A Deadly Sunday Morning
Almost immediately, a torpedo hit the ship and general quarters sounded. I rushed to my battle station in the transmitter room–no shoes on, nothing. I didn’t have time to get to my locker. Or to think. We tried to get the communications going and the radar turned on. It was brand new. Torpedoes were hitting the ship, and paint chips were spraying off the bulkheads. A radioman kept sweeping up the chips after each explosion....