At 03:30 A.M. the pilots of Torpedo 8 . . . gathered in the ready room, there to sit through a critical dawn. As they entered the low-ceilinged, white-walled steel room, their practiced eyes turned first toward the illuminated 3 ft.-by-3 ft. screen above the teletype machine. Projected from the machine below was the last message that had been received: four PBY patrol planes had made a moonlight torpedo attack on a Japanese occupation force near Midway at 1 A.M. As they settled in their comfortable leather chairs they hauled out their flight charts and copied off the data that had been chalked in the neat columns on the blackboard up front: wind, course, speed, visibility, dew point, nearest land, etc. But the teletype remained silent, and soon most of them had pushed the arm button on their chairs so that they could spend the remainder of their watch in their usual semireclining position. Whatever tension there was relaxed with them.
After daybreak, when it was announced that the ship was secure and they were dismissed by the Skipper, Abbie, as usual, moaned, "I'm hungry," and they went to the ward room for breakfast, where Rusty Kenyon ordered his usual plate of beans, for which he got his usual ribbing from the rest of the boys. By 8, the sun was up in a brilliant sky and most of them were back in their quarters. Scarcely had they got themselves settled for their after-breakfast rest, when the loudspeaker barked for their attention: "All pilots report to ready room." When they got to the ready room they found a new message of the teletype screen: "Midway was attacked this morning by Japanese aircraft and bombers." There was a scraping of wood on wood as each man jerked open the drawer built into the bottom of his chair, and a flurry of commotion as they hauled out helmets, goggles, gloves, and the pistols and hunting knives which the Skipper had made "must" equipment for them against a forced jungle landing. Then they began to copy off the latest flight data from the blackboard.
Presently the teletype began tapping again. The pencils stopped. And all eyes turned up to the screen to read the message, letter by letter, as it was projected: "E-N-E-M-Y N-A-V-A-L U-N-I-T-S S-I-G-H-T-E-D W-I-T-H-I-N S-T-R-I-K-I-N-G D-I-S-T-A-N-C-E. E-X-P-E-C-T-E-D S-T-R-I-K-I-N-G T-I-M-E 0-9-0-0." Then, after a pause, of almost breathless silence: "L-O-O-K-S L-I-K-E T-H-I-S I-S I-T."
Pencils began to scratch again as the pilots put every last bit of information onto their flight charts. Ellie Ellison leaned over toward Tex Gay with a broad grin. "Good luck," he whispered, as he extended his hand across the aisle to meet Gay's. "Pilots man your planes," ordered the loudspeaker. As the boys rose in silence, the Skipper addressed them: "I think they'll change their course. If you check your navigation, don't think I'm getting lost, just follow me. I'll take you to 'em." As they hurried form the room and climbed up the ladder to the flight deck, not another word was spoken.
Their silence was the grim silence of a football team that has been given the next play by the quarterback and is moving up from the huddle to the line of scrimmage. Before stepping onto the ladder, Tex Gay sidestepped to the sick bay nearby and picked up a tourniquet, which he stuffed into his pocket. When they got on deck, their planes were already there in neat rows. The mechanics were busy and the whine of the inertia starters drowned out the clatter of their trotting feet on the deck. Tucked neatly under the belly of each Douglas Devastator was a white-nosed torpedo–a pickle, as the boys preferred to call them. When they saw the pickles, the boys forgot about the Japs for a split second, for never before had they wheeled their Devastators off the deck with a live pickle in tow. Thus, as they hit the seats of their planes, they were giving more thought to the load they were carrying than to the enemy they were going to carry it to. When the bull horn blared, "Twelve-minute delay in take-off," Whitey Moore climbed out on the folded wing of his plane and called to Gay who was in front of him and due to be the first of the group to take off: "Tex, if you'll test the wind, I'll test the weight." At 09:12, a stand-by order was shouted and if anything else was said it was lost in the roar of the spinning motors. One after the other the signalman waved off the scouts, the fighters and the dive bombers. Finally, Torpedo 8 was waved up and Tex Gay took his plane off with no difficulty.
After they rendezvoused in the sky, the Skipper took the lead and the 15 planes of Torpedo 8 fell into the prearranged formation in which the Skipper had chosen to take them on their first adventure. Flying in six sections of two and a seventh section of three, with Gay bringing up the rear, the skipper led them on a course south of west at 300 ft.
After an uneventful hour, the skippers voice broke the radio silence: "There's a fighter on our tail." What he saw proved to be a cruiser plane flying at about 1,000 ft. It flew by without paying any apparent attention, but the Skipper and boys knew it had probably radioed an alarm back to the Jap fleet and that they would doubtless be met by a reception committee of fighters.
They kept to their course and the flight continued uneventful until the motor of the plane Plywood Teats was flying , in the last section, began to spurt oil. When the windshield was obscured, Plywood reached outside with a rag to wipe it off. As he did so he transferred the stick to his left hand. Unwittingly, his thumb pressed the trigger button on the stick and sent eight or ten rounds whizzing past Abercrombie's plane. Quick to understand what had happened, Abbie mopped his brow in mock panic and then grinned broadly at Plywood, who appeared to be roaring with laughter.
Almost another hour had passed since they had seen the Jap plane when two columns of smoke were sighted beyond the horizon. The Skipper dropped down low and the boys followed. Now they roared forward at torpedo-attack level, barely skimming the waves. When they burst over the horizon, it looked as if the entire Jap fleet was before them. They identified the carrier Soryu and a cruiser as the burning vessels set afire the day before, and counted in all three carriers, about six cruiser and ten destroyers. The ships were moving away from Midway, as the Skipper had guessed, and the carriers were loaded with planes which apparently were being refueled and rearmed. The Skipper immediately broke radio silence to send his contact report back to the U. S. carrier, giving position and strength.
Then the action the Skipper and the boys had been waiting for began. Anti-aircraft fire went up from the ships and the surface guns began hurling explosive shells. Some 30 Zero fighters that had been circling high above the fleet, awaiting their arrival, began to dive. But the Skipper paid no attention to them. He wiggled his wings, as a signal for the boys to follow, and opened up the throttle.
As the Zeros swooped down on them, the Squadron's rear gunners opened up, making a terrific racket of machine-gun fire, punctuated by the louder, less rapid explosions of the cannon on the Zeros. By the time they were within eight miles of the Jap fleet they were caught in a barrage of fire from the ships.
When the first plane plunged into the water the Skipper, apparently forgetting to press his intercockpit communication button, was heard asking his radioman, Dobbs, in the rear seat: "Was that a Zero?" If Dobbs answered his voice was not heard, but in any case it was not a Zero. It was the first plane of Squadron 8 to go down.
When the second went down, Radioman Bob Huntington spoke form the back of Gay's plane. "Let's go back and help him, sir," he said. "To hell with that," Gay blurted, "we've got a job to do." Then the Skipper got it. His left gas tank hit, his plane literally burst into flame. Tex Gay could see him stand up and try to get out but it was no use. The waves that had been lapping at his undercarriage claimed him and Radioman Dobbs. Dobbs, a veteran enlisted man, had been ordered back to San Diego to become a radio instructor for the duration, after this engagement.
The barrage from the Jap ships grew deadlier. Surface shells, aimed to hit the ocean just ahead of them, were throwing up spouts of water which licked the bellies of the planes. Anti-aircraft filled the air with acrid black smoke. One by one, the planes of Torpedo 8 went down. Flying so close to the water, they might as well have been crashing into a stone wall when they hit it. Tex Gay's mind flashed back to his childhood for a comparison with what was going on around him. There was a far-off day when he had tossed orange peelings in the water from a speedboat. It reminded him of that. The planes hit the water and they were gone, as though they were moving in the opposite direction.
There was one plane to Gay's left, close by, and another in front of him and below the nose of his plane. He lowered the nose to see what plane it was and it was gone. When he looked to the left, that plane was gone too. Now there was only Gay's plane left. The Skipper had lost his hope of "a favorable tactical situation." "The worst" had "come to the worst," and there was "only one plane left to make a final run-in." tex Gay doesn't remember whether at the moment the Skipper's message actually flooded through his mind again, but he had seen the Skipper die and he was determined "to go in and get a hit."
Then the voice of Radioman Bob Huntington came into his ears over the intercom from the rear seat. "They got me," it said. "Are you hurt bad?" asked Gay. "Can you move?" There was no answer. Tex took his eyes off the waves long enough to see that Huntington was lifeless, his head limp against the cockpit. As he turned back, he felt a stab in his upper left arm. The hole in his jacket sleeve told him what had happened. He shifted the stick to his left hand, ripped his sleeve, pressed a machine-gun slug from the wound with his thumb. It seemed like something worth saving, so he sought to put it in the pocket of his jacket. When he found his pocket openings held shut by his safety belt and parachute straps and life jacket, he popped it into his mouth.
He kicked his rudder to make his plane slip and skid so as to avoid the Zeros. He was heading straight for the carrier that the Skipper had picked out. The ship turned hard to starboard, seeking to put it's bow forward and avoid his torpedo. He swung to the right and aimed for the port bow, about a quarter length back. When he pushed the button to release his torpedo nothing happened. Apparently the electrical releasing equipment had been knocked out. Since his left arm was practically useless from the bullet and a shrapnel wound in his hand, he held the stick between his knees and released the torpedo with the emergency lever. By now he was only 800 yd., from the ship and close to the water. He managed to execute a flipper, turning past the bridge of the carrier and clearing the bow by about 10 ft. As he passed over the flight deck he saw Jap crewmen running in all directions to avoid his crashing plane. He zoomed up and over but as he sought to turn back, four Zeros dived on him. An explosive bullet knocked out his left rudder pedal and he careened into the sea, a quarter of a mile from the Jap carrier.
The impact slammed his hood shut tightly and the plane began to sink. He opened the hood and rose to the surface. As he reached the surface, he heard the explosion of his torpedo striking home on the Jap carrier. Floating beside him was a black rubber seat cushion and a deflated rubber boat. Apparently the Jap bullets had broken the straps which held them secure. Afraid that the Zeros would dive again and machine-gun him, Tex held the seat cushion over his head. Two cruisers steamed close by him and a destroyer all but ran him down. The white-clad sailors on the destroyer saw him and ran to the deckside to point him out. However, he was unmolested. In about ten minutes the dive bombers from his carrier, apprised of the Jap fleet's location by the Skipper's contact report, swooped in. As they exhausted their bomb loads, more came in. The Jap fleet was in utter confusion, with most of its air arm trapped on the decks of the carriers where they had been refueling. For two hours the bombers dived, sending their destructive loads into ship after ship.
Thus, with all of its 15 planes destroyed and all but one of its pilots killed in its first engagement, Torpedo Squadron 8 had done its part to rout, for the first time in the war, a Japanese fleet. It had also kept the planes which were refueling on the carrier's deck from taking off in time to meet the attack. Had the Skipper not played his hunch with his faithful boys following his wake, the planes that were caught refueling on the decks of the Jap carriers might have had time to take the air again to reverse the tide of battle . . .
--Sidney L. James
From: The United States Navy in World War II
Compiled and edited by: S.E. Smith
Sunday, September 7, 2014
Sunday, August 24, 2014
ABOARD HORNET WAS TORPEDO SQUADRON 8...
Aboard Hornet was torpedo squadron 8, revered in naval history for it's almost total sacrifice. For this phase of the battle we turn to the gifted Life war correspondent Sidney L. James, now an executive of Time, Inc. The "Skipper" to whom he frequently refers is of course Lieutenant Commander John C. Waldron, who gave his life in leading the attack on the Japanese carriers; Ensign Gay was the sole survivor of the squadron.
–S. E. Smith
From: The United States Navy in World War II
Preface to Part III: Chapter 8
Slaughter of Torpedo 8
–S. E. Smith
From: The United States Navy in World War II
Preface to Part III: Chapter 8
Slaughter of Torpedo 8
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.jpg)
Hornet shortly after completion
| |
| Career (United States) |  |
|---|---|
| Name: | USS Hornet |
| Operator: |  United States Navy |
| Ordered: | 30 March 1939 |
| Builder: | Newport News Shipbuilding Company |
| Laid down: | 25 September 1939 |
| Launched: | 14 December 1940 |
| Sponsored by: | Mrs. Frank Knox |
| Commissioned: | 20 October 1941 |
| Struck: | 13 January 1943 |
| Honors and awards: | American Defense Service Medal with "Fleet" clasp; American Campaign Medal; Asiatic-Pacific Campaign Medal with (4 Battle Stars);[1][2] World War II Victory Medal; |
| Fate: | Sunk in the Battle of the Santa Cruz Islands, 27 October 1942 |
| Notes: | Last U.S. fleet carrier lost in action |
| General characteristics | |
| Class & type: | Yorktown-class aircraft carrier |
| Displacement: | As built:20,000 long tons (20,000 t) standard (design),26,507 long tons (26,932 t) (full load), 29,114 long tons (29,581 t) (maximum) |
| Length: |
|
| Beam: | As built:83 ft 3 in (25.37 m) (waterline), 114 ft (35 m) (overall) |
| Draft: | 24 ft 4 in (7.42 m) design, 28 ft (8.5 m) full load |
| Installed power: | 120,000 shp (89,000 kW) |
| Propulsion: | 4 × Parsons geared steam turbines 9 × Babcock & Wilcox boilers 4 × shafts |
| Speed: | 32.52 kn (37.42 mph; 60.23 km/h) (design) 33.84 kn (38.94 mph; 62.67 km/h) (builder's trials) |
| Range: | 12,500 nmi (14,400 mi; 23,200 km) at 15 kn (17 mph; 28 km/h) |
| Complement: | 2,919 officers and enlisted (wartime) |
| Armament: |
As Built:
From July 1942:8 × 5 in (130 mm)/38 cal dual purpose guns 16 × 1.1 in (28 mm)/75 cal anti-aircraft guns (4x4) 24 × .50 in (13 mm) machine guns From February 1942: 8 × 5 in/38 cal dual purpose guns 16 × 1.1 in (28 mm)/75 cal anti-aircraft guns (4x4) 30 × 20 mm anti-aircraft cannons 8 × 5 in (130 mm)/38 cal dual purpose guns 20 × 26 ft 9 in (8.15 m)1.1 in/75 cal 32 × 20 mm anti-aircraft cannons |
| Armor: |
As built:*2.5–4 in (6.4–10.2 cm) belt
|
| Aircraft carried: | As built: 90 × aircraft |
| Aviation facilities: | 3 × elevators 3 × hydraulic catapults (2 flight deck, 1 hangar deck) |
USS Hornet CV-8, the seventh ship to carry the name Hornet, was aYorktown-class aircraft carrier of the United States Navy. During World War II in the Pacific Theater, she launched the Doolittle Raid on Tokyo and participated in the Battle of Midway and the Buin-Faisi-Tonolai Raid. In the Solomon Islands campaign she was involved in the capture and defense of Guadalcanal and the Battle of the Santa Cruz Islands where she was irreparably damaged and sunk. Hornet was in service for a year and six days and was the last US fleet carrier ever sunk by enemy fire. For these actions, she was awarded four service stars, a citation for the Doolittle Raid in 1995, and her Torpedo Squadron 8 received a Presidential Unit Citation for extraordinary heroism for the Battle of Midway.
Battle of Midway, June 1942[edit]
Main article: Battle of Midway
On 28 May, Hornet and Task Force 16 steamed out of Pearl Harbor heading for Point "Luck", an arbitrary spot in the ocean roughly 325 miles northeast of Midway, where they would be in a flank position to ambush Japan's mobile strike force of four frontline aircraft carriers the Kido Butai.[17] Japanese carrier-based planes were reported headed for Midway in the early morning of 4 June 1942.[18] Hornet,Yorktown, and Enterprise launched aircraft,[19] just as the Japanese carriers struck their planes below to prepare for a second attack on Midway. Hornet dive bombersfollowed an incorrect heading and did not find the enemy fleet. Several bombers and all of the escorting fighters were forced to ditch when they ran out of fuel attempting to return to the ship.[20] Fifteen torpedo bombers of Torpedo Squadron 8 (VT-8) found their enemy and pressed home their attacks. They were met by overwhelming fighter opposition about 8 nmi (9.2 mi; 15 km) out, and with no escorts to protect them, they were shot down one by one.Ensign George H. Gay, USNR, was the only survivor of 30 men.[21]
Further attacks by Enterprise and Yorktown torpedo planes proved equally disastrous, but succeeded in forcing the Japanese carriers to keep their decks clear for CAP operations, rather than spotting a counter-attack against the Americans. Japanese fighters were finishing off the last of the torpedo planes over Hiryū when dive bombers of Enterpriseand Yorktown attacked, starting enormous fires aboard the three other Japanese carriers that led to their loss. Hiryu was hit late in the afternoon of 4 June by a strike from Enterprise and sank early the next morning. Hornet aircraft, launching late due to the necessity of recovering Yorktown scout planes and faulty communications, attacked a battleship and other escorts, but failed to score hits. Yorktown was lost to combined aerial and submarine attack.[22]
The Hornet's warplanes attacked the fleeing Japanese fleet on 6 June 1942, and they assisted in sinking the heavy cruiserMikuma, damaging a destroyer, and leaving the heavy cruiser Mogami, heavily damaged and on fire, to limp away from the battle zone. The attack by the Hornet's on the Mogami ended one of the great decisive battles of naval history.[22] Midway Atoll was saved as an important base for American operations into the Western Pacific Ocean. Of greatest importance was the crippling of the Japanese carrier strength, a severe blow from which the Imperial Japanese Navy never fully recovered. The four large carriers took with them to the bottom about 250 naval aircraft and a high percentage of the most highly trained and experienced Japanese aircraft maintenance personnel. The victory at Midway was a decisive turning point in the War in the Pacific. See History of United States Naval Operations in World War II, Volume 4.
James, Sidney L.: Sidney James (died March 11, 2004) was an executive journalist. He was a longtime journalist and executive with Time-Life and the founding managing editor of Sports Illustrated magazine. He was credited with helping make the magazine a success, when Time-Life thought it would fail.
Career[edit]
James began working for Time-Life in 1929 as a stringer. In 1936, he joined the staff full-time working as a writer, editor, and national correspondent in New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles. In 1960, he became publisher of Sports Illustrated, a job he held for five years. In the late 1960s James was Time's Inc.'s vice president in Washington. He decided to retire in 1974 and moved to Laguna Hills, California.
| John Charles Waldron | |
|---|---|
LCDR John C. Waldron
| |
| Born | August 24, 1900 Fort Pierre, South Dakota |
| Died | June 4, 1942 (aged 41) near Midway Atoll |
| Allegiance | United States of America |
| Service/branch | United States Navy |
| Years of service | 1924-1942 |
| Rank | Lieutenant Commander |
| Commands held | Torpedo Squadron 8 |
| Battles/wars | |
| Awards | Navy Cross Presidential Unit Citation (US) Purple Heart |
John Charles Waldron (August 24, 1900 – June 4, 1942) was a United States Navy aviator who led a squadron of torpedo bombers in World War II. He and most of his squadron perished in the Battle of Midway.
At Midway[edit]
"Torpedo 8" did not get a chance to practice its trade, however, until nearly 10 months after it had been commissioned atNorfolk. Too late to take part in the Battle of the Coral Sea, VT-8 would receive its brutal baptism of fire at the turning point of the Pacific War—the Battle of Midway. In the days preceding that battle, VT-8 led a relaxed existence on board the carrier as she steamed toward "Point Luck" from Pearl Harbor in the first few days of June 1942. Finally, on the eve of battle, Commander Waldron called his men together and distributed a mimeographed plan of attack. He concluded by saying that if worst came to worst, he wanted each man to do his utmost to destroy the enemy. "If there is only one plane left to make a final run-in," he told his men, "I want that man to go in and get a hit. May God be with us all. Good luck, happy landings, and give 'em hell."
The next day, June 4, the 15 Douglas TBD-1 Devastators of VT-8 launched from Hornet's flight deck in search of the enemy. Before takeoff, LCDR Waldron had a dispute with the Hornet's Commander, Air Group, Stanhope C. Ring, andHornet CO Marc Mitscher about where the Japanese carriers would be found. Despite having a contact report showing the Japanese southwest of Hornet, Mitscher and Ring ordered the flight to take a course due west, in the hopes of spotting a possible trailing group of carriers. Waldron argued for a course based on the contact report, but was overruled.[9] Once in the air, Waldron attempted to take control of the Hornet strike group by radio. Failing that, he soon split his squadron off and led his unit directly to the Japanese carrier group. Waldron, leading the first carrier attack group to approach the Japanese carriers (somewhat after 9:00AM local time, over an hour before the American dive bombers would arrive), was grimly aware of the lack of fighter protection, but true to his plan of attack committed Torpedo 8 to battle. Without fighter escort, his attack bombers vulnerably underpowered and lacking in defensive armament, and forced by the unreliability of their own torpedoes to fly low and slow directly at their targets, all of the Hornet's torpedo planes soon fell to the undivided attention of the enemy's combat air patrol of Mitsubishi "Zero" fighters. Of the 30 men who set out that morning, only one—Ens. George H. Gay, Jr., USNR—survived. Their sacrifice, however, had not been in vain. The TBDs had drawn down the fighter cover over the Japanese carriers and forced the ships to maneuver radically, delaying the aircraft rearming operations the Japanese were committed to. After two further, separate attacks by the remaining two attack squadrons over the next hour, the Japanese fighter cover and anti-air coordination had become overly focused on low-level defense, leaving the Japanese carriers completely vulnerable to the late-arriving Douglas SBD Dauntless high-altitude carrier dive bombers from Yorktown(CV-5) and Enterprise (CV-6). These U.S. planes then successfully dive-bombed and fatally damaged three of the four Japanese carriers, changing the course of the battle.
Torpedo 8 earned the Presidential Unit Citation (US); Lt. Comdr. Waldron received the Navy Cross posthumously, as well as a share of the unit citation. His role was reprised by actor Glenn Corbett in the Hollywood movie Midway.
| George H. Gay, Jr. | |
|---|---|
 | |
| Born | March 8, 1917 Waco, Texas |
| Died | October 21, 1994 (aged 77) Marietta, Georgia |
| Allegiance | United States of America |
| Service/branch | United States Navy |
| Rank | Lieutenant Commander |
| Unit | Torpedo Squadron 8 |
| Battles/wars | |
| Awards | Navy Cross Purple Heart Presidential Unit Citation Air Medal |
Ensign (later Lieutenant Commander) George Henry Gay Jr. (March 8, 1917–October 21, 1994) was a TBD Devastator pilot in United States Navy Torpedo Squadron 8 operating from the USS Hornet (CV-8) in thePacific Theater of Operations during World War II. Of the 30 VT-8 aircrew from Hornet that participated in the pivotal Battle of Midway, Ensign Gay was the sole survivor.
Early years[edit]
George Henry Gay, Jr. was born on March 8, 1917 in Waco, Texas. He attended school in both Austin and Houston before enrolling at the Agricultural and Mechanical College of Texas (now Texas A&M University).
World War II[edit]
Like millions of Americans at the time, Gay chose to sign up for the coming war, leaving Texas A&M University. He tried to join the Army Air Corps as a pilot but was rejected for medical reasons. He then tried theUnited States Navy in early 1941. Gay completed flight training and was commissioned as an Ensign in Sept 1941.
He joined the newly formed Torpedo Squadron 8 under Lieutenant Commander John Charles Waldron. He and his unit were aboard the USS Hornet in April 1942 when Lieutenant ColonelJimmy Doolittle launched his raid on Tokyo. One week later, the Hornet arrived at Pearl Harbor to join the USS Enterpriseas part of Task Force 16 during the Battle of Midway.
During the Battle of Midway Gay was the first of his squadron to take off from Horneton June 4, 1942. Gay's unit found the Japanese carrier fleet and launched an attack without any fighter plane support. Although he was wounded and his radioman/gunner was dying, Gay completed his torpedo attack on the Japaneseaircraft carrier Kaga, but the Kaga evaded his torpedo. Rather than banking away from the ship and presenting a larger target to its anti-aircraft gunners, Gay continued in toward the carrier at low altitude. He then brought his Devastator into a tight turn as he approached the carrier's island, and flew aft along the flight deck's length, thus evading anti-aircraft fire. He later stated he had a "split second" thought of crashing into the Japanese aircraft he saw being serviced on the flight deck.[2]
It's when a fellow is just gone and knows it, it is just crash into the ship or crash into the sea, and you have enough control to do a little bit more damage, why you crash into the ship.— George H. Gay[2]
His plane still in relatively good condition, he decided to make for the Hornet after clearing the Japanese carrier. However, five A6M Zeros brought his aircraft down in a hail of machine gun and cannon fire, killing his rear gunner.[2] Exiting his aircraft, and floating in the ocean, he hid under his seat cushion to avoid Japanese strafing attacks and witnessed thesubsequent dive bombing attacks and sinking of three of the four Japanese aircraft carriers present.[3]
After dark, Gay felt it was safe to inflate his life raft. He was rescued by a Navy PBY after spending over 30 hours in the water. Gay was later flown to the USS Vincennes (arriving June 28, 1942), before being transferred home.[4] Of the squadron's thirty pilots and radiomen, Gay was the only survivor. Gay met with Admiral Nimitz and confirmed the destruction of three Japanese carriers that he had witnessed - the Akagi, Kaga and Soryu. He was featured in the 31 August 1942 issue of Life Magazine.
Following Midway, Gay took part in the Guadalcanal Campaign with another squadron, and he later became a Navy flight instructor. He was awarded the Navy Cross, Purple Heart and Presidential Unit Citation for his actions in combat at Midway. He was also later awarded the Air Medal.
Later years[edit]
After World War II, Gay spent over 30 years as a pilot for Trans-World Airlines.[5] He often lectured on his Midway experiences,[6] and authored the book Sole Survivor.[7] In 1975, he served as a consultant on the set for the movie Midway, in which Kevin Dobson played Gay.[8] He attended the decommissioning ceremony of the USS Midway on April 11, 1992.
On October 21, 1994, Gay died of a heart attack at a hospital in Marietta, Georgia.[8] Following his death, Gay was cremated and his ashes were spread over the Pacific in the same place that his squadron launched its ill-fated attack.
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