Gale Reedy stands with his wife Leslie at their Austintown home.

AUSTINTOWN — As a 19-year-old, Gale Reedy witnessed things most people don’t have to see in a lifetime.

Reedy was born in Cincinnati and attended Princeton High School. Upon graduation in 1966 he tried to join the military. The Air Force didn’t have available slots and neither did the Navy, but then the Navy recruiter offered him a 120-day delayed program, so he became a sailor right after Christmas. “Once I got out of boot camp, my April Fool’s Day present of 1967 was getting on board the USS Forrestal.”

The journey started in Rio de Janeiro. For crossing the equator, he endured an initiation practice known as a “shellback ceremony.”

“You’re roughed up pretty good. It’s back when nobody complained about hazing.”

He said he was overwhelmed by the beauty of Rio. “I worked on the O-9 level of the carrier, which was one level higher than the bridge. You could stand there and see the bottom of the bay. That’s how clear the water was, and beautiful white sand. Ipanema was a big thing back then. It was the first topless beach I’d ever seen.”

Good times were short-lived. They traveled around the Horn of Africa and encountered a violent storm that tossed what was normally a very steady ship like it was a toy. From there they entered Subic Bay, just across the South China Sea from Vietnam.

Reedy’s job was to record takeoffs and landings.

“We had the pilots’ names and numbers and all their ready rooms on a headset,” he said. “When a plane would take off, we would call out to launch such and such a time. When they would land, we would call that number back down so the ready rooms knew who was up in the air.” He was promoted and “they would have to call in and check with me when they were ready to land. I went from being a snot-nosed kid to being in charge of seven other people.”

One thing didn’t make sense to Reedy or his colleagues.

“They had us load a bunch of WWII 1,000-pound bombs. They wanted us to use up the old ordnance. It was leaking stuff out of it. We didn’t feel they were safe just bringing them on board.”

He said this was one of the causes of the devastation.

“A plane on the flight deck had an electrical shortage. A missile went off, went across the deck, and hit the fuel tank on the plane right next to the aircraft of John McCain,” injuring the pilot and future U.S. senator. A chain reaction ensued that caused explosions several decks below.

Reedy was busy fighting the fire when they had a muster, and because he did not hear the call he was not considered present, so the newspapers listed him as missing in action. He was able to send a telegram to his parents informing them he was alive, but not everyone got the message. A few years later, he was at a Big Boy restaurant in Cincinnati. A young lady stared at him. “She let out a scream and passed out,” as if she had seen a ghost.

Reedy described the fire as “a day of my awakening as a smart-aleck teenager.” He and the chief petty officer were in an air control tower just before the explosion. “We were laughing and carrying on like everything’s fine, and five minutes later he was dead.”

That day, 134 people died, and 161 were injured. Not included in those numbers were the survivors who struggled with the trauma.

“One fellow in my division, when we got back to Norfolk, intentionally walked out in the middle of Interstate 64 in front of a truck.” Reedy did not come out unscathed as he developed respiratory problems from asbestos — “when the bombs went off, it shook all that dust.”

The Forrestal was dry docked in Portsmouth, Virginia, while undergoing $72 million in repairs. Afterward, they did “shakedown cruises” along the east coast and Guantanamo Bay, and had two long Mediterranean tours. Reedy was discharged in 1970 and stayed in the Reserve until 1972.

In 1971, Reedy was hired at General Motors in Lordstown. He became a “wemar” (welding equipment maintenance and repair), retiring in 2004. After GM, he worked as a chauffeur. He also volunteered for the VA, driving veterans to Wade Park Hospital in Cleveland.

Reedy noted, “You become Joe the Bartender doing that job. They spill their guts out to you because they figure they’ll never see you again.” After developing heart problems, he decided it was no longer safe to transport people.

He also became active in American Legion Post 301 in Austintown.

“I carried a big chip on my shoulder for a number of years because I was spit on” by people who didn’t distinguish between opposing the war and respecting the people who served. But eventually he accepted an invitation to come for a beer and discovered he had many friends there. Today he is financial officer and part of the honor guard. He also plays taps on an electronic bugle for military funerals.

In addition, Reedy is a life member of Disabled American Veterans and a master mason with the Argus Lodge in Canfield. His church involvement is especially important to him. He is a member and financial secretary at Cornerstone Church of Austintown.

“You retire and you’re supposed to slow down. I don’t know how I could have done this if I was working a regular job.”

Despite one horrific day, Reedy said he enjoyed his time in the military and he feels it was an important part of his growth.

“I think all young people should do some kind of military service or public service. You learn to say, ‘Yes, sir;’ ‘Yes, ma’am,’ and you find out life’s not a joke.”