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Jun 9 6 tweets 4 min read Read on X
In 1942 a Black mess attendant saved 15 shipmates by towing them through shark-infested water for eight hours.

The Navy gave him a letter, and the country forgot him.

He died at 37, worn down by a war that never let go of him.

Eighty years later, the Navy named a warship after him.

This is the story of Charles Jackson French..🧵1/6Image
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Charles Jackson French was born in 1919 in Foreman, Arkansas. His parents died when he was young, and he was raised by his older sister Viola in Omaha, Nebraska.

As a boy in the segregated South, he was barred from the whites-only swimming pools. So he learned to swim in the Red River. It was a skill that would one day save 15 lives.

At 18 he enlisted in the United States Navy. It was 1937, and the Navy, like almost everything else in America at the time, was segregated. At the time, the Navy severely restricted Black sailors to the Steward's Branch and related service roles. French served as a mess attendant, cooking, cleaning, and serving meals to white officers.

He finished his first enlistment and left the Navy in late 1941. Then, just days after the attack on Pearl Harbor, Charles French walked into a recruiting office and signed up again.

He was sent to the Pacific.
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In the early hours of September 5 1942, French was aboard the USS Gregory, a lightly armed high-speed transport, patrolling the black water between Savo Island and Guadalcanal.

In the darkness a US aircraft accidentally dropped a flare that lit up the Gregory and her sister ship like targets on a stage. Three Japanese destroyers opened fire. The Gregory was hit again and again and sank within minutes.

The survivors were thrown into the open ocean. Many were badly wounded. Sharks moved through the water around them, and a Japanese-held island lay nearby where capture would likely mean death.

French was one of the few men who was uninjured. He helped gather 15 wounded shipmates onto a raft. But the current was slowly dragging them toward the enemy shore.

So French made a decision that should have been impossible.

He tied a rope from the raft around his own waist, slipped into the shark-infested water, and began to swim, pulling all 15 men behind him.
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An officer on the raft, Ensign Robert Adrian, warned him about the sharks.

By Adrian's account, French answered that he was more afraid of the Japanese than he was of the sharks, and told the men to just keep telling him if he was going the right way.

Then he swam. For six to eight hours, through the dark, with a rope cutting into his waist and a raft of wounded men dragging behind him. Survivors remembered sharks circling so close they brushed against him. He never stopped.

At dawn a US scout plane spotted the raft and sent a landing craft to pick them up. Every man French had towed was still alive.

When they finally reached safety, French, soaked in oil and exhausted, was reportedly told to go wait apart from the others, where the Black sailors stayed. His white shipmates refused to allow it. They said he was a member of the crew and he would stay with the crew, and that anyone who tried to take him away would have to deal with all of them.
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His shipmates believed Charles French deserved the Medal of Honor.

What he received, eight months later, was a letter. A short commendation from Admiral William Halsey that understated what he had done, describing only about two hours of towing. Many historians and advocates have argued that racial segregation played a role in French receiving only a commendation despite the extraordinary nature of his actions.

For a brief moment he was famous. His face appeared on a wartime trading card. His story ran in comic strips and newspapers. He toured to sell war bonds and was honored at a football game in Omaha with his sister Viola at his side.

Then the war ended, the country moved on, and Charles French was forgotten.

He took a civilian job in San Diego, married, and had a daughter. But the war had left wounds that no one then knew how to treat. He struggled with what we would now recognize as post-traumatic stress, and with the alcoholism that came with it.

Charles Jackson French died in 1956. He was only 37 years old.
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For decades almost no one remembered the man they had once called the Human Tugboat.

Then, in recent years, his story was rediscovered. Historians, swimmers, and his own family pushed to give him the recognition he had been denied in life.

In 2022 the United States Navy dedicated a rescue swimmer training pool at Naval Base San Diego in his honor, a place where sailors learn to save lives in the water, named for the man who saved 15 in the dark off Guadalcanal.

Then in 2024 the Navy announced something greater. A new Arleigh Burke-class destroyer, one of the most powerful warships in the fleet, would carry his name into the future. The USS Charles J. French.

A Black orphan from Arkansas who was restricted to cooking and cleaning, who saved 15 lives and was handed a letter, who died young and forgotten, will now have his name on an American warship for as long as it sails.

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More from @UntoldWarFacts

Jun 6
He died in 2016 at the age of 100, the last surviving Midway dive-bomber pilot.

Seventy-four years earlier he had done something no other American pilot at Midway managed. He scored direct hits on three enemy ships over three days, and all three sank.

He never wanted the credit. The title of his memoir was a plea. Never Call Me a Hero.

This is the story of Dusty Kleiss..🧵1/7Image
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Norman Jack Kleiss was born in 1916 in Coffeyville, Kansas, and grew up through the Great Depression. Everyone called him Dusty. He worked with tools as a boy, joined the Naval Academy, and graduated in 1938. He earned his wings as a naval aviator and was assigned to Scouting Squadron Six aboard the aircraft carrier USS Enterprise.

His aircraft was the Douglas SBD Dauntless, a two-man dive bomber. The pilot flew and aimed the aircraft. A gunner sat behind him facing backward, defending the tail.

The way a Dauntless attacked a ship was terrifying. The pilot would roll the aircraft over at high altitude and drop into a near-vertical dive, plunging straight down toward the target through anti-aircraft fire, holding the dive until the last possible second before releasing the bomb and hauling back on the controls to pull out.

By the spring of 1942 the United States had been losing to Japan for six months. Pearl Harbor. The Philippines. Wake Island. The Japanese Navy had not lost a major battle.

That was about to change at a tiny atoll called Midway.
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On the morning of June 4 1942, the Enterprise launched her dive bombers to find the Japanese carrier fleet.

It very nearly went wrong. The aircraft spent hours searching and almost ran out of fuel. Then they found them. Four Japanese aircraft carriers, the same ships that had attacked Pearl Harbor, turning into the wind below them.

Dusty Kleiss rolled his Dauntless over and dove on the carrier Kaga.

He did something most pilots would not. Instead of releasing his bombs at the standard altitude, he held his dive lower, dangerously low, to make absolutely certain he could not miss. He released and pulled out so hard his body was crushed into the seat.

His bombs struck the Kaga. As he leveled off just above the water and looked back, the carrier was a wall of flame a hundred feet high. Kaga was finished. She would sink that day.

Three other Japanese carriers were hit that same morning by American dive bombers. In the space of a few minutes the balance of the entire Pacific war had begun to turn.

But for Kleiss the day was not over, and it was about to bring him terrible news.
Read 7 tweets
Jun 5
They refused to bathe. They refused to salute. They poached deer from an English lord's estate and used their washing water ration to cook it.

The night before D-Day they shaved mohawks and painted their faces like warriors.

Then they jumped into Normandy on one of the deadliest missions of the invasion.

This is the story of the Filthy Thirteen..🧵1/7Image
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Officially they were the 1st Demolition Section of the Regimental Headquarters Company, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division.

Nobody called them that.

They earned the name the Filthy Thirteen while stationed in England before the invasion. The story goes that they refused to waste their weekly water ration on bathing or shaving. Instead they used it to cook the game they poached from the land around their base, including deer taken from a nearby estate. They went around filthy, unshaven, and unbothered by what anyone thought of them.

They drank hard. They fought. They went absent without leave. They ignored almost every rule the Army had except the ones that kept them alive in combat. Their officers were driven to despair trying to discipline them.

But there was a reason the Army put up with them. When it came to the actual job of blowing things up and fighting behind enemy lines, there was no better squad in the regiment.
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At the center of them was a sergeant from Oklahoma named Jake McNiece.

McNiece was the son of an Irish father and a Choctaw mother. He was the one who could not be broken or tamed by Army discipline. He was promoted and busted back down so many times that despite being one of the most capable soldiers in the division, he barely held a rank for long. His own men nicknamed him McNasty.

On the night before D-Day, McNiece had an idea drawn from his Choctaw heritage. To psych the squad up for their first combat jump, he had them shave their heads into mohawks and paint each other's faces like warriors going to battle.

An Army Signal Corps photographer captured the moment. In the most famous frame, a paratrooper named Clarence Ware is carefully painting the face of another named Charles Plaudo.

The photograph ran in Stars and Stripes and helped create one of the most enduring images of American airborne culture.

A few hours after it was taken, the men in it jumped into the dark over Normandy.
Read 7 tweets
Jun 4
They took a B-17 that had been left for scrap, rebuilt it by hand, and bolted on so many extra machine guns it became one of the most heavily armed bombers in the Pacific.

Then they volunteered for a solo mission over enemy territory that few crews wanted.

Its tail number was 666.

This is the story of the Eager Beavers..🧵1/7Image
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The pilot was a young officer named Jay Zeamer.

By early 1943 the Army Air Forces had more or less given up on him as a pilot. He had never managed to qualify to command his own bomber. He was bounced between units, used as a fill-in copilot, the odd man out who could not seem to get checked out as a first pilot. On paper he looked like a washout.

But Zeamer wanted to fly combat more than anything. So he did something unusual. He started gathering other men who had been passed over, rejected, or labelled as difficult. Misfits no other crew wanted.

Among them was an old friend, a bombardier named Joe Sarnoski.

Together they became known around the airfield as the Eager Beavers, because they volunteered for the missions nobody else would touch.

There was just one problem. A crew needs an aircraft. And nobody was going to give the rejects a good one.
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So they found their own.

Sitting at the edge of the field was a worn-out B-17E Flying Fortress, tail number 41-2666. It had been knocked around, used hard, and was largely being kept around for spare parts. Everyone called it Old 666.

The Eager Beavers adopted it and went to work. They rebuilt the tired bomber by hand. Then they did something that set it apart from every other B-17 in the theater. They up-armed it.

A standard B-17 carried around a dozen machine guns. The Eager Beavers crammed in extra ones, including a fixed forward-firing gun that Zeamer could aim and fire himself from the cockpit, something a bomber pilot almost never had. By some accounts they pushed the total as high as 19 guns, with spare weapons kept aboard in case any jammed in combat.

They had turned a junked bomber into one of the most heavily armed aircraft in the Pacific.

Now they just needed a mission worthy of it.
Read 7 tweets
Jun 3
The paintings on the noses of WW2 aircraft were rarely just decoration.

To the men who flew behind them, they were luck. Protection. A charm against death.

The tradition was older and stranger than almost anyone realizes, and it runs from an Italian sea monster in 1913 to the Ferrari logo to Walt Disney.

This is the story of nose art..🧵1/7Image
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It began before most people had ever seen an aircraft fly.

One of the earliest recorded pieces of nose art was painted in 1913. An Italian flying boat went up with a sea monster painted across its hull, complete with teeth and eyes. Some accounts say its crew added marks beside it for the damage the aircraft took in combat.

The idea spread fast once the First World War began. German pilots took to painting gaping mouths beneath the propeller spinners of their aircraft. Squadrons painted emblems to tell friend from foe in the chaos of a dogfight.

From the very beginning the art served two purposes at once. It was a practical marking. And it was something more personal, a way for a man to make the machine that carried him into danger feel like his own.
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One of those early designs would become one of the most recognized symbols on earth.

An Italian fighter ace named Francesco Baracca flew in the First World War with a prancing black horse painted on the side of his aircraft. Baracca was Italy's greatest air ace. He was killed in action in 1918.

Years later his family met a young racing driver and gave him Baracca's prancing horse to use. They believed it would bring him luck.

The driver's name was Enzo Ferrari. He first put the prancing horse on his racing cars in the 1930s.

The horse of Ferrari, one of the most famous logos in the world, began its life as good luck nose art on a World War One fighter plane.
Read 7 tweets
Jun 1
A red-haired messenger boy at an MGM movie studio in Hollywood paid for his own flying lessons in the 1930s.

By 1940 he was flying a Spitfire in the Battle of Britain.

He was one of the first Americans to fight for Britain, more than a year before Pearl Harbor.

He was carrying a secret that could have ended his flying career.

This is the story of Red Tobin..🧵1/6Image
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Eugene Quimby Tobin was born on January 4 1917 in Salt Lake City, Utah, and raised in Los Angeles. He was tall, red-haired, and quick with a joke. Everyone called him Red.

In the 1930s he got a job as a guide and messenger at the MGM film studio in Hollywood. He spent his days carrying messages between the soundstages where the biggest movie stars in the world were making films. He used every spare dollar he earned to pay for flying lessons at a small airfield called Mines Field, now the site of Los Angeles International Airport.

By the late 1930s he had earned his private pilot's license. At the airfield he became close friends with two other young American pilots. Andrew Mamedoff, a charming adventurer and fellow pilot, and Vernon Keough, a former professional parachute jumper nicknamed Shorty.

The three of them were inseparable. And when war broke out in Europe in 1939, the three of them decided they were going to be part of it, even though their own country wanted nothing to do with it.
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Their road to the war was almost impossible.

First the three friends volunteered to fly for Finland, which had been invaded by the Soviet Union. By the time they made arrangements to get there, Finland had surrendered.

Then they signed up to fly for France. They crossed into Canada, took a ship across the Atlantic, and made their way to the French air force. But before the French could even train them on French aircraft, Germany overran France. The country asked for an armistice in June 1940.

Now the three Americans were stranded in a collapsing country swarming with German troops. They were desperate to reach England and keep fighting. As France fell into chaos around them, they managed to escape and reach Britain before it was too late.

They had crossed an ocean and escaped a Nazi occupation just to get into the war.

Britain was fighting for its life and desperately needed pilots. The Royal Air Force accepted the Americans and sent them to train on the Supermarine Spitfire.
Read 6 tweets
May 31
The American sailors who served on her called the USS Laffey the ship that would not die.

Off Okinawa in 1945, 22 Japanese aircraft singled her out over the course of a single attack.

She was hit by six kamikazes and four bombs in 80 minutes.

32 of her crew were killed. She stayed afloat and kept firing.

This is the story of the USS Laffey..🧵1/6Image
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The USS Laffey was an Allen M. Sumner class destroyer built at Bath Iron Works in Maine. She was commissioned in February 1944. She was just over 376 feet long and carried a crew of around 336 men.

She was named after Seaman Bartlett Laffey, a Civil War sailor who had earned the Medal of Honor. She was the second ship to carry the name. The first USS Laffey had been sunk in a point blank gun battle with Japanese warships off Guadalcanal in November 1942.

Her captain was Commander Frederick Julian Becton. Becton had been aboard a nearby destroyer the night the first Laffey went down at Guadalcanal. He had watched her die. Now he commanded the ship that carried her name.

The Laffey went to war fast. On June 6 1944 she was off the coast of Normandy supporting the D-Day landings. A German shell struck her but failed to explode. She broke up a German torpedo boat attack and shelled the fortress at Cherbourg.

Then the Navy sent her to the other side of the world.

By early 1945 she was in the Pacific. She supported the landings at Leyte and Lingayen Gulf in the Philippines. She escorted American aircraft carriers during airstrikes against Tokyo itself.

In April 1945 she arrived off the island of Okinawa.
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The Laffey was assigned to radar picket duty.

It was the most dangerous job in the United States Navy. Radar picket ships were stationed alone, far ahead of the main American fleet, to detect incoming Japanese aircraft and give early warning. That meant they were the first ships the Japanese saw and the first ships the Japanese attacked. The kamikaze pilots threw themselves at the picket destroyers before they could reach the carriers behind them.

On April 16 1945 the Laffey was on radar picket station number 1, about 30 miles north of Okinawa.

That morning a force of about 50 Japanese aircraft came toward the American picket line. 22 of them singled out the Laffey.

At 8:30 in the morning the first dive bombers came screaming down out of the sky. The Laffey's gunners opened fire and knocked several of them into the sea. Then the attacks came faster than the crew could count. Aircraft dove on her from every direction at once. Dive bombers. Suicide planes loaded with explosives aimed directly at her decks.

For the next 80 minutes the Laffey fought for her life.
Read 6 tweets

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