Typhoon at Sea

     In the Atlantic, they are known as hurricanes but in the Pacific they are called typhoons. Either name sends shivers down my spine and deep sympathy for the people who have been battling such storms from the Caribbean through Florida. My thoughts are with the people who have had to battle such storms. The deaths and destruction caused by the recent hurricanes have brought back memories of my days aboard the USS William C. Cole (DE-641) during World War II.

     We were Southeast of Japan in the trailing days of the Battle of Okinawa when we were plunged into heavy seas. There were no early warning systems in those days to let us know that we would soon be engulfed in a major typhoon.

     The heavy seas became huge waves that would inundate our ship, and, finally, we were fighting for survival in 90-foot waves that lifted the bow of the ship high above the water, then slam the ship downward in a shuddering and crashing jolt that bent our drive shaft and caused a small buckling of the ship’s keel. Up, pitching, rolling, shuddering, crashing, and shattering! No one, of course, was above decks, and we felt many times that the ship would capsize. Capsizing would have meant death to the entire crew --- even if the ship did not break up and sink.

     Other than the men who would otherwise be topside, we were all below decks manning such battle stations as we could. In the Combat Information Center, I was manning the surface radar --- which really meant that I was hanging on to the side bars built into the equipment which was bolted to the deck --- trying to keep my body from being thrown violently around the radar shack. We were wearing our belt-type/inflatable life preservers out of routine training. They gave us no protection from the jousting and jolting we were experiencing, and, certainly, they would have been totally useless if we were miraculously but dangerously thrown into the 90-foot waves of the sea.

     We shared the typhoon with a cruiser that lost part of its bow to the pounding waves --- and an aircraft carrier which lost part of its landing deck. A destroyer failed to add water to give it the necessary ballast to stay afloat, and it sank, causing a horrible death for its crew.

     Tin can sailors! Yes, that’s what we were known as. “Tin cans,” the nickname for destroyers and destroyer escorts, came from the fact that while larger ships plowed the seas, we were tossed around like tin cans on the seas.

We thought we were going down after an extremely high pitch into the air ended with a heavy whamp and a roll as we pounded the sea.“ This is it,” we thought, as we rolled more than 45 degrees. Forty-five degrees was all the inclinator would read. We were saved by the miracle of another huge wave that righted us as the last instant. Hours and hours of pounding, rolling, shuddering, and semi-submerging plunges! Hours and hours of fear at its worst! Days and days of pounding waves. Gradually the 90-foot waves gave way to 60-footers, then 40-footers. We were in heavy seas for several days --- days of sandwiches, coffee (with and without “cow”), and an occasional candy bar brought to us by the great cooks and sailors who braved the dangers of a pan-filled kitchen and the pitching ladders they had to climb.

     If you have watched the news reports of the Caribbean hurricanes, you will know that the waves only diminish in a slow and still-dangerous manner. And the towering and pounding waves continue for many days. The typhoons of the Pacific were feared more by sailors at sea than the
fear born of Kamikaze attacks. With Kamikazes, you can fight back, but with a typhoon, you can only battle to keep the ship headed into the elliptical course of the storm. --- and pray for survival.

     It is often said that there are no atheists in foxholes, and I can attest to the fact there are no atheists in typhoons!