The Captain's Log: A Tale of Terror

After the arrival of the Mayaguez in Singapore, Captain Miller, 62, of Fountain Valley, Calif., held a press conference at which he gave a detailed account of the seizure of his ship. Miller occasionally gave way to tears when he spoke of the American flyers and Marines who participated in the rescue mission. Excerpts from his account:

At 14:20 on May 12 I first saw them. I was challenged by one gunboat. He shot over my bow with anti-aircraft machine-gun fire. Then he threw a rocket over me. Seven armed men, anywhere from 10 to 30 years old, boarded the vessel, shouldering rocket throwers and AK-47's. None of them could speak English. All they did was point to the gunboat, indicating that I was to follow their ship. I did so, but after the radio operator had sent out several S O S's and the third officer had already put a Mayday on the single side band, I proceeded at half speed, a delaying action, figuring that our military should take some action.

Trying to avoid Cambodian soil as long as possible, Miller convinced his captors that his radar had broken down so that he could not put into port the first night. Next morning Miller got underway again at half speed. In the afternoon the crew were ordered into two fishing boats; they were taken to Koh Tang, where they spent the night. On the morning of the 14th, they were off again in the fishing boats to another destination.

The voyage between Koh Tang and Kompong Som is something the crew will never forget. Our jets had arrived. They did everything that was possible without blowing us out of the water to get our boat turned around. We were strafed and bombed 100 times. When they saw that wasn't going to work, two jets flew over the boat, I'd say approximately seven feet above us, and tear-gassed us. The fishermen running the boats were very willing to turn around. But the armed guard put his gun to their heads and we got back on course. After a half hour, we were hit with gas a second time. Everybody on the ship vomited. Their skin was burning. A couple of men were struck by shrapnel. The third engineer, who has a bad heart, passed out and we thought he was dead.

After arriving at Kompong Som, the crew were taken to a village built on stilts.

The first man who spoke English greeted us with a handshake and welcomed us to Cambodia. He wanted to know if we were CIA or if we were FBI, if we had any arms on the ship or ammunition and bombs. We insisted we had no military cargo aboard. We explicitly told them that the ship never went back to the U.S., never went into a military port to load arms. Finally, he was convinced that that was what we were doing. But he was not convinced that we did not have ammunition and bombs in the cargo.

If the crew were released, Miller told his captors, he would get in touch with his company office in Bangkok and call off the jet fighters. Next morning the Cambodians allowed Miller and his crew to return to their ship.

The only worry we had was that we would not be recognized in the fishing boat and that our aircraft would blow it out of the water. We took off our white shirts, white underwear, anything white that we had on and rigged them on bamboo poles. A reconnaissance plane circled us five or six times until he finally spotted the white flags, then he came closer and made several more circles. The last time he flew over us we all shouted and waved at him, and he wiggled his wings.

The crew were picked up by a destroyer, then returned to the Mayaguez. A reconnaissance plane followed them to Singapore to make sure that there were no further mishaps.

The rest of it you all know.

We're healthy, we're happy and we're thankful to our Air Force and Marines. I don't

blame the Air Force for whatever they did, strafing the vessel and dropping gas. They were afraid that if we got to Kompong Som, we'd either be killed or taken off to some prison camp for the next few years. I talked to the Marine major in the first chopper that was shot down who had about a quarter of his back torn off by shrapnel. I cried. People were being killed to save me. I have received many offers from the press all over the world offering me fat contracts for exclusive stories. But as master of the Mayaguez I'm a well-paid man. I don't need the money. I think the families of the men who were killed need it. Everybody has his own personal philosophy, and I have mine.

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