Bill Moore has no regrets joining the U.S. Navy to fight in the Vietnam War.
“I will never regret going into the military,” the 73-year-old New Jersey resident said during the annual gathering of six Navy buddies held in late October at the home of Chuck and Jan Smiley of Newport. This year's reunion was Oct. 23-26.
“A lot of good memories, laughs and tears,” said Cam Borruso, 73, of New York. “We got to see the world – Asia, Australia, Philippines, Guam and Pearl Harbor.”
All of the six were electrical mechanics who served on the USS Hopewell destroyer that was commissioned in 1943 and served as their home away from home during multiple six-month-long tours overseas between 1968 and 1971.
“We kept the ship running,” said Mike Creech, 75, of Texas, who came the farthest for the reunion. “You might say we were the unsung heroes.”
Creech said he was the only one drafted into service. The rest of the friends – Larry Cox, 74, of Lapeer, MI, and Leo Labbe, 75, from Akron, Ohio – all enlisted.
“Nobody wanted to be drafted,” Smiley said. “We went on our choice. It was hard, a good character-building experience. You learned how to grow up and wear big-boy pants.”
“It taught us patience,” said Borruso, who enlisted at 17. “It was something I always wanted to do. I lost one of my cousins in Okinawa in World War II.”
Every fall, the six get together for a few days at the Smiley home and reminisce about their war experiences, sleeping in close quarters, bombings and current events in the world.
“We mostly talk about old times and rag on each other,” Creech said with a laugh. “We can’t remember what happened yesterday, but 50 years ago we can.”
“There’s never a lull in the conversation,” Borruso chimed in.
After meeting in 2015 at the Smiley home for the first time in over 50 years since they left the military, some of them got emotional when the first reunion ended, said Creech.
“When you live together like we did, you get close,” Smiley said. “We slept in the same compartment three racks high with our foot lockers on the floor. We slept head to toe to not spread disease. The guy next to me, his feet were about a foot from my head. Today’s ships aren’t like that.”
They recalled their ship at sea firing missiles and shells 10-12 miles away at targets that included Viet Cong supply depots and troop concentrations.
“We’d drop anchor and our guns would rotate and shoot day and night,” Smiley said. “Our salvos were most accurate. We got a lot of commendations for our accuracy.”
Citing a book published about the USS Hopewell, Borruso said the vessel had 67 firing missions recorded in 1968-69 in the West Pacific Ocean while encountering Russian ships a dozen times. He said naval gunfire is “most accurate” among the Armed Forces.
“We were constantly moving” to position itself for the bombings, Moore said.
Labbe remembered one Viet Cong bunker that was targeted on a Saturday.
“We wiped it out from the face of the earth,” he said emphatically.
On the less serious side, the men recalled fun shaving cream fights, initiations, sea bat jokes and other comical pranks that occurred on board. Liberty weekends and drinking with their buddies were among the good times shared.
“That’s what kept us sane,” Borruso said. “It’s a wonder we won the war… did we win? They called us every name in the book when we came back.”
Moore remembered getting spit on when he returned and being called “baby killers.” Borruso said the nation’s acceptance of Vietnam War Veterans changed for the better about 10 years ago with more people acknowledging the many trials, difficulties and trauma soldiers and sailors faced. Moore said all but Labbe was exposed to Agent Orange, a defoliant spray that caused cancer in thousands of war Veterans.
“Almost all of us got some form of disability” from work because of Agent Orange, Moore said. “If the wind blew, you got it. Leo may have escaped it because he was always below deck.”
Cox said he’s currently dealing with diabetes, one of the lingering effects of Agent Orange.
The USS Hopewell was 376 feet long, 39 ½ feet wide and drew a draft 17 feet deep.
“We were the fasted destroyer on the West Coast,” Labbe beamed with pride. “We could sail 41 knots.”
The ships don’t last forever. In 1972, 30 years after it was built, the Hopewell was destroyed, but it didn’t go down without a fight, the men said.
“They hit it with a missile off the coast, but that wasn’t enough,” Creech said. “They had to hit it again. It’s down at the bottom of the ocean near San Clemente Island.
“We felt bad” after hearing about it later, Smiley said. “That was our home. You got attached to each other."
All of the men sat at the kitchen table wearing dark T-shirts Borruso obtained online with a photo of the Hopewell emblazoned on them. Moore found caps, Cox got mugs and Creech obtained fountain pens with the Vietnam ribbon on them. All nice souvenirs of the ship to remember it by in between reunions.
Cox brought his wife, Judy, and daughter, Becky, with him to Sunday dinner with the guys. The two ladies kept Jan Smiley company while the men carried on. Jan spent nights with her son, Scott, a Monroe firefighter. She said she enjoys the men's get-togethers when she is with them.
"Oh yeah, I get a big kick out of it," she said. "I love seeing them together. I don't know where they come up with (so much) to talk about."
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