THE COST

USS Forrestal

The Corps · Rollin E. Trueblood, USMC (Ret.)

The sun rose over the Gulf of Tonkin on the morning of July 29, 1967, much like countless mornings before it. Aboard the aircraft carrier USS Forrestal, young sailors and aviators moved with practiced purpose across the flight deck. Some had just finished breakfast. Others were fueling aircraft, loading bombs, checking equipment, or preparing for another day of combat operations over Vietnam. Many of these young men were barely out of high school. Sons, brothers, husbands, and fathers, they laughed with one another, completed their morning routines, and looked forward to the day they would once again write letters home. None of them could have imagined that within minutes their ordinary morning would become one of the darkest days in the history of the United States Navy.

Military service carries dangers that most civilians never see. Combat is only one of them. Every sailor and Marine who serves aboard an aircraft carrier understands that they work each day surrounded by thousands of gallons of jet fuel, high-performance aircraft, rockets, bombs, and ammunition, all operating within the confined space of a moving ship at sea. Even in peacetime, the profession demands constant vigilance. On this day, the enemy was not the cause of the tragedy. The danger came from the inherent hazards of preparing powerful weapons of war for combat.

As Forrestal prepared to launch another strike mission, an accidental electrical malfunction fired a Zuni rocket across the crowded flight deck, striking another aircraft. The impact ruptured a fuel tank, and burning jet fuel spread across the deck in seconds. Flames raced beneath parked aircraft loaded with bombs and ammunition. Experienced sailors immediately recognized the danger. The intense heat was rapidly cooking the bombs beneath the wings. At that time, many of those older bombs could detonate after only a few minutes of exposure to extreme heat.

The first firefighting teams did exactly what they had been trained to do. Without hesitation, they grabbed their hoses and charged directly into the inferno. Their mission was simple—extinguish the fire before the bombs exploded and before the carrier, her air wing, and thousands of lives were lost.

Then the bombs detonated.

The explosions ripped through the flight deck with devastating force, killing many of the very men who had rushed forward to save their ship. The sailors following behind witnessed the destruction with their own eyes. They knew exactly what had happened. They understood that advancing into those flames could very well cost them their own lives.

Yet they picked up the hoses anyway.

A second wave rushed forward.

More explosions.

More young Americans fell.

Then a third wave advanced.

Then another.

Again and again, ordinary young sailors made the same decision. No speeches. No cameras. No expectation of recognition. They simply understood that someone had to stop the fire, and if they did not go, others would die.

Hours later, the explosions had ceased. The roar of burning fuel slowly gave way to the hiss of steam and the steady spray of water cooling twisted steel. Corpsmen and medics moved among the wounded with quiet determination, treating burns, carrying the injured below decks, and covering those who would never answer another roll call. Shipmates searched desperately for friends they had shared breakfast with only a few hours earlier. Faces were blackened with soot. Hands trembled from exhaustion. Some sailors simply sat in silence, physically spent and emotionally overwhelmed, trying to comprehend the terrible price that had just been paid.

When the smoke finally cleared, 134 sailors and airmen had given their lives. Another 161 had been wounded. Twenty-one aircraft had been destroyed. The flight deck was scarred, but USS Forrestal remained afloat because wave after wave of courageous young Americans refused to abandon their ship or one another.

History often remembers disasters because of the explosions that caused them. I believe this day should be remembered for something greater—the character it revealed. The true story of the USS Forrestal is not the accidental rocket or the burning aircraft. It is the story of ordinary young Americans who saw the men before them fall, picked up the same fire hoses, and ran into the flames anyway.

Most Americans will never know their names.

They sought neither fame nor recognition.

They simply stood their watch, fulfilled their duty, and gave everything they had for their shipmates.

The USS Forrestal sailed again because they refused to surrender her.

May we never forget their sacrifice, their courage, and the enduring example they left for every generation that follows.

— Rollin E. Trueblood, USMC (Ret.)