On February 18, 1952, a ferocious nor’easter tore through the Atlantic, splitting the T2 tanker SS Pendleton in half off Cape Cod. The stern section, carrying 33 crewmen, drifted perilously in 60-foot seas, with no distress signal sent. At Coast Guard Station Chatham, Boatswain’s Mate First Class Bernard C. Webber, aged 24, was ordered to lead a rescue mission in a 36-foot wooden motor lifeboat, CG 36500. What followed became the greatest small-boat rescue in U.S. Coast Guard history, a testament to Webber’s defiant leadership under extreme adversity. This article explores Webber’s actions through the lens of military leadership, highlighting his courage, decision-making, and ability to inspire his crew in the face of near-certain death.
Military leadership demands courage, not just in facing physical danger but in accepting the weight of responsibility for others’ lives. Webber embodied this principle when he accepted the mission to rescue the Pendleton’s crew, fully aware it could be a suicide run. The Chatham Bar, a treacherous sandbar notorious for wrecking vessels, was battered by hurricane-force winds and towering waves. Many experienced Coast Guardsmen at the station made themselves scarce, unwilling to risk the journey. Yet Webber, despite his own doubts, stepped forward, embodying the Coast Guard’s unofficial motto: “You have to go out, but you don’t have to come back.”
Webber’s courage was not reckless bravado but a calculated resolve. As he later recalled, the responsibility for the Pendleton’s crew weighed heavily: “If I fail, what a tragic thing. How can you ever live it down if all these people get killed?” His willingness to confront this burden head-on set the tone for his crew—Engineman Third Class Andrew Fitzgerald, Seaman Richard Livesey, and Seaman Ervin Maske—who volunteered to join him. By leading from the front, Webber inspired his small team to face the storm, demonstrating that true military leadership galvanizes others through personal example.
Effective military leaders make critical decisions under pressure, often with incomplete information. Webber’s leadership during the Pendleton rescue showcased his ability to act decisively in chaotic conditions. As CG 36500 crossed the Chatham Bar, a massive wave smashed the windshield, tore the compass from its mount, and nearly capsized the boat. With no navigational aids and visibility reduced to near zero by freezing snow, Webber relied on dead reckoning and instinct to locate the Pendleton’s stern, a feat described as miraculous by survivors and historians alike.
Once at the wreck, Webber faced another critical decision: how to rescue 33 men with a boat designed for 12. The Pendleton’s crew clung to a Jacob’s ladder, battered by waves and the rolling hulk of the tanker. Webber expertly maneuvered CG 36500 beneath the stern, timing the swells to catch each man as they jumped or fell into the sea. His precise handling of the boat, reversing the engine to avoid swamping, showcased his technical skill and composure. When the final crewman, George “Tiny” Myers, slipped and was crushed between the boat and the tanker, Webber made the gut-wrenching call to abandon the search for him, prioritizing the safety of the 32 men already aboard. This decision, though haunting, reflected his ability to balance mission objectives with the reality of the situation—a hallmark of military leadership.
Military leadership hinges on forging a cohesive unit capable of executing under extreme stress. Webber’s crew was a makeshift team: Fitzgerald was a junior engineer, Livesey a boatswain, and Maske a transient known more for baking than seamanship. Yet Webber’s leadership transformed them into a unified force. As they approached the Chatham Bar, the crew sang “Rock of Ages” and “Harbor Lights,” a moment of camaraderie that bolstered their resolve. This small act of shared humanity, fostered by Webber’s steady presence, helped the crew face the terror.
During the rescue, each crewman played a vital role. Fitzgerald braved the cramped engine compartment to restart the motor whenever waves caused it to stall, sustaining burns and bruises. Livesey and Maske risked their lives to haul Pendleton crewmen from the freezing water. Webber’s trust in his team, coupled with his clear direction, enabled them to perform beyond their experience. Their success in cramming 35 men onto a boat meant for 12, navigating back to Chatham without a compass, and surviving the return crossing of the bar underscored the strength of their cohesion. Webber’s ability to inspire and coordinate this unlikely team reflects the military leader’s role as both commander and unifier.
Webber’s leadership was defiant—not of authority, but of the overwhelming odds stacked against him. He defied the storm, the limitations of his small boat, and the skepticism of those who doubted the mission’s feasibility. His actions earned him and his crew the Coast Guard’s Gold Lifesaving Medal, a rare honor recognizing their “extreme and heroic daring.” The rescue’s legacy endures, immortalized in the book and film “The Finest Hours” and the naming of the USCGC Bernard C. Webber, a Sentinel-class cutter commissioned in 2012.
Webber’s leadership offers enduring lessons for military leaders. His courage under fire teaches that personal bravery inspires others. His decisive action in chaos underscores the need for clarity and adaptability. His ability to build team cohesion in crisis highlights the power of trust and shared purpose. Above all, his defiance of the odds reminds leaders that true success often lies in pushing beyond what seems possible.
Bernard Webber’s leadership during the Pendleton rescue was a masterclass in military leadership under extreme conditions. At 24, he transformed a seemingly impossible mission into a historic triumph through courage, decisiveness, and team-building. His story is not just one of survival but of leading with purpose in the face of overwhelming adversity. As Coast Guard Commandant Adm. Paul Zukunft noted, Webber “truly knew his purpose and then some.” For military leaders, Webber’s defiant leadership remains a powerful example of what it means to answer the call, no matter the cost.