Letter Mrs. Pilot wrote to the Secretary of the Navy.

Dear Mr.. Warner

I am the Mother of Seaman Stanley G. Pilot, JR., who was killed on the USS Newport News, 1 Oct 1972.

I just wanted to write to you to thank you for the kind letter you wrote on 12 Oct 1972, and to let you know that I am so very proud that Stan chose to serve his country.  He would have been 19 years old 11 Oct 1972, and that made our grief that much harder to bear.  My daughter is all I have left, but I am not bitter because I keep thinking of several lines from a letter Stan wrote to me on 3 Mar 1972, while he was in Boot Camp.  He wrote, "It was my own decision.  I haven't regretted one single minute of it.  I am proud to be serving a country that is free like the United States is.  I have enjoyed every minute of Navy life."  All we can do now is to pry to God for the safety of his mates and ship.  And for the Captain, who I know how his heart was breaking when he had to write those 19 letters.

Thank you again for thinking of me.
Yours truly, Mrs.. Peggy E. Pilot


In his reply to Mrs. Pilot, Secretary Warner extended his appreciation for the warmth and sincerity of her letter, adding, "The everlasting pride you have in your son, his service in the Navy and his service to his country is an inspiration to families and his shipmates wherever they are."

Thank you both very much for your emails.  I have really enjoyed looking over your websites.  It's been great to see and learn about the ship that my friend, Stanley Pilot, served on.  Our 30 year high school reunion is coming up this fall, and for some of us Stanley has been on our minds this year more than ever.  He died so young, not even nineteen years old.  And here we are thirty years later...

I met Stanley in the ninth grade at junior high school.  My family had moved to a new city in the middle of the year, and Stanley befriended me, a stranger, at a new school.  In that year and throughout high school we became very good friends.  Stanley was a great guy, had a big heart, and he would do most anything for anyone.  I ran on the track team with Stanley, and he played on the football team as well.  Stanley was only second string, but we all had a blast cheering anyway.

Often after school on rainy days I remember going to Stanley's house.  We would sneak off to his back bedroom and pitch for quarters, dimes, and nickels.  We never had much money in those days.  So when one would run out of change, one would loan it back to the other.  That game would continue for hours.

Stanley was also involved in one of my most embarrassing moments ever.  In the ninth grade I had a crush on a cheerleader, but I was too scared and too shy to even strike up a conversation with her.  One day Stanley wrote a really mushy love letter to her.  He slipped it to me between classes, and we had a big laugh about this imaginary love letter.  But little did I know that Stanley had signed my name to the letter and had given it to her that very day.  In the afternoon we had a home track meet.  The cheerleader and her friends came to watch.  Stanley waited until the start of the meet to tell me about the letter.  My face turned all shades of red.  I was so embarrassed and so furious that I went out, won the race, and set a new school record.  Before that race I was just an average runner.  From then on I was a totally different runner.  So I guess I owe my running success, in part, to Stanley and his antics.

I remember another story about Stanley which took place on the river that ran near our hometown.  It was graduation week.  A bunch of us seniors took a pontoon boat and went floating down the river.  Stanley had never learned how to swim.  Over the years we tried to teach him but no avail.  On the pontoon boat there were a bunch of jugs or bottles (I can't remember which for sure).  Regardless, Stanley wanted to learn how to swim once and for all.  We put all of the containers together, found some strong rope, tied the containers around Stanley's waist, and shoved him off into the river.  It worked and from then on he knew how to swim.

After graduation we all faced the draft.  In 1971 the draft board wasn't taking very many numbers.  It might have been 125 or so.  I drew 275 in the lottery.  Stanley drew number 2.  We always thought he had the worst luck of any of us. Stanley joined the Navy.  I, like many of his friends, went off to college.  From there on we kind of lost contact.  We were both in two different worlds, but Stanley was always in the back of my mind.

It was in early October of 1972 when my dad called me.  I was in college and hundreds of miles away from home.  Dad told me the news of Stanley's tragic accident.  I was stunned and shocked.  I was in disbelief.  So much so that a few days later I had to call my dad back to see if it had really happened.  I had almost convinced myself that Stanley's death was only a nightmare.  My dad confirmed that it was all true.  He also told me how Stanley's mom said she had received a letter from Stanley just prior to the accident.  In the letter Stanley told his mom how proud he was to be serving his country and how proud he was of his ship.

It was hard.  I remember going for long walks over the campus and shedding many tears.  I even began to feel guilty.  I felt guilty because my good friend had gone off to war and died.  I looked at my own life and realized my only concerns were how fast could I race tomorrow and what girl might I go out with next weekend.  Then I looked at Stanley giving his own life for his country, and suddenly everything in my own life seemed small and insignificant.  Life did not seem fair at all.

Now almost thirty years since the accident Stanley is still somewhere in the back of my mind.  There are just some things in life that cannot be forgotten.  We sometimes wonder if anyone remembers the life Stanley sacrificed.  Sometimes we wonder if the loss of Stanley's life was in vain.  I found it sad that I never knew much about the last several months of Stanley's life.  I really did not know how Stanley died.  Some explosion was all that I knew.  I did not even know the name of his ship, where it was located, or even what Stanley's ship duties were.  So just recently, and on a whim, I typed his name in a search engine, and up came the USS Newport News website.  On that website, as well as Dexter's website, many of my questions have been answered.  It has been sort of a closure for me.  To able to see the ship that Stanley served on and to read the stories of his shipmates has been invaluable. I have learned that Stanley served on a great ship with very brave and very dedicated shipmates.  Stanley paid the ultimate sacrifice for his country.  I do not believe it was in vain.  Stanley was a wonderful guy and a great friend.  We still miss him.

Thank you all for remembering,

Duane Gomez

I was also a good friend of George Stanley Pilot who died in the Oct.1, 1972 mishap.  I remember that Stanley was not as fortunate as many of us.  His father had left the home and his mother and sister struggled.  During my senior year, I went to the prom.  Stanley didn't have transportation.  I invited he and his date to go with me.  Although it was a small gesture at that time, it weighs heavily now in my loving memory of my friend.  Only a short time later, I went to college and I had heard that Stanley was in the Navy.  One day I was at home from school and had heard that Stanley's ship had experienced a major explosion and his mom was waiting to hear since 19 had perished.  (We thought 19 at that time.)  I couldn't leave the house because my mother was in contact with the family through neighbors.  I told my mother that I was going to wash my car in the driveway.  Let me know if you hear anything.  About 15 minutes later she tearfully gave me the bad news.  It me in the worst way.  So young, so innocent, so much to live for.  I had the privilege to go to Washington DC a few years ago.  Yes, I went to the wall.  I traced Stanley's name.  It was a very emotional thing.  As I was leaving, I looked down to only see where someone had left a note for someone else.  It started with Daddy.  I couldn't bear to read anymore.  Stanley's father had left early, he never heard the words called to himself.  Hardly a week has gone by since, that I haven't thought of my friend.  Stanley's feats were not on the athletic field.  His were more.  He touched those who knew him.  He proved that he didn't have anything to prove, just be Stanley.  That's all we ever wanted.

Keith Trawick