Larry Delweski: Gunner's Mate 2/c

On Picket Station One, approximately seventy miles north of Okinawa, the U. S. Laffey (DD724) was part of an umbrella of U.S. warships spread out in position to pick up incoming Japanese planes on radar. Once the planes were contacted, the communication team, on temporary duty from its carrier-based fighter squadron, would notify their home base from on board the Laffey. Fighter planes would be launched to intercept the incoming planes. The Japanese came to realize that they were not doing the kind of damage they hoped to do because of this early warning system. They had to get rid of this picket line.

Picture a baseball field. Okinawa was at home plate with the picket ships forming an arc just past the pitcher's mound. Japan would be in the area of second base. Depending on the day, the U. S. carriers would be at first or third base.

The troublemaker in the eyes of the Japanese command was that thin line of ships around the pitcher's mound. Two basic kamikaze techniques were used. Sometimes a lone raider would sneak in low to the water to do the damage. At other times the pilots might use a mass attack. They chose the mass attack technique for the morning of April 16, 1945.

In all, some eighty planes appeared on picket line radar screens that morning. Of these planes, twenty-two chose to dive at the U.S.S. Laffey just in front of second base.

Laffey's gunners were top-notch. We knew the kind of damage kamikazes could do. Hadn't we towed the U.S.S. Hughes in December 1944 until a sea-going tug could reach us and take over the tow? Hadn't we helped fight fires and taken wounded and burned men off the twisted and tortured destroyer?

And on April 12 just prior to joining the picket line, the Laffey had entered the U.S. anchorage at Karama Reto adjacent to Okinawa, where a graveyard of destroyers rested following their confrontations with kamikazes on the picket line. The evidence was grim; a missing bow here, a missing stern there; or a missing bridge or deck house. These ships had been hit from every possible angle.

No, we were not blind and we were not stupid. We knew where we were headed and what could happen. We knew we had to be at our best. But we were to learn that even at our best, when twenty-two planes dive at a single ship in less than eighty minutes we were bound to let some to get through.

My battle station on that fateful morning was as captain of Mount Three, the same as it had been on D-Day and Cherboug in Europe. The same station I had manned on all Laffey operations, whether with the carriers on a raid of Japanese cities or with a bombardment group in support of an invasion of Mindoro, Luzon, Mindanao, Iwo Jima, or Okinawa. Yes, my gun crew was experienced and well-practiced. We had no trouble firing both guns of the mount every three seconds to take advantage of the latest fuse setting. The fire control team had the equipment to compute ship speed and direction, target speed and direction, and to translate this into a fuse setting which would detonate the projectile at the precise moment desired. A rhythm had to be developed to load the guns at the last split second to take advantage of the latest fuse setting. In all, it took the teamwork from twenty-nine men in the mount, handling room, and magazines below deck to keep the guns firing at the proper time over extended periods. Without heroic efforts by those below deck there could be no great shooting.

Laffey took a hit on the port side at the main deck level just under a cluster of five torpedoes. Mount Three was under control of the bridge and had been firing off to starboard when this hit came. The gasoline-laden wing caused a terrible fire in this after main-deck area, including the back of Mount Three above the main deck and in the ammunition handling area below

.Fortunately the area most damaged was part of the after deck-house, which included some officer's quarters and the crew's head. This combination shower, sink, and toilet area, while needed, was not vital to the ship's fighting ability. But as it turned out, this hit would be critical.

My normal position as mount captain during anti-aircraft action was in an open hatch on the top of the mount. This was my look-out position.

The heat of the fire in the after deck-house warped the closing device for this hatch. Once the fire was under control, the hatch could only be opened a few inches. It no longer was useful as a look-out position.

Once the fire was under control, I reported to the gunnery officer that Mount Three was ready to resume firing. I was told to stay in local control and pick my own targets while the bridge controlled mounts One and Two in the forward part of the ship. This meant that Mount Three switched from ammunition with timed fuses to proximity fuses. Once armed, these projectiles detonated when they came close to a magnetic field such as an airplane.

My first target came in from the stern slightly to starboard. Calvin Cloer was the pointer. He made the guns elevate and depress, and he closed the electrical firing circuit when on target. Jim LaPointe was the trainer. He made the gun traverse horizontally. With great teamwork they locked onto the target.

Splash one kamikaze for Mount Three on our own.

After helping the 40-mm crews of the quad forties on top of the after deck-house to bring down their chosen targets, I was in the process of choosing the next target for Mount Three. Because the top hatch was no longer of use, I hung halfway out the portside hatch. I can still remember yelling to "Frenchy" LaPointe to train to a bearing of 135 degrees for the next target. While the mount was turning we took a direct hit from the starboard quarter. The impact was great enough to drive the left hand gun into a position at least 70 degrees above the right-hand gun. These guns normally move and remain in tandem.

In all, six men died in gun Mount Three that day. Another six were taken to the hospital ship and on to hospitals on Guam andin the States. The burns and internal injuries suffered took months to heal.

I have often said that my guardian angel was with me that day. If the mount had turned a degree or two less, I'd have been blown over the side and into the sea. If the mount had turned a degree or two more, I'd have been blown into that still-burning mass of twisted metal which had formerly been the head area. As it turned out, when I regained consciousness I was draped over a K-Gun (a depth charge launching device) some fifteen feet forward of Mount Three on the main deck.

The first thing I remember was Commander Runk wrestling with an unexploded projectile to throw it overboard. (TheJapanese used make-shift bombs made from stock-piled projectiles from cruisers and other ships that had been sunk.)

My first reaction was to run back to Mount Three. There I found Chester Flint pinned in the starboard hatch by parts of the kamikaze's motor. I tried to free him but he died in my arms.

Do not think for a minute that the attacks were random or haphazard. The first attacker went for the bridge and the radar antenna. The next one was sure to dive into the stern to jam the rudder. Once the crew had to wait to see them and could no longer steer, the ship could become a sitting duck. But not the Laffey. Sure, our radar was gone and the rudder was jammed and almost every compartment aft of the stacks and engine rooms was flooded but Laffey still made steam and continued moving in a circle. But we were moving.

When I went to the bridge and reported that Mount Three was out of action I was told to take over Mount Two just forward of the bridge. Mount Captain Warren Walker had been wounded and needed treatment. As for me, I had some shrapnel in the back of my neck which some shipmates picked out. Later the wounds were treated along with some neck burns.

On that day the U.S. Laffey lost thirty-two men. Another seventy-one were wounded. Mine is but a small part of the story. There are dozens of individuals who could tell similar stories about their experiences on the Laffey and other ships that served on radar picket duty off Okinawa.

Later in the day on April 16, 1945, sea going tugs came alongside the Laffey. Lines were put over to help keep us afloat. Pumping did little good because of holes in the bottom. The main deck was only a couple of feet above the water in the stern.

We were moved to a shallow water anchorage where underwater welders patched the hull so Laffey could be pumped out. Once Laffey was pumped out and the rudders freed, the ship was steered manually. It was a long way back to Guam, Hawaii, and eventually Seattle.

By the time we reached Seattle, the war in Europe was over. The full attention of the U.S. Armed Forces turned toward Japan. The news blackout regarding damage by kamikazes was lifted. More than 90,000 visitors in Seattle and Tacoma, Washington, saw the devastation to the Laffey.

RELATED FACTS:

-- At Okinawa, 30 U.S. ships were lost.
-- At Okinawa, 223 Navy ships were damaged.
-- At Okinawa, the Navy lost nearly 5,000 men.
-- At Okinawa, the Marines and Army lost over 7,000 men.

EDITORIAL or PERSONAL COMMENT:

-- With predictions of 100,000 casualties on the next stop for U.S. forces, which would be the invasion of the Japanese homeland, I heartily agreed then, and still feel, that President Truman's decision to use the A-Bomb to end the war was justified.