From a letter written by Bob Ware to his father, Hal Ware (Ellen St-Cyr's brother), about the carrier U.S.S. Wasp getting torpedoed during World War II
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I was in my room when the torpedo hit. I had just finished packing all of my old room-mate's stuff (he had been missing exactly a month that day) and was just piling the last box on top of the others when it seemed like the whole pile erupted in my face. The jolt was terrific! Books came tumbling down off the shelves, the telephone went flying through the air, the lights went out and the room was almost immediately full of smoke.
Two more large explosions followed almost one on top of the other and then it seemed like small explosions followed continuously. My first impression was that we were being bombed so I ran out on the forecastle (an open space below the flight deck at the forward end of the ship) intending to go up to the flight deck from there to see about getting the planes off. Someone there on the forecastle told me that it was torpedoes rather than bombs but I still had trouble believing it because exploding ammunition in the ready service lockers sounded so much like the anti-aircraft guns shooting.
The flying shrapnel on the gun platforms made it impossible to get up on the flight deck and since everything below the flight deck was blazing merrily in the area just a little forward of amidships we were completely cut off there on the forecastle. That didn't seem so bad until just about then they started to back the ship to keep the flames from going aft. That made our position pretty bad - black smoke and puffs of flame curling by on both sides of the ship and streaks of burning oil starting to trail on the water.
There were about a dozen officers and over a hundred men in this location. Since there was no fire fighting equipment available and we couldn't get in touch with any other part of the ship the officers present decided, by mutual consent that we had better get off while we could - before the main gasoline system or forward magazines went up or the fire on the water got too bad.
As it happened our decision coincided almost exactly with the Captain's order to the rest of the ship. There were no men in this area badly enough to need more than slight help in climbing down the lines into the water so I figured I could do most good by setting an example of a snappy exit. I took a running dive head first over the side and swam straight over to the nearest destroyer which was lying dead in the water about half a mile away. The water was warm, my life jacket was comfortable and so after I got beyond where the shrapnel fragments were splashing around me, I felt safe and secure -- but madder than a hatter -- What a way for a Carrier to get it!
We transferred to other ships two or three times and eventually ended up on a Dutch freighter which brought us back. By then I had built up a wardrobe of two pairs of pants, two shirts, two socks and underwear and had gotten all the oil out of my hair and off my skin so had a comfortable, though slow crossing.
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