This story was taken from Naval records of the Cooper, Sumner and the Moale as well as Mr. Berlinger's own memory.

Not all Americans know of the destroyer U.S.S. cooper because it was just one of the many slick new fighting ships the U.S. built to combat the threat of the large Japanese fleet that was knocking at our doors during the first part of World War II. but those who knew her story can be proud of the brief but gallant page she has written in naval history. Here is the story of a ship sinking with her guns blazing and of her survivors struggling in the night with the Japanese survivors of the destroyer she had sunk.

All of this drama had it’s beginning when the keel for the destroyer No. 695 was laid by the Federal Ship building and Dry Dock Company at Kearny, New Jersey on 30, August, 1943. When No. 695 was launched on 9, February, 1944, Mrs. Elmer Glenn cooper smashed the bottle of champagne, christening he ship the U.S.S. Cooper. Mrs. Cooper is the widow of Lieutenant E.G. cooper who was killed in an airplane crash while attached to the old carrier Langley in February of 1938.

While the Cooper was being completed at the Kearney shipyards, her crew was being formed in New York at N.O.B. Norfolk, virginia. The New York crew consisted of the officers and enlisted men who were needed to help the Cooper grow into a fighting ship. The main body of the crew was formed at Norfolk. At the Norfolk Naval Base, I joined the crew for training. A new arrival, fresh out of Gunnery school at Great Lakes, Illinois. I was still far from being a sailor, because I had never seen the salt water until arriving at Norfolk a month before being assigned to the Cooper’s crew.

There was a big expansion program going on and the Naval base was full of training crews for destroyers. We were assigned to the Quonset huts and began a month of training. We were well trained for our duties aboard ship and after one month we were transferred to New York about March 2nd. The crew was then stationed at Flushing Barracks in Brooklyn, just across from the Sand Street gate of the Brooklyn Navy Yard. A couple days later we marched to Pier J in the yard to see the Cooper for the first time. She came into the pier with the New York crew aboard and tied up to the dock. Presently we were put aboard the ship. We were all proud of this trim looking ship as we set our feet on her that day. (I wonder what our reaction would have been if we could have seen nine months into the future.) The following days were filled with straightening up the ship.

On 27, March, 1944, the Cooper was commissioned. All personnel invited guests to the ceremony. I proudly escorted my father and aunt around that afternoon. It was quite a day, the clouds poured forth their fill of rain to liven up the affair.

After completing squaring the ship away, and making her shipshape for sea, we started out on our shakedown cruise. We stopped at Boyne, New Jersey to have the ship degaussed and then we layed off the coast and took on ammunition. We weighed anchor in early April 1944 and set our course for the Bermuda Island. It was an uneventful voyage except that our gyro compass went out and we had to follow a Destroyer Escort, D.E. 428 at night by radar. We arrived at Big Sound, in bermuda, a few days later and began our shakedown. This included all the drills: fire, General Quarters etc., plus plenty of firing at surface and air targets. some captured Italian submarines were used in anti-submarine practice. At intervals during our training the Cooper was assigned to night maneuvers to give us night practice and to serve as a submarine picket boat because a German submarine had been reported in the area. On one of our nights on picket patrol a torpedo crossed our bow from starboard to port. Our sonar man on watch had plotted the course of the torpedo but the J.O.D. believed he was mistaken until the wake was sighted. The Cooper was put into a radical turn to port and speed was increased to put us parallel to the course of the torpedo. General quarters was called but the submarine cleverly gave our sonar machine no target.

Later during our training, we had movies taken while we were practicing refueling off a tanker at sea. We rammed the tanker and stove in the gun shield of the starboard quad forty mount. We had to tie up along side a destroyer tender to have the ship repaired.

After a month of training, we returned to the States, pulling into Norfolk, Virginia, where we stayed for a few days. then we went up the Chesepeake Bay and the Potomac River to the WAshington Navy Yard where we tied up near admiral King’s Yacht. The crew was given liberty and I must say, we really let the capital know that the fleet was in. The next day, visitors were allowed aboard and the new type destroyer was well inspected by the military and civilian workers who helped design the Cooper and the sister ships of her class.

Leaving Washington, we returned to Norfolk, Virginia for a day. Then we were off again for New York and the Brooklyn Navy Yard. A few minutes after we tied up, the first leave party was ready to leave the ship. I was on the first leave party. There would be three leave parties in the following month. The bridge was changed to the Captain’s liking and new and better equipment was put on board to make the Cooper a better fighting ship.

In July we were ready but this time we were leaving to join the fleet, or so we thought. We soon found that we were classed as a green ship with a green crew that had to prove she was a fighting ship. we proceeded north to Boston, leaving the Stature of Liberty in our wake. We were in Boston one day and a half. The crew had one liberty and we were off again. This time with two sister destroyers and a large Essex class air craft carrier. The carrier was to be escorted to Pearl Harbor via the Panama Canal and San Diego. Heading South, a few days later we arrived at Norfolk to refuel. as we entered the channel to Norfolk, we passed the mighty battleship Wisconsin who was on her way out to sea. After one night in Norfolk, we set out again with a southerly course for the Caribbean Sea. We passed Cape Hatteras and later arrived at the Panama Canal. It took us all day to pass through the canal. We spent a day on the Pacific side. Early the next morning we set out for San Diego. A submarine was sent into our formation and it’s periscope was sighted as it passed our wake. Our lookouts were wide awake. It was another week getting the San Diego where we tied up at the foot of Broadway Avenue. We stayed in San Diego a few days then we obtained our orders to head west to Pearl Harbor, still escorting the carrier which would prove to be a source of trouble. The carrier pilots managed to dunk in the sea a few times from Boston to San Diego, two men were killed and one plane exploded in midair. We arrived at Pearl Harbor six days after leaving San Diego, an uneventful trip.

It took us until the later part of October 1944 to qualify for the fleet. The fleet training was very interesting, we received our first near miss by one of our own destroyers during surface firing. Shrapnel flew all over the deck of the Cooper. A piece hit the starboard twin forty gun shield where I was a first loader at the time. A seaman name Bollinger received a dent in his helmet, much to his surprise.

October 21, 1944 our Captain, Commander Schmidt, U.S.N. was relieved by Commander Mell A. Peterson, U.S.N.. The executive officer was also transferred and Lt. Hodnitt, U.S.N. became executive officer and Lt. Swink, Gunnery officer. Ready to join the fleet, the Cooper along with five other destroyers of Squadron 60 headed west, escorting the Battleship North Carolina. Our course was charted to the Marina atoll where we refueled. The next day we weighted anchor for the Isle of Manus in the Admiralty Islands but were to go through plenty before we finally saw Manus. Just before we crossed the equator, after the shell backs aboard had been roughed up by the Iowly Polywogs, we got urgent orders to change our course northwest to the Ulithi Atoll in the Carolina Islles, where, a few days later, we joined the Third Fleet. The Japanese fleet had caught a small baby carrier force in what was to be called the second battle of the Philippines and sank some of the carriers and escorting destroyers. We were assigned to the task force 38 point 2. The Third Fleet had four units, each a sizable fleet in it’s own right.

Our operations during the month of November consisted of several strides on the Manila Bay area, the first being 11, November, 1944, and one against Japanese shipping approaching Ormoc Bay and several minor bombing strikes.

During this time with the Third Fleet, we were out on picket duty when we were ordered to pick up a dunked carrier pilot who had to bail out after a raid. we had to venture 100 miles from the main body of the fleet which was the limit allowed in picking up a pilot. This pilot was down twenty miles from the Island of Luzon in the vicinity of Polillo Island. We found the pilot with the help of carrier fighter planes that circled over the dunked pilot, and the use of our radar. After the pilot was taken aboard we started back to the protection of the fleet, but it was already dark and the Japanese knew we were there. So, without air protection that night, we had to shift for ourselves in warding off enemy planes - and they were not long in coming. It was the night of November 19th when a radar pilot of Bogies showed that a rough night was promised. It was still twilight, and forty-five minutes after the first radar contact, a Jap plane made it’s way in. Coming in low, he was taken under fire and turned away to return in about fifteen minutes for a second approach. It was apparently a torpedo run and at 2000 yards the plane turned away and disappeared from the radar screen.

During the next few days we were caught in a rough sea and the Cooper split a seam, so when our unit returned to Ulithi Atoll we had to go into dry-dock. Before this, some seamen who were supposed to be working on the ship’s hull went swimming and found that half of one of our rudders was torn away. We had another day in dry-dock getting repairs.

Destroyer Squadron 60 was assigned to the Seventh Fleet and the six of us headed for the Island of Leyte and about the 29th of November we were in Layte Gulf. The evening before we arrived we had a Bogey contact and all six destroyers fired on a patrol plane that failed to have it’s I.F.F. operating. Identification friend or foe. We all missed hitting it. We were given assignments as submarine picket at the mouth of the Surigao Straits to protect the mouth of Layte Gulf. One night we had a contact, and laid some depth charges, but none of them ever went off.

The evening of December 2nd as the small craft were going around Leyte Gulf laying smoke screens, we were given orders to proceed with the Destroyer Sumner (having the Des. Div. 120 flag) and the Moale D.D. 693 to Oromac Bay to destroy Japanese shipping. We had to feel our way out of the Gulf in the foggy atmosphere with our radar. We proceeded south around the southern tip of Leyte. When we got around to the west coast of Leyte, the Japanese aircraft picked us up and we had a fight on our hands all evening. We passed some landing craft in the straits so the depth charge safety bands were put on. It was gun captain for the three twenties on the fantail at that time, so I knew they were safe in case we were hit.

About 2300 hours we approached Ormoc Bay, the ships were in line with the Sumner to port and the Morale to starboard. Numerous Bogies were encountered up to midnight. The Cooper took three under fire, the second or third salvo causing the plane to burst into flames and crash into the water about 400 yards ahead. The second plane was taken under fire by us and the Sumner and is believed to have been damaged but was not seen to crash. Only two salvos were sent after the third plane but with a land background it was lost from radar perception.

Our fantail 20mm guns were never fired. Right after control gave orders to all anti-aircraft guns to fire at will, gun mount 53 fired smokeless powder. Our night vision was destroyed and we could not see the incoming aircraft. We could not fire unless we had a target because our tracers would give the plane a beam right down to our ship.

About two minutes after midnight, contact was made with the surface ships and a minute later we commenced firing. Our first salvo fell short about 200 yards, but the second struck the Jap ship right between the two forward guns. The Jap ship was a large destroyer carrying troops aboard. The largest destroyer was then hit repeatedly from stem to stern which threw many of the troops topside into great confusion. After eight minutes of firing, the Jap destroyer was thoroughly wrecked and sinking, a blazing hulk.

Cease fire was ordered to train the guns on a second target and in a minute we were firing on a Jap ship of destroyer escort size. The first salvo hit the target followed by several more hits. Firing was ceased to clear the bearing of the U.S.S. Moale as the Jap ships were passing astern.

The Cooper came to the right momentarily, the gunners on the fantail could see the two blazing ships who were only a few hundred yards away then. The ship swung left to resume her former course. Just before reaching the formation course, the ship was hit by a terrific concussion. We had taken a torpedo on our starboard side midship. The explosion was almost drown out by the shudder of the ship as she took her death blow. The main effect of the explosion was below decks and the top side midship. Almost every man near the explosion was killed instantly, some were torn and crushed and broken like twigs. The men on the stern were very lucky.

When we were hit the stern seemed to drop like an elevator with a shudder. Then the ship rolled over to starboard. Before the ship rolled I saw debris flying through the air and I dropped to my knees. As the ship rolled I went under water. My phones were still on me when I came to the surface. My line had been cut by one of the men on the gun crews. His leg was caught in my phone wire. I was below water until he cut me loose. I owe my life to the young radioman striker. When I looked at the ship again the bow and stern were about fifty feet apart. The bow was sticking out of the water at an almost vertical position. The number 695 could be seen without any trouble in the moonlight on the stern. It was in the same position. The depth charge racks and rudder could be seen sticking high up out of the water. I looked at my watch. It was about 0015 and I turned to swim away. I turned for a final look at our gallant ship and she was already out of sight on her way to a watery grave.

The Cooper went down fighting, proving she was a fighting ship. One of the five inch guns fired a last salvo which ricocheted off the water as the ship healed over to 45 degrees. Two gun mounts reloaded with their last rounds but were never fired again as the ship was on her side and broken in two in less than thirty seconds.

The entire scene was a Buck Rodgers spectacle with guns firing from the ships on both sides. Two Jap ships burning, shore batteries firing at our ships from the shore, Jap boats in the vicinity and Jap submarines lurking below the surface of the water. Bombs were dropping from planes overhead and the tracers from the 40 millimeter guns formed an arching glow to the various targets. Torpedo wakes were sighted and the ships heeled crazily from port to starboard with radical turns. The light of a full moon was diffused just enough to illuminate the ships in an eerie setting for this nightmarish action in which a white haze of steam rose slowly from the water, marking the resting place of two Jap ships.

In the water this was a terrifying sight. We could see our own ships leaving the bay with their guns blazing, the shells lobbing over our heads with an indescribable shine and whistle. The Sumner and Moale were outlined beautifully. Their black and gray camouflage made them look almost unreal, like toys. The five inch guns looked like six eyes on each ship. The Japs continued to fire long after the Sumner and Moale had departed. A Jap bomber “Betty” came lumbering over at a low altitude, so we could make out the greenish camouflage. And red circles on her wings. A little later a Japanese “Rufe” float plane roared over at low altitude and strafed the water with machine gun fire that was terrifying, but looked beautiful in red, orange, green and yellow tracer colors.

No record was taken from the Cooper, so all the happenings after the sinking are recorded from the stories told by survivors. It was easy to remember what happened that night back in 1944.

I joined three men in the oil filled water that night. They were Donald Fish S 1/C, Neal T 3/C and Dalton S 1/C. We grouped together and decided to strike out away from the position where the Cooper went down. The water was filled with survivors, hollering for help in pain. Whistles and flashlights that were standard equipment on a life jacket were blaring and flashing, letting the Japs know just where we were. The four of us had sense not to use ours. We sighted a ten man raft and swam to it. It was very crowded and a wounded man whose leg was broken was occupying most of the raft. Fish sighted another raft with only a few men on it a hundred feet or so away. Fish and I swam to the less crowded raft. In a short time there were nine men on the raft. They were as follows: Lt. (JG) Pickles (Navigation Officer); Tull TM 2/C (wounded in the leg); Morgan S 1/C RM (with both hands ripped open); Anspach WT 3/C; Anderson S 1/C; Fish S 1/C; another radioman striker (the one who saved my life) and Warren Beaty QM. We were in great confusion at first but when we finally got settled after the Jap seaplane stopped strafing, we set out for the mouth of the bay. The Jap plane had bombed and strafed a small island near the mouth of the bay and Mr. Pickles, remembering the map of the area, said that the island was only ten or fifteen miles away and was believed to have been abandoned by the Japanese troops. We headed for the island. Morgan was bleeding terribly and was in a state of shock. I broke open a five inch powder can and found some toweling, cut it up with my knife and wrapped Morgan’s hands with it. We broke both of our paddles in the first few minutes of travel and the platform of our raft was dragging in the water. We all agreed to cut out the platform and use the donut alone. Doing this, we lost all the food, water and medical supplies in the confusion.

We pulled and pushed the raft with the two wounded men on it all night. Near dawn the Jap plane finally disappeared and at about 0800 hours we heard the drone of aircraft come to our ears. We expected the Japs to come out and finish the job but our hearts were gladdened when four beautiful P-38 Lightning fighters came over at about 5000 feet altitude. They circled above us as an air cover for about an hour. They were relieved by four P-47 Thunderbolt fighters.

We came to about a half mile from land and we could see a large cement pier and the island. We saw an archway near the pier that looked very Japanese. We decided that if we saw Japs that we would turn around and head for the open sea and make them come and get us. Outriggers ventured out from the beach but the paddlers kept a good distance. It was quite a sight. The outriggers were carrying Filipinos who thought we were Japs. We were well tanned and had brush haircuts and we thought they were Japs. Anderson and a couple of the others starting waving their hands like mad and the Filipinos started in our direction at a great rate of speed. We told them we were Americans and they were overjoyed to see us. They said they had watched the “great battle” that night. We were so exhausted from pushing and pulling the raft that the natives carried us ashore in their dugouts. The people were Roman Catholics. They even had crosses tattooed on their arms. And they were very happy to see a holy medal hanging around the neck of one of the American boys.

We were helped ashore over the sharp coral. I lost my shoes and socks some time in the night and having very tender feet, they were no match for the coral. We were escorted across a pasture and down a land-like road. There were fruit trees. Green oranges grew in small trees, they were orange inside but being out of season were very bitter. Small boys brought us sweet small bananas and along the road we stopped at a spring water that was flowing from a pipe in the ground. The water tasted pure and cold. It was the first water we had had since about 1800 the previous day, except salt water. Shortly we arrived in a small village. It was truly a Hollywood picture. There were huts on stilts and some flush to the ground. We were taken to the Mayor or Chief’s house. It was on stilts and was made of joined board. The doors were hinged on brass hinges and had brass doorknobs. These people we found were not natives but simple civilized people – isolated from the outside world. We were questioned about the fight and paddlers were sent out into the bay to look for more survivors. Presently a few were brought in. Some were critically injured, but most were unscratched. From ten a.m. to the afternoon twenty-two men and officers were brought ashore. The Filipinos had Al Masulis, who had a shattered back and arm and a dislocated jaw, on a bed. Morgan was on a bench with a torque on his fight arm. Ensign Rhodie was on a bed with a broken leg. He was white with pain. Al Masulis was a yellow shade. I asked him how he was and my question drew a surprising answer from a man who was in terrible pain. I said “How are you skipper?’ Al answered, “how is the skipper? Did he get off alright?” I had to answer that I didn’t know.

The Filipino people treated us wonderfully the short time we were with them. Our cuts and bruises and broken bones were looked after, we had good food, fired port, eggs, fresh fruits and water. They served us a fruit that was green like a green pepper but fluted very deep. You ate it like an apple. It was juicy but I could not describe the taste. They called it “Baling-a-ping.” I saw the fruit later when I was in China but never tasted it again. Our clothes were washed and dried for us. After a couple of hours the men asked us to follow them to a small hut at the edge of town. We entered the hut and saw a large crock bowl set in the middle of the hut. We found ourselves in the town pub. Tuba, a drink made from the bark of a tree and fermented was offered to us. We didn’t want to offend and each of us present took a cup of this concoction. I raised the cup to my lips and gulped the contents down. I thought at first that I would throw up but the Tuba stayed down. It was like drinking warm, sour milk which incidentally, I dislike.

Foote GM 3/C who was an amateur magician, had the Filipinos in stitches by pretending to pull a coin from their ears and hair. The people crowded around him like a bunch of kids and Foote was very happy. He was the center of attraction, and that was where he loved to be.

Anderson, who was only 18 years old at the time, drank two cups of Tuba. He became very lightheaded and happy. He started to tell the Filipinos that they looked like Japs. This was not taken very well but we managed to shut Anderson up and cut his drinks.

Around five o’clock the Chief and Lt. Pickles had decided to send a dugout over to Leyte to get a P.T. boat to evacuate us the next day. We were to go up in the hills and hide that night because a Japanese foot patrol was on the other side of the two mile long island. The Japs were under surveillance at all times by Filipino guards who carried three foot long bolo knives that can sever a man’s head with one stroke. When we saw those knives we were glad the Filipinos were on our side. They were small people and their knives were almost as large as themselves. The people only had about three Jap guns and a hundred or so rounds of ammunition.

Around five we were called outside to see the “flying boats” over the island. The flying boats were black cats P B Y 5 Catalina patrol bombers. There were two of them and we set up a flare and the boats landed near the cement pier and the officers came ashore. It was decided the wounded would go first. One bomber took all the wounded and the rest of us were crowded into the other one. We were reluctant to leave our island paradise but we knew we would be heading home soon.

The Catalina Flying Boats did a wonderful job picking up survivors in the middle of the bay. Records were made when a plane with 56 survivors, a load of 3,000 pounds heavier than it had been designed to fly, took off after taxiing two miles before the plane would leave the water. Another plane carried 48 men. These planes broke all records for rescue work that day.

The planes had picked up the rest of the survivors still out in the bay. We were the last to be picked up that day. Before I left the island I gave a young lad three American dimes for a small bolo knife. This knife I shall cherish as a reminder of my adventure on that little island in the Central Pacific. Its name was Polar, an island in the Camotes group between Leyte and Cibu.

The Catalinas took us up into the clouds, over the jungles and mountains to San Pedro Bay in Leyte Gulf. We were taken aboard the mother ship of our rescue planes and were taken below deck to shower, get new gear and eat a meal that tasted wonderful, even if it was Navy chow. I remember eating in my bare feet and the deck was so hot I couldn’t put my feet on it. The wounded were treated and a whole compartment was evacuated by the ship’s company to give us some bunks and much needed rest. I hit the sack at a late hour and didn’t awaken until around noon the next day. I found that my old dungaree pants had already been traded off to the Filipinos who were around the ship so I dressed in my new gear and after chow went topside on the fantail to muster.

We mustered and the yeoman of the Cooper took our stories down as we dictated what we saw. I mentioned seeing Dalton in the water. I was told I was mistaken because Dalton was picked up by a shipmate Craulick and his body was thrown over the side to prevent it going down with the ship. I started to believe I was mistaken because Dalton was missing. Later on in the day a plane pulled in with about six or eight ruggedly dressed sailors with Jap uniforms, bayonets, straw hats, etc. They had hit the beach at Leyte and the Filipinos had taken them up in the hills to a guerilla stronghold. Dalton was among them. I felt very relieved to see him.

We were separated to different tenders and about the 8th of December the survivors of the Cooper were headed home, to live, to tell their hair-raising story to the people back home, who having read the news of the sinking and heard it over the radio, were waiting to greet the returning warriors.

Considering the circumstances under which the Cooper was sunk, it is a credit to cool heads and cooperation that of the original 339 men and 20 officers, 158 men and 10 officers were saved.

The commanding officer, Commander Mell A. Peterson, was recommended for the award of the Silver Star for his courage during the skillful fighting of his ship. The destroyer division officers said, “Words cannot express the feelings of the Division Officer at the loss of this splendid ship and so many of her gallant officers and crew. The U.S.S. Cooper was seen, by observers of the other ships, to go down with her guns firing in the highest tradition of the United States Naval Service.

My days with the Cooper were over. After thirty days leave, I was assigned to the crew of a new Patrol Craft P.C. 814. I was to go through training again commission a new ship and sail back across the Pacific. In August 1945 while we docked at the Naval base at Pear Harbor, the war ended.

Our ship was destined for the Yangtzee River in China but we never made it. On October 1945 the P.C. 814 was shipwrecked in a typhoon at Okinawa. I went home for another leave and then was discharged.

After a year out of the Navy, I joined the active reserves. On 23 August 1950, I was again aboard a destroyer, the U.S.S. Uhlmann D.D. 687. After nearly two years and a tour of Korea – again with fleet and division operations, carrier plane guard and again entering enemy harbors with blazing guns and counter fire, I headed home after six months.

I was discharged in June 1952 and met my future wife in September. We have been married over thirty years and have five wonderful grown children – three girls and two boys.