USS Steinaker (DD/DDR-863) Reunion Association
Ship's Stories
This section is reserved for stories from our shipmates.  If you have a story to contribute, please send to John Evans (see address on home page). Please keep to a resonable length and submit it in Microsoft Word format to facilitate ease in publishing.  Thanks
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In the 1st week of March 1970 USS Steinaker was assigned to the Standing Naval Forces Atlantic.  The ship along with 7 other ships from different nations, had just completed a three day port-call to northern Norway.  The ships rendezvoused at a point in the North Atlantic, then proceeded to split into two groups of 4 ships in each group.  One group did open ocean, outside the fjords, and one group (Steinaker’s) proceeded down into the fjords.

We did different things during the day, such as hiding in different places but all the time we were slowly going south.

This exercise was conducted in radar silence, darken ship and only one white light on the ship in front of you to guide on.  We in Steinaker’s CIC (radar room) tried to cheat a little but OPS would only allow us 4-5 sweeps of the surface search every 10 minutes.  I had no idea what this was supposed to accomplish.

I had stood the 20-2400 watch as CIC watch sup., and then hit the rack.

Around 0300 the ship hit a small island, sliding across it, port side too.  The two foreign ships ahead of Steinaker were able to turn and miss the same island.

The next morning the Canadian ship’s diver went down to access the damage. When he came up and asked where the screws were, we knew it was going to be a long winter.

We sheared both screws, broke both after struts on each shaft, broke both struts on the port side, put a 36” curl in the port rudder and had several holes punched in the bottom from the stbd. strut turning on the few attempts to rotate the shaft.

To make matters worse, when a Norwegian ship goes into dry dock, the crew is removed. Since we couldn’t do that, they had to improvise. A porta-potty was put on the pier, for the crew, because all scuppers and overboard discharges were secured.  The only heat was from what they called a “donkey boiler” forward on the 01 level.  It did absolutely nothing for the berthing compartments aft.  Personally, I slept in long johns, both blankets, with one doubled over to try to get some sleep.

Then they decided to clear the dry stores storeroom, the one that had holes punched in to deck.  With the hatch open a-midships for the quarterdeck and a hatch open on the fantail to off load the dry stores, a 40 kt. Gail blew through the after berthing compartments.

We spent until the first of April in dry dock in Harstaad, Norway, then was towed down to Bergen, Norway.

The dry dock there was in a cave cut into the mountain.  This is where you hear “the cave experience” from.  The Norwegians did most of the work, so the rest of the crew played cards, painted things that never fully dried and slept.

We left for the States the first week of July, arriving back in Norfolk after the 4th.  As a result of this wreck the ship is 3/16th out of line.

added June 2011                                                                                                                                                   Submitted by: RD1 Rick Milstead 69-71
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                                     VADEBONCOEUR'S BROADCAST
                                               OF FEBRUARY 13, 1945  
                               WSYR Syracuse, NY (Excerpt) 12:15-12:30 PM      

It happened about two hours and fifteen minutes ago, in the ship-building yard of the Bethleham Steel Company, on Staten Island.

The big destroyer - perhaps the biggest and most powerful destroyer possessed by any navy of the world, was there on the ways, waiting to be launched.  Navy brass glittered on blue uniforms around the bow of the warship.  Officials of the giant Bethlehem Steel company were there, proud of this 97th destroyer built by their company, to slide down the ways and join the invincible company of American warships which are sweeping the seas clean of our enemies, from, Murmansk to the Canal, from the Canal to the China Seas. 

But that's not rally the story.  The story is about a pretty excited high school girl, who stood waiting with a be-ribboned bottle in her hand, to smash it over the steel bow of this 2,200 ton destroyer-cruiser, and to christen it the U.S.S. Steinaker.

The story is about this girl and her brother, who was lifted one day in October 1942 from across a machine gun, from the midst of a field of dead Japanese he had killed, before they killed him. 

And the story comes back to Syracuse, for the U.S.S. Steinaker is named in honor of Private First Class Donald Bauer Steinaker, a big, strapping kid who played football under coach Pat Kane at Central High School, who enlisted in Uncle Sam's leathernecks in the spring of 1941, who was picked for one of the toughest, hades-for-leather outfits in all the Marine Corps - the First Marine Raider Battalion of Col. Merritt Edson, a counterpart of Carlson's Raiders.  PFC Donald Steinaker, who died gallantly in a bloody patch of green Jungle - died so gallantly that today in a shipyard at Staten Island, one of the finest - perhaps the very finest - destroyers in the world, went down to the seas bearing his name - the U.S.S. Steinaker.  

There's a lot bright ribbon in the keeping of Private Steinaker's sister, Carol, who christened the destroyer this morning, because in addition to the yellow-and-red Asiatic Pacific Campaign ribbon which Don Steinaker's service at Guadalcanal automatically won for him, there is also a Purple Heart, a Presidential  Unit Citation, which is a tribute from the President of the United States to all that hardbitten, courageous band known as Edson's Raiders, and there is, too, the coveted Navy Cross, reserved for the bravest of the brave in the United States Navy's rolls.

The story behind those bits of ribbon and the name on the destroyer which is so big and formidable that it is officially described as a destroyer-cruiser, is told in the formal citation which came, along with the Navy Cross, to the widow of Private First Class Don Steinaker.  It's a great story of courage that nothing could extinguish short of death.  Don Steinaker has been dead since October 8, 1942, but the story come out only a month ago, when the citation reached Mrs. Steinaker, who - before her marriage - was Miss Hazel Burton, of 124 Berger Avenue.  

It's a Guadalcanal story with some familiar touches.  The citation tells of an action along the banks of the Matanikau River - that bloody and unforgettable stream which will live so long in the memory of many a marine who lived to come home.  On the banks of the Matanikau, Edson's Raiders took up a defensive position.  The Jap was coming, and there was little time.  Edson's Raiders scooped out hasty pits in the earth, threw up around them whatever they could find and dug in to face the Jap charge.  

Against the spot there Don Steinaker and a handful of buddies stood, the Japs hit hard, sneaking through the dense jungles in their camouflaged jungle fighting clothes.  It was a heavy assault and the marines were catching it - as they often did.  Don Steinaker and his buddies, with a machine gun, were in one of the hottest spots.  Some 150 Japs came slipping through the green thick masses of the jungle and fell upon them, with automatic grenades and bayonets.  The place couldn't be held - there was no doubt about that.  But some of the marines, it seemed, might get away, might fall back to dig in at another place and hold. 

That was when Don Steinaker - Private First Class - made his decision.  He sent the rest of his buddies back, and he stayed there - alone with his machine gun.  The navy put it this way in the Nave Cross Citation:  "fighting desperately in hand to hand combat against the overwhelming hostile forces, PFC Steinaker refused to be dislodged from his position and after exacting a tremendous toll of the enemy, heroically died at his post.  His indomitable fighting spirit and unyielding devotion to duty were in keeping with the highest traditions of the United States naval service, Private First Class Steinaker gallantly gave his life for his country."

Yes, that's what the Navy said.  Some of his buddies, who have come back from the moist, green island of swamps and mountains called the Canal, have told a little more.  They have told how the Marines went smashing back over lost ground the next day - the Marines never gave up any ground permanently, as the Japs learned to their sorrow - and they come to the machine gun post where Don Steinaker had decided to stay and hold to the last minute.  They found him there.  He was lying across his gun - all around him were Japs - dead Japs. The ground was littered with them.  That's what the Navy meant by the formal language, "exacting a tremendous toll."  He had done all of that.

Half an hour ago, I talked with one of Don Steinaker's buddies - staff Sergeant Dalton McCarthy, who used to be a crack schoolboy skater in Syracuse.  Sgt. McCarthy was on Guadalcanal with Don Steinaker.  He is home today with his parents, Mr. & Mrs. Arthur McCarthy, 505 Summit Avenue.  Sgt. McCarthy was in Edson's Raiders, too,.  He was with Don Steinaker on Guadalcanal and today added a word to all that the Navy had said, and all that the Navy had acknowledged in naming a fine warship for Don Steinaker.  Sgt. McCarthy's words were fewer, but they were just as much to the point and they are as much as one leatherneck can say for another.  "He was a good marine."

Two hours and 15 minutes ago, Carol Steinaker, Don Steinaker's sister, smashed the christening bottle against the shop and christened it.  Behind her stood a color guard of women marines.  A detail of 25 boy scouts and sea scouts were drawn up, too, a reminder that PFC Don
Steinaker had been a scout before he became a marine.  There were about 500 persons in the little crowd watching the launching and even the presence of Carol Steinaker, lustily crashing the bottle against the steel hull, had a touch of tragedy in it.  For it had been planned that Mrs. Mabel Steinaker, mother of Carol and Don would christen the ship.  Mr. Steinaker was not there, she had died on January 17th and a brother of Don Steinaker was absent, too--Sgt. Werner Steinaker is in Alaska with the Air Corps.   

Yes, there was a lot more to the story than met the eye, this morning, when 16-year-old Carol Steinaker christened the U.S.S. Steinaker.  It's a story of a hard war - as hard a war as men ever fought -and - of a boy who fought it the hardest way any man may fight, right to the certain, unflinching death.  
                                                             -ERV-
added July 2011                                                                                                             Submitted by: David Odishoo 55-59
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