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Today, a reminiscence from reader D.R. in Norwalk, CT:
As a young boy in the 1960s, I would occasionally find myself poking through my father's dresser drawers, where he had all kinds of cool things. Boxes with foreign coins, old photos, various trinkets that were probably unremarkable, but seemed interesting to me at the time. One was a rusted pocket watch, stopped at about 6:35. Another, a single dog tag, with his name and my mom's address. Old currency and train tickets from India.
Anytime I asked dad about those things, he simply shrugged it off and said, "Oh, that was from World War II" and we moved on to other things. He had important skills for the war effort, and was eventually sent to the China-Burma-India theatre, supporting the Flying Tigers as they supplied China via the Himalayas.
On his way to deployment in Karachi, he and over 2,000 other men were crammed onto a rusty, unseaworthy ship, the HMT Rohna, sailing from Oran, North Africa, through the Mediterranean, en route to the Suez canal and British India.
On November 26, 1943, it was Dad's turn for kitchen duty. He was carrying a tray of food from an upper deck kitchen, out on deck, on his way to deliver to men below. He saw the Luftwaffe, and their attack. The attack was eventually fended off, except for one Heinkel bomber that lingered. It released a bomb. Dad watched it glide from a distance, and saw it weave and swerve, striking the Rohna with deadly accuracy.
The Rohna sank, and 1,157 men died in the attack. It was the greatest United States loss of life at sea caused by enemy action, ever. Yet even today, few people know. The bomb that sank the Rohna was the first ever use of a rocket-powered, radio-controlled "glide bomb." The U.S. War Department decided the weapon was so advanced that its use and effectiveness needed to be considered classified and Secret. It remained officially classified until about 1995, over 50 years later. It was only when the classified status was lifted that Dad ever spoke about the horrific event. Dad floated in the Mediterranean until rescued, holding on to a wooden bulkhead, witnessing strafing, and fellow soldiers slipping beneath the surface of the water.
It is important to Never Forget. It is even more so, when most people simply never knew, due to the government secrecies over events long ago.
The dog tag was a replacement. Dad's name permanently changed from Lawrence to Laurent, because the tags he was wearing got lost when he hit the water. His French-speaking parish priest back home sent the army a baptismal certificate, in French, of course. The watch was in dad's pocket when he hit the sea. A moment stuck in time.
Thanks, D.R. (Z)