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Dr. Lewis Haynes thrashes his arms against the surface of the ocean. He's been treading water for almost 48 hours and his muscles burn with fatigue. But right now, he needs to turn up as much water as he can. Far in the distance, he can see an American bomber plane approaching. Maybe, just maybe, the pilot will see his splashing and rescue him from this hell.
It's the early evening of July 31st, 1945, two days since the Navy cruiser USS Indianapolis was sunk by Japanese torpedoes. Now, Haynes floats in the open ocean with a group of a few hundred survivors. They don't have a single life raft, no drinking water, no food, and many of the men were burned and wounded in the torpedo attack. As the ship's doctor, Haynes has done his best to tend to them.
But despite his efforts, over a quarter of the original survivors have died. Some from their injuries, some from exhaustion and dehydration, and some from shark attacks. The bomber passes behind some clouds and disappears. The hum of his engines fades to silence. It's gone. Haynes stops splashing and leans his head back against the rough fabric of his life jacket. Trying not to feel hopeless,
The bomber was just one of many that have flown by since they were stranded. But Haynes knows that unless a plane is actually looking for them, it's unlikely they'll be spotted. His thoughts are interrupted by a strange sound. Is that someone laughing? He turns to see a young sailor bobbing in the ocean about 50 feet away. His body shakes with laughter as he cups his hands to gather seawater.
His trembling hands bring the water to his lips, and he drinks. Haines swims towards him as fast as he can. "Stop! Don't do that!" He slaps the sailor's arm, stopping him taking another drink. "You can't drink salt water. It'll kill you. But I'm thirsty." The sailor ignores Haines and cups his hands together again, shoveling more seawater to his cracked lips.
Haines slaps the man's hands again. "I know it's hard, but you have to stop!" The sailor stares back at him, glassy-eyed, then opens his mouth and ducks his head underwater. Haines knows that by drinking seawater, the sailor is slowly killing himself. The high salt content will cause his blood vessels to rupture and his kidneys to fail. Eventually, he'll die an agonizing death.
But the salty water is also making the young sailor delirious with thirst. Haynes can think of only one way to snap him out of it. He grabs the sailor's head and pulls his face out of the water. I said don't! Then punches him squarely in the jaw. The sailor looks at Haynes, shocked. But his eyes are clear and he stops trying to drink the water. I'm sorry, Doc. I don't know what came over me.
Haynes stays with the man for a few more minutes, then swims away, looking for the next person who needs his help. Back in medical school, Haynes never imagined he would have to physically assault his patients for their own good. But he'll do whatever it takes to keep these men alive.
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Progressive Casualty Insurance Company & Affiliates. Comparison rates not available in all states or situations. Prices vary based on how you buy. From Wondery, I'm Mike Corey, and this is Against the Odds. On July 30, 1945, in the final days of World War II, the Navy cruiser USS Indianapolis was attacked by a Japanese submarine in the Philippine Sea.
Two torpedoes struck Indy, and 12 minutes later, she sank under the waves. The survivors found themselves scattered over miles of open ocean, many without rafts or life jackets, and nearly all without food or emergency supplies of any kind. They congregated into groups that were spread so far apart they couldn't see or hear one another. They had no way of knowing how many of their fellow crewmen had survived.
As they drifted in the ocean, the men's suffering was magnified by fatigue, dehydration, starvation, and sun blindness. Then sharks appeared, attacking and killing the weakest among them. But even as the hours turned to days with no sign of rescue coming, many of the survivors refused to give up hope. This is episode three, Holding On. Captain Charles McVeigh drops a fishing line into the water from his life raft.
It's the evening of July 31st, their second day since the sinking. A few minutes ago, before it got dark, he spotted some schools of shiny mackerel swimming by. He feels fortunate that his life raft contains some fishing gear, but so far, he hasn't been able to catch anything. McVeigh glances over at the men in the other two rafts. They're young, but they've shown a lot of resolve over the last two days, especially when the sharks first appeared.
They stayed strong and positive, and they've been receptive to his leadership. Quartermaster Vincent Allard puts his hand on McVeigh's shoulder and points. "Captain, look over there! A plane!" McVeigh looks up and sees tiny red and green lights flickering on and off as they move across the sky. He figures it's probably a patrol bomber looking for enemy aircraft,
They'd seen at least a dozen bombers during the day, but all their attempts to attract attention have failed. "Should we try a flare, sir?" McVeigh put Allard in charge of their only flare pistol and told him to use it only at night when they have a better chance of being spotted. They only have a few flares left and need to use them strategically. It's not quite dark out yet, but McVeigh decides the men need something to lift their spirits. "Sure. Fire away."
Allard pulls out the flare gun and points it upward. He hesitates for a moment. McVeigh can tell that he's nervous. McVeigh watches the flare's green light arc into the sky. For a moment, it reminds him of a fireworks show he attended with his wife last year, not long after they got married. He can still remember how beautiful she looked, her face illuminated by the ever-shifting colors. He turns his attention back to the bomber.
Did the pilot see the flares? In silence, he and his men watch the bomber's blinking lights. But they continue to travel across the sky and fade out of sight. McVeigh gazes back down at his men. They look utterly defeated. The captain picks up his fishing line. If he were ever to get a bite, now would be the perfect time. He gives the line a little tug, then leans back and closes his eyes. It's going to be...
a very long night. Dr. Lewis Haines takes a deep breath and removes his life jacket. It's been rubbing against his neck for hours now, leaving his skin irritated and raw. Without it, a big swell could take him under, but right now, he doesn't care. He needs the relief. Haines examines the life jacket under the soft moonlight. It's made of a buoyant material called kapok,
but now it's almost completely waterlocked and barely floats. He knows these jackets are only designed to last for two days, which is about how long they've been in the water. He grimaces, realizing he's on borrowed time. A few hundred feet away, a sailor suddenly starts screaming. Haynes squints through the dim light and sees the man flailing his arms as he thrashes around in circles. Haynes has one single thought. The sharks are back.
He wants to help the man, but knows there's nothing he can do. If he tries to swim over, the shark could kill them both. All he can do is watch as the young sailor continues splashing and yelling. But he isn't pulled under. What's the shark waiting for? And then, Haynes realizes what's actually happening. The man is going crazy from drinking too much seawater.
Haines swims towards the man, his life jacket still in his hand. He isn't sure what he can do, but he needs to try something. Before Haines can reach him, the sailor suddenly stops splashing. As Haines swims closer, he sees that the man is floating on his back, his eyes wide open, staring into the night sky, unblinking, dead. Haines closes his eyes and quietly treads water.
He's been begging the men around him not to drink the seawater, but many are ignoring him. How many of them will share the same fate as the sailor? Then, in the distance, he hears someone yell out a warning that's become all too familiar. "Sharp!" Haynes looks at his life jacket and takes a deep breath as he reluctantly puts it back on. It may cut into his skin.
It may be waterlogged and useless in a few hours, and it won't offer any protection from sharks. But it gives him something that's in short supply in these dark waters. A semblance of hope. Harpo Salaya closes his eyes. It's the middle of the night, and he can't really see anything more than a few dozen yards away. Still, he doesn't want to look. He can hear the screams of his fellow sailors as the sharks attack.
He clutches tightly to the short rope attached to one of the few rafts in his group of survivors. It's been his lifeline for the last two days and kept him afloat, but that's about all it's good for. He's still up to his neck in the water, a sitting duck for sharks. And no matter how tightly he squeezes his eyes shut, he knows they're circling just beneath him. At least he's not alone with his fear. Holding onto the rope next to him is his good friend, Fred Markman.
Harpo found him yesterday, badly injured from the torpedo attack and struggling to hold on to hope. Since then, Harpo has tried to bolster his spirits, sharing his rope and urging Markman to hang on. Harpo hears splashing nearby and opens his eyes. He sees that Markman has let go of the rope and is letting the waves take him away. Fred, no! Hold on to the rope!
Harpo swims over to grab his friend, but Markman pushes back. "Let me go, Harpo. I'm not gonna make it." "No, don't talk like that. We'll be back ashore having a beer before you know it." "No, that ain't gonna happen." Markman lets his head slip under the water. Harpo realizes what's happening. Markman is tired of being in so much pain. He'd rather die than be helped. But Harpo refuses to give up.
He takes a deep breath and dives in after his friend. Harpo swims underwater to catch up with Markman. He wraps both arms around Markman's legs and then kicks his feet to propel the two of them back to the surface. It's no easy task. Markman is a big man, even though like everyone else, he's lost a lot of weight since the sinking. Markman thrashes, trying to break free, but Harpo refuses to surrender.
No! You're staying here with me! I'm tired. No! Harpo pulls Markman back to the rope. He grabs the rope with his left hand and holds onto Markman with his right. Adrenaline courses through him. He may be pushed to his limits, but Harpo refuses to let go. Lewis Haynes sees his friend, Father Thomas Conway, swim towards him in the moonlight.
It's their third night in the water, and Indy's Catholic priest has been in constant motion over the last two days, trying to bring comfort to the hundreds of injured men floating in the waters around them. He's been saying blessings and prayers, especially for those who are about to die. He smiles at Haynes. "Hey Lou, are you okay?" Haynes is taken aback by the question. "I'm okay, Tom. They're just burns."
Haynes touches the scorched skin on his forehead. Have the burns gotten worse? He's been too busy to pay attention to his own health. Conway shakes his head. No, no, no. I mean, you're not acting like yourself. Have you been drinking the water? Haynes shakes his head. No, absolutely not. Sure, it's tough to keep his face completely out of the water, but he's been doing whatever he can not to swallow any of it.
Now, judging from how Conway is looking at him, he wonders if he could have ingested more than he thought. "The enemy's here! Get him!" Haynes hears a sailor yelling out in the distance. Another man gone delirious from drinking seawater, he thinks. Why else would he be shouting "the enemy"? What would a Japanese soldier be doing swimming around in the middle of the Philippine Sea? Haynes begins paddling towards the shouts to see if he can help.
As the moon grows brighter, he gets a clear view of the scene beginning to unfold. Two days ago, hundreds of men in his group tied their life jackets together to help each other stay afloat. As men began to die, the circle began to fragment. Now it's breaking apart entirely. Haynes watches as dozens of sailors work frantically to untie their knots and swim away from each other.
Then, he sees why. One group of sailors is viciously attacking a lone man, punching him, and trying to push his head under the waves. "Get him! Kill him! Kill him before he kills us!" Haynes can see that the person they're attacking isn't a Japanese enemy soldier. He's a fellow American Navy man, but the men are united in their hallucination. Haynes watches in horror as one of the sailors takes out a knife.
He yells out an anti-Japanese slur as he stabs at his victim. And then, all hell breaks loose. All around the group, men turn on each other. The violence spreads like wildfire, until dozens of men are fighting, kicking, stabbing, trying to drown each other. Haynes can't believe what he's seeing. After more than 50 hours of hypothermia, dehydration, starvation, and saltwater poisoning, the men are going berserk.
Fearing for his own safety, he turns and starts swimming away. But then, he hears movement behind him. He turns around to see two sailors furiously swimming after him. "Stop him! Don't let him get away!" Payne's adrenaline kicks in. Despite his pain and exhaustion, he swims harder, faster. Anything to escape the madness that's come over these sailors.
But he's not fast enough. The two sailors catch up to him and grab his arms. "Drown him!" Then, they push him underwater. Haines summons all of his strength, trying to escape. But the sailors are younger and stronger than he is. No matter how much he thrashes, he can't get his head back above the water. He's losing strength. Of all the ways to die out here, he can't believe it's come to this.
He's about to be murdered by his fellow survivors. When you're hiring, time is of the essence. That's why more than 3.5 million businesses worldwide use Indeed to find exceptional talent fast. Indeed's powerful matching engine works quickly. So quickly that, according to Indeed data worldwide, every minute, 23 hires are made on Indeed.
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Why delay the inevitable? He hears the muffled laughter of the two sailors and thinks back to the last day he spent with his sons, playing in the lake in Connecticut, laughing and splashing in the water. His wife Elizabeth smiling as she watched them from the shore, gently resting her hands on her pregnant belly, the feeling of hope that the war would soon be over.
The thought of never seeing his family again is unbearable. In a sudden burst, Haynes curls up his legs and kicks outward with all of his might, slamming the two sailors away from him. The startled men release their grip long enough for him to shoot up to the surface. Haynes takes a deep gulp of air, and then he starts swimming like mad.
The sailors give chase, but somehow Haines finds the energy to swim even faster. Every part of his body is in pain, but he refuses to slow down. After a few minutes, he realizes they're no longer behind him. He's not sure if they came to their senses or just gave up, but it doesn't matter. For now, he's safe. Haines stops swimming and floats on his back under the stars, catching his breath.
For just a second, he marvels at how beautiful the night sky is and appreciates that he's still alive. Then he hears the cries of more men fighting in the distance. He remembers the sharks circling in the darkness below them, waiting to feast on the wounded and the dead. And he wonders if he'll live long enough to see another sunrise. Captain Charles McVeigh calls out an order to his men. "Stay still! Stay still!"
It's just before sunrise on August 1st. McVeigh and the other eight men in this group are spread out between three rafts that are lashed together. The rafts don't provide much shelter. They're just rectangular flotation devices with thin wooden decks suspended from cargo netting. The decks dangle below the waterline, leaving each man waist-deep in the ocean. And now they have a problem. Sharks have been circling them for the last hour,
The hungry predators bump up against the rafts. McVeigh tries to keep the men calm, but the persistence of the sharks is terrifying them. Quartermaster Vincent Allard leans close to McVeigh and nods towards one of the other rafts. "You better keep an eye on that one. He looks like he could lose it any second now." McVeigh locks on to the youngest of three sailors in the nearby raft. The kid is barely 20 years old and quaking with fear.
McVeigh knows that if the kid panics, he could do something crazy, maybe even jump out of the raft and try to swim away, which would be a death sentence. He's about to call out, telling the young sailor to relax, but before he can speak, a shark makes another close pass, and just as McVeigh feared, the kid springs into action, plunging over the edge of the raft. Get away from me! Get away!
McVeigh looks closer and sees that the kid has a two-inch penknife clenched in his fist. He swings it downward, stabbing the shark right between its eyes. The shark thrashes, slamming its tail against the kid's raft. The other men struggle to keep from falling over as the raft rocks violently from side to side.
One of them grabs the kid and pins him to the edge of the raft. "What the hell are you doing? I almost killed it! With a penknife? All you're gonna do is piss it off!" The other sailors grab the kid's knife and take it away. McVeigh tenses up. These men are tired and angry. Could they turn and use the knife on the kid? The captain takes over. "Stop! Stop it right now! We are going to be alright! We just need to stick together!"
Okay? The men look to McVeigh, and then to each other. They nod, even the kid. To McVeigh, it's a reassuring sight. He can see that they want to stay alive. After a few minutes, the sharks swim away. McVeigh and the eight other men allow themselves to breathe a sigh of relief and relax. The kid calls out. Captain McVeigh? Yes. What is it? I'm sorry. I just thought I could kill it.
McVeigh can't help but smile a bit. The kid seems repentant. "Well, now you can say you fought a shark and lived to tell the tale." The kid smiles, and McVeigh knows he's going to be okay, for now. But he knows that unless a rescue ship or plane appears soon, it's going to be hard for him to keep his men's spirits up, especially if the sharks come back. Lewis Haynes floats in the water, staring into the sky.
The sun is up now, on the morning of August 1st, their third day in the ocean. The water is less choppy today, but to Haynes, it feels as dangerous as ever. It's been just a few hours since the horror of the night before, when he witnessed his crewmates turning on each other. In the morning light, he tries to do a head count. He estimates that about 50 sailors lost their lives thanks to last night's savage brawl.
Most of the bodies have already been claimed by the sharks. Nearby, Haynes notices something strange. A group of about 15 sailors, all treading water in single file. It almost looks like they're waiting in line for something. Curious, Haynes swims over to the nearest sailor. "What's going on here, boys?" "Oh, hey, Doc. We're waiting to check into the hotel. There's a bunk in there where we can take turns sleeping. It's got clean sheets and everything."
"What are you talking about? What hotel? It's right over there, Doc. Look!" Hanes looks where the sailor is pointing, and just for a second, he sees it. A small brick building with a neon vacancy sign rising out of the ocean. He blinks, and it's gone. He knows it was just a hallucination brought on by a lack of sleep and swallowing too much seawater. But for that moment, it seemed so real.
Haynes slaps himself in the face. Hard. If he's going to stay alive, he needs to keep his wits about him. A little while later, a skinny young sailor swims up to Haynes. Doc, am I going crazy or do you see her too? See who? Just below us. It's... it's Indy. Haynes looks down and, sure enough, the massive ship is right there, just a few feet below them.
To Haynes, it looks as if Indianapolis has been restored to her former glory. All back in one piece. Flags waving as she sails forward under the surface. Light glows from all the portholes. That means warm cabins are waiting for everyone. Haynes is overcome with emotion. They've been saved. He's about to dive into the water and climb aboard, but then stops. This is another hallucination. Of course it is.
But all around him, other men are caught up in it. They're staring down into the water, eyes wide. In their delirium, they start calling out to each other. "Alright, I'm going straight to the mess hall and grabbing an ice cold coke." "Yeah, I'm gonna get an ice cream sundae. Come on boys, come on, let's go!" The men start diving into the water. Haines swims after them, shouting. "No, don't do it, it's not real!"
But it's no use. Soon dozens of men are diving in pursuit of the phantom ship. Most of them return, but Haines is sure they drank even more seawater, which will only make them more delirious. Two of the sailors never come back. Haines quietly prays for them, hoping their reunion with Indy brought them some peace. Harpo Celaya holds tightly to his badly injured friend, Fred Markman.
For hours, Markman kept trying to drown himself to end his suffering, but Harpo dragged him back to the surface every time. Now, Markman floats limply, too exhausted for another attempt. Harpo still clings to him, just in case. Harpo raises his hand to block the sun as he takes in his surroundings. The ocean swells have grown. Then, in the distance, he hears a commotion. Sharks! Sharks!
"Shark!" They're back. Harpo closes his eyes again. Markman struggles to break free. "They're coming for us." "Don't talk like that, Fred. We'll be fine." There's a loud and sudden splash nearby. Harpo opens his eyes to see an enormous shark jumping high into the air. Harpo is sure it's looking right at him, scouting for its next victim. He's frozen, unsure of what to do.
Should he swim away? But when he looks down into the water, he sees even more sharks circling, searching for their next meal. Harpo looks at Markman. He's got to find a safer place for his injured friend. He grabs Markman's hands and forces him to grasp the rope. Fred, listen to me. Whatever you do, hold onto this rope. I'll be right back. And then, though he can hardly bear to do it, Harpo lets go of Markman.
He turns away and swims toward the life raft that his rope is attached to. He knows the raft is still occupied by the deranged lieutenant who tried to drown him just two nights ago, and he knows that the officer could turn on him again. But he's willing to take the risk for his friend. Lieutenant, my friend needs help. He's really weak. Let him into the raft. Please. No! No!
He won't last much longer in the open water. I'm begging you, please. No! The lieutenant shoves Harpo off the edge of the raft. Harpo ponders his next move. The lieutenant is clearly delirious, maybe even dangerous. He decides it's not worth the risk. He paddles back to the rope and is happy to find Markman still holding on to it. It's gonna be okay, Fred. It's gonna be okay.
As Harpo comforts his friend, he hears a familiar voice. The voice is speaking Spanish, a language he hasn't heard since Indy sank. Harpo is confused. Is this some sort of hallucination? He turns to Markman. Stay here, okay? Don't move. Harpo starts swimming in the direction of the voice and calls out. Hola? Harpo? Santos? Is that you? Harpo is shocked.
It's Santos Peña, one of his best friends from Indy. The two men abandoned ship together, but Harpo hadn't seen him since. They paddle up to each other and embrace. Santos! I thought you were dead! I thought when we jumped I landed on you by accident and killed you! No! After we jumped, I looked everywhere for you. I thought you were dead.
Seeing Santos again, Harpo feels some of his strength restored. He's finally found someone who might be able to help him. Listen, Santos. I need to find a space on a raft for Fred Markman. He's in bad shape. You got any ideas? No, man. I think they're all full. Okay. Well, if you find any room for him, please let me know. He really needs it. Disappointed, Harpo returns to his rope. But Markman is gone.
Panicked, Harpo starts swimming around the raft, calling out, "Fred! Fred! Where are you?" The swells have grown, making it difficult for Harpo to see more than a few yards. Finally, there's a gap in the waves, and Harpo spots Markman. He's floating alone, getting pushed away by the rough water. He waves to Harpo and smiles, "Fred, wait there! I'm coming for you!"
Harpo tries to swim towards his friend, but no matter how hard he paddles, the ocean currents are pulling them farther apart. He catches one more glimpse of his friend, still waving, riding atop a large swell. Then, he disappears under the waves. Just like that, he's gone. Harpo slowly returns to the rope and grabs it. He holds on, and he doesn't let go.
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and his eyes are so bloodshot they look like two red blotches in the middle of his oil-stained face. Haines does his best to comfort the young man, but he's not sure if the poor kid even knows he's there. Haines looks up at the sun, which hangs low in the sky. Their third day stranded at sea is almost over. He knows that this young sailor, and many others like him, won't survive another night out here.
He wonders like he has a thousand times. Why the hell haven't they been rescued yet? Haynes feels a hand on his shoulder and turns to see another sailor at his side. You better come, Doc. It's Father Conway. Haynes freezes. Father Thomas Conway has always been a steady friend to him. He even lent Haynes money a few months ago, so the doctor could return home to Connecticut to visit his family. Father Conway? Where is he? This way. I'll take you to him.
Haynes leaves the dying sailor and starts to swim in the direction of his friend. As he gets closer, he hears a voice singing a hymn in Latin. It's Conway. Haynes sees his friend floating in the water. Two sunburned young sailors are helping him, holding his head above the swells. Conway is trembling uncontrollably. His eyes are glazed. The doctor has seen this many times now. The look on a man's face as he's about to die.
But to see it on Father Conway is almost more than he can bear. Tom, are you okay? He's coming for me, Lou. He's coming. Haynes takes his friend in his arms and tries to calm him down. But Conway is delirious. He starts making the sign of the cross over Haynes, blessing him over and over, chanting a prayer in Latin. His trembling hands hit Haynes in the face and chest. After several minutes, Haynes can no longer stand it.
Fighting back tears, he turns to the two sunburned sailors. Do either of you know how to administer Catholic last rites? Yeah, Doc. I can try. Haynes passes Conway to the two sailors. They keep him floating on his back. Then he swims away, unable to watch. A few minutes pass, and Haynes turns back to see the two sailors holding the priest. They look at Haynes, and they shake their heads. Conway is dead.
Captain Charles McVeigh looks at the faces of the eight other men floating in their three life rafts. It's the middle of the night, but even in the darkness, he can see that they're anxious, tired, and hungry. What's worse, they're growing more and more worried that they'll never be rescued. He needs to distract them, so he turns to one of them with a smile. You mentioned yesterday you had a wife. Tell me about her. The sailor looks at McVeigh, surprised by the question.
Officers don't usually ask enlisted men about their personal lives. Another sailor pipes up. The sailors laugh.
Before long, others start to chime in, talking about their wives, their girlfriends, their parents. The mood is transformed. When the conversation goes quiet for a moment, McVeigh speaks. "I want you all to know something. We're going to get back so you can see them again. Okay? It's going to happen." Quartermaster Vincent Allard turns to McVeigh. "How about you, Captain? Are you married?" McVeigh is hesitant to open up, but then his fishing line catches his eye.
Yeah, well, my wife Louise would probably make fun of me for not being able to catch any fish. She's so good at it, much better than I am. I really need to find out what she uses for bait. The men look at him, laughing and smiling. I find fishing so peaceful. It helps me think. Of course, though, I think once we're rescued, I'll never want to go near water again. McVeigh is happy to see the mood lightening, but he's also starting to wonder what will happen when they're saved.
He longs to be reunited with Louise, of course. But what will happen to him? Will he be blamed for the sinking of Indianapolis? For the deaths of possibly more than a thousand men? He had always been on a clear path to becoming an admiral, like his father. And now that path is as dark as the water beneath them. McVeigh passes out small milk tablet rations and for a brief moment, he feels almost normal again.
He's committed to getting his men home, even if he's unsure what fate awaits him there. Lieutenant Chuck Gwynne unbuckles himself from the pilot seat of his Lockheed PV-1 Ventura bomber. It's 11:00 AM on the morning of August 2nd, 1945, and the Navy pilot is running a quick mission over the Philippine Sea to test out a new long range communication system. Unfortunately, that test has come to a screeching halt. The antenna's broken.
Gwyn stands up in the cramped cockpit and turns to his co-pilot. "You fly her for now. I'm gonna go see what's up with this antenna." Gwyn leaves the cockpit and makes his way toward the rear of the plane. He's 24 years old with a broad, friendly face and has already flown over a thousand hours as a Navy test pilot. He knows every inch of these PV-1 bombers, so maybe he can help his crew figure out how to fix this troublesome antenna.
In the back of the plane, Gwyn shouts orders to two crewmen over the engines. "Reel that thing in!" They pull the broken antenna inside, through a window in the plane's deck. But as Gwyn looks through the window at the ocean below, something catches his eye. He immediately drops what he's doing and returns to the cockpit. A crew member calls after him. "What's the matter, sir?" "Look down and you'll see." The crewman looks out the window. "Is that oil?" "You bet it is."
Gwyn hops into the pilot seat, excited. An oil slick in this part of the ocean is usually a sign there's a Japanese submarine present. When a sub dives, it leaves a trail of oil in its wake. Follow that trail and you stand a good chance of finding that sub. If Gwyn is right and there is a Japanese sub down there, his test flight has just become a search and destroy mission. Gwyn hops onto the radio. "Arm depth charges. Open the bomb bay doors.
As Gwyn turns the bomber around for a better look, his men prepare to drop their payload. Six 325-pound bombs. Gwyn's heart pounds in his chest. He's never taken out a Japanese sub. He noses the plane down to 900 feet above the ocean, following the trail of oil. As he approaches its end, he prepares to give the command to unleash the first charge. But then, he sees something unexpected.
A tiny bump on the smooth surface of the water, then another bump, and another, dozens of them. It takes him a moment to notice that the bumps are moving, and as he squints at them through his aviator glasses, he realizes what they are. They're people. This is episode three of our four-part series, USS Indianapolis, Disaster at Sea.
A quick note about our scenes. In most cases, we can't exactly know what was said, but everything is based on historical research. If you'd like to learn more about this event, we highly recommend the book Indianapolis by Lynn Vincent and Sarah Vladek.
I'm your host, Mike Corey. Anthony Del Col wrote this episode. Our audio engineer is Sergio Enriquez. Sound design is by Rob Schieliga. Produced by Matt Almos and Emily Frost. Our senior producer is Andy Herman. Our executive producers are Stephanie Jentz and Marshall Louis for Wondery. Wondery.
Hey, it's Guy Raz here, host of How I Built This, a podcast that gives you a front row seat to how some of the best known companies in the world were built.
In a new weekly series we've launched called Advice Line, I'm joined by some legendary founders and together we talk to entrepreneurs in every industry to help tackle their roadblocks in real time. Everybody buys on feeling, Guy, like everybody. So if you don't give them the feeling that they're looking for, they're not going to buy. A lot of times founders will go outside of themselves to build a story. And
and you can't replicate heart. You know, I think we all have a little bit of imposter syndrome, which isn't the worst thing in the world because it doesn't allow you to get overconfident and think that you're invincible. Check out the advice line by following How I Built This on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to How I Built This early and ad-free right now on Wondery Plus.