Cats and traps at Navy Lakehurst

Wings of Gold, Fall 2002 by Worsdale, Tom, Odoardo, Pattie

He carriers a small brown paper bag wherever he goes but it doesn't contain his lunch. He is sought out periodically to describe that night in 1937 and the bag's contents illuminate his connection to it. He revealed them when Wings of Gold visited him at Lakehurst. There are three items in the sack: a Duralumin section of Hindenburg's inner structure, the head of each rivet neatly marked with the Zeppelin company's symbol; a piece of its mooring line; and a solid silver spoon from the ship's galley, surprisingly heavy to the touch.

John, a native of Fitchburg, Massachusetts, retired from the Navy in 1948 as an ADC after 20 years of service, was a civil servant at Lakehurst for another 23 years, retiring again in 1974. He and his wife, Catherine, from Brooklyn, New York, were married for 55 years. She passed away in 1990.

As the base's resident lighter-than-- air expert, Iannaccone embodies a special presence at Lakehurst. Indeed, last June a street, "Iannaccone Way," was named in his honor. His story:

I can still see the Hindenburg, about 100 feet in the air as it caught fire that night. And I can still hear the succession of booms as the flammable hydrogen cells within the airship ignited, one right ofter the other from the heat. I was 200 feet in front of the rigid airship, and everything happened so very fast.

Along with the Lakehurst-based Zeppelin company's 100-strong civilian work force our Navy group of 195 sailors had moored and parked Hindeburg 10 times in Hangar One, two times in the previous year. It was 12 hours late on the fateful day due to strong westerly winds and arrived about 4:30 p.m. Weather conditions weren't quite right at the time so it "waved off," proceeded to the Atlantic shore, then returned a couple of hours later. Winds were calm and everything looked OK on its return as the airship closed toward the motorized mooring mast. The mast rose from the middle of the mooring circle and was connected to a railroad-like track along which the airship would be guided toward the massive Hanger One about 2,000 feet away.

The airship's crew released mooring lines to handlers on the ground. Once the nose was connected to the mast and winched securely, yours truly, with five other sailors, were set to push a flat, wheeled cart into position under the tail of the airship. The cart was connected to the mooring mast in a way that allowed it to weathervane once the tail was on it.

The initial burst of fire stunned everyone. The line holders dropped the lines and ran from the airship not knowing which way it might turn. By the time my group reacted and ran toward the airship the fire was out, having taken only 34 seconds to burn Hindenburg to the ground. By the time we reached the scene most of the survivors had already gotten out. One man crawled out of the nose section burned from head to toe. All he had on were his shoes. He died shortly thereafter. To our amazement, an older man and his wife were still in their seats clearly in a state of shock, not a scratch on either one. We helped them get out. Only two sailors were injured. One broke his elbow, another was lashed by a hot wire as he ran near the tail section.