USS Coral Sea’s 1979–1980 WestPac Deployment
USS Coral Sea’s 1979–1980 WestPac Deployment
Author: James K. Lewis
NOTE; I was on board the USS Coral Sea during all of this.
I’ll never forget November 13, 1979—the day the USS Coral Sea (CV-43) left Alameda, California. The air on the flight deck was thick with tension and excitement, like electricity before a storm. We were headed into one of the tensest moments in modern U.S. history: the Iran Hostage Crisis. Everyone knew the stakes. The seizure of the U.S. Embassy in Tehran and the taking of 63 hostages wasn’t just news on a TV screen—it was real, and we were a part of the response. Our first stop, a brief 6½-hour layover in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, was barely enough to stretch our legs and grab supplies. Liberty was a luxury we didn’t have. We had to move fast, every hour mattered. The world was watching, and we knew the Navy counted on us.
We arrived in Pusan, South Korea, in early December, right after President Park Chung-hee was assassinated. The tension in the port was palpable, and the city had an anxious energy that mirrored our own. Around that time, on December 22, Captain Richard M. Dunleavy relieved Captain Stanley R. Arthur. A change in leadership always comes with adjustments, but Captain Dunleavy quickly earned our respect. Life aboard the Coral Sea was a rhythm of drills, flight ops, meals, and the occasional brief reprieve to laugh with your shipmates. One of the most unforgettable events was February 2, 1980—the equator crossing. For those of us who had never crossed it, the shellback ceremony was chaotic, hilarious, and slightly terrifying. Neptune and his court didn’t hold back, and pollywogs were put through the most ridiculous challenges. We emerged officially as shellbacks, feeling both proud and a little battered—but it bonded us in a way that only the Navy can.
After brief liberty stops at Pattaya Beach, Thailand, and Singapore, we headed to the northern Arabian Sea. February 5 marked the beginning of an intense stretch: relieving the USS Midway at Gonzo Station. For 102 days, we maintained continuous air and sea presence, supporting operations during the hostage crisis. Every day was grueling—long hours, cold nights, and an unrelenting sense of responsibility. I remember crew members sleeping in heavy weather gear because the temperatures and constant movement made even our bunks uncomfortable.
April 24, 1980, is a day I’ll never forget. Operation Eagle Claw—our ship went to Red Alert. Battle stations sounded across the ship, and every sailor knew this was not a drill. The younger crew members looked wide-eyed, unsure if they were ready for the reality of a real mission. For four hours, we were on edge, waiting, every nerve taut. Finally, the captain announced the mission had been aborted due to helicopter failures. Relief washed over the ship, but there was a palpable frustration and a deep sense of the gravity of what we had been moments from. That was history unfolding, and we were in the middle of it.
After Eagle Claw, we steamed through Korean waters and set course home via the great circle route, north toward Alaska, then down the West Coast of Canada. Crossing the International Date Line on June 5 became a moment of levity—everyone joking about having “two fifths,” a small comic relief after months of tension. The cold near the Aleutian Islands was brutal. Heavy weather gear became a nightly necessity just to get a few hours of sleep. By the time we reached Subic Bay, Philippines, on May 8–9, the relief was palpable. Rest, resupply, and a chance to laugh, share stories, and unwind with friends—it felt like a reward for everything we had endured.
Even during the final leg home, every day on the Coral Sea was a mix of anticipation and reflection. Arriving in Alameda on June 10, 1980, marked the end of a deployment that had tested us in ways we couldn’t have imagined. The Navy Expeditionary Medal was a tangible acknowledgment of our service, but the real victory was the camaraderie, the endurance, and the knowledge that we had been part of history. We faced extreme cold, grueling schedules, intense pressure, and the unknown—but we did it together. Those months aboard the Coral Sea weren’t just duty; they were defining moments that shaped who we became. The friendships, lessons, and memories of that deployment are as vivid today as they were on that first day in Alameda.
This deployment also holds a special place in history—our air wing was unique. It was the first and only time in U.S. Naval Aviation history that a carrier air wing deployed with all Marine Corps fighter assets—VMFA-323 and VMFA-531 F-4Ns—supporting Carrier Air Wing 14. The air crews, maintenance teams, and support staff all worked seamlessly, a testament to the professionalism and dedication of everyone aboard. It was chaotic at times, exhausting at others, but looking back, it was a proud, unforgettable chapter in the story of the Coral Sea.
Works Cited
"USS Coral Sea (CV-43)." Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 20 July 2025, .
"Operation Eagle Claw." Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 20 July 2025, .
"USS Coral Sea (CV 43) Deployments & History." HullNumber.com, 20 July 2025, .
"USS Coral Sea CV-43 - Navy Emporium." Navy Emporium, 20 July 2025, .
"USS Coral Sea (CV 43) WestPac Cruise Book 1979-80." NavySite.de, 20 July 2025, .
"USS Coral Sea (CV 43) history." USCarriers.net, 20 July 2025, .
"Operation Eagle Claw / Evening Light." GlobalSecurity.org, 20 July 2025, .
"PICTURES - 1980's - Pg. 2 - USS Coral Sea Tribute Site." USSCoralSea.net, 20 July 2025, .
"USS Coral Sea (CV 43) Deployments - U.S. Carriers." USCarriers.net, 20 July 2025, .
"Operation Eagle Claw - DoDIG.mil." Department of Defense Inspector General, 20 July 2025, .
"USS Coral Sea (CV-43) flight deck after op Eagle Claw 1980.jpeg." Wikimedia Commons, 20 July 2025, .
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