US Navy Lieutenant during WW2 stationed aboard the heavy cruiser USS New Orleans (CA-32) at the time of the attack on Pearl Harbor. USS New Orleans was under overhaul with her turbines lifted out to be rebuilt, so her ammunition hoists were without power. The gunners topside were dodging withering Japanese machine gun bullets and shrapnel, training their guns manually, by sheer grit and sweat, with no ammo other than the few rounds in the ready boxes.
Woodhead corralled every man he saw - shipfitters, big turret gunners, damage control parties and anyone that had no specific job at the moment, "Get over by that ammunition hoist," he ordered. "Grab those five inch shells and get them to the guns!" The big 5-inch shells, weighing close to a hundred pounds, were being pulled up the powerless hoist by ropes attached to their long, metal cases.
Chaplain Howell M. Forgy witnessed a "…tiny Filipino messboy, who weighed little more than a shell, hoist it to his shoulder, stagger a few steps, and grunt as he started the long, tortuous trip up two flights of ladders to the quarterdeck…" where the shell was needed. Forgy recalled, "A dozen eager men lined up at the hoist. The parade of ammunition was endless, but the cry for more kept coming.
He saw a Jewish boy from Brooklyn reach for a shell before stopping to catch his breath from the last trip. Sweat poured down his face in rivulets cascading off his chin. His scrawny legs shook but he wouldn't let them buckle. Forgy knew the men were putting 110% into it but the herculean strain was wearing them down.
A 6'2" bear of a former college lineman, Forgy wanted to boost one of the shells to his shoulder. "But a chaplain cannot fire a gun or take material part in a battle." There was little time for reflection, but Forgy did the next best thing.
Below decks on USS New Orleans in a milieu of sweating, grunting, straining sailors, low light, flashlights, periodic darkness, cursing as only sailors can and the periodic jolt of heavy AA fire above, came a big man walking up the "bucket line" of ammo passers- the "Padre"- Lieutenant (jg)"How" Forgy.
Lieutenant Woodhead, who was in charge of the ammunition line during the attack remembered: "I heard a voice behind me saying, 'Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition.' I turned and saw Chaplain Forgy walking toward me along the line of men. He was patting the men on the back and making that remark to cheer them and keep them going. I know it helped me a lot, too," he said.
The lyrics and chords of the song, "Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition," written by Frank Loesser in 1942, rose to the top of the charts and became one of the World War II anthems that inspired a generation of Americans to fight on.
Later in the war, Woodhead served on the light cruiser USS Atlanta (CL-104) and in the 1950's was Ordnance Officer at Long Beach (California) Naval Station.
Woodhead corralled every man he saw - shipfitters, big turret gunners, damage control parties and anyone that had no specific job at the moment, "Get over by that ammunition hoist," he ordered. "Grab those five inch shells and get them to the guns!" The big 5-inch shells, weighing close to a hundred pounds, were being pulled up the powerless hoist by ropes attached to their long, metal cases.
Chaplain Howell M. Forgy witnessed a "…tiny Filipino messboy, who weighed little more than a shell, hoist it to his shoulder, stagger a few steps, and grunt as he started the long, tortuous trip up two flights of ladders to the quarterdeck…" where the shell was needed. Forgy recalled, "A dozen eager men lined up at the hoist. The parade of ammunition was endless, but the cry for more kept coming.
He saw a Jewish boy from Brooklyn reach for a shell before stopping to catch his breath from the last trip. Sweat poured down his face in rivulets cascading off his chin. His scrawny legs shook but he wouldn't let them buckle. Forgy knew the men were putting 110% into it but the herculean strain was wearing them down.
A 6'2" bear of a former college lineman, Forgy wanted to boost one of the shells to his shoulder. "But a chaplain cannot fire a gun or take material part in a battle." There was little time for reflection, but Forgy did the next best thing.
Below decks on USS New Orleans in a milieu of sweating, grunting, straining sailors, low light, flashlights, periodic darkness, cursing as only sailors can and the periodic jolt of heavy AA fire above, came a big man walking up the "bucket line" of ammo passers- the "Padre"- Lieutenant (jg)"How" Forgy.
Lieutenant Woodhead, who was in charge of the ammunition line during the attack remembered: "I heard a voice behind me saying, 'Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition.' I turned and saw Chaplain Forgy walking toward me along the line of men. He was patting the men on the back and making that remark to cheer them and keep them going. I know it helped me a lot, too," he said.
The lyrics and chords of the song, "Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition," written by Frank Loesser in 1942, rose to the top of the charts and became one of the World War II anthems that inspired a generation of Americans to fight on.
Later in the war, Woodhead served on the light cruiser USS Atlanta (CL-104) and in the 1950's was Ordnance Officer at Long Beach (California) Naval Station.
US Navy Lieutenant during WW2 stationed aboard the heavy cruiser USS New Orleans (CA-32) at the time of the attack on Pearl Harbor. USS New Orleans was under overhaul with her turbines lifted out to be rebuilt, so her ammunition hoists were without power. The gunners topside were dodging withering Japanese machine gun bullets and shrapnel, training their guns manually, by sheer grit and sweat, with no ammo other than the few rounds in the ready boxes.
Woodhead corralled every man he saw - shipfitters, big turret gunners, damage control parties and anyone that had no specific job at the moment, "Get over by that ammunition hoist," he ordered. "Grab those five inch shells and get them to the guns!" The big 5-inch shells, weighing close to a hundred pounds, were being pulled up the powerless hoist by ropes attached to their long, metal cases.
Chaplain Howell M. Forgy witnessed a "…tiny Filipino messboy, who weighed little more than a shell, hoist it to his shoulder, stagger a few steps, and grunt as he started the long, tortuous trip up two flights of ladders to the quarterdeck…" where the shell was needed. Forgy recalled, "A dozen eager men lined up at the hoist. The parade of ammunition was endless, but the cry for more kept coming.
He saw a Jewish boy from Brooklyn reach for a shell before stopping to catch his breath from the last trip. Sweat poured down his face in rivulets cascading off his chin. His scrawny legs shook but he wouldn't let them buckle. Forgy knew the men were putting 110% into it but the herculean strain was wearing them down.
A 6'2" bear of a former college lineman, Forgy wanted to boost one of the shells to his shoulder. "But a chaplain cannot fire a gun or take material part in a battle." There was little time for reflection, but Forgy did the next best thing.
Below decks on USS New Orleans in a milieu of sweating, grunting, straining sailors, low light, flashlights, periodic darkness, cursing as only sailors can and the periodic jolt of heavy AA fire above, came a big man walking up the "bucket line" of ammo passers- the "Padre"- Lieutenant (jg)"How" Forgy.
Lieutenant Woodhead, who was in charge of the ammunition line during the attack remembered: "I heard a voice behind me saying, 'Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition.' I turned and saw Chaplain Forgy walking toward me along the line of men. He was patting the men on the back and making that remark to cheer them and keep them going. I know it helped me a lot, too," he said.
The lyrics and chords of the song, "Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition," written by Frank Loesser in 1942, rose to the top of the charts and became one of the World War II anthems that inspired a generation of Americans to fight on.
Later in the war, Woodhead served on the light cruiser USS Atlanta (CL-104) and in the 1950's was Ordnance Officer at Long Beach (California) Naval Station.
Woodhead corralled every man he saw - shipfitters, big turret gunners, damage control parties and anyone that had no specific job at the moment, "Get over by that ammunition hoist," he ordered. "Grab those five inch shells and get them to the guns!" The big 5-inch shells, weighing close to a hundred pounds, were being pulled up the powerless hoist by ropes attached to their long, metal cases.
Chaplain Howell M. Forgy witnessed a "…tiny Filipino messboy, who weighed little more than a shell, hoist it to his shoulder, stagger a few steps, and grunt as he started the long, tortuous trip up two flights of ladders to the quarterdeck…" where the shell was needed. Forgy recalled, "A dozen eager men lined up at the hoist. The parade of ammunition was endless, but the cry for more kept coming.
He saw a Jewish boy from Brooklyn reach for a shell before stopping to catch his breath from the last trip. Sweat poured down his face in rivulets cascading off his chin. His scrawny legs shook but he wouldn't let them buckle. Forgy knew the men were putting 110% into it but the herculean strain was wearing them down.
A 6'2" bear of a former college lineman, Forgy wanted to boost one of the shells to his shoulder. "But a chaplain cannot fire a gun or take material part in a battle." There was little time for reflection, but Forgy did the next best thing.
Below decks on USS New Orleans in a milieu of sweating, grunting, straining sailors, low light, flashlights, periodic darkness, cursing as only sailors can and the periodic jolt of heavy AA fire above, came a big man walking up the "bucket line" of ammo passers- the "Padre"- Lieutenant (jg)"How" Forgy.
Lieutenant Woodhead, who was in charge of the ammunition line during the attack remembered: "I heard a voice behind me saying, 'Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition.' I turned and saw Chaplain Forgy walking toward me along the line of men. He was patting the men on the back and making that remark to cheer them and keep them going. I know it helped me a lot, too," he said.
The lyrics and chords of the song, "Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition," written by Frank Loesser in 1942, rose to the top of the charts and became one of the World War II anthems that inspired a generation of Americans to fight on.
Later in the war, Woodhead served on the light cruiser USS Atlanta (CL-104) and in the 1950's was Ordnance Officer at Long Beach (California) Naval Station.
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