HISTORY LEAVES US, AGAIN

This past week I received notice of more Humble Heroes that very recently passed away: Joseph Daniel Marion, Kenneth Gail Henry and Patrick Carigan. Each of these men served with distinction, bravery, honor and as is so true of all of the Nashvillers I have met, great humbleness. I was closest to Patrick. In fact, Patrick and his lovely wife Phyllis became good friends with my wife Gigi and me. Our familial friendship had historical root, Patrick was close friends with my Dad aboard the Nashville. They shared many a laugh during liberty in Australia and many, many stressful times during long months at sea under surface and air attacks by Japanese forces culminating in the Kamikaze attack of December 13, 1944 that killed 133 men and wounded another 190.

I first met Patrick in Nashville, Tennessee at my first ship’s reunion. I walked into the hotel’s reserved bar area where many a Nashviller and wife was chatting away over cocktails, telling stories all have heard and all were eager to share again. A tall, stately looking gentleman across the room caught my eye. He seemed to be starring at me with a look of recognition, like he was surprised and happy to see me. He slowly walked across the crowded room towards me, a glide more than a walk, as his gaze never left me. With a resonant, warm voice of affection, he said “You’re George Bustin’s son aren’t you?” “Yes sir, I am” I replied, rather stunned as no one but the head of the reunion association, Marine Don Hill, knew I was coming to the event. “Well, I loved your Dad and can remember many a night when he entertained us on watch with his harmonica, he played all the great tunes of the day” Patrick said in that eloquent, drawn out Kentucky dialect. And with that, our friendship commenced with neither hesitation nor reservation.

He was extremely helpful in providing information for the book, genuinely kind, considerate and generous to my Mom, Uncle Charlie and wife Gigi. An intelligent and charming man, brave and unassuming, he was the epitome of a Humble Hero. Patrick, we loved you and will miss you. With the passing of Joseph, Kenneth and Patrick, and the others that have gone before, we all have less in our lives. But we are all better off for the way their lived theirs.

 Joseph, Kenneth and Patrick, we all owe you a debt that cannot be paid, thank you for your service and your sacrifice.

Kamikaze Devastates Nashville 67 Years Ago Today: Survivors Carry On

This excerpt from the book was posted this day last year and I can not think of a reason not to repost today, 67 years to the day that a bomb-laden Kamikaze from Negros Island, Philippines forever altered the lives of the crew. A couple of men have called me today, a significant date in their lives. Many of the survivors still deal with injuries and trama almost 7 decades later. Casualties on a steel warhsip are particularly horrific with the ship itself becoming a dangerous weapon a steel, paint, ammunition and people are literally vaporized. Think for a moment of these brave men and the many others of that era and say thank you in whatever manner you may.

This is a brief excerpt from the book:
At 1457, just as the Nashville was coming about the southern end of Negros Island, steaming towards the Sulu Sea, sharp-eyed lookouts spotted a Val single engine plane at 5,000 feet just over the island off the starboard side of the ship. The crew thought the ship astern was the target and indeed it appeared that way from the dive path of the plane. Crewmembers were thinking, “Oh God, they are going to get it if that plane gets through.” But then in an instant the pilot banked so hard left that his wings were perpendicular to the water, and with that the fate of the Nashville and her crew was forever altered. Men watched in horror and disbelief as they could see bombs fastened on both wings as the plane bore down on them with every intention of killing as many of them as possible. Apparently aiming for the bridge, where nearly thirty officers and men were present, the tip of the right wing caught the end of a 40mm anti-aircraft gun port- side just aft and the plane slammed into the Nashville amidships at 400 miles an hour with an instant and powerful impact. The ship violently bolted and shuddered, the first evidence for the crew below decks that something had gone horribly wrong. The bomb on the right wing exploded ten feet above the port five-inch battery, sending a powerful shockwave and a deadly shrapnel spray across the deck, ripping through steel bulkheads, gun barrels, ammunition, decking, and human beings. The left wing broke loose and its bomb exploded ten feet above the starboard five-inch battery, shooting a violent concussion wave and hundreds of pieces of red-hot jagged shrapnel in all directions. Body parts, specks of flesh, fluids of both man and machine blew through doorways, along bulkheads, against men, and down hallways along much of the length of the ship.
Aviation gasoline spewed forth soaking men, ammunition, guns, and everything else before exploding in a millisecond, sending flames more than seventy feet forward and higher than the ship’s smokestacks. Searing fires erupted from the foremast to the mainmast topside. The blast literally clogged the on deck blow intakes and momentarily knocked out the fires in the fireroom, but men like John. W. Bosier CMM ran topside, cleared the intakes, and relit the fires quickly.
Fires also erupted on the second deck, in the #2 fireroom, uptakes on the third deck, and in the superstructure as high as the signal bridge. The burning aviation fuel then ignited a five-inch ready ammunition box portside causing more deadly explosions. Still, the horror continued as the fifty-caliber machine gun ammunition from the Japanese plane exploded as did some of the ship’s 20mm and 40mm ammunition, creating a deadly blast of bullets and shrapnel flying in all directions.
The scene on deck was nothing short of pure horror surpassing a man’s worst nightmares. The Nashville was a vessel of death and destruction. Men were blown overboard. Men’s bodies were penetrated by jagged searing hot metal fragments, limbs were torn from torsos, torsos from trunks, and some simply disintegrated in the concussion and fire. The ship itself fared no better than the crew. Large five-inch guns were twisted like putty, melted and put out of commission as were 40mm and 20mm guns amidships, the thirty-six-inch searchlights simply ceased to exist, the teak decks were shredded like toothpicks, bulkheads crushed and burnt, paint seared off, gun barrels twisted like straws.
A bomb or shell exploding on a ship kills and maims in multiple, horrible ways. The pressure of the blast itself attacks in a wave that crushes bodies, strips flesh and muscle from bone, and in some cases totally vaporizes human beings. It is not simply metal bomb fragments that also kill but the ship’s own metal pieces blasted into tiny fragments, even liquefied that then pass through a man’s body at hypersonic speed.
The memory of the attack remained seared into the minds of the survivors for the rest of their lives. James D. Baccus was stationed in Turret 1 for general quarters. “We had just come back from the Mess Hall and I was sitting on the deck inside the turret, playing Backgammon, when the ship shook and there was one hell of a noise. I then looked through the scuttle hole in the deck of the turret, where the shell cases are ejected to the ship’s deck, and several sailors were crawling under the overhang for protection. They were bloody, some with legs and arms either gone or badly injured.” Most of the men James saw would not survive.
“So many of my shipmates, some close friends dead and wounded. The wounds were so terrible, especially the burns,” remembered William Smith, Chief Shipfitter.
Hugh D. Patrick and a buddy ran topside as soon as they realized what had happened and they immediately heard frantic pounding on a closed hatch. They opened the hatch and continued forward to see if they could help and then in essence rescued a doomed sailor. It was almost fifty years later that Frank Prentice tracked down Hugh to thank him for saving his life by opening that hatch.
GM3c Alfonso Garcia Vejar had just left his station as he was relieved and went below deck to eat. The man that took his place was killed instantly. Alfonso was alive by sheer chance and fate.
James Clark received a Purple Heart as a result of the attack, “I was stationed in a 40mm gun director with a guy named Johnson when the kamikaze attack occurred, the plane hit directly below us. Our gun crew, which was one level below and closer to the plane, was hit hard. Later, after all the fires were out I was back at my station and witnessed a Marine near the top of the ladder who was so badly wounded his body was just a heap and his clothing was smoldering. I didn’t know how this man could be alive. When a Marine officer approached him he held out his hand and said, ‘help me sir.’ I know that Marine officer has had many nightmares about that incident and I can still see it.”
The blast blew men into bulkheads, across the deck and through doorways. Ed Roiek MM1 was blown clear through two doorways yet managed to survive.
“I was told to switch the shift with one of my shipmates,” said Maury Jack Wood, Ship Cook 1c. “The kamikaze hit the ship where a shipmate took my shift. He was killed and it should have been me. I will never forget this as long as I live. I have shared this information with my family.”
Those that were below decks were lucky and they knew it. John J. Cotton SK2c said, “I am here because I was in a repair party below decks.”
Young Edward “Bulldog” Remler rushed into the overcrowded Sick Bay to help the doctors and medics any way he could. Wounded, dead, and dieing were piling up in the corridor as if they were coming off an assembly line. Horribly mangled men all about, screams of agony, groans, vomiting, blood mixed with body fluids of all sorts pooling up to his ankles, the sound of anti-aircraft guns firing and exploding ammunition decks above him formed a Kaleidoscope memory in his mind, never to fully leave him. Incredibly, there was another memory to return even more forcefully in his future. Bulldog had to hold men down while limbs were amputated, sometimes without full anesthesia. After the first amputation the doctor told him to take the severed leg of a sailor. Bulldog burst out, “What do you want me to do with it?” and was promptly told to toss it into a corner where others were beginning to form a sizeable pile. Nearly fifty years later, at one of the ship’s reunions, he spotted a one-legged man in a wheelchair, someone he had not seen at any prior reunion. It was of course that first sailor he held. They became fast friends and at times traveled together on vacations and to reunions.

America is Losing Her WWII Vets, Nashville Her Crew

Over 16.1 million people served in America’s armed forces during WWII. Today, 2.25 million serve (including reserves), a significant difference. More significant is the percentage of the population serving. During WWII over 12% of the population wore a uniform, today it is less than 1%. A tremendously greater level of national commitment that would require a mind-boggling 37.8 million Americans under arms today.

WWII Veterans suffered 400,000 killed, 671,000 wounded and 35,000 missing in action and there are approximately 2.7 million still alive. We lose between 800-1,200 every day. Every single day. Soon they will be gone, all of them, and we will be without a live source of that part of American history.

Over the past few months I have received calls and letters reminding me of the harsh, personal reality of those numbers, as the Nashville crew continues to pass on. We lost Harrison LeRoy Frost, Jr., John T. “Jack” Baldwin, Jr., Lester Lindsay Morton, Jr., Vincent “Jim” Spiering and just today, "Papa" Joe Venaglia. Each of these men served with great valor and honor. Lester Morton for instance, with total disregard for his own life, entered a burning turret, repeatedly, to pull out 18 severely wounded Marines and cared for them hours afterwards. Such heroism was not uncommon aboard the Nashville. There were hundreds of similar stories, hundreds of acts of bravery and self-sacrifice among the crew. Many of the men even refused medals including the Purple Heart for fear the government letter home would worry and frighten their loved ones. As my uncle Charlie, himself a veteran, once said to me not long before he passed away, “Where do we get such men?!”. Well, I don’t think I can answer that, but I do know we have them, many of them, then and now.

If you know a veteran, or meet one, thank them. Tell them they are not forgotten, that they are respected and appreciated. And ask them to tell you a story you should never forget.

A Nashviller Nephew Writes...

From Colonel Clifton H. Aldrich, United States Army, Retired

Mr. Bustin,

I applaud your research and publication about the USS Nashville. I too have become interested in the history of that ship. You see my uncle CFC Edward B. McGettrick, may have served on that ship longer than any other. He has passed (2003) now and my talks with him about the war were too few and too brief. He served from Jun 1938 until November 1944, departing the Ship on 27 Nov to attend a chief fire control school. He came aboard as seaman 3d class and left as a Chief Fire Control being promoted in Aug of 1944. Obviously, he was not on board when it was hit by the kamikaze attack on 13 Dec. It haunted him that he was not there but conflicted him because he probably would have been killed if he was. The information I have comes mostly from my conversations with him, my Father's conversation with him relayed to me, my Mothers stories, and the reading of his letters to my Mother and Father during the war, his younger sisters stories. She was a Navy Lieutenant nurse at the Chelsea Naval Hospital where he was treated and discharged in late 1946. And the Navy ships musters recently released. I have recently requested his military records and awaiting to know more about him.

I was the only nephew he ever talked to about his service most probably because I spent 32years in the Army. Entered as a private and retired as a Colonel in 1993. I was shocked when attending his funeral that I was the only one there that knew any more than that he had been in the Navy. And many would not have known if it were not for a portrait picture of him and his sister in uniform that had been taken by my Father. Only his sister (also now passed) could talk about his Navy service. It was then that I became determined to know as much as I could about his service this great Ship and his life during those eight years.

My Uncle was silently proud of his Naval service and attended a number of reunions. One I was able to talk to him on one of my infrequent visits about was one at Nashville Tennessee. He was quite proud that he was recognized for having been the longest serving crewman at that reunion. He like all you highlighted in your book loved the USS Nashville and for him actually grew up as a crewman on the Nashville.

I find myself trying to place myself in his shoes, responding to General Quarters, living on board ship moving from point to point at risk and in harms way, growing with increased responsibility and providing fire support. I was trained and served as a Army Field Artilleryman and to this day cannot imagine the simultaneous and continuous firing of the equivalent of nearly two battalions of 155mm Artillery within a area of 200 meters. I feel I really would have liked to be there to serve.

I regret that I was not able to sit with him and his brothers an sister to document their service. He had a brother who served on the USS Finnegan, a brother who was a merchant marine, a brother who landed with the 9th Army Artillery on Utah Beach on 10 Jun 1944, and his Sister the nurse. He was one of eight and the other three girls were at home with their children.

I am sorry if this rambling has gone on but the purpose was to determine if in your research you came across any reference to my Uncle. I am going to try to chronicle his service in some way so that the rest of the family will know him and of his extraordinary service to our Nation.

Sincerely
Clifton H. Aldrich

Another Of The Greatest: Taps

Back when I fully committed to writing this book on the USS Nashville, long before I had done any relative research, made any phone calls or conducted any interviews, I had correctly anticipated many of the challenges and frustrations, expenses, tasks and most of the emotions that I would experience. But I did not fully comprehend nor appreciate how I would become, not only friendly, but true friends with many people, how attached and engaged I would become with some of them. And when you become attached to people in their 70s, 80s and 90s, you have to expect, to anticipate, the inevitable.

At first, one or two passed away every couple of months. And for some reason, they seemed to be the ones I had not personally met but had a phone conversation with maybe once. Later, the frequency increased slightly to perhaps one person a month yet it was men whom I had not met, but had spoken to or corresponded with once or twice. That is not to say their passings did not elicit an emotional response from me, but I could easily intellectualize after a moment.

In the past year these things have changed. The frequency of the crew passing away has accelerated as most of them reached their mid-80s. And inevitably, the rollcall of Taps began to include men I had become friends with, men I had met with repeatedly, had multiple in-person conversations with, had dinner with, shared stories over a drink or two, introduced them to my wife or Mom, got to know very well.

And then, this year, we entered a new phase of reality. There are those people in life whom you connect with immediately, who show you kindness and love like you are a family member. If you are lucky, you know exactly what I speak of. In May of this year, I wrote of the death of one such person, Don Hill, USMC, a true hero in every manner, by any definition (“We Lost A Hero Last Night” 5/25). Don was my friend, as I was his.

Today, Thursday July 29, 2010, Goldie Hill, Don’s loving, loyal and generous wife, passed away at home, engulfed in the love of many family and friends. Goldie was as much a member of the Nashville crew as anyone. She was the driving force of the reunions for the past few decades, she project managed and gave many people and their families truly wonderful, once in a lifetime experiences. Loyal yet independent, strong yet supportive. I was able to speak with her several times during this past week and am extremely grateful for that opportunity. She enriched the lives of everyone that knew her. She was my friend.

God Bless you Goldie, we all will miss you.

Memorial Day 2010: Only A Few Words

I hear many criticisms, more each year it seems, in regards to how Americans observe Memorial Day. More precisely, how Americans inappropriately observe Memorial Day. I hear that it has become just another holiday of personal gratification, that all we care about is mindless entertainment in the form of boating, beer and barbeques, of concerts and camping. I understand how these activities may seem, at first glance, cavalier, insensitive or even disrespectful to those brave men and women who made the ultimate sacrifice. I do. I would like every American to attend a Memorial Day service, to fly the flag or even to take one single, simple moment of silence and prayer to remember the fallen. I would. And I believe more do so than most of us may think, that more give thought, give a moment of remembrance than we think, that more, far more, have been touched personally in some manner to those sacrifices and honor them in their hearts.

And what of those seemingly hedonistic activities, the worship of the three day weekend, the time for family, friends, and downright silly fun? What of it? Well, isn’t that a manifestation of our freedom? Isn’t that what “they” would want us to do? Isn’t that what “they” would do?

Perhaps we are not so shallow, so self-centered. Perhaps not. We remember, we memorialize in our own way, and we live, live as we have been given the gift to live by those that gave all.

We Lost A Hero Last Night

We Lost A Hero Last Night, Sgt. Don Hill, USMC

We lost a hero last night. You, me, the USMC, the country. We lost a hero. Don Hill was a dashing, good looking young man in his crisp Marine uniform in 1942, so much so that his photo became a recruiting poster. A soft spoken, kind man from Colorado, like many others of his generation, he did his job during WWII. As Don himself once stated “We had a job to do and we did it, and we put in a lot of overtime doing it”. Don was part of the Marine contingent aboard the USS Nashville CL43, a contingent that suffered heavy casualties during a turret explosion and later, during a devastating Kamikaze attack.

Don went ashore at Peleliu and did his job. Don later went ashore at Okinawa, and again he did his job. He rarely talked about those times except the good memories of friends he shared them with. It was not until the last few years of his life that the nightmares got bad, he held as much in as he could, like the hero he always was.

Don and his indefatigable wife Goldie ran the USS Nashville CL43 Reunion Association for many, many years. They were quite a team and something to see in action, Goldie the consummate organizer and Don, the charming, story-telling, joking Marine that referred to the Nashville sailors as “our swabbies”. Year after year, city after city, Don and Goldie presented the crew and their families with wonderful, fun-filled reunions.

The reunions ended in 2009 but people could just not give them up, so in 2010 there was a “Gathering” of crew and families in Reno, a smaller, less structured event. Don was too seriously ill to attend but in true form, he insisted that Goldie attend and see old friends, and like the loyal wife and strong woman she is, she did so. They held a tribute to Don in that gathering, a fitting farewell of sorts.

We lost a hero last night. Don, thank you for all the gifts of your life, including your sacrifices for your country.

Semper Fi.

WWII Veterans Dying At Increasing Rate
Please, if you know a WWII Veteran, talk to him or her. Now. Various academic and government sources estimate that WWII veterans are dying at a rate of 1,000 to 1,500 per day. Every 24 hours. Enough to fill a major league baseball park in less than 2 months. At one point there were 16,000,000 men and women in the armed forces of the United States in WWII, equivalent today to approximately 35,000,000 people. Now, there are less than 2,500,000 still alive. By 2020, a mere 10 years from now, they will all be gone and with them, their individual and collective stories, our stories, the nation’s stories. Reluctant to talk about their wartime experiences for decades many today are more than willing, understanding the importance of sharing their experiences so that their sacrifices and contributions to freedom are never forgotten, as well as the lessons of history. So please, reach out to a family member or friend, visit a veterans home or your local nursing home. Talk to them, ask them questions, give them the opportunity to share and yourself and the nation the opportunity to learn. They deserve that, as do we.