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Accommodation ladder. Storm.
A two pennant (40 knot) gale kicked up just as my whaleboat took on its capacity of passengers at Fleet Landing, in - as I recall - Genoa, Italy, where I was ordered to make my run anyway. When I rounded the sea wall and headed toward my ship there were thirty foot breakers oncoming. Several passengers were shouting for me to ‘Turn around!’, which you cannot do, because to expose your beam to oncoming weather is to encounter a high risk of rolling over. As (curling and breaking sea) conditions prevailed, the (27 ‘) boat was in danger of somersaulting backwards (‘pitch-poling’). I proceeded (about three miles) through the heavy weather toward my anchored ship (Due to explosive hazards and dangers of sabotage, ammo ships almost always anchor out instead of mooring at the pier. Consequently, boats and crews are heavily employed).
My engineer and bowhook had to restrain several panicked people who were trying to pull me out of the coxswain’s pit and take control of the boat. When we made it to the ship, there were thirty footers rolling under and over the accommodation ladder alongside. It was not feasible to carry out standard procedure of tying up at the bottom platform of the accommodation ladder, because the ocean alternately drops below and surges above it - introducing a factor of collision with the ladder at high point or being raised up under and into the platform (- and having the bottom of the ladder punch a hole in the deck of your boat and possibly injuring passengers if not worse -) after falling and then rising up, beneath it. It was clear that I could not deploy my passengers at the accommodation ladder, although the Officer of the Deck was ordering me to do so through a megaphone. I elected to keep my boat into the weather and deploy my passengers - one and two at a time - to a Jacob’s ladder suspended from the outboard rigged, port boat boom. In this unorthodox procedure I evacuated all of my passengers safely, with the exception of one, who incurred a badly broken leg. The Quarterdeck Officer said he was going to have me court martialed for disobedience of a direct order. Instead, after a couple of weeks passed, I received an ‘honorable mention’ at formal inspection quarters... In a three and a half year tour of sea duty (on the same ammo ship) I was granted four ‘honorable mentions’ at quarters, for ‘lifesaving’. Although there is testimony of this incident from John Keegan’s enclosed statement, this event is not reported in my service record.
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Smitty
A middle aged shipmate, 1st Class Machinist Mate - Smith (‘Smitty’) was stricken with a heart attack during a general quarters drill in the Carribean. The Chief Medical Corpsman designated a resuscitation team, including a comrade named ‘Thompson’, and myself. Smith lost and regained his heartbeat several times. The Chief Corpsman administered an ‘intracardial’ of adrenalin, directly to the heart, but Smith perished after several hours of working on him. His body was placed in a refrigeration unit at just over 32o and a 24 Honor Guard watch - of which I was a participant - was stationed just outside, out of tradition, and to insure that the temperature did not fall below 33o. When we made port, Thompson and I were assigned to move the body from a table to a Stokes stretcher. A sheet covered the decedant and when Thompson and I reached under the sheet to lift the body, we abruptly learned that Mr. Smith’s remains were disrobed. We had expected to make contact with a uniformed decedent. Thompson and I made eye contact and non verbally agreed to withdraw our hands and re-engage them so that the cover sheet separated our hands from the body. Although there is written testimony from Division Petty Officer Branch, this event is not reported in my service record.
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Pinned between whaleboat and ship.
My whaleboat was tethered to the outboard boat boom while I was working alone at night. There was a fairly choppy sea moving under the boat and it pitched me over the starboard side into the water. I had temporarily slacked the tether line which allowed the boat to make contact with the side of the ship, pinning me between the two - twice knocking the breath out of me, further threatening to crush me between the boat and the ship. My left ankle was fouled in a submerged drift line. I was unable to disentangle the line on my leg, and although my life jacket was protecting me from being completely crushed I was running out of breath while the rolling and pitching boat continued to pin me between itself and the ship - my life jacket also prevented me from deliberately going under to free the line on my ankle. I yelled for help several times but there was no response. Several minutes passed this way, as the boat continued to hammer me against the side of the ship. I opted to remove my lifejacket so I could deliberately go under to escape being pinned, and to untangle the line on my leg, which disallowed me from maneuvering to pull myself back on board. I took off my life jacket and dove under the boat to the opposite (port) side where I employed the same line that still entangled me to pull myself back aboard.
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500 pound bomb 5 April, 1961 Earle, New Jersey, munitions depot
A civilian forklift operator rounded a blind corner near a railroad boxcar, in a restricted area (where he wasn’t authorized to be), with a load of ammo lifted high in the air; upon seeing me (with my back turned), he hit the brakes. I heard that, and something slide off the forks (above me) and reflexively side stepped, moving all of my body, except my foot, out from under. The disarmed bomb glanced off the side of my foot. The load was supposed to be transported at a low elevation. I ordered him off the machine, boarded it, lowered the remaining load to the stops, and vomited on the floorboards, before I was taken to Sick Bay.
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Backdown whirlpool
Between Fleet Operations in the Med, the Officer of the underway deck (Lt. Skulley) declared recreational ‘swim call’, on a Sunday. An embarkation net was slung over the side to accommodate the crew members who chose to participate. After swimmers entered the water, it became apparent that the ship still had some forward way, passing up the swimmers, who the ‘lifeguard whaleboat’ began to recover. The Officer of the Underway Deck and Conn ordered a full backdown, which generated a large whirlpool - advancing upon Signalman Van Buren and I, who were immediately alongside the ship - unlike the other swimmers, who were distant enough from the ship to be safely approached and brought aboard the whaleboat, as the ship continued its forward motion with the whirlpool in its wake, the reversed propellor threatening to overtake, draw under and decimate Van Buren and I, who were left alongside for about a minute, swimming with all our strength, away from the ever advancing whirlpool, toward the embarkation net. I was at the end of my endurance when Van Buren - just ahead of me - caught up to and gained a grip on the embarkation net. It was at that moment that I grabbed his ankle. We both very nearly drowned with exhaustion, which takes only moments when one’s respiration rate is stressed to maximum; the alternative being to be overtaken by the advancing whirlpool and decimated in the ship’s 19' diameter, screw.
Although there is testimony from my shipmates enclosed, this event is not reported in my service medical record.
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Fall from Working Platform
While working (in-port at mooring station) on a stage over the side of the ship, the platform shifted and I fell. A safety line seized up around my right hand, causing my right arm to absorb the full force of the fall. See attached SMR.
Thank you for reading this three part missive.
- RP