As the SS Robert L. Vann sailed up the English Channel, we would stand guard in four-hour shifts around the clock. At the time the Germans were launching buzz bombs, or V-1 flying bombs, which would nose-dive into the ground with about a ton of TNT. I had once felt the effects of a small concussion just from the sound of one of those bombs. The British were said to be tracking down about 90 percent of the buzz bombs, but they were raising hell with the Belgian population.

On March 1, while standing watch in the rear gun tub, which was surrounded by steel and was our largest piece of armament, I suddenly heard a bang on the side of the ship. I didn’t know what it was, but a second or two later, there was an explosion. I quickly got onto the main deck, where I saw a friend unleashing a life raft. It was already in the water, and we watched it float straight into the propeller, which still had a head of steam. It was a good thing we didn’t get into that raft. I knew at the time that we would have to abandon the ship. I turned to my friend, Joe, and asked, “Where do we go now?”

We ran to midship, downhill, because the ship was sinking from the center. The explosion had been as clean as a whistle, splitting the ship right in half. As water flooded in, it sounded like a waterfall, and I believe the only reason we didn’t sink faster was because they had poured cement into the ship for buoyancy.

As Joe and I were running toward the lifeboats, we saw the officer-in-charge sitting in a life raft on the deck with his suitcase. We knew he was in danger of being sucked under with the raft if the ship became submerged. When Joe and I reached the lifeboats, we called for him to jump into it. But he grabbed two ropes that were on the same side of the pulley, and went straight into the water, like a bullet. Luckily, Joe was able to yank him into our boat.