Bell tolls 52 times, sunflowers set adrift in remembrance of WWII submariners
Fifty-two yellow sunflowers splashed into San Francisco Bay on Memorial Day, an occasion when holding the first barbecue of the season is not the most important thing to do.
The bell aboard the World War II submarine Pampanito tolled 52 times and, among the small crowd that had come on Monday morning to pay respects, there seemed to be at least 52 dabs of tissues to cheeks.
Every Memorial Day, the folks who run the Pampanito floating museum invite members of the public to file one by one to the edge of the pier and drop a flower into the bay for each submarine lost during World War II.
The flowers bobbed alongside the seaweed and barnacles that are the gray lady’s current shipmates. Two buglers played taps. Civilians’ hands were over hearts; veterans’ hands were at their right foreheads.
“USS Argonaut, lost 10 January 1943 with all hands ... USS Scorpion, lost 5 January 1944 with all hands ... USS Trout, Lost 29 February 1944, with all hands .... ”
There were so many names of lost World War II submarines that two veterans had to take turns reading them from a list.
“USS Albacore, lost 7 November 1944 with all hands ... USS Swordfish, lost 12 January 1945 with all hands ...”
Submariners say lost
submarines are on “eternal patrol.” That’s because submariners want to believe that the missing boats might still be steaming around someplace, although the tossing of the flowers and the ringing of the bells and the chilling repetition of “all hands” say otherwise.
After the ceremony, the mourners got to climb aboard the submarine without paying the usual $20 fee, because Memorial Day is not about selling tickets.
“I think it’s important to be here,” said Rachel Arnott of San Francisco, even though she said she had other places to be besides the dank, pungent aft torpedo room of a 75-year-old submarine. “We have to recognize those who made the ultimate sacrifice before we enjoy this beautiful day.”
Inside a submarine, it’s hard to tell if it’s a beautiful day. An officer gets to look through the periscope every so often to check, but the remaining crew must take the outside world on faith.
James LaBarbar, 12, of Stockton said Navy ships are “pretty cool” but that World War II, which took place six decades before he was born, was “very sad because so many people died fighting for our country.”
Fortunately for its visitors, the Pampanito remained safely tied up, attached to Pier 45 with nine ropes and one heavy metal chain. Docent Dwight Naset said trying to take the Pampanito out on patrol these days would “not be a good idea.” It’s no longer seaworthy, especially after its curators jerry-rigged a new entrance on its stern for the tourists that lets water in, never a good idea on a submarine.
The boat has been moored at Fisherman’s Wharf since 1975. But during World War II, it was anything but tied up. Its job was to sink enemy ships, which it did, six times.
Today there is a ticket booth, a portable toilet, a place to buy souvenirs, a sign that says no high heels and small cushions on the torpedo rails to keep civilians from bumping their heads. None of those features was around way back when. Memorial Day is for remembering way back when.
“This is a day that sometimes gets lost,” said Diane Cooper, curator of the Pampanito, the equivalent rank of captain if the Pampanito actually went anyplace. “We’re here to put the memorial back in Memorial Day.”
When the mourners stepped off the submarine onto dry land, the buglers were packing up their horns for Veterans Day, the folding chairs were going back in the shed and yellow flowers were floating off with the tide.