On 15 September 1942 the carrier USS Wasp (CV 7) was part of a task force bringing the Seventh Marine Regiment to Guadalcanal when at 14:44 hours a lookout reported torpedoes in the water heading towards the ship. The ship heeled hard to starboard, but it was too late for it to avoid three “Long Lance” torpedoes which detonated in the vicinity of the ship’s aviation fuel tanks in massive explosions. Fires spread to the ready ammunition of the starboard forward anti-aircraft guns which detonated, blasting a gun mount overboard and the corpse of the gun captain all the way to the feet of the ships’ captain on the bridge. The crew desperately fought multiple bomb, gasoline and ammunition-fueled fires as the ship listed fifteen degrees and lost all internal communications. Gasoline and oil in the water around the ship was ablaze. Fuel vapors leaking into the burning hangar deck exploded multiple times. Unable to save the carrier, the Captain issued the order to abandon ship at 15:20. It took 40 minutes to evacuate the crew, of which 366 had been wounded. 193 men never made it off the ship.

John Joseph Shea was one of those men. The citation for the Navy Cross he was awarded describes his heroic actions:

Lieutenant Commander Shea directed the fight against fires on the flight deck of the U.S.S. WASP, after the carrier had been crippled by the Japanese bombing [torpedo] attack which later caused her to sink. Lieutenant Commander Shea disregarded the danger from the fires, flying debris, and exploding ammunition to carry on his fight. When the water pressure failed, he employed chemical fire-fighting equipment in a desperate effort to extinguish a fire in a ready ammunition locker, and was leading out a fire hose to continue his efforts when a terrific explosion occurred. He was not subsequently seen by his shipmates.

Shea wrote a letter to his five year-old son before leaving Hampton Roads on that final voyage. It reads as follows:

Dear Jackie,

This is the first letter I have ever written directly to my little son and I am thrilled to know that you can read it all by yourself. If you miss some of the words, I am sure it will be because I do not write very plainly. Mother will help you in that case I am sure.

I was certainly glad to hear your voice over the long-distance telephone. It sounded as though I were right in the living room with you. You sounded as though you missed your daddy very much. I miss you too, more than anyone will ever know. It is too bad this war could not have been delayed a few more years so that I could grow up again with you and do with you all the things I planned to do when you were old enough to go to school.

I thought how nice it would be for me to come home early in the afternoon and play ball with you, and go mountain-climbing and see the trees, and brooks, and learn all about woodcraft, hunting, fishing, swimming and things like that. I suppose we must be brave and put these things off for a little while.