I was born in 1922.
Dad was heavily involved in politics and,
he was the state Democratic Party chairman in the state of Oklahoma.
He and mother, I guess, were what you'd call "education freaks,"
and they started me in school when I was four years old.
I graduated from high school when I was 15 and in 1941,
I graduated from the University of Oklahoma.
Just at that time they were setting up a Naval ROTC unit at the university.
So I went over and talked to him about maybe being in the Naval ROTC
while I went through law school.
And he made the Navy sound so interesting that I went home and asked Dad
to see if he could get me an appointment to the Naval Academy.
Nine days later I was a Fourth Class Midshipman.
We graduated just about the time of D-Day in Europe.
They wanted to get 50 volunteers from our class...
--to volunteer for the amphibious force.
Of course everybody laughed because
amphibious force is certainly not very glamorous.
But then the word leaked out that at least some of the people who volunteered
might get command of one of these small ships.
So I volunteered and was chosen, I was going to be the CO of an LCS,
Landing Craft Support, Number 122.
It was 157 and a half feet long, and it had a crew of 65 enlisted men,
six officers including myself.
The ships were designed to go out with destroyers
to spot approaching air raids coming down from Japan.
There were dozens of ships hit by suicide planes.
It was a real danger.
NARRATOR: On June 10, 1945, a group of kamikaze fighters
broke through the clouds off the coast of Okinawa
and made for a small fleet of American ships
that included the newly commissioned LCS 122.
The suicide planes quickly sank a destroyer.
Amid the chaos, Lieutenant Richard McCool,
the green, 23 year-old skipper of the 122, reacted instantly,
overseeing the evacuation of the survivors onto his own overburdened ship.
For now, they were safe, but the kamikaze threat was not over yet.
The very next day after the Porter sinking,
we got the word that the kamikaze group was coming down from
Kyushu, the southern island.
Some half an hour later, the planes broke through the clouds up to the north of us.
The LCS's were in a diamond formation,
and the destroyers were about a couple miles south of us.
It was obvious that in order to get to the destroyers,
they would have had to go right by my ship.
The first one dove at us, and passed over our bow.
It was so low, I was afraid that the people in the 40 millimeter gun mount
might have been hit by the wheels or something.
They had crashed into the water just on our port bow.
The second one was right behind him.
I did get the guns on it, but not enough to do any good
so it hit eight to ten feet below where I was standing.
The bomb went through the radio shack and exploded just as it was entering the water.
I don't really remember much of what was going on after that.
I was unconscious for at least a minute or two.
When I finally came to, I was the only person there in the conning tower.
It seemed very, very quiet.
I looked over, of course there's this God-awful fire going on,
so I couldn't go that way.
I jennied over the port side of the conning tower
and dropped down to the deck from there and then down to the main deck.
NARRATOR: Although seriously injured from burns and shrapnel,
Lieutenant McCool remained focused and in command.
He rallied his battered crew to combat the flames engulfing the distressed ship.
He then proceeded to single-handedly rescue several trapped comrades,
even carrying one man from a burning compartment
despite his own weakened state.
He continued his efforts diligently until finally passing out on deck
from injuries that included a collapsed lung.
After an extended recovery, Lieutenant McCool returned to America.
He received the Medal of Honor from President Harry Truman
on December 18, 1945.
I suppose it's the "Who, me?" syndrome.
The truth of the matter is, as far as the "heroics" that I am credited with doing there,
I don't remember much at all about it.
And I wondered for a long time if
maybe this thing had gotten exaggerated somehow or another.
I responded well in a crisis.
Lots of other people have responded well in a crisis
and have not been recognized as heroes.
From the moment you get in the military you fight as a unit, not as individuals.
Your responsibility is to your shipmates.