The day I stood for the last time on Washington's bridge, watched the Commission pennant she had flown so proudly be hauled down and the mothball tag go on, was the most nostalgic of my career.

I would like to recall some of the experiences we shared-and risk the charge that when you start thinking in the past, you have had it for the future. Many of you, and first hand at that, know Washington’s early history better than I do. Commissioned 15 May, 1941, she was in action in the Atlantic within weeks. Transferred to the Pacific, she distinguished herself at the Battle of Savo Island and later in the fast carrier task force and in support of the invasions of Iwo Jima and Okinawa.

To my thinking, it was this period from 1943 to 1945 that the fast battleship really demonstrated its value and versatility. Let us take a look at what these magnificent ships did, not as special missions but as continuing, every day tasks that were a part of war as it had to be fought at that time, and at Washington's part in each such task.

First and quite possibly most important was anti-aircraft defense of the carriers in the Third and Fifth Fleet fast carrier task forces. Washington could bring up to 13 five inch guns to bear on a single aircraft target or divide 20 guns amongst as many as four targets simultaneously. The rate of fire could be and at times was over 400 rounds a minute. I recall vividly one Japanese "Snooper" plane shot down by Washington (the only ship firing) at 0200 on a dark night. The ammunition expenditure was 226 rounds in 42 seconds. With the five inch backed up by the 40 and 20 millimeter automatics the battleships gave the carriers the gun defense they could not provide themselves and still fly aircraft. True, we saw carriers hit with loss of life and severe damage. True, too, we destroyed nearly ten times as many attackers as reached their targets. What makes this accomplishment the more outstanding is that most of our victims were kamikazes. The first "guided missiles" ever used in warfare. And these missiles had human, not computerized, intelligence for final guidance, a feature not yet matched by the most sophisticated electronics.

Next consider shore bombardment and fire support of ground troops. Washington did not take part in the shore bombardment of the Japanese home islands; the closest we got to Tokyo was 74 miles. Instead, Washington and her sister North Carolina were detached and sent to support the Marine assault on Iwo Jima. Washington reached her assigned firing station with six minutes to spare after a 36 hour run at more than 1 1/2 knots above her designed speed and in the first 80 minutes of the assault delivered 600 rounds of 16 inch high capacity with pinpoint accuracy. So effective was this fire that the Marines who captured Japanese No. 2 airfield said later; "We went in standing up" after two days of "call fire" we went into close support in relief of two destroyers which had run out of ammunition. This was a job for the five inch battery and for nine straight hours that Marines got everything they asked for. When the destroyers returned and resumed their mission, Washington took off to rejoin the fast carriers, 100 miles off shore. We caught up with them about 2 a.m. of a pitch black night, and caught hell for being late! If ship's could shrug, Washington would have. She had been in there pitching.

In the third place, Washington and the other Fast battleships made it possible for the destroyers to stay in the task force screens. The battleships kept them in fuel, ammunition and fueled them when their own supplies were exhausted. Members of Washington's crew painted a huge sign reading. "Cougar Service Station, If we got it you can have it" and displayed it from the lower bridge rail whenever destroyers came alongside to replenish. One request was for 140,000 gallons of fuel, 7 tons of provisions, 86 pairs of shoes and 6 saxophone reeds" She got them all. Next time the same destroyer came alongside, her home talent orchestra put on a serenade while two lads, clad solely in new shoes and grass skirts, did a hula on her director platform. The grass skirts did not come from Washington, but the encouraging cries of "Take it off' admittedly did.

Washington's band was excused from watch at its pet five inch mount whenever we fueled destroyers or fueled ourselves from tankers in order to provide some music for those who had none. The band hung out its own sign, "You name it, we’ll play it." On one occasion while Washington was fueling from the tanker Tomahawk. the band played "Deep in the Heart of Texas" and nothing else, for more than three hours. That's how we learned that Tomahawk was manned by a crew of Texas Reservists from the skipper down. Lt. Cmdr. L.B. Johnson, should have done his naval service in her.

Rounding out the virtues of the fast battleships in war is tremendous endurance and power of survival. South Dakota absorbed gun damage at Savo that would have destroyed lesser ships. North Carolina carried a Japanese torpedo and 7,000 tons of salt water out of the Battle of Santa Cruz at 25 knots. Both these and many others came out fighting. Washington was never seriously hit, a terrific tribute to her fighting ability. In addition, Washington holds the endurance record for the entire war; namely, 80 days and four hours without having a boiler off the line or an anchor out of the hawse pipe. During this time she steamed a total of more than 34,000 miles at an average speed of almost 21 knots, and shot at enemy aircraft on 69 of the 80 days. The crew averaged more than 10 hours out of each 24 at battle stations and certainly disproved the old adage that when the Navy changed from sailing ships to steam, they "changed from wooden ships and iron men to iron ships and wooden men" There was plenty steel in Washington, it was walking on two feet per billet.

These, then are the reasons the remaining battleships should be reactivated. Short of the employment of nuclear weapons, they can do more, and do it better, and keep it up longer than any other unused asset we have.

I hope you will not regard my recounting these anecdotes of Washington and her sailors as being frivolous. Far from it. My intention has been, through them, to pass on to you an image of men in action, to ask you to share with me my own abiding faith in the United States, its Navy and its people.

I cannot believe that men who fought Washington so patriotically, so bravely and so successfully, and without losing their sense of humor, could father and grandfather two generations of moronic cowards. There is nothing wrong with our current crop of teenagers that five minutes each in the Ship's Service barber shop won't cure. There is everything right with them when they stop playing games and shoulder the same responsibilities of American citizenship you Washington veterans carried so capably a quarter century ago.

So long as Washington’s spirit survives in them, we will lose no wars and the history of the greatest of free nations will grow ever brighter. Washington veterans I salute you. Honored Guests: Thanks for listening. Mr. Chairman: Relieve the Watch.

We were steaming up Savo Strait (Iron Bottom Sound) The Japanese Naval Forces were to bombard Henderson Field at Guadalcanal and land troops. November 14-15 1942. We engaged them in battle at midnight.

I was assigned to Sky Control by Lt. Cmdr. R.J. Simpson for smoke watch. He instructed me to station myself so I could watch the smoke stacks for any excess smoke. Life magazine photographer Scherzel was with me and he mounted four cameras on the rail around sky control to photograph the battle action. The main battery of nine 16" guns fired at exactly 12 midnight and the concussion from the guns stripped our clothes off and disintegrated the cameras.

My ears were ringing so bad that when I picked up the ear phones and put them back on, all I could hear was a roaring and occasionally what sounded like a cat screaming when his tail was caught under a rocking chair. I found out later it was Lt. Cmdr. Simpson screaming for me to report to him on main control as to any damage. It took a few days for my hearing to return to normal.

The Japanese battleship Kirishima was sunk. The nice thing about our being there that night was the fact that we saved my nephews life. He was on Guadalcanal with the First Marine Division. He wrote my brother that seeing us there that night was the best thing that ever happened to him. He retired after twenty-four years in the Marine Corps, and he passed away in 1983.

Despite all the bad times we had, there was a few amusing incidents, such as the night we were expecting a torpedo attack. We had been issued night rations for the midwatch. Lt. Cmdr. Simpson was at main control in #3 engine room. The rations that night was a gallon can of pork and beans and lunch meat. The Chief on watch had the messenger to put the beans on the throttle and heat them up. He neglected to tell the messenger who was new, that he should punch a hole in the top of the can to let the steam escape.

I was in the engine room on the throttle watch and heard Mr. Simpson screaming that we had been hit with a torpedo. Actually, it was the beans that had blown up, painting the engine room with red and brown from the sauce and beans. I don't know if they ever got all that goo off the overhead and other places in the engine room. All in all the old 56 was a good ship was a bunch of real shipmates.

The details of the following story are based on an actual happening, and have never before been related. It is a tale of tragedy at sea, and of the heroism displayed by men thrown together in a common lot by the fortunes of war.

The setting is in the "Graveyard of the Atlantic", that frigid gray expanse of the North Atlantic in the land of the midnight sun, a hundred miles south of the polar ice packs. The time, July 1942, six months after our entry in the Second World War. Already this part of the Atlantic had become the final resting place for thousands of Allied seamen and their ship's, the victims of marauding German U-boats, surface ship's and aircraft. Our task force, under the command of Admiral George Giffen, USN consisted of the battleship Washington, cruisers Tuscaloosa, Wichita and the British Devonshire. We were escorted by ten destroyers to act as anti-submarine and anti-aircraft patrol.

The duties of the task force consisted of protecting the convoys of relatively unarmed merchant ship's that had to run the gauntlet of German submarines, aircraft, and occasionally, surface ship's. Our position was west of the coast of Norway and was such that our forces would absorb the first impact of any thrusting at the convoy.

The ever present threat to any convoy of the Nazi cruiser Prinz Eugen and the mighty battleship Von Tirpitz, sister ship of the ill-fated Bismark, was foremost in our minds. It was the prime reason for our most powerful battleship, the Washington, operating in the area. The Nazi ship's were based at Trondheim, Norway approximately half the distance of the convoy route from Iceland to Murmansk, Russia. The possibility of their making a foray on the convoy was only too evident.

At six o'clock, the morning of May 1, 1942 while on such a convoy run, we received the electrifying news that our fears had been realized. Planes had spotted the Nazi ships with destroyer escort, steaming westward from Trondheim Fiord to the open sea. Immediately condition zebra was set, meaning that all watertight compartments were secured. We expectantly awaited further developments at our battle stations.

Meanwhile, fog had settled to such an extent that visibility was very poor. The ship's had to close in to within a few hundred yards of each other, and needless to say, skillful navigation was a necessity at all times. At three o'clock in the afternoon, we were joined by a large British force. Led by the battleship King George V, with the flag of Admiral John Tovey, of the British Home Fleet, at her foremast, the force included the battle cruiser Renown, the carrier Victorious, the cruisers, Kent, Glasglow, Tanganyika, and the Belfast and nine of Britains crack tribal class destroyers.

We were reassured by the addition of the new force. The fog had become so thick by now, that fog horns were the only way we had of knowing our positions. At three thirty, our destroyers relayed the startling news that contact had been made. Suddenly, several heavy underwater explosions occurred in the vicinity of our ship, and the vessel shuddered violently from the concussion. We were thrown off our feet and onto the deck by the terrific force. Most of us at our repair stations below deck figured that surely we had been torpedoed. The turning and twisting of the ship, as if trying to escape those missiles of death, gave credence to our thoughts. A few more explosions sounded beneath the ship. Then all was quiet.

At four o'clock, the clear signal was given. We went topside to see what happened. Upon our arrival on deck, we received a pleasant surprise. The fog had cleared, and the sun was shining brightly. It was altogether different from the bleak day we had last seen before going below deck.

Our momentary joy was replaced by sorrow however, at a sight which met our eyes. To our port, lying on her side and slowly sinking was the crack British destroyer Punjabi. The ship was broken in half, and her crew was in the water trying to swim clear. Life rings and lines were thrown in the water in an effort to aid the unfortunate men. British and American ship's alike, braved the peril of being torpedoed, by stopping to pick up members of the crew.

Details of the tragedy were related to us by members of our ship’s crew stationed topside during general quarters. In the fog, the King George V had made a ninety degree turn to starboard, and in doing so, had rammed the Punjahi amidships, breaking her in half. Only very skillful maneuvering by Captain Benson, had prevented our ship from colliding with the Punjabi in her death throes. The explosions, which we had mistaken for torpedo hits, were the Punjabi’s depth charges exploding as the stern portion of the ship sank.

The loss of life on the destroyer was very heavy. Most of the men died in the frigid water before they could be rescued. The King George V was so badly damaged that she had to make port soon afterwards.

At six o'clock in the evening, we received the welcome news of the damaging of the Nazi cruiser Prinz Eugen. She had been struck by torpedoes from planes operating off the carrier Victorious, and she and the Von Tirpitz were steaming under forced draft back to the cover of Trondheim Fiord.

Our fears were now replaced by confidence. It was an exciting day, with only the tragic sinking of the Punjabi to mar the day. All of us slept soundly that night.

We always call a ship a "she" and not
with out reason,

For she displays a well-shaped knee regard
less of the season,

She scorns the man whose heart is faint,
and does not give him pity,

And like a girl she needs the paint, to keep
her looking pretty.

For love she'll brace the ocean vast, be she
a battleship or cruiser,

But if you fail to tie her fast you're sure to
lose her,

Be firm with her and she'll behave, when
clouds are dark above you,

And let her take a water wave, prize her,
and she'll love you,

For such she'll take the roughest seas, and
angry waves that crowd her,

And in a brand new coat of paint, no dame
looks any prouder.

The ship is like a dame at that,
she's feminine and swanky,

You'll find the one that's broad and fat,
is never mean and cranky.

On ships and dames we pin our hopes,
we fondle them and dandle them,

And every man must know his ropes,
or else he cannot handle them.

Yes, ship's are ladylike indeed, for take
them all together.

The ones that show a lot of speed, can't
stand the roughest weather,

And that's why we call a ship a "she"