When New York Times drama critic Brooks Atkinson reviewed the opening of Mr. Roberts in 1948, he said, among other things, that Henry Fonda had “captured the play’s inner meaning and ... he hardly knew he was acting.” The skill and charm with which Fonda played Lieutenant (junior grade) Doug Roberts, both in the stage play and the movie, were doubtless enhanced by his own wartime naval service, first as a quartermaster third class in the USS Satterlee (DD-626), and later while a lieutenant, as air combat intelligence officer in the USS Curtiss (AV-4). In these positions, Fonda—who in the words of his former shipmate, now retired Captain Charles Cassell, “carefully cultivated a non-celebrity image”-—not only contributed to winning foe war but also clearly impressed those with whom he served with his forehandedness and professional performance. They remember him with both personal fondness and great respect for his skill as a Navy man.
Henry Fonda and the U.S. Navy became formally assorted on 24 August 1942 when, at age 37, Fonda enlisted as a seaman recruit at Los Angeles. In due course he was sent to boot camp and quartermaster A school at San Diego. His performance was such that he was meritoriously advanced to quartermaster third class and assigned in May 1943 to the Satterlee, a Gleaves-class destroyer then nearing completion in the builder’s ways at the Seattle-Tacoma Shipbuilding Corporation. There he and other newly assigned crewmen began the work of readying the ship for sea.
Lieutenant Cassell reported aboard as executive officer about the same time, fresh from more than a year in the DSS Anderson (DD-411). He recalls the fitting-out period:
‘‘Only a few had preceded me . . . Fonda was one of them. He had already, on his own, set up shop in one of the ship’s offices . . . and was hard at work checking inventory against allowance . . . and beginning the endless task of making corrections. He also checked regularly on shipyard work in the bridge area, and took custody of the navigation equipment when it arrived. I should have done that work, but my XO duties kept me busy. As soon as possible we selected a QM striker, but Fonda was the Navigation Department. ...”
The ship’s first commanding officer, Joseph F. Witherow, Jr., then a lieutenant commander, remembers his freshly caught quartermaster and “favorite ship” well. The normally hectic nature of a precommissioning period was complicated by the fact that:
“The full complement was slow in arriving—shortages in all rates in those days—and no rated Signalmen, so Fonda was detailed to that duty as well. Came the First of July and Fonda still my only Quartermaster, so he was the one who had to hoist the commissioning colors. ... I think he stole the show from me that day, from all the oohs and ahs of the feminine spectators dockside . . . including my wife, I might add.”
Although the logbook is faint with age, many entries attest to the crew’s hard work. On 7 July 1943 there were boat handling drills and prior to leaving Bremerton, where she installed classified equipment, the Satterlee ran a measured mile at a speed of “just over 40 knots” which, Witherow states, “was a record speed for destroyers at that time.” Following the completion of such other tasks as calibrating the magnetic compasses and structurally test firing the guns, the ship turned south for San Diego and shakedown.
Captain Witherow, Lieutenant Cassell, and their only quartermaster were put through the full regimen of exercises: flag hoist, signal drills, station keeping, night general quarters, and refueling at sea. In all this there was only one untoward event. On 10 August 1943, when the temperature in one magazine rose to 102°, all ammunition had to be put in an adjacent room. The period was, in Cassell’s words, “a tough job . . . sort of like plebe year. . . . [nevertheless] the Navigation Department passed the course, due almost entirely to Fonda’s efforts, at the time and during fitting out.” Finally, on 17 August, Rear Admiral Frank A. Braisted, Commander Operational Training Command, was satisfied that the Satterlee and her men were ready for sea, and at 1500 he came aboard to send the ship off to war.
Concurrently, in Witherow’s words, “The ship received orders for Fonda’s transfer to New York, for Officer’s Training, but conveniently pigeon-holed them.” Cassell recalls that:
“Fonda liked the ship and was eager to go to sea. . . . he had taken no action to get a commission . . . [but] we persuaded him, I think, that his talents were not being fully utilized and he could serve the Navy bests as an officer.”
He agreed to be commissioned, but on “the condition that he could make our first cruise, stay aboard until we got to Norfolk. . . .” The cruise was uneventful, filled with normal at-sea routine, and Fonda qualified as the best refueling-at-sea helmsman. Both Witherow and Cassell remember that “He really wanted to go to sea, especially after all his hours and weeks of preparation.”
Cassell recalls that the Satterlee “was the first Allied warship within gun range at Omaha Beach. . . . Fonda would have liked that.” That was not to be, however because at 0745 on Thursday, 2 September 1943, the 1 of book notes:
“Fonda, H.J., 562-62-35, QM3/c, USN, transferred to local receiving station for further transfer to Commandant 3rd Naval District for assignment by Bureau of Naval Personnel.”
Proceeding to New York, Fonda was commissioned a leutenant (junior grade) and thereupon ordered to the staff of the Vice Chief of Naval Operations in Washington, where he was to make training movies at the Naval Air Station (NAS) Anacostia. He tired of this mundane duty, however, so he applied for duty aboard a ship in a war zone The Navy delayed granting that request, however. After slightly more than a month in Washington, Fonda was ordered to NAS Quonset Point, Rhode Island, where he was trained as an air combat intelligence officer. Between 4 October 1943 and 18 March 1944, he learned the basics of coding, photo interpretation, et cetera. Fonda excelled in his work, finishing in the upper quarter of his class. His wish to serve in a war zone was finally granted in the spring of 1944. After a short leave, he began the journey to the seaplane tender Curtiss, where he was to serve as assistant air operations officer under a stem taskmaster' Vice Admiral John Howard Hoover, Commander Forward Area Central Pacific.
The Curtiss was anchored at Kwajalein in May 1944 preparation for the remaining operations in the drive across the Pacific. High command strategy adopted by Admiral Chester W. Nimitz focused on securing island footholds from which future air operations against the home islands of Japan might be conducted. Among these were Saipan, Tinian, Guam, and Iwo Jima. It was thus into an environment charged with expectation and led by an able, but demanding, commander that Fonda, along? with pilots who flew the patrol missions to gather intelligence, found themselves.
Captain Harry E. Cook, commanding officer of VPB-216, recalls those times during which he and his crews operated:
“Our patrols lasted most of the daylight hours, and most landings were made in the late afternoon. Because we had to refuel from the tenders, it was well after dark before we secured to a mooring buoy for the night. The real problem was that shortly after dark the Japanese began their nightly bombing attacks. . . . This went on until Commander Forward Area Central Pacific arrived, embarked in USS Curtiss. . . . Things started changing fast, and soon there was an antisubmarine net around the whole anchorage, and we no longer were able to have movies on the weather decks because darken ship and other regulations were more rigidly enforced.”
Fonda’s duties focused on air operations, specifically the interpretation and evaluation of masses of photographic and other intelligence material required to carry forward •he invasion of the Marianas and later Iwo Jima.
Cook recalls Fonda as one of the first staff officers to seek him out. In addition, he conducted detailed briefings with VPB-216 pilots and aircrews on the activities of the Japanese so that he might better grasp the materials he was reviewing.
Yeoman Carson White recalls that Fonda had an innate ability to reconcile opposing points of view on a given question. He exercised it in the controversy between Admiral Hoover and Major General Willis H. Hale over low-level bombing of targets. Hoover, a dour and redoubtable officer, had been highly critical of the Army Air Forces general’s unwillingness to have his pilots fly low-altitude bombing missions and was not at all reticent in his criticisms. Fonda “was a peacemaker, and I can remember a brief in which Admiral Hoover—and he was a tough one—and the General were toe to toe. It was amazing to see this young jaygee tell them they were each right and have them Wondering why they had argued to begin with.”
Cook, too, recalls his association with Fonda and the officer’s obvious professionalism. In September 1944, Prior to moving on to Kossol Passage and Palau, Cook and bis squadron were supported by the Curtiss, and he became acquainted with the assistant air operations officer. One day during that period, Fonda had staff watch officer duty, and he received a report that one of VPB-216’s aircraft had sighted a Japanese submarine.
“Action on his part was necessary, and he left to issue the warning to alert all units present. He was in such a hurry that he stumbled as he started down a ladder . . . with the result that he suffered a bad laceration. ... he continued at full tilt until he had completed his duty and only then did he get to sick bay for treatment.”
Later that day, as Cook remembers it, there was scheduled entertainment on board, and the world-famous banjoist Eddie Peabody was to perform.
“Hank Fonda was Master of Ceremonies and he received a standing ovation when he appeared ... a dressing covering much of the cut. ... It was Hank Fonda who got the greatest applause from the crew…He had long earned their respect . . . because he was such a genuine straightforward person who worked very hard.”
Hard work, application to his duties, and an interest in others characterized his service. White recalls when the ship was at Saipan in December 1944. Tokyo Rose broadcast that she knew where the Curtiss was, who Admiral Hoover was, and even that the movie actor Henry Fonda was on board. Most important, she said that the Japanese Navy was going forth to sink the ship, and as White remembers it, “We believed her, and the ship got underway.” During the air attack this very nearly happened, and after the attack, Fonda—by then promoted to full lieutenant—and two sailors dove into the water around the ship to identify an aircraft shot down by the Curtiss' s gun crews. White further recalls, “We weren’t sure how he figured it out, but he told the Admiral to launch an air strike at Pagan Island, and we weren’t attacked for almost two weeks.”
What White did not realize, perhaps, was that Fonda dove into the harbor not only to identify the aircraft but to learn from whatever sources he might find where it was based. He was tireless in seeking answers to his questions. He recovered the dead Japanese aviator’s chart board and from it, together with other materials, Fonda concluded that an attack on Pagan was both appropriate and necessary.
The quality of Henry Fonda’s service to the Navy is captured in a citation for the Bronze Star Medal that he was awarded in August 1945:
“He contributed materially to the planning and execution of air operations which effectively supported the Marianas, Western Carolines and Iwo Jima Campaigns. . . . His keen intelligence, untiring energy and conscientious application to duty were . . . responsible for his successful contribution to the Central Pacific Campaign. His performance . . . was outstanding throughout and in keeping with the highest traditions of the Naval Service. ...”
Perhaps a more enduring memorial lies in the remembrances of his shipmates—among them Witherow, Cassell, Cook, and White. “We were always being bombarded from Washington by letters, all wanting him to come back for PR duty, but he refused. He said he couldn’t go back until the job was done and all of us could come home.”
Lieutenant Fonda left active duty in the fall of 1945, after a short tour in the Navy’s public affairs department in Washington. He resigned from the Naval Reserve in November 1953, shortly before the movie Mr. Roberts was produced. Although 45 years have passed since Fonda served on board ship, he still remains a fine example of how tenacity and ability can produce a genuinely fine person and a highly competent officer.