The Story:
The Atlantic was in a particularly ugly mood in the Winter of '44. As the 681 headed for the Irish Sea, the Atlantic became increasingly violent as if deeply offended by the presence of the 'trim but deadly' DE's above.
"We left New York and headed for England;
we passed through storm after storm, each one worse than the last!"
- J. T.
Upon approaching the Irish Sea, two ugly components would fuse to create a sailor's worst nightmare. The Sea, now enraged, was virtually an unstoppable threat. The rolling, the waves at bridge level, the force of the Sea fighting the course of the rudders and screws, frustrating officer and enlisted man alike.
"I couldn't see:
the waves, the darkness; but I didn't cry!"
- J. I.
Veteran and Rookie prayed, and trembled, while on the bridge men reluctantly prepared to meet their maker. The Sea, now a grasping hand, was a blinding mass of 40 foot waves, adding to this dark night in the Atlantic.
A sonar contact made it necessary to sound "General Quarters". What humor hath God! The Atlantic, threatening to pull the 'Fighting Blade' down to the bottom of the ocean and now sonar has detected what appears to be a Wolfpack below. (the testimony of eyewitnesses on this point is compelling. According to one source, a U-Boat surfaced in the heavy sea.)
"If we got hit, those men
below would never get out."
- F. G.
The Depth Charge Crew with seaman Al Renzi headed for the racks and K-guns; the short trek to their stations now seems to be a thousand miles, with the sea accosting them every inch of the way. There was work to be done on this watch, regardless of the odds.
Secure from "General Quarters", when the threat below passed, the Sea still showed no mercy. Seaman Al Renzi attempted to return below, battling the frigid waves, but the Sea has a terrible surprise in store for him.
On the Bridge, the situation is one of horror, with an increasing sense of doom. A crushing blow - a massive wave - slams the Gillette. Bulkhead becomes deck as the inclinometer shows a merciless roll (different eyewitnesses report a list of 60, 70, or even 80 degrees: in all cases the Gillette was in a position of imminent founder)
"I grabbed the binnacle and held on!"
- F. D.
Above decks, Al Renzi faces the fury of the Atlantic as a lonely sailor. Unbeknownst to his peers, Seaman Renzi was under water, suspended in the frigid sea, powerless in his fate. His life flickers before him.
The Sea would not have them: call it counterswell, luck, or the hand of God. Some force righted the Gillette, throwing men and metal about and Seaman Renzi finds himself being dragged back aboard the Gillette by the receding wave. Ribs broken, knees injured, his shipmates succeed in getting him below.
In a short time the Sea would abate, giving up its attempt to claim the Gillette and Seaman Renzi, who would recover to survive it all and spend over twenty-five years in the service of our country.
Today, Mr. Renzi is now retired and lives with his family in La Mesa, California.
'Well Done, Seaman Renzi'
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