The voices escalated until Roger became so rattled that he finally grabbed his gear and left. His second encounter was four years later on October 10, 1998. Again, he was working with just one other man in the recycling area of the Bremerton shipyard, this time on the SSN-660 Sand Lance. Roger wrote:
I caught movement from the corner of my eye through my MSA full-fæc respirator. I turned to witness a full-figure ghost staring directly at me for at least fifteen seconds! This man was about ten feet from me, wore dark blue navy coveralls and was about five feet ten inches. He was balding and held what appeared to be a flashlight. He seemed to be in his late forties, and was possibly of Slavic descent. Without saying a word, he implanted the following statements in my mind. “Why are you doing away with my home?” and, “It’s not polite to stare.”
It was clear that this man did not know he was dead. …
Roger obligingly glanced at the ground, and when he looked back, the ghost had vanished before his eyes. His letter continues: I marveled that I had truly seen a ghost. In fact, I was so excited that I called a trusted friend who worked with me and confided that something weird had happened. …
Before he could explain, his friend told him that he had seen an apparition when he was sandblasting the night before Roger’s encounter. The two men were incredulous. The shared encounter created a special tie between them, said Roger.
When he asked around, he learned that a chief had died of a heart attack on the Sand Lance. He could not find documentation of the death but suspects the ghost he encountered was the chief.
It is also possible that the specter who stalks the Bremerton shipyard is tied to one of the many deaths connected with the site. Perhaps he was one of the crew of the USS Saratoga, an aircraft carrier launched in 1925. Its wartime résumé included carrying planes that brought death and destruction to the Japanese.
The ship was attacked on February 21, 1945, near Iwo Jima. Six Japanese planes scored five hits within a three-minute span. The surviving crew, though stunned by the sight of their dead shipmates, scrambled to extinguish the fires raging on the hangar deck. They were heartbroken to find that 123 of their own were killed or missing.
Less than four weeks later, the Saratoga arrived at the Bremerton shipyard for repairs.
Could it have brought a few ghosts along? Perhaps the dead men followed their shipmates off of the Saratoga and took refuge in the shipyard.
Could a few of them have found their way into the old submarine that Roger prepared for recycling? Maybe. Most likely the noisy party that Roger heard was a place memory, imprinted upon the submarine by the men who had once lived there.
When it comes to speculating on the identities of those who haunt the shipyard, we have many from which to choose. In addition to those killed in battle, there are other deaths connected with the place.
The Bremerton shipyard is notorious as the site that launched the 1918 pandemic in the state of Washington, the fatal flu that wiped out 20 percent of America’s population. With one out of five folks succumbing, nearly every family lost someone.
According to William Dietrich’s article, “The Enemy Within,” in the October 24, 2004, issue of the Seattle Times, “The most virulent pandemic in world history probably slipped into Washington on September 17, 1918, when feverish naval recruits from Philadelphia docked at Bremerton’s Puget Sound Naval Shipyard.”
This vintage photograph shows the Bremerton shipyard where the ghosts of war victims come and go in the big gray ships. (author’s collection)
Dietrich goes on to say that despite the fact that nearly two hundred Washington servicemen were stricken by the flu that was already amassing fatalities on the East Coast, the army refused to cancel an event where ten thousand civilians would be exposed to the flu as they watched a review of the National Guard infantry. As a result, the deadly bug soon “began flashing through the civilian population like wildfire.”
The flu. Heart attacks. Torpedoes, courtesy of past enemies.
They’ve all snatched precious life from those who have moved through Bremerton’s historic shipyard. And most likely, a variety of deaths have left ghosts behind there. The majority would be those enlisted in the navy, proud to serve America. They may be so proud that they are not yet ready to leave their time and place of perceived glory and are simply clinging to the site where the giant gray ships still come and go.
Where Is My Head?
Dan Gallagher and his family will never forget the unusual roommate who shared their home in Watertown, Massachusetts. Built in 1750, the house has been remodeled many times over the years, but the basement has remained in original condition, Dan explained in the beginning of a letter to me. He continued: