Ship of Ghosts: The Story of the USS Houston, FDR's Legendary Lost Cruiser, and the Epic Saga of Her Survivors

Ship of Ghosts: The Story of the USS Houston, FDR's Legendary Lost Cruiser, and the Epic Saga of Her Survivors

by James D. Hornfischer

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Overview

Ship of Ghosts: The Story of the USS Houston, FDR's Legendary Lost Cruiser, and the Epic Saga of Her Survivors by James D. Hornfischer

NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER

"Son, we’re going to Hell."

The navigator of the USS Houston confided these prophetic words to a young officer as he and his captain charted a course into U.S. naval legend. Renowned as FDR’s favorite warship, the cruiser USS Houston was a prize target trapped in the far Pacific after Pearl Harbor. Without hope of reinforcement, her crew faced a superior Japanese force ruthlessly committed to total conquest. It wasn’t a fair fight, but the men of the Houston would wage it to the death.

Hornfischer brings to life the awesome terror of nighttime naval battles that turned decks into strobe-lit slaughterhouses, the deadly rain of fire from Japanese bombers, and the almost superhuman effort of the crew as they miraculously escaped disaster again and again–until their luck ran out during a daring action in Sunda Strait. There, hopelessly outnumbered, the Houston was finally sunk and its survivors taken prisoner. For more than three years their fate would be a mystery to families waiting at home.

In the brutal privation of jungle POW camps dubiously immortalized in such films as The Bridge on the River Kwai, the war continued for the men of the Houston—a life-and-death struggle to survive forced labor, starvation, disease, and psychological torture. Here is the gritty, unvarnished story of the infamous Burma–Thailand Death Railway glamorized by Hollywood, but which in reality mercilessly reduced men to little more than animals, who fought back against their dehumanization with dignity, ingenuity, sabotage, will–power—and the undying faith that their country would prevail.

Using journals and letters, rare historical documents, including testimony from postwar Japanese war crimes tribunals, and the eyewitness accounts of Houston’s survivors, James Hornfischer has crafted an account of human valor so riveting and awe-inspiring, it’s easy to forget that every single word is true.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780553384505
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Publication date: 08/28/2007
Edition description: Reprint
Pages: 544
Sales rank: 157,875
Product dimensions: 6.05(w) x 9.17(h) x 1.20(d)

About the Author

James D. Hornfischer, a native of Massachusetts, is the author of the New York Times bestsellers Neptune’s Inferno, Ship of Ghosts, and The Last Stand of the Tin Can Sailors, which won the Samuel Eliot Morison Award for Naval Literature. Two of his widely acclaimed works about the U.S. Navy in World War II are selections of the U.S. Navy’s professional reading list. A graduate of Colgate University and the University of Texas at Austin, he lives with his wife and their three children in Austin, Texas.


Read an Excerpt

Chapter One


Off the island of Bali, in the silhouette of mountains made sacred by the favor of local gods, a warship plied the black waters of an equatorial sea. The night of February 4, 1942, found her moving swiftly toward a port on the southern coast of the adjoining island of Java. She had sustained a deep wound that day, an aerial bomb striking her after turret, charring and melting the gun house and its entire stalk. The great blast killed forty-six men. Her captain now sought port to patch his ship and bury his dead with honors. For the flagship of the U.S. Asiatic Fleet, this was the first blow of a war not yet sixty days old.

The USS Houston, a heavy cruiser, was the largest combat vessel the U.S. Navy had committed to the Dutch East Indies. She was bound for the port of Tjilatjap. Its colliding consonants compelled American sailors to give the town the more symphonious nickname "Slapjack" or, chewing their words more bitterly, "that lousy dump." As the thunder of Japan's opening offensive washed over Indonesia in early 1942, Tjilatjap was one of three havens that Allied warships still maintained in these dangerous waters. With the enemy's invasion fleets pressing down from the north and his planes attacking from land bases ever closer to Java, those harbors were fast becoming untenable. The previous day, February 3, Japanese bombers struck Surabaya, the city in the island's east that was home to Adm. Thomas C. Hart's threadbare squadron of surface combatants. To the west, the port at Batavia (now Jakarta) was a marked target too. As Hart's commanders well knew, Japan's aviators had needed just forty-eight hours after the start of war on December 8 to smash American airpower in the Philippines, sink the two largest Allied warships in the region–the British battleship Prince of Wales and the battlecruiser Repulse–and land an invasion force on Luzon. The Imperial red tide knew no pause. Flowing southward, operating at high tempo by day and by night, the Japanese executed a leapfrogging series of amphibious invasions down the coasts of Borneo and Celebes, each gain consolidated and used to stage the next assault. The shadow of the Japanese offensive loomed over Java, where the Allies would make a last stand in defense of the old Dutch colonial outpost and aim to blunt Japan's onrushing advance toward Australia.

At midnight of February 3, alerted by Allied aircraft to the presence of a Japanese invasion fleet in Makassar Strait, north of Java, the Houston had departed Surabaya with a flotilla of U.S. and Dutch warships–the aged light cruiser USS Marblehead, the Dutch light cruisers De Ruyter and Tromp, and an escort of eight destroyers. Under Dutch Rear Adm. Karel W. F. M. Doorman, the striking force steamed by night to avoid Japanese aircraft. But the distance to their target was such that the Allied ships had no choice but to cross the Flores Sea by daylight on February 4. No friendly fighter planes were on hand to cover them. It was about ten o'clock on that bright morning when Japanese bombers began appearing overhead, ending Doorman's mission before it ever really began.

That day had started as so many of them did, with the Houston's Marine bugler putting his brass bell to the public address microphone and blowing the call to air defense. As men sprinted to their general quarters stations, they could look up and see the Japanese bombers droning by, one wave after the next, nine at a time, fifty-four in all, locked in tight V formations, silvery fuselages glinting in the sun. Nosing over into shallow power glides from seventeen thousand feet, the twin-engine G3M Nells began their bombing runs.

Capt. Albert Harold Rooks steered his ship through the maelstrom of splashes, some of the bombs landing close enough aboard to fracture rivets belowdecks, some falling in patterns dense enough to conceal the six-hundred-foot-long ship behind a temporary mountain range of foamy white seawater. Watching the Houston under bombardment, a sailor on another ship said, "All this water just sort of hung in the air. Then it started to fall back, and out from underneath all this stuff comes the Houston going thirty knots." A master ship handler, the fifty-year-old skipper had an intuitive sense of his cruiser's gait. He was expert in dodging the bombs that fluttered earthward in the midmorning sun, never hesitating to stretch the limits of the engineering plant or test the skill and endurance of the throttlemen and water tenders and machinists, who gamely kept pace with the sudden engine orders and speed changes, risking the destruction of their delicate machinery by the slightest misstep. Relying on the smart reactions of his snipes as an extension of his own hand, Rooks maneuvered his cruiser like none the crew had ever seen, accelerating and slowing, ordering "crashbacks" that wrenched his engines from full ahead straight into full astern, thus steering not only by rudder but by counterturning the propeller screws, the starboard pair surging ahead while the port pulled astern. "He handled that ship like you or I would handle a motorboat," said Howard R. Charles, a private in the Houston's seventy-eight-man Marine detachment.

By acclamation Rooks was one of the brightest lights to wear four gold bars in the prewar U.S. Navy. He had been Admiral Hart's aide when the Asiatic Fleet boss was superintendent of the Naval Academy. On the teaching staff at the Naval War College in Newport, Rhode Island, in 1940, Rooks showed a keen analytical mind, and it was with no evident sarcasm that colleagues called him the second coming of the great naval strategist Alfred Thayer Mahan. In the few months since taking over the Houston in Manila, the quietly authoritative skipper had moved out of the shadow of a beloved predecessor and won, it seems, a reputation as a sort of minor deity.

An SOC Seagull floatplane was on the Houston's catapult, propeller whipping the air at full throttle, its pilot ready for an explosive-charged launch. Under normal conditions in the days before radar, the SOCs were used for reconnaissance and gunnery spotting. Flung aloft from catapults mounted on the quarterdeck amidships, the biplanes would fly out ahead of the ship, climb to around two thousand feet, and spend two or three hours weaving back and forth on either side of the cruiser's base course heading. In combat, they could loiter over an enemy fleet, signaling corrections to the gunnery department. The Seagulls were light enough to grip the air at a speed as low as sixty miles per hour, permitting a leisurely reconnaissance pattern. But now the idea was to get the vulnerable, combustible planes off the ship before the Japanese got lucky with one of their bombs.

As another formation of bombers crossed overhead, the antiaircraft officer couldn't stand waiting for the SOC to get airborne. His five-inch guns, elevated high, roared. At once the muzzle blast, just ten feet from the plane, tore the canvas skin right off the plane. As Lt. Harold S. Hamlin recalled, "the pilot found himself sitting on a picked chicken–the blast had removed every stitch of fabric from the plane. Pilot and crewman scrambled out, and the forlorn-looking plane, naked as a jay-bird, was jettisoned."

The Houston belched so much smoke from her after stack that the antiaircraft crews lost use of the aft rangefinder, bathed in black soot. So they aimed by eye. Good as the crews on her eight open-mount five-inch guns were, they were shocked to find that their ammunition was of little use. Their first salvo arced skyward right into the midst of the bombers. But only one of the four rounds was seen to explode. That sorry proportion held up through the day. Of the four hundred odd antiaircraft shells the Houston's crews fired, nearly three hundred were duds. In the prewar years, the Navy Department, mindful of costs, had refused to let its ships fire live rounds in antiaircraft gunnery drills. The Houston's gunnery officer had appealed time and again for permission to use live ammunition but was turned down. The projectiles thus saved had been left to sit and age in the magazines. Now, as the realization dawned on them that most of their stored projectiles were little more than outsize paperweights, the antiaircraft crews became "mad as scalded dogs" and fired all the faster, if to little result.

During the bombardment that rained down on them that morning, the light cruiser Marblehead was straddled perfectly by a stick of seven bombs, engulfing the old ship in giant splashes. Two struck home, and a near miss, detonating underwater close aboard to port, did as much damage as the direct hits. Fifteen men were killed as fires raged fore and aft. With part of her hull dished in, scooping in seawater at high pressure, seams and rivets leaking, the Marblehead listed to starboard, settling by the head, her rudder jammed into a hard port turn. Seeing her distress, Captain Rooks turned the Houston toward her to bring his gunners to bear on the attackers. As he did so, another V of bombers passed overhead at fifteen thousand feet. A second flock of bombs wobbled earthward. They missed–all of them except for the stray.

Some say that the lone five-hundred-pounder must have gotten hung up in the Japanese plane's bomb bay on release. With its carefully calculated trajectory interrupted, it wandered from the path of its explosive peers, arcing down outside the field of view from the pilothouse, where Rooks, head tilted skyward, binoculars in hands, was watching the flight of ordnance and conning his ship to avoid it. Unseen until it was far too late, the wayward bomb found the ship. It punched through the searchlight platform mounted midway up the Houston's sixty-foot-high mainmast, rattled down through its great steel tripod, and struck just forward of the aft eight-inch gun mount, whose triple barrels were trained to port, locked and loaded to fend off low-flying planes.

The bomb's blast reverberated all along the Houston's length, and up and down its seven levels of decks. The sickened crew felt the cruiser lift, rock, and reel. When fires ignited the silk-encased powder bags stored in the number-three hoist, a vicious flash fire engulfed the gun chamber and reached down into the powder circle. Yellow-white smoke washed over the fantail.

Intense heat inside the heavily perforated gun house, or perhaps a firing circuit shorted out in the deluge from the fire hoses, caused the center eight-inch rifle to discharge. The untimely blast startled the crew, and they collided with one another diving for cover. The powder-fed storm of flames took nearly four dozen of Captain Rooks's best men. They never stood a chance, not the doomed crew inside Turret Three, nor the men in the powder circle and handling room below them, nor the after repair party, cut down nearly to a man at their general quarters station, right under the hole in the main deck. In nearby crew's quarters, men were found blown straight through the springs of their bunks. Scraps of clothing stuck in the springs were all that remained of them, identification made possible only by the stenciling on their shirts. They could not have known what hit them. But far worse was in store for everyone aft should the flames reach the eight-inch powder bags piled in the magazine.

Fearing a catastrophic explosion, Cdr. Arthur L. Maher, the Houston's gunnery officer, rallied the firefighting crews and sent two petty officers into the scorched ruin of the gun mount searching for survivors. One of them, aviation machinist's mate second class John W. Ranger, played a hose on the other, Charles Fowler, to keep him cool. Then Ranger joined Fowler inside, armed with a carbon dioxide canister to fight the flames, the heat from which was already bubbling grease smeared on the eight-inch projectiles kept in ready storage.

By the light of a battle lantern in the turret's lower chambers, gunner's mate second class Czeslaus Kunke and seaman second class Jack D. Smith dogged down the metal flaps that separated the magazine from the burning handling room and flooded the magazine and powder hoist. "I told John [Ranger] if we had not stopped the fire before it arrived at the magazine he would have been the first Navy astronaut," Smith wrote. Their quick thinking and a measure of good fortune saved the ship from a final calamity.

With the Houston's main battery hobbled and the Marblehead damaged, Admiral Doorman aborted the mission, ordering the wounded cruisers to Tjilatjap for repair. As evening fell, Captain Rooks steered his bruised ship toward safety, out of the Flores Sea through Alas Strait, then west into the easternmost littorals of the Indian Ocean. Steaming in the shadows of the holy peaks of Lombok and Bali, the Houston's crew gathered their dead shipmates on the fantail. The Houston's two medical officers, Cdr. William A. Epstein and Lt. Clement D. Burroughs, exhausted themselves patching up the wounded and easing the worst of them into death. "I'm convinced they were never the same again," wrote Marine 2nd Lt. Miles Barrett. "For weeks their nerves were completely shattered." An ensign named John B. Nelson had the chore of identifying the charred corpses as they lay in makeshift state. Nelson's eyes filled with tears as he studied the remains, identifying some and guessing at others. Then they were covered with a canvas tarpaulin to await burial. A carpenter's mate oversaw the crew detailed to assemble caskets from scrap lumber. Their hammers tapped and tapped, marking time through the night. "War came to us in a real way. It knocked all the cockiness out of us," said Sgt. Charley L. Pryor Jr. of the ship's Marine detachment. "We saw what war could be in its real fury, just in those brief few moments."

A ceremonial watch was set in honor of the dead. Seaman first class John Bartz, a stout Minnesotan from the Second Division, held his rifle at attention on the midwatch, fidgeting in the starlit darkness. What unsettled him was not so much the corpses but their unexpected movements at sudden intervals: arms and legs twitching, rising and reaching in death's stiffening grip.

"I'm telling you, it was spooky," Bartz said. "It was really scary when you're standing there, a young kid about eighteen years old. I was glad to see my relief at four."

Table of Contents


On Asia Station     5
A Bloodstained Sea     65
The Emperor's Guests     147
In the Jungle of the Kwai     247
Rendezvous with Freedom     381
Acknowledgments     433
Bibliography     437
Notes     459
Men of the USS Houston (CA-30) and the Lost Battalion Killed in Action or Died in Captivity, 1942-1945     489
Photo Credits     513
Index     517

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Ship of Ghosts: The Story of the USS Houston, FDR's Legendary Lost Cruiser, and the Epic Saga of Her Survivors 4.1 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 37 reviews.
Gary_Graf More than 1 year ago
The USS Houston was flagship of the US Asiatic Fleet at the time of the Pearl Harbor attack in December, 1941. She survived the Japanese assault on the Philippine Islands and led the fight against Japan until finally sunk by overwhealming Japanese Navy forces near the Sunda Strait in early March, 1942. The Japanese claimed to have sunk her on several occasions prior to that time so she acquired the nickname "Galloping Ghost of the Java Coast" -- thus Ghost Ship. This book is divided into three parts -- service prior to World War 2, the war against Japan, and the fate of her crew. The Houston was fitted as a flagship and served as President Roosevelt's personal yacht on several occasions while assigned to the Atlantic fleet in the 1930's. In 1940 she was transferred to the Philippines to serve as flagship of the Asiatic Fleet. After Pearl Harbor she steamed thousands of miles through the Philippines, Dutch East Indies, and Australian waters fighting Japanese forces. She was severely damaged by air attack on February 4, 1942, but continued to fight until sunk by Japanes ships on March 2, 1942. The last part of the book tells what happenned to the suvivors. This story has been told before but never in this much detail. The author's research is outstanding, uncovering and connecting much new information. He interviewed all available survivors of the ship and researched all the records made available since World War. The Houston survivors are a closeknit group and continue to meet today (2009). There is a great bibliography and several appendices including one listing the fate of every crew member at the time she was sunk. If you are interested in history or tales of human survival this is a great book!
Guest More than 1 year ago
Mr. Hornfischer has done it again with a well-written, stirring narrative of the sacrifice made by those who served in USS Houston, the 'Lost Battalion', and others serving in this particular theater of war during the early period of U.S. involvement in WWII. 'Ship of Ghosts' fills an information gap compared to the more publicized operations. In the aftermath of the sinking of the Houston and HMAS Perth, the grueling POW experience in Thailand & Burma is vividly recounted with a real feel of the anguish that had to be encountered. This account is much more than just a normal history book with dull chronology. As with his 'Last Stand' book, this is a must read not only for history lovers, but for all those that need a refresher course as to the sacrifices of the 'Greatest Generation'.
silencedogoodreturns More than 1 year ago
Mr. Hornfischer has done it again. This excellent book is a worthy companion to his "Last Stand of the Tin Can Sailors." Both recount periods of incredible heroism and human drama, yet both are relatively little known to the general public. This book would make a great TV miniseries, a la The Pacific or Band of Brothers. A great read, it details the harrowing battles of the Battle of Java Sea and Sunda Strait, the sinking of HOUSTON, and the ordeal its survivors underwent as POW slave workers for the Japanese. I'll never watch "Bridge Over the River Kwai" again without considerable skepticism and disdain. Read this book. The men of HOUSTON deserve history remember them for their valor and sacrifice.
Guest More than 1 year ago
A wonderful story of heroism, history and the USS Houston. This gripping story reads like a novel but, at at the same time shows a richness of research that does any history book justice. It should be a movie!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
A well written book about the travesties of war and why we should exhaust all means to never let it happen again.
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Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Who was the Japanese nurse that sang "Columbia, Gem of the Sea" to Slug Wright after he gave her his water and bananas for Japanese wounded on a train? She must have a very interesting story herself. I highly recommend this book for all those interested in history, and for all others also.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Very interesting and w the same quality we expext from Hornfischer
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Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This history relates an almost unknown story of the crew of this warship and the unspeakable conditions and tortures they were exposed to in Japanese prison camps. Most of the WW II veterans will be gone soon , but America must not be allowed to forget their sacrifices that allow this and future generations to live in this great country.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
A detailed review of the crew of the a ship caught in the opening days of WWII. Few survived the sinking, survival at sea, life in prison camps. Hornfischer is a first rate historian. The only fault is the Nook version lacks the maps and photos of the hardback version. So go for the hardback if you want to track the action and people involved in more detail.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
1941Reader More than 1 year ago
True story of the sinking of the USS Houston and the imprisonment of her survivors as POWs during WW2. Very well written. A must read  !!!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This book is a stark reminder of the cruelties that a race of people can and will commit on a another. Looking at the Japanese race today a person could not imagine the horrors committed against their fellow man. I very good read for history buffs, well written, informative, and well researched.
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"I made a deal with Pluto and Hades..." He leans against a wall, coughing in pain.
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