Illusion Confusion: Girl of My Dreams

By CPO Bill Sneed, USN (RET) DAV

About the Book
Illusion Confusion was written as a dream, a vision. It combines author CPO Bill Sneed’s military experiences in Vietnam and all the horrors of war that went along with it, and the unique way he met the girl of his dreams, who would become his wife.
Read Illusion Confusion and see how Sneed found love in the midst of the perils of warfare.
About the Author
CPO Bill Sneed, USN (RET) DAV is retired from the Navy (twenty years) and was also in the combat zone of Desert Storm at age fifty with the Navy's Military Sealift Command. Afterward he was a sheriff's deputy for six years and a police officer for two years, both in the Reserve.
Sneed enjoys retired life by reading, especially about the Vietnam War, and writing. He and his wife, Charlotte, have three children, who have blessed them with eight grandchildren and two great-grandchildren. Charlotte is a retired RN, and she delivered their first grandchild since her main job in nursing had been Labor & Delivery. The couple recently celebrated their 55th anniversary!
Although they both have Parkinson's, Sneed and his wife pray for further years to continue enjoying their large family.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dorrance Publishing Company
• Release date: Nov 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9798889259176

Book preview

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The contents of this work, including, but not limited to, the accuracy of events, people, and places depicted; opinions expressed; permission to use previously published materials included; and any advice given or actions advocated are solely the responsibility of the author, who assumes all liability for said work and indemnifies the publisher against any claims stemming from publication of the work.

All Rights Reserved

Copyright © 2023 by CPO Bill Sneed, USN (RET) DAV

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted, downloaded, distributed, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, including photocopying and recording, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without permission in writing from the publisher.

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Photo taken by (E-5) BT2, Bill Sneed (age 21), 1962, from stern of liberty boat going to Sardinia, Italy

Sewerpipers.

Skimmers.

In Navy jargon, Sewerpipers are submarine sailors. Skimmers are surface ship sailors. Like all humorous and ragging among all armed forces boasting one was better than the other, in-house bragging was no different. One gang was better than the other gang.

Submarine, pardon me, Sewerpiper USS Bellyfish appeared like a toy in the huge South China Sea, from where I stood on the fantail of the USS Dyess DD 880, skimmer…pardon me… destroyer. But Bellyfish was no toy. Bellyfish wasn’t even the sub’s real name. Bellyfish was a Vietnam warzone code name; also she was a vintage WW Two sewerpiper.

Seventh Fleet sailors referred to Bellyfish as "Rescue Lady." Shot-down jet fighter pilots who were fortunate enough to get back over the South China Sea before ejecting were snatched up by Rescue Lady and taken to the nearest bird farm (aircraft carrier) sickbay. Rescue Lady was called another name for other skimmer sailor reasons,

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Photo taken from a 1944 BLUE JACKET MANUAL

Like USS Rescue Lady my ship, USS Dyess DD 880, was also a World War Two vintage type of tin can, built shortly before WWII ended. Dyess had been upgraded in the early 1960s under what was known as the FRAM Program.

It was summer 1966 as Dyess DD 880 steamed toward the brown waters of Vietnam to give the Marines gunfire support from our two 5/3/8 duel-barreled gun mounts, one forward and one near the fantail. Each mount could fire two 55-pound projectiles and send them inland for about six miles.

It was noontime and guys were sunbathing shirtless on the ship’s fantail, some were stretched out where the old-fashioned barrel type of depth charge racks used to be before our FRAM modernization. In another hour or so we would be going to general quarters. It will be the real thing, the skipper had warned earlier.

Taking my shirt off (don’t know why as I would be on watch in the after fireroom in just 25 minutes) to catch a few of the sun’s bright rays, as I lit a cigarette I wondered if the chief engineer, Lieutenant Brugman, had pleaded with Captain Mead again (like he did before Dyess departed Newport, Rhode Island), warning about getting the ship too close to land, especially backing up the dirty waters in the rivers of Vietnam. Both knew that the brown waters were shallow, and seaweed, mud, and all kinds of roots and trash could be sucked up by the main condensers, clogging them, causing loss of main engine vacuum, making the ship go DIW (dead in the water), no propulsion! Well, Captain Mead had said, we’ll just have to take that chance. Won’t we…Lieutenant?

Captain Mead was definitely a gun-ho warrior. Before leaving Newport, he even had sandbags stacked on each of the bridge wings, port and starboard. Steel tri-legged .50-caliber machine guns were then bolted to the deck. Captain Mead didn’t scrub around. He could never be equated to a jackwagon! He wanted his ship 100% ready for combat action. To compound this, he had the chief gunner’s mate issue .45 sidearms to each senior petty officer, even the engineer Top Watches. That included myself as an E-6 and a boiler Top Watch.

This will be the real thing! Captain Mead had said over the 1MC ship’s speakers. Although we had been to general quarters many times along the Vietnam coast in gunfire support, this would be our first sneak-in shell shoot. The real thing, where we would be even closer to the Viet Cong…(Charlies), you know, those rice and fish-head eaters. Somehow I felt different.

I also felt a bit guilty, too. Why?

Because I was the only child and son of my parents now. My brother, Charles, who had just turned eighteen in March of 1959 (a senior in high school), was killed in a horrible car accident. I was seventeen at the time. Now here I was, twenty-four and headed toward a wasp nest, where all those ashore wanted Americans dead. I had told my mom over the pier phone before we departed San Diego, where Dyess had stopped for fuel, that all would be well. No, problem, Mom. I’ll be safe. I’ll be on a ship miles at sea from actual warzone, I lied as my mother wept.

You can see now why I felt guilty. Stupid me! Years later, I would regret this decision to go to the warzone of Vietnam. But at this young time of my life, I really felt I had to, especially since Dad had been there, and me safe on a reserve ship in Boston, Mass.! The news article explains this best about Dad and my young wishes:

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A bit hard to read, but interesting facts contained in this letter

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After much thought, I think, since Dad loved the military so much, this warzone tale should be known by all.

I have a Marlin, Texas, cousin named Mickey Carter (mother’s brother’s son), who was in the Army late in 1965, when Dad’s merchant ship, SS Warm Springs, was anchored in Saigon. Mickey was then twenty years old. After mucho beer drinking with servicemen in a Saigon bar, Dad found out that Mickey’s brigade was stationed thirty miles away, by Bien Hoa Air Base. He knew Mickey was with the 173rd Airborne Brigade, which had over two thousand personnel. Stewed and toasted enough not to fear any ambush or sniper threat from the Viet Cong, Dad decided to rent a cab to drive him to the 173rds location, thirty miles north of Saigon. In the jungle boonies, being a rich target indeed!

Mickey stated that they were stacking sandbags on the airbase perimeter and he and his buddies did see an old black cab drive up to the CO’s tent. They all thought that unusual but went back to stacking bags. About fifteen minutes later, Mickey was told that he had a visitor. Mickey thought it might be one of his other Army friends. But the closer he got to the tent, the more he recognized that it was his Uncle Bill. To this day, 54 years later, Mickey still talks about this incident.

Question: If this had been you, would you have ventured into the unknown to visit a relative in a war-torn country?

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A bit hard to read, but interesting facts contained in this letter

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After much thought, I think, since Dad loved the military so much, this warzone tale should be known by all.

I have a Marlin, Texas, cousin named Mickey Carter (mother’s brother’s son), who was in the Army late in 1965, when Dad’s merchant ship, SS Warm Springs, was anchored in Saigon. Mickey was then twenty years old. After mucho beer drinking with servicemen in a Saigon bar, Dad found out that Mickey’s brigade was stationed thirty miles away, by Bien Hoa Air Base. He knew Mickey was with the 173rd Airborne Brigade, which had over two thousand personnel. Stewed and toasted enough not to fear any ambush or sniper threat from the Viet Cong, Dad decided to rent a cab to drive him to the 173rds location, thirty miles north of Saigon. In the jungle boonies, being a rich target indeed!

Mickey stated that they were stacking sandbags on the airbase perimeter and he and his buddies did see an old black cab drive up to the CO’s tent. They all thought that unusual but went back to stacking bags. About fifteen minutes later, Mickey was told that he had a visitor. Mickey thought it might be one of his other Army friends. But the closer he got to the tent, the more he recognized that it was his Uncle Bill. To this day, 54 years later, Mickey still talks about this incident.

Question: If this had been you, would you have ventured into the unknown to visit a relative in a war-torn country?

Girl of My Dreams

I never really was a bar girl sailor. Other swabbiies always got the girls, not me. I guess I was too ugly or whatever. I don’t know.

"Nothing ever good came out of a bar," my mother always said. And I was a bit tired of the military, too. I knew I needed something new in my life. I had less than two years to serve before I would be discharged and go back to civilian life.

I had decided to get out of the Navy and go to college. Deep within myself, I knew this wasn’t really for me either. I was depressingly lonely. But I wasn’t going to marry just any kind of female. This special person had to be a real lady, a person of dignity, a nice Christian girl. You know, a Girl of My Dreams type of lady. But in this age of shacking up relationships and loose women, I had my doubts of ever meeting such a pure lady, especially at my age. And while yes, I barhopped, I had little to do with beerhall girls. Somewhere out there in the world there just had to be that one Christian lady.

Boy, was I in for a surprise!

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1946 old (a bit blurry) family photo, showing Mickey and myself as little kids

NOTE: The previous NEWSPAPER article stated that I had recently volunteered for service in Vietnam. Be advised that I had tried every means to get transferred to a ship heading for Vietnam: I called my detailer in Washington. Dead end. I wrote numerous letters to other ships requesting a swap if it was soon to be in route to the warzone. Nope. No answers! So I thought, Why not write a letter to my dad complaining how it wasn’t right that he was in the war and I was safe, back in Boston, Mass., stationed aboard USS Compton DD 705, a darn reserve training ship? So I wrote a sorrowful and compelling letter and took it to the captain’s stateroom and asked him to read it. I first explained how I had been refused a transfer, including a swap, even calling my Washington detailer. Nothing worked. Although I left the stateroom in a nervous fit, three weeks later I received orders to the USS Dyess DD 880, two weeks away from leaving Newport, Rhode Island, for the Vietnam warzone. The skipper must have hand a lot of pull, plus compassion. I went back up to his stateroom and thanked him greatly.

As I thumped my cigarette overboard, I felt a shoulder tap. I glanced at the stern horizon for another view of the sewerpiper, but Rescue Lady must have submerged. I turned and faced…Brandon, a new fireman apprentice on my watch section. He reported aboard just before Dyess departed San Diego. By and large you never called a person by their first name in the service. But with a last name like Brandon, you had to change