It was just a matter of minutes before the gallant ship would turn in on itself and devour what was left of the once mighty cruiser. Erupting fuel tanks and uncontrolled exploding ordnance for her guns ignited thereby hastening the death of the Indianapolis. Unknown to anyone at the time, the disaster taking place at that moment would result in the most tragic loss in American naval history and would be the last major warship lost by the United States Navy in World War Two. Radiomen had attempted to alert American forces in the vicinity of the disaster but did not know if their SOS distress signal had been received. It wasn't. Men walked down the port side of the flaming ship which was now horizontal with the surface of the sea and simply stepped into the water before it capsized, hundreds of men endured the shock of the dark waters of the Pacific. Little did they realize that this would be the first and mildest of the terrible fate that would overtake them in the hours and days to follow. Hampered by the life saving buoyancy of their Mae West life jackets they swam with all their strength to quickly place as much distance as possible between themselves and the ship which was now listing to starboard as water poured into compartment after compartment from ugly, gapping holes in her side. They instinctively knew that to remain close to the vessel meant to be sucked down with the wreck as it slid beneath the waves. 

In a short while some 800 of the officers and crew were in the water among them the captain of the ill fated war machine. Flailing in the dark, head and chest above water, faces black with fuel oil, their legs dangled beneath the surface as they attempted to keep as close together as possible all the while bobbing like corks with each wind swept sea swell. Even though some were suffering from horrible burns and others were bleeding, all were in shock. Still they were relatively well off as compared to what they would soon be forced to endure. It had only been several minutes after the normal routine of the ship's mid- watch which had come on duty only to be shocked by the terror and impact of two successive explosions followed shortly by a third and then a forth. 

The vessel was sinking rapidly and the men below decks that were not immediately killed by the force of the explosion or dead of concussion were now drowning or being burned to death in the flaming cauldron while others in the engine room were soon to be scalded horribly by super-heated steam from ruptured boilers. Many were crushed against the bulkhead as heavy machinery and equipment tore lose from their mounts as the ship listed on its starboard side. Others were suffocated by the pungent smoke from burning paint. Their screams could be heard by those lucky enough to be in the water and away from the flaming disaster. 

At first the ship listed to starboard as the on-rushing sea entered the interior of the vessel flooding compartment after compartment below the main deck. Damage control had no time to stop the watery onslaught. Unable to stay afloat, the gray hulk turned over on its side like a dying animal and the sea flooded through the stacks pouring water into the engine room, then the ship flipped over and debris fell from the main deck to the sea floor below. The bottom of the capsized vessel glistened briefly until it sank, broken bow first in the glow of a midnight moon. 

It was gone. Sliding beneath the surface and falling through the black depths, its grave was first marked by the ugly froth of dirty white swirls mixed with oil slick and flotsam. The great ship with its ten battle stars sank ever deeper into the Pacific abyss until it came to rest on the ocean's floor to forever remain hidden in the great depth of the western Pacific. Its life giving support system now only a memory. All those floating on the surface looked in horror at the spot where the vessel had been only minutes before. The tomb of the ship would be marked only by geographic coordinates on the vast expanse of the Pacific at 12 degrees - 2 minutes north by 134 degrees - 48 minutes east. It would also be marked on the Japanese navigational chart carried aboard the the submarine now cruising below the surface. The Japanese sub did not pick up any prisoners. The Indianapolis, sister ship of the Heavy Cruiser Portland, which would later be the scene of the Japanese surrender at Truk, was dead and gone. 

For those survivors in the water, it was time to take stock of the situation on the surface and the first thing was to keep the floating group together as much as possible and hope any rescue effort would not be long in locating them. Hunger had not yet overtaken them since chow had been served some seven hours earlier. The only thing that could be done now was to wait - wait for the sunrise to push the darkness over the western horizon and hope for a search party to locate them under the lifesaving rays of daylight. They would wait and hope a long time. A few life rafts had been cut loose and several had broken away but, as would soon be revealed, they had inadequate food and water aboard. The cool night was their only blessing but this would soon end in about six hours after-which a blazing and relentless sun would first break over the horizon and begin its tortuous climb across a cloudless sky. Advancing 15 degrees each hour, by 1000 hours the heat from the flaming ball would start the process of dehydration on their water soaked bodies which already were being tormented for a single cooling, life giving, quench of fresh water. Since entering the water many had ingested mouth- fulls of salty sea water which only made the desire for potable water more intense. 

That morning officials in Tokyo rejected the Potsdam ultimatum calling for unconditional surrender of the Empire even though food shortages had become so acute in Japan that the government requested the civilian population to collect two and one half million bushels of acorns for conversion into food. Food was not yet something on the minds of those floating on the sea west of the Marianas. 

Tinian

On Tinian, servicemen began the assembly of the final components of the device which would become known as "Little Boy" when the world would learn of the first uranium bomb dropped in anger on an unsuspecting city in Japan. The Naval Base at Leyte remained under routine war time conditions and no distress signal had been received to alert the facility to launch search and rescue missions. As far as was known, the vessel was due in two days when it would then be reassigned, probably somewhere north off the coast of Japan to support the planned invasion of Japan's home islands.