Wallace, John, Jr., CAPT

PLEASE DESCRIBE WHO OR WHAT INFLUENCED YOUR DECISION TO JOIN THE NAVY.
Under the impression I was going to attend a boy's camp following graduation from high school in 1955, I signed up for the Naval Air Reserve 90-day accelerated training program at Los Alamitos NAS. I became a weekend warrior and an AT Striker with VF-782.

I graduated from college in 1960 with a major in pre-med but decided that was not the career I wanted. So, with the draft threatening to make me Army Strong and my father's 30-year naval career nudging me in that direction, I entered active duty Navy through OCS.

WHETHER YOU WERE IN THE SERVICE FOR SEVERAL YEARS OR AS A CAREER, PLEASE DESCRIBE THE DIRECTION OR PATH YOU TOOK. WHERE DID YOU GO TO BOOT CAMP AND WHAT UNITS, BASES, SHIPS OR SQUADRONS WERE YOU ASSIGNED TO? WHAT WAS YOUR REASON FOR LEAVING?
Upon graduating from OCS in March 1961, I was ordered to USS Polk County (LST-1084), where I served as Deck and Gunnery Officer until late 1962. I then applied and was accepted for Russian language training at the Navy Language School in Anacostia, MD.

Following nine months of language instruction, I volunteered for and was assigned to an office at Fort Meade, MD, where I embarked aboard submarines of the Atlantic Fleet as OIC of small detachments of cryptologic personnel. During that three-year tour, I requested a change of designator from 1105 (Line) to 1610 (Cryptology). I was then ordered to NSGA Bremerhaven, Germany, as Communication Officer.

My three-year tour was shortened to less than a year when I volunteered for duty in Vietnam. I served in Vietnam from the summer of 1967 to the summer of 1968 as OIC, Special Support Group, MACV SOG.

We supported MACVSOG with electronic and other intelligence in its strategic reconnaissance missions in the Republic of Vietnam (South Vietnam), the Democratic Republic of Vietnam (North Vietnam), Laos, and Cambodia. The mission included the capture of enemy prisoners, rescuing downed pilots, and conducting rescue operations to retrieve prisoners of war throughout Southeast Asia, and conducting clandestine agent team activities and psychological operations.

That tour was followed by orders to Naval Security Group HQ in Washington, DC. During that tour, I benefited from Admiral Zumwalt's policy for below-zone promotions.

That tour was followed by orders to the Naval Postgraduate School in Monterey, CA, where I earned a master's degree in one year.

I was next ordered to Rota, Spain, as Fleet Support Division Officer, eventually fleeting up to Operations Officer and Assistant Department Head.

Following that tour, I returned to NSG HQ as Head of the Mobile Systems Division.

I was short-toured from this assignment to return to the office at Fort Meade to run the Submarine Rider Program.

From there, I was ordered to CINCUSNAVEUR as Assistant Director, Naval Security Group Europe.

That assignment was followed by orders to Sabana Seca, PR, as Commanding Officer of the NSGA. I was then ordered to the National Security Agency in the Office of Support to Military Operations.

That assignment was shortened by my final military orders to Pearl Harbor, HI, as Deputy, National Security Agency Central Security Service Pacific.

IF YOU PARTICIPATED IN ANY MILITARY OPERATIONS, INCLUDING COMBAT, HUMANITARIAN AND PEACEKEEPING OPERATIONS, PLEASE DESCRIBE THOSE WHICH MADE A LASTING IMPACT ON YOU AND, IF LIFE-CHANGING, IN WHAT WAY?
My combat experience was limited to the Tet Offensive of January 1968, when I came under periodic enemy fire in Saigon.

My exposure was sufficient to merit the Combat Action Ribbon and the Combat Distinguishing Device on a Navy Commendation Medal.

DID YOU ENCOUNTER ANY SITUATION DURING YOUR MILITARY SERVICE WHEN YOU BELIEVED THERE WAS A POSSIBILITY YOU MIGHT NOT SURVIVE? IF SO, PLEASE DESCRIBE WHAT HAPPENED AND WHAT WAS THE OUTCOME.
In the summer of 1964, a team of specialists and I embarked aboard a nuclear-powered submarine and set sail on a classified mission. Broad guidance for the execution of the mission was to transit to the operating area, execute the mission, and return undetected by either friendly or hostile forces.

The modern attack nuclear submarine is particularly well suited for such a task. It has an exceptionally sensitive sonar system that allows it to detect, and usually classify, noises in the water at great distances. This capability, coupled with highly sensitive electronic systems which alert it to radar signals, allows the submarine to avoid, or investigate, targets long before the submarine comes within range to be detected by the target. Our platform for this particular mission was unique to the US Navy, not only the longest at 402 feet but the only submarine ever built with two nuclear reactors and originally classified as SSNR (Nuclear attack Submarine Reconnaissance).

The transit to the station was routine, with periodic excursions to periscope depth for radio traffic or to investigate contacts. The approach to the mission area was conducted at a speed and depth to maintain the mission's covert status. The long transit time offered an opportunity for the ship's crew to conduct training and emergency drills. My team also used this time to check and recheck equipment and to review details of the upcoming operation.

Once in the operating area, all contacts were considered hostile and evasive tactics were used. However, as contacts became more numerous, evasion often consisted of remaining quiet and deep while hostile units passed over us.

One evening, as we were attempting to maneuver our way clear of a concentration of hostile surface contacts, we found ourselves boxed in, with no clear course to steer to vacate the area. Using the "quiet and deep" tactic appropriate in such situations, we anticipated our slow speed would gradually carry us beyond the problem area or that the surface ships would eventually move on. The great thing about nuke submarines, I remember thinking, is that they can stay down forever.

That's when the lights went out.

When a ship loses its electrical load, battery-powered battle lanterns automatically click on in all the compartments, and the ship's intercom shifts to battery backup. In the dim light of a solitary lantern, I could barely make out the rest of my team as we all froze in place, waiting for some indication of the seriousness of the problem. The unmistakable voice of the Commanding Officer erupted over the intercom, "Will someone tell me what the hell's going on?"

The chilling response from the engine room: "Captain, we've just scrammed both reactors." This announcement was accompanied by a wailing siren in the background -- a sound whose memory gives me visceral twinges 50 years later.

A reactor scram is, simply put, the automatic shutdown of the nuclear reactor and complete loss of primary power to the submarine. (I don't know if "scram" is an acronym; but if it is, it probably stands for "Stop Chain Reaction, Avoid Meltdown!") A brief layman's explanation of this process might be useful. A nuclear reactor is a furnace, fueled by radioactive material. The heat from the reactor turns water into steam, which makes the screws turn and the electricity flow. The intensity of the reactor's output is controlled by graphite rods whose retraction from the reactor core allows more nuclear reactions and more heat, and whose lowering into the reactor has the opposite effect. A scram occurs when sensors recognize a problem in the system that is so severe, the rods are automatically dropped into the core, shutting down the reactor.

When the cause of the scram has been identified and corrected, the reactor is brought back online by slowly withdrawing the rods. If circumstances dictate (e.g., consequences of lost propulsion may be worse than the risk of bringing the reactor online without first isolating the cause of the scram), a fast scram recovery can be initiated.

As forward momentum is lost, depth control is lost. Like an airplane, a sub must either have lift across its control surfaces to control its rise or fall or by strategic use of its ballast tanks. Without depth control, a sub either pops to the surface (broaches) or sinks.

Getting back to our story, while broaching might seem a preferable alternative to sinking, our situation made that less attractive. To broach in the midst of hostile units, without power or propulsion, would not be a fun thing. Had we not been ballasted heavy, we would have broached no matter how opposed we were to that option. Instead, we slowly sank, stern down, at about a 15-degree angle.

Meanwhile, fast scram recovery procedures and attempts to start the Electrical Propulsion Motor (EPM) were initiated. Unfortunately, the EPM, an emergency backup motor, refused to start. And we continued to sink. As the boat went down, the tension level in the boat went up.

Fast scram recovery was successful, but before we could muster a collective sigh of relief as the reactor was brought back online, the wailing of sirens again pierced the dim interior of the boat...a second reactor scram. And we continued to sink. I recall thinking at the time that Einstein's calculations must somehow be flawed, and we were going to be the unfortunate guys to prove it. ("Look at this equation again - Albert forgot to carry the 1..."). The consequences of an uncontrolled descent can be disastrous -- USS Thresher and USS Scorpion were both lost in peacetime accidents when loss of depth control plunged them to crush depth.

Our situation was serious, but by bubbling air into the ballast tanks, we were able to slow our descent considerably and not alert hostile units above. Through this maneuver, we finally reached a depth equilibrium and hung suspended well above the danger point. The surface units gave no indication that they were aware of our presence and gradually moved their center of activity away from us. After an eternity, the engine room announced (unaccompanied by sirens), "Captain, making turns most reliable on Reactor Number One." But stomachs and jaws didn't unclench until the lighting was restored, and we began our withdrawal from the area.

We went on to complete our mission successfully and had an uneventful return to port.

I came away with my confidence in nuclear power shaken but with a renewed respect for the skilled submariners who willingly drop through that deck hatch day after day and year after year and go in harm's way.

OF ALL YOUR DUTY STATIONS OR ASSIGNMENTS, WHICH ONE DO YOU HAVE FONDEST MEMORIES OF AND WHY? WHICH WAS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE?
In spite of the weather, I enjoyed my tour in London the most. Some of the reasons:
--I spoke the language.
--I commuted to the downtown London office on British Rail.
--I lived in a three-story, Victorian house in Stoke Poges, with a large fenced yard.
--We were not allowed to wear uniforms.
--Good boss and good subordinates.
--Daughter was the only Yank on the Redding Royals synchronized swimming team and competed internationally.
--I played tournament volleyball for the Navy London team.
--Promoted to O6 on this tour.

In 1962, as our ship got underway from Pearl Harbor to participate in the nuclear weapons testing series on Johnston Atoll, the scuttlebutt on the mess desk had it that not only would we witness but be directly beneath the first nuclear weapon explosion in the outer atmosphere; and en route we would cross the equator to check for inhabitants on Jarvis Island. Many of the crew were more anxious about crossing the equator than potential exposure to radioactivity. Those looking forward to the equator crossing were crewmembers who had crossed before and had a service record entry certifying their shellback status and qualifying them to preside over the crossing ceremony. Those not looking forward to the ceremony were those first-time crossers whose participation in the traditional ceremony was the subject of much anxiety.

In the U.S. Navy, when a ship crosses the equator, there is a time-honored ceremony steeped in tradition and firmly imprinted in the memory of those who have experienced it. With few exceptions, those who have been inducted into the "mysteries of the deep" by Neptunus Rex and his Royal court count the crossing initiation as, if not the highlight, certainly one of the most memorable events in their naval career. Officially recognized by service record entries indicating date; time; latitude and longitude; and destination, the crossing of the equator involves elaborate preparation by the "shellbacks" (those who have crossed the equator before) to ensure the "pollywogs" (those who are about to cross the equator for the first time) are properly indoctrinated. All pollywogs, even the Commanding Officer if he has not crossed before, are obliged to participate.

Several days of garbage must be collected and a chute constructed; lengths of fire hose must be trimmed to "paddle" size lengths; costumes are designed and put together for the Royal Court; and a number of other miscellaneous details accomplished prior to sunrise on the day of crossing.

Ceremonies vary from ship to ship, depending on the collective experience of the shellbacks, but they all follow a basic format. All pollywogs are rousted from their bunks at sunrise, wearing the pollywog uniform of the day: skivvy shorts and shirts (underwear, to you lubbers). They are marshaled into positions along the main deck rail by paddle-wielding shellbacks, where they are "encouraged" to watch out to sea for blue porpoises (periodic calls of "No blue porpoises on the horizon" are interspersed with resounding smacks of the paddles). The sighting of the blue porpoises heralds the arrival of King Neptune and his Court and the commencement of the ceremonies. The Royal Court may vary in size but usually includes the King, a Queen, a number of princesses (it's a cross-dresser's dream come true), a Royal Baby, a Royal Barber, and a Royal Dentist.

Each pollywog is herded into the garbage chute and "encouraged" to keep his head submerged the entire length of the long structure. Shellbacks roam the length of the chute to provide the pollywogs with the necessary incentive. Emerging from the chute, each pollywog must take a turn before individual members of the court. The Royal Dentist squirts some disgusting liquid in their mouth; the Royal Barber shaves large swaths and random patches of hair from each head; other court members put each pollywog through a number of humiliating routines, which I must leave to your imagination; and finally, each must kiss the grease-slathered belly of the Royal Baby (usually the fattest, grossest shellback in the crew).

When all pollywogs have been thoroughly humbled and humiliated, they are gathered on the main deck before the assembled Royal Court and solemnly accepted into the Royal Order of the Deep, henceforth to be known as shellbacks.

A Navy tradition that my father, my son, and I have all endured.

FROM YOUR ENTIRE MILITARY SERVICE, DESCRIBE ANY MEMORIES YOU STILL REFLECT BACK ON TO THIS DAY.
Over a thirty-year career, there were numerous events that I look back on, some pleasant, some not-so-pleasant.

Aboard Polk County, I witnessed the first (and probably the last) nuclear weapons explosion in the outer atmosphere, launched from Johnston Atoll.

Aboard submarines, I had serious doubts that our boat would recover from a reactor scram in unfriendly waters.

In Vietnam, I recall the 122 mm rocket impact that came too close; and during the Tet Offensive, the VC bodies sprawled in the street where I'd walked the previous day.

In Puerto Rico, the anticipation and concern about assuming command of a station that had been attacked by Machetero terrorists less than a year before.

WHAT PROFESSIONAL ACHIEVEMENTS ARE YOU MOST PROUD OF FROM YOUR MILITARY CAREER?
In 1962 I crossed the equator aboard USS Polk County and became a Shellback.

In Sept. 1963, I graduated first in my Russian language class, at the Interpreter/Translator level.

In 1966, I was awarded the Navy Commendation Medal for service aboard US submarines.

In 1968 I was awarded a second Navy Commendation Medal (with combat distinguishing device) for service with MACV SOG during the Tet Offensive of Jan. 1968. I was also awarded the Combat Action Ribbon for this service.

In 1969. I was a below-the-zone selectee for LCDR.

In 1970 I received the Surface Warfare Officer designation for service aboard USS Polk County.

In 1980 I was awarded the Meritorious Service Medal for service as Deputy DIRNAVSECGRUEUR.

In 1981 I received the Command Ashore distinguishing device as CO of NSGA Sabana Seca, Puerto Rico.

In 1984 I was awarded a second Defense Meritorious Service Medal as CO NSGA Sabana Seca, Puerto Rico.

In 1989 I was awarded the Defense Superior Service Medal for duty as Deputy at National Security Agency Pacific.

In 1990 I received a Presidential Unit Commendation for service with MACV SOG (delayed 20 years for security considerations).

OF ALL THE MEDALS, AWARDS, FORMAL PRESENTATIONS AND QUALIFICATION BADGES YOU RECEIVED, OR OTHER MEMORABILIA, WHICH ONE IS THE MOST MEANINGFUL TO YOU AND WHY?
The most meaningful award I received is the Army Presidential Unit Citation, awarded to the organization I served with in Vietnam. Because of the classified nature of SOG operations, this recognition did not come until almost 20 years after the Vietnam conflict ended.

Although I was retired by the time I received the award and have never worn the ribbon, I feel my association with SOG was the highlight of my military career.

WHICH INDIVIDUAL(S) FROM YOUR TIME IN THE MILITARY STAND OUT AS HAVING THE MOST POSITIVE IMPACT ON YOU AND WHY?
My father joined the Navy in 1931 and attended boot camp in San Diego. He rose from Seaman Recruit to Commander before retiring in 1961, the same year I was commissioned. He was always my hero and generous with his advice. The single bit of guidance from him that I carried throughout my career was "Never bring a problem to your seniors without also bringing a solution."

My uncle (father's brother) also served in the Navy during WWII and left the service as a CPO.

My brother also served a single tour in the Navy aboard USS Shangri La. My son served aboard USS Reclaimer as an ET, before leaving the service on a medical.

CAN YOU RECOUNT A PARTICULAR INCIDENT FROM YOUR SERVICE, WHICH MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE BEEN FUNNY AT THE TIME, BUT STILL MAKES YOU LAUGH?
This story is probably too long, but it is a favorite memory of mine:

In 1961, as a fresh caught Ensign, I reported aboard USS Polk County (LST 1084) as the ship was about to head north for exercises off Washington. The highlight of our deployment was to be a rare visit by a U.S. warship to the beautiful city of Victoria, British Columbia.

As a junior officer on board, I was designated Officer Of the Deck upon our arrival. In addition to normal logistics arrangements, I was responsible for ensuring that proper honors were rendered when His Honor, the Lord Mayor, came aboard to welcome us to his city. The Commanding Officer had made it quite clear that this latter responsibility was of the highest priority. I checked that the Bosun Mate of the Watch, whose duties would be to announce His Honor's arrival, was a more experienced sailor who would be very professional in this special situation. I drilled him on the announcement he was to make: "His Honor, the Lord Mayor of Victoria, British Columbia, arriving."

To make especially sure things were in order, I went to the wheelhouse to check the 1MC (Primary Communications) over which the announcement would be broadcast. I knew almost nothing about the equipment, but it was immediately obvious to me that someone had inadvertently placed the power switch in the "off" position. Throwing the switch to "on", I congratulated myself on averting this potential glitch and made my way to the quarterdeck to await the arrival of the Lord Mayor. Word was passed that the distinguished visitors had arrived at the head of the pier.

The Bo'sun Mate of the Watch took station in the wheelhouse, and all officers formed a welcoming party at the head of the gangway. As our Canadian visitors approached the ship, The Bo'sun's voice could be heard as he practiced his important announcement. Unaware that a helpful Ensign had thrown the microphone into an open-mike position, and getting no response to his repeated efforts to key the microphone, all who were within range of the 1MC were treated to the Bosun's awesome repertoire of profanities developed over a 20-year naval career: "His Honor. What the #%#! ..The Lord .. #@#! .. Who's been %$@#ing around with this &%$#?"

By this time, the Commanding Officer had fixed me with a withering glare. The Lord Mayor's arrival at the foot of the brow coincided with the Bosun's discovery of the out-of-position switch, and proper honors were finally rendered as he set foot aboard the ship. The Captain stepped forward, prepared to apologize for the unusual protocol we had just inflicted on our Canadian host when the Lord Mayor stuck out his hand and said with a straight face but a twinkle in his eye, "Captain, can I expect to be sworn at again as I leave the ship, or was that just part of the welcome aboard program?"

A brief moment passed before they both erupted in laughter.

After a tour of Polk County, the Lord Mayor left the ship to the unembellished announcement: " His Honor, the Lord Mayor of Victoria, British Columbia, departing."

WHAT PROFESSION DID YOU FOLLOW AFTER YOUR MILITARY SERVICE AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING NOW? IF YOU ARE CURRENTLY SERVING, WHAT IS YOUR PRESENT OCCUPATIONAL SPECIALTY?
I retired in Hawaii and taught as an adjunct faculty member at Hawaii Pacific University.

I also had a contract with Educational Services on the Pearl Harbor Submarine Base.

WHAT MILITARY ASSOCIATIONS ARE YOU A MEMBER OF, IF ANY? WHAT SPECIFIC BENEFITS DO YOU DERIVE FROM YOUR MEMBERSHIPS?
I am a life member of the Military Officers Association (MOAA) and the Naval Cryptologic Veterans Association (NCVA). I have attended reunions of the NCVA because I have the opportunity to tell sea stories with friends from the cryptologic community who have been there and have shared similar experiences.

IN WHAT WAYS HAS SERVING IN THE MILITARY INFLUENCED THE WAY YOU HAVE APPROACHED YOUR LIFE AND YOUR CAREER? WHAT DO YOU MISS MOST ABOUT YOUR TIME IN THE SERVICE?
I spend a lot of time on both Pearl Harbor and Hickam AFB (now a Joint command) and have benefited greatly from the availability of commissaries, PXs, and fitness centers. I am ready to recommend a career in the Navy to anyone who is considering what to do with their life.

BASED ON YOUR OWN EXPERIENCES, WHAT ADVICE WOULD YOU GIVE TO THOSE WHO HAVE RECENTLY JOINED THE NAVY?
Never bring a problem to your seniors without also bringing a solution. Only half joking here: I'd advise those who are still serving to avoid situations that put you in a negative light with those who control your upward mobility. Keep looking for more responsibility and the opportunity to show your value.

IN WHAT WAYS HAS TOGETHERWESERVED.COM HELPED YOU REMEMBER YOUR MILITARY SERVICE AND THE FRIENDS YOU SERVED WITH.
I have encountered a number of old shipmates over the years since I've been a member of TWS. It's particularly gratifying to see how so many of these sailors and officers have developed their careers and received deserved recognition.

KC 2.12.24