Please find below the script from a program on June 3, 2000, wherein 15 Battle of Midway Veterans were honored at a press conference and formal “Dining Out” in San Francisco. Please note the script contains:

(1) The text of a Proclamation in each Midway veteran’s name, resolving that June 4, 2000 is the Battle of Midway Day in the City and County of San Francisco, and

(2) A description of the heroic role each Battle of Midway Veteran planed when that historic battle played out in June 1942

Ladies and Gentlemen

Vadm Houser presents a San Francisco Proclamation to Seaman 1st Class Art Lewis (Photo by Jack Haines)

This is the time in our program of highest importance. This is the time we recognize those Heroes of the Battle of Midway, who honor us with their presence tonight. I will recognize each of them, and tell you something about their connection with the Battle of Midway. Captain Sandy Lockwood will then present to each---from the City and County of San Francisco, and signed by Mayor Willie Brown—a proclamation in each veteran’s name, that June 4, 2000 is “Battle of Midway Day,” in the City and County of San Francisco. Many of you had the chance to view those proclamations, Let me read just one, this one in the name of our first Hero of the Battle of Midway, Chief Sonarman John R. Abatie (Ah-BAIT-Tee).

Proclamation City and County of San Francisco

Whereas, fought in the Pacific in June 1942, the Battle of Midway was one of the greatest naval battles of history:

and Whereas, in the Battle of Midway, the United States Navy and Marine Corps, through a combination of code-breaking, bravery, skill and luck, caught enemy aircraft being rearmed on carrier decks and sank four enemy aircraft carriers; and Whereas, the Battle of Midway turned around the war for the United States in the Pacific after the devastating attack on Pearl Harbor; and Whereas, United States military forces achieved a great victory at the Battle of Midway at a cost of United States ships and numerous aircraft lost, and with the sacrifice of brave American patriots;

and Whereas, the Chief of Naval Operations, the highest ranking officer in the United States Navy, proclaimed the anniversary of the Battle of Midway as one of two dates most important for members of the Department of the Navy to recognize;

and Whereas, military organizations in San Francisco and the greater Bay Area have come together at the Fourth Annual Battle of Midway Night in memory of those who were lost at the Battle of Midway and to thank those who survived;

now Therefore Be It Resolved, that UI Willie L. Brown, Jr., Mayor of the City and County of San Francisco, in recognition and honor of those who served so gallantly in defense of our freedom, do hereby proclaim June 4, 2000 as…. Chief Sonarman John R. Abatie (Ah-BAIT-TEE), The Battle of Midway Day In San Francisco!

In Witness Thereof, I have Hereunto set my hand and caused the Seal of the City and County of San Francisco to be Affixed, ---signed, Willie Lewis Brown, Jr., Mayor.

Before we present that proclamation to Chief Ah-BAIT-TEE, and others, let me first tell you something about them, in turn.

Heroics of Battle of Midway Veterans Honored in San Francisco, June 3, 2000

Chief John Abatie (Ah-BAIT-Tee)

Chief John Abatia joined us tonight, all the way from Grants Pass Oregon. He enlisted in the Navy in 1941, and reported to the destroyer USS Phelps in January 1942. His ship participated in every action from the air action off Bougainvillea in February 1942 where “Butch” O’Hara got six planes in one day, to the landings on Saipan in June 1944.

During the Battle of Midway, John was a fire controller in the forward gun battery of the twin five-inch guns on USS Phelps. He and six other crew members stood watch at general quarters from sun-up to sun-down in the Main Battery Director space—a hot, confined, steel box of roughly six feet by six feet by eight feet high. USS Phelps stood guard as part of Task Force sixteen, around the carrier USS Enterprise, which was launching and recovering aircraft to oppose the Japanese plan to occupy Midway Island. John’s destroyer rescued two pilots and crew who had ditched their dive-bombers, and returned them to USS Enterprise by high-line transfer at sea.

Just after the Battle of Midway, while USS Phelps was being refueled at sea, a newly- commissioned Ensign was high-lined from the oil tanker to USS Phelps and his new assignment as USS Phelps Assistant Gunnery Officer and John’s new Division Officer. He was Ensign Elmo Zumwant Jr., who would later become the Chief of Naval Operations and who sadly, recently passed away.

John was later transferred to submarines and advanced to Chief Sonarman in 1951. He made many submarine war patrols during the Korean War and the tense years that followed. He returned to destroyers and retired in 1962 after serving as Command Master Chief on the destroyer USS Walker. On retirement John worked for the Navy on the Pacific Missile Test Range, working on Midway and many of the other islands associated with his ship during the war. He later worked at Long Beach naval shipyard, and retired in 1979 after 34 years in service to the U.S. Navy. We salute you, Chief Sonarman John Ah-BAIT-TEE

USMC Platoon Sergeant Al Aguilar

Marine Corps Platoon Sergeant Al Aguilar had a shorter trip here tonight. He’s from South San Francisco. Al is a Piute Indian, educated at the Indian School in Phoenix. He joined the Marines in 1939,and attended boot camp in San Diego. He was an athlete who played for the Marine Corps football team.

After the attack on Pearl Harbor, he and other Marines zigzagged their way to Hawaii on the Troop Carrier USS Henderson. He remembers the fires still burning at Pearl Harbor when they arrived, and as his ship unloaded Marines at piers in downtown Honolulu. In February 1942, Al was shipped to Midway Island.

At Midway, Al remembers Japanese submarines surfacing off the coast frequently and exchanging shells with defenders on the Island. He was wounded by flying shrapnel and has scars on the back of his head as war souvenirs. He also remembers being told that if he were not vigilant, the Japanese would sneak up in the night and slit his throat.

For 14 months, he was a “hole-dwelling” defender of Sand Island which along with Eastern Island, made up Midway Island. As part of a Provisional Marine Company, Al helped bend 30- foot wire rods to make stretches of wire-reinforced concrete, to protect Midway’s beaches from enemy troops who wanted Midway island for their own wartime objectives.

During daylight hours, Al frequented Eastern Island and finagled a ride in a Navy PBY amphibious plane. The flight peaked his interest in flying, even though the pilot got lost and nearly had to ditch at sea. Al then volunteered to leave the Marine Corps and become a Naval Air Cadet. He began training, but vision problems washed him out of the program. With the war still raging, he rejoined the Marines.

On Guam, Al was assigned to a Military Police company. He must have enjoyed that police work, because after he was discharged at Treasure Island in June of 1946, Al joined the San Francisco Police Department where he served proudly for 28 years.

Oh, by the way, in 1960 Al became a pilot, and he still has his FAA certificate at age 84! Ladies and gentlemen, former Marine Platoon Sergeant and defender of Midway Island, Alfred Aguilar!

Chief Warrant Officer Frank W. Boo

Frank W. Boo went aboard the carrier USS Yorktown in February of 1942 as a senior yeoman in charge of Admiral Frank (Black Jack) Fletcher’s office. A primary job was to keep a history or “war diary” for the task force commander. On February 16, under sealed orders, Yorktown sailed from Pearl Harbor with supporting ships, not to return for one hundred and three days, which was then a cruising record.

Prior to Midway, Frank was on Yorktown for action at Tulagi where practically every torpedo and dive-bomber made three round trips during the day, sinking about nineteen ships. At the Coral Sea Battle, Frank saw history made when he witnessed the first ever, engagement at sea between carrier-based airplanes. On one occasion, the two opposing carrier forces were so close—estimated at nineteen miles—that several Japanese pilots mistook Yorktown for their own carrier and signaled permission to land. They would have been taken under fire, had not our gunners hesitated for fear of hitting our own planes.

The following day, Yorktown was badly damaged and many were killed. One shell killed forty- one men, and Frank remembers a sickening feeling of seeing bloody hand marks on white sea bags where dying men had tried to raise themselves to their feet. Yorktown headed back to Pearl, leaving behind the carrier Lexington which was so badly damaged it was sunk by our own destroyers to keep it out of enemy hands.

After one of the fastest repair jobs in naval history—less than 48 hours—Yorktown joined Enterprise and Hornet and support ships at dawn each morning, about 100 miles off Midway, in case the enemy should attack. On June 4 the attack came. Frank was at battle station in Flag Plot when the first Japanese aircraft attacked. Three bombs hit Yorktown, one dropping squarely in the stack, and the resulting black smoke forced all men onto the open deck. Between attacks, Frank joined the admiral and several key officers in a whaleboat to shift command from the damaged Yorktown to the cruiser USS Astoria. Shortly after boarding Astoria, Frank found himself flat on the deck during a Japanese torpedo attack, which left Astoria unharmed but which did further damage to Yorktown.

Frank convinced Admiral Fletcher to let him return to the listing Yorktown with a salvage party. He especially wanted to recover his war report on the Battle of Coral Sea. Frank went aboard the ghost ship, dark for lack of electrical power, and where decks were canted and slippery with oil and water. He found rows of dead sailors laid out under canvas, and with a battle lantern, he accompanied the Yorktown captain on a search of the ship to answer questions about rumors that some men were left behind alive when “Abandon Ship” was ordered. None were found.

Enroute to finding his lost report on the Coral Sea Battle, Frank ended up carrying foamite to fight ongoing fires, while other men heaved heavy objects overboard to reduce the list of the ship.

After the fires were out, Frank and others had lunch provided by the destroyer USS Hammann, which was tied up beside Yorktown to help salvage the carrier. Suddenly, four Japanese torpedoes were spotted. Two exploded against Yorktown and another cut USS Hammann in two. Frank remembers kicking off his shoes and running toward portside of Yorktown. He hung onto a hangar door, and for several minutes, which seemed like hours, the ship trembled from explosions, torpedoes and even from the depth charges of the sinking destroyer Hammann, which were set to explode at depth. Yorktown listed so far to port side that he stood in water up to his knees, even though he was ten feet from the side of the ship. Men were in the water, dead, dying and drowning, and the salvage job turned into a job of saving lives.

Frank was transferred to the destroyer USS Gwenn. Early the next morning, he was sleeping on the port side under the depth charge rack, when a submarine contact was made. The destroyer dropped a depth charge set at shallow. From the explosion, Frank lost 50 per cent of his hearing in his left ear, and to this day, his hearing has not returned to normal.

On the morning of June 7, and from only a thousand feet away, Frank watched as the mighty Yorktown upended and plunged under the water, bow first, with such force impossible to describe. It was possible, but not very probable, that his Coral Sea Battle Report was among the floating debris.

Lt.Col Lloyd Childers (Chill-ders)

Lieutenant Colonel Lloyd Childers (CHILL-DERS) lived in Dublin, California during WW II, but now resides in Walnut Creek, was a Navy gunner-radioman in the rear seat of a torpedo-bomber assigned to the carrier Yorktown. Lloyd had not slept well the 3rd of June 1942, so reveille at 3 a.m. was no problem for him. He and his brother Wayne shared a locker near their bunks. Lloyd put his wristwatch and wallet in the locker, and said, “Wayne, if I don’t come back from this flight, these are yours.”

Breakfast that early morning was unusual-- a feast of steak and eggs. “A feast for condemned men,” someone joked in the chow line.

At 10 a.m. the word was passed, “Pilots and crews, man your planes.” Childers' plane was launched toward the Japanese fleet enroute to occupy Midway Island.

Hours later, the relative silence in his aircraft was broken when a dozen Japanese zeros attacked Childers’ plane first from head on, and then from all directions. Childers fired his 30-caliber machine gun at target after target. Childers’ plane dropped a torpedo in the direction of a Japanese cruiser, and fought its way out of heavy return fire from the ship. Then the zeroes returned. After bullets ripped though his aircraft and into both of his legs, breaking a bone in one, Childers continued to shoot at every attacking fighter. After 30 attacks, Childers’ plane was full of holes--and then-his gun jammed. Childers pulled out his 45-caliber pistol, laid the barrel on top of the gun’s armor, tracked the Zero until it was close, and squeezed off three or four rounds. Then he emptied the pistol at another crossing Zero. Childers later wrote, “Shooting at the Zeros with a pistol seemed futile, but it made me feel better. Then a miracle occurred-the Zeros left us.”

When his aircraft finally made it back to USS Yorktown, they found the carrier dead in the water with a hole in the flight deck. Childers had lost so much blood he couldn’t see the huge hole in the flight deck, nor could he see the hundreds of people on deck including his brother. Pilot Harry Corl then flew 20 or 30 more miles toward the carriers Enterprise and Hornet, looking for a deck on which to land, but he had to ditch the aircraft near an American destroyer, which picked them up and treated Childers’ wounds. The doctor who treated him later told Childers he would have been dead in another 30 minutes without medical help. He was the only surviving gunner in his entire squadron.

Later in WW II, and despite his debilitating wounds, Lloyd Childers was commissioned an officer in the Marine Corps Reserves, and subsequently in the regular Marine Corps. In his Marine Corps career he flew night fighters in Korea, was promoted to Lt.Col. And commanded a helicopter squadron in Vietnam, where he flew 300 missions. Ladies and Gentleman, Lt.Col. Lloyd Childers.

Cdr. William H. Cullin

Six-and-a-half decades after the battle was fought that turned World War II from imminent defeat to glorious victory, Retired Commander William H. Cullin recalls his squadron¹s participation in that battle. Bill is a living witness to events that only those who were there can truly know; events that created the turning point of the war, changing the course of history.

After graduating from the University of Washington and with no concrete plan for the future, Bill decided to join the USN Reserve, learn to fly, stay in for the prescribed two-year hitch, get out, become an airline pilot, make what he thought was a staggering two-hundred-and-fifty dollars a month.

Everything was going according to plan. Bill, his mother and sister, Dorothy, were on their way to San Diego, California on December 7, 1941--where he was scheduled to join his squadron. When they stopped for gas, the station attendant asked if they’d heard the news. “Which news?” they ask. Of course his answer was, “Pearl Harbor”. That¹s when Cullin¹s life plan changed... forever.

Twenty-three-year-old Ensign Cullin, his still untarnished pilots wings pinned to his uniform, left to fight the war. He boarded his PBY seaplane and as he climbed into the cockpit for the first time, he smiled and remembered his mother¹s parting admonition: “Remember, son,” she said, “fly low and slow!” However, he knew, and anyone who has ever flown one of the PBY Catalinas knew, that the best chance of survival is to gain cloud cover as fast as a PBY will travel.

Bill Cullin was assigned to VP-44, a reconnaissance squadron. The mission was vital: his squadron must find the Japanese fleet. They must search and rescue. turning point in World War Bill flew twelve-hour, seven hundred mile patrols in his PBY, racking up over one hundred-and- twenty hours of flight time in ten days. Cold seawater showers were one of the daily rewards!

Facts about the Battle of Midway are well known. Some parts of the aftermath are lesser known. On June sixth, two days after The Battle began, a rescue effort was arranged for the only missing plane from Bill’s squadron. As navigator in the captain’s crew, Bill plotted the search sector.

His aircraft was accompanied by two PBYs from another squadron, sharing a common goal: find Lt. Whitman’s plane, and his downed crew, including Lee McCleary, another Battle of Midway here who is an honored guest here tonight. Bill knew Whitman’s takeoff time and assigned sector, as well as the time he was attacked--according to radio reports. With this pertinent information, Bill navigated the PBY group to the area where they were likely to have ditched. Arriving there, they saw no signs of the plane or crew. Bill reasoned that any downed aviators couldn¹t have made it in the water for three days, but if they were in a raft, they could survive and they could’ve been blown downwind. So he turned the search in that direction--hoping that the wind hadn¹t changed direction too drastically.

The three PBYs spread out in a line, to cover a ten to fifteen mile swath and flew downwind for about one hundred miles without a sign of a life raft or of Whitman¹s plane or crew. Bill’s patrol plane commander turned to him. “Okay, Bill, it¹s time to turn. We can cover one more sector returning home. Which way should we turn?” he asked. Bill thought about it for a moment or two. “We haven¹t seen anything so far” he said, “so we have a fifty-fifty chance... we might as well turn left toward home, and cover a parallel course back to the spot where Whitman was attacked.” Bill’s plane commander agreed. Fate agreed.

Turning left, the PBYs spread out on a reciprocal heading. About ten or fifteen minutes on the return heading they spotted the downed crew in their life raft. Five survivors were plucked out of the Pacific Ocean; one crewmember, Ensign Jack Camp, didn’t survive the night.

The remains of Ensign Camp were scheduled for burial at sea the following day. Bill was assigned to represent the squadron at that solemn ceremony. The attendants stood at the bow deck of a PT boat, listening to the service conducted by the officiating clergyman. To this day, Bill remembers that moment--watching the sea embrace one of its sailors. For him, the incident is a symbol of the spirit that earned those men the gratitude of the world, and of their fellow men. Bill salutes those men—men who shared in common the Battle of Midway. And tonight we salute him---- Cdr. William “Bill” Cullin.

Cdr., Douglas Davis

Commander Doug Davis, then a Lieutenant, was a Patrol Plane Commander flying a PBY-5A amphibious plane out of Patrol Squadron twenty-four. His formation flew from Pearl Harbor’s Ford Island to Midway on June 3, 1942, and it was not long after arriving on Midway that he was called to a dugout for a briefing on a mission that would put them in the air for 12 and a half hours.

His was one of a four-plane PBY night torpedo strike flight taking off the evening of June 3 1942 from the airstrip on Midway’s Eastern Island. His orders were to find and attack an enemy force of ships, number and composition uncertain, estimated at 600 miles from Midway. These were enemy forces that our B-17 bombers attacked that afternoon, and it turned out to be about 20 Japanese ships in neat columns, comprising the Midway occupation force. Lt. Davis’ plane and one other PBY had radar, which helped located the enemy force.

After the lead PBY turned off its tail light—the signal to attack--, Lt. Davis chose his target—the largest ship he could see. It appeared to be an aircraft until the last minute when it was determined to be a large transport ship. Lt. Davis dropped his PBY down in a position to attack up the brilliant moon path so that the Japanese ships were crisply silhouetted. Lt. Davis worked rudder and torpedo director, and told his gunners to hold fire until the ships fired first. They didn’t have to wait long. As the PBY leveled off at 40 feet, heavy fire came from the ships and the PBYs. Their target ship began a turn away to starboard and to increase speed. Lt. Davis dropped his torpedo nearly dead astern at 200 yards. The ship’s screw and rudders were clearly visible, and had to pull the PBY up to get over the transport ship. Lt. Davis’ gunners were strafing, and they could see the Japanese gunners on the ship returning fire. The PBY sustained damage with numerous bullet holes. Bullets came through the PBY’s bow gun enclosure, and shot the goggles off an otherwise lucky crewman, and other bullets wrecked the PBY’s Norden bombsight. Most of the destroyers and about half the transports had his PBY under fire, so he circled back to 1500 feet to assess damage. That’s when three unobserved destroyers directly beneath them took him under fire.

Lt. Davis’ PBY used violent evasive measures and then headed the plane toward Midway. They arrived just as the Japanese began their attack on the island--which the PBY observed as they passed to the south. The crew was busy plugging bullet holes in the hull. With no clouds to hide in, they flew close to the water until out of danger, until they ran into a storm with ceiling and visibility zero and a 30-knot wind. They flew on instruments for 30 minutes and finally landed at sea near a vessel pre-positioned at Alyson Island east of Midway, for just such an emergency. They had five minutes of fuel left when they arrived. Lt. Davis later said, “I could not have asked for a more daring, efficient or cooperative crew with which to fly.” Ladies and gentlemen—Cdr. Doug Davis.

Lcdr. H. Allen Fairbanks

(Note: Lcdr Fairbanks was ill at the last minute and was unable to attend the June 3 events)

Lcdr. Allen Fairbanks joins us tonight from Stockton. He attended University of the Pacific where he studied aeronautics in preparation for joining the Navy, which he did in 1941. He went to Oakland Elimination Base, and then to Jacksonville Florida for Navy flight training. From there, he went to Miami for fighter training, and in September 1941 he pinned on his Navy Wings, just three days after turning 21.

His nest stop was San Diego with orders to VF3 where he was transferred to USS Hornet in Alameda. Then an Ensign, Allen flew fighters off the Hornet from the time the ship launched Doolittle’s’ B-25 bombers to bomb Tokyo, until the Hornet was sunk in the battle of Stewart Island.

Allen and USS Hornet were cruising in the Pacific when they were ordered to join two other carriers and numerous support ships, to prepare for the Battle of Midway. Allen in his F4F Wildcat fighter provided combat air patrol to protect Hornet, while the ship launched bombers and torpedo planes to attack the approaching Japanese Imperial Fleet. All their torpedo planes plus several fighters and bombers were lost in that first attack. Through the Battle of Midway, Ensign Fairbanks flew Combat Air Patrol from dawn until dusk, with landings only for refueling.

Later in the war, Allen flew with Butch O’Hare's “fighting six.” Once, after a strafing run on Japanese held islands of ROI-NOMURU, Allen came back with 172 bullet holes in his aircraft, and an inoperable right flap, causing him to use the motor to keep the plane in flight and to land at a faster than desired speed. After that bullet-riddled mission, Allen became fond of saying, “I’ve never been shot down, but I was shot up pretty bad. “

Interestingly Allen was a technical advisor in 1944 on the MGM film “30 Seconds Over Tokyo” starring Spencer Tracy. That of course was the story of USS Hornet launching Doolittle’s B-25 bombers, even as green water was coming over Hornet’s flight deck. Allen has interesting stories to tell about the film company launching B-25 bombers from a mocked-up Hornet flight deck in an MGM building.

Allen provided played an important advisory role in that movie, but when the war was for real, Allen Fairbanks flew his F4F fighter in harms way time after time. Ladies and gentlemen, Lcdr. Allen Fairbanks.

USMC Master Sergeant Walter C. Grist

Marine Corps Master Sergeant Walt Grist is our next Battle of Midway veteran. Walt by the way, has been one of the key planners for this event, and for other Battle of Midway commemorative events this weekend on the USS Hornet which is now a historic museum ship at the former Naval Air Station, Alameda.

Walt was 19 when the Battle of Midway played out in June of 1942. The Battle came during his first year in the Marine Corps, and as he later wrote, “It wasn’t a significant day to celebrate but there sure were a lot of fireworks.”

As it turned out however, the Battle of Midway is a significant day to celebrate, thanks to the professionalism and bravery of men like Walt, and others here tonight.

On Midway, Walt was assigned to the engineering crew of Marine Air Group 22, as a Hydraulic Mechanic. He had additional duty to assist on the flight line to fuel and launch aircraft. Those on Midway Island knew to expect an attack, and they knew they were ready. However, Walt and others on the island did not know that three US aircraft carriers and supporting ships were just 100 miles at sea, waiting to thwart the Imperial Japanese Fleet which steamed closer and closer to their goal—Midway.

When additional aircraft came from Hawaii to augment Midway’s air defense, they came without ground crews. So Walt and his engineering crew had to refuel and maintain them, in addition to the tough job of supporting the many aircraft already assigned. The refueling job was tougher still, after an electrical failure a couple of days earlier forced the section to refuel plans with hand pumps from 55-gallon drums or aviation gas. Then came more planes—B17s and B24s and they too had to be refueled by hand pumps.

One morning before dawn, the word was passed to launch all available aircraft. The fireworks were about to begin. Walt could see our fighter planes engaging the incoming Japanese aircraft, and everyone on the ground went for cover. Most of the American planes that landed were shot up pretty badly. Walt and the engineering crew pulled wounded crew men out of shot-up planes and rushed them to sickbay. One TBF landed on one wheel, ran off the edge of the runway, nosed up on his propeller, then fell back on his right wing and wheels. The pilot had a neck wound, his radioman was also wounded, and the turret gunner was dead before he could be lifted out of the plane.

Walt and others on the island leaned that the US fleet was nearby only after a flight of dive- bombers from USS Hornet, low on fuel, landed on the island to find fuel to return to their ship. The rest of that day, Walt worked hard to get aircraft that were flyable ready for another launch, and to locate 55-gallon drums of aviation gas that had been buried on the island.

Walt insists that it wasn’t a significant day to celebrate at the time—just another day that a nineteen year-old Marine did his duty. But it was more than that Walt was, and we salute you for your exceptional performance during the Battle of Midway. Master Sergeant Walt Grist.

Fred C. Herriman

Born and educated in Missouri, and now living in Vacaville, Fred Herriman was designated a Naval Aviator and commissioned Ensign in 1940. He was in Torpedo Squadron Three, part of the air group assigned to the carrier USS Saratoga, but after that ship was torpedoes early in the war, Fred’s squadron was transferred to Kaneohe Air station in Hawaii, and then to USS Yorktown.

Fred flew his torpedo plane from dawn to dusk on June 4 on a mission to keep down submarines that might otherwise be up, looking to torpedo Yorktown or other US ships. Fred says with some disappointment that he flew all that day without seeing a single sub—but others would call that— “Mission, accomplished!”

When Fred returned from sub-hunting, his torpedo plane was neither fueled nor properly armed to join other aircraft launching to attack the Japanese fleet. When all the launched torpedo planes were lost that day, Fred 24 years old, and a Lieutenant Junior Grade with three days seniority in that rank, became the senior surviving officer in that part of Torpedo Squadron Three that deployed to Yorktown for the Battle of Midway. No Torpedo Squadron Three planes came back, but two pilots survived. One had flown back and was recovered after he ditched near Yorktown, and the other pilot Harry Corl, and with him Lloyd Childers, were rescued after ditching their plane near a US Navy destroyer.

Later in the war, Fred continued with Air Group Three to Guadalcanal, first in USS Enterprise and then in USS Saratoga. He served on the staff of Commander Air Force Pacific, and in October 1944 he provided air support for landing troops in the Philippines, and at Iwo Jima and Okinawa. Fred served in many important assignments in the Navy for a career until his retirement in 1961. Ladies and Gentlemen, we salute Fred Herriman.

Seaman First Class Art Lewis

Athletic and 18 and from Cupertino, CA., Art Lewis was a Seaman First Class on the destroyer USS Balch in June of 1942. After the word “Abandon Ship” was sounded on the sinking aircraft carrier USS Yorktown, and crewmembers jumped into the sea, Art Lewis volunteered to swim out with a rope from his destroyer into waters filled with oil, debris, men dead and alive and the possibility of sharks. Though he knew his ship would steam away abandoning him and more than 2,500 other sailors if the Japanese pursued their attack, Art went out to rescue sailors who were struggling for their lives after torpedoes cut in half the destroyer Hammann, and finished off the listing carrier Yorktown. He assisted in a rescue that totaled 2,270 Americans that day.

Recently, Art received a letter from the daughter of an aviator from USS Yorktown who was one of those rescued. “I want to ask you a question,” she wrote. “Where did the courage come from? What sent you into that water time after time?”

Though Admiral Chester Nimitz had written that Art Lewis and a fellow crewman “distinguished themselves by taking buoyed lines to struggling men as far as 300 to 400 yards away,” Art was not decorated for his heroism until 54 years later, after a fellow shipmate tracked him down and began a campaign to officially recognize Art’s heroism. That campaign ended in 1996 when art received a Bronze Star with Combat "V" for valor.

Because Art was never one to call attention to himself, his heroics and his recognition came as a surprise to many. In all those interim years, Art had never spoken about his heroism--not even to his family. At the time Art received his medal in 1996, this was written: “I know that Art has not in my lifetime (51 years) spoken to me of his Midway experience. You see, I am Art’s eldest son Jerry and I am immensely proud of my father.” After the war, Art went back to Cupertino and later lived in Sunnyvale, San Jose, and Ripon, CA. Today he lives at the California Veterans’ Home at Yountville, sometimes called, “The Home of the Brave.”

Earlier today Art was featured on a Battle of Midway story that CNN broadcast around the world. Art is also on KTVU CH 2 News tonight, and will be in the San Francisco Examiner this weekend.

USMC Col. W.R. “Bill” Lucius

Marine Col. Bill Lucius served for 24 years in the Corps, in every rank from Private to Colonel. Bill is truly a survivor. He survived the attack on Pearl Harbor. Less than six months later, Bill then a Marine Warrant Officer assigned to Marine Air Group-22, survived the Japanese attack on Midway. That story of survival is best told in Walter Lord’s book, Incredible Victory. It reads:

The same moment on Eastern Island found Warrant Officer Lucius dodging a barrage of knives, forks, cigars, and cigarettes, as the first bombs there smashed the PX and mess hall.

In the shelters and dugouts, hundreds of other men quietly waited, hidden by sand and camouflage. As Warrant Officer Bill Lucius hurried toward his slit trench near the mess hall. Major William Benson called out from the command post dugout, “Bill, I have the best dugout on the island, as well as the best communications equipment. Why don’t you stay with me?”

“I was so scared at Pearl Harbor,” Lucius replied, “that I hardly saw the Japanese planes; I don’t want to miss them now.”

Major Benson’s command post got it next. Seeing it go, Warrant Officer Lucius thought of the Major’s invitation to spend the attack there, where it was “safe.” Now Lucius was untouched in his slit trench, and Benson’s command post was lost in dust and smoke. He rushed over to help, but it was too late—his friend was already dead in the rubble.

In 1992, Bill Lucius returned to Midway—to Eastern Island, which by that time had turned into a bird sanctuary. He found three concrete pads—foundations for Quonset huts built by the Sea Bees after the attack. One pad was erected over the site of his friend’s command post, about 50 feet from where Bill had survived in his slit trench.

Bill served at Headquarters, U.S. Marine Corps in charge of all Food Service Operations and as Special Assistant to the Commandant and Marine Corps Quartermaster general on congressional liaison matters. On retirement, he was an executive with General Foods Corporation. He holds many other prestigious awards, recognitions, posts, and assignments including the Mayor Emeritus of Healdsburg. He is also a member of the Bay Area Lone Sailor Memorial Committee which is bringing a statue to vista point adjoining the Golden Gate Bridge—a memorial to everyone who ever sailed out of the Golden Gate in service of their country.

About the Battle of Midway, Bill was quoted as saying, “Pearl Harbor was our greatest defeat and Midway was our greatest victory. I think we’re losing a lot of history that’s very important. It’s important in this day and age of budget cuts in the military to remember what terrible shape our military was in before World War II. We should never let ourselves be in that position again.” Ladies and Gentlemen, Col. Bill Lucius!

Lee Coleman McCleary

Now from Lafayette, California, in World War II Lee Coleman McCleary was a Navy Ensign from Albany California flying a PBY seaplane that lumbered through the air at 140 miles per hour, half the speed of Japanese Zero fighters assigned to the four carriers plowing toward Midway Island. “This is the plan”, said McCleary’s briefing officer at Midway. “We will hang torpedoes under the wings of your PBYs. You can bag yourself a carrier.” Asked by one pilot if the PBY’s and their crews of nine or ten were expendable, “That is correct”, replied the briefing officer. Their mission was named “The Midnight Torpedo Attack,” and though the PBYs had two elements in their favor--darkness and surprise-- Ensign McCleary would later write, “most of us were certain it was a one-way trip.”

After his patrol plane located and reported enemy cruisers approaching Midway Island, McCleary’s PBY was engaged in a dogfight for 22 minutes with enemy aircraft. 22 minutes was an eternity for a PBY to be in a dogfight. Finally shot down, the PBY and crew were strafed in the water by an enemy aircraft. Only half the crew survived. McCleary was one of five survivors- -several of them wounded--who for two days drifted in the company of sharks following their bullet-riddled and leaking life raft. With a small chromium mirror he flashed a signal which attracted a patrol plane and brought rescue. The Oakland Tribune reported at the time that McCleary came home not to talk of his own bravery, but to sing the praises of American airmen flying against the odds.

Lee was also featured in the CNN report that went worldwide earlier today. CNN interviewed him on the decks of the historic World War II aircraft carrier Hornet, so named after the USS Hornet that participated in the Battle of Midway, was later sunk during the war. Many of our Midway veterans are participating in events on USS Hornet tomorrow, where there will be a wreath-laying ceremony, and an opportunity for visitors to meet with Heroes of the Battle of Midway—heroes like Lee Coleman McCleary.

Ltjg. Oral L. Moore

Ltjg. Oral L. Moore joins us from Berkeley tonight. On May 28 1942, “Slim” Moore (as was his nickname) was an Aviation Radioman Second Class, rudely awakened at the Royal Hawaiian Hotel, which had been taken over by the Navy. Oral had a quick breakfast and boarded a bus for Eva where he found his pilot and their Douglas Dauntless aircraft. They flew to USS Hornet as part of Bombing Squadron Eight. Hornet soon formed up with USS Enterprise and escorts northeast of Midway Island.

Flight Quarters came early on June 4. After hours in the air, Oral began to wonder where they’d get enough gas to return to Hornet. Then his pilot spoke over the intercom, “We’re going to land at Midway---House your guns.” As they lined up on the runway at Eastern Island, Oral remembers seeing bombed out structures on the island, some still burning. Suddenly, they were fired on by Marines who were understandably trigger-ready after the Japanese had attacked them earlier in the day. After landing, Oral and his pilot inspected the aircraft and found a four-inch hole in the canopy about one foot behind where Oral’s head had been as he faced forward for landing. A hydraulic line had also been severed.

After they got fixed up and fueled up—probably by Walter Grist—they took off for USS Hornet.

The following afternoon, Oral’s aircraft was out looking for Japanese ships. Their bomber group found the Japanese destroyer “Tanikaze”. Oral’s aircraft and others in the group dove on the ship and dropped thousand-pound bombs, but the destroyer skipper managed to dodge them all. Oral’s aircraft returned just as it was getting dark, and landed on board USS Enterprise after Admiral Spruance ordered the carrier’s lights turned on.

On June 6, Oral’s aircraft was launched at dawn. They were at the limit of their search, when they spotted a group of Japanese ships. His pilot had Oral radio back to the US Fleet that they found one CB, one CA, and three destroyers. Thinking the pilot said CV—a designation for an aircraft carrier, Oral sent a Morse code message that got the attention of the Admiral. When they landed on Hornet, Oral’s pilot was ordered to Flag Plot. The pilot later told Oral he said CB, for “Battle Cruiser”, not part of the recognition codes that Oral knew as CL and CA for light or heavy cruisers, respectively. Anyway, the Admiral was very concerned about the sighting of a Japanese carrier, but relived to hear it was a cruiser and not a carrier—so relieved said the pilot jokingly, that there would probably be no court martial.

It turned out that one of the Japanese cruisers had blundered in front of the other crunching the bow of one so that Japanese repair parties had to cut off the bow. As a result of Oral’s contact report, Admiral Spruance had sent out strikes, which ultimately sank the cruiser Mikuma and put the cruiser Mogami out of action for a long time.

Slim Moore was later commissioned and left the Navy in 1947 as a Lieutenant Junior Grade. Ladies and gentlemen, Oral “Slim” Moore.

USN Capt. Jack Reid

Navy Captain Jack Reid is here tonight from Aptos, California. Jack joined the Navy in 1933. He earned his wings as an enlisted naval Aviation Pilot in 1938, and he was commissioned in March 1942. By the time of the Battle of Midway, Ensign Reid had accumulated more than 1,600 flight hours.

On June 3 1942, Ensign Reid and his PBY-5A crew of eight flew out more than 700 miles from Midway Island, looking for the Japanese fleet. They spotted a Japanese task force of destroyers, cruisers, and carriers, which were escorting a landing party. They radioed back that they had sighted the “Main Body” of the Japanese force. Jack Reid was credited with making the first significant sighting of the Japanese Imperial Fleet steaming toward Midway. While it was not the Main Body, CINCPAC was delighted to receive the contact report and it confirmed that this part of the Japanese invasion fleet was where we expected them to be. Jack Reid kept his PBY out of sight of the Japanese force. For two and a half hours he remained within 30 miles of the Japanese fleet, all the while sending valuable contact reports back to US forces.

On June 4, Jack flew more than 14 hours, again providing important contact reports. Indeed, he had become an important set of “eyes” for the US Fleet. His PBY was attacked by zeros by anti- aircraft guns on a Japanese cruiser, but Jack got his aircraft and crew to safety up in the clouds. Later he landed in the lagoon at Midway, and as he taxied toward Sand Island, one of his engines sputtered out for lack of fuel. Nonetheless, he was up and flying the next day, searching the Pacific for lost pilots and crews. Jack Reid stayed in the Navy and retired with 30 years of service.Ladies and gentlemen, Captain Jack Reid!

AMM Second Class Ralph Weidling (WIDE-LING)

Aviation Machinist Mate Second Class Ralph Weidling (WIDE-LING), is here tonight from Walnut Creek, California. Ralph enlisted in the Navy when only 17 years old. He was aboard USS Lexington, near Midway Island and enroute to Pearl Harbor, when Japan attacked Pearl on December 7, 1941. When Lexington steamed into Pearl a few days after the attack, Ralph saw total destruction.

In May 1942, Ralph was 100 miles from USS Lexington in the air, as a rear gunner in an SBD Scout plane attacking Japanese ships during the Battle of Coral Sea. When they returned, they found USS Lexington too badly damaged to take them aboard, and Ralph’s pilot hand to land onboard USS Yorktown. A US destroyer sank Lexington that night, so the carrier would not fall into enemy hands. It was the first of three carriers that would be shot out from under Ralph in World War II.

With Ralph onboard, and trailing a long slick of oil, the damaged Yorktown steamed into Pearl Harbor for repairs. Yorktown estimated it would take months to repair the ship, but Admiral Nimitz gave it just days.

Nimitz needed Yorktown at Midway Island. Ralph had a front row seat on history when his aircraft and others in his group dived and dropped bombs on two Japanese aircraft carriers. Ralph’s aircraft was the second to bomb the carrier Akagi. As his airplane pulled out of it’s steep dive, Ralph nearly blacked out and his stomach churned with problems. But the view was spectacular. His pilot made his bombs count. Ralph felt the shock waves in his aircraft as the bombs ripped into the Japanese carrier. Ralph saw Japanese sailors scurrying about their ship with fire hoses, and others firing anti-aircraft guns. “I could also tell if their gunners had shaved that morning,” said Ralph. As Ralph’s aircraft lifted slightly and put it’s wing over to avoid anti-aircraft fire, Ralph fired to fight off zeros, and his aircraft took bullets in the tail section.

When Ralph’s aircraft returned to USS Yorktown, he found the carrier listing and with holes in the flight deck, so they flew past Yorktown and landed on USS Hornet. Yorktown was carrier number two shot out from under Ralph.

Ralph was up in the air again, flying from USS Hornet, during the Battle of Santa Cruz Island in October1942. When they returned to find Hornet damaged (and later sunk), Ralph’s aircraft landed onboard USS Enterprise.

The joke was that people wanted to know what ship Ralph would go to next, so they could look for an assignment elsewhere. Once, an Air Group Commander asked him if he wanted a transfer off a carrier to duty ashore. “Yes,” said Ralph, How about orders to the US?”

Well, he didn’t go to the US, but he was assigned to the Carrier Aircraft Service Unit at Naval Air Station, Barbers’ Point, Hawaii. His skipper there met a Marine Corps squadron commander at the station officer’s club one evening, and heard the Marines were having trouble maintaining the engines on their F4U Corsair fighter planes. The skipper sent Ralph over to the Marine squadron to help out. Ralph even built some special tools so that squadron could better service the huge troublesome engines. As a result, the engines ran better and another result was the appreciation of the squadron commander—Pappy Boyington—and of his squadron, the Marine Corps famous Black Sheep Squadron. Ladies and gentlemen—Ralph Weidling (WIDE-LING)!

Vadm. William D. Houser Our guest of honor this evening also played a role in the Battle of Midway. Vice Admiral William Houser graduated from the US Naval Academy at the beginning of World War II and spent three years aboard ship fighting in the North, Central and South Pacific. While assigned to USS Nashville, he was part of a diversionary force of US ships sent north to the Aleutian Islands, as a “feint,” to confuse and complicate Japanese intelligence, and to increase the odds of success for US forces defending Midway Island and attacking the Japanese battle and occupation fleets.

Group photo of Midway Veterans, plus Radm Tom Brown (USN-Ret), who was President of the Dining Out and who is a Board member of SF Navy League (photo by Jack Haines), Saturday, June 3, Marines Memorial Club, San Francisco, at a press conference just prior to a formal Dining Out dinner for 200 guests. (l to r front row) Sonarman Chief John Abatie, USMC Platoon Sgt. Al Aguilar, CWO Frank Boo, Seaman 1st Class Art Lewis, USMC Lt.Col. Lloyd Childers, Cdr. William H. Cullin, Cdr. Douglas Davis. (l to r back row) USMC Master Sergeant Walter Grist, Cdr. Fred Herriman, USMC Col. Bill Lucius, Lcdr. Lee Coleman McCleary, Ltjg. Oral L. Moore, USN Capt. Jack Reid, AMM 2nd Class Ralph Weidling.