Vengeance: Hatred and Honor

by Brett Ashton

  “Captain, if I may explain, the only chance the Oklahoma had of surviving was if she settled on the harbor bottom before rolling over. Either way, the safest—”

  “So you just saw the Oklahoma listing and decided it was time to leave?”

  “Sir, the priority at the time was to save as much of the crew as—”

  “Who the hell are you to be setting priorities for a ship that you are not in command of?”

  About then, I had had enough of the way this was going, and with all caution abandoned and no place else to go, I decided it was time to “turn into the wind” and confront this captain. I was tired of being cut off in my answers, and I was either going to have my say or be court-martialed in the attempt, but I wouldn’t tolerate the possibility that the Oklahoma’s loss was going to be blamed on me.

  “With all due respect, sir, if you are not going to listen to my full answer, why are you even bothering to ask me the questions?”

  The admiral’s eyebrows rose at this question and Commander Kenworthy stiffened even more. The captain glared at me intently, apparently unshaken by my question. And even, to my surprise, as if he expected it at some point.

  “What I want to know, Lieutenant Commander,” he said unrelenting, “was it intelligent decision making or cowardice that led you to so grossly overstep your authority?”

  I had been running the experience over and over in my mind for the months since the attack, looking for any detail I may have missed that would suggest I could have done any better. I had studied the damage assessments and personally talked to the dive team working on the ship. Was there any way to save the Oklahoma or more of her crew? The answer was always no. After months of investigation and soul searching, I was absolutely certain of every step of my decisions and was not going to remain passive about being questioned by this man. Above all, whether he was a captain or not, I was not going to be called a coward. I’d had enough.

  “With all due respect, sir,” I said almost shouting at him, “I went down the port side of the ship, the side that was under attack, to try to get as many of the crew as I could over to the starboard side for their safety. I was strafed multiple times. I nearly got killed by two of the torpedoes. Chief Fitzgerald got blasted right out of my arms as I tried to save him.”

  The captain tried to interrupt at this point but I just wouldn’t have it and continued right over top of his objections.

  “I shouted into every hatch I passed along the way to pass the word that the ship needed to be abandoned and stayed with the Oklahoma until I could no longer do anything for her or the crew, let alone even walk on her slanted decks. I stayed with the ship until she almost rolled over on me as I swam away because I stayed with her for so long. It was no longer even possible to climb to the starboard side, which would have been the safest way to get off of her.”

  “For all I knew, Commander Kenworthy was dead, as well as Lieutenant Commander Hobby, and there was no time to waste running around looking for them. The crew was in danger, and fast action was the only thing that was going to save any of them. If you or history judges my actions as cowardice, so be it. You can both be damned for all I care!”

  The captain, unusually relaxed considering what I had just said to him, turned and looked at the vice admiral and nodded. Without any other sign, some decision seemed to have been made. Commander Kenworthy relaxed as if some magic button had been switched off.

  The vice admiral got up and walked toward the door behind me. As he passed, he gave me a warm, hearty smile that looked just short of a laugh and said, “That took guts, son; congratulations.” He patted me on the shoulder and walked out, closing the door behind him.

  Puzzled, I looked at Commander Kenworthy who, at this time, was wearing a big smile. Then I looked at the captain behind the table. The captain’s expression had lightened considerably as well.

  “Jacob, have a seat,” he said to me, motioning toward one of the chairs.

  “Sir?” I said startled by the sudden informality and casualness.

  “Please sit down,” he repeated.

  The XO had already reached for a chair for himself, so I grabbed one of the other ones, more mystified than ever. This was a completely unexpected turn of events.

  “My name is George Fort. I’m the commanding officer of the North Carolina,” he said, gesturing toward the window. “Commander Kenworthy tells me you want a transfer.”

  Understanding dawned on me like a flash. It was a setup through and through. I had just been tested!

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m sorry to have had to put you through the questioning like that, Jacob. Commander Kenworthy gave us a full report of your actions in combat, as well as otherwise. He couldn’t have given you a higher recommendation. But Vice Admiral Halsey and I wanted to be absolutely sure of you before we took any further action. I wanted to test your resolve under pressure and see if you would hold your position.”

  “I understand, sir. There is no other position to hold.”

  “Very good, then.” He paused for a moment, as if thinking. “The navy believes air defense is going to have an increasing importance over the coming years. The battleships are going to be undergoing extensive modifications to add as many anti-aircraft guns as possible.”

  “I’ve seen evidence to support that assessment, sir,” I replied, taking into account what had happened right where we were a number of months before, and still feeling a little bit miffed about the wringer that he had just put me through.

  “The thing is,” he continued, undaunted, “I need an air defense officer, and owing to the fact that we are at war, we don’t have a lot of time to train. The admiral and I wanted to be sure we got somebody in that position who is knowledgeable and quick at making good combat decisions under pressure. We are going to be doing a lot of anti-aircraft screening for the Enterprise and Admiral Halsey’s task group in the near future and probably the same for other ships in the more distant future. Do you want the position?”

  There was really only one answer to that question I could give him. This would not only be a very high-profile job that would advance my career but would give me plenty of chances to pay the Japs back in spades for what they did to the Oklahoma.

  In addition to that, I was a sailor who loved the ships I served on. I wanted to feel the motion of a pitching deck beneath my feet in the open sea again. Being surrounded by the destruction at Pearl Harbor was beginning to wear on me.

  “Yes, sir,” I said, without any hesitation.

  “Very well, Jacob. Welcome to the crew of the battleship North Carolina. You are on a very short learning curve. I expect you to understand your part of the ship’s systems and procedures within the week. You will be my eyes and defense above the ship, and I trust you to not let me down. I expect your input on recommended modifications to your systems on my desk within a week. Keep in mind that the navy is going to be adding as many guns as possible to the ship.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  “Very well then, Lieutenant Commander Williams; the sky above the Showboat is yours. Is there anything you need from me?”

  “One thing, sir.”

  “What would that be?”

  “Since the attack, I prefer to go armed at all times when I’m in a potential combat area, just in case,” I said, indicating the forty-five on my chest, “Is that going to present any problem on your ship?”

  “What good would a handgun do in Sky Control?” he asked.

  “Truthfully, sir, probably none. But when the Oklahoma was under attack, the Japs were flying very low to release their torpedoes. There was a point when I was sure that I could have shot one of the Japs right out of his cockpit if I would have been armed, especially if I had been at my battle station on spot one. They were close enough that I could see the whites of their eyes. And their faces continue to haunt me. It wouldn’t have saved the Okie but who knows where that plane and pilot are going to attack next? I’d like to have another chance if the s
ituation ever presents itself.”

  Captain Fort paused as if thinking.

  “George,” Commander Kenworthy said, “I’ve seen Jake shoot before. He’s the champion of the Oklahoma’s shooting club, far above the rest. And would be competitive with anybody you care to put him up against. In fact, I’d be willing to bet you twenty dollars that if you threw an empty soup can in the air, he could hit it at least twice before it hit the ground. If he says he could hit a Jap from Sky Control with a handgun, I’d tend to believe him.”

  “Okay, I’ll allow it,” Captain Fort answered as he wrote on a piece of paper and signed it. “Give this to the lieutenant outside, and he will inform the master at arms that I am granting you permission to remain armed. Is there anything else?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Good. The lieutenant outside has your orders. And once again, welcome aboard,” he said, getting up and offering a handshake.

  “Thank you, sir,” I replied, shaking his hand and getting up myself.

  “That will be all,” he said, dismissing us.

  The commander and I turned and exited the room to find the lieutenant, back behind his desk.

  “Jake,” the commander said after I asked the lieutenant for my orders, “Admiral Halsey wanted me to give you this as my last official act as your XO,” he said, pulling an envelope out of his uniform jacket and handing it to me.

  I opened it and unfolded the paper inside. I couldn’t believe my eyes.

  Citation: Lieutenant Commander Jacob S. Williams is hereby awarded the Navy Cross for heroism in combat. LtCdr Williams was cited for his early recognition of the battleship Oklahoma’s critical condition and quick response in his efforts to save the crew of the doomed ship. In a bold independent action, while under extreme combat conditions, even after sustaining injuries to himself, he continued to risk his own life by proceeding down the portside of the Oklahoma while it was under attack. On his own initiative, while evading strafing fire and torpedoes from the Japanese planes, he ordered the abandonment of the ship by word of mouth, thus saving many of the lives of the crew, whose battle stations were below decks, by giving them time to escape from the rapid flooding. His bravery, quick thinking and comprehensive knowledge of the ship’s systems, which were not even under his command, led him to take the decisive action that saved, at the very least, dozens of his crew’s lives. His courage, knowledge, and leadership while under fire, far exceed the normal expectations of his duties as an officer and reflect the finest traditions of the United States Navy.

  Signed,

  Admiral Chester Nimitz.

  “Very well done,” he said. “It has been an honor to serve with you, Jake. Admiral Nimitz will be aboard the North Carolina to pin the medal on you the day after tomorrow. Here is a twenty-four hour liberty pass. I suggest you put your family’s affairs in order.”

  Between the Eyes

  Shortly after the Showboat (the crew’s nickname for the North Carolina) pulled out of Pearl, and after the obligatory man overboard drill, I decided to set myself back to the task of learning the ship’s systems. In the time that passed since Captain Fort’s accepting me into the crew and the ship’s pulling out, I had been working hard on learning the ship’s anti-aircraft systems. It wasn’t conceptually that much different than that of the Oklahoma, so it wasn’t as steep of a gradient as I expected. Still, the more you go over something you study, the better it sticks, and since the lives of everybody on the Showboat rested on my knowledge of these systems, I put myself hard to the task.

  There were a lot more guns on this ship, though. Coordinating between them and the four five-inch directors and ten turrets was going to be interesting. Not even to mention the many machine guns which were being added to the ship, which had an officer under my command to coordinate them.

  The CO was very interested in getting his hands on a lot more larger-caliber automatic weapons than we had on board at the time. There was a lot of that going on in the fleet at the time.

  There was a new twenty-millimeter gun called the “Oerlikon” appearing in quantity on the decks of every ship in the fleet. And the Swedes had even designed a quadruple forty-millimeter gun called “Bofors” that looked very promising as a replacement for the one point one-inch guns. The fleet seemed to be gearing up to use battlewagons and cruisers for screening aircraft carriers against air attack. It seemed doubtful even then, considering the attack on Pearl, that this war was going to involve battleships slugging it out with each other on the open seas very much, if at all.

  This was going to be a carrier war, with other large capital ships filling a support function. The United States literally had dozens of carriers, in several different sizes, under construction at the time. I had to make sure I was ready for anything that could happen in the air above the task force we would be in and make sure the Showboat would be able to rise to the task. A lot of drilling was going to happen over the next couple of weeks in preparation, and we all had a lot to learn if we were going to avoid a repeat of what happened to the Okie.

  I was studying at the desk in my state room when I heard a knock at the door.

  “Come in!” I shouted, annoyed a little bit by the interruption.

  The door opened to a marine sergeant in dress uniform. He was one of the captain’s orderlies.

  “Sir, Captain Fort and Commander Crocker would like to meet you on the fantail,” he said.

  “Do you have any idea what this is about?” I asked.

  “No, sir, but they said to be sure you brought your handgun and some ammunition.”

  “I’m never without it,” I told him, “so that’s not a problem.”

  I followed the sergeant to the main deck and to the fantail where the CO, XO, and another marine were waiting for me. The CO had an empty soup can and said, as I walked up to them, “Good morning, Lieutenant Commander.”

  “Good morning, Captain.”

  “Of course, you remember your former executive officer advising me to let you carry your sidearm while on board, don’t you?”

  “Yes I do,” I replied.

  I had been expecting something like this ever since the interview with the captain and had been looking forward to showing off my skills to someone else. It was an easy guess that there was a friendly wager between the two senior officers of this ship riding on top of this as well.

  “Now, I trusted my good friend Jesse Kenworthy’s word that you could shoot a can tossed up in the air with that thing as a major part of my decision. Am I right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And I really don’t like having my decisions end up being wrong because of a personal friend’s exaggerated sea story. Understood?”

  “I understand, Captain,” I said, undaunted by his hint.

  “The XO seems to think you wouldn’t be able to hit this can if I were to throw it up in the air. What do you have to say about that?”

  “I’d say, with all due respect to the XO”—I calmly unsnapped the holster with a smile growing on my face—“he doesn’t know what he is talking about, sir.”

  The two marine orderlies exchanged glances and grins.

  “Very well, then, let’s see how many times you can shoot this before it hits the deck. And don’t put any holes in my ship! Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” I replied, pulling out my trusted Colt. “Throw it up that direction so it doesn’t go over the side so we can count the holes. Throw it kind of high, any time you are ready,” I told him switching the safety off.

  “Okay, here goes,” he said, tossing the can into the air.

  The first time he tossed the can the wind blew the can straight up over my head and I let it fall back to the deck because I didn’t want to chance having the bullets come back down and hit the ship or crew. I explained why I didn’t shoot and told him to toss it just a little further outward the next time.

  The second time he tossed the can almost straight up but out just far enough that I didn’t have to worry about wh
ere the bullets were going to come down, so I took aim and pulled the trigger.

  Pow, pow, pow, pow, pow, pow, pow, pow! The gun went off rapidly eight times then went empty, with the slide locking open. The can danced in the air and fell to the deck. I slapped the next magazine into the gun, closed the slide, put the safety on, and holstered my weapon. When I picked up the can and showed it to them, it had eight distinctly different holes in it, four entrance holes, and four exit holes. I held it up for the captain and the XO and said, “There you go, gentlemen.” The jaws of the two marines and the XO went slack. The captain was grinning from ear to ear.

  “There you go,” he said to the XO. “Pay up.”

  The XO handed him a twenty and stood there, shaking his head, still in disbelief. “That is the most incredible damned thing I have ever seen!” he said.

  The captain said to me, “You have no idea how disappointed I would have been in my old friend Commander Kenworthy if you had missed. I really think you might be able to shoot a Jap pilot right out of the sky with that thing someday.”

  “I’ll get him right between the eyes, sir,” I replied as the two marines began to laugh.

  Over the next couple of days, the rumor of what happened spread throughout the ship. By the time it made it back to me, I had earned a nickname amongst the crew. I was thereafter called “Lieutenant Commander ‘Between the Eyes.’”

  Enterprise

  On the 24th of August, 1942, the fortunes of war found us screening for the Enterprise in the area of the Eastern Solomons. The carrier Saratoga was there as well. Just as I had predicted would happen, the battleships were serving as large anti-aircraft gun platforms to defend the carriers from air attack. I wondered if the Showboat would ever have a chance to duke it out on the open seas with a Japanese big-gun battleship as she was designed to do, or if these big battlewagons were going obsolete altogether.

  We had been at sea for quite some time, and the crew was becoming tired of the continuous training and drilling. They were spoiling for an actual fight, but none had yet materialized. Days turned to weeks, which turned to months, without a single engagement.