"What's the biggest hurricane surf you ever surfed?" A friend asked. "Surfed or seen?" I asked. "Either." he replied. "Well, the biggest surf I ever saw, was in the South China Sea. Off the coast of Vietnam, during a Typhoon." He looked at me funny. "Vietnam? Typhoon? I'm talking about hurricanes?" He said. "I know, Typhoons are Hurricanes...trust me on this. They are deadly."

"Did you ever surf in Vietnam?" he asked. "No, but I've had friends who have. " I answered. "Some you even know..." I stated. Local surfer Tom Woods was one.
He and his buddy Ron Sizemore surfed during the peak of the war in 1968. I've seen the slides. It was pretty good too. My late best friend Joe Somogyi who saw some serious combat, also surfed up north near DaNang. But me personally? No
I never did...however, I did do something that was clearly related to surfing.

I skateboarded on the flight deck of a helicopter assault ship during that typhoon.

I was a "grunt " in the Marine Corps. And during the war I was doing what most grunts were doing. We went on long humps (walks) in the mountains, valleys, and rice paddies. As the war wore down, I ended up on a helicopter assault ship. Our job was to go up and down the coast and fly off into the bush where we could go
on more humps. The ship had a nice long flight deck.



All the CH-46's and CH 53 choppers were on the flight deck. Chained down and ready to move at a moment's notice. I remember looking at that deck and thinking..."Man if I had a skateboard I could skateboard on the flight deck." So I did what any 19 year old surfer would do. I tried to get a skateboard. Except this was
in the year 1970. There were NO cell phones. No texting. No Internet. No social media connections. There was a pen, and a pad of paper. So I wrote to my father.

"Dear Dad, I need you to do me a BIG favor. PLEASE go out and buy me a skateboard..." I explained to him as best as I could, that I was serious and really wanted a skateboard. I mailed the letter and waited for my skateboard. Or at the very least, his answer

Weeks passed. And we had been back and forth in and out of the jungle. We would spend weeks on end out in the bush, and then return to the ship. Then I saw my father's letter. "Dear Ralph...what are you talking about? A skateboard? I thought you were in the jungle...?" And so it began. A series of letters of me trying to convince my dad, that I was serious. I would write to him pleading for a skateboard and he would write back asking if I was serious. Finally, after a couple of months (literally) of the back and forth snail mail letters, a package arrived.

I opened it and there she was. A wooden (cheap) skateboard with clay wheels.

I immediately put it in my locker aboard the ship. I knew if any of the officers spotted that they'd take it without asking any questions. But I have to tell you, I was giddy with excitement. I had a skateboard! But when would I be able to ride it? During the day? Hell I'd get 20 feet before they grabbed me. I had to wait for the right moment.
Keep in mind, we were only on the ship for short intervals. We were mostly out in
the bush, there was after all, a war raging out there.

My friends all thought I was crazy. I was...I was a damn surfer, and all you surfers out there know what that means. You find a way to go surfing. Or find a way to simulate surfing. Skateboarding was as close as I could get..

Then that Typhoon hit. She was a monster. Typhoon JOAN. She killed thousands of villagers in Vietnam and throughout the Southeast Asia countries. The Philippines was particularly hit hard. We were ordered to go and help the villagers. Now what I did not know at the time was...the US NAVY send their ships OUT TO SEA during storms. I guess it's safer out there. That seemed crazy to me. Until I saw the surf.

In my entire life (including as of late), I have never ever seen ocean swells that large.

The entire South China Sea was erupting like huge ocean volcanoes. 30 to 50 feet high. These large ocean peaks would rise up and spill over and just roll down like mini mountains. I was blown away by the sight. As we headed deeper into the
storm they sounded "General Quarters. " That means all Marines go below deck and get strapped into our racks. Strapped meaning putting seatbelt like straps across your chest and you would lay there.

The Marines slept in racks that were six high. And you had NO room. You laid there like sardines all stacked up, and just rolled with the ship. I hated it.

But then I remembered my skateboard. "Hey I'm going!" I told my squad. "I'm taking my skateboard out on the flight deck. This is the perfect time to do it."

Tony Beltran a Puerto Rican from New York looked down at me. "You're crazy!"

I just laughed. But he was right. That ship was rocking. But I also knew that NO ONE would be out and on the flight deck. So I grabbed my board out of my locker and made my way up and onto the flight deck. What I saw when I opened the hatch was complete insanity. The waves in the middle of the ocean had to have doubled in size. They were easily 80 to 100' high. It was the most breath taking image I have ever had looking at the ocean. How could this be so big? How could the ship sustain this kind of damage and not break up. I was scared shitless.

It was raining and the wind was howling. I did all I could to just hold on. I looked at the flight deck. All the choppers were tied down and the chains were making these insane creaking sounds holding the big birds down. The ship would rise up at incredible heights and then come slamming back down. It was a moving hill.

I mustered all the courage I could find and put the board down. I may have said a prayer, I don't remember, but thinking back I'm pretty sure I did. I mean we all
prayed over there. Every time something scary would happen we'd pray. There's that old saying "There are no atheists in foxholes." That's so true.

And it was true right then and there, as I took a breath and waited.

The ship rose up like the Titanic, and I shoved off. Taking a straight line down the middle of the flight deck. I was flying! I could see the huge waves on either side of me as I drove down the moving mountain. Going past the big CH-46 Helicopters that fly me and my fellow Marines into combat. Straining against the thick chains, they look like giant grasshoppers.

The wheels are chattering as I gain more speed. Going past the tower I look up.

There are men inside and they are pointing at me. "Oh oh... they know I'm out here."
I get to the end and actually do a sloppy kick turn and head back. As I start back there are men with weapons running up to me...it's hard to tell who and what they are with the pelting rain in my face. But there's no mistaking their demeanor.

"WHAT THE F- -K ARE YOU DOING?" They scream.

"Please let me just finish this last run...!" I plead as they grab me and my board.

They look horrified as they are now in the same elements as I am. Looking at the monster seas face to face...I see one of them mesmerized as I was. I nod to him.
But they are NOT happy. They haul me back in the tower and call my CO (Commanding Officer ). He's a good guy, but he was miffed and baffled at how I was not only able to pull this off, but as to how on earth I got a skateboard. I remember him saying to me..."What is it with you and surfing?"

They gave me a long lecture about the cost of having to come back and find me if I fell off the flight deck. And they even said, that as a whole, I am only worth $1.29 cents, but it would cost tens of thousands of dollars to turn the ship around to get me. I knew I messed up. They grabbed my board and I thought I'd never see it again. I went back down to the bottom of the ship where all my buddies were waiting to hear what happened. They were all still strapped into their racks.

They all had a good laugh at my story..."man you are one crazy mother.."

When the storm finally subsided, we had to fly off into the villages, to help bring the people bread and medical supplies, and help find survivors. Those scenes of all those dead children still haunt me today. War and Nature are capable of doing terrible things to human beings.

Months later, as I was about to rotate "Back to the World" my CO called me into his hooch. "I've got something for you..." I was standing there thinking "What is it?" He reached into his sea bag and pulled out my skateboard. "I thought you'd want this."
I'm not going to lie...I broke down and cried. I thanked him and told him it was an honor to serve with him. I had all the guys in my squad sign the board. I still have it today. It's right here in my office. And then I went home. To go surfing...



*As we boarded the plane (FREEDOM BIRD) to head back to the United States, they warned us...DO NOT wear your uniforms in the airports. There have been many incidents of returning vets being yelled at, and even spit on. We were numb. What?
Thank God that has all changed today. Oh and the reason it changed? Was because we Vietnam Vets, would NEVER let that happen again, to a generation of
US Veterans. Thank God.

Surfing Heals ALL Wounds...