The Appendix Of My Grandfather

We all called him Uncle Bud. That was his name but technically he was my mother’s uncle which made him my second uncle. His birth name was Buddy. Names and technicalities aside, he was my Grandfather’s last living sibling of five when I talked to him that day in April, 2011.

We both arrived at my mother’s house at the same time. She lived a 1/2 mile away from one of the boat launches on the Colorado River so the water toys stayed at her house. I was just there to hook up the boat, en route to Lake Havasu City, Arizona for a Spring Break weekend. Uncle Bud and Aunt Mic were in town to celebrate their high school reunion. I think it was their 60th - 60th anything is impressive! When I arrived, Uncle Buddy was re-icing their ice chest, it was packed full of meat! I said “that sure is a lot of meat!” Uncle Bud said “Arts, we used to bring three full ice chests. Last time we did this we only brought two. The group just keeps dying, this is our first year with only one ice chest and I think we bought too much.” He laughed a little and said “guess I’m next to go!” He was gone seven days later. But before he left, I got to hear the submarine story one last time.

There was a stint during World War II where my Grandfather; a Submariner and Electrical Engineer in the US Navy, was parked on the ocean floor for 40 days (5n1/2 weeks) in a submarine without power, without lights, without running water, without anything. He described explosions going off all around them, persistently, from enemy fire. As a child into my adult years I was always captivated when my Grandfather, later my Grandmother, would tell me that story. They had both been gone for several years when I made it to my mothers house that spring break weekend but Uncle Buddy was there, he knows the story! It had been about 10 years since I’d last heard it so I sat him down at the table: “Uncle Buddy, how long was it again that Grandpa was on the ocean floor during World War II?”

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The Appendix Of My Grandfather

40 days! That’s a long time to believe you’ve just breathed your last breath - I can’t fathom it. I can’t imagine going four days without a shower nonetheless 40. Now multiply that by the 100-200 Navy Service Men and Women trapped together inside that motionless, air-tight vessel. My Grandfather and all of his shipmates went 40 days without anything - Anything.

They were in the middle of The Pacific Ocean during World War II and their submarine was spotted by a Japanese Destroyer. Instantly they were under attack and began taking fire. They submerged and de energized all of the submarine’s electrical capacity before finally reaching the ocean floor at the speed of a sinking ship. The enemy Destroyer circling above them has all of the technology the 1940’s has to offer for pin-pointing the exact location of that United States Submarine. The only way to avoid detection is to hide. That meant park on the depths of the ocean floor without any source of energy that can be detected by the ships above. No lights, no movement, no talking, no running water, nothing. They were instructed to breathe at a rationed rate:

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No showers. No meal cooking. No talking, nothing. A couple hundred service members trapped inside a submarine for 40 days and the act of flushing the toilet could mean life or death and voted unanimously not worth the risk of being detected. Nothing, other than breathing, was allowed while they were down there. That was the only World War II story my Grandfather ever told.

For 5 and 1/2 weeks the only activity that submarine encountered was at night and it was for a short period of time. From what I can remember my Grandfather explaining to me, they would resurface at night when it was less likely they’d be seen, just long enough to capture sufficient oxygen to sustain the entire crew for the next 24 hours. I don’t remember asking how long that procedure would take but as soon as the sub was reloaded with air, they would submerge back to the ocean floor and pray they weren’t detected.

Uncle Buddy said “Did your Grandpa ever tell you why they didn’t spend that 41 days down there?” I shook my head ‘no?’ He continued, “On the 40th day, they risked being killed so they could retreat back to Pearl Harbor. Your Grandpa’s appendix burst and if they didn’t get him to the hospital in Hawaii right away, he would have died.” I’ve never heard this story! I was looking forward to a repeat of the submarine story but Uncle Buddy is about to tell me a brand new one - A 70 plus year old story that, until that day, stayed between two brothers:

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He told me the story Grandpa never told anyone else. Uncle Buddy said “oh he didn’t tell anybody this one.” On day 40 aboard that submarine, while parked on the ocean floor, my Grandfather’s appendix burst. It was life threatening. The commander of the submarine made the decision to start the engines and b-line for Hawaii - “Stat!” They took fire from enemy ships but managed to escape safely to Pearl Harbor. My Grandfather was then placed on a gurney, removed from his submarine, rushed to a nearby helicopter that was waiting for him and flown to the hospital for emergency surgery.

Medical professionals were successful in the operating room and my Grandfather’s life was saved that day. He was in recovery the next morning. His healing time was calculated and he expected to return to duty with his shipmates within 72 hours. The news he received the following morning changed everything:

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His submarine suffered an attack shortly after they docked at Pearl Harbor the previous day. My Grandfather was the only survivor of that sub, thanks only to the emergency removal of a ruptured appendix. He narrowly escaped catastrophe by merely requiring an immediate life-threatening surgery. My Grandfather woke up in the recovery room only to be told “your surgery was a success, you’re in recovery. Every.single.one of your shipmates is dead.”

Nope. Negative. Grandpa never talked about that one. It’s a lot clearer to me now why he didn’t talk about World War II. I’m surprised those 40 days were such a popular conversation. My Grandfather carried that memory with him the remaining 74 years of his life, and as far as I know, his brother is the only person he ever told. I’m glad I got it out of him that weekend. God bless you brothers!

Well, Appendix, thank you! Thanks for nearly taking my Grandfather’s life that day, had it not been for you, I wouldn’t be putting this post together right now. An entire world of things would be nonexistent. My Grandfather lived to have five children, nine grand children, two great grand children at the time of his passing and I wouldn’t be celebrating Memorial Day like this had it not been for you, Appendix.

RIP coolest Grandparents ever

Happy Memorial Day! God bless everyone who is and is not reading this, I hope ya’all are having the best holiday weekend ever. Many flags are proudly flying around this planet of ours today and it’s Memorial Day there, too. So regardless of your geographical location right now and regardless of your political views, color, sex, language, religion, net worth, status and every other self identifier I failed to mention - From the coastline of Los Angeles, California USA:

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