WITHIN 11 MINUTES of being torpedoed, our ship had rolled over, and the mast was embedded in the sands at the bottom of the harbor. Many men were trapped in their compartments. Even 60 years later, that really bugs me. Those kids were trapped with no air, no lights, nothing. They just suffocated over a period of time. We were able to cut 32 out. And some of them were lucky and drowned almost instantaneously. But we have no idea of how many of them survived for days. In fact, three men survived on the West Virginia for about two weeks. The West Virginia did not turn over, and they were trapped in their compartment, which was watertight. They had water, food and flashlights. But nobody could get to them. Can you imagine sitting there for two weeks knowing that every breath you take is just pushing your end closer?
Once we abandoned ship and made it to shore, we were not allowed into the mess hall on Ford Island because we did not have ID cards. Can you believe it? After you abandon ship you’re supposed to go back and get your goddammed ID card if you want to eat. So we went down to where the USS California was being unloaded and grabbed gallon cans of food, or anything that looked like food. Of course there were no labels on them. We’d get up in the morning and say, “Let’s have bacon and eggs.” We’d open two cans—one might be asparagus and the other pineapple—and we’d eat it with our hands. We slept on top of a fire tower. There were about eight or nine of us, we’d just cover up the best we could and sleep all bundled up. We broke into the lockery and took clothes and left our old clothes there, but it didn’t do us much good because our bodies were so filthy with the damn bunker fuel that our clothes immediately became spotted and dirty.