USS Franklin (CV-13)

"The Ship That Wouldn't Die!"

Saturday January 05, 2008

 

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LCDR Samuel Robert Sherman, MC, USNR, Flight Surgeon on USS Franklin (CV-13) when it was heavily damaged by a Japanese bomber near the Japanese mainland on 19 March 1945.


Adapted from: "Flight Surgeon on the Spot: Aboard USS Franklin, 
19 March 1945," Navy Medicine 84, no. 4 (July-August 1993): 4-9.

 


I joined the Navy the day after Pearl Harbor. Actually, I had 
been turned down twice before because I had never been in a ROTC [Reserve Officer Training Corps] - located at many colleges to train students for officer commissions] reserve unit. Since I 
had to work my way through college and medical school, I wasn't 
able to go to summer camp or the monthly week end drills. 
Instead, I needed to work in order to earn the money to pay my 
tuition. Therefore, I could never join a ROTC unit. 

When most of my classmates were called up prior to Pearl Harbor, 
I felt quite guilty, and I went to see if I could get into the 
Army unit. They flunked me. Then I went to the Navy recruiting 
office and they flunked me for two minor reasons. One was 
because I had my nose broken a half dozen times while I was 
boxing. The inside of my nose was so obstructed and the septum 
was so crooked that the Navy didn't think I could breathe well 
enough. I also had a partial denture because I had lost some 
front teeth also while boxing. 

But the day after Pearl Harbor, I went back to the Navy and they 
welcomed me with open arms. They told me I had 10 days to close 
my office and get commissioned. At that time, I went to Treasure 
Island, CA [naval station in San Francisco Bay], for 
indoctrination. After that, I was sent to Alameda Naval Air 
Station [east of San Francisco, near Oakland CA] where I was put 
in charge of surgery and clinical services. One day the Team 
Medical Officer burst into the operating room and said, "When 
are you going to get through with this operation?" I answered, 
"In about a half hour." He said, "Well, you better hurry up 
because I just got orders for you to go to Pensacola to get 
flight surgeon's training." 

Nothing could have been better because airplanes were the love 
of my life. In fact, both my wife and I were private pilots and 
I had my own little airfield and two planes. Since I wasn't 
allowed to be near the planes at Alameda, I had been after the 
senior medical officer day and night to get me transferred to 
flight surgeon's training. 

I went to [Naval Air Station] Pensacola [Florida] in April 1943 
for my flight surgeon training and finished up in August. 
Initially, I was told that I was going to be shipped out from 
the East Coast. But the Navy changed its mind and sent me back 
to the West Coast in late 1943 to wait for Air Group 5 at 
Alameda Naval Air Station. 

Air Group 5  

Air Group 5 soon arrived, but it took about a year or so of 
training to get up to snuff. Most of the people in it were 
veterans from other carriers that went down. Three squadrons 
formed the nucleus of this air group--a fighter, a bomber, and a 
torpedo bomber squadron. Later, we were given two Marine 
squadrons; the remnants of Pappy Boyington's group. 

Since the Marine pilots had been land-based, the toughest part 
of the training was to get them carrier certified. We used the 
old [USS] Ranger (CV-4) for take-off and landing training. We 
took the Ranger up and down the coast from San Francisco to San 
Diego and tried like hell to get these Marines to learn how to 
make a landing. They had no problem taking off, but they had 
problems with landings. Luckily, we were close enough to 
airports so that if they couldn't get on the ship they'd have a 
place to land. That way, they wouldn't have to go in the drink. 
Anyhow, we eventually got them all certified. Some of our other 
pilots trained at Fallon Air Station in Nevada and other West 
Coast bases. By the time the [USS] Franklin [CV-13] came in, we 
had a very well-trained group of people. 

I had two Marine squadrons and three Navy squadrons to take care 
of. The Marines claimed I was a Marine. The Navy guys claimed I 
was a Navy man. I used to wear two uniforms. When I would go to 
the Marine ready rooms [a ready room is a room where air crew 
squadrons were briefed on upcoming missions and then stood by 
"ready" to go to their aircraft. Each squadron had a ready 
room.], I'd put on a Marine uniform and then I'd change quickly 
and put on my Navy uniform and go to the other one. We had a lot 
of fun with that. As their physician, I was everything. I had to 
be a general practitioner with them, but I also was their 
father, their mother, their spiritual guide, their social 
director, their psychiatrist, the whole thing. Of course, I was 
well trained in surgery so I could take care of the various 
surgical problems. Every once in a while I had to do an 
appendectomy. I also removed some pilonidal cysts and fixed a 
few strangulated hernias. Of course, they occasionally got 
fractures during their training exercises. I took care of 
everything for them and they considered me their personal 
physician, every one of them. I was called Dr. Sam and Dr. Sam 
was their private doctor. No matter what was wrong, I took care 
of it. 

Eventually, the Franklin arrived in early 1945. It had been in 
Bremerton [Washington] being repaired after it was damaged by a 
Kamikaze off Leyte [in the Philippine Islands] in October 1944. 
In mid-February 1945 we left the West Coast and went to [Naval 
Base] Pearl [Harbor, Hawaii] first and then to Ulithi [in the 
Caroline Islands, west Pacific Ocean. It was captured by the US 
in Sept. 1944 and developed into a major advance fleet base.]. 
By the first week in March, the fleet was ready to sail. It took 
us about 5 or 6 days to reach the coast of Japan where we began 
launching aerial attacks on the airbases, ports, and other such 
targets. 

The Attack  

Just before dawn on 19 March 1945, 38 of our bombers took off, 
escorted by about 9 of our fighter planes. The crew of the 
Franklin was getting ready for another strike, so more planes 
were on the flight deck. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, a 
Japanese plane slipped through the fighter screen and popped up 
just in front of the ship. My battle station was right in the 
middle of the flight deck because I was the flight surgeon and 
was supposed to take care of anything that might happen during 
flight operations. I saw the Japanese plane coming in, but there 
was nothing I could do but stay there and take it. The plane 
just flew right in and dropped two bombs on our flight deck. 

I was blown about 15 feet into the air and tossed against the 
steel bulkhead of the island. I got up groggily and saw an 
enormous fire. All those planes that were lined up to take off 
were fully armed and fueled. The dive bombers were equipped with 
this new "Tiny Tim" heavy rocket and they immediately began to 
explode. Some of the rockets' motors ignited and took off across 
the flight deck on their own. A lot of us were just ducking 
those things. It was pandemonium and chaos for hours and hours. 
We had 126 separate explosions on that ship; and each explosion 
would pick the ship up and rock it and then turn it around a 
little bit. Of course, the ship suffered horrendous casualties 
from the first moment. I lost my glasses and my shoes. I was 
wearing a kind of moccasin shoes. I didn't have time that 
morning to put on my flight deck shoes and they just went right 
off immediately. Regardless, there were hundreds and hundreds of 
crewmen who needed my attention. 

Medical Equipment  

Fortunately, I was well prepared from a medical equipment 
standpoint. From the time we left San Francisco and then stopped 
at Pearl and then to Ulithi and so forth, I had done what we 
call disaster planning. Because I had worked in emergency 
hospital service and trauma centers, I knew what was needed. 
Therefore, I had a number of big metal containers, approximately 
the size of garbage cans, bolted down on the flight deck and the 
hangar deck. These were full of everything that I 
needed--splints, burn dressings, sterile dressings of all sorts, 
sterile surgical instruments, medications, plasma, and 
intravenous solutions other than plasma. The most important 
supplies were those used for the treatment of burns and 
fractures, lacerations, and bleeding. In those days the Navy had 
a special burn dressing which was very effective. It was a gauze 
impregnated with Vaseline and some chemicals that were almost 
like local anesthetics. In addition to treating burns, I also 
had to deal with numerous casualties suffering from severe 
bleeding; I even performed some amputations. 

Furthermore, I had a specially equipped coat that was similar to 
those used by duck hunters, with all the little pouches. In 
addition to the coat, I had a couple of extra-sized money belts 
which could hold things. In these I carried my morphine syrettes 
and other small medical items. Due to careful planning I had no 
problem whatsoever with supplies. 

I immediately looked around to see if I had any corpsmen 
[Hospital Corpsman is an enlisted rating for medical orderlies] 
left. Most of them were already wounded, dead, or had been blown 
overboard. Some, I was later told, got panicky and jumped 
overboard. Therefore, I couldn't find any corpsmen, but 
fortunately I found some of the members of the musical band whom 
I had trained in first aid. I had also given first-aid training 
to my air group pilots and some of the crew. The first guy I 
latched onto was LCDR MacGregor Kilpatrick, the skipper of the 
fighter squadron. He was an Annapolis graduate and a veteran of 
the [USS] Lexington (CV-2) and the [USS] Yorktown (CV-5) with 
three Navy Crosses. He stayed with me, helping me take care of 
the wounded. 

I couldn't find any doctors. There were three ship's doctors 
assigned to the Franklin, CDR Francis (Kurt) Smith, LCDR James 
Fuelling, and LCDR George Fox. I found out later that LCDR Fox 
was killed in the sick bay by the fires and suffocating smoke. 
CDR Smith and LCDR Fuelling were trapped below in the warrant 
officer's wardroom, and it took 12 or 13 hours to get them out. 
That's where LT Donald Gary got his Medal of Honor for finding 
an escape route for them and 300 men trapped below. Mean while, 
I had very little medical help. 

Finally, a couple of corpsmen who were down below in the hangar 
deck came up once they recovered from their concussions and 
shock. Little by little a few of them came up. Originally, the 
band was my medical help and what pilots I had around. 

Evacuation Efforts  

I had hundreds and hundreds of patients, obviously more than I 
could possibly treat. Therefore, the most important thing for me 
to do was triage. In other words, separate the serious wounded 
from the not so serious wounded. We'd arranged for evacuation of 
the serious ones to the cruiser [USS] Santa Fe (CL-60) which had 
a very well-equipped sick bay and was standing by alongside.

LCDR Kilpatrick was instrumental in the evacuations. He helped 
me organize all of this and we got people to carry the really 
badly wounded. Some of them had their hips blown off and arms 
blown off and other sorts of tremendous damage. All together, I 
think we evacuated some 800 people to the Santa Fe. Most of them were wounded and the rest were the air group personnel who were on board. 

The orders came that all air group personnel had to go on the 
Santa Fe because they were considered nonexpendable. They had to live to fight again in their airplanes. The ship's company air 
officer of the Franklin came up to LCDR Kilpatrick and myself as 
we were supervising the evacuation between fighting fires, 
taking care of the wounded, and so forth. 

He said, "You two people get your asses over to the Santa Fe as 
fast as you can." LCDR Kilpatrick, being an [US Naval Academy 
at] Annapolis [Maryland] graduate, knew he had to obey the 
order, but he argued and argued and argued. But this guy 
wouldn't take his arguments. 

He said, "Get over there. You know better." Then he said to me, 
"You get over there too." 

I said, "Who's going to take care of these people?" 

He replied, "We'll manage." 

I said, "Nope. All my life I've been trained never to abandon a 
sick or wounded person. I can't find any doctors and I don't 
know where they are and I only have a few corpsmen and I can't 
leave these people." 

He said, "You better go because a military order is a military 
order." 

I said, "Well what could happen to me if I don't go?" 

He answered, "I could shoot you or I could bring court-martial 
charges against you." 

I said, "Well, take your choice." And I went back to work. 

As MacGregor Kilpatrick left he told me, "Sam, you're crazy!" 

Getting Franklin Under Way  

After the Air Group evacuated, I looked at the ship, I looked at 
the fires, and I felt the explosions. I thought, well, I better 
say good-bye right now to my family because I never believed 
that the ship was going to survive. We were just 50 miles off 
the coast of Japan (about 15 minutes flying time) and dead in 
the water. The cruiser [USS] Pittsburgh (CA-72) was trying to 
get a tow line to us, but it was a difficult job and took hours 
to accomplish. 

Meanwhile, our engineering officers were trying to get the 
boilers lit off in the engine room. The smoke was so bad that we 
had to get the Santa Fe to give us a whole batch of gas masks. 
But the masks didn't cover the engineers' eyes. Their eyes 
became so inflamed from the smoke that they couldn't see to do 
their work. So, the XO [Executive Officer, the ship's 
second-in-command] came down and said to me, "Do you know where 
there are any anesthetic eye drops to put in their eyes so they 
can tolerate the smoke?" 

I said, "Yes, I know where they are." I knew there was a whole 
stash of them down in the sick bay because I used to have to 
take foreign bodies out of the eyes of my pilots and some of the 
crew. 

He asked, "Could you go down there (that's about four or five 
decks below), get it and give it to the engineering officer?" 

I replied, "Sure, give me a flash light and a guide because I 
may not be able to see my way down there although I used to go 
down three or four times a day." 

I went down and got a whole batch of them. They were in 
eyedropper bottles and we gave them to these guys. They put them in their eyes and immediately they could tolerate the smoke. 
That enabled them to get the boilers going. 

Aftermath  

It was almost 12 or 13 hours before the doctors who were trapped 
below were rescued. By that time, I had the majority of the 
wounded taken care of. However, there still were trapped and 
injured people in various parts of the ship, like the hangar 
deck, that hadn't been discovered. We spent the next 7 days 
trying to find them all. 

I also helped the chaplains take care of the dead. The burial of 
the dead was terrible. They were all over the ship. The ships' 
medical officers put the burial functions on my shoulders. I had 
to declare them dead, take off their identification, remove, 
along with the chaplains' help, whatever possessions that hadn't 
been destroyed on them, and then slide them overboard because we had no way of keeping them. A lot of them were my own Air Group people, pilots and aircrew, and I recognized them even tough the bodies were busted up and charred. I think we buried about 832 people in the next 7 days. That was terrible, really terrible to bury that many people. 

Going Home  

It took us 6 days to reach Ulithi. Actually, by the time we got 
to Ulithi, we were making 14 knots and had cast off the tow line 
from the Pittsburgh. We had five destroyers assigned to us that 
kept circling us all the time from the time we left the coast of 
Japan until we got to Ulithi because we were under constant 
attack by Japanese bombers. We also had support from two of the 
new battle cruisers. 

At Ulithi, I got word that a lot of my people in the Air Group 
who were taken off or picked up in the water, were on a hospital 
ship that was also in Ulithi. I visited them there and was told 
that many of the dead in the Air Group were killed in their 
ready rooms, waiting to take off when the bombs exploded. The 
Marine squadrons were particularly hard hit, having few 
survivors. I have a list of dead Marines which makes your heart 
sink. 

The survivors of the Air Group then regrouped on Guam. They 
requested that I be sent back to them. I also wanted to go with 
them, so I pleaded my case with the chaplain, the XO, and the 
skipper [ship's commanding officer]. Although the skipper felt I 
had earned the right to be part of the ship's company, he was 
willing to send me where I wanted to go. Luckily, I rejoined my 
Air Group just in time to keep the poor derelicts from getting 
assigned to another carrier. 

The Air Group Commander wanted to make captain so bad, that he 
volunteered these boys for another carrier. Most of them were 
veterans of the [USS] Yorktown and [USS] Lexington and had seen 
quite a lot of action. A fair number of them had been blown into 
the water and many were suffering from the shock of the 
devastating ordeal. The skipper of the bombing squadron did not 
think his men were psychologically or physically qualified to go 
back into combat at that particular time. A hearing was held to 
determine their combat availability and a flight surgeon was 
needed to check them over. I assembled the pilots and checked 
them out and I agreed with the bombing squadron skipper. These 
men were just not ready to fight yet. Some of them even looked 
like death warmed over. 

The hearing was conducted by [Fleet] ADM [Chester W.] Nimitz 
[Commander-in-Chief, Pacific Fleet and Pacific Ocean Areas]. He 
remembered me from Alameda because I pulled him out of the 
wreckage of his plane when it crashed during a landing approach 
in 1942. He simply said, "Unless I hear a medical opinion to the 
contrary to CDR Sherman's, I have to agree with CDR Sherman." He 
decided that the Air Group should be sent back to the States and 
rehabilitated as much as possible. 

In late April 1945, the Air Group went to Pearl where we briefly 
reunited with the Franklin. They had to make repairs to the ship 
so it could make the journey to Brooklyn. After a short stay, we 
continued on to the Alameda. Then the Navy decided to break up 
the Air Group, so everyone was sent on their individual way. I 
was given what I wanted--senior medical officer of a 
carrier--the [USS] Rendova (CVE-114), which was still outfitting 
in Portland, OR. But the war ended shortly after we had 
completed outfitting. 

I stayed in the Navy until about Christmas time [1945]. I was 
mustered out in San Francisco at the same place I was 
commissioned. As far as the Air Group Officer, who said he would 
either shoot me or court-martial me, well, he didn't shoot me. 
He talked about the court-martial a lot but everybody in higher 
rank on the ship thought it was a really bad idea and made him 
sound like a damned fool. He stopped making the threats.






 

 

 

 

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