by Larry Berman
As commander of the USS Hawkins, a destroyer in the Mod Squad, Howard Kerr was a long way from the day he and Bud had touched down in Saigon. The Mod Squad was intended to give hard-charging officers a chance for early promotion. Bud envisioned the program from his own life experience, envisioning a youth movement in the ranks of admirals. Officers detailed to certain squadrons were picked one rank lower than normal in order to increase opportunity for early advancement. On September 13, 1971, Kerr issued an “all hands” memorandum, “Hawkins Commitment to Social Justice, Equal Opportunity and Meaningful Human Relations.” It began, “Equal opportunity and social justice has not been a navy tradition.” Sounding like a philosopher, Kerr noted that despite swearing the same oath and working and eating together, “meaningful human relations, the day to day social intercourse, one man to another, one group to another, has somehow escaped us.” He wrote that the hard facts of life were that through misunderstanding, prejudice, ignorance, and inaction, “we have created an environment and a structure of life aboard ship that denies social justice and equal opportunity to all our shipmates and saps the foundation of meaningful human relations.” Kerr added, “We live in a time of turbulent social change” reacting to “a generation of injustice. . . .” Kerr said that although the navy was affected, it “was changing for the better because of ‘great leadership.’ We are casting off traditions that no longer serve us. . . . Now is the time to dedicate to a new mission of social justice! We should do this because it is right. We do this because the Navy and the quality of our individual service to our life’s commitment is at stake. We have demonstrated the capacity to deny justice, we must now demonstrate the capacity to forge a new justice—one that recognizes no artificial barriers to race, color or religion. Opportunity must be equal . . . we cannot allow inequality and what it breeds to work at dismantling our Navy. Our mission is too vital.”
Months later Kerr wrote Zumwalt that he had learned all this from conversations with minority groups aboard the Hawkins. “Although the words are mine, the feeling, the resentment and particularly the hope expressed, came from the men who expressed themselves with sensitivity and emotion. My experience with Hawkins causes me to firmly believe that the vast majority of our people of all races desperately want to see the artificial barriers brought down and true Equal Opportunity realized. We are sensitizing our antennae, SIR!”76 Bud replied, “I am convinced that we must eliminate the artificial barriers that impair effective race relations and ensure equal opportunity and treatment for all our personnel.”77
“Although the Navy was a racist institution, I found it easier to deal with racism than with sexism,” recalled Zumwalt. “It takes longer for a white man to come to believe that a white woman is his equal than it does for him to come to believe that a black man is his equal.”78 Indeed, President Nixon was one of them, telling Zumwalt, “I guess I can put up with this race thing, but don’t push so hard for women.”79
There was also much more opposition within the navy to Zumwalt’s programs for equal opportunity for women. Congress had passed a law forbidding women to serve on fighting ships or in fighting planes, so by law women did not serve on an equal basis with men. Women were also not permitted to attend the service academies. At the time, it was legal to assign women only to hospital and transport ships. Bud understood that the culture believed women should avoid aggressive activities, but again he took another view: “I had no problem supporting women in combat for two reasons: 1. I remember well my great grandmother’s stories about fighting off the Indians along with her husband as they crossed the Plains; 2. The most vicious and cunning enemy I have ever had to fight was the Viet Cong women.”80
In mid-1971, Bud convened a WAVE retention study group that revealed general dissatisfaction with the reality that women were still being assigned primarily as receptionists and coffee runners, rather than receiving assignments based on their competence and ability. In a December 1971 letter to flag officers, Bud noted that it was “demoralizing and disheartening” to a young WAVE who graduated at the top of her class and “is then assigned at her new command to such stimulating duties as running the ditto machine and keeping the office mess going.” One of the attitudes at work might be “the professional jealousy of the male supervisor who cannot admit that the woman can do the job as professionally as her male counterpart, or the complete bewilderment of the division officer who has never had a professional woman working for him before and doesn’t quite know what to do with her! In the former the misuse is deliberate, in the latter it is thoughtless—but in both it adds up to a real waste of talent.”81
Anticipating passage of the Equal Rights Amendment, Bud was intent on being ahead of the curve. Writing to Pat Quaglieri, president of the National Organization for Women, Tampa chapter, Bud observed, “I am hopeful that with passage of the ERA and continued vocal support in the public sector, the remaining institutional restrictions in all career choices will soon be eliminated. Then all we have to eliminate is personal bias!” Z-116, “Equal Rights and Opportunities for Women in the Navy,” August 7, 1972, was pure Zumwalt. The message stated that all men and women should be permitted to serve their country in any way they chose. This meant utilizing navy women in responsible positions, whether ashore or at sea. This would strengthen the navy in meeting its worldwide commitments and in the defense of our shores. Women were to have open and equal access to all jobs, schools, college officer-candidate programs, and service schools and were to be assigned to sea duty based on their qualifications. Z-116 sought to achieve gender equality by removing almost all restrictions on opportunities in ratings, the ultimate goal being that women would serve on ships at sea as officers, crew, and as combat pilots.82
The USS Sanctuary, a hospital ship that already had living quarters for women, was overhauled so that it could be the first ship to set sail with women officers and enlisted sailors helping to run it. Some navy wives saw it as a threat to their marriages, while the retired community conjured up images of unisex showers and floating orgies. Bud pushed hard to conduct the trials on board the Sanctuary, which showed that women could perform well in areas of seagoing ratings, leading to the gradual broadening of the areas into which women were assigned. He also initiated the pilot test program, which showed that women, notwithstanding the wails of male aviators, could perform well in flying roles. Years later, Captain Rosemary Mariner, a retired naval aviator, found a cartoon titled “Old Guard Bar and Grill.” Sitting at the bar were two admirals crying in their beer above the caption, “If God had wanted women at the Naval Academy, he would have made them men!” Like many wonderful but human institutions, the navy would never have altered course toward racial equality nor staffed the fleet with the best-qualified male and female citizen-sailors under its own momentum, said Mariner. “Adm. Zumwalt’s methods, however unpopular, were the only way to cast off old lines and allow the Navy to steam into the future. In my mind’s eye, I see the always dignified admiral elbowing up to a heavenly Old Guard Bar and taking his seat as one of history’s truly great Americans and naval leaders.”83
Bud was especially proud of the day Alene Duerk was selected as the first female admiral. When a photo of Bud kissing the new rear admiral on the cheek appeared on the front pages of the country’s newspapers, Mrs. John Malott of Garden Grove, California, wrote, “First it’s Booze & Rock Music in the barracks to corrupt the boys—now it’s a kiss for the LIB—Are you sure You don’t represent the French Navy? No small wonder we can’t win the war with the likes of you in Charge—May God save America in spite of you.”84 Bud liked to joke in response to this type of criticism, “You must understand one does not become CNO without having kissed a lot of admirals.”
The tenth-anniversary issue of Ms. magazine, in the article “Ms. Heroes—Men Who’ve Taken Chances and Made a Difference,” saluted men engaged in fundamental humanizing change, men who were both symbols and real people. Bud was one of those honored. “Admiral Elmo Zumwalt, former chief of US Nava
l Operations: for advocating the repeal of the Combat Exclusion law, thus allowing women to volunteer for combat positions on the same physical-capability basis of men.”85
Two days before his term as CNO ended, Bud sent a general message to all naval personnel, noting that of the 121 Z-grams, 87 had either become or were in the process of becoming directives in the navy system; the remaining 32 were either informative in nature or statements of policy. Only 2 had been canceled. Then, in accord with tradition that allowed his successor leeway, he stated that “Z-NAVOPS 01 through 121 are hereby cancelled for record purposes.”86
There was actually one more “symbolic” zinger issued: Z-gram 122 to Roberta Hazard in recognition of a magnificent naval career and extraordinary service to Bud’s career. Hazard did not meet Bud until he became CNO. She had been in the audience in November 1970 at the Naval Academy to see the man behind the scuttlebutt who was “working hard to transform the Navy into a more caring, a more respectful of the average man (and woman) organization—one with fewer barriers and more encouragement to personal achievement and contribution.”
She was so inspired by hearing Bud’s vision for the navy that two days later she called to express interest in the protocol assistant job in the CNO’s front office, a job she had twice declined as stereotyping and unchallenging. “Thus began what I still refer as the most instructive and the most informative of my navy years.”87 Hazard believed that both Bud and Mouza had been able to produce positive and enduring changes not only in the navy but in America. Both had demonstrated “their pervasive caring and concern for sailors, their commitment to necessary change and to a clearly envisioned role for our navy.”88 In 1984, Hazard made rear admiral.
CHAPTER 11
ROUGH SEAS
The Thermidor of my four year term as CNO came shortly after the half-way point in the fall of 1972.
—BUD ZUMWALT1
In an early 1972 message to all flag officers, commanders, commanding officers, and officers in charge, “The Commander and Equal Opportunity,” Bud noted that the navy had made great strides “from its World War II position as a service regarded by blacks and other minorities as highly discriminatory to one now looked at as truly receptive to Equal Opportunity issues.” Nevertheless, he recognized that “the navy still has many potential sources of racial tension, and that only continued personal attention by officers in command can provide the key to diffusing [sic] these obstacles to true racial harmony.”2 With retention-group sessions seared in his mind, Bud implored his commanders to realize that “it is sometimes difficult for many of us to comprehend the sensitivity and degree of awareness our minority Navymen and women have regarding discriminatory practices.” Bud urged members of his command to understand that “whether or not unfair or discriminatory practices actually exist within a command, if they are perceived to exist by either whites or blacks, discipline or morale will suffer.”3
The navy might not be the best laboratory for social experimentation, but it was on the way to becoming a microcosm of society at large. The navy could no longer afford to draw a line between the values and practices of the community outside the gate and those within. In effect, Bud was challenging those in command to recognize that it was their duty to create an atmosphere conducive to true equality of opportunity so that institutionalized inequality and racism could be eradicated. It sounded clear enough, but the high seas would offer no respite in the struggle for racial equality.4 It would all come to a head on two aircraft carriers in the Pacific, posing the greatest challenge in Bud Zumwalt’s career and providing old-guard traditionalists as well as the president of the United States the opportunity to turn back the clock. Bud fought back with everything he had.5
The March 30, 1972, Easter Offensive across the demilitarized zone (DMZ) separating the North from the South was the largest conventional military attack launched by North Vietnam during the entire Vietnam War, designed to deal a crippling blow against ARVN forces. President Nixon believed the enemy had committed itself to a “make-or-break campaign.” The attack occurred during the planning stages for Nixon’s summit with Soviet leader Leonid Brezhnev, and in fact, Henry Kissinger was scheduled to visit Moscow secretly from April 20 to 25 to make arrangements for the summit.
With Vietnamization at full throttle, the president could not send troops back into the war. Instead, on April 1, he ordered the bombing of North Vietnam within twenty-five miles of the DMZ. By April 14, he ordered air strikes up to the twentieth parallel. The Paris peace talks were again suspended. It was a period of great duress for Nixon, who recorded in his diary on May 2, “I decided now it was essential to defeat North Vietnam’s invasion.” On May 8, Nixon convened a three-hour meeting of his National Security Council, outlining plans for mining Haiphong Harbor and renewing the bombing of Hanoi and Haiphong. He planned to announce his “go for broke” plan to destroy the enemy’s war-making capacity in a televised speech that evening. “Those bastards are going to be bombed like they’ve never been bombed before,” Nixon told his National Security Council. “I have the will in spades,” he declared.6
Speaking to the nation, the president outlined the steps he was taking. “There is only one way to stop the killing. That is to keep the weapons of war out of the hands of the international outlaws of North Vietnam. I have ordered the following measures, which are all being implemented as I am speaking to you. All entrances to North Vietnamese ports will be mined to prevent access to these ports and North Vietnamese naval operations from these ports. United States forces have been directed to take appropriate measures within the internal and claimed territorial waters of North Vietnam to interdict the delivery of any supplies. Rail and all other communications will be cut off to the maximum extent possible. Air and naval strikes against military targets in North Vietnam will continue.”
Bud was also involved in the planning for the mining of Haiphong Harbor. “That was one time during the four year period when Tom Moorer (the primary advocate for mining) had to rely totally on me,” recalled Bud. “He had been instructed by Henry Kissinger, whom he feared, to ensure that there were no leaks.”7 Bud claimed that he and Rex Rectanus developed the operational plan for Moorer. “It was approved as we had submitted it, and was carried out as we had submitted it.”
The invasion and mining placed extra stress on the navy, leading to doubling the number of ships off Vietnamese shores during a period when the United States was reducing its overall forces and budgets. But through all these turbulent and uncertain times, the navy met its commitments. During the aerial phase of Pocket Money (as the operation was named), navy planes dropped mines into the port of Haiphong and six other harbors of North Vietnam. The mines were activated on May 11. Admiral Moorer wrote his field commanders, “We do not expect to lose this one, consequently, must bring as much air and naval forces to bear as possible in order to give the enemy a severe jolt . . . we have received increased authorities and must make full use of them at every opportunity. Our objectives are: to ensure that the North Vietnamese do not endanger remaining U.S. forces, to provide maximum assistance to the South Vietnamese in their efforts to destroy the invader and to prevent the North Vietnamese from interfering with Vietnamization plans.”8
The tempo of these naval operations required extended deployments for those at sea. Up to six aircraft carriers were on the line at Yankee Station in the Tonkin Gulf, and these required additional support ships. Not since World War II had the navy been so intensely deployed.9 Not only were deployments extended, but turnaround time between deployments had been significantly reduced. It was not unusual for sailors to work sixteen-to-eighteen-hour days when on line, reminding Admiral Bill Thompson of the old cliché, “I joined the Navy to see the world and what did I see? I saw the sea.”10
To meet these manpower needs, a new program, From Street to Fleet, rushed new minority recruits through basic training. Recruitment targets were met by allowing into the navy individuals with very low test scores, high school dropouts,
and those with criminal records.11 Once aboard ship, the new recruits were assigned the most basic and menial assignments, like food service and deck and bilge cleaning, with little hope of ever gaining better assignments. “The new crew included a much larger percentage of non-trainable young Black enlisted men, considered so because their low-test scores indicated that they were not capable of handling service school curricula,” explained Admiral Thompson. “They were disgruntled because they had been assigned to the traditional deck and engineering divisions, a lot of grunt work and chipping paint.”12
Minorities did score low, but not because they were less smart than white recruits. The Armed Forces Qualification Test (AFQT) was the test that determined a sailor’s category ranking, and it was later determined by the Center for Naval Analyses to be culturally biased against blacks and other minorities.13 Moreover, most minority recruits had never received the necessary technical or educational opportunities afforded others. The result was a powder keg. It was a period of societal unrest outside the navy, and the new recruits came under the supervision of an almost entirely white command structure within. Racial tensions simmered on the lower decks. Future secretary of the navy John F. Lehman recalled that during his service on the Saratoga in 1972, “No white officer would walk unescorted on the second deck where the enlisted men’s mess was.”14
The Kitty Hawk was on her sixth war deployment, supporting round-the-clock air strikes against the Vietnamese Easter Offensive. The Kitty Hawk had been involved in some of the most intense activity of the war, with 164 days of consecutive air combat operations, and more sorties were flown from the Kitty Hawk than any other carrier in Vietnam.15 As the Easter Offensive dragged into the summer, the Kitty Hawk was extended beyond its scheduled deployment. The ship had been in the western Pacific for almost eight months, 239 days of separation from the crew’s families.