THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Wednesday, August 3, 1994 TAG: 9408020150
SECTION: VIRGINIA BEACH BEACON PAGE: 06 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Cover Story
SOURCE: BY MARY REID BARROW, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Medium: 74 lines
Until his horse plunged out from under him into the raging current in an inlet that had sliced through the beach, Ben Wroton did not know he was in the middle of one of the strongest hurricanes ever to hit the area.
Coast Guard Boatswain's Mate Wroton was riding his horse through the storm in pitch darkness on the midnight to 4 a.m. beach patrol out of Little Island Station that fateful night in August 1933. He had no idea the raging seas had already cut an inlet into Back Bay about a half mile south of the station.
``I was riding my horse,'' Wroton recalled, ``when the horse fell into the inlet. It was as dark as all outdoors. I held my hand up and just happened to grab a tree root.''
The tree root saved his life. He was able to crawl back up on the beach but the horse was not so lucky. The animal was swept away into Back Bay by the terrific current. Wroton didn't know what happened to the horse over the following two or three days, but somehow the animal made it back to its stable.
``And then he just lay down,'' Wroton said, ``and passed away.''
The fact that the storm was strong enough to cut an inlet through the beach was the first indication Wroton had that the storm was a dangerous one. In those days, the only clue folks had of approaching bad weather was a falling barometer. He hiked back through the wind and rain to Little Island station where he sounded a general alarm.
He estimated that by that time the winds were blowing 140 to 150 miles per hour and that there was a 50-to-60-foot sea.
Crew members first went to evacuate their families from their beach houses near the station. They were going to carry them to the safety of the life-saving station itself, which was thought to be the safest place to weather the storm because it had been built on pilings. Besides, at that time there was no escape from the remote area anyway.
``That was the only place we had to go,'' Wroton said.
Wroton and the rest of the crew quickly realized the evacuation wasn't going to be easy. They discovered still another inlet had been cut through the beach just to the north of the station. Although the inlet cut the crew off from their families, Wroton said he thinks the inlet was also one of the reasons the station survived.
``The inlet took away the force of the water in front of the building,'' he said.
But it caused no end of problems in rescuing the families on the other side of the rushing inlet. ``I was underwater carrying my wife through the gully,'' he said.
Although all the families made it through the storm, some did not make it to the station. One family was lucky enough to weather the storm up on the only sand dune that wasn't destroyed by the sea. Another family climbed onto their roof to escape the rising water.
``They were carried on their house top into the bay and survived,'' he said. ``A dog, cat, four children and wife - all survived.''
The only building to survive was the station itself. All the crews' homes and the original station filled with life-saving equipment including the Lyle gun were destroyed.
Wroton, who was 25 at the time, said he was never frightened. ``We were young bucks then and didn't see danger in anything. We just did the job.'' ILLUSTRATION: Photo courtesy of U.S. Coast Guard
This photo of the Little Island Station was taken in 1917. It was
being used only as an equipment building when it was destroyed by
the hurricane of 1933. Several crew members and their families
survived in a newer building.
Ben Wroton, 86, a retired boatswain's mate, lost his horse in the
storm, but a tree root saved his life.
by CNB