STORY BEHIND THE PLAQUE
Service Reflections of RM2 Donald Moores, U.S. Coast Guard (1961-1965)

I grew up in a suburb of Dallas, Texas, and had never heard of the Coast Guard. I had a job, but I had no plans or ambitions. Spent non-work hours with a good buddy who happened to have a friend who was a Coastie. My buddy had an ambition: he wanted to join the USCG and become a radioman (he was a ham radio operator). The Vietnam War was in full swing, plus the Cuban involvement, and guys were getting drafted regularly. So he talked me into joining with him, and the rest is history.

I enlisted in the Coast Guard in Dallas, Texas, with a high school buddy on August 31, 1961. We attended basic training at Cape May, NJ, in Golf-47 company. After week three, I was made a member of the camp drill team. I didn’t know why I was chosen from our entire company. I guessed it might have been by virtue of being at least 6 feet tall. We performed precision drilling and fancy rifle work during weekly graduation ceremonies. We prided ourselves on being shinier than other members, and we made a lot of noise. When we went from present arms to order arms, we would make a point of slamming our rifle butt against the pavement, the idea being that we all made every sound simultaneously. We also had large taps on the heels of our shoes, so that every movement we made created a simultaneous noise.

In these performances, we carried old M-1 rifles, with their barrels painted silver. On one occasion, we were all loaded with blanks. Towards the end of the performance we were all supposed to point our arms in the air and fire simultaneously. Earlier in the performance, at one point, when we were all smashing our butts into the ground, the rifle of the man standing to my left decided to fire. He was so surprised, he left his rifle standing on its butt and looked at me in surprise, then he went back into order arms, and grabbed his rifle. The performance went on, we all lifted our guns to the sky and fired simultaneously. Later on, our buddies back in the company couldn’t figure out how we managed to fire twice, as we had not reloaded or cocked. We never told them how.

At some point during our basic training, President John F. Kennedy began entertaining guest dignitaries and heads of state almost weekly, and our team was made part of the honor guard, consisting of teams from each of the five services. We stood at the airport when the President welcomed the guest, and after speeches, they would inspect the troops. Kennedy has passed within arm’s length of me several times.

Our team wore leggings, but unlike the ones used in boot camp, ours were attached to our pants legs so that the pants legs were essentially a tube. Of course, we could not sit down unless we unbuttoned our waists and allowed the waist to drop down below our skivvies. On one occasion, we did the airport detail, and then we were scheduled to do a detail at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. On the bus, we had to loosen our pants so we could sit down, and before the afternoon detail, we were bused to a military base for lunch. We strapped our pants back up and marched to the otherwise empty lunchroom, where we had to drop our pants so we could sit to eat. At some point, a female military officer entered the lunchroom on her way somewhere. Our commander yelled “attention!”, so we all stood at attention, holding our pants up as well as we could with one hand. She was clearly embarrassed and lost no time in crossing the room and exiting.

My buddy was a ham radio fan, so after boot camp, we decided and were selected to attend the Coast Guard Radioman School in Groton, Conn. That lasted from Nov. ‘61 until June ‘62. For those of our readers who were not enlisted back in those historical times, we did not yet have the luxury of satellite phones, and we radiomen were responsible for relaying messages from ship to shore and shore to ship. For communicating with small boats relatively close to land, since most civilians don’t copy Morse code, we used voice communications at radio frequencies appropriate for subjects within horizon distance. Unfortunately, such voice transmissions traveled in a straight line, so for ships out at sea, we had to use Morse code, at frequencies that would hug the earth. On a clear night, I was often able to hear the CG station in Hawaii. As a result of these conditions, all ships, passenger liners or freighters, had to have a radioman who could read Morse code.

After graduating from radio school, I was assigned to the radio station at the CGAS in St. Petersburg, Florida, until 1964. Most of our duties involved radio assistance in search and rescue operations, involving both local fishermen and small craft, as well as occasionally oceanic vessels. Thinking back, it seems like we had some kind of search and rescue operation going on all the time. We often received praise from families of citizens we had rescued from a sinking or burning boat.

This part of my career was during the Cuban Missile Crisis, after which many Cuban refugees attempted to flee in small boats to the United States. In 1964, I was transferred to the CG radio station in Key West, Florida, to provide assistance to the Key Patrol ships and planes in their operations. During that period, most of our time was involved in search and rescue of local and tourist fishermen who managed to get lost in Florida Bay and among the many mangrove islands.

Before my discharge on March 15, 1965, my wife—to—be flew down from St. Petersburg to Key West so we could get married. We figured we might as well get it done so she could begin receiving some income from Uncle Sam. At this time, I was loaned to the CG Cutter Diligence for one cruise outside the Bahamas, where the Gemini III space capsule was slated to splash down. Due to uncertainty as to the exact splashdown location, military vessels were scattered all over the western Atlantic Ocean. Of course, the Navy Admiral in charge of the operation had his aircraft carrier located where the capsule was expected to splash down. But the capsule had different plans. We were about twenty miles away.

During the critical time, I happened to be off-watch, so I went to the bridge to get a view. The bridge was packed, and all the binoculars were occupied, so I found a big brass telescope about 3 feet long, and since I could see much farther than anyone else, As a result I could see much farther than anybody else, and I was the first to spot the triple-parachutes descending and alert everyone else.

Before signing off, I wished to return to my time at the St. Petersburg Air Station. It was November 22, 1963, and I had just started my afternoon watch with my good friend Bob Laughter. Bob was the first Coastie I ran into when I first checked in down at the district headquarters in Miami. He offered to drive me to our station at St. Petersburg. Bob was a powerful man, on his second hitch, and he was a good friend. It was on this particular day that he had been out of the radio shack for a brief time. When he arrived back, he was crying. He told me that President Kennedy had been shot. Other people like to talk about where they were and what they were doing when we lost our president. I will never forget where I was and what I was doing, as I will never forget his passing in front of our honor guard.

A friend, a Navy Bosun’s Mate veteran, told me he and his mates said the Coasties were the ones who would go out when they would not. I lost a friend who drowned while engaged in a rescue operation in bad weather. On several occasions, I have heard words of thanks and praise from persons whom the Coast Guard had rescued. Even today, after many years, I often hear similar praise. I am personally proud of various accomplishments, but none is as important as having taken part in saving lives.

I was never awarded any medals or awards for anything I did in my enlistment. All I can do is repeat what I said before: I felt a sense of pride at being thanked for my part in the rescue. One of the young Cuban refugees I may have been involved in his salvation years later turned out to be one of my best students while I was teaching in college. That, to me, was better than a medal.

I know a lot of my mates will think I am crazy, but my vote goes to BM1 John Miller at the Cape May basic training. I know… he was the guy everyone hated during their first week. He was the guy who went out of his way to make them all a team by giving them someone or something to collectively hate. But he was my PO in charge of the drill team, and to us on the team, he was like a father away from home. But in fairness, there were numerous positive influences among those that affected me. In fact, most of them had positive influences for various reasons.

Bob Laughter, who was a good friend of mine at St. Petersburg Air Station. My buddy was a ham radio fan, so after boot camp, we decided to attend the Coast Guard Radioman School in Groton, Conn., and were selected.

After discharge in 1965, I attended the University of South Florida (Tampa) and received a BA and MA in Marine and Aquatic Science. During this time, I taught biology at the local junior college. One of my best students was a Cuban refugee. He said my teaching helped him decide to study biology at the University.

I was, and still am, proud to be a Coastie! We were many times reminded how much respect we earned, every time our efforts resulted in the rescue of crews of sinking/burning or lost fishing boats, and the thankful Cuban refugees that were safely brought to shore.

Be strong in your choices, stick with the plan, pull up your bootstraps, and stay the course. I will definitely be something you will always carry with you.

It has brought back memories. Again, I was, and still am, proud to be a Coastie!