EYEWITNESS REPORT
Of
James OBERTO, Sea2/c
On December 7th, 1941 I had been aboard Utah about 8 months. This was to have been a day of liberty ashore for me. As I chomped into a roll and took a swig of coffee, Shipmate Lester Hutnick sat down on the edge of the bunk and said, "man oh man, Jimmie, this is gonna be some day, some show". We were going to the fleet dance band contest.
At precisely 0755 the bugler sounded the call to colors. Both of us heard him start the call, no one on board ship, to my knowledge, ever heard him finish. Suddenly the ship rose a bit out of the water and slammed back onto the surface with a gut-wrenching shudder. There were about 25 guys in our sleeping compartment [on the third deck], almost all getting ready to start the day. In one corner of the compartment was a poker table with about seven sailors sitting around it playing cards.
One of the guys, upset over the money, chips, and cards having been knocked off the table angrily retorted, "Jesus Christ, what now! Don't tell me the Air Force is practicing torpedo and dive bombing attacks on Sunday morning, for Christ' sake!" Another card player said "Probably the God damned Japs are bombing us!" Seconds later, a postal clerk came stumbling down the compartment ladder, disheveled, bloody, wild eyed and shouting "Believe it or not, the God damned Japs are bombing us!"
The deck of our sleeping compartment had split open, and thick black oil had begun oozing up through the crack. It wasn't long before all of us became aware the deck was no longer level. The original loud explosion was followed almost immediately by several other detonations of varying strengths, and loudness and an alarming amount of seawater came cascading into the hatch opening just above our heads. We started to climb in single file to the second deck. Compounding our situation were the tons of water pouring in on us from the open portholes on the port side. We were standing in water nearly to our knees.
When we came out on the main deck bullets hitting the timbers were sending splinters of wood flying in all directions. The sight of those timbers beginning to shift and move struck terror in me. The more the deck tilted, the more dangerous these huge pieces of wood became. My decision was to take the more difficult route and climb toward the starboard side. After reaching the starboard rail I lost my footing, landed on my rear, and went slipping and sliding down the rough, barnacle-encrusted steel hull ripping the bottom out of my shorts and tearing skin off my rear in the process. I was grasping at anything to slow this downward slide. But there was nothing to grab and I shot off the hull into the water.
In the water I was surrounded by what seemed like an endless stream of bubbles of various shapes and sizes, all going in opposite directions. Looking up I could see a small boat passing just over my head, with guys treading water around it.
I could see the immense dull red hull of the Utah close behind me, and the seemingly perpetual bubbles rising all around. The light was getting dimmer by the second. I was still sinking. I tried to get our of the jacket. I grabbed the opening with one hand on each side of the vest and gave a hard yank. Some of the ties broke, part of the vest ripped away, and I was able to slip down and out from under. The vest headed for the bottom without me. When I broke the surface I was near the mooring quay. Near me was the whaleboat I had seen from below. One of the guys saw me and hauled me in. I barely sat down when all hell broke loose. Splinters of wood began flying in all directions. A Japanese Zero was diving on our boat. I dived overboard once more and started underwater toward shore.
I'll never know how I made it, but suddenly I became aware of a voice shouting for all of us to jump into a trench near where I emerged. A trench was being dug around Ford Island for the purpose of putting in sewer and water lines and the cavity was about 6 feet deep; deep enough for a man to hide from the diving, strafing Jap planes still swarming overhead. Before heading for the safety of the ditch, however, I turned to look out over the water to see how "the old girl was doing". She was, now, almost completely upside down. It was
distressing to see her with only her propellers, rudder and keel sticking out of the water. It was all over for her. The end of the UTAH had come. What I didn't know was that nearly 60 sailors were still inside.
[Ed Note Documents obtained from the National Archives of the U.S. indicate 57 men were killed in the sinking of the ship. Another sailor, Seaman Pallas Brown of the USS Utah was killed by "friendly fire" aboard the USS Argonne the evening of December 7th.]
{ It is with much sadness we report the death of our shipmate James Oberto. Jim was transferred to the staff of the Supreme Commander April 16, 2007 following a lengthy illness}
