Mare Island, Northern California, U.S.
Photographer: Unknown.
Nicknamed by her crew as the Lucky Indy Maru for her charmed streak in surviving some of the most hard-fought battles in the Pacific; the U.S. heavy cruiser, Indianapolis, lingers outside the Naval Shipyard on Mare Island in Northern California, in this photo that was taken on the 10th of July, 1945. Almost a month before the end of World War II.
Having docked in for repairs after having sustained heavy damage at the hands of a Japanese Kamikaze during the invasion of Okinawa. A battle that lasted from the 23rd of March to the 21st of June 1945, and was the last major encounter of World War II (see Farbound.Net snippet: The storm before the atomic bomb).
The Indianapolis at the time was just five days away from embarking on a mission that would immortalize her in history, disgrace her captain and put her on the list of the worst naval disasters of the war.
Then with the passage of time and the declassification of confidential military documents, reveal the gross injustice and dereliction of duty that had worsened her death at sea and led her commanding officer to commit suicide at the age of 70.
A new generation warship of her time.
Built in the intermediate period that divided the two great World Wars, this large yet fast vessel was a new-generation warship of her time and a product of the 10,000-ton cruiser limit act.
An act which had come into existence with the Washington Naval Treaty of 1922 and the London Naval Treaty of 1930. Signed and implemented by the nations of the U.S., U.K., France, Italy and Japan to prevent an arms race between these victorious allies of World War I.
The ship’s kneel was forged at New York’s Camden Naval Shipyard on the 7th of March 1930 while the rest of her construction had taken up slightly over a year. Her sponsor was Lucy Taggart, daughter of U.S. senator Thomas Taggart, who at one time was the mayor of the state of Indianapolis.
On the 15th of November, 1931, the ship had slid down the slideways and just a year later in 1932, she had begun her career with the U.S. navy.
Her first commanding officer was Captain John M. Smeallie. While her first wartime commander was Captain E.W Hanson – who, reveals author Thomas Helms, was one of the most admired and respected officers to commandeer the ship. A sailor and an ex-crew member, Helms had once served with the Indianapolis.
Size and Speed.
The Indianapolis had measured some 610 feet in length and a slim 62 feet at the beams. Her ability to generate a top speed of 32 knots per hour, had not only made her one of the fastest warships of the U.S. Navy, at the time.
But, later, also a handpicked choice to transport the uranium and the core components of the atom bomb ‘Little Boy’ to Tinian Island – to be assembled at the North Field airbase and released by the Enola Gay over Hiroshima on the 6th of August, 1945 (see Farbound.Net story: Little boy, the world’s first atom bomb.)
A mission that she had successfully accomplished by having sailed the odd 5,692 miles to her destination in a short span of ten days without escort – after having picked up her consignment at the Hunter’s Point Naval Shipyard in San Francisco.
A favourite of Franklin D. Roosevelt.
Following the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour, the ship had participated in almost all major encounters to have occurred in the Pacific theatre, including the taking of the Aleutian Islands, Iwo Jima and Okinawa. The gallantry displayed by her crew during these engagements had gained her the reputation of a combat veteran, as well as ten Battlestar honours.
Under Admiral Raymond Spruance of the U.S. Navy, the Indianapolis had served as the flagship of the 5th Pacific fleet. She was also a favourite of U.S. President Franklin D. Roosevelt, who had her elevated in status be a ship of state and had sailed on her on recreational trips – not to mention had entertained high-ranking dignitaries and prominent political figures on her polished teak decks during his Good Neighbour tour of 1936.
The structural flaw in the ship’s design.
Though heavily armed with thirty-two machine guns and twenty 40mm Bofors guns lining her entire length, and nine 8-inch bombardment cannons that could pulverize enemy positions and ships from a distance of 18 miles. The Indianapolis was, nonetheless, a top-heavy ship that could capsize easily – especially when making sharp turns.
Furthermore, the ship had very little body armour that had left her vulnerable to enemy sea mines and torpedoes. A structural flaw that had ultimately hastened her demise when she had been hit with two torpedoes, two weeks before the surrender of Japan on the 14th of August, 1945.
Last seeing the U.S. shoreline on the 16th of July 1945, the very day the Trinity Gadget was successfully detonated in a remote location of the White Sands Missile Base in New Mexico at 5:29 a.m. mountain UST.
The ship’s destruction had come about on the 30th of July 1945, some four days after she had left Tinian and journeyed across the Philippines Sea, en route to the island of Leyte in the Visayas archipelago for a training program.
The sinking of the Indianapolis.
Sighted and targeted by a lone Japanese submarine with a volley of six conventional torpedos; two out of which had slammed into her side five minutes past midnight. The ship had toppled within twelve minutes as her penetrated hull had flooded with seawater, ignited fires and left her crew fumbling about in the dark to get clear of her sinking wreckage.
Out of the 1,229 sailors and officers on board, three hundred had drowned with the ship. While out of some nine hundred seamen left afloat in the freezing waters; dehydration, hypothermia, consumption of seawater and depression-induced suicide were later discovered to be the cause of death. In what was perhaps the most frightening episode, many of the stranded had been repeatedly attacked and dismembered by sharks over a four-day period.
On the 3rd of August, 1945, the remaining survivors had been lucky enough to be spotted by a U.S. reconnaissance plane out on routine patrol. A rescue had been swiftly organized and three hundred and nineteen seamen had returned home.
Courtmartial of the ship’s last captain.
Among the surviving crewmen, however, the one to suffer the worst, was perhaps her last commanding officer, Captain Charles Butler McVay III. A second-generation naval officer with a retired and decorated admiral for a father.
Shortly after being rescued, McVay was tried and court-martialed for negligence of duty by a military court. The charges levied against him had included failure to evacuate the ship in an orderly manner, and in particular, for not adhering to the zigzag manoeuvres exercised by U.S. naval warships to evade targeting by enemy submarines.
This, in spite of the testimonies of both Japanese submarine commander, Mochitsura Hashimoto, who was responsible for the destruction of the Indianapolis on the 30th of July, and U.S. naval experts, who had deemed the zigzag manoeuvre to be a non-deterrent factor for submarines.
Furthermore, the court had also not taken into account that the Indianapolis on that fateful morning had lacked sonar to detect submarines. Her request for a destroyer escort had been turned down and her captain, Mcvay, ill-informed about enemy activity in the area.
Absolved of Charges.
For a captain who had enquired about the welfare of his men on a regular basis, ate with them and even ordered mess hall cooks to improve the quality of food served to enlisted men, the levied charges had left a lasting wound.
Although on account of his gallantry and almost impeccable service record prior to the sinking of his ship, ultimately, he had been let off and promoted to rear admiral.
Mentally depressed and tormented by hate letters from families of his deceased crew, Mcvay had ended his life with his service revolver, twenty-three years after the incident in 1968. He is said to have been even more lonely after the death of his wife.
The 10th captain of the Indianapolis, Mcvay was the only U.S. commander to be court-martialed for the loss of a U.S. naval ship during the war, and his troubles with the navy had begun shortly after enquiring about the delayed rescue.
In recent years, modern historians have come to view the court-martial as a coverup by the U.S. Navy to hide its own blunders. Their criticism stems from declassified information, which, among other clues, has revealed the distress signal radioed out by the Indianapolis was picked up but ignored by three U.S. stations in the area.
Based on this new evidence and campaigning done by surviving crew members to exonerate their captain’s name, Mcvay was finally absolved of all charges by President Bill Clinton in the year 2000.
Mention of the sinking of the Indianapolis in media, 1945.
On the 14th of August 1945, as the news of the surrender of Japan had greeted the public, the sinking of the Indianapolis had occupied a small section of a newspaper. The column had simply mentioned the loss of U.S. Warship CA-35 and her crew.
Seamen, who had sailed for Tinian, believing the crates containing the plutonium and core components of the atom bomb were actually perfumed toilet paper for Field Marshal Douglas MacArthur.
Though now slowly eroding at the bottom of the Philippines sea like the memory of the devastating war, the Indianapolis still remains far from being completely forgotten.
Memorialized in books, films and documentaries, the ship continues to surface in popular media to remind new generations of her story, her captain and her crew. Like through the character of Quint in the 1975 blockbuster, Jaws.
Created in collaboration with playwright Howard Oliver Sackler, Steven Speilberg and British actor Robert Shaw, who also starred in the movie. Quint, while a fictional character, reflects the trauma and stress that many of the actual survivors of the Indianapolis experienced while adrift in the shark-infested waters. His revelation on the Orca, an insightful reminder of the sinking of the Indianapolis.
The photo.
This photo of the USS Indianapolis is archived by the U.S. Navy. It may likely have been taken by an officer, sailor or an employed photographer. The word Maru is actually Japanese for ship and it is not known as to how this U.S. warship got the suffix added to its nickname, which was Indy.
Watch a former crewmember of the ship narrate his ordeal on Youtube.
