A Testament of Persistence: The Beauty of USS Slater

The USS Slater is more than just a museum, a son born in 1944, in Tampa during the heat of the Second World War. This ship, costing a fortune of around $55 million today, was a pillar of defense, a shield against torpedoes, pulsating with engines and armaments, both forward and aft. Through the passage of time, the ship embarked upon the war, tapering the storm under the firm command of a 22-year-old named Frank Olga Slater. His name was bestowed upon the ship as a post-war tribute, a commemoration of his heroic deeds in Guadalcanal.

This ship joined one of 580 destroyer escorts, built by the Navy, class by class, for America’s new war and destined to replace those we lost. Unlike some of its comrades, the USS Slater withstood the war, and when the clashes ceased, it was commissioned four times – twice with the US Navy, and twice with the Hellenic Navy, rechristened under a new name, having been gifted by America under the Truman Doctrine. Sailing for Greece after seven years of service, it served over twenty years as Aetos, the Greek word for eagle, and a training ship for naval cadets.

This continued until her third decommission, when the greater part of her equipment was passed to the Greeks – except the radars, too advanced for them. Instead, they bestowed her upon the destroyer escort sailors who'd served on her while she was in Greek service. It was 1991 when they received her. The US Navy transported her crosswise the Atlantic. Six years later, a Russian tugboat brought her back to Albany. As part of her restoration, the entire ship's interior was recreated, in exactly the same configuration, by the naval men who had once sailed on her.

She is the only ship of her class still in its original configuration. She sits on Broadway 141, where you can visit her now. A museum today, she remains a ship, with her boilers promising to resonate with the roar of life again, and all her twin and single guns ready and waiting. Compared to the mid-1940s, the engines may be a bit noisier, but aside from that, there's not much difference. A museum ship, docked on Broadway 141, still throbbing with the eagerness for the grandest battle to begin.

If you ask me, this was a fitting end for a legend like this. Frank Olga Slater, the man the ship is named after, didn’t make it that far. He fell in Guadalcanal, only 22 years old. Given his name, a ship, and a story, perhaps he lives on, in some way.

Sources: Wikipedia, OpenStreetMap, Wikidata, Wikimedia Commons