NAVA L H I STORY & H ER ITAGE COM M A N D | THE U.S. NAVY AND THE VIETNAM WAR

End of the Saga

The Maritime Evacuation of 

South Vietnam and Cambodia 

Malcolm Muir Jr.
THE U.S. NAVY AND THE VIETNAM WAR 

Edward J. Marolda and Sandra J. Doyle, Series Editors

End of the Saga

The Maritime Evacuation of South

Vietnam and Cambodia 

Malcolm Muir Jr. 

NAVAL HISTORY AND HERITAGE COMMAND

DEPAR T MEN T OF T HE NAV Y 

2017 WASHINGTON, DC 
© 2017 Naval Historical Foundation

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reprinted without written permission from the Naval Historical Foundation.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Muir, Malcolm, 1943– author.

Title: End of the saga: the maritime evacuation of South Vietnam and Cambodia/Malcolm Muir Jr.

Other titles: Maritime evacuation of South Vietnam and Cambodia

Description: First edition. | Washington Navy Yard, DC: Naval History & Heritage Command, in partnership with the Naval 

 Historical Foundation,

 [2017] | Series: The U.S. Navy and the Vietnam War | Includes bibliographical references.

Identifiers: LCCN 2017010035 | ISBN 9780945274926 (alkaline paper)

Subjects: LCSH: Vietnam War, 1961–1975—Naval operations, American. | Vietnam War, 1961–1975—

 Evacuation of civilians—Vietnam (Republic) | Vietnam War, 1961–1975—Evacuation of civilians—

 Cambodia. | Refugees—Vietnam (Republic)—History—20th century. | Refugees—Cambodia—History—20th 

 century. | United States. Navy—History—Vietnam War, 1961–1975. | Vietnam

 War, 1961–1975—Campaigns.

Classification: LCC DS558.7 .M84 2017 | DDC 959.704/345—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017010035 

<https://lccn.loc.gov/2017010035>

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CONTENTS

Introduction 1

The Collapse in I and II Corps 7

The Final Curtain in Cambodia 13

Preparations for the Saigon Evacuation 17

The Exodus Begins 23

Refugees at Sea 29

Seaborne Evacuation from Vietnam 33

Passage to the Philippines 37

Maritime Refugees 41

Succor in the Philippines and Guam 45

The Recovery of SS Mayaguez 53

The Battle for Koh Tang 59

SIDEBARS

VNN Captain Nguyen Xuan Son, 1975 8

The Stalwart Sea Stallion 14

South Vietnamese Aircraft Descend on the Fleet 30

A Navy Nurse Hones Her Skills on Guam 48

Henry B. Wilson (DDG-7) 60

Acronyms 64

The Author 65

Acknowledgements 65

Publisher’s Note 65

Suggested Reading 67
S O U T H C H I N A S E A

G U L F o f

S I A M

Cape Camau

G U L F o f

T O N K I N

SAIGON

Quang Tri

Hue

Danang

Kontum

Phan Thiet

Phnom Penh

Phong Saly 

Province

Nam Tha

Sam Neua

Province

Plain of

Jars Luang 

Prabang

Udorn

Vientiane

Ho 

Chi Minh

Trail

Seno

Tchepone

Khorat Ubon

Bangkok

Soc Trang

Pakse

Attopeu

Voun 

Khom

Sambor

Rapids

Hanoi

Hainan

C A M B O D I A

T H A I L A N D

S O U T H

V I E T N A M

L A O S

N O R T H

V I E T N A M

C H I N A

100o 105o 110o

100o 105o 110o

20o

15o

10o

20o

15o

10o

NHHC VN Collection

Indochina
1

INTRODUCTION

As the decades-long struggle in Southeast 

Asia came to a climax in the spring of 

1975, the United States Navy and 

Marine Corps saved thousands of U.S. 

citizens and pro-American Vietnamese and 

Cambodians from victorious Communist forces. To 

the American public, the precipitate withdrawal of 

the United States from Cambodia, and especially 

South Vietnam, presented the disconcerting spectacle of the abandonment of allies and, on a more 

human level, of a host of individuals who had 

worked and fought for common aims. Yet behind the 

undeniably tragic elements of the picture, the evacuations highlighted the skill and courage of American 

uniformed personnel in the midst of chaos. 

Setting the stage for this last act in one of 

America’s longest wars was the Paris Agreement of 

27 January 1973. Engineered by President Richard M. 

Nixon and Secretary of State Henry A. Kissinger, this 

treaty offered the United States “peace with honor” by 

bringing home American prisoners of war and ending 

combat operations for the U.S. armed forces. 

Under terms of the accord, only vestigial remnants of the American expeditionary force would 

stay in South Vietnam to provide training for that 

country’s armed forces. By 1974, about 8,500 U.S. 

personnel remained as “civilian” advisers, with 

5,000 contracted to maintain South Vietnamese 

military equipment.

For America’s allies in the region, the Paris 

Agreement called for elections (that were never held) 

and a cease-fire. This latter provision meant slightly 

more than 100,000 North Vietnamese troops 

remained in South Vietnam. To placate the uneasy 

South Vietnamese President Nguyen Van Thieu, the 

Nixon administration secretly offered assurances 

that if the Communists broke the accord, the United 

States would intervene with force as it had done in 

1972 when American air and naval forces played a 

critical role in turning back the North Vietnamese 

Easter Offensive. 

Despite their smiles, South Vietnamese President Nguyen 

Van Thieu and U.S. President Richard M. Nixon strongly 

disagreed over the best way to end the conflict in Vietnam. 

NHHC VN Collection 

In a comparison of forces following the Paris 

Agreement, the Saigon government held a strong 

hand. The Army of the Republic of Vietnam (ARVN) 

numbered 650,000 regular and regional soldiers, 

with most units well equipped with American 

weapons. The Vietnam Air Force (VNAF) was, by 

some estimates, the fourth largest in the world. The 

Vietnam Navy (VNN), in terms of sheer numbers 

of combatant ships (97), ranked among the top ten 

fleets of the world. Unfortunately, as skeptics had 

foreseen, the tenuous Paris Agreement quickly 

unraveled. Anticipating war, both sides set out to 

secure and enlarge the territories they already held. 

In Laos, Hanoi-led forces, including the indigenous 

Pathet Lao, continued their offensive against the 

Royal Laotian government. In Cambodia, the ARVN 

launched a large campaign. When this failed, the 

radical Cambodian Communists (Khmer Rouge) 

waged an increasingly successful attack on the 

Phnom Penh government of Lon Nol, whose regime 

by late 1974 was able to hold little more than the 

capital itself. 

Moreover, political turmoil swirled in the United 

States around the Watergate affair. The scandal 

involved Nixon’s direction of illegal activities and 
2

his concerted effort to cover up those crimes for 

which he was compelled to resign from office in 

August 1974. The odium of Watergate compromised 

the ability of the executive branch under President 

Gerald R. Ford to take forceful measures in the event 

of a major Communist offensive in Southeast Asia. 

Congress reflected the American public’s weariness 

with the war and it became more assertive in cutting 

back on funding for Southeast Asian military forces. 

Many Americans also considered the governments 

of South Vietnam and Cambodia corrupt and 

wasteful. The oil crisis of 1973 and subsequent inflationary pressures on the U.S. economy intensified 

calls for the Ford administration to slice aid going to 

South Vietnam and Cambodia. 

The Communist leadership in Hanoi, emboldened by Nixon’s resignation and realizing direct U.S. 

intervention was not likely, took aggressive steps 

to exploit the situation. In 1974, North Vietnamese 

forces began widening and paving the Ho Chi Minh 

Trail; they even constructed a pipeline from North 

Vietnam into South Vietnam’s Central Highlands. 

By the end of the year, the North Vietnamese 

almost doubled their troop strength in the south to 

200,000. On the ground, the Communists probed 

more vigorously, scoring a major success with their 

seizure and occupation of Phuoc Binh northeast of 

Saigon. In January, the North Vietnamese overran 

the entire province of Phuoc Long. 

As Communist forces in South Vietnam became 

more aggressive, the Thieu government began planning to withdraw ARVN units from its northern 

provinces and concentrate them around main 

population centers, especially Saigon and Danang. 

But to avoid provoking a panic, South Vietnamese 

authorities took few concrete steps to implement 

their fallback preparations.

As the fortunes of American-backed regimes 

in Southeast Asia spiraled downward in 1974, U.S. 

planners drew up a series of options for withdrawing 

American citizens and local supporters. These plans, 

as they evolved, offered U.S. leaders a wide menu of 

choices, ranging from flights by civilian air carriers 

or military fixed-wing aircraft to embarkation 

aboard civilian and naval ships to the more extreme 

measure of helicopter evacuation.

At a White House meeting in March 1975, President Gerald R. Ford Jr. (foreground) confers with U.S. Ambassador to South 

Vietnam Graham A. Martin (left), Army Chief of Staff General Frederick C. Weyand, and Secretary of State Henry A. 

Kissinger over the deteriorating situation in Vietnam. 

yrarbid Lro. Fd Rlarey GsetruoC
3

timetable for offensive action. Also complicating the 

picture was the byzantine command structure of 

the American armed forces in the region. One key 

individual was Air Force Lieutenant General John J. 

Burns, commander of U.S. Support Activities Group 

(USSAG), the remnant of the Military Assistance 

Command Vietnam (MACV). Headquartered at 

Nakhon Phanom, Thailand, Lieutenant General 

Burns was subordinate to Admiral Maurice 

F. Weisner, Commander in Chief, U.S. Pacific 

Command (CINCPAC) in Hawaii. But Lieutenant 

General Burns, dual-hatted as head of the Seventh 

Air Force, was also responsible to the commander 

of the Pacific Air Forces (PACAF), headquartered in 

the Philippines. Such a set-up seemed to guarantee 

confusion at the most inopportune moments.

The sea service tools available to these leaders 

looked, at least on paper, adequate for the task 

ahead. The Marines held ready the 9th Marine 

Amphibious Brigade, comprising Regimental 

Landing Team 4 backed by aircraft, logistics, and 

evacuation security forces. In late March, the 

landing team was located in Japan but soon moved 

to Okinawa. In the second week of April, it moved to 

Subic Bay in the Philippines. There, it embarked on 

naval ships, with the brigade headquarters aboard 

the amphibious command ship Blue Ridge (LCC-19). 

Navy planners increased the assets available to the 

commander of the Seventh Fleet, in part by delaying 

the scheduled return to the U.S. West Coast of 

the battle group built around the nuclear-powered 

aircraft carrier Enterprise (CVAN-65), as well as one 

amphibious squadron. Thus, four carriers were on 

station by the end of March rather than the usual 

three. Two amphibious squadrons— rather than 

one—stood ready. Augmenting sealift capabilities 

were eight ships controlled by the Military Sealift 

Command (MSC). 

While the numbers of these forces were impressive, the quality of American military units, of whatever service, was suspect by 1975. The long Vietnam 

War had engendered disdain for the military in 

some American circles. During the closing stages 

of the conflict, drug and alcohol usage in Southeast 

Asia attracted such attention that the Navy ran 

The nuclear-powered aircraft carrier Enterprise (CVAN-65) 

with her air wing of 75 combat aircraft steams off Indochina 

in the 1970s. Concerned about developments in Southeast 

Asia in the spring of 1975, Washington delayed the ship’s 

scheduled return to the United States. 

NHHC VN Collection 

several large urinalysis screenings of Sailors and 

Marines. Although fewer than 0.5 percent tested 

positive, anecdotal evidence suggested the true 

figure was much higher.

Adding to the Navy’s contemporary problems 

were racial divisions. Festering aboard many Navy 

ships, these problems led to violence on several in the 

fall of 1972, including riots aboard the aircraft carrier 

Kitty Hawk (CVA-63) and the fleet oiler Hassayampa

(AO-145). Following a sit-down strike on the aircraft 

carrier Constellation (CVA-64), Admiral Elmo R. 

Zumwalt Jr., the Chief of Naval Operations, concluded “racism was endemic in the entire structure 

of the Navy.” To help relieve tensions, the admiral 

established racial awareness, equal opportunity, and 

other programs. Zumwalt’s successor as CNO in 

1974, Admiral James L. Holloway III, continued the 

most successful of these initiatives. 
4

The oiler Hassayampa (AO-145) makes its way through the South China Sea. Racial trouble on board this ship as well as the 

carriers Kitty Hawk (CVA-63) and Constellation (CVA-64) during the last years of the Vietnam War led some observers to 

doubt the Navy’s operational capability.

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5

Sailors raise their fists during a protest gathering in San Diego prior to Constellation’s

scheduled deployment to the Western Pacific.

Courtesy The San Diego Union and Evening Tribune via the San Diego Historical Society

Admiral Elmo R. Zumwalt Jr., Chief of Naval Operations from 1970 to 1974, speaks with Sailors. Zumwalt and his 

successors made a concerted and ultimately successful effort to improve race relations in the service. 

NHHC Vietnam Collection
6

South Vietnamese soldiers, marines, and civilians fill every available space on the deck and superstructure of SS Pioneer 

Contender during the exodus from South Vietnam’s I and II Corps.

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7

THE COLLAPSE IN I AND II CORPS

The capability of America’s armed forces 

would be tested to the utmost in the 

spring of 1975. Operation Frequent 

Wind planning became urgent as the 

South Vietnamese armed forces fell apart under the 

pressure of the 1975 Communist offensive. Hanoi 

planners had anticipated victory in 1976; they were 

surprised at the rapidity of the South Vietnamese 

collapse in 1975. Three North Vietnamese divisions 

opened the offensive on 10 March against Ban Me 

Thuot. After hard fighting, the Communists seized 

the city on 12 March. An ARVN counterattack 

failed. South Vietnamese troops, in an ominous 

development, began to desert in droves. Two days 

later, President Thieu ordered withdrawal from the 

Central Highlands. Despite stout resistance by some 

ARVN soldiers, too many units panicked. U.S. Army 

Chief of Staff General Frederick C. Weyand told 

President Ford, “This strategy was sound in concept, 

and Thieu’s estimate of its necessity was correct. Its 

execution, however, was disastrous.” 

Hanoi, surprised that confusion and chaos 

reigned in the South, moved quickly to take advantage of the situation. On 19 March, Communist 

troops opened another offensive just south of the 

Demilitarized Zone; six days later they entered Hue. 

By the end of March, Communist troops occupied 

one-quarter of South Vietnam and inflicted more 

than 150,000 casualties on the ARVN, as well as 

destroyed one-half of Saigon’s combat aircraft. One 

demoralized Saigon official compared the fall of 

provincial capitals to “an avalanche.”

The retreat became a debacle. Six of the 13 

ARVN divisions simply disintegrated. Throngs of 

refugees, estimated by U.S. Ambassador Graham A. 

Martin in Saigon at more than half a million, flocked 

to the coastal cities. As the South Vietnamese 

military effort collapsed into impotence and chaos, 

ad hoc relief efforts begun by the Vietnam Navy 

encountered the most appalling conditions. Already 

hamstrung by budget cuts of 80 percent during the 

preceding three years, Vietnamese naval officers 

concluded in March 1975 that only 31 (one destroyer 

escort, six cutters, five minesweepers and patrol 

craft, fourteen landing craft, and five oilers) of 

their 45 large ships were ready to embark refugees. 

Shortages abounded in everything from ammunition to fuel to toilet paper.

The Vietnam Navy warship Tham Ngu Lao (HQ-15), 

a former U.S. Coast Guard high-endurance cutter, 

approaches the pier as a South Vietnamese sailor secures 

the bow line. Cutbacks in U.S. military assistance after 

1973 severely constrained Vietnam Navy operations.

NHHC Vietnam Collection

To assist in the evacuation, representatives of the 

remnant American military presence in South 

Vietnam, called the Defense Attaché Office (DAO) 

Saigon, and requested Military Sealift Command 

to dispatch surface ships to the port city of Danang. 

MSC responded with four cargo ships, five tugs, and 

seven barges, the latter to ferry refugees from shore 

to the deep-draft cargo vessels. 
8

VNN Captain Nguyen Xuan Son, 1975

IN THE SPRING OF 1975, CAPTAIN NGUYEN XUAN SON

commanded the Fleet Command of the Vietnam Navy. 

Less than two months after his country’s fall, Captain 

Son was interviewed by Dr. Oscar P. Fitzgerald of the 

Naval Historical Center (renamed Naval History and 

Heritage Command in 2008). As an eyewitness to the 

withdrawal of ARVN forces from the northern provinces of the Republic of Vietnam, Captain Son gave 

an unflinching account of often chaotic conditions 

during the evacuation around Danang. 

Captain Nguyen Xuan Son (second from the left), 

Commander of the Vietnam Navy Fleet Command, discusses operations with Rear Admiral James B. Wilson 

(left), the last Commander Naval Forces Vietnam, and 

other officers in 1973.

NHHC Vietnam Collection

Q. (Dr. Fitzgerald) Was the navy’s role in the I Corps 

mainly gunfire support?

A. (Captain Son) Gunfire support and later on evacuation. Most of the evacuation was done on our ships. 

. . . It all happened so fast. I could see Danang fall 

with my own eyes from the navy headquarters on 

Observatory Island. . . . When we met the [South 

Vietnamese] marines at the rendezvous point, we 

didn’t have enough ships for everyone so the marines 

loaded first and the marines stopped the other units 

from coming in [to the ships], so most of the army’s 

3rd Division was picked up by the second load. . . . 

The troops’ morale was very low. 

Q. Was this true of the other divisions? 

A. That’s true of everybody. With the withdrawal 

from Danang and the northern provinces, I think the 

marines did the best fighting and had the highest 

morale. They had their individual weapons and carried 

them . . . when they boarded our ships even after 

swimming through the water and climbing up the 

ladder. But other units, some of them . . . just threw 

their weapons away.

Q. Did the navy have any losses up there in that area?

A. We lost one of our LCUs [utility landing craft] and I, 

myself, was shot down in a helicopter, but I got away 

and was picked up by the marine chief of staff. It was 

a funny thing. I was shot down with the commanding 

general of the 1st Division. I flew with him up to Tan 

My just to supervise the withdrawal of his troops. We 

were shot down and the pilot was calling for rescue. 

By luck there was the air force helicopter with the 

marine chief of staff aboard. He was flying to deliver 

dehydrated rice and other food to his troops. He was 

trying to get these supplies to his troops. He heard 

our call for help and flew in to pick us up.

Q. Were you actually behind the lines? 

A. Yes.

Q. Was it a close call?

A. Oh yes . . . 

Q. Was the evacuation pretty orderly? Once they got 

to the beach, were you able to control the flow of 

the people from piling on the ships?

A. The marines did well, very well, on boarding the 

ship, but the 1st Division was no good. With the 2nd 

Division we had a terrible experience. They were in 

Chu Lai. . . . We brought the LST in to shore, the bow 

door opened and there were about 10,000 people 

on the beach. People were jamming onto the ship 

and there were some people . . . on the backside of 

the ship throwing grenades and using M79 grenade 

launchers exploding right on the bow ramp, killing a 

lot of people.

Q. Did the troops do this?

A. The troops did this to make room for themselves.

Q. Did you have orders to take the troops out first 

and then the civilians or did you pick up everybody 

who was there?

A. The order was civilians first and troops later. But 

who could enforce the order? Everybody had a gun 

and they were fighting for their own life.
9

On 29 March, the Department of Defense 

designated CINCPAC Admiral Weisner as the 

Vietnamese refugee evacuation coordinator. That 

same day, MSC vessels began loading refugees 

amidst scenes of increasing collapse. At Danang, as 

Boatswain’s Mate 2nd Class Truman Elsbree, a Durham Sailor, holds onto two 

Vietnamese children during the chaotic evacuation of refugees from northern 

and central Vietnam in the spring of 1975.

NHHC VN Collection

dense fog and low tide kept the rescue ships offshore, 

ARVN resistance crumbled. One Vietnamese naval 

officer observed, “They were abandoning all their 

tanks along the road, and none of the soldiers had 

any weapons. When they arrived here, they . . . threw 

them aside even with no enemy attack.” Another 

recalled, “Tens of thousands of government troops 

and refugees piled onto the piers, pushing and 

shoving, trampling some of their numbers to death, 

knocking others into the water. Thousands more 

tried to wade out to the ships, preventing them from 

getting close enough to dock.” 

As frantic refugees swam out to 

the vessels, North Vietnamese 

artillery took them under fire. 

The cargo ship USNS Sgt. Andrew 

Miller (T-AK-242) and the chartered tug Chitose Maru departed 

the port for Cam Ranh Bay with 

more than 10,100 refugees aboard. 

The next day, MSC’s cargo ship 

SS Pioneer Commander weighed 

anchor packed with more than 

8,000 people. On 31 March, cargo 

ships SS Pioneer Contender, SS 

Transcolorado, and three tugs 

followed, bringing the number of 

evacuees from Danang to 34,600 

in three days. Many others were 

left quayside for lack of room.

Despite the air of incipient 

chaos, some Vietnam Navy units 

performed well. One tank landing 

ship (LST) that usually carried a 

maximum of 1,000 troops, was 

packed with 6,000 people. So 

crowded was another vessel that 

its crew could not use the ship’s 

weapons against shore targets 

because of the press of people 

surrounding the guns. Captain 

Nguyen Xuan Son, the last commander of the Vietnam Navy’s 

Fleet Command, recalled, “On my 

flagship, we had 2,500 marines on 

the ship, a WHEC [high-endurance cutter], which 

normally carried a crew of 118 men.”

Cam Ranh Bay proved the most transitory of 

stops. As the situation worsened ashore, evacuation 

of that facility began 1 April with the departure of 

Transcolorado loaded with 7,000 refugees. For more 
10

than a week, these tragic scenes were repeated as 

a motley array of craft worked their way down the 

South Vietnamese coast, picking up refugees at 

ports such as Qui Nhon and Nha Trang. By 11 April, 

five chartered and two government-owned ships 

carried nearly 113,000 refugees to supposedly safer 

areas in the southern part of the country. The operation, characterized by one observer as “perhaps the 

most difficult in almost 26 years of MSC history,” 

was dogged with problems. The most basic supplies 

were scarce, the ability of the ships’ masters to keep 

order was tenuous, and command authority higher 

up the chain remained nebulous. Vice Admiral 

George P. Steele, commander of the Seventh Fleet 

that operated in the Western Pacific, complained 

he had no control over the MSC merchantmen. 

Vice Admiral George P. Steele. The dynamic commander 

of U.S. Seventh Fleet oversaw the successful evacuation 

of tens of thousands of Americans, Vietnamese, and 

Cambodians from Indochina in the spring of 1975.

NHHC VN Collection

Without security parties aboard the rescue craft, 

anarchy often reigned, especially when the final 

destination of the refugee vessels—islands off the 

tip of South Vietnam—became known. The largest 

of these, Phu Quoc, lacked the most basic amenities, 

indeed even such necessities as food and water for 

the tens of thousands of refugees. 

Early on 4 April, these problems reached a 

head when the master of USNS Greenville Victory

(T-AK-237) reported his ship, bursting at the seams 

with an estimated 10,000 people, had been taken 

over by some of the refugees on board. He had been 

told to alter course from Phu Quoc to Vung Tau, 

close to Saigon. Reacting to this emergency, the 

nuclear-powered cruiser Long Beach (CGN-9) and 

the destroyer escort Reasoner (DE-1063) hurried to 

intercept Greenville Victory to ensure the safety of 

its crew and passengers. Shortly thereafter, Marine 

detachments boarded USNS and MSC ships transSailors from the amphibious transport dock Dubuque 

(LPD-8) pass boxes of food and other supplies up the brow 

of SS American Challenger, anchored off Phu Quoc with 

thousands of desperate refugees on board.

NHHC VN Collection

porting refugees with orders to weed out enemy 

agents and to disarm all refugees, many of whom 

were South Vietnamese soldiers still carrying their 

rifles and grenades. The Marines restored order, 

and by 7 April, conditions for the refugees finally 

improved with the provision of ample food and 

medical supplies. By 10 April, the 72,000 people on 

Phu Quoc had been transferred to Vung Tau. 
11

The nuclear-powered guided-missile cruiser Long Beach (CGN-9) operating 

in the South China Sea. The warship raced to intercept SS Greenville Victory

when South Vietnamese troops threatened the ship’s crew in March 1975. 

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U.S. Marines board SS Pioneer Contender to establish order.

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12

John Gunther Dean, the U.S. ambassador to Cambodia, arrives on board Okinawa (LPH-3) 

during Operation Eagle Pull. 

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13

THE FINAL CURTAIN IN CAMBODIA

While the North Vietnamese 

pushed deep into South Vietnam, 

in Cambodia the Communist 

Khmer Rouge closed in on 

the capital Phnom Penh. American commands, 

principally, CINCPAC and Commander, U.S. 

Support Activities Group/Seventh Air Force, had 

since February 1975 been planning for the city’s 

evacuation, dubbed Operation Eagle Pull. Now 

in early April, Navy and Air Force staffs refined 

their plans. When it became clear helicopter 

evacuation would be essential for withdrawing 

embassy personnel and Cambodian government leaders, Lieutenant General Burns’ staff 

assembled about 20 large Air Force Sikorsky 

HH-53 Super Jolly Green Giant helicopters in 

Thailand. Augmenting these aircraft were 12 

Sikorsky CH-53 Sea Stallions of Marine Heavy 

Helicopter Squadron 462 (HMH-462) flying 

from the amphibious assault ship Okinawa

(LPH-3) and the attack carrier Hancock (CVA19), just dispatched to the Gulf of Thailand. 

Revealing once again the flexibility inherent 

in carrier operations, Hancock swapped half 

her fixed-wing air group for a second Marine 

heavy helicopter squadron, HMH-463. 

In mid-March, Navy planners had considered 

using an attack carrier like Hancock as a helicopter carrier. Arguments against such a measure 

included the serious (or total) reduction in the 

strike capability of the ship plus the extraordinary 

maintenance and supply requirements posed by 

the newly embarked helicopters. These points led 

the Joint Chiefs of Staff (JCS) initially to reject the 

option, but when the count of potential evacuees 

from the Cambodian capital almost doubled from 

666 to 1,172, the JCS ordered an attack carrier with 

Marine CH-53 helicopters aboard to deploy to Subic 

Bay. Hancock deployed to the Philippines with 16 

CH-53Ds, 16 Boeing Sea Knight CH-46Ds, 4 Bell 

Super Cobra AH-1Js, and 2 Bell Iroquois/Huey 

UH-1Es, plus a Marine battalion landing team (BLT 

1/9) of about 480 men. Two Navy officers conversant 

with amphibious helicopter operations (an air 

department head and a flight deck officer) flew from 

the United States to Hancock. Modifications to the 

ship were easily effected. Sailors painted helicopter 

spots on the flight deck and provided needed supplies to the Marine unit.

Waiting for Hancock was Okinawa, a ship that 

had been on station in the Gulf of Thailand since 

early March. Aboard that amphibious assault ship 

was the 31st Marine Amphibious Unit comprising 

The amphibious assault ship Okinawa, carrying a complement 

of Marine CH-53 Sea Stallion helicopters, steams through the 

South China Sea in March 1975. 

NHHC VN Collection

350 Marines of BLT 2/4 and 12 CH-53 helicopters. 

A small advance Marine team designated a soccer 

field close to the U.S. Embassy at Phnom Penh as the 

landing zone.

When U.S. Ambassador to Cambodia John 

Gunther Dean ordered the execution of Eagle Pull, 

Air Force personnel landed in Phnom Penh on 

12 April to coordinate the arrival of the ground 

security force, composed of 346 Marines of BLT 

2/4. The Marines set up a perimeter and then 

helicopters from Okinawa flew 287 evacuees, 
14

The Stalwart Sea Stallion 

THE SIKORSKY CH/HH-53 SEA STALLION PROVED 

to be a workhorse aircraft for the evacuations from 

Cambodia and South Vietnam as well as for the 

operation to recapture SS Mayaguez. Originally 

developed for the U.S. Marine Corps, the Sikorsky 

heavy-lift helicopter powered by two turboshaft 

engines made its first flight in October 1964. The 

CH-53 was designed with an internal lift capability of 

8,000 pounds, a range of 100 miles, and a speed of 

150 knots. The helicopters began Vietnam operations 

in January 1967. Typically three men—the pilot, 

co-pilot, and crew chief—made up the crew, but 

additional personnel often operated the hoist, the 

pair of M60 7.62mm or M2 .50-caliber machine guns, 

and six-barreled “Gatling” guns positioned on either 

side of the helicopter. The upgraded CH-53D model 

could reach a top speed of almost 200 mph, a range 

of 540 miles and lift almost 10 tons or 55 troops. 

Ultimately, the CH-53 and its many variants flew an 

array of missions, including assault transport, special 

operations, mine countermeasures, medical evacuation, and equipment recovery. Its faults were few, but 

the CH-53 did require extensive and constant maintenance, especially for its avionics and hydraulics.

On balance, the aircraft proved remarkably 

successful, with 384 A and D models produced for 

the Marine Corps and Navy. Sikorsky built additional 

aircraft for the armed forces of several foreign countries, as well as the U.S. Air Force. The first Air Force 

Journalists and civilian refugees fleeing Cambodia 

disembark from a CH-53 Sea Stallion helicopter on 

the flight deck of Okinawa. 

NHHC VN Collection

HH-53B flew in 1967. With its refueling probe, drop 

tanks, advanced engines, jungle penetrator, chaff 

dispensers, infrared electronic countermeasures, and 

armor, it and the follow-on HH-53C quickly took over 

the combat search and rescue role. Dubbed “Super 

Jollys,” HH-53Bs were involved in the daring, but 

unsuccessful, Son Tay raid of 1970 to free American 

prisoners of war held in a camp deep in the heart of 

North Vietnam. 

Despite its size, the CH-53 was surprisingly 

maneuverable, especially in a tactical approach, a 

tight turn to slow the aircraft quickly. Properly flown, 

the helicopter could decelerate from 120 knots to 

a hover in less than 15 seconds. Because rapid 

changes in speed and altitude could endanger the 

aircraft, by 1975 Air Force regulations discouraged 

these maneuvers, which handicapped operations 

during the Mayaguez action. Enemy fire shot down or 

damaged more than half (13 of 21) of the helicopters 

employed in the Koh Tang fight on 15 May 1975. 

Afterward, military analysts concluded the helicopters 

lacked sufficient firepower and were improperly operated by crews inadequately trained for the mission. 

Since the 1975 Southeast Asia operations, 

the CH-53 has remained a mainstay of the U.S. 

armed forces. Sea Stallions took part in Operation 

Eagle Claw, the failed attempt in 1980 to free the 

Americans held hostage by Iran, Operation Desert 

Storm in 1991, and fighting in Afghanistan and Iraq 

following the 11 September 2001 terrorist attacks. 

That the CH-53 is still in production in the 21st 

century is a tribute to the basic soundness of its 

design and its adaptability.
15

including Cambodian President Saukham Khoy and 

Ambassador Dean, to warships and the air base at 

U-Tapao, Thailand. Among those rescued were 36 

press correspondents plus citizens from an array of 

12 friendly and neutral countries, including Spain, 

France, Australia, and Sweden. As a large crowd 

of Cambodians watched, the Marines withdrew 

to Phnom Penh’s Pochentong airport. The ground 

troops then began taking fire from Khmer Rouge 

107mm rockets. Helicopters from Hancock and two 

Air Force HH-53s then plucked this rear guard to 

safety. The timing could not have been closer; within 

one minute of final lift-off, 82mm mortar rounds 

began impacting the landing zone, and the Air 

Force HH-53 extracting the command element took 

ground fire, which inflicted slight damage. In all, the 

helicopters from Hancock and Okinawa flew 99 missions without firing a shot. However narrow a call, 

Eagle Pull proved a model operation and served as 

a useful guide for the much larger evacuation from 

Saigon, Operation Frequent Wind.

Marines rush to establish a security perimeter at a 

landing zone in Phnom Penh as CH-53 Sea Stallions of 

Marine Heavy Helicopter Squadron (HMH) 463 bring in 

additional troops. 

NHHC VN Collection

Refugees rush from the Marine helicopter that has 

brought them to safety. 

NHHC VN Collection
16

XXX

III

5

XX

18

XX

3

X

468

X

1

X

25

XX

22(-)

XX

8

Ranger

9

Ranger

XXXX

JGS

BINH

DUONG

FRONT

CU CHI

FRONT

LONG AN

FRONT

BIEN HOA

FRONT

QL-15 FRONT

THE FALL OF SAIGON

25–29 April 1975

0 10 Miles

0 10 Kilometers

Axis of enemy secondary attack

Axis of enemy main attack

South Vietnamese front

III Corps

320th Division

316th Division

70th Division

968th Division

68th Artillery Regiment

IV Corps

314th Division

6th Division

7th Division

Forces from Zone 7

II Corps

304th Division

324B Division

325th Division

3rd “Gold Star” Division

232nd Tactical Forces

5th Division

3rd Division

9th Division

16th Division

271B Regiment

8th Division

Forces from Zone 8

I Corps

320th Division

312th Division

338th Division

Tay Ninh West

Tay Ninh

Khiem Hanh

Dau Tieng

Hieu Thien

Ap

Bau

Bang

Phu Giao

Lai Khe

Ben Cat

Ben San

Co Mi

Tan

Uyen

Bien

Hoa

Duc Hue

Duc Hoa Ba

Diem

SAIGON

Long

Thanh

Nhon

Trach

Thu

Thua

Tan

An

Ben Tranh

My Tho

Can Duoc

Cu Chi

Hoc

Mon

Phuoc Le Dat Do

Xuan Loc

To An Loc

 Chon Thanh

QL-1

QL-22

QL-13

QL-1

QL-4

LTL-5A

LTL-25

QL-15

LTL-2 N

Mekong River

E Vam Co Dong

W Vam Co Dong

SOUTH VIETNAM

CAMBODIA

Saigon River

Nhe Be

River

VNMC

Song Than

Base Camp

LONG

BINH

BASE

Dong Nai River

Phu

Cuong

NHHC VN Collection
17

PREPARATIONS FOR THE SAIGON EVACUATION

As South Vietnam continued to disintegrate, the Hanoi Politburo in late March 

decided to accelerate its offensive with 

the goal of capturing Saigon before 

the onset of the 1975 rainy season. Operation Eagle 

Pull reinforced the enemy’s impression that the 

United States would not fight to defend the Thieu 

government. On 9 April, North Vietnamese forces 

assaulted Xuan Loc, only 35 miles northeast of the 

South Vietnamese capital. Here, the 18th ARVN 

Infantry Division resisted doggedly, but the town fell 

to the enemy on 22 April.

By this point, the American authorities faced 

the increasing likelihood of the collapse of the 

entire South Vietnamese war effort. Planning 

responsibilities for the probable evacuation fell on 

Vice Admiral Steele and Brigadier General Richard 

E. Carey of the composite 9th Marine Amphibious 

Brigade. They faced a plethora of uncertainties. 

Marine Brigadier General Richard E. Carey, commanding officer of the 9th Marine 

Expeditionary Brigade, on the bridge of the attack carrier Hancock (CVA-19). 

USMC Photo A1511000

How many American citizens needed rescue? What 

about foreign nationals from countries such as 

the Republic of Korea and the Republic of China? 

Even harder to ascertain was the number of South 

Vietnamese to be evacuated. Estimates ranged 

from the low thousands to more than a million. 

Ultimately, planners decided to evacuate all South 

Vietnamese whose lives would be jeopardized by a 

Communist victory. In early April, the United States 

began flying out on commercial aircraft a trickle 

of refugees, most famously orphans, in Operation 

Babylift. The humanitarian effort experienced 

tragedy when a Lockheed C-5A Galaxy cargo plane 

of the Air Force’s Military Airlift Command crashed 

on 4 April, killing most of the orphans aboard. 

Marine and Navy helicopters located the C-5A’s 

flight recorder, and the salvage ship Deliver (ARS-23) 

recovered key pieces of the aircraft that enabled 

investigators to pinpoint the mechanical failure 

leading to the crash. 

The Navy played another 

supporting role in Operation 

Babylift. The Naval Regional 

Medical Center on Guam 

provided assistance to 

children arriving on commercial airliners. When the 

State Department officially 

terminated the effort on 9 May, 

airmen had brought out 2,926 

orphans, a number kept low 

through April by Ambassador 

Martin who feared a largescale exodus would spark panic 

in Saigon—a well-founded 

concern.

Military planners 

confronted another great 

unknown. How would the 

advancing North Vietnamese 

react to an American 
18

withdrawal? Would they shoot at American rescue 

helicopters and seaborne evacuation craft? Would 

their Soviet-built Komar-class missile boats target 

unarmed U.S. cargo ships, or even naval vessels? And 

what of the South Vietnamese armed forces? Might 

they turn their weapons on retreating Americans? 

Under what conditions could Americans covering the 

evacuation use their weapons?

This last question was so important that orders 

came down from the Office of the Chief of Naval 

Operations in Washington limiting the use of force 

“to that required to protect and secure evacuation of 

U.S. nationals and to protect lift assets.” 

Admiral Weisner gave explicit guidelines for 

confrontations with Komar-class missile boats in 

international or South Vietnamese waters. Answers 

to many other questions remained painfully hazy, 

as did the timing of the operation. How long would 

the South Vietnamese army hold out? Particularly 

alarming was the strafing of the South Vietnamese 

presidential palace on 8 April by a VNAF pilot 

who changed sides. The unwillingness of the U.S. 

Embassy staff—or more accurately, Ambassador 

Martin—to envision the total collapse of the South 

Vietnamese government complicated the job of the 

uniformed leaders immensely. Marine Brigadier 

General Carey later remarked, “Suffice it to say that 

Frequent Wind was a planning nightmare. We had 

to plan for all options as best as they could be interpreted.” One Marine deeply involved in the planning 

process, Major James E. Livingston, later recalled 

the wide range of options confronting the planners. 

At one end of the scale lay the overly ambitious 

choices, such as evacuating up to a million South 

Vietnamese from Vung Tau or moving naval forces 

up the Long Tau River to set up a defense of Saigon. 

At the other extreme, Livingston had to develop 

plans for an evacuation of only American nationals 

by aircraft flying from Tan Son Nhut Airfield on the 

outskirts of Saigon. As Livingston remarked, “We 

had so damn many options I couldn’t really keep 

up with them all.” Then, as rapidly changing events 

in South Vietnam dictated major modifications to 

the voluminous plans, “unfortunately the paper 

machines just about snowed us under.”

On 19 April, the planners sent to the Office of 

the Chief of Naval Operations a figure of 203,955 

potential evacuees in Saigon, a curiously exact 

number that gave some indication of the magnitude 

of the task ahead. That day, the Navy established a 

unique organization: the Amphibious Evacuation 

Security Force. The architects of the operation 

believed the most feasible approach was a massive 

helicopter evacuation. Brigadier General Carey later 

remarked, “I wanted very strongly . . . to be able 

to create a scene where we were coming in with a 

large force, hopefully, to buy some time and confuse 

people. We wanted to do it rapidly. And the only way 

you could do that, of course, was with multi-deck 

helicopter operations. . . . The precise helicopter 

flow, the precise way that we conducted our multideck operations, the exact way it was executed was 

the same way that we did it at Phnom Penh. In fact, 

it was basically the same battalion landing team.”

Much depended on the American forces achieving surprise. Given the large scale of the operation 

as it unfolded, ships and aircraft were drawn not 

only from bases in the Western Pacific, but from 

Hawaii and even San Diego. Schedules changed 

abruptly. The carrier Hancock and destroyer escort 

Kirk (DE-1087) had just entered Singapore for a port 

call. Captain Paul Jacobs, Kirk’s commanding officer, 

later observed “We had just arrived, tied up, and 

were ready to shut down the boilers when suddenly 

we received orders for an ‘Emergency Underway’ 

to return to Saigon. After getting all our crew back 

aboard within four hours, we proceeded down the 

Singapore River at night.” As Brigadier General 

Carey pointed out, secrecy dictated “we had to do 

this against a backdrop of close hold, don’t tip your 

hand, don’t let anybody know what you’re doing, this 

is political, we’re trying to work it out, there may or 

may not be a settlement, and so on. . . . It’s as difficult to move carriers as it is to keep the bar girls in 

Okinawa from knowing that something is going on, 

but when the story is told in detail, it’ll be a tribute 

to the Navy and Marines that they did as much 

as they did with as low a profile as we managed to 

keep.” Complicating preparations were the interservice differences. A Marine assessment complained, 
19

“During the planning phase, many problems surfaced 

in matters of procedures, ordnance, mission clearance, and control and communications. Obtaining 

timely solutions was a difficult task.” One of the 

early plans originating from Lieutenant General 

Burns’ Seventh Air Force headquarters scheduled the 

helicopter flow in such a way that the Marine aircraft 

would run out of fuel before returning to their ships. 

A Marine after-action report noted, “Here was a 

perfect example of different services using different 

equipment and different language, not to mention 

methods of operation.”

New computer gear proved a mixed blessing. 

One top Marine complained to Seventh Air Force: 

“I think this is the first major operation we have run 

using that automated format. . . . I’d like to see you 

turn off the computers. Every time there was a change 

made we got a complete plan. And you had to read 

through it because you didn’t know what the change 

was. I must have read that [Seventh Air Force] plan 

ten times. I’m not kidding you, and you finally got so 

confused, you finally just had to stop and say, where 

in the hell am I? I think the computers just practically 

swamped us.” On the positive side, the new computers aboard the amphibious command ship Blue Ridge

showed their value in planning the complex helicopter operations. As one of the Marine architects of the 

airlift remembered it, “The air flow went perfectly. It 

was absolutely remarkable.”

Another problem for the planners was micromanagement by higher authority, also made possible 

by advances in technology. A satellite phone hook-up 

connected Washington, the Saigon embassy, and 

forces offshore simultaneously. Vice Admiral Steele, 

who also enjoyed direct communication with the 

Pacific Fleet headquarters on a “real time” basis, 

noted later: “The top guys . . . never bothered to 

study the details of the plan. They were doing a lot 

of work by phone, which I object to. They weren’t 

letting their staff do it.” 

Uncertain as to the dimensions of the job at 

hand, the Navy assembled a major formation, the 

Seventh Fleet’s Amphibious Task Force (TF-76) of 

46 ships under Rear Admiral Donald B. Whitmire, 

who flew his flag from Blue Ridge. Nearing the 

Rear Admiral Donald B. Whitmire, commander of the 

Seventh Fleet’s amphibious task force during Operation 

Frequent Wind. 

NHHC VN Collection

end of one deployment, this warship, equipped 

with specialized facilities that enabled tactical 

communications with the extraction and covering 

forces, suddenly received orders to stand off the 

coast of South Vietnam; she arrived on station on 3 

April. Vice Admiral Steele elected to work from Blue 

Ridge instead of riding the fleet flagship, the guidedmissile cruiser Oklahoma City (CLG-5), because of 

the amphibious command ship’s excellent tactical 

communications capabilities.

To evacuate and care for the refugees, Rear 

Admiral Whitmire had 15 amphibious ships, including one helicopter carrier, Okinawa, plus the attack 

carriers Hancock and Midway (CVA-41) reconfigured as helicopter platforms. These three warships, 

steaming about 30 to 50 miles south of Vung Tau, 

carried 77 Marine helicopters (34 CH-53Ds, 29 

CH-46Ds, 8 AH-1Js, and 6 UH-1E), plus 10 Air 

Force CH/HH-53s (on Midway). From their decks, 

a Marine ground security force flew ashore to 

secure the helicopter landing zones. Surgical and 
20

medical teams afloat treated the sick and injured 

as they came out to the ships. Providing muscle in 

case hostilities flared between the rescuers and the 

Communists were two attack carriers, Enterprise

and Coral Sea (CVA-43) with their embarked air 

wings. The guided-missile cruiser Oklahoma City,

was also ready to lend her 6-inch guns if needed for 

fire support. Mobile logistic forces included replenishment ships and fleet tugs.

Controversial within the Navy leadership 

was the offloading of attack aircraft from carriers Hancock and Midway. Vice Admiral Steele 

calculated the risk: “I did want to retain a very 

substantial attack capability, because I thought that 

if it turned into a fight, those carriers were close, 

while the Air Force had to fly and tank [refuel] 

stuff in.” Theoretically, Midway retained a modest 

strike capability by keeping aboard half her air 

wing. However, the ten Air Force CH-53 helicopters 

of the 56th Special Operations Wing that flew to 

the ship from Thailand had no rotor blade folding 

mechanism, so they took up all of the flight deck. 

Midway’s fixed-wing aircraft remained stuck below 

in the hangar bay. Hancock put ashore her entire air 

wing to operate the Marine helicopters.

One problem in using CVAs as helicopter carriers 

lay in their medical facilities. The attack ships were 

not designed to handle large numbers of casualties. 

Maneuvering stretcher cases through the small 

hatches and around sharp corners to the sick bay 

could prove a real challenge. Operating spaces were 

scant compared to the amphibious ships. As the Task 

Force 76 report concluded, “CVA, even when configured for helicopters, is not a good mini-hospital.” 

But necessity overrode such considerations, and the 

ultimate verdict read that the CVA as a helicopter 

carrier “is effective from a tactical standpoint.”

Like the helicopter carriers, Rear Admiral 

Whitmire’s Task Force 76 was an ad hoc organization. Some of its warships heading for home after 

lengthy deployments had been turned around. For 

example, Enterprise had just entered Subic Bay on 18 

April for a well-earned port call, but “no sooner had 

she dropped anchor than a message arrived advising 

her to proceed at 25 knots to a holding area [off] 

Vung Tau. Within a few minutes of receipt of this 

message, Enterprise weighed anchor and was again 

heading west.” New to the theater was the tank 

landing ship Tuscaloosa (LST-1187), which hurried 

out from the West Coast, spending but six hours at 

Pearl Harbor before pushing on to Okinawa. There, 

her crew worked for 51 straight hours off-loading 

cargo and taking aboard Marines and gear. She 

immediately departed for Subic Bay, steaming the 

whole distance at full power. Operations at this 

pace on short-handed ships took a toll on men and 

machinery. For instance, Coral Sea reported, “The 

engineering plant continued to suffer from many 

casualties resulting primarily from an inadequate 

number and training level of personnel.”
21

Vice Admiral George P. Steele II, Commander Seventh Fleet, watches evacuation operations aboard USS Blue Ridge (LCC19) during the fall of South Vietnam, 28 April 1975. 

NHHC VN Collection
22

The attack carrier Enterprise steams in the Pacific. The warship’s combat aircraft, which included the first operational 

squadron of F-14 Tomcats, defended U.S. naval forces evacuating tens of thousands of refugees from South Vietnam.

NHHC VN Collection
23

THE EXODUS BEGINS

The endurance of the Sailors serving in 

the South China Sea would be further 

tested. Transport aircraft that had been 

flying refugees from Tan Son Nhut 

Airfield found conditions increasingly challenging. 

On 25 April, one giant C-5 Galaxy rolled to a stop 

only to find an estimated 3,000 people, most of 

them South Vietnamese military personnel and 

their families, fighting fiercely for access to the 

aircraft. Military police were swamped in the 

human deluge; the flight crew, realizing that they 

A VNAF C-130 transport that tried to take off from Tan Son 

Nhut burns on the tarmac after being hit by enemy fire. 

NHHC VN Collection

were about to be overrun, slammed the doors on 

the throng. Two days after this appalling scene, the 

North Vietnamese Army closed the ring around 

Saigon and started firing rockets into the city and 

bombarding the airport. Cutting the last ground 

route out of the capital on 28 April, the enemy 

began infiltrating soldiers into the columns of 

refugees streaming into Saigon. That afternoon, 

North Vietnamese pilots, flying captured aircraft, struck Tan Son Nhut, destroying several 

planes there. Reacting to the deepening crisis, 

Hancock dispatched 40 Marines by helicopter 

to reinforce the security guard at the Defense 

Attaché compound on the fringes of the airfield, 

and Central Intelligence Agency (CIA)-owned 

Air America helicopters began to extract some 

refugees, including U.S. nationals. In the morning 

hours of 29 April, rockets fell on the airfield, killing 

two U.S. Marine security guards, Corporal Charles 

McMahon Jr. and Lance Corporal Darwin D. Judge, 

the last uniformed Americans to die in Vietnam. 

That same day, the Saigon government collapsed. 

Some South Vietnamese fighting men bravely stayed 

behind to protect their families and take whatever 

the Communists had in store for them. One such 

individual was the Vietnam Navy’s Chief of Naval 

Operations Admiral Tran Van Chon, who spent the 

next ten years in Communist “re-education” camps. 

Many others in high positions, however, fled the 

country. In the afternoon, the commander of the 

VNAF, Lieutenant General Tran Van Minh, with 

30 staff members, demanded rescue by Americans 

at the DAO compound. American servicemen disarmed them; they were evacuated several hours later. 

Some high-ranking individuals opted for Thailand, 

but others eyed the American ships offshore. One 

Captain (later Rear Admiral) Tran Van Chon, the Vietnam 

Navy Chief of Naval Operations, confers with U.S. Navy 

Captain Paul N. Gray earlier in the war. The North 

Vietnamese imprisoned Chon, a brave and dedicated naval 

officer, for ten years after the fall of Saigon.

NHHC VN Collection
24

of the first notables to reach that haven was Nguyen 

Cao Ky, the former prime minister of the Republic 

of Vietnam, who landed by helicopter, together 

with Ambassador Martin’s wife, Dorothy, aboard 

the amphibious ship Denver (LPD-9). Reports soon 

thereafter reached Task Force 76 that as many as a 

hundred South Vietnamese helicopters at Tan Son 

Nhut were preparing to fly to U.S. ships. The crews 

of overcrowded South Vietnamese planes departing 

for Thailand fought soldiers desperate to get aboard. 

As the situation unraveled in Saigon, President 

Nguyen Cao Ky, Vice President of the Republic of Vietnam and Lieutenant 

General Ngo Quang Truong, Commandant of the Vietnam Marine Corps, arrive 

on board a Seventh Fleet ship during the evacuation from Saigon. 

NHHC VN Collection

Ford, meeting with his advisors in Washington, 

directed the execution of Operation Frequent Wind. 

In midafternoon, the first CH-53s from Okinawa

lifted off carrying the ground security force (GSF), 

ultimately numbering 865 Marines, who strengthened defenses of the main helicopter landing zone 

at the DAO compound at Tan Son Nhut. The first 

helicopters landed “to the cheers of awaiting evacuees almost all of whom were overcome by emotion 

at the sight of the organized and well-disciplined 

Marines. The sight of these Marines signified to the 

evacuees there would be a tomorrow.” As soon as the 

Marines disembarked, evacuees scrambled aboard. 

The helicopters lifted off six minutes after touching 

down. Thus began the largest helicopter evacuation in history. Marine Brigadier General Carey 

later reminisced, “I’m not sure what you call this: 

D-Day, Event Day, [or] Evac Day.” 

Whatever name applied, Frequent 

Wind lasted almost 18 hours. 

Split command threatened 

to hinder the pace of operations. 

When the Marine helicopters 

flew over land, they fell under the 

control of Lieutenant General 

Burns in Thailand. Once they 

went “feet wet,” control reverted 

to Rear Admiral Whitmire on 

Blue Ridge. Further muddying the 

waters, the operational command 

of the Air Force helicopters 

flying from Midway remained 

with Lieutenant General Burns. 

Thus, the Air Force pilots communicated with Seventh Air 

Force, who passed queries to Blue 

Ridge, who redirected them to 

Brigadier General Carey. As one 

Marine analyst noted, “This time 

consuming and indirect route 

created considerable confusion 

right down to the last minute.” 

Vice Admiral Steele later agreed, 

“Here we had an Air Force 

element onboard a U.S. Navy 

aircraft carrier, at sea, under the direct operational 

control of an Air Force headquarters a great distance away ashore.”

Yet these potential roadblocks proved more 

threat than hindrance. As Vice Admiral Steele 

concluded later, “[Lieutenant General Burns] 
25

Air Force personnel give the thumbs-up sign to one of their HH-53B helicopters, a detachment of which operated from the 

carrier Midway during Operation Frequent Wind. 

NHHC VN Collection

certainly stayed out of my hair while the thing was 

going on, and he could have been very difficult. But 

he stood back; he let me do the thing. I thought his 

airborne command post did very well indeed, and 

I thought the Air Force in general did extremely 

well. We had a great partnership.” At the deckplate 

level, Vice Admiral Steele noted, “the Air Force 

colonel [on Blue Ridge] was a very reasonable man, 

and the closer you get to the people at the scene, the 

more these sticky, traumatic, interservice control 

problems tend to go away.”

Less positive was the situation with communications. The volume of message traffic soared, 

frequently overwhelming the capacity of ships to 

handle it. Coral Sea reported communications, 

already very heavy at 1,100 messages a day, peaking 

out at 1,800. Equipment failed; the voice circuit 

linking ships with Marines ashore was down 70 

percent of the time. Marine portable equipment 

on the ground often proved more reliable than 

the much more elaborate gear installed on the 

command ship Blue Ridge.

Other problems plagued the communicators. 

Equipment shortages led Marines at the DAO 

compound to requisition commercial hand-held 

radio sets from that facility. As the withdrawal 

accelerated, circuits went off the air. One Marine 

specialist reported, “We had an executive line to the 

American ambassador [plus other hotlines, but] as 

the day wore on these became moot because most 

of the key personnel at these locations became 

evacuees themselves.” Communist jamming posed 

an intermittent threat, although “the transmissions 

were primarily vulgarity inviting us to get the hell 

out of the country.” Put together, these hurdles 

meant some of the most urgent messages required 

eight hours from release to receipt.

Vice Admiral Steele found micromanagement 
26

from higher headquarters particularly irksome. 

Later, he angrily commented, 

The insatiable demand of Washington authorities 

for details that they couldn’t possibly use . . . 

actually degrades an operation. . . . [I had] people 

worrying me . . . to give them side numbers 

of three Air Force airplanes and helicopters 

that were supposed to be going into Saigon. . . 

. I said—and the traffic will show this—“This 

tries my patience to try to figure out what side 

numbers they are. What could you possibly do 

with this?” . . . . It’s that kind of pettifogging 

detail for people who are so far away from the 

scene that infuriate and tie up the commander 

from doing things that he really needs to do to 

put his mind, his full intellect, his full experience 

to bear on the problem he actually faces. To 

continually appeal to the man for data is just 

beyond belief. And . . . where the enemy has the 

capability to hurt you at sea, the provision of data 

and detail like this causes you to transmit, which 

gives away your location, fixes your position 

precisely, and is dangerous to you. 

Asked for the origin of these irritating queries, 

Vice Admiral Steele responded they came from the 

offices of the Pacific Command and the CNO. He 

added, “I thumbed my nose, in effect, at some of the 

messages. . . . What [were] they going to do, come 

down the wire and relieve me?”

Despite these distractions, the evacuation proceeded swiftly. At the DAO compound, many U.S. 

citizens were preparing for their second helicopter 

flight of the day. Plucked earlier from Saigon rooftops by Air America (CIA) helicopters, the evacuees 

at Tan Son Nhut were organized into groups of 50 

and led to an empty helicopter by a Marine wearing 

high visibility colors. 

For most of the afternoon, the evacuation from 

the airfield ran ahead of schedule, but in the early 

evening a rainstorm swept the area for 90 minutes. 

In addition, gunfire from the battle raging around 

Tan Son Nhut hit the compound. One American 

observer commented, “The ARVN fought well. 

There was a very, very heavy artillery duel, and they 

were firing and fighting on both sides of the DAO 

complex. There was tank fire, there was recoilless 

rifle fire, and of course the normal small arms/

automatic weapons fire,” some of the last from “quad 

dusters” (four .50-caliber machine guns mounted on 

gun trucks) in North Vietnamese hands. “Not only 

were you getting dinged occasionally on purpose, 

but you were getting dinged, if you will, by the longs 

and shorts [rounds].”

Adding to the increased sense of urgency was 

the press of panicked South Vietnamese hoping to 

escape the fall of their country. Major Livingston, 

one of the Marines involved in the final stages of 

the drama at the DAO compound, recalled, “The 

Vietnamese were trying to get on the helicopter. I 

didn’t kill any, but I thought that I was going to have 

to kill some of them. I had a couple of M-16s and had 

to shoot at their feet to keep them away. Most [of the 

Vietnamese] were PX workers, office workers—I felt 

terrible about it.”

Another officer on the scene was Colonel Alfred 

M. Gray, commander of the 4th Marines and later a 

general and Commandant of the Marine Corps. He 

remembered, “We got the rest of the evacuees out. 

We got the ground security force out, we went out 

in the last two helicopters, and prior to leaving we 

burned and blew the DAO compound. We destroyed 

the JCS satellite station, and I guess in a bit of 

sentimentality we blew the house where [Army] 

General [Creighton] Abrams [had] lived because we 

didn’t want anybody to have that.” By the final flight, 

Marine and Air Force helicopters had snatched from 

the compound 395 American nationals plus 4,475 

other refugees.

Loaded with even more tension was the situation late in the day at the U.S. Embassy. None of 

the complex early planning had envisioned a large 

airlift from the embassy. In a face-to-face encounter, 

Ambassador Martin informed Brigadier General 

Carey two Air America helicopters would suffice for 

the 100 or so individuals likely to need airlift from 

that location and “that he [Martin] had no intention 

of conducting a mass evacuation from the embassy.” 

But in the afternoon of the 29th, Carey learned both 

CIA aircraft would be unavailable: “Air America 

was phased out of the operation at this time. They 
27

were all being recovered or crashing out at sea 

somewhere.” Thus, Marine helicopters inherited 

the mission. Carey asked for an evacuee count. 

Martin told him rather than 100, the number might 

exceed 2,500. Making matters worse, only two 

suitable landing sites existed, with the one on the 

embassy rooftop unfit for the large CH-53. The first 

helicopters to reach the embassy grounds were two 

CH-46s and two medevac helicopters escorted by 

two Cobra AH-1J gunships. These aircraft brought 

in a much needed quick reaction platoon of Marines 

to bolster the embassy guard. This security force 

was augmented over the next four hours by two 

additional platoons making a total ground security 

force of 130 plus the 40 original Marines and the 

landing zone control team.

In spite of all obstacles, a helicopter flow of one 

CH-46 and one CH-53 began running at ten minute 

intervals, trying, in the words of one observer, “to 

empty a bottomless well.” Ambassador Martin 

ordered the evacuees be dispatched at a ratio of 

three South Vietnamese for each American. By early 

evening, gunfire—“random type stuff, described by 

one officer as almost drunk firing”—echoed around 

the embassy and shoulder-launched SA-7 antiaircraft missiles threatened the helicopters. The same 

heavy cloud cover and torrential rains that caused 

trouble at Tan Son Nhut closed down the embassy 

airlift for 90 minutes. As the situation deteriorated, 

Martin received a message from Washington: 

“President has authorized nineteen helos and no 

more. You will depart on last lift.” Thereafter, helicopters left the embassy grounds with the maximum 

number of passengers and no baggage. Soon came 

the instructions: “Only U.S. citizens and GSF will 

be taken out from this point.” A final communication from the embassy read: “Due to necessity to 

destroy commo gear, this is the last Saigon message 

to SecState.” At 0458 on 30 April, the ambassador’s 

helicopter departed the embassy roof; it landed 

aboard Blue Ridge at 0547. 

Getting the Marine rearguard out safely proved 

a hair-raising business. Brigadier General Carey 

ordered the troops to retire into the building and 

work their way to the roof, barricading doorways 

behind them. Although the ground security force 

fired no rounds, its Marines did employ riot control 

agents such as mace and tear gas, the vapors of 

which gave the illusion at one point that the building 

was on fire and led some of the last helicopters to 

abort their approaches. Radioed one aviator on the 

scene “ground fire all around embassy at this time. 

All GSF are on roof top and VN in lower floors 

[apparently looting].” Because only the CH-46 with 

its maximum passenger load of 25 could land on the 

embassy rooftop, extraction of the last units went 

forward at a painfully slow pace. But finally at 0747 

on 30 April came the signal: “Last Americans out of 

Saigon. All GSF accounted for.”

Fleet helicopters plucked a total of 978 U.S. civilians plus 1,120 third-country and South Vietnamese 

refugees from the embassy grounds following the 

closure of the landing zone at the DAO compound. 

The cost to the ground security force was remarkably light: two non-battle injuries. A fallen hot 

electrical line inflicted severe shocks to one Marine; 

another suffered cuts and abrasions when CH-53 

rotor wash blew him off the roof of a building in 

the embassy compound. Left behind were approximately 400 South Vietnamese and South Korean 

embassy personnel. Six more CH-53 flights could 

have rescued those individuals, but U.S. command 

authorities never learned of their existence and thus 

did not order more missions. Memories of those 

left behind proved bitter to at least one Marine in 

the rearguard: “That morning, there was [sic] kids, 

women, children, and ever since then I’ve felt like 

a coward because I ran out on them. Those people 

deserved to get out of there [but] our government 

had turned and run on them.” 
28

With a rescue boat from Blue Ridge standing by, a South Vietnamese air force pilot ditches his UH-1 Huey in the South China 

Sea. Numerous South Vietnamese aircraft headed for the Seventh Fleet as the military situation ashore deteriorated.

NHHC VN Collection
REFUGEES AT SEA

Meanwhile, the U.S. Navy ships 

offshore struggled to cope with 

the flood of evacuees. To direct 

the aircraft coming from Saigon, 

Task Force 76 established the helicopter directions 

center (HDC) aboard Okinawa that sent flights to 

an open deck on either an amphibious ship or one 

of the helicopter carriers. The amphibious ships 

steamed in a line inshore of the carriers to try to 

lighten the work of the extremely busy warships. 

“This operation resembled a railroad switching 

yard with HDC allocating helos to clear decks and 

thus spreading the load of evacuees as evenly as 

possible among the ships.” 

A desperate Vietnam Air Force pilot abandons his helicopter dangerously close to Blue Ridge and other warships of 

the evacuation fleet. 

NHHC VN Collection

Even the carriers were soon overwhelmed by 

the large numbers of South Vietnamese aircraft. 

Thirteen ARVN helicopters landed on Hancock

during the morning of 29 April; these aircraft 

brought out to the ship 141 refugees, mostly relatives of the Vietnamese crewmen. By the end of 

Operation Frequent Wind, aboard Midway were 

three Vietnamese CH-47s, 40 UH-1 Hueys, and one 

Cessna O-1 Bird Dog, plus five Air America Hueys—

all, of course, in addition to the ship’s own aircraft. 

As decks became jammed with refugee aircraft, 

American Sailors had no choice but to push some 29

Blue Ridge Sailors push a UH-1B Iroquois over the side 

to make room for other helicopters bringing South 

Vietnamese military personnel and their families out to 

the evacuation fleet. 

NHHC VN Collection

over the side to make way for others. The amphibious transport dock Duluth (LPD-6) crewmen 

jettisoned seven Hueys in quick succession.

During 29 April, both South Vietnamese aircraft 

and U.S. helicopters arrived with maximum loads. 

One CH-46 flew onto Duluth with 45 people 

aboard; CH-53s sometimes carried more than 70 

individuals. One UH-1E Huey (designed for 12 

infantrymen) arrived on Midway packed with 50 

people—mostly children. One HH-53C pilot noted 

that “with baggage left behind and a high proportion 

of the diminutive Asian women and children among 

the passengers,” he carried more than 100 evacuees 

out of Saigon in one flight. Refugees coming out in 

American helicopters were allowed to bring one 

small handbag. But U.S. rules did not apply on South 

Vietnamese aircraft, some of which arrived with 

a miscellany of belongings, in one case, a brokendown motorcycle. Sometimes an escaping South 

Vietnamese airman would load his family and their 

possessions but threaten to kill anyone else who 

tried to board the aircraft. 

The hectic pace of operations, coupled with few 

spare pilots, compelled aircrews to put in long hours 
30

South Vietnamese Aircraft Descend on the Fleet

COMPLICATING THE HELICOPTER FLOW WAS THE 

appearance of more than 60 South Vietnamese 

aircraft. In the words of one Marine, the result was 

“a veritable demolition derby around and aboard USN 

helo decks. Only skillful flying by USMC pilots and 

quick actions by deck crews prevented serious loss of 

personnel and equipment. Incoming VNAF helos cut 

off USMC helos on their final approaches and refused 

to be waved off. It was not uncommon to have two 

to three VNAF helos all trying to land at one time.” 

A Hancock crewman recalled: “To this day, I’m still 

very surprised we didn’t have any mid-air collisions 

because they were coming from every direction. It 

was complete chaos. Those helicopters were coming 

so frequently, the sky was dark from jet exhaust.” 

Kirk alone handled 14 South Vietnamese helicopters. 

The pilot of one Boeing CH-47 Chinook—too large to 

land on Kirk’s stern—hovered while his passengers 

jumped into the waiting arms of the American Sailors 

and then put his aircraft down in the sea. Blue Ridge 

became a magnet for fugitive ARVN helicopters; the 

command ship recorded 15 attempts at landing on 

deck, six helicopters ditching alongside, one crashing on the flight deck, and a UH-1 plowing into the 

starboard side of the ship after the pilot bailed out. 

Fortunately, damage to the ship was cosmetic. 

Sailors on board Kirk wave off a CH-47 Chinook operating dangerously close to the destroyer escort.

Courtesy Craig Compiano

A CH-47 Chinook comes apart in the sea just after its 

pilot, shown in the water to the right of the helicopter, 

safely lowered his passengers onto Kirk and then 

ditched the aircraft. He survived the daring exploit. 

Courtesy USS Kirk Association 

in a hostile environment and often in bad weather: 

“The hardest kind of flying” in the words of one 

CINCPAC message to Washington. Most aviators 

flew 12 to 17 hours with the record set at 22.5 hours 

by a Marine aircrewman. Midway’s four Sea King 

helicopters of Helicopter Combat Support Squadron 

1 (HC-1), Detachment 2, logged 60.9 hours of flight 

time and made 158 landings aboard six different 

ships; the four aircraft rescued 1,600 refugees 

with four tons of belongings. Marine helicopters 

flew 590 sorties during the 17-hour period. The 

Marine after-action report for Frequent Wind said 

of the aircrews: “They were tasked to the limits . 

. . and performed superbly.” Their discipline was 

“excellent;” despite ample provocation they did not 

fire a round. Of course, essential to the success of 

the entire operation was the serviceability of the 

aircraft. A Marine comment encapsulated this 

critical dimension: “Availability of helicopters was 

the most critical readiness thing that we had to 

keep up. [It is] a tribute to the crew chiefs [who did] 

a superhuman job.”
31

The ships worked as hard as the aircraft. The 

heavy cruiser Oklahoma City, overwhelmed with 

desperate South Vietnamese pilots, flew off Vice 

Admiral Steele’s command helicopter and took 

aboard 12 ARVN aircraft loaded with 154 refugees. 

The amphibious assault ship Okinawa registered 

more than 1,000 landings and departures during the 

30 hours her deck personnel were at flight quarter 

stations from 0400 on 29 April to 1000 the next 

day. Even after 1000, the flight deck remained busy 

as helicopters transferred evacuees and shuttled 

injured refugees to other ships for medical care. 

Crowds of evacuees strained the facilities of 

their host ships to the utmost. Midway took aboard 

3,073 refugees; Okinawa, 1,200, some of whom 

“were familiar faces from ‘Eagle Pull,’ especially the 

newsmen and women who were beginning to think 

of the Okinawa as ‘home.’” Despite the transfer of 

evacuees from the carriers to other ships, Midway

found herself packed with more than 1,000 refugees 

still aboard during the night of 29–30 April. As 

all available berthing spaces filled, many South 

Vietnamese spent the night on mats or blankets in 

the hangar bay. Crewmembers on Hancock set up 

wooden troughs flushed by seawater as emergency 

toilet facilities. One of the carrier’s corpsmen 

remembered: “The refugees didn’t use the troughs 

for that purpose. They began washing their clothes 

in them. I don’t know whether or not they were also 

using them for toilets. They may have been washing 

their clothes up forward and then toileting aft.”

 Amphibious ships with their cavernous spaces 

coped best. Temporary screening shelters allowed 

U.S. personnel to disarm the new arrivals and to 

route those with acute medical problems to the 

proper facilities. The amphibious cargo ship Mobile

(LKA-115) reported: “Feeding was done in relays 

of mess personnel who carried big GI [government 

issue] cans around the various levels of the hold, 

ladling out an American attempt at oriental stew. 

The food was hot and there was plenty of it and the 

refugees did not seem to mind the inconvenience. 

Head facilities were built out over the side of the ship 

by the hull technicians and fresh drinking water 

and washing services were supplied continuously by 

garden hoses.” The Denver crew first bedded down 

more than 500 refugees in a “tent city” erected amid 

abandoned helicopters on the flight deck and then 

processed 7,500 Vietnamese in the well deck. The 

amphibious transport Vancouver (LPD-2) handled 

2,200 evacuees. From the larger warships, the 

refugees boarded landing craft for transfer to nearby 

MSC ships. Sailors faced heavy workloads: “The 

hours became incredibly long as Marine helos came 

aboard with load after load of refugees, yet the crew 

of Denver willingly stayed on the job assisting and 

feeding . . . thousands of [them].” Okinawa acknowledged, “All hands were taxed to their maximum 

endurance in carrying out their duties as well as 

accommodating evacuees.”
32

The faces of these Vietnamese refugees reflect the fear and anxiety caused by the flight from their homeland. 

NHHC VN Collection
33

SEABORNE EVACUATION FROM VIETNAM

S

imultaneous with the airborne operations, but much less publicized, came a 

seaborne evacuation. Although the rules 

of engagement kept U.S. Navy ships from 

approaching closer than a mile to the coast of South 

Vietnam, this restriction did not apply to MSC ships 

with their Marine security detachments. Both merchant seamen and Marines did yeoman work. Four 

MSC-controlled ships (SS Green Wave, SS Pioneer 

Commander, SS Pioneer Contender, and SS Green 

Forest) were at Saigon; five more were at Vung Tau 

(USNS Greenville Victory, USNS Sgt. Andrew Miller

[T-AK-242], USNS Sgt. Truman Kimbro [T-AK-244], 

SS Green Port, and SS American Challenger) with 

the SS Pioneer Contractor steaming from the 

Philippines for that port.

Now, all remaining shipping that could move, 

including one LST plus various smaller watercraft, 

headed downriver from Saigon. Five MSC tugs 

pulled barges filled with refugees; one of the craft 

carried an estimated 6,000 evacuees. From Can 

Tho, the American consul general and his party, 

plus numerous South Vietnamese refugees, escaped 

down the Bassac River in amphibious landing craft. 

Harassed by small arms and rocket fire during their 

16-hour ordeal, the party reached the sea without 

loss and rendezvoused with two American ships, 

Barbour County (LST-1195) and Pioneer Contender. 

By daybreak on 30 April, all vessels had cleared the 

shipping channels and were anchored at Vung Tau. 

In that roadstead, seven MSC and U.S. Navy 

ships loaded refugees for transit onward, but not 

without incident. The ships came under fire from 

enemy artillery, with the closest rounds falling 

about a mile from the tank landing ship Peoria

(LST-1183). The nearby destroyer Henry B. Wilson

(DDG-7) went to general quarters, at which point 

the firing stopped. In another episode fraught with 

tension, Sgt. Andrew Miller was taking refugees 

aboard when a South Vietnamese helicopter 

crashed into a barge alongside, injuring evacuees. 

Moments later, crewmen of a South Vietnamese 

ship, who were determined to transfer their 

human cargo to Sgt. Andrew Miller, began firing 

small arms at the American ship, which requested 

assistance from Henry B. Wilson. As the destroyer 

approached, the Vietnamese ship attempted to 

ram the American warship. Wilson’s crew trained 

her guns on the bridge of the vessel, a move that 

created the desired effect. Orders soon reached 

the ships at Vung Tau. They were to move 20 miles 

south to a position out of sight of land “to preclude 

uncontrolled refugees from approaching.” 

Throughout the withdrawal, combat air patrols 

flown from Coral Sea and Enterprise offered 

insurance against intervention by enemy aircraft. 

Stationed about 90 miles off South Vietnam, Coral 

Sea launched 66 sorties; the nuclear carrier, 95, 

including 20 flown by Grumman F-14A Tomcats. 

Enterprise was the first ship to operate the new 

fighter. Neither carrier wing expended ordnance; 

Enterprise lost one LTV Corporation A-7E Corsair 

to an undetermined cause.

Overall, given the scope of Operation Frequent 

Wind and the conditions around Saigon, casualties were remarkably light. Operational losses 

included one AH-1J Cobra ditched due to fuel 

exhaustion when the landing space on Kirk was 

preempted by an Air America helicopter; Kirk

rescued both airmen. A CH-46 search and rescue 

helicopter crashed near Hancock; two crewmen, 

Marine Captain William C. Nystul and Marine 1st 

Lieutenant Michael J. Shea, died on 29 April —the 

last U.S. aviator casualties of the war in Vietnam.

Enemy action took an even lighter toll. As noted 

earlier, rockets killed two Marines on the ground 

shortly before the start of Frequent Wind. Hostile 

antiaircraft fire lightly damaged one helicopter. By 

American reckoning, the Communists fired perhaps 

a dozen SA-7 antiaircraft missiles at U.S. helicopters 

during the evacuation. Although none scored, 

one exploded so close the aircraft’s crew initially 
34

thought it had hit. By way of contrast, escaping 

South Vietnamese aircraft suffered several losses 

to the SA-7 missiles. Later analysis attributed the 

overall enemy failure to several factors: a mission 

altitude from 1,500 to 4,000 feet that gave the U.S. 

crewmen time to spot and react to the SA-7 missiles 

by making a hard turn into the missile’s path and 

firing flares. The relatively high flight profile also 

kept the helicopters above the effective range of 

small arms fire. Analysts also concluded low infrared reflective paint helped.

Mulling over the slight enemy resistance, one 

Air America pilot believed the North Vietnamese 

command had issued “very firm marching orders to 

minimize casualties on the part of America.” Vice 

Admiral Steele came to the same conclusion. In a 

December 1975 interview he commented: 

Gee, these fellows must have consciously let us 

go, because they could have done a lot worse to 

us. . . . But I wondered, also, if their command and 

control was good enough to react . . . so quickly, 

to tell their people to let us go. [If so,] I kind of 

think that it was a sound idea on their part. What 

the heck, if the Americans are going, let them 

go. The only problem is, of course, they were 

letting a lot of their enemies out too. Maybe they 

thought, “Well, good riddance. It’ll save us a lot of 

trouble in the long run.” They were losing a lot of 

money. All these people [top South Vietnamese] 

came out loaded with diamonds and cash and so 

forth that they had saved largely, I think, through 

bilking us over the years. But at any rate, the North 

Vietnamese and the indigenous VC were losing 

that. But I think probably they looked at the possibilities for the counteraction on our part at the 

time with all that air there and they figured it’s just 

as well to let it go. 

Frequent Wind, like the earlier Eagle Pull, had 

been a risky thing; in the words of Urey W. Patrick, 

an analyst from the Center for Naval Analyses, “We 

were lucky this time.” The last Marines lifted off from 

Saigon at 0743 on 30 April; barely two hours later, 

North Vietnamese soldiers were marching down 

the streets of Saigon. At 1024, President Duong Van 

Minh announced the unconditional surrender of the 

Republic of Vietnam. More dramatic, shortly after 

noon, a Communist tank crashed through the gates 

of the presidential palace.

Still, as a U.S. Army team later concluded of 

Operation Frequent Wind: “All in all, the evacuation 

of 130,000 Vietnamese was an admirable feat in 

itself, comparable in every aspect to a successful 

military operation. This was a far cry from what had 

happened at Danang, Nha Trang, and even Phnom 

Penh.” By this one measure, Operation Frequent 

Wind rivaled that of Operation Overlord when allied 

warships and aircraft put ashore 160,000 soldiers in 

Normandy on D-Day, 6 June 1944. Pentagon staffers 

concluded in a post-mortem at the end of May they 

were satisfied with the conduct of the operation. 

Vice Admiral Steele received the Distinguished 

Service Medal; kudos went especially to the aviators, 

Marines, and Sailors who had done the heavy lifting. 

But the praise tasted bittersweet. Vice Admiral 

Steele concluded, “I hope it never happens again. I 

don’t like to be in charge of a rear guard.” 
35

On 30 April 1975, Henry B. Wilson came to aid of USNS Sgt. Andrew Miller (T-AK-242), which panicky South Vietnamese 

refugees were threatening to overwhelm. 

NHHC

Sgt. Andrew Miller

NHHC
36

Indian Ocean Java Sea

South China Sea

Andaman

Sea

Gulf

of

Siam

Gulf

of

Tonkin

Sulu Sea

Cambodia

China

Burma

North

Vietnam

South

Vietnam

Laos

Thailand

Malaya

Taiwan

Philippines

Sumatra

Borneo

North Borneo

Brunei

Sarawak

Java

Celebes

Indonesia

Singapore

Djakarta

Hong Kong

Quemoy

Island

Haiphong

Hainan

Hue

Danang

Paracel

Islands

Luzon

Manila

Spratly

Islands

Phnom

Penh

Saigon

Bangkok

Rangoon Mekong River

Red River

Hanoi

Dangerous

Ground

25o

20o

15o

10o

5o

0o

5o

10o

100o 105o 110o 115o 120o

100o 105o 110o 115o 120o

25o

20o

15o

10o

5o

0o

5o

10o

N

Southeast Asia 

NHHC
37

PASSAGE TO THE PHILIPPINES

Operation Frequent Wind ended 

officially on 1 May, but refugees 

continued to stream out of Vietnam 

on a wide array of craft. During the 

preceding week, top officers of the Vietnam Navy 

had begun planning for evacuation of their ships. 

Heroic efforts by the shipyard at Saigon had put 

almost all VNN vessels into at least marginally 

seaworthy condition. Now, virtually every ship that 

could put to sea was on the move— 26 warships 

carrying an estimated 30,000 refugees, mostly 

families of the South Vietnamese sailors. These 

were soon joined by four Cambodian ships plus two 

LSTs from the Republic of China and another from 

South Korea. 

Do Kiem, the officer shown pointing during a wartime naval 

operation, was involved in planning the 1975 evacuation of 

the Vietnam Navy from Saigon and the Mekong Delta.

Also streaming away from the Communist 

victors were vast numbers of fishing boats of 

varying degrees of seaworthiness. Lieutenant 

Commander Hugh J. Doyle, the engineering officer 

on Kirk recorded his impressions: 

NHHC

A warship of the Vietnam Navy, loaded with civilian refugees, heads for the Philippines. 

Courtesy Hugh Doyle

 Somebody in the wardroom that morning told 

me, “You ought to see all the fishing boats!”. . . I 

looked over toward the beach, which was about 

12 miles away, and there were so many fishing 

boats, I could hardly see the water. They were 

all swarming out, all flying Vietnamese flags, 

going as fast as these little old junk-type boats 

could go. One looked like someone had taken 

a candy bar, laid it on the sidewalk, and let 

the ants get at it. The [U.S.] ships were taking 

them as fast as they could, but there was a bit 

of panic. This was because the fishermen and 

peasants in the boats were a lot less “sophisticated” than the military people and urban 

families who had come out on the helos the 

previous day. The helo people were relatively 

calm. The Vietnamese fishermen and peasants, 

on the other hand, were just in a frenzy.

By one U.S. estimate on that day, more than 500 

small craft were in the water between the task force 

and Vung Tau. 

American Sailors frequently noted some of these 

refugees were people of means and education. As one 

Hancock crewman remarked, “We called them ‘refugees’ but they weren’t in wretched condition. They 

were from Saigon, a big city, and were mostly middle 

class.” A corpsman on Kirk concluded, “The refugees 

were in pretty good shape . . . . I thought about 

tuberculosis, dysentery—all the diseases endemic in 
38

Richard Armitage, a three-tour U.S. naval advisor, confidante of many South Vietnamese naval officers, and future 

Deputy Secretary of State, poses for a photo. As a representative of the Defense Attaché Office, Armitage assisted the 

Vietnam Navy’s departure from the Republic of Vietnam.

Vietnam. But these refugees were the upper crust of 

Vietnamese society. . . . In fact, many came aboard 

with shoe boxes full of gold, which we confiscated to 

prevent a situation in which theft might occur. We 

gave the people a receipt.” Some of the Vietnamese 

also brought along their pets. Captain Jacobs, the 

commanding officer of Kirk received an order “to get 

rid of all the animals. . . . They wanted me to take pets 

from the kids and throw the animals over the side. So 

the XO [executive officer] said, ‘What do you wanna 

do, Captain?’ I replied, ‘You answer the message. Tell 

the powers that be that the action is done, and then 

don’t do a goddam thing!’ Had I followed that order, I 

would have had a riot on my hands.” 

The mass exodus by the Vietnam Navy vessels 

surprised the American command, which learned 

of it only as the ships were underway. Kirk, the U.S. 

destroyer escort sent by Vice Admiral Steel to assist 

the Vietnamese, soon reported most of the ships 

were, at best, in marginal condition. Some were 

towing others. Many lacked essential supplies and 

personnel. Responding to their plight, U.S. warships 

dispatched salvage and repair parties to try to keep 

the Vietnamese craft afloat. Other American naval 

craft loaned their medical detachments; Mobile, 

for example, transferred her ship’s doctor and three 

corpsmen to Kirk to act as circuit medics for the 

Vietnamese vessels. Still other U.S. warships provided 

Courtesy Richard Armitage 

essentials, with Duluth sending food, water, and 

medical supplies to two refugee craft off her stern, 

one of which was loaded with about 230 ARVN 

soldiers and the other carrying 200 children. An 

American report noted on other South Vietnamese 

boats, “numerous prospective mothers are in late 

stages of pregnancy.” By their very nature, military 

forces did not have readily available certain items 

necessary for civilians. One Marine listed “the following . . . examples of non-military items required 

for the efficient, humane, sanitary processing of 

civilian refugees: sundry packs, toilet paper, baby 

bottles, Kotex pads, water containers, blankets, 

paper/plastic eating utensils, disposable diapers, 

and clothing items.” 

Commander Paul Jacobs, commanding officer of the 

destroyer escort Kirk. 

Courtesy Paul Jacobs

MSC shipping, split into three groups based on 

speed, each with a U.S. Navy ship as escort, thickened 

the refugee flood. All vessels were crowded to bursting with Greenville Victory reporting 5,400 aboard 

and 6,148 on Sgt. Andrew Miller. When the Task 

Force 76 surgeon inspected the MSC ships, he found 

the passengers short of water and the holds especially 

hot. He ordered periodic health checks and suggested 
39

The destroyer escort Kirk proved to be a godsend to many refugees needing help on the high seas off Vietnam in May 1975.

Courtesy Jan Herman

the ships put into the Philippines to replenish water 

supplies and allow refugees to go ashore.

Of this maritime miscellany the Korean tank 

landing ship LST-117, with 3,000 refugees in the 

10-knot MSC convoy, presented a special problem. 

One Marine aviator remembered, “It was hot out 

there in that ocean, and [the LST] went dead in 

the water and we couldn’t get those people water. 

We tried to drop them water from the helicopters. 

We only had two little Hueys working at that time 

aboard Blue Ridge. There was nothing we could do. 

If we had landed, those two Hueys would never have 

gotten off. That would have been just suicide on our 

part.” Several South Vietnamese ships broke down 

altogether. Seventh Fleet Sailors scuttled four craft 

to eliminate hazards to navigation. Fortunately, 

most refugee vessels were in better condition, but 

to be safe, P-3 Orion patrol aircraft checked them 

daily during their seven-day transit time to Subic 

Bay. Other problems would arise when the armada 

reached the Philippines, a country justifiably concerned about this incoming human tide. Refugees, finally safe on board a Seventh Fleet ship, 

manage smiles. 

NHHC VN Collection
40

A P-3 Orion patrol plane investigates a vessel in the South China Sea. 

NHHC VN Collection
41

Amore immediate challenge for the U.S. 

Navy lay in the necessity to organize the 

refugees still aboard the U.S. warships. 

Given the frenetic nature of the evacuation, this sorting process proved a complex one. Thus 

far no effective security screening had taken place 

due to the “difficulties imposed by [the] time sensitive 

atmosphere and corruption [in South Vietnam].” 

For the Navy, a worry was “that hostile intelligence 

services have endeavored to exploit this situation 

by infiltration of controlled agents into evacuee 

groups”—a concern that apparently was unfounded. 

Faced with huge numbers of refugees and a 

potential security concern, the Navy was anxious to 

transfer as quickly as possible virtually all the South 

Vietnamese from its warships to the MSC ships or 

other merchantmen. As boats and helicopters shuttled refugees back and forth, the activity served as a 

magnet for additional large numbers of Vietnamese 

who struck out from the coast in anything that would 

float. On 2 May, Vice Admiral Steele reported to 

Pacific Fleet headquarters: 

For past 24 hours, TF-76 has been working fast 

and furious, loading evacuees into MSC shipping. However, it became obvious this morning 

that we were not making enough progress. 

New evacuees were arriving . . . at a rate equal to 

or greater than the ship embark rate from 

the barges (from Con Son Island). We are being 

faced with the choice of forcibly keeping the 

boats away from the MSC ships or giving the 

evacuees in the boats safe haven. The choice 

was obvious. The only way to load the evacuees 

off both the barges and indigenous boats and get 

the TF-76/MSC ships underway before 

additional boats arrived from land and the 

situation became beyond our control was to 

simultaneously offload the barges to the MSC 

ships and to TF-76 units. With a lot of hustle 

from all hands, definite progress is now 

being made.

MARITIME REFUGEES

The Seventh Fleet commander sought to turn 

the tide by moving the holding area for Task Force 

76 to a position 100 miles southeast of Vung Tau. As 

Vice Admiral Steele later explained:

 I was reluctant to pick up a whole lot of these 

people, unless it was quite clear that if we didn’t 

do it they were going to die. And I moved the fleet 

out from the coast, so that they wouldn’t see us 

because after having watched the [chaotic] evacuation from Danang and Cam Ranh Bay, I had 

this feeling that we were taking poor people who 

probably were going to be alright, who the regime 

on top wasn’t going to touch very much. They 

would not be taken away from a life they knew . . . 

and transplanted someplace, which I didn’t think 

was the most humane thing to do. So in my view 

and I was sort of left to my own devices, at least 

to begin with on this, we were to only take those 

aboard who (a) wouldn’t hurt the operation of the 

ship—in other words, they wouldn’t swamp the 

ship—and (b) that if we didn’t take them aboard 

they’d probably die. If they had the means to get 

back to shore, we would tell them to go home.

About this time [2 May] we got a set of strict 

orders from the JCS to stop. Apparently they got 

panicky back in Washington as they realized the 

number of people that we were taking off. We 

were reporting it. Even with my restrictive guidelines, they said to stop picking up people. My P-3s 

going around looking saw evidence that there 

were quite a few people out there floating around. 

So I said [to Admiral Weisner], “Gee, this is inhumane. I think we ought to sweep the area and pick 

up any mariners, any people who are in distress 

out there, where they’re obviously about to die. 

We need to do this quickly.” There was a pause 

on the line, and Admiral Weisner came back and 

said, “You may do that from the air.” And I kept 

two ships in there. The problem didn’t turn out 

to be really as severe as I expected. [Ultimately, 

some of the Vietnamese were rescued by passing 
42

merchantmen; others put back into port.] Some 

of them may have just plain perished. . . . And 

some, a few we picked up. But the thing kind of 

wound down after five or six days. They realized 

that we were gone, and people didn’t set out from 

the coast anymore.

At least, not many. But stragglers did appear for 

some time. On 7 May, a P-3 spotted a Cambodian 

patrol boat and two other craft laden with 713 

refugees. On 8 May, Sailors from the guided-missile 

escort Ramsey (DEG-2) boarded the vessels and 

broke out the U.S. flag prior to ushering them to 

a Philippine harbor. From Singapore alone during 

the two weeks following the fall of South Vietnam, 

23 ships with 6,289 refugees left port. Most of the 

craft headed for Guam, although some entered 

Philippine waters.

In spite of rigid orders from higher authority, flexibility remained the standard operating 

procedure for Task Force 76 when dealing with so 

many additional asylum seekers. When Midway

anchored off U-Tapao to embark South Vietnamese 

aircraft flown to Thailand, a boatload of refugees 

approached the carrier asking for assistance. 

Because of the JCS order directing cessation of all 

rescue operations, Vice Admiral Steele ordered “1. 

Boarding of refugees in international waters in USN 

ships is authorized only in cases of dire emergency. 

2. Under no circumstances will refugees be taken 

aboard in the territorial waters of another state.” Yet 

when the Vietnamese boat began taking on water in 

heavy seas, the circumstances were “evaluated as a 

humanitarian situation,” and the carrier took the 84 

South Vietnamese aboard. 
43

On 8 May 1975, Sailors from USS Ramsey (DEG-2) boarded a Cambodian patrol boat and two other vessels laden with 

refugees, re-flagged them, and escorted them to the Philippines.

NHHC

Former South Vietnamese and Cambodian navy ships shown on 31 May 1975 tied up at buoy #1 in Subic Bay, Philippines, 

after bringing in refugees. They are (left to right): Vietnam Navy HQ-471, Dong Da II (07), Chi Lang II (08), Chi Linh (11); 

and Cambodian ships P-112 and E-312.

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44

A Navy doctor cares for a Vietnamese woman ill after the long, arduous sea passage from South 

Vietnam to the Philippines in May 1975.

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45

Alarger challenge to the U.S. government 

lay in finding host countries for the 

expatriates. Even before Frequent Wind, 

South Vietnamese had flowed into 

the Subic Bay naval base, the principal U.S. Navy 

installation in the Philippines. By 28 April, almost 

5,000 evacuees filled the center established for them 

at Grande Island. Following the fall of Saigon, Rear 

Admiral Whitmire, commander of Task Force 76, 

estimated the number of all the evacuees aboard 

U.S. Navy, MSC, or Vietnam Navy vessels at 80,000; 

a CINCPAC estimate on 3 May pegged the number 

slightly lower: “approximately 70,000 refugees 

currently on water in USN/MSC/VNN ships.” The 

Philippines government did not roll out the welcome 

mat. Afraid of being overwhelmed with indigents 

and uncertain about the shape of the new order in 

Southeast Asia, Manila refused initially to allow 

evacuees to debark, a policy acceded to by the JCS, 

which ordered the refugee vessels to sail right on 

to Guam. As Vice Admiral Steele remembered his 

protest to Admiral Weisner: 

These ships are coming in and they’re overloaded 

 and their conditions onboard are bad, and 

people are liable to die. We are seeing evidence 

of this, and I think this is an inhumane policy 

that I can’t believe is intended by the JCS, and 

here’s the way I think the policy ought to be. . . . 

But I also suggested that it would be considered 

to be a racial thing in the United States if we 

treated Vietnamese, as far as their physical 

safety and health were concerned, in a way different than we treated Americans and generally 

white citizens. Any command structure . . . is 

always, if it’s operating properly, a medium for 

the exchange of orders and complaints about the 

orders. . . . It’s a form of legitimate insubordination, if you will. 

In the end, a way was found to bring the refugees 

ashore in the Philippines with the concurrence of 

President Ferdinand Marcos. To avert problems 

SUCCOR IN THE PHILIPPINES AND GUAM

with the Philippines government while providing 

the refugees with much needed relief, the U.S. 

Ambassador to the Philippines, William H. Sullivan, 

proposed hoisting the U.S. flag over the South 

Vietnamese vessels a day before they reached Subic 

Bay. CINCPAC and the Seventh Fleet commander 

agreed. As the refugee vessels neared Philippine 

waters, Marine security teams boarded them and 

brought them into port as U.S. ships with a U.S. 

Navy officer in command of each one, thus “ending 

anticlimactically a portion of the South Vietnamese 

Navy” and reincorporating the U.S.-built ships 

into U.S. custody. In a formal ceremony, the last 

South Vietnamese CNO, Vice Admiral Chung 

Tan Cang, handed over command of his flotilla to 

the American commander of Destroyer Squadron 

23. The refugee flotilla entered Subic Bay on 7 

May. Under cover of this fig leaf, the refugees were 

Prior to transferring their ship to U.S. custody, officers 

and men of the Vietnam Navy stand at attention as their 

nation’s flag is lowered for the last time. 

Courtesy Liem Bui
46

The escort Ngoc Hoi (HQ-12), a veteran Vietnam Navy 

warship that made the transit from Saigon to the U.S. 

naval base at Subic Bay in the Philippines in May 1975. 

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A Navy corpsman treats patients in an ambulance at Subic 

Bay in the Philippines.

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The refugee tent camp at Grand Isle in the Philippines. 

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47

The war is over for these former South Vietnamese and 

Cambodian naval vessels tied up at the pier in Subic Bay. 

NHHC VN Collection

allowed a respite at Subic and time ashore while the 

ships prepared for their journey onward to Guam. 

The ships equalized their passenger loads and 

replenished their larders with supplies ranging from 

water to baby diapers. 

At Guam, authorities had for some time braced 

for the onslaught. On 22 April, the State Department 

designated the island as the initial safe haven for the 

refugees. The following day, the Joint Chiefs of Staff 

directed the establishment of a refugee center in the 

Orote Point area. Seabees began work immediately 

constructing a tent city and refurbishing buildings 

at the unused Asan annex of the Navy’s regional 

medical center.

 The first Vietnam evacuees arrived by air on 

Guam 23 April. While the Seabees cleared land at 

Navy Seabee prepares the ground for a tent city at Orote 

Point on Guam during May 1975. 

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Orote Point, Naval Air Station Agana and Naval 

Station Guam took care of the arrivals, some of 

whom were put up in military housing, even hotels. 

But as the refugee flights increased, the thousands of 

evacuees quickly overwhelmed available facilities as 

well as the medical and processing personnel. On 25 

April, the island got a two-day respite when the State 

Department ordered the diversion of all refugees to 

the Philippines and Wake Island, the latter holding 

2,113 evacuees by 29 April. By the resumption of 

flights into Guam on 27 April, Orote Point was 

open for business with a capacity of 13,000. A rapid 

expansion of the 340-acre facility allowed it to 

accommodate up to 50,000 people by 29 April. One 

refugee remembered, “Tens of thousands of tents 

stretched in rows in every direction. There’d been 

Vietnamese refugees in the hold of an evacuation ship as it 

makes port in Guam in May 1975 after weeks at sea. Many 

of these refugees suffered not only from dehydration but a 

host of infectious diseases. 

NHHC VN Collection
48

A Navy Nurse Hones Her Skills On Guam

IN MAY 1975, EARLY IN HER NURSING CAREER 

AT the Naval Hospital Philadelphia, Lieutenant (j.g.) 

Odette Willis, barely 21 years old, suddenly found 

herself on her way to Guam. Assigned to an acute care 

surgical unit, she witnessed first-hand the arrival of 

a ship loaded with Southeast Asian refugees: “When 

they opened the hatch . . . I saw a sea of people. It 

looked just like someone had opened a can of worms 

with body after body tangled together. Some of these 

vessels had been at sea for 30 days before they got to 

Guam.” A few of the refugees were carrying suitcases 

full of money, but most were poor. Ranging in age from 

newborns to centenarians, virtually all were dehydrated 

and needed immediate medical attention. 

“During my first night at the hospital, I put in 

IVs, inserted Foley catheters, put down naso-gastric 

Lieutenant (j.g.) Odette Willis holds a Vietnamese child at Camp 

Orote on Guam. 

Courtesy Odette Willis

tubes. In fact, I learned more nursing skills the first 

night I was there than I had in the two years I was at 

Philadelphia. These people were in frightful condition. 

They were so dehydrated we were hanging one IV 

an hour on some of them.” Other health problems 

proved more exotic. One teenage girl “had worms that 

had actually grown in her lungs, and had been given 

deworming medication. Whenever she began coughing, you had to grab a pair of gloves and run to help 

her. A worm was coming up and it was necessary to 

help pull it out before she choked to death.”

As the physical condition of the patients gradually improved, other problems surfaced. Certain 

unfamiliar foods caused gastric disturbances; hence, 

the hospital mess served a rice-based diet for 

“the longest time.” Many of the refugees had been 

separated from their families, and they 

stood for hours laboriously searching 

the lists of other camps for the names 

of relatives. Lieutenant Willis wrote in 

her journal of two elderly women: “They 

were walking slowly arm-in -arm up and 

down the ward. They help each other in 

and out of bed and tend to each other’s 

needs. Their families, lost in the shuffle 

of the evacuation and . . . the refugee 

camps, are gone. And now all they have is 

each other.” The nearby airbases posed 

a different sort of problem. “Every time a 

plane landed or took off, it came over the 

hospital and those people would scatter. 

They often ended up underneath the beds 

huddling and scared to death because 

this was a sound they knew. When a 

plane came over, it meant a bomb was 

about to drop on them.”

A different sort of challenge to the 

staff arose when one women delivered 

her seventh boy and another her sixth 

girl. “Just as we were discharging one of 

the families, we realized that the mother 

did not have the right baby. We couldn’t 

figure it out so we took the baby back to 

the nursery. The mother who had given 

birth to the boy had the girl. The mother 

with all the girls had the boy. . . . An interpreter told us what was going on. Both 
49

Odette Willis, who retired as a captain after 30 years of service, poses for a photo in 1998 with Rear Admiral Joan 

Marie Engel, Director of the Nurse Corps. The occasion was the 90th anniversary of the Nurse Corps. 

Courtesy Odette Willis

mothers had all the same sex children. They didn’t 

want the same sex so they simply swapped them. In 

their country that would have been perfectly okay. . . . 

Because the babies were technically born in the United 

States, we could not allow them to just swap babies so 

we kept them an extra day and went through a complete 

adoption process so they could take each other’s 

babies home.”

Looking back on that hectic time, Lieutenant (j.g.) 

Willis recalls “it was one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. Not only did I learn far more nursing 

than I ever imagined, but helping people who wouldn’t 

be helped otherwise was a superb experience. It was 

hard work and long hours in wretched conditions but 

it was worth it.”
50

Center concentrated on those with inpatient needs. 

Personnel flown out from the Navy’s regional medic

center in Oakland backed up the Seventh Fleet surgi

cal team. In a later assessment of the Navy’s efforts 

on Guam, staffers from Senator Edward M. “Ted” 

Kennedy’s (D-MA) sub-committee on refugees concluded the Navy—and the other armed services—ha

done well by the evacuees. Vice Admiral Cang echoe

this favorable appraisal, saying of the American relie

efforts, “They did the most they could to provide 

assistance to the refugees. Their attitude and capabil

ties were excellent. No one suspected that so many 

refugees would be coming at once.” 

 But Guam had never been intended as anything 

more than a way station. The ultimate destination 

for most refugees was the continental United States 

in what was ultimately dubbed Operation New Life. 

On 26 April, days before the Saigon evacuation, the 

JCS directed the armed services designate reception 

al 

-

d 

d 

f 

ilittle attempt to clear the terrain, which was just red 

coral mud and brush.” Construction barely kept pace

with demand; by 30 April, the number of refugees 

on Guam reached almost 31,000; on 13 May, that 

number totaled 50,430. 

 The emergency stretched resources to the utmost.

Providing for the refugees was truly a joint operation 

with the Army’s 45th Support Group assuming camp 

command and its 25th Infantry Division erecting field

kitchens at the Orote Point site, while the American 

Red Cross oversaw the distribution of food. With the 

weather hot and dry and the number of expatriates 

huge, the U.S. command was compelled to enforce 

water conservation measures on the refugees and on 

the Guamanian civilian community. Although most 

refugees arriving on the island by air were in reasonably good physical condition, the medical burden was 

still substantial. The Army took responsibility for 

outpatient care, while the Navy’s Regional Medical 

Vietnamese refugees go about their daily activities at a tent encampment on Guam.

noitlec ColN VHCHN
51

d

Refugees line up for a meal on Guam. 

noitlec ColN VHCHN

centers in the United States. Among its facilities, the 

Navy chose Camp Pendleton and Marine Corps Air 

Station El Toro, California, and on the East Coast, the 

naval air stations at Albany, New York, and Glynco, 

Georgia. By late May almost 50,000 refugees had 

reached facilities on the U.S. mainland. The State 

Department also approached, with varying degrees of 

success, diverse other countries (e.g., Antigua, Canada, 

Dominica, Ghana, Republic of China) to provide 

permanent homes for some of the refugees.

As the refugee problem came under control, the 

forces that conducted Frequent Wind scattered to 

the four winds. Midway steamed to Thai waters to 

offload her ten Air Force CH/HH-53 helicopters and 

to take aboard for transportation to the Philippines as 

many former Vietnam Air Force aircraft as possible. 

Loading did not go smoothly. Two F-5E aircraft being 

transferred by helicopter from U-Tapao to the carrier 

were lost at sea due to sling failure. Eventually Midway

 noitlec ColN VHCHN

A helicopter prepares to transport a fighter to the carrier 

Midway steaming in the Gulf ofThailand. A South 

Vietnamese aircrew fleeing Saigon at the end of April 1975 

abandoned this Northrop F-5 in Thailand. 

eparted for the United States with 24 F-5s and 27 

-37s, most brought out to the ship by barge, plus 50 

elicopters. Other U.S. warships returned 39 additiona

elicopters (14 Air America, 25 Vietnam Air Force) 

o the United States. Meanwhile, as the Seventh Fleet 

agship Oklahoma City headed for Japan, Enterprise

nd Hancock put into Subic Bay where Hancock

ebarked refugees prior to her return to attack carrier 

tatus. Originally scheduled for a 16 April return 

o the West Coast, Enterprise steamed for Hawaii 

n 5 May with 16 of the Marine CH-53 helicopters 

rom Hancock. The 9th Marine Amphibious Brigade, 

ormed on 26 March for the evacuation, was formally 

eactivated on 12 May. The unit’s dissolution would 

e short-lived as events in Southeast Asia once again 

emanded a U.S. Navy response.

A

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h

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Shortly after Air Force aircraft doused SS Mayaguez with tear gas, an armed U.S. Marine 

prepares to board the merchant ship from Harold E. Holt. 

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53

THE RECOVERY OF SS MAYAGUEZ

That same day, Cambodian Communist 

forces—the Khmer Rouge—fired on 

and seized the American containership

SS Mayaguez sailing in international 

aters in the Gulf of Thailand. The ship’s radio 

perator got off distress calls before the hostile 

oarders shut down communications. The Khmer 

ouge moved the captured ship to an anchorage 

 mile off the island of Koh Tang, about 34 miles 

rom the Cambodian port of Kompong Som, 

hich has since reverted back to its former name 

ihanoukville.

President Gerald R. Ford authorized the immediate use of 

force to recapture SS Mayaguez from the Khmer Rouge.

yrarbid Lro. Fd Rlarey GsetruoC

 News of the seizure reached Washington in the 

morning hours of 13 May, and a Navy P-3 Orion 

quickly spotted Mayaguez dead in the water. The 

patrol plane, hit by one round of small arms fire, 

saw no sign of the merchantman’s crew. Another 

surveillance aircraft reported later in the day some 

seamen had been moved to nearby Koh Tang. On 

14 May, additional reports reaching Washington 

indicated the Cambodians had transferred some of 

the crew to Kompong Som. In fact, unknown to U.S. 

authorities, the captors moved all of the men to that 

city on the 14th. Meanwhile, the National Security 

Council, meeting in emergency session, called 

for the U.S. military to forcibly recover the ship 

and crew. Although this course of action entailed 

obvious risks, the Ford administration remembered 

North Korea’s 1968 capture of the research ship 

Pueblo (AGER-2) and her crew, who were tortured; 

U.S. humiliation at the loss that spring of South 

Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia; and fears that the 

Khmer Rouge, who were even then carrying out 

large-scale executions of opponents in Phnom Penh, 

would brutalize the Mayaguez seamen. U.S. resolve 

stiffened further when three U.S. reconnaissance 

aircraft suffered damage from Communist gunners 

on Koh Tang, small boats in the area, and on 

Mayaguez herself. 

Planners faced the immediate problem that 

American sea power, now widely dispersed following 

Frequent Wind, needed to be pulled back to the 

theater. The closest ships to Cambodia were the 

destroyer escort Harold E. Holt (DE-1074) and the 

stores ship Vega (AF-59); both received orders on 12 

May to steam to the scene. The next day, the guidedmissile destroyer Henry B. Wilson, en route to the 

Philippines, turned back to Cambodia. 

Washington ordered the destroyer escort Harold E. Holt, 

one of two U.S. naval vessels in the area, to steam at flank 

speed to the scene of Mayaguez’s seizure. 

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54

guided-missile destroyer Henry B. Wilson, en route 

to the Philippines, turned back to Cambodia.

To lend air cover and striking power, Coral Sea and 

her escorts were diverted from a planned Australian 

visit. Scheduled for a later arrival on 16 May was 

Hancock, undergoing repairs to her engineering 

plant. The attack carrier would again be flying a 

substantial complement of rotary-wing aircraft, 

including 11 of the big CH-53D Sea Stallions. The 

amphibious assault ship Okinawa, doubling back 

from passage to the island of Okinawa, would reach 

the scene on 18 May with 23 helicopters. 

The Ford administration could count on 

substantial Air Force strength in the vicinity as well. 

Based in Thailand were the 40th Aerospace Rescue 

and Recovery Squadron with nine HH-53Cs as well 

as the 21st Special Operations Squadron with ten 

CH-53Cs, the latter being tough aircraft with sidemounted multi-barrel guns. Unfortunately, neither 

Air Force unit was trained in landing troops under 

hostile fire. As potential compensation, Seventh Air 

Force assets included A-7D attack aircraft, AC-130 

gunships, and OV-10 forward air control aircraft 

that could provide additional cover for the rescue 

mission. Commanding these forces was the same 

officer who had exercised similar control during 

the Eagle Pull and Frequent Wind operations: 

Lieutenant General Burns, commander of the U.S. 

Support Activities Group and commanding general 

of the Seventh Air Force, with headquarters at 

Nakhon Phanom Royal Thai Air Force Base.

Because treaty arrangements prohibited the 

United States from stationing ground units in 

Thailand, the nearest available troops were Marines 

in Okinawa and the Philippines. Those men training 

at Subic Bay went on alert 13 May, and 120 Marines 

of Battalion Landing Team (BLT) 1/4 departed Cubi 

Point 14 May aboard U.S. Air Force transports for 

U-Tapao, Thailand. They were joined quickly by 1,000 

Marines of BLT 2/9 who flew in on 15 C-141s from 

Okinawa, 2,000 miles away. To provide the Marines 

with tactical airlift, Seventh Air Force CH-53s headed 

for U-Tapao; one crashed en route, killing 23 men. 

Despite this loss, by 15 May the Marine troops and 

the Air Force helicopters, backed by Navy and Air 

Force tactical airpower, were ready for action.

As with Eagle Pull and Frequent Wind, 

command lines of authority for the Mayaguez

recovery were tangled. CINCPAC (Admiral Weisner) 

exercised overall administrative control of the 

forces involved. The local operational coordinating 

authority was once again Air Force Lieutenant 

General Burns, but his command post was 400 miles 

north of the anchored Mayaguez. His immediate 

deputy closer to the scene of impending action was 

the Airborne Mission Commander (AMC) in the 

Airborne Command and Control Center (ABCCC), 

orbiting about 90 miles northwest of Koh Tang. 

Although Marine and Navy forces were not formally 

commanded by that officer, they were under his 

operational control. The previous month, similarly 

convoluted command arrangements had worked 

reasonably well; now in May, they were to cause 

serious problems.

Adding to these command complexities, 

Washington frequently intervened directly in the 

ongoing operation. For example, the officer in tactical command on Harold E. Holt found himself in 

constant voice communications with the National 

Military Command Center at the Pentagon and 

Admiral James L. Holloway III, the Chief of Naval 

Operations in 1975. 

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55

Sailors and Marines returning to Harold E. Holt after discovering the merchant ship unoccupied and adrift. 

NHHC VN Collection 

at times he spoke directly with Chief of Naval 

Operations Admiral Holloway.

On the morning of 14 May, the 120 men of BLT 

1/4 divided into six boarding teams and rehearsed 

the next day’s planned assault of Mayaguez on a 

schematic of the ship chalked onto the surface of 

a parking lot in U-Tapao. Simultaneous with this 

operation, on the morning of 15 May, other BLT 1/4 

Marines would storm Koh Tang Island while carrier 

planes bombarded Kompong Som and Koh Tang. 

Lacking sufficient aircraft for all the tasks assigned 

them, Air Force helicopters would have to transfer 

the Marines to Harold E. Holt and then move on 

Koh Tang. The Marines slated to board Mayaguez

would have to do so from the deck of the warship. 

Steaming at 25 knots, Harold E. Holt received 

orders on 13 May to proceed at flank speed to reach 

the scene in the early morning hours of 15 May. 

Although the ship’s machinery under this sustained 

maximum load was suspect, what broke was the 

Henry E. Holt’s 5-inch, 54-caliber MK 45 gun mount 

during test firing. Lacking essential spare parts, 

the ship’s fire control technicians ingeniously fabricated a replacement for a faulty piece of gear. The 

destroyer escort reached the scene with her main 

armament fully operational.

In the dawn hours of 15 May, Harold E. Holt

rendezvoused with three hovering Air Force helicopters that lowered 68 men onto her pitching deck. 

Following a run by two Air Force A-7s that drenched 

Mayaguez with tear gas, Harold E. Holt came alongside the container ship. For the first time in many 

years, the command rang out: “Marines over the 

side.” Wearing gas masks, the boarding detachment 
56 Sailors ready M-60 machine guns and other weapons during the Mayaguez operation.

NHHC VN Collection 
57

After hoisting the American flag, the Marines and 

Sailors from Henry B. Holt prepared the container 

ship for towing while six MSC volunteers from 

USNS Greenville Victory restored emergency diesel 

power to the ship’s plant. 

Merchant mariners from SS Greenville Victory discuss with 

Commander Robert A. Peterson, commanding officer of 

Harold E. Holt, how they will prepare SS Mayaguez for a tow. 

 noitlec ColN VHCHN

Harold E. Holt with SS Mayaguez under tow. 

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58

Marines disembark from a CH-53 on the island of Koh Tang on 15 May 1975. 

NHHC VN Collection
59

THE BATTLE FOR KOH TANG

F

ar less successful in its outcome was 

the operation against Koh Tang. While 

preparing to assault the island, planners 

were operating in a vacuum. Initially, they 

lacked decent maps and aerial photographs of the 

terrain. Worse, intelligence estimates regarding the 

Communist forces on the scene varied significantly, 

positing at one extreme an enemy force of a mere 

20 militiamen to Pacific Command’s warning 

of more than 200 regular troops equipped with 

“recoilless rifles, mortars, and machine guns.” 

Unhappily, the latter estimate never reached the 

Marine assault force who believed they faced a 

small garrison of irregulars. Given the tenacity of 

the resistance U.S. forces ultimately encountered, 

the American ground commander later calculated 

the enemy force consisted of about 150 professional 

soldiers well-armed with heavy infantry weapons. 

Despite the significant uncertainties concerning 

the enemy on Koh Tang, the command authority, 

vested in the Seventh Air Force at Nakhom Phanom, 

did not delay the Marine attack until more precise 

information or combat support could be made 

available. Close to the scene or available within a 

few hours were the air group of the approaching 

carrier Coral Sea, the 5-inch, 54-caliber MK 42 guns 

on Harold E. Holt and Henry B. Wilson, as well as 

AC-130 Spectre attack aircraft based in Thailand. 

But when the first wave of 180 men on eight Air 

Force helicopters (five CH-53s and three HH-53s) 

approached the Koh Tang landing zones, none of 

these supporting assets were immediately available. 

Thus, the big helicopters flew into the teeth of an 

enemy unmolested by any sort of preparatory bombardment. Fierce fire from the ground shot down 

the first three helicopters; 14 men died. Three more 

aircraft suffered major damage shortly thereafter. Of 

the 180 servicemen in the helicopters, only 131 were 

inserted successfully.

Throughout the morning, enemy weapons 

pinned down the Americans ashore; Henry B. 

Wilson moved in close to Koh Tang and rescued 13 

survivors from one of the helicopters that crashed 

in the water. Shortly after noon, five Air Force helicopters brought in 127 reinforcements from BLT 2/9, 

but ground fire flared so intensely only four aircraft 

could disembark their 100 troops.

Following the loss of the first three helicopters, the Air Force dispatched AC-130 gunships to 

Koh Tang. When the lead aircraft arrived, it identified itself to the beleaguered Marines and fired 

Smoke rises from a warehouse in the Cambodian port of 

Kompong Som (formerly Sihanoukville), bombed by aircraft 

from the attack carrier Coral Sea.

NHHC VN Collection 

several spotting rounds, followed by a 105mm 

projectile that demolished a Khmer Rouge bunker. 

This shot prompted the Marine communicator to 

exclaim, “Jesus Christ, what was that? Have I got 

targets for you!”

Concurrently, Coral Sea began launching the 

61 sorties that over the course of the day hit targets 

around Kompong Som, including a rail yard, 

port facilities, a refinery, and an airfield. Bombs 

and cannon fire from Navy A-7 Corsairs and A-6 
60

A Navy A-7 Corsair II prepares for a carrier launch with a 

full load of ordnance.

NHHC VN Collection 

Intruders destroyed three aircraft and numerous 

small buildings at the Phumi Phsar Ream naval base. 

Another four A-7Es sank a small Khmer Rouge navy 

patrol craft. In addition to these strike duties, Coral 

Sea aircraft flew photo reconnaissance and combat 

air patrol missions plus four helicopter sorties in 

support of the extraction of the ground force on 

Koh Tang. By the end of the engagement, the attack 

carrier was only ten miles from the island. 

During the afternoon, Henry B. Wilson, aided by 

OV-10 forward air control aircraft, fired 157 5-inch 

rounds to support the Marines on the eastern side of 

PLAYING AN IMPORTANT ROLE IN THE EVACUATION

from South Vietnam and the recovery of Mayaguez

and her crew was the guided-missile destroyer Henry 

B. Wilson. One of the 23 Charles F. Adams-class 

destroyers built during the 1955–1961 tenure of Chief 

of Naval Operations Arleigh A. Burke, Henry B. Wilson, 

like others in the class, was a capable ship despite its 

relatively small size (4,500 tons at full load). Armament 

included two 5-inch, 54-caliber MK 42 gun mounts 

for shore bombardment and surface ship combat. 

The ship boasted a potent short-range antiaircraft 

capability with its Tartar surface-to-air missile launcher. 

To counter submarines, the destroyer featured keelmounted sensors, six 12.75-inch torpedo tubes, and 

an 8-cell antisubmarine rocket (ASROC) launcher. 

Because of their small size, the Charles F. Adams-class 

destroyers could not house aircraft, but helicopters 

could deliver supplies at a specially designated station 

on the fantail. Handsome ships, they proved especially 

stable and maneuverable. Crews appreciated their 

relatively spacious accommodations and the air 

conditioning in all living and working spaces. The 

1,200-lb high-pressure steam plants produced 70,000 

horsepower, giving the warships a rated maximum of 

31.5 knots, a speed frequently exceeded in practice. 

Henry B. Wilson enjoyed several distinctions. The 

firm of Defoe Shipbuilding at Bay City, Michigan, won 

the contract for the destroyer as the St. Lawrence 

The guided-missile destroyer Henry B. Wilson underway 

in 1975. 

NHHC VN Collection 

Seaway was being finished. When laid down in 

February 1958, Henry B. Wilson was the largest 

warship constructed at that time on the Great Lakes. 

On 22 April 1959, she became the first vessel of her 

size to be side-launched. Completed in the fall of 

1960, Henry B. Wilson left Defoe’s yard just before 

ice closed the seaway for the winter. After transiting 

the 15 locks between Lake Erie and the sea, the ship 

arrived on schedule in Boston for the commissioning 

ceremony 17 December. 

Henry B. Wilson (DDG-7)
61

Smoke rounds fired by Henry B. Wilson on the eastern 

side of Koh Tang enabled a Marine platoon to board 

Air Force helicopters for the withdrawal from the 

deadly island. The ship’s 5-inch guns put rounds 

ashore at key times during the engagement.

In the summer of 1965, Henry B. Wilson began 

almost a decade of service in Southeast Asia. 

Steaming in the Gulf of Tonkin, the destroyer protected 

the aircraft carriers at Yankee Station and used her 

artillery to pound North Vietnamese coastal installations as part of Operation Sea Dragon. The warship 

completed seven deployments to the Southeast Asian 

combat theater.

The destroyer made a significant contribution 

during the Mayaguez operation, right after taking 

part in Operation Frequent Wind. On 13 May, as 

the ship and her crew headed to the Philippines 

for well-deserved liberty, they received orders to 

reverse course and steam for Cambodian waters. The 

destroyer joined the fight off Koh Tang, bombarding 

Khmer Rouge forces on the island with her 5-inch guns 

and rescuing 13 crewmen whose helicopter had been 

downed. To pull those men from the water, Henry B. 

Wilson Sailors approached the hostile shore in the 

ship’s gig and traded small arms fire with the enemy. 

The Navy awarded four Sailors the Bronze Star medal 

for their bravery. In a fitting climax to a hectic day, 

Henry B. Wilson intercepted the Thai fishing craft carrying the crew of Mayaguez, took the merchant mariners 

on board, and returned the grateful men to their nowliberated ship. Henry B. Wilson was decommissioned 

on 2 October 1989, which capped the warship’s 

distinguished career.

NHHC VN Collection 

Koh Tang. One airman later remembered, “I guess 

most of us in the Air Force aren’t aware of just how 

well the Navy can thread the needle on precision 

gunfire. The Navy started walking rounds in some 

distance to the right of one of the gun positions. The 

Marines were making five-meter adjustments on the 

naval gunfire. That Navy destroyer . . . was literally 

able, by a succession of shots, to walk its rounds 

right into the machine gun positions. A number of

 . . . positions were knocked out this way.” The 

Marines were extracted by helicopter, while the 

destroyer operated to divert the enemy’s attention. 

Harold E. Holt could not join this action because the 

destroyer escort was fully committed to the boarding and later towing of Mayaguez. 

The combat on 15 May occurred after the 

Phnom Penh government was already backing away 

from the confrontation with the United States. That 

morning, the Khmer Rouge military had loaded 

the crew of Mayaguez aboard a Thai fishing vessel 

and sent it seaward. Alerted by a P-3 patrol plane, 

Henry B. Wilson intercepted this craft and placed 

the 40 merchant sailors back aboard Mayaguez, at 

that point under tow by Harold E. Holt. By evening 

Mayaguez was manned by her own crew and steaming in international waters under her own power. 
62

Henry B. Wilson remained on the scene until 18 May 

to support the recovery of U.S. dead; two days later 

the destroyer entered Subic Bay. 

Shortly after the second wave of helicopters 

deposited their Marines on Koh Tang, the Joint 

Chiefs of Staff, learning of the recovery of Mayaguez 

and the release of the crew, ordered all offensive 

action halted and the forces fighting on Koh Tang 

extracted. This retrograde movement proved as 

tough to execute as had the morning insertions. Of 

the five helicopters that plucked the Marines from 

Koh Tang to Coral Sea and Harold E. Holt, three 

received major damage. Of the 231 men landed on 

the island, 227 were evacuated, one was killed in 

action, and three were inadvertently left behind, to 

be murdered by the Khmer Rouge. Total fatalities in 

the operation were 14 Marines, two Sailors, and two 

airmen. Seventy men suffered wounds (mostly burns 

and lacerations) of sufficient seriousness to require 

treatment aboard Coral Sea. Of the 21 helicopters 

that took small arms fire during the operation, 13 

were lost or damaged. So overwhelmed were the 

rotary-wing aircraft that some after-action defense 

analysts questioned the very utility of amphibious 

helicopter assault in future military operations.

A closer look at the evidence moderated this 

skepticism. One of the most careful assessments of 

the assault on Koh Tang was prepared by the Center 

for Naval Analyses (CNA) that concluded the losses 

were attributable not to any inherent vulnerability in 

helicopters, but rather to a host of other factors. The 

CNA report addressed the command and control 

issue guardedly: “A Joint Commander of a small 

operation becomes involved in details that normally 

would be left to component commanders in larger 

operations. This factor should be carefully considered before designating a commander of a joint 

operation when the major mission area lies outside 

his service experience.” More specifically, the CNA 

report concluded the command and control system 

was too centralized (with the reins held by Seventh 

Air Force) and the on-scene commander (ABCCC) 

remained too far removed from the action to properly control the air and naval forces under his oversight. Other flaws included the lack of an effective 

forward air controller until late in the operation; the 

limited training of the Air Force helicopters performing the vertical envelopment mission; and the 

late use of powerful naval assets, including the guns 

on board Henry B. Wilson and Harold E. Holt and 

the attack aircraft of Coral Sea. In reality, then, the 

Mayaguez rescue effort, although ostensibly successful, sounded a distinctly sour note when compared 

to Eagle Pull and Frequent Wind. 

In those earlier operations, the U.S. military, 

especially the Navy and Marine Corps, demonstrated extraordinary professional skill in carrying 

out large-scale and complicated evacuations. Given 

the public’s contemporary skepticism of American 

servicemen at the tail end of the Vietnam War, this 

performance seems at first glance surprising. But 

despite the undeniable litany of woes afflicting the 

military in 1975—racial tensions, counterculture 

sentiment, drug abuse, the lower quality of 

recruits—the record compiled by these Americans 

in uniform showed that not all was dark, that the 

services retained a solid core of competent and 

dedicated people, and that with proper nurturing, 

the armed forces could be restored to health, as they 

were in the 1980s.

In fact, the performance of these military personnel in April 1975 was a harbinger of the future. 

Despite a tangled command structure and amid an 

atmosphere of intense crisis and extreme danger, 

American Sailors, Marines, and airmen saved tens 

of thousands of people with a minimal loss of life. In 

the subsequent Operation New Life, military men 

and women pitched in to help unfortunate refugees 

make the transition to homes on U.S. soil. If the 

public’s view of the final collapse in Southeast Asia is 

one of unalloyed tragedy, then that jaundiced assessment needs to be leavened with a tribute to those 

Americans who carried out their duties so well and 

in such trying circumstances.
63 Major Raymond E. Porter and another Marine raise the Stars and Stripes over SS Mayaguez. NHHC VN Collection 
64

Acronyms

ABCCC Airborne Command and Control Center

AMC Airborne Mission Commander 

ARVN Army of the Republic of Vietnam 

ASROC Antisubmarine Rocket 

CIA Central Intelligence Agency 

CINCPAC Commander in Chief, U.S. Pacific Command

CNA Center for Naval Analyses 

DAO Defense Attaché Office 

GI Government Issue

GSF Ground Security Force 

JCS Joint Chiefs of Staff 

LCU Utility Landing Craft 

LPH Amphibious Assault Ship

LST Tank Landing Ship 

MACV Military Assistance Command Vietnam 

MSC Military Sealift Command 

PACAF Pacific Air Forces 

VNAF Vietnam Air Force 

VNN Vietnam Navy 

XO Executive Officer
65

The Author

Malcolm Muir Jr., a military historian who received his degrees from Emory 

(Georgia), Florida State, and Ohio State universities, served on the faculty of the 

Virginia Military Institute from 2003 to his retirement in 2011. Having taught at 

Austin Peay State University for 25 years prior to 2003, he also held the Secretary 

of the Navy’s Research Chair in Naval History and visiting positions at the U.S. 

Military Academy and the Air War College. Among his publications are several 

books, including Black Shoes and Blue Water: Surface Warfare in the U.S. Navy, 

1945–1975 (Washington, 1996), recipient of the North American Society for Oceanic 

History’s John Lyman Book Award in 1997.

Acknowledgments

I am especially grateful to Rear Admiral Samuel Cox, USN (Ret.), director of the Naval History and Heritage 

Command, for his unstinting support of this project and Dr. Edward J. Marolda, series co-editor, who was instrumental in bringing this booklet to fruition. Equally deserving of my thanks are Admiral Bruce Demars, USN 

(Ret.); Vice Admiral Robert P. Dunn, USN (Ret.); and Captain Todd Creekman, USN (Ret.), distinguished leaders 

of the Naval Historical Foundation who enthusiastically endorsed this effort to recognize the service and sacrifice 

in Vietnam of our naval personnel and the Navy’s vital contribution to the war effort. Former Deputy Secretary 

of State Richard Armitage; Captain Odette Willis (NC), USN (Ret.); Captain Paul Jacobs, USN (Ret.); Liem Bui; 

Craig Compiano; Jan Herman; and Hugh Doyle graciously provided their personal images for use in this booklet. 

The staff members of the Naval History and Heritage Command who helped publish this booklet include editors 

Debra Barker, Andrea Connell, and Amy Carfagno; photo archivists Lisa Crunk and David Colamaria; and art 

curators Gale Munro, Pamela Overmann, and Karen Haubold. I thank Kara Newcomer of Marine Corps History 

Division for her help in the photo and map selection process. Finally, I am grateful to Dr. John Sherwood, an 

historian of the NHHC, and Jan Herman, former historian of the Navy’s Bureau of Medicine and Surgery, for their 

insightful reviews of the manuscript. 

Publisher’s Note

The Naval History and Heritage Command extends a grateful thank you to the Naval Historical Foundation for 

making the U.S. Navy and the Vietnam War series possible. They generously sponsored not only the author’s work 

on this book, but also the subsequent editorial services that helped make it a reality. The NHHC is grateful for the 

NHF’s support and its dedication to telling the story of this important era in the Navy’s history.
67

Suggested Reading

Do, Kiem and Julie Kane. Counterpart: A South Vietnamese Naval Officer’s War. Annapolis, 

MD: Naval Institute Press, 1998.

Dunham, George R. U.S. Marines in Vietnam: The Bitter End, 1973–1975 (Marine Corps

Vietnam Operational Historical Series). Quantico, VA: Marine Corps Association, 1990.

Guilmartin, John F Jr. A Very Short War: The Mayaguez and the Battle of Koh Tang. College 

Station: Texas A&M University Press, 1995.

Herman, Jan K. Navy Medicine in Vietnam: Oral Histories from Dien Bien Phu to the Fall of 

Saigon. Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2009.

Isaacs, Arnold R. Without Honor: Defeat in Vietnam and Cambodia. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins 

University Press, 1983. 

Marolda, Edward J. By Sea, Air, and Land: An Illustrated History of the United States Navy and 

the War in Southeast Asia. Washington, DC: Naval Historical Center, 1994.

Mercogliano, Salvatore. Fourth Arm of Defense: Sealift and Maritime Logistics in the Vietnam

War. Washington, DC: Naval History and Heritage Command, forthcoming. 

Snepp, Frank. Decent Interval. New York: Vintage Books, 1977.

Todd, Olivier. Cruel April: The Fall of Saigon. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, Inc., 

1990.

Urey, Patrick. “U.S. Marine Corps Participation in the Emergency Evacuations of Phnom Penh 

and Saigon: Operations Eagle Pull and Frequent Wind.” Alexandria, VA: Center for 

Naval Analyses, Study 1089, Jun 1977. 

Veith, George J. Black April: The Fall of South Vietnam, 1973–1975. New York: Encounter 

Books, 2012. 

Vien, Cao Van. The Final Collapse. Washington, DC: Center of Military History/GPO, 1983.

Wetterhahn, Ralph. The Last Battle: The Mayaguez Incident and the End of the Vietnam War. 

New York: Carroll & Graf, 2001. 

Willbanks, James H. Abandoning Vietnam: How America Left and South Vietnam Lost Its War. 

Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2004. 

Wise, James E. Jr. and Scott Baron. The 14-Hour War: Valor on Koh Tang and the Recapture of 

the SS Mayaguez. Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 2011.
DEPARTMENT OF THE NAVY

WASHINGTON, DC

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I SBN 978-0-945274-92-6

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