A few years before my grandfather passed away, I was blessed with a revealing look into his past. Although I had seen the old portrait of him in a Navy uniform, I never gave it much thought. I don't remember what it was that led my grandfather to share his stories with us. Perhaps it was the right time. In any case, he opened a doorway into a period of his life of which I was largely unaware until that night. The clocked stopped, the pendulum only serving to keep pace with the memories. What I recount here comes from the vivid memories I cherish of this night.

Dennis Durward Gunter was nineteen when he was inducted into the United States Navy in July of 1943. He was upset that he had to wait until he graduated high school before he could serve. In October of the same year, he boarded the USS Salt Lake City. He would serve on her for the duration of his enlistment.

He told us many stories about his voyages; watching dogfights, bombarding islands, greeting the natives who swam to the ship. He would begin with one and dive right into another, giving us just enough time in between to catch our breath. Since then, I have found other references to a few of his tales, bringing even more life to them. I only hope that my memory does them justice.

One of my personal favorites was the near-collision of the Salt Lake City with another vessel. As he recalled it, there was some problem with communication. I seem to remember a mention of traveling in radio silence and using signal lights instead. My grandfather was on deck when everyone realized that a much larger vessel (apparently an aircraft carrier from what I've read elsewhere), was closing on them. The entire fleet was turning with the exception of the Salt Lake City. He recalled how the captain yelled "Full Astern" in an attempt to avoid collision, followed by a yell to take hold of something. The ships narrowly missed one another. My grandfather said that they came close enough together that you would have barely been able to fit your hand in between them. Most memorable, however, was his statement that, if you were to find the Salt Lake City and look at the flagpole, that "my fingerprints would still be there, I held on so hard." NOTE: Read a story about the Aircraft Carrier Near Collision

He mentioned seeing a dogfight involving an American pilot waiting for the last instant to pull up near a cliff in an attempt to shake a Japanese fighter. While I can't recall the outcome of that story, I know it led us to ask about kamikaze attacks. He recalled one instance in which a fighter was closing in on the Salt Lake City and he was ordered to take cover. He dove into the nearest hole he could find until the kamikaze had been dispatched. Adrenaline does a marvelous thing to a person. I used to think that it could make you run faster. Apparently, it can also make you more flexible. Grandpa said that they went back to measure that hole he dove into. It was a small area between the deck and a metal bulkhead. He said he tried to crawl back into the hole, but with only six inches of clearance, he just wouldn't fit.

Sometime during the night, he asked me if I knew who Ira Hayes was. Thanks to him, I earned extra credit in a high school History course. He described the several visits to Iwo Jimo. They seemed to bombard the island on a regular basis throughout his tour. It was then that I learned that Ira Hayes was one of the men who raised the flag and that my grandfather had the honor of seeing that flag flying.

He told us of the banner that they flew from one of the masts. He described it (as I recall) as a banner in which a certain length of cloth represented the ships "score" in planes shot down, etc. He told us that the banner was so long (about 1000 feet), that with a good breeze, it still managed to touch the water behind the ship.

There was one story that I had completely forgotten until reminded by another account of the story: the seemingly infamous roll when heading to port in Oregon. As I remember it, he only said that the ship once rolled to within a few degrees of capsizing. He left me with the impression that this was the closest he had come to real physical danger. Now, I realize the irony of the whole story. After a year-and-a-half at sea, fighting ships, planes, and gales, they were coming home only to be given one last scare.

I know there were many other stories that have since been lost in the fog of time. Those that I remember are very dear to me and I am proud of how my grandfather served. I am honored that men I will never know fought along side of him against our enemies to preserve the freedoms I now enjoy. I am honored that one man, my grandfather, saw fit to bestow upon me his tale, that I might share it with others and keep his memory alive.