The Sullivan brothers were five siblings from Waterloo, Iowa who were all KIA (killed in action) during the sinking of the USS Juneau, a light cruiser on which they served in WWII.
They were all in their early to mid twenties. George 27, the oldest, a gunner’s mate 2nd class, had pulled a stint earlier in the Navy. Frank, 26, was a coxswain also had a hitch in the Navy under his belt. Joe, 24, was a seaman 2nd class as was Matt, 23 and Al, 20.
They had all joined the Navy with the stipulation that they serve together. The Navy’s policy was to separate siblings, but reluctantly agreed to the Sullivan’s demand. They needed sailors. The boys had enlisted in December 1941 to avenge the death of their close friend Bill Ball, who had died at Pearl Harbor.
The Juneau was part of a U.S. Navy task force consisting of transports and warships, which was sent to bring reinforcements and supplies to the beleaguered Marines on Guadalcanal in November 1942.
Simultaneously, the Japanese sent a task force of their own to resupply their troops, which held the other side of the island.
On the evening of 11/12, U.S. air recon discovered the Japanese force bearing down on Guadalcanal. It was considerably larger than the U.S. Navy’s. The transports fled and the warships prepared to engage.
They met head-on at about 2am on the 13th. Despite having radar, the American ships almost collided with the enemy. There was no moon, and chaos ensued with both fleets’ searchlights trying desperately trying to find the other. When they did, both sides opened up with everything they had at point blank range.
Within thirty minutes, it was over. Both sides took heavy casualties. The Japanese lost a battleship and two destroyers; the U.S.’s fleet of thirteen ships suffered five losses. Many sailors were lost on both sides.
The Juneau barely made it, having received a torpedo hit which left a gaping hole on the port side and a damaged keel. At daybreak, the U.S. force collected itself and limped back to base. Later that morning, a Japanese submarine, shadowing the fleet, fired a torpedo and hit the Juneau near its ammo supply. The Juneau exploded; raining down debris and human body parts on the other ships and sank in a matter of minutes.
A few survivors managed to toss life rafts overboard just before the Juneau went to its watery grave.
The task force commander decided there couldn’t be any survivors from such a terrible explosion and additionally, did not want to risk the balance of his force looking for survivors and sailed on. He radioed a message to all U.S. aircraft in the area for look for anyone who had somehow survived. In true bureaucratic fashion, the pilot’s report got lost in the shuffle.
About 100 made it, including Al and George. Frank, Joe, and Matt had died instantly in the explosion. The men floated in the ocean for eight days, some seriously wounded, all suffering intense heat and hungry sharks, praying someone would find them. Al drowned on the second day. George went insane with grief at the loss of his brothers and went over the side four days later. He was never heard from again.
A PBY Catalina search aircraft finally located the only ten men left. Their parents weren’t notified until January 1943 since it was navy protocol not to announce the loss of ships so as not to provide information tot the enemy.
The news hit the community of Waterloo, Iowa like a thunderbolt. Pope Pius XII sent a rosary and message of regret. The President sent personal condolences. Messages of sympathy flooded in from all over the globe. Later, FDR banned the policy of relatives serving together in the same unit of the Armed Forces.
News of the deaths became a rallying point for the war effort, with posters and speeches honoring their sacrifice. Extensive newspaper and radio coverage of the incident made the brothers national heroes.
In 1943, the Navy commissioned two destroyers to honor the brothers: The Sullivans (DDG-68) and The Sullivans (DD-537). The brother’s story was brought to the silver screen in 1944 with the movie, The Fighting Sullivans.