Don C. Marler
The January issue is a little early this time. This
gives us time to end the year 2010 with thanks for your support of the Fifties Frogs Magazine; and to wish all
a Happy Holiday Season. At almost 78, I am just
glad to see a new year roll around and to be alert enough to recognize it when
it does.
Special thanks are due to Pam Russell who has
assisted and continues to assist in so many ways. Without her, producing the
magazine would be a very difficult task. As most of our readers know she also
manages the Special Naval Warfare Archives—a wonderful resource. As I make
contacts among our UDT/SEAL Community I am amazed at the people she has helped
with data and there has been not a single complaint or negative word.
Don Belcher makes his old website available to us at
no charge—thanks for that Don.
We continue getting positive feedback also about the
magazine. To make it more effective lets make an effort in 2011 to make more
people aware that it is available. Most people need to be reminded when it
comes out -- so if each of our readers would send me email addresses of anyone
you would like to have it sent to just send the following:
Name
Email Address
Relation to UDT/SEAL
community i.e. (1) Ex or current Frog/SEAL (2) widow of Frog/SEAL (3) Child or
other relative (4) Just a friend of Frog/SEALS (5) Institution such as a
library, magazine, newspaper, radio or TV station.
HAPPY HOLIDAY
SEASON TO
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Earl Smith, JOC, USN
[Thanks to Pam
Russell for submitting this article from the archives. It appeared in All Hands
Magazine, May 1950, just prior to the onset of the Korean Conflict. This
article is a refresher on basic UDT training. It is written from a “Little
Creek” east coast perspective. The reader will note a few items that were
changed shortly after the article was written such as the size of the team and
length of the basic training.]
An Arctic wind whipped froth white caps across the
surface of the bay and sent rollers crashing against the quarter-mile strip of
sandy beach. Between broken masses of drifting clouds, the moon gleaned dully
on the black water. On shore enemy troops in lookout towers peered through the
darkness out over the wind-swept bay. Except for the scattered patches of
floating ice, the sea was empty.
That is, it appeared empty. But 60 feet beneath the
surface of the bay a U. S. submarine cruised slowly toward the shore. Its
periscope broke the surface, and scanned the scene. Slowly the undersea craft
nosed upward and its conning tower emerged. Its engines slowed until it lay
almost motionless in the water.
On board the sub, an officer was giving last-minute
instructions to a group of strangely-clad men. He pointed to an aerial map.
“Okay, you’ve got all the available dope on this area,” he said. “We are now
about one-half mile off shore. That strip of beach out there is the only
available landing area within 100 miles, and it’s probably crawling with enemy
troops. I don’t need to tell you how it would foul up the landing if any of you
swimmers should be spotted while reconnoitering the area.” He paused and
grinned. “Just think of all the operation orders the yeoman would have to
retype.”
Underwater Demolition Swimmer Bill Rigger, GM3, USN,
checked his equipment. Over his heavy woolen underwear was a one-piece rubber
suit that left only his face exposed. Rubber swim fins were stretched over his
feet. Around his waist were fastened a razor-sharp knife, a Plexiglas slate,
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and a pencil. A waterproof
compass and watch were clamped on his wrists. Rigger picked up his heavy breathing
lung and strapped it on, adjusting the facemask. He followed seven other
similarly dressed swimmers through the narrow hatch that led topside.
Crouching on deck in the whistling wind, each pair
of swimmers fastened long pieces of line between them. Rigger squinted through
the darkness at the vague silhouette of the coast, calculating where the
section of the beach he was to reconnoiter lay. Quietly, he slid off the sub’s
deck and beneath the icy water.
The group of powerful swimmers headed silently
toward the shore. Using a paced breaststroke, Rigger glided smoothly through
the water. By the movement of the line between him and his swimming buddy, he
knew the other swimmer was moving through the black water almost abreast of
him. Overhead he could see the foam-flecked surface of the water, dotted with
chunks of ice. He glanced at the luminous dial of his wrist compass and veered
to the right.
A few minutes later, after calculating the distance
he had covered, Rigger dived downward until his hands encountered the bottom.
He scooped up a handful of dirt and rubbed it between his rubber-covered
fingers. It felt gritty. On the plexiglas
slate he scribbled:
Estimated 500
yards from shore. Approximate depth 30 feet. Sand bottom.
Moving into shallower water, he hugged the bottom to
keep from being sucked up by the big breakers and flung upon the beach. The
undertow tugged at him, making swimming more difficult. His groping hands
encountered big rectangular log barriers – “cribs” in UDT language, because of
their resemblance to a baby crib.
Closer inland the underwater obstacles became
thicker – row after row of barriers cleverly planted to prevent boats from
approaching the shore. Imbedded in the sand were “Belgium gates,”
wicked-looking sharpened iron rods resembling large gates; big cement blocks
that would smash any boats that rammed them; pieces of railroad tracks driven
deep into the bottom and projecting seaward at a 45 degree angle. A boat
ramming one of these would be ripped wide open. Most numerous were the “horn skulleys,” row after
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row of heavy steel beams set up
tripod=fashion and imbedded in cement.
Guided only by touch and the faint moonlight that
occasionally seeped through, Rigger laboriously crept over the bottom. He did
not allow his thoughts to dwell upon what would happen if he should step upon
underwater mines, which were probably buried in the sand.
Now that he had stopped swimming the cold began to
creep over him. His underwear, damp with sweat, began to feel icy. A small fish
darted by his face, startled by the weird-looking creature invading its world.
Rigger glanced at the glowing hands of his watch. Somewhere out in that black
wall of water lay the submarine, cruising idly while waiting for the swimmers
to return. He finished scribbling information on his slate. Time to start back.
His swimming buddy pulled over close to him and the
two men stroked close along the bottom. Stroke and kick. The rubber suit began
to chafe Rigger’s legs, and even the exertion of swimming no longer warded off
the numbing cold. Sucking air through the facemask became more difficult. He
surged upward and poked his head above the surface. His eyes strained through
the darkness in search of the sub’s periscope – a tiny pinpoint projecting from
the vast expanse of sea. Nothing in sight. He plunged
back under the inky liquid, stroking ahead. A vast object loomed ahead. He
bumped into the metallic surface of the sub.
His teeth chattering, Rigger and his swimming buddy
clung to the hull of the submarine until all the swimmers returned. The conning
tower nosed out of the water and the swimmers hustled on board. The sub sank
below the surface and headed out to sea.
Back in the warmth of the submarine, the swimmers
peeled off their heavy equipment, gulped steaming coffee and began filling out
reconnaissance reports. Questions were asked by the interrogation officer. How
was the beach for unloading landing craft? Okay, except those obstacles would
have to be cleared out first. Had anyone located any underwater mines? No. Had
anyone been forced to surface near the beach? No, everyone had kept well
underwater.
From the swimmers’ reports, a master chart of the
beach area was prepared
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to show water sounding, location
and type of obstacles, type of bottom and other information. Soon copies of
this chart were in the hands of those senior officers who would decide when and
where the landing would strike.
Reconnoitering enemy shores, whether located in
frigid polar regions or in shark-infested tropical
waters, is the primary mission of the Navy’s Underwater Demolition Teams. But
whether this phase of their work or any of a half-dozen other hair-raising
tasks they perform is more hazardous, would be difficult to decide. One point
is crystal clear, however. In war or peace, UDT men have the most rugged duty
in the Navy.
Actually, the operation described above has never
taken place. There is no UDT swimmer by the name of Bill Rigger. However, many
reconnaissance operations similar in most respects to the one described have
been conducted, both during World War II and in training exercises since the
war’s end. The role of Bill Rigger could be filled by any UDT swimmer, who
would consider it a routine assignment.
Beach reconnaissance is only one phase of the work
performed by UDT personnel. After a beach has been scouted by UDT men, and
prior to the assault landings, these highly skilled swimmers – known throughout
the Navy as “frogmen” – swim back into the beach area lugging heavy packs of
The two fuse-pullers, on a signal, ignite the
trunk-line fuses and swim furiously for the recovery boat. Shortly after they
are yanked out of the water the beach erupts with an ear-shattering roar as
hundreds of pounds of
After blasting a lane to the beach, the frogmen
continue their work of clearing the beach area, improving landing points,
blasting waterways through channels, and demolishing wrecked ships, boats and
other equipment which may impede the landing operation.
Let’s join Bill Rigger and members of his team as
they return to the Arctic beach, this time for demolition work. The team is on
board an
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toward the shore line. By now, the
bay is dotted with ships, units of the pre-assault bombardment force. The
The swimmers are again dressed in their cold weather
one-piece rubber suits, and the upper parts of their faces are covered by
waterproof goggles. Heavy grease is smeared over the exposed lower part of
their faces. This trip they will swim on the surface – par of the time, anyway.
At Roger Hour the four LCPRs
pass the line of DDs which are pumping shells into
the beach defenses. Moving in closer, the boats pass the line of gunboats and
close the beach to 500 yards. The bombardment ships increase the tempo of their
salvos, and the gunboats began to unleash showers of rockets. The LCPRs turn left and race parallel to the coast line.
Overhead a squadron of dive bombers peels off and strings of bombs crackle
along the shore. Heavy clouds of smoke rise above the sand. The continuous roar
of exploding shells is deafening.
Rigger crouches on one side of the speeding boat,
preparing to hit the water. Every 50 yards a heavy pack of explosives, to which
floater balloons are attached, is tossed off one side the speeding boat and a
swimmer dives off the other. At the signal, Rigger leaps overboard, locates his
floating pack of explosives, and strokes for the shore. Like all UDT swimmers,
he uses breast or side strokes that produce little or no splash, thus reducing
the chances of being hit by enemy gunfire.
As the rows of obstacles bob up ahead, Rigger knows
exactly what he is supposed to do. Each swimmer has been assigned an area of
the beach that he is responsible for detonating. As a result of their previous
reconnaissance, the exact number, type and size of obstacles in each area is
known. The amount of powder needed to blow up each obstacle has been prepared.
Other swimmers are already unreeling trunk lines and
cross-connections to which the fuses from individual charges will be attached.
Working in perfect coordination, the frogmen rapidly began “setting up” the
beach.
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Yanking plastic shaped-charges from his explosive
pack, Rigger rapidly lashes them to the horn sculleys
in his area. A splattering on the water close by warns him he is under fire
from the beach. He bobs and weaves in the water to make his exposed head a more
difficult target. Mortar shells began dropping in the vicinity, sending heavy
concussive shudders through the water. Other swimmers near him are laying their
charges. He glances seaward. There, spitting fire, are the gunboats – the UDT
swimmer’s best friend. Rigger connects his last charge and heads away from the
shore.
Five hundred yards out the swimmers, spaced 50 yards
apart, line up to be “snared” by the returning LCPR. The boat approaches at
nearly full speed. On the towed rubber raft a crewman leans out, extending the
snare – a long flexible cable with a loop at the end. As the boat zips by,
Rigger grasps this loop and the momentum of the boat yanks him clear of the
water, dropping him in the rubber raft. He climbs into the LCPR. The next
swimmer along the line is recovered in the same manner.
Shivering and blue-lipped, the frogmen are sped back
toward the
Underwater Demolition Team personnel, both officer
and enlisted, are all volunteers. There are no special requirements for this
duty in regard to height or weight, a principal requirement being that
applicants must be in good physical condition.
Applicants don’t even have to be swimmers. UDT
officials state that some of their best men – swimmers that now can travel for
miles in rough seas and through treacherous currents – could not swim the
length of a 50-yard pool when beginning their training.
Each year approximately 150 volunteers of such
varied ratings as electronics technicians, stewards and hospital corpsmen turn
up at the two training bases for UDT personnel at the Naval Amphibious Bases,
Little Creek, Va., and Coronado, Calif. Several officers are usually included
in this group. About 15 per cent of these men are immediately screened out for
either physical or mental reasons. The remainder starts on a two-month course
of the toughest training ever devised.
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In UDT training, the most rugged part of it comes
first – a nightmarish, grueling six-day endurance test aptly called Hell Week.
During this period the men subsist on K rations.
For the six days and nights of Hell Week the
trainees are subjected to every trial of stamina and nerve their resourceful
instructors can devise. Long marches are made through swamps, mud, surf and jungle growth each day, preceded by a three-mile
run at dawn. All during each day explosive charges are detonated without
warning around them, usually so close the trainees are showered with rocks,
sticks and other debris.
The UDT candidates are sent through undergrowth
lined with booby traps, and harassed with explosives until they are afraid to
move. Then the ground is blown out from under them to get them started again.
Early morning swims, each progressively longer, are
made in overcoat weather. As late as early December, trainees take daily
plunges in the chilly Atlantic wearing only swim trunks.
At the end of Hell Week about 40 percent of the
trainees have been dropped.
UDT officials know what they are doing by subjecting
candidates to such harsh treatment at the beginning of the training period.
They determine right from the start those men who are not mentally and
physically equipped to stand the rigors of UDT duty, thus eliminating the
expense of training men who probably would eventually fail to measure up to UDT
requirements.
At the end of the training period, the candidate
must be able to swim at least one mile in a choppy sea without any type of
special equipment. By the time the “graduates” receive their swim fins, about
65 of the original 150 applicants remain.
Currently the Navy has four underwater demolition
teams in active commissioned status. Two of these teams are assigned to the
Pacific Fleet, and are based at Coronado. Both Atlantic Fleet teams are located
at Little Creek. Each team has a complement of about 45 enlisted personnel and
seven officers. The new frogmen trained each year are assigned to these teams,
replacing men discharged or otherwise detached.
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During World War II little was known about the
magnificent work performed by UDT personnel, because their very existence was
confidential. Early in the war it became evident that some new method of
reconnoitering and clearing selected landing beaches was needed. The Navy had
good hydrographic charts – but they were designed to keep ships off the beach.
Experience showed that in spite of excellent photographic intelligence by
airplane and submarine, a landing beach was seldom what it appeared to be.
Underwater demolition teams were the answer.
The work of these World War II UDT men is now a
matter of history. At Assan Beach, Guam, UDT frogmen
blasted 620 coral cribs, using 10,600 pounds of tetrytol.
A reef edge extended off this beach 300 yards seaward from the obstacles. There
was but one to three feet of water over the reef, and explosives had to be
carried in on back packs. Five complete demolition operations were necessary,
and often the swimmers were so exhausted they could not swim back out to the
boats. At Balikpapan, the frogmen cleared 2,000 feet
of beach.
Hair-raising antics of frogmen in the last war have
the makings of many legends. Several instances are known in which the
demolition men, taking a temporary time out from their work on beach obstacles,
dashed ashore amidst the fire of both enemy snipers and their own friendly
bombardment vessels, to scoop a favorite message out of the sand. It read “Hello Marines.”
Another bizarre tale is the one about the invasion
in which the Japs, with rifle and machine gun fire,
were interfering no end with demolition work on their beaches. It finally
became so hot for the frogmen that they gave it up for a time to let the
situation on the surface cool down. Retiring to the bottom of the beach, well
under the surface, one man watched the bullets burrow into the water over his
head, lose their momentum, and fall slowly downward. Right then and there he
invented the new pastime – special for UDT men – of sitting on the bottom and
catching lead slugs in his teeth.
Previously, UDT personnel received no special pay
for performing their hazardous work, but under the new pay bill they are listed
among the groups entitled to hazardous duty pay. But with or without extra
money, the men of the underwater demolition teams like their job. There are few
cases of UDT men requesting assignment to other duty. They take an immense
pride in
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their organization and have an
esprit de corps comparable to that instilled in submariners, paratroopers and
marines. They know they are members of an elite corps in which only the fittest
have survived.
*****
VIGNETTES OF WWII UDT IN THE PACIFIC
Continued from Vol 16 No. 4
Provided by Mack Boyenton
HISTORY OF UNDERWATER
DEMOLITION
Underwater Demolition Team Four was formed at the
Naval Combat Demolition Training and Experimental Base at Maui, H.G. in March
1944. The team was comprised of units trained at Ft. Pierce, Florida with the
addition of five men from Team TWO and two officers and nine men from Team One.
Lieutenant W.G. CARBERY was appointed as Commanding Officer with LT (jg) A.M. DOWNES as his Executive Officer. Intensive
training followed in coral blasting, swimming, and hydrographic surveying after
which several practice full-scale maneuvers were carried out.
On 18 April aboard the U.S.S. TYPHOON, the team headed for Guadalcanal via Espirito Santos. Upon arrival in that area, it was
transferred ashore to Florida Island, where it engaged in advance training. Embarking
on the U.S.S. TALBOT (
Upon completion of this task, the TALBOT left for Eniwetok
in the Marshall Islands. On 9 June, the ship with the team still aboard her
left for the Marianas Operation; however, a collision of the TALBOT with the U.S.S. PENSYLVANIA forced the former to return that night for
repairs. By 14 June, the TALBOT had overtaken
the task force, which reached Saipan the next day.
During the next two days the ship accompanied the bombardment group, during a
preliminary surface bombardment of Guam, after which she returned to Saipan, where the team acted as standby for Teams One and
Two
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during that operation. Returning
to the Marshall Islands, Team FOUR spent two days building and performing
experimental demolition work upon obstacles similar to those discovered at Saipan.
Confidant that it was well trained and ready for
action, Team FOUR arrived off of Guam on 16 July for its initial mission. At
1520 on the following day two platoons carried out a pre-assault reconnaissance
of Yellow Beach Two. The purpose of this mission was to determine landing
conditions, to locate as accurately as possible all obstacles, reporting their
number, size and nature, and to set buoys to mark the extremities of the
beaches. The reconnaissance was completed at 1715, and, on the basis of the information
accumulated, a night demolition operation was planned and carried out. It was
discovered that the obstacles were of two types: Coral-filled cribs constructed
with palu logs, and barbed wire fences. At 2110 the
platoons left the
On 18 July a reconnaissance of White Beach showed that
obstacle demolition and channel blowing would be necessary in that area. As a
consequence that day and the next two were spent in blasting obstacles and
coral heads to form channels through the reef to permit the beaching of landing
craft. These channels and those natural ones discovered were also properly
buoyed. Throughout this daylight work excellent fire support was given by six LCIs while a destroyer, cruiser and a battleship stood by
to offer counter battery fire as requested. Little or no surf was experienced
and the water was clear. The entire beach area was combed for mines but none
were found. It was, by the way, during this work that the teams erected the
“Welcome Marines” sign which gave it so much publicity.
Charts were drawn of all beaches, showing the
locations of channels, obstacles, water depths, obstruction bouys,
and improvements made by the team. This chart was dispatched to the U.S.S. APALACHIAN on the afternoon of
the 20th, where it was photographed and copies sent by destroyer to
the transports.
Reporting to the Beachmaster
the next day, members of Team FOUR under his direction led the landing waves
ashore, acting as pilots for the LCTs and LSTs. It was while guiding small craft ashore that Ensign
T.D. Nixon, the
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only casualty of the operation,
was killed by Japanese sniper fire. On the same day the team also blew a
channel off Yellow Beach in front of Ogat village,
large enough to accommodate their LSTs. Still later a
one-half mile section of the beach near Ogat village
was cleared of obstacles.
Leaving Guam on 23 July, the
In company with the fire support and bombardment group,
the
Platoon TWO, proceeding to within one hundred-fifty
yards of the shore, launched its swimmer. Just as the last of these swimmers
cleared the boat, two hits were received which wounded three men. The boat, in
a sinking condition, was headed out to sea; lifebelts on the wounded were
inflated, and the rescue landing craft was called on the radio. Machine gunners
continued to answer the fire from the beach, but two additional hits sank the
boat.
Platoon FOUR, meanwhile, had been heading for the
beach but was forced to retire at three hundred-fifty yards under exceedingly
heavy fire. Noticing that boat TWO had been hit, Four went to its rescue,
ordering the rescue craft to standby for the swimmers previously launched by
platoon Two. At the same time, the GOLDSBOROUGH
closed on the beach to give fire-
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support. While so engaged, she
received a direct hit on her number one stack which killed two men and wounded
sixteen. Of this number, six were from demolition personnel. One of whom, W.B.
KASUMAN, was killed.
In the intervening time, the swimmers who had been
released by platoon Two, proceeded into the beach, completed their
reconnaissance, and withdrew on schedule to be picked up by the rescue craft.
Reports on the basis of their information were compiled and submitted to the
landing force commander on the morning of the invasion. On 22 October, after
two days, screening duty, the team was ordered to Hollandia,
New Guinea, from which, after a sixteen day sojourn, it returned to Maui to
engage in advanced training for two and one-half months.
On 13 February 1945 Team FOUR embarked on to the U.S.S. LOY (
At
On the 7th the team received orders to
make pre-assault reconnaissance on Ie Shima and Minna Shima on 13 April. Approaches suitable for LCMs and DUMWs were found,
buoyed, and improved by demolition on Minna Shima. The reconnaissance of the Green T-1 Beaches on Ie Shina showed no mines or
obstacles, other than a fringing reef which LVTs
would have no trouble in negotiating. A
similar reconnaissance was made of the island’s Blue Beaches on the following
day. On 17 April the Beachmaster requested demolition
improvements be made in the area west of Blue T-1 Beaches, but
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heavy sniper fire prevented this
from being accomplished. The next day demolition operations were conducted on
Red T-3, and a channel was located and buoyed on the left flank of Blue T-3
under light sniper fire. Returning to Blue T-1 on the next day, the team was
successful in blasting a channel as desired.
On 25 April, after nearly a month of Kamikaze
attacks, the team gratefully received orders for Guam, where it moved ashore
into the camp that had been built by Team EIGHT. There the team worked
improving the camp’s facilities and inspected some of the beaches on which it
had performed reconnaissance and demolition work nearly a year previously.
On 5 June Team FOUR was ordered aboard the U.S.S. FUGUS (
*****
The Gulf Coast SEAL’s Christmas Party
The
party was held in Houston, Texas on Dec. 4, 2010. A good time was had by all
and they managed to stay out of jail and out of the local news media. Thanks to
Dan Potts and LouLou (Doc Rio’s wife) for the photos.
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ANNOUNCEMENTS
Former SEAL Killed in Auto Accident
Joe
Bixler, a former SEAL, 36, was killed in an auto
accident by a 98 years
Woman who was driving an
Enterprise Rent-A-Car due to an accident just days before she hit Joe. This happened in Jefferson
County Colorado three months ago and the elderly lady has not been charged and
is still driving. Joe;s wife
Katy is seeking justice.
[Joseph L. Bixler,
REQUEST FOR INFORMATION
Some request we get can be
handled with no further ado, but some require the attention and assistance of
all of us. The following is one of those. This gentleman has agreed to having his email published to you. Please respond directly
to him and let me know if there is a story in the follow-up. Editor.
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From: matteo
cicala <mrlefa@msn.com>
Subject: Ahoy!
Date:
To: admin@simbacal.com
doncmarler@gmail.com
Esteemed Mr. Marler,
my name is Matteo Cicala and I do come from
First let me make my congrats for both your site and the publication, that I
find really interesting!
I was wondering if you could
help me getting some pictures about the Trass
Also, there are several
Seahorse II modifications of which I know very few, I have some pics about these vehicles, that
are on public dislapy inside your naval museums.
If you would be so kind to
provide me such material I will, of course, put the proper credits under it
other then thank you a lot!
I thank you for your time,
have a pleasant day.
Matteo Cicala
Request for information on
Kevin Roger Murphy
Mr. Murphy’s daughter,Vivian, and son, Kevin,
who had no later contact with Kevin, seek any information on him and his
service. Pam Russell sent the following.
“Our records show that Kevin
was born
