Historiat: Jaws and the USS Indianapolis
Like most people, I love movies. One of my all-time favorites is ‘Jaws.’ I just watched it again recently, and I am always taken in by the performance the actors give throughout the movie. Don’t get me wrong, the rubber shark was great, but the actors sell that story completely, even in 2024.
One scene especially draws me in with every viewing. Aboard the Orca, in the dimly lit cabin, Quint and Hooper share drinks and stories of loves lost and battles fought, with men and beast. When the conversation turns to Quint’s removed tattoo, we are regaled with one of the finest movie monologues in the history of cinema: Quint’s recollection of his time aboard the USS Indianapolis. As a kid, I assumed this was a fictional tale. As a young adult, I learned that the truth was even more unbelievable than Bruce the rubber shark.
The USS Indianapolis (CA-35) left San Francisco on July 16, 1945, carrying “Top Secret” cargo that contained parts to the atomic bomb to be dropped on Hiroshima. After delivering the cargo to the island of Tinian, the ship departed for the Philippines.
Shortly after midnight on July 30, the Japanese Submarine, I-85 fired a spread of six torpedoes, two of which struck the ship both fore and aft. The Indianapolis sank in 12 minutes taking nearly 300 sailors down with it. The remaining 890 men “went into the water,” as Quint put it.
Adrift for four days, the men were spread over an ever-expanding area of the Pacific Ocean. In small groups, they tried to keep each other alive against hypothermia, exposure, dehydration, and the notorious shark attacks.
Eight aircraft flew over, but the men failed to signal them. Part of this was because pilots simply were not looking for a sunken vessel. The secret nature of the USS Indianapolis’s last mission, its status as a flag vessel-free to change course as desired, and oversights by the Pacific command operations staff allowed the Indianapolis to remain off the overdue list of ships.
Finally, on August 2, a PV-1 Lockheed Ventura bomber spotted an oil slick and some of the survivors. The following rescue involved several other aircraft and 11 ships, all braving Japanese submarine attacks to rescue the survivors. Now only 316 men.
The story doesn’t end there. The navy, seeking someone to hold responsible, settled on the ship’s Captain. Captain Charles McVay was tried by Court Martial, which included testimony from the Japanese Submarine Captain who commanded the I-85. McVay was charged with “hazarding the ship” by failing to order the “zig-zag” maneuvering designed to mitigate attack from torpedoes. Commander Mochitsura Hashimoto’s testimony stated that the “zig-zag” would not have saved the vessel regardless. He had ordered six torpedoes fired to account for it.
McVay was convicted and remained on active duty until 1949. He never recovered from the guilt and shame. He took his own life in 1968.
In 1996, an unlikely collection of historically minded do-gooders came together to clear McVay of any wrongdoing and exonerate his name. Survivors of the USS Indianapolis, Captain William Toli (final Captain of the fast-attack submarine USS Indianapolis SSN-697), Congressional lobbyist Michael Moroney and sixth grade student Hunter Scott pooled research and resources to pass a congressional resolution.
Quint’s story added drama to an already tense situation in Spielberg’s cinema masterpiece. But, as with many tales, the truth is stranger than fiction. The USS Indianapolis had a storied and honorable career. Her sailors carried that honor with them the rest of their lives. The fought to make sure that their Captain regained his.
The story of the USS Indianapolis (CA-35) is captured in detail in several books and documentaries.
