Tucker's Last Stand (22 page)

“No.”

“You know when you want them to go?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Now. One attack, we're calm about it. Accidents happen. Two attacks? That's different.”

21

August 3, 1964

Washington, D.C.

The following forty-eight hours were hectic, mad; to this day, inscrutable.

Sundown at the Gulf of Tonkin, on August 2, is at 7:40
P.M
., and in 1964 brought in a moonless night. It soon seemed that everyone in the whole world was trying to find out exactly what happened on that mysterious night in the Gulf of Tonkin. The military to begin with, of course. And then congressmen, in particular the membership of the foreign affairs committees, which had been especially pushed for action,
now
. And of course the press. They bore down in Saigon, in Guam, in Honolulu, and in Washington, trying to find out:
What, exactly, happened
?

It was hard, in the flurry, to get the story line straight.

The Navy acknowledged that after the Sunday afternoon attack of August 2 by the three North Vietnamese patrol boats, Admiral Moorer, the Pacific Fleet Commander, had ordered a fresh patrol: two destroyers, the
C. Turner Joy
joining the
Maddox
. And the Navy acknowledged that their orders were for the destroyers to steam in toward NV shore during the day, and to retire to sea at night.

The Navy did not answer questions having to do with
exactly how close
to North Vietnamese territory the destroyers were permitted to go. “We respect internationally recognized territorial limits,” was as far as the naval press spokesman himself would go.

The
New York Times
hadn't been quite ready to run with its exposé of Operation 34-A, but the Gulf of Tonkin crisis accelerated their deadline and in a day and a half the story was everywhere circulated.

“United States military and intelligence advisers,” began the lead on the story, “have been equipping a certain number of boats (exactly how many cannot be ascertained at this point) which in the guise of commercial fishing in the Gulf of Tonkin have been actively engaged in attempting to stop North Vietnamese infiltration of the South. These ‘34-A' boats have been patrolling the North Vietnamese coast, arresting southbound traffic in an effort to interdict the smuggling of North Vietnamese insurgents and materiel to the South. In addition to the naval campaign to stop traffic and examine it, the South Vietnamese have recently engaged in direct military activity: strafing shore installations along the coast, up to—but not including—the North Vietnamese port of Haiphong.”

A Dutch freighter intercepted an order broadcast to the fleet by Captain Herrick of the
Maddox
. It said that Sunday's attack on the Gulf had meant that North Vietnam had “thrown down the gauntlet,” and that from this moment on, approaching gunboats from North Vietnam should be “treated as belligerents from first detection and must consider themselves as such.” The Navy declined to confirm or deny that such orders had been issued by Captain Herrick.

An unnamed junior officer aboard the
Maddox
was quoted by the Associated Press in a long story on Monday. “We [the
Maddox
and the
C. Turner Joy]
were moving north, up the coast from the 17th parallel [which divides North and South Vietnam]. We got to within 9.2 miles of the islands of Hon Mat and Hon Me, then we turned east at dusk, heading out to sea.

“Commodore Herrick called his staff up. He'd told us that two hours earlier, he learned that South Vietnamese 34-A boats had left Danang proceeding up the coast, ‘right on our tail' was the way he put it. He didn't like that, so he had radioed the U.S. command recommending that they terminate the 34-A patrol. The recommendation went up to Admiral Sharp [Pacific Forces commander]. He overrode the captain, said he wouldn't stop the 34-A South Vietnamese. He told Herrick to keep his two destroyers 10 minutes north of 19 degrees latitude, between two geographical points, Charlie and Delta—that way we would avoid any possibility of interfering with 34-A. And then, the admiral pointed out, there was the further advantage: By removing ourselves from the 34-A patrol, we might succeed in drawing North Vietnamese PGMs [Guided Missile Patrol Boats] away from the area of 34-A operations.”

The talkative young officer went on to the following day, August 4. “We learned through intelligence, just after midnight, that the South Vietnamese 34-A boats had fired on two North Vietnamese targets, Cap Vinh Son where a radar station had been constructed by the Soviets, and Cua Ron, a security post. They exchanged fire, but that finished by 1
A.M.
One hour later, Captain Herrick got us together again. He had a translation of radio intercepts. Hanoi had concluded that the 34-A operations against their installations were a part of the same maneuver we [the two U.S. destroyers] were engaged in. Herrick didn't say that any attacks were therefore planned on us, but he gave orders to radio the
Ticonderoga
[U.S. aircraft carrier, Seventh Fleet] to request air cover, just in case. It took a couple of hours for the people on the carrier to react, but at 4
A.M.
they did: ‘Request denied,' but they said they would stand by in the event anything happened. We continued routine, through dawn, when we turned back to do our regular daytime cruise along the North Vietnamese coast. We were within 13 miles of Hon Me at that point.”

The
Times
broke up the story to report that early in the afternoon of August 4 the
Maddox
had reported to headquarters a “material deficiency” in the operation of its sonar devices. But soon after that a report was filed that repairs had been made. That question, of the efficiency of the sonar devices, had become critical.

“At 2:30
P.M
.,” the naval official of the
Maddox
continued his account, “we got word from our radar that unidentified surface vessels were paralleling our track and that of
Turner Joy
[the second U.S. destroyer, making the run with the
Maddox
since the attack of August 2]. We flashed over to the
Turner Joy
: Did their radar show the same thing? Negative. Our radar man kept looking, and conceded that the contact was ‘intermittent.'”

It was several hours later, after dark, that the situation grew menacing, said the young officer, continuing his story. “We were at that point near the center of the Gulf of Tonkin, 65 miles from the nearest land, and we were headed southeast. That's when Captain Herrick concluded that the maneuvers of the unidentified vessels gave rise to the suspicion that an attack by them was imminent. At about 8
P.M
., our radar detected two unidentified vessels 36.4 miles away, traveling in our direction at a speed of 33 knots. We flashed over again to the
Turner Joy
, but their radar didn't have equivalent findings. In any case, maximum boiler power was ordered for both destroyers. A few minutes later, our radar reported that the unidentified vessel (we lost the other one) was now 37 miles away. But five minutes later, he reported that two
additional
radar contacts had been made, in the same general area.

“Captain Herrick concluded that a trap was being set up. The
Turner Joy
still had no contacts, but our radar showed the three contacts merging into a single contact, at a range of 32 miles. And then, at 8:15, we got it over the radio through another intercept that an attack on the destroyers was imminent. We proceeded to head south at full speed. At that point we had still another radar contact report: two unidentified surface vessels and three unidentified aircraft. But we learned quickly that these must be the U.S. fighter aircraft launched from the
Ticonderoga
to give us protection.

“We felt the crisis was coming in real soon when at 9:30 our radar reported additional unidentified vessels, all of them now closing in rapidly on us at speeds in excess of 40 knots. Then—suddenly!—our radar man reported that the contacts had—‘evaporated' was the word he used.

“So what we did, Captain Herrick asked the
Ticonderoga
to instruct one of the aircraft flying over us to investigate one of the unidentified vessels, which we figured were now only 13 miles away. The aircraft went to the indicated location but reported back that it had seen—nothing. But meanwhile, the vessel had reappeared on our radar screen.

“The captain thought it prudent to take preemptive action. Accordingly he ordered fire at one of the unidentified vessels, and the
Turner Joy
began to fire at another one, on the right. Both of the targets were geographical coordinates—based on the projections of the approach when last sighted on the radar of the
Maddox
, only a few minutes earlier.

“At this point, our sonar reported a torpedo in motion. We flashed the news to
Turner Joy
. By 10 o'clock
P.M.
both of us reported continuous torpedo attacks, and both of us engaged in defensive counterfire. The
Turner Joy
changed course to evade the torpedo we reported. The
Joy
reported sighting wake. But, it's true, the
Turner Joy
's sonar operator said he never picked up a ‘torpedo noise.' Sometime between 9:30 and 10:25, aircraft from
Ticonderoga
, at the request of the
Turner Joy
, began strafing the general area. Meanwhile our sonar reported still another torpedo, and once again we warned
Joy
. And then at 10:15 we reported that we had avoided all torpedoes and had sunk one of the attacking craft. We sank another one at 10:42, and at 10:52 the radar and sonar indicated we were again under attack. It got pretty hot, and a half hour later
Turner Joy
told us they had had five torpedoes fired at them and that she was planning to ram one of the North Vietnamese boats. At midnight,
Joy
was still looking for a patrol boat to ram, but their radio seemed to show that one of the enemy boats had accidentally sunk one of its own boats.

“It was hell. It was crazy. The blackest black outside I ever did see, and muggy, hot.”

10:50 P.M
.

“JUST THAT ONE FLASH! TURN IT OFF NOW! OFF! GODDAMNIT OFF! QUICK!”
The search beam went off and the speedboat swerved quickly to the left at 40 knots and was well away when they saw the tracer bullets firing at the spot where the beam had briefly been flashed. The spotlight operator shouted out
: “Here we go again. Keep your head low.”
He zoomed past the destroyer at a speed not much less than a torpedo would run at. The roar of the engine cut through the aimless firing from the destroyers, and through the noise of circling aircraft above. One thousand meters past, the operator turned the boat sharply, the salt spray drenching him and his companion
. “THE RADIO NOW TAPE NUMBER THREE QUICK!”
As he roared back toward the
Maddox
he saw the tiny green electric pulsations: they were transmitting
. “GOOD GOOD ENOUGH. CUT IT NOW! CAAAAARREFUL!”
The operator made a sharp right turn to avoid a probing searchlight from one of the vessels
. “ONE MORE RUN, JUST ONE MORE.”
He aimed his racer now obliquely toward the stern of the
Turner Joy.
He caromed toward its starboard flank and then turned to leave, their wakes a mere twenty yards separated. His companion was lying in front of the wheel, his instruments protected from the salt spray by the deck over the little cutty cabin
. “ALL RIGHT NOW. WE HEAD BACK. PREPARE CASSETTE THREE FOR TRANSMISSION AT 1124.”
Thank God it's the blackest night of the year, the operator thought as he eased the power down, reducing his speed to 30 knots. Four hours. He fastened the earphones and kept careful view of his tiny compass with the red-light illumination. Steady on that radio signal, 2171 kHz Danang Lightship. Steady as she goes
.

The President convened his National Security Council at noon, which corresponded to midnight Gulf of Tonkin time.

He gave his staff an up-to-date digest on what had happened, and ordered the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs to prepare a list of appropriate targets for a retaliatory strike. At this moment he was interrupted. He read the dispatch his aide had brought in, and then spoke to the assembly:

“Good news from the fighting front, gennelmen. No casualties on our vessels, and our defense aircraft from the
Ticonderoga
are right now illuminating the area and preparing to attack the enemy surface craft. The two destroyers count twenty-two torpedoes that have been fired at them, an' they figure two enemy craft sunk so far in the engagement.”

The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, who had arrived prepared, had the floor.

But a half hour later the President was interrupted again. He read the fresh dispatch, and his face contorted in concentration. His staff looked up eagerly for the latest news.

“A little confusin'. The
Maddox
reported they saw a flicker of light from enemy searchlight, but there was no enemy fire. But the
Joy
reported fire from automatic weapons while being illuminated by searchlights.

“What's confusin' is the
Turner Joy
. They claim to have sunk three vessels but now they want the Commander, Pacific Operations, to initiate a thorough reconnaissance in daylight by aircraft. Same thing with the
Maddox
. Herrick wants a ‘complete revaluation before any further action is taken.' Anyway, the firing is over, far as we can tell. Bob,” the President turned to Secretary McNamara, “you better go meet up with the Joints Chiefs and with Cy Vance, go over all this stuff and plan the raids we've ordered.”

At 5
P.M
., McNamara called to inform the President that Herrick had cabled. “
DETAILS OF ACTION PRESENT A CONFUSING PICTURE
,
ALTHOUGH CERTAIN THAT ORIGINAL AMBUSH WAS BONA FIDE
.” McNamara then called Admiral Sharp in Hawaii and told him to be “damned sure that the attack had taken place.” Admiral Sharp radioed orders to Captain Herrick on the
Maddox
to confirm “absolutely” that the two ships had been attacked. Herrick was ordered to relay his findings to the
Ticonderoga
, to ensure prompt forwarding to Honolulu.