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Make your plans to attend the next Whitman reunion in
Albany, NY, September 3-7, 2007. The reunion will be held in conjunction with the annual DESA convention. If you served in Whitman and want to
join our group, contact: Tony Polozzolo, 6328 Alberta St., Springfield, VA 22152 or email:
webmaster@usswhitman.com The following article is reprinted from DESANews, Nov/Dec 1995, page 2.
Ralph Coan Remembered By Former Whitman Officer (The following is a recollection of LtCmdr Ralph Coan by Thomas K Reis, Stuart, FL, who served as Gunnery Officer in Whitman for much of his tour on board) Ralph was a damn good sailor, even though he once rammed an oiler (late January, 1944) while refueling in heavy seas, punching a hole in Whitman's bow. We were a screen with some destroyers and were almost full, so Coan was loath to pull alongside the taller tanker in such turbulent water. The screen commander (a DD trade school type) rejected Ralph's plea not to take fuel. Ralph was mad as hell. Don Gomes was on the bride and when Whitman predictably was caught in a huge trough Coan excitedly and in anger yelled "back full!" It was too late. The heavier ship that created the trough was steady and we were sucked into the oiler. Gomes knew the engine room could not answer "back full" and relayed "back standard", academically the command entered in the log. We went to Funafutti where destroyer tender Blackhawk patched the hole made when the fluke of our anchor punctured our hull. Where there, many shipmates will recall, gunners mate Roland Gerber led a contingent that waded ashore in skivvies to be greeted by a horde of topless female natives in a scene that resembled something out of "Mr. Roberts" or "South Pacific." Ralph's favorite spot for loafing was the galley. I can still see him coming out on deck chomping on a choice morsel the cooks handed out to get rid of him. He'd send a whaleboat out to those huge cement barges to get our rations and any and all delicacies the detail could pilfer from VIP stocks. I remember frozen strawberries one time (and an announcement over the ship's PA system to that effect) while we moored alongside some other DEs, who couldn't believe what they were hearing. Ralph would be at the quarter-deck waiting when the boat returned. With but one galley, Whitman officers and crew had pretty much the same good food, especially under Coan. Ralph loved ship handling and, he like me, never experienced seasickness. When Whitman was escorting the new repair vessel AR6 to Ulithi, Coan and I were six on and six off during the height of the typhoon of the century (October 1944). The repair ship, with 35 feet of freeboard at the bullnose, was taking green water. Ralph discussed cutting down the mast to lessen the extended top-heavy effect. Fortunately the damage control people were unable to get into the repair shack on the flooded main deck to get a torch. Later in the day I was on watch and we rolled 67 degrees. I felt I could touch green water. The ship snapped back upright; Whitman was seaworthy beyond belief! I had to shake the CO in his sea cabin to tell him about the big roll. We had to stand our storm watches in bare feet and held on for dear life. Ralph and I were starving, having had only apples and cheese sandwiches to eat that day. I'll never forget a youngster named Waldick at the helm. We needed not give the command "meet her"; he had a God-given sense of how to steer us through the storm. Later, in signal chatter, we learned that AR6 lost visual contact with us during much of the storm. Also we apparently had tried to challenge a destroyer (which we later learned was Banyon) that also was trying to identify us. But neither ship could see the other's signal lights -- apparently not aware that each ship was trying to learn the identity of a radar "bogy" as the ships rolled and pitched so erratically the lights bounced into the watch to be unseen. In comparison to Whitman's seaworthiness, a division of diesel steam DEs (Spence and Allen among them) rolled over when they lost power. Those were exciting days. Now, shipmates, it comes to pass that we hear this, in our minds, for the last time: "Captain Ralph Coan is leaving the ship." He served Whitman, her crew and the Navy well. The following Letter to the Editor is reprinted from DESANews, Jan/Feb 1981, page 3. Dear Jack; It was with considerable pleasure, not to say delight, that I read in the current issue of DESA newsletter of "Tony" Polozzolo, former S1/c on the USS Whitman joining with the rest of us salty ex-Navy types as the third, to my knowledge, of we plankowners of the DE 24. I think I recall, even though I was in the "E" div., black gang if you will, that he was in the First Division. In the latter part of the "war" we were no longer engaged in operations such as the invasions of the Gilberts, Marshals and Mariannas, but were assigned to convoy duty. Of course there were ships of later commission far better equipped in armament and support ability to take our place. During this period, at one time, we shuttled to and from various destinations without making a landfall for something like nine or ten weeks. Yard craft came out bringing a new group of ships, and saw what we had safe to harbor. Of course this meant shipping stores and fueling at sea. Any member of our organization knows what this entailed. It was during one of these operations, after we had fueled, that we had also a transfer of lube oil drums to undertake. It was complicated by seas that were quite unusual for the mid-central Pacific, eight to ten feet in height from trough to crest. Perhaps they were the aftermath of a typhoon. The transfer cordage was rigged from our mast to that of the oiler, sometimes the roll would be in sync, sometimes in the opposition. Our deck force had the job of bringing the drums across to our topside, easing off when the ships rolled apart, and hauling hard when conditions allowed. In one haul of the lines the ships rolled out of "sync". A slight built seaman in the line tending force, John Brumbea, go this foot caught in a bight and was instantly on his way up toward the sheave on the mast, and almost certain dismemberment. Tony Polozzolo whipped out his toad sticker, cut the right line, and they caught Brumbea on his way down. Brumbea later transferred to "S" division as a striker; Polozzolo, as far as I know, reached war's end as a seaman. Maybe some of you shipmates will agree that with seaman like that we're not going to lose the next one! Respectfully submitted,
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