The Man the Navy Couldn’t Control D

It’s bad enough that they let Roy  Boehm become a US Navy officer. Now,   someone had the bright idea to let this  enlisted smart aleck run his own unit. The cocky lieutenant thinks he can take America’s  regular frogmen and turn them into some kind of   all-rounder special ops force – sailors, soldiers,  spies, and saboteurs all rolled into one.

To make matters worse, he thinks  he can play by his own rules,   modifying diving gear without permission and  even buying AR-15s on the open market. Now   the Navy brass wants to shut his unit  down before it’s even done training. But President Kennedy is prepared to give  Boehm and his so-called Navy SEALs one last   chance – if they can make it back from  a daring mission into Castro’s Cuba… Roy Boehm was born on April 9, 1924, in a  tough, working-class neighborhood in Brooklyn,   New York. His father was a World War 1  veteran. As a boy, Roy’s mother would tell him:   [QUOTE] “You’re just like your father. You’re a  real hell-raiser. You’ll either grow up to be a   hero – or you’ll end up dead or in prison.  There is no middle way for the Boehm men.” Growing up in a poor family during the  Great Depression meant Roy experienced   firsthand the harsh realities that shaped  an entire generation. Yet despite the tough   circumstances surrounding him, Roy harbored a deep  fascination with the ocean. He spent countless

hours exploring Brooklyn’s waterfronts, watching  ships come and go, dreaming of adventures beyond   the horizon. His parents had also instilled in  him a great sense of patriotism, and he became   an avid reader of books about American  military history and naval tradition. In 1939, as storm clouds gathered across  Europe and tensions rose across the Pacific,   the 15-year-old Boehm could see  which way the wind was blowing   and wanted to make sure he would get  a piece of the action. He later said:   [QUOTE] “I was afraid the war would begin and  end before I was old enough to participate.” So, when his parents announced  they were getting a divorce in   January 1941 and asked young Roy  which of them he would live with,   he told them he wouldn’t live with either of them,  because he was going to join the Navy instead. On April 10 – the day after his seventeenth  birthday – he walked into a recruiting office   and enlisted. Eight months later, the  attack on Pearl Harbor finally brought   the US into the global conflict. Boehm’s  childhood dreams of maritime adventure

were about to become a reality more intense and  dangerous than anything he could have imagined. After completing basic training at Norfolk,  Virginia, Boehm’s first assignment was aboard   the submarine tender USS Griffin, followed  by the repair ship USS Alcor. By April 1942,   eighteen-year-old Roy Boehm found himself aboard  the newly commissioned destroyer at Pearl Harbor,   where he would get his first  glimpse of war’s devastation.

The harbor still bore the scars of the  December 7 attack – twisted metal, oil slicks,   and the ghostly outline of sunken battleships  beneath the murky water. As a qualified diver,   Boehm was temporarily assigned to the  base salvage operations and was given   the rather gruesome task of recovering bodies  and ammunition from the tomb of the USS Arizona.

He figured he could handle it and was determined  to look tough in front of his shipmates.   Describing the culture on board Duncan, he later  said: [QUOTE] “Macho was the order of the day”. Thirty feet below the surface, Arizona lay  majestically intact but mortally wounded.   Clouds of fish swarmed the ship, parting  like wind through wheat as Boehm descended,   while a variety of debris – lines, canvas,  netting – clung to the vessel’s hull.

Boehm and his dive partner slipped  inside the ship’s dark compartments.   Using their underwater torches, they could  see illuminated watertight hatches hanging   half-open, and bits of wreckage  floating spookily in gangways. Boehm undogged a closed hatch and  entered the compartment beyond.   He recalled: [QUOTE] “Our entry stirred  the water and disturbed the haunted rest   of several corpses. They moved about  in a kind of weird slow-motion dance.

” As he flashed his light around, he began  to see the deceased sailors in more detail. Recoiling in horror, Boehm hit his head on the  steel hatch, leaving him momentarily stunned.   He’d had enough. He explained: [QUOTE] “I  shot out of the macabre tomb like a squid,   my partner directly behind me, while my  stomach deposited its contents into my mask.

I no longer felt so damned macho, what with  my poor young heart pounding like bombs…” Fortunately for Boehm, it would be his  last dive into an underwater graveyard;   USS Duncan received orders  to set sail the next day. By October 1942, Duncan and Boehm were bound for  the Solomon Islands, where US forces were locked   in a desperate struggle with the Japanese for  control of Guadalcanal.

What awaited them would be   one of the largest “all surface” naval engagements  of World War 2 – the Battle of Cape Esperance. On the night of October 11, Boehm and his  shipmates were sent to battle stations.   He later described his reaction: [QUOTE] “Word  spread that the Japanese ships were only 110   miles away.

I felt vicious little animals  with teeth and claws writhing inside my   guts. Would I react in a manner that would  bring honor to those who depended on me?” Before long, the battle had begun. Japanese shells  rained down on Duncan quickly and mercilessly.   58 direct hits from 6-inch and 8-inch guns tore  through the destroyer’s hull and superstructure.   Metal fragments flew like confetti as the  ship’s deck plates buckled and twisted.

Boehm felt shrapnel embed itself in his head  and body, but adrenaline kept him moving. As Duncan began tilting into the waves, he spotted  a wounded shipmate, Seaman 2nd Class Stanley   Dubiel, lying unconscious outside the vessel’s  powder room – which was engulfed in flames.   Despite the imminent danger, Boehm  rushed toward the passed-out Dubiel,   secured his life jacket, and threw him into  the sea, giving him a precious lifeline.

Though he did not have a life jacket himself,  Boehm then jumped into the water too. However,   as he grabbed on to a floating piece of  debris, he suddenly realized there was   a Japanese sailor clinging to the other end of  it. Frozen with fear, the two men locked eyes,   each waiting for the other to attack.

When they  realized that neither of them had any great   desire to fight one another in the middle of the  sea, they both swam off in opposite directions. As Boehm desperately tried to avoid being hit  by the sinking Duncan, which was steaming in   a tight circle, he bumped into Dubiel,  now conscious and delirious with pain. Holding on to his wounded comrade tightly, Boehm  began swimming as fast as he could to get them   both out of the danger zone.

Soon enough, the  guns had fallen silent, the flaming Duncan   barely visible in the distance. Boehm wondered  if he and Dubiel were the only two survivors. Through the darkness, he could make out a faraway  shape that he believed to be Savo Island, and swam   toward it, pulling his shipmate along with him.  Determined to get Dubiel to shore, incredibly,   Boehm struggled on through the vast open sea for  several hours.

He recalled: [QUOTE] “Salt water   had swollen my face. My eyes felt like they were  dipped in acid. My vision was blurred. My tongue   felt like a dry sea cucumber stuffed down my  throat. I feared it would block my windpipe.” Yet suddenly, the two men found themselves  facing an unexpected threat, worse than any   enemy vessel. Emerging from the waves were four  or five dark shark fins, rapidly drawing nearer.

Boehm reached for his knife, but it had been  lost at sea. All he could do was keep swimming   and hope for the best. But it was too late. Boehm  could only watch helplessly as the largest shark   tore Dubiel from his grasp, the man’s screams cut  short as he disappeared beneath the dark waters. Boehm was distraught – and certain he was next.  He recalled: [QUOTE] “I lost all control.

I   beat the water frantically with arms and  legs as I swam with renewed desperation,   knowing deep down I could never outswim sharks but  determined to make them work for their supper.” Miraculously, after taking Dubiel, the  sharks did not follow Boehm. Eventually,   he was found by a US Marine  rescue boat and taken to safety,   but the incident would give him  nightmares for years to come.

After surviving USS Duncan’s sinking,  Boehm continued his Pacific War service   aboard several ships, participating in major  campaigns including the Battle of the Coral Sea,   Bougainville, Saipan, Tinian, and  Guam. He supplied arms and ammunition   to Filipino guerrillas and fought the  Japanese at Kerama Retto and Okinawa.

By war’s end in 1945, the young sailor from  Brooklyn boasted an impressive combat record. Like many servicemen, Boehm briefly left the Navy  after the war, but civilian life didn’t suit him.   He reflected: [QUOTE] “Had World War 2 and nearly  four years of combat action turned me into an   adrenaline junkie? Had I reached the point,  in fact, where I preferred war over boredom?” After just a few months,  he reenlisted in June 1947.

The military had become his  home, his identity, his calling. When the Korean War erupted in 1950, Boehm found  himself back in combat aboard the light cruiser   USS Worcester. As Chief Boatswain’s Mate, he  provided crucial fire support for the Marine Corps   landing at Inchon – one of the war’s most daring  amphibious assaults.

Later, when Chinese forces   pushed Allied troops back in a desperate retreat,  Boehm and the Worcester covered the withdrawal   at the Chosin Reservoir, their guns blazing  through the frozen hell of the Korean winter. The Korean conflict reinforced what Boehm had  learned in the Pacific: conventional warfare had   its limits.

He watched Marines struggle in brutal  mountain terrain, saw how traditional tactics   failed against guerrilla fighters, observed  how small, specialized units could achieve   what larger forces could not. These observations  were planting seeds in his mind – ideas about   a different kind of naval warrior, one who  could adapt to any environment and mission. By 1955, at age 31, Boehm made a  decision that would change his life   and ultimately revolutionize  naval special operations.

He   applied for Underwater Demolition Team  training at Little Creek, Virginia.   Most UDT hopefuls were in their early twenties,  but Boehm’s extensive diving experience from his   Pearl Harbor days and years of combat leadership  made him an ideal candidate despite his age. The UDT training was brutal by design.

The men  were pushed beyond their physical and mental   limits, forced to operate in freezing water for  hours, swim impossible distances, and conduct   beach reconnaissance under simulated combat  conditions. Yet while many quit, Boehm thrived. Where younger trainees struggled with  deep-water operations and equipment   malfunctions, Boehm moved through the water  with practiced ease.

During combat exercises,   many would panic under pressure, but Boehm had  already survived real enemy fire. The stress   inoculation of actual warfare made training  scenarios seem manageable by comparison. After completing UDT training, Boehm’s  unique background caught the attention   of Navy researchers.

His combination  of deep-sea diving expertise and combat   experience made him perfect for testing prototype  submersibles and swimmer-delivery vehicles. This   cutting-edge work exposed him to the latest  developments in underwater warfare technology. But Boehm’s vision was expanding beyond  traditional UDT missions. The frogmen were   experts at beach reconnaissance and underwater  demolition, but he saw the potential for something   more. His experiences in two wars had shown  him the limitations of conventional forces.

What if elite naval operators  could work beyond the beachhead,   conducting missions that combined the  best of different military specialties? These ideas were still forming as Boehm  earned his officer’s commission. The   Navy recognized his leadership potential,  promoting him from the enlisted ranks – a   “mustang” officer who had earned his position  through merit rather than academy credentials.

By the late 1950s, Lieutenant Boehm’s  unique combination of combat experience,   diving expertise, and innovative thinking had  positioned him for something extraordinary. In early 1960, Boehm received orders that  would change naval warfare forever: develop,   design, and implement the US Navy’s first  commando organization.

The unit would be   called SEALs – an acronym for Sea, Air, and  Land operations. Two teams were created,   one to be based on the East Coast and one  on the West. Boehm was given command of the   East Coast team, which would be the first to  receive orders. He had become the first SEAL. More than just frogmen, he envisioned  highly motivated operatives who could   function in any environment,  what he himself described as:   [QUOTE] “unconventional warriors  for unconventional times.

” Boehm began putting his team together, selecting  men who possessed not just physical prowess,   but mental toughness and adaptability. He set  about creating a training program unlike anything   the military had ever seen. His SEALs would need a  range of skills rarely seen in traditional roles. As well as diving, shooting,  demolitions, martial arts,   and parachuting, Boehm’s men learned  photography and intelligence gathering,   crucial in reconnaissance missions.  They also had to master sailing,   understanding that a silent approach by boat might  be their only way to reach a target undetected. Somewhat controversially, he even began  sending SEALs to prisons to learn from   professional thieves. Lock-picking, safecracking,   hot-wiring cars – these weren’t skills taught at  Annapolis or any conventional military school.   Yet Boehm understood that his warriors  might need to break into enemy facilities,   steal vehicles, or bypass security systems  that criminals had been defeating for decades.

But building an elite unit required more  than highly-trained personnel – it needed   the right tools. However, this would start a  series of problems between Boehm and the Navy. Standard-issue equipment was inadequate for  the missions he envisioned. He wanted improved   high-altitude parachutes. He wanted AR-15  rifles instead of standard-issue weapons.

On one occasion, Boehm got in an argument with  a Navy engineer who had ignored his request for   better diving rigs and purchased a model that  the SEALs’ testing had shown to be useless for   their missions; the discussion became so  heated that Boehm threw the fully-clothed,   non-swimming engineer into his training  pool just to make a point, telling him:   [QUOTE] “You, sir, would be a far better  engineer if you learned how to swim.

” Navy bureaucrats were horrified. Military protocol  demanded that any changes to equipment go through   proper channels, a process that could take  months or years. Boehm didn’t have that luxury.   His unit needed to be operational quickly, and he  wasn’t about to let red tape compromise his men’s   effectiveness or safety. So he did what any good  commander would do: he improvised.

Boehm began   modifying issued gear without authorization  and purchasing weapons on the open market. His longtime friend, author John Weisman, later  explained: [QUOTE] “The Navy establishment   considered Roy a rogue and a pariah because  despite his lieutenant’s ‘railroad tracks,’   he was always a boatswain’s mate at heart –  a feisty, pugnacious, brawling, ham-fisted,   hard-drinking fleet sailor whose devotion to  his shipmates superseded all other loyalties.

” But what he was doing now was  tantamount to insubordination. The backlash was swift and severe.   Boehm faced five separate Board of Inquiry  proceedings for his unorthodox methods. Each   investigation threatened to end his career and  dissolve the SEAL program before it truly began. But as 1960 turned to 1961, the political  landscape was changing.

A new president was   taking office, one who understood that  America needed innovative approaches to   warfare. The bureaucratic storm surrounding  Boehm’s methods was about to encounter a very   different kind of leadership at  the highest levels of government. Soon after his inauguration, President John F.

Kennedy made special forces a cornerstone of   his military strategy. The Bay of Pigs fiasco of  April 1961, in which a US-backed attempt to take   back Cuba from Fidel Castro’s Communists ended in  disaster, demonstrated the need for elite units   capable of unconventional warfare. Kennedy  understood that the Cold War would be fought   in shadows, requiring warriors who could operate  beyond the reach of traditional military forces.

When word reached the White House  about Boehm’s embattled SEAL program,   Kennedy was intrigued. Here was exactly the kind  of innovative thinking his administration needed.   But first, the president wanted  to see these warriors in action. Kennedy arranged a visit to the Little  Creek training area in Virginia.

What   he witnessed was unlike anything in  the conventional Navy. Boehm’s SEALs   demonstrated capabilities that seemed to blur  the lines between science fiction and reality.   They emerged from the water like sea creatures,  struck targets with precision that defied belief,   and disappeared back into their  element as silently as they had come.

The president was impressed, but Boehm’s  bureaucratic troubles remained – he still   had five Board of Inquiry investigations  against him. Navy traditionalists argued that   military discipline demanded adherence to proper  channels, regardless of mission requirements. Kennedy saw the situation differently.

The Soviet Union wasn’t going to wait   for American bureaucracy to approve the right  equipment. Communist insurgents weren’t bound   by procurement regulations. If the United States  was going to compete in this new kind of warfare,   it needed leaders willing to break  rules in service of a higher mission. In early 1962, the president called Boehm to  Washington to brief him on the progress of   the Navy’s new commando unit.

When Kennedy walked  into the briefing room, Boehm’s first words were   characteristically blunt: [QUOTE] “Well, Mr.  President, I didn’t vote for you, but I’d die   for you.” After a long pause, Kennedy replied:  [QUOTE] “Well, we need more guys like that.” At the meeting, the president  told Boehm he would be issued a   “Presidential Priority” authorization  – giving him carte blanche to acquire   whatever equipment his SEALs needed  through whatever means necessary.

The authorization was unprecedented.  Boehm could now modify equipment,   purchase weapons on the open market, and  bypass traditional procurement channels   with presidential backing. All five Boards  of Inquiry were immediately dropped. The   SEALs would have the tools they needed  to become the force Boehm envisioned.

Years later, Boehm would call this  presidential intervention one of   the most crucial moments in SEAL  history. Without Kennedy’s backing,   the program might have been ended by bureaucratic  infighting. Instead, it became the foundation for   what would eventually become the world’s  most elite special operations force.

With the president on their side,  Boehm’s SEALs were ready to be   deployed. They were sent to different  locations around the world to assess   and train friendly countries’ militaries –  or at least, that was the official story. While some found themselves in Korea and  Vietnam, Boehm himself was posted to the   Dominican Republic, where he was supposedly  helping to train the local navy and UDTs.

CIA operatives on the island  soon revealed that, in reality,   he had been sent there to save the life of an  anti-Castro Cuban who had been working with   the US by neutralizing a double agent that  spies believed planned to assassinate him. Though this was not the type of role  Boehm had envisioned for the SEALs,   he accepted that it was part and parcel of  unconventional warfare in the Cold War era,   and was ready to do whatever  his country asked of him.

After successfully completing this assignment,  his next one would take him to Cuba itself.   In late April 1962 – a year after the  Bay of Pigs disaster and just months   before the Cuban Missile Crisis would  bring the world to the brink of nuclear   war – President Kennedy needed critical  intelligence about Cuban coastal defenses.

The mission was as dangerous as it  was simple: swim to hostile shores,   conduct reconnaissance, and return undetected. For   Boehm’s newly minted SEALs, it would be  their first real test under enemy guns. On April 27, Boehm led a six-man team comprising   three SEALs and three UDT sailors  aboard the submarine USS Threadfin,   bound for the heavily guarded coastline near  Havana.

The intelligence they gathered could   determine whether future amphibious operations  against Castro’s regime would be feasible. Threadfin dropped the men at the designated point  and they began swimming toward the shore. However,   barely had they entered the water when two Cuban  Komar-class missile boats appeared at high speed,   racing directly toward the area  where Boehm’s men were swimming.

The SEALs dove as deep as possible to avoid  detection, pressing themselves against the   seafloor and listened to the thundering  engines of the enemy patrol boats overhead.   Despite this close call, as well as problems with  one of the men’s breathing apparatus that almost   forced Boehm to abort the entire mission, the  SEALs made it to land and methodically mapped   approximately two miles of coastline, gathering  crucial intelligence about beach gradients,   obstacles, and defensive positions.  After completing their mission,   the SEALs successfully rendezvoused  with the Threadfin and returned to base. While the reconnaissance revealed sobering news  for American military planners – the beach was   too steep for effective amphibious landings  – it had proven that Kennedy’s investment in   these maritime warriors was justified. The  SEALs could operate in the most dangerous   environments and bring back intelligence  that conventional forces could never obtain.  Soon after completing the mission, a Navy  commander arrived at the headquarters of   Boehm’s SEAL team. He told Boehm that he had  come to write medal commendations for him and   the other men who had gone with him to Cuba.  However, when Boehm found out that he was to

be recommended for a Silver Star, and his  men only Bronze Stars, he was insulted,   insisting that they should all receive  Silver Stars as they had worked as a team. Even when the commander eventually agreed  to put this suggestion forward, Boehm was so   angry that he said that none of them should get  medals as they had simply been doing what SEALs   are supposed to do, and told the commander that  what they really needed was properly functioning   equipment instead. In the end, Boehm and his SEALs  received neither their medals nor new equipment. However, despite his rebellious attitude,  Roy Boehm had carved out a reputation   for himself as a brilliant leader. He  would now find himself with a different   mission – on the other side of the globe.  On November 4, 1963 – just over two weeks   before President Kennedy was assassinated  – Boehm arrived in South Vietnam to serve   as an advisor to the Army of the Republic  of Vietnam Underwater Demolition Teams. Rather than stick to conventional UDT training  focused on beach reconnaissance and underwater   demolition, Boehm employed his South Vietnamese  frogmen in roles they had never imagined,

following the same vision he had had for  the US Navy SEALs. Under his guidance,   they conducted reconnaissance missions deep in  enemy territory, staged ambushes against Viet   Cong forces, and launched raids that struck  fear into the hearts of Communist fighters. For his work in Vietnam, Boehm was awarded  the Bronze Star.

His citation states that   he participated in twenty-three operations,  including nine that involved direct combat.   It makes special mention of a January 1964  engagement in which Boehm led an amphibious   assault on a Viet Cong-held island, overcoming  enemy forces and destroying six loaded junks. However, Vietnam extracted its price.

In late  1964, now aged 40, Boehm was medically evacuated   with viral hepatitis and a deformed kneecap. Yet  even though his personal combat tour had ended,   his career was far from over. He assisted in  designing and implementing the Navy’s first   counterinsurgency course, earning him the Navy  Achievement Medal for his innovative approach to   training.

The course incorporated lessons learned  from his SEAL program and his Vietnam experience,   preparing a new generation of naval  officers for unconventional warfare. His next assignment would  prove equally influential.   Boehm was named head of the Navy’s River  Patrol Craft Division, where he developed   tactical procedures and trained Patrol  Boat River sailors for Operation Game   Warden in Vietnam.

Once again, Boehm was  pioneering new forms of warfare – this time,   riverine operations that would become crucial  to the American effort in the Mekong Delta. Meanwhile, the Navy SEALs that Boehm had helped  to mold continued proving his vision throughout   the war, establishing the template for modern  special operations. Their nighttime raids   through Vietnam’s waterways would strike  fear into the hearts of the Viet Cong,   who would call them “the men with green  faces” due to their camouflage face paint.

By the end of the war, the SEALs had  become the most highly decorated units   for their size in Vietnam, earning one Medal  of Honor, two Navy Crosses, 42 Silver Stars,   and 402 Bronze Stars. Though 48  SEALs lost their lives in combat,   it is estimated that they had potentially  slain as many as 2,000 enemy fighters.

For a force that numbered only eight platoons  at its peak, this was an extraordinary combat   record that validated everything Boehm  believed about small, elite units. On August 1, 1971, Lieutenant Commander  Roy Boehm retired from the Navy after   thirty years of service.

He had enlisted as  a seventeen-year-old diver and was leaving as   the founding father of America’s most elite  special operations force. In retirement, he   became a pilot and powered paraglider enthusiast,  always seeking new challenges and adventures. Roy Boehm passed away on December 30, 2008,  at his home in Punta Gorda, Florida. He was   84 years old.

True to his character, according to  his wife Susan: [QUOTE] “He wanted no obituary,   no funeral service and no fanfare.  He just wanted to go in peace.” His legacy lives on through the Navy SEALs and the  values he held until the end. Richard Marcinko,   who served under Boehm and went on to become  a SEAL commander himself, wrote of him:   [QUOTE] “He always performed the mission first  and doggedly looked out for the welfare of his   men. His only standing order was that you pass  on all you can to those who care to learn.”