10/24/97 23:22
"Assault on the Liberty"
with permission of the author
Jim Ennes
Chapter 1
AFRICA. SUDDEN ORDERS
AND A PROPHECY
"The fear of spies seems to be endemic in every crisis in
every military campaign."
- Alan Moorhead
Gallipoli, 1956
Liberty was a different sort of ship. A "Technical Research Ship," she
operated alone, far from the rest of the fleet. The US Navy said her
task was to conduct research into electromagnetic phenomena, radio
wave propagation and the like. Newsmen called her a "spy ship."
Hastily built for World War Two freighter duty, Liberty's keel was
laid on February 23, 1945, by Oregon Shipbuilding Corporation,
Portland, Oregon. Launched just forty-two days later, the ship was
delivered to the Maritime Commission on May 4, 1945. As SS
Simmons Victory, she was chartered under general agency agreement
by Coastwise (Pacific Far East) Line, San Francisco, for service during
the closing months of the war; after the war she performed routine
supply duty for States Marine Lines, serving in both the Atlantic and
Pacific oceans.
During the Korean War, Simmons Victory crossed the Pacific
Ocean eighteen times to supply and support American forces fighting
in Korea, and during the same period made countless shorter trips
throughout the Far East, usually unloading her cargo at Suyong Bay,
Pusan, Korea. Finally. in 1958, weary and streaked with rust, she was
placed in the national reserve fleet in Puget Sound at Olympia,
Washington.
The Navy, though, had special plans for SS Simmons. Victory.
Technical Research Ships were being developed as part of an ambitious
program of seaborne intelligence-collection platforms. First chosen for this duty
were three old Liberty hull freighters, which in
1963 became Technical Research Ships USS Oxford, USS George-
town and USS Jamestown.
Next selected were two Victory hulls, eventually to become USS
Belmont and USS Liberty. Acquired by the Navy from the Maritime
Commission in February 1963, Simmons Victory was delivered to
Willamette Iron and Steel Corporation, Portland, Oregon, for conversion
to a Technical Research Ship. And it was no small task: the work
required twenty-two months and cost twenty million dollars even before
the installation of specialized equipment for the new role.
The government has never revealed the mission of Technical
Research Ships beyond an official statement th at reads: "The mission
of this ship is to conduct technical research, operations in support of
U.S. Navy electronic research projects which include electromagnetic
propagation studies and advanced communications systems."
Jane's Fighting Ships (the standard reference for such things)
called the ships mobile bases "for research in communications and
electromagnetic radiation," and added that they were "considered
electronic intelligence ships." Indeed, despite the official double talk,
Liberty and her sister ships were widely and openly known for what
they really were. Merchants. bar girls and other ships' sailors called
Liberty a "spook ship." Liberty sailors were called "spooks." And the
compartment aboard ship where the "spooks" worked became known
by nonspooks as "the spook shop."
"Spooks," however, seldom acknowledged that there was anything
special or different about their work, claiming instead to have quite
ordinary, humdrum jobs. Even today, . Liberty sailors are bound by
stringent oaths of secrecy that severely restrict their freedom to discuss
the ship's "technical research" mission.
Technical Research Ships were named after American cities and
towns. In 1963 America had sixteen cities and towns named Liberty,
plus a number of burgs, villages, hamlets, corners and similar places;
Liberty was named after all of them---and was the fourth ship of the
line to carry that name.
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Africa, Sudden Orders and a Prophecy - 9
On April 1, 1964, Liberty was classified AGTR-5 (an auxiliary or
noncombatant vessel of general or miscellaneous type assigned to technical
research dutyÄthe fifth U.S. naval vessel so classified); and on December 30,
1964, she was commissioned at Bremerton, Washington, Commander Daniel T.
Wieland, Jr., in command.(1)
After sea trials and acceptance by the Navy, she was eventually assigned
to Africa, where she would crawl endlessly along the coastline from Dakar to
Cape Town and back to Dakar. Every few weeks she would stop for fuel and
supplies, and on these occasions her crew would be permitted two or three
days ashore at Monrovia or Luanda or Abidjan or occasionally further north at
Las Palmas; but for the most part duty aboard Liberty was unexciting.
Technical Research Ship duty was, however, considered "career
enhancing," an appraisal that ensured ample Volunteers from among those
careerists willing to endure the isolation and family separation; and so, early in
1967, I called upon two friends, Lieutenant James G. "Jim" O'Connor and
Lieutenant Commander David E. "Dave" Lewis, to see if there was a job for me
in the ship's 's research ("spook") department. Family separation was not
attractive to me, but career enhancement was appealing after a year of staff
duty.
I was impressed with the ship from the beginning. The quarterdeck watch
was sharp-looking, alert, courteous and helpful. The ship was spotlessly clean
in spite of being in a repair yard at the time. The crew was busy, friendly and
good-natured. This was a happy ship, and I had the impression it was a good
ship or duty.
After an hour or so, O'Connor and I prepared to go ashore. "Oh, Mr.
O'Connor," called the petty officer of the watch as we crossed the
quarterdeck, "the executive officer would like you and your guest to stop by
his stateroom before you leave."
Lieutenant Commander Philip McCutcheon Armstrong met us at the door to
his stateroom with his hand outstretched. "Hi, Jim," he said. "Call me Phil.
What are you drinking?"
Drinking? Drinking aboard ship was a serious offense. The ancient Navy
prohibition of liquor aboard ship was violated by an occasional alcoholic or a
particularly brave sailor, but casual drinking aboard ship was something new
to me. Drinking by the executive officer was unheard of.
1. Commander Wieland took the ship through her conversion I, outfitting
commissioning shakedown specialized training and two African deployments
On April 23 , 1966 he relinquished command to Commander William I
McGonagle and sent on to assume command of Mine Division 44
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10 - Assault on the Liberty
"Lock the door," he warned. "Scotch?"
No quick, warm shot from a contraband bottle for Philip. He drank
only Johnny Walker Red Label scotch. Like a good host, he also
offered bourbon, gin, a variety of mixes and fresh ice from an insulated
bucket. And to assure that the ice didn't melt quickly in warm shipboard
water, a personal water spigot dispensed ice- old water piped in from a
water cooler in the passageway outside.
"Is the captain as loose and easygoing as the XO?" I asked Jim
later.
"No, not at all. Captain McGonagle is stiff and proper, and seems not
to know that the XO drinks. The XO does about what he wants. He's
the one that really holds the ship together."
"Does he often drink in his stateroom?" I asked, although I thought I
knew the answer.
"Most of the time," Jim said. "During the day, while the ship is
underway, he'll usually have a cold drink hidden in a drawer or under
his hat on the desk. He says he always had a taste for booze, especially
scotch, and claims he made a fortune at the Naval Academy selling
booze by the drink to his classmates."
"The Old Man is straight?"
"Like an arrow."
It was with some misgivings that I asked the Bureau of Naval
Personnel to terminate my plush staff assignment in the Second Fleet
flagship, heavy cruiser USS Newport News, and to transfer me to USS
Liberty. At the same time, a Liberty officer asked for an early trans-
and my friends in Liberty asked the Bureau to approve my request.
Weeks later I received orders to report for duty in time for the ship's
summer deployment to Africa. And on May 1, just one day before her
scheduled sailing from Norfolk, I relieved Lieutenant John Gidusko,
Liberty's electronic material officer, to find myself in charge of the
ship's division of electronic maintenance technicians.
Our Norfolk departure was delayed by a defective hydraulic, line,
which caused purple hydraulic fluid to leak down an antenna mast and
all over a large section of deck. Shipyard technicians, known as
"yardbirds" to my men, had been working for weeks to instaI new high-
pressure piping. During the night the yardbirds had pronounced the
work completed and walked off the job---all without the concurrence
of anyone in authority and without testing the system under pressure.
Now, when tested. the system leaked.
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Africa, Sudden Orders and a Prophecy - 11
The commanding officer, forty-two-year -old Commander William L.
McGonagle,(2) was already on the bridge preparing to get underway
when I brought him the news. Mooring lines were singled up and we
were only moments away from sailing when I asked him to remain in
port for another few hours so that I could recall the workmen and seal
the leaks. He was not pleased, but he agreed to stay.
While the men worked, McGonagle summoned me to his cabin.
"Now, this time," he told me, "I don't want any elaborate testing. I don't
want any testing at all. If the leaks are not repaired this time, they are
not going to be repaired until September, when we come back to
Norfolk."
McGonagle, it turned out, was what sailors call a "steamer"Äa sailor
who wanted always to be underway, 'to steam." He longed for the sea
and was noticeably restless in port. He simply would not tolerate being
delayed by machinery that was not vital to the operation of the ship. No
matter that the use and evaluation of the antenna system was an
important part of our mission.
The workmen left shortly before 1500, and Liberty was underway
fifteen minutes later. As directed, I did not test the system until we
were well away from Norfolk, and when I did check I was not
surprised to find that it still leaked. These leaks seemed minor, though,
and we were hopeful that we could control them ourselves.
After several days of being tossed about on the stormy Atlantic, we
reached the African coast and turned toward the ship's first scheduled
port call at Abidjan, capital of the Ivory Coast. Liberty slowed to four
knots, the lowest speed at which she could easily answer her rudder,
and crawled south.
Arriving at Abidjan all of the officers and most of the men soon
gravitated to the expensive but comfortable Ivorian Hotel, which we
found to be a haven of hospitality in a grim and inhospitable city.
Elsewhere in Abidjan we were either snubbed by arrogant Frenchmen
or stared at by destitute native Ivorians but here we felt at home.
Besides, the hotel boasted the only American-style hamburgers in
Africa, and we took special pride in these, even at $3.50 each, since
the hotel chefs had learned the art of American hamburgermaking from
our own ship's cooks. In return for cooking lessons, the hotel offered
modest discounts to Liberty sailors.
On our second day in Abidjan, I returned alone about midnight
2. See Appendix J page 250 for an official biography of Commander McGonagle
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12 - Assault on the Liberty
from a dinner party held for Liberty officers by the American Naval attache. Leaving
the taxi at the end of the dark pier, I walked toward the distant island of light that held
the ship. From far down the pier I could see perhaps a dozen people clustered under a
streetlight near the gangway. The air was still and heavy with moisture as the
temperature hovered in the nineties. As I came closer I could see that most of the
visitors were young Ivorian women in Western dress ,who stood about cajoling our
sailors in fractured English. One very pregnant girl with a huge black escort stood apart
from the rest an I carefully surveyed each returning sailor.
"What's going on?" I asked the petty officer of the watch as I came on board. A
husky boatswain's mate, he wore a .45 caliber pistol in a holster at his belt.
"Not much, sir," he said, pausing to chuckle at the scene ashore . "The pregnant one
over there," he said as he pointed toward th quiet couple, "says one of our sailors
knocked her up when we wer here last trip. She's waiting for him so she can announce
the good news. Says he'll marry her and make her an American."
"Uh-huh." I nodded. "And where is the proud father?"
"He's hiding in the compartment. We told her he went ashore; he not about to go
out there."
"And the others are local business girls?"
"Yes, sir. They do it standing up behind the packing crates for five packs of
cigarettes when they can get customers. Our men just talk to them and tease them a
little, hut no one will go with them."
In Washington, meanwhile, Lieutenant Commander Birchar "Bud" Fossett wrestled
with the scheduling of Technical Research Ships. The political situation in the Middle
East was getting dangerous, and Fossett's seniors in the Department of Defense wanted
to move a Technical Research Ship into the eastern Mediterranean Sea, near the area of
tension. Fossett sought out Lieutenant John "Terry " McTighe, who was a staff liaison
officer recently moved to Washington after a tour of duty in Liberty's sister ship, USS
Oxford.
"I think it would be easy to do," said McTighe. "Liberty is in port in Abidjan."
After some quick calculations, he added: "She could be in the eastern Med in about two
weeks, if we could get the move approved quickly."
Fossett and McTighe discussed the shift with McTighe's civilian boss, Francis A.
"Frank" Raven. Then they gathered some other
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Africa Sudden Orders and a Prophecy - 13
staff members and met with Raven's boss, the deputy section head.
After long discussion, the group-except for Raven-agreed that Liberty
should be moved. Raven insisted that the plan was unwise.
"The ship will be defenseless out there." Raven argued."If war
breaks out, she'll be alone and vulnerable. Either side might start
shooting at her. The only way she would be safe would be to set up a
special defense and intelligence system just to protect the Liberty and
that wouldn't be practical. I say the ship should be left where it is."
Raven might have prevailed, but he was interrupted by a summons to
a meeting elsewhere. The system churned on without him, and with no
further objection the group agreed to recommend that the ship be
moved. Final approval was sought from the section head, John E.
Morrison, Jr., an Air Force brigadier general. Morrison asked many
questions before consenting, but finally he agreed that the move was
necessary and proper. Because the matter was urgent, he agreed to
ask the Joint Chiefs of Staff to assume direct control of the ship.
McTighe drafted the message. He assigned it "Flash" precedence
Äa speed-of-handling indicator usually reserved for enemy contact
reports---and delivered it to supervisor Jane Brewer, who released it
for transmission
I poured a cup of coffee and stood talking with the men on watch.
Time passed slowly as the ship's officers and most of the men
straggled aboard. First came Captain McGonagle, who arrived alone
and ramrod straight at about 1230, followed over the next half-hour by
the remaining Liberty officers who piled out of mini-taxis in groups of
three and four to negotiate the one hundred yards or so of pier, each in
his own way.
All the officers were aboard now, but I resolved to remain awake
until most of the men had returned and the assembly on the pier had
broken up.
3. Frank Raven is no ordinary bureaucrat In 1941 m according to David Kahn. The Code Breakers [New York: Macmillan, 1967) twenty-seven-year-old Navy Lieutenant (jg) Francis A Raven recovered the key pattern of the Japanese "purple" code. Building upon earlier work by noted cryptologist William F. Friedman, who had re overed the basic purple key, Raven discovered how the key was formed--the key to the key With this knowledge, cryptanalysts could rapidly decrypt most of the Japanese "purple" messages even those encrypted in daily keys that had not previously been solved.