In the foreword and afterword to the fine new edition of Abandon Ship! (New York: Harpercollins, 2000) by Richard Newcomb, author Peter Maas refers to then-Captain Naquin's role as "pivotal in the loss of the Indianapolis" and claims that he "told [the ship's commanding officer, Captain Charles B.] McVay [III] not to worry about enemy subs." These references to my father, the late Rear Admiral Oliver F. Naquin, are reckless and unsubstantiated.
As Captain McVay readied his ship to leave Guam en route to Leyte, he requested an escort and additional time for training, which were denied, because Fleet Admiral Chester Nimitz had directed that combatant ships not be escorted along that route. This was never Captain Naquin's call as surface operations officer on Vice Admiral George D. Murray's staff. Captain McVay said he was not informed of the risk. The war in the South Pacific was winding down, but it still was considered a danger zone, and the risks were implicit. If Captain McVay was unaware of existing risks, why was he asking for additional training and escort?
Enemy sightings along the Guam-to-Leyte route were frequent, but the risk was considered to be slight at that time. The full testimony of Captain Naquin appears on pages 237-238 of the book. The Indianapolis had been apprised of these sightings prior to her departure. The Indianapolis was Admiral Raymond Spruance's flagship, and Admiral Spruance and Captain McVay had lunch together before the cruiser sailed. Admiral Spruance was privy to timely information on sightings, and had he felt a special danger was awaiting the Indianapolis, he could have interceded with the Commander-in-Chief, Pacific, to provide convoy escort for his own flagship. He apparently also believed that sightings up to this point were of low order. Captain Naquin never told Captain McVay "not to worry about enemy subs," as Mr. Maas puts it.
An unshared Ultra secret message concerned reports of enemy sightings and the unhappy fate of the destroyer escort Underhill (DE-682). This was considered an aberration, because she mistook an incoming Kaiten human torpedo for a midget submarine and opted to ram it, thus contributing to her own sinking. The likely reason that the content of this or any other Ultra information was withheld was that we did not want the Japanese to know we had broken their naval codes; dissemination was held closely, and frequently information was misleading.
The I-58, the Japanese submarine that torpedoed the Indianapolis, had arrived on the Guam-Leyte (Peddie) route on 27 July, about the date the Indianapolis departed Guam. (See I-58 account, pages 57-58.) On Sunday, 29 July, the I-58 headed for the intersection of the Guam-Leyte and the Peleliu-Okinawa routes. Two messages were sent to the Indianapolis to inform her of submarine action ahead on the Peddie route. "This was duly reported to Guam and there transmitted to all ships in the area." (See pages 48 and 233.) These messages were the subject of Navigator Janney's reported joking in the wardroom, out of hearing range of Captain McVay, that they were going to pass a submarine around midnight. Another report of an ongoing search for an enemy submarine had reached the Indianapolis as well. These should have been treated as warnings, but they were joked about and not brought to the attention of Captain McVay, nor was the change in visibility when weather conditions had cleared. By all accounts, Captain McVay was ill served, certainly not by the staff in Guam-including Captain Naquin-but by his own navigator and officer of the deck.
No one was more sympathetic toward or had more compassion for other skippers than Captain Naquin. As skipper of the Squalus (SS-192) in 1939, he had been commended for his "outstanding leadership" when the sub went down in a test dive. He also was chief engineer of the battleship California (BB-44) at Pearl Harbor. He knew about the malfunctions and flukes that could sink you as well as the sheer miracles that could save you. In the case of his own cruiser, the New Orleans (CA-32), he was instrumental in saving her when she lost her bow back to turret two and a third of her crew. As executive officer and navigator, he got her 1,700 miles to Australia and brought her home for repairs. On the strength of this broad experience, he was selected to serve on Admiral Murray's staff on Guam. He was awarded the Legion of Merit and was chosen to accompany Admiral Murray as acting chief of staff to take the surrender of the Japanese in the south Pacific on board the Portland (CA-33). Mr. Maas described Captain Naquin "as if cursed by some malevolent spirit." A better appraisal was made by Chief of Naval Operations Admiral Robert B. Carney, who described him as "a leader in the heroic mold."
It is important that these events be taken in context. Mr. Maas notes that "all the principals are dead." But some of us have been left with accounts that bear on history. I am not a naval historian, nor is Mr. Maas. But I am a daughter who listened.