That would be the USS Luzerne County, LST on the left, "Landing Ship, Tank" one of the types used for D-day, which we were using, oh, just 24 years later in Vietnam. But we called it "Large Slow Target." Wiki says the pic dates from 1968, most of which I was aboard it, but I was a Deck Ape, one of my main job tasks being chipping paint, priming, and re-painting, and I swear I never saw that much rust on it when *I* was on board. I was even dangled over the side on a scaffold while on the open ocean and was playfully dipped by my so funny shipmate tending the line. Mostly we carried supplies (huge sacks of concrete, bulldozers) from Saigon down into a Mekong Delta river to drop off at an Army base at Can Tho: The ship is about a football field in length and, yes, the rivers over there were that big. It had a FLAT bottom, for the purpose of "beaching," ramming into the shore, to unload, but the flatness means that when it HIT a wave on the open ocean the bow (front end) would BOUNCE out UP in the air where it would, scarily, VIBRATE like a tuning fork. These things were long, hollow warehouses all their length where the supplies were crammed, and some of them were known to have broken in half. "My" ship had a distinguished record from long before I got there. It was in Korea and then Vietnam and earned something like 17 battlestars, one of the highest totals. We got hit by rockets on three separate days during my year aboard. The "captain" of this kind of ship was actually a Lieutenant, and groups of seven of these were presided over by a "Commodore," a rank revived from the Civil War.
The other one, USS Seattle, was still being finished at the shipyard in Bremerton, WA, for the first 5 months I was aboard. As the first or "commissioning" crew, we were "plank owners," supposedly able to claim a piece of "plank," if we lived long enough for it to be de-commissioned some 30 yrs later. It was an oiler-ammunition ship, basically a floating fuel station for other ships. The other ships would come alongside and we would send over fuel hoses that the other ship would connect and we would pump the fuel. As a new ship, it had to go on its "shake down" cruise, like breaking in a new car, and most of the rest of my year was spent in taking it to its "home port," oh, just on the other side of the continent, Norfolk, VA, so we moseyed down the West Coast, stopped at Acapulco, went through the Panama Canal, did some more training exercises at Gitmo, and, took Liberty at New Orleans and Haiti. Finally stopping at Mayport (Jacksonville), FL, before arriving "home."
There have been some amazing things to me. Hearing what we've heard of Gitmo and Haiti over the past ten years and that I was at those places. And after my one-year tours on each ship, finding out that subsequent crews on the Seattle stayed aboard 3 or 4 years at a time. And that BOTH of my ships have been, not only de-commissioned, but SCRAPPED, incredibly.
To add what some might find an unpleasant detail, as I seem incapable of not doing, or, actually TWO: A few years ago at a flea market I had a ballcap on with my LST logo and "Vietnam Veteran" on it and saw an elderly vendor with a U.S. Navy logo ball cap, and I stuck out my hand for a handshake and greeted him as "shipmate". He didn't extend his hand and said, "I was in WW II, the REAL war." I FORCIBLY grabbed his hand and said, "Give me your F***ing hand!1" The other incident was perhaps MY crappy response: A dude approached me and said, "Welcome home," which I've mainly gotten from wingnuts and chickenhawks, and I was taken by surprise, since I sometimes forget I've got the caps on, and said, "I've been home for 30 years." He said something about the Vietnam non-welcome back then. I said, "Well, I was at my home away from home." Yeah-yeah, sometimes I'm gracious and just let it go with a thank-you.