The USS Indianapolis

It’s 11:00 PM, July 29th, 1945. The heavy cruiser USS Indianapolis is steaming across the Philippine Sea, bound from Guam to Leyte. The night is darker than usual, with thick clouds shielding the moonlight. Quartermaster First Class Robert P. Gause has just completed his watch, and is looking forward to catching a few hours of sleep. He climbs up the ship’s catapult tower where he finds his cot. His berth below deck had given him boils from the intense heat, and sleeping up in the cooler tower provides some comfort.

Gause dozes off, but just over an hour later, a terrible explosion rocks the ship from the bow. Gause is thrown violently from his cot, his body wedged under a handrail. Just seconds later a second, much bigger explosion sends the ship reeling into chaos. Gause stumbles to his feet and somehow makes it to his battlestation. Through the thick smoke, he sees Captain Charles McVay with other officers on the bridge, and exclaims, “We’re fixing to sink!” 

Captain McVay turns to Commander Stanley Lipski, and gives him command of the ship before racing off to the radio room to make sure an SOS signal has been sent. Gause, seeing the Captain has no life jacket, removes his own and gives it to him, saying, “Here, you better take this.” The Captain nods, thanks him, and disappears into the night.

Gause retrieves another 2 lifejackets, and just then, the Gunnery officer shouts, “Hear this! Abandon Ship! We are sinking!” Gause works his way out to the deck, climbing over a mass of sailors, all scrambling to get away from the now badly listing ship. Gause leaps into the water, and, knowing the danger of being sucked under, kicks frantically away, lying on his back, while trying to inflate his life vest. Just moments later, he and other shocked sailors watch as the stern of the USS Indianapolis raises high into the air. They can see some of their shipmates are still holding; others are leaping off. Then the USS Indianapolis, their beloved Indy, slipped under the water and was gone forever.

The USS Indianapolis…today…on Shipwrecks and Sea Dogs.

Stories from war are filled with horrific details…things that are unimaginable, unless you were there to see it. This is why so many who have seen war do not talk about it. It’s bad enough to remember the gruesome details, and much harder to share that burden with friends and loved ones. The plight of the sailors of the USS Indianapolis is among the very worst.

The USS Indianapolis, affectionately nicknamed “Indy,” was a Portland Class heavy cruiser, built in 1931 by the New York Shipbuilding Corporation of Camden, New Jersey. She was launched on November 7, 1931, hull number CA-35. This was the second ship named USS Indianapolis, the first being a cargo ship, (ID 3865) commissioned from 1918 to 1919.

The sleek warship was 610 feet 3 inches long, 9950 tons, with a main battery of nine triple mounted 8-inch guns, 2 sets of 3 fore, and 1 aft. Her anti-aircraft guns  consisted of eight 5-inch guns, and 2 QF 3-pounder Hotchkiss guns. In 1945 she was upgraded with 24 40mm Bofors guns arranged in 6 quad mounts, and 19 20mm Oerlikon cannon. Designed to be a fleet flagship, it could accommodate a fleet officer and associated staff, carry four aircraft, and had 2 aircraft catapults amidships.

Following its shakedown cruise and training in 1932, the Indy was sent to the Philadelphia Navy yard for an overhaul, and was commissioned by the United States Navy on November 15th, 1932, under the command of Capt. John M. Smeallie.

Its commissioning was just one week after Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s victory in the 1932 US Presidential Election. Roosevelt had a lifelong passion for the Navy, having famously collected over 10,000 naval books by age 31, and he claimed to have read all but one of them. In 1913, he was appointed as Woodrow Wilson’s Secretary of the Navy, a post he kept until 1919.

The newly elected Roosevelt chose the Indy as his “Ship of State” and on July 1, 1933, the President and six members of his cabinet boarded her for a cruise from Campobello Island, New Brunswick to Annapolis, Maryland.  Prior to their visit, the ship’s commander sent a memo to the President’s Aide, with details of the facilities that would be available to the President and his staff. This included the ship’s store, soda fountain, barber shop, photographer’s shop, laundry, and tailor shop. Interestingly, Captain Smeallie writes,

“The soda fountain is prepared to serve Coca-Cola, ginger ale, root beer, phosphates, milk shakes, and most kinds of ice cream soda sundaes and ice cream.” Whether or not FDR or his staff took advantage of the soda fountain is unknown. 

The President disembarked on July 3, and the Indy returned to the Philadelphia Naval yard. In November of 1933, the Indy was named as flagship of the US Navy’s Scouting Force 1.

In May of 1934, the president boarded the Indy again in New York to review the 12 mile long, 81 ship fleet of the US Navy. The Good Neighbor Tour of 1936 took the president from Charleston, South Carolina to South America, with stops at Port of Spain in Trinidad, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil; Buenos Aires, Argentina; and Montevideo, Uruguay. After passing the equator, Roosevelt participated in the lighthearted “Crossing the Line” ceremony on November 26, and appeared before King Neptune to plead his case.

During the pre-war years, the Indianapolis engaged in extensive training, war games, gunnery practice, and drills, primarily in the Pacific. In 1940, amidst growing Japanese aggression, the U.S. Fleet, including the Indianapolis, was sent to the naval base at Pearl Harbor at the island of Oahu in Hawaii. In February of 1941, the fleet was reorganized, and the Indy was assigned as the flagship of Task Force 11, commanded by Vice Admiral Wilson Brown. This force consisted of the aircraft carrier USS Lexington, eight cruisers including the Indianapolis, nine destroyers, six amphibious assault ships, and 13 mine vessels.

On the morning of December 7th, 1941, the Indianapolis was conducting a mock bombardment of Johnston atoll, when Japanese planes unleashed their devastating attack on Pearl Harbor. The Indy was temporarily absorbed into Task Force 12 to search for the Japanese aircraft carriers, but the search was unsuccessful. She rejoined Task Force 11 a week later in Pearl Harbor.

While patrolling the south Pacific on February 20th, 1942, Task Force 11 was attacked by 18 Japanese planes. Fighters from USS Lexington engaged the attackers, and shot down 16 enemy planes, with anti-aircraft guns taking down the remaining two.

Japanese Imperial Forces launched an invasion of New Guinea on March 8, 1942, called Operation SR. Their objective was to land at the Salamaua-Law area, invade the territory, and construct a base of operations including airfields to launch additional attacks in the Coral Sea. Task Force 11 was joined by Task Force 17, centered around the carrier USS Yorktown, as well as 8 bombers from the 435 Bombardment Squadron, and 8 Hudson bombers of the Royal Australian Air Force. On March 10, the combined force sank three Japanese transport ships and damaged several others. The raid did modest damage, and did not stop the Japanese from constructing their base. However, this was the first time ever that combined US aircraft carrier groups participated in a coordinated attack. This effort proved to be a prototype for larger scale operations that would escalate through the end of the war in 1945.

Following the raid at New Guinea, the Indy was sent back to Mare Island, California for a refit. During this time, she missed the Battle of the Coral Sea, from May 4 through May 8, 1942. The combined US and Australian forces took heavy losses, including Task Force 11’s carrier, USS Lexington. However, the Japanese invasion of Port Moseby was prevented, marking the first time during the war that the formidable Japanese Pacific fleet had been checked.  It was a strategic win for the allies, but it came at a heavy price. 

With repairs and upgrades completed, the Indy escorted 21 Matson passenger liners, filled with marines and army personnel, to Australia.

In June of 1942, the Japanese launched a surprise invasion of the Aleutian Islands. Dutch Harbor on the island of Unalaska was bombed, and Japanese forces subsequently invaded the islands of Attu and Kiska, gaining a foothold on American soil. These islands are among the westernmost of the archipelago extending from the Alaska mainland. In response, the Indy was sent to the North Pacific, as part of Task Force 8. This force did not include a carrier, but was centered around the main group of the heavy cruisers Indianapolis and Louisville, 3 light cruisers, and 4 destroyers. The task force was additionally supported by minesweepers, submarines, patrol boats, and oilers, in addition to aircraft including bombers and fighters. The stated goal of their mission was to “inflict strong attrition” on the enemy.

On August 7, the Indy and its accompaniment attacked the island of Kiska through a heavy fog and extreme cold. Despite the poor visibility, reconnaissance indicated several Japanese vessels sunk, and shore batteries destroyed. She continued throughout the Battle of the Aleutians to escort convoys, and bombard Japanese shore positions. The US eventually invaded Adak Island, and in January of 1943, supported an amphibious landing at Amchitka Island.

On the night of February 19, 1943, the Indy and two destroyers patrolled south of Attu, looking for Japanese ships bringing supplies and reinforcements. They encountered the supply ship, Akagane Maru. The Indy’s 8-inch guns opened fire, striking the vessel and setting her ablaze. The Akagane Maru sank with all 140 hands. In May of 1943, the Americans recaptured Attu during Operation Landcrab. This was a difficult battle in harsh, Arctic conditions, with heavy casualties on both sides. When Kiska was invaded, it was found to have already been abandoned by Japanese forces. 

The Japanese invasion of the Aleutian Islands was an attempt to draw American forces away from Midway Island, which they planned to invade, and establish a strategic base of operation in the Pacific.

The Indy, while engaged in the Aleutians, did not participate in the Battle of Midway; arguably the turning point of the war in the Pacific. This carrier-operation pinned the strength of the American Pacific fleet against that of the Imperial Japanese Navy, between June 3-7, 1942. This epic battle could be, and probably will be, an entire episode of its own, and so in summary, the Americans sank all four of the large Japanese carriers involved in the bombing of Pearl Harbor 6 months earlier, while losing just one of its own carriers, the USS Yorktown. This battle effectively ended the Japanese Navy’s ability to launch large scale attacks in the Pacific, and was the start of the period of Allied offensive operations.

After another refitting at Mare Island, the Indy rendezvoused at Pearl Harbor, and was named the flagship of the Fifth Fleet, under Commander Vice Admiral Raymond A. Spruance. On November 10, 1943, the Indy departed Hawaii with the Southern Attack Force, for Operation Galvanic to retake the Gilbert Islands. On November 19th, the Indy shelled the islands of Tarawa and Makin in support of the US Marines 2nd Division, and the US Army 27th Infantry Division. For three days, the Indy provided support for the invasion, shot down an enemy plane, and bombarded Japanese battery positions.

After US Forces took Tarawa and Makin, the Indy joined 4 other cruisers to secure the Marshall Islands. On January 31, 1944, she bombarded the Kwajalein atoll, taking out two shore batteries, a blockhouse and other shore installations. A creeping barrage was used from the cruisers to support the advancing infantry across the island. The Indy moved into Kwajalein Lagoon on February 4th, where she remained until the island was taken.

In March of 1944, the fleet moved on to the Western Caroline Islands, and the Indy shelled Palau, Yap, and Ulithi (YOU-li-thee). Japanese strongholds, supply depots, and airfields were targeted, and the Indy shot down her 2nd plane, a torpedo bomber. These operations prevented Japanese forces from interfering with US landing forces at New Guinea, in April of 1944.

In June, the Fifth Fleet launched an assault on the Mariana Islands, as Allied Forces were tightening its grip on the Pacific Islands, and moving closer to mainland Japan. Carrier aircraft raids hit Saipan on June 11th, which was followed up with bombardment from the fleet. The Indianapolis shelled the island in preparation for an amphibious invasion on the 15th. Admiral Spruance had learned of a fleet of Japanese ships racing south toward them, including battleships, carriers, cruisers, and destroyers. The Indy withdrew from Saipan, but only a short distance, as it needed to protect the invasion forces. On June 19th, a fast carrier force was sent out to meet the approaching Japanese, resulting in the Battle of the Philippine Sea. 426 Japanese planes were destroyed, while the US lost only 29, in what has been referred to as the “Marianas Turkey Shoot.” The Indianapolis brought down yet another Japanese plane during the battle. With air superiority in the area, American planes then sank the Japanese carrier Hiyo, 2 destroyers, a tanker, and damaged several other vessels. Two other Japanese carriers, Taihō and Shōkaku, were sunk by the submarines USS Albacore, and USS Cavalla, respectively.

The Indy then returned to Saipan to provide supporting fire, and was then sent to Tinian, where she shelled Japanese positions and key installations.  For several more weeks the Indianapolis provided support for operations in the area, including the bombardment of Peleliu and Manus Island. In late 1944, the Indianapolis returned to Mare Island for an overhaul, and a well-deserved rest for its crew.

After its refitting, Captain Charles B. McVay III was assigned as the new commander of the USS Indianapolis, and the Indy joined the fast carrier task force 58, commanded by Vice Admiral Marc A. Mitscher. On February 16th and 17th, 1945, the task force raided Tokyo with over 1500 carrier planes, including dive-bombers and Hellcat fighters. Over 500 Japanese planes were destroyed, as well as factories, aircraft installations, and other key targets. The Indianapolis remained about 30 miles offshore to protect the ships, and did not directly participate in the bombardment of Tokyo. This raid was meant to inflict as much damage as possible to Japanese aircraft and to draw attention away from the imminent invasion of Iwo Jima on February 19. Following the attack, the Indianapolis raced to Iwo Jima and provided fire support for the ground forces, targeting Japanese emplacements. The Indy remained at Iwo Jima until March 1, when it was redeployed to support the invasion of Okinawa.

On March 24, the Indianapolis began shelling the proposed landing area on Okinawa with its 8” guns. For seven days, Japanese planes fiercely counter attacked, and the Indy shot down 6 of the aircraft. Kamikaze attacks were common, and at daybreak of March 31, lookouts spotted a Japanese fighter in a vertical dive, emerging out of the sun. The Indy opened fire with its 20mm guns on the plummeting suicide plane, in a desperate attempt to bring it down. Its guns roared, and tracers cut through the smoke to light up the sky. In just 15 seconds, the plane was on them, and dropped its bomb from a height of 25 feet, a split second before crashing into the sea near the port stern. The armor piercing bomb crashed through the main deck, mess hall, berthing compartment, fuel tanks, evaporator room, and through the keel before exploding under the hull. Nine men were killed,  30 more were injured, and the ship’s port shafts and screws were damaged. Two large holes were ripped open in the keel; however, flooding was contained by the ship’s bulkheads.

The Indy made it to a salvage ship at Kerama Retto, where temporary repairs were attempted. But when divers accidentally dropped one of the damaged shafts to the bottom of the harbor, the ship was forced to return to Mare Island. Admiral Spruance transferred his flag to the USS New Mexico for the time being, and narrowly escaped when it also was hit by a kamikaze attack. The Indy slowly limped back to California with a list of about 17 degrees.

The crew of the Indianapolis were given 30 days leave while the ship underwent significant repairs. It was also at this time, about 25% of the ship’s crew were replaced with new recruits, who underwent brief, rushed training and drills. After repairs were completed, Captain McVay received new orders to take the Indianapolis to the island of Tinian, in the Northern Mariana Islands. They were to make the voyage alone, and at high speed, stopping only at Pearl Harbor to resupply.

On July 15th, 1945, the Indy left Mare Island for Hunter’s Point in San Francisco to pick up its cargo. This was described as a “critical shipment” and labeled as Top Secret. Two trucks pulled up to the Indianapolis, one with a large crate, and the other filled with Army personnel. The crate was loaded into the ship’s port-side hangar, and two men emerged from the other truck carrying a metal canister. The canister was brought aboard, welded to Admiral Spruance’s cabin, and bolted to the floor. The crate contained the non-nuclear parts of the Atomic Bomb nicknamed “Little Boy.” The steel canister was lined with lead, and contained 85 pounds of enriched uranium, the fuel for a nuclear explosion. This was about half of the world’s supply of enriched uranium at the time. None of the crew, nor even Captain McVay, knew the contents of their special cargo. The two men who carried the canister were Captain James F. Nolan and Major Robert R. Furman of the United States Army, although their true identities were not given at the time. Captain Nolan was a medical doctor, and most likely monitored radiation exposure from the canister.

On July 16th, the Indianapolis departed Hunter’s Point for Pearl Harbor at top speed, as instructed, and without any escort. Their departure was just hours after the successful Trinity Test of the atomic bomb in New Mexico. Rumors spread among the officers and crew of the Indianapolis regarding the purpose of their mission and the contents of their cargo. All Captain McVay could tell them was, “I can't tell you what the mission is. I don't know myself but I've been told that every day we take off the trip is a day off the war.”

Sailors began taking bets on what they were carrying. Some believed it was a Cadillac for General Douglas Macarthur. Others said it was whiskey to celebrate the end of the war. One of the most outrageous ideas was they were carrying 20,000 rolls of scented toilet paper to be delivered to General MacArthur. Sadly, most of the men would never discover what they were really transporting.

The Indy arrived in Pearl Harbor on July 19th in just 74 and a half hours, setting a speed record for that route, averaging 29 knots. After just 6 hours in Pearl Harbor, she was underway again, and arrived at Tinian on July 26th. Throughout the voyage they were at “Condition Able”, meaning 4 hours on and 4 hours off. After discharging her precious cargo at Tinian, the Indy made a stop at Guam where some of its crew were transferred. It was then ordered to Leyte, where the crew would take part in much-needed training, and then join Task Force 95 in Okinawa to prepare for the ground invasion of Japan, named Operation Downfall. 

One of the most common myths surrounding the Indianapolis is that Captain McVay formally requested an escort to Leyte, and his request was denied. This did not happen. It *IS* true that McVay asked whether there would be an escort, and he was told there were no ships available. But McVay himself stated during later testimony that he had made numerous voyages through combat zones of the Pacific without an escort, and that he did not believe it was under his purview to formally request an escort. Also, he was almost certainly aware that military intelligence had broken the Japanese code, so if there were any danger, he believed he would have been notified. A fair assumption, but he was wrong about this, as it turned out.

The Indianapolis departed Guam on July 28th, 1945 following the east-west shipping lane called Route Peddie. McVay’s orders dictated that the captain should, “zigzag at his discretion.” Zigzagging was a tactic used to avoid torpedoes from submarines. But this was largely ineffective by 1945, as submarine commanders used a spread of torpedoes to counter this movement. However, the US Navy still advised zigzagging when deemed appropriate. 

At approximately 11:00 pm on July 29th, with visibility poor, McVay ordered the ship’s speed reduced to 17 knots, and to resume a straight course, instead of zigzagging. Not only was this a more comfortable speed in poor visibility, but he wanted to reduce the strain on his engines, after racing across the Pacific at flank speed, meaning the vessel’s maximum speed, for 2 weeks. The Indy was equipped with radar, but had no method of detecting submarines, other than a lookout.

The thick clouds in the sky obscured the moonlight, making for a very dark night. But just after midnight, a momentary break in the clouds revealed the bright light of the moon. It also revealed the silhouette of the now slower moving Indianapolis. In the distance, Japanese submarine I-58 had been stalking near the well-traveled channel for an American ship. Spotting the Indianapolis in the moonlight, Lieutenant Commander Mochitsura Hashimoto gave the order to fire a spread of 6 torpedoes at the Indianapolis.

At roughly 12:10 AM on July 30th, 1945, the Indianapolis was struck by two Type 95 torpedoes on her starboard side, just seconds apart. The explosions rocked the Indy, knocking men out of their berths. The first torpedo struck forward, blowing the bow of the ship clear off. The 2nd torpedo struck amidships, near the powder magazine, causing a terrible explosion. Horrifying screams could be heard from below decks as men burned to death and flames shot up from the hatches. The ship listed to starboard, and turned in a circle to port, all the while water poured into the opening where the bow used to be.

The explosions caused a complete power failure. Inside the ship was total darkness, and all communication devices were down. As the ship continued to roll over on its side, men began jumping into the water. Some attempted to cut the lifejackets loose but Marine Lieutenants shouted instructions that they must wait until the Abandon Ship order was given. But the sailors began cutting the lifejackets free anyway, and plunged into the ocean.

Captain McVay raced to Radio Room 1 to make sure a distress signal was sent, but the radio was not operational. He then ran to Radio Room 2, in the aft of the ship. Its operator believed the distress signal was sent, as he saw the meter move when it was transmitted. It is at this point that another myth must be dealt with.  In the movie Jaws, the character of Quint, played by Robert Shaw, describes his experience as a survivor of the USS Indianapolis. He claims their mission was so secret that no distress signal was sent. This is simply not true, and is mostly likely the source of this commonly repeated myth. The Top Secret mission of the USS Indianapolis was completed after it unloaded its cargo at Tinian. In fact, the Indianapolis transmitted signals numerous times during its final voyage to Leyte. 

After going to the Radio Room, McVay gave the order to abandon ship, but this had to be conveyed by word of mouth. 12 minutes later, the stern of the Indianapolis rose high into the air, and the ship sank bow first underneath the waves. Over 300 of the 1,195 crew went down with her, leaving almost 900 stranded in the water, many of them with severe burns and other injuries.

The men found themselves in a thick soup of viscous bunker oil. Panicked and confused, the men called out to their shipmates and officers, desperate to find anyone in the darkness. Many swallowed mouthfuls of the oil, and vomited it back up. Only a few liferafts floated off of the ship and a fortunate few found their way into one. Others grouped together on cargo nets, held afloat by cork. Despite all being Navymen, some did not know how to swim and had to be supported by others. 

Gradually, individuals formed into small groups, and small groups into larger groups. As they drifted in the darkness, the groups became more and more isolated. It was generally assumed they would be picked up soon, as certainly a distress signal was sent, and ships would be on their way. But the hours passed, and then morning broke. They looked at each other’s faces in the light. Horrible, blackened images with white eyeballs staring out. Some severely burned; others bleeding. In fact, the Navy had no knowledge of the ship’s sinking, and no rescue efforts were underway.

As the day wore on, their tongues became swollen, and their lips dry and cracked. Dehydration was their main enemy as the only fresh water came only from the occasional rainstorm, and they caught whatever they could in their mouths.

But soon enough, another horrifying threat arrived. Sharks began slowly circling the groups, inspecting and watching. They could feel them swim underneath them, brushing their legs and feet, sniffing out their curious prey. Men who were bleeding became pariahs as nobody wanted to be near them, as they would attract the fearsome animals. During their first day adrift, about 20 men were taken by sharks, each one disappearing with blood-curdling screams of agony. 

The men huddled even more tightly together, as drifting away alone was a death sentence. Dehydration began taking its toll, as men began hallucinating, believing they saw land in the distance and swimming away to their doom. Others just faded into unconsciousness and slipped under the waves. Out of desperation, some began drinking seawater, even believing it to be milk or some other liquid, exacerbating their spiral of dehydration. Sharks remained a constant threat, but many more died from wounds sustained in the explosion, dehydration, or exposure. As more men died, the sharks fed on their corpses, attracting more and more sharks. As morning broke the following day, Robert Gause looked over at a buddy next to him who was asleep. Gause shook him, only to discover his body had been bitten off at the bottom of his lifejacket.

An occasional plane was seen overhead, and the men did what they could to attract their attention, but their efforts went unnoticed. Finally on August 2nd, their 4th day adrift, Lieutenant Junior Grade Lieutenant Wilbur “Chuck” Gwinn, USNR, spotted the reflection caused by the sheen of oil. He was on a routine patrol from Pelilieu in his PV-1 Ventura and was making some mid-flight repairs to his trailing antenna. He had banked at just the right angle to see the reflection of the oil. Believing it might be from a submarine, he followed the trail of oil. At approximately 1,000 feet he saw the men adrift in the black oil slick. He immediately radioed his position and requested assistance at “flank speed”, that is, a vessel’s maximum speed. Gwinn made several passes over the men, dropping liferafts and sonobuoys, and transmitted their coordinates.

Lieutenant Adrian Marks received Gwinn’s message and took off from Palau in a PBY-5A Catalina flying boat. He was en route to the location when he flew over the USS Cecil J. Doyle, and reported the emergency to her commanding officer, Lt. Commander W. Graham Claytor. Claytor immediately changed course to assist in the rescue, and did not wait for permission from Naval Command.

Marks was the first to arrive at the scene, and he dropped liferafts and supplies. He was horrified when he observed sharks attacking the men in the water, and violated standing orders against landing his plane on the open sea. He brought his aircraft down near the men, and those who could, or were willing, left the relative safety of their liferaft or cargo net and desperately swam towards him. Some were taken by sharks, and others simply gave out and drowned. One by one, men were hoisted out of the water and into the plane and they huddled together in a daze. As space began to run out, men were placed out on the wings of the plane and secured with parachute cord, so more men could be rescued.

Marks learned from the men that they were from the USS Indianapolis, and the ship had been torpedoed and sunk 4 days prior. Shocked, he immediately radioed this information to Naval Command, and requested all available assistance to be sent immediately.

The Destroyer Escort USS Cecil J. Doyle arrived later that night. Captain Claytor used the ship’s searchlights to give the men in the water some hope. Using the lights is typically forbidden, as they are beacons for enemy planes and ships. Claytor wanted to send a message that help had arrived, and to keep fighting. He also ordered the engines stopped, as he did not want to hit any of the survivors in the water. The men in the PBY were transferred to the Doyle, and one by one, oil-soaked survivors were hoisted out of the water. Some were too weak to climb, and crewmen from the Doyle risked their own lives by jumping into the shark infested waters to haul them up. Many of the men barely recall being rescued, remembering only waking up on the deck of the ship. Others passed out immediately when they tried to stand up.  The Cecil J. Doyle rescued 96 men, although 3 later died in transport, and the ship’s crew performed burial at sea services for the remains of 21 men who were recovered. Among those picked up by the Doyle was Quartermaster First Class, Robert P. Gause.

The high speed amphibious assault ship USS Bassett arrived in the early morning hours of August 3rd. Its commander, Captain Harold Theriault was fearful that the distress call was a trap by the Japanese, to lure them in and ambush them. He argued against using the searchlights, or slowing down, despite reports of American servicemen in the water. He argued with his officers, and even ordered the ship to turn around and leave the area completely. Theriault was relieved of command by his senior officers, escorted to his quarters, and replaced by the ship’s Executive Officer. The Bassett then participated in the rescue, used its searchlights, and pulled survivors out of the water. Many acts of bravery and heroism were on display, as survivors were pulled from the water. Of particular note are the actions of 19 year old Gunner’s Mate Bill Van Wilpe. Van Wilpe assisted survivors onto the fantail of the Bassett, but then boarded one of the lifeboats to haul men out of the water. Upon arriving at a group of survivors, he jumped into the water himself and boosted the men up and into the boat, risking his own life to do so. Ensign Jack Broser then entered the water and did the same. The boat made several trips, rescuing more men, and each time Van Wilpe insisted on staying in the water with the survivors to keep their spirits up. When the last trip was returning to the Bassett, three survivors were washed overboard while trying to board the Bassett. Van Wilpe dove into the water and carried all three men back into the boat.

In the 2015 documentary, “USS Indianapolis: The Legacy,” former crew members of the USS Bassett labeled Captain Theriault as a coward.

But Theriault was cleared of any wrongdoing by the Navy, and they quietly brushed the incident aside. No charges were filed against the other officers for mutiny. Theriault went on to serve for 20 years in the Navy, including during the Korean War, and retired with the rank of Commander.  

In addition to the USS Cecil J. Doyle, and USS Bassett, the destroyers USS Helm, USS Madison, destroyer escorts USS Ringness, USS Dufilho, and the high speed amphibious assault ship USS Register (APD 92) reached the survivors. The rescue mission continued until August 8, and involved 11 aircraft and 11 ships over the course of six days. The surviving crew members did not learn of their top secret cargo until after the atomic bomb Little Boy was dropped on Hiroshima on August 6, 1945.

Captain Charles B. McVay survived the terrible ordeal, and was picked up by USS Ringness. In total, only 316 out of 1,195 survived, making the USS Indianapolis the greatest loss of life from a single event in the history of the United States Navy. Quartermaster First Class Robert P. Gause, and other survivors of the USS Indianapolis were presented with Purple Hearts while recovering in Guam. Gause left the Navy, and upon returning to the United States, hitchhiked his way back to his wife in Florida.

On August 14th, 1945, President Harry S. Truman announced Japan’s surrender, and the end of the war in the Pacific. It wasn’t until later that evening that the American public was told of the tragic loss of the USS Indianapolis, and the heavy death toll. The Indianapolis was awarded the American Defense Service Medal and the Asiatic-Pacific Campaign Medal with 10 battle stars. 

A big question surrounding the Indianapolis was the lack of an immediate search and rescue. The Marianas Command headquarters marked the Indy as having arrived at Leyte on July 31, 1945, solely because that is when it was expected to arrive. Lieutenant Commander Jules C.  Sancho and Lieutenant Stuart B. Gibson were on duty at the Philippine Sea Frontier Command, and took the Indy off its board as well. Lieutenant Gibson was responsible for tracking the status of the Indy, and was aware the ship had not arrived. He made no report on the matter, and initiated no investigation. 

In the official report from Chief Naval Officer, Admiral Chester Nimitz, entitled “Narrative of the Circumstances of the Loss of the USS Indianapolis,” dated February 23, 1946, Nimitz writes,  “Bearing in mind the lack of experience of these officers in naval matters, it was incumbent upon their superior officers to exercise closer personal supervision over the manner in which their duties were performed than was actually the case. The junior officers who were directly concerned with this failure were members of the organization which was being administered by senior officers Commodore N. C. Gillette, and Captain A. M. Granum. For this demonstrated weakness in the organization under their control, brought on largely through their failure to give closer personal attention to the work of these inexperienced juniors, Commodore Gillette and Captain Granum have been held responsible.”

While this failure would not have stopped the sinking of the Indianapolis, clearly more lives would have been saved had a search and rescue mission been initiated sooner.

On August 13th, 1945, Pacific Fleet Commander Admiral Chester Nimitz established a Court of Inquiry to investigate the loss of the USS Indianapolis. This was, and still is, standard procedure after the loss of a ship. After reviewing the information, the Court admitted that they "were starting the proceedings without having available all the necessary data." Their determination was to move forward with a General Court Martial of Captain McVay. Assuredly, McVay believed he would be cleared. Admiral Nimitz himself disagreed with the Court of Inquiry and did not believe McVay should be court martialed. However, Secretary of the Navy James Forrestal disagreed, and ordered the court martial to move forward.

McVay’s trial was set for December 3, 1945, and additional facilities were built at the Washington Naval Yard to accommodate additional media coverage. Forrestal and King struggled to agree on the charges they would pursue against McVay, before finally settling on two charges: 1) That McVay failed to issue the order to Abandon Ship in a timely manner, and 2) That McVay was negligent and endangered the ship by not zigzagging. These charges were not announced until November 29th, giving McVay and his counsel only 4 days to prepare a defense.

McVay’s first choice for counsel was denied, and ultimately Captain John P. Cady was appointed to represent McVay. Cady had no previous trial experience, and, as mentioned, had just 4 days to prepare.  McVay petitioned for an extension in order to better prepare his case, but this was denied. Captain Thomas Ruan was the prosecuting attorney; a very experienced trial lawyer, and also a Medal of Honor recipient. 

From the onset of the trial, it became clear that the charge of failing to give the order to abandon ship would not stick. The torpedoes knocked out all communication, leaving word of mouth as the only method of issuing the command. Witness testimony overwhelmingly indicated that McVay did issue the order in a timely manner.

The prosecution instead focused on McVay’s failure to zigzag, according to orders. McVay admitted he did not zigzag, but also pointed to the vagueness of the order to “zigzag at his discretion.” But McVay took full responsibility for his ship, as a Navy captain is expected to do. 

In an interesting twist, the prosecution brought in the Japanese submarine commander, Mochitsura Hashimoto, to testify against McVay. He told the Court, no, McVay was not zigzagging, but went on to defend McVay, explaining it would have made no difference; that he had sunk ships before that had been zigzagging, and nothing could have prevented him from sinking the Indianapolis.

A key bit of evidence might have helped McVay, but it could not be presented because it remained classified until 1990. The Navy told McVay that there was no submarine activity in the area, but this was not true. They had specific evidence of a submarine force in the area, including I-58. In fact, on July 24th, the USS Underhill was sunk by a Japanese submarine in the same area where the Indianapolis was sunk. The Navy codebreakers had the information, knew of the submarine activity, but due to numerous misunderstandings and communication failures, this information was withheld from Captain McVay. It also was discovered many years later that a ship was available to escort the Indy to Leyte, but the route planners in Guam were not made aware of any available ships. 

A bizarre circumstance surrounded Admiral Ernest King, who urged McVay’s court martial from the beginning, in opposition to Nimitz. Throughout the proceedings, King remarkably avoided admitting that torpedoes had ever struck the Indianapolis. Only in his third and final report did King admit that it was only probable that torpedoes sunk the Indianapolis.

Ultimately, McVay was found guilty of negligence for failing to follow orders to zigzag. The Court, showing some mercy to him, issued a very light sentence, and recommended immediate clemency.  McVay's sentence included a loss of 100 "lineal" numbers in his temporary rank of Captain and 100 numbers in his permanent rank of Commander.  This was a very light sentence, only setting him back slightly in the line of promotion. But the conviction effectively ended his naval career and chances of promotion. In 1946, Chester Nimitz became Chief of Naval Operations, and recommended that Secretary Forrestal remit McVay’s punishment entirely, which he did. But the conviction remained on McVay's record, and he was considered a felon in many states.

More than 300 American ships were lost during World War 2. Charles McVay was the only officer who was convicted for losing his ship during combat. McVay’s case led to the US Navy enacting the Uniform Code of Military Justice and the criminalization of “unlawful command influence,” which was very clearly a result of Forrestal’s persistence on prosecuting the Captain.

Charles McVay personally struggled greatly with the loss of his ship, so many of his men, and with his subsequent court martial and conviction. Although he personally wrote letters to the families of all the men who lost their lives, some still held him accountable. McVay returned to active duty and finished out his naval career in the New Orleans Naval District, retiring in 1949 with the rank of Rear Admiral. After years of struggling with his mental health, Charles McVay took his own life in 1969, on the steps in front of his home in Litchfield, Connecticut. Contrary to many written accounts and published works, McVay was not holding a toy sailor at the time of his death, nor did he use his Navy issued service revolver. 

Over the decades, McVay's sons and others including authors, members of Congress, and an influential 12 year old boy from Pensacola, Florida, worked to clear McVay’s record. In October of 2000, the United States Congress finally passed a Sense of Congress resolution, stating McVay's record should reflect that McVay is “exonerated for the loss of the USS Indianapolis." President Bill Clinton also signed this resolution. In May 2001, Secretary of the Navy Gordon R. England ordered the Sense of Congress resolution to be entered into McVay's official Navy personnel record, which was carried out by Captain William Toti, former commanding officer of USS Indianapolis, designated SSN-697. Captain Toti has been working for many years researching the circumstances of the sinking of the USS Indianapolis, the court martial of Captain McVay, and McVay’s post-Naval life, including his suicide. More research by Captain Toti can be found at ussindianapolis.com/research.

The wreck of the USS Indianapolis was found on August 19, 2017, by the "USS Indianapolis Project," led by Microsoft co-founder Paul Allen. The well-preserved wreck lies broken into two main sections within a scattered debris field, under 18,000 ft of water in the North Philippine Sea. The site is protected, and considered a war grave memorial under the terms of the Sunken Military Craft Act. As such, there are no plans to disturb the site or recover any artifacts, leaving it as a solemn place of honor to those who were lost.

That’s going to do it for the story of the USS Indianapolis. Thank you so much for listening.

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