Death in Naples

The admiral was proud of his week, but tired. In three days in Spain, Forrest Sherman had set in motion what he had long urged: a deal for the use of Spain's bases in the defense of Europe (see INTERNATIONAL). Then he was off on a rapid swing around Europe. On Thursday he was in France, conferring with Eisenhower; on Friday he was in London. Leaving at midnight, he flew down to Naples, sleeping fitfully in his personal plane. Saturday was busy with official talks, and he took Mrs. Sherman to dinner and an opera in the open-air theater in Pompeii. Sunday he was up early in his room in Naples' Excelsior Hotel, bordering on the magnificent bay where the flagship of the U.S. Mediterranean fleet lay at anchor. After breakfast, as he prepared for the long flight back to Washington, he complained of pain around his heart. Sherman, who had never been known to have anything more serious than a cold in his life, dismissed it as indigestion, but his wife insisted on calling a doctor. Five hours later, a second attack struck, and death came to Forrest Percival Sherman.

A shocked sense of sudden loss struck the nation. Upon his death, at 54, the U.S. was only beginning to realize the full stature which Sherman had assumed. When Sherman took over the Navy, late in 1949, as the youngest Chief of Naval Operations in history, he found an embittered, bickering service, smoldering with animosity against its fellow services, the Administration, against Admiral Sherman himself. By his able advocacy of Navy views, by his quietly effective defense of Navy abilities, the new CNO quickly restored order and confidence. The newest member of the J.C.S. (replacing Admiral Denfeld, who was sacked in the unification row), he quickly proved himself its ablest member, a well-trained professional fighting man who also had a grip of world politics unmatched by any of his associates.

Fighter. It was Sherman, commander of the Mediterranean fleet for two years before he became CNO, who first convinced the other members of the J.C.S. (who had never thought much about it), then convinced Dean Acheson's State Department, that Spain is an essential element of Europe's defense system. For Forrest Sherman, last week's negotiation was a personal triumph.

Sherman, son of a New Hampshire schoolmaster, came from a family of fighters; the Shermans, tracing their descent back to John and Priscilla Alden, fought with the colonists against the Dutch, went with Benedict Arnold to Quebec. A pleasant, neat man with an air of cool detachment, Forrest Sherman lacked the flamboyant quality that makes for a great leader of men. But he was a great planner, a great negotiator "You can't get good marks if you're popular," he once told his sister. He had few close friends, but his admirers were legion.

Requiem. Sherman (Annapolis '17) became a naval aviator after World War I, was soon one of the Navy's best (he won a personal "E" for dive bombing and fighter gunnery). During World War II, as skipper of the aircraft carrier Wasp, he won a Navy Cross for his handling of the ship when she was torpedoed off Guadalcanal. Later, as Admiral Chester Nimitz' chief planner, he devised the Navy's brilliant leapfrog tactics in the fight across the Pacific.

In the Pentagon, Sherman had the reputation of never having lost an argument. Impressively learned in military history and geopolitics, he was freely acclaimed the J.C.S.'s best geopolitical brain. In less than two years, he had become the obvious successor to Omar Bradley's job as J.C.S. chairman.

Harry Truman spoke his requiem with a personal eloquence rare in official tributes: "He was able. He was a patriotic American. He was a fine gentleman. The country's loss is great, and so is mine."

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