| A “mushroom cloud” rises after a heavy explosion on board USS Lexington (CV-2). This is probably the great explosion from the detonation of ordanance stowed in the starboard side of the hangar, aft, that followed an explosion amidships at 1727 hrs. Note USS Yorktown (CV-5) on the horizon in the left center, and destroyer USS Hammann (DD-412) at the extreme left. At 1445 Hours, May 8, 1942, in the forward elevator well of USS Lexington, firefighting crews were trying to tackle the blazes in the forward 3rd of the ship with less and less success. Hoses snaked down the forward elevator well in an attempt to get water closer to the primary point of attack. The men noticed that the floor of the elevator was awash with brown hydraulic fluid – not a good sign. Another enormous blast rocked “Lady Lex” from somewhere deep in the elevator well. The force pushed the heavy elevator up through the flight deck about a foot above the surface of the flattop. Gigantic clouds of smoke and steam poured from the well and all the openings in the forward part of the ship. The hangar deck was engulfed in smoke and flames, and the only aircraft still down on the hangar deck, a damaged Dauntless, caught fire and added itself to the conflagration. The entire bow of the ship was on fire, and anyone still in its confines was either dead or doomed. Lexington’s Captain Frederick C. Sherman (May 27, 1888 – July 27, 1957) had his duty signalman flash to Yorktown: “Lexington has serious explosion.” And then at 1452 Hours, “This ship needs help.” Admiral Frank J. Fletcher (April 29, 1885 – April 25, 1973) responded: “Tell Fitch I’m taking tactical control. Tell Admiral [Thomas C.] Kinkaid [(April 3, 1888 – November 17, 1972)] to send USS Phelps (DD-360), USS Morris (DD-417), and USS Anderson (DD-411) to assist Lexington.” At 1525 Hours, another massive explosion tore through the bulkhead plating in the vicinity of the forward fire rooms and smashed the uptakes. This eliminated more than half of the ship’s propulsion system and further damaged the fire mains, shutting off the water needed to fight the fires forward and on the hangar deck. Anything else the crew might do was a holding action. The fires were out of control and would relentlessly walk from fore to aft, consuming the ship compartment by compartment. On the bridge, Captain Sherman lost mechanical steering completely. The only way he could maneuver the ship was by shifting the engines. Lexington’s speed was cut to about 15 knots, and she was careening wildly through the formation. Admiral Kinkaid told all of his escorting vessels to open up the range around the giant ship. She was a dying hulk, madly thrashing the seas. Yet Sherman still believed. The Great Barrier Reef was only 400 miles away. Maybe he could get there and beach his ship on the reef, put out the fires, and save her. The Executive Officer, Commander Morton T. Seligman (July 1, 1895 – July 9, 1967), had been all over the ship. As the 1st major explosion rocked Lexington at 1445 Hours, Seligman had been on his way forward to the sick bay, to check on casualties. The blast picked him up and blew him through an open hatch, slamming him painfully against a bulkhead. Nothing was broken. Seligman became a human dynamo, racing from 1 crisis point to the next, directing rescues, repairs, or evacuations. In between, he raced up to the bridge to make reports. He became the eyes and ears on the crisis that Captain Sherman desperately needed. The Executive Officer was the 2nd to last man to leave the ship. He could not have done more short of laying down his own life. He would receive a Navy Cross for that day’s work, his 2nd award. Aviation Ordnanceman 2nd Class Walter Hassell (December 18, 1915 – November 9, 2005) recalled: “The flight deck — at least the after port side where I was waiting — was fairly quiet. Men spoke softly to each other, each trying to buck up the courage of the other. Some were quietly sobbing, others praying and some others just sitting there deep in their own private thoughts…The evacuation was as orderly as was possible under those conditions…The remainder of us [left] after carefully removing our shoes. and I was amused to notice that the waterway at the edge of the deck was neatly lined with shoes, most with a blackout flashlight tucked in them, exactly the way we normally stowed them under our bunks so that we would know just where they were in the dark. Habits are hard to break. And now, the sight of those shoes provided a comic relief to the tragic event taking place. Some men casually dove the fifty feet from the flight deck into the warm waters of the Coral Sea, but most went down the knotted lines strung over the side of the ship, hand under hand. A few enterprising air and flight deck crew yanked the small rubber life rafts from the planes that still sat on the flight deck and took to the waters in the small inflatables. The surrounding rescue ships launched whaleboats and began pulling the men from the water. A few dozen of the stronger swimmers stroked over to the cruisers and destroyers hovering nearby and crawled up the cargo nets strung over the sides. The many wounded and severely burned were carefully lifted by metal stretchers from Lexington directly to the decks of USS Anderson and USS Hammann, two other destroyers that had pulled alongside. The abandonment took about an hour, during which there were two more terrific explosions, one amidships and one further aft. The fires were working their way to the stern and had started reaching the stored war-heads. The biggest concern was a stockpile of torpedoes that had not been jettisoned due to the failure of the electric torpedo winch. If they were to explode simultaneously, it could tear the ship in half.” It took another hour for her to succumb, but the “Queen of the Flattops” finally slid beneath the surface at 1952 hours. She took 26 officers and 190 brave sailors down with her. Moments after she finally disappeared, a massive underwater explosion rocked the area. The captain of USS Phelps, Commander Edward L. Beck (September 20, 1902 – January 20, 1986) thought his ship had been torpedoed; 20 miles way, Yorktown and her accompanying escorts heard and felt the blast. In reality, the fires aboard Lexington had finally reached the torpedo warheads. | |
| Image Filename | wwii1668.jpg |
| Image Size | 1.60 MB |
| Image Dimensions | 5665 x 4483 |
| Photographer | |
| Photographer Title | United States Navy |
| Caption Author | Written or Adapted by Jason McDonald |
| Date Photographed | May 8, 1942 |
| Location | |
| City | |
| State or Province | |
| Country | Coral Sea |
| Archive | National Archives and Records Administration |
| Record Number | 80-G-16651 |
| Status | Caption ©2026 MFA Productions LLC Please Do Not Duplicate or Distribute Without Permission; Image in the Public Domain |
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