Category Archives: hero

Which one is Klinger?

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Talk about right out of central casting for M*A*S*H, complete with the Dodge WC-54 Ambulance and Bell 47/H-13 Sioux chopper, complete with its iconic “soap bubble” canopy.

Official period caption: “Personnel and equipment needed to save a man’s life are assembled at HQs of the 8225th Mobile Army Surgical Hospital, Korea. October 14, 1951.”

Signal Corps Photo by Cpl. Charles Abrahamson. (Army) NARA FILE # 111-SC-382662 WAR & CONFLICT BOOK #: 1457

The unit, formed originally as the 2nd MASH, arrived in Korea on 15 October 1950 and established operations near Seoul to support U.S. and United Nations forces. They typically operated 15-20 miles behind the “front,” which translated to a roughly hour-long ambulance or jeep ride, a time cut down to minutes if a helicopter was available.

Assigned to support a division-sized unit with 60 beds (later rising to 200 by 1953), 10 medical officers, 12 nursing officers, and 89 enlisted soldiers, a MASH unit was small and compact, but could quickly process and stabilize hundreds of casualties between the battalion aid station and larger brick-and-mortar hospitals behind the lines and back in Japan/Hawaii.

8076th Mobile Army Surgical Hospital (MASH) unit in Chunchon, Korea, on July 29, 1951.

They could “bug out” if needed– and they often had to. Some units moved dozens of times with the movement of the fluid main line of resistance (MLR), with the 8055th notably shifting location on 14 occasions and the 8063rd a remarkable 23 times.

An operation is performed on a wounded soldier at the 8209th Mobile Army Surgical Hospital, twenty miles from the front lines. 4 August 1952. 111-SC-409689

The first in Korea, the 8055th MASH, arrived in Pusan on 6 July 1950 from Japan, while the 8076th MASH arrived on 25 July 1950. The 8228th arrived shortly after.

The 1st Mobile Army Surgical Hospital (later redesignated the 8209th MASH in May 1951) arrived in Korea at Inchon on 26 September 1950 to support the 7th Infantry Division and was set up at a damaged schoolhouse in Hungnam before being evacuated aboard the SS Towanda Victory on 18 December 1950.

The six Army MASH units were famously aided by 1st MAW VMO squadrons and four aeromedical helicopter evacuation units, which began arriving in January 1951: the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th Helicopter Detachments, with the 1st later becoming the 8190th Army Unit, the 2nd the 8191st, the 3rd the 8192nd, and the 4th the 8193rd Army Unit.

A Marine Bell 47 H-13 Sioux. Official period caption: “Korea – Aircraft – Helicopters and Med-Evac. Litter Bearer. This Bell helicopter has been used extensively in Korea to evacuate the wounded. The compact craft, capable of landing almost anywhere, carries two litters, one on each side of the. transparent “cabin.” Signal Corps # 127-GR-211-A132545. National Archives Identifier 74244079

Bell 47 H-13 Sioux in action. Official period caption: “Helicopter take off–A helicopter takes off for a front-line mission to aid wounded personnel and deliver them to medical stations and hospitals in Korea. The ‘copter is part of a Marine Observation Squadron of the First Marine Aircraft Wing.” Signal Corps # 127-GK-13E-A346324. National Archives Identifier 505633285

Despite all the difficulties encountered, the first three operational Army air ambulance detachments evacuated 5,040 casualties during the first 12 months of operation, logging a total of 4,421 hours of flying time. One pilot (1st Lt Joseph Bowler) logged over 800 evacs during just 10 months.

Of the 23,000 wounded soldiers brought to forward-deployed MASH units in Korea, 18,000 arrived by Army H-13 or Hiller H-23 Raven helicopters. One Eighth Army surgeon said that of 750 critically wounded soldiers evacuated on 20 February 1951 during the Chinese offensive, half would have died without the use of helicopters.

As shown in the film and TV show, many of the surgeons were drafted under the Doctor’s Draft Act of 1950, with an estimated 90 percent of MASH doctors by 1952 being draftees, while 540 female nursing officers served tours of duty on the Korean peninsula, the latter earning 9 Legions of Merit, 120 Bronze Stars, and 173 Commendation Ribbons.

In February 1953, the six Army MASH units there were reorganized as the 43rd, 44th, 45th, 46th, 47th, and 48th Surgical Hospital (Mobile Army), or the far less catchy “SHMA.”

In terms of “meatball surgery,” the MASHs excelled, with one treating 21,408 patients in a single year, one processing 600 patients in a day, and another performing 244 operations in 24 hours. It is often said that, as long as a wounded soldier reached a MASH unit, their odds of survival rose to 97.5 percent. Korean War doctors also reduced the amputation rate resulting from vascular injury to 20.5 percent from 49.6 percent during World War II.

Spad V. MiG

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Some 60 years ago today, on 9 October 1966.

A Douglas A-1 Skyraider piloted by 26-year-old LT(j.g.) William T. Patton from the “Thunderbolts” of Attack Squadron 176 (VA-176) off USS Intrepid (CVS 11) bagged an NVAF MiG-17 over Vietnam. It was at least the second victory scored by a propeller-driven Skyraider against a MiG, following a 1965 dogfight between MiGs and Spads from VA-25 off USS Midway.

U.S. Navy Douglas A-1J Skyraider (BuNo 142028) of VA-176 “Thunderbolts” with the AK tail flash tagging it to Attack Carrier Air Wing 10 (CVW-10) aboard the aircraft carrier USS Intrepid (CVS-11), during her 4 April to 21 November 1966 Vietnam deployment. U.S. Navy National Museum of Naval Aviation photo No. 1996.253.2886

Though officially an ASW carrier, Intrepid carried out three Vietnam cruises as a fairly conventional attack carrier, with nary a S-2 Tracker or SH-3 Sea King in sight.

1966, Intrepid (CVS 11) off Vietnam with an A-1 on cat

Besides the 1966 stint mentioned above with CVW-10, she clocked in 11 May– 30 December 1967 and 4 June 1968–8 February 1969.

While the first used two squadrons of Skyraiders (VA-165 and VA-175), balanced by two of A-4B Skyhawks (VA-15 and VA-95), Intrepid’s 1967 tour saw CVW with three Skyhawk squadrons (including Sidewinder-carrying “fighter hawks” of VSF-3), one of Skyraiders, and a det of F-8C Crusaders from VF-111.

By 1968-69, the Spads had been left behind with just A-4C/E Skyhawks (three squadrons), F-8C/RF-8G Crusaders (two dets), and VAQ/VAW dets of EA-1Fs and E-1Bs.

CVW-10 was disestablished on 20 November 1969 when Intrepid went back to carrying Trackers and Sea Kings of CVSG-52 and 58 until she was decommissioned in 1974.

As for the young Lt Patton, he earned a Silver Star for the confirmed 1966 MiG shootdown and, after leaving the Navy, went into finance. He passed in 2014, aged 74, leaving two sons and a daughter behind. His family requested donations in lieu of flowers to the Intrepid Sea Air and Space Museum.

Shiloh gone as Ticos, and Civil War namesakes, fade away

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The Ticonderoga-class guided-missile cruiser USS Shiloh (CG 67) was honored in her homeport of Joint Base Pearl Harbor-Hickam with a formal decommissioning ceremony yesterday, marking 34 years of continued service at sea and a revered naval legacy.

U.S. Navy Chief Interior Communications Electrician Deja Washington, assigned to the Ticonderoga-class guided-missile cruiser USS Shiloh (CG 67), left and led the crew in disembarking Shiloh for the final time at Joint Base Pearl Harbor-Hickam, Hawaii, Sept. 30, 2026. Shiloh was decommissioned after 34 years of continuous service. (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 1st Class Claire M. Alfaro)

Her sister, USS Lake Erie (CG 70), lowered her Navy Jack for the final time during the ship’s decommissioning ceremony held onboard Naval Base San Diego on 25 September, capping a 33-year career.

Erie deployed with Phibron8 just a few months ago, wrapping up her final cruise in style.

Ticonderoga-class guided-missile cruiser USS Lake Erie (CG 70) approaches Wasp-class amphibious assault ship USS Iwo Jima (LHD 7) for a replenishment-at-sea while underway in the Caribbean Sea, Feb. 3, 2026. U.S. military forces are deployed to the Caribbean in support of the U.S. Southern Command mission, Department of War-directed operations, and the president’s priorities to disrupt illicit drug trafficking and protect the homeland. (U.S. Navy Photo by Seaman Andrew Eggert)

With Lake Erie and Shiloh inactivated, that leaves only five of 27 completed Ticos in the fleet: USS Princeton, Robert Smalls (ex-Chancellorsville), Gettysburg, Chosin, and Cape St. George.

All of these are scheduled to retire in the next few years.

Speaking of which, check out this sad batch of Ticonderogas awaiting disposition on “Red Lead Row,” the Naval Inactive Ship Maintenance Facility (NISMF) in Philadelphia, image taken on September 20th, 2026.

They include

  • USS Monterey (CG 61)
  • USS San Jacinto (CG 56)
  • USS Hue City (CG 66)
  • USS Anzio (CG 68)
  • USS Vella Gulf (CG 72)
  • USS Leyte Gulf (CG 55)
  • USS Philippine Sea (CG 58)
  • USS Normandy (CG 60)
  • USS Vicksburg (CG 69)

Even that assembly has changed for the worse, with Vicksburg being towed out of Philadelphia en route to Brownsville, Texas, for scrapping on 30 September.

These are from Warship Cam, SRC: YT- Al Stinger

Done with Civil War names?

The U.S. Navy of the late Cold War was replete with Civil War references, from battle names to the fighting men who fought there —on both sides. The Ticos alone had USS Vicksburg and Antietam, along with the aforementioned Shiloh, Chancellorsville, and Gettysburg. Even sub-tenders were involved in the act (Dixon and Hunley). The Fig-7s took a break from 1812 and WWII heroes to name one for a Confederate officer (Capt. Duncan Ingraham, defender of Charleston Harbor).

Now, with Shiloh gone, Gettysburg and Smalls remain. The latter is named for a Civil War-era figure who went over to the North with the CSS Planter, then later served as a pilot for the Union fleet, including the ironclad USS Keokuk, during the Second Battle of Fort Sumter.

Of the great Union admirals and heroes, just two names endure, both on destroyers:

Admiral David “Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!” Farragut, commander of the West Gulf Blockading Squadron famous for forcing Mobile Bay, is on the fifth torpedo-carrying vessel to have his name: USS Farragut (DDG 99)

Farragut, a Goula Boy, has long had a banner across from the Jackson County Courthouse.

USS Farragut’s quarterdeck while in Mobile for Mardi Gras 2026 earlier this year, by Chris Eger

RADM David Dixon Porter, commander of the Mississippi Squadron, which handed Vicksburg to Grant, and later the North Atlantic Blockading Squadron, which took Fort Fisher. As with his adoptive brother. Farragut, Porter is also on his fifth torpedo-carrying vessel, USS Porter (DDG 78).

Both Admiral Farragut and Porter, brothers, were remembered on a joint postal stamp along with their closely associated flagships– including Powhatan

USS Porter (DDG 78) (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 2nd Class Juan Sua/Released) 200329-N-CR843-0264 

These storied names are gone from the fleet:

RADM John A. Dahlgren, the “Father of American Naval Ordnance” and later commander of the South Atlantic Blockading Squadron, which met Sherman in Savannah without destroying it. He had three TBs and DD/DDGs named for him, the last decommissioned in 1992.

RADM Louis M. Goldsborough, who gave Burnside Roanoke Island, closing the coast of North Carolina. As with Dahlgren, he had a TB, a DD, and a DDG named in his honor; the last was decommissioned in 1993.

RADM Samuel Phillips Lee, Robert E. Lee’s cousin, commanded both the North Atlantic Blockading Squadron and the Mississippi Squadron at times; a destroyer (DD 310) and a research vessel (T-AGS-31) were named after him, with the latter leaving service in 1974.

RADM John Ancrum Winslow, who bested the commerce raider CSS Alabama off the French coast from the helm of the USS Kearsarge, later commanded the Pacific Squadron and had only two ships named after him. The last, DD-53, was paid off in 1922. Alabama’s pirate leader, Raphael Semmes, had two as well; the last was decommissioned only in 1992.

Capt. John A. Winslow (3rd from left) and officers on board the U.S.S. Kearsarge after sinking the C.S.S. Alabama, 1864

RADM John Marston, who cut his teeth on USS Constitution during the War of 1812, sailed with Perry to China, and commanded the USS Roanoke at the Battle of Hampton Roads– where he ordered the unproven USS Monitor to enter the battle against CSS Virginia— was described as “one of the most efficient officers of the United States Navy during the Civil War,” but he has never had a ship named for him.

RADM John Lorimer Worden, who commanded Monitor at Hampton Roads, then went on post-war to lead the European Squadron, became the first president of the USNI, and superintendent of Annapolis (where his Tiffany sword hangs), had four vessels named for him (DD 16, DD 288, DD 352, and CG 18), the last decommissioned in 1993.

Commodore William D. “Dirty Bill” Porter, David Porter’s (and by extension Farragut’s) brother who ably commanded the USS Essex during the war, has only ever had one ship named for him, an unlucky Fletcher-class destroyer.

As a sort of consolation prize, Admiral George Dewey (USNA 1858), before he became famous at Manila Bay against the Spanish, served as executive lieutenant on USS Mississippi, a steam paddle frigate assigned to the Union West Gulf Blockading Squadron during the Civil War. Currently a Burke, DDG-105, the third destroyer to carry his name, continues his legacy.

At least for now, anyway.

‘I could have died of old age holding this place’

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Pour one out for Royal Marine Maj. Gen. Andrew Francis Whitehead, DSO, who well-earned the latter at the head of 45 RM Commando during the Falklands.

While the other seven battalion-sized units of the British 3 Commando and 5 Guards brigades that went ashore in East Falkland during Operation Corporate to liberate the colony in 1982 got to largely leapfrog across the island via the task force’s sole CH-47 Chinook and its Sir-class landing craft from San Carlos Water to Port Stanley during the 25-day land campaign, 45 Commando did it the old-fashioned way.

They walked.

Or, more appropriately, yomped.

A column of 45 Royal Marine Commandos yomp towards Port Stanley. Royal Marine Peter Robinson, carrying the Union Jack flag on his backpack as identification, brings up the rear. This photograph, taken in black and white and color, became one of the iconic images of the Falklands Conflict. IWM FKD 2028

Moving 56 miles in three days from their beach landing at San Carlos harbor to engage the Argentines, carrying everything they had on their backs, 45 Commando did it in style, grinning and bearing the load.

“They faced bleak conditions – horrendous boggy terrain, wind, rain, sleet, low temperatures – not to mention a series of battles on hills outside the islands’ capital, Stanley, before reaching their objective,” notes the RN.

Then, the 600 Marines, backed up by the 4.5-inch guns of the County destroyer HMS Glamorgan and a battery of 105s, bested elements of two Argentine infantry regiments in the overnight Battle of Two Sisters on 11-12 June.

When the dawn came, 45 Commando owned the crest, a position so incredibly fortified that Lt.Col Whitehead told war correspondent Max Hastings, “With 50 Royals, I could have died of old age holding this place.”

Often lost amid the remembrance of the fight for Mount Tumbledown by the Scots Guards, Mount Longdon by 3 Para, and Goose Green by 2 Para, Two Sisters was no cakewalk, with the Marines suffering 8 killed and 17 wounded (nearly a third of all RM casualties in the Falklands), against 128 Argentine casualties and 54 captured.

Contact started at 480 yards and got closer. All done without night vision, fighting up the face of an elevated position in the dark.

45 Commando atop Two Sisters engaging an Argentine bunker at close quarters

The next morning, Whitehead wrote on the back of a cigarette packet:

“Men have died, been wounded, lost their friends.
Young boys have grown up.
Our confidence has blossomed.
Our pride has swelled justifiably.
We have fought and won three victories: over the enemy, the appalling terrain and weather – and our own logistical inadequacies.
What sustained me was the pride of commanding and belonging to an elite organization.
45 Commando, made up of young men mainly under 21, were outstanding.
They were tough, brave and skillful.
Anyone who asks what is wrong with the youth of today should come and look at us.”

MG Whitehead was 86.

Per Mare, Per Terram

Of canvas, ramps, and brass balls

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Following in the heels of yesterday’s Warship Wednesday of the hardworking 9th HMS Aurora during WWII (“We were in action a Tremendous Amount of Times”), how about this great circa 1915 photo essay on the 8th HMS Aurora, a light cruiser (C1), complete with a Deperdussin Monoplane (No.1378) on her deck during early flight trials from a 38-foot (!) ramp.

Her aircraft trials came when she was the leader of the 10th Destroyer Flotilla of the Harwich Force, with the thought that the aeros could be used to ward off German naval Zeppelins that were harassing the tin cans.

HMS Aurora, Deperdussin Monoplane at the ready. Note the platform is on her No. 1 BL 6″/45 Mk XII gunhouse. Naval History and Heritage Command, NH 112869

Same as above, NH 112871

As noted by the RMG, “The Deperdussin was successfully flown from Aurora on 4 November 1915 by Flight Lieutenant R J J Hope-Vere. According to her ship’s log, Aurora carried out aeroplane experiments in the morning of 4 November 1915.”

Flight Sub. Lieut. Ralph James Hope-Vere, R.N.A.S

However, it was found the aircraft were too underpowered to be of use against the roaming Teutonic dirigibles and the flying platform was removed.

Commissioned in September 1914, Aurora was a “war baby” and was the leader of the 1st Destroyer Flotilla at the Dogger Bank in early 1915, earning a battle honor for the engagement that left the cruiser SMS Blücher on the bottom. She later helped catch the German commerce raider SMS Meteor, captured two of the Kaiser’s naval trawlers, and sowed nearly 300 mines in Jerry’s waters. She was on hand at the surrender of the German High Seas Fleet in November 1918.

The 3,600-ton German Hilfskreuzer SMS Meteor on fire, shortly before she sank on her second raiding voyage, 9 August 1915, by Surgeon Oscar Parkes, IWM SP 1087

Paid off by the RN in 1920, Aurora was transferred to the Royal Canadian Navy and was eventually scrapped in 1927.

HMCS Aurora, Courtesy of the CFB Esquimalt Naval and Military Museum CTB043473

As for the aviator who flew that tiny plane off that ridiculously small platform, Lieutenant-Colonel Ralph Jean James Hope-Vere, O.B.E., A.F.C., Royal Air Force, late Royal Naval Air Service, Royal Aero Pilot Certificate No. 900, ended the war flying seaplanes in No. 66 Wing, Adriatic Group, against the Austrians, then moved to the retired list in the RAF in 1934. After Home Guard service in WWII, as one would expect, he passed in 1959, aged 71.

Mary Bonnin Closes her Dive Locker

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EMCM/MDV (Ret) Mary J. Bonnin has passed in an accident on dry land, near her home in Panama City, at age 63.

Wisconsin-born Mary joined the Navy in 1976, finished “A” school to become an Electrician’s Mate (EM), and became one of the first women (following Donna Tobias in 1975) to complete Navy Second Class Dive School in Little Creek in 1977 (with a 200-pound dive rig), graduating at the top of her class, the Honorman position.

After service on a dry dock, in 1982, she completed First Class diving school in Panama City, becoming the first enlisted female diver certified in both air and gas diving (with a 300-pound hard hat rig).

Finishing tours with USS Samuel Gompers (AD-37) working on ships husbandry, she became an instructor training at the Second Class Dive School at NAB Coronado for three years, then shipped out as Master Diver on the salvage ship USS Grasp (ARS-51), having made MD in 1990 by unanimous decision of the Board.

Keep in mind that of the 7,750 dive-certified personnel in the Navy, only about 1,300 are rated as Navy Divers (ND) and only about 75 of those are Master Divers.

She was the Navy’s only female MD until 2024!

She trained for another three years at the First Class school at Panama City, finished her uniformed career at the Naval Safety Center in Norfolk, Virginia as a Master Chief (E-9) Master Diver, retiring in 1996.

During her six years as a Navy diving instructor, Bonnin trained more than 1,000 divers, shaping that very small community for decades.

Mary Bonnin was inducted into the Women Divers Hall of Fame in 2000.

She had three sons, and reportedly kept diving for practice torpedoes while eight months pregnant with her first.

She hosted a great sub-Reddit and made a great podcast appearance on Bottom Dwellers a few years back.

And so we remember,

In Waters Deep– Eileen Mahoney 
In ocean wastes no poppies blow,
No crosses stand in ordered row,
There young hearts sleep… beneath the wave…
The spirited, the good, the brave,
But stars a constant vigil keep,
For them who lie beneath the deep.
‘Tis true you cannot kneel in prayer
On certain spot and think. “He’s there.”
But you can to the ocean go…
See whitecaps marching row on row;
Know one for him will always ride…
In and out… with every tide.
And when your span of life is passed,
He’ll meet you at the “Captain’s Mast.”
And they who mourn on distant shore
For sailors who’ll come home no more,
Can dry their tears and pray for these
Who rest beneath the heaving seas…
For stars that shine and winds that blow
And whitecaps marching row on row.
And they can never lonely be
For when they lived… they chose the sea.

Yankees Across the ETO, 1944-45

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And in a follow-up to yesterday’s post on the ‘Minutemen’ of the old 328th, here is a second piece from the TEC4 William Faucett collection: the Grapevine unit newspaper of the 26th (Yankee) Infantry Division from October 1945, which details the outfit’s march from Utah Beach to Czechoslovakia and Austria. The 328th was one of the 26th’s three infantry regiments, along with the 101st and 104th, all of which are touched on.

Fresh off the scanner!

These are large images, so be patient.

Remembering the ‘Minutemen’ of the old 328th

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The U.S. 328th Infantry Regiment was a war baby.

Initially stood up at Camp (now Fort) Gordon on 25 August 1917, it made it “Over There” as part of the 82nd (All American) Infantry Division, back when they were “legs” and fought in the Lorraine, St. Mihiel, and Meuse-Argonne offensives. One of their members you may have heard of was one Sgt. Alvin York.

Reformed as a USAR unit in the 1920s, it was carved away from the 82nd in 1943 when the Army switched from four-regiment “square” divisions to three-regiment “triangular” divisions. This saw the 328th ordered into active federal service on 12 February 1943, and shifted to the forming 26th (Yankee) Infantry Division in preparation for deployment to Europe.

That brings us to our tale here today.

A good family friend is the septuagenarian daughter of the late William Earl Faucett of Warrior, Alabama, who served in the 328th for the duration of WWII, ending his enlistment in 1946 as a TEC4.

Among TEC4 Faucett’s war chest was this great booklet, compiled by Sgt Jermoen Theise and printed by Verlagsdruckerei Weis (Weis Publishing House) in Austria in early 1946, before the 328th came home. The unit was disbanded in July 1946, some 80 years ago this month.

I scanned it in preparation for sending the scans to the 26th Infantry Museum and the CMH, but thought you guys would also appreciate it.

You can thank TEC4 Faucett for keeping it safe for decades and his daughter for continuing to do so, in his honor.

 

 

The Forgotten Coast Guard Paras of WWII

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Sure, everyone knows about at least two of the five U.S. Army Airborne Divisions (11th, 13th, 17th, 82nd, and 101st) that stood up in World War II, along with several separate parachute infantry regiments and battalions (like the stand-alone segregated 555th Parachute Infantry Battalion).

Plus there were the three short-lived battalions of “Para-Marines” in the 1st Marine Parachute Regiment, and the Navy Parachute School (founded in 1924 no less!) at the NAS Lakehurst, which schooled thousands of riggers and both blimp and aircraft crews in the art.

Add to that the covert secret squirrel types of the OSS and their off-books school at Area A-2 in Virginia’s Prince William Forest Park, training to drop into occupied Europe and Asia.

But did you know the Coast Guard also stood up a specialist airborne unit during the war? No, we aren’t talking about aircrew training to “hit the silk”; we are speaking of the USCG’s Para-Rescues.

I can’t find a ton of information on the subject, but the background is that at least a few dozen Coasties underwent parachute and survival training in the U.S. Forest Service’s smokejumper program (which started in 1939) to be dropped into the harsh Alaskan wilderness for extreme search-and-rescue missions.

As any WWII buff knows, the Alaskan theatre went from being a backwater in June 1942 to being an active frontline, and the military buildup in the territory saw aircraft go missing almost every day. For instance, in the Aleutian campaign alone, the USAAF lost 225 aircraft, with only 1:6 of those in combat.

The National Archives and WWII Museum have some great images to help color the tale. All official captions:

Coast Guardsman M. L. Nelson, parachute rigger third class, Canton, Illinois, is one of this group of hardy, aerial trained to leap into the Alaskan wilderness to ‘bring-.” No date WWII Museum 2015.063.081

USCG Grumman JRF Goose. Original caption: (July 1945) The search is on — A twin-motored Coast Guard plane skims the rugged, ice-crusted mountains of Alaska in an effort to spot wreckage of a missing aircraft. Aboard the Coast Guard plane is a para-rescue squad that will drop into the desolate area when the survivors are sighted to administer first aid and guide the victims to safety. The para-rescuers are thoroughly familiar with the northern country and are equipped and trained to live for days in the icy wilderness. USCG Image 26-G-4397. National Archives Identifier 205592335

July 1945. Original caption: Men Against the Icy Wilderness — After jumping from a Coast Guard plane, these Coast Guard para-rescuers pit their hard-won experience of the north against a maze of snow, woods, and mountains as they search for plane-crash victims in a bleak section of Alaska. Laden with enough supplies to last for many days, the husky para-rescuers trudge through heavy snow banks to the spot where they located the wreckage while still in the plane. After administering first aid to survivors, the Coast Guardsmen will tackle the giant job of moving them to safety. USCG Image 26-G-4398. National Archives Identifier 205592344

July 1945. Original caption: Mercy Mission — This is how a fully equipped Coast Guard para-rescuer looks as he gets set to leap from a Coast Guard plane to carry aid to plane-crash or other victims swallowed by Alaska’s rugged expanse of mountains, timber and ice. Outfitted and trained to master the wilderness for days, husky para-rescuers provide food and medical care for survivors and move them to safety. USCG Image 26-G-4396. National Archives Identifier 205592341

July 1945. Original caption: Mountain-top Vigil — Search for plane-crash victims carries a Coast Guard para-rescuers to a vantage point atop a mountain towering over a snow-and wood-covered valley. Other mountain peaks punch through a thick sheet of fog, which teams with snow, ice, and woods in hindering the searching party. Dropped into the Alaska wilderness from a Coast Guard plane, the para-rescuer carries a heavy pack of emergency rations and other equipment to help care for survivors until they can be moved to safety. USCG Image 26-G-4399. National Archives Identifier 205592347

July 1945. Original caption: “That’s the Spot” — as a Coast Guard rescue plane hovers over snow-covered Alaska woodland, Coast Guard Paratrooper Bruce Johnstone (left), of Ketchikan, Alaska, points out the spot where he believes a missing plane has crashed to Lt. Comdr. Joseph F. McCue (center), of Washington, D.C., and Ensign James P. Gwynn, of Red Bank, N.H., Coast Guard pilots. Johnstone is a member of a para-rescue squad which will bail out to care for crash victims and move them to safety. The rugged para-rescuers are trained and equipped to exist for days in the bleak expanse of ice, snow, and woods. USCG Image 26-G-4393. National Archives Identifier 205592338

While Cold War experiments towards fielding “fully-qualified para-scuba rescue men” occurred (keep in mind the service sent crews to fly Air Force Jolly Greens on C-SAR missions in Vietnam), the concept was never put into use by the USCG.

Today, no Coast Guard units are actively trained or equipped for tactical parachute insertion, which is probably a shame. Still, Coast Guard Aviation Survival Technicians (Rescue Swimmers) have to prove themselves in other ways that would make some airborne guys weak in the knees.

Raise one for Flora-bama Pat

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If you spent more than 30 seconds involved in Naval Aviation in and around Pensacola for the past 40 years, you know of the Flora-bama, a (formerly) tiny (formerly) biker bar on the Florida/Alabama Gulf Coast line between Orange Beach and Perdido Key. 

Purchased by Pat McClellan in 1984, the hole-in-the-wall honky tonk bar had a transformation and became nearly infamous for its events such as the “Inter-State Mullet Toss” and New Year’s “Polar Bear Dip,” while, alternating with McGuires in P-Cola proper, becoming a Mecca for young naval aviators, who had a habit of returning when they came back as an instructor, then circling back around once after they retired.

Pat has a lot to do with that.

A University of Minnesota (NROTC ’71) alum, Pat went through the Navy Flight Program and ended up spending four years on the Blue Ghost, Pensacola’s own USS Lexington (AVT-16), as PAO back once upon a time when studs pulled their first traps on T-2C Buckeyes.

Quick with a joke and a little rough around the edges, my favorite observation of ol Pat was sitting in the dining room at the Flora-bama years ago, back before the big expansion, and watching him handle a complaint from a very fired-up tourist lady, who had pressing concerns about every single thing in the bar.

After listening patiently to her for about five solid minutes, Pat sat back and concluded.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think you ate here,” he told her confidently, “because we don’t serve bitches,” and walked away.

Pour one out for Pat, who just picked up his helmet bag for the last time and went to a Tailhook party somewhere where the visibility is unlimited, and, of course, the bar is open. If they don’t already know how to make bushwhackers, I’m sure Pat is already on that.

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