Stranded at Sea

As the sun rose on August 2, 1943, 11 American sailors bobbed in the blue-green water of the South Pacific. They clung to a sinking chunk of what had been their boat.

Several of the men were wounded. They had no radio or medical supplies, no food or fresh water. And the most pressing danger? They were inside enemy-held territory, drifting between islands that were home to Japanese military bases.

The crew’s commander, 26-year-old Lieutenant John Kennedy, considered his severely limited options. The men could fight—but with only a few pistols and knives between them, they’d never hold off an attack. They could surrender—and take their chances as prisoners of war. Or they could hide.

In the distance, Kennedy could see the slopes of Rendova Island, the nearest American base. It was 38 miles to the southeast. It might as well have been a thousand.

As the sun rose on August 2, 1943, 11 American sailors bobbed in the blue-green water of the South Pacific. They clung to a sinking chunk of what had been their boat.

Several of the men were hurt. They had no radio or medical supplies, no food or fresh water. And the most pressing danger? They were inside enemy-held territory, drifting between islands that were home to Japanese military bases.

The crew’s commander, 26-year-old Lieutenant John Kennedy, considered his severely limited options. The men could fight—but with only a few pistols and knives between them, they’d never hold off an attack. They could surrender—and take their chances as prisoners of war. Or they could hide.

In the distance, Kennedy could see the slopes of Rendova Island, the nearest American base. It was 38 miles to the southeast. It might as well have been a thousand.

This story is set in the Solomon Islands of the South Pacific, one small corner of the vast global conflict that was World War II (1939–1945). On one side of this war was the United States and its allies, including Great Britain, the Soviet Union, and China. On the other side were the Axis powers, led by Germany, Italy, and Japan.

Early in the war, Japan had expanded its empire across Asia and the Pacific, conquering many territories including the Solomon Islands. By the summer of 1943, the Allies were in the long and bloody process of driving the Japanese military back toward Japan’s mainland.

Kennedy, along with millions of other Americans, was part of this effort. Stationed at the U.S. base on Rendova Island, the young naval officer was in command of a patrol torpedo boat, PT 109. These boats were about 80 feet long, with a top speed of more than 45 miles per hour. Their hazardous task was to patrol narrow passages at night, hunting Japanese ships as they delivered supplies to Japan’s island bases.

On August 1, Lt. Commander Thomas G. Warfield gathered the skippers of 15 PT boats.

“This is going to be a real big night,” Warfield told them.

Japanese warships known as destroyers were expected to carry soldiers and supplies to the base on Kolombangara Island, about 40 miles northwest of Rendova. Warfield wanted his PT boats to intercept them.

Kennedy took the news back to his crew. A few of the men groaned. They’d been scheduled to have the night off and needed the rest.

Just after sunset, the American boats left port. At the wheel of PT 109, Kennedy got a look at the bright Southern Cross constellation before thick clouds blew in, blocking the starlight.

By 9:30, Kennedy and his crew had reached their assigned position in Blackett Strait, just south of Kolombangara. Now their job was to wait and watch—a tough task considering it was so dark that the men couldn’t see each other from a few feet away.

“It was as dark as if you were in a closet with the door shut,” crew member George Ross would later recall. “It was that kind of night.”

This story is set in the Solomon Islands of the South Pacific. This was one small corner of the large global conflict that was World War II (1939–1945). On one side of this war was the United States and its allies, including Great Britain, the Soviet Union, and China. On the other side were the Axis powers, led by Germany, Italy, and Japan.

Early in the war, Japan had expanded its empire across Asia and the Pacific. It had taken over many territories, including the Solomon Islands. By the summer of 1943, the Allies were in the long and bloody process of driving the Japanese military back toward Japan’s mainland.

Kennedy, along with millions of other Americans, was part of this effort. Stationed at the U.S. base on Rendova Island, the young naval officer was in charge of a patrol torpedo boat called PT 109. These boats were about 80 feet long, with a top speed of more than 45 miles per hour. Their risky task was to patrol narrow passages at night, hunting Japanese ships as they delivered supplies to Japan’s island bases.

On August 1, Lt. Commander Thomas G. Warfield gathered the skippers of 15 PT boats.

“This is going to be a real big night,” Warfield told them.

Japanese warships known as destroyers were expected to carry soldiers and supplies to the base on Kolombangara Island. The base was about 40 miles northwest of Rendova. Warfield wanted his PT boats to intercept the ships.

Kennedy took the news back to his crew. A few of the men groaned. They’d been scheduled to have the night off and needed the rest.

Just after sunset, the American boats left port. At the wheel of PT 109, Kennedy got a look at the bright Southern Cross constellation before thick clouds blew in, blocking the starlight.

By 9:30, Kennedy and his crew had reached their assigned position in Blackett Strait. They were just south of Kolombangara. Now their job was to wait and watch—a tough task, considering it was so dark that the men couldn’t see each other from a few feet away.

“It was as dark as if you were in a closet with the door shut,” crew member George Ross would later recall. “It was that kind of night.”

Darkness was in fact an essential element of the operation. Japan’s military planners had chosen the night of August 1 because there would be no moon. The cloud cover was an added bonus.

Four destroyers got through to Kolombangara, and Japanese sailors raced to unload supplies. Lt. Commander Kohei Hanami, the 34-year-old commander of the destroyer Amagiri—“Heavenly Mist” in English—watched anxiously. He was eager to get out of range of American fighter planes before daylight.

By 2 a.m., the ships were unloaded and the Amagiri sped off for safer waters. Lookouts with binoculars scanned the water.

“Ship ahead!” a sailor shouted.

Hanami leaned over the railing. He could see something in the water—just to the right of the bow.

It was an American PT boat, he realized, about half a mile ahead. Had it spotted him? He couldn’t know. Should he fire? No point. The Amagiri was moving so fast, they’d never have time to aim their guns.

“Full speed ahead!” ordered Hanami. “Ram into them!”

Darkness was a vital part of the operation. Japan’s military planners had chosen the night of August 1 because there would be no moon. The clouds were an added bonus.

Four destroyers got through to Kolombangara. Japanese sailors raced to unload supplies. Lt. Commander Kohei Hanami, the 34-year-old commander of the destroyer Amagiri—“Heavenly Mist” in English—watched anxiously. He was eager to get out of range of American fighter planes before daylight.

By 2 a.m., the ships were unloaded. The Amagiri sped off for safer waters. Lookouts scanned the water.

“Ship ahead!” a sailor shouted.

Hanami leaned over the railing. He could see something in the water—just to the right of the bow.

It was an American PT boat, he realized. It was about half a mile ahead. Had it spotted him? He couldn’t know. Should he fire? No point. Their ship was moving so fast, they’d never have time to aim their guns.

“Full speed ahead!” ordered Hanami. “Ram into them!”

Harold Marney saw it first.

“Ship at two o’clock!” he called.

Kennedy spun around and saw the approaching vessel. It was enormous, and it was moving fast. There was no time to fire a torpedo shot—no time even to get out of the way.

The steel bow of the Japanese warship tore into PT 109, ripping the smaller boat in two and igniting its gasoline tanks. Hanami felt the heat of the flames as his ship raced toward safety.

“I thought probably no one aboard the small boat survived,” he later said. 

Americans in nearby PT boats had the same reaction. After searching for survivors for half an hour, the PT boats started back toward Rendova.

“There’s no chance they’re alive,” one of the skippers reported to Lt. Commander Warfield. “The boat went up in a ball of fire.”

Kennedy and his crew were given up for dead.

But—incredibly—11 of the 13 crew members had survived. Most were blasted into the water, tossed amid sinking wreckage and puddles of burning gasoline. Life jackets kept them afloat.

Kennedy had found McMahon in the water, severely burned, and towed him to the wooden bow of PT 109—all that was left of the boat.

Calling to each other in the dark, the crew gathered at the wreck. They held on until morning, hoping to be rescued but realizing the only people likely to see them would be the enemy.

This is when they started swimming for the distant island.

It took five hours to reach it. When they arrived on the beach at last, Kennedy and McMahon collapsed facedown, cut up by coral and retching salt water. The nine other men stumbled onto the sand.

Harold Marney saw it first.

“Ship at two o’clock!” he called.

Kennedy spun around and saw the vessel. It was big and moving fast. There was no time to fire a torpedo shot. There was no time to even get out of the way.

The steel bow of the Japanese warship hit PT 109, ripping the smaller boat in two and setting its gas tanks on fire. Hanami felt the heat of the flames as his ship raced toward safety.

“I thought probably no one aboard the small boat survived,” he later said.

Americans in nearby PT boats had the same reaction. After searching for survivors for half an hour, the PT boats started back toward the American base.

“There’s no chance they’re alive,” one of the skippers reported to Warfield. “The boat went up in a ball of fire.”

Everyone thought Kennedy and his crew were dead.

But 11 of the 13 crew members had survived. Most were thrown into the water. They were tossed amid sinking wreckage and puddles of burning gasoline. Life jackets kept them afloat.

Kennedy had found McMahon in the water. Kennedy towed him to the wooden bow of PT 109. It was all that was left of the boat.

Calling to each other in the dark, the crew gathered at the wreck. They held on until morning. They hoped to be rescued but realized the only people likely to see them would be the enemy.

This is when they started swimming for the distant island.

It took five hours to reach it. When they arrived on the beach, Kennedy and McMahon collapsed facedown. They were cut up by coral and retching salt water. The nine other men stumbled onto the sand.

Born to wealthy parents in Massachusetts, Kennedy spent his youth at elite private schools and sailing boats at his family’s seaside estates. Things hadn’t always been easy for him though. Kennedy suffered frequent illnesses as a child. Stuck in bed for long stretches of time, he devoured adventure stories—everything from tales of King Arthur’s knights to the pirate classic Treasure Island.

Now he’d been thrust into his own adventure story. Kennedy and his men were marooned on Kasolo Island, a pear-shaped wedge of sand no bigger than a football field. There were a few trees and bushes, but no fresh water and, as far as anyone knew, no edible plants. Fish darted in the sparkling sea, but there was no way to catch them. Several tiny islands lay within a few miles, but they didn’t appear any more promising than Kasolo.

The men had one chance, Kennedy figured. American boats patrolled the nearby waters. Maybe they could signal one. But someone would need to swim out closer to where the boats might be.

And so as the sun set that night, Kennedy splashed back into the sea. With a lantern tied to his life vest and a pistol on a strap around his neck, he waded over sharp coral toward the deep water. For the next few hours he treaded water in the dark, battling the current, fighting exhaustion, worrying about sharks.

Meanwhile, back on Kasolo, the men dug in the sand hoping to find fresh water. No luck. Desperate, they licked droplets from bushes. Only in the morning would they realize that the bitter taste came from bird droppings on the leaves.

Kennedy was born to wealthy parents in Massachusetts. He spent his youth at top private schools and sailing boats at his family’s seaside homes. Things hadn’t always been easy for him though. Kennedy fell ill often as a child. He read adventure stories while he was stuck in bed for long periods of time. He read everything from tales of King Arthur’s knights to the pirate classic Treasure Island.

Now he’d been dropped into his own adventure. Kennedy and his men were marooned on Kasolo Island, a wedge of sand no bigger than a football field. There were a few trees and bushes, but no fresh water. As far as anyone knew, there were no edible plants either. Fish darted in the sparkling sea, but there was no way to catch them. Several tiny islands lay within a few miles, but they didn’t look any more promising than Kasolo.

Kennedy figured the men had one chance. American boats patrolled the nearby waters. Maybe they could signal one. But someone would need to swim out closer to where the boats might be.

And so as the sun set that night, Kennedy went back into the sea. He had a lantern tied to his life vest and a pistol on a strap around his neck. He waded over sharp coral toward the deep water. For the next few hours he treaded water in the dark, battling the current, fighting exhaustion, worrying about sharks.

Meanwhile, the men dug in the sand hoping to find fresh water on Kasolo. No luck. Desperate, they licked droplets from bushes. Only in the morning would they realize that the bitter taste came from bird droppings on the leaves.

The next day, August 3, Kennedy staggered back up the beach at Kasolo. He’d seen nothing. George Ross went into the sea that evening, but again, no PT boats passed by.

By August 4, the situation was dire. The men’s wounds were infected. Hunger was a torment, but thirst was the most urgent danger.

From Kasolo, the sailors could see a larger island about two miles to the southeast. Might they find food and water there?

“We’ll have to swim for it,” Kennedy said.

Again, Kennedy pulled McMahon with his teeth while the others held on to the wooden plank. They reached Olasana Island, where they found and wolfed down the island’s few coconuts. Still, there was no fresh water.

By August 5, the men were talking openly about dying. Not willing to give up, Kennedy and Ross swam to yet another island, Naru. They were running out of time. Naru would be their last hope.

The next day, August 3, Kennedy staggered back up the beach at Kasolo. He’d seen nothing. George Ross went into the sea that evening. Again, no boats.

By August 4, the situation was serious. The men’s wounds were infected. Hunger was a torture, but thirst was the most urgent danger.

From Kasolo, the sailors could see a larger island about two miles away. Could there be food and water there?

“We’ll have to swim for it,” Kennedy said.

Again, Kennedy pulled McMahon with his teeth. The others held on to the wooden plank. They reached Olasana Island. They found and quickly ate the island’s few coconuts. Still, there was no fresh water.

By August 5, the men were talking openly about dying. Not willing to give up, Kennedy and Ross swam to yet another island, Naru. They were running out of time. Naru would be their last hope.

As Kennedy and Ross began exploring Naru, two younger men paddled toward the island in a dugout canoe. Biuku Gasa and Eroni Kumana were both in their late teens, both born and raised on nearby islands.

After Japan’s capture of the Solomons, Gasa and Kumana took on the dangerous task of working as scouts for the Allies, reporting on the movement of Japanese planes and ships. 

Now, as they neared Naru, they noticed the wreck of a boat on a coral reef—a Japanese supply barge, from the looks of it. The young men climbed aboard and found some useful supplies, including a sword and a jacket.

“We were about to carry them off,” Gasa would recall, “when we saw a man watching us from the shore of Naru Island.”

A Japanese sailor from the wreck? The figure was too far off to identify.

“Let’s go!” urged Kumana.

The teens jumped back into their canoe and paddled away as fast as they could.

In fact, the figure on the shore was Kennedy. He watched the canoe race out to sea. Had he just lost his last chance to be rescued?

No, for one reason: Gasa and Kumana got thirsty. It was hot, they were paddling fast, and they wanted to crack open a coconut and drink the sweet liquid inside. Figuring they could find one on Olasana, that’s where they headed.

If the two teens had not been thirsty, 11 stranded Americans would almost certainly have died that week in the South Pacific. And years later, John Kennedy would not have been elected the 35th president of the United States.

The teens were thirsty, though, and they did stop for coconuts—a tiny detour that would change the course of history. As they waded ashore, they were stunned to see a large man in rags stumble from the bushes.

“Come help!” the man shouted. “I’m American!”

The man was Leonard Jay Thom of PT 109. The other Americans emerged from the trees.

“Some of them cried,” Kumana said. “Some of them came and shook our hands.”

The scouts spoke only a few words of English, but they required no shared language to see what needed to be done. They lit a fire and cooked a few yams they had in their boat, lifesaving nourishment for the starving sailors.

As Kennedy and Ross began exploring Naru, two younger men paddled toward the island in a canoe. Biuku Gasa and Eroni Kumana were both in their late teens. And both were born and raised on nearby islands.

After Japan’s capture of the Solomons, Gasa and Kumana took on the dangerous task of working as scouts for the Allies. They reported on the movement of Japanese planes and ships.

Now, as they neared Naru, they noticed the wreck of a boat on a coral reef. It looked like a Japanese supply barge. The young men climbed aboard. They found some useful supplies, including a sword and a jacket.

“We were about to carry them off,” Gasa would recall, “when we saw a man watching us from the shore of Naru Island.”

A Japanese sailor from the wreck? The figure was too far off to see clearly.

“Let’s go!” urged Kumana.

The teens jumped back into their canoe and paddled away as fast as they could.

In fact, the figure on the shore was Kennedy. He watched the canoe race out to sea. Had he just lost his last chance to be rescued?

No, for one reason. Gasa and Kumana got thirsty. It was hot. They were paddling fast, and they wanted to crack open a coconut and drink the sweet liquid inside. They headed to Olasana, figuring they could find one there.

If the two teens had not been thirsty, 11 stranded Americans would almost certainly have died that week in the South Pacific. And years later, John Kennedy would not have been elected the 35th president of the United States.

The teens were thirsty, though. And they did stop for coconuts. It was a tiny detour that would change history. As they waded ashore, they were surprised to see a large man in rags stumble from the bushes.

“Come help!” the man shouted. “I’m American!”

The man was Leonard Jay Thom of PT 109. The other Americans emerged from the trees.

“Some of them cried,” Kumana said. “Some of them came and shook our hands.”

The scouts spoke only a few words of English, but they required no shared language to see what needed to be done. They lit a fire and cooked a few yams they had in their boat. It was lifesaving nourishment for the starving sailors.

“We’re saved! Two locals have found us!” These are the words Kennedy heard as he arrived back at Olasana that night. With a scraggly beard and a back injury that would never fully heal, his sunburned 6-foot frame shriveled to a skeletal 110 pounds, Kennedy ran to the scouts and embraced them.

Of course, one major challenge remained. Kennedy and his crew were still in enemy-controlled waters, some 40 miles from the nearest U.S. naval base.

Then Gasa had a clever idea. He gave Kennedy a coconut shell and suggested that Kennedy carve a message with his knife.

“11 ALIVE,” Kennedy scratched. “NEED SMALL BOAT. KENNEDY.”

Gasa and Kumana got in their canoe and set off on a heroic paddle through rough seas to Rendova. The teens knew they’d be executed if Japanese sailors stopped them and found a message from an American.

It took some 15 hours, but they made it—and delivered Kennedy’s message. And early on August 8, with Gasa and Kumana aboard as navigators, Lieutenant Bud Liebenow cruised up to Olasana Island in PT 157. When all 11 Americans were on board, the boat sped back toward American lines.

“We’re saved! Two locals have found us!” These are the words Kennedy heard as he arrived back at Olasana that night. He had a scraggly beard and a back injury that would never fully heal. His sunburned 6-foot frame had shrunk to a skeletal 110 pounds. Kennedy ran to the scouts and hugged them.

Of course, there was still one major challenge. Kennedy and his crew were still in enemy-controlled waters, some 40 miles from the nearest U.S. naval base.

Then Gasa had a clever idea. He gave Kennedy a coconut shell and suggested that Kennedy carve a message with his knife.

“11 ALIVE,” Kennedy scratched. “NEED SMALL BOAT. KENNEDY.”

Gasa and Kumana got in their canoe and set off on a heroic paddle through rough seas to Rendova. The teens knew they’d be killed if Japanese sailors stopped them and found a message from an American.

It took some 15 hours, but they made it—and delivered Kennedy’s message. And early on August 8, with Gasa and Kumana aboard as navigators, Lieutenant Bud Liebenow arrived at Olasana Island in PT 157. When all 11 Americans were on board, the boat sped back toward American lines.

In the following weeks, articles about Kennedy and PT 109 appeared in American newspapers. But the story was swamped by other news as the Allies fought their way to victory in World War II.

It was only later, when Kennedy ran for public office, that his wartime heroics became widely known. In fact, historians have argued that this story was an important factor in his rise in politics—proof he was more than a pampered kid who’d had everything handed to him.

Asked to repeat the story again and again, Kennedy often added a bit of humor. During the 1960 presidential election, a young voter in Wisconsin asked him how he became a war hero.

“It was easy,” Kennedy said. “They sank my boat.”

In the following weeks, articles about Kennedy and PT 109 appeared in American newspapers. But the story was buried by other news as the Allies fought their way to victory in the war.

It was only later, when Kennedy ran for public office, that his wartime heroics became widely known. In fact, historians have argued that this story was an important factor in his rise in politics—proof he was more than a pampered kid who’d had everything handed to him.

Asked to repeat the story again and again, Kennedy often added a bit of humor. During the 1960 presidential election, a young voter in Wisconsin asked him how he became a war hero.

“It was easy,” Kennedy said. “They sank my boat.”

^{This article was originally published in the February 2022 issue.}

^{This article was originally published in the February 2022 issue.}