Scrambled Eggs, Smoke, and Geronimo

Before we boarded the ship, part of the orientation to the Little Creek Amphibious Base was a visit to the Navy’s huge indoor Amphibious Warfare Demonstrator.  It was a modeler’s delight complete with all kinds of ships, vehicles, and planes showing how an assault is made.  Each step in the process is lit up for the hundreds of Marines in the bleachers who were lucky enough in their careers to see such a sight.  I remember the beach area where Navy Underwater Demolitions Teams were sent in to scout the landing beaches.  Bridges blow up in softening up bombardments.  A Phantom jet is hit and the parachute pops out. Unfortunately these types of models and demonstrations appear to be a thing of the past.

Soon after we staged our field packs and rifles on the deck of LPD-20, the Navy wasted no time in giving us tips on making our visit a pleasant one.  I remember one well.  It was their concern that we should not go hungry; obviously, they were all well fed.  Their advice for us was to eat a large and hearty breakfast (especially scrambled eggs) the morning of the landing.  My warning to the others went unheeded.     

In the darkness the well deck was jammed with Marines fiddling with their field gear and rifles waiting to load into the rear hatches of the Amtraks.  The lucky ones were the officers who got to ride on top with the Navy drivers and the radio men.  Captain Harris was on top.  I was one of the 25 unlucky ones who were crammed below.  There was loud chatter as we sat on our starboard and port benches.  One guy from Admin was joking and couldn’t shut up.  I had my own thoughts: deafening noise, smelly with diesel smoke, hot, and too crowded.  I was surprised that the deck was made of wood and not asphalt.  This was exciting and I hadn’t done this type of landing before.  At least I didn’t have to carry a safe. The light at the end of the tunnel before us was the Atlantic Ocean coming in fast as the ship’s stern sank.  We were among the last to go and as the Amtrak clanked down the well deck most of us thought of yesterday’s briefing.   Theory was when the Amtrak drops off, it sinks and we bob back up. The last word I heard from the Admin guy (or anyone else) was a loud “Geronimo!”

When the Amtrak bobbed back up, the driver opened the top hatch.  I remember vividly the diesel smoke pouring in and the field radio chatter being drowned out by the loud engines.  I also remember when the first guy got sea sick and started throwing up causing a chain reaction among us who were packed in like sardines.  I purposely had been the last to board the Amtrak so I could be next to the rear hatch to be the first one off when we hit the beach 20 minutes later.  We did not know that the Navy had dumped us nine miles from shore and we drifted south, way off from our landing area.  As the craft lurched upward with each swell, the scrambled eggs and sea water from 24 other Marines cascaded back towards me and splashed on the hatch where I rested my head.  It was like being sick in a tumbler washing machine.  An hour later we finally hit the beach, not exactly like in the movies.  It was more like the scene in War of the Worlds with Tom Cruise when the Tripod crashes to the ground and its canopy opens up with a gentle “swoosh” and all the goop (and smoke) washes out, only the goop was us.  I bet the Navy got a chuckle out of this one.