At dusk the German torpedo planes came in, skimming the grey, becalmed Mediterranean. One torpedo went by. Another hit the U.S.S. Lansdale square amidships, nearly split her in two. The destroyer began to sink.
When orders came to abandon ship, few were prompt to obey. "Yes, sir," mumbled the Negro mess attendants manning an antiaircraft gun; they kept on firing. A19-year-old steward's mate with a broken leg dragged himself back to his post with them. Only when two planes had been shot down and the decks were awash did the men jump into the oily sea.
There was little confusion, but some...
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