Free Combat Swimmer by Robert A. Gormly

the fierce fighting, his platoon commander and many of the men were seriously wounded. Bob’s ingenuity and bravery turned the tide. He rallied the platoon, organized a tactical advance away from the enemy, ordered in helicopters, and got all of his men out. He personally carried one of the most seriously wounded men across a rice paddy to waiting helicopters. Then he kept up a deadly stream of fire to cover the rest of his platoon as they boarded. Gallagher was the last man on the last helo to leave the battle zone. He was awarded the Navy Cross, the U.S. Navy’s highest decoration, for heroism. If he had been a commissioned officer, he would have been awarded the Medal of Honor.
    At the time, though, SEAL Two functioned on a shoestring. It was under the administrative control of COMPHIBLANT (amphibious force), but under the operational control of CINCLANTFLT (Atlantic fleet). That meant the amphibious folks had to pay our bills but didn’t get to use us. CINCLANTFLT wasn’t using us either, so we were basically dangling in the wind.
    For equipment, we were using what the Team had received on its initial outfitting in 1962. Our closed-circuit scubas were badly in need of spare parts. Of course, we couldn’t afford to buy spares, so we “cannibalized,” using parts from one rig to keep two others going. That’s a recipe for disaster, but fortunately our guys were professional enough to pull it off. Even so, we had to cut back on training, especially since the Team was so underfunded we had to pay our own way to training sites.
    Things started to get better in August 1966. SEAL Team One, already heavily committed in Vietnam, was being pressured to provide more SEALs in-country. In midsummer we got a new CO, Lieutenant Bill Early, a West Coast SEAL who had just returned from a year tour advising the Vietnamese Linh Doi Nui Nai (their equivalent to SEALs). Bill was acutely aware of the need for more SEALs, so he set about getting his new command involved. After wrangling with Pentagon bureaucrats, Bill convinced the powers that be that we needed to spend some money on training and equipment. In October, the bucks flowed and we got gear.
    We had about three months to get ready once the word came that we’d be deploying. Lieutenant Jake Rhinebolt, our detachment officer-in-charge, and the rest of us officers and chief petty officers put our heads together and came up with a schedule we figured would prepare us. We had to polish individual skills and learn new ones—and, most important, we had to learn to work together in our new platoon organization.
    SEAL Team One deployed platoon-sized units of two officers and ten enlisted. SEAL Team Two was organized into assault groups of one officer and five enlisted each, so we just combined assault groups to form platoons. SEAL One also operated almost exclusively in squad-sized elements of one officer and five enlisted. The new system was easy to pick up because we had been operating in squad-sized units all along.
    My outfit, the 3rd Platoon, was actually two units, each with a different character. Lieutenant Larry Bailey was the platoon commander, and I was the assistant. My squad was the best group of SEALs I had seen up to that point, and I wouldn’t trade them for any I’ve seen since. Meet my “trained killers”!
    Chief Boatswain’s Mate J. P. (Jess) Tolison was my squad chief petty officer—I worked for him, and he was the best. Quiet, forceful, tough, aggressive, smart, he could do it all. He had more sense and leadership than any officer I’ve ever worked with, and I trusted his judgment without question. He always seemed to do the right thing. Six feet tall, about 200 pounds, he intimidated a lot of tough SEALs. Jess had blue eyes that seemed to look right through you when he talked—and he always looked you in the eye. When Larry and I picked squads, I stole Jess. The rest of the platoon would go anywhere