A Man Returns: The Journey of a Seawolf

By Ben "Smitty" Smith

Gain wisdom and learn how to make good choices from someone who has made good and bad choices alike. The author' s experience will save readers a lot of trouble, all while being thoroughly entertained by the breadth and unique qualities of the author' s adventures. This adventurer's journey to manhood is one that will inspire, challenge, and reassure everyone on the same path of life. This book will take you on an adventurist' s journey from Vietnam hanging out of a helo with an M60 machine flying with the elite Navy Seawolves to penetrating hurricane low level and snowstorms in the northeast to hunting and tracking Russian subs off the east coast, raising a family, starting and operating a plumbing business, living off grid on a 40' sailboat for four years, to building log cabins in the Pocono Mountains to 10 years in the jungles of Panama collecting hundreds of insects and orchids and capturing deadly snakes for the Panama University, surviving a colon blow out in the middle of night in the middle of the jungle to back to Florida fishing, gardening and treasure hunting the beaches and planning the next adventure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: HigherLife Publishing
• Release date: Jan 23, 2024
• ISBN: 9781958211946

Book preview

SEAWOLVES

1968, Rung Sat Special Zone, South Vietnam, deep in the Mekong Delta region

As the pilot rolled the Huey over on its side, the only thing keeping me in the helo was inertia. I was looking straight down the barrel of my .50 cal at two sampans loaded with Viet Cong (VC) and supplies. They were headed straight toward the shore. I squeezed down on the butterfly trigger. All hell broke loose. A shower of incoming rounds severed the mount on the .50 cal, almost taking me out the door.

1967, Memphis, Tennessee, November

I came to Memphis straight out of boot camp to attend Avionics school: six months of grueling classroom work, studying aviation radar and navigation electronics. Needless to say, I was ready to get out of the classroom and do something. I always say, better to be lucky than good—and my luck has always carried me through. Speaking of luck, at muster one morning, I saw in the Plan of the Day (POD) that the Navy was forming a Special Forces helicopter attack squadron. It was all volunteer and they were signing guys up. You know what they say: never volunteer. Still, it looked right up my alley. Being a patriot, I was ready to do my part. I’d be graduating in a few days, so the timing was perfect. That afternoon I hot-trotted over to the building where they were having signups to get the total picture. My friends told me I was on my own. None of them even wanted to come and see what it was all about. All they kept saying was, You’re going to get yourself killed. The guy at the desk answered some of my questions, but told me to hold off until I saw the video about the Seawolves and listened to the presentation. Then they would have a question-and-answer segment and signups. A few days later, I and a few other guys attended the presentation. I was hooked and signed on the dotted line. I was on my way to becoming a Seawolf. Goodbye, avionics training, and hello, gunnery training and a lot more.

Before they could cut my orders to report to the Seawolves, I had to pass a list of requirements. First, I had to see a psychiatrist. He asked all kinds of crazy questions, but what it boiled down to, I think, was whether I had a death wish and was kill crazy or not. He told me the same thing the Seawolf guy told me: the life expectancy of a helicopter door gunner in Vietnam was not very good. It didn’t matter. I was old school: communism had to be stopped, and at the time, I really believed we needed to help the Vietnamese people, and at the same time provide twenty-four-hour coverage for our troops and maybe even save a few lives in the process. The psychiatrist was no problem.

Next, I reported to the hospital where I spent the entire day getting checked from stem to stern. If you were color blind or did not have depth perception, you could not fly. You also had to pass a security clearance. I passed all that with flying colors and was ready for the next test—water survival. They called it swim quals, but I swear they tried to kill me. I’m okay in the water but it’s not one of my strong points. I passed with no problems except for drinking half of the pool. Then it was back to the psychiatrist for one more go-round. Again, there was no problem.

They said it would be a few days for processing and that turned into two weeks. I had originally planned on being home for Thanksgiving during this time, so I was a little disappointed, as was my family. But as it turned out, Hotdog! I got orders for the Seawolves. This was a brand-new outfit, and they told us that they didn’t have all the bugs worked out yet. As I was to find out, things did get a little screwy at times, but it always worked out.

I was to take a seven-day leave, then report to Seawolf training camp in Little Creek, Virginia. I broke the news to my girlfriend in Millington, just outside of Memphis. It was emotional. She had been hoping I would get stationed somewhere in the U.S. and I didn’t tell her that I volunteered for Nam. We said our goodbyes and promised each other that we would write and stay in touch. We did for several months and then the letters and the phone calls got fewer and fewer.

Flying standby, which I always did, I caught a flight out of Memphis to Pittsburgh and then on to Scranton’s Avoca airport in Pennsylvania. My father would not pick me up, which was no surprise. My mom doesn’t drive, so she had to get a friend to take her and a couple of my siblings to the airport to pick me up. It was nice to see everyone again. My father wanted to know what the hell I was doing at home. He said, I thought you were in the Navy. It was very cold, and snow was everywhere. Even so, it was nice.

They had a Christmas tree set up, and we celebrated Thanksgiving and Christmas together. I would still be in training and would not be coming home for the holidays. The week went by fast. I did not tell my mom that I volunteered for Nam or anything about the Seawolves. I told her about my military life insurance policy. She said she didn’t want to hear about that and got very emotional. I felt that it was something that I needed to bring up and now was the only time I could. I told her I would be repairing avionics gear at a safe base in Nam and that I would be fine. She made me swear that I would write often. I had a good friend drive my mom and a couple of my sisters and me to the airport.

Flying standby again, I had no trouble catching a plane to Norfolk, Virginia. Upon landing, I caught a bus to Little Creek. Let the fun begin.

The bus dropped me at the gate, and guards directed me to the building that housed the Seawolves. After a long trek with a heavy seabag, I finally found the building. There were a few guys from Memphis, and we hooked up right away. I found an empty bunk and was about to unpack my seabag when one of the guys told me I might want to hold off on that because tomorrow we were getting issued olive drab uniforms and jungle boots. This would be the last time I would wear Navy blue for the next two years.

We were treated very well everywhere we went. The chow hall was great. I know a lot of guys complain about the food, but I had no problem with it. Everything was max slack except for the training. That was a whole different story.

Our classes started on Monday, December 11, 1967, at 7 a.m. We also had physical training (PT) every day which consisted primarily of running and calisthenics, which we normally did before class. On our first day of physical training, we met our drill instructor. He had us line up, then with a clipboard in hand, he walked down the line taking names. He was having trouble with the spelling of most names, so he had everyone spell them for him. When he got to me, I told him, I better spell it for you. S-M-I-T-H. He looked at it for a minute and said, You and I are going to become good buddies. I’m going to see to it personally that you get the most out of each exercise. I had to go through another medical examination to make sure my body was fit enough to go through all the punishment that lay ahead.

It was rainy and cold almost every day but mostly while we were in class. We started those with an introduction to counterinsurgency followed by Vietnam orientation along with a movie about the country, what to expect, the people, their customs, and their language. The next couple days we studied Viet Cong movements and forces and more on counterinsurgency.

I got to go to the dentist, and I had a few minor problems that could be taken care of later.

On December 14, we started the good stuff I’d been waiting for. First up: the M14 and M16. We learned everything about these guns, including taking them apart and putting them back together. Later in our training, we would get to fire them too.

They introduced us to survival: building shelters, fire, traps, and how to conceal ourselves. Later in the training, we would get to do all of this in the field. We were tested regularly before we moved on to the next course.

We had a weekend off, so a couple of us caught a ride to the Norfolk Naval Station to look around. We ended up at the EM club for a few drinks. We met a sailor who was stationed on a submarine there. I told him that I had originally wanted to become a submariner on a nuclear sub, but had changed my mind when I found out that I had to sign up for six years. I didn’t really want to do that without knowing whether I even liked the Navy. Instead, I had chosen avionics and the flying navy.

He invited us for a tour of his sub. How cool that was! We checked it out from stem to stern. After the tour, I was glad of the choice I had made. The sub was very tight quarters. I could have gone conventional subs with a four-year enlistment, but had decided against it.

On Sunday, we took in the big city of Norfolk. Not as big as I thought it would be. I had heard that Norfolk was not military friendly and that they had signs in their yards that read, Sailors and dogs keep off the grass. I didn’t see any of those signs, but you would think with such a large military presence there, that that wouldn’t be the case.

December 18–20

Back to school, and what a week. We spent a lot of time in the field. We learned about (and got to fire) the M79 grenade launcher and the 60 mm and 80 mm mortars. We learned to take apart (and put back together) .30 and .50 caliber machine guns. We also spent time on the range learning to fire all these weapons. We spent more time on the M60 machine gun than all the rest. It would be the weapon we used most of the time. We learned to take it apart and put it back together blindfolded. We had a class on maintaining and cleaning all these weapons. We also learned about first aid, health, and hygiene in the field.

The Operational Training Squadron (VOT) put on a full-blown ambush fire power demonstration for us. So impressive. It was quite different to watching it on TV. It reverberated right through you and the smoke was unbelievable. I like the smell of gunpowder, which is a good thing because I would be smelling a lot of it.

We had a water survival course—nothing in the water, all classrooms. Later I would take a deep-water survival course where, I swear, they tried to drown you. But that’s a different story.

We had a Survival Evasion Resistance Escape (SERE) briefing and got to see what was expected of us in the coming weeks. We were also issued our SERE equipment. I can only remember a few of the items we received: poncho, flint, backpack, 36″ x 36″ piece of parachute, metal canteen, compass, a length of parachute cord, and if you smoked, a pack of cigarettes. We were also able to take a canteen of water and either a pack of gum or a roll of Life Savers. And last but not least, the very important flashlight.

There were fifty-eight of us taking the training and we were divided into nine- and ten-man elements. Each element was given a colored armband to wear. I was in the yellow element. The senior man in each element was the element leader.

They reminded us that this was an all-volunteer outfit and that anytime you wanted during this training, you could wash out. We finished up the week with a weapons review and examination.

December 21–22

We learned about all the different mines and booby traps the Viet Cong were using. What to look for and ways to avoid them.

We learned what kinds of plants we could eat, fishing techniques, and different kinds of animal traps and a whole bunch more.

We went over the Geneva Convention and the military code of conduct.

We learned how to read grid maps and how to navigate by compass—first in the classroom, and then in the field.

We finished up with our final class on the principles of escape and evasion followed by a final examination.

December 23

Holiday leave began. A bunch of us were not going anywhere. Money was tight. Because we were on Temporary Duty (TDY) we hadn’t been paid, and they couldn’t tell us when we would. I spent the holiday sightseeing, taking in a couple movies, and just hanging out. I did spend some time absorbing everything we’d learned so far. This Seawolf outfit was going to be one hell of an adventure. Thinking about my family, I called my mom.

The only thing I remember about New Year’s Eve was that we were invited to a party. The next thing I remembered I was throwing up in the back of a bus. Everyone was moving forward, and the bus driver was yelling at me to get off the bus.

January 2

I didn’t feel so good, and the most grueling part of our training started now.

At 7 a.m., we picked up all our gear, boarded a bus, and headed to the SERE training area where all the fun would begin.

Each element was dropped off in different areas of the forest. First thing on the agenda: find a suitable campsite area and get our shelters built. It was freezing cold, and every now and again, we had sleet and snowflakes coming down. I found out right away that I was with a bunch of city boys, and they were having a hard time of it. I built a standard lean-to with the opening facing away from the wind. I covered the ground with pine boughs and enough leaves to snuggle in. I then surveyed the area around us. We had a small stream not too far away for water and it had minnows in it. I got a fire going with my flint and knife and heated up a canteen of water. I had a Life Saver and drank a cup of warm water to help deal with the cold and damp. Everyone was working hard to get a shelter built and a fire going before dark. An instructor came by just before nightfall and evaluated each of our campsites. We all turned in early, and it seemed like we had just gotten to sleep when we were abruptly awakened by one of our instructors. We were going on a two-mile compass hike through the forest. It was midnight and just above freezing. I don’t remember much about the hike except that it was miserable, and I was glad to get back to my shelter.

I woke up early to a dead rabbit hanging from a tree in the middle of camp: very nice. Most of the guys had never skinned an animal, let alone cooked one over an open fire. I had found some wild onions and roasted them to go along with my piece of rabbit. Another Life Saver for dessert. Today was filled with different tasks. We set different kinds of animal traps and did a hide-and-seek thing. Those are the only two I can remember from that evening.

Later, I used my piece of parachute canopy to catch minnows using rocks, flipping the canopy material. Some I ate raw, but they were better toasted on the end of a stick over a fire. I had some more wild onions with them. I was glad I had eaten something because that evening, they came into our camp to let us know we were going on another night patrol. This time without an instructor.

Nightfall came quickly with no moon. To make things worse, it was sleeting. On this patrol, we were going to have to find a small building three miles away. A hot cup of coffee would be waiting for us.

Enemy patrols would be looking for us, so we had to travel stealthily—no lights.

Conditions were bad, not to mention that we were tired and hungry. It was pitch black with heavy sleet at times. The forest was sometimes very thick except for the areas that were really torn up. We found out later that it was a tank training area. The tanks had created small ponds of water everywhere that we had to wade through.

I was second man back from the element leader and I could see he was having issues with navigating and was getting a little panicky. I offered to help, and he jumped at the chance to take a backseat.

It was slow going. Twice we had to hunker down to avoid patrols and capture. We found the building without getting captured and were the first element to get there. All I can say about the coffee is that it was full of grounds, but it was hot. Several of the other elements were captured.

After all the other elements got there, we hiked back to camp via a dirt road, thank goodness. We were all spent. It was 5 a.m. and I went out like a light.

Gunshots at 0530. Several instructors were firing off automatic weapons. We were told to get up and leave everything. We were going on a patrol. We headed out through the forest; it was still dark. One of the instructors was leading and another bringing up the rear. We hiked until we came upon a clearing, and to our surprise, there were other elements. No time for reunions. We were told to get into two lines and that we would be going down a trail at the other end of the clearing. Let’s get moving! I was freezing, not to mention dead tired, terribly hungry, and dying of thirst.

We found the trail and proceeded down it. We had been walking for about a half hour and it was just getting light when all hell broke loose. Men dressed like Viet Cong came running out of the trees firing machine guns and explosions were going off everywhere. I don’t know how many men there were, but there were a bunch of them. We were told to get down on our stomachs, now! Some of the guys were already getting knocked to the ground. Then they started walking on us and pushing our faces into the ground. They were slapping and kicking us and pulling our hair while sitting on our backs. All the while, they kept screaming at us and firing their guns. The air was thick with smoke and my ears were ringing from the machine-gun fire next to my head. After everyone had been badly beaten up, they made us stand, form two lines, and wrap our right arm around the guy’s neck in front of us. We took off down the trail like this, locked together. All the while we marched, they kept harassing us. Knocking us down. Their favorite was slapping you across your ice-cold face and ears. It stung just a bit.

We knew where we were headed: the prisoner of war camp. We had heard nothing but bad things about this place. There it was looming in the fog ahead. Barbed wire everywhere, it looked like the real thing. Off to one side was a small building, and sitting next to it, of all things, an ambulance. I had good and bad feelings about it being there. They had Viet Cong flags flying over the camp. We were told to stop and face the side of the trail at attention. They ran up and down our ranks, screaming at us, asking stupid questions. Punching, slapping, kicking, making us do push-ups, pulling our hair while we did them. They had us strip down naked, and it was fucking freezing. They passed sacks around to each of us. The sack had a number on it. Inside the sack was a round wooden disc with a number on it, same as the sack. The disc had a hole with a string through it. We were to tie the disc around our neck with the string and put all our belongings in the sack. The number was our new name, and it must always face out so that it could be easily seen. The disc did not want to face out so that gave them a good reason to fuck with us. I think we all got nailed on that one.

They finally let us put our clothes back on. Then it was down on our hands and knees to the prison camp. Again, the screaming and the beatings continued until we reached the prison camp gate. Inside the compound, we had to go to a squat position with one hand on our head.

With the other hand, we picked up pine needles of which there were plenty to go around. One needle at a time, we placed them on top of a pile in the middle of the compound. All the while we were doing this, they were screaming at us and kicking us over and beating us and making us do stupid things.

Numbers were called. If your number was called, you had to drop to your hands and knees and crawl over to a gate where there was a guard. He put a piece of paper in your mouth, and you crawled through the gate. The guard closed the gate and you were gone. Sometime later we would see them crawling back through the gate. Nobody knew where you went. You didn’t find out until your number was called. We could not talk or look at anyone. If you were caught looking at a guard, they usually double-teamed you. They played Vietnamese music. Very loud at times. My number was finally called. I crawled to the gate on my hands and knees. The guard stuck a piece of paper in my mouth. I crawled through the gate and down the trail to a small plywood building. There was another guard standing in the doorway, and he was huge. He took up the whole doorway. He told me in a very nice way to get off my hands and knees and walk upright like a man. I did so. He told me to come in and have a seat. I could not believe he wasn’t screaming at me. I still had the piece of paper in my mouth, and he told me to give it to him, which I did. He read it and crumpled it and put it in his pocket. He then offered me a sugar cube which I took. He made a little small talk and then started asking personal questions. I told him I couldn’t answer those questions, and gave him my name, rank, and serial number.

He got instantly pissed off. Then I mentioned the Geneva Convention and that was it. He reached out and grabbed me by the front of my jacket. He lifted me in the air and bounced me off the plywood ceiling, then off three walls back, back to the ceiling, and then to my chair. He repeated the questioning and again, I started with the Geneva Convention. He grabbed me again and once again we did the bounce thing—ceiling and three walls, but this time, instead of my chair, he threw me out the door. I picked myself up and he quickly knocked me back down and told me to get on my hands and knees. He stuck another piece of paper in my mouth, told me to bark like a dog, and follow the trail to the next guard. It was a way—about five hundred yards. When I reached the guard, he told me to stand up and give him the paper. He looked at it and just like the other guard, he crumpled it and put it in his pocket. Behind the guard were two more guards, both yelling obscenities at me. There were also three wooden boxes of different sizes: small, medium, and large, you might say. Each was sitting at a separate small table. They all had hinged tops with a large clasp and padlock. It was decided I was a medium, and before I knew it, the three guards had me in the air and were cramming me into the medium box using the lid to finish the last of the stuffing. I heard the clasp catch and the padlock click. It was hard to breathe. I had to control my breathing.

Holy shit, if you were claustrophobic, you would be in real trouble. The guard yelled at me, and every time someone banged on the box, I had to scream out my name, rank, and service number. They banged on the box quite frequently. I don’t know how long I was in there. In between the blows to the box, I used the downtime to sleep. Finally, they opened the box and let me out. I had to crawl back to the same gate I had come through. Back to picking up pine needles. They had three new graves dug inside the compound. I don’t know what you had to do to get to personally check them out and I hoped I didn’t find out. Every now and then, they threw someone into one of them and had them lie face down. Then they had prisoners throw dirt on them until they were covered—except for their faces. They would also have you strip down and stand in front of a tree, leaning onto it with your arms and hands until you couldn’t hold yourself up any longer. Then, with a little help from a couple of guards, they would get you back into position with a couple good slaps. Then they would wait for you to fall again.

We endured all kinds of punishment, of which I can only remember a few. And it went on into the night. We were all very hungry, thirsty, and worn out. We had been thrown around and beat up so much that it was hard to think straight. It started to seem almost real. One morning, it was just starting to get light when all hell broke loose. Helicopters came flying in, men rappelling out of them. Explosions and automatic weapon fire went off everywhere. Troops were coming through the gate and over the wall. I saw two guys take down the Viet Cong flags and raise an American flag. About that time, everything started settling down. We had been rescued. I don’t think there was a dry eye in the place. We were all cheering and going crazy. They brought in C-rations, drinks, and blankets. We devoured everything. A camel never tasted so good. We all loaded up in buses and headed back to the base for hot showers and clean clothes. We were checked out by the doc and got a couple more shots. Then off to the chow hall.

We stuffed our faces with C-rations and found that we couldn’t eat anymore. Then it was time to hit the rack and we all pretty much passed out.

The next day, we all met in the auditorium for a debriefing and evaluation. It was a good meeting. We found out that six guys had quit during the training and one guy had a broken nose. Overall, we did pretty well. We had heard a