Ed Stone talks about his experiences on a submarine in World War II during a memorial service for Harold Waters, a Marcellus man who died in 1944 when his submarine was sunk. The service took place at St. John’s Episcopal Church, in Marcellus To the right are Petty Officer David Cheatham and Petty Officer Gary Groves, both from the Naval Reserve Center in Mattydale.
Marjorie Richardson was a child when her older brother, Harold Waters, left to serve in World War II. She recalls him as “kind of a devil, a handsome fella who rode a motorcycle and loved the girls.” She remembers — for the last time Harold came home — that his family had Thanksgiving dinner in October, a month early, to make sure Harold had a seat at the table.
To Richardson, of Skaneateles, the most vivid memories are the sorrows that came later. Her mother was at work, at the old Crown Mills in Marcellus, when a man from the military found her on the job. Harold served on the S.S. Gudgeon, an American submarine in the Pacific Theatre. In April 1944, the ship vanished. All 79 crew members were lost. Relatives would eventually learn the sub had been sunk by Japanese bombs.
Harold’s remains were never recovered. There would be no funeral. He left behind a young wife in Syracuse, Ruth Helen Waters, who later remarried. As for Harold’s mother, the grief would be intertwined with her long life. “When the whole family would get together, at Christmas or Thanksgiving, we would always pray for him,” said Richardson, the youngest of six Waters siblings.
She never expected to witness what finally happened Sunday, when a few dozen people gathered to honor Harold in St. John’s Episcopal Church in Marcellus. The memorial service was put together by Edward Stone, 88, a Syracuse man who survived the 1941 Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. Stone was assigned to a submarine during the war. He is a member of a veterans associations for World War II submariners, a group that puts special emphasis on remembering every man lost at sea.
Stone was also a good friend of Bob Waters, Harold’s younger brother and a past commander of the American Legion in Marcellus. Bob, who died at 85 in 2010, often spoke to Stone about Harold. “What Ed did for us is amazing,” said Kate Waters Walker, Bob’s daughter, who traveled from Durham, N.C. for Sunday’s ceremony. “I know how my father felt about his brother. He had a little shrine to him set up at his house with (Harold’s) picture and his Purple Heart.”
Over the last couple of years, new information was released about the sinking of the Gudgeon. Mike Ostlund, an author and historian whose uncle died on the submarine, pored through old records and ended years of speculation by pinpointing a location for the bombing of the sub. Almost certainly, he said in a telephone interview Sunday, it happened about 166 miles from Iwo Jima.
Through his veterans group, Stone learned of that revelation. It had always bothered him that Bob Waters, his old friend, died without the chance to take part in any public remembrance for Harold. Stone took it upon himself to plan a ceremony. He invited a U.S. Navy honor guard from Mattydale. He contacted Gail Murphy, a cousin to the Waters family, who in turn reached out to her relatives.
The last letter written home by Harold Waters, a Marcellus man who died in World War II. The letter was written in early April, only weeks before the sinking of the S.S. Gudgeon, the submarine on which Waters served.
Those efforts all came together in Sunday’s service, on an afternoon when American flags rippled along village streets. In Stone’s welcome, he noted how Waters and the rest of the Gudgeon crew “have been on their eternal cruise with the Supreme Commander.” Rev. Georgina Hegney, rector of the church, offered a homily in which she said the greatest of Memorial Day tributes is to live a life — “in body, mind and spirit” — that honors the ideals for which Harold died.
Finally, Kate Walker read from Harold’s last letter to his mother. In the clear and elegant handwriting common to his generation, Harold described the tedium of his routine on “the big blue Pacific” and reflected on how long it had been since he was home.
Walker had to pause to collect herself. The letter made her think about her father, and the loyalty of brothers. Harold and Bob had shared a room as boys. As soon as Bob was old enough to enlist, he decided to join the Navy, like his big brother. After the war, for the 65 years until his death, Bob kept the faith: Even now, if you visit his grave at Highland Cemetery in Marcellus, you’ll find a plaque on Bob’s tombstone honoring Harold’s sacrifice.
After the service, everyone gathered in the church hall. Guests stood in line to admire photographs and clippings about Harold. His Purple Heart was also there; Bob Waters had stayed in touch with Harold’s widow, who remarried after the war. When she died, many decades past the sinking of the Gudgeon, one of her sons brought the medal to Bob — an act for which the family is deeply appreciative.
As for Ed Stone, the Pearl Harbor veteran who made it all happen, he stood in the background, smiling, throughout the celebration. One year gone or almost 70, his mission stayed the same: Harold Waters, submariner, deserved a last goodbye.
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