with the loss of ninety crewmen.
Two other destroyers were lost that morning in one of the most gallant actions in U.S. naval history. By sheer determination the sailors of this tiny force slowed and disorganized the Japanese advance, buying time for air attacks to turn the tide of the battle. Admiral Nimitz stated: “The history of the United States Navy records no more glorious two hours of resolution, sacrifice, and success.”390 This would be the last surface engagement of the war and one of the finest hours of the U.S. Navy.
Saul replied, “You are not able to go out against this Philistine and fight him; you are only a boy, and he has been a fighting man from his youth.”
—1 Samuel 17:33 40mm guns in action against attacking aircraft. (National Archives) Burial at sea for sailors killed in action. (National Archives) September 21
Powder in the Scuttle
The destroyer USS Heermann churned ahead at maximum speed toward the Japanese cruiser formation. Incoming shells spouted huge geysers in a rainbow of colors all around the little ship. Red, yellow, and green dye marked the rounds from different enemy guns.
The Heermann was trying desperately to screen the wounded and badly listing escort carrier, Gambier Bay, by laying smoke and disrupting the enemy advance. She had only her 5inch guns to bear on the larger Japanese ships closing in. The Heermann ’s five mounts kept up a steady cadence as each gun crew worked feverishly through the loading cycle over and over again. Fifty-four-pound projectiles came up the shell hoists to be fused and hand-loaded into the breeches. Twenty-eight-pound powder bags were pushed up through scuttles for loading behind the projectiles. The smell of cordite and human sweat became overpowering, especially for the men below decks in the confined spaces of the handling rooms. One sailor described the experience:
Round after round I take from Sacco, placing it in the scuttle. As the previous round is removed, I push up a new one and secure it in its seat. Forty, fifty rounds, then the violent action of the ship, a brief pause. Just enough time to bring up more shells from the lower handling room. Many times more, rapid fire, no time for thought. Keep a powder charge in the scuttle. No talk, only Sacco’s orders to keep the lower hoist moving. The human machine works flawlessly. We still know nothing of the happenings around us. No feelings, no interruptions, just keep a powder in the scuttle.391
As happens so often in combat, we see men working together to do a job with no idea of the bigger picture around them. They had to get their part done while having faith that others would do theirs and that the overall battle would be fought wisely. This remains a powerful metaphor for our lives in Christ. We try to use our gifts conscientiously in his service while resting in the confidence that he is in control of the outcome.
But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.
—Isaiah 40:31 September 22
Reaching Back
The modern guided missile frigate USS Samuel B. Roberts was commissioned in 1986, a direct descendant of the World War II ship of the same name lost at Leyte Gulf. In memory of his ship’s ancestor, the captain, Cdr. Paul X. Rinn, had a bronze plaque made with an image of the first Roberts and a roster of her crew engraved on it. The plaque was prominently displayed on the quarterdeck of the ship and was a key point in the indoctrination of each new crew member.
In 1988 the new Roberts struck a mine while escorting Kuwaiti oil tankers in the Persian Gulf. With a fractured keel and twenty-five-foot hole in the hull she was taking on massive amounts of seawater and in imminent danger of sinking. Captain Rinn thought, “I’m not sure we can save this ship, but we’ve got to try…”392 Working feverishly through a long night he and a determined crew saved the ship. During the night the bronze plaque on the quarterdeck took on a new significance.
In 2001 Paul Rinn was the featured speaker at a reunion of the World War II-era sailors of the Samuel B. Roberts and her sister destroyers. Rinn described in detail the heroism of his crew in saving the modern-day Roberts. He then told them the story of the bronze plaque with their names engraved on it:
It sent a chill through me on the night of the mining, as we were fighting to save the ship, to see crew members passing the plaque and reaching out and touching it, not just one or two guys but seemingly everyone who passed it. Clearly they were bonding with the heroism of the past.393
And so, these sailors of a new era reached back into the past to connect with the courage and struggle of those who had gone before. They were reaching back to the men who had experienced the same fears and hopes, and who had fought the same battle: to save a ship and each other.
A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.
—Proverbs 17:17 September 23
The Proud and the Humble
Michael Conway was a Navy chaplain and one of the great heroes of World War II. When the USS Indianapolis was torpedoed and sunk in the Philippine Sea, he and nine hundred other sailors were left adrift. Few lifeboats survived the catastrophe, and most of the men had only their kapok life jackets. Father Conway made it his duty to swim from group to group offering spiritual support and encouragement. After three days and nights of tireless effort, the young priest quietly slipped beneath the surface and was gone.
In a Saturday Evening Post article, one of the survivors later recalled the chaplain holding services the day before the Indianapolis went down, and needing two mess decks to accommodate the large, overflow crowd. He was always popular with Catholic and Protestant sailors alike. It was reported that in this service, “He spoke on the parable of the Pharisee and the Publican (or tax collector in modern translations), likening them to two sailors appearing before the captain of the ship.”394
Unfortunately, the details of this sermon are lost, but it is not difficult to grasp the intended image: Two