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Jack Hensel

My mentor in the search for my father among his Franklin shipmates, Jim Stuart, went through hundreds of names in the Franklin Association roster book to isolate those of Air Group 5 members. (Air Group 5 contained VF5, the fighter squadron, VB5, the dive bomber squadron, and VT5, the torpedo squadron that Ace had commanded.)

On September 15, 2002, Jim sent the lists he had compiled in regular mail.

Dear Allan, I'm enclosing 3 lists that may help you obtain additional information re. your Dad. I reviewed our roster of USS Franklin Association members and these lists of names, division, Rank-class, home town and telephone no. are reflected thereon. It appears there are several potential men or families that you may wish to contact. I regret it took me so long to get this info to you. My best wishes-- God speed, Jim

Now that I had these lists in my hands, however, I put off doing anything about it. I was afraid to make the first call. I found the lists intimidating. After nearly a week, I got over my fear and decided which name on the three lists I would call first.

One list contained names of deceased members from Air Group 5, each name accompanied with a name of a surviving family member to contact. The second list contained names of living VF5 and VB5 members, with all their contact information. It was the third list that I went to first, though: the one containing the names of living VT5 men.

My priority was the commissioned officers, because they would have been most likely to know not only the circumstances of Ace's death but also telling anecdotes from his life. The non-coms were probably quite a bit younger and would not have had the chance to get to know my father personally.

On the VT5 list were three officers. One of them was Ensign Wallace Young, whom I had already contacted and from whom I had probably learned all I was ever going to learn. Unfortunately, calling the listed numbers of the two others--Lieutenant William Rose and Lieutenant Morton Freeman--led nowhere: The roster book must have needed to be updated, because the numbers were no longer in service.

On to the enlisted men.

Each of the TBM Avenger planes in the squadron contained a three-man crew: the pilot, who was inevitably an officer, and two enlisted men: a turret gunner and a radio man. There might be a chance I could speak with either the gunner or the radio man on the plane that Ace piloted.

I called the number for John ("Jack") Hensel, an ordnance gunner in the squadron. When I told him who I was, he was very happy to talk with me and told me to call him Jack.

Like the other survivors I had already spoken with and with whom I would be speaking with, Jack remembered sharply every detail of that day nearly six decades before, just as though it had been only yesterday. He had gotten up at 3 a.m. on March 19 and had had an early breakfast in order to be ready for takeoff at 7. He reported to the crew ready room. While he was there, he learned that there was a change in the crew assignments. He would have been in the turret of the plane piloted by Lt. JG David Gibson.

But the radio man wasn't checked out on the new radar-interference equipment, so he had to be replaced. (Possibly Ace's change of raid schedules caused some of this confusion. Jack hung around in the crew ready room waiting for the fighter planes and dive bombers to take off. He planned to go out into the cold air to watch the torpedo planes (his squadron) take off. Thinking it had to be time for them, he went out on the catwalk next to the flight deck. Unfortunately, only half of the bombers had taken off.

Staying out on the catwalk watching a couple more planes take off probably saved his life. Finally, he decided to get out of the cold and go in to get some coffee, planning to return later when the VT5 planes would take off.

He was starting to descend from the catwalk toward the ready room when a huge explosion occurred and a wall of flames enveloped him. The smoke was so thick he couldn't see his hands in front of his face. On both hands and face, he suffered second-degree burns. Jack felt that he was going to pass out. For a split second before a second explosion the air cleared and he got a clean breath. A series of explosions contaminated the air again.

To escape the inferno, Jack knew that he needed to go over the side. By leaning over the rail, rolled over the side of the ship, falling 80 or 90 feet into the water. From the depths he could see the glitter of the ocean surface.

Once he got to the surface, another sailor--Monte, in the bomber crew--yelled at him from a raft to ditch his steel helmet. Jack was also wearing a double pair of pants and heavy shoes, which he also ditched so that he could better stay afloat. With him in the water he saw several dead bodies with blank stares. The blood on his hands made him think that sharks might attack. He saw Gibson lying in the water half unconscious. Monte jumped off his raft and, with Jack's help, pulled Gibson onto it. After a while, Jack was able to pull himself onto the donut-shaped cork raft.

In the confusion, the battleship U.S.S. North Carolina approached very close to the raft and almost swamped it. Another sailor had come onto the raft, but the wake of the big ship knocked him off. Finally, as with Jim Stuart, Jack and his raft companions were rescued by the destroyer U.S.S. Hickox. Jack remembers grabbing a rope from the destroyer and being pulled more than 100 feet in the water before being hoisted aboard. The Hickox kept circling the Franklin all the rest of the day and all night. (See the Hickox's log of the day.)

Jack was not aware of what had happened to his skipper, my father. But he did share his impression of Ace as a C.O. and as a man. After explaining to me that since enlisted men did not fraternize with officers, he had never gotten to know my father personally, he told me that Lt. Comdr. Edmands was a "jolly fellow, always with a smile." He had always made the squadron feel like a family--for example, in volleyball competitions.

I met Jack at last at the Franklin reunion in Pittsburgh in June 2003. Here is a picture of him (you can click it to enlarge it.) Jack was, unfortunately, the only one of Ace's squadron who was able to attend; at least his presence there ensured that VT5 was represented. I spent as much time with Jack as I could. He gave me a copy of his own memories as an aircrewman (including his detailed account of what happened to him on March 19, 1945) and a report on the rescue of the Franklin by a crew member of the cruiser U.S.S. Pittsburgh, which towed the Franklin out of the combat zone.

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