Bob, Edd and Merle Spring 1968 Merle was my friend and only 21 when he died in the faithful service of his country, the United States of America.
We served together as shipmates aboard USS Frank Knox (DD-742) in 1967-68. Merle Bissell was the ship’s postal clerk and operated the ship’s store where sailors could make small purchases of cigarettes, ‘gee-dunks’ (candy), razorblades and other sundries. I was a sonar technician.
In June of 1967 USS Frank Knox would set sail on her first West-Pac cruise since the ship ran aground on Pratas Reef in the South China Sea July 18, 1965. The ship went through a massive repair in Yokosuka, Japan and would be returned to service in the Pacific Fleet in November 1966. The rebuilt Frank Knox would receive an all new crew following her salvage and repair.
Our 1967 West-Pac cruise would see action in the Gulf of Tonkin providing a host of war time actions in Viet Nam. Merle was a very talented swimmer. When we were in the gulf and had to provide a rescue in the water Merle was one of two sailors that would be detailed as the duty swimmer. Frank Knox served well from June 1967 to the conclusion of the cruise in January of the next year. We would receive the ‘Combat Action Ribbon’ while assigned to ‘Sea Dragon’ operations in the coastal waters of Viet Nam. We provided gunfire support to variety of coastal locations with our six ‘five- inch-thirty-eights’ (big guns). Probably our most favorite duty was operation ‘Plane Guard’ while trailing an aircraft carrier during launch or the retrieval of aircraft.
Merle and I would enjoy liberty together at sailor bars and the E-M (enlisted men) clubs of bases the ship would make port. We also would go snorkeling together at many of the Pacific islands. Our favorite location was in the Philippines at a location known as Grande Island near Subic Bay. The waters there were clear and warm and the variety of fish and their respective colors would rival scenes of a Jacques Cousteau film.
We had other shipboard pals like Edd Vitagliano, Ken ‘Robbie’ Roberts and Bill Atkinson, who were all in Merle’s division, the Supply Division. These sailors were very close friends to us both, but did not swim or snorkel with us.
When the ship returned to San Diego, three of us Edd, Merle and I would share an apartment together on Saratoga Avenue in the Ocean Beach district. We lived just a block and a half from the ocean. What a life we enjoyed when the ship was in port. San Diego’s beach life suited the three of us well. On weekends Robbie and Bill might join us. I most always did the cooking and Edd & Merle being the older ‘legal’ guys kept the refrigerator stocked with ‘Colorado Cool Aid’ (Coors Beer). That, suntan lotion and girlfriends is about all young sailors like us would need.
For several months we enjoyed the good life. That is, until April 24, 1968.
That morning Merle and I woke early and gathered our masks, snorkels and flippers and headed just north a couple of blocks to Mission Bay Channel where we would snorkel across toward Mission Beach. Edd would stay home as he was baking a cake, which we never saw him do before, and this should have alerted us that today would be very unusual.
I recall it as a warm spring morning. No boat traffic to speak of in the channel. The waters were calm, but there was a strong current moving into Mission Bay. We would put on our equipment on the southern edge of the channel. Merle jumped in first. When he came up I asked him “how’s the water?’
He answered, “Just fine.”
Then I jumped in to the water which I recalled was much colder than the waters we swam in overseas. When I came up I cleared my mask and snorkel, then responded to him, “You liar.”
I would then start out in front of Merle as I was the weaker swimmer. Merle would remain slightly behind or alongside me. The water was murky and you couldn’t see much in the water. After a lengthy swim I emerged on the north side of the channel and saw a fisherman on the rocks in front of me screaming and waving his arms. He was yelling “your friend went down about a third of the way back and hasn’t come up.”
I turned around and to my horror saw no Merle, no snorkel---nothing. I turned back to the fisherman and told him to go over the rocks to Mission Beach and get a lifeguard. I then went back into the water looking for my friend and shipmate. In the murky waters, I couldn’t see much. I went up the channel and back down. I went deep a couple of times, but saw nothing. My friend was lost. Soon there were lifeguards and a Coast Guard helicopter hovering above conducting an organized search. The helicopter landed in the water and ordered me inside. They would explain the futility of searching any further.
I went home and explained the events of the day to Edd. Edd would call the ship to report Merle’s missing status. We were in shock.
Thirteen days later Merle’s body would be discovered along the shores of Mission Bay. The body was in very poor condition, but with dental records the Navy was able to identify the body.
I was selected to serve to escort Merle’s body home for burial. The ship transferred me to the US Naval Hospital, Balboa for temporary-additional-duty (TAD). I would meet a couple of other escorts at the hospital who were escorting deceased GI’s from combat in Viet Nam. At the naval hospital it made no difference, all the dead were dead. It made no difference how they died. We were given specific instructions and given our travel orders and I left for San Diego Airport and reported to the United Airlines Freight Office where the body had been delivered earlier that day.
The staff at the freight office was very cordial and understanding. They obviously had experience in dealing with military escorts and the sensitive cargo with them. I signed a freight manifest and was told the flight would leave in a little more than an hour, but if I wanted to wait downstairs with the casket I could. We were then moved to the gate of our departing aircraft. The freight loaders would come to me and explain they would be loading Merle’s body onto the aircraft very soon. I straightened my uniform and dusted myself off when they put the silver case containing the body and casket onto the plane. I rendered a smart salute and turned and walked up the stairs to the airport concourse.
The plane did a scheduled landing in Los Angeles and shortly thereafter took off for Portland, Oregon. Merle was from Dallas, Oregon which is near Portland.
When we landed in Portland it was almost midnight and the funeral director met me at the airport. I had some papers for him to sign for the Navy and he took possession of Merle’s body. I told him of the Navy’s instructions to me to do everything not to allow the family to open the casket to view the body because of its poor condition from two weeks in the water. I stayed in Portland that night because the next day I had to contact the Willamette National Cemetery as well as a local naval reserve unit about details of the funeral which would take place in a couple of days. I would also go to Merle’s mother’s place of employment, a local Portland department store to meet with her. This would be quite emotional.
I entered the store and met with its manager. He called Mrs. Bissell into his office where she would see me in my dress blues and she totally broke down. She hugged me and cried. I had never met her before and obviously she looked at me in uniform and perhaps thought I was her son Merle, or understood the reason for my presence.
We spoke for a while and I answered her questions about Merle’s death. We had a very nice visit and I told her I would be staying nearby and would probably not see her until the funeral. She thanked me and we parted.
I stayed at the home of my cousin George and his wife and their two daughters across the river in Vancouver, Washington where I would find to my surprise my shipmates Edd, Robbie and Bill. I had no idea they would be there, but they had contacted my parents who gave them George’s phone number. They had driven from San Diego to Vancouver for the purpose of attending our friend’s funeral. That night we would play cribbage with my cousin and we worked on our uniforms for tomorrow’s funeral. We shared lots of sea stories, some about Merle and some not. We ironed our uniforms and removed all the ‘Irish pennants’. We put inspection level ‘spit-shines’ on our shoes. This crew would be ship shape. Late that night we slept as best we could in anticipation of our responsibilities of the next day.
I don’t remember much about the funeral at the church, but I do remember lots of family. Aunts, uncles, cousins, friends and of course, his mother. The cemetery was beautiful. Because of abundant rainfall to the area it is beautifully green. The cemetery was well groomed. This would be a great final resting place for my friend I thought. There were lots of American flags which made it all the more beautiful.
The burial portion of the funeral began with all the solemnity and precision the Navy can muster. The minister did his part, and ‘Taps’ was played by a bugler. The Naval Color Guard carefully and properly folded the American flag which had covered the casket. Its representative handed me the folded flag and we saluted as I turned and walked in front of Mrs. Bissell. I handed her the flag and spoke the message I was instructed to recite:
“This flag is presented by a grateful nation on behalf of the President of the United States of America for the faithful service of your loving son Postal Clerk Seaman Merle M. Bissell, United States Navy.”
I saluted her as she wept, then walked to the foot of the casket where I and my shipmates would render our final salutes to our friend and remove our white gloves and put them upon the casket. Our mission was over. For me, weeks of grieving was about to take its toll. I broke down and cried unashamedly.
We walked down the grassy hill to Edd’s Plymouth Valiant for the ride back to Portland. There we attended a family reception for Merle and the next day we began our trip back to San Diego.
Merle’s elegy can be summed up as mother lost her son at an all too young an age. A family lost a cousin or a nephew. A crew lost a shipmate and four old sailors lost a good friend.
Merle’s death was profoundly sad for all of us. For me it was especially horrible. I was only 19 and Merle only 21 years old. We had just returned from the hazards of 7 months at sea in a war zone and had been in combat and we had survived. We go swimming back home and Merle being an excellent swimmer and in the best physical condition of his life, would drown without any known cause or explanation. I would adopt the philosophy that there is no guarantee of any tomorrows. I will live my life that way. I will try to leave nothing on the table. I will tell my friends that I love them and hug my family and be certain they know I love them. I won’t be reckless, but I will live my life to the fullest. This is my promise to my friend Merle who died on active duty in the service of his country.
When one dies in the service of their country a family may retain the memory of that young life lost and also of the nation’s final beautiful tribute, complete with crisp colorful uniforms, flags and all of the high ceremony and the precision of the military funeral. In the end however, a family is left with nothing more concrete than a small insurance benefit and a folded flag. It is a lousy trade.
This year for the first time Merle’s name will be read at the Viet Nam Memorial, ‘The Wall’, in Washington D.C. on Flag Day, June 14, 2012. Edd Vitagliano has successfully pursued a two year effort to at least have Merle’s name read aloud at the memorial. There are 58,272 names on the wall because they were casualties of the war and killed in action. Merle’s name will not be inscribed on the wall because his death is viewed as different from the deaths of those whose names are on the wall. There are at least 4 old sailors that I know of, that don’t share in that view.
The year Merle died, according to the National Archives, 16,592 members of the US Armed Forces died in action in Viet Nam during 1968. The service of all those who names are on the wall should not be diminished, a great many were heroes. Merle was not a hero, but like all those who gave service to their country during Viet Nam and other wars, should be considered heroic.
I wish there were room on ‘The Wall’ for our friend’s heroic name, but at the moment there is not. That fact will not diminish the memory of our friend Merle. After 44 years his memory seems as fresh as ever.
God bless Merle. by Bob Summers, STG-3 6-67 to 7-69
Merle and I would enjoy liberty together at sailor bars and the E-M (enlisted men) clubs of bases the ship would make port. We also would go snorkeling together at many of the Pacific islands. Our favorite location was in the Philippines at a location known as Grande Island near Subic Bay. The waters there were clear and warm and the variety of fish and their respective colors would rival scenes of a Jacques Cousteau film.
We had other shipboard pals like Edd Vitagliano, Ken ‘Robbie’ Roberts and Bill Atkinson, who were all in Merle’s division, the Supply Division. These sailors were very close friends to us both, but did not swim or snorkel with us.
When the ship returned to San Diego, three of us Edd, Merle and I would share an apartment together on Saratoga Avenue in the Ocean Beach district. We lived just a block and a half from the ocean. What a life we enjoyed when the ship was in port. San Diego’s beach life suited the three of us well. On weekends Robbie and Bill might join us. I most always did the cooking and Edd & Merle being the older ‘legal’ guys kept the refrigerator stocked with ‘Colorado Cool Aid’ (Coors Beer). That, suntan lotion and girlfriends is about all young sailors like us would need.
For several months we enjoyed the good life. That is, until April 24, 1968.
That morning Merle and I woke early and gathered our masks, snorkels and flippers and headed just north a couple of blocks to Mission Bay Channel where we would snorkel across toward Mission Beach. Edd would stay home as he was baking a cake, which we never saw him do before, and this should have alerted us that today would be very unusual.
I recall it as a warm spring morning. No boat traffic to speak of in the channel. The waters were calm, but there was a strong current moving into Mission Bay. We would put on our equipment on the southern edge of the channel. Merle jumped in first. When he came up I asked him “how’s the water?’
He answered, “Just fine.”
Then I jumped in to the water which I recalled was much colder than the waters we swam in overseas. When I came up I cleared my mask and snorkel, then responded to him, “You liar.”
I would then start out in front of Merle as I was the weaker swimmer. Merle would remain slightly behind or alongside me. The water was murky and you couldn’t see much in the water. After a lengthy swim I emerged on the north side of the channel and saw a fisherman on the rocks in front of me screaming and waving his arms. He was yelling “your friend went down about a third of the way back and hasn’t come up.”
I turned around and to my horror saw no Merle, no snorkel---nothing. I turned back to the fisherman and told him to go over the rocks to Mission Beach and get a lifeguard. I then went back into the water looking for my friend and shipmate. In the murky waters, I couldn’t see much. I went up the channel and back down. I went deep a couple of times, but saw nothing. My friend was lost. Soon there were lifeguards and a Coast Guard helicopter hovering above conducting an organized search. The helicopter landed in the water and ordered me inside. They would explain the futility of searching any further.
I went home and explained the events of the day to Edd. Edd would call the ship to report Merle’s missing status. We were in shock.
Thirteen days later Merle’s body would be discovered along the shores of Mission Bay. The body was in very poor condition, but with dental records the Navy was able to identify the body.
I was selected to serve to escort Merle’s body home for burial. The ship transferred me to the US Naval Hospital, Balboa for temporary-additional-duty (TAD). I would meet a couple of other escorts at the hospital who were escorting deceased GI’s from combat in Viet Nam. At the naval hospital it made no difference, all the dead were dead. It made no difference how they died. We were given specific instructions and given our travel orders and I left for San Diego Airport and reported to the United Airlines Freight Office where the body had been delivered earlier that day.
The staff at the freight office was very cordial and understanding. They obviously had experience in dealing with military escorts and the sensitive cargo with them. I signed a freight manifest and was told the flight would leave in a little more than an hour, but if I wanted to wait downstairs with the casket I could. We were then moved to the gate of our departing aircraft. The freight loaders would come to me and explain they would be loading Merle’s body onto the aircraft very soon. I straightened my uniform and dusted myself off when they put the silver case containing the body and casket onto the plane. I rendered a smart salute and turned and walked up the stairs to the airport concourse.
The plane did a scheduled landing in Los Angeles and shortly thereafter took off for Portland, Oregon. Merle was from Dallas, Oregon which is near Portland.
When we landed in Portland it was almost midnight and the funeral director met me at the airport. I had some papers for him to sign for the Navy and he took possession of Merle’s body. I told him of the Navy’s instructions to me to do everything not to allow the family to open the casket to view the body because of its poor condition from two weeks in the water. I stayed in Portland that night because the next day I had to contact the Willamette National Cemetery as well as a local naval reserve unit about details of the funeral which would take place in a couple of days. I would also go to Merle’s mother’s place of employment, a local Portland department store to meet with her. This would be quite emotional.
I entered the store and met with its manager. He called Mrs. Bissell into his office where she would see me in my dress blues and she totally broke down. She hugged me and cried. I had never met her before and obviously she looked at me in uniform and perhaps thought I was her son Merle, or understood the reason for my presence.
We spoke for a while and I answered her questions about Merle’s death. We had a very nice visit and I told her I would be staying nearby and would probably not see her until the funeral. She thanked me and we parted.
I stayed at the home of my cousin George and his wife and their two daughters across the river in Vancouver, Washington where I would find to my surprise my shipmates Edd, Robbie and Bill. I had no idea they would be there, but they had contacted my parents who gave them George’s phone number. They had driven from San Diego to Vancouver for the purpose of attending our friend’s funeral. That night we would play cribbage with my cousin and we worked on our uniforms for tomorrow’s funeral. We shared lots of sea stories, some about Merle and some not. We ironed our uniforms and removed all the ‘Irish pennants’. We put inspection level ‘spit-shines’ on our shoes. This crew would be ship shape. Late that night we slept as best we could in anticipation of our responsibilities of the next day.
I don’t remember much about the funeral at the church, but I do remember lots of family. Aunts, uncles, cousins, friends and of course, his mother. The cemetery was beautiful. Because of abundant rainfall to the area it is beautifully green. The cemetery was well groomed. This would be a great final resting place for my friend I thought. There were lots of American flags which made it all the more beautiful.
The burial portion of the funeral began with all the solemnity and precision the Navy can muster. The minister did his part, and ‘Taps’ was played by a bugler. The Naval Color Guard carefully and properly folded the American flag which had covered the casket. Its representative handed me the folded flag and we saluted as I turned and walked in front of Mrs. Bissell. I handed her the flag and spoke the message I was instructed to recite:
“This flag is presented by a grateful nation on behalf of the President of the United States of America for the faithful service of your loving son Postal Clerk Seaman Merle M. Bissell, United States Navy.”
I saluted her as she wept, then walked to the foot of the casket where I and my shipmates would render our final salutes to our friend and remove our white gloves and put them upon the casket. Our mission was over. For me, weeks of grieving was about to take its toll. I broke down and cried unashamedly.
We walked down the grassy hill to Edd’s Plymouth Valiant for the ride back to Portland. There we attended a family reception for Merle and the next day we began our trip back to San Diego.
Merle’s elegy can be summed up as mother lost her son at an all too young an age. A family lost a cousin or a nephew. A crew lost a shipmate and four old sailors lost a good friend.
Merle’s death was profoundly sad for all of us. For me it was especially horrible. I was only 19 and Merle only 21 years old. We had just returned from the hazards of 7 months at sea in a war zone and had been in combat and we had survived. We go swimming back home and Merle being an excellent swimmer and in the best physical condition of his life, would drown without any known cause or explanation. I would adopt the philosophy that there is no guarantee of any tomorrows. I will live my life that way. I will try to leave nothing on the table. I will tell my friends that I love them and hug my family and be certain they know I love them. I won’t be reckless, but I will live my life to the fullest. This is my promise to my friend Merle who died on active duty in the service of his country.
When one dies in the service of their country a family may retain the memory of that young life lost and also of the nation’s final beautiful tribute, complete with crisp colorful uniforms, flags and all of the high ceremony and the precision of the military funeral. In the end however, a family is left with nothing more concrete than a small insurance benefit and a folded flag. It is a lousy trade.
This year for the first time Merle’s name will be read at the Viet Nam Memorial, ‘The Wall’, in Washington D.C. on Flag Day, June 14, 2012. Edd Vitagliano has successfully pursued a two year effort to at least have Merle’s name read aloud at the memorial. There are 58,272 names on the wall because they were casualties of the war and killed in action. Merle’s name will not be inscribed on the wall because his death is viewed as different from the deaths of those whose names are on the wall. There are at least 4 old sailors that I know of, that don’t share in that view.
The year Merle died, according to the National Archives, 16,592 members of the US Armed Forces died in action in Viet Nam during 1968. The service of all those who names are on the wall should not be diminished, a great many were heroes. Merle was not a hero, but like all those who gave service to their country during Viet Nam and other wars, should be considered heroic.
I wish there were room on ‘The Wall’ for our friend’s heroic name, but at the moment there is not. That fact will not diminish the memory of our friend Merle. After 44 years his memory seems as fresh as ever.
God bless Merle. by Bob Summers, STG-3 6-67 to 7-69
RSS Feed