Tom Marfiak
To understand the USS Biddle in the context of her distinguished record of service, we must first understand the role these cruisers played in the Cold War. They were the natural extension of the destroyers that served with such gallantry throughout the Second World War, Korea and Vietnam. They were armed to the teeth, and had the advantage of sensor and combat systems that far exceeded anything their predecessors had enjoyed. And, like any great lady, they were maintenance intensive. Their crews, proud to serve, took extreme care to ensure that their topsides were spotless, their weapons systems ready, and their engineering plants ready to sustain combat operations at the heart of the far ranging carrier battle groups.
The searing experience of the Kamikaze attacks in the Pacific campaign gave birth to a series of programs to ensure that the fleet would never again be so vulnerable. Missile systems were developed, capable of striking a target at ranges in excess of thirty miles. Search and fire control radars were perfected that enabled tracks to be identified well beyond that. All of these systems and more had to be manned by numbers of talented operators, maintained by technicians who knew missiles, computers, and electronics intimately, and provided a constant source of reliable electricity and cooling from their complex engineering plants. All of this had to go forward while the great ship leapt through all sea conditions and kept pace with the fast moving carrier. From the confines of the bridge, to CIC, and to the ever-busy spaces of the engineering department, teamwork was the key. Each center of excellence depended on the other to do its job perfectly, without delay, to ensure the optimum performance of the mission.
By the mid to late seventies, these ships were reaching their peak. The fleet was modernizing around them. The long, sleek destroyers of WWII vintage had been replaced with the Knox class frigates, with their single screws and large sonars, testimony to the Soviet submarine threat. The densely packed combat systems of the Adams Class guided missile destroyers, also propelled by 1200 psi steam systems, added significant punch to the battle group, and substantial close-in defense to the carrier. Their position in plane guard, or close to the ever trailing Soviet tell-tale Krivak, was part of the normal scene at sea.
Yet the top of the line remained the guided missile cruisers. To serve aboard was considered an honor. To fight her alongside the enormous bulk of the carrier, in all the world’s oceans, was considered the highest mark of professional excellence. Power, grace, elegance, sea keeping–these ships had it all. Packed into their eight thousand tons was a veritable city of striking power, over four hundred men, working seamlessly to keep their ship at the finest degree of readiness, whatever the conditions, however long the hours or days, or however high the seas.
Many will remember the debate over the merits of the double and single ended cruisers. The former were armed at both ends with a Terrier missile system. They were purely anti air warfare machines. The latter, of which USS Biddle was a member, were single ended, carrying a massive Standard missile and anti-submarine, or ASROC, launcher system forward, and a single five-inch gun aft. They were nuclear capable. In addition, substantial secondary armament, first three-inch guns and then Vulcan Phalanx systems, afforded close-in protection. They were the equal of their peers, the nuclear powered cruisers and the remaining gun cruisers still at sea, the flag ships like USS Albany and the others. The talent on the bridge made it all mesh, whether operating with the carrier or in solo operations against the Soviet fleet. That talent was amplified by the resources of CIC, assembling operational information in real time, and giving the bridge team the benefit of it all. Teamwork, then and now, made the difference. USS Biddle was always in the front rank, testimony to the sustained excellence of successive generations of crews and a distinguished line of captains.
These men, the leaders who had come to their commands from the trials of World War II, the Korean War, and Vietnam, who had mounted the ladder of command through the demands of their profession, were the ideal to which we all aspired. They each had their own style of leadership, from the lofty and distant, inspiring through example and the well chosen word, to the personal and unique, about whom stories are still told in Happy Hours and reunions. Yet, they all achieved the union of mission and crew and ship to sustain the United States at sea when the security of the world, and the maintenance of the peace, depended on it.
This book is about one ship, one series of brave crews and their commanders. It would be difficult, even with audio and visual support, to convey the environment in which they operated, yet the astute reader will know that between the lines is the story of dedication and sacrifice, the entire ship leaning forward as a whole, into the night and the blowing spray, ready, always ready, for the next challenge. Take yourself to the bridge, where the only light is the dim sweep of the radar consoles, and voices are subdued as the great ship races through the fleet to a new station. Imagine yourself in combat, surrounded by glowing screens and the clamor of multiple communications circuits as the complex ballet of air, surface and subsurface forces is brought to perfect coordination. All of this is sustained by four giant boilers, two engine sets, and innumerable pumps driving two great shafts propelling the cruiser to whatever speed might be required, and then some.
They are now gone, these wonderful ships, and their crews are aging. But we remember them. Their successors are the AEGIS cruisers and destroyers of today, driven by gas turbines, carrying enormous missile loads and destined to carve out a new mission in long range anti-missile defense against inter-continental threats–a long reach from their brothers of the Second World War and the gun line off the coast of Vietnam. If you are patient, you may still find them in the inactive ship maintenance facilities, their paint fading, their masts long since stripped of their purposefully rotating antennas, their decks strangely absent of human form. But we remember them rather as they were–alive and humming with activity, the energy of steam stretching throughout their limbs, ready to unleash incredible power at the nod of the head, or the utterance of a quiet word of command.
Where men stand to the watch today or tomorrow, in the dark of night, or in the gray mists of early dawn, off some far hostile shore or in the midst of ships assembled to execute the needs of the United States and her allies, these stories have great relevance. There is a common tie amongst all of those who go to sea in the great waters of the world, locked in the embrace of such ships as these. Let us remember, and be glad
Hard Charger! 