by Couch, Dick
IN THE WATERS OFF the Isle of Pines in the early morning hours of December 23, 1963, Bill Bruhmuller and the team of anti-Castro frogmen confirmed their bearings, slipped back down underwater, and headed into hostile waters toward their target. The frogmen were about to attack a de facto enemy of the United States, in the midst of an undeclared war. Fifty years after the December 23, 1963, operation against the Komar missile boats on the Isle of Pines, Bill Bruhmuller told us the story of how it unfolded. “We went in at night,” he remembered, “and I was not supposed to go in the water with them.” The policy was for Americans to keep a physical distance and separation from these kinds of operations and let the Cubans do the work directly. Bruhmuller was supposed to wait out the mission on board the Rex, the CIA mother ship. But at the last minute, he felt the urge to swim in with the Cuban team to help them in case anything went wrong. If they were surprised by Cuban coastal patrols, for example, he could help them “evade and escape” back to safety. This was against orders, but he could get away with it, since there were no other U.S. Navy personnel anywhere near the scene: “There wasn’t anybody there to watch me so I slipped into the water with these guys to kind of keep an eye on things.”
Bruhmuller accompanied the Cuban team close into the target area, and at about 3 A.M. they found the Komars where their intelligence reports said they’d be, near a channel that opened to the sea. “They were tied up two abreast, two and two,” he recalled, and they evidently were unmanned and unguarded except for a lone sentry. The boat crews, guessed Bruhmuller, were billeted nearby and probably fast asleep. The Cubans took the mines out of the floating satchel and went to work, as Bruhmuller observed from close by.
“Anytime you’re working for CIA,” Bruhmuller told us, “if you’re discovered or if you’re captured, they don’t divulge any information of knowing you, or who you are, or how you even got there. So it behooves you to be very, very careful about where you’re going, what you’re doing, and how you’re going to do it.” He added, “I was not supposed to get in the water with these guys, but I did get in the water. I didn’t personally go in and put limpet mines on the boats or anything like that but, personally, I wanted to make sure they were doing the right thing, kind of like a mother duck looking over her little ducklings.
“The limpet mine looks like a large plate,” Bruhmuller explained. “Underneath, the whole circumference of the limpet mine has magnets. When you got to the [Komar] boat, you’d clean some of the marine growth off of it so you’d get good adherence. Then you’d fire your pins to make sure it wouldn’t fall off. It was a stud driver, a small device that went through the limpet mine and when you ignited it, it shot a nail into the hull. It made a pretty good noise. And once you fired that, it had anti-removal devices on it, so if anybody did try to remove it, it would explode. It also had a timer on there. So they set it for about fifty minutes or an hour. They put two [limpet mines] on each boat.
“Well, there was a sentry up there that was kind of guarding everything. He heard that noise from the first mine being pinned onto a boat and we could hear him get on the radio and I guess he called up to his headquarters or someplace and he said that he had heard a noise down there and he thinks something might be going on. He apparently got a typical response, which I’d equate it to our own Navy people on a Sunday afternoon watching a football game. There’s a guy down at the dock who can’t see the game and tells them, ‘Hey I think something’s going on,’ and they say, ‘Hey, go jump in the lake.’ The second mine was placed on the boat, the pin noise went off, and he called right back up again. They probably said, ‘You’re crazy, nothing’s going on.’ When that third one went off you could hear him running, and jump off the gunwale of the boat, up on the dock, and he took off. He wasn’t sticking around to see what was going on. A couple of the Cubans that were down with me were laughing like hell.”
When the last of the limpet mines were attached to the boats, the frogmen vanished in the dark water toward their pickup craft. Less than an hour later they heard and felt a series of blasts as they withdrew to the safety of the Rex mother ship and escaped. From various sources, Bruhmuller concluded that they sank three of the four targeted boats. The Cuban media admitted to just one boat partially destroyed, with some casualties to Cuban military personnel.
A month later, Bruhmuller was back on board the Rex, again approaching the waters off Cuba, this time on a reconnaissance mission. The mission was aborted at the last minute when someone on the bridge of the Rex monitored a startling public broadcast coming over the Radio Havana frequency, a message that referred to the only name the Cuban exiles knew Bruhmuller by.
A sailor ran down to Bruhmuller and repeated the message to him: “Welcome to Cuban shores, ‘Bruh’ and friends!”
The U.S. Navy SEAL was flabbergasted. He had repeatedly, and forcefully, indoctrinated the Cuban frogmen on the need for airtight security, for not talking in bars and restaurants, and for washing their own clothes and not dropping them off at laundries. But somehow, Fidel Castro’s security forces had gotten hold of his name, and the exact timetable of the CIA spy ship. The Rex beat a hasty retreat back to American waters.
The aftermath of the Isle of Pines limpet-mine attack and accounts of the Rex spy ship appeared in various press accounts in 1963 and 1964. In fact, according to a declassified White House document, the operation appears to have been authorized at the top levels of the U.S. government. The operation was on a list of eleven “Proposed infiltration/exfiltration operations into Cuba during November 1963,” submitted by the “Cuban affairs coordinator” to the top-level Kennedy administration steering committee “Special Group” on November 8, 1963. Identified as Operation 3117, it was described as “a UDT operation designed to sink or damage a Kronstadt [a Soviet-built submarine chaser and patrol ship] or other Cuban patrol craft while in anchorage in Ensenada de la Siguanea, Isle of Pines. The attack will be made by swimmer teams using limpets.”
One former Cuban frogman reported decades later that through 1963, exile raiding parties were being instantly ambushed, arrested, and executed right at their Cuban landing zones. Fidel Castro’s security forces seemed to have superb intelligence on many of their operations. But where the leaks came from remained unknown. The Cuban exile veteran was sure the leak came from someone in the State Department or elsewhere in Washington, D.C. In early 1964, most of the secret plots against Castro were shut down by President Lyndon B. Johnson.
Bill Bruhmuller soon resumed regular duties with SEAL Team Two, journeyed to the other side of the world to take part in the SEALs’ new mission in Vietnam, and stayed in the Teams until he retired in 1978. He considers his service as a SEAL to be the most exciting and rewarding time of his life. Today, in Panama City, Florida, the former frogman enjoys life in the tropical sun along a stretch of the Gulf of Mexico due north of Cuba—just a day’s cruise away.
The SEALs’ operations against Cuba were conducted during the infancy of the Teams, in conditions of total secrecy and on a relatively small scale. But the skills, capabilities, and reputation of the Navy SEALs were about to take a quantum leap, as they were already gearing up to face the challenge of the global contest against communism, in the jungles of Southeast Asia.
Photo Insert B
A visibly impressed President John F. Kennedy, a former naval officer, inspects SEAL Team Two in diving gear at Norfolk, Virginia, April 13, 1962. The SEAL teams were less than four months old. (John F. Kennedy Presidential Library, SEAL Museum)
SEAL Team One founding members, or “plank-owners,” early 1960s. (U.S. Navy)
SEAL Team Two Executive Officer Roy Boehm inspects team members mobilized for the Cuban Missile Crisis. (Courtesy of Tom Hawkins)
Lieutenant David Del Giudice, first commanding officer of SEAL Team One. (Courtesy of Dennis McCormack)
Members of SEAL Team Two, en route to winter training in Maine, 1965. Bill Bruhmuller is fifth from the left, top row. (Courtesy of Bill Bruhmuller)
H
ell Week, 1969. The “Sugar Cookie”: soaking-wet frogmen-trainees douse themselves in sand. (U.S. Navy)
UDT training, 1961: diving into a mud pit. (U.S. Navy)
UDT obstacle course training at Coronado, early 1960s. (U.S. Navy)
Training, St. Thomas, 1960s. (U.S. Navy)
BUD/S trainees enter the water in preparation for a beach survey exercise. (U.S. Navy)
Swimmers cast from a speeding landing craft and inflatable boat. (U.S. Navy)
An early version of what was to become the SEAL Delivery Vehicle (SDV). (U.S. Navy)
UDT-11 frogmen with the Apollo 11 capsule after the first manned moon landing, July 27, 1969. Navy frogmen supported NASA missions through the 1960s and early 1970s. (U.S. Navy)
Apollo Recovery Team, UDTs 11 and 12. (U.S. Navy)
Jon Stockholm, one of the first SEALs assigned to Vietnam, 1962. (Courtesy of Jon Stockholm)
SEAL Team One’s Dennis McCormack (left) training a South Vietnamese soldier in the use of demolition in Da Nang, Vietnam, c. 1964. (Courtesy of Dennis McCormack)
Mel Pearson of Team One on a surface craft, South Vietnam. (Courtesy of Mel Pearson)
SEAL Moki Martin with a favorite Vietnam-era weapon of the SEALs: the Stoner light machine gun. When Martin was eight years old, he saw Navy frogmen training on the beach of his native Hawaii, and he decided that this would be his destiny. (U.S. Navy)
Sea Float/Solid Anchor SEAL/UDT base anchored in Cua Lon River, 1969. The floating base (later moved ashore and called Solid Anchor) was a focal point for SEAL/UDT operations in Vietnam. (U.S. Navy)
SEAL leaving assault boat, Vietnam, 1968. (U.S. Navy)
Navy frogmen and local allies review maps before conducting a joint combat mission. (U.S. Navy)
SEALs in SEAL Team Assault Boat (STAB) move down the Bassac River during operations along the river south of Saigon, 1967. (National Archives)
UDT-12 sailors and South Vietnamese forces launch a small boat operation. (U.S. Navy)
SEALs and the South Vietnamese POWs they liberated. The SEALs conducted a number of successful operations to rescue allied prisoners in Vietnam. (U.S. Navy)
BUD/S or Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL Class 45, East Coast, 1969. Dick Couch is lower front left. Future Medal of Honor recipient Thomas Norris is lower front right. (U.S. Navy)
Michael E. Thornton. Thornton received the Medal of Honor for helping rescue severely injured fellow SEAL (and future fellow MoH recipient) Thomas Norris during an operation in fall 1972. (U.S. Navy)
SEAL and Provisional Reconstruction Unit (PRU) advisor Brian Rand with a few of his local operatives. (U.S. Navy)
SEALs prepare to raid a suspected enemy village, Operation Crimson Tide, 1967. (U.S. Navy)
Tired SEAL after Vietnam operation. (U.S. Navy)
SEAL squad in Vietnam going out heavy. Note the three Stoner light machine guns and two modified M-60 machine guns. (U.S. Navy)
December 19, 1968: SEAL Team One, Alfa Platoon, approaches a Viet Cong target on a combat mission in the Nam Can district, Ca Mau province, Vietnam. The following five pages of photographs document this single mission. Above: SEALs in the door of insertion Huey. (U.S. Navy photo by Donald P. “Chip” Maury)
The target is spotted. (U.S. Navy photo by Donald P. “Chip” Maury)
Safely bringing in a Huey. Note SEAL on security at the left of the photo. (U.S. Navy photo by Donald P. “Chip” Maury)
Insertion on the edge of the target. (U.S. Navy photo by Donald P. “Chip” Maury)
U.S. Navy QM2 Robert M. Beanan along with other members of SEAL Team One, Alfa Platoon, enters the village. (U.S. Navy photo by Donald P. “Chip” Maury)
Barry W. Enoch, SEAL Team One, Alfa Platoon, takes cover in an open field while a UH-1 Huey helicopter comes in for a landing. The SEALs and the photographer were under fire from Vietcong forces during this operation. (U.S. Navy photo by Donald P. “Chip” Maury)
U.S. Navy ETNSN Steven P. Frisk fires a XM203 40mm grenade launcher into a suspected Vietcong hooch. (U.S. Navy photo by Donald P. “Chip” Maury)
U.S. Navy ETNSN Steven P. Frisk, right, fires a M72 light anti-armor weapon into the water at two Vietcong soldiers as QM2 Robert M. Beanan stands security armed with a M60 machine gun. (U.S. Navy photo by Donald P. “Chip” Maury)
U.S. Navy GMG1 Barry W. Enoch, with SEAL Team One, Alfa Platoon, evacuates a Vietnamese child to safety.(U.S. Navy photo by Donald P. “Chip” Maury)
Members of SEAL Team One, Alfa Platoon, aboard a swift boat, returning to the USS Terrell County (LST 1157). (U.S. Navy photo by Donald P. “Chip” Maury)
Members of SEAL Team One, Alfa Platoon, pose for with a captured Vietcong flag aboard the USS Terrell County (LST 1157), after the mission. Back row, left: Lt. (j.g.) George R. Bliss, WO Scott R. Lyon, ETNSN Steven P. Frisk, SFP2 David G. Gardner, HM2 Larry A. Hubbard, SN Donald C. Crawford and PH1 Donald P. “Chip” Maury. Front row, left: Lt. (j.g.) Dale Moses, QM2 Robert M. Beanan, AN John M. Ware, SM1 David Wilson and GMG1 Barry W. Enoch. (U.S. Navy, courtesy Donald P. “Chip” Maury)
SEAL Team One is presented with a Presidential Unit Citation by Lyndon Johnson for its actions in Vietnam. (White House Photo)
President Richard Nixon presents Lieutenant (j.g.) Bob Kerrey, U.S. Navy SEAL, with the Medal of Honor, May 1970. (U.S. Navy)
President Gerald Ford presents Lieutenant Thomas Norris, U.S. Navy SEAL, with the Medal of Honor, March 1976. (U.S. Navy)
Admiral Elmo Zumwalt confers with SEALs in 1971. A champion of the SEALs, some credit Zumwalt with saving the Teams from the bureaucratic chopping block in the severe drawdown of the post-Vietnam years. (U.S. Navy)
CHAPTER 5
INTO THE JUNGLE
NOVEMBER 22, 1970, 6:25 A.M.
THE FORCE:
7 U.S. Navy SEALs, 5 South Vietnamese
THE ENEMY:
20 Viet Cong prison guards and sentries
THE MISSION:
Rescue an unknown number of communist-held POWs
Note from Dick Couch: With my coauthor’s permission, I’m pleased to begin this chapter on the SEAL experience in Vietnam with an operation that took place shortly after I arrived in the combat zone. These events occurred scarcely four months after I checked in at SEAL Team One at the Naval Amphibious Base at Coronado, California. As you will see, the progression of SEALs in training to SEALs in combat was much quicker than it is today. A great many SEALs went straight from BUD/S to a SEAL Team to Vietnam in just a few short months.
“Get ready,” I whispered to the SEAL next to me, “we’re going to assault the camp.”
The word was passed along the line of SEALs and scouts, sampan to sampan. The first rays of daylight filtered through the mangrove trees, and it looked like we were on the edge of our target.
Suspended in thick mist before us was a sight that countless American troops had dreamed of glimpsing throughout the savage, more than ten-year-long conflict known as the Vietnam War. We were on the edge of a POW camp containing prisoners of the Viet Cong. And from the outside, it looked as if we had the element of surprise. All was quiet except for the sounds of a few people snoring and coughing in their sleep. The air had a brackish smell of decay, of trees rotting and semi-tidal flush.
We could see smoke from cooking fires and a cluster of grass-roofed hooches. We didn’t know if there were South Vietnamese or Americans in the camp, or how many guards there were. We just knew that if our intelligence was correct, there were prisoners in the compound a few dozen yards from the canal we were paddling down.
It was November 22, 1970. I was a U.S. Navy SEAL lieutenant who had been in Vietnam for only a week. After graduating from the U.S. Naval Academy at Annapolis, I had served as first lieutenant and antisubmarine warfare officer aboard the destroyer USS Mansfield (DD-728) before volunteering for SEAL duty. Following UDT/SEAL training, I made a short deployment with UDT-22 before being transferred to SEAL Team One at Coronado. I was a new SEAL, and I commanded a very inexperienc
ed platoon of SEALs—good men all, but only three of the fourteen had combat experience. We had been in Vietnam for only a short while, and this was one of our first operations.
In our three sampans were six SEALs and myself from my Whiskey Platoon, three members of the South Vietnamese “Kit Carson” scout force, my Vietnamese army interpreter, and a local fisherman who had guided us to the camp. Our area of operation, or AO, was the Ca Mau Peninsula at the southern tip of South Vietnam. The area was dominated by a vast mangrove swamp that was flooded daily by twelve-foot tides and populated by bugs, leeches, rats, snakes, and an occasional, isolated Vietnamese fishing village. It was also a refuge for the Viet Cong.
