The following was given at the Drexler Survivors Reunion banquet, Saturday, May 18, 1991 by

H. A. Schutz in the absence of Gerry Mefferd, Phila P.A.

Commanding Officer, LCS(L) 114.

Survivors, Rescuers, Relatives and Friends:

At the first reunion in 45 years of the LCS 114 in Charleston, South Carolina last fall, it was unanimously agreed upon that as many crewmembers as possible would accept the Drexler's kind invitation to join them in Philadelphia in 1991. I had planned to be with you, but unfortunately, four cases of terminal cancer among family and friends intervened and I am unable to attend. I am hoping that I may join you in some future reunion.

The view from the conn of the LCS 114 the morning of 28 May 1945 was unforgettable. As we approached Radar Picket Station 15 the sun was just up, spreading a soft light over a calm sea. A mile or so away, Kamikazes were engaged in a furious attack upon U.S. Naval vessels already on station.

As we approached, the action was too far away and too concentrated for the 114 to join in the shooting without endangering the ships and Combat Air Patrol at the heart of the battle.

We continued ahead at flank speed and watched through binoculars as the scene unfolded. A twin - engine plane with a meat ball insignia did what appeared to be a wing over and crashed into the starboard side of the Drexler. A minute or two later a second twin-engine plane made what seemed to be a similar maneuver and hit the crippled ship on the port side. She listed badly to starboard and was down by the stern. Then she sank, stern first, with her bow pointing skyward. The tragedy and the suddenness of it all left us momentarily stunned.

Oil fires covered the water and our first thought was for the heads bobbing in the midst of smoke and flames. Our LCS was equipped for fire fighting, and we had a big Irish bosons mate, who had been a lieutenant in the New York City Fire Department to direct our activities. We sent a message to the other ships on station that we were heading into the burning area to rescue the men trapped there. Then we would turn our efforts to the men who were in less jeopardy.

As we approached the edge of the flames the patches of oil seemed to be burning out on their own. Miraculously, they were all out by the time we started pulling oily men out of the sea.

The first man to reach the ship was a strong swimmer and seemed to be in shock. As soon as he touched the side of the 114 he snapped out of it and yelled, " Hell, I'm all right. I'm going back out there and help some of those other guys." He took an Olympic swimmer's turn and off he went to bring I don't know how many men to safety.

This incident has haunted me for almost half a century. Who was this man? Where is he now? All I know is that someone said he was a laundryman. If any of you know who he was, I'd like to know his phone number or better still, shake hands with him at a future Drexler reunion.

It was a time for courage and a time for bravery. We were surrounded by bobbing heads. Many came alongside and were pulled aboard. Volunteers from the LCS 114 swam out and rescued people. Sam Shumar, our Bosun, who is here tonight was awarded a Bronze Star for his rescue efforts.

Everybody got into the act! Tony Chetock, also here tonight, took off with Dan Heivly, a Coxswain, in our 14 foot row boat. I don't know whether they couldn't find the oarlocks or didn't know such things existed, but they made their way among the bobbing heads, one standing in the bow, the other in the stern, like punters on the Thames River. One of your crew members, treading water, called out to them and asked what their ratings were. When Chetock confessed to to being a Motormac, the guy in the water said, "We knew you had to be from the Black Gang, but we're damned glad to see you anyway."

There were many incidents, many stories, as 119 or possibly more joined, our crew of 72 aboard the LCS 114. Unfortunately, those of us on the conn missed out on a lot. Amidst all the action, our radios reported more bogeys and there were more Kamikaze attacks. Fortunately, we only had to maneuver among the bobbing heads one time while the Combat Air Patrol helped us take care of the attackers.

When the lookouts could find no more bobbing heads, we had time to look down on the deck where wet and oily survivors from the various divisions were mustering. "So and so is not here." There were inquiries about many more ? " Perhaps they were on other ships," or "I saw him in the water and he was all right." But there were gaps in the roll call, many that would never be filled. A sort of doomsday silence hung over the ship.

I wished we could have saved more of your shipmates - in fact ? I wish we could have saved all of them.

I also wish that the leaders of the present world could get together and figure out a way to settle our differences with law, not guns.

Thank you and every good wish to you all. And P.S., please find the laundryman for me.

Gerry Mefferd, LCS 114