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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