STORY BEHIND THE PLAQUE
Service Reflections of ET2 David Binder, U.S. Navy (1963-1967)

I was a senior in high school working at a bank for meager pay in 1962. In November 1963, I wasn’t doing much better, so I took the advice of one of my Scout leaders to join the Navy. I was a Cub Scout as a 10-year-old, a Boy Scout from age 11 to 16, and then a Sea Explorer (Sea Scout) from 16 until I joined the Navy one month after my 19th birthday. Fred (Fritz) Kemmerer told me about the Navy and explained how much Scouting taught me that would be useful in the Navy. It turned out that he was correct because boot camp was a breeze for me. I won the Academic Award, which was acknowledged at boot camp graduation. I served four years of active duty from November 1963 to November 1967, which included two tours searching watercraft as part of Operation Market Time in Vietnam. I was an electronic technician and a .50 caliber machine gunner on both tours.

Dave Binder, U. S. Navy (1963 1967)

It seems much less difficult to think about the four years I served in the United States Navy than to write about them.

Barely 19 years of age, I was a recruit at Navy Boot Camp in San Diego in November 1963 when President John F. Kennedy was assassinated.

Forty weeks of Navy Electronics School at Treasure Island, San Francisco, followed by “Boot Training.” I graduated as an Electronic Technician, specializing in radar, in 1964, just before the only Christmas I got home during the four years I served.

On January 2, 1965, I reported aboard the USS Hissem, DER-400 (a destroyer escort radar picket ship) in Newport, Rhode Island.

The Hissem was among the smallest vessels, and it was called a ship. Smaller vessels are called “boats.”

The mighty Hissem was 306 feet long and 36 feet wide (at her widest part). Her crew was 160, and she was powered by four diesel engines rather than steam.

During my three years aboard her, we sailed over 200,000 nautical (2,000-yard) miles in the North Atlantic, the Caribbean, and the Pacific Ocean. Many of those miles were covered in the Gulf of Tonkin, the South China Sea, the inlets, harbors, and along the 12-hundred-mile coastline of South Vietnam during my two tours of duty there on “Operation Market Time” between August 1965 and June 1967.

At the “acknowledged” beginning of the Vietnam War in 1965, it was recognized that large quantities of war supplies were being infiltrated by the Viet Cong by sea. The Navy’s attempt to shut off the flow of supplies by sea was called “Operation Market Time,” an anti-infiltration patrol composed of DERs (like the USS Hissem), MSCs (Navy Coastal Minesweepers), WPGs (Coast Guard Patrol Boats), and PCFs (Navy Swift Boats).

The entire South Vietnamese coast was divided into enough patrol stations, and we patrolled with such vigilance that we stopped the gun runners, shut off the war supplies, and closed off the enemy infiltration by sea.

In addition to searching junks, boats, and other watercraft, we were often called upon to render shore bombardment and gunfire support with our three-inch gun mounts and .50 caliber machine guns.

Of the 160-man crew aboard Hissem, I was among the dozen or so selected to search junks. We were trained and crossed the Pacific Ocean; then, we formed two teams, so each team had “the duty” for only half the time. My function on the inspection team during both my tours in Vietnam was to hold the suspects at gunpoint while the other members searched. Depending on the circumstances, I carried a BAR (Browning Automatic Rifle), a Tommy Gun (Thompson Sub-machine Gun), or I would stay aboard the Hissem and use the .50 Caliber Machine Gun.

During the first hour of the first day of my first tour in-country, I had to fire that BAR.

While serving in Vietnam, I always folded a small American Flag in one of my pockets, just in case…

In addition to my job as leading Electronics Technician, repairing and maintaining the ship’s three radars, IFF, and other associated systems, and serving on the Junk Inspection Team, I stood four-hour watches at the .50 caliber machine gun. There is relatively little free time for anyone on a small ship in a war zone.

The morale was low our first Christmas over there. In an attempt to bring some holiday cheer and relief, I built a Christmas tree out of old charts formed into a cone stuffed with more crumpled-up charts, a mop handle trunk, and green packing material pasted onto the cone. I also dyed a set of “whites” red (actually sort of pink) using red beet juice I got from the cook; I used the mop head and cut off the “tree trunk” as a white beard.

I spent part of Christmas Eve roaming around the ship until we were called to battle stations, where we spent the next ten hours until daybreak when Viet Cong positions were pinpointed by Vietnamese Army units in the area. We and a sister destroyer took them under fire until our combined gunfire dispersed the assembling-for-attack Viet Cong forces.

Later that same Christmas Day, I found my morale suffering from now almost four months of what war has to offer, combined with the hours I had to think about Christmas while we were at battle stations and our guns spewed death and destruction. To think that just hours before, I was trying my best to help others; now I needed the help.

Then, the same public address speaker who called us to and secured us from battle stations announced to all hands that packages of goodies we received randomly from somewhere in the United States contained our last replenishment the day before and were being placed on the mess deck (the place on the ship where we eat).

One of my friends had to urge me to get something. I didn’t want to. He told me I must not give in and that others would watch me and follow my lead. Out of some sense of duty, I went to the mess deck and randomly selected one plastic baggie from the piles of cookies and candy sent by families supporting Operation Christmas Star,” a national effort to support our soldiers and sailors.

I took the baggie from the stacks of boxes and headed out to the fantail for some privacy. As I opened the baggie full of chocolate chip cookies, I noticed a folded piece of paper among them. It was a small, handwritten note that said, “We know you are there.” Those simple words had a huge impact on me. It was a significant message I needed to hear.

If anybody wonders, does it really matter? It does. Being recognized in such a small but significant way made the hardship of war easier not only that Christmas but the following Christmas as well. That happened on Christmas Day, 1965, and tears are running down my cheeks as I write this today.

My service in the Navy, and especially my Vietnam experiences, have so very much to do with who I am as a person and how I have lived my life. I need to consider what it has done FOR me as well as what it has done TO me.

Naval sea service, especially on a small ship, is inherently dangerous. In addition to the cost of quality of life that a Boy Scout may suffer due to being in the prolonged situation of needing to hold families at gunpoint, ready to open fire, there are physical risk aspects to consider as well.

For example, I was almost electrocuted once, almost cut in two by the Highline support rope once during an emergency break-away, once while serving as an aft look-out I was almost washed over the side during rough seas, I collapsed once from heat exhaustion, was almost shot on a couple of occasions (including one bullet through my hair), and I have been seasick to the point of welcoming death.

During that same time, I gained confidence in myself and my way of thinking. I saw the world. I reinforced the reality that diversity in people and skills is essential to efficient and productive teamwork, that respect is not optional, and that the very least of us has great value.

I gained lifelong friends, passed the self-test of handling life issues in a positive way, and gained the understanding that our lives are the product of what we can make happen with the decisions we are able to make and what we make happen regardless of the decisions those who have the authority to make decisions for us make. I have also learned that a kiss asked for is not worth the pucker.

I firmly believe the universe is held together by equal and opposite forces, and to that same belief, as bad as one can be is as good as one can be. It is simply a matter of what choices we make as an individual and as a people.

I left the Navy after my four-year enlistment because I didn’t like what we had to do during the war.

I served two tours in Vietnam aboard the USS Hissem, DER-400, during 1965 and 1967, supporting Operation Market Time, a blockade of the entire 1,200-mile coastline of South Vietnam, which virtually shut off enemy war supplies reaching Viet Cong and North Vietnamese regulars by sea. This required us to stop and search all manner of watercraft in our patrol zones 24 hours a day. We also were often called to provide gunfire support with our three-inch gun mounts and .50 caliber machine guns.

During one such episode, the weld holding my .50 caliber machine gun to its stanchion broke, and I suddenly held the gun by its two handles, keeping it from dropping into the sea. A shipmate came over and assisted me in getting the gun back on board. We jury-rigged the gun to the stanchion and continued to fire.

On another occasion, while temporarily on board a Swift Boat, during a patrol in the Mekong Delta, I was manning the twin .50 caliber machine guns on the top gun mount when we came under fire from shore. I experienced a bullet through my hair during the exchange of gunfire. I am not sure if we got him, but the shooting ceased from shore.

These experiences and other close calls during combat and otherwise had a lasting impact on me in the form of PTSD–which is life-changing. I served my enlistment and left the Navy when my time was up. My experiences in the Navy did a lot TO me and also did a lot FOR me.

We were returning to Vietnam from R & R in Hong Kong, approaching our assigned patrol sector (Operation Market Time) in the blockade of the South Vietnamese coast. As we approached the ship we were to relieve, we got a message to follow a trawler that turned back out to sea when challenged to be searched. We were ordered to follow out of sight of the Trawler, under radio silence, to track it to her port of call. Need to mention that we could not transmit messages by radio more than line of sight because of a part needed in the radio transmitter that was on its way to us from Chicago. We followed out of her sight northeast into the Pacific Ocean, then north, and finally southwest to the Strait of Hainan, a very large island off the coast of China. We slowed down 2,000 yards from the mouth of the strait, 13 miles from the coast of China and 13 miles from the coast of Hainan Island (part of China), and remained in international waters and followed the Trawler on our radar as she sailed into the strait. Keep in mind that we didn’t have contact with anyone due to the radio transmitter–and we were on radio silence anyway.

Soon, Chinese aircraft were circling us, and Chinese gunboats were circling us. My shipmate and I were on the O1 level, watching the aircraft and gunboats, when our captain sounded general quarters. I told my buddy, “This is it! We are finished!” as we ran to our battle stations, where we remained until the Trawler we were tracking reached its port of call. We then headed away from the shore, picked up speed, and headed back toward Vietnam. They let us go. Figure they didn’t know we didn’t have contact with anyone, or they would have tried to sink us or capture us. A year after this happened to us, the USS Pueblo was captured by North Korea.

During my four-year military career, I had but three primary duty stations. The first was Boot Camp in San Diego, where I spent about three months. I enjoyed it while I gained self-confidence and new friendships. My second was Electronics “A” School at Naval Schools Command, Treasure Island, San Francisco. Two weeks of Refresher Math and 38 weeks of Electronics taught me my navy job and, again, new friendships. I enjoyed Liberty in San Francisco and the surrounding areas. My final duty station was the USS Hissem DER-400, where I spent the last two years and 11 months of Navy service. Service aboard the Hissem took me to both extremes of life and emotions. While Boot Camp and Navy School both built up my self-confidence, skills, and friendships–my service on the Hissem had the most transforming impact. I put into practice everything I had learned and experienced the thrill of well-rounded success. I gained lifelong friendships and experienced the worst of times and experiences with what the Vietnam War had to offer. So, the answer to the questions is that the service on the USS Hissem has given me my fondest memories for the reasons I expressed and my least favorite memories. My entire Navy experience created who I am today.

From your entire military service, describe any memories you still reflect on to this day.

As time passes, many memories pop into my head, some causing me to laugh and some reminding me why I chose to leave the Navy when my enlistment was up. I will only relate to some funny ones.

During Christmas of 1965, I constructed a Christmas Tree out of old charts, green rubberized horsehair packing material, and a mop handle trunk. The crew decorated it with homemade ornaments. I also made a Santa T from a pair of whites. I died with red beet juice and used the mop head left over from the tree trunk for a beard. On Christmas Eve, Santa pranced about the ship.

I fashioned a revolving surface search radar antenna, driven by the motor out of a D-cell battery-operated shoe shine buffer mounted inside my Australian Bush Hat that turned many a head when I wore it with the antenna rotating. It was really neat.

In July 1965, we were in the Boston Shipyards, getting the ship ready to go to Vietnam. A shipmate and I were delivering a piece of equipment called a Frequency Standard to the Electronics Shop. The equipment had a battery inside that would keep an oscillator inside it at a constant temperature should the electricity go off so that the pieces of equipment would stay in collaboration. A red light indicated the oscillator heater was on. As we carried the Freency Standard into the building, I asked a passing sailor for directions to the electronics. He started the direct ns but stopped when he saw the lit red light and said, “That light is on!” “It is not plugged in!” I answered, “That is why we are taking it to the electronics shop.” “We can’t get it to turn off.” Satisfied with my answer, he continued giving us directions. I laugh each time I tell that story to someone.

Three achievements I am proud of come to mind.

I am proud that I was presented the Academic Award for Company 542 in Navy Boot Camp in 1964 at graduation.

I am proud that during my four-year enlistment, I made E-5. In fact, E-6 was mine in March 1966 if I had extended for four months. You had to have 24 months to serve to accept a promotion, and I had only 20 months to go.

I am proud that I was awarded the Good Conduct Medal for my time in the Navy.

Each of my medals and awards means a great deal to me, but I pick the Navy and Marine Corps Combat Action Ribbon as the one that has the most meaning, to me. It validates to me that I served my country above myself more than the other awards and medals I received.

The individual who had the most positive impact on me was Electronic Technician Chief Petty Officer Charles Ramsey. Under him, I served as the leading electronic technician on board the USS Hissem-DER 400 for most of my almost three years aboard her. Chief Ramsey had faith in me regarding my technical skills and my leadership skills. He was my boss. He was my friend.

I gained lifelong friends during my four-year enlistment in the Navy. Albert Harring and I met on the USS Hissem DER-400 in early 1965 and have been close friends since. We were together for about six months while we were on the East Coast when he got transferred because he did not have enough time left to go along with us to Vietnam in July 1965. We reconnected after the Navy and visited one another quite often, including at the annual Hissem Reunion. Al lives in Venice, FL.

Chief Charles Ramsey was my boss, but also my friend. We did not pal around together, but that didn’t matter. He supported me in many ways, and I was able to help him out as well over my time on the Hissem. I often wonder what happened to him. I would love to make contact if he is still alive. I am almost 80 now; he was much older than me while on the Hissem. We served together during my two tours in Vietnam.

Bill Tracy and I also hit it off, and we often went on liberty together. We kept in contact after the Navy, and we also visited one another. We served two tours in Vietnam together. Bill lived in Rochester, NY, and I live in Allentown, PA, about 300 miles away from each other. I stayed with Bill for weeks at a time during his last couple of months on earth. He died of lung cancer a couple of years ago. Bill Tracy was one of a kind, and I miss him. I still talk to two of his brothers, whom I got to know while visiting him in New York.

Neil McGrath and I became friends at Electronics “A” School on Treasure Island, San Francisco. We went through the 40 weeks together and wound up serving on the Hissem together as well. We served two tours in Vietnam together as well. On one gunfire support mission, the .50 caliber machine gun I was firing suddenly broke its weld to the stanchion it was mounted on, and I was holding it by the handles over the side so it wouldn’t drop into the water. It was a heavy gun, especially with the ammo box–and the barrel was hot. Neil came to the rescue and helped me get the gun back on deck. We jury-rigged the gun to the stanchion, and I continued to fire. On Christmas of 1965, I was feeling really blue after another gunfire support mission–and Neil talked me into going to the mess deck to get some goodies sent to us from somewhere in the United States. It was a good move, as I took the baggie of chocolate chip cookies and a note inside that read, “We know you are there.” It was a message I needed to hear. I cried like a baby and then felt better. Neil lives in Illinois, so we talk on the telephone several times a month.

Other shipmate friends from the Hissem to whom I have grown much closer during the many years of attending our annual ship’s reunion include Michael Puckett of Florida, Bob Morstadt of Long Island, NY, Tony Martin of South Carolina, Mario Cardamone of Canada, Vinnie Morelli of PA, Buddy Margurite of Boston, Massachusetts, and Gary Taibbi of Florida.

I must add that I have met former Hissem crew members at our reunions, including Dave Bremer and Richard Brown of Florida.

Shipmates who have passed away. Include Brice Umstead, Ron Horrocks, and Bill Mangan. May they have fair winds and following seas.

As I think about it, many incidents from my time in the Navy make me laugh to this day. So many are long and complicated or not wise to repeat. I think I will go with the one that follows:

On January 3, 1965, my second day at sea, I was not feeling well and was close to seasickness. My ship was a top-heavy destroyer escort (a DER), and being brand new in my division, I was on mess duty as the “salad boy.”

After slicing tomato wedges and lettuce wedges, the cook assigned me to make Waldorf Salad. He told me to dice apples, celery, and the other ingredients, add the mayonnaise and put it on ice.

As the crew was eating, crunching sounds occurred, followed by sailors saying, “What the Hell!”… Before very long, the cook came to me and yelled, “What did you put in the Waldorf Salad???”

I was not feeling very well, so I answered, “I put in diced apples, diced celery, lettuce, mayonnaise, and ice!”

“You don’t put ice in it!! You put it in ice!!, he boomed. You wouldn’t have enough to blow over a thimble if your brains were dynamite!

Apparently, the crew thought the ice covered with mayonnaise was marshmallows.

In the Navy, I was an electronic technician – radar, having had 40 weeks of training at ET-A School on Treasure Island, San Francisco, in 1964. This is when the shipboard radars used vacuum tubes rather than transistors. My ship, a radar picket ship, had three radars on her–an air search, a surface search, and a height finder; so I had plenty of experience during my three years aboard her.

I also advanced rapidly. In March 1966, I was an E-5, but I was offered an E-6 in the first advancement increment. I had only 20 months left to serve and needed 24 months to accept the promotion.

Deciding not to extend, I remained an E-5 and got out on time in November 1967. I started my civilian job on January 8, 1968, working for the local electric company, where I stayed until retirement in June 2013. I had 45 and a half years of service.

I feel fortunate that I enjoyed my military service, my civilian service, and my retirement. Except for two tours in Vietnam, life has been good so far.

When I left the Navy in November 1967, I became a life member of the Veterans of Foreign Wars. The organization was mainly composed of World War II veterans, with a few Korean War veterans, and I was welcomed into the fold.

Among other things, Agent Orange took its toll on me, so I joined the Disabled American Veterans as a Life Member in 1985. Again, I was welcomed into the fold.

Membership in these organizations offers benefits such as friendship and fellowship with like-minded comrades and keeping current on VA benefit information.

Twenty-three years ago, I helped form a civilian organization called the Lehigh Valley Military Affairs Council. This organization’s mission is to make the Lehigh Valley (in Pennsylvania) the most supportive community in America for veterans, military personnel, their families, and their employers.

I have been on the LVMAC board of directors since its inception and have held various offices in the VFW and DAV over the years.

Serving in the Military from age 19 to 23 gave me real-life experiences that defined me and gave me the confidence to take on life in the civilian world. It may sound cliche, but I learned where I fit into the cross-section of society, what my limits were regarding physical and mental endurance, and respect for my decision-making process.

Now, at almost 80 years old, I look back and am pleased with how the decisions I have made during my life’s journey have produced the success I have enjoyed and continue to enjoy.

I do not miss anything about my time in the service, as I have experienced in my civilian life dependence on myself, my dependence on others, travel, friendships, brotherhood, success in my vocation, and success in my advocations, there are people I love, and there are people who love me. What more could I want?

Based on your own experiences, what advice would you give to those who have recently joined the Navy?

The advice I would give to a young sailor is to do your best at every task and to be true to yourself at all times.

TogetherWeServed.com helped me put down on paper things that represent only five percent of my life as a young man and have stuck with me to my 80th year. What makes me tick is now available to anyone who may be interested enough to look. Thank you for the opportunity to record my thoughts.

David Binder, Navy Petty Officer Second Class and Vietnam Combat Veteran.