force Rescue and Recovery squadron, two squadrons. According to one of the crewmembers, whom I befriended, said that one squadron would fly in about 1,000 feet, while the other one would fly in at tree-level. The helicopters included CH-46 and H-53 Air Force helicopters. One afternoon, on a small cabinet on one of the helicopters, I saw a bunch of bullets for their machine guns and tapped my finger on the tip. It was sharp! The crewmember told me that the machine gun would shoot out about 6,000 rounds a minute. Considering how sharp the bullet was, I definitely did not want one of those bullets to hit me! Now, normally, each helicopter carried a crew of about six members, two waist gunners, one tail gunner, one specialist, the pilot, and the co-pilot. However, for this mission, only five members would be on these flights. The helicopters could carry a maximum safe capacity of 44 passengers, counting the flight crew.

On or about the 17th of April, we were told that the nation of Cambodia had been taken over by this group called the Khmer Rouge. At the end of this story, you will hear about that.

For the next few days, whenever I had a chance, I would leave my shop and go to the flight deck to pick up on any available rumors I could get. Also, in my shop, which was right below the flight deck and just about the front-end of the landing area of the ship, some of the guys who had been to Vietnam, would gather around and tell some of their stories. I found out that, out of maybe about twenty of us, having never been to Vietnam, I was in the minority. I saw such baseball caps as “Tonkin Gulf Yacht Club” and “Tom from Nam.” Each day, I wrote a letter home to my parents. As for what we did in my shop, which was an aviation electronics shop, other than work on equipment that we had received before this operation, there was not much work, as our normal aircraft were not being worked on at this time and we had not received any equipment from the Air Force aircraft.

I found out, through rumors, that there were approximately 45 ships assigned to this operation and most of the crewmembers who were Vietnam War veterans were not very happy about being here and wanted nothing to do with it. From what I understood, the USS Midway, and the USS Hancock were supposed to handle any refugees and the USS Coral Sea and the USS Enterprise would provide us with any air cover, if we would be subject to any attack from the air.

We sat there, mostly circling around, waiting, for about eight days. Then, on or about April 29th, Captain Chambers announced something to the effect of, “You men of the United States Air Force are about to embark on a very dangerous mission. May God help you all,” or words to that effect. From my shop, we could hear the helicopters taking off and, soon, virtual silence. A while later, one of the guys from my shop, and I went up to the O-11 level, the topmost observation level of the ship, and looked around. We saw one huey land, and out stepped a man in a business suit. According to the guy, it was now former Vice President Kei. Soon after we left the O-11 level, that level was closed to all spectators. I heard a rumor that, soon after, an Air Force MP, with a loaded rifle, stood guard and that some junior officer demanded access to the level, and the MP pointed the barrel of the rifle and said, “No Way!” Or words to that effect.

In Saigon, over the radio station, there was a “supposed-to-be” secret code for all embassy officials and other affected officials, which was “White Christmas.” The announcer said, “Well, I guess we will not have a white Christmas this year!” I was told this by a US embassy official as we transited to the Gulf of Thailand a few days later. As it turned out, it was not much of a secret code. Everybody knew it.

A few hours later, the Air Force helicopters began to return. It was amazing. We watched helicopters loaded way passed their safe limit. Refugees had crammed onto the helicopters like crazy, easily filling each helicopter past its safe limit. Many of these refugees carried weapons with them. One small joke, on one trip, as the helicopter landed in Saigon, the tail gunner forgot to set the safety on his machine gun. As he stood a few feet away, he happened to turn around and remember it. Then a refugee grabbed the handle of the machine gun and pushed the trigger. The crewmember could almost feel the bullets ripping his body apart! Surprisingly, he felt nothing. When the helicopter returned to the ship, dropping off all the refugees, one of the waist gunners told me, “Next time, make sure to set your safety BEFORE leaving the helicopter!” The commanding officer of this Air Force squadron ordered his crews to fly three missions into Saigon and land at various locations.

As the Viet Cong started heavily firing at all aircraft, after the third round, he told the crews that, if they wanted to continue, they were on their own.

On the ship, we saw all sorts of refugees on the flight deck as they made their way to a temporary customs section. My supervisor was placed in charge of one section. He told me later that he hated the Vietnamese, but as he went through all their belongings, it got too rough on him and he had to go off to a corner and have a good cry. These people were carrying everything they could put in one or two suitcases, to start a new life, wherever.

Our forward mess decks were set up for meals the refugees and, of course, my berthing space was made available for them. Some crewmembers had to teach the refugees how to take a “Navy shower.” Some of them joked about it to me. The overflow of refugees slept under combat aircraft for the night. What was going on was, while we processed these people as quickly as we could, then our own helicopters, from the ship, flew them to other ships for transportation to Guam, for those who had to stay overnight, that was why our berthing space was made available.

That night, in which a couple of us made it to the O-10 level, we watched, off in the distance, as “Charlie” had arrived at an ammo dump, just north of Saigon, and were blowing up all the munitions. For some reason, and we heard about it later, somehow we were both able to recognize it as just that, and not fireworks. Being in an all-male society, where one is not supposed to cry, I did cry a little.

Now, throughout the night, we were able to see lights all over the place, as ships maneuvered to avoid colliding with each other. The next day, April 30th, became very interesting, as I watched as hueys and CH-47 helicopters buzzed around the ship, like so many mad hornets, looking for a landing spot. Now, a huey is supposed to have a maximum safe capacity for twelve passengers. We saw them landing with in excess of thirty passengers. We watched as the CH-47s landed, and sometimes as many as one hundred refugees came out. Then came the big story

Amidst all this confusion, here comes a Cessna O-1 Birddog, piloted by South Vietnamese Air Force Major Bung-Lyon (we learned later). He aimed right for the flight deck and, one of the flight deck crew who happened to see one of the guys from my shop happened to be standing outside one of our watertight doors, pushed him inside the space, as he had no idea what the small plane was doing! The pilot attempted to drop a note onto the flight deck but it fell off into the water below. Over the radio we heard the air boss tell him, “Just go ahead and land in the ocean. We will be glad to pick you up!” We found out that his radio receiver worked, but his transmitter did not. Finally, he dropped a third note and it fell on the flight deck. A crewmember grabbed it and took it inside.

Finally, the flight deck was clear for Major Bung-Lyon to land the Cessna O-1 Bird Dog, and, in my shop, we watched it on TV. When the plane came to a stop, everybody in the shop cheered.

Later, I went down to the hangar bay and met the South Vietnamese major and his family. It’d been an impressive piece of piloting, an iconic moment in Midway’s history and, heroically, he had saved his family.

I think the evacuation lasted well into the night. We heard, later that evening, that South Vietnam had finally surrendered to North Vietnam.

On the morning of May 1st, 1975, around 1:00 a.m., suddenly, the entire task force departed the Vietnamese waters. The Midway started to head west, towards Thailand. What happened was, pilots fleeing Vietnam, had flown a bunch of combat aircraft to Thailand and the Vietnamese government demanded their return. The Thai government argued with them until they heard we were coming, then finally “gave up.”

For me, this was a little historic. I turned 26 on May 2nd, and here I was, for all practical purpose, in a war zone. It’s a birthday that I will remember for a long time.

We arrived off the coast of Thailand on May 3rd and started loading these combat aircraft onboard.

When they were all on-loaded, we departed Thailand and headed east. On May 6th, we steamed past Vietnam and were officially back in a war zone for a day.

While the story should end here, once we arrived in Guam to drop off all these aircraft, including the O-1 Bird Dog, we heard that a merchant vessel, the Mayaguez, was hijacked by the nation of Cambodia.

Now, we were told to possibly conduct rescue operations of that ship. I happened to be on the O-11 level one evening, and I was talking to one of our signalmen and he told me of an interesting conversation with another ship, “Well, where are we going now? Are we going to Cambodia or the Philippines?!” “I have no idea.” If I recall correctly, for a day or two, we were zigzagging, one minute towards Cambodia, then, next, the Philippines. Finally it was decided to head to the Philippines.

Now THAT is the end of the story!

(Photos used with permission of LTJG Fred Lydic [72-75])