POST-ATTACK RESCUE JUNE 9, 1967

It was the morning of June 9, 1967…I was laying on the warm deck, but my time for resting was short. In what seemed like a millisecond, the time had come for me to go back to the grisly work.

Despite the short rest, the adrenalin in my body kicked in and I felt strong, ready to take on the task I needed to do as a sailor in the United States Navy following the attack on our ship, the USS Liberty by the state of Israel.

In what seemed like 1,000 years, the helicopters were finally coming to our aid from the USS America to evacuate our wounded. There were so many to get off the ship. Although I should have felt relief at the sound of the blades beating the air, the truth is that it jerked me back to what I had endured the previous day, when Israeli helicopters full of machine-gun toting commandoes came to finish us off. I allowed my reasoning side to overcome my animals side that told me I was in danger and got back to work, caring for our wounded brothers and getting them onto stretchers so they could be taken away to good care to save whatever lives and limbs still remained.

As if they were children learning to walk or senior citizens whose legs were worn out we gently helped the wounded onto the main deck so they could wait their turn to leave our crippled ship. The wounded acted with such dignity even though they were in terrible pain. I felt very sorry for them but I also felt a great deal of hope that their suffering would soon be eased by professional medical care. As the day went on we got all of our most seriously wounded off our ship. We were happy to know they were in good hands and we prayed for their safety.

The wounded were taken to different ships. They did not all end up on the USS America. Little did I know this would be the last time I would see some of them ever again, even to this day. One of my mates, Larry Weaver who lives in Hawaii at this time, was so badly wounded that he has had over 30 operations in the past 40 years and most of the operations were major ones. His life was taken away from him by our so-called ‘ally’ in the Middle East, Israel. He is still awaiting more operations to repair the damage that the hot, burning shrapnel did to his body.

The USS Davis and the USS Massey were very close to our ship. The USS Davis asked for permission to come along side our ship and tie up. Naturally Captain McGonagle gave his permission. The USS Davis slid along our starboard side with such skill that when our two ships became one there was barely a ripple of water that moved. As the crew of the Davis began to board our ship, many broke down in tears, consumed with rage over what Israel had done to our great ship, Liberty. They said they should have been there to help us, that they could have shot the bastards out of the sky and sunk their torpedo boats to hell where they belonged. The anger in those sailors’ eyes was so real I can still seen them now.

Now we needed to start the hard task of shoring up both bulk heads to keep them from bursting and finishing the job of sinking our ship. We worked as hard and as fast as we could but we also made sure our work was done with great care and precision. John Scott, my boss, was the lead officer in charge of the repairs and he worked well with others, getting all he could out of all of us with coolness and calmness, not by yelling or being out of control, just getting the job done. The bulk heads looked like balloons ready to burst. Cracks in the bulk heads were dripping sea water into our ship. We patched and plugged everywhere we could, making sure we did not miss anything. We thanked our fellow shipmates for their much needed help and we were all proud of our work. For the moment, it seemed we had done all we could to keep our ship from going to the bottom as Israel had intended the previous day.

The clean-up continued all over the ship, especially in the mess deck that had been used as a makeshift triage center. It was a daunting task, cleaning up all the blood and trash that had accumulated only a few hours earlier. The smell of death and fuel oil was overwhelming. It made you sick to your stomach to smell it. There was no way to mask it, it was something we just had to live with.The USS Davis slipped away from our ship just as gently as it had first come to us. The fleet tug boat, USS Papago, was tailing us day and night to retrieve secret papers and body parts that would float out of our torpedo hole.

We were supposed to go to the Island of Crete. It was only a day and a half away from us, but, for whatever reason our orders were changed. We were ordered to go to Malta, another 3 days away, which made our trip 5 ½ days when it should have been a lot shorter. I can’t help but wonder whether our government was hoping we would break apart and sink on our journey and thus give them a leg up in perpetrating what was to be a monstrous cover-up?I’m sure that would have pleased the Israelis. I’ll bet the Israelis are still scratching their heads about how the big, bad Israeli defense forces could not sink a virtually unarmed ship with only four fifty caliber machine guns that were useless after the first air strike.The Liberty took one of the worst beatings since WWII. All of this murder and mayhem was done by America’s only ally in the Middle East, Israel. There is no statue of limitations on murder and it is about time these criminals were brought to justice.

Coming next week: THE COVER-UP!

Phil Tourney, Survivor of the USS Liberty

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