In Harm's Way: The Sinking of the U.S.S. Indianapolis and the Extraordinary Story of Its Survivors (10 page)
Authors: Doug Stanton
BOOK: In Harm's Way: The Sinking of the U.S.S. Indianapolis and the Extraordinary Story of Its Survivors
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Damage control was of no use; the second torpedo had torn open a gaping hole forty feet in diameter in the broad side of the ship. Thousands of gallons of fuel oil were pouring out, trailing the ship like a liquid scarf. Desks, mattresses, books, papers, clothing, bodies, and pieces of bodies were sucked out through the hole as the contents of the ship were exchanged for the incoming breach of the sea.
Topside, those sailors forward of the bridge, nearest the bow, saw that the deck was mangled. They also noticed that the steel plating was split in places and that smoke and flames were pouring from these fissures. Boys standing or lying on the deck in various stages of pain and disbelief were being seared on the superheated steel. The night was
filled with screams and explosions that faded over the water, traveling a mile—maybe two.
filled with screams and explosions that faded over the water, traveling a mile—maybe two.
The
Indy
was alone, cut off, struggling to stay afloat.
Indy
was alone, cut off, struggling to stay afloat.
McVay was still anxiously awaiting a report from radio shack 1. His hope was that if Radio Central was blown, emergency radio 2 could broadcast their location. McVay’s thoughts were interrupted by Moore, who busted onto the bridge. Out of breath, clearly upset, the damage control officer informed the captain that the ship’s forward compartments were flooding quickly. “We’re badly damaged, sir,” he announced. “Do you want to call for abandon ship?”
It was now around 12:11 A.M. and the ship had slowed to about nine knots, or ten miles per hour. Since the explosions, her forward momentum and her remaining power had managed to push her about one mile across the ocean.
For the life of him, McVay couldn’t figure out why their condition was going bad so quickly. But he had little time to react. He had two things on his mind: that the damage sustained by the kamikaze attack four months earlier off Okinawa had initially seemed far worse, and that to call abandon ship if the
Indy
was salvageable could lead to possible court martial. He simply couldn’t believe that the damage could be so severe, given the short time frame. It defied reason, and his experience. At Okinawa, the USS
Franklin
had been turned into a broiling inferno by the attack of a bomber, but it had managed to stay afloat. The crew had even been able to jump from her listing, burning decks onto a destroyer pulled up alongside. McVay had reason to believe that he could still save the
Indy
.
Indy
was salvageable could lead to possible court martial. He simply couldn’t believe that the damage could be so severe, given the short time frame. It defied reason, and his experience. At Okinawa, the USS
Franklin
had been turned into a broiling inferno by the attack of a bomber, but it had managed to stay afloat. The crew had even been able to jump from her listing, burning decks onto a destroyer pulled up alongside. McVay had reason to believe that he could still save the
Indy
.
“Maybe we can hold her,” he told Moore. “Go back below and take one more look and report back to me immediately.”
The man hurried belowdecks to check the situation again. It was the last McVay would see of him.
The man hurried belowdecks to check the situation again. It was the last McVay would see of him.
Almost immediately, his executive officer, Commander Joseph Flynn, the ship’s second in command, arrived and briefed him on the ship’s worsening situation. The ship was now listing at a perilous angle. Below McVay and Flynn, the wounded boys who were strong enough tried to compensate for the deck’s list by walking hand over hand along the ship’s lifelines. Those too badly injured stumbled and crashed into bulkheads. Or kept rolling, cartwheeling into the sea.
The executive officer told McVay that the
Indy
was flooding fast. Then came the final blow: “We are definitely going down. I suggest that we abandon ship.”
Indy
was flooding fast. Then came the final blow: “We are definitely going down. I suggest that we abandon ship.”
McVay was stunned. However, he trusted Flynn’s report. Combined with his damage control officer’s earlier assessment, it convinced McVay that there was nothing else to be done.
“Okay, Red,” he announced. “Pass the word to abandon ship.”
Just eight minutes had passed since the torpedoes struck.
The
Indy
was indeed going down.
Indy
was indeed going down.
The ship was slowing, but not quickly enough, and she was still taking on water. With the bow gone, the remaining forward part of the ship, about 150 feet, was weakening, threatening to blow off under the force of the water rushing against it. The ship rumbled and groaned as it punched through the heavy, fifteen-foot swells. Belowdecks, the boys heard roars like thunder as machinery and equipment smashed into bulkheads and other compartments were breached by the powerful sea.
Normally, the announcement McVay was about to make would come over the ship’s PA, but the PA was gone, along with electricity to the power lines. Moving quickly to the bridge’s port wing, he cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled down to the several hundred boys gathered at the rail below, “Abandon ship!”
The order passed like a fever through the crew. In the confusion, the ship’s bugler thought that he was being commanded to actually leave the ship. So, instead of picking up his bugle, he dashed from the bridge and began making his way off the
Indy
.
Indy
.
Commander Lipski, meanwhile, had somehow endured the excruciating pain of his wounds and made his sightless way down several ladders to the quarterdeck to order the sailors gathered there to get off the ship. The boys were in line four deep at the port rail as the deck slowly raised and tilted higher and higher above the water. Since the first moment of impact, they had been congregating at the stern, instinctively fleeing the smoke, fire, and explosions at the bow. Some of the terrified boys had even taken it upon themselves earlier to abandon ship without any official confirmation of the order.
13
13
Now they began jumping off one by one, then they began to go in droves, jumping in a wave that swept toward the stern of the ship. Although almost all had life preservers, some were too terrified to jump and stood frozen—they were pushed from behind and dropped out of the sight into the sea. Like a crowd trying to rush a gate, some 400 crew
members crowded the rail at the port stern. A young lieutenant who hadn’t heard the order to abandon ship had been trying to hold the boys at bay, screaming, “Don’t jump yet!”
members crowded the rail at the port stern. A young lieutenant who hadn’t heard the order to abandon ship had been trying to hold the boys at bay, screaming, “Don’t jump yet!”
Now he gave up and was nearly crushed as the boys struggled to climb onto the rail and steady themselves. They stepped off into space and plummeted close to eighty feet, screaming as they dropped into the dark sea below.
The abandon ship procedure, at least as it is practiced in the pages of
The Bluejackets’ Manual
, is an orderly affair. But by and large, the survival training in boot camp had been lackluster (some of the boys hadn’t even learned to swim), and in the chaos and confusion—exacerbated by the loss of the PA system—approved procedures for leaving the
Indy
were forgotten or at best carried out in haphazard fashion. All of this was compounded by the fact that during the ship’s high-speed run to Tinian, the green hands on board hadn’t had much time to practice any of the abandon ship procedures.
The Bluejackets’ Manual
, is an orderly affair. But by and large, the survival training in boot camp had been lackluster (some of the boys hadn’t even learned to swim), and in the chaos and confusion—exacerbated by the loss of the PA system—approved procedures for leaving the
Indy
were forgotten or at best carried out in haphazard fashion. All of this was compounded by the fact that during the ship’s high-speed run to Tinian, the green hands on board hadn’t had much time to practice any of the abandon ship procedures.
In the theoretical process, life rafts and motor launches are dropped into the water. Then rope ladders and nets are lowered over the side of the ship, providing access to the life rafts, which are stowed with various lifesaving provisions. Survival gear in 1945 included mess utensils; first aid kits; flare guns called Very pistols, complete with illuminating rounds called star shells; signal flags; a metal signal reflecting mirror; and rifles and ammunition.
On the
Indy
, the two motor-launch whaleboats, stationed near the stern—each twenty-six feet long and intended to carry twenty-two men—had been undamaged by the torpedoing. Nearby, stacked like giant pieces of gray bread, were about seven of the thirty-five cork and canvas-covered rafts, each able to hold twenty-five men. (These were distributed in equal numbers around the ship, but those at the bow had been rendered useless.)
Indy
, the two motor-launch whaleboats, stationed near the stern—each twenty-six feet long and intended to carry twenty-two men—had been undamaged by the torpedoing. Nearby, stacked like giant pieces of gray bread, were about seven of the thirty-five cork and canvas-covered rafts, each able to hold twenty-five men. (These were distributed in equal numbers around the ship, but those at the bow had been rendered useless.)
Each craft was supposed to be outfitted with bread sealed in watertight cans and potable water in wooden beakers, or
kegs, in three-, five-, and eight-gallon denominations. Abandon ship provisions also allowed each sailor one pound of hard bread and 3.4 pounds of canned meat (Spam), as well as one whole gallon of water. Each whaleboat was also meant to be equipped with a boat chest containing a hatchet, a hammer, a screwdriver, pliers, sailmaker’s needles, lamp wicks, sail twine, a seven-inch fishing reel with line and assorted hooks and sinkers, lanterns, oil, and matches.
kegs, in three-, five-, and eight-gallon denominations. Abandon ship provisions also allowed each sailor one pound of hard bread and 3.4 pounds of canned meat (Spam), as well as one whole gallon of water. Each whaleboat was also meant to be equipped with a boat chest containing a hatchet, a hammer, a screwdriver, pliers, sailmaker’s needles, lamp wicks, sail twine, a seven-inch fishing reel with line and assorted hooks and sinkers, lanterns, oil, and matches.
Of the thirty-five life rafts stacked on board, about twelve made it off the ship, and these carried few of the specified provisions. In the hubbub of the
Indy
’s quick departure from Hunters Point, some of the water kegs apparently had not been filled, and in many of those that had not been recently replenished, the existing water had turned foul in the wooden containers. Few boat chests had been loaded into the life rafts.
Indy
’s quick departure from Hunters Point, some of the water kegs apparently had not been filled, and in many of those that had not been recently replenished, the existing water had turned foul in the wooden containers. Few boat chests had been loaded into the life rafts.
On the other hand, luck had been with the boys of the
Indy
two weeks earlier, back in Hunters Point, when the double order of life vests had been delivered. These 2,500 life vests—along with a large number of life belts—were everywhere, stored in bags fastened around the ship’s bulkheads, and in boxes strategically located at points of disembarkation. As the ship tilted beneath their feet, the boys clamored to reach them.
Indy
two weeks earlier, back in Hunters Point, when the double order of life vests had been delivered. These 2,500 life vests—along with a large number of life belts—were everywhere, stored in bags fastened around the ship’s bulkheads, and in boxes strategically located at points of disembarkation. As the ship tilted beneath their feet, the boys clamored to reach them.
Captain McVay worried that the distress messages from radio shacks 1 and 2 hadn’t gotten off. In a sense, everything rode on these messages; the crew’s survival depended on getting help as quickly as possible. In a little less than thirty-six hours, when the ship didn’t arrive in Leyte, no doubt she would be reported missing, but McVay was concerned that many of the injured would not be able to survive the wait. He walked from the bridge to the ladder leading to
the main deck and started down. He wanted to see for himself, up close, just what the hell had happened to his ship. The torpedoing still boggled him. Just as he reached the communications deck, the ship violently wrenched to sixty degrees. Below him, on the starboard side, he spied sailors preparing to jump overboard without life jackets.
the main deck and started down. He wanted to see for himself, up close, just what the hell had happened to his ship. The torpedoing still boggled him. Just as he reached the communications deck, the ship violently wrenched to sixty degrees. Below him, on the starboard side, he spied sailors preparing to jump overboard without life jackets.
“No, boys!” he yelled. “Don’t go over unless you have one of these!” He pointed frantically at his own jacket. It was too late—the boys were leaping anyway. Nearby, seaman Jack Cassidy, an eighteen-year-old bookie’s son from West Springfield, Massachusetts, looked up from the deck where he knelt, to see McVay silhouetted by flames erupting from the bow. Their eyes locked for a moment. McVay cried out, “God bless you!”
Within seconds, the
Indy
rolled to ninety degrees. McVay jumped to the forecastle deck and crawled up to the rail. He did some quick calculations in his head—it was clear the radio shack was unreachable and, in fact, was in imminent danger of flooding. The back portion of the ship, from the bridge to the stern, was crawling with men. McVay started walking aft.
Indy
rolled to ninety degrees. McVay jumped to the forecastle deck and crawled up to the rail. He did some quick calculations in his head—it was clear the radio shack was unreachable and, in fact, was in imminent danger of flooding. The back portion of the ship, from the bridge to the stern, was crawling with men. McVay started walking aft.
This was a perilous journey, and he teetered along the shuddering rail of the overturned ship. Fifty feet of her red keel were visible, and her port rail was pointing at the sky. McVay was walking a balance beam into total darkness.
The boys still inside the ship—an estimated 100 or so—found themselves walking on the bulkheads or crushed by loose machinery and equipment set flying. The deck had suddenly disappeared from beneath them. Men trapped on the lower starboard rail tried desperately to climb the deck to the higher port side. They lifted themselves hand over hand using railings, ladders, and stray lines, much like men scaling a sheer cliff face.
Throughout the ship, the boys had reacted in a variety of ways to the sinking. Some had rushed to their bunks and quickly finished letters home; one sailor paused in his berth to clip his toenails; another made a sandwich and quickly swallowed it whole, followed by a glass of water. On the signal bridge, a few sailors were hurriedly stuffing classified documents into a weighted bag and preparing to throw it over the side. The bag would sink and keep the intelligence out of the enemy’s hands. But as the ship’s tilt grew more pronounced, the boys gave up and simply stuck it under a desk and ran from the room. It was clear to them that soon
nothing
around them would still be floating.
nothing
around them would still be floating.
Jack Cassidy was hacking frantically at the plaster cast on his leg with a knife. He’d wrenched it in gunnery practice during the journey from Pearl Harbor. With a final slice, the cast slid off, and he climbed up the deck to the high port side. Standing on the rail, Cassidy looked forward to the bow and saw dead bodies strewn about the bent metal plates. He leaped, flinging himself as far from the ship as he was able. Naked except for a thin pair of worn dungaree shorts, Cassidy clutched a rubber life belt that he hadn’t had time to blow up. He hit the water and began swimming. Then curiosity got the better of him; he turned and saw the ship flaring with explosions that moved through the forward sections in an eerie strobe effect.
At the hangar deck, Ed Brown stood ready to jump when a buddy he’d met up with at the Club Lido the night before sailing yelled, “Don’t jump, dammit—the fall will kill you!”
“Do we have any choice?” Brown asked. And he leaped. He hit the water and started swimming away, turning his head as he stroked, to see at least forty-five more boys following. He couldn’t make out his friend.
Back on board, boys with knives slashed at bags of kapok life jackets and floater nets. Trying to free one of the
Indy
’s twenty-six-foot whaleboats, a sailor was crushed as the deck slid beneath him and he found himself pinned to the ship’s
bulkhead under the heavy wooden craft. Mike Kuryla worked at the
Indy
’s second motor launch, but the increasing list made this impossible; he couldn’t manage to pull the release pin securing it to the stanchion. He was forced to give up. Finding a bag of life vests hanging nearby, he emptied the netting and, shouting that he had life preservers for all who still needed them, began handing them out by the armful.
Indy
’s twenty-six-foot whaleboats, a sailor was crushed as the deck slid beneath him and he found himself pinned to the ship’s
bulkhead under the heavy wooden craft. Mike Kuryla worked at the
Indy
’s second motor launch, but the increasing list made this impossible; he couldn’t manage to pull the release pin securing it to the stanchion. He was forced to give up. Finding a bag of life vests hanging nearby, he emptied the netting and, shouting that he had life preservers for all who still needed them, began handing them out by the armful.
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