USS Indianapolis (CA 35) and Efforts to Remember the Crew

By Brenda Hale
HRNM Volunteer

USS Indianapolis (CA 35), nicknamed “Indy,” was Fifth Fleet flagship in 1943. Indy served bravely in many World War II battles, including Iwo Jima and Okinawa, earning ten battle stars from 1943-1945. The captain, crew, and vessel abilities put Indy in place to deliver the first nuclear bomb weapon components as directed by President Harry Truman. The Indy’s secret cargo details were unknown to both the captain and crew.

USS Indianapolis passes under the Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco, CA (NHHC)

On July 16, 1945, the ship was ready for sea after an overhaul and repairs. Indy left San Francisco and made record time to Tinian Island in the Philippine Sea. After delivering nuclear bomb parts to Tinian on July 26, the captain and crew were still unaware of what they delivered. They were told to get their next orders in Guam, which might have meant a trip home.

USS Indianapolis leaving Tinian on July 26, 1945, after delivering atomic bomb components. (NHHC)

The ship stopped briefly at Guam and headed to sea again on July 28, 1945. The Navy had communications procedures in place to track combat vessel locations and expected arrival times in U.S. held ports. With approximately 700 U.S. fighting ships in the south seas of Japan, carrier task forces were working to create a plan for Japan’s invasion. However, radio traffic in the Joint Communications Center at Guam averaged 18,000 messages a day. Messages had to be decoded and verified as valid. Followup was often low priority unless an urgency was known. When Indy did not arrive at Port Leyte as expected, it was not reported or noticed, and no search parties were immediately sent out. Ships like Indy were thought to be able to take care of themselves.

After leaving Guam, a Japanese submarine spotted Indianapolis, torpedoed it, and the ship sank in twelve minutes, just after midnight on July 30, 1945. Nearly 900 men were alive in the water struggling for survival for four days. The crew suffered from injuries, hypothermia, lack of fresh water and food, at least 12-foot-high seas, and sharks. Mid-morning on August 2, a Navy plane on a routine search mission noticed a large oil slick on the water. Upon circling, he saw men in the water over a thirty-square-mile area. Until that time, an alarm had not alerted anyone to locate Indy; therefore, no rescue efforts had been attempted. Now planes and other ships risked their own safety to get water and equipment to Indy survivors in the water and get them to hospitals. Search and rescue efforts continued through August 8, and a final search was made across at least 3,000 square miles.

USS Indianapolis survivors brought ashore from USS Tranquility (AH 14) at Guam, August 8, 1945. (NHHC)

On August 11, many casualties were officially identified from their ID tags removed from deceased crewmembers found floating in the water. Families of missing crew began receiving telegrams, dated August 12, 1945, saying their loved one was missing in action. In the meantime, the atomic bombs were dropped on Japan on August 6 and 9. Japan officially surrendered to U.S. forces on August 15, the same day the Indianapolis sinking was reported to the public. Japan formally signed a surrender on September 2, 1945. Navy telegrams dated both September 13 and 17 informed family members their Sailors had not survived the sinking.

Left: USS Indianapolis survivors being loaded into ambulances on Guam; Right: Dr. Lewis Haynes, Chief Medical Officer from Indianapolis 

The Indy crew came from every state in the U.S., in addition to Guam, Canada, and Mexico. This HRNM volunteer’s great uncle, Carl Murphy Smith, nicknamed “Buddy,” was born in December 1927. He was the youngest of nine children, from Mississippi and Arkansas. Two of Buddy’s older brothers, Lonnie and Rex, had already joined the armed forces during WWII. At the age of 15, Buddy joined the Navy when his brother signed paperwork confirming Buddy was eighteen years old. He wanted to be like his big brothers and serve his country. His first and only assignment was as Signalman Second Class on USS Indianapolis. With all personal effects lost at sea, his final days were recreated through some letters home, sent from August to December 1944. One photo shows Buddy and his wife, on their last Christmas leave together, with three former Indy shipmates and wives in Vallejo, CA. Buddy wrote in a letter home, saying, “Having a swell time, too, so don’t worry about me.”

Buddy with several of his shipmates

This personal story is only one of hundreds from Indy’s final crew. Most survivors were able to tell their stories; however, 888 men lost at sea still have stories to tell. Indy’s Legacy Organization formed a non-profit to “perpetuate the memory of all who served.” As RADM Sam Cox, Director of the Naval History and Heritage Command remembered, “They were all heroes--every one who had a hand in defeating the tyranny of fascism and imperial aggression.”

Indy’s Legacy group is seeking volunteers to find photos and personal information about every man lost at sea. There are eight men from Virginia and West Virginia whose photos and stories have yet to be found. The Legacy group organized “Project 888” to publish this book in 2025. Their goal is to show photos, letters home, and every crew member’s short story. The Legacy Organization is requesting assistance from anyone who has an interest in locating this information. To learn more or to participate, visit: https://www.ussindianapolis.org/project-888

Recent Reads: The Quiet Warrior: A Biography of Admiral Raymond A. Spruance by Thomas Buell

 

Admiral Raymond Spruance seen in April 1944 (Naval History and Heritage Command)

Reviewed by Lee Duckworth

HRNM Docent

The impetus for writing The Quiet Warrior was a 1963 interview with Admiral Raymond A. Spruance and follow on work at the Naval War College in the early 1970s. Author Thomas B. Buell, CDR USN (Ret.) used extensive interviews with the Spruance family and members of the admiral’s staff, letters, official reports and oral histories in writing his book. The author spends some time on Spruance’s early years and post-retirement as Ambassador to the Philippines but concentrates on his US Navy WWII career.

Buell alternates chapters chronologically with the preparation and planning for an upcoming battle, followed by the ensuing battle and results. Woven in are vignettes about home life. He makes excellent use of how Spruance applied lessons learned from previous battles into planning for the next battle.

How does a Navy Captain with only a shipboard background make his way in three years to four-star rank and command of the largest naval battle ever fought? The biggest force Spruance ever commanded prior to the June 4-6, 1942 Battle of Midway was a cruiser division of only four cruisers. Yet he accomplished this meteoric rise through his professional competence, intelligence and leadership traits. He was a listener, student of naval strategy and tactics, and a master at delegating work (in fact, he admits to being lazy and wanted others to do the work—and receive the credit). Spruance believed in being at the front and recognized that accurate and timely intelligence was imperative to success. Perhaps most importantly, he had the ability to see the big picture and hired good people to work for him.

Planes of Torpedo Squadron Six (VT-6) prepare to launch off USS Enterprise (CV 6) on the morning of June 4, 1942 during the Battle of Midway. Enterprise was Spruance's flagship during the battle. (Naval History and Heritage Command)

With no aviation experience, Spruance was thrust into the role of leading a two-carrier task force in battle with the Japanese Navy at Midway. He was seemingly unperturbed as Admiral Chester Nimitz gave him excellent intelligence and broad guidance: he would be “…governed by the principle of calculated risk” which he was to interpret to mean to avoid exposure of his force without a good prospect of inflicting greater damage to the enemy. With two days advance notice, he set sail aboard USS Enterprise for Midway.

The author doesn’t delve deeply into the details of the Battle of Midway but he addresses the controversy surrounding Spruance and his perceived lack of aggressiveness in this battle, as well as others over the next three years. Buell puts Spruance on a bit of a pedestal and states that he was operating under the principle of calculated risk and his plan was bold, arguing that there was no lack of aggressiveness. The author admits that there were delays in the June 4 aircraft launch and a number of miscommunications during the course of operating the carrier group, but Spruance confidently launched his entire air wing. Another major mistake was Spruance’s failure to launch search planes on June 4 and 5. Spruance made his June 5th decision to turn on shipboard lights to assist aviators in finding the US fleet at night. This was a conscious decision made prior to the mid-afternoon launch, knowing it would be dark on their return. There is still much controversy nearly 80 years later as to whether he should have pressed the attack but in Buell’s mind, Spruance wasn’t being too safety-conscious and deserves the title “warrior.”

Spruance’s task force grew in size and complexity as the war continued and he attacked the Marianas, Gilberts, Marshalls, Iwo Jima, and Okinawa from 1943 to 1945. By the latter battle his command had grown to 1,500 ships (1,200 of them were amphibious) and included 16 aircraft carriers.

Admiral Chester Nimitz (left), Spruance (center), and Marine General Holland Smith (right, with helmet), looking out from a 20mm gun tub while inspecting preparations for the Gilbert Islands campaign in October 1943. (Naval History and Heritage Command)

Who was this now four-star admiral who very much avoided the public and publicity and was a private man who rarely let feelings show? Described by one of his staff: “He was like a sphinx…” and thoroughly disliked public speaking and talking with reporters, a real contrast to his counterpart Admiral “Bull” Halsey. His personal quirks included ignoring people when they were talking to him or requesting a decision, and taking random long hikes of ten miles or more nearly every day. He would attempt to bring members of his staff to accompany him, despite the pleas that they had too much work to do.

Admiral William "Bull" Halsey (left) with Spruance aboard USS New Mexico (BB 40) off of Okinawa in April 1945 (Naval History and Heritage Command) 

As WWII progressed, Spruance clearly became a master at seeing the big picture and felt he had to be in the vanguard rather than remain in the rear. He rarely acted as the Officer in Tactical Command as he left that to his junior admirals so he could concentrate on executing the battle plan. Spruance left the planning to his experts and exercised overall command. He refused to become involved in personnel squabbles and let others intervene or just let it fester in the hope it would resolve itself.

How did this “quiet warrior” thrive during WWII when so many (e.g. Halsey, King, and MacArthur) seemingly had to be in the spotlight? Spruance won over his superiors and subordinates with his intellect, hand’s-off approach and total focus on the big picture. He was an advocate of Mahan and felt that surprise and striking first were essential to victory. It is difficult to fault this thinking as he had successful outcomes in every major battle he fought.

Spruance (right) seen with Nimitz (left) and Admiral Ernest King (center) aboard USS Indianapolis (CA 35) in July 1944. (Naval History and Heritage Command)

Spruance was superb in his delegation of authority and often took a long time to make decisions and was fearful of making mistakes. His lack of aviation, amphibious and logistics experience didn’t seem to bother him and he became adept at each as the war progressed. He was scrupulous in planning for the concentration of his naval assets and saw it as a force multiplier in offensive military operations.

War for Admiral Spruance become one of a scale and complexity that will not be seen again. The Quiet Warrior provides excellent insight into Spruance’s thought process and how he led naval forces during WWII. He was successful because he didn’t overmanage from afar, trusted his intelligence staff, had faith in those under him, and had the support and confidence of admirals Nimitz and King. Could he have been more aggressive and pressed the attack at Midway and the Philippine Sea? Most certainly, but both battles are regarded as tremendous American victories and Spruance took the more cautious approach to ensure the fleet would survive to fight another day.

Remembering a Project Much Bigger than Manhattan

 

The B-29 Superfortress known as Enola Gay on display at the Udvar-Hazy Center in Chantilly, Virginia, near Dulles International Airport.(Wikimedia Commons)

As was mentioned in our post from last week, Naval Station Norfolk was the last temporary duty station for the CH-46 Sea Knight that landed last Saturday at the Smithsonian’s Udvar-Hazy Center, part of the National Air and Space Museum, nearly 50 years after it entered service with the United States Marine Corps and Navy.  Seventy years ago today, another aircraft on permanent display at Udvar-Hazy ushered in the era of atomic warfare by dropping a bomb on Hiroshima, Japan.  As historians by the dozens have documented, the bomb carried by the B-29 Superfortress known as Enola Gay was the fruition of the work of thousands of scientists and engineers employed by the Manhattan Project. There is, however, a Hampton Roads connection to that aircraft's story as well; one that involves another major innovation in warfare not commonly acknowledged in histories of the event, but without which the events of August 6, 1945, would not have occurred.

August 6 is when historians like to reflect and opine upon the two titans of the Manhattan Project, Physicist Robert Oppenheimer and Brigadier General Leslie Groves of the Army Corps of Engineers.  On this seventieth anniversary of the fateful day that Enola Gay lifted off from North Field on Tinian Island in the Marianas, I would like to introduce you to a man who helped pioneer the very concept that made the construction of North Field and over 400 other military bases possible.  It was a concept that in its execution was arguably more consequential in the effort to defeat Japan than the Manhattan Project itself.  After all, the largest air base ever created up to that time, not to mention 110 other major airstrips constructed across the Pacific by American forces during the war, didn't just spring out of nowhere to support Enola Gay, Bocks Car, and the thousands of other American and allied aircraft operating against Japan at the time.  A commander couldn't simply hire out a local contractor to conjure up a base on a small coral atoll thousands of miles out in the Pacific under enemy fire. 
 
It took Sailors with special skills and abilities to perform duties we largely take for granted in today's globally deployed Navy, but at the beginning of World War II, they were unheard of.
 
Within a few months, however, the Seabees would arrive.
 
Not unlike the challenge confronting Brig. Gen. Groves and Dr. Oppenheimer when their project began, a great national resource had to be harnessed to help the American war effort.  In the case of the Seabees, that great resource was American construction and engineering capability.  That American civilian construction workers and engineers were already among the best in the world was beyond dispute.  But how would the workers who produced such marvels as the Golden Gate Bridge, Hoover Dam, and the Empire State Building be able to build the infrastructure Marines and Sailors would depend upon in combat theaters, under hostile combat conditions, that would help America win the war?  How were they to gain equal facility with the bayonet as they had with a pick axe and wield a Thompson submachine gun as effectively as a pneumatic rivet gun?  That challenge would become the undertaking of one man:



Admiral Ben Moreell, credited as the creator of the Seabees and the first "four-star" of the Navy's Civil Engineer Corps. (Official Navy Photo/ U.S. Navy Seabee Museum)

Two weeks after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, Ben Moreell, then a rear admiral of the Civil Engineers Corps (CEC) serving as Chief of the Bureau of Yards and Docks, sent an urgent request to the Bureau of Navigation to form a Naval Construction Regiment, citing international law and the impracticability of civilian labor to meet the unprecedented wartime challenges confronting the Navy.  The request's ultimate effect on the Navy and Marine Corps' warfighting strategy was not unlike that made on the U.S. Government's overall strategy by the letter Albert Einstein sent Franklin Delano Roosevelt on August 2, 1939, except that the effect of Moreell's request was almost immediate.  The Bureau of Navigation officially approved Moreell's request on January 5, 1942.  In contrast, the Manhattan Engineer District was not created by the Army Chief of Engineers until August 16 of that year.      


Artwork by Robert Muchley for Penna Art, WPA, between 1941-43. 

(Work Progress Administration/ National Museum of the U.S. Navy) 

 
Although 1942 began with turf battles between CEC officers and those of the unrestricted line concerning who would lead the regiments of the embryonic naval force, finally being settled by Navy Secretary Frank Knox in March, the war would not wait.  Training facilities for new Seabees would open at a breakneck pace during 1942, starting in Hampton Roads.  The very first Seabees, however, were drawn from the ranks of skilled tradesmen who had volunteered for the naval service and were trained at New Deal-era National Youth Administration camps soon after the beginning of the year. 
 
The first of an estimated 325,000 men to enlist into the Seabees during the war left the United States on January 27, 1942, in a detachment bound for the island of Bora-Bora, roughly 140 miles from the French territory of Tahiti, which they reached on February 17.  By late June 1942, Seabees were also already at work in the Aleutians, building bases to prevent the Japanese from moving any closer to Alaska, and as staging areas for recapturing the islands of Attu and Kiska from Imperial Japanese forces.

Some of the very first Seabees completed recruit training at Naval Training Station (NTS) Norfolk, then went on to occupational and combat training at the first Naval Construction Training Center (NCTC), located at Camp Walter H. Allen, which was commissioned only ten days before this photo was taken. Because Camp Allen was not technically completed until August 15, 1942, these men probably helped construct the final sections of the small base as a part of their training.  Then again, because of the immediate need for skilled labor at this early date they might have been immediately sent overseas.  Many of them are already wearing the "crows" of petty officers or even the fouled anchors of Chief Petty Officers, denoting their commensurate experience in the private sector.  (Photo Courtesy Werner Peyinghaus)

This detail image taken from the right hand side of the photo above shows that, like other Navy recruits undergoing basic training at NTS Norfolk at the time, Seabees graduated basic training in what was then called a "platoon."  Instead of going to sea as members of ship's companies or squadrons afterward, however, Seabees would continue to be organized along the lines of other services such as the Marine Corps.  Three Seabee platoons would make up a construction company.  Four construction companies of 224 men each and a headquarters company of 169 (consisting of command, medical, and supply personnel) would make up a construction battalion, and three construction battalions would make up a construction regiment.  INSET: typical rating badges for Seabees entering the Navy at the time (note the one worn by a basic training graduate in the photograph) included Carpenter's Mate, Ship Fitter or Metal Smith.  Because of the catch-all "CB" (Construction Battalion) rating badge at lower right, the moniker of "Seabee" was practically an inevitability. Not pictured is the rating badge for the Aviation Carpenter's Mate, which was identical to that of the Carpenter's Mate, except with wings added.  (Inset photos: The Bluejacket's Manual, Eleventh Edition [Naval Institute Press, 1943], 198-199)

When it comes to August 6, 1945, and the many stories that are published at this time each year about the Manhattan Project and the development of the atomic bomb, historians of World War II typically mention  two critical facilities: Oak Ridge, Tennessee, and Los Alamos, New Mexico.   For the Seabee project, two new Hampton Roads facilities, Camp Allen in Norfolk and Camp Peary near Williamsburg, played instrumental roles in early construction battalion formation and development.


Photographed on July 4, 1942, the main portion of NCTC Camp Allen in what was then known as the South Annex of Naval Operating Base (NOB) Norfolk, bordered by Sewells Point Golf Course to the east and the Virginian Railway tracks and Admiral Taussig Boulevard (along the present route of I-564) to the north, is still in the final stages of construction, which was completed on August 15. (HRNM Collection)

This February 1942 map of Camp Allen shows pretty clearly that the boundaries of this modest facility have not changed significantly since its establishment of a Naval Construction Training Center in 1942, although it only retained that role for a short time and in the 73 years since has undergone significant changes to its mission, and even its name (more on that in a future blog post).  Significantly, however, Boush Creek bordering the facility to the West was subsequently pushed underground by civil engineers and no longer appears on maps.  The only geographic feature that seems to have survived unscathed to the present day is the municipal golf course.  (History of Development, Naval Facilities, Sewell Point Area, 1917-1951 [Norfolk: Publications and Printing Office, Fifth Naval District, 1952]/ Hampton Roads Naval Museum Collection)  



Captain J.G. Ware, who would go on to become NCTC Camp Peary's first commanding officer, inspects Seabee selectees at Camp Allen in early 1942.  (Official Navy Photo/ U.S. Navy Seabee Museum)

 

Stevedore training is conducted aboard a mockup of a transport vessel at Camp Allen in 1942.  (Official Navy Photo/ U.S. Navy Seabee Museum)

As plans fell into place for other Naval Construction Training Centers around the nation, training in the Hampton Roads area was also expanded to the 1,600-acre Camp Bradford within present-day Joint Expeditionary Base Little Creek-Fort Story.  The 11,000-acre Camp Peary, bordered on the north by the York River on a much larger tract of land than Camp Allen, was commissioned on November 16, 1942, to give advanced training to the burgeoning numbers of Seabee recruits.  By March 17, 1943, not only had Camp Peary taken over the basic training of Seabees from Naval Training Station Norfolk, but it had also taken over the one-month primary Seabee training courses of Camps Allen and Bradford.  A one-month advanced training course was also offered at Camp Peary which included five days on the camp's rifle range and instruction on subjects such as camouflage and air raid protective measures.  Men entered Camp Peary as civilian selectees with no formal military training and left as highly trained deployable Seabees, roughly 80 percent of whom would see action in the Pacific Theater.

According to an official contemporary source, all primary and advanced training of enlisted Seabees as well as the Civil Engineering Corps officers leading them were consolidated from other Hampton Roads locations to Camp Peary (shown here on August 18, 1943) by March, 1943. (HRNM Collection) 



Seabees train at Camp Peary, 1943.  (Official Navy Photo/ U.S. Navy Seabee Museum)



Seabee selectees try not to lose their white hats along the obstacle course at Camp Peary, 1943.  (Official Navy Photo/ U.S. Navy Seabee Museum)

Seabees train and are graded for accuracy at the 300-yard rifle range at Camp Peary in 1943. (Official Navy Photo/ U.S. Navy Seabee Museum) 

Seabees became indispensable to the Marine Corps from the Guadalcanal campaign in 1942 onward, but they also ingratiated themselves with naval aviators and Army Air Corps pilots along the way.  The invasion, capture, and transformation of Tinian by the Fourth Marine Division and Sixth Naval Construction Brigade, conducted over the second half of 1944, was an outstanding example of what made the Seabees unique and valuable to everyone they worked with.

While the Manhattan Engineer District scientists deep within the American heartland spent the war immersed in the outer reaches of high technology, the Seabees thousands of miles away had been fighting their way across the Pacific by their wits, frequently with whatever they had on hand.  For example, an enterprising Seabee created special ramps for Marine Corps LVT-2 "Doodlebug" amphibious landing craft from the remains of a Japanese sugar mill on nearby Saipan, which enabled the Marines invading Tinian to easily scale coral cliffs ringing the invasion sites.

One of the specially-modified LVT (Landing Vehicle, Tracked) 2 amphibious vehicles used during the Tinian invasion.  (Official Navy Photo/ U.S. Navy Seabee Museum) 

The two mammoth wartime programs, one for the atomic bomb and the other to create the military infrastructure that brought mainland Japan within strategic bombing range, finally intersected on Tinian in July 1945.  After USS Indianapolis (CA-35) arrived at Tinian on July 26, 1945, with Manhattan Engineer District material and personnel from the Naval Weapons Center at Port Chicago, California, Seabees of the 6th Naval Construction Brigade not only helped unload the highly classified components making up the atomic bombs, but they also built and guarded the shed housing the scientists who had traveled to Tinian in order to assemble them.




Within about five months of taking over Tinian Island, the Seabees of the Sixth Naval Construction Battalion produced the largest air base on the planet from the ashes of three small Japanese airfields suited only for fighter and reconnaissance aircraft.  The new North and West Fields on Tinian were capable of handling nearly 450 massive B-29 Superfortresses at one time.  (Official Navy Photo/ U.S. Navy Seabee Museum)    

Superfortresses of the Tinian-based B-29 fleet sweeping low over Seabees working on unfinished sections of the new Marianas base. Note the heavy 21-ton cat-and-earth mover operated by Clarence Swinney. (U.S. Army Air Corps Photo/ National Museum of the U.S. Navy)

So if you ever find yourself traveling down Moreell Street near Naval Station Norfolk on a sultry August evening, or spend an afternoon at the Camp Allen Shooting Range, or if you happen to cruise past Camp Peary on your way to Williamsburg, just remember that the long-gone facilities that once existed there were the hallowed grounds where some of the first Seabees were made.  Much of their handiwork in far-flung, hard-won areas of the world, like the Second World War's largest airfield on Tinian, have also faded into obscurity.  Like the atomic bomb, however, the Seabees are with us still, and always will be, as long as, in the words of one of their early songs, we're "in to win."

Special thanks to Deputy Public Affairs Officer C.D. Neal of Marine Corps Forces Command and Mike Fogleman of Camp Allen.  

USS Helm (DD 388): For the Duration

Hanging on one of the walls in the museum gallery is this fairly humble looking plaque. Many visitors might not even give it a second glance. Yet in the spirit of "if these walls could talk," this piece of metal would tell quite a few stories if it was able.

As the plaque states, the Bagley-class destroyer USS Helm (DD 388) was built at the Norfolk Navy Yard as part of FDR's "New Deal" program. While often overshadowed by the more modern Fletcher-class destroyers, older destroyers like Helm contributed significantly for the entire duration of the war.

The ship's illustrious career in World War II started in the opening minutes of the war. On the morning of December 7, 1941, Helm was the only ship underway at Pearl Harbor when the attack started. The ship's gunners shot down one Japanese plane before a Japanese midget submarine was spotted and targeted by the destroyer's 5-inch guns. The enemy craft submerged before any significant damage was inflicted. 

The action at Pearl Harbor was only the beginning for USS Helm. The destroyer was kept busy on various assignments for the rest of the war, involved in many of the main engagements of the Pacific War either as a screening vessel or for close-in shore support.  She was also assigned to more routine escort duty at times.  Helm was part of the invasion of Guadalcanal, survived the Battle of Savo Island, and supported the invasion of Cape Gloucester.  After a brief return to the U.S., the destroyer returned to more active engagements. The "tin can" mostly protected carriers during the latter battles of the war, including the "Marianas Turkey Shoot" and at Leyte Gulf, Iwo Jima, and Okinawa, as well as strikes against many other targets.

Near the end of the war the Japanese suicide tactics increased, making the destroyer's role of protecting the bigger ships all the more important. This was especially true during the Iwo Jima and Okinawa campaigns. 

This photo shows a kamikaze plane attacking a Bagley-class destroyer in the Sulu Sea southwest of the Philippines. Most likely this is USS Helm as the ship suffered some minor damage from a suicide plane on this day while part of a task group of escort carriers.

During the last few weeks of the war the destroyer participated in the rescue of the crew of USS Indianapolis after the heavy cruiser was sunk by a Japanese submarine.  After the Japanese surrendered, the ship returned to the United States and was decommissioned in 1946.  It was then used in atomic bomb testing before being scrapped a year later.  USS Helm's near decade of service was more eventful than many other ships.  The four years of action in World War II earned her eleven battle stars, participating in nearly every major Pacific campaign.

Story by Hampton Roads Naval Museum Educator Elijah Palmer.