Honor, Courage, Commitment

He never forgot the sight. Passing through Pearl Harbor on his way to the Marshall Islands during WWII, 17-year-old J. Robert “Bob” Lunney witnessed, for the first time in his life, the carnage of war: capsized and damaged ships, oil-stained water, and battle-scarred buildings.

As a young sailor from the Bronx, his brief time at the hallowed ground where 2,400 Americans perished on December 7, 1941, made a lasting impression on him. But it was the image of the capsized hull of the battleship USS Utah and the story of one of its heroic sailors that led Bob on one of the most meaningful journeys of his life.

The Day That Would Live In Infamy

On the fateful Sunday morning that would “live in infamy,” Peter Tomich, a US Navy Chief Watertender serving aboard the USS Utah, moored off Ford Island on battleship row, performed an act of heroism so extraordinary that he would be awarded America’s highest award for valor.

With bombs and torpedoes exploding, ships burning, and men dying, Tomich, a Croatian national who had immigrated to America in 1913 and served in the US Army during WWI, rushed below decks to the Utah’s boiler rooms. Despite being ordered to abandon ship, he began putting out fires and securing the boilers.

USS Utah minutes before capsizing at Pearl Harbor, December 7, 1941 (PC: US Navy)

Yelling for his fellow sailors to “Get topside!” Tomich, described by one of his shipmates as “a real good man . . . who always took care of his crew,” stayed behind, meticulously closing valves, setting gauges, and stabilizing the boilers. Only when the last man had left and the last boilers were secured did he think about saving himself. 

But it was too late. The 48-year-old sailor, who had spent nearly 24 years serving his adopted country, never made it out. To this day, his body (along with 57 others) is entombed in the ship’s wreckage.

A Medal of Honor, But No One To Receive It

Chief Tomich, circa 1940 (PC: US Navy)

For his gallantry above and beyond the call of duty and for his “distinguished conduct in the line of his profession, and extraordinary courage and disregard of his own safety,” Chief Peter Tomich was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor.

But as Bob Lunney would later discover, the story didn’t end there. US Navy officials apparently couldn't find a next of kin for Tomich, who had been born on June 3, 1893, in a Balkan village and was unmarried. 

Tomich’s MOH was eventually given to the state of Utah, where it was displayed for years. It was later moved to Tomich Hall at the Senior Enlisted Academy at Naval Station Newport and then the US Navy Museum in Washington.

As the years went by, Lunney frequently thought about what he’d seen and heard at Pearl Harbor and was determined to find out more about the only Medal of Honor that didn’t have a permanent home. As a sailor during WWII and Merchant Marine officer in the Korean War, he felt a special connection with the chief who had sacrificed his life for his men and now felt it was time to take action. 

In 1997, Lunney, a New York lawyer and retired Rear Admiral in the New York Naval Militia, began asking questions. Determined to solve the mystery of Tomich’s relatives’ whereabouts, he began a nine-year odyssey through archives, government red tape, and a myriad of testimonies and interviews in hopes that the medal would finally be presented to a family member. He even traveled to Tomich’s hometown, Prolog, Bosnia, to do research.

Bob Lunney asking questions in Tomich’s hometown of Prolog, Bosnia (PC: croatia.org)

Mission Accomplished

On May 18, 2006, in a ceremony aboard the aircraft carrier USS Enterprise (CVN-65), anchored off the coast of Split, Croatia, Bob Lunney watched as Lt. Col. Srecko Herzeg-Tonic, a retired member of the Croatian Armed Services and a distant cousin of Chief Tomich, proudly accepted Tomich’s MOH on behalf of the family.

Lunney’s quest to see his fellow sailor’s Medal of Honor finally presented to a family member had come to a fitting end.

With dignitaries, military officials, and guests from the US and Croatia attending the ceremony aboard the nuclear-powered aircraft carrier, the ship’s captain, U.S. Navy Admiral Harry Ulrich, in his remarks to the audience said: 

It is all too rare that we see the act of one man become the passion and spirit of many. But, so it has become of Peter Tomich . . . whose character and devotion to his shipmates compelled him to make the ultimate sacrifice.

His valor inspires us to this day and his spirit has become the patron of those who follow in his wake as sailors . . . The Tomich legacy touches all of us who wear the cloth of our nations. Will we be ready? Will we answer Peter Tomich's charge when called upon?

The US Navy ship named in honor of Chief Tomich, a young Peter Tomich is pictured. (PC: WN.com)

Simply the Right Thing To Do

Lunney, now 92, believes the hard work and effort was well worth it. "It was simply the right thing to do," he said.

Having known Bob for four years and seen firsthand his passion for honoring the past and paying tribute to those who have served, I am convinced that what he did for Chief Tomich and his family was a labor of love that comes from a bond shared by all those who sail in harms way.

A year after Tomich’s family graciously received their long-lost relative’s medal, the President of the Republic of Croatia presented Bob Lunney with the Order of the Croatian Trefoil, roughly the equivalent to the United States Medal of Freedom, for his efforts in finding Chief Tomich’s relatives and for his invaluable contribution to Croatian-American relations.

President of Croatia Stjepan Mesić presents the Order of the Croatian Trefoil to Admiral J. Robert Lunney. (PC: croatia.org)

Postscript

Bob Lunney is one of only three surviving crew members of the SS Meredith Victory, the Merchant Marine ship that saved 14,000 refugees during the Korean War’s Hungnam Evacuation. The Meredith Victory’s voyage from Hungnam, North Korea, to Geoje Island in South Korea, is the largest rescue operation by a single ship in history. 

The Meredith Victory is now remembered as the “Ship of Miracles,” and Bob has done more than any other person to preserve the memory of the ship’s captain, Leonard LaRue, the crew, and the North Korean refugees they helped save. He has spent decades giving lectures and interviews about his time aboard the historic vessel.

We salute you, Bob, for your dedication to Chief Tomich, his family, and all the men who served with you aboard the Meredith Victory. Thank you for your noble efforts to honor those who have gone before us.