TIN CAN SAILOR
The latest edition of this work has been brought to publication with the generous assistance of Marguerite and Gerry Lenfest.
Naval Institute Press
291 Wood Road
Annapolis, MD 21402
© 1993 by the U.S. Naval Institute, Annapolis, Maryland
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
First Bluejacket Books printing, 2000
ISBN 978-1-61251-567-0 (eBook)
The Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover edition as follows:
Calhoun, C. Raymond, 1913-
Tin can sailor : life aboard the USS Sterett, 1939-1945 / C. Raymond Calhoun.
p. cm.
Includes index.
1. Calhoun, C. Raymond, 1913-2. Sterett (Destroyer) 3. World War, 1939-1945—Naval Operations, American. 4. World War, 1939-1945—Personal Narratives, American. 5. World War, 1939–1945—Campaigns—Pacific Area. 6. United States. Navy—Biography. 7. Seamen—United States—Biography. I. Title.
D774.S74C351993
940.54’5973—dc20
93-14743
Print editions meet the requirements of ANSI/NISO z39.48-1992 (Permanence of Paper).
987654
TO THOSE GALLANT SAILORS OF THE USS STERETT (DD 407) WHO GAVE THEIR LIVES DURING THE THIRD BATTLE OF SAVO ISLAND ON 13 NOVEMBER 1942.
CONTENTS
PREFACE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
1SHAKEDOWN
2ATLANTIC OPERATIONS
3THE BRITISH HOME FLEET
4GUADALCANAL LANDINGS
5GUADALCANAL SUPPORT
6THIRD BATTLE OF SAVO ISLAND
7BATTLE REPAIRS
8RUSSEL ISLANDS SHUTTLE
9VELLA GULF
10THE BLOUIN ERA
11THE FINAL ACT
EPILOGUE
APPENDIXES
INDEX
PREFACE
IN RETROSPECT, my years aboard the destroyer USS Sterett marked the most privileged period of my Navy career. The assignment occurred at a critical time, historically and personally. No other span of service proved to be as valuable in helping me to mature. It was exciting, inspirational, and gratifying.
As the war in the Pacific progressed, the Sterett never hesitated to wade in with flag flying and guns blazing to engage the enemy, whatever the odds. The ship was truly unique in many respects, and I will need some divine assistance to do justice to that uniqueness. It grew out of the personal and professional relationships that developed among her crew. I never encountered anything like it on any other ship.
A special bond existed among Sterett shipmates. The enlisted men got along well with each other, with the chiefs, and with the officers. The chiefs were outstanding, the backbone of the ship: veteran career men, experts in their specialties. They were blessed with self-assurance, and they maintained good relationships with both seniors and subordinates. The officers were close and compatible. They supported one another, did not vie for special treatment, were enthusiastic and dedicated, and looked upon the crew as friends and teammates. The prevailing atmosphere aboard the Sterett was one of mutual trust and respect. Comdr. J. D. Jeffrey, a former shipmate and a good friend, remarked in a recent letter that “the ship itself was nothing but a thin-hulled shell housing a lot of metal parts, without the crew. . . . They, as much as the metal around them, were the Sterett.” I agree with that comment but would add that the metal that surrounded us was exceptionally tough and had been expertly welded together.
While hospitalized in 1943–44 with a paralyzed right hand, I wrote a sketchy narrative about my experiences aboard the Sterett. It was a form of therapy for the wounded arm, but also a way of recording the story of the men who served on a gallant ship. I hoped to use it someday as the skeleton of a book. But the events of forty-odd years deferred the project until I attended the biannual Sterett reunion in 1987 in Bremerton, Washington. I wanted to discuss the idea of writing a book on our old ship with George Respess, a retired chief petty officer for whom I had always had great respect. To my sad surprise, I learned that Respess had passed away only a few weeks before the reunion. It was then apparent that the preparation of a narrative about the Sterett had to begin as soon as possible, before more shipmates moved on to their ultimate destinies. I was the after-dinner speaker at the reunion banquet that year, and my subject was the history of the Sterett. In concluding, I told those in attendance that if they would help by sending me firsthand accounts of the ship’s history after my detachment in April 1943, I would try to put together a book covering the Sterett’s entire life span. They assured me that they would cooperate, and I embarked on the effort that now reaches its end in these pages.
More than fifty Sterett veterans have contributed anecdotes and narrative accounts for this story. I have drawn on their letters freely, quoting from them when appropriate to present the events aboard the Sterett through the eyes of others. The letters, and countless personal conversations with the men of the Sterett at ship’s reunions and in their homes in Virginia Beach, Charleston, Myrtle Beach, Savannah, Suffolk, Glenwood, and Milford, provided details about life aboard the ship and confirmed the veracity of our reconstruction of events. Several personal diaries were made available, with their invaluable personal insights. It should come as no surprise that the resulting text is not uniform stylistically; but I hope that because it is based on such diverse sources, this story is not just a yarn spun by Cal Calhoun but rather a cross-section of the Sterett’s experience that more accurately reflects the attitudes and actions of those who served aboard her. It does not pretend to be a fully documented and precise history, although its authenticity has been reinforced by careful perusal of ship’s logs, action reports, and historical texts by many distinguished authors. This narrative is based on recollections, especially those of the principal author. I have transcribed conversations as I remember them, and except for minor changes in punctuation and deletions for the sake of brevity I have quoted the letters and diaries of my Sterett friends without alteration. Accordingly, I accept full responsibility for the general authenticity of the narrative. But any errors aside, this is an accurate first-person account of life aboard the Sterett from her commissioning in August 1939 until she was stricken from the Navy register in November 1945.
Much has been written about the Guadalcanal Campaign and the critical role played in it by U.S. naval forces. A common thread in all of these accounts is the issue of conflicting or unconfirmed claims of damage done to the enemy. This book cannot resolve this issue, but it does state the facts about the damage inflicted by the Sterett during the night action of 13 November 1942 as they appeared to those who were in the gun director and on the bridge. The account of the Third Battle of Savo Island presented in this book reflects countless personal conversations with the principal participants over the half-century since 13 November 1942. What is described here is what the captain, executive officer, gunnery officer, assistant gunnery officer, torpedo officer, assistant damage control officer, rangefinder operator, director trainer, bridge telephone talker, and chief gunner’s mate all agreed that they saw in the course of the battle. Their observations confirm that the Sterett damaged its Japanese battleship target in the bridge structure with some thirty-six 5-inch shell hits, and in the area of her engineering spaces with two torpedo hits. Our cruiser target was hit by forty-two 5-inch shells in the forecastle and forward gun mounts, and our destroyer target was hit by eight 5-inch shell—four in the bridge structure and four in the after gun mounts, which apparent
ly detonated at the same time as two Sterett torpedoes, resulting in a huge explosion. All of us believed that we had destroyed it.
Although she was awarded a Presidential Unit Citation for outstanding performance in the Third Battle of Savo Island, that was by no means the ship’s only starring role. The Sterett was a key participant in the victorious surface engagement at Vella Gulf in August 1943, came under heavy sustained air attacks countless times during the next two years, and distinguished herself by heroic conduct while on radar picket station at Okinawa in April 1945. Not many destroyers managed to place themselves in harm’s way more often than the USS Sterett.
One of my main concerns was to give full credit to the officers and men who served aboard the Sterett after my detachment in April 1943. That task was made easier by the valuable contributions of many of those who served during that period. The true measure of success in my task, however, will be whether the reader finishes this book with the conviction that the Sterett’s performance was consistent with the highest traditions of the U.S. Navy throughout her lifetime. Accordingly, I close with a special salute to Frank Gould, “Champ” Blouin, and “Gordy” Williams, who commanded this magnificent little destroyer through the multitude of actions in which she participated from 10 April 1943 until the war’s end.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
DURING MUCH OF THE PAST THREE YEARS, the writing of this book has required that I recall to mind the personal experiences of the years 1939–1945, without question the most exciting years of my life. Dwelling in that sanctuary of memories has enabled me to enjoy again the company of my shipmates from the USS Sterett (DD 407). It has been an enriching interlude, and I am grateful for it.
Tin Can Sailor represents the combined efforts of many people, each of whom contributed something unique and essential to the story. I want to acknowledge here the gifts offered by every one of them, although it is likely that I will inadvertently miss mentioning some deserving person. To any such individual I offer my apology and promise a personal letter of thanks if and when the omission comes to my attention.
Number one on my priority list is my wonderful wife, Betsy. For the entire period of book gestation she endured a status akin to widowhood; I disappeared into the study day after day, emerging only at mealtimes to utter generally unintelligible comments about ships, boats, guns, and such. Without her help and inspiration there would have been no book. To my daughter, Susan, another loving supporter, I am indebted for astute editorial suggestions, all gratefully accepted, and for a professional manuscript typing job that merits a “Well Done.”
Sterett shipmate J. D. Jeffrey has been a tower of strength and a prolific contributor to the manuscript. His research effort at the National Archives, his many letters to me, his visit to our North Carolina home to offer his assistance in moving the project to a successful conclusion, his writing efforts in producing the account of the Battle of Vella Gulf and other important events, and his several candid discussions with me concerning the substance of the story were all invaluable. His self-motivated compilation of the personnel roster (Appendix 2), which lists the name of every individual (832 in all) who ever served aboard the Sterett, was a greatly appreciated contribution.
Gordy Williams kindly offered his excellent eyewitness account of the Sterett’s kamikaze experience (previously published in Shipmate magazine, March 1988). With permission of Shipmate I have quoted it almost in its entirety. Frank Gould furnished both written and oral comments regarding the Vella Gulf engagement, which were very helpful. Vice Adm. Champ Blouin had several personal conversations with me about his experiences aboard the Sterett, and later embellished those remarks in several long letters. His observations about the people who were fortunate enough to serve with him were especially considerate. Perry Hall and his wife, Pat, made a special trip to North Carolina to spend several days scanning and commenting on the bundle of letters that Sterett veterans had submitted for use in constructing the story of their ship. He also provided accounts of his personal experiences, which are quoted in the text. Tim Cleere contributed his diary, which disclosed a keen understanding of strategy and tactics. Several of his penetrating observations are quoted in the book. Roy Cowdrey, Carl Hibben, Bob Hightower, Gordon Hanna, L. G. Keenum, Doc Scharbius, Doc Lea, Red Hammack, Felix Gebert, Neal Fugate, and Leonard Woods all made generous and valuable written submissions. Felix also handled the mailing of letters to each of those who had provided anecdotal material, requesting authorization to quote their comments. In addition, the following also responded to the call for individual recollections of Sterett history: E. J. Andrews, J. R. Choban, W. P. Connors, W. H. Deuel, C. W. Edwards, G. Gates, P. Grimm, G. S. Husby, F. E. Janzen, A. Lester, A. Leisinger, H. E. Lineberry, C. H. LeFebvre, W. Myer, S. Montenegro, R. H. Priest, D. W. Palmer, R. R. Terrano, C. J. Violette, and F. T. Woolard.
Alice Creighton, Head of Special Collections at the Nimitz Library, Dean Allard, Director of the Naval Historical Center, and Capt. Vic Delano, class of ’41 secretary, were all cooperative and gracious in responding to my request for specific research assistance. Their help is much appreciated.
A special note of thanks goes to Frank McWhorter, brother of Comdr. Thomas O. McWhorter, and to Tom’s widow, Ina K. Rundles, for their generous permission to quote from Tom’s unpublished manuscript Stand and Fight, which describes so vividly the treatment of the Sterett’s wounded on the morning of 13 November 1942. All of my shipmates and I are indebted to Tom for his heroic service on the Sterett and for his eloquent description of life aboard our ship while he was a member of her ship’s company.
Naval Institute Press Director Tom Epley, to whom I first addressed a letter of inquiry concerning this book, was the critical element in providing “Lift-Off.” His evident interest and encouragement were responsible for my decision to move ahead with the project. Two other Naval Institute Press staff members played significant roles in the book’s development. Acquisitions Editor Mark Gatlin deserves special mention for his patience, his suggestions regarding the scope of the narrative, and his perseverance and trust throughout a long and frustrating metamorphosis. Managing Editor Mary Lou Kenney provided innovative and constructive guidelines for final revision and editing and then wisely selected freelancer J. Randall Baldini as the manuscript editor. Their efforts were supported by a number of outside readers (all unknown to me except for Comdr. Ed Stafford and Carlo E. Coletta) whose insights and constructive criticism led to major improvements.
Finally, a sincere expression of gratitude to the officers and men of the Sterett. They provided me with continuing support and made the writing of this narrative a privilege and a pleasure.
TIN CAN SAILOR
CHAPTER 1
SHAKEDOWN
THE SEARCHLIGHT FROM THE JAPANESE BATTLESHIP swept down our column from the Cushing to the San Francisco, where it came to rest. Every ship ahead of the San Francisco had been disclosed to the enemy in that one rapid sweep of blinding blue-white light. Everyone opened fire at once. In the waters of Iron Bottom Sound, the world exploded. Tracers whistled overhead so close that I felt I could touch them if I raised my hand. The noise and concussions were deafening, but even in that din I recognized the sound of the Helena’s 6-inch guns as she blasted a salvo straight into the Japanese searchlight. It was extinguished in an instant, but her guns kept firing. They seemed to stutter as they went off—“B-B-Boom! B-B-Boom!” We saw them hit their mark repeatedly.
Enemy shells splashed on both sides of the Sterett. Our own tracers hit squarely on the forecastle of our target. It was illuminated in a most unique way: the Sterett’s guns had been loaded with star shells for our first salvo, and we had fired them to hit rather than to illuminate. Hit they did, and when they detonated the “stars” inside broke out of their casings and burned brightly on the deck of the target. She soon caught fire in the vicinity of her number two turret. We hit her again and again and could have done more damage had the O’Bannon not overtaken us and obstructed our line o
f fire. Seeing her move up rapidly on our starboard quarter, we checked fire and swung our guns up ahead, looking for another target.
The short lull gave me a chance to look around at the terrific fight that was under way. In every direction ships were shooting, burning, or exploding—and some were doing all three. On our starboard quarter, the Atlanta was almost completely enveloped in red flames. I wondered how anyone could survive that inferno. One enemy salvo crashed down her port side, hitting her 5-inch gun mounts and causing spectacular explosions. But still she fought furiously, sending a constant stream of tracers out toward the enemy. Ahead of us a destroyer was on fire—I thought it was the Laffey—while another unidentified friend burned to our rear. But several Japanese ships were also blazing brightly.
Overhead were star shells and aircraft flares galore, all exceptionally bright and long-burning. There seemed to be at least one of their pyrotechnic parachutes hanging in the sky above us at all times. The fires and explosions all around us also cast a brilliant light over the whole area. Tracers still zipped past my head, some from the port side and some from up ahead. I watched several of them approach. Each looked as though it would hit us squarely in the gun director, until in an instant it thundered or whistled past. It was a damned uncomfortable thing to watch. I turned away and looked for a new target. From the rangefinder station, Jack Shelton observed that both the Cushing and the Laffey appeared to be severely damaged and out of action. That placed the Sterett in the van of the formation—if indeed there was a formation left.
I pressed my chest-set telephone contact button and began to describe the scene to the gun captains as best I could. Seconds later there came a sudden, blinding flash. The whole gun director shook, and we were showered with shell fragments. I could hear them and feel them bounce off my padded talker’s helmet. One of them neatly clipped the telephone button out from under my finger, leaving me just the stub of a pin to press in order to keep my microphone open. In the moment of comparative silence that followed, I asked whether anyone in the director crew had been hit. They responded quietly and calmly—first Byers, seated only inches to my left, then Jeff, who was a foot or so in front of me, and then Shelton, from the very front of the director.
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