The Brooklyn Navy Yard is a historic bastion of naval resilience from where countless vessels have comically come and gone, but not many stories are as harrowing and heroic as that of the USS Franklin. Its tenure in 165 years as a naval shipyard saw the Brooklyn Navy Yard launch ships into battle, and more often revive those ships that limped back, battered and broken. During the Second World War, over 5,000 ships took shelter in Wallabout Bay, tended by the yard’s proud 72,000 men and women.
Among those wounded giants was one of the most famous: the aircraft carrier USS Franklin. Last week, its alumni association held a poignant reunion at Patriots Point Naval & Maritime Museum in Charleston, SC, where 21 survivors came aboard the USS Yorktown. The Yorktown, a sister Essex-class carrier, paid homage to the Franklin by temporarily taking its hull number, 13. It was an appropriate reunion, as most of its members were up in years, so this was likely the last time there would ever be enough guys left to make a reunion worthwhile.
Commissioned in January 1944, the USS FranklinÂÂ, also affectionately called “Big Ben,” served only 15 months in the Pacific theater. But in that short time, it earned more decorations and casualties than almost any other American ship. The saga of the Franklin is a story of incredible heroism and tragedy that began when it was attacked by a kamikaze off the Philippines on October 15, 1944, tearing a 40-foot hole in its flight deck and taking 56 lives. Repaired, it returned to action.
The most defining moment in Franklin’s service happened the morning of March 19, 1945, only 50 miles off the Japanese mainland. One Japanese bomber managed to get through the defenses and dropped a 550-pound bomb on the vessel, which caused a chain reaction of catastrophic explosions and fires aboard. The ensuing chaos saw hundreds of men trapped below deck, while others fought against overwhelming odds trying to help douse the inferno. The other ship, the Santa Fe, hastily came to its aid by pulling sailors out of the water and fighting the fires.
The Franklin, however, did not sink. The fires were finally pretty much under control after ten long hours of hard work. The heavily damaged, listing ship was taken in tow to Pearl Harbor and then the Brooklyn Navy Yard for very extensive repairs. The Franklin’s odyssey to New York was 12,000 miles around the Panama Canal and attested to the grit of its crew and the fight left in the ship herself.
By the time Franklin finally arrived in late April 1945, it was a pitiable sight. The wartime censorship had kept the ordeal of the ship from the public’s view, but those Navy Yard workers who had seen its state were much moved by it. One such worker was Stephen J. Hudson of the yard and he recalled this scene: “Words, regardless of how eloquently or descriptively uttered by a speaker, could not portray more realistically the scenes I witnessed.”
Even so, the heroic work of the Navy Yard workers would not return the Franklin to combat. Japan’s unconditional surrender in August 1945 brought the war to a close, and Franklin remained an enduring symbol of sacrifice and endurance. On Navy Day, October 27, 1945, President Harry Truman and Eleanor Roosevelt christened the fleet’s newest carrier, the Franklin D. Roosevelt, at the Brooklyn Navy Yard. The still-battle-scarred Franklin was opened to 20,000 visitors to see for themselves the extent of its damage.
The story of the USS Franklin is a staunch reminder of the sacrifices of the men and women who served through World War II. As we remember their gallantry and commitment, so does the Franklin stand silent, displaying their memory to endure.