I was steering the ship from the after steering gear station under the fantail, taking directions through a telephone headset from someone top side. “Stubby” Miller, electrician’s mate second, was on the switchboard in the after engine room, with a telephone headset on the same line. I heard Miller say that the forward fire room and forward engine room were carried away. We were still operating with one fire room and one engine room and one screw. Then I heard an explosion, a loud hiss of high-pressure steam, and a blood curdling scream from Miller over the headset. Then all went dark, and the screw stopped. I could get no answer from anybody on the headset. I abandoned the headphones after about ten or fifteen minutes of total darkness below deck. I came up through the escape hatch, saw the raging fire, met three other sailors, and asked what had happened. They told me quickly that all of the life rafts and lifeboats were either blown away or cut away and gone. We decided to see who we could help. Two men went up the port side, and the other two of us went up the starboard side, helping anybody we could over the side or carried the more serious injured to the fantail When we had done all we could, we met on the fantail. We looked for something we would be able to hang onto in the water, and I spotted with my flashlight a piece of 4 x 4 wood about 10 feet long floating past the ship about 20 feet away.

We all went over the side at the same time and made for the piece of wood. My Bulova watch stopped at 0313 in the water. When we were about one-fourth to one-third of a mile away from the ship, we could still see the big blaze and hear loud cries of pain and suffering coming from the ship. Just before daybreak, we heard a plane flying low over the water towards us. It sounded like one of ours, so I took my flashlight and flashed ... --- ... three dots three dashes three dots (S-O-S). He dipped his wings back and forth to acknowledge us and kept going. When it was daylight, three tall shark funs started circling. Storey, Spurgeon and Hughes didn’t want any part of them, they said they would rather be blown up with the ship than eaten by sharks, so they started back for the ship. At about 10:00 I caught up with a raft and whaleboat that were carrying a few of our men and some other men that I didn’t know. One of them was one of our officers (he was a young new reserve that I didn’t know very well, so I forget his name. He seemed pretty bashful on the ship). He had his guts hanging out of his stomach. He could barely talk, but he told me that he had to go to the bathroom. I told him to go ahead and go. He said he couldn’t with all those men around, so I took him out away from the raft about 20 feet and took his pants down for him. When he said he was through, I took him back to the raft, and he was dead within 10 or 15 minutes.

At about 3:00 that afternoon, we were about a mile from the beach when a Higgins boat from Guadalcanal came up and asked us where we were going. We told him that we were headed for the beach. He told us that it wasn’t our beach, it was the Japs’ beach, so we climbed in, and he took us and some other survivors to Guadalcanal. We stayed on Guadalcanal for 13 days. There were 19 of us able-bodied men off of the USS Monssen DD436 (out of 256). We left Guadalcanal on Thanksgiving day. What contrast from dirty trenches to the USS Barnett, a transport with turkey, baths, bunks, and good food! That was the most thankful Thanksgiving Day I have ever had. While we were on Guadalcanal, one of our shipmates from Alabama, “Rebel” we called him, wandered off early in the morning. That night he came back packing a machine gun. They asked him where he got it, and he told them it came from over across the river on the side of a hill. After he showed them on the map, they couldn’t believe it. He had crossed our front lines and the Jap’s front lines, and he had picked up one of their guns from their secondary lines.

When I got ashore on Guadalcanal, I still had a “45” sidearm that I picked up off the deck after an officer had jettisoned it. I put it on and kept it. “Rebel” and I found two cases of 45 ammo on the beach where they had made the initial landing. We used one case to learn to shoot better. Then we turned the other case in.

On the way back from Guadalcanal on the USS Barnett, the day we crossed the equator I came down with malaria fever. When we got back to San Diego a couple of days before Christmas, I still had the 45. I wanted to keep it as salvage of the sea. They said it had U.S. Government stamped on it, but I still claimed salvage of the sea until they began issuing survivor’s leave. I had a choice of thirty days’ leave if I turned in the 45, or I could keep the 45, have no leave, and be shipped right out again. You can guess which I chose!

After my 30 days of delayed orders, I reported to Charleston, SC, and put a new destroyer USS Stevens (DD 479) in commission. I was the only electrician’s mate that had ever been on a ‘tin can’ before. I had to show the new chief and all of the other electricians how to start and parallel generators and light off the gyro compass and run it. also how to operate the aft. steering gear. They assigned me the I.C. and gyro. It didn’t take too long to make second and first class.

While on the USS Stevens, we went right back to the South Pacific. I think I only missed two major battles in the whole war. Out in the Philippines, I got my orders to go to I.C. school and return to the ship. When I got to Goat Island in San Francisco bay they held up my transfer for a couple of weeks. When I started making a noise, they called me up to headquarters. When I reported in, the board asked me where I wanted shore duty. I told them that my orders read to “go to I.C. school and return to the ship.” They said they knew what my orders read, because they had them right there in front of them, but I had had five straight years of sea duty on destroyers. They asked me again where I wanted shore duty.

I spent my last year in San Diego. I wanted to ship over, but my eyes crapped out, and they wouldn’t let me ship over. I got out of the Navy and spent one year going to KCU to study for my EE. After a year, I found out that there was more money pulling wire than there was drawing pictures, so I dropped school and stayed in the electrical field. I got my contractor’s license in 1948, and I am still in the electrical contracting business. In the meantime, I went back to school and finally got my Ph.D. in 1959. I now have a trade and a profession. I am as healthy as a horse and still working.

I would like to thank Jerry “Nick” Golnick. When I first got into the electrical gang, he was the S.O.B. that made me start studying again. I remember he would ask me what I was going to do after chow. I would tell him I wanted to play cards. Then he would ask, “What’s your rate?” I’d say “Seaman second.” He’d say, “What’s mine?” I’d say, “Electrician’s mate first.” He’d say, “Well, be back here in the IC room after chow.” He made me want to learn the “slipstick” (slide rule) and a helluva lot of other things and keep learning.

Here is something I didn’t mention in my article because it is still not too clear in my mind:

At the time I was a young seaman second in the ‘deck gang’ and didn’t understand the equipment nor the machinery to run the ship, but I heard ‘scuttlebutt’; while we were going down the Pacific coast with this brand new ship. Different parts would fail, gear boxes, electrical panels would short out, electrical wiring would fry, some things wouldn’t operate etc. When we got into Charleston Navy Yard they fixed them all up and added more things, It took weeks, and took on some more ships crew, one of the new guys was a second class ships cook, he wasn’t too good of a cook, but he made a lot of friends fast because he would give away free food when his chief wasn’t around. When the navy yards got through fixing and changing we made a trial run to Cuba. we got liberty and went to Havana, bought souvenirs to send home and found out how strong that dark German beer was(three bottles was tops for most anybody) then returned to Charleston Navy yard for more repairs and changes. Then back to Cuba for another shake down run, with some civilian yard workers on board. When we got back to Charleston Navy Yard, for the last time. The second class cook went to the captain and said I am detective so-and-so of the FBI I would like permission to take crewman so-and-so ashore with me and charge him for sabotage; we never did hear from them again, it was over my head and sounded like a lot of scuttlebutt. any way no more accidents or break downs.

Fifty years later when I met with Storey and Hughes on Friday 13 November 1992 I ask them what had happened They told me when they finally got back aboard the burning ship there were still eight men alive on the fantail where we had put them before abandoning ship They saw a Higgins boat going by looking for any survivors and they flagged him close within about 25 or 30 feet but he would not come any closer. Storey found a “45” Laying on the deck so he picked it up and pointed at the coxswain and told him to” come closer along side or I will blow your f’ing head off” he came along side and they loaded eight injured men aboard some lived some died. Storey was awarded the Silver Star, Spurgeon a Bronze Star and Hughes a promotion in rate.

OUTCOME OF THE BATTLE
The morning of Friday the 13th saw a point-blank confrontation between U.S. Navy cruisers destroyers and Japanese strike force of battleships, light cruisers and destroyers that resulted in the loss of American light cruisers Atlanta and Juneau and destroyers Laffey, Monssen, Barton and Cushing, while Japanese destroyers Akatuki and Yudachi were sunk and the battleship Hiei had been left heavily damaged with its escorts to limp home with the remainder of the Japanese strike force. Henderson-based U.S. Navy and Marine aircraft joined by planes from the carrier Enterprise began a series of strikes on the ship. By the end of the day, the battleship had been hit by 85 shells and bombs and 10 torpedoes. Before the sun was set it became the first Japanese battleship to slip beneath the waves. It is said to be the battle that turned tide of war of the South Pacific.
To: Task Force 67
We believe the enemy has undoubtedly suffered a crushing defeat. We thank Admiral Kinkaid for his intervention yesterday. We thank Lee for his sturdy effort last night. Our own aircraft has been grand in its relentless hammering of the foe. All those efforts are appreciated but our greatest homage goes to Callaghan, Scott and their men who with magnificent courage against seemingly hopeless odds drove back the first hostile attack and paved the way for the success to follow. To them the men of Cactus lift their battered helmets in deepest admiration.

ALEXANDER A. VANDEGRIFT
General, U.S Marines

IN TRIBUTE TO THOSE WHO FOUGHT IN THE BATTLE OF GUADALCANAL, NOVEMBER 13–15, 1942
To the superb officers and men on the sea, on land, in the air, and under the seas who in the past five days have performed such magnificent feats for our country. You have won the undying gratitude of your country and have written our names in golden letters on the pages of history. No honor for you could be too great, my pride in you is beyond expression. Magnificently done. May God bless each and every one of you. To the glorious dead, hail heroes—may you all rest with God.

WILLIAM F. HALSEY
Admiral, U.S.N.