Godspeed and well done

On May 17, my ship was towed out into the Gulf of Mexico and sunk. I am referring to the “reefing” of the aircraft carrier USS Oriskany.

Five hundred pounds of plastic explosive were detonated within her hull and in 37 minutes she settled stern-first to the bottom, forming the world’s largest sunken-ship artificial reef. Resting in 212 feet of water, her flight deck is 129 feet beneath the surface and the island 67 feet.

After an unsuccessful effort by former crew members to have the ship converted to a floating museum, the Navy agreed to have her sunk off the Florida coast. Twenty states had competed for the privilege of having the ship sunk off shore. Preparation of the ship involved purging tanks and bilge compartments in order to dispose of toxic substances. Holes were cut and hatches welded shut to assure the ship’s underwater complexity will be safe for scuba divers. During her 30 years of active service the Oriskany witnessed the transition from propeller to sophisticated jet aircraft and it is fitting that she reside for posterity 24 miles southeast of Pensacola, the cradle of Naval aviation.

Not a fabled name in US Naval lore such as Lexington, Hornet or Enterprise, the Oriskany commemorates a relatively obscure Revolutionary War battle. The 888-foot-long ship, commissioned in 1945 and decommissioned in 1976, did not see action in World War II, but did play a significant role in the Cuban missile crisis and the Korean and Vietnam conflicts.

Home at any one time to 3,450 men, the Oriskany evokes both nostalgic and terrifying memories for thousands of sailors and aviators who manned her or flew from her flight deck. Receiving two battle stars for Korean War service, she was awarded five battle stars during the Vietnam War, launching more combat sorties than any other carrier. She bears the unique distinction of having launched both a presidential and a vice presidential candidate on their ill-fated flights over North Vietnam. I’m referring, of course, to Sen. John McCain and the late Admiral James Stockdale, who were shot down and spent many years as POWs.

In addition to her war-fighting history, the Oriskany was a movie star, playing a leading role in “Men of the Fighting Lady” and “Tora, Tora, Tora.” From her decks William Holden and Mickey Rooney flew their fictional final mission in “The Bridges of Toko-Ri.” In 1952, she became the first U.S. aircraft carrier to steam around Cape Horn at the southern tip of South America. In 1963, President Kennedy observed flight operations from the Oriskany’s bridge, and in 1967 the aging Doolittle Raiders celebrated the 25th anniversary of their daring attack on Tokyo with a spectacular aerial tribute by the Navy’s Blue Angels.

Many brave men flew from Oriskany’s decks, never to return. In addition to enemy action and the risks aviators face with every catapult launch or deck landing, there are many inherent dangers aboard an aircraft carrier. For the deck crews who arm, fuel and launch aircraft, the risks of accident or death are ever- present. Getting sucked into a jet engine or blown overboard are everyday risks faced by youngsters barely out of their teens, performing their dangerous jobs around the clock under the most hazardous and fatiguing of conditions. Aviation gasoline and the explosive weaponry routinely handled on a carrier present a constant threat. In 1966, the Oriskany suffered a devastating fire off the coast of Vietnam. The fire took the lives of 44 aviators and ship’s company.

I served on the Oriskany from 1966 to 1968 and have many vivid memories of the men and events that contributed a page or two to the ship’s proud history. During the 1967-68 Vietnam cruise, 49 aircraft and 27 pilots and air crew were lost. In addition three members of the deck crew died as a result of shipboard accidents. This same cruise witnessed the catastrophic fire on the USS Forrestal, which killed 140 sailors. The Oriskany assisted in fighting the fire while evacuating the severely burned and wounded.

To those of us who served on her, she became a living, breathing part of our lives, offering the challenges and dangers, which life at sea entails. A ship is meant to cruise proudly above the waves and only when the sea or an enemy defeats her, sink and rust honorably, beneath them. For those of us who served on her, the purposeful sinking of the Oriskany has been emotionally difficult to bear, however feelings have been tempered by the new life-giving role she will now play as an underwater habitat for a huge variety of sea life, from barnacles and shell fish to sharks.

Burial at sea is a somber and tradition-bound ritual in the Naval service, designed to honor those who live and ultimately perish on the sea. Consistent with the tradition, hundreds of former Oriskany crew members participated in a ceremony to honor the ship and witnessed, from a mile away, her plunge to her final resting place.

As she sank beneath the blue waters of the Gulf, Oriskany sailors recalled her majestic lines, her contribution to the defense of our country and the privilege of having sailed on her. And the occasion undoubtedly evoked the accolade familiar to all Navy men: Godspeed and well done Oriskany.