Capturing fading stories

Social Studies Review, Fall 2001 by Sabato, Georg F

Every day 1500 veterans of World War II pass away. With their passing the opportunity to capture their intimate stories is gone forever. Last summer my father, Frank V. Sabato, a navy veteran, age 85, nearly passed away. It was the swift response of the El Dorado paramedics and the Marshall Hospital medical team that revived him. Fortunately, he is once again telling his stories. I am listening ever closer; faced with the reality his "silence" will finally come. I want to help my father record and share his memories. One story he tells is especially appropriate for 4th of July. In 1942 Petty Officer Frank Sabato was engaged in the "secret war" being waged off the coast of New York City and the East Coast. Once prohibited from telling this story he now openly shares "The Lady In New York Harbor" with you.

The Lady In New York Harbor: A 4th of July Memory

By Frank V. Sabato CWO-4, U.S. Navy Retired Copyright 2001

Whenever I see a picture of the Statue of Liberty on television, or in a magazine or newspaper, I am reminded of a wartime experience I had in which the "Lady" saved my life.

During the early years of World War II, and even before, German submarines wreaked havoc on our convoys leaving U.S. coastal ports for the European war zones. I was serving in the U.S. Navy with an anti-submarine squadron, VS 1D3, composed of 12 OS2U3 planes stationed at the Naval Air Station in New York. It was better known as Floyd Bennett Airfield in Brooklyn, New York. Our assignment was to seek out enemy "subs" and to escort convoys to and from New York and other nearby east coast ports.

It was the evening of July 3, 1942, when a scout blimp off the coast of New Jersey, not far from our base, cornered a "sub". We "scrambled" one of our OS2U3 planes, with two depth charges and two 50 cal machine guns. It was about 7PM and dusk was closing in. We had to hustle.

Ensign Cohen was assigned to the flight. He chose me, a petty officer 2 class at that time, to be his rear seat spotter. It was about 7 P.M. Dusk was closing in. We had to hustle. Soon we lifted off into the dark skies. The great New York City below us was nearly invisible, as all lights on the Atlantic coast were required to be extinguished or diminished under wartime conditions. We hoped we would be able to find our home city on return from our mission. Flight in the darkness was risky business. Our squadron had lost planes of this type in similar combat situations. We suspected they were either shot down by enemy subs or they ran out of fuel and had to ditch. We made this assumption based upon reports from a few survivors of other flights our squadron had lost.

Within 2 hours after take-off we were at the target area. The blimp was waiting for us. She gave us the target by dropping a flare into the water where she determined the enemy submarine was located. We dropped our first depth charge, and then the second. We scored a "bull's eye" on the spot the blimp had marked. Now our mission was to return to base safely. In daylight hours a return flight home was easy business but we were flying home to a base hidden by the blackout. Our compass was about NNW, airspeed about 100 knots, altitude about 1000 feet. It was dark now and a nervous time. The plane hummed along nicely. Our gasoline gauge was telling us our fuel was running low. We knew the base should not be far off in the distance, but it was black all around us. We kept straining our eyes to see something familiar. Then along the horizon we saw a glimmer of light. We thought it must be New York Harbor! As we approached we could see the silhouette of the "Lady" against the shimmering waters of the bay. She seemed to reach out a guiding hand pointing toward our base. What a beautiful and welcome sight! Though unlit, her magnificence shined through the darkness. We touched down safely at our base just before the dawning of the 4th of July. We thanked Lady Liberty for guiding us home.

My family lived in the Bronx. I was given leave to visit them for their 4th of July celebration. It was not only a national holiday but also the celebration of my parents wedding anniversary. All my aunts, uncles, cousins, brothers and sisters were at the family homestead for a grand American-Italian festivity. I arrived home in full dress whites with my decorations proudly displayed. I was treated with honor, as were all servicemen. But my Uncle Henry couldn't resist asking, "What the heck kind of a war are you dressed for?" Our daily missions out of Floyd Bennet Field were top secret. I couldn't tell my family about our duty until after the war. My family and the people of New York City were to remain in the dark about the real war in more ways than one.

Frank V. Sabato CWO-4, U.S. Navy Retired 535 James Drive Placerville, CA 95667

P.S.

About 25 years after the war ended, I went to visit my folks in New York from my new home in California. My nephew, who lives in Staten Island, was one of those I visited. While waiting for the ferry to take me to the island, which is not too far from where the "Lady" is located, I walked around the nearby Battery Park. I noticed a monument. To my surprise it was a monument to the casualties of the "Battle of the Atlantic WWII." The name of Lawrence Cohen was on it, promoted to Lt.(jg)USNR. There were names of other unfortunate squadron members and others from various activities and ships. That is the price of war. Larry Cohen was from Virginia. When he reported to our newly formed squadron VS 1D3 at Floyd Bennet Field he had just completed flight school. He spoke with a distinct southern accent. Many, if not most, of us in the squadron were from New York or cities in the east coast somewhere. When we first heard Cohen with his accent we thought he was faking it. We figured that with a name like Cohen he must come from New York or nearby. He was a fine pilot, likable and gentle. As my division officer we went on a number of flights together. He taught me the fundamentals of flying. As the war waged on, our missions carried us off into different theaters of the conflict. It was a sad moment when I found find my comrade's name on the tragically long list of war a casualties.