It was nearly nightfall, October 24th, 1983. The Captain of the USS Guam (she's gone now, decommissioned in the 1990's) sounded general quarters, and the entire ship came alive. When we made it onto the decks, we could see that the battle group has spread into a 2x2 flanking formation and was steaming at full speed. I was "volunteered" to go below and assist the ammo techs in preparing munitons for the flocks of warbirds sitting on the flight deck. All through the night, we assembled 2.75" "Might Mouse" rockets, snapping on the warheads (not an approved method, they were supposed to be vised and torqued) You would screw on the warhead, loosen it slightly with the rocket motor in one hand and the warhead on the other, and with a "snap" of the entire assembly, hand torque the warhead into place.
At a little after 3 am (0300) on October 25th, 1983, we rolled the carts of loaded rocket pods onto the aircraft elevators and were raised to the flight deck. The next 2 hours were spent arming the Cobra and Huey helo's on the flight deck. Just before dawn, they came. Grim faced young Marines, in full deuce gear and weapons, climbing quickly and silently into the waiting Huey's.
The blast of air from all those helicopters churning at once, along with the exhaust from their jet turbines, made the hot, stinking air seem to blow in every direction as once. The air was heavy and dirty with the smell of exhaust from the helicopters and the on deck power units. There was barely the hint of dawn on the horizon when the first Hueys lift from the deck, whipping the air into an invisible froth and vaulting off into the morning making their best speed for the island of Grenada, barely visible in the morning light in the distance.
2 days later, the fighting would still be going on, and I would end up flying in to join my unit already on the island. It's all like it was yesterday.
Where did all those years go.
At a little after 3 am (0300) on October 25th, 1983, we rolled the carts of loaded rocket pods onto the aircraft elevators and were raised to the flight deck. The next 2 hours were spent arming the Cobra and Huey helo's on the flight deck. Just before dawn, they came. Grim faced young Marines, in full deuce gear and weapons, climbing quickly and silently into the waiting Huey's.
The blast of air from all those helicopters churning at once, along with the exhaust from their jet turbines, made the hot, stinking air seem to blow in every direction as once. The air was heavy and dirty with the smell of exhaust from the helicopters and the on deck power units. There was barely the hint of dawn on the horizon when the first Hueys lift from the deck, whipping the air into an invisible froth and vaulting off into the morning making their best speed for the island of Grenada, barely visible in the morning light in the distance.
2 days later, the fighting would still be going on, and I would end up flying in to join my unit already on the island. It's all like it was yesterday.
Where did all those years go.
