Farthest Forward


Kennedy belonged to our happy few, our band of brothers, with George Cookman, our squadron exec, who died leading us in our first gunboat attack; Sid Hix, captain of the 108, killed in a raid on an enemy harbor when the smoke screen laid by the 105 came too late for him; Willie Monk, torpedoman first class in the starboard turret of the 105, who kept his fifties firing while flames from the red-hot guns flickered around him; Attilio Zichella, cook first class, who frantically poured buckets of water on Monk and me; Dave Payne, on whom I bestowed the rat; and a score of other young men smiling still so vividly in my memory. I have never seen the like of them.