Ghost Carrier: They Died to Fight Another Day Read Free Page A

was formed by the destroyers Hoel , Franks , Hughes , Maury, and Hull .
    Liscome had ordered up large quantities of frozen turkey at Pearl and the ship’s mess was busy preparing the Thanksgiving feast to be served in just two days.
    At 2230 hours Joe Rusk lay awake in A-1 bunk on crew berth level five, deep within the bowels of the Liscome. The coming Thanksgiving holiday had returned his thoughts to home as he held a flashlight illuminating the picture Franny had sent of their new son, little Frankie. He was a tiny thing, but Joe felt an instant connection. He imagined watching him grow up. Teaching him how to play ball. Protecting him and helping him become a man. Joe allowed himself to dream. Even he, a mere Seaman First Class, knew the tone of war with Japan had swung. America was now finally on the offensive in the Pacific, and the strategy seemed to be working. He could feel the end of the war coming as he peered down again at the future. His boy. His boy. Joe liked the sound of that as he stowed the picture away on the small aluminum shelf above his bunk. He sighed and turned over to sleep.
    0505 Hours
    Joe had been up ten minutes. Reveille had sounded twenty minutes earlier. He was just finishing dressing when General Quarters sounded.
    “General Quarters. General Quarters. This is not a drill! All hands man your battle stations!”
    The urgent voice echoed down the ship’s corridors.
    Men leapt from their bunks and began pulling on shirts and dungarees.
    Joe was already scrambling up the ladder from deck five. He was headed two levels up and back toward the hanger deck where he served as a parachute rigger. His body pumped with adrenalin.
    0513 Hours
    The passageways were crowded as sailors raced in every direction, each assigned to a specific task. Joe was nearly to the hatch of the hanger deck when he was thrown backwards by a violent concussive force. A tremendous blast had erupted from several decks below toward the bow of the ship. Unhurt, Joe picked himself up as emergency lights illuminated the passageways. He heard the roar of multiple explosions below him. Jesus Christ! The bomb bay .
    General Quarters no longer sounded. It was replaced by men’s screams. Joe turned and moved toward the front of the ship, but the passage was blocked. Hundreds of men were yelling, “We’re going down! We’re going down!”
    Joe’s only thought, shared by hundreds of other sailors, was to get topside. But he could barely move. He remembered an airshaft near where he was trapped. He turned back and worked his way in that direction. Then he heard men shrieking in pain as he hit a wall of intense heat. He saw a man climbing a steel ladder that was glowing hot. He saw others following, shoeless, and as their bare feet hit the steps, they cried out in agony. As Joe looked at their hands, a sickening smell registered. Burning flesh. Searing heat from the rails burned men’s fingers as if they were gripping a red-hot charcoal grill. The sailors didn’t stop though. They continued to climb and scream. He had to find another way out.
    He turned back toward the front of the ship. The way was partially clear until he hit a thick wall of oily, acrid, pitch-black smoke. He heard men ahead of him crying out, “We’re gonna die! We’re all gonna die!” and he knew they were right.
    The men on the surrounding task force ships could not believe the horror that was unfolding before their eyes as they crowded topside rails. Fifteen hundred yards away from the Liscome , sailors on the New Mexico were sent scattering as oil particles, burning pieces of the deck, molten metal, and bits of clothing and human flesh showered their deck. The flames from Liscome Bay were so intense they lit up the sea around the task group. They heard later that the flames were seen by the battleship Pennsylvania 16 miles away near Makin Atoll. Men stared in disbelief. There was nothing they could do.
    Sailors from the destroyer Maury , just 5,000 yards