Category Archives: military history

Hearts of Oak

With this month containing Valentine’s Day, this seemed appropriate.

“Hearts of Oak,” A British Jack Tar in landing kit, with a Lee type rifle, circa the early 1900s.

Color-tinted postcard, with a patriotic poem, published by Millar & Lang, Glasgow & London. Naval History and Heritage Command. NH 100803-KN

“They swear they’ll invade us, these terrible foes,

They frighten our women, our children, and beaus;

But should their flat bottoms in darkness get o’er,

Still Britons they’ll find to receive them onshore.” 

 

SMS Emden survivors, from beyond the grave

The Australian War Memorial this week posted this excellent round table studio interview filmed in Ausburg, Germany in the 1950s with three direct survivors and son of a serving officer of the German Light cruiser SMS Emden. The interview was conducted in English and concerns the parts played by the interviewees in the naval battle with the cruiser HMAS Sydney at Cocos Island on 9 November 1914.

The survivors are Petty Officer Hans Hahns age 72, Able Seaman Arthur Werner age 72, Captain Erich Prekenschau and Prince Meinrad of Hohenzollern son of Prince Franz Joseph of Hohnezollern (1891-1964) who was one of the Emden’s serving officers (Prince Franz Joseph had died a few weeks before the interview was filmed).

German raider, SMS Emden is sunk by Australian Cruiser, HMAS Sydney

Vale, Mad Mike

Colonel Thomas Michael “Mad Mike” Hoare

Colonel Thomas Michael “Mad Mike” Hoare, who fought in the British Army in WWII before going on to lead the famous (infamous?) mercenary unit known as 4 Commando under the Katangan flag then 5 Commando in the CNA, among other “Wild Geese” on the Continent during the Cold War.

Via Bushwar Militaria & Books, Durban:

“It is with a heavy but accepting heart that I announce that my father, Mike Hoare, died in his sleep and with dignity at a care facility in Durban today, 2 February 2020, aged 100 years.

He was an adventurer, soldier, explorer, yachtsman, motorcyclist, safari leader, author, hiker, raconteur, last of breed, and legend. Charming, enigmatic, fearless, proper, and a brilliant leader, ‘Mad Mike’ was an officer and a gentleman – with a bit of brigand thrown in.

But Mike described himself as ‘a genuine adventurer’. He identified with Sir Francis Drake, and liked the idea of going out sailing, and bringing Spanish booty back for the queen who would make you a knight. ‘You were respectable – even though you were a thief,’ he said.

Mike Hoare became world-famous when his ‘Wild Geese’ saved southern Africa from the Reds when they crushed the Simbas in the Congo in 1965. And world infamous when his attempt to overthrow the socialist government of Seychelles failed.

Rest in eternal peace, Colonel. We salute you”

-Chris Hoare-

Resilience

German supply train taking a break to water the draught horses in a nearby river, WWII

Whenever I see images like these, of German soldiers leading horses in WWII, I think of my maternal great grandfather, Wilhelm Otto Gelhaar.

Born around 1894 in the haunted Harz mountains area of Central Germany near the city of Halberstadt, as a young man and (according to family legend) a good horseman, instead of being drafted to the infantry he volunteered for service in the “local” unit, Kürassier-Regiment von Seydlitz (4. Magdeburgisches) Nr.7 just before what was to be the Great War.

Lanzenübungen, 7. Kürassier-Regiment Von Seydlitz, in training with lances vs infantry, circa 1890s

Dating back to 1815, the Seydlitzkürassiere was a dashing if somewhat provincial unit of the Prussian army that nonetheless struck up an excellent martial appearance.

German cavalryman on the Eastern Front, 1914.

Serving first on the Western front (Aug-Nov 1914), then the Eastern front (Nov. 1914-Dec 1917) and back to the West, where they lost their horses and finished the war as ersatz infantry of sorts, the regiment was spared total annihilation.

When the guns fell silent in November 1918, the unit was shipped back to their (now historic) kürassierkaserne at Quedlinburg where, out of work and eager (pardon the pun) for a purpose, Wilhelm threw in his lot with a group of NCOs and officers of the regiment and set out for the Baltics, where they fought with German freebooters against the Soviet Red Army and local Estonian/Lithuanian/Latvian independence groups.

When the dozens of German Freikorps units were forced out of business in the Baltics by around 1920, again unemployed Wilhelm returned back home to the Harz mountains with a young White Russian exile wife in tow, Maria Novas (Nowass), who, according again to family lore, had lost her Russian privileges as she came from a pro-monarchist Cossack family.

With the Seydlitzkürassiere disbanded and few jobs in Weimar Germany, Wilhelm would subsist as a market hunter (berufsjäger) and later eventually use his old Army connections to pull down a full-time position as a game warden/gamekeeper (wildhüter/Jagdaufseher) in nearby Wernigerode, which he held throughout the 1920s and 30s, as his family, to include my grandmother and my great aunts and uncles, expanded.

While hyperinflation meant that his salary was effectively worthless, he was at least able to feed his family through catching poachers and impounding their ill-gotten game, which made the job more valuable than it seemed. Maria, a sturdy woman who was good with a double rifle, also helped fill the pot when needed.

When war came again, Wilhelm would be pulled back into service, well into his 40s. While too old for the cavalry, he was assigned to horse-drawn quartermaster units and by 1942 was again in Russia.

The German Army, depending on the period, would field between 500,000 and 2 million horses at any given time during WWII. Every time I see one of these images, I think of my great-grandfather

Captured in 1943 on the periphery of the Stalingrad campaign, his family received a letter saying he was Vermisst–missing in action– and they, after time passed, slowly gave up on the prospect that he would ever return.

“The Germans at Stalingrad,1943” by Soviet artist M.M. Sheglov

Meanwhile, Wernigerode was occupied by the Soviets in 1945, a force that never really left until 1990. In the darkest days of the Red occupation, my great-grandmother’s knowledge of Russian enabled her to keep her family intact and survive, although she had to sacrifice many of the family’s possessions– such as Wilhelm’s Great War and Jägerschaft medals along with the family gun collection and her own meager silver service– to local commissars and inspecting frontoviks. Two of Maria and Wilhelm’s sons would return from POW camps in the West in 1946. A widow, she would remarry several years later.

Then, one day in 1953, Wilhelm Gelhaar knocked on the door of his family’s home in Wernigerode, more than a decade after he left for the Ostfront– only to be greeted by his wife’s new husband.

It turned out, being a country boy good with horses and girded with the ability to speak pidgin Russian had kept him alive in his time in Siberia until, like thousands of other Germans who disappeared East during WWII, he was finally paroled after Stalin’s death. One family story was that, as his unit was close to falling into Soviet hands, his commanding officer ordered him to shoot the remaining horses under his control. Instead, he set them loose and surrendered.

A man of peculiar fortitude, Wilhelm arranged to move into the house directly across the street to remain close to his family and remain there until he died in the early 1970s. Word is, he would often be seen sitting in his yard, smoking a pipe, and waving as they came and went.

Paterfamilias, indeed.

Dragon’s Roar

“Front view of 240mm howitzer of Battery `B’, 697th Field Artillery Battalion, just before firing into German-held territory. Mignano area, Italy.” SC photo by Boyle, January 30, 1944, some 76 years ago today.

111-SC-187126. National Archives Identifier: 531176

Nicknamed the Black Dragon, the M1 240mm (9.4-inch) howitzer was the largest boom stick deployed with U.S. Army artillery units during World War II, able to fire a 360-pound shell some 25,000 yards. Other than coastal artillery, the Cold War-era 280mm Atomic Annie series, and naval guns adapted for railway use, it remains the biggest artillery piece ever used by the Army.

They are still used in Taiwan today as low-tech coastal artillery where, based on Kinman Island, they can reach mainland China some 14 miles away as the shell flies.

 

Warship Wednesday Jan 29, 2020: The Lion of Goa

Here at LSOZI, we are going to take off every Wednesday for a look at the old steam/diesel navies of the 1833-1946 time period, and will profile 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

Warship Wednesday, Jan 29, 2020: The Lion of Goa


Here we see the Aviso de 1ª Classe NRP Afonso de Albuquerque (F470) of the Marinha Portuguesa in the 1950s. A British-built sloop intended for colonial service, her crew made a heroic, if often forgotten, last stand in 1961.

Looking to refresh their navy to provide some new ships to patrol the Portuese empire, which included Angola, Mozambique, and Guinea-Bissau in Africa as well as the Goa, Daman, Diu, and Timor enclaves in India and Macau in China, Lisbon contracted for a four-pack of avisos, two first-class and two second-class, from the British shipbuilding firm of Hawthorn Leslie, Tyne.

The second class ships– Goncalaves Zarco and Goncalo Velho— were 1,400-ton vessels mounting a trio of 4.7-inch guns.

The first two first-class units, our own Afonso de Albuquerque and her sister Bartolomeu Dias (F471) were larger, at about 2,400 tons full load, and carried a quartet of 4.7-inch Vickers DP guns. Capable of making 21 knots, a speed they surpassed in trials, they could voyage 8,000nm at 10 knots. Ironically, while they would have been third or fourth-tier warships in virtually any other European navy of the day, they were the largest and most formidable Portuguese surface combatants of the 1930s.

Afonso de Albuquerque was named after the famous Duke of Goa, a 16th-century Portuguese admiral and governor of India who grew the country’s empire. Her sister, Bartolomeu Dias, is named after a famous Portuguese explorer, surpassed only by the great navigator, Vasco De Gama.

NRP Bartolomeu Dias (F471)

Completed in 1935, Afonso de Albuquerque soon got into trouble as her green crew revolted in 1936 while in Lisbon harbor. The revolt didn’t work out too well for the ship, which was damaged by shore batteries and was grounded.

Portuguese warship Afonso de Albuquerque entering the Tagus River, in Portugal. via Gazeta dos Caminhos de Ferro magazine No. 1135, of the 1st April 1935

Repaired and sent on her way, she spent her early career in African waters. There, while operating from Mozambique in November 1942, she responded to the sinking British troopship RMS Nova Scotia (6,700t)— packed with Italian internees– off the coast of South Africa, torpedoed by U-177. Alerted by the Kriegsmarine through diplomatic channels in Berlin and Lisbon, the Portuguese sloop sailed to the area but was only able to rescue 194 of the 1,052 people aboard.

N.R.P.Afonso-de-Albuquerque-com-as-assinaturas-dos-óficiais-da-1.º-guarnição-CX.-301

Continuing her neutrality patrol work, Afonso de Albuquerque was part of the convoy to liberate East Timor from Japanese occupation in September 1945.

Fast forward to 1961, and tensions between Nehru’s India and the Portuguese enclave at Goa, Daman, and Diu on the Indian subcontinent were boiling over. Whereas the Indian fleet contained an aircraft carrier, Vikrant (ex-Hercules), and two cruisers– Delhi (ex-Achilles) and Mysore (ex-Nigeria), as well as numerous modern destroyers, submarines, and frigates, the Portuguese only had four aging 1930s-era avisos in the area: Afonso de Albuquerque, Bartholomeu Bias, Gonsalves Zarco, and Joao de Lisbon (1,200t, 2×4.7-inch) along with a handful of even lighter gunboats.

However, in early December, Bartholomeu Dias, Gonsalves Zarco, and Joao de Lisbon withdrew to Africa, leaving Afonso de Albuquerque as the only significant Portuguese naval asset in Goa.

On the morning of 18 December 1961, she spied two brand-new Indian warships, the Leopard/Type 41-class frigates INS Beas (F37) and INS Betwa (F38), rapidly approaching Goa. Each of the Indian frigates carried two twin 4.5-inch Mark 6 rapid-fire guns.

The opening salvos were fired by the Indians at around 1200, who were soon plastering Afonso de Albuquerque with a combination of air-burst and HE rounds at a range of 7,500 yards. The Portuguese sloop, outgunned and in a terrible tactical situation, returned fire and tried to sortie out to engage her twin opponents.

Within 20 minutes, Afonso de Albuquerque was in bad shape and made for the shallows where she could beach and allow her crew to evacuate to shore. By 1410, the ship was a wreck, and her crew ceased firing, letting some 400 shells fly at the Indian task force.

The Portuguese losses were negligible, with radioman Rosário da Piedade killed, commander CMG Cunha Aragão seriously wounded, and 50 others lightly wounded. To this day, the Portuguese Navy contends they made several hits on their Indian opponents and inflicted several casualties, although New Delhi denies this.

The next day, the Indian military took control of Goa, and CMG Aragão’s crew surrendered ashore to the invading forces. In all, by sunset of 19 December, the 45,000-strong Indian force had 4,668 Portuguese soldiers and sailors in custody.

Indian officers inspect Afonso

Portuguese POWs at the Indian Prison camp at Vasco de Gama, Goa, December 1961.

The Soviets, who were trying to cozy up to every newly independent former colony, were ecstatic.

“Colonialism is doomed everywhere”. Soviet poster showing the Indians kicking the Portuguese out of Goa. 1961

Afonso remained grounded at the beach near Dona Paula for a year when she was towed to Bombay and her hulk subsequently renamed Saravastri by the Indians, although she was never put in service. Various items and relics from her fill Indian museums, while the bulk of the ship was sold as scrap in 1963.

Afonso de Albuquerque flag in the Indian Naval museum

As for her sister, Bartolomeu Dias, she was converted to a depot ship and renamed São Cristovão in 1967, then later broken up.

The Bay-class frigate HMS Dalrymple (K427), sold to Portugal in 1966, became NRP Afonso de Albuquerque (A526) and remained in service until 1983.

Specs:


Displacement:
1,811 tons standard,
2,100 tons normal load,
2,435 tons full load
Length: 328 ft 1 in
Beam: 44 ft 3 in
Draught: 12 ft 6 in
Propulsion: 2 Parsons geared turbines; 4 Yarrow 3-drum boilers, 8,000 shp
Oil fuel: 600 tons
Speed: 21 knots as designed, 23 on trials
Range: 8,000 mi at 10 knots
Complement: 189 to 229
Armament:
4 × 1 – 4.7″/50 Vickers-Armstrong Mk G
2 × 3″/50 Mk 2 Vickers-Armstrong guns
8 × 20mm/70 Oerlikon Mk II anti-aircraft guns (installed 1944)
4 × throwers for depth charges
Fitted to carry 40 mines
Aircraft carried: Fitted for one seaplane (Fairey III)

If you liked this column, please consider joining the International Naval Research Organization (INRO), Publishers of Warship International

They are possibly one of the best sources of naval study, images, and fellowship you can find. http://www.warship.org/membership.htm

The International Naval Research Organization is a non-profit corporation dedicated to the encouragement of the study of naval vessels and their histories, principally in the era of iron and steel warships (about 1860 to date). Its purpose is to provide information and a means of contact for those interested in warships.

With more than 50 years of scholarship, Warship International, the written tome of the INRO, has published hundreds of articles, most of which are unique in their sweep and subject.

PRINT still has its place. If you LOVE warships, you should belong.

I’m a member, so should you be!

Hardtack and salt horse

The American Battlefield Trust last week put out this short (4min~) spot on the diet of the Civil War-era soldier while in the field. As someone who has limited experience with recreated hardtack back in my reenacting days, I can vouch for the veracity of the latter.

Fights On

These great images from MCAS Beaufort, SC, showing a vintage squadron line up around an F4U Corsair, likely in WWII, and a newer image of a squadron with F/A-18 Charlies.

The unit in question is Marine Fighter Attack Squadron 312 (VMFA-312). Formed 1 June 1943 at Page Field, Parris Island, they fought at Okinawa and in the Japanese Home Islands then continued flying Corsairs off Jeep carriers in Korea. Flying Phantoms from 1966 through 1987, they switched to Hornets and haven’t looked back yet.

Their motto is “Fights on.”

Are YOU in the War?

I thought this 6~ minute overview of the importance of British First World War recruitment posters from Richard Slocombe, formerly IWM’s Senior Curator of Art, was interesting, especially for anyone who admires military art or Great War period history.

Warship Wednesday Jan 22, 2020: Oh, Mr. Volstead, what have you done?

Here at LSOZI, we are going to take off every Wednesday for a look at the old steam/diesel navies of the 1833-1946 time period and will profile 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

Warship Wednesday, Jan 22, 2020: Oh, Mr. Volstead, what have you done?

U.S. Coast Guard Historian’s Office

Here we see, a U.S. Coast Guard Loening OL-5L seaplane flying majestically over a pair of new-built 75-foot “six-bitter” patrol boats, likely around 1927 off Glouchester, Mass. While the Coasties only operated three OL-5s, they went much bigger on the contract for the 75-footers.

The so-called “noble experiment” that was perhaps always doomed to fail, Congressman Andrew Volstead’s championed 18th Amendment, which survived President Woodrow Wilson’s veto to bring about an official prohibition on liquor from sea to shining sea, became the law of the land on 17 January 1920– 100 years ago this month.

However, all it did was spark a new war, the so-called Rum War, which pitted federal law enforcement against often international smugglers and criminal syndicates of all sizes. Increasingly, this forerunner of the War on Drugs became an actual military campaign.

Rum Runners in Canada and in the Bahamas had the cry, “For some, there’s a fortune but others will die, come on load up the ship boys, the Yankees are dry.”

That’s where the Coast Guard came in.

Charged with policing “Rum Row,” the line of booze-laden ships parked just off the international limit with all the best Canadian whiskey, Cuban rum and bottles of European hooch rushed to the thirsty market, the USCG was rapidly expanded to sever the link between this liquor line and coastal bootleggers in fast boats, fishing luggers and skiffs. Some 10 million quarts of liquor left Nassau alone in 1922, headed to points West.

To do this, the service was loaned a whole fleet of mothballed Navy destroyers (20), subchasers (21), and Eagle boats (5) leftover from the Great War as well as being granted a sweeping raft of new construction. Between 1924 and 1926, the USCG doubled in size from 5,900 to 10,000 uniformed personnel, a manning crisis that caused the Coast Guard Academy to switch to a two-year program to speed up the pipeline for new officers.

The largest group of new vessels, at least in terms of hulls and manpower to sail them, were the 203 “cabin cruiser-style” patrol boats that are the subject of our tale.

At 75-feet overall length, these humble craft became known in service as “six-biters.”

“Old 75-foot patrol boat.” Photo No. 34363; photo dated 15 February 1928; photo by Joseph N. Pearce. USCG Historian’s office

Equipped with two 6-cylinder gasoline engines, they could make 15.7 knots with their powerplant wide open and sortie out for about a week or so until their eight-man crew ran out of groceries or the 1,000-gallon fuel tank started sounding hollow.

Initially, they were to be armed with a single 3″/23 caliber gun, considered good enough to fire a warning shot across the bow of a bootlegger. However, to save weight, these patrol craft instead were equipped with a single-shot one-pounder 37mm gun of about 1898 vintage. Nevertheless, the go-to weapons for their crews were small arms.

CG-222

To speed things up, these patrol boats were mass-produced in 1924 and 1925 by nearly 20 yards, both public and private, simultaneously with hull prices running between $18,000 and $26,000 per vessel. Their construction, of white oak frames and keel with fir and yellow pine planking and bulwarks, ensured their short lifespan but quick construction.

CG-283, note her crew hailing a ship forward

They were built to a design finalized by noted yacht maker John Trumpy. With simply too many cutters to name, they were numbered CG-100 through CG-302 and delivered on an average of four to five cutters per week.

Via U.S. Coast Guard Cutters and Craft of WWII by Dr. Robert Schenia.

The boats soon swarmed the coastline from Maine to the Florida Keys, along the Gulf Coast, and from Seattle down to San Diego while others served on the Great Lakes.

Six-Bitters and Destroyers at New London, 1926

SIx-Bitters tied up at Base 7 in Gloucester, 1928, NARA

Camden-produced Six-bitters at Cape May

The renewed offensive on booze escalated as the development forced the slower bootleggers, in other words, the part-timers using trawlers and sailboats, dropped out of the business and left the heavy lifting to professionals, and increasingly armed and squirrely smugglers.

Six-Bitters out of Base 7 at Gloucester, 1928, NARA

Six-Bitters leaving Base 7 at Gloucester, 1928 NARA

In one incident, with the Liberty-engined fast craft Black Duck and the 75-foot cutter CG-290, the bootlegger zigged when they should have zagged while blasting away from the slow patrol boat and got a blast of Lewis gun in the boathouse, killing two rumrunners and wounding another two.

Coast Guard Section Base, East Boston, 1929. Pictured are 75′ cutters (Six Bitters), 125′ cutters (Buck and a Quarters) and the captured rum runner, the Black Duck.

Rum Runner ‘Black Duck’ escorted by Coast Guard boats to Newport, RI harbor after CG-290 fired shots killing two of the crew, January 1930. Photo by Leslie Jones via Boston Public Library, Print Department.

Another incident, between the six-bitter CG-249 and the motorboat V-13997 while en route to Bimini, left the cutter’s skipper, BM Sidney C. Chamberlain, killed in a one-way shootout and two other Coasties wounded.

In a sign of the times, the master of V-139977 who pulled the trigger, James Horace Alderman was convicted of three counts of murder and piracy on the high seas, was captured and two years later was hung in the seaplane hangar at the Fort Lauderdale Coast Guard station. Alderman was the only man ever hung by the organization. 

“Fort Lauderdale, Sec. Base Six, Dec. 6, 1926, The Commandant looking over the latest capture.” Photo No. B-6/4, #21; 1926; photographer unknown.

“U.S. Coast Guard 75-ft. Patrol Boat CG-262 towing into San Francisco Harbor her prizes, the tug ELCISCO and barge REDWOOD CITY, seized for violation of U.S. Customs laws.” Photo No. CPI-02-24-27 GEN.; 1927; photographer unknown.

$175,000 in liquor seized in Dorchester Bay by Coast Guard men from Base 5. Brought to US Customs Appraisers’ Stores. 18 Jan 1932. Note the 75, CG-171. Photo by Leslie Jones via Boston Public Library, Print Department.

These cutters of course also contributed to traditional USCG missions such as search and rescue and fisheries enforcement. In fact, once Prohibition was repealed in 1933, it became their primary tasking. This led to 52 of the vessels being quickly passed to the Army, Navy, and USC&GS for use as dispatch boats for coastal defense batteries, district patrol craft (YPs), and survey ships.

Coast Guard boat CG-139 at Boston June 1929, Boston Public Library Leslie Jones Collection

Coast Guard boat CG-242 at Boston 1928, note her 1-pounder. Boston Public Library Leslie Jones Collection

A quarter of very clean Coast Guard 75 footers on the Thames River, New London, CT 1934. Photo by Leslie Jones

Others suffered losses while in service. CG-114 was lost at sea in 1925 only weeks after she was completed. The “Great Miami” hurricane in September 1926 wrecked CG-247 and CG-248. A similar cyclone in 1928 claimed CG-188. CG-111, CG-113, CG-256, and CG-243 were lost in fires, groundings or collisions. C-245 went down in unexpected heavy seas within view of El Morro Fortress in 1935. CG-102, which at the time was serving as YP-5 with the Navy, accidentally caught a practice torpedo in 1938 and sank.

Yet others were sold off for their value as scrap.

By 1941 when the Coast Guard was chopped to the Navy’s service, Only 36 were still on the USCG’s list, although six that had previously been sold to the public were re-acquired and put back to use.

CG-172 at Key West in 1942, note her .50 caliber water-cooled gun in addition to her 1-pdr and dark scheme

As an update with the times and to acknowledge they were intended to fight U-boats and Japanese submarines, the lingering six-bitters picked up a 20mm/80 Oerlikon AAA gun or .50 caliber machine gun forward, and two depth charge racks aft. Likewise, most received QBE sonar listening sets and BK detection radars late in the war. They were used for inshore convoy escort, coastal anti-submarine patrol, and port security duties.

During the war, CG-74327, one of the renumbered six-bitters who started life as CG-211, was sunk in a collision with the Tench-class submarine USS Thornback (SS-418) of Portsmouth in November 1944, claiming the life of BM2 Ireneus K. Augustynowicz. CG-152, as YP-1947, similarly sank in a collision while in Navy service in 1943. CG-267, stationed in Guam in 1941 as YP-16, was scuttled to prevent capture by the Japanese. Sistership CG-275, serving at Guam as YP-17, was scuttled but later salvaged and used by the Japanese. 

By 1946, the smattering of six-bitters still in the Navy and USCG service was transferred to MARAD and sold off. Many of the 75-foot craft went on to endure for another couple decades as yachts, fishing vessels, houseboats, and research ships. I cannot find an example of one that was still afloat today.

Still, the legacy of the rowdy wooden six-bitters is today upheld by the Coast Guard’s 87-foot Marine Protector-class patrol boats.

Specs:

(Coast Guard Historian’s Office)

Displacement: 37 tons designed, 42 tons (1945)
Length: 74.9 feet
Beam: 13.75 feet
Draft: 3.6 feet as designed, 5 feet (1945)
Machinery: Sterling 6cyl gas engines, 400 SHP, twin screws
Speed: 15.7 designed, although some made 17 when new.
Crew: 8 as designed, 13 in 1945
Armament:
1 x 37mm 1-pounder as designed, small arms
1x 20mm/80cal and/or 12.7mm machine gun, 2 depth charge racks in WWII.

If you liked this column, please consider joining the International Naval Research Organization (INRO), Publishers of Warship International

They are possibly one of the best sources of naval study, images, and fellowship you can find. http://www.warship.org/membership.htm

The International Naval Research Organization is a non-profit corporation dedicated to the encouragement of the study of naval vessels and their histories, principally in the era of iron and steel warships (about 1860 to date). Its purpose is to provide information and a means of contact for those interested in warships.

With more than 50 years of scholarship, Warship International, the written tome of the INRO has published hundreds of articles, most of which are unique in their sweep and subject.

PRINT still has its place. If you LOVE warships you should belong.

I’m a member, so should you be!

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