World War II in the Pacific demonstrated how formidable—and how vulnerable—the aircraft carrier was. These floating airbases supplanted battleships as the heart of naval power but were also irresistible targets for opposing pilots. Few tales illustrate the thin line between survival and annihilation as well as those of the USS Ommaney Bay, USS Intrepid, and USS Franklin.
The USS Ommaney Bay, an escort carrier of 512 feet, suffered a disastrous end on January 14, 1945, in action to liberate the Philippines. While part of a task force for support of landings in the vicinity of Manila, the vessel remained ever-vigilant against kamikaze attack. In the late autumn of 1944, kamikaze had become one of Japan’s last-ditch tactics and one of the most futile, aimed at the infliction of maximum harm in the pilots’ dying seconds.
A Japanese bomber swooped down that morning, releasing two bombs and then crashing into the ship. One of the explosions disabled the water mains to use against fires, and the other set fire to aircraft on the hangar deck, engulfing the carrier in flames. During the mayhem, 22-year-old gunner Joe Cooper jumped six stories into the ocean, holding on to a shattered life jacket for hours until he was rescued. Ninety-three sailors did not survive.
With the vessel on fire and hopelessly lost, she was deliberately sunk to avoid further loss. Decades passed with her location unknown, until divers positively identified the wreck deep in the Sulu Sea. For the Navy, locations such as this are still sanctuaries, just as sacred as any graveyard, that guard the memory of those lost with their ship.
Although Ommaney Bay was lost, the USS Intrepid gained fame for her obstinate persistence. An Essex-class carrier, she was nicknamed things like “The Decrepit” and “The Dry I” because she was plagued with bad luck—but she always returned. In 1944, a jammed torpedo locked her rudder in place, yet she nonetheless returned to service in time to assist in the sinking of the enormous battleship Musashi at Leyte Gulf.
Between 1944 and 1945, she survived four distinct kamikaze strikes. On November 25, two suicide aircraft crashed into her in a matter of minutes, igniting explosions and fires that took over 60 sailors. Every time, she made it home for repairs and returned to battle, including the vicious Okinawa campaign.
Following the war, Intrepid was retired, updated, then recalled to duty again during and after the Cold War, even to rescue astronauts from space missions. Today, she remains a museum in New York, a testament to the perseverance of her crews.
If Intrepid was the survivor of bad luck, the USS Franklin has the sad honor of being the most damaged carrier to return home. Ordered in 1944, Franklin experienced intense action during the Marianas, Guam, and the Philippines. She escaped disaster in one kamikaze attack that fall, but her true test came on March 19, 1945. Cruising just 50 miles off Japan, Franklin had her flight deck filled with fueled and armed aircraft when a single enemy bomber released two bombs directly onto her.
The outcome was disastrous. Blasts tore through the hangar, rockets and bullets re re-fired, and firestorms engulfed the ship. Hundreds of sailors deserted the ship, but hundreds more would not quit, fighting the blaze to keep Franklin afloat. The death toll was horrific—724 dead and 265 injured by official tally, though others estimate the loss even higher. Despite everything, she made it, limped back to port, and was finally repaired, though she would never engage in combat again.
The kamikaze threat made the U.S. Navy reconsider everything it knew about carrier defense. Anti-aircraft guns littered the ships, radar became more advanced, and crews practiced around the clock to react to attacks. None of these defenses could eliminate, however, the psychological burden of knowing that at any given time, an enemy plane might swoop straight down onto the deck. For those who survived it, the memory of those instants—the fire, the confusion, the loss—remained with them forever.
But through all those tribulations, the carriers and men of their crews represented the Navy’s endurance. Some were lost, some returned bruised, and some, such as Franklin, limped along on life support—but their tales remind us of the cost in human lives behind every triumph. They are testaments to sacrifice, perseverance, and the determination to fight on even when survival hung in the balance.