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Thomas Hagan

On the list of living VT5 members that Jim Stuart had provided me was the name of another turret gunner, Thomas Hagan, AMM 2/c. I tried to call the number written by his name and was told by a computer voice that the number had been disconnected. I put an "X" beside the name and went on to the next one.

On September 22, Jack Hensel, one of the first crewmen I had interviewed, wrote to me:

Dear Allan, Just a note to give you some information that might be of some help to you. Several years ago at a Franklin reunion I met a member of our squadron (VT5): Thomas J. Hagan [followed by Mr. Hagan's address]. At the time he was having some health problems. I am almost sure he was the turret gunner that flew with your father. There was also a radio man in the three man crew. Tom had a large family. You might be able to get more information out of them. . . . Hope to converse again. If I think of anything else I'll inform you. Very truly yours, Jack Hensel

I wrote a letter to Thomas Hagan at the address Mr. Hensel provided, but the letter came back undelivered. Somehow, Mr. Hagan resided in the vicinity of that town (otherwise, the directory assistance operator wouldn't have understood whom I was trying to contact) but not precisely in that town.

Years ago, in the days before zip codes, postal workers would have been more helpful: For example, my family, residing in Centralia, Washington, once received a letter addressed to them in Centerville, Oregon. It was delivered only a day or so late, too. Those days are over. Even if Mr. Hagan was in a town a couple of miles away from the one I had included in the address, the letter would be rejected.

I tried a new tactic. I called directory assistance on successive days, asking each time for the number for Thomas J. Hagan, but each day saying he resided in a different town in that region. I was waiting to hear the operator (apparently a different operator each day) tell me right away that the number was unlisted without first telling me that she had a Thomas Hagan but not in that town.

On the day the operator didn't give me the disclaimer before telling me the number was unlisted, I was sure I must have found the right town. I enclosed the first, returned letter in another envelope, addressed it without a street number to Thomas J. Hagan in that town, and mailed it. I mailed it Priority, which was expensive, because I thought that the postal workers might stretch a little bit for me and supply the missing address.

Wrong! The Priority letter came back to me again, after quite a few days had elapsed, as undeliverable.

I told my frustration to my friends, Jim and Jan Stuart. A few days letter they told me a new address for Thomas Hagan, which they found on a brand new roster they had just received. It was a complete street address in a town I hadn't yet tried.

I enclosed the returned Priority envelope (which contained the original, returned letter) in a new Priority envelope--like nested Russian matryoshka dolls. On each of the two interior envelopes I attached an explanatory note with my phone number. I mailed the entire business the next day.

About a week later, Thomas Hagan called me.

He told me he had been the gunner in the plane of Lt. Charles Carr, my father's executive officer (second in command). He explained that the March 18 missions he had been on had targeted the cities of Nagasaki and Usa on the island of Kyushu. Usa was a particularly attractive target, because Japanese industrialists had set up factories in that city and labeled the poorly manufactured products they had exported to America: "MADE IN USA." (Apparently, they tried this tactic after the war as well.)

Mr. Hagan explained that Ace and Lt. Carr each led separate halves of the torpedo squadron. While one half went on a bombing raid, the other stayed back on the ship, resting up. He said that Ace had been scheduled to command the noon attack on March 19 and Lt. Carr the morning attack. But when he learned that the morning target included Kobe Harbor, where the giant battleship Yamato and the carrier Amagi were anchored, Ace couldn't resist the chance to get the "first crack" at them. His half of the squadron took the morning slot; Lt. Carr's half was bumped to noon.

When the planes were ready to take off that morning, Seaman Hagan, then 22 years old, was on the catwalk. He and his buddy decided to go belowdecks to get an apple in the chow hall. He was down there when the first bomb struck; had he remained on the catwalk, he surely would have been killed.

When Mr. Hagan finally made it out of the smoke belowdecks, he was recruited by Father O'Callahan to help roll hot bombs off the deck.

Eventually, because he was nonessential personnel (since he was part of the Air Group), he was ordered off the ship and over to the Santa Fe. During the cruise back to Ulithi Atoll and Pearl Harbor, the Santa Fe stayed alongside the Franklin. Every day Mr. Hagan saw bodies buried at sea off the Franklin, with gun salutes and Taps played.

I assume that Ace's remains must have been among those so buried. I began to conclude that I wouldn't get much closer to the facts about Ace's death than I now was.

The facts of his death are important to me, especially since there had been so much confusion about it. But what really interests me more are anecdotes about him in life.

Mr. Hagan told me that he had great admiration for my father. "I never saw him get mad."

All during the monotonous antisub training from the Santa Rosa base, my father never lost his temper with the "Airedales" (as the non-com turret gunners were called).

"If he didn't have his uniform on, you'd swear he wasn't an officer. He always talked to us like a regular guy."

When they sailed into the combat zone, Ace would come into the radar room, where radar technicians were reporting such things as "Bogies 3 miles out."

Ace would inquire, as though the radar receivers were some kind of television (not available to the general public at that time): "What's going on in the show tonight?"

Mr. Hagan and I were on the phone for over an hour, and I hope to meet him at a Franklin reunion.

I told both the Stuarts and Jack Hensel of my successful interview with him.

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