From Pearl Harbor to Hampton Roads: Memories and mementoes

The day before the date that would live in infamy, the fate of one Navy ship's crew was sealed by what seemed like bad news: a fouled propeller.

The heavy cruiser had just finished a secret mission in the Pacific - delivering planes to a remote island - and was due back in Pearl Harbor on Saturday, Dec. 6.

Instead, it floated, dead in the water, about 100 miles away from port.

Lewis Thomas, a 25-year-old from Portsmouth, was aboard the ship as an ensign, serving as a radio officer. The

hawser, a type of mooring line, had gotten wrapped in the ship's propeller. Divers had to swim beneath the ship to free the line.

The cruiser and the rest of the ships in the Enterprise strike group shifted their schedule, planning to pull into the Hawaiian naval base around noon Sunday.

Japanese bombers and submarines beat them there. The attack on the base began just before 8 a.m.

Minutes later, Thomas was awakened by a sailor who had just copied a Morse code message that shook the ship - and the entire nation.

"AIRRAID ON PEARL HARBOR," it announced. "THIS IS NO DRILL."

In response, the Northampton scrambled two scout aircraft to search for the departing Japanese bombers. One of them shot down a Japanese plane; the pilot crash-landed on a nearby island.

With chaos reigning on shore, the Northampton delayed its return another day.

On Monday morning, it entered the harbor. Minor explosions punctuated the silence. Fires still burned; boats still were plucking survivors out of the water.

Thomas, who had to retrieve new codes for radio traffic, was one of the few crew members to go ashore.

He was on the ground for an hour or two. Everyone was jumpy, he recalls. The coxswains aboard the small boats ferrying personnel from ship to shore grew hoarse, he said, from demanding personnel share a password and prove themselves friendly forces.

Then the Northampton headed back to sea to search for the midget Japanese submarines they knew had made it into the harbor.

No one aboard talked about what might have been, had the mooring line hadn't gotten caught up in the Northampton's propeller. Thomas said everybody realized the significance of that twist of fate.

He doesn't say much about it, either - just that God was with him throughout the entire war, and that there were a lot of close calls during the dozen battles he lived through.

"I never got scared," he said. "But I sure got worried to death."

Thomas remembers Adm. Raymond A. Spruance, who was aboard the Northampton during the Pearl Harbor attack, telling fellow officers he wasn't surprised by the attack itself, but he was shocked by the scope of the damage.

Actually, it looked worse than it was. The human toll was high - 2,400 Americans dead; 1,200 more wounded. All eight of the Pacific Fleet's battleships were sunk or heavily damaged. But in terms of key infrastructure on shore, the attack was a glancing blow.

"We didn't lose anything in Pearl Harbor but lives," Thomas said. Incredibly, the Navy's most critical resources - its fuel depots, ship repair and service facilities, and airfields - were not destroyed. Had the Japanese obliterated those assets, the Pacific Fleet might have had to relocate back to California.

The Northampton's good fortune ran out less than a year later. On Nov. 30, 1942, during the Guadalcanal campaign, it was hit by two Japanese torpedoes and sunk. Thomas and most of the crew were rescued; about 50 sailors died.

Thomas, now 94, thinks often about the men who died at Pearl Harbor. It was later revealed that top Navy brass in Washington had intercepted Japanese messages planning the attack, but didn't notify commanders in Hawaii. They were too worried that the Japanese would learn they'd broken the code.

"They sacrificed (sailors') service in Pearl," Thomas said. "I think it was a sorry mess."

Adm. Husband E. Kimmel, commander of the U.S. Pacific Fleet, and Lt. Gen. Walter C. Short, commanding general of the Hawaiian Department, were both relieved of command after the attack. They also were found to be derelict in duty and responsible for the Pearl Harbor disaster.

In 1944, a Navy captain found that Washington officials had withheld secret information from Kimmel and Short.

In 1995, a new Defense Department investigation found that other officials shared responsibility for the disaster, but it did not specify who the "others" were.

Ten years ago, in a defense budget amendment, Congress asserted that Kimmel and Short had acted competently and professionally, and urged the president to restore them to their highest rank. That hasn't happened.

Thomas said he understands the tactical decision made at the time, but wishes the government had done right by Kimmel and Short when the truth came out.

In 1976, Thomas retired from the Naval Reserve as a captain with 36 years of service. A lifelong resident of the Port Norfolk neighborhood in Portsmouth, his civilian career included working for Remington Ram as a chemist, then for the Norfolk Redevelopment and Housing Authority.

He still lives in the home he shared with his beloved wife, Catherine, until her death a few years ago. Engaged, she waited for him during the first year and a half he served in the Pacific.

In 1941, he said, "she waved goodbye to me at the Norfolk & Western."

In 1943, she was in the same spot to welcome him home. Five days later, they were married.

Kate Wiltrout, (757) 446-2629, kate.wiltrout@pilotonline.com