Although much has changed since the Hindenburg disaster, especially the manner in which Navy Medicine providers deliver medical care, one thing has not; Navy Medicine's tradition of providing superior medical support to the men and women of the United States Navy and U. S. Marine Corps, in their time of need.

Unfortunately, little is known about how the caregivers triaged the sick, wounded, and dead. However, we do know the dispensary was immediately utilized following the events of the Hindenburg crash. In fact, the dispensary is so well recognized that it has been placed on the State of New Jersey's registry of historical sites, and generates stories of "apparition" within the host community each year around Halloween.

May 6, 1937, was an afternoon of unsettled weather, with a spring cold front blowing in off the Atlantic Coast and into Naval Air Station (NAS), Lakehurst, New Jersey. The base commanding officer at the time was Lt. Cmdr. C. E. Rosendahl, who eventually rose to the grade of vice admiral, and was a renowned proponent of airship innovation.

Above NAS Lakehurst floated Germany's Hindenberg (LZ-129), "the Titanic of airships." It was waiting out the gusty winds and rainy conditions, while giving its passengers a few more hours of sightseeing after two boring days of staring down at the North Atlantic. Little did the airship's captain Max Pruss know, that in just a few short hours, 36 passengers/crew would be dead.

Ever since those historic words were spoken by radio announcer Herb Morrision, "It burst into flames! ... It's fire and it's crashing! It's crashing terrible! Oh, my! Get out of the way, please! It's burning, bursting into flames and is falling on the mooring mast, and all the folks agree that this is terrible. This is the worst of the worst catastrophes in the world! ...There's smoke, and there's flames, now, and the frame is crashing to the ground, not quite to the mooring mast...Oh, the humanity, and all the passengers screaming around here!",

Navy Medicine's connection to this great airship disaster was through the eyes of Naval Dispensary Lakehurst, now known as a Branch Medical Clinic of the National Naval Medical Center. Lt. Carl Victor Green, Jr., the Naval Air Station base physician, along with his son Robert, were among those waiting on the Hindenburg, which was running late. Green, who is still alive and practicing medicine in California, said in a recent published article, "It was evening, but quite light. The nose of the silver ship was pointed toward the town of Lakehurst. She was poised for her pulling down and landing tower docking."

Suddenly, there were three rapid explosions. "The rear half of the vessel was totally enveloped in bright orange flame," he said. "A blast of heat blew over us, standing a half-mile away." Green continues, saying that within seconds, "A blow torch-like flame shot out of the nose." Green knew that the two men stationed at the front to affix the nose to the mast were gone, as the mighty Hindenburg fell to the ground, burned, and became ash.

In the same article, Green recalled Navy Medicine's contribution to this historic day.

Green reported, "I hurried to the base hospital. I watched people walking in, carried into the hospital or ambulance garage, which had become a temporary morgue." Fortunately, only one man from the ground crew died at the hospital, Allen O. Hagaman, 51, of Lakehurst. He died from burns shortly after arriving on-board. The hull of the ship fell on him after he tripped and fell on the railroad tracks used to stabilize the airship after mooring.

The morning after the disaster, smoke was still curling from the mangled skeleton of what had once been the world's largest flying vessel. Surviving eyewitnesses could not forget the horrible smell of burning flesh that lingered in the air. There were still a few bodies unidentified or unaccounted for.

In a section of the crew's quarters in the hangar, which had hastily been transformed into a morgue, a small group of men and women filed past the charred remains of 26 of the victims in an attempt to identify them. Other detachments of Sailors guarded all approaches to the wreck of the airship and all information to media and passer-bys was refused.

Today's clinic, once a full-service naval hospital, was built in 1921 when the base first opened as an airship station under the direction of Capt. F. T. Evens. If you talk to the officers and corpsmen stationed at the clinic today, they will all tell you that it is a great duty station for enjoying the Jersey shore and cities like Philadelphia, New York, and Atlantic City, but occasionally strange things happen at the clinic that can't be explained.

For example, corpsman have heard unexplained footsteps, doors rattling, loud crashes, and lights flashing on and off.

Recently, a staff member reported hearing footsteps and the rattling of their office doorknob, when working late one evening. He said, "I was sitting in my office writing a report when I heard footsteps in the hallway and someone or "something" attempting to open my office door. When I got up and opened the door, just a few seconds later, I saw nothing and the hallway leading to my office was dark and empty."

Fact of the matter is, that this is not the first time of such a report. In an article entitled, "Lakehurst Apparition Still Scary", a former staff member said he was standing watch when he heard a loud crash in the clinic area. When he went to look, he said he saw a large pamphlet rack had been tipped over and pamphlets were scattered all over the floor.

He stated, "I was irritated at that, so I yelled I didn't make the mess. I'm not cleaning it up, you are," he said. The next morning the pamphlets were all back in their place.

If you talk to the employees of Naval Air Engineering Station Lakehurst, a majority of them believe that the souls of those who died with the airship remain to haunt the site and its surrounding buildings. However, this has never been proven.

Nor has the story about the naval officer who walks grounds of the historic hangar deck where the Hindenburg was housed during its initial visit. Nor has can it be verified that stories of the silver-haired woman in a white gown who visits the clinic area at night, or the airman dressed in vintage fly-gear who is said to have greeted workers in the hangar area with "Good Morning" are true accounts.

Although some still say that some evenings, if you listen closely, you can hear muffled voices of men shouting "Away the lines, away the lines!" and "She's afire," coming from the tarmac near the hangar.

Whether you believe in ghosts or just like a good history story, the doctors, nurses, and corpsman stationed at Naval Dispensary Lakehurst on that drizzly and windy day in May of 1937 answered their call to duty. The heroism they displayed solidified forever Navy Medicines place in history along with those immortal words heard around the world as the Hindenburg crashed to the ground, "Oh, the humanity"!

To learn more about the Hindenburg disaster go to The Lakehurst Historical Society at www.nlhs.com or Airships-The Flying Giants at www.sabinerin.de.