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It Looked Like Another Great Day
It was 4 bells onboard the USS Forrestal CVA 59, 29 July 1967. I was working the graveyard, hoot owl, ghost chaser or what ever you call the 2300 – 0700 shift. We were on the line, off the coast of Viet-Nam. As usual I came out of the electronics shop and down the ladder into number one hanger bay threading my way through the armament that was staged there waiting to go on the birds. Heading for the mess deck, I stopped at the deck edge door to observe the red, orange and yellow sunrise shining through the scattered clouds. It looked like another great day.
At 1100 HRS I was jarred from my third hour of sleep by the alarm and the boatswain’s terrified scream of general quarters coming over the bitch box. Even half awake I knew this was not a drill.
Just starting to climb out of the top rack an explosion let loose and I landed on the guy that as getting out of the rack below me, with the shoe rack and clothes rack on top of me. We looked like a sandwich laying there in the narrow isle. I knew I had three minutes from the time the first alarm sounded to get down three decks and all the way forward to my general quarters station.
Grabbing what clothes I could find I headed for the ladder. There was a traffic jam, another explosion let go and it was like someone pulled the plug. Men flew down the ladder. Another explosion shook the ship and hurried things along. When we hit the hanger deck level there was about eight inches of water in the passageway.
In two steps I was through the hatch into the aft end of number three hanger bay running at full speed. I glanced aft, over my right shoulder and all I could see was fire, smoke and water.
Men were scrambling in every direction. I passed a guy wearing only a towel... the non skid on the deck must have been hard on his bare feet but at least he was alive.
Forward I could see the divisional doors between the bays one and two and two and three starting to close. Half way up bay three another explosion let go, the concussion powered me forward. Men were scrambling in every direction, I passed a guy wearing only a towel, G Q had caught him in the shower, the non skid on the deck must have been hard on his bare feet but at least he was alive.
The divisional doors between bays one and two had about a four foot opening left as I slipped through and turned toward my repair locker to check in. The first order of business was to ditch all the armament in the hanger bay over the side.
If the fire got to it, oblivion would be the next stop. Carts of rockets were wheeled to the deck edge and unloaded, “save the carts we may need them”. If you couldn’t carry it, you rolled it. Somehow this knot formed in the pit of your stomach as 3 or 4 of you rolled a 500 or 750 pound bomb across the bumpy steel deck.
There was no time to read the graffiti on the bombs telling “Charlie” to have a good day. Pallets of smaller bombs were being sent over the side with a fork lift that just managed to get stopped as the front wheels went off the edge of the deck.
All hands turned to the fork lift to pull it back onto the deck. The driver was half way out of the fork life and as white as a ghost. On the horizon we could see Sampans and Junks watching what was going on. Somehow all this seemed to be their fault and a feeling of hatred was so thick you could cut it with a knife. With the hanger bay cleared we turned our attention to the aircraft in bay two. Several of them had fuel pods full of jet fuel hanging from their bellies. Unbolting them they dropped six inches onto a bomb cart, we would look at each other to see if we still existed, then wheeled them to the edge and over the side.
The fire under the deck would just burn up the hose if it was laid down. The water on the deck was boiling.
We pushed the birds onto the forward elevator and took them to the flight deck. The second time up a Chief grabbed me to drive an air start tractor, I mentioned to him that it had two flat tires, by the look on his face I suddenly knew that wasn’t important. Climbing into the tractor I glanced aft, there was a Skyhawk laying in the middle of the deck, the hump that was its turbine was all I could recognize. There were other birds leaning, standing or laying in various degrees of destroyed.
Lines of men were standing on one foot and then on the other holding up fire hoses. The fire under the deck would just burn up the hose if it was laid down. The water on the deck was boiling. The incoming Hueys and Jolly Greens were bringing supplies, fire hoses, body bags etc. I started the tractor and thumped my way to the nearest one. As soon as she was unloaded, off she went and I thumped over to the island to unload.
When the choppers stopped coming the drivers relieved some of the hose crews. Standing on the catwalk I glanced over the side. Our escort cans were fighting fire on both aft quarters. Sometimes after dark I was relieved from the hose and headed for the electronics shop, I was asleep before I finished crawling up on the work bench. Our berthing compartment area was closed because of gas from the battery locker.
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The Chief was shaking me “what time is it?”, 0800 HRS. The Chief informed me that I had just militarily volunteered to be on one of the working parties to search for bodies in the aft berthing compartments. I felt like I had been asleep for 5 minutes. We climbed down a ladder through the hugh holes in the flight deck.
What a mess and the smell brought tears to your eyes. It was unbelievable that someone could be burned beyond recognition on the front, and when we rolled them into the body bag the back was untouched.. Any and all personnel effects near the body were put into the bag to aid in identification later on. We found a pile of eight in one compartment right in front of the hatch. They were mushy to the touch so we did the best we could by rolling and sliding them into the body bags and blankets when we ran out of bags. It must be around noon, all sense of time had been lost, someone yelled down the hole that sandwiches and coffee was coming down. We peeled off the soggy gloves that the pilots had given us and rolled back a charred mattress or righted a wet chair and had lunch. It was late afternoon, the sun was going down, when we finally climbed the ladder back onto the flight deck. The count was something over a hundred.
At 2330 I again rolled off the work bench and laid down to the repair locker to stand watch. 0800 I headed for the mess deck through the hanger bay 2. A temporary morgue had been set up there and the smell almost relieved me of my appetite. I finished the trip holding my breath.
We pulled into Subic Bay, where the dead were off loaded and the ship was cleaned up and made ready for the long trip home to Norfolk.
The morning we pulled out the sky was clear, the sun was shining and it looked like another great day.
Biographical Details
Submitted From: Rush City, MN
Primary Location During Vietnam: Vietnam 
Story Subject: Military Service
Military Branch: U.S. Navy
Dates of Service: 1965 - 1968
Unit: DECM
Specialty: Aviation Radar/Communications Technician
Additional locations during Vietnam: Aboard the USS Forrestal CVA-59
Story Themes: 1965, 1966, 1967, 1968, Death and Loss, Dick Stein, Fire, Navy, Read, Rush City, USS Forrestal
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