Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Celebration of Life Remarks from Admiral Cathal Flynn



Betsy, Katherine, Susan, Sandra, family members, friends of Pete.

Pete Riddle was a great man, just great. That was apparent from his arrival in Underwater Demolition Team Twelve in 1962. In the company of strong, physically fit men, he stood out for his fitness, not just for his height. We others knew of his football feats at Yale, where he had played in the offensive AND defensive lines, so his stamina wasn’t surprising. His appearance and demeanor were impressive, as was his baritone voice that on operations conveyed authority without menace, as well as calm expectation that orders would be followed. When raised at all, that voice was most often raised in laughter. Innately dignified, Pete was the friendliest of men, impressive but not impressed with himself.

Pete’s calmness stood him well on an underwater training event one day, here in San Diego. He and his platoon were searching the bottom of a cruiser for practice limpet mines. For the exercise, the ship was meant to turn off its sea water intakes. This time, an intake was unintentionally left on, not secured as is said in the Navy. Pete was in a line of scuba swimmers under the ship, searching it from stem to stern. It was his bad luck to come upon the open intake, and he was immediately sucked hard against it. His scuba mouthpiece and face mask were ripped from him, leaving him airless, partially blind and pinned hard by the force of water through the intake, but he had the coolness and presence of mind to hold his breath and wait for the intake to be secured. This was done soon enough for Pete to come off the intake and be led to the surface. And all was well.  In telling of this event, Pete’s emphasis was never on the details of his close call, but on a Chief Petty Officer’s dry remark the next day: "You really shouldn’t pretend to be an abalone, Mr. Riddle."

Although Pete intended to leave active duty and go to law school, it had no effect on his performance as a naval officer. His attitude was to be professional as long as he served. He joined the Naval Reserve, got his J.D., and was admitted to the Bar. He then did something surprising. He requested and was granted a return to active duty, this time as a member of SEAL Team ONE, which by then was hotly involved in the Vietnam War. To him, his reasons were straightforward. Men with whom he had served on active duty were returning to Vietnam for their second or third tours, and he hadn’t been once. Secondly, he couldn’t stay on the sidelines, an older, thoroughly trained Reservist, while tens of thousands of teenagers were being drafted and sent to Vietnam. To Pete there was no issue. He stepped forward, and was soon leading a SEAL detachment involved in conducting special operations far into North Vietnam. At the time, the operations were Top Secret, and it wasn’t until 30 years later that he and his SEALs were included in the award of a Presidential Unit Citation.

Having done this duty, Pete returned to the Reserves, initially preparing to augment the regular forces in operations against the Soviet Union and its satellites had a third world war broken out. Thanks to him and his contemporaries, the naval special warfare Reserves were ready to take on essential support roles in the Balkans, the first Gulf War, and the post-9/11 conflicts. He was promoted several times, eventually to Captain, US Naval Reserve.

For about the last year of his life, I was privileged to spend time with Pete, a good bit of it at the Naval Amphibious Base where we went to swim. We would recall our days as UDT and SEAL contemporaries, speak of brave men we knew, admire even more the heroism and competence of today’s SEALs, and give trainees, when we saw them, an encouraging, we hoped, Hooyah.

In addition to his innate strength and courage, Pete drew something from his frogman and SEAL experiences, and particularly from the basic training. Evoking that early time, he would say “No whining,” and “we do our best.” In that training, a watchword is “The only easy day was yesterday.” Said sardonically, it means there are no easy days, that every day is hard. But there’s no whining and we do our best. That was Pete to the end.

There’s a poem of Emerson’s that’s apt here. It asks, What is Success? And answers…
To laugh often and much
To win the respect of the intelligent people
and the affection of children
To appreciate beauty
To find the best in others
To leave the world a bit better
whether by a healthy child,
a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition;
To know that one life has breathed easier
Because you lived here
This is to have succeeded.


Hooyah Pete!


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