PrimeTime: Sailor's Account of Cole Attack

Jan. 18, 2001 -- At first, Seaman Carl Wingate, 21, figured the USS Cole had run aground. He would soon learn that a 35-foot skiff loaded with 600 pounds of explosives had exploded alongside the destroyer, killing 17 of his crewmates.

The following is Seaman Wingate's first-person account of the terrorist attack, written immediately after the Oct. 12 bombing.

Day One

It was just a regular day for me. Gathering myself from a long night's sleep, I shower and go up to the bridge. The captain announces at 6:30 a.m. that we will be delayed about two hours to pull in [to Aden, the Yemeni port where the Cole was to refuel] … Well it's just a normal day,I thought.

This day will change the rest of my life.

Pulling in slowly, we finally moor to the piers. We get the lines across and at 10 a.m. we secure pulling in.

I make my way down to my bosses and they tell me, "Go hit your rack [bunk], but don't let the chief see you." These words saved my life. I climbed in my rack and waited for lunch. In port, lunch goes down at 11:15 a.m. I fell asleep — I don't know why because I had a great night's sleep.

I'll just wait a few more minutes to get up, I thought to myself. Twenty minutes passed, I was sound asleep.

Until this day, I have never felt energy like this explosion in my life. It brought the ship up about 15 feet and then back down. This process took about 10 seconds.

We ran aground, I said, but I realized we were in port. Then I thought the fuel line busted. I scrambled to get my coveralls on and grabbed the first pair of boots I could find, two sizes too big. I went to my GQ [General Quarters emergency station] station. On my way, I saw two of my shipmates on their way down. They were hurt badly. One had a face wound the size of a baseball and the other was blind.

I thought I forgot everything I knew about S.R.S. [Surface Rescue Swimmerl] school, but advanced first aid never goes away. I acted as fast as I could: I patched one's face and poured water on the other's eyes, the whole time telling them that it's OK and I'll take care of them.

Once people saw that I was first aid-qualified and that I was of help, they sent me to "The Bloody Aisle." I will call it The Bloody Aisle as long as I live. I step into the aisle and it was a nightmare. Blood everywhere and people laying dead on the side.

The first one I saw was a young man, 20 years old, who just came aboard a few weeks ago. I went to help him, knelt down and said a prayer and swallowed in a gulp.

I then moved on and my next patient or shipmate was another 20-year-old who just came aboard also. He could talk and breathe; I asked him to stay calm.

"Where do you hurt the most?"

He told me he was having trouble breathing because his stomach hurt. I grabbed a pair of scissors and cut his coveralls off.

It was so loud in The Bloody Aisle from screams and moans that I had to talk very loud. I found a closed lump by his lower left ribs.

"OK, I found the problem. You have a little bit of internal bleeding, but it's nothing. You're all right." I put someone on him to watch him.

At this time, I had to hold all my emotions back. This is my family.

I moved on to a good friend of mine. I knew he had three daughters.

He said, "I'm hurt. Oh God. Oh God."

I said, "Well I'm going to fix you up, OK buddy?"

"OK," he said.

So now he has put all his trust into me. I could tell that his legs were broken. There were a couple of people that were runners for supplies. I told them anything from 4 to 6 feet long and straight.

Broom sticks! I grabbed one and snapped it in half — one for each leg. "I need two shirts!" I received two shirts. I made two splints on his legs.

Now to the next person, one of my best friends and we also worked together.

"Hey buddy, it's Carl."

His eyes looked bad… I knew he couldn't see. I yelled again and no response. He didn't even look the same, his jaw broken and serious gashes on his face. I knew I had to stop the bleeding. I put a wrap with water on his face. He just lay there gasping for air.

This young man, only 19, was a fighter and a go-getter. He had everything going for him. I just kept talking to him. I looked down and saw two broken feet.

Everybody's asking if they can help. I then asked for a belt. I saw a huge wound on his leg. I put a tourniquet on tight and then put someone on him. As I stepped out into the now very smoky, Bloody Aisle, I heard, "He's not breathing! He's blue in the face!"

People just gathered around. I pushed everybody back.

"Come on — you can make it!" It was the young man who said that his stomach hurt.

I knew in my mind he would not make it but there he lay fightling like a champ to stay alive.

There was thick smoke. I was now breathing through my shirt.

"Everybody listen up," the master chief said. "Let's get these guys out on the flight deck."

So two corpsman and me gather the uninjured people and carry the wounded out on stretchers. With no electricity or lights, we make it through the smoky, Bloody Aisle.

The first look at the outside of the ship was almost unimaginable.

Why us?

But I continued on and moved to my next shipmate. Through the moans and groans, I found a helpless young lady lying on the hot deck. I quickly brought her in the shade on the stretcher. Her leg was dangling and bleeding severely. I took an unwounded shipmate's belt off and put a tourniquet on her leg.

She said to me, "Help me. Help me. My leg hurts." I stayed with her and cooled her off with water. She was one of the ones that just came aboard, in her late teens, a little Hispanic girl.

The Yemeni ambulance was there to help us; we carried each of them off. My buddy was first. I went over to him just as the little guy took his last fighting breath. This is a face I will never forget.

When we got all the guys off, we took the dead and put them in a cool room near where we were moored.

We later found out that the explosives were 200 pounds of C4 plastic. With the smell of blood or shock, I had to get off the ship. So I got on the water ambulance to assist the injured and made it to land, where they told me I couldn't go to the hospital.

I looked back at my destroyed ship; it was leaning at a 20-degree angle from the water in the ship. We had guards with guns everywhere.

I finally found my two best buddies. We hugged like no other could hug someone.

It was finally over, the worst I mean. Bad memories were already scarring my mind as I had a breakdown. Seeing everybody crying and screaming, a face mangled, moaning.

That night we waited for another explosion. We were sitting ducks. But after a while, the wait ended. There would be no more. I guess they made their point. I fell asleep for 20 minutes just to find out that they found two more bodies and 12 were missing.

I went to the mess decks where it all happened and it was unrecognizable. There was a huge 40-by-40-foot hole in our ship where we cooked food.… It was HELL that we were in.

Day Two

I did my one hour of watch. I was stopped so many times to be told that I was heroic and that people had so much respect for me. But the last stop wasn't such great news.

The man with three little girls and a wife didn't make it.

The captain made a very emotional speech and told the crew how proud he was of us. He was crying. I hated him until he showed his emotions and I knew he was just doing his job.

The other ships from the fleet were coming for us but it would take another day. So we cleaned up a little and sat around all day. Finally, a three-star admiral came aboard and gave a speech. He told us he would find who was responsible and hold them accountable.

We are now getting the hull of the ship patched. The Cole still lives.

Later on in the night, our ships arrived. We were well guarded; they gave us supplies and all.

I smoked like an old freight train — sorry, Dad.

All can see and think about is every one of the people's faces that didn't make it. I tried to help. Good news comes: The guy I revived is still alive.

The Lord was on my side.