For decades, the survivors had a tradition. They’d hold reunions at the memorial. And they’d always save an empty chair. That chair was for the next man to fall. It’s morbid, sure, but it’s also the most human thing I’ve ever heard. They were toasting each other, even the ones who didn’t make it.
And the numbers? They dwindled, of course. Time is a thief, and it doesn’t care about heroism. By the 1990s, you could count the survivors on two hands, maybe one. By the 2000s, they were down to a handful of real old-timers—men who had to use walkers but still wore their hats with pride.
Ken Potts, one of last 2 USS Arizona survivors, dies at 102 | Northwest
Then, in 2019, the last living survivor of the USS Arizona passed away. His name was Lou Conter. He was 98. And he was a firefighter on the ship during the attack. Imagine that—a guy who fought flames while being bombed, and he lived to be almost 100. That’s either the universe being kind or incredibly sarcastic.
What About the Others?
You might be thinking, “Okay, but were there more survivors who just didn’t talk about it?” And the answer is yes—sort of. Some crewmen were transferred off the ship just days before the attack. Others were on sick leave. One guy literally overslept and missed his duty shift. Best. Hangover. Ever.
But officially, the number is 334. Those men were listed on the ship’s company roster and lived to tell the tale. Or, in many cases, didn’t tell the tale. They just went home, had kids, and never spoke of the oil slick that still leaks from the wreckage today.
Speaking of which—did you know the Arizona still leaks oil? It’s true. Tourists call it “black tears.” Some survivors asked for their ashes to be interred on the ship after they died. So now, a few of those 334 are actually back inside the hull. They came home, sort of. It’s poetic, if you don’t think about how creepy it is.
