Special Forces, CIA, & A Seiko 6105

How A Tier One Cold War Operator Evolved Into A Watch Collector

James Stejskal had a long and storied career in Army Special Forces, Detachment A in Berlin, and with the Central Intelligence Agency, In this Dispatch, he shares some of his stories and the tools he used.

Late October 1980 - Operation Storm Cloud (Iran II) Rehearsal

I checked my watch. We were an hour into the flight, and I hoped the pilot knew where the hell we were because I had no clue. Somewhere over the panhandle of Florida at about 500’ AGL (Above Ground Level) was all I knew because it was black outside. I could see lights from small towns and occasionally the glow of some city far away to the south. We were flying a complex course, or at least the pilot was, wearing his NVGs. I had no intention of bothering him as there was no co-pilot—the port side controls had been removed from the OH-6 “Little Bird” to make room for my partner, Jon, with his collection of guns: a M-16, a M-79 grenade launcher, at least two pistols, and a bunch of ammo. In the back, there was just me and my HK21, a thousand rounds of linked 7.62, two LAWs (Light Anti-tank Weapons), and two Claymores on a rucksack frame, along with a 9mm Walther P-5 and my trusty CZ-75 as back-up. There were only three of us on board—we needed room for at least one passenger on the way out.

A General Issue (GI) Hamilton similar to the one worn by the author during training for Operation Stormcloud.

I looked at my Hamilton again, the glowing numbers and hands told me it had been exactly two minutes since the last time I checked. The ride was smooth. I watched the pilot, his face barely illuminated with the green light from the goggles, and imagined how tense he must be flying in formation with 11 other helicopters. I knew the others were close as I could occasionally see the sweep of their blades disturbing the air just beyond our own rotors. I was tense, but as a passenger, there’s nothing you can do but trust these guys, the best pilots in the world.

This was our final, live-fire rehearsal. If we got the go-ahead, we’d soon be heading for the Middle East on a C-5A loaded with all of us and our Little Birds. The pilot came over the intercom, “Stand by. We’re going in.” Safeties came off as I quickly checked the issued Hamilton once more. It told me what I wanted to know. “On time, On target.”

Task Force 158 Helos (OH-6) practicing for Operation Stormcloud in 1980. (Photo Credit: James Stejskal)

The helo shuddered as it flared into a hover some 50 feet above the ground. The clouds parted and our target was illuminated by the full moon. I picked out my targets, and pulled the trigger. To the right and left I saw the sky light up as orange strings of tracer fire descended from each bird in line as we settled to the ground. Operation Stormcloud had been unleashed.

—

I never much cared about watches growing up. It was only at the age of 16, after I had earned my civilian SCUBA diver rating, that I started considering what kind of watch I needed. The dive instructor made us understand that divers had to have a good timepiece—accurate, waterproof, and pressure-resistant instruments—to time their dives. My first dive watch was a Swiss-made Doxa, and the only way I paid for it was with an employee discount from the dive shop where I worked plus a lot of overtime.

A vintage Doxa Sub 300 similar to the one worn by the author. (Photo Credit: Analog:Shift)

I managed to lose that watch not on a dive per se but testing my bravery by jumping into the spillway of a dam. Kingsley Dam on Lake McConaughy in Nebraska was the second largest hydraulic-fill dam in the world when it was completed in 1941. When one of the Park Rangers told us the water comes out below the dam at over 100 miles per hour, I was prompted to say, “Hold my beer,” and test it by leaping in. I survived but on my third jump, the Doxa decided we would part ways and it disappeared into the tumultuous waters. I suspect it’s still down there with the catfish somewhere.

The Death of a Doxa. (Photo Credit: James Stejskal)

Moving along, I evidently either failed to learn from my experiences or I just needed more adventures. I signed up for Army Special Forces after I convinced myself that a college education wasn’t getting me anywhere. During selection and training, I continuously heard the mantra that to be truly Special Forces you had to have a Randall Knife, a star-sapphire ring, and a Rolex. But as a “Spec 4” Light Weapons Leader on my first A-Team, the only thing I could manage was the Randall Knife and that was only because my Dad gave his to me—the same one my Mom gave him before he went to Europe in 1944 to visit Adolf. So I went without the Rolex. Most of my old photographs show me without any watch at all.

Members of the 39th Special Forces Detachment or “Det A” during ski training in the Alps.

Then I was posted to a classified unit in Berlin, Germany. Called “Detachment A” or “Det A,” it was in reality the 39th Special Forces Detachment. We had some interesting missions back then. Urban unconventional warfare (UW) was one, which was essentially getting ready for World War III and conducting stay-behind operations in Berlin and the DDR (East Germany) much like what the Office of Strategic Services (OSS) did in the last World War. Our other mission was Counter-Terrorism (CT), which we picked up in 1975 as the U.S. European Command’s CT Force. You need to remember this was in the nascent stages of America’s war on terror, and we were developing what would become the tactics, techniques, and procedures that seem so common today.

A Seiko 6105-8110 similar to the one purchased by the author after attending Special Forces Underwater Operations School. (Photo Credit: Analog:Shift)

With access to the Post Exchange now and having completed the rather arduous Special Forces Underwater Operations School, I decided a new dive watch was in order. I considered a Rolex but it cost around $400 in the PX. So, on the recommendation of a teammate, I decided to buy a Seiko. It was a Model 6105-8110. I seem to remember it cost me around $150—still a pretty hefty sum when you’re only earning around $600 a month, with jump pay, and after taxes and buying a lot of beer downtown. But I was a sergeant and could almost afford it. I know the Rolex would have been a good investment but with my luck… well, read on. And, in retrospect, the Rolex might have attracted too much attention.

Even so, my Seiko got more use ensuring I was inside the 4-minute window for an asset meeting on a dark street, making a split-second car pick-up, maybe figuring out the burn rate for a demolition fuse, or synchronizing operations when a radio couldn’t be used. Monitoring my dive time was more of a secondary role.

The author preparing a steel cutting charge on the range with his Seiko on the wrist. (Photo Credit: Bob Hopkins)

From time to time, Det A operators would ride on what were called “Tours” with the U.S. Military Liaison Mission (USMLM). Essentially, it was a monitoring organization that kept tabs on the Warsaw Pact in East Germany while the Soviets (SOXMIS) kept tabs on us in West Germany. The Brits and the French had their own versions of the mission (BRIXMIS and MMFL, respectively). Keeping accurate time and knowing your location was paramount on what could be a dangerous mission in the enemy’s backyard.

Artist’s rendering of Major Arthur D. "Nick" Nicholson, Jr, who was killed while conducting intelligence operations with the U.S. Military Liaison Mission (USMLM) in the DDR.

One American and one French officer were killed while on tours in the DDR, and several others were badly injured. The photo shows one of my comrades on a tour in East Germany. He was a MACV-SOG (Military Assistance Command, Vietnam – Studies and Observations Group) veteran, had good taste in watches, and was incidentally also the guy who told me to buy a Seiko. I wore the watch everywhere, in training, on jumps, and on all our missions except one. In late 1979, we were put on alert for a mission that would come to be known as Operation Eagle Claw. For that mission, we were all issued olive-green Hamiltons, the watch I wore in the above rehearsal.

Det A soldier on a USMLM Tour near the Polish Border wearing a Seiko 6105 and a Waltham (WCC) wrist compass. (Photo Credit: A USMLM Member)

Throughout the rest of 1979 and most of 1980, our training was almost completely oriented around direct action operations—the tactics we would need to enter Iran and bring out the American hostages being held there. We were working in concert with another, perhaps more famous unit from Fort Bragg that I won’t mention here other than to say that they outnumbered us 8:1. The “other outfit” had responsibility for freeing over 50 hostages at the American Embassy in Tehran, while our smaller force was to take down the Iranian Foreign Ministry and exfiltrate three senior American diplomats being held there.

Hard doesn’t describe the preparation for the mission. But it was intense and it was fun. Day and night Close Quarter Battle (CQB) training, helicopter and vehicle ops, and explosive entries. With no guardrails and an open budget, in a very short time period, our 40-some soldiers used more small-arms ammunition than the yearly allotment for the entire Berlin Brigade.

The author wearing his Seiko during CQB training. (Photo Credit: James Stejskal)

When Eagle Claw went down on the 24th and 25th of April in 1980, only 13 members of “Det A” participated. The rest of us got to sit it out in Berlin, waiting interminably for what turned out very badly when helicopter after helicopter failed and the op was scrubbed. In the withdrawal, eight Americans died, but as a group of British soldiers said, “At least [they] had the guts to try.” For the rest of that year, we rehearsed an up-gunned version of “Eagle Claw” called “Stormcloud” but it was ultimately scrubbed just before Ronald Reagan was inaugurated. I think my GI Hamilton went back to the S-4.

The author wearing his General Issue Hamilton at Elgin Air Force Base in 1980. (Photo Credit: James Stejskal)

Diving wasn’t in the cards much after that, but I was still traveling extensively overseas. One thing I learned was that wearing an expensive watch in “Third World” countries can lead to some undesired attention, not from the authorities, but from the criminal elements. I would often swap out my “good” watch for my field watch when “going downtown.” Losing a simple Timex Expedition was preferable to losing my treasured Seiko. I went through several Expeditions because they made great gifts for admiring locals who might prove helpful at a later point in time.

I failed to follow that rule just once and it was curtains for the watch. My Seiko met the end of its days in Somalia when I had the unfortunate experience of being in an Isuzu Trooper when we rolled over a Soviet anti-tank mine. I lost a good friend that day but three of us survived. When I awoke on board the USS Tripoli, I found I had also lost my Seiko. I served a while longer and then punched out with 23 years after I got married. Not too long after that, I was recruited by what we in the military euphemistically called the “Other Government Agency” or OGA. For the next 15 years, I was practicing what some call “God’s Work” doing interesting things in interesting places around the world.

The author wearing his Timex Expedition in the Bush. (Photo Credit: WLN)

All the while, I admired the upper-echelon watches but couldn’t commit to buying one. Instead, I relied on my Timex Expeditions, which changed as often as I gave them away. That is until one day, my wife gave me a TAG. Officially it’s a TAG Heuer Link WAT1111, and it’s special because it’s the only retirement gift I received—plus it was for my birthday. It’s my “EDC/go-to” watch, although I have a couple of stand-ins for rough duty days.

The author’s TAG Heuer Link is now his go-to everyday watch.

Once I retired, I moved on to different pastures; consulting a bit, delivering talks to active duty folks on everything from Cold War history to a bit of spook stuff. I still do that but I also have become an author. Now I put my love of history and adventure to good use by telling the true and almost true stories of special operators like T.E. Lawrence of Arabia (who wore an Omega Chronograph, by the way) all the way up to my comrades who participated in Operation Eagle Claw as I do in my history MISSION IRAN. My fiction, or faction as I call it, tells the stories of Special Forces operators during the Cold War and after in my novels The Snake Eater Chronicles. Timing is often critical in these tales and interesting watches come into play quite often.

Senator Ted Kennedy speaks with Medal of Honor recipient and then-Major Paris Davis during a visit to Vietnam in the late 1960s. Davis was a Rolex guy. (Photo Credit: Davis Family)

The last picture is an important memory for me. One day last year, I was at the National Museum of the U.S. Army with a friend and found one of the displays closed. A docent told me the museum was interviewing a recent Medal of Honor winner, Colonel Paris Davis. I decided to wait until he was finished because Davis had been my commander when I served in the 10th Special Forces Group in the mid-1970s. I wasn’t sure if he’d remember me—I had changed a bit—but as he departed the exhibit hall, I met him with a salute. I told him who I was and a smile appeared on his face as he said my nickname. He had remembered. We had a nice chat and as you can see, he knows what watch to wear. He has his Rolex while I have my TAG.

The author reuniting with his commander, Medal of Honor Awardee Colonel Paris Davis, at the National Museum of the US Army. The author wears his TAG Heuer while Colonel Davis wears a Rolex GMT Master. (Photo Credit: R. Pierce Reid)

Sometimes, I find myself thinking about my old time-pieces. I’ve considered finding a vintage Seiko 6150 or even a GI-issue watch to replace them, but then I realized they wouldn’t have the same meaning as my originals. The one watch I’m closest to now—and really, the only one I need—is the TAG my wife gifted me.

A couple of the author's books, some mementos from his service, and his TAG Heuer watch. (Photo Credit: James Stejskal)

About The Author: James Stejskal is a uniquely qualified novelist and historian backed by 35 years of service with US Army Special Forces and the Central Intelligence Agency. He is the author of Special Forces Berlin: Clandestine Cold War Operations of the US Army's Elite, 1956-1990 and Masters of Mayhem: Lawrence of Arabia and the British Military Mission to the Hejaz.

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