The
USS Houston (American heavy cruiser) began its final journey late in the day of
February 28, 1942. It had been operating
in the JavaSea as part of the
ABDA (American, British, Dutch, Australian) task force
and had been badly mauled by the Japanese during the Battle of the JavaSea the previous
day. The Houston and the HMAS Perth (Australian
light cruiser) were making a night run toward the northeast entrance of the SundaStrait to attempt to
escape from the Japanese and into the Indian Ocean. Intelligence
reports indicated that the SundaStrait was free of
Japanese warships. No one knew that the Japanese were planning the invasion of
Java that same night by way of the northeast entrance to the SundaStrait and BantenBay, on the
northwest tip of Java. Just before midnight the Houston and Perth ran directly
into one of the largest Japanese task forces assembled during World War II. The
ensuing battle resulted in the loss of several Japanese ships but also of the Houston and the Perth. Both ships sank
with the bulk of their crews. Japanese patrol boats machine-gunned survivors
while they were in the water and many were swept into oblivion by the strong
currents of the Straits. The survivors who remained were picked up by the
Japanese and worked until the end of the war in Japanese slave labor camps in Burma, where many died
of malnutrition and disease.
The
60th anniversary of the sinking of the Houston and Perth, February 28, 2002, was
approaching. I had met Kelly Cope through our mutual interest in the Houston and we soon
began to put together a group of divers to mirror the composition of the ABDA
task force that was operating in the JavaSea sixty years
earlier. Our team consisted of American, British, Dutch, Australian, and
Indonesian divers and research members. We contacted the survivors association
in Houston, Texas to inform them
of our plans and request moral sponsorship for our dive. We acquired plans of
the Houston along with an
original, ten foot, WWII 48 star US flag. Our intent was to dive the Houston, document battle
damage, and place the flag on the ship. We would later recover the flag and
send it to the Houston Survivors
Association in Houston, Texas.
We
made arrangements for a 50 foot sloop for four days. Our plan was to depart the
port of Merak on the western
coast of Java, on 28 February,
and sail to the site of the sinking where we would anchor for the night. We got
underway the afternoon of the 28th with our dive team and two
Indonesian fishermen who were going to show us the locations of wrecks in the
area. Our first dive would be the morning of March 1st.
We
anchored our 50 foot sloop over the Houston after dark. It
was a warm, clear night with many stars, and a full moon, blood red, rising
over the horizon. The seas were glassy calm and we could see the mountains of
Java to the southwest. We could clearly see the northwest tip of Java, NicholasPoint, outlined
against the night sky. We dropped our anchor on the south side of the Houston but there was a
mild current pushing us toward the north. We looked toward the depths below and
wondered what it must have been like, that night, sixty years earlier. At midnight we talked about the spirit of the ship
and how it continues to exist today. Each person who comes in contact with the
ship becomes, in some small way, a part of its history and a part of its
spirit. We felt that it was our honor to become a small part of a great story
started by the men of the USS Houston sixty years ago. At midnight we read the poems and a prayer followed
by a toast to the survivors, those who have passed away over the years, and
those who were still below. We each poured a small amount of wine over the side
as a tribute to a gallant ship and crew. By 1:00
am the moon was very clear and bright, and had risen so that it was
directly above us. It produced a rather strange effect in that it created a
halo over the entire site. It was extremely bright and reflected off of our US Flag that was
hanging from the mainmast. A Marine Honor Guard had raised this same flag the
previous day at the US Embassy in Jakarta. It is also the
flag we later placed on the Houston over the
quarters of Captain Rooks, her last skipper. Through the night, as we lay in
our bunks, we could hear our anchor chain as it periodically would scrape over
the hull of the Houston 120 feet below.
It was as if the ship was speaking to us and we had a direct connection to its
crew. It was a very somber evening and we slept with thoughts of the Houston and her final
journey.
The
purpose of our first dive was to place buoys on the ship. We planned to place
one in the vicinity of the hangar bay, one on the bow and one on the stern. We
filled our buoys with water so we could carry them to the bottom. Our intent
was to inflate them once we found the three respective sites. We found the ship
on our first dive. We went down the anchor chain but it led directly to the
bottom. Greg Smith (one of our American divers) noticed a nearby shadow and
motioned for us to follow him in that direction. We came upon a sheer vertical
wall that rose sixty feet straight up from the bottom. It was perfectly flat
and we realized that we were looking at the bottom of the ship. We were amazed
at its immense size. We swam up over the top and immediately began to see
portholes as the ship revealed herself to us. We attached our buoys to mark the
various locations and then began our sequence of dives.
The
ship was lying on her starboard side with the bow on a heading of 080 degrees,
almost directly toward the east. We had come up over the ship directly forward
of the hangar bay and as we moved forward we could see the officer’s quarters,
the bridge and the barbette for number 2 turret. Battle damage was
evident throughout. Holes pierced all areas, particularly in the bridge and
hangar bay. The Number 2 turret had ripped loose from the ship and had slid to
the starboard side with its barrels pointing directly down and embedded in the
silt of the sea floor. Its barbette was completely open to the sea and we could
easily swim through it to the open hatch on the port side directly forward of
the Captain’s quarters. Upon investigating the turret we found the hatch to be
open but, upon looking in, found that it was completely filled with silt. On
the port side we found the hatch to the Captain’s quarters was closed and
dogged down tight. As we swam forward we found Number 1 turret, which was also
pointing to starboard and still attached to the ship. Its barrels had been
pushed up and were now parallel with the ocean bottom. We found a large break
on the port side near the bow. We knew the ship was still underway as it sank
and, with its length of 600 feet, realized that the bow probably impacted the
bottom while the propellers were still turning on the surface. Perhaps the momentum
of the impact caused the break. It was large enough to allow a diver to
penetrate but we did not attempt to enter because we were concerned about the
structural integrity of the area.
Later
in the day we focused on the hanger bay and deck area. The deck directly
forward of the hanger still had aircraft catapults in place along with cranes
and many heavy wires and cables. We entered the port hanger and swam aft. Our
first impression was that it looked nothing like how we imagined a hanger
should look. There were broken pipes, debris and holes in all directions. It
was more like swimming through a brick of swiss
cheese. This was possibly due to tremendous battle damage as the exterior walls
of the hanger had so many holes we almost didn’t need lights to see while
inside. In the hanger bay we encountered five or six large, mean looking
barracuda. They certainly gave me a start but we swam past them and they exited
through the front of the hanger. We exited to the rear and immediately came
upon two large round circular tubs. There was one on each side of the ship and
they appeared thick and well armored. We quickly realized they were mounts for
the 5-inch guns, although the guns were long gone. Farther aft we found several
smaller, semi-circular tubs that were for the 1.1 inch guns. The rear eight
inch turret had completely broken free from the ship and lay nearby, its
barbette open to the sea. One of our divers noticed a large dent in the hull in
the starboard rear quarter, below the waterline; possible indication of a dud
torpedo or one that had not been fired at an adequate distance to enable it to
arm. The rear tripod and mast were still in place and well preserved. We were
disappointed to find that the propellers had long since been removed. We had
head rumors that they were removed years earlier by Japanese salvage divers.
The prop shafts, propeller guards and rudder were still in place.
The
battle bridge toward the bow was completely intact but with many holes. All
glass was gone. Eyewitness accounts attributed this to the Battle of the JavaSea, the day before
the sinking, during which all the glass had been blown out. The forward tripod
and mast area was also still in place and intact but the conn
above the bridge was filled with silt.
Later
in the day we lowered our ten foot, 48 star, US flag
from our mainmast and took it to the cruiser below. We attached it directly
forward of the hatch that led to the Captain’s quarters where it remained
throughout the night. The flag was recovered during a dive the following day
and, again, raised on our mainmast where it remained until we returned to
port.
Conditions
worsened during our second day of diving but we continued to document battle
damage and try to get a general understanding of the condition of the ship.
Late in the day the currents became too strong to dive safely so we decided to
move to the site of another wreck that had been documented by an American
submarine some time earlier. The submarine documented the wreck as the Japanese
AkitsuMaru that had been
sunk during the Battle of the SundaStrait. The coordinates
that were provided did not yield positive results but an Indonesian fisherman
pointed out a site nearby where there was a large wreck. Our depth finder
quickly found the wreck and we suited up for the final dive of the day. The
wreck was in approximately 110 feet of water and we saw it immediately upon
descending down the anchor cable, which was draped over the top of the ship
below. Greg Smith, Kelly Cope, George Daviglus and
myself swam in pairs over the top of the ship; George and I paired up and
trailing Greg and Kelly. The ship did not appear to be a major combatant so we
assumed it was either a troop transport or a minesweeper.
The
configuration and layout of the ship was foreign to us. George and I came upon
a hatch leading down into the ship and we decided to enter. We made the mistake
of not using a penetration reel, even though we had one, as we thought we
wouldn’t go far and it would be easy to exit. We swam through the first room
and saw another hatch leading down another deck. We again descended and swam to
the end of the interior of the ship were we observed a lattice type area of
steel bars, possibly window frames, at the end. The glass was gone but we could
see out into the open sea. We then swam back to exit our hatch but when we came
up to the ceiling could only find steel. We could not find the hatch to exit
the ship. We swam back to the lattice area with our lights trained on the
ceiling but could not find a hatch. At this point we realized we only had 15
minutes of air remaining and we strongly considered ditching our equipment to
swim through the lattice and make a free ascent (without air). We again turned
to swim the length of the compartment but this time kicked up a cloud of silt.
We were in a complete silt out and could see nothing
but brown. We moved forward slowly feeling our way along the ceiling until we
found an opening. There was nothing but darkness on the other side but we could
find no other way out. We moved through and then saw light coming in through
another hatch further aft. We exited the ship and began our ascent. Our zodiac
rubber speedboat recovered us, we returned to our
sloop and got underway to return to the site of the Houston.
The
final day of diving consisted only of three dives. The first was a team dive in
the early morning but the currents were so vicious and visibility so poor that
we had to abort and return to the surface. We decided to raise anchor and sail
farther out to sea to look for the HMAS Perth, the Australian
light cruiser that was sunk by the Japanese an hour earlier than the Houston. (The Perth went down with
nearly 600 men still aboard). Upon raising anchor, however, we found that it
had fouled on the Houston below and we
were unable to move. Two of our divers, Steve Rogers and George Daviglus volunteered to go to the bottom and unfoul it from the wreck. They went down in near zero
visibility with Steve leading the way down the anchor chain. Just as they
reached the bottom George found himself fouled in fishing line and, while he
worked to free himself, Steve disappeared looking for the anchor unaware that
George was in trouble. George worked hard to free himself and, in the process,
had run completely out of air. He found himself confronted with a choice of
making a 120-foot free ascent without air or looking for Steve in zero
visibility on the bottom. He chose to look for Steve and, while holding his
breath, continued to swim out the length of the anchor chain and happened to
find Steve’s fin with his hand. He pulled himself up to Steve and indicated he
was out of air. Steve pulled out his secondary regulator pushed it to George
and the two ascended to the top while buddy breathing.
We
eventually unfouled ourselves from the ship below and
set out to find the Perth. We had the
coordinates but used our depth finder to pinpoint the wreck. We found it on the
first try, dropped anchor and suited up for the dive. The Perth was deeper than
the Houston and it seemed
like we were descending forever. Finally we saw what looked like large pipes
point toward us. As we moved closer we saw that they were the twin 6 inch guns
mounted in each turret that were now pointing directly toward the surface. We
swam the length of the ship but didn’t have much time due to our depth.
Photos taken on
the Feb. 27 - Mar. 2, 2002
expedition
We
returned to the surface and attempted to raise the anchor chain and found it
fouled on the wreckage below. Steve Rogers and I suited up to make the dive to unfoul the anchor. Upon reaching the bottom we found that
it was fouled in several areas; on a deck cleat, around the bridge and around
the mainmast. Steve worked on unfouling it from the
mainmast and I worked on the bridge and deck cleat. We finally finished our job
and returned to the surface. We again tried to raise anchor and found that the
chain had fouled a second time. Two more divers went down to recover the anchor
and we were finally able to get underway to return to port.
The Houston is truly
majestic as it slumbers on the bottom of the ocean. In a way it still has a
life of its own. It remains a ship of war but is now abundant with sea life of
every description. Beautiful corals and sea fans provide a natural tribute, a
memorial for the hundreds of men entombed within. As we looked at her we could
easily visualize her cutting a foamy path through the sea, her men moving about
the decks and the aircraft on her catapults. The spirit of this ship continues
to live on in the minds and hearts of those who have served on her and cared
about her throughout the years. It is our responsibility to keep alive the
memories and sacrifices of our forefathers and to teach our children the
meaning of sacrifice. This ship continues to remain a living tribute to those
who have served aboard her. It is still very much alive and bears a dignity
that will never pass.