1901

As the battle reached full fury, the Germans continued to press closer while the Americans maneuvered to maintain more distance, trusting in their better long-range firing skills. As the two lines of ships passed starboard side to each other, the three monitors, armed with 10- and 12-inch guns, broke out of line and turned sharply starboard. The effect was to execute a crossing of the German T while still keeping the line of battle essentially intact. Caught between two fires, the lead German battleships were literally blown to pieces. One of the monitors exploded under return fire and sank quickly. Terry thought it was the Puritan. The monitors’ sudden maneuver broke the German line, and the remainder of the battle became a swirling melee as ships sought and battled each other, sometimes as pairs, sometimes as clusters of three or four.

Terry nearly screamed when it appeared that the Alabama was actually going to ram a badly damaged German cruiser, but the Alabama veered and missed the German vessel by only about a hundred yards. With something to do at last, the smaller guns on the Alabama raked the burning and distorted German cruiser, the Furst Bismarck. Terry watched in horror as unprotected sailors were blown to bits, some tumbling into the cold water. Wherever Terry looked, battles like this were taking place.

A German shell landed in the water beside the Alabama and lifted a huge column of black water filled with metal high over Terry’s head. When it came down, the crow’s nest was drenched in heavy foam and raked with steel splinters, slamming Terry to the floor of his post. He started to say something when he realized he was lying on his side and couldn’t move. His vision blurred and then blackened.

Terry screamed as a heavy foot came down on his injured shoulder. As consciousness returned, he thought the shoulder was either broken or dislocated; it felt as though knives were ripping into his bones as he lay on the floor of the tower. “Watch out,” he moaned.

The response was the sound of an animal in agony. Terry forced himself to look up at the man who’d stepped on him, and he recoiled in horror. It was one of the enlisted men, and there was nothing but raw meat where his eyes and nose had been. Terry used his good arm to pull the man down to him and tried to wrap a cloth about his head to protect the wound. The sailor screamed once, tried to say something, then collapsed unconscious across Terry’s waist.

Terry managed to wriggle out and pull himself upright. He was covered with blood, but apparently not much of it was his. Was he the only one left alive? No. Thank God, no. Others in that cramped space were moving as well, but a couple were ominously still. He heard sounds and picked up the phone. Dead. He tried the voice tube and heard the distant plea of the executive officer yelling for someone, anyone.

“I’m here, sir, Ensign Schuyler.” He immediately thought it was a banal thing to say.

“Where’s Sloan?”

Terry looked at one of the bodies and recognized Jim Sloan. A piece of metal protruded from the top of his skull. “He’s dead, sir. I think I’m the only officer left.”

There was a pause, then the executive officer continued, his voice firm. “All right, Schuyler, can you handle your duties?”

Terry looked about the ship. The two guns of the stern turret were pointing in different directions, and smoke was pouring from several holes in the turret around them. Everyone in there, he realized, had been reduced to ashes. There were other fires on the ship, and flames were pouring from one part of the bridge below him. It looked as though the ship had big problems. “I can handle it, sir.” He glanced down and saw that someone had started pulling bodies from the bridge.

“Good, Schuyler. Now, tell me what you can see from up there. We’re blind down here.”

Blind? thought Terry. What about the sailor without eyes?

Terry had wanted to see history, and now his wish had come true. How much time had elapsed since the great guns first roared? An hour? Two? Eternity? He tried to sort out his memories and put them into some sort of context so he could develop his report.

He looked about at the American ships. The water was covered with debris, both human and material. He was appalled by the number of corpses bobbing like toys in some giant tub. Where were the other ships? The Texas was settling by the bow, and a score of lifeboats were already in the water around her. The Kearsarge had simply disappeared. There was some burning debris approximately where he had last seen her before blacking out. Was the debris all that was left? Other ships like the Iowa and the Indiana were still under power while flames consumed portions of them. Was it possible they weren’t as badly hurt as they looked? Then he realized the Alabama was still plowing strongly through the seas, her engines evidently undamaged.