by Doug Miles | MMA President

November 2, 1965 was just another day for me serving in Crew 5 of VP 50 operating out of Cam Ranh Bay, Republic of Vietnam. I was performing one of my normal activities by removing parachute flares from our P-5M seaplane. We had returned from a normal night flight with some remaining flares which had to be removed for return to the ship

for storage and replaced with the usual 5 inch HAVR rockets for an upcoming day flight. The weather was beautiful and the bay was calm, making it nice for performing this task.

The way this was performed was somewhat old school, a ship work boat was rigged with a four legged table for the crew ordnanceman and the ship
ordnanceman to work together to perform this task. This table was rigged
in the center of the workboat generally operated by a three man boat crew. They would load the requested ordnance onto the boat from the ship and delivery to the plane that had made the request. The boat crew and the plane crew worked together to locate the workboat underneath the wing rocket/flare rack and hold the boat in a stable position by hooking a rope to the wing pontoon, the bow hatch lug and the after station hatch lug. The ropes were not tied off to the boat but hand held by the boat crew for safety purposes. In case there was an emergency the ropes could be throne overboard and the boat moved away from the plane.

On this day the work boat also had some passengers along for the ride going on to other planes after this activity was completed.

The work boat pulled up to my plane, I got on board the boat and the boat crew operated the boat to make the tie up for the work activity. The rockets were stacked in the boat and we cleared another area for the flares to be stacked as we removed them from the plane wing.

The ship ordnanceman and I climbed onto the table and started to place the safety pins back into the flares. All pins were replaced and we started removing the flares. I placed my hands under the flares and he would use the release tool to release the flares into my hands. We had removed two (if my memory is correct)

and were working on the third. I had my hands on the flare prepared to take the load as it was released. Upon it dropping into my hands and me moving into position to hand it to the mate below – I felt a click in my hand. From my training I knew exactly what had happened, the flare had malfunctioned and was about to pop the parachute. I immediately tried to throw the flare overboard but as I tried to do this the parachute popped out and caught on the edge of the work table. The flare canaster then dropped onto the floor of the work boat adjacent the stored rockets. At this time everyone in the boat jumped overboard leaving me standing on the work table alone. Looking down at the flare (from training) I knew there was a few seconds delay before the magnesium stick would ignite. I jumped down into the boat and seeing a piece of old canvas I started to try to pick up the flare to throw it overboard again but just as I was about to grab it, I remembered (again from training) that if one touches magnesium your hands will just melt.

I backed away from trying this and looked around. Everyone else from the boat was in the water, the ropes were limp, the wind had pushed the boat up against the plane under the bomb bay which was loaded with a full fuel tank for our next flight. The flare was burning! I had never driven a boat before but the engine was running at idle, being an old farm boy, I had driven many tractors so I moved to the stern of the boat and started moving levers until I hit the gears and the boat started moving alone scraping the side of the plane. As it moved by the bow of the plane I stepped into the plane and the boat went on out to sea and burned.

Another work boat moved into position where all the guys were in the water and picked them all up for return to the ship.

I have heard over the years that someone had pictures of this event but have never found out who that person was. If anyone knows who does please get in touch with me.

You see this happened in 1965 but it is like it happened yesterday to me. I am thankful for the training I received in ordnance A school, it saved my life and the life of others that day with lots of help from God!

I was told that if our plane would have burned the whole bay would have gone up in flames with all the planes tied up to buoys nearby.

Upon return to the states in 1966, I was awarded the Navy Commendation Medal for this action, I made E-5 in 1966 and was the youngest second class in the squadron. I got out in 1967 the day before I turned 21. Fifty years later I was finally awarded my Air Medal. I made two tours to Vietnam with VP 50.

About ten years later I received a call from an ordnanceman that had heard my story at the Silver Dollar bar in San Diego years earlier. He wanted to connect with me to let me know that he had a flare go off with him at the storage magazine. He was able to mitigate the incident by getting it away from the other stored flares.

By the way I grew up on a dairy farm outside of Coward, South Carolina, that is where the title for this article came from. Newspapers all over the country carried this news due to the catchy title.