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This episode of Against the Odds contains depictions of violence. Please be advised.

It's the evening of July 29, 1945, almost midnight in the middle of the Philippine Sea. Firemen's second class, Adolfo Harpo Salaya, walks across the main deck of the Navy cruiser, USS Indianapolis, dragging a woolen

blanket behind. He's looking for a place to get some sleep in the open air before his 4am watch. Below deck, the tropical heat of the Western Pacific Ocean has turned the crew's sleeping quarters into

sawness. Earlier, the full moon disappeared behind heavy cloud cover, and it's now pitch black. Next to Harpo, his crew chief Max Thorpe appears into the darkness.

Looks like everyone else had the same idea we did. Harpo looks around the size. Thorpe is right. Every inch of the deck seems to be covered by sweaty, snoring men. Maybe we'll have better luck on the quarter deck?

Harpo and Thorpe climb a steel staircase in the search of open space. Indianapolis is far from the biggest ship in the US fleet, but it's still huge.

Indy, as everyone calls her, is over 600 feet long and carries a crew of almost 1200 men. For most of the past four years, she's been at sea, serving as the flagship for America's Pacific Fleet in World War II.

She's fought in numerous battles, most recently at Okinawa, where she suffered heavy damage from a Japanese kamikaze fighter pilot. The attack killed nine men, and Harpo narrowly avoided being one of them.

Now Indy is traveling west across the Philippine Sea, on route to some training exercises.

Harpo, hey, found a spot. Thorpe stands over an open patch of deck, just big enough for two people to lie down. Harpo spreads out his blanket and sits. Thorpe watches him, chuckling.

Why do you bring that blanket? It's almost as hot up here as it is below deck. I can't sleep without it. It goes back to when I was a kid.

And if you tease me about it, I might have to kill you. Thorpe keeps laughing, but Harpo doesn't care. He grew up in Arizona, where the mosquitoes will bite you all through the night, so a blanket was always a safety precaution.

He smiles to himself, recalling those days not so long ago when his biggest fear was insects, knock-guns, or torpedoes, or kamikaze planes flying right at you.

They snack on a couple of sandwiches, then Thorpe falls asleep almost immediately, joining the chorus of Smoring Men.

Harpo feels like he's the only one awake. It's not a new sensation for him, feeling apart from the crew.

He's one of only a few Hispanics on board. Even after serving on Indy for a year, he still doesn't feel like he fits in.

Suddenly, the entire deck shakes violently. Harpo feels himself get thrown two feet into the air, and before he even lands, the ship shakes for a second time.

Then there's a flash of light, and a blast of hot air rushes over him. It takes Harpo a second to realize it's a fireball.

Next to him, here's Thorpe crying out in pain. All around him, men are screaming, shouting orders, shouting each other's names. It's chaos.

Harpo reaches down and realizes his blanket is gone, incinerated in the fireball. His hair is gone too, but the rest of him is unharmed, saved by his blanket. He reaches out to Thorpe.

Max, are you okay? No, not really. But I'll live. Come on, quick. Let's get to the battle stations.

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