One Perfect Op

by Dennis Chalker

  But finally it was time for him to go. No further time extensions were granted, and on July 8, 1983, Commander Richard Marcinko turned over command of SEAL Team Six to Captain Robert Gormly. It was hard to see Dick go, especially since we were only in our third year. It felt like we could keep going forever, us doing the job and Dick telling everyone else to leave us the hell alone. But all things change. It was a hard lesson for some of us young SEALs who had formed this unit to accept.

  For every action that we had done, Dick had stood up to the higher command and let them know who deserved the credit. And when something went wrong, he also stood up and said he was responsible as the man in charge. When we had to complete an objective without clarification from higher command, Dick told us to just go ahead and do the job. If fire came down from on high for what we had done, he took the brunt of it. At Six, we were not like any other unit in the Navy. Even our Teammates in the other SEAL Teams didn’t like us sometimes, and the regular Navy never seemed to care for Special Operations forces at the best of times. So with a new commander coming in, we wondered just how much things were going to change.

  The new skipper, Bob Gormly, had also been a Vietnam era SEAL and seen his share of action. Captain Gormly had been the CO of SEAL Team Two, having held the command from September 1972 to July 1974, when he turned it over to Dick Marcinko. We were a little concerned about the new Skipper; he had been a hard charger in Vietnam according to those who had known him then. But had a couple of tours in staff positions changed him?

  Turned out the answer was no.

  It was a big moment when Dick left. But it wasn’t like the Team was coming to an end. Dick came into where we were all gathered at the command and gave a speech. He spoke very highly of the command, of us, and of the man who was going to relieve him. He did say that he wished he didn’t have to go, but since that had to happen, he said, Bob Gormly was the best man to take over the command.

  Captain Gormly stepped aboard with both feet and immediately took charge. I had a lot of respect for what he did and how he did it. My assault group was on standby at the time of the change of command, so we had several months to get acquainted with the new CO, and he didn’t make it hard for us to know him.

  At that time, we were allowed to have beer messes within the compound after the working day was over. Once we secured from duty, we would often pop a few and relax. What was really amazing to me was that Bob came right down and became one of the troops. He would just sit down and shoot the shit with us, telling us some of what we wanted to know and learning a few things back.

  He told us that he wasn’t there to change anything about the Team. The one thing he did want to do was make sure the mission statement of Six—to be the maritime counterterrorist unit for the Navy—would carry on. We would keep training to be able to accomplish any mission that might come along.

  We all have our own style of doing things, and Bob Gormly wasn’t any different. He did things differently from Dick Marcinko. But the differences were in the details. Overall, the day-to-day running of SEAL Team Six remained the same. There wasn’t a sudden flurry of haircuts or a blizzard of new orders and directives. We had been a functioning command for three years, so things were getting settled down and we had a pretty standard working schedule. That gave Bob a little more time than Dick had had to spend one-on-one with each of the different assault groups. And that was the only real difference I noticed.

  The new Skipper worked right alongside us and did a lot of training of his own. He had to be able to operate as part of his Team, so he went through the same green (introductory) training as any new man coming in to SEAL Team Six. Within only a few months of taking command, he became the man who led SEAL Team Six into its first live combat operation: a series of operations in a little southern Caribbean island called Grenada.

  CHAPTER 14

  FIRST COMBAT AND FIRST COSTS

  Grenada—Operation Urgent Fury—October 25 to 27, 1983

  In the fall of 1983, a military coup on the small Caribbean island of Grenada deposed the government, and a new leader with definite Communist leanings took over. A buildup of Cuban advisers and construction crews had been taking place on Grenada, and an airfield big enough to handle the largest Soviet cargo planes was being constructed. Supplies were being brought into the small island nation for transshipment to Communist-backed rebel groups in South and Central America. Materials were also being forwarded to the Communist government in Nicaragua.

  With the seizure of the last of the moderate government leaders on Grenada, and the threat against a large number of U.S. students attending the medical school on Grenada, President Ronald Reagan decided to act. There was no previous planning for the operation, at least not from our command. We didn’t know anything was coming up. It just happened.

  In October 1983, Assault Group One at SEAL Team Six was on standby and had a short recall. Assault Group Three was next in rotation and had a longer recall, but we were still in town when the call went out. Assault Group Two was out of town and didn’t get back in time for the festivities. It was Assault Group One’s party, but it looked like Assault Group Three was going to be invited as well.

  I was living in Virginia Beach with my girlfriend Kitty. We had been together for eight months, and I was all of thirty years old. When my beeper went off signaling the recall, I was relaxing at home. Alerts had come in before, and we had rushed in, gotten our gear ready, and hyped ourselves up to go. Then there would come a big letdown when nothing happened. To keep the disappointment to a minimum, the command had finally stopped getting us all geared up for practice alerts. We still moved as fast as we could to get into the compound for any alert, though. For all I knew, this alert was another training exercise.

  Arriving at the compound, we were all put into isolation. There was no outside contact. Things were happening all around us. When I realized this one was for real, I swear my mind went blank. All my training went right out the window. That lasted for about half a day.

  Only two boat crews were going to be used on the alert op, a reconnaissance off the island of Grenada. The rest of the men in Assault Group One helped the boat crews that were going load out. It was just the luck of the draw that Assault Group Three hadn’t been called up for a hot op, and we were a little disappointed about it. But that didn’t slow us down when it came to helping Assault Group One get ready. When it comes down to it, it doesn’t matter who does the job. The mission comes first.

  Taking our trucks down to Fort Bragg, we prepped to board the air assets assigned to the operation. The aircraft were at the yellow ramp location at nearby Pope Air Force Base. We were helping Group One prep their boats for a water drop. My understanding at the time was that it was going to be a semiadministrative water drop and the Team was going to link up with an aircraft carrier once they got on target. We would be prepared to go in on a combat insertion, but the crew of the aircraft would not be told that this jump was for real. For security’s sake, they would be told it was a regular administrative training drop under peacetime rules.

  Instead of going in on land, the team would parachute into the water. The guys would do a static line drop and conduct a standard water drop. Boats with their motors were prepped and rigged on drop platforms, packed to go out the rear ramp of the plane and be parachuted into the water. The men would jump from the rear of the aircraft after the boats had been pushed out. Once everyone was down, the men would climb aboard their respective boats and continue with their mission. We hadn’t done a water drop at Six before, but it was something we had all done a number of times in the Teams in general.

  The mission called for them to do a boat drop, link up with a carrier, and then set up for a further infiltration. They would use the eighteen-foot Boston Whalers and conduct a recon of the airstrips on the island. On a second op, they would insert an Air Force Combat Control Team that would direct the incoming air traffic during the invasion. Our Teammates would provide security for the Air Force CCT.<
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  Like so many other times, there was delay after delay in getting the clearances—and the bird—off the ground at Pope Air Base. There was confusion coordinating support for the operation, and the schedule was thrown off before it even started. The aircraft took off late and it was dark by the time they arrived over the target area. Two C-130 cargo planes were being used for the insertion, each one carrying a boat and crew. At the last turn to line up for the drop, one plane separated from the other and went off on its own track. On top of being late, now one plane was off course and not where it thought it was. Instead it was almost two miles away from its target.

  Mother Nature also took a hand in the deteriorating situation and the weather turned to shit. A rain squall had kicked up suddenly, accompanied by high winds. The boats and the guys were set up for a daylight rubber duck boat drop; now they would be dropping into a high sea state in the dark.

  In spite of the situation, the mission was going to be SEAL Team Six’s first hot op in a combat zone, and the guys would not fail to try. They made the drop into the darkness and rough seas. Out of the eight SEALs on that water drop, all of whom I knew as brothers, four drowned on the insertion and were never seen again.

  Talking to the guys involved in the drop much later, it may be that one of the boats capsized or tipped over from the high winds. The one functioning boat was used to pick up everyone who could be found. The winds were so strong that the men who were lost were probably dragged through the water by their parachutes. The Capewell quick-release catches for the parachute canopies would be very heard to reach when being slammed around by eight- to ten-foot waves. It wouldn’t be long before men beaten like that would be taken by the sea.

  We lost four of our own during that insertion, the first SEAL combat losses since the end of the Vietnam War. Senior Chief Engineman Bob Schamberger, Quartermaster 1st Class Kevin Lundberg, Machinist Mate 1st Class Ken Butcher, and Hull Technician 1st Class Steve Morris were all lost on that dark night of October 24 in the waters of the southern Caribbean.

  Searches for our lost Teammates began as soon as the weather cleared and daylight came. But in spite of days of searching, no sign was ever found of the missing men.

  The shock of the loss sent a blow throughout SEAL Team Six. Especially bad for me was the loss of Bob Schamberger because of all he had done for me personally. Each of the men was our Teammate, our brother, and we were made less for their passing.

  Some of the Vietnam veterans we had in the Team had experience in the sudden loss of a Teammate in combat. Duke told us, “Hey guys, sometimes things happen. But what we have to do now is put our heads together and think about how we’re going to solve this mission. Later we can go back and take care of this [loss] properly.”

  He was right. Though the loss of our Teammates was keenly felt, we had to continue with the mission.

  In Six, a contingency plan was always being prepared even as another plan was going into action. This was true for the Grenada mission. When the original insertion turned disastrous, the contingency plan took effect. Assault Group Three was told to stand by, and we loaded out for a possible operation. Since we had come down to Bragg to help Assault Group One get ready, we didn’t have all of our own equipment with us. Our bags were shipped down from Little Creek, and we geared up for whatever might be coming.

  The word came down that we might be going to the governor’s mansion on Grenada to secure Governor Sir Paul Scoon, protect him and his family, and bring them out of the combat area. A second mission was to capture and secure the island’s sole radio station so that it couldn’t be used by the local military to incite the population or coordinate military actions. The U.S. government wanted the radio station captured intact if possible so that Governor Scoon could broadcast to the island and tell the population what was actually going on.

  The operation I was going to be a part of was the rescue of Governor Scoon at his mansion, where he was being held under house arrest. At the same time, another detachment from Six would be going to the radio station. The two operations were going to require more men than were in Assault Group Three, so we took on the guys from Assault Group One who hadn’t gone on the original op.

  A warning order came down to us, and we loaded out the required equipment, weapons, and ammunition. Reporting to a classroom, we received the final briefing on our mission and the available intelligence on the local situation.

  Captain Gormly was very frank when it came to giving us our intelligence dump. Holding up a blank sheet of paper, he told us, “This is our intel on what you’re going into.”

  That was fairly sobering.

  We had all been down to the Caribbean at one time or another, to Puerto Rico, Saint Thomas, and other islands. We figured that Grenada couldn’t be that different terrain-wise. Satellite images were shown that detailed the grounds around Scoon’s mansion. Photographs—fax pictures really—of Scoon and his family were passed around so we would all be familiar with them. General Hudson Austin, who had led the coup that killed Maurice Bishop, the recent head of the Grenadian government, was also shown to us. Bishop had originally ousted Scoon some years earlier and turned to Cuba for assistance. His murder by General Austin had thrown the whole area into turmoil. General Austin was not listed as a target but was one of the people we could run into on the op.

  This was going to be my first real exposure to combat. When Bob held up that blank sheet of paper, it did not make for a good feeling inside me. My only other exposure to combat had been while I was in the Army during the Mideast petroleum crisis. And all I did for that was sit on a runway in Egypt for two days.

  Looking around the room, I could see my Teammates, several of whom had seen extensive combat in Vietnam. Johnny Johnson, Bubbaloo, and Duke didn’t seem worried, just alert and attentive. Ho Ho had also seen his share of action in ’Nam, and he just sat there with a smile on his face. “Here we go,” he said, and topped it off with his traditional Ho-ho-ho laugh. If they thought things were fine, that was good enough for me.

  At one point in the briefing, a JAG (Judge Advocate General) lawyer came in to tell us what we could and couldn’t do according to the rules of engagement. These rules about just how and when we could use our weapons had been put together by lawyers and politicians to make it easier for them to explain what we were doing in Grenada. Of course, those men would never have to put their lives on the line and actually try to survive while following them.

  The strategic planners for Urgent Fury, the Grenada op, figured things would go so smoothly that we would never have to fire a shot. So they gave us very tight guidelines for the use of lethal force. We could fire back only if we were being physically threatened at the time. In other words, we had to wait until a weapon was being pointed at us before opening fire. If we encountered enemy forces, we had to first give them a chance to surrender before taking them under fire. And even then we could only fire if they threatened us with their weapons. If an enemy force was in a civilian building, we couldn’t fire into the building to get at them. We would have to either bypass the building where enemy forces were hiding or go inside and move room to room and get them individually.

  Okay, modern warfare at its best—our leaders directing us from wayyyy back at the rear on how we were to conduct ourselves in a combat zone. I don’t think that JAG officer’s words lasted much longer than the echoes of his footsteps as he left. Now it was time to get back to the real business at hand.

  What we would be going into was called a semipermissive environment. Not everyone in the country would be against us. But the People’s Revolutionary Armed Forces would certainly be against us. And we probably wouldn’t be the most popular people with their Communist Cuban advisers either. We didn’t have any solid numbers on how many Cubans might be on the island or exactly how they were equipped, but the large numbers of civilians on the island kept us from having any kind of free-fire zone.

  By now I had long gotten over my earlier blank spot, where my training
all seemed to go bye-bye. Things started clicking in just as they were supposed to. I knew what I had to take and prepped my gear accordingly. Even though we had been told how much ammunition to bring, I took more. I wasn’t worried about being able to carry my load; I wanted to be sure to have what I needed. On top of my basic loadout, I slipped an extra bandoleer of 5.56mm ammunition in with my gear.

  My basic loadout was a fairly light one, but I was geared up well for what we expected to be only a short time on the ground. My primary weapon was an M16A1 carbine with a fourteen-inch barrel. My backup handgun was a Beretta 92-F. For the carbine, I had ten thirty-round mags with me and five fifteen-round mags for the Beretta. My uniform was a standard woodland-pattern mottled green Army BDU (battle dress uniform). Instead of a cap, I wore a forty-inch OD (olive drab) green triangular bandage as a bandanna wrapped around my head and tied off in the back. The bandannas were something you could go into the water with and they wouldn’t slip down over your eyes or float off. It didn’t shade your eyes very well, but in a pinch you could use it as a bandage.

  Like all good frogmen, we didn’t wear any underwear. We did have on black Speedo swimsuits under our uniforms in case we had to E & E (escape and evade) through a public beach or whatever. Standard green jungle boots over green OD socks took care of my feet. Over my uniform, my equipment belt and H-harness were a standard nylon LBE (load-bearing equipment) setup. A K-Bar knife was on my left hip, my Beretta in a low-slung assault holster on my right hip.

  Pouches of different kinds surrounded my equipment belt. I had three magazine pouches for my carbine mags, two pouches for my pistol mags, and three canteen pouches across the back. Two of the canteen pouches held standard one-quart military canteens. In the third pouch, I had folded up a black inflatable UDT life jacket in case of a long swim. The only thing we made sure everyone wore in the same place was their first aid pouch—attached to the cross-strap of the H-harness—in the center of the back so everyone knew where to grab the tan field dressing each man had in his pouch.