03/19/2026
81 years ago, on this date one of the greatest naval disasters of World War II occurred. Serving aboard the stricken vessel, U.S.S. Franklin was 21 years old Carbondale resident, S1C Louis James Parise, fondly called “Chippy” by his family and friends. He was the younger brother of our funeral home’s founder, Carmine J. Parise. As time has passed and those who lived through that era have died, the story of the Franklin has become forgotten only to history books, but its saga is one of true heroism and fortitude by its officers and crew. Years later the facts of that day came to light after several investigative articles and books were published. The public learned that what the crew had endured on that day was due to some questionable decisions made by its captain.
Before dawn on March 19, 1945, the U.S.S. Franklin (CV-13), nicknamed “Big Ben”, maneuvered 50 miles off the Japanese mainland, closer than any U.S. carrier during the war, and launched her first round of fighter sweeps on the island of Honshu. While preparing a second launch of its planes, a single Japanese dive bomber, using the clouds as cover, perfectly dropped two 550 lb. armor piercing bombs. One hit the flight deck centerline where 31 of the ship’s planes were warming and the other hit aft penetrating two decks down where other planes were being fueled and armed. Within minutes, massive explosions and fires broke out from the ship’s planes. Chaos erupted as the heat and flames from the fires started to cook off bombs, rockets, and ammunition on the idle planes along with munitions from the ship’s arsenal. A massive v***r explosion destroyed the hangar deck and those on it as the ship’s high octane aviation fuel reserve exploded. Emergency response was delayed since one of the Japanese bomb’s had destroyed the ships damage control department and most of its crew who were killed instantly from the explosion on the hangar deck. Many of the ship’s crew were trapped in its lower decks, others were blown off ship by explosions or forced to jumped into the frigid sea to escape the heat, smoke and flames.
It is at a time like this that true heroism evolves and individuals put aside fear to save others. There was an immediate call from the other ships of Task Force 58 to provide support to the Franklin, by taking off the injured, fighting fires and offering protection from further Japanese attacks. Selflessly and without regard to the safety of his own crew and ship the captain of the cruiser, U.S.S. Sante Fe came alongside the stricken vessel after perfectly executing a controlled crash. This allowed the passage of needed supplies, assistance with firefighting aid and taking aboard the Franklin’s crewmen. One of the heroes of the Franklin’s crew was that of Catholic priest, Father Joseph O’Callahan, a Jesuit who had been assigned to the ship 17 days earlier. Father O’Callahan was in the mess hall at the time of the attack. He immediately calmed the men in the mess hall and safely brought them top side. Once top side, Father O’Callahan was seen everywhere from organizing men to fight fires, forming chain lines of crew members to throw unexploded munitions over board, and at one point personally manning a fire hose. During all of this, he also administered last rights to many dying crew members. For his heroic efforts he was awarded the Metal of Honor.
The Franklin was now dead in the water and drifting towards the Japanese mainland. Things only got worse as its communications were inoperable, a list 15 degrees to port developed from flooded compartments due to all the sea water poured onto it, and its steel frame was broiling from heat, but the remaining crew endured and continued to fight the fires for hours. Several calls were made for the captain to abandon ship, but he refused. The Franklin was also the flag ship of Rear Admiral Ralph Davison. Once the admiral’s flag was transferred to the destroyer U.S.S. Miller the ship was ordered to be towed out of harm’s way from any further attacks by the heavy cruiser U.S.S. Pittsburgh. With mechanics inoperable on the ship, the massive anchor chain had to be manually moved into place by her crew for the tow.
By evening and still under tow, the fires were finally brought under control. Franklin’s crew members were finally able to enter the engineering rooms and ignite one of its boilers. Within 24 hours of the attack, Franklin was now able to steam under its own power with only two of its four screws operable. It sailed to Ulithi Atoll for immediate repairs and then on to Pearl Harbor for temporary repairs. Franklin than sailed 12,000 miles back to the Brooklyn Navy Yard arriving on April 28, 1945. The Franklin was later dubbed as “the ship that wouldn’t die.” It suffered the most severe damage and highest casualties experienced by any U.S. fleet carrier that survived World War II. That day the Franklin lost 807 lives and 487 were wounded. Its crew became the most decorated ship of World War II.
S1C Louis “Chippy” Parise was one of those casualties and was buried at sea. Having volunteered for service in March 1943, he was first assigned to the U.S.S. Intrepid but later reassigned to the newly commissioned U.S.S. Franklin in January 1944 and was one of its Plank Owners. He went on to receive 8 Battle Stars for his service in the Pacific Theatre and a Purple Heart posthumously.
Years later the public found out what its crew had know for years about the decisions made that morning by its new Captain. In November of 1944 the Franklin’s popular skipper, Capt. James Shoemaker was replaced by Capt. Leslie Gehres. At his change of command ceremony, Gehers introduced himself to the crew by proclaiming them as lazy, incompetent, and careless. He also blamed them for not shooting down a previous attack on the ship from a Kamikaze which killed 50 crew members. He was known to be a strict disciplinarian and an autocrat and was disliked by many of its crew for his toxic leadership style.
On March 17th – 18th the entire fleet had been at general quarters with no rest or food from the constant treat of attack from Japanese fighters. The Franklin had been at general quarters 12 times in a 6-hour period. On March 19th at 6:17 a.m. and after the launch of her first planes, the captain ordered modified condition three, relaxing the ships defenses and watch stations. This was a questionable decision as the rest of the ships in the task force were still on condition one, especially being 50 miles off the Japanese mainland where it would only take an enemy plane less that 20 minutes to reach the fleet. It was also a known fact throughout the war that the Japanese conducted most of its arial attacks either at dawn or dusk using low lying clouds to evade radar.
Once on modified condition three the crew was able to return to its bunks for rest or to assemble for hot chow in the mess hall. Many of the crew could not understand this decision but they were following orders after experiencing days of hunger and exhaustion. At 6:54 a.m. the ships Combat Information Center reported an incoming unidentified aircraft or ‘bogey.” At 6:59 a.m. Franklin had started the second launch of its planes making it a prime target for any enemy attack. From the time of its launch and until the ship’s attack at 7:08 a.m., five other reports of an incoming plane spotted in and out of radar were alerted to Gehres by either Franklin’s CIC or by other ships in the task force. For reason’s unknown, Capt. Gehres never called the crew back to battle stations, instead he informed his gunnery officer of a weapons hot order but gun crews were now minimal. In the meantime, a large line of over 400 men formed at the mess hall in deck 3 and stretched through deck 2 and up to the hangar deck. Some of the ship highest casualties were attributed to its crew bunched together in these areas. Many were killed instantly from the explosion while others were torn apart from the shrapnel
To make matters worse, after the attack Gehres ordered non-essential crew members off the stricken ship. Many either transferred to other ships alongside Franklin or jumped into the frigid water. The mass exodus was mistaken by essential crew members as an order for abandon ship and with communications aboard knocked out the message could not be confirmed. Later, the Captain ordered essential crew back to the ship, once aboard they were given letters stating that they need to explain their actions in writing for leaving the ship as they were going to be tried for desertion, including those who were blown overboard during the bedlam. Gehres sent a message to the other ships in the fleet to treat Franklin’s essential crew in their care as prisoners. Those orders were denied by the other captains and the Navy ignored Gehres’s legal action against crew members for desertion. Gehres also tried to stop Father O’Callahan from receiving the Medal of Honor but Secretary of the Navy James Forrestal intervened. While Franklin was making her way back for repairs Gehres formed the “704 Club” which was the number of men who remained on board the entire time of the disaster. Those evacuees who came back on board were excluded from memorial services for fallen shipmates and barred from receiving medals. Gehres’s actions became one of the greatest least known injustices for the Navy in World War II. Captain Gehres’s misdeeds on the Franklin were white washed and he was awarded the Navy Cross for his actions. He never sailed another ship for the Navy but was promoted to a rear admiral.
This tragic story should be remembered as one of honor for all those crew members who faithfully served their country that heartbreaking day. Today, we remember those who were killed, wounded, and heroically saved their ship from sitting at the bottom of the ocean.
Please note historical information for this post was gathered from Wikipedia, U.S.S. Franklin; The National Interest, Rip, Aircraft Carrier: The Tragic Tale of the U.S.S. Franklin; and the Unauthorized History of the Pacific War Podcast, episode 417, Big Ben, The Story of the U.S.S. Franklin.
