Paul Davis On Crime: Subic Bay Philippines

Showing posts with label Subic Bay Philippines. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 7, 2026

My Crime Fiction: 'The Refrigerator Thieves'

Below is another chapter from my crime novel Olongapo, which I hope to soon publish.

The story originally appeared in American Crime Magazine.

The Refrigerator Thieves

By Paul Davis

After operating on “Yankee Station” in the Gulf of Tonkin off the coast of North Vietnam during the Vietnam War in 1971, the aircraft carrier USS Kitty Hawk sailed into the huge U.S. Naval base at Subic Bay in the Philippines for repairs and replenishments.

While in Port at Subic Bay, someone stole a brand-new compact refrigerator filled with soda cans. The small refrigerator had recently been purchased at the Navy Exchange on the Subic Bay naval base after the Kitty Hawk’s sailors in the Communications Radio Division took up a collection. The sailors wanted to buy the refrigerator so their sodas would be kept ice cold while they were at sea on Yankee Station. The refrigerator was stored in the supply office in the Communications Radio Division’s spaces aboard the Kitty Hawk.

The message processing center was a restricted area that held highly classified material, and one had to punch four digits into the security panel to gain entry. But the supply office, located next to the division’s berthing compartment, did not hold classified material and was only secured with a lock on the door.

With the compact refrigerator full of soda cans, it must have been quite heavy, awkward to carry, and noisy with the soda cans clanking together as it was moved, so none of us had any idea how it could have been lifted and taken out of the supply office without anyone noticing it. Nor did we have any idea of how the thieves could get the refrigerator off the carrier while in port at Subic Bay.

NIS Special Agent Boone Cantrell came aboard to conduct the investigation. While the theft of the refrigerator itself was a minor crime, the fact that it was stolen within the Communications Radio Division’s spaces made the theft a major security issue. Cantrell interviewed me after the theft was reported, along with other division sailors. We all told him that we didn’t see or hear anything.

Earlier, while at sea on Yankee Station, Salvatore Lorino visited the Communications Radio Division to pay a call on one of his good meth customers. Anthony Brant, a curly-haired seaman from Brooklyn, exchanged his cash for a bag of shabu - crystal meth - and then he asked Lorino if he wanted a Coke. Brant waved for Lorino to follow him out of the compartment and to the door that read “CR Supply Office.”

Brant took out his keys and opened the door and the two walked in. Lorino looked around, his criminally bent mind looking for something of value to steal. He saw only general office supplies, and he didn’t notice anything of value until Brant opened the refrigerator’s door and extracted two Coke cans. Brant handed one can to Lorino and opened one for himself. The two left the office and Brant locked the door.

As Lorino walked back to the Deck Department, he wondered what the small refrigerator, as well as the case of soda cans in it, would go for on the black market in Olongapo.

After the Kitty Hawk pulled into Subic Bay, Lorino left the carrier and went ashore. He walked down Magsaysay Drive and stepped into the Americano. Walker saw Lorino enter the bar, and he beckoned him over. He introduced Lorino to Bagwis Seno.

Born and raised in Olongapo, Seno had been stealing since he was a small child. When he turned 18, he befriended a local priest and convinced him that he was a good Catholic boy. Crying, he told the priest that he wanted to get far away from the temptations of Olongapo. He begged the priest to help him join the American Navy. He told the priest that he wanted to serve in the U.S, Navy so he could qualify for United States citizenship. He didn’t tell the priest that he wanted to become an American citizen as he believed there were greater opportunities to steal in America.

The priest believed Seno, and he used his friendship with a U.S. Navy Catholic Chaplin to get Seno into the U.S. Navy. Seno thanked the priest in his usual fashion by stealing cash and valuables from the church before he left Olongapo to enter the American Navy.

At the bar, Walker told Lorino that Seno was serving on the Kitty Hawk as a cook. Walker said that Seno was looking for more opportunities to steal on the aircraft carrier.

“I call this guy “Sticky Fingers” Seno,” Walker said laughing. “He’s a natural fucking thief. Nothing is safe around this thievin’ bastard.”

Walker, Seno and Lorino walked over to a table and sat down. A waiter brought over beer for the larcenous trio. Seno told Lorino that he had a partner on the Kitty Hawk, a fellow Filipino cook, and they worked with two of his old Filipino friends, both of whom worked as civilian painters on the Subic Bay naval base. The four thieves pulled off several scores on the aircraft carrier, but they were always looking for new things to steal.

“Do you know of anything on the ship you guys can boost?” Walker asked Lorino.

Lorino immediately thought of the refrigerator. He hesitated for a moment, as he had good friends among the radiomen, including his pal from South Philly, and he didn’t want to steal from them. But, hey, business was business. He told Walker and Seno about the compact refrigerator.

On the evening before the Kitty Hawk pulled out from Subic Bay and returned to Yankee Station, Seno and Romy Fernandez, Seno’s partner in crime, walked through the darkened radio berthing compartment. The sailors not on watch or on liberty in Olongapo were sleeping in their racks. With Lorino acting as a look-out, the two thieves snuck through the compartment like modern-day ninjas. Seno picked the supply office’s door lock, and they entered the office. The two thieves lifted the heavy refrigerator and carried it out of the office and through the compartment as quietly as they could and then out into the passageway.

Lorino led them through a hatch and out onto the catwalk. The two Filipinos followed, carrying the heavy refrigerator as the soda cans banged against each other inside the refrigerator.

Lorino had previously made an effort to learn about line-handling and knots while working in the Deck Department, as he figured that one day he’d find a practical use - for Lorino, that meant criminal - and today was that day.

Lorino secured a line around the refrigerator, and the three men lifted the refrigerator over the top of the catwalk rail and lowered it to the small boat the Filipino painters used to paint the hull on the seaboard side of the carrier when the warship was moored to the dock.

The two painters took the refrigerator in hand and lowered it to the boat’s deck. The sailors topside dropped the line. The painters motored off away from the carrier.

The following evening, the refrigerator was in Walker’s office in the Americano. He opened it and pulled out cold beer bottles for Lorino and Seno.

“Good work, fellas. I should get a good price for this refrigerator, and when I do, I’ll give you your cut,” Walker said to Lorino and Seno.

“Now drink up, you fucking pirates.”

Note: You can read my previous posted Olongapo chapters via the links below:

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'Salvatore Lorino'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: The Old Huk

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: Join The Navy And See Olongapo

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'Boots On The Ground'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'The 30-Day Detail'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'Cat Street'

Paul Davis On Crime: Chapter 12: On Yankee Station

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'The Cherry Boy'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'The Hit'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: Welcome To Japan, Davis-San

Paul Davis On Crime: A Look Back At Life Aboard An Aircraft Carrier During The Vietnam War: 'The Compartment Cleaner'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'Murder By Fire'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'Admiral McCain'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'Hit The Head'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'A Night At The Americano'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'Missing Muster'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'The Barracks Thief'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'The City of Bizarre Happenings'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'Go Forth, Goforth'

Wednesday, October 22, 2025

My Crime Fiction: 'The City of Bizarre Happenings'

The story below is another chapter from my novel Olongapo, which is about young sailors from the USS Kitty Hawk.

The aircraft carrier periodically left “Yankee Station” in the Gulf of Tonkin off the coast of North Vietnam in 1971 during the Vietnam War and sailed to Subic Bay in the Philippines.

The warship pulled into Subic Bay (called “Septic Bay” by some sailors) for repairs, replenishment of weapons and stores, and to let the pent-up sailors loose on the wild-open town Olongapo, called the “City of Bizarre Happenings.”

The story originally appeared in American Crime Magazine.

City of Bizarre Happenings

By Paul Davis

I recall that some Navy wit called Olongapo the “City of Bizarre Happenings.”

I certainly discovered that to be true as Ingemi, Hunt and I strolled down Magsaysay Drive on a typical Olongapo evening.

We began the evening at a restaurant on the naval base, where we had a fine steak dinner and a glass of red wine. After that hearty meal, we strolled from the on-base restaurant to the gate leading into Olongapo.

Once outside the gate, we crossed the short bridge over “Shit River.” Despite the smell, filth and pollution, several small children were on boats in the shallow river and begged the American sailors crossing the bridge to toss coins in the river. Some sailors tossed coins and the children dove into the polluted water and came up smiling with the coin in hand.

Hunt frowned as we watched the Filipino children dive in. When a sailor near us began to toss in a coin, Hunt grabbed his arm. “Don’t encourage them to jump in that filthy water.” Hunt said sharply. “They’re just poor, dumb kids.”

The sailor saw the enraged look on Hunt’s face and pocked his coin and walked across the bridge into Olongapo. We too walked across the bridge into Olongapo.

We passed numerous street vendors selling sunglasses and assorted items, as well as vendors selling “meat-on-a-stick.” The meat was probably beef or chicken, but some of the older American sailors insisted the mystery meat was monkey, dog, cat or rat. I had to admit that the street vendor’s fried meat, whatever it was, smelled good. But upon the wise counsel of my older shipmates, I passed on eating it.

Further on we saw a crowd of American sailors near a four-foot wall over an opening between two buildings. Also at the wall was a Filipino who held a basket full of noisy, little yellow chicks. The American sailors crowded around the Filipino and peered over the wall. I looked down as well and saw a small crocodile lying in a muddy pond of water.

One of the sailors gathered at the wall bought a chick from the Filipino for a dollar. The sailor tossed the chick into the pond and the crocodile moved forward and grabbed the tiny chick in its jaws. The sight of the crocodile feeding on the chick and the sound of crunching and gobbling was shocking.

Other sailors lined up quickly and bought chicks and began hurling them to the hungry and waiting crocodile. I was taken aback by the scene, but curious, so I watched, like one is compelled to watch the proverbial car wreck.

“That’s fucking sick,” I heard one sailor say.

“But you is watchin’ it, ain’t you?” Another sailor replied.

“Yeah, but still…”

“You eats chicken, don’t ya?” the other sailor asked. “So why can’t the ole croc enjoy hisself a baby chick?”

“Crazy fucking town,” Ingemi said as we walked away.

While further cruising along Magsaysay Drive, we spied a sailor ahead of us react in a panic as he discovered that a teenage pickpocket had lifted his wallet. The pickpocket took off down the crowded street and ran between the people like a football player dodging the defense as he headed towards the goal post.

His good run ended when the young thief ran directly into Hunt, who punched the pickpocket in the chest. The pickpocket crumpled and fell to the street. The sailor rushed over, and thanking Hunt profusely, bent over and retrieved his wallet from the gasping Filipino thief who lay in the street.

“That’s one “dodger” who isn’t so artful,” I said.

Hunt laughed.

The sailor looked at me dumbfounded.

“Dicken’s Artful Dodger from Oliver Twist?” I said, trying to explain the reference. “The London pickpocket?”

He looked away from me and faced Hunt and once again thanked him for stopping the thief. Then he walked away.

“That dope probably thought Oliver Twist is a vodka cocktail with a slice of lemon,” I said to Hunt.

We shook our heads and walked on.

Just another evening stroll on the streets of the City of Bizarre Happenings.

We finally reached the Starlight and Zeny, Marlena and Hunt’s girl Carmelina ran up to us. We all sat at a table where another radioman from our division sat with a girl. The radioman, Anthony “Rock” Hudson, was an amiable but dim 24-year-old from Milwaukee.

Hudson thought he was called Rock because he was as handsome as the movie star Rock Hudson, but in fact the sailors gave him the nickname after a sailor said, “Hudson is as dumb as a rock.”

“Howdy!” Hudson said to us.

“Doody,” I replied, completing the name of the TV character we all grew up on.

“Nah, I aint’ got no duty,” Hudson said. “I got liberty tonight.”

“I like you, Hudson, but you’re a dumb shit,” Hunt said.

Hudson looked perplexed, as he usually did.

“What year was the War of 1812 fought?” Hunt asked Hudson.

“Hell, I don’t know.”

“Who’s buried in Grant’s Tomb?” Hunt asked, suppressing a laugh.

“I don’t give a shit, as long as it ain’t my ass.”

We all laughed.

“Hudson, you’re too dumb for the Viet Cong Navy, let alone the United States Navy,” I said.

“Yeah, Davis,” Hudson replied. “But you’re right here with me, so what does that make you?”

“Point taken.”

We drank Sam Miguel beer and danced with the girls as the fine house band played their renditions of popular songs.

At a table next to us was a big, belligerent, pug ugly and thoroughly drunk sailor who appeared to have a grudge against sailors from the Northern states of America.

In a loud voice that carried over the band’s loud music, the big drunk hurled insults.

“Damn fuckin’ Yankees and colored boys fuckin’ up my Navy,” the drunk said repeatedly.

I was friends with several sailors from the South, and we often insulted each other and the states we hailed from. That was good-natured rivalry, but this Southerner was still bitterly fighting the Civil War.

I was getting tired of hearing this smacked ass, and it must have shown on my face. Hunt tapped my arm to get my attention, and he told me to ignore the drunk.

“Don’t make eye contact with him,” Hunt advised. “He’s drunk and he’s looking for a fight. Don’t let him spoil our night.”

Although I was the youngest of the Kitty sailors at my table, I had the feeling I was going to be the one to take on this drunken giant. I was fast tiring of his repeated insults and taunts. I noticed that the drunk was sitting alone at the table, and he was talking to himself, as his friends and even the bar girl he had been with probably found him to be obnoxious and unruly.

At our table, Hudson took his girl’s hand, and they moved away to avoid a possible confrontation. Perhaps Hudson wasn’t as dumb as we thought.

As Marlena returned to our table from the Ladies’ room, the drunken giant shot up from his chair and grabbed her arm. He pulled her roughly onto the dance floor.

She broke loose from him as Ingemi walked over.

“Back off, buddy,” Ingemi said to the drunk sailor nicely. “She’s with me.”

“Fuck her and you, Yankee,” the drunk slurred as he threw a wild punch at Ingemi and missed.

Ingemi, who never acted or talked like a tough guy - or had to - decked the drunk with a good left hook. The drunken giant went down from the one punch, and he stayed down. Rosalita rushed over and pushed Ingemi back to our table. A waiter ran up to the bar manager and said something in Tagalog.

“Sit down, Dino,” Rosalita said. “The Shore Patrol coming in.”

Ingemi sat down next to Marlena. He took out a cigarette, lit it, and tried to look calm. We all did.

Two Shore Patrol petty officers came in and saw the drunk sailor lying flat on the floor. They looked around as everyone tried to look and act natural.

Suddenly, Marlena leaped up from her chair, wrapped her arms around Ingemi’s neck, and shouted, “Don’t take him! He’s innocent!”

Ingemi shook his head sadly as the Shore Patrol came over, lifted him out of his seat and placed handcuffs on him. Ingemi was escorted out of the Starlight.

The Shore Patrol petty officer took Ingemi’s Navy ID card out of his shirt pocket, and they drove him to the Kitty Hawk. Ingemi stepped out of the jeep, and his handcuffs were removed. The Shore Patrol escorted him up the enlisted brow and handed over his ID to the petty officer at the ship’s quarterdeck.

Without his ID card, Ingemi was unable to return to Olongapo. The Shore Patrol didn’t bother to put Ingemi on report, as being restricted to the base for the rest of the night and denied overnight liberty in Olongapo was punishment enough.

“You can pick up your ID tomorrow morning,” the quarterdeck petty officer told Ingemi.

Ingemi picked up his Navy ID card at the Kitty Hawk quarterdeck the following morning and headed back into Olongapo. He knocked on my hotel room door and told me to get dressed as we were all going to White Rock, a beach resort just outside of Olongapo.

After Zeny and I showered and dressed, we left the room and met Ingemi and Marlena in front of the hotel. The four of us hailed a jeepney. Our first stop was the home Marlena and Zeny shared with their mother. The home was spare but clean and comfortable. The girls put on bathing suits under their clothes and then we all piled back into the jeepney and drove to White Rock.

White Rock was situated by a beautiful tropical beach with white sand and palm trees. A nice breeze from the sea cooled us as we stood on the beach and enjoyed the exotic scenery. Ingemi took photos of me and the girls on the beach under the palm trees, and then we switched places, and I took photos of him and the girls.

White Rock had a large swimming pool and Ingemi and I went into a store at White Rock and bought swim trunks. The four of us enjoyed swimming and frolicking in the pool. Ingemi took a photo of Zeny and Marlena on my shoulders as I stood in the pool, and then I took a similar photo of Ingemi with the girls.

We sat around the pool, happy and dripping wet, and drank San Miguel beer. Zeny, sitting in a deck chair next to me, began giggling as she brought up Linda, another bar girl that I had been with before meeting Zeny, coming to my hotel room and banging on the door.

She mimicked Linda.

"Paul, Paul, open up. I want to talk to you!"

The two girls and Ingemi laughed, and I joined in and laughed as well.

We swam, ate, drank, and laughed all day at the White Rock.

Despite the bizarre happenings we encountered in Olongapo the night before, we had a fine day at this tropical paradise.

Note: You can read my other posted chapters via the below links:

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'Butterfly'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'Salvatore Lorino'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: The Old Huk

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: Join The Navy And See Olongapo

Paul Davis On Crime: Boots On The Ground

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'The 30-Day Detail'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'Cat Street'

Paul Davis On Crime: Chapter 12: On Yankee Station

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'The Cherry Boy'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'The Hit'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: Welcome To Japan, Davis-San

Paul Davis On Crime: A Look Back At Life Aboard An Aircraft Carrier During The Vietnam War: 'The Compartment Cleaner'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'Murder By Fire'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'Admiral McCain'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'Hit The Head'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'A Night At The Americano'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'Missing Muster'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'The Barracks Thief'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'The Refrigerator Thieves'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'Go Forth, Goforth'

Sunday, May 4, 2025

My Crime Fiction: 'Admiral McCain'

The story below is another chapter in my crime novel Olongapo, which I hope to publish in the near future.

The story originally appeared in American Crime Magazine.

Admiral McCain

By Paul Davis

One of the good things about working in the Communications Radio Division aboard an aircraft carrier during the Vietnam War was that radiomen were the first to know about everything.

For example, when fleet headquarters ordered the carrier to leave “Yankee Station” off the coast of North Vietnam and sail towards Subic Bay on such and such a date, the word spread quickly among the radio division. The radiomen in turn told their friends in other divisions aboard the ship the good news about heading to Subic Bay and the great wide-open liberty town of Olongapo.

The Kitty Hawk’s captain often complained that the entire ship’s crew and air wing knew about the order to proceed to Subic Bay before he did.

While on watch in the Message Processing Center one evening in 1971 during our final Yankee Station line period, I saw a copy of a classified CIA report that was sent to the Task Force 77 admiral and the Kitty Hawk captain.

The report announced the capture of a North Vietnamese spy in Manila. The spy, named Thanh Ban, was the subject of a nation-wide manhunt in the Philippines. He had been posing in Olongapo as a Filipino Chinese merchant named Shi Chen as he spied on the massive Subic Bay U.S. naval base. But after an assassination plot had been uncovered, Ban fled to Manila and was hidden by the New People’s Army (NPA), the communist guerrillas at war with the Philippine government.

An elite Filipino police unit, accompanied and assisted by an unnamed CIA officer, raided a NPA hideout in Manila. Four Filipino NPA communist guerrillas were killed in the shootout with the elite unit. One NPA officer and Ban were captured.

The report noted that although Ban was a dedicated Communist, he did not relish being executed by the Filipinos or spending many years in an awful Filipino prison, so he confessed to the commander of the elite unit and the CIA officer.

Ban told of the plan to execute Admiral John S. McCain aboard the USS Kitty Hawk while the aircraft carrier was off the coast of North Vietnam.

On our very first line period on Yankee Station in December of 1970, Admiral John S. McCain, the Commander-in-Chief, Pacific Command, known as CINCPAC, flew aboard. As CINPAC, Admiral McCain was the commander of all American forces in the Vietnam War.

I was working in the Message Processing Center when I heard a commotion.

Admiral McCain, escorted by the Task Force admiral, the ship’s captain and other ranking officers, entered the center for a brief tour. I stood at attention like the other sailors in the center and heard McCain yell “At ease.”

The admiral, a short, thin and wizened officer, with a cigar as big as a pony’s leg, walked by me and other sailors on watch. He stopped, looked me in the eye, and said in a gruff voice, “Get a haircut, sailor!”

“Yes, Sir,” I replied.

The admiral and his entourage all laughed.

As they were passing by, I heard the admiral ask what movie was showing on our closed-circuit television on that evening. An aide responded that MASH was scheduled to air three times for the ship’s three different watches on their down time.

I saw the admiral grimace and say that we should be watching the movie Patton with the great actor George C. Scott, and not some anti-war crap.

I liked both films, but the good admiral did not ask me for my opinion.

After Patton showed in the early evening, McCain appeared on our closed-circuit TV. Noted for his profane language, the admiral opened with, "Good goddamn evening.” He went on to give a rousing and profane speech about our mission to contain the Vietnamese Communists in Vietnam. He praised our Navy commanders on the carrier as well as the young crew.

He ended his speech by stating, “The hippies back home say ‘make love not war.” I say if you’re man enough, you can do both.”

There were both cheers and groans from the more than 5,000 sailors and airmen about the ship.

“Cut him some slack,” I told a friend who had groaned loudly next to me.

“Do you know his son, a Navy carrier pilot, is a POW in North Vietnam? How would you like to be the top officer in the war while the enemy is holding your son? And you don’t know if he is being tortured because of you?”

Admiral McCain’s son was U.S. Navy Lieutenant Commander John S. McCain III. The future U.S. Senator and presidential candidate was then a prisoner of war being held in North Vietnam having been shot down in 1967. The admiral said little about his POW son, and I can only imagine how he suffered in silence.

Later, reading messages to and from the Subic Bay naval station and our message center, I learned about the plot to assassinate Admiral McCain aboard the Kitty Hawk.

Lieutenant Colonel Cesar Rosa of the Olongapo City Police was a short and thin officer, but he was wiry and hard, and he had a stern face and cruel dark eyes that frightened the people that he investigated and subsequently arrested. He also had a reputation for being relentless and ruthless.

Luz dela Cruz was an unattractive older woman with a skeletal body, a taunt face and protruding buck teeth. Still, she had her customers in The Ritz, an Olongapo bar that catered to American sailors. Most of her customers who bought her drinks were “Cherry Boy” young virgins and older American sailors that were not too fussy about looks.

She also had customers she sold shabu crystal meth to at the bar. Luz dela Cruz was her own best customer. When a young sailor went wild on shabu and took on two American Marines in The Ritz, the Olongapo police arrested the sailor.

Prior to handing over the young sailor to the American Shore patrol, he was questioned by Rosa.

"Where did you get the shabu?"

The sailor, who was still jumpy from the drug, replied, "I bought the meth from Luz."

He said that he had never taken the drug before and he had never felt so strong and invincible.

"So why did those two Marines I picked a fight with beat the living shit out of me?"

After turning over the sailor to the Shore Patrol, Rosa and Mario Dizon, his huge sergeant, drove to The Ritz and arrested dela Cruz. Back at the police station, the scared and desperate bar girl quickly gave up her shabu supplier. As a bonus, she confessed to collecting information about U.S. 7th Fleet ships from the drunk and high sailors and passed on the information on to an NPA agent.

Rosa and Dizon headed out to arrest the NPA spy. Fernado Diaz, a muscular and seasoned warrior, fought the two Filipino police officers when they tried to arrest him. Diaz swung punches widely and tried to pull a knife from his pants pocket, but Dizon pinned the spy's arms and Rosa punched Diaz repeatedly in the face. Dizon took Diaz to the ground and placed handcuffs on him.

Diaz was taken to the police station. Rosa called Boone Cantrell, a Naval Investigative Service special agent who worked at the Subic Bay naval base.

Diaz, bruised by his fight with the Filipino police officers, was quiet as he sat in a chair and faced Cantrell, who was tall and Lincolnesque, and the much shorter Rosa.

Worried about what Rosa and the American agent might do to him, he confessed to being an NPA spy. He asked for a deal. He would not only confess to passing on intelligence tidbits to his NPA superior in Manila, he would also confess to working with a North Vietnamese spy. Rosa and Cantrell looked at each other in amazement. Rosa agreed to a deal.

To their amazement, Diaz told them that the NPA had a spy aboard the USS Kitty Hawk. The spy, Roberto Santos, was a Filipino serving in the U.S. Navy as a disbursing clerk aboard the aircraft carrier. Santos was ordered to meet with Diaz whenever the ship visited Olongapo. Santos, the son of an NPA guerrilla, had been ordered to join the American Navy. Although as a disbursing clerk, he did not have access to classified information, he was useful to a point.

During the Kitty Hawks first port of call to Subic Bay for the 1970-1971 combat cruise, Diaz and the North Vietnamese spy, called Shi Chen, spoke about Santos. Chen said that Santos should be assigned to assassinate Admiral McCain when he visited the aircraft carrier later that month.

Diaz objected and told his Vietnamese Communist brother-in-arms that Santos was not trained for assassinations, but the North Vietnamese spy said that it did not matter. Even if the assassination failed, it would be a psychological victory for the Communists.

Since Diaz’s orders were to assist Chen in any matter, he met Santos at an Olongapo hotel and handed him a .25 semi-automatic pistol. Santos cried and pleaded with Diaz. He had never killed anyone, he said. He was also concerned with his own safety. What will happen to him after he shot the famous admiral?

Diaz was adamant. Santos will follow his orders.

After listening to Diaz’s confession, Cantrell rushed back to his Subic Bay NIS office and sent an urgent message to the USS Kitty Hawk.

Aboard the Kitty Hawk, the message was received and distributed quickly. The admiral appeared unconcerned when told of the assassination plot. Two Marines armed with .45’s were added to the admiral’s group, and the Marine Division’s captain and two enlisted Marines armed with M-16 rifles rushed to Santos’ berthing compartment.

Santos raised his hands in surrender and told the Marines that the pistol was in his locker. He seemed almost relieved to be arrested and therefore he would not have to shoot the admiral.

Admiral McCain later flew off the carrier. His son, John McCain, a 31-year-old Navy lieutenant commander, was held as a POW for five and a half years. He was finally released on March 14, 1973.