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Former Navy Destroyer Gets Burial At Sea and New Life

Radford is sunk to become an artificial reef.

Robert “Lew” Sax remembers the day aboard the USS Arthur W. Radford when the crew had to tend to a burial at sea.

The veteran in question was decked out in uniform, with all of his medals, ready for his final journey, Sax said.

“The family wasn’t allowed to be on the ship,” he said. "So we had to take photos for them.” 

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And Sax, who served on the Radford from 1985-87, was tapped to be a pallbearer.

“I’ll never forget the CO (commanding officer) saying over the PA system, ‘All hands bury the dead.’ 

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“That’s what I feel like I’m at today, a burial at sea,” Sax said, as the Cape May Lewes Ferry, the M/V Delaware, motored out to the site where the Radford was moored, awaiting its release into the 120- to 130-foot depths of the Del-Jersey-Land Inshore Reef.

When the end finally came on Wednesday afternoon, three-and-a-half hours after the seacocks were opened to allow water to begin the flooding process, the Radford quickly and quietly slipped beneath the surface. It gave off a few water spouts and disappeared, leaving a swath of bubbles in its wake and setting off applause and cheers among the spectators.

“It was bittersweet,” Sax said afterward. “But at least she was getting a new beginning.”

Veterans recall 'Cadillac of its class'

The sinking of the Radford was the culmination of nearly eight years of work, said Jeff Tinsman, who heads Delaware’s artificial reef program. Tinsman also was the leader of the project, which was a cooperative effort among New Jersey, Delaware, Maryland and the US Navy to sink the 563-foot former destroyer and turn it into an artificial reef.

When the Navy first identified the Radford as a vessel with potential for reefing, New Jersey and Delaware both were interested in seeing her wind up off their coasts, Tinsman said.

But neither state had the funds to tackle the project alone, and that’s where the joint partnership came in. Maryland came on board later, and the Navy paid some costs it would have incurred regardless.

In total, the 14-month project cost $946,000 – a far cry from the $20 million that was spent cleaning up the Oriskany, the 888-foot aircraft carrier that was sunk in the Gulf of Mexico off the coast of Florida in 2006.

Fourteen months to strip her down to the hole-riddled structure that floated before the sailors on Wednesday.

“It was the Cadillac of its class, the roomiest ship,” said Al Zampirri, who served on the Radford from 1984 to 1987, as he and Sax sat on the deck swapping stories of their time on board.

“It was like a small town,” Zampirri said. “You may not have seen everyone every day, but you knew everyone.”

Zampirri and Sax worked in the same part of the ship. Zampirri was in operations, Sax was a radioman.

“The best thing about being the radioman was you got to read the AP (Associated Press) wires and see the sports scores,” Sax said.

“He was the most popular guy on the ship,” Zampirri said. “He was like the CNN for the ship.”

The downside, Sax said, was he was the person on the receiving end of bad news for others on the ship, whether it was a death in the family or problems at home.

Zampirri, who worked on targeting and navigation, recalled the night he discovered that they’d come upon a Russian submarine in the fog off the Azores.

“It was really difficult to see,” Zamipirri said, and his discovery resulted in him getting time off on land to relax.

Kevin Sorensen, who came in from Pewaukee, Wis., served on the Radford from 1998-2001. He was on the Radford the night she collided with the Saudi Riyadh off the coat of Norfolk.

“We had just taken on 70,000 tons of weapons,” and Sorensen had just gone to bed, when all of a sudden he heard the engines backing down hard. Then the commanding officer started blowing the whistle, but it was too late.

The collision opened the boat like a can opener, Sorensen said, with the gash extending nearly to the water line.

“It’s amazing she didn’t sink,” Sax said.

“I love hearing the stories,” said Tim Carson, a shipmate of Zampirri and Sax who flew from Alabama to view the sinking. He said the event was important to him because “it was three-and-a-half years of my life."

“This is the only ship I served on,” he said.

Jim Valdesalice, who served on the Radford from 1988-1992, traded days off with co-workers for weeks to be sure he would be able to make it to the sinking. He and his wife, Leslie, work for the same boss, who generously accommodated their requests. But Jim Valdesalice figured the fact that his boss is a former Navy member helped.

Valdesalice, a scuba diver, brought his gear hoping he might have the chance to dive the ship. But seeing her go down was a thrill for him.

“I can’t wait to dive her,” he said.

'Burial at sea'

At about 12:15 p.m., the seacocks on the hull of the Radford were opened, and, like any good funeral, there was a eulogy given. The “eulogy” was actually a poem written by a former sailor, know as Seaman Packs, read to the passengers by DJ Severt, who was a turbine mechanic from 1981-85.

And not unlike a funeral service, there were chuckles and nods of acknowledgement among those for whom the words rang true the most:

“Somewhere on the Atlantic, the Radford is on the spot, we are doomed to spend our time, on a ship that God forgot.

The strain, the sweat, the swearing is more than we can stand, We’re not a bunch of convicts, just defenders of our land. Pawns on Billy’s chessboard, drawing measly pay, guarding folks with millions, for a few lousy bucks a day,

Seldom have we money, we’re always in a jam, Hey listen, we’re not forgotten, we belong to Uncle Sam.

We longed to see our loved ones, We longed to see our gals, hoping in the meantime, they haven’t married our pals.

The good times we had, the good times we missed, we hope you don’t get lonesome, and for God’s sake, don’t re-enlist.

When we see Saint Peter, on our judgement day, he’ll look in his book of records,” Severt said, and paused, as he got choked up. Then he continued:

“And this is what he’ll say.

Lord, send these men to heaven, I know their cases well, for they are shipmates on the Radford, and have done their time in hell!”

 “I knew that was going to happen,” Severt said, in reference to becoming emotional. “It brought back a lot of memories.”

And then the wait began, as the hull slowly flooded with water. About three hours in, the Radford began to list to port, and then suddenly the water line of the ship was below water. The bow dipped briefly, creating some nervous moments, but then the stern flooded, and within seconds she was dropping beneath the surface, leaving only whitewater and a diver’s buoy in her wake – and friends exchanging stories of their memories of time served on her decks and within her hull.

“All hands bury the dead,” her commanding officer once said.

“She’s had a burial at sea, and now it’s a rebirth,” Sax said.

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