Chet Furtek
He was aboard the USS Corry when it was attacked on D-Day.
By Bob Staranowicz, Correspondent
“I was certain that I was not planning on making it through the D-Day invasion.” This was Furlong resident Chet Furtek’s feeling as he knelt before a priest during what he thought could have been his final confession.
U.S Navy Seaman Chet Furtek was aboard the USS Corry (DD-463), the destroyer that led the D-Day Invasion at Normandy. Launched in 1941, the Corry was a Gleaves-class destroyer weighing about 1,630 tons and running at a speed of about 35 knots. It carried four 5-inch guns with a range of nine miles, had 40mm and 20mm anti-aircraft guns, ten torpedo tubs and various depth charges.
Even with all of this power, at approximately H-Hour (0630) on D-Day, the USS Corry was hit amidships by heavy-caliber projectiles that detonated in the engineering spaces and broke the keel. As a result of the battle, 24 Corry crewmembers lost their lives and at least 60 were wounded, many seriously.
Chet still remembers that day vividly. “When the captain gave the order to abandon ship, I helped launch our life raft on the starboard side. After jumping into the water we found it just about impossible to move the raft any distance at all, because the waves kept pushing us back against the side of the ship, so we all decided to abandon the raft and swim as far away from the Corry as possible. Shells seemed to be bursting all around us, and no matter what direction I swam a shell would fall nearby.”
“After the air finally cleared, a fellow mate, Wainwright was close by and he looked at me and said, ‘This is Hell.’
“On three separate occasions while attempting to swim away from the gunfire, shell bursts were so close I was hit by the spray, and the odor from each of the explosions was very strong and frightening because it seemed that death was imminent. At one point, I thought I had been hit with shrapnel. I ran my hand over my face and was happy to find I wasn’t hit. I was quite thin, so the cold water was taking its toll, and I felt I couldn’t continue much longer. After swimming for what seemed like an eternity I simply stopped because I was totally exhausted and freezing and thought to myself, ‘This is it, I’m gonna die,’” Chet reflected.
Chet didn’t remember anything after that thought of death until he woke up with a warm blanket covering him.
“There was soft music in the background and the sudden and miraculous change from complete misery to divine comfort indicated to me I had died and was now in Purgatory,” he said.
He removed the blanket from over his face and was actually disappointed to find he was alive and lying on the deck in the wardroom of the USS Fitch; most of the wounded from the Corry were lying there as well.
“Later, I was removed by stretcher and put aboard the Barnett. After spending a few days in a hospital in England, I was diagnosed with having suffered from hypothermia and released to join the rest of the crew. I later learned that I had been spotted by a damaged whaleboat that had no room aboard because they were carrying so many of the wounded. I was floating still in the water and the area around my mouth was covered with foam, so I appeared to be dead to them. However, Lt. Vanelli had them take me in tow and tie me to the gunwale, and keep my head above water in hope that I would still be alive. I was then picked up by a torpedo boat and then put aboard the Fitch. I was unconscious the entire time until I awoke in the wardroom.”
Chet admits that his faith had a lot to do with his rescue and he thanks God every day for his rescue and survival.
Furtek was born in the Northern Liberties section of Philadelphia. He joined the Navy on his 17th birthday in 1943 and served for three years. He also had an older brother who served in the Navy. He currently lives in Furlong with his wife of almost 60 years, Nancy. He has a daughter, Deborah, three grandchildren, and three great-granddaughters with a great- grandson on the way. He and his wife are members of Our Lady of Guadalupe Church in Buckingham and he is a member of Doylestown VFW Post 175.
By Bob Staranowicz, Correspondent
“I was certain that I was not planning on making it through the D-Day invasion.” This was Furlong resident Chet Furtek’s feeling as he knelt before a priest during what he thought could have been his final confession.
U.S Navy Seaman Chet Furtek was aboard the USS Corry (DD-463), the destroyer that led the D-Day Invasion at Normandy. Launched in 1941, the Corry was a Gleaves-class destroyer weighing about 1,630 tons and running at a speed of about 35 knots. It carried four 5-inch guns with a range of nine miles, had 40mm and 20mm anti-aircraft guns, ten torpedo tubs and various depth charges.
Even with all of this power, at approximately H-Hour (0630) on D-Day, the USS Corry was hit amidships by heavy-caliber projectiles that detonated in the engineering spaces and broke the keel. As a result of the battle, 24 Corry crewmembers lost their lives and at least 60 were wounded, many seriously.
Chet still remembers that day vividly. “When the captain gave the order to abandon ship, I helped launch our life raft on the starboard side. After jumping into the water we found it just about impossible to move the raft any distance at all, because the waves kept pushing us back against the side of the ship, so we all decided to abandon the raft and swim as far away from the Corry as possible. Shells seemed to be bursting all around us, and no matter what direction I swam a shell would fall nearby.”
“After the air finally cleared, a fellow mate, Wainwright was close by and he looked at me and said, ‘This is Hell.’
“On three separate occasions while attempting to swim away from the gunfire, shell bursts were so close I was hit by the spray, and the odor from each of the explosions was very strong and frightening because it seemed that death was imminent. At one point, I thought I had been hit with shrapnel. I ran my hand over my face and was happy to find I wasn’t hit. I was quite thin, so the cold water was taking its toll, and I felt I couldn’t continue much longer. After swimming for what seemed like an eternity I simply stopped because I was totally exhausted and freezing and thought to myself, ‘This is it, I’m gonna die,’” Chet reflected.
Chet didn’t remember anything after that thought of death until he woke up with a warm blanket covering him.
“There was soft music in the background and the sudden and miraculous change from complete misery to divine comfort indicated to me I had died and was now in Purgatory,” he said.
He removed the blanket from over his face and was actually disappointed to find he was alive and lying on the deck in the wardroom of the USS Fitch; most of the wounded from the Corry were lying there as well.
“Later, I was removed by stretcher and put aboard the Barnett. After spending a few days in a hospital in England, I was diagnosed with having suffered from hypothermia and released to join the rest of the crew. I later learned that I had been spotted by a damaged whaleboat that had no room aboard because they were carrying so many of the wounded. I was floating still in the water and the area around my mouth was covered with foam, so I appeared to be dead to them. However, Lt. Vanelli had them take me in tow and tie me to the gunwale, and keep my head above water in hope that I would still be alive. I was then picked up by a torpedo boat and then put aboard the Fitch. I was unconscious the entire time until I awoke in the wardroom.”
Chet admits that his faith had a lot to do with his rescue and he thanks God every day for his rescue and survival.
Furtek was born in the Northern Liberties section of Philadelphia. He joined the Navy on his 17th birthday in 1943 and served for three years. He also had an older brother who served in the Navy. He currently lives in Furlong with his wife of almost 60 years, Nancy. He has a daughter, Deborah, three grandchildren, and three great-granddaughters with a great- grandson on the way. He and his wife are members of Our Lady of Guadalupe Church in Buckingham and he is a member of Doylestown VFW Post 175.
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