Lieutenant (jg) Daniel Tontz
Lt. Tontz is pictured in his quarters aboard the USS Bush, where he was assistant communications officer. Source: USSBush.com
My father, Daniel Tontz, wrote this narrative before he died a few years ago. (Right, Dan Tontz, Jr., in 1960)
I grew up in Wichita, Ks, graduated from North High School in 1935, attended Wichita University and graduated from Washburn Law School, Topeka, Ks. I remember listening to President Roosevelt give his famous “Day of Infamy” speech on a little portable radio in my apartment. I enlisted in the Navy and reported to Hollywood, Florida to be commissioned as an officer in the U.S. Navy.
In 1943 I was sent to Naval School at Harvard University. I was assigned to the USS Bush DD 529 
destroyer (above) which left from Pearl Harbor on July 26, 1944. As an Ensign, jg, I was the assistant communication officer for the ship. From April 3 to April 5, 1945, the Japanese gave the Bush a nasty time. Her luck ended on April 6 during the invasions of Iwo Jima and Okinawa.
Two kamikaze (suicide) planes crashed into the USS Bush, nearly cutting the ship in two. The hole the planes had blown stretched the entire length of the ship. After the second plane hit us, we were instructed to throw our bags overboard. Finally, a third kamikaze plummeted into the blazing destroyer and that was the end of the USS Bush. The ship broke up and sank. I could look over the boat and see the keel exposed.
It wasn’t until the captain gave the abandon ship order that we four officers went into the coding room, started cutting up the coding wires and got ready to pitch them over the side. Even though we were under Captain’s orders, cutting the coding wires was hard because we knew the end was in sight. At that point I had not been injured. There were no other survivors in the engine room except us four officers.
Once the ship had completely torn apart, I jumped into the water. I had a gun and a life jacket on and was hanging onto a piece of wood that had drifted by me in the ocean. The waves were sometimes 12 feet high. The Japanese shot at us survivors in the water, and we had several close calls. We would duck under the water when we saw the Japanese planes overhead.
I went into the water at 6:00 p.m. and finally was picked up around 3:00 a.m. I know I was in the water about 8 to 9 hours. While in the water, periodically the Captain would shine a light on all our heads and count how many of us were still alive. That night, 87 men died in the water either from painful burns, exhaustion or deadly sharks. Their screams were unforgettable.
Once the rescue 
ship arrived, I was examined and given shoes and warm clothes. I had removed my shoes before jumping off the ship so they wouldn’t weigh me down in the water. I was immediately put on a Navy transport and taken back to San Francisco. I still remember looking up from the plank and seeing the Golden Gate Bridge.
I was sent to a Naval Separation Center and served as head legal officer until the war was over and I was discharged. My experience on that horrible day in April, 1945 and the time I served in the U.S. Navy has made a lasting impact and changed my life forever.
The War Department sent telegrams to families informing them of whether or not family members were included on casualty lists. Our Dan Tontz described the telegram his mother received as “a real grabber.” The Wichita Eagle news clipping to the left conveys the substance of the telegram letting her know that Lt. Tontz was alive after the sinking of the USS Bush.
Dan commented further on his dad’s story.
My dad rarely talked about this story. It always led to tears by all of us and still does. He was so fortunate to live, but it was partially thru his own strong efforts in the water that night. He said he was thinking about his wife and me. 😢
For a while the survivors of the USS Bush had periodic reunions. I went with my dad and met a lot of them. They were the Greatest Generation. The website USSBush,com was established by some adult children of the survivors who were strongly impressed by their survival stories. About 25 or 30 of us in the group had attended the reunions, talked to the survivors, and cried along with our fathers and families. I’ve lost track of most of them, but this website is a wonderful memorial to our dads and their service.
Thanks for this stunning story, Dan. Good men, all carrying out their duties and all paying a heavy price in some way. It must have been terrifying. And I can only imagine how harrowing it was for your mother, waiting to hear if he was alive.
Yes, you are right – our family shed many tears with Dad over this story. I believe thinking about that fateful day brought so much anguish to Dad he just kept most of it to himself. It was too painful to discuss. Thank you for telling Dad’s story and honoring him like you have – just beautiful.
Love,
Your sister Kathi Tontz Ash
MIT engineer friend of 40 years talked of everything, but not the war. Finally he did one afternoon, terrifying as I learned of submarine service where he practiced maximum dive rates while serving as target for training US destroyer crews, testing other things as Exec Officer. Stationed in Pearl, crews were refilled with available skill sets as personnel rotated elsewhere or were discharged. He narrowly was passed over when a new boat went out, which all wanted to avoid. Sure enough, it sank from an attack. He noted, matter of factly, that few casualties were injuries in submarines. He recalled by name officers he’d served with who died at sea.
We never spoke again of the period. Subs are all volunteer, and officers (all of crew?) immediately allowed/pushed elsewhere if any regrets at any time. My friend expressed no pride, just did a job and went on with life. It’s hard to imagine the life, although touring one of the ships in Groton or Pearl gives a feeling. Dan’s father’s tale is memorable, and glad it was shared.