Here, some 53 years later I desire to write of the death of Howard Ray, TM1/c, USN, shipmate and friend. He saved my life and I should have written an account of it years ago, but didn't. It was during one of the periods when I did not record in my log, but should have. Call it a dry period.

It was in the early spring of 1942 (I don't recall the date). After arriving at Havlfjord, Iceland with a convoy we were ordered to immediately refuel, be detached from our escort group, and return to Boston.

We got underway and encountered good weather heading west. About the fourth or fifth day out we ran into gale conditions and severe weather, the seas running high with force winds. With low, scudding clouds night fell fast on the 1800-2000 dog watch. Prior to leaving Havlfjord we had taken extra depth charges aboard. The D.C. magazine and the racks being full, we had to lash two extra 300 lb. charges to two stanchions on the fantail. During the watch, the lashing worked loose on the starboard stanchion releasing the charge which was rolling about the deck smashing into the bulkhead, hatch coming, racks, and stanchions with each roll and pitch of the ship. We had a high quartering sea, which, with the motion of the ship put tons of water surging across the fantail.

A 300 lb. charge actually weighs about 350lbs., 300lbs TNT, the steel drum, and the weight of the pistol, bellows extender and tetryl booster. Securing that drum could result in a broken leg or, or both- or even worse.

We should have obtained permission from the O.D. on the bridge but our immediate concern was to secure that loose charge as quickly as possible. Howard and I, in foul weather gear and rubber boots ventured out of the after deck house in total darkness, our only light a blue lensed battle hand lantern which did not afford much light. Neither one of us had a lifeline secured to us and we just had to feel our way.

Using the roll of the ship to our advantage, we managed to manuever the drum back to its stanchion and secure it in place again. All this in the dark. We had just finished when we took a tremendous sea over the starboard quarter. It lifted me off my feet and was carrying me overboard when Howard Ray, with one arm around a stanchion grabbed me with his other arm as I went past him. The strain was terrific but he managed to keep his hold until the water rolled over the side. We then managed to undog the after deckhouse hatch and safety.

If Howard Ray hadn't been able to grab me, I wouldn't be writing this today!!!

The following night the same condition prevailed; we were still in the throes of the same storm. Both Ray and I were on the same watch, this time the 2000 to 2400. Ray was standing his watch in the #4 5" handling room with his head phones on. I stood my watch on the bridge at the depth charge hydraulic releases. Submarines could not detect us in this weather and our sound gear could not detect them. However, the watch was still required.

Every fifteen minutes, I would test the phone circuit by calling Ray in the handling room. About halfway through the watch, I called but received no answer. Repeated attempts brought no reply. I reported this to the officer of the deck who instructed me to secure my phones, go aft and find out the problem.

I made my way aft over the torpedo deck where safety lines were rigged and clambered down to the handling room. Here I found the head phones dangling and swaying on a hook, but no Ray. I knew he wouldn't leave his station except in an emergency so I called the bridge and reported my findings.

The officer of the deck ordered an immediate search of the ship and awaken the captain.

A search included sending two men in boots and foul weather gear to check the fantail. Ray was not found and neither was another depth charge which had apparently broken loose and rolled overboard, tearing through the netting under the rail.

The only conclusion arrived at was that this was a repetition of the night before. This time, for some reason, Ray attempted to handle the problem alone without calling for assistance. Rough sea, darkness, no lifeline, and a rolling 350lb depth charge; a fatal combination.

Ray was gone. The sea is unforgiving. When dealing with it every precaution must be taken. Ray and I got away with it the first night and I'd have been dead if it were not for him. The next day, a board of inquiry was held consisting of the ship's officers. The officer who held the deck on the 2000-2400 watch, the chief quartermaster, and I testified for the record.

Fifty-three years have passed but the details of those two nights are indelibly impressed in my memory.

This story was written by USS Benson sailor, Harold Manwaring TM2/c on July 12 1995.

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