U.S. Army Soldiers from Alpha Battery, 2nd Battalion 29th Field Artillery Regiment at the National Training Center in Fort Irwin, Calif., inspect the 155mm gun tube for calibration on the Paladin Vehicle to prepare for Decisive Action Rotation 14-10, Sept. 11, 2014. (U.S. Army photo by Sgt. Charles Probst)
The Bell Model 204 (prototyped as the XH-40) first flew in 1956 and entered service with the military as the HU-1 (which quickly became “Huey” in milspeak), transitioning to the UH-1 Iroquois designation in 1962, with the first “slick” medevac ships assigned to the 57th Medical Detachment arriving in South Vietnam the same year. With more than 16,000 of these iconic medium lift helicopters built, the Huey became the defacto symbol of the Vietnam conflict.
Enter the obligatory Apocalypse Now- Ride of the Valkyries clip here:
It should be remembered that the last searing image of U.S. forces leaving Saigon in 1975 was centered on a Huey.
Evacuees are helped aboard a CIA/Air America helicopter perched on top of a building in Saigon. Photograph: Hugh van Es/REUTERS
While a number of Hueys remain in service with the military (59 UH-1Ns are used by the Air Force for Minuteman ICBM security, 37 TH-1H trainers are still in the air, the Army keeps 53 UH-1Vs in various Guard units, and of course the Marines have 107 advanced UH-1Y Venoms in regular fleet use), the Pentagon divested themselves of Vietnam-era UH-1s some years ago.
Which brings us to last week’s final flight.
In 2000, a pure former Army Bell UH-1H Huey S/N 69-15533, which clocked 419 hours in 1971 as a “Dolphin” with the 174th Assault Helicopter Company (she took 2 hits during Lam Son 719), was transferred from service with the FBI to the Border Patrol. Then when Border Patrol became part of CBP after 9/11, was transferred to the U.S. Customs and Border Protection Air and Marine Operations’ (AMO) office as N7247J.
N7247J, Bell UH-1H CN 69-15533, in her white and blue AMO livery At Grand Prairie via Airport-Data.com
Parked last week, she has an impressive 6,900 flight hours and 2,466 cycles on her 47-year old airframe that are documented.
The popular Vietnam-era 174th Dolphin nose art by WO1 Richard Machina, June 1967. Photo by Jim McDaniel. Huey gunships in the 174th were termed ‘Sharks” and carried P-40 Warhawk Flying Tiger-style sharkmouth designs
She is the last UH-1H in Homeland Security and DOJ long ago moved to more modern platforms, leaving DHS the antiques.
The FBI’s Surveillance and Aviation Section (SAS) flies 120~ aircraft but they are mostly sketchy little Cessnas screened by front companies for opsec purposes and a handful of marked planes for liaison purposes.
As noted in a press release from CBP on the event of N7247J making its final flight in El Paso:
It was a crucial platform for law enforcement operations along the Southwest Border, and over the last decade, was directly involved in the seizure of approximately 4,000 pounds of marijuana. It was also deployed to conduct vital missions during Hurricane Katrina.
During its tenure, AMO crews have operated the UH-1H to perform tactical and utility missions, including the insertion of agents into otherwise inaccessible terrain, external “load” operations, fast rope and rappel, search and rescue, air crew rifle operations, and aerial patrols.
She will be sold as surplus at auction.
A few Super Hueys remain in AMO’s flying museum, refitted with AH-1F Cobra engines, though its not clear if they are Vietnam era or not.
N7247J, Bell UH-1H SN 69-15533, on her last flight over the wilds of El Paso
While in Louisville last week I spent a day crawling around the stone gardens of Cave Hill Cemetery. Dating back to the Victorian era, Cave Hill encompasses something like 296-acres and contains over 135,000 markers going back to the 1850s.
Of course the part of the reservation I was most drawn to was the National Cemetery of the same name on their grounds that started off with the interment of Union soldiers from the Louisville garrison in 1861.
The site was the location of sculptor August Bloedner’s marker to the 32nd Indiana Infantry Regiment– the oldest surviving memorial to the Civil War, carved from St. Genevieve limestone in January 1862 after the Battle of Rowlett’s Station in Munfordville, Kentucky.
Of course, it was moved to the Frazier museum a few years ago to preserve it, but I trekked over there as well, it’s just across town.
Throughout CHNC are passages from Kentucky poet and Army officer Theodore O’Hara, the “Bivouac of the Dead,” written in 1847 after the war against Mexico, to remind those who tread the grounds who paid the lease.
Among the stones is one piece of earth that “is forever England” that of Pvt. James Henry Hartley, Machine Gun Corps, British Military Mission. He died at Camp Zachary Taylor* 20 April 1918 during the Great War and his distinctive monument was paid for by private donation of the Camp’s officer corps.
*Of note, one of those who passed through Camp ZT was F. Scott Fitzgerald, there in 1918 about the same time our good Tommy passed, Fitzgerald took some inspiration for The Great Gatsby from Louisville. His character Daisy is from Louisville and the Seelbach Hotel in Louisville is the site of a wedding between two of the characters.
Hidden among the grounds at Cave Hill are graves to a number of generals in wars from the 1860s through WWII.
These include Maj. Gen. Lovell H. Rousseau, who led Indiana troops at the Battle of Buena Vista in the Mexican war and carried out a reasonably well executed Union Cavalry raid in Alabama in 1864.
Pittsburgh-born Bvt Brig. Gen. James Adams Ekin, famous for being a member of the military commission trying the conspirators involved with the assassination of President Abraham Lincoln, rests in a less assuming grave a short walk away from Rousseau.
And speaking of less-assuming, there is Brig. Gen. Alpheus Baker.
A South Carolina native who gained command of the 54th Alabama Infantry in 1862, Baker served throughout the Civil War in scraps from New Madrid to Vicksburg and Atlanta to the final Siege of Mobile and Carolina campaigns, mustering out as a general of brigade (commanding the 37th, 40th, 42nd and 54th Alabama) just before his 37th birthday. Retiring to Kentucky and resuming the practice of law, he was buried in a common soldier’s grave at his request among the 500 dead Confederate prisoners-of-war at Cave Hill who were held in the Louisville Prison Camp.
Baker’s diary is in the Alabama State Archives
And in the words of Theodore O’Hara:
Their shivered swords are red with rust,
Their plumed heads are bowed;
Their haughty banner trailed in dust
Is now their martial shroud,
And plenteous funeral tears have washed
The red stains from each brow,
And their proud forms in battle gashed
Are free from anguish now.
Washington’s Life Guard, officially dubbed “His Excellency’s Guard,” was authorized 11 March 1776 and was a mixed infantry and cavalry unit of about 200~ men though this fluctuated during the war, swelling to almost 300 in 1780 and shrinking to just 60 or so men by the end of the conflict. Originally drawn from each colonial regiment encamped around Boston, with each unit sending four vol-untold men, it was possibly the first true polyglot formation with soldiers from each of the 13 original colonies.
Originally commanded by Captain Caleb Gibbs, an adjutant of the 14th Massachusetts Continental Regiment, they were drilled by Baron Frederick von Steuben, himself and were the tightest unit in the army– being used as shock troops on more than a few occasions when the chips were down.
After the war, the Guard remained dormant and while just 300 or so men’s names are known to have legitimately served, apparently several thousand aging Yanks in the late 18th and early 19th century made quick boasts in parlors and taverns of being a member of old George’s personal bodyguard– perhaps the original instance of U.S. Army stolen valor.
Fast forward…
In 1922, when stationed at Fort Snelling, Minn., the U.S. 3rd Infantry Regiment (The Old Guard) –the oldest active duty regiment in the Army, having been first organized as the First American Regiment in 1784– established a Continental Color Guard consisting of two veteran soldiers in the livery of Washington’s old guard. They were popular and remained until the regiment went off to World War II and subsequent disestablishment in Germany in 1946.
Meanwhile in 1926, the Military District of Washington permanently detailed select dismounted horse soldiers from the 3rd Cavalry Regiment (Brave Rifles), then at Fort Meyer, to stand guard at the the tomb of an unidentified American serviceman from World War I interred in the plaza of the new Memorial Amphitheater, thought they did it in standard uniforms of the day.
Then, in 1948, the 3rd Infantry Regiment was reorganized and they assumed the role of the capital’s ceremonial troops from the 3rd Cav, working Arlington, the Tomb and greeting dignitaries (all with a military role in crowd control and protecting from enemy raids and sneak attacks in the event of an outbreak of hostilities).
By the 50s, the Old Guard again had a small contingent of ceremonial color guard who wore the uniforms of Washington’s men.
With the Bicentennial fever sweeping the country in the 1970s, Company A of the Old Guard’s 4th Battalion (recently returned from combat duty in Vietnam), was christened the Commander-in-Chief’s Guard in 1973 and has been pulling that role, wigs and muskets and all, ever since.
The Commander in Chief’s Guard, based at Fort McNair, is patterned after George Washington’s personal guard and has a variety of weapons and uniforms unique to their company. Officers carry an espontoon (half-pike) used as a signalling tool while NCOs carry a halberd. All ranks tote short swords for close combat.
Washington himself in 1777 directed all Continental field officers to arm themselves with espontoons, noting “firearms when made use of with drawing their attention too much from the men; and to be without either, has a very aukward and unofficer like appearance.”
The primary long arm of the unit are replica firing Brown Bess flintlocks with (always) mounted bayonet. All of which involves training.
The uniform for service is the 1784-pattern Army field pattern of the uniform for wear by all infantry consisting of a blue coat faced with a red collar, cuffs and lapels, white buttons and lining, long fitting overalls, and a black tricorn cocked hat with cockade.
The unit’s color guard carries the the U.S. Army Color with 172 campaign streamers, representing every campaign in which the Army has participated while the 3d Infantry Color bears 54 campaign streamers. The guard also carries a recreation of Washington’s own camp flag.
The guard is also the unit who gets roped into the other historical uniform duties, turning out Joes in Union Army blue, Confederate Gray, Doughboys and 101st Airborne paratroopers from 1944 and others for various events and public demonstrations.
Just 66 strong, the unit also has a war and homeland security mission, being trained as the Old Guard’s Chemical, biological, radiological and nuclear defense (CBRN) unit and still completes regular weapon qualifications etc. on standard arms.
For more information and to follow the guard, they have a great and very moto social media account.
SSG Michael Howard of the Army Marksmanship Unit demonstrates the proper technique for the disassembly and maintenance of the M9 (Beretta 92F) weapon system, which is based on the classic old Walther P-38 and is very similar to most other DA/SA semi-autos such as the Sig Sauer P-series and others.
Of course this is all basic stuff, but it’s still a helpful vid without an agenda.
This modified Sharps New Model 1863 falling block in .52 caliber (475-grain) with a tang rear sight was donated to the Springfield Armory Museum in 1936, but as you can tell, the former owner likely saw a lot of service during the Civil War.
Mr. Sharps made over 120,000 of these quick-firing breech loaders in some of the most powerful black powder cartridges ever made. The wood on this gun has a series of German silver and mother-of-pearl adornments including seven major inlays on the forearm and 40 major inlays on the butt stock– most being Union Army Corps badges and insignia.
When acquired, it was cleaned and waxed to preserve it, though the curators had a fit with the gun.
“One of the dirtiest, rustiest and generally cruddy pieces we’ve worked on! Slowly and with great care (and difficulty) the weapon was completely disassembled with no harm done. Each metal part was washed, scrubbed with 0000 steel wool. The stock was carefully wiped down with a cloth dampened with mineral spirits. Everything was dried and waxed, internal parts lightly greased, and the weapon reassembled. Great wax as an adhesive for his inlays. The only thing not cleaned was the interior of the patch box which contained considerable traced of old dried patch grease. This appeared stable and because of its historic interest was left. Also we found the rotted remains of a coarse weave greased patch stuffed into the cavity of the breech block – anyone who has done much shooting with a percussion Sharps will know what this was for!”
More on the Sharps in question, which is on display at Springfield Armory National Historic Site, here
Image via the National Firearms Museum, Fairfax, VA
One of the first revolvers to shoot metallic cartridges, this Smith & Wesson Model No. 1 First Issue had a cylinder that held seven .22 short cartridges, patent of 1857. This particular Model No. 1 is engraved, “Mad Harry / Fairfax Court House / July 15th 1861.” on one side and on the other, it is engraved, “Lt. Col. HD Townsend / 1st Cavalry.” On the butt, is engraved “Charlotte”
Lt. Col. Townsend served in the 1st Connecticut Cavalry and received this revolver 153 years ago – less than a week before the battle of 1st Manassas on July 21, 1861. As for the “Mad Harry” nickname or just who Charlotte was? That remains a mystery
The First Regiment Connecticut Volunteer Cavalry was organized 23 Oct 1861 which means that Townsend had unit marking at least added after he received the pistol. The regiment fought with the Army of the Potomac and was present at the Battle of Cross Keys, Second Battle of Bull Run, Spotsylvania Court House, Petersburg, Strasburg, Five Forks, Appomattox and others, being mustered out of service on August 2, 1865. So you can bet this little S&W saw a good bit of campaigning.
I’ve long been a fan of flamethrowers, both civilian and military. It probably dates back to my youth spent losing my eyebrows with the assistance of a can of AquaNet and a Bic lighter, but I digress.
I did an article back in 2013 as kinda a primer on flame weapons in which I referred to the leading expert in the country on U.S. martial flamethrowers, Charles Hobson, who has gotten several of these all too-often scrapped devices back to their natural state.
Well my homie Ian over at Forgotten Weapons managed to track Hobson down and did an excellent walk through on flamethrower doctrine and timelines in the below video. Great job!
Much as once a week I like to take time off to cover warships (Wednesdays), on Sundays (when I feel like working), I like to cover military art and the painters, illustrators, sculptors, photographers and the like that produced them.
Combat Gallery Sunday : The Martial Art of Timothy H. O’Sullivan
Irish-born Timothy H. O’Sullivan came to the United States while still a toddler and, like many in the great Potato Famine diaspora, settled in the New York City area.
As a teen he found work with a man who had a daguerreotype studio in the great city by the name of Mathew B. Brady. While there, O’Sullivan was exposed to early and experimental ambrotype photography and later albumen print from glass negatives– including cheap cartes de visite studio portraits which Brady was a master of.
When the Civil War came, (according to some, there are skeptics) O’Sullivan, then 21, joined the Union Army as an officer in the U.S. Topographical Engineers and likely served with surveying teams where his knowledge of photography aided him. Eventually, he found himself as a civilian again working for Mr. Brady (who was going blind), along with no less than 20 other budding photographers which were in effect the first combat photojournalists.
Using a traveling darkroom, by July 1862 O’Sullivan was off to cover the war as a civilian again. He eventually found himself partnered up with Scotsman Alexander Gardner, who at one time had managed Brady’s Washington D.C. studio before the War and had worked with O’Sullivan as a Captain in the Topographical Engineers (and chief army photographer).
The two covered the Antietam Campaign and many of their images were misattributed to Brady himself.
The two covered Gettysburg, where they famously manipulated the setting of the Rebel Sharpshooter photograph, with O’Sullivan helping him drag the body to a more advantageous position of the Devil’s Den, complete with prop rifle.
“Rocks could not save him at the battle of Gettysburg, Pa. July 1863.” This image is not colorized, it is produced from the original glass negative at the LOC on color paper. It is perhaps O’Sullivan’s most (in)famous image.
While the photographer took liberties with Confederate dead, he also had a good eye for then exotic military equipment, ruins of historic battles, and the staffs of generals, NCO messes, and rank and file alike.
High bridge, Appomattox, Va.
Pontoon wagon and boat, 50th New York Engineers, Rappahannock (i.e. Brandy) Station, Va., March, (i.e. Feb.) 1864
Sherman
Petersburg, Va. Two youthful military telegraph operators at headquarters. O’Sullivan took photos of generals and enlisted alike
Bull Run, Virginia (vicinity). Col. Alfred Duffie, 1st Rhode Island Cavalry
Gen. George G. Meade and staff, Culpeper, Va. Sept. 1863
Co. B, U.S. Engineers in front of Petersburg, Va., August, 1864 Sgt. Harlan Cobb seated on the ground, third from left, wearing a vest.
“The Halt” Captain Harry Page, quartermaster at Headquarters of the Army of the Potomac, his horse, and another man at rest, after locating a spot for camp
Gen. Joseph Hooker and staff, Falmouth, Va., June 1863
Fort Pulaski, Ga. Dismounted mortar Feb 1862
Fort Fisher Stereograph showing a Confederate soldier in the battery with an English Armstrong gun. Three men stand behind him
Quaker Guns! mock battery erected by the 79th New York Volunteers at Seabrook Point, Port Royal Island, South Carolina.
McLean’s House, Appomattox, Va., scene of General Lee’s surrender
He was present at just about every major battle in Northern Virginia as well as the taking of several Rebel seacoast forts.
His former buddy Gardner ripped him off considerably, using many of O’Sullivan’s images from Antietam in his own Gardner’s Photographic Sketch Book of the Civil War, but it was the Irishman who came out on top, being tapped to accompany several expeditions for the government to Panama, the American West, and elsewhere while Gardner’s book flopped.
Cereus giganteus, Arizona 1871. When images like this made it back to the East Coast, they were a magic portal to the exotic West that many could not imagine.
War chief of the Zuni Indians.
Apache scouts, at Apache Lake, Sierra Blanca Range
Expedition exploring boat, Truckee River. O’Sullivan almost died when this boat collapsed, losing most of his equipment and hundreds of negatives.
Soldier and family Ft. Garland, Colo 1874
Washakie Bad Lands, Wyoming 1872 Sullivan is in the shot.
Brady did not fare much better. Bankrupt after the war as the Government refused to actually buy any of his stack of more than 10,000 plates, he sold everything he owned and closed his New York City studio, dying penniless at Presbyterian Hospital and interred in a simple grave.
For O’Sullivan, though successful he did not get to enjoy a long life. In his 40s, his traveling days were over, having contracted TB. He settled in the Washington D.C. area, splitting his time as the official photographer for the U.S. Geological Survey and the Treasury Department. He died in 1882.
Over 1,300 of O’Sullivan’s works are in the Library of Congress and have been reproduced extensively across a myriad of formats.
Thank you for your work, sir.
The USMA last week lost one of its church bells, but that’s okay because it truly wasn’t theirs to begin with and, unlike legit war trophies like enemy weapons and banners, is better off going back from whence it came, namely the Saints Peter and Paul Church in Bauang, La Union, Philippines.
From Stars and Stripes:
The bell was removed from the church in 1901 during the Philippine-American War that lasted from 1899 to 1902. Bells were routinely taken as souvenirs, but at times they were removed for a military purpose – to prevent them from being melted down to make weapons.
At some point, the bell fell into the hands of Lt. Col. Thomas Barry, who’d been deployed to the Philippines in 1900-01. The West Point class of 1877 graduate, who eventually became its 27th superintendent, gave the bell to his alma mater in 1915. There, it was stored in a church belfry for 44 years before being rediscovered during an expansion in 1959.
It was then hung outside the chapel, with a placard that read in part: “Symbol of peace that even the ravages of war could not destroy.”