Profiles in courage: While recuperating from injuries, tent mates Robinson, top, and Kennedy took photos of one another in similar poses.

Theodore Robinson '40

As a U.S. Navy midshipman, Robinson asked to serve on patrol torpedo (PT) boats, known for their speed and nimbleness in delivering enormous firepower—enough to sink a battleship. Now retired from AT&T and an avid gardener and environmentalist, Robinson speaks frequently about his World War II experiences to various civic organizations. The following is an excerpt from his presentation, "JFK and PT 109: An Eyewitness Account."

On the night of August 1, 1943, a Japanese destroyer roared out of the darkness of Blackett Strait and rammed PT 109, slicing it in half. The boat was skippered by a young Navy lieutenant named John F. Kennedy, destined to become President of the United States. I was a few miles away on PT 159, the lead boat in the attack, standing next to the PT commander in charge of the entire operation. We witnessed the explosion….

A week later, we got word that the crew of PT 109 were still alive, trapped miles behind enemy lines. Two PT boats were selected to sneak through the darkness and bring JFK and his beleaguered crew to safety. I volunteered to go along on the boat that picked him up and was the first to talk to his burned and starving crew.

A month to the day after the rescue, I lost my own boat, PT 118, in combat and was sent back to Tulagi [in the Solomon Islands] and lived in the same tent with JFK while we were both recuperating. I learned about [his] most intimate thoughts, not only about what had happened that fateful August night—he was concerned about how the loss of his boat would look, given that his father was ambassador to the Court of St. James's in England—but also what he was like as a person. We became friends, as only two men thrown together by the fortunes of war can.

John C. Long '49

New arrival: Long wearing borrowed coveralls—his duffle bag got lost in transit—shortly after arriving in Southern France, August 1944.

Long was a technical sergeant in the U.S. Army from 1943 to 1945 and served as company clerk of D Company. His battalion kept the 3rd Infantry Division supplied, from Casablanca to Florence. He lives in Durham, Connecticut.

I remember being herded into a forty-by-eight rail car for a scenic journey from Casablanca to Oran and Algiers. While we were there, along came Bob Hope and his USO troupe. Imagine a British-style steel helmet with the inner lining pulled tight so that the helmet sat on the top of his head. What a sight—what a laugh! Unfortunately, the Luftwaffe ended the show after fifteen minutes by bombing the ships in the harbor.

Next, we crossed the Mediterranean to Italy. Anzio-Nettuno [sites of Allied landing beginning January 22, 1944] was a five-month stalemate. The mosquitoes had a field day while we endured shelling, bombing, and small-arms fire. Then another sea voyage—this time to La Belle, France. Fortunately, the Romanian division of the Axis powers opposing the invasion of Provence wisely decided to surrender en masse. A great "traffic jam."

On the coast road to Toulon and Marseilles, we encountered an SS unit and dug into the sea hillside. After losing two tanks, the Army radioed the Navy for its floating artillery to help us out. What cooperation! No more SS.

Still on the road, here comes a Frenchman (he was almost shot) running down a hill from a farm waving bottles of wine he had hidden from the Germans. His name was Joe Moscow, and he had been a taxi driver in New York City in 1935, when France called him back to serve in the French army. Excellent Bordeaux.