10/24/97 23:22
Liblnk.gif - 7.3 K
"Assault on the Liberty"
with permission of the author
Jim Ennes

btprev.gif - 1.72 K

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.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 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.
btprev.gif - 1.72 K