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USS Liscome Bay (CVE-56). (U.S. Navy photo, courtesy National Archives) Liscome Bay off the coast of California during September 1943. (U.S. Navy photo, courtesy National Archives) Henry M. Mullinnix, shown here as a captain. (U.S. Navy photo, courtesy Naval Historical Center) A Grumman F4F Wildcat, circa early 1942, of Fighter Squadron 41. (U.S. Navy photo, courtesy National Archives) Tim E. Woodham, shown here circa 1944 with the chevrons of an aviation machinist’s mate second class. (Courtesy Tim Woodham) Commander John G. Crommelin. (Courtesy Southern Museum of Flight, Birmingham, Alabama) Liscome Bay explodes, as photographed from Mississippi (U.S. Navy photo, courtesy National Archives) Survivors gather on board Leonard Wood (APA-12) to witness the burial of two of their comrades, November 25, 1943. (U.S. Coast Guard photo, courtesy National Archives) Stained-glass window commemorating Liscome Bay at the Valley Forge Military Academy’s chapel. (Photo by David J. Jackson, Valley Forge Military Academy and College) The blast from the secondary explosions had rolled through Liscome Bay’s lower decks with devastating effect, blowing out hatches, collapsing bulkheads, uprooting boilers, and wrenching pipes loose from the bulkheads . It punched into Buzz Carroll’s of¤ce, tearing off Charters’s life jacket, dungarees, headset, and shoes. Dazed and bewildered in the sudden darkness, Charters found himself sprawled on the deck wearing only his socks. The ship’s lights failed, and the force of the explosion had knocked most of the emergency lanterns out of their relay sockets. “Are you all right?” asked the lieutenant sharing the of¤ce with Charters . Squinting in the darkness, Charters replied that he was. Flames from somewhere overhead provided a small amount of light. The lieutenant turned to Carroll’s dark shape. “Are you all right, sir?” he asked Carroll. No answer came. “Sir, are you all right?” the lieutenant asked again. “I’m all right,” Carroll ¤nally answered. “I’m okay,” Seaman Galliano volunteered, not waiting to be asked. Carroll stood up and felt for the doorway to the passage outside. “We’ve got to get up pressure to ¤ght the ¤res,” he told his men. Charters and the others followed Carroll into the passageway and struggled with the various valves lining the bulkheads that controlled water pressure for the ship’s ¤re hoses. Despite their best efforts, the pressure gauges continued to register zero. 8 Twenty-Three Minutes and Counting Charters sidled up next to Carroll. “There’s an awful gassy smell down here.” Carroll ignored him and continued to struggle with the valves, desperately trying to achieve some water pressure for the hoses. “This is no place for us,” Charters persisted. The stench of gasoline hung heavy in the thick air. “We better get out.”1 Without saying a word, Carroll turned from the useless valves and followed Charters and the others as they headed forward into the ship, unsure of what else they would discover. Further forward of the damage control of¤ce, in the sick bay, the blast had blown the bulkhead behind Storekeeper Roach inward. It struck him on the back and knocked him ten feet through the air and out the treatment room’s door. The veteran of the naval battle off Guadalcanal stood back up long enough to shout, “There may be another one!” and then hit the deck again. He was right. Another explosion followed almost immediately, and once the dust settled, Roach and the others struggled to their feet, calling to one another in the darkness. Some of the sick bay’s emergency hand lanterns still functioned, and Roach’s group soon established that they were all still alive. Roach picked his way back into the treatment room, found his life jacket, and rejoined the group. Roach found Dr. Rowe and the other sick bay personnel examining the passageways leading from the sick bay. One was on the port side, the other to starboard, but ®ame and debris from the hangar deck blocked both passages. Even the passage down to Roach’s issue room was blocked. The men paused for a moment, contemplating their predicament . They were out of communication with the rest of the ship, and the sick bay was beginning to ¤ll with smoke. Diesel fuel dripped down from a ruptured line somewhere above. Just as ominously, the carrier began to list to starboard. Roach realized that there was no future in staying in their current location. “I’m going to try working my way forward along the...

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