Posted on Friday, 28th September 2007 by K Buchanon
In 1953, I was on the carrier Leyte in South Annex, Boston. One afternoon, I, looking forward to liberty as most sailors do, had changed into my dress uniform and was ready to go. Went to the gedunk stand to get a package of cigarettes. As I was walking away, down a corridor, about 20 seconds later there was a horrible explosion. The blast threw me into the bulkhead about ten feet down from where I was. Where I had stood, seconds before, was close to the blast that killed 11 men. Don’t know why I was spared, but am grateful.
General quarters were sounded, and I went to my station, which was aviation ready issue on the 0-1 deck. Having no planes on board and no need for me to be in that area, I went to the hanger deck. The division officer and I searched for stretchers or anything that could be used as one. I went forward near where the fires were and saw a living hell - men sobbing, running back into the fire to save their buddy. Some were being held to restrain them from running back into that hell - one or two managed to go back in and never came back.
The fires covered several decks, and those that were burned, dying, or dead were brought up from below decks through a hatch where we received and issued flaps, ailerons, rutters, and so forth. We used slings to accomplish this. Several fire departments from nearby neighborhoods were there to help, and some of those that died were firemen. Nothing looks more horrible than a man burned in an oil fire, whether alive or dead.
It seemed like it went on for days, but was only hours. I had thought, as the priests were giving last rights to those burned, dead, or dying, it looked like a scene that could be from Dante’s Inferno. After the fires were out, the phone company set up a few phones on the hanger deck, and each of us were allowed two minutes to call our families. After the bodies had been removed to morgues or hospitals, and the priests had departed, all the aviation store keepers were sitting in the ready issue area listening to the radio.
The local stations were still saying that explosions after explosions were rocking the Leyte. The Leyte was the same carrier on station, off Korea the day before we started taking the fight to inside North Korea, where one of our pilots, Thomas J. Hudner, in an attempt to rescue another downed pilot, received the Medal of Honor. The pilot he tried to save was the only black pilot on board and the first naval aviator, Jessie L. Brown. He had an escort ship named after him.
These incidents have influenced me to a great degree as to how I feel when politicians have allowed themselves to be called “heroes” and traded on that premise. That’s why I don’t condemn the swift boat veterans. I don’t like make-believe heroes myself. It isn’t only John Kerry, but John McCain as well. I have seen REAL heroes in action, who would never have considered themselves “heroes”.
When allowed on liberty after this, those not on duty all rushed to the main gate to see their wives or girlfriends. Unfortunately, in some cases, they both were there. Happy divorce.
