From the Official Ship's History, filed with the Ship's History Branch, Washington Naval Yard:
"On 8 September, BIDDLE received a report of a TWA jet-liner flight No. 841 (Boeing 707) having crashed in the Ionian Sea off Kefallinia, Greece. BIDDLE proceeded to the area at flank speed arriving at approximately 2030 local time and began search and rescue operations for survivors, bodies and debris. During the night, boat crews, with the aid of helicopters from INDEPENDENCE, recovered 12 bodies from the rough, shark infested waters. The search for survivors continued for two days without success. On 10 September, BIDDLE departed the search area and steamed westward for two days of rehearsals in preparation for a firepower demonstration on 14 September for the Honorable J. William MIDDENDORF, III, Secretary of the Navy." As Paul Harvey would say, now for the rest of the story. It isn't nearly as dry as the official account.
The TWA Search and Rescue
by Ronnie Slaughter (OS2, 1973-1975)
Like most days at sea, that day in early September 1974 was one that most of us who were aboard her would remember as "just another day at sea". That is... until the message came in requesting Biddle to respond at flank speed to a downed TWA airliner. Somewhere off the coast of Athens, Greece, this ill-fated flight had met her doom.
In the first hours after we arrived on scene, most of us would remember the strange quiet and the sadness that filled the air around us. The sea had already spread the wreckage out over a large area. For most of us, it was our first SAR, and we had no way of knowing what to expect. Like most young men our age, we had awakened that morning with thoughts of girlfriends and distant memories of home. But this day would end like no other that any of us had seen before, or would see again, and this event would put things in their proper perspective. Indeed, it would change all of us... forever.
The Biddle was the first American warship on the scene. Several merchant vessels were in the area, and the search was well underway for possible survivors. Sadly, none would ever be found. Our orders were simple, recover all aircraft debris and human remains. A short time later, the balance of our task force arrived behind us. Soon, the night air was cut by the dozens of searchlights from merchant vessels, warships, and helicopters.
The bodies of the victims that were there to be found had yet eluded us, but the sharks had already found them, and their frenzy scarred not only the crew and passengers of that flight, but also those of us who ultimately saw the brutal damage that a shark can afflict. In the last 27 years of my life I have had hundreds, if not thousands of dreams about that night and the following days. It was an awakening for all of us who had missed the terrors of war.
We had launched the motor-whale boats and the captain's gig to aid in the recovery of whatever they could find floating. The large amount of sharks in the area and the 3 foot waves made their efforts challenging and dangerous. Helicopters from the carrier had been dropping flares in the water to mark the locations of body's and debris. Some of the flares had sparked fires on the water due to the scattered presence of jet fuel. All the ships, the searchlights, the helo's, fire on the water... it was beginning to look something like a war zone.
The men who saw what happened on the fantail that first night will remember that body of the woman who we thought was a stewardess. Several men tried to recover her body from the starboard side adjacent to the 5" gun mount. Because of the large amount of sharks in the area, a couple of guys were using a grappling hook to try to snag her body. From somewhere in the deep, a large shark appeared that took her from them... at least for a moment. Suddenly, the men who were armed with small arms that were standing shark guard opened fire on the shark. In a matter of seconds, the OOD was on the 1MC calling for them to cease fire because of the proximity of the small boats. It was the most surreal of moments. When I walked away from there, I picked up a spent shell casing from a .45 and another from an M-14. For some reason I thought I would need something to tell me that that moment had actually happened.
When it was over, we had recovered an enormous amount of wreckage, and more bodies than I care to remember. I have often wondered if it was a terrorist's bomb as we were told, or what it had been that took that flight down. But although all of us wanted nothing more than to get into port, and morale had been low prior to that event, when we were ordered out of the area, every man aboard the Biddle was disheartened that we had to leave. It seemed that all of us wanted to stay and maybe... just maybe... find one survivor. But that was not to be. Everyone aboard that airliner lost their lives, and every one of us learned just how quick it is that death can come for you.
While I was aboard her, there was a painting on the door leading into OI division's berthing compartment. The painting was that of a white knight mounted on a white horse. His jousting pole in hand, and the horse reared up, ready to charge. Thus was the spirit of the Biddle. Never quit. Always ready to do our duty. Always living up to our call sign... Hard Chargers!
