re: #165 Ericus58

The Destroyer I was stationed on - USS McKean - was participating in an exercise off the coast of California in a missile test range area. The operation was to provide observation and screening duty for a guided missile cruiser launch.

It was a good weather day - only sparse high clouds and 1-2 foot swells, real nice.

We took up station to the south of the cruiser, the launch was to fly to our west I think. Our range to the cruiser put each ship past visual sight to the other.

I was on the sonar consul (“sonar stack”) as watch operator, a GMT was manning the UB plot/ Fire Control station for the ASROC system, the division LPO and Chief were observing. Pretty standard Sonar Control watch during an exercise. SC was aft of the bridge on this ship was CIC, and SC was behind that - both spaces behind secure doors.

I picked up a contact on a bearing in-line with the firing ship - very faint and intermittent at first. After declaring to the Bridge our situation, the ship’s Captain came into Sonar Control to access. We made some course changes and began to prosecute after determining there was no sub or ours operating in that specific area. Our Division Officer joined us at this time also.

All of a sudden, the ship’s XO barged into Sonar Control with big eyes exclaimed “Missile launch from the contact! Heading toward us”. The fear in his voice just chilled me to the core as I tried to concentrate on maintaining tracking of the contact.

The Captain wheeled and headed out back to the bridge and paused just long enough to say to our chief and Fire Control operator “Take the launcher to standby, do NOT fire until my command!”. Then out the door… leaving us all in total silence except for the sounds of the ventilation fans and the ping of the sonar system on the overhead speaker above me.

Seconds dragged, I thought about… things yet to do, I’m not done yet…

Then from the Bridge came the word - “Stand Down, release the firing key.”

The Chief - a short, slender Hawaiian - lit up a cig, took a drag and uttered a soft “you’ve got to be shitting me…” that tailed off. That when my hands started to shake.

It was determined that the missile was the operation launch from our cruiser. Because the contact and cruiser were on the same bearing, both the bridge watch and OS operators had I.D. it as a possible contact launch.
The XO was re-assigned off the ship upon our next port call in San Diego.
We lost the contact, and the P-3’s where not able to re-acquire. We had no attack sub’s to assist.

Now, if you are all good little boys and girls - Uncle Eric will tell another story to you sometime ;)

Closest thing to that I had was a late winter morning in 1983. I was in the 13th Armor BN, 1st Armor Division near Ansbach, FRG. Early one morning the alert siren goes off and we scramble with our bags to the motor pool, load up & head out the back gate to our assembly areas. Normally that’s it. We get there, we stand down & go back to clean up and have breakfast after the drill.

Not that morning. The fuel go-ers pulled up and began topping the fuel tanks off. Behind it was an ammunition truck dropping off the boxes of small caliber (.30, .50 & .45 ACP) for our machine guns, pistol & sub-machine guns. Main gun ammo was stored on the tanks in the motor pool but we weren’t allowed the firing pin to the gun due to previous “incidents” (usually involving intoxicated troopers). Said firing pins were being handed out with our three days of rations when the stand down finally came through. Back to base we go, very silently & thoughtfully. Breakfast sat like a lump in this PV2 ‘s stomach, let me tell you.

We didn’t have internet in those days, just the Stars & Stripes. We didn’t learn until sometime later that there had been a coup attempt in Libya (IIRC) and given the state of US/USSR relations it was feared that it would be a European casus belli.

So it goes.