Men leaped from the FALCON to the top of the bell and helped open the hatch and gave a helping hand as first Preble, then Nichols, and then the other five men were helped out of the bell. This was an historic occasion; planes were flying overhead; boats were as close as possible; telescopic lenses were focused; movie cameras ground away to record the pictures of this first group of survivors to come from the stricken SQUALUS.
But I had no time for such activity; Doctors Yarbrough, Behnke, and Willmon, and our Pharmacist's Mates and I were busy taking care of the rescue men. We gave them hot coffee with plenty of sugar, not only to raise their temperatures but also to give them calories. We put hot towels around their bodies; we massaged them, we worked with them until we had their temperatures back to normal. By this time they were feeling much, much better. There was no evidence of hysteria; there was no evidence of anything other than cold and perhaps some mild shock. Soon the men were chattering brightly and even laughing. They got up and walked around. What a joy it was to them to be topside. I remember saying to one of the men whom I knew quite well, "I'm glad to see you." He looked at me and quietly said, "Doctor, I'm glad to be topside." A little later he said, "You know, as I was sitting down there I wondered if I ever again would see sunshine and green grass." What simple things occupy the mind in a desperate situation, and how equally simple the words with which we express our deepest emotions under stress.
While we doctors continued with the men, Lieutenant Nichols who had been released earlier was talking with the senior officers and giving them a summary of what had happened as far as they knew. Altogether they were able to account for thirty-three men known to be alive in the forward three compartments, but there was no way to know the fate of the other men. They were drowned unless they had been able to get into the after torpedo room. Since no sound had ever been heard from them this was a forlorn hope.
Captain Greenlee was the man among the rescue group who felt this most keenly for his son-in-law, Ensign Patterson, had been in the engine room and was one of the men who had not been able to make it into the central operating compartment. Captain Greenlee stood at the rail alone, staring down at the water. This first actual list of survivors had been a blow to him for he had held onto a faint hope until then.
There was a great deal of discussion about how many trips we would have to make. Obviously, if only seven men in the thirty-three were brought up at a trip, we would have to make a fifth trip to bring up the last five men. The operators of the bell contended that they could bring eight, or even nine. Sure, it would be a little crowded but they could get them up and thus save a fifth trip, Finally it was agreed that for the next trip, the second, they would be allowed to try eight. If this was successful, then they could add an additional man for the last two trips, making nine each.
The second trip was completely uneventful, but a little longer than the first. The first trip had taken only an hour and forty-three minutes, the second two hours and sixteen minutes. But the interesting fact was that when they surfaced and opened the hatch and the men came out all of us counted nine men! The bell operators pretended great surprise and even consternation but they didn't fool me -- they had decided against advice from topside in order to show us that they could bring up nine men at a time. How fortunate it was that they had made this decision, we were to learn later.