Category Archives: for those lost at sea

Bonefish, found

Gato-class fleet boat USS Bonefish (SS-223) returning to the submarine base in Fremantle, Australia, at the end of her 4th war patrol on 30 May 1944

In company with her fellow fleet boats Tunny and Skate, USS Bonefish (SS-223), commanded by T/CDR Lawrence Lott “Larry” Edge (USNA ’35), departed Guam on 28 May 1945 to conduct her eighth war patrol. She is still on that patrol, and until last week her final resting place was known only to God, sunk by Japanese surface forces near Toyama Wan on or about 18 June.

(Photo: Chris Eger)

Last week, Tiburon Subsea CEO Tim Taylor and the Lost 52 Project announced that the wreck of Bonefish had been discovered during surveys in 2025.

Beyond Bonefish, Tiburon’s current expedition located the lost Sumner-class destroyers USS Drexler (DD-741) and William D Porter (DD-579), and the Japanese merchant ship Konzan Maru.

More here.

Warship Wednesday (on a Thursday) 26 March 2026: Gallic Stepping Stone

Here at LSOZI, we take a break every Wednesday to explore the old steam/diesel navies of the 1833-1954 period, profiling a different ship each week. These ships have a life, a tale all their own, which sometimes takes them to the strangest places.- Christopher Eger

If you enjoy my always ad-free Warship Wednesday content, you can support it by buying me a cup of joe at https://buymeacoffee.com/lsozi As Henk says: “Warship Coffee – no sugar, just a pinch of salt!”

Warship Wednesday (on a Thursday) 26 March 2026: Gallic Stepping Stone

Above we see the one-of-a-kind Croiseur d’aviation (aviation cruiser) Commandant Teste between May 1938 and August 1940 with a fat Loire 130 flying boat above her, likely from Escadrille Embarquée de Surveillance HS1.

Our subject was authorized under the French 1926 Programme some 100 years ago this year, and she was a very curious ship with a notable history.

French carrier beginnings

Before the Great War, the 6,100-ton torpedo boat tender (croiseur porte-torpilleurs) Foudre had been converted for experiments with seaplanes of a half dozen different types, minting the French Navy’s first 13 seaplane pilots, moving up to having a 33-foot flying off platform installed in early 1914.

A Caudron seaplane, being craned on La Foudre in April 1914.

During the war, while Foudre was put to use as a submarine tender and aircraft transport, the French Navy converted at least four small merchant steamers to carry a couple of light deck guns and a few Nieuport IV and later FBA C-type seaplanes for patrol purposes. Two, Nord and Pas-de-Calais, were 1,541-ton paddle-wheelers. A third, the 1,656-ton turbine-powered Rouen, was more effective. The largest, the 3,319-ton Campinas, would remain in service until early 1920. The old Foudre, used as an aviation school ship immediately after the war, was decommissioned by December 1921.

Enter: Lieutenant de Vaisseau Paul Marcel Teste. 

Born in 1892, Teste graduated from the naval academy and shipped out on the cruisers Duguay-Trouin and Vauban before WWI. By 1916, as commander of the gunboat Dragon, he was accepted to flight school by the end of the year, and was an observer on FBA seaplanes of Escadrille B101 out of Dunkirk. When his section of four lightly armed FBAs came across seven formidable German Hansa-Brandenburg W.12s on 26 May 1917, he was plucked out of the water after the clash and imprisoned first in Zeebrugge, then at Oflag Kavalier-Scharhorst in Karlsruhe. The intrepid young officer managed to escape and make his way to the Dutch border in January 1918. He earned his pilot’s license (no. 568) and finished the war as an instructor at Saint-Raphaël.

Drawing from British aircraft trials on the early carriers HMS Argus and Furious, LdV Georges Guierre was tapped to attempt to fly a wheeled aircraft (a Hanriot HD2 stripped of its floats) from a 49-foot platform on the No. 2 turret of the Courbet-class battleship Paris in Toulon on 26 October 1918.

LdV Georges Guierre battleship Paris Oct 26 1918

After Guierre’s success at Toulon, Teste moved to repeat the effort from Paris while docked at Corfu two days before the Armistice. He wound up in the water.

Following those tests, a comical 65-foot platform, some 28 feet wide, was built over the bow of the 245-foot Arras-class aviso Bapaume in March 1920. Over the next four years, Teste and others flew a series of light aircraft (Hanriot HD 2, Nieuport 21/23, and Nieuport-Delage NiD.32) from this tiny deck.

French Lieutenant Commander Teste on the Bapaume with his Hanriot

French Lieutenant Commander Teste on the Bapaume with his Hanriot, circa 1920

Then came Teste’s biggest claim to fame, becoming the first aviator to land and take off from the unfinished aircraft carrier Bearn off Toulon on 20 October 1920 in a proof of concept.

On Bearn, an incomplete Normandie-class battleship launched in April 1920 and likely bound for the scrappers due to the limits of the Washington Naval Treaty, a 148-by-30-foot wooden platform with an improvised arresting gear system that was weighted down with sandbags.

Teste trapping on incomplete Bearn 20 October 1920

Teste’s take-offs and landings using the temporary wooden flight deck were made in a two-seat Sopwith 11⁄2 strutter. During the 1921 trials, the Sopwiths were replaced by the two-seat Hanriot HD.3.

The tests a success, Bearn was sent for full carrier conversion, including hangar and elevators. She was commissioned in May 1928. However, Capitaine de Fregate Teste would never see her in her final form. He was killed in a test flight in 1925, aged just 32.

Meet the Commandant Teste

Under the 1.4 billion franc 1926 Program (up from the 1925 Program’s 1.31 billion), a 10,000-ton Treaty Cruiser with eight 8″/50 Modele 1924 guns was authorized, becoming Colbert, the second ship of the Suffren class.

Colbert was joined in the same 1926 Program by three 2,000 ton Bourrasque class destroyers, four smaller 1,500-ton L’Adroit class destroyers, seven submarines– the experimental cruiser submarine Surcouf and the start of the 630-series (Argonaute, Orion, and Diane classes)– the 6,000-ton sub tender Jules Verne, two tankers, a school ship (the 70-foot Breton yawl Mutin, which is still in service), and our Commandant Teste, named after the lost aviation pioneer.

It was thought that the Commandant Teste would act as a sort of tender to the building Bearn, and as a floating reserve from which aircraft supplies and spare planes could be drawn by the fleet’s battleships and cruisers, who were increasingly given facilities for float planes. Alternatively, she could always serve on colonial patrol and put up a decent air wing for light strike purposes (although she could not recover them very rapidly).

Still, heady stuff and on the cutting edge of modernity.

This 1931 cover of La Science et la Vie celebrates the Commandant Teste,

At 10,000 tons standard (12,000 full), the Commandant Teste was 547 feet overall length and had a very wide 88-foot beam, a roughly 6:1 ratio. She had a deep draft, some 22 feet. Powered by four mixed-firing super-heated Yarrow-Loire boilers and two sets of Schneider-Zoelly geared steam turbines, she had 21,000shp (23,230 forced) to turn her twin screws, enough for a 20.5 knot sustained top speed. On her trials, she sustained 21.77 knots for three hours. Carrying 720 tons of coal and 290 tons of fuel oil, she had a range of 6,000nm at 10 knots using coal alone.

1929 Jane’s on the new Commandant Teste, which had just been launched.

She had a cavernous hangar deck (hangar et teugue) that stood three decks high and ran 262.5 feet long and 86 wide, bisected by a central bulkhead.

This allowed at least 10 large torpedo bombers (Loire 130 twin engine flying boats with a maximum take off weight of nearly 8,000 pounds) to be stored with their wings folded or 20 smaller aircraft (e.g. the later Gourdou-Leseurre GL-812 HY reconnaissance floatplane used by Escadrille 7S2, which had a 34 foot fuselage, a 54 foot wingspan and 5,000 pound take off weight). Another half-dozen aircraft could be stowed, knocked down in crates.

. Gourdou-Leseurre 812 of Ecadrille 7S2 is being hoisted aboard Commandant Teste, Arzew, Algeria, May 1937. The three-place GL-812 HY used a single 420hp Gnome, was good for 110kts, could range 300nm, and carry 330 pounds of bombs to augment a single forward-firing 7.7mm machine gun and two used by the rear seater.

The Levasseur PL14 and PL15 three-seat biplane torpedo bombers were seen on Teste from early in her career, flying with Escadrille 7B2 until November 1933 (PL14) and HB1 (PL15) until April 1939.

The short-lived (in service on Teste) CAMS 37 and CAMS 55 flying boats were only embarked on the ship with Escadrille 7B2 from November 1933 to July 1934.

The big Loire 130 flying boat, akin to the RN’s Supermarine Walrus, could hit 119 knots on a pair of Hispano-Suiza V12s and stay in the air an impressive seven hours. Besides its three-man crew (and four passengers in a pinch), it could carry a pair of machine guns and two 165-pound bombs. The French Navy bought 111 of these, and they served with HS1 aboard Teste.

The Loire 130 was also used on the Richelieu and Dunkerque class battleships, as well as the light cruisers of the La Galissonière and Duguay-Trouin classes, carrying as many as five of the flying boats and two catapults.

The good-idea-on-paper Loire 210 was a single-seat catapult-launched fighter seaplane that, powered by a 720hp Hispano-Suiza 9Vbs, could only make 162 knots. Armed with four wing-mounted 7.5mm machine guns, they were prone to structural failure of the wings. Just 21 were delivered, flying with Escadrille HC.1 and HC.2 for six months in 1939.

By late 1938, the new Latecoere 298B folding wing torpedo bomber floatplane was arriving in the French fleet, which purchased 177 of the type. Using the same Hispano-Suiza 12Y as the MS.406 fighter, it could make 156 knots, range 600nm, and carry a very respectable 1,600 pounds of ordnance, be it a torpedo or bombs. It had three light machine guns for self-defense (two forward, one rear). Teste would ship two squadrons of these, HB1 (formerly 7B2) and HB2. In September 1939, four land-based squadrons 298s were operational, including 1T on the Étang de Berre (a lagoon on the Mediterranean coast), 2T at Cherbourg, and 3T and 4T at Boulogne.

Aboard Teste, aircraft were shuttled around on an innovative Decauville rail system of wheeled trolleys running throughout the hangar to the quarterdeck at the rear of the ship. No deck tractors here.

When it came to launching and recovery, he had four large Penhoet compressed-air catapults amidship and five cranes– one for each cat and one over the stern to serve the aft hangar entrance.

Catapultage Gourdou-Leseurre GL-810 HY Commandant-Teste vers 1936 (musée de la Marine)

French seaplane tender Commandant Teste with Morane Saulnier MS-406s moving via rail in her hangars circa 1940 on a ferry run

She had no elevators, and instead simply used her catapult cranes to pluck aircraft from a 50×23-foot hatch, one per cat, which opened to the hangar deck below. She could reportedly launch four aircraft in seven minutes and, with recovery taking about 20 minutes per airframe, would require as long as seven hours to re-embark a full 20-aircraft wing.

After hangar doors and cranes on the French seaplane carrier Commandant Teste

The French also employed a towed beaching ramp to enable floatplane recovery while steaming.

A postcard with Teste showing one of her Loire 130s along with an Air France Breguet Br.530 flying boat, registered as F-AJOB, flying over water in the late 1930s. The 20-passenger, three-engine Br.530 was used by Air France on their Marseille-Ajaccio-Tunis route.

A tinted version of the same card.

Besides her aircraft, Commandant Teste carried a full dozen 100 mm/45 (3.9″) Modele 1927 guns, capable of firing 10 35-pound shells per minute to 16,000 yards, controlled by two directors with 10-foot optical rangefinders. This weapon was only carried by our subject, with the updated Modele 1932 variant later used on three classes of torpedo boats (Melpomène class, Chevreuil, and La Capricieuse). Her decent secondary armament (for the time), was geared toward AAA and amounted to eight 37mm/50 (1.46″) Modele 1925 high-angle guns, and six twin 13.2mm/76 (52 caliber) Hotchkiss Modele 1929 heavy machine guns.

Armor included a two-inch belt that protected most of her length from bridge to her stern hangar deck, a 1.5-inch armored deck over her machinery spaces, and just over three inches of shielding for the conning tower. During a later refit, her 3.9-inch guns received shields.

She is described interchangeably in texts as an aviation cruiser, which is probably the most correct term, or, more simply, a transport d’hydravions (seaplane transport), which is more Treaty-friendly and less likely to draw the ire of other signatories of the age.

Boats included a 32-foot and 36-foot Motor Service Boat (Canot de Service a Moteur), two 40-foot and one 30-foot fast launches (Vedette Rapides), a 36-foot lug-rigged sail chaloupe, two 10-foot punts, and two 16-foot rowboats.

Ordered in May 1927, she was laid down at the Forges et chantiers de la Gironde, in Bordeaux, on 6 September 1927 and was launched on 12 April 1929.

Our subject is the only warship to carry the name of the late naval aviator, and the largest seaplane carrier used by a European fleet.

She was a rival to the Regia Marina’s very proud 4,500-ton seaplane carrier, Giuseppe Miraglia, which entered service in November 1927 and could carry as many as 20 light aircraft. Meanwhile, on the other side of the globe, the Royal Australian Navy in 1928 welcomed its new seaplane carrier, HMAS Albatross, which hit the scales at 7,000 tons and could carry nine aircraft.

Commandate Teste’s design was considered successful, and Chantiers shopped it to Portugal, albeit in a shortened concept.

Prewar service

Seaplane tender Commandant Teste during trials, July 1931

Seaplane tender Commandant Teste during trials, July 1931. Note that her guns are not installed. 

Commissioned to active service on 18 April 1932, Commandant Teste served with the French Mediterranean Squadron opposite the Italian Giuseppe Miraglia.

Over the next eight years, she had four squadrons associated with her Flottille F1H airwing:

Escadrille Embarquée de Surveillance HS-1/7S-2, which, as 7S-2, flew Gourdou-Leseurre 810/811s until October 1935, Gourdou-Leseurre 812/813 from April 1938, then, as HS-1, switched to Loire 130 flying boats from October 1938

Escadrille Embarquée de Bombardement 7B-2/HB-1 (“Walruses”), which, as 7B-2, flew Levasseur PL14s until November 1933, CAMS 37 and CAMS 55s until July 1934, from October 1938 to April 1939, then, as HB-1, flew Latecoere 298s from March 1939

Escadrille Embarquée de Bombardement HB-2, which also flew Latecoere 298s from September 1939.

Escadrille Embarquée de Chasse HC-1, which existed from July to November 1939 and flew the troublesome Loire 210 floatplane fighter.

In company with the submarine tender Jules-Verne, Commandant Teste took part in naval maneuvers off Quiberon in May 1934. The exercise aimed to intercept a naval force tasked with destroying a troop convoy from North Africa, with the cruisers Dugay-Trouin, Foch, Tourville, Dupleix, and Colbert.

She then took part in other fleet exercises in the Bay of Biscay and as far off as Dakar in West Africa.

French battleship Bretagne near Brest, 1935, with Commandant Teste, a trio of CAMS flying boats, and the cruiser Foch

French seaplane-tender Commandant Teste anchored off Saint Raphaël naval air base, August 5th 1936

Both Bearn and Commandant Teste were deployed during the Spanish Civil War. This led Teste to evacuate foreign nationals and civilians from Barcelona in August 1936.

After that, she was part of the international neutrality patrol there, protecting commercial shipping from “pirate submarines.”

“Latest volunteer in the undeclared Mediterranean War” by Daniel Fitzpatrick, lampooning the Italian pirate submarines in the Spanish Civil War. St. Louis Post-Dispatch, St. Louis, Missouri, 5 Sept 1937. Via The State Historical Society of Missouri https://cdm17228.contentdm.oclc.org/digital/collection/ec/id/11937

She was increasingly used to shuttle military aircraft from Europe to France’s overseas possessions.

Teste hauled 18 Dewoitine D.510s from GC II/1 and 5 Dewoitine D.510s to Sidi-Ahmed in Tunisia in November 1937, then repatriated 10 of the aforementioned aircraft back to France four months later.

She then brought 21 Morane-Saulnier MS.406 fighters from GC I/6 to Algeria in February 1939.

War!

Sadly, the French never seemed to take advantage of Commandant Teste in a combat capacity, just using her for patrol work for the first five months of the war.

Landing her Flottille F1H airwing in January 1940, her squadrons were reassigned to shore duty, with HS-1 flying from Oran and later Arzew, Algeria; HB-1 from Karouba, Tunisia, and HB-2 from Berre Lagoon outside of Marseille, where they flew surveillance missions until the Armistice.

Our subject, shorn of her air group, then clocked in as a transport, shuttling 26 MS.406s to Beirut in February 1940 for the I/7 fighter group based at Rayack.

With the French air force leaning into moving some muscle and training operations to North Africa, she then carried:

  • 6 Potez 63 recon/bombers and 1 Morane 406 to Port Said, Egypt in March.
  • 13 Potez 63s, 2 Loire 130s, and 11 vehicles to Beirut in April.
  • 38 Glenn Martin 167F (Maryland) light bombers of GB I/62 from Toulon to Algiers in early May.
  • 40 training aircraft (e.g. Dewoitine D.500/D.510s, Morane MS 225s, Breguet 14s) from Toulon to Algiers on May 22.
  • Another 40 training aircraft from Toulon to Algiers on 26 May.
  • And 40 more on 14 June.

French seaplane tender Commandant Teste, taking four squadrons of Morane Saulnier MS-406 fighters to North Africa, and Lebanon

French seaplane tender Commandant Teste, Beirut

French seaplane tender Commandant Teste, Beirut, with a Morane Saulnier MS-406 in the foreground.

Then came the Fall of France and the cessation of hostilities (at least with the Germans and Italians) on 25 June, ending the active six-week Battle of France and splitting the nation into an occupied north and a nominally free unoccupied France (the zone libre) in the Vichy-controlled south.

An uneasy Vichy “Peace.”

In the final days of France’s initial combat against the Axis in 1940, the French admiralty made definite moves to send their fleet outside of metropolitan France. While a few were interred in British ports (e.g., the old battleship Lorraine and four cruisers in Alexandria, the elderly battleships Paris and Courbet in Portsmouth), this saw numerous ships appear in French colonies in the Caribbean and Africa en masse.

The great naval anchorage of Mers-El-Kebir, Tunisia, by the end of June, was host to elements of ADM Marcel-Bruno Gensoul’s Force de Raid, which included the very modern 35,000-ton/29.5 knot fast battleships Dunkerque and Strasbourg, the older 26,000-ton Great War era battlewagons Provence and Bretagne, six destroyers, and our Commandant Teste.

French battleships Bretagne, Strasbourg, Provence, and Dunkerque at Mers-El-Kebir. This photo was taken from the Commandant Teste shortly before the British attack on 3 July 1940. One of her cranes can be seen in the foreground.

Then came ADM James Somerville’s Force H from Gibraltar in the Churchill-directed Operation Catapult. Backed by the battlecruiser HMS Hood, the battleships Valiant and Resolution, the Swordfish-carrying flattop Ark Royal (which dropped mines in the exit channel), and a force of cruisers and destroyers, Somerville issued an ultimatum to Gensoul: join him, sail to a British port, be interned in a neutral port, or scuttle their ships.

Long story short, Gensoul refused and, before French submarines and destroyers could arrive to reinforce him, Somerville bombarded the anchorage, leading to 1,297 French deaths. Most of these came from Bretagne, whose magazine exploded after at least four British 15-inch AP shells hit her. She rolled over and capsized with the loss of 36 officers, 151 petty officers, and 825 seamen.

Bretagne was seen sinking at Mers-El-Kébir from Commandant Teste. Note the range finder and Bachi cap.

Commandant Teste and her crew of nearly 700 men were, as noted by French naval texts, “miraculously spared” (miraculeusement épargnés) during the attack of 3 July 1940, only receiving a couple of shrapnel hits that caused minor damage and no casualties.

Bretagne sunk at Mers-El-Kébir, Commandant Teste seen with her boats in the water

The closest vessel to the lost Bretagne, Teste’s boats moved in swiftly to rescue as many survivors as could be found– 308 scarred men.

Ordered to Oran, accompanied by two destroyers, the next day with a cargo of burned and injured men, Teste was sighted by the P-class submarine HMS Proteus (N 29) that afternoon. However, before an attack could be started, the French ship altered course to the eastward and was soon lost out of sight by the British sub the French tender was able to drop off her human cargo.

Proteus sighted Commandant Teste again two days later, headed to Bizerte, on 6 July, but by then the Admiralty had ordered that no French ships should be attacked unless they attacked first, so the submarine let her be.

Once Commandant Teste returned to Toulon in metropolitan France, a deputation from her crew went to the Chapel of Notre-Dame de Bonne Garde in La Seyne-sur-Mer to place a votive offering (ex-voto) to the Virgin Mary there for having protected the ship during the cauldron of Mers-El-Kebir, where British shells rained all around her.

By August 1940, with her air wing officially dissolved, Teste was swaying at Toulon, her crew reduced and her magazines and bunkers empty. She spent the next two years as a floating schoolhouse.

French seaplane tender Commandant Teste, battleship Provence, and the accommodation hulk Condorcet, Toulon, July 1941

When the Great Sabordage came on 27 November 1942 after the German operation to seize the fleet at Toulon, codenamed “Unternehmen Lila” kicked off, within minutes, 77 French vessels– including three battleships, seven cruisers, 15 destroyers, 13 torpedo boats, 6 avisos (sloops), 20 submarines, and our Commandant Teste– were aflame or settled to the harbor docks, their crews busy wrecking everything they could.

The French suffered about 40 casualties. The Germans, only one motorcycle rider was wounded.

seaplane carrier Commandant Teste, the battleship Courbet, and the old predreadnought battleship Condorcet Toulon

Refloated in 1943 by the Italians, who hoped to use her, she was sunk again at Toulon by Allied air strikes the next year. Raised and dewatered in June 1945, it was thought she could be refitted and returned to service, perhaps with her superstructure converted to a flight deck and turned into a proper aircraft carrier.

As noted in the 1945 Jane’s:

Kept around for another 18 years, growing mold and accumulating barnacles, she was only sold for scrap in 1963.

Epilogue

Sadly, the French fleet has not reused the name of the vessel, and few relics are to be found.

The most tangible reminders are her distinctive ‘Blue T’ ship’s badges worn by her crew, which circulate among collectors.

And in period postcards.

Of course, the country went on to reboot its carrier tradition immediately post-war, operating as many as four flattops in the 1950s, and today maintains the only CVN CATOBAR carrier not in U.S. service, so there is that.

Odds are, old Paul Teste would take solace in that fact.

Thanks for reading!

Meminisse est ad Vivificandum – To Remember is to Keep Alive

***

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Remembering the WV

Some 65 years ago this week, the main mast of the famed Pearl Harbor phoenix battlewagon, USS West Virginia (Battleship No. 48), arrived at WVU’s campus in Morgantown on 17 March 1961, thanks to fundraising efforts by the university’s students—many of whom grew up during the war.

Commissioned on 1 December 1923, the 16-inch gunned Colorado-classed West Virginia, although sunk at Pearl Harbor and missing much of the war during her raising and reconstruction, nevertheless earned five battle stars in 223 days of Pacific theatre combat, well exhibiting the fighting spirit of the ship and her crew.

Original layout of USS West Virginia in the Panama Canal. Late 1920s

USS West Virginia (BB-48). Off the Puget Sound Navy Yard, Washington, 2 July 1944, following reconstruction. 19-N-68376 

She fought in the great Surigao Strait battleship night clash, fired nearly 2,865 16-inch shells and 23,880 5-inch shells in naval gunfire support during the Leyte, Luzon, Iwo Jima, and Okinawa campaigns; and fired another 33,000 AAA rounds — 40mm (11,041) and 20mm (21,759) — at enemy aircraft, downing eight and assisting with another 12 shootdowns. A kamikaze hit her in April 1945, but she was fully operational an hour later. Following her service, she returned 7,000 veterans home from the Far East on a Magic Carpet ride, steaming 71,600 nm during her WWII 1943-45 career.

Decommissioned on 9 January 1947 and placed in the Pacific Reserve Fleet after a history-spanning 23-years, she never received the recall to active duty, remaining in mothballs until she was struck from the Navy Register on 1 March 1959. On 24 August 1959, she was sold for scrapping to the Union Minerals & Alloys Corp. of New York City, but many of her relics were removed and preserved.

Today, her mast, dedicated in 1963, remains on display in front of WVU’s Oglebay Hall on the Downtown Campus, while the university maintains an exhibit featuring smaller items and a scale model. WVU also maintains an extensive photograph collection of the ship.

One of her anti-aircraft guns remains on display in City Park in Parkersburg, WV; her wheel and binnacle are on display at the Hampton Roads Naval Museum, and her bell is on display at the West Virginia State Museum in Charleston.

Warship Wednesday, 11 March 2026: Mighty Morrill

Here at LSOZI, we take a break every Wednesday to explore the old steam/diesel navies of the 1833-1954 period, profiling a different ship each week. These ships have a life, a tale all their own, which sometimes takes them to the strangest places.- Christopher Eger

If you enjoy my always ad-free Warship Wednesday content, you can support it by buying me a cup of joe at https://buymeacoffee.com/lsozi As Henk says: “Warship Coffee – no sugar, just a pinch of salt!”

Warship Wednesday 11 March 2026: Mighty Morrill

Detroit Publishing Collection in the Library of Congress. LC-D4-9007

Above we see, roughly some 125 years ago, the U.S. Revenue Cutter Morrill, forward, just off the sleek yacht Pathfinder, “standing guard at the first turn,” during the Canada’s Cup yacht race on Lake Ontario in 1901, when Pathfinder hosted the judges. The race was won by the Invader of Mr. Aemilius Jarvis, for the Royal Canadian Yacht Club, besting the yacht Cadillac of the Chicago Club in three of four races.

While dressed in gleaming white and buff, Morrill was a fighter when needed and had already seen service in one war with the “Mosquito Fleet” and had another on the schedule.

Meet Morrill

Our subject is the only U.S. warship named for President Ulysses S. Grant’s circa 1876-77 Treasury Secretary, Lot Myrick Morrill, a former Maine governor and longtime U.S. Senator who passed in 1883. As such, the vessel continued the cutter service’s common naming convention, which repeatedly used the names of past Treasury Secretaries, dating back to Alexander Hamilton.

Part of a trend in the 1880s-90s to build new cutters that could double as gunboats and dispatch boats for the Navy in time of war, USRC Morrill was steel-hulled and had a steam plant capable of pushing her at 13 knots on a compound steam plant (engine cylinders measuring 24 and 38 inches, with a 30-inch stroke). At the same time, her auxiliary schooner rig could be used to extend cruising range.

Some 145 feet overall with a 24-foot beam, Morrill displaced 288 tons and had a draft of just over 12 feet on a standard load. She was a forerunner of the six slightly larger 205-foot “Propeller-class” plow-bowed cruising cutters built 1896-98.

USRC Morrill, circa 1898-1917, while stationed on the Great Lakes, via the Edward J. Dowling Collection, University of Detroit-Mercy

USRC Morrill, circa 1898-1917, while stationed on the Great Lakes, via the Edward J. Dowling Collection, University of Detroit-Mercy

USCG Morrill, circa 1916-1917 (note her “Coast Guard” life rings), while stationed on the Great Lakes, via the Edward J. Dowling Collection, University of Detroit-Mercy

USRC Morrill, circa 1898-1917, while stationed on the Great Lakes, via the Edward J. Dowling Collection, University of Detroit-Mercy

USRC Morrill, circa 1898-1917, while stationed on the Great Lakes, via the Edward J. Dowling Collection, University of Detroit-Mercy

Morrill’s peacetime armament was a single light 6-pounder 57mm Hotchkiss QF gun forward, which could be quickly doubled and augmented with a 3-inch mount in time of war, with weight and space reserved for the extra ordnance. Cutters of the era typically shipped with 55 service rounds for their main gun and 110 blank charges for drill, salutes, or “shots across the bow.”

2nd LT Godfrey L. Carden instructing a 6-pounder gun crew aboard the Revenue Cutter Morill in South Carolina waters, circa 1892. Note the rarely-seen USRSC officer’s sword. Carden would later become the Captain of the Port for New York City in the Great War. USCGH Photo 210210-G-G0000-1002

A significant small arms locker of rifles and revolvers could arm half of her 40-man crew for duty ashore or in seizing vessels, be they bandits and smugglers in peacetime or enemy shipping in war. The service of the era was often called upon to restore law and order ashore, as exemplified in a famous incident where a squad from the revenue cutter McLane landed in Cedar Key, Florida, in 1890 to reclaim the town from its pistol-toting mayor and his gang of ruffians!

Morrill’s berth deck enlisted accommodations were considered spacious for the period and, if needed, would “readily admit of 70 men.”

Her magazine included provision for several large electrically detonated “wrecking mines” packed with as much as 238 pounds of guncotton, used in destroying derelicts– or in reducing hazardous icebergs and blasting paths in the ice sheet both on the Great Lakes and North Atlantic.

Back in the days of wooden-hulled fishing vessels and cargo schooners (sometimes loaded with buoyant cargo such as timber), abandoned vessels could often remain afloat for weeks and remain an enduring hazard to navigation, requiring the dangerous task of sending a wrecking crew in a small boat to rig the gun cotton mines to a waterlogged, unstable hulk.

Cutter destroying a derelict ‘A subject for Dynamite’ drawn by W. Taber, engraved by H. Davidson.

Derelict located by Revenue Cutter Seneca had drifted 285 miles, circa 1900. NARA 56-AR-006

Revenue Cutter McCulloch, attaching mines to destroy a derelict, circa 1900. National Archives Identifier 158884024. NARA Local Identifier 56-AR-63

Revenue Cutter Miami, Preparing to place mines to destroy derelict, circa 1900

Revenue Cutter Onondaga, Loading mines for destroyed sunken wreck, circa 1900. NARA AR-066

Built in 1889 by the Pusey and Jones Corp., Wilmington, Delaware, for a cost of $72,600, USRC Lot M. Morrill (typically only ever seen as “Morrill” in paperwork) was commissioned on 10 October of that year.

In typical Revenue Cutter fashion, her crew crossed decked from an older cutter that was decommissioned in the same stroke– the Civil War-era USRC Naugatuck, which had been based at New Bern, North Carolina since 1865.

Taking up Naugatuck’s old beat– which her experienced crew was familiar with– Morrill was stationed at Wilmington, North Carolina, for her first homeport.

In March 1891, our new cutter performed a then novel inland passage, a military experiment, making it the 155 miles from Charleston, South Carolina, to Fernandina, Florida via the North Edisto, Ashley, Wadmalaw, Stono, and Amelia rivers. She did so with sometimes just a foot of water under her keel and just 30 feet of wetted width between banks as opposed to her 24-foot beam! It was often slow going, especally in tight bends, and in some stretches the charts of the river were quite bad, but via leading with a small boat ahead of her bow dropping lead to verify depth, the task was accomplished in three winding days, only running up on a mudbank once –some six miles up the Wadmalaw– and able to free herself with minor effort. At night, the cutter lay up, ablaze with electric light, proving much the attraction to the locals who came out to watch the curious “bluejackets” in the marsh.

Still, she proved, at least in theory, that a squadron of torpedo boats could run the shallow brackish and fresh waterways from Philadelphia to Fernandina– save for a short break between Moorehead City, North Carolina, and Bulls Bay, South Carolina– keeping well hidden from a European blockading squadron.

With Morrill’s officers dutifully updating their chart and leaving range stakes behind them, it was deemed that, with a little minor dredging here and there, a blue water vessel under 175 feet overall drawing less than 11 feet could make the run from Philly to Florida almost completely inland, enabling dispersed operations of torpedo boat squadrons which could run out from river mouths and shoreline bays to strike enemy battlelines then retreat into their havens.

It should be noted that the USS Cushing (Torpedo Boat #1), which entered service in 1890, was only 140 feet overall with a draft of just less than five feet, and it was only when Farragut (TB-11) joined the fleet in 1899 that American torpedo boats stretched longer than 175 feet.

While the river haven tactic wasn’t actively pursued much further in the U.S., Morrill’s marsh cruise did help lay the way for today’s Intracoastal Waterway, which has rambled 3,000 miles from Boston to Brownsville since 1949 and is key for the movement of commerce in the country today.

Anyway, speaking of Fernandina, Florida, and points south, in early January 1895, Cuban exile leader Jose Marti completed preparations in the area to attempt to ignite a revolt against Spanish colonial despotism in his homeland. He and his followers purchased three small ships, the Amadis, Baracoa, and Lagonda, then outfitted them to carry his freedom fighters and supplies to Cuba. These were foiled by the Treasury Department, which had been ordered to southern Florida to abort such filibuster activities, with Morrill helping with the seizure of Lagonda at Fernandina directly.

From 1895 to 1898, cutters, including our Morrill, Boutwell, Colfax, Forward, McLane, and Winona, patrolled the Straits of Florida to enforce neutrality laws amid attempts to launch illegal expeditions to Cuba. According to Commandant Capt. Charles F. Shoemaker, these efforts required constant vigilance. One tug, Dauntless, was seized by cutters no less than three times. The cutters seized seven ships (besides Dauntless, including all three of Marti’s), detained 12 suspected violators, and disrupted two organized filibustering plots (Marti’s and one by Cuba Gen. Enrique Collazo) before the USS Maine mysteriously exploded in Havana harbor in February 1898.

Remember the Maine!

With the war drum beating, Morrill and her fellow cutters were soon mobilized a full month before war was declared by Congress on 25 April 1898.

On 24 March, President McKinley ordered Morrill, along with the cutters Gresham (206 foot), Manning (206 foot), Windom (170 foot), Woodbury (138 foot), Hamilton (133 foot), Hudson (94 foot), Guthrie (85 foot) and Calumet (95 foot), “with their officers and crews, be placed under the direction of the Secretary of the Navy, and cooperate with the Navy, until further orders…”

Before the conflict was over, 13 revenue cutters were transferred to naval service, staffed by 98 officers and 562 enlisted RCS men. Eight would serve at sea with the North Atlantic Squadron, one (McCulloch) famously fought with Dewey in the Philippines, and four patrolled the U.S. West Coast.

Morrill proceeded to Norfolk Navy Yard and was gently made ready for war, largely via adding at least one extra deck gun, which had varied widely in reports from a second 6-pounder to a gun as large as a 6-incher! Her crew was boosted to nine officers (including a surgeon) and 47 enlisted, allowing for an extra gun crew and ammo handlers.

Morrill’s wardroom during the Spanish-American War:

  • Captain Horatio Davis Smith, commanding
  • First Lieutenant John Cassin Cantwell, executive
  • Second Lieutenant F.A. Levis, navigator
  • Second Lieutenant C.S. Craig
  • Third Lieutenant Henry G. Fisher
  • Chief Engineer E.P. Webber
  • First Assistant Engineer William Robinson
  • Second Assistant Engineer F.G. Snyder
  • Surgeon J. Spencer Hough

USRC Morrill at the Norfolk Navy Yard, Portsmouth, Virginia, 22 April 1898. Photograph from the Bureau of Ships Collection in the U.S. National Archives. 19-N-19-21-10

Morrill and her fellow cutters Hudson, Hamilton, and Windom would join the 1st division of the North Atlantic Squadron under the bewhiskered Commodore John Adams Howell (USNA, 1858, best known to history for his early locomotive torpedo). A veteran of the Battle of Mobile Bay, Howell’s division included his flag, the 4,800-ton USS San Francisco I (Cruiser No. 5), the cruiser Montgomery (C-9), four monitors, and 15~ gunboats, with many of the latter being armed yachts quickly converted.

Morrill linked up with the three-masted 204-foot Annapolis-class gunboat USS Vicksburg (PG-11) for the first time on 31 March at Hampton Roads. The two would become partners off Havana, with Vicksburg’s logs mentioning our cutter at least 31 times between then and 14 August. The two worked in conjunction with Vicksburg’s sistership Annapolis, the 275-foot armed yacht USS Mayflower (PY-1), and the plucky 88-foot armed tug USS Tecumseh (YT-24, ex-Edward Luckenbach).

On 24 April 1898, the up-armed Morrill, Hudson, and Hamilton, bound for Howell’s “Mosquito Fleet,” passed through Hampton Roads and, after asking formal permission of the Commodore, proceeded to Key West. From that point, they joined the Navy ships of the Cuban blockading fleet.

After delivering dispatches to the flagship USS New York, Morrill joined the blockade station 5 miles west of the Havana entrance on 5 May and soon captured the Spanish schooner Orienta. One of 25 seized Spanish merchantmen sold as prizes at Key West on 21 June 1898, Orienta must have been either very small or in poor condition, or both, as the vessel, including cargo and equipment, only brought $350 at auction (about $12K when adjusted for inflation) — the lowest of all 25.

It was off Havana that Vicksburg and Morrill became targets for Spanish coastal batteries mounting heavy 10- and 12-inch German pieces for about 20 minutes, with Smith noting in his official report, “came very close” and damaged the bridge with a fragment of shrapnel.

As chronicled in Our War with Spain for Cuba’s Freedom by Trumbull White:

The Spanish set a trap one day during the blockade. The wily Spaniards arranged a trap to send a couple of our ships to the bottom. A small schooner was sent out from Havana harbor to draw some of the Americans into the ambuscade. The ruse worked like a charm. The Vicksburg and the Morrill, in the heat of the chase and in their contempt for Spanish gunnery, walked straight into the trap that had been set for them. Had the Spaniards possessed their souls in patience but five minutes longer, not even their bad gun practice would have saved our ships, and two more of our vessels would lie at the bottom within two lengths of the wreck of the ill-starred Maine.

Friday evening, the Vicksburg and the Morrill, cruising to the west of Morro Castle, were fired on by the big guns of the Cojimar batteries. Two shots were fired at the Vicksburg, and one at the Morrill. Both fell short, and both vessels, without returning the fire, steamed out of range. It would have been folly to have done otherwise. But this time the Spaniards had better luck. The schooner they had sent out before daylight ran off to the eastward, hugging the shore, with the wind on her starboard quarter. About three miles east of the entrance to the harbor, she came over on the port tack. A light haze fringed the horizon, and she was not discovered until three miles offshore, when the Mayflower made her out and signaled the Morrill and Vicksburg.

Captain Smith, of the Morrill, and Commander Lilly, of the Vicksburg, immediately slapped on all steam and started in pursuit. The schooner instantly put about and ran for Morro Castle before the wind. By doing so, she would, according to the well-conceived Spanish plot, lead the two American warships directly under the guns of the Santa Clara batteries. These works are a short mile west of Morro and are a part of the defenses of the harbor. There are two batteries, one at the shore, which has been recently thrown up, of sand and mortar, with wide embrasures for eight-inch guns, and the other on the crest of the rocky eminence which juts out into the water of the gulf at the point.

The upper battery mounts modern 10-inch and 12-inch Krupp guns behind a six-foot stone parapet, in front of which are twenty feet of earthwork and a belting of railroad iron. This battery is considered the most formidable of Havana’s defenses, except Morro Castle. It is masked and has not been absolutely located by the American warships. It is probably due to the fact that the Spanish did not desire to expose its position that the Vicksburg and Morrill are now afloat.

The Morrill and Vicksburg were about six miles from the schooner when the chase began. They steamed after her at full speed, the Morrill leading until within a mile and a half of the Santa Clara batteries. Commander Smith, of the Vicksburg, was the first to realize the danger into which the reckless pursuit had led them. He concluded it was time to haul off and sent a shot across the bow of the schooner.

The Spanish skipper instantly brought his vessel about, but while she was still rolling in the trough of the sea, with her sails flapping, an 8-inch shrapnel shell came hurtling through the air from the water battery, a mile and a half away. It passed over the Morrill between the pilothouse and the smokestack and exploded less than fifty feet on the port quarter. The small shot rattled against her side. It was a close call.

Two more shots followed in quick succession, both shrapnel. One burst close under the starboard quarter, filling the engine room with the smoke of the explosion of the shell, and the other, like the first, passed over and exploded just beyond.

The Spanish gunners had the range, and their time fuses were accurately set. The crews of both ships were at their guns. Lieutenant Craig, who was in charge of the bow 4-inch rapid-fire gun of the Morrill, asked for and obtained permission to return fire. At the first shot, the Vicksburg, which was in the wake of the Morrill, slightly in-shore, sheared off and passed to windward under the Morrill’s stern.

In the meantime, Captain Smith also put his helm to port, and was none too soon, for as the Morrill stood off, a solid 8-inch shot grazed her starboard quarter and kicked up tons of water as it struck a wave 100 yards beyond. Captain Smith said afterward that this was undoubtedly an 8-inch armor-piercing projectile, and that it would have passed through the Morrill’s boilers had he not changed his course in the nick of time.

All the guns of the water battery were now at work. One of them cut the Jacob’s ladder of the Vicksburg adrift, and another carried away a portion of the rigging. As the Morrill and the Vicksburg steamed away, their aft guns were used, but only a few shots were fired. The Morrill’s 6-inch gun was elevated for 4,000 yards and struck the earthworks repeatedly. The Vicksburg fired but three shots from her 6-pounder.

The Spaniards continued to fire shot and shell for twenty minutes, but the shots were ineffective. Some of them were so wild that they roused the American “Jackies” to jeers. The Spaniards only ceased firing when the Morrill and Vicksburg were completely out of range.

If all the Spanish gunners had been suffering from strabismus, their practice could not have been worse. But the officers of both the Morrill and Vicksburg frankly admit their own recklessness and the narrow escape of their vessels from destruction. They are firmly convinced that the pursuit of the schooner was a neatly planned trick, which almost proved successful.

If any one of the shots had struck the thin skin of either vessel, it would have offered no more resistance than a piece of paper to a rifle ball.

The accurate range of the first few shots is accounted for by the fact that the Spanish officers had ample time to make observations. The bearings of the two vessels were probably taken with a range-finder at the Santa Clara battery, and, as this battery is probably connected by wire with Morro, they were able to take bearings from both points, and by laborious calculations, they fixed the positions of the vessels pretty accurately. With such an opportunity for observation, it would have been no great trick for an American gunner to drop a shell down the smokestack of a vessel.

As soon as the ships sheered off after the first fire, the Spanish gunners lost the range, and their practice became ludicrous. If they had waited five minutes longer before opening fire, Captain Smith says it would have been well-nigh impossible to have missed the target.

By 28 May, Morrill was assigned duty as a guard ship at Tampa, which grew tense a week later when three Spanish warships were said to be closing on the roadstead there. She remained in the greater Tampa area until early August, when she was ordered to rejoin the blockade off Matanzas on the 11th, one that she was released from on the 14th with the cessation of hostilities.

She was then ordered to tow the small torpedo boat USS Ericsson back to Norfolk, where she arrived on the 21st. Morrill would be held there for another month on naval orders in reserve, just in case she was needed for further war service. She had suffered no casualties during the war and only very minor damage.

In addition to Orienta, Morrill is noted in her USCG history as also seizing the 3,364-ton French steamer, Lafayette, in conjunction with Annapolis, and the Espana, a little Spanish fishing sloop. Espana is marked as taken by the Morrill about three miles off Mariel, just after a sharp engagement. The USS Newport was close at hand at the time, and a prize crew made up from both ships brought the capture into Key West. The Espana sold at auction for $1,350 in prize money. Lafayette was later released after it was determined that she was not carrying Spanish soldiers or contraband and was permitted to continue to Havana, her declared destination.

Two of Morrill’s officers were later awarded Bronze West Indies Naval Campaign Medals under the authority of a joint resolution of Congress, approved on 3 March 1901.

White hull days

On 28 September 1898, after nearly a decade of tough service, Morrill, her extra wartime armament landed, left Norfolk for Philadelphia, to receive new boilers and undergo dry docking. Once complete, she shipped to her new homeport on the Great Lakes, replacing the larger 205-foot cutter Gresham, which had been cut in two to move to the East Coast during the SpanAm War, and the service was in no mood to bisect again to send her back.

Morrill arrived at her new home on Lake Michigan in Milwaukee on 19 November, closing out her busy year.

Later, shifting to Detroit, she would begin a very quiet time in her career, stretching some 17 years. Underway during the open shipping season, she patrolled the waters of Lakes Huron, St. Clair, Erie, and Ontario, aiding vessels in distress and enforcing navigation laws. When the ice came, she was laid up during the winter months.

Morrill became part of the service’s first Vessel Traffic Service (VTMS), established on 6 March 1896, to track the movement and anchorage of vessels and rafts in the St. Mary’s River from Point Iroquois on Lake Superior to Point Detour on Lake Huron.

Originally named the River Patrol Service, this first VTMS was comprised of the Revenue Cutter Morrell and lookout stations at Johnson’s Point, Middle Neebish Dyke, and Little Rapids Cut. The stations were connected by telegraph lines linked back to the Pittsburgh Steamship Company offices in Sault Sainte Marie. Throughout the next several years, many lookout stations were established and then closed as needs and funding levels fluctuated. At one point, there were as many as 11 active stations along the river. During the early days, lookouts communicated with passing ships by kerosene lanterns and signal flags. Often, messages were delivered to passing ships by lookouts rowing out to them in small dinghies.

USRC Morrill at a Great Lakes port, circa 1898-1917. Courtesy of Donald M. McPherson. NH 45730

An image from a dry plate negative of the freighter William E. Corey passing alongside an unidentified, white-hulled vessel at anchor, circa 1905, is almost certainly the Morrill. Library of Congress – Detroit Publishing Co. Collection LC-D4-21878

She performed lots of local community service, including providing the honor guard and salutes for Civil War monument dedications (for instance, at Two Rivers, Wisconsin, in 1900, and another at Kenosha the same summer).

The U.S. Revenue Cutter W.P. Fessenden (center), along with other vessels in the harbor at Kenosha, Wis., for the unveiling of the Soldiers Monument in Library Park on Decoration Day, May 30, 1900. The ship on the left is the steam yacht Pathfinder owned by F. W. Morgan, Chicago, Ill. On the right outboard is the U.S. Revenue Cutter Morrill, and inboard of that is the venerable U.S.S. Michigan. The photograph is part of the Louis Thiers Collection of the Kenosha History Center. It was taken by Louis Milton Thiers (1858-1950) and created from a glass plate negative.

In addition to her regular duties, she also patrolled many regattas, including the T. J. Lipton Cup regatta off Chicago, Illinois, in August of 1904.

In 1906, her cruising grounds included the waters between Niagara Falls through Lakes Erie, St. Clair, and Huron to the Straits of Mackinac.

It seems during this period that her port side was her most photogenic.

U.S. Revenue Cutter Morrill, at Detroit with her glad rags flying, likely for July 4th between 1900 and 1910. Note her boat in the water. Detroit Publishing Collection in the Library of Congress. LC-D4-34826

USRC Morrill before WWI, circa 1907, with her bow gun covered in canvas. Note the large building in the background, dressed with a Sherwin-Williams paint ad. Detroit Publishing Collection in the Library of Congress. LC-D4-22466

USRC Morrill before WWI. Note her understated bow scroll and 6-pounder. Detroit Publishing Collection in the Library of Congress. LC-D4-9016

Morrill at the Goodrich Company dock in Manitowoc, Wisconsin. Port bow view of vessel at dock near harbor entrance, with lighthouse at right in 1912. Wisconsin Maritime Museum P82-37-10-62C

Morrill, the revenue cutter Tuscarora, and eight reserve gunboats: USS Dubuque (PG-17), at the time the training ship by the Illinois Naval Militia; USS Don Juan de Austria (Wisconsin Naval Militia), USS Wolverine (Pennsylvania Naval Militia), USS Dorothea and USS Essex (Ohio Naval Militia), USS Gopher (Minnesota Naval Militia), USS Hawk (Naval Militia of New York) and USS Yantic of the Michigan Naval Militia, were the featured guests of the Chicago Yacht Club’s August 10-17, 1912 Great Naval Pageant which included 400 swabs from the training station at Lake Bluff, fireworks, and the conclusion of a cruise of 2,000 motorboats carrying 15,000 passengers from the Central Plain and inland rivers to Chicago to “rediscover” Lake Michigan.

As the club had 10 bona fide warships on hand, a mock battle was staged with large yachts, armed with saluting cannons, fleshing out the battle line.

As for the naval pageant, preparations were underway to defend Chicago against an August 10 naval attack. Under the command of the gunboat Dubuque, the attacking fleet of the Hawk, Gopher, Don Juan de Austria, and the revenue cutter Morrill from Lake Erie would be pitted against the Tuscarora, Yantic, Wolverine, Dorothea, and Essex. No part of Chicago, from Michigan Avenue to Oak Park, would be safe from the 4” guns trained on the City which could drop 4” shells with precision anywhere within the City limits. Hydroplanes traveling 40 mph were also to be used to determine whether this type of craft would be of assistance in warfare.

From 12-14 September 1912, Morrill and Dubuque patrolled the course of the speedboat races held by the Motor Club of Buffalo in the Niagara River.

Morrill and USS Dubuque (PG-17) at the Niagara motor boat races in September 1912. Edward J. Dowling Collection, University of Detroit-Mercy

Morrill at the opening of the Livingstone Channel in the Detroit River on October 19, 1912. Edward J. Dowling Collection, University of Detroit-Mercy

She also clocked in on more sobering duties. In the late summer of 1913, she found the lost 6,322-ton ore carrier SS Charles S. Price turned turtle, 13 miles northeast of Port Huron, Michigan, “taking every witness with her.”

The Kaiser to St. Helena!

On 4 August 1914, Morrill, along with other cutters, was ordered to “observe neutrality laws” after the outbreak of the Great War in Europe. This kicked into overdrive when the service, now part of the U.S. Coast Guard, was transferred to the Navy on 6 April 1917 with the country’s entry into the war.

Morrill was soon pulled from her familiar Great Lakes home in Detroit to patrol the Atlantic coast for German submarines out of Philadelphia with the 4th Naval District.

Leaving Detroit on 10 November 1917, she called at Quebec City on her way out and found herself in crowded Halifax on the afternoon of 5 December, anchoring near Dartmouth Cove to take on fuel and water.

Being jammed out of the main roadway saved her from destruction the next morning, with the cutter and her crew spending a fortnight in a very different Halifax, rendering aid and assistance.

Halifax explosion, with HMS Highflyer shown in the channel, via the Halifax Naval Museum

As detailed by the NHHC in Morrill’s DANFS entry:

Just after 0800, 6 December, the old French Line freighter Mont Blanc, carrying a full cargo of bulk explosives, was involved in a collision with the Norwegian steamship Iona in the Narrows of Halifax Harbor. A fire broke out on Mont Blanc, and at 0905, the ship and cargo exploded in a tremendous blast that shook all of Halifax.

The most reliable casualty figures list 1,635 persons killed and 9,000 injured in the tragedy. Sixteen hundred buildings were destroyed, and nearly 12,000 more within an area of 16 miles were severely damaged. Property damage was estimated at $35 million.

Morrill, not seriously damaged, turned her attention to the needs ashore. A rescue and assistance party under 2d Lt. H. G. Hemingway rendered valuable aid while the cutter stood by to tow other craft from the danger zone.

Morrill departed Halifax on 18 December. Her services had come to the attention of Sir Cecil Spring Rice, the British Ambassador to the United States, in a letter dated 9 January 1918, Josephus Daniels, Secretary of the Navy, noted that Morrill, “though considerably damaged by the violent explosion of munitions on another ship, was the first to render assistance to the distressed inhabitants of the stricken city.”

Morrill in Navy service, photographed during World War I. NH 45729

The cutter-turned-gunboat would remain part of the 4th Naval District throughout 1918 and well into 1919, retaining her prewar skipper, Capt.(T) George E. Wilcox, USCG.

This notably included responding to the tanker SS Herbert L Pratt, which struck a mine laid by U-151 off Cape Henlopen in June 1918.

SS Herbert L. Pratt (American tanker, 1918) under salvage after striking a mine off Cape Henlopen, southeast of Lewes, Delaware, on 3 June 1918. Note the tug alongside. This ship later served as USS Herbert L. Pratt (ID # 2339). U.S. History and Heritage Command Photograph NH 14

USS SC-71 and USS SP-544 (ex-yacht Sea Gull) tied up with another Section Patrol boat at the Cape May Naval Base, Sewells Point, New Jersey, circa 1918. The ship in the background is a Coast Guard Cutter, probably USCGC Morrill. A Curtiss HS-2L seaplane is taxiing by. NH 42452

Morrill in dry dock at Camden, New Jersey, in December 1918. Courtesy of D.M. McPherson, 1974. NH 79741

Back to a changing Coast Guard

After 21 months under Navy orders, Morrill returned to USCG duties and was reassigned to the Lakes Division on 28 August 1919.

The two-time warrior, back on her old Detroit station, resumed a quiet life of patrolling regatta, saving lives, and interdicting smuggling– the latter a task grown more common after the Volstead Act took effect in 1920 and Motown became a hotbed of bootlegging from Canada.

Morrill, 1921, Janes, showing her with two 6-pounders and assigned to Detroit

In October 1925, she was reassigned to Boston to serve as a mothership for small fast picket boats attempting to keep “Rum Row” under control just off Cape Cod. It was on the way to her new station that, while near Shelbourne, Nova Scotia, one of her whaleboats with 10 enlisted aboard overturned in the cold water while returning to the cutter at night from liberty ashore. Tragically, nine of them perished, one of the USCG’s worst peacetime losses of life. The bodies were later recovered and brought back to Boston by the cutter Tampa for proper burial.

Morrill would again suffer at the hands of the sea in November 1926 when she sliced in two the George O. Knowles Wharf in Provincetown, at the northern tip of Cape Cod, during a storm, causing $100,000 worth of damage ashore and leaving the cutter aground.

Via the Scrapbooks of Althea Boxell, Provincetown History Preservation Project.

Via the Scrapbooks of Althea Boxell, Provincetown History Preservation Project.

Via the Scrapbooks of Althea Boxell, Provincetown History Preservation Project.

Via the Scrapbooks of Althea Boxell, Provincetown History Preservation Project.

Pulled off the shore at Provincetown, and was soon back to work. In April 1927, she came to the rescue of the grounded schooner Etta Burns, which turned out to be a rumrunner with 500 cases of booze aboard.

Morrill saved the crew– then put them in shackles.

With new 165 and 240-foot cutters on the way, Morrill was decommissioned at Boston on 19 October 1928, completing an almost 40-year career.

She was sold to the Deepwater Fishing and Exploration Corp. (Antonio De Domenico) of New York City for the princely sum of $7,100. Renamed Evangeline, it doesn’t seem she saw much commercial use as the former cutter burned to the waterline at Rockway, Long Island, on 30 July 1930.

Epilogue

Few relics of Morrill remain. The USCG chose not to name another cutter after her, despite her honorable record, including service in two wars. Her plans and logbooks are in the National Archives, although not digitized.

Morrill’s SpanAm War skipper, Horatio Davis Smith, extensively documented voyages of various cutters, including the cutter Golden Gate doing “good service” during the 1906 San Francisco earthquake and transporting President Taft across the bay in 1909, and the cutter McCullough being the first to pass through the Suez Canal. He retired and later wrote an early history of the Revenue Marine Service. He passed in Massachusetts in 1918, aged 73.

Her Great War skipper, George E. Wilcox, went on to command the Coast Guard destroyer Downes out of New London– one of 31 destroyers that formed the Coast Guard Destroyer Force during the Rum War– and was head of the service’s Personnel Bureau when he passed in 1931, aged 50. He is buried at Arlington.

Several young officers served aboard our cutter who went on to make their mark on history. Besides the above-mentioned Godfrey Cardin— who led 1,400 men (fully one quarter of the mobilized service!) as the Captain of the Port of New York during the Great War, future admirals Joseph Francis Farley (a later USCG Commandant) and Detlef Frederick Argentine de Otte— a mustang who enlisted in the cutter service as a seaman in 1886 and retired in 1931 as one of just sixteen Commodores (later promoted to RADM on the retired list) in the history of the Coast Guard.

Morrill’s third lieutenant during the Mont Blanc disaster in Halifax, Henry G. Hemingway, later served as the gunnery officer aboard the USS San Diego in 1918 and survived the mining of that cruiser by the U-156. He went on to command the cutter Snohomish in 1923 during a search-and-rescue case off Port Angeles that defied belief and earned him the Gold Lifesaving Medal for his actions in saving the entire crew of the SS Nika during a gale.

Nicknamed “Soo Traffic,” the U.S. Coast Guard Vessel Traffic Service St. Marys River carries the lineage of the old River Patrol Service, which Morrill joined in 1898, and is still in operation after almost 130 years. They logged some 61,532 vessels, including ferries, tour boats, tankers, and freighters, as they transited through the St. Marys River in 2010.

Thanks for reading!

Meminisse est ad Vivificandum – To Remember is to Keep Alive

***

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Warship Wednesday 4 March 2026: Lucky Tartar

Here at LSOZI, we take a break every Wednesday to explore the old steam/diesel navies of the 1833-1954 period, profiling a different ship each week. These ships have a life, a tale all their own, which sometimes takes them to the strangest places.- Christopher Eger

If you enjoy my always ad-free Warship Wednesday content, you can support it by buying me a cup of joe at https://buymeacoffee.com/lsozi As Henk says: “Warship Coffee – no sugar, just a pinch of salt!”

Warship Wednesday 4 March 2026: Lucky Tartar

Photo by Harold William John Tomlin, Imperial War Museum catalog A 4114.

Above we see a cluster of happy ratings aboard the Tribal (Afridi) class destroyer HMS Tartar (G 43) in June 1941 after having bagged a German Heinkel in the slow crawl back to Scapa after helping sink Bismarck. They had several reasons to be proud of their little greyhound, as Tartar, some 85 years ago today, chalked up as many as five German vessels in the Norwegian Sea off the Lofoten Islands as part of Operation Claymore.

And that wasn’t even the hairiest of her surface actions during the war!

The Tribals

The Afridis were a new type of destroyer designed for the Royal Navy in the late 1920s off experience both in the Great War and to match the large, modern escorts on the drawing boards of contemporary naval rivals of the time.

The Royal Canadian Navy’s HMCS Huron (G24), in dazzle camouflage, is sailing out to sea during the Second World War, during one of her countless trans-Atlantic escorting runs. The Tribal-class destroyer, commissioned on July 28, 1943, also served in the Pacific theatre during the Korean War under the new pennant number 216.

These 378-foot vessels could make 36+ knots on a pair of geared steam turbines and a trio of Admiralty three-drum boilers, while an impressive battery of up to eight 4.7″/45 (12 cm) QF Mark XII guns in four twin CPXIX mountings gave them the same firepower as early WWI light cruisers (though typically just three turrets were mounted).

Twin Twin Mk XVI 4-inch mount on Commonwealth destroyer L M Tribal by Alex Colville 7.29.1944 19820303-226

Tartar’s “A” gun crew cleaning their guns back in port, 9 July 1944. Photo by Harold William John Tomlin IWM (A 23986)

Gun crew on Tribal-class destroyer HMCS Algonquin cleaning up their 4.7″/45 (12 cm) Mark XII guns after firing at the Normandy Beaches on 7 June 1944. Note that the crewman kneeling in the rear is holding a 4.7″ (12 cm) projectile. Library and Archives Canada Photograph MIKAN no. 3223884

Some 32 Afridis were planned in eight-ship flights: 16 for the RN (named after tribal warriors: HMS Eskimo, HMS Sikh, HMS Zulu, et al.), eight for the Royal Australian Navy, and eight for the Canadians. Of the Canadian ships, four were to be built by Vickers in the UK and the other four by Halifax shipyards in Nova Scotia. All the Canadian ships were to be named after First Nations tribes (Iroquois, Athabaskan, Huron, Haida, Micmac, Nootka, Cayuga, etc.)

An unidentified Tribal class destroyer in profile

Meet Tartar

Our subject is at least the eighth warship (the 17th if prizes and launches are included) to carry the name in the Royal Navy, going back to a 32-gun fifth rate launched in 1702. They had a storied past and earned our subject the carried-forward eight battle honors: Velez Malaga 1704, Lagos 1759, Ushant 1781, Dogger Bank 1781, Baltic 1855, Shimonoseki 1864, South Africa 1899-1900, and Dover Patrol 1914-18.

The Archer class torpedo cruiser HMS Tartar seen at the 1893 Columbian Naval Review on the Hudson in New York City via the LOC’s Detroit Postcard company collection. This sixth Tartar, in service from 1886 to 1906, is famous for her crew rushing dismounted 12-pounder guns across 200 miles of rough terrain from Durban to Ladysmith in October 1899 to relive counter Boer “Long Tom” artillery– the historical basis of the Royal Navy’s command field gun competition.

Her colorful ship’s crest was taken from a circa 1690 depiction of the Emperor of Tartary.

Laid down on 26 August 1936 at Swan Hunter, Wallsend, alongside sister HMS Somali (the only other Tribal built at the yard), the eighth Tartar was launched on 21 October 1937.

She commissioned on 10 March 1939 while the world was (largely) still at peace. Given the pennant L43 while building, this changed to F43 by completion (Somali was F33). She was later shifted to G43.

Tartar was fitted for use as a Flotilla Leader and constructed for £339,750, exclusive of armament and RN supplied equipment.

Following trials, she was transferred to the newly reformed 6th Destroyer Flotilla alongside sisters HMS Somali, Ashanti, Bedouin, Matabele, Punjabi, and Eskimo.

Her first skipper was Capt. Gerald Harman Warner, DSC, RN, aged 48, a regular who joined up in 1911 and earned his DSC in Russia in 1919.

Warner’s steady hand would be needed on Tartar very soon.

War

Just a fortnight into the conflict, on 14 September, while on patrol out of Scapa Flow looking for German blockade runners, Tartar picked up 42 survivors from the torpedoed British merchant Fanad Head, which had been sunk by U-30 about 200 nautical miles west of the Hebrides.

HMS Tartar G43 at a buoy WWII IWM FL 19719

In October 1939, Tartar sailed on her first of at least 28 convoys, the dozen steamer Narvik 1, shuttling British merchant vessels back to Methill from neutral Norway. She would join two other Norwegian runs, Convoy ON 1 and Convoy HN 1, by mid-November.

In late November, she sortied to help chase the roaming German battleship Scharnhorst following the latter’s sinking of the armed merchant cruiser HMS Rawalpindi. 

Norway

Over the several months into the new year, she logged nine more Norway-to-Methill and back convoys (HN 6, ON 7, HN 7, ON 9, ON 10, HN 11, ON 22, HN 22, and ON 24), and was part of the posse that unsuccessfully chased the German blockade runner Trautenfels. She then helped screen the new liner RMS (HMT) Queen Elizabeth in March 1940 on her first outbound run. By this time, her skipper was CDR Lionel Peyton Skipwith, RN, who had earned his lieutenant’s stripe in 1922.

In April 1940, Tartar was heavily engaged in the Norway campaign, screening the fast battlecruisers HMS Renown and Repulse during Operation Duck, bombarding captured Norwegian airfields around Stavanger in April, then in May, rushing the troopships Ulster Monarch and Ulster Prince from Scapa Flow to Åndalsnes and Molde to evacuate Allied troops. June saw her once more screening Allied evacuations from the doomed Norwegian front, operating alongside the battlewagon HMS Valiant during the withdrawals from the Narvik/ Harstad /Tromso pockets.

Late July, following the Fall of France and the Low Countries, saw her once again sortie out with the fleet to chase a German raider, the battlecruiser Gneisenau, without luck.

By August, she was again on convoy runs, AP 1 and AP 2, shuttling desperately needed troops to Egypt, then tagged along with the Dakar-bound Convoy MP.

September 1940 saw her back in Norwegian waters, escorting the carrier HMS Furious and the battleship HMS Nelson on Operation DF, an anti-shipping raid off Trondheim. The same month, she escorted the ships of the 1st Minelaying Squadron during egg emplacement in Northern Barrage and helped shepherd the wounded cruiser HMS Fiji after the latter was torpedoed by U-32 off the Shetlands.

October through December 1940 saw Tartar in a much-needed refit by HM Dockyard, Devonport, and by January 1941, she was back to chasing reports of Scharnhorst and Gneisenau and riding shotgun on minelayer sorties, which would keep her very busy over the next couple of months.

4 March saw Tartar as part of Operation Claymore, the first large Commando raid on Norway, hitting the isolated Lofoten Islands, an all-day festival of destruction that saw the large cod boiling plant in the islands torched, 225 prisoners and collaborators bagged, and 300 local volunteers tag along back to Britain to join Free Norwegian troops. Further, Commandos sank four small German-controlled vessels by demolition charges while Tartar’s sister Bedouin sank a fourth via gunfire.

Raid on the Lofoten Islands, 4 March 1941. Commandos watching fish oil tanks burning.

Speaking of gunfire, during Claymore Tartar sank no less than two German merchant vessels at Solvær, the Hamburg (fishmeal factory ship, 6136 GRT) and Pasajes (1996 GRT). She likewise damaged the Kriegsmarine coal ship Elbing (1422 GRT) so badly that she had to be beached to keep from sinking and only returned to service a year later. Other reports cite Tartar as also sinking Bernhard Schulte (1058 GRT) and Gumbinnen (1381 GRT) during the operation, but most hold that the Army accounted for them.

Soon after, she was back to saving lives, joining on 25 March with sister HMS Gurkha to pull the entire 86-member crew from SS Beaverbrae when the freighter was sunk by land-based Condors of 1./KG 40.

Bismarck and Enigma

In May 1941, she was part of the epic chase that ran Bismarck to ground, escorting Rodney and being present at the leviathan’s sinking on the 27th. Ludovic Kennedy insists that film footage of Bismarck’s brutal last battle was apparently shot from HMS Tartar.

On the way back to Scapa with Tribal-class sister HMS Mashona, the two destroyers, low on fuel and forced to steam at a leisurely 15 knots, were attacked by numerous Luftwaffe Heinkel He 111  bombers of 1./KG 28 that left Mashona dead in the water and sinking. Tartar rescued her 184 survivors from her 14 officers and 215 ratings and landed them at Greenock.

Tartar then helped get the gang in Bletchley Park along in the Enigma decoding business when, sailing with the light cruiser HMS Nigeria and her sister Bedouin on 28 June, the task force chased down the 344-ton German weather ship (Wetterbeobachtungs-Schiff) Lauenburg (WBS 3) some 300 miles north-east of Jan Mayen Island via HF/DF. Although the weather ship’s crew tried to scuttle, Tartar’s boarding party managed to secure and recover codebooks and the vessel’s Enigma machine.

HMS Tartar’s boarding party prepares to board the German weather ship Lauenburg, north east of Jan Mayen.

The converted trawler, Lauenburg, deployed on Operations Gebiet northeast of Jan Mayen with a 20-man crew and eight meteorologists, began sending weather reports on 2nd June from naval grid square AB 47/48. She was sunk by Tartar on 28 June after the salvage of her sensitive equipment.

Lauenburg’s haul, coupled with a similar find from the captured trawler Munchen and the submarine U-110, effectively broke Naval Enigma.

July 1941 saw Tartar on an antishipping raid (Operation DN) off Norway’s Stadtlandet, followed by operations around and the evacuation of Spitsbergen (Operations FB and Gauntlet) in August.

By November 1941, she was screening the new battleship HMS Duke of York and later KGV during Russia-bound convoy operations out of Iceland, with the runs needing such big guns as the bruising heavy cruiser Hipper, the pocket battleship Scheer, and the actual battleship Tirpitz, which were all operating out of occupied Norway. As such, Tartar would sail with Convoys PQ 7B/QP 5 in January 1942, followed by PQ 12/QP 8 and PQ 13/QP 9 in March.

HMS Tartar going out on patrol. Taken from HMS Victorious at Hvalfjörður, Iceland, 6 February 1942. Photo by CH Parnall IWM A 7513

In June 1942, her next skipper, CDR St. John Reginald Joseph Tyrwhitt DSC, RN, arrived aboard, late of the destroyer HMS Juno (F 46)— on whose decks he earned a DSC.

Torch, Husky, Avalanche

HMS Tartar G43 28 June 1942

By August 1942, Tartar was nominated for detached service for support of the Malta relief operation, then sailed from Clyde as part of the escort for military convoys WS21 during Operation Pedestal. This soon saw her lock horns with the Italian subs Cobalto, Emo, and Granito, as well as U-73, missing torpedoes and replying with depth charges.

Her job done in the Med, she was back in Scapa by September and would sail with Force A out of Iceland to provide cover for Convoys PQ 18/QP 14.

Shifting back to the Med once again– twice in three months!– Tartar sailed with Force H from Scapa Flow on 30 October, including the familiar battlewagons Duke of York, Nelson, and Renown, bound to support the Torch Landings in North Africa.

She would remain in the Med through the rest of the year and continue to find work not only with Force H. Notably, on 23 March 1942, Tartar also picked up 14 survivors from the French armed trawler Sergent Gouarne that was sunk by U-755 about 25 miles north-east of Alboran Island.

Tartar was on hand for the June 1943 capture of the Italian islands of Pantellaria and Lampedusa between Sicily and Tunisia (Operation Corkscrew) in the weeks before the much larger Husky Landings on Sicily.

It was during Husky that Tartar came to the rescue of a second of her sisters when Eskimo was extensively damaged by two German dive bombers. Tartar towed Eskimo back to Malta, providing counter-U-boat and AAA defense the whole way, then returned to Sicily to conduct NGFS bombardments around the island.

August 1943 saw Tartar, once again with Rodney and Nelson’s screen, as part of Operation Hammer, plastering the Italian coastal batteries on the Calabrian coast adjacent to the Straits of Messina in preparation for the Avalanche landings in early September, during which Tartar supported the Allied landing between Catona and Reggio Calabria. It was there that Tartar embarked C-in-C, Mediterranean, ADM Andrew Browne Cunningham, to bring him inshore to inspect the landing beaches.

Off Salerno, she batted away attacks by German aircraft and radio-controlled glider bombs.

Salerno, 9 September 1943 (Operation Avalanche). The British destroyer HMS Tartar puts up an anti-aircraft barrage with her 4.5-inch AA guns to protect the invasion force from attack by enemy aircraft. Photo by Richard Gee, No. 2 Army Film and Photo Section, Army Film and Photographic Unit. IWM NA 6579

France

In late October, Tartar sailed back to HM Dockyard, Devonport, for refit and remained there into early 1944 when, following post-refit trials, she joined the 10th Destroyer Flotilla at Plymouth as leader in February.

The list of ships in the 10th was both familiar and historic:

On 15 March 1944, CDR Basil Jones DSO, DSC, RN, became Tartar’s 8th skipper and the 10th Commodore by extension. He had earned his DSC as commander of the destroyer HMS Ivanhoe (D 16) and his DSO on HMS Pakenham (G 06).

HMS Tartar G43, 1944

In the months before D-Day, Tartar and her sisters took part in Operations Specimen and Tunnel (anti-shipping patrols of the Bay of Biscay and French west coast) and Operation Hostile (minelaying operations off the French coast).

Then came D-Day itself, with the 10th up front, almost a footnote in Tartar’s extensive career.

On the early morning of D+3, eight destroyers of the 10th DF encountered three German destroyers, the Type 36A Z24 and Z32, and the ZH1 (formerly the Dutch destroyer Gerard Callenburgh), along with the Elbing-class torpedo boat T24 (Theodor von Bechtolsheim). When the smoke cleared, ZH1 was at the bottom, and the mauled Germans limped off to fight another day.

Tartar was hit in the swirling action three times, setting fires in her galley and bridge. Four men were killed and 12 wounded, including Commodore Jones. She arrived back at Plymouth with her foremast hung over the side and all of the radar and communications dead.

But she arrived– and had her shrapnel-riddled ensign flying.

Gifted RN war photographer, LT Harold William John Tomlin, captured a great series of images of our battle-scarred destroyer while back in port on 9 June.

Battlescarred Tartar June 9, 1944 IWM (A 23985)

One of Tartar’s gun crews in great form on their return. IWM A 23987

A wounded Commodore Basil Jones, DSO, DSC, RN (right) of Twyford, Bucks, Commander of HMS Tartar, and Lieut Cdr J R Barnes, of Yelverton, Devon, Commander of HMS Ashanti. IWM A 23988

“A proud souvenir, the torn Battle Ensign of HMS Tartar carried in her action with German destroyers in the Channel. It was in this action on 8 June 1944 at Barfleur that a German destroyer (ZH 1) was torpedoed and sunk by the destroyers Tartar and Ashanti, and the former was hit on the bridge by three 120 mm shells. Left to right: Able Seamen E G Nurse of Swansea; W Wetherall of Chiswick; D J Harvey of Worcester; G Lilley of Rockhampton and P Gill of Manchester. They have all served over three years in Tartar.” IWM A 30906

August 1944 saw Tartar and company maul a convoy of small German coasters in the Bay of Biscay north of the Île d’Yeu. In a single wild action on the night of the 5th, she is credited with assisting in the sinking of German Convoy Nr. 4121 with the minesweepers M 263 and M 486, the patrol vessel V 414, and the coaster Otto (217 GRT) were sent to the bottom.

Headed to the Far East

By October 1944, Tartar was selected for a tropical overhaul with plans to ship her and the rest of the 10th to the East Indies Fleet.

Such modified, she left the Clyde in March 1945 bound for Gibraltar for passage to Trincomalee via the Mediterranean and Red Sea. Once there, she joined Force 63 with her flotilla by 28 April, screening the battleships HMS Queen Elizabeth and Richelieu for a sweep of the Andamans and Nicobars areas. It was during that sweep that Tartar, across a three-night period, bombarded  Car Nicohar and Port Blair repeatedly.

She continued to bring the heat to the Japanese in Operation Dukedom, interdicting Japanese surface ships trying to evacuate troops from the Andamans. Then came a push into the occupied Dutch East Indies which included a surface action on 12 June 1945 when, sailing with Eskimo and Nubian, they intercept a Japanese convoy 20 miles north of Sumatra and sank the Japanese submarine chaser Ch 57 (420 tons) and landing ship Kuroshio Maru No.2 (950 tons, former T 149) in a short gun duel.

Afterall, her gunners were used to the work.

She later witnessed the Japanese surrender at Penang in September, then was ordered home, arrived at Plymouth on 17 November 1945, where she was promptly paid off and laid up for use as an accommodation hulk. Sold to BISCO for breaking up, she arrived at J Cashmere’s yard in Newport for demolition on 22 February 1948.

Tartar earned every one of her 12 WWII battle honors: Norway 1940-41 – Bismarck Action 1941 – Arctic 1941 – Malta Convoys 1942 – North Africa 1942-43 – Sicily 1943 –  Salerno 1943  – Mediterranean 1943 –  Normandy 1944  – English Channel 1944 – Biscay 1944 – Burma 1945. 

Of her 15 RN Tribal class sisters, only Ashanti, Eskimo, and Nubian survived the war, and all were scrapped by 1949. Her old 10th Flotilla partner, Haida, the “most fightingest ship” in the Canadian Navy, saw Korean War and Cold War service and survives as a memorial.

HMCS Haida today

Epilogue

Tartar had been adopted by the civil community of Finchley during a 1942 savings week program, and the area, now part of the London Borough of Barnet, maintains some small relics from her.

Of her skippers, her circa 1939 commander, Warner, retired in 1946 as a full captain. Bismarck and Russia Convoy-era Skipwith retired in 1952 and passed in 1975. Tyrwhitt, who commanded her for the Torch, Avalanche, and Husky landings, remained in the Navy until 1958, when he retired as a vice admiral after commanding the cruiser HMS Newcastle during Korea. The unsinkable Basil Jones pinned a Bar to his DSC for Tartar’s actions off Normandy in 1944 and faded into history after the war.

The RN recycled the name one last time, for a new 2,700-ton Tribal-class frigate, HMS Tartar (F133), that served from 1962 to 1984 and then for a further 16 years with the Indonesians. Her motto, appropriately, was “Without Fear,” and she had 21 battle honors carried forward to back it up.

Aerial view of Tribal-class frigate HMS Tartar (F133), 1971. Note her “T A” recognition letters on her heli rep platform. IWM HU 130006

While the current British government would never authorize a new warship by that name, it is the Admiralty’s loss.

Thanks for reading!

Meminisse est ad Vivificandum – To Remember is to Keep Alive

***

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Groups launch The Devastator Project to rescue and preserve a TBD-1

TBD-1 Devastator of VT-5 pictured in flight over Southern California 5-T-& Bu 0031 Yorktown Nov 1939. The TBD-1 Devastator ranks among the most significant aircraft in U.S. naval aviation history. It was the Navy’s first all-metal, low-wing, semi-monocoque plane and played a critical role during the opening months of the Pacific campaign.. Photo/description from the Naval Aviation Museum

Most military and naval history buffs remember the much-maligned Douglas TBD-1 Devastator “torpecker” for its Ride of the Valkyries style use against the Japanese carriers at Midway, in which  41 Devastators launched, carrying their unreliable Bliss-Leavitt Mark 13 aerial torpedoes, and only six returned to their carriers, without making a single effective torpedo hit.

Torpedo Squadron 2 (VT-2) in the “old days” before WWII, back when they flew Douglas TBD Devastators, and were the first squadron in the Navy to start doing so, in Oct. 1937

Insignia: Torpedo Squadron Five (VT-5) Emblem adopted during the later 1930s, when VT-5 served on board USS Yorktown (CV-5). This reproduction features a stylized representation of a TBD Devastator torpedo plane and an explanation of the insignia’s design. Courtesy of John S. Howland, 1975. U.S. Naval History and Heritage Command Photograph.color Catalog #: NH 82628-KN

Those 41 were almost fully a third of the type that existed, with just 129 production airframes delivered to the Navy between 1937 and 1939.

Forgotten is their more effective performance in raids on the Marshall and Gilbert Islands, Wake and Marcus Islands, just after Pearl Harbor, and in sinking the Japanese Zuiho-class light carrier Shoho during the Battle of the Coral Sea.

A lone Devastator over Wake Island in late Feb 1942

Torpecker success! Japanese aircraft carrier Shoho under attack by U.S. Navy carrier aircraft in the late morning of 7 May 1942. Photographed from a USS Yorktown (CV 5) torpedo plane. Official U.S. Navy photograph 80-G-17027.

Withdrawn from the Pacific after Midway and replaced with the TBM Avenger, the surviving Devastators in VT-4 and VT-7 remained in service briefly in the Atlantic and in training squadrons until 1944, when they were all scrapped by the end of the year.

That left those scattered around the bottom of the Pacific as the sole remaining TBDs in existence.

And that brings us to The Devastator Project.

The project brings together the Air/Sea Heritage Foundation, Texas A&M University’s Center for Maritime Archaeology and Conservation, the Republic of the Marshall Islands Cultural and Historic Preservation Office, Jaluit Atoll local government officials and traditional leaders, and the Naval History and Heritage Command. The team aims to recover Bureau Number 1515, a TBD-1 Devastator (5-T-7 of VT-5) that has remained submerged off Jaluit Atoll for more than 80 years.

BuNo 1515 launched from USS Yorktown (CV-5) and ditched in the Jaluit lagoon on Feb. 1, 1942, during the U.S. Navy’s first offensive operation in the Pacific. All three naval aviators ( Ens Herbert R Hein, Jr, AOM 3c Joseph D. Strahl, and S1c Marshall E. “Windy” Windham) survived the emergency landing and later endured captivity as Japanese prisoners of war until their liberation in 1945.

Bureau Number 1515, a Douglas TBD-1 Devastator submerged off Jaluit Atoll in the Marshall Islands. The aircraft went down Feb. 1, 1942. Air and Sea Heritage Foundation photo

The project seeks to recover the Jaluit Devastator and preserve it as-is.

Greyhound Sardines

A cluster of Great War-era Wickes (Lumberton) class four-piper flush deck destroyers seen out of commission, in mothballs at San Diego, 4 April 1939. The converted fast minelayers USS Montgomery (DM-17) and USS Gamble (DM-15) are present in the foreground, although they still wear their original greyhound hull numbers (DD-121 and DD-123, respectively), but are ornamented with the Mine Force “meatball” insignia on the bow.

Those masts are close enough that Tarzan could swing from one to the other and never touch the deck!

Reactivated to join Mine Division Two in time for Pearl Harbor, Montgomery would be irreparably damaged by a mine in Ngulu Lagoon, Caroline Islands, 17 October 1944, with the death of four of her crew, knocking her out of the war. She was stricken and sold for scrap in 1946.

Likewise, Gamble was also knocked out by Japanese bombs in February 1945 while off Iwo Jima and never repaired.

Between just these two unsung “tin cans,” they earned 11 battle stars in the Pacific, the only way that small boys can: the hard way.

Always Ready to Ditch this Ride

U.S. Navy Lt. F.A.W. Franke takes off in an early McDonnell F3H-2M Demon (BuNo 137003) of Fighter Squadron VF-61 “Jolly Rogers” from aircraft carrier USS Franklin D. Roosevelt (CVA-42) during carrier qualifications, 10 April 1957.

U.S. Navy National Museum of Naval Aviation photo No. 2011.003.287.024

Of note, with the adoption of the Martin-Baker 0/0 ejection seat still a minute down the road, cats and traps at this time were done with the canopy open.

Of the staggering 265 Naval pilots that died in 1957, 172 did so following aircraft problems at low altitude/low airspeed.

Early jet operations from carriers at sea were astonishingly deadly.

Superman to the rescue!

Some 85 years ago this week, on 16 January 1941, the fine Cammell Laird-built Pacific Steam Navigation Company’s SS Oropesa (14,075 GRT) was torpedoed in the Atlantic Ocean southeast of Rockall in the Western Approaches by the Type VIIC U-boat U-96 (Kptlt. Heinrich Lehmann-Willenbrock).

Hit by the first torpedo at 03:56, Lehmann-Willenbrock stuck around and pumped a second G7a into her a few minutes later, which missed, then two further fish by 05:59, sending the steamer to the bottom with the loss of 106 of the 249 people on board. Those who rode her to Davy Jones included Oropesa’s The Master, Harry Croft, 98 crewmen, a DEMS gunner, and six passengers.

Rushing to the scene came the Admiralty W-class destroyer HMS Westcott (D47) and two rescue tugs, HMRT Tenacity and Superman. They plucked 109 waterlogged crew, one DEMS gunner, and 33 passengers from the water and landed them at Liverpool.

HMRT Superman (W89)

Built in 1933 by Cochrane & Sons Ltd., Selby for United Towing Co. Ltd., Hull, Superman was a little fella, just 120 feet overall length, 27 of beam, and 14 of depth. Displacing 359 grt, she ran a single 900ihp 3cylTE steam engine crafted by C D Holmes Ltd., Hull.

Requisitioned for Admiralty service on 1 November 1939, she was given pennant W89, call sign GWFJ, broke out a White Ensign, and was armed with a 12-pounder gun and 4 machine guns left over from the Great War. Two .50 caliber Vickers guns would later augment this battery.

Initially based in Grimsby, HMRT Superman was later used as an ocean rescue tug, pulling the Emmy (Greek, 3895 GRT, built 1914) free from a grounding in the Irish Sea in January 1940. In August 1940, she rushed to the aid of Convoy HX-66A, which lost the freighters Mill Hill, Chelsea, and Norne to U-32 (Hans Jenisch).

By 1944, Superman was selected as a Mulberry tug and notably towed Whale unit S21 to Mulberry A just days after the Normandy landings and Phoenix caisson units to others.

Based at Pembroke Dock at the end of the war, she was returned to her owner on 14 December 1945 and sailed commercially for another two decades.

Superman was scrapped at Queensborough, Kent, in 1964.

The RFA would later acquire its own Superman in 1953, a sturdy 180-foot fleet tug built at Alexander Hall & Co., Aberdeen. The latter Superman and her two sisters, Samson and Sea Giant, would serve through the Cold War.

Le Tonnant Found

The lost Redoubtable (Pascal)-class submarine of the M6 series (Agosta type) Le Tonnant (“Thunderer”) (Q172) has been discovered.

Built by F.&Ch de la Méditerranée and commissioned on 1 June 1937, she made a high-profile pre-war deployment to Indochina, participated in some early war patrols with the Toulon-based 3rd Submarine Squadron before the Fall of France in June 1940, and ventured as far as Dakar.

She then sailed under orders from Vichy until 15 November 1942, when she was scuttled off Cadiz, Spain, by her own crew following the German occupation of Southern France and the British-American occupation of French North Africa.

Her crew all managed to reach Spain and be interned for the duration, while Le Tonnant settled into the seabed.

Of Le Tonnant’s 31-boat class, only five survived the war, including the famous Casabianca (Q183).

Now, 83 years later, her wreck has been documented by a Franco-Spanish research team by the Univesite de Bretagne Occidentale.

 

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