[Ed. Note. The following was written by US Navy sailor well into the 22^nd year of his life. Although he and his ship had seen some action prior to October 1944 (at Morotai and the Marianas), was nothing like the action encountered off Samar. Indeed at reunions of the crew, Morotai and the Marianas are seldom mentioned; the focus is always on the Battle off Samar.

This story is presented exactly as it was written with all the grammatical mistakes, spelling errors and punctuation peculiarities that appear in the original. Nothing has been changed.

A few individuals are mentioned by name; some of them are still alive. It would seem that no one has any reason to take offense at what is said about him. Something written 55 years ago is unlikely to hurt or upset somebody today. But, if it does, apologies are hereby offered.

This story was written with a pencil on an “Irish Linen Writing Tablet” which came in a Red Cross bag filled by ladies in Wisconsin. Also included in the bag were a cake of pine soap, a pencil, a razor with shaving cream, a toothbrush and toothpaste, a comb and perhaps other items long since forgotten. The cake of soap cleaned a very dirty body, the razor removed a four-day growth of hair and the toothbrush helped to make the mouth taste so much better. The survivors really appreciated that gift.

To whomever may read this: October 29,1944

Of necessity at the present moment, I should be writing to my folks, and in all probability this will end up in their hands. But I cannot, at the present time, really settle myself to writing a blithe hypocritical letter when it is in me to do.

I hope you, whomever it may be who is reading this, will bear with me, for I guess even now, four days after that eventful 25th of October, I am not quite normal. I feel terribly unsettled. Worse than that, I am still jumpy and nervous as all the rest of the gang is. It is still impossible for me to quite so many of us escaped – not only escaped, but escaped unhurt. I still marvel that we can rest with comparative ease, although yesterday, when the general alarm rang, we grabbed life jackets and belts and ran, not knowing exactly why except because it meant enemy approaching. By now, the threat of approaching Japs sends us into bad cases of jitters.

But wait here again I am off the track. I was trying to explain that if what I write here is slightly incoherent, slightly ungrammatical, and maybe not explained very well, remember I myself cannot yet quite reconstruct all that happened that day. The terse communiqués of the navy fail to bring out the drama, the suspense, the waiting, the passing of hour after hour with a question mark proceeding the next minute.

As I sit here on the deck of the transport USS Barnstable, I can see around me a few of the 120 survivors that are on here with me. Some are reading, some writing, some talking, all very peaceful. Let some noise suddenly burst forth upon them, and you would see them dashing wild-eyed hither and yon, grabbing life belts and jackets. It is an awful feeling, one that you civilians could never quite imagine. Around the ship are 14 other transports, on 3 or 4 others of which are the other survivors. Beyond them 5 or 6 destroyers acting as escort. The sea is fairly calm; as a quartermaster, I’d call it a “2” sea, no whitecaps, small ripples. The swell is long and moderate, a 4 swell, I guess, one that keeps the ships rising and falling easily, the most restful (to me) type of swell there is. The sky is half clouded, cumulus masses rising white + billowy, the thin whitish film of a alto-stratus + a touch of cirrus and cirrostratus. Altogether a very peaceful quiet Sunday afternoon, except when I occasionally see a plane on the horizon, although I know it is one of

the Navy’s big PBM flying boats patrolling, my nerves tense, my stomach jumps. Just as I write this, an SB2C dive bomber darted past the starboard side of the ship. It came without warning, and I was half to my feet before I recognized it. Will I never stop being nervous?

On the morning of the 25^th, I was up early, at 0320, to be exact for I had the 4-8 watch. There was nothing at 4 that morning as I went about my duties as quartermaster of the watch to indicate that it would be a morning I would never forget. It was dark because there were cumulonimbus in the sky from which frequent showers of rain fell. I had my rain gear on + off several times as I worked. I called the squadron duty officer about 0400 and by the time of routine morning general quarters he had aroused the pilots and crewman who were to make the early morning flight and they had eaten, and were ready to take off. General quarters was, if I remember, at 0522 and as usual, all hands sleepily + grumbling went to their stations in the dark. How we all hate that early morning duty that routs us so early. About 0545 the planes were launched; they were I think, 6 VT [torpedo bombers]. At 0622, we secured from general quarters, + I went below to eat early chow.

I finished chow rather leisurely as I read the morning dope sheet, of which I remember nothing. After emptying my tray in the very spot where some 4 hours later a number of my shipmates were blown + burned to bits, I climbed up the ladder in the port intake, walked out onto the hanger deck + crossed it. Just as I reached the starboard ladder leading up to the catwalk, the general alarm started its clanging. As usual, a chill shot up my spine + I leaped for the ladder , a half jump from someone else. I do not know who he was – some airdale, I think. Up the ladder, onto the flight deck and up the ladder on the inboard bulkhead of the island I went as fast as I could move.

Red Green, had the watch. “ What’s it this time Red?” Thinking back on it now, he seemed awfully calm and matter of fact, but his words made my hair stand on end. “The Jap fleet is 15 miles behind us.” The Jap fleet! That meant battlewagons and cruisers, and cans and flattops. Against what? 6 CVEs, 4 DEs, 3 DDs. It couldn’t be possible. I couldn’t tell you the course or speed we were on then. I don’t know as I ever did know. I dashed outside to the starboard wing and there Mr. Woolman, the signal officer, pointed out a couple of masts sticking out of the water. “Are those them?” I asked. He nodded. I was closer to panic then than I would like to admit. This was it + we all knew it.

What went on in that was next few hours, I should know more describe point by point as it happened and could a person unfamiliar with it describe each play of a football game he had seen. I do not remember the time General quarters was sounded or when we secured Ponto, I think it was, said to begin at 0710. At any rate, it was close to 1030 when secured. The first salvo I saw landed close to one of the other carriers + I looked at it and amazement. It landed right in the midst of us. Already we were within range. It sent about 5 great flashes of water rearing into the air while over the level of the bridge, the deck which is about 62 feet above water level. The first close shell birth I saw landed just add, easily within 50 yards. In only about 15 seconds we passed over where they had landed. Then they came from all directions. During the course of the fight to Jeff’s flanked us a call and ran for our port quarter + then paralleled our course. Another group made our starboard quarter + started to closing. They were the ones I watched mostly for I spent most of my time on the starboard wing of the bridge.

The destroyers apparently were throwing shells that made a light green staying in the water. It was close to being the Nile green. What I was told was that the big stuff may gigantic bursts of patent pinkish crimson color, almost the color of cobalt crystals. They were beautiful and they were dangerous. Luckily there were fewer of those then of the other two kinds + they all landed harmlessly outside of a 500 yard radius of the ship. The most perfuse and persistent salvos made no color, but they were landing and much better than one minute amongst us, and some were damned close, close enough to throw spray and shrapnel on the ship I saw one of those bursts straddle the carrier on the starboard quarter + she rocked + rolled under the blasts. I thought at the time she was the Kitkin Bay but I wonder now if perhaps she was the Gambier Bay + that salvo had been the one that stopped her. I heard later that she had lain dead in the water + that the Japs had closed to 1000 yards + polished her off. Even later I heard that only 6 survivors were taken off her. I have yet to hear both stories corroborated.

During the course of the flight we were on a course of 200, which is southeasterly, and it was about 0800, I believe, that we launched all the planes that were ready to fly. Some 12 or 15 fighters + 4 VT went off at that time. I think that there were no fighters left on the ship + only 3 or 4 VT.

Also, I remember the traffic (for us) speed we were making. Those snipes were really making those engines roar. Although 173 RPM was supposed to be our highest speed that equivalent to 17 knots, we were getting over 18, probably closer to 19 knots. Black smoke was pouring out our funnels.

The destroyers and destroyer escorts, too, were making smoke and lots of it. It helped to keep us hidden from those Jap cruisers + battleships. (I do not know even now how many cruisers + battleships + cans were in that task force). Also, the weather favored us. The cumulonimbus held low most of the time + visibility while mostly unlimited was spotty.

I felt sorry for the cans when they got the order from the admiral, “Make torpedo runs,” but their only answer was “Wilco (will comply).” They went in, those little fellows did, with their engines racing, their little 5” popguns firing almost as rapidly as machine guns, their crews fully aware that this was suicide. Seven of them, 4 destroyer escorts + 3 destroyers, turned and rushed that Jap force. Seven of them dashed through the water. No one hesitated. I hope that every man on those cans are cited. Many of them will never get their reward. For in that run, at least one can never can never had a chance to fire her fish for she was blown to bits. One was reported to have fired at 5000, closed to 1000 to see the results + disappeared in a gigantic explosion. Another was reported making 45 knots when she fired her fish, + then had turned completely over as she turned to dash away. 4 came out, how I don’t know. 3 DEs + one destroyer. They were peppered with shrapnel. Later the one that rescued us had holes at least 18” wide right through her bow where an armor piercing shell passed through without exploding. They were gallant ships then, and if anyone should ever ask me to name a deciding factor in that battle as I saw it, I should lay credit where credit is due, with those 7 little escort vessels.

I could not pass on from the first phase of the battle without mentioning our own 5” gun on the fantail. When I first went onboard the Midway (maybe I should call her St. Lo., but the name Midway always sticks to me)I wondered if we would ever have to use it. Well, we did. We used every 5” armor piercing shell we had on ship, + we’re considering the only shells we had left – star shells. Lt.(jg) Betts, a Mustang, (that is he had come from the ranks + had been a chief firecontrolman) had been our best OOD [officer of the deck. It had been he who recognize the torpedo wakes at Morotai + knew what to do about them. So it was he this time in charge of the 5” that made the gunfire on this is rapidly as if it had been electronically instead of manually control. Reports were (although later I heard them contradicted) that he laid 3 shells squarely on to a cruiser. I'm inclined to think he did. It is a man like him who could do that.

Of the handling of the ship, I cannot say much from personal observation. I noted in the QM notebook that slight changes in course we made. Occasionally we shifted over to 15, 225, once to 235; once in a while to 190. But mostly we maintained her course of 200.

The navigator surprise me by being fairly calm. I thought he would blow up, but he didn't. He seemed almost happy, even to the point of cracking occasional joke. Lt.(jg)MacKay most of the orders to the wheel, while the navigator gazed interestedly on the precession of Jap man-of-war astern of us. The captain was all over the bridge. Lord, that man can move. The air officer was the coolest of them all. Someone told me later that it had been he who had ordered the ship steered in the direction of the shell bursts so that following bursts were always a bit too short or too long, although Lt.(jg)Mackay he had done this himself. At any rate all shell bursts did land either on one side or the other side of the ship. And how they whistled venomously as the passed over the ship!

It was about 1000 that the final burst came over. Sometime in the flight one carrier had dropped astern, that even then I did not know it. Reports came in that the Japs had retired + we’re traveling northeastward. We were relaxing. Then suddenly from one of our planes overhead came, “Numerous torpedoes traveling your way from directly astern. Be alert!” Then from all sides reports of torpedoes came. I saw the carrier on our starboard quarter blow up the torpedo just offer fantail. Our own 20s and 40s opened up. All during the flight the boys on antiaircraft guns had sat and bewailed their plight because they could not fire. So now they opened up with a vengeance on the torpedoes. All around us were torpedo wakes with the occasional spray as they broached. The TBM overhead blew up another was gunfire. For a full 15 minutes it seemed as if they would never stop coming. Then at last they too stopped.

Quiet reigned at last! We began to draw our breaths, + looked at each other with quiet amazement. We had come through all this unscathed. The skipper called the after engine room + praised them on their smoke making abilities. That rather amused me because often I had heard him call them up + tell them empathetically, “Stop making smoke.” Also, in this breathing spell , the ship took time out to cheer Mr. Betts + his 5” gun crew for their fine performance.

It was after secure from GQ I noticed land just off the starboard bow, the southeast tip of Samar. Those Jap ships had almost driven us on the beach.

Then secure from General Quarters about 1030. I do not know where the order to secure came from. I have heard criticism because we did secure. Condition Baker, however was not set. I relinquished the watch to Ponto, + then, because I could not stand still (I was pretty nervous + upset) commenced cleaning up the bridge, although Johnny (Ens. Johnson, our division officer) told me it was not necessary at present. In the upper chart house someone had put a box of sandwiches from which I took one, + while eating it, I chatted with Snuff and Joyce. Topside again, I found some joe in the gunnery control level + drank a couple of cups. Just as I finished the second someone shouted, “Jap planes on the starboard beam.” As I turned dash into bridge plot, the general alarm started ringing. In bridge plot I grab the pencil from Ponto + dashed out onto the starboard bridge plot again I couldn’t find the QM notebook. “Where the hell is the notebook, Ponto?” I snapped at him. He was still puttering around there for some reason. “I tried to tell you.” Mackay took it down to the lower chart house to write up his log,” he said. I cursed old Mac then. He always had the notebook at the most inopportune times. I – down ladder into the pilot house+ met him just at the bottom. I snatched the notebook out of his hand without so much as a thank you + topside I went again.

I made an entry in the notebook at 10:51. Whether it was when the planes were cited or when the paint plane crashed, I don't know. Snuff told me later he had 1055 is the time when the plane crashed. At any rate out onto the starboard wing again I went – they are right on the beam closer than the other planes, I saw the Jap that hit us. I watched him as he headed aft, very slowly + nonchalantly, I thought. Then slowly and gracefully he banked to the starboard + slowly approached the ship from astern, leveling off, dropping altitude a little. As I saw him come in, I thought, “Goddamn him, he’s going to strafe.“ I saw after the starboard 40s pumping shells in him + thought vaguely what a mess he would make on the fantail if he blew up + crashed there. I watched paralyzed + unmoving until he was out of sight behind bridge plot. Just as I started to turn + go over to the port wing to see what damage she did strafing, the first explosion came.

Standing there, right on the forward starboard corner of Bridge plot, I tried to understand what happened I almost believe that momentarily all of my senses deserted me, for the next thing I remember, I heard a bang at my feet. Looking down there and lay a piece of what I think was the plane, blackened with fire, ugly looking.

(I almost forgot. During the time when the plane was coming in, when she just off the end of the flight deck, I glanced around + saw the Skipper, his fists clenched, shouting “Shoot it down! Hit it! Hit it!” And almost as he shouted, he shook his head in resignation, for there was no doubt now that he wouldn’t make it in.)

I dashed back to stand in front of the hatch leading into the bridge plot from the conning station. I don’t even remember if I made a notation in the log at that time.