Warden Clinton Duffy of San Quentin had shared a long and close friendship with Warden Johnston. Duffy’s father had also served as Warden of San Quentin, and he himself had actually been born inside the prison grounds. A mentor to both Johnston and Duffy was the former Warden of “Q,” James B. Holohan. Holohan and Johnston had been among the driving forces behind recent progress in the area of inmate reform and education. Duffy and Holohan interfaced extensively with Johnston, and both men continued many of the programs that were introduced by Johnston during his days at San Quentin. When word came of the current debacle, Duffy committed a large group of his full-time correctional staff to help support their peers on Alcatraz, including the San Quentin physician, Dr. Leo Stanley. A Coast Guard cutter made a special trip across the Bay, bringing the San Quentin guards straight over to the island. Captain Bernard McDonald of the San Francisco Police Department also brought over several heavily armed officers, who were all prepared to engage in battle with the inmates.
At approximately 10:30 p.m. Johnston finally agreed to put together a large armed assault team that could enter the main cellhouse and carry out the rescue. The Associate Warden and Lieutenant Isaac Faulk assembled their group of ten additional men, and planned their entry. The rescue would be aggressive, and they were prepared to do battle with the inmates should they attempt to ambush the team. The inmates affectionately referred to the special troops that carried out this type of task as “The Goon Squad.” By 11:05 p.m. the assault team had lined up outside the main entrance, awaiting the signal to enter. Miller slowly opened the main steel door, and carefully assessed the main floor of the prison. With no suspicious movement visible, the team advanced inward and started an articulate search, with their flashlights glaring into the squinting eyes of timid inmates as the officers closely examined each cell they passed along the flats. As they slowly progressed towards Seedy Street with their weapons poised and ready to fire, they heard whispers from one of the captive officers in one of the end cells on the C-D aisle. Officer Mowery was able to advance forward and locate the hostages. He also managed to open the cells and begin preparing the men for evacuation.
But as the officers moved toward the cells, they were suddenly fired upon by Coy, who was perched on top of C Block. Officer McKean and Lieutenant Faulk were able to secure and lock the door to D Block as well as the C Block utility corridor access door, and then they took cover. Coy fired off several shots, thus giving away his position. Officer Fred Roberts took a bullet in the arm, and plummeted to the floor. The team then retreated under one of the walkway balconies below a cell row, and pulled Roberts under for cover. The officers had seen the muzzle flashes, and they emerged from their hiding place with a rapid barrage of gunfire aimed at the top of C Block, forcing Coy to retreat. Then without delay, the officers started pulling the injured men from the cells.
Sundstrom, Burdette, and Bristow were found unharmed, and Lageson had only minor wounds; all were able to walk on their own. Weinhold, Simpson, Corwin and Miller were all in extremely critical condition, and had to be carried out to safety by the other officers. The freed hostages were brought in through the sallyport and laid on the floor outside of the Warden’s office. Alcatraz physicians Roucek and Bowden, assisted by Dr. Jones of the Public Health Department, all started feverously treating and bandaging the injured officers’ wounds. At about midnight, the wounded officers were taken aboard the prison launch and quickly ferried to the Van Ness Pier. When the launch pulled up to the dock, there were abundant crowds of onlookers and reporters watching attentively as the critically injured officers were loaded into waiting ambulances. As each ambulance departed, the wailing and fading sirens could be heard by everyone on the island.
Heroic Officer Bill Miller. Irving Levinson who had been assigned to the Road Tower on the day of the escape, emphasized in a later interview that Miller’s unselfish act that ultimately cost him his life, kept the inmates from gaining access to the families. Levinson stated that the “final outcome” should the inmates have made into the family living areas would have been “catastrophic” based on their desperate disposition.
Officer Bill Miller is shown being transferred to the Marine Hospital just hours before he succumbed to a fatal gunshot wound.
Officer Cecil Corwin was critically injured by a gunshot wound to the head. Luckily, Corwin would survive his injuries.
One of the injured officers is seen being wheeled into the Emergency Room following the historic rescue.
With the hostages rescued and large numbers of reinforcements swarming the island, the officers would now aggressively attempt to flush out the armed convicts. Warden Johnston and his staff sat with Officers Lageson, Sundstrom, Burdette, and Bristow, and exhaustively interviewed the men, attempting to extract every minute detail of how the escape had transpired. They were able to ascertain conclusively that Coy, Cretzer, Hubbard, Thompson, Shockley, and Carnes were the active armed conspirators. Other convicts were also named, mostly by individual officers, but their level of participation could not be precisely determined. It seemed possible that they might not even have been involved, and might have been present purely by coincidence. Johnston was also unable to pinpoint the conspirators’ exact location in the cellhouse. The group discussed the various possible origins of the gunfire, but the evidence was not conclusive, since the guards had heard gunshots from a variety of locations. Ed Miller was confident that Roberts had been shot with a rifle from on top of C Block, because he had seen the muzzle flashes as they were fired upon during the rescue.
Lieutenant Bergen had watched Miller’s team during the rescue and had helped to return Coy’s fire. He had already moved more men up to the top of the West Galley, and had situated them so they would have a sound vantage point from which to suppress gunfire. Officers O’Brien and Green used heavy sledgehammers to knock out the bullet-proof panes from the Visitors’ Gallery, and prepared to take aim on any of the armed convicts who might appear. Three other armed officers named Mowery, Jones, and Runnels entered the cellhouse and climbed to the top of B Block. They carefully watched for any movement on top of C Block, and fired whenever they saw a moving shadow. Bergen had left the gallery phone off the hook to maintain an open line, and he continued to convey updates on activities to the Armory. When the Armory officer needed to speak to Bergen, he would blow a whistle into the receiver, which would generate just enough sound to capture his attention. Warden Johnston had contacted Bergen personally as soon as he had confirmed the identities of the conspirators. He had asked Bergen and his men to maintain a careful lookout for these convicts.
By 2:10 a.m. Simpson and Weinhold were in surgery having the fragmented Colt slugs removed from their bodies. Miller and Corwin were scheduled next, and they initially appeared to be doing well. Miller had provided a sworn statement to FBI agents, positively identifying Joseph Cretzer as the gunman who had shot them one by one in cold blood. Reporters flooded the hospital waiting rooms, attempting to grab photos and any statements that they could get from the doctors and from the ambulance attendants who had transported the men. The city morgue had also sprung to life, with journalists lining the entryway, hoping to glean information on how Stites had met his fate. One of the morgue attendants who had transported Stites from the dock acknowledged that he had stayed to watch Stites’s uniform cut away, and had seen some of his wounds. However, he misinformed the hungry reporters, stating that it looked like Stites had taken “several machine-gun bullets” in his back. Meanwhile the battle continued through the night, with the officers and marines launching attacks on both D and C Blocks. Lieutenant Faulk managed to secure the entrance door to D Block, and it was believed that one of the armed men was trapped there. The battle raged on as thousands lined the shores throughout the night, watching the tracers of artillery fire bludgeoning the cellhouse.
As the sun started to rise on San Francisco, Ed Miller assisted Warrant Officer Charlie Buckner to the roof, and started shooting gas grenades into the C-Block cor
ridor through the ventilators. They continued to call to the inmates, urging a peaceful surrender, but there was never any reply. Charlie L. Buckner was a decorated World War II veteran, who had been stationed on Treasure Island after the war. He was a demolition expert, and had prevailed in some of the bloodiest battles of the war. The Alcatraz guards had been able to achieve virtually no precision with the gas grenades, because they would bounce off of objects and land far from their target. Buckner’s experience would be invaluable, because during the war he had become an expert at rigging devices designed to expel Japanese soldiers from the burrowed tunnels in which they concealed themselves during battles. He was a master at lowering the grenade into the tunnel on a thin string, armed with a detonation system that was extremely effective and precise.
Charlie L. Buckner lowered demolition grenades into the cellhouse from the roof using string. He strategically detonated the grenades inside the utility corridors, in an attempt to flush out the rioters.
Buckner told Warden Johnston that if he could obtain demolition grenades, he could lower these explosives into confined areas with great accuracy, and without risking the lives of his officers. Johnston quickly made arrangements to have the ammunition boated over from a military arsenal in Benecia. When the supplies arrived, the rescue team started drilling holes through the ceilings directly above the corridors. The holes were drilled large enough to allow fist-sized grenades to pass through the openings. In a systematic process, Buckner rigged a wire around the casing cap to hold the grenade, and then delicately lowered it through the opening. The string was generally measured to a specific length, and thus the explosive device was lowered to a precise height. Once the string was spooled out and the grenade had reached the desired position, Buckner would sharply jerk a second string that was affixed to the discharge mechanism, and this would expel the pin. He was later described by one of the correctional officers as having the skill of a “masterful puppeteer.”
The cement scar patterns are still visible today where Buckner detonated the explosives.
Warden Johnston was also pleased to welcome two other visitors, General Joseph W. “Vinegar Joe” Stilwell and General Frank Merrill, who had come over to the island on an Army vessel. Johnston and the two Generals evaluated the situation in meticulous detail, and reviewed every officer’s post assignment, as well as the strategy for regaining control of the cellhouse. The generals seemed impressed with the containment procedures already in place, and they reviewed some of the artillery configurations that they had recommended to help reestablish control. The light fragmentation explosives they had been using were replaced with anti-tank shells, which were dropped through the drilled ceiling portals.
The guards and Marines also fired rifle grenades from the lawn on the side of the building that faced the Golden Gate Bridge. Army-style cots were set up in the administration building so the officers could remain close by while they rested. Many of the officers had been up for over twenty-four hours, including Burch, who had been tied up for nine hours following the brutal attack, and had then stayed up all night on watch in the gallery with Bergen. Bergen and the others had also begun to tire after having been up all night, but before turning in, both men met with the Warden and described in detail all of the events that they had witnessed from their perspective in the gun gallery. At 7:00 a.m., the Alcatraz staff received the dreadful news that Bill Miller had gone into cardiac arrest, and that the surgeons had been unable to resuscitate him. One of the doctors explained to Johnston over the phone that Miller had fallen into a deep state of shock as a result of severe blood loss and had subsequently died. Cecil Corwin was still deemed to be in critical condition, but he was expected to survive his injuries. Weinhold and Simpson had done well in surgery, and had been moved into the intensive care ward where they were now listed in critical but stable condition. They had both been placed in oxygen tents, and allowed to rest. The other guards were also in a stable condition, and were expected to recover fully from their injuries.
After interviewing Burch and Bergen, the Warden walked the short distance to his house and retired for a short nap. Sleep would be difficult however, as more marines were landing on the island, and the artillery attack had intensified. Dr. Roucek pulled out a small flask and provided Burch and Bergen with a shot of whisky to help sooth their nerves. By 11:00 a.m. the situation was still considered to be out of control, and heavier artillery was brought to the island, including anti-tank mortars and bazookas. The firing grew more and more intensive, and a staccato rhythm of bombing began against the exterior walls of D Block, launched from the grassy slopes below the south wall. Small brush fires started below the cellhouse, and a heavy blanket of dense pungent smoke could be seen from all points of San Francisco. Large groups of journalists keenly watched the events from boats that were idling in the waters only a few hundred yards away. Jack Eoisie was one of the reporters who had been assigned to cover the escape attempt by the San Francisco Chronicle. He described the events in sharp detail on page four of the May 4th edition:
Five stout men, protected by a ledge about 100 yards directly beneath and out from the “hot” cell block window are doing the job of keeping the convicts from reaching the window ledge—and a possible dash for freedom through the shattered bars. They are doing the job by firing, about every five minutes, four fragmentation grenades launched from either an Army rifle or carbine. During the hours we watched, no other weapon was used—no bazookas and nor mortars. Earlier in the day a few smoke grenades churned up outside the beleaguered cell. It is understood that of the five men who can be seen operating the grenade launcher with methodical precision, one is a Marine. He is Warrant Officer C.L. Beckner [sic], who commands the Marine detachment on the island.
They are preparing to fire now. The grenade is inserted carefully into the launcher device attached to the muzzle of the gun. There is a slight report as the grenade leaves the gun, but it is drowned out by the sharp concussion as the projectile strikes the wall. A flash of yellow flame lights up, and then curling black smoke. This one, then, missed the cell, but immediately another is fired, and all that can be heard is a smothered concussion. Black smoke drifts out the window. The one went in. Each grenade sprays the cell area with sharp metal for a radius of 50 feet, forcing the convicts inside to keep down on the floor or behind sheltering objects in corners. Two more grenades are fired and then, the stronghold relaxes. The men can be seen lighting cigarettes and stretching out on the beds of bright purple flowers.
Bergen returned to his post in the West Gallery after a short rest. As he drew near, the bombing increased, causing the men to take cover under the low sheath of thin metal plating across the front of the gallery. The grenades were deafening even to the officers, and the fury of the bombing was unrelenting. In a later memoir co-written by Bergen entitled Alcatraz ‘46, the officer recalled giving a wry look to Mahan and joking: “That’s one hell of a breakfast they’re serving.” Buckner continued his carefully calculated barrage of explosives, drilling along the corridor path and dropping the grenades into the cellblock. The men imprisoned in the isolation cells were trapped and unable to take cover behind any fixed objects, which would have offered some protection. As the shrapnel from the explosives grew more intense, the inmates began to scream and plead for someone to close the heavy steel cell doors.
Bergen would later recount one of the most intriguing events that occurred during the escape attempt. Robert Stroud, known as the “Birdman of Alcatraz,” had remained in cell #41 on the topmost tier, until the bombardment grew so intense that he was forced out. Stroud soon noted that the majority of the bullets were actually striking closest in proximity to his cell. He finally fled down the tier, and took refuge in another cell. Bergen recalled that he could hear the sheer panic of the inmates confined in the cells along the flats, until finally Stroud emerged and walked to the end of the tier against the wall closest to his cell. Remarkably, he climbed over the railing and lowered himself onto the second t
ier rail, at great risk of being struck by gunfire or shrapnel. This was an amazing feat for a man of fifty-six years. He then balanced himself, crossed over the second rail, and dropped to the cellblock floor where he quickly closed each of the cell fronts. He then went to the cells beyond, and hoisted himself up, climbing tier by tier back to the top. Bergen and Mahan watched in complete amazement. Stroud, who had once been a savior of sick birds, had now attempted to help his fellow inmates when they were in danger’s way. Famed inmate Henri Young, later wrote a letter to a family about his time being held-up in his D-Block cell:
May 15, 1946
Dear Bob & Naomi,
This is the first time I have had an opportunity to write you since the awful escape attempt of May second. I am now cold. All of the windows were bombed and shot out, and all of the radiators were broken up by shells. Workmen are laboring to get the place warm again. And I am writing this on a Life news magazine held on my knee.
When that terrible started I was writing a letter to Aunt Amelia. A while later I tore it up because if I didn’t come through all the shooting I didn’t want anyone else to read it. At first the shooting was light. Another fellow and I sat on the floor until he caught a deflected shell in his shoulder. He wasn’t hurt badly. We however grabbed some mattresses and built a barricade at the front of the cell door. Then we stacked all my books up behind that. Things got hotter. The noise of the gun firing was terrific. We crawled under my steel bunk and stayed there nearly all of the time. Those anti-aircraft and anti-tank bombs the Navy and Marines threw into isolation lifted my cell up and crashed into my eardrums with an awful din. I’d lay there and wait to feel the pain from a fragment or a shell. But I never even got touched.
Alcatraz: A Definitive History of the Penitentiary Years Page 44