Out & About Kentucky Style: Elmer Patterson Lawrence – USS Oklahoma Dec. 7, 1941

It’s a time of year when many of us reflect on what has transpired over the past months. I for one have developed a philosophy when it comes to writing, and it is really quite simple.

Gary West is an author and News Journal columnist.

I want to write about what I think readers will enjoy. This column marks the twenty-first year. I know. I can’t believe it either. Two hundred and fifty-two columns have covered so much ground from one end of Kentucky to the other, that I can’t possibly remember them all.

Or can I? There are times when I review columns of the past and, yes, I remember them all. Some, more than others, have drawn me in emotionally, while there were a few that leaned toward straight line facts, information, and general reporting.

This month’s column is different. It reverts back to something that took place last July 22, at a rural country church in Barren County, Kentucky.

Even though I never knew Navy Seaman 1st Class Elmer Patterson Lawrence, when Bowling Green resident Bernard Lawrence called and gave me the back story on the sailor. He was more than a sailor who had died at Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. He was family.

My grandmother on my dad’s side was a Lawrence, and although I didn’t know his story at the time, I knew about the battleship USS Oklahoma and the attack on Pearl Harbor. Several years ago I visited the memorial. It’s probably the quietest place I’ve ever been where there has been a large crowd. The respect for the 2,390 who died that day is unparalleled.

Seaman Lawrence was one of 429 who died on the USS Oklahoma, and after returning from sea duty only two days before the attack, most of the crew was asleep in their bunks below. He was 25.

The first Japanese torpedo struck at 8:08 a.m., followed by seven more strikes on the Oklahoma. Twelve minutes later the ship capsized. Total darkness and twisted steel rendered any escape or rescue non-existent. Thirty-two survived. The nearby USS Arizona lost 1,177 sailors.

But here we were on the warm July day at Shiloh General Baptist Church in Railton, Kentucky. After years of detailed complex DNA testing, the Navy had made sure Elmer P. Lawrence would be coming home. Being family, I felt an obligation, a duty to be there. After all, he had given his all.

Driving the backroads, it soon became evident my wife and I were getting close. American flags in front yards along the way in manicured lawns was further evidence of the respect for Seaman Lawrence his “home folks” still had.  It had been a long trip for him.

The church parking lot was full. State Police cruisers, motorcycles with attached American flags were lined up near the front. Navy Seamen out of Norfolk Naval Base were there, too. Outfitted in dress whites meant to me this was a special day. The motorcycles belonged to a special veterans group who escorted the hearse, carrying Elmer Lawrence’s flag draped coffin, from Brandenburg, Kentucky to the church.

Inside the cushioned wooden pews were packed. People were there who had no family attachment helped fill the small church. Songs were sung, “God Bless America,” and it seemed even more appropriate when the last words, “home sweet home” reached our ears.

A recording of the Navy’s “Anchors Away,” followed the motorcycle vets walking in pairs to the coffin with some saluting, but all touching the flag.

Relatives, even though they didn’t know him, spoke about Seaman Lawrence. One said, “Thank you God for sending us heroes.”

When the church portion of the re-burial concluded the entire congregation, and others standing in the parking lot, followed the coffin being carried by the white-clad sailors to the nearby cemetery. Family, friends, and those there just to pay their respects walked slowly, heads bowed in silence, as the coffin finally reached its final resting place after all these years. It had been duty, honor and sacrifice. Seven sailors, in well-trained precision each fired three volley rounds as would be expected for the return of Elmer P. Lawrence. Then as a final ceremonial tribute a lone bugler played TAPS, signifying it was indeed the end of the day.

Bernard Lawrence, who first called me about the reburial, is a distant relative. But what does “distant” mean, how close or far removed. It really didn’t matter.

The re-burial of Elmer Patterson Lawrence was something more than special. Although I may forget some of the hundreds of columns and stories I have written, I’ll never forget this one.  By the way, my middle name is also Patterson.  It’s a small world isn’t it?  But, after all we’re family.

Note:  Other reburials from Pearl Harbor.

Fireman 2nd Class Martin D. Young, age 21, Hawesville; Machinist Mate Ulis C. Steely, 25, Corbin; Seaman 2nd Class Howard S. Magers, 18, Merry Oaks, Kentucky.

There’s no excuse, get up, get out and get going!  Gary P. West can be reached at westgarypdeb@gmail.com.