Category Archives: warship wednesday

Warship Wednesday, Aug. 16, 2023: Copenhagen’s Finest

Here at LSOZI, we take off every Wednesday for a look at the old steam/diesel navies of the 1833-1954 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, Aug. 16, 2023: Copenhagen’s Finest

Photo by Nationalmuseet, Danmark, THM-30863

Above we see the Royal Danish Navy artilleriskib Niels Juel (also seen as Niels Iuel) in Aarhus harbor. In the background at the quay is the 1,300-ton cargo steamer Slesvig (Schleswig), belonging to the Danish-Fransk shipping company. Note the Danish flag recognition flashes on the warship’s forward turrets. She would give her last full measure for her country some 80 years ago this month.

The Danish Navy

While Denmark had a fairly decent series of light cruisers such as the Valkyrien and a couple of “bathtub battleships” or kystforsvarsskibIver Hvitfeldt (3,446 tons, 2 x 10″ guns, 8-inches armor) and Skjold (2,195 tons, 1 x 9.4″, 10 inches armor)– at the turn of the century, as a likely battleground for a tense naval build up between Imperial Germany and Great Britain, the country thought it would be a good idea in the early 1900s to whistle up some more modern warships.

This was exemplified by a trio of Herluf Trolle-class (~3,500 tons, 2 x 9.4″, 4 x 6″, 7 inches armor) coastal battleships completed by 1908.

Postcard for Danish coastal battleship Herluf Trolle THM-30778

Then came plans for a larger, more prestigious vessel that would carry 12-inch guns.

The initial design of this Danish “Orlogskibet” called for an enlarged Herluf Trolle with the 9.4-inch guns swapped out for a pair of Krupp-made 30.5 cm/50 (12″) SK L/50 guns— the same type used on the German Helgoland, Kaiser, König, and Derfflinger battleships and battlecruiser classes– ordered in July 1914 with magazines for some 80 shells for each mount. This armament would be augmented by a secondary battery of eight 10.5 cm/40 (4.1″) SK L/40 guns, the typical armament of many German light cruisers. A true “Balic battleship” akin to what was seen in use by Sweden and Norway at the time.

The thing is, these guns were soon embargoed as the Great War began and Germany was no longer interested in exporting any war material, even to a close neighbor whose neutral window to the west was cherished for numerous reasons.

This left the new vessel, which was laid down in September 1914 at Orlogsverftet, Copenhagen, to be launched in July 1918 just to clear the builder’s ways, to languish without guns that would never be delivered.

The future Niels Juel launched at Holmen on 3 July 1918

This left the Danes to come up with another idea.

Meet Niels Juel

The name “Niels Juel” is in honor of the 17th Century Danish admiral and naval hero who, after learning his trade in Dutch service alongside Tromp and De Ruyter, would return home and raise Danish sea power to the point that it was one of the strongest fleets in Europe at the time– and beat the pesky Swedes to boot.

Niels Juel is well remembered in Denmark, and is one of the country’s biggest naval heroes, with a statue at Holmen Canal in Copenhagen.

The first ship named in his honor, the 190-foot 42-gun screw frigate Niels Juel, built in 1856, would be one of three Danish warships under Commodore Edouard Suenson to fight the curious and brutal 13-hour long Battle of Helgoland— the last naval battle fought by squadrons of wooden ships in Europe– against Austrian Commodore Wilhelm von Tegetthoff’s stronger force in 1864 during the Second Schleswig War. She would survive the fight and be disarmed in 1888, kept as a barracks and training hulk into 1910.

Onboard the frigate Niels Juel during the Battle of Heligoland, May 9th, 1864, by Christian Mølsted ca. 1897-98 (left) and Battle of Helgoland by Ludwig Rubelli von Sturmfest, right, showing the Danish battle fleet in action against the Austrians.

This set up our new would-be-battleship for a great name to inherit.

With her original set of German guns never arriving, the Danes hit on an idea to convert the unfinished battleship to a gunnery training ship used for seagoing training of midshipmen, displacing some 4,350 tons, and running 295 feet oal.

Her armament would be an all-up battery of 10 Krupp 15 cm SK L/45 guns— which were still available postwar– directed by two Zeiss rangefinders, augmented by four of 57mm (14 pounders) A.B.K. L/30 AAA guns, and a pair of submerged port and starboard 17.7-inch torpedo tubes with room for four heater style fish. The machinery would be a quartet of British-supplied Yarrow boilers (two coal, two oil-fired) powering triple expansion engines for a total of 5,500 hp on two screws– good for 16 knots. Armor was Krupp-style cemented plate made by Bethlehem in the U.S. and include a 7.75-inch amidships belt, 6 inches on the bulkheads and CT, and 2 inches on the gun shields and deck.

Niels Juel’s plan via 1931 edition of Janes.

She was not completed to this modified plan until 23 May 1923, her construction spanning almost a decade. Still the largest ship in the Danish fleet, she was the local equivalent of the HMS Hood as far as Copenhagen was concerned although the three smaller Herluf Trolle-class vessels carried larger (9.4 inch) guns.

The 1930s fleet was rounded out by some 20-30 assorted torpedo boats, a dozen small submarines, and a host of sloops (including the old HMS Asphodel sold to Denmark in 1920 and renamed Fylla), mine warfare vessels, and fisheries patrol boats.

The Royal Danish Navy’s silhouettes, circa 1931, via Janes.

Happy service

Soon after she entered service, Niels Juel became the command ship for the Artillery School and for the Training Squadron. She immediately embarked on a series of visits to Danish colonies in the Faroe Islands and Iceland, as well as port calls in neighboring friendly ports such as Bergen, Leith, and Gothenburg.

October 1923 saw her complete a six-month cruise to South America.

The battleship Niels Juel with Christmas greetings from Rio de Janeiro, 1923. Note her early tripod mast. THM-16006

Niels Juel (built 1918) at the quay in Køge Havn, seen to port. A Hansa-Brandenburg W. 29 (HM1) reconnaissance aircraft with the number 26 is seen in the air. Taken in the 1920s. THM-26156

THM-39469

She carried Danish King Christian X to the Faeroe Islands and Iceland in June 1926, then again in 1930, as well as a royal trip to Finland in 1928 and a Mediterranean trip in 1929 which included bringing a Danish delegation to the Barcelona Universal Exposition. These trips were commemorated by Danish maritime artist Benjamin Olsen and are in the archives of the Forsvarsgalleriet.

Niels Juel at the Trøllkonufingur in the Faroe Islands on June 6, 1926. The Niels Juel carried the Danish King Christian X to the Faeroe Islands and Iceland in June 1926, accompanied by two other Danish naval vessels. Benjamin Olsen seems to have been part of the entourage. By Benjamin Olsen 1926 via the Forsvarsgalleriet.

The Niels Juel saluting the Finnish State vessel Eläköön. The experts at Bruun Rasmussen assumed that the occasion was the visit of the Danish King Christian X to Finland in May 1928. The Eläköön was built in 1886 while Finland was still a part of the Russian Empire. It served as a pilot ship, and after 1918 it was retained in Finland as a state ship, serving also as a presidential yacht when needed. By Benjamin Olsen 1928 via the Forsvarsgalleriet.

The Niels Juel saluting Spanish dignitaries in the Harbor of Barcelona during the 1929 Barcelona Universal Exposition. The Niels Juel visited Barcelona as part of a Mediterranean training cruise for aspiring officers. To the left are seen two Italian Turbine class destroyers, the Euro (ER) and the Nembo (NB). By Benjamin Olsen 1929 via the Forsvarsgalleriet

Niels Juel and Fylla in Oslo, Norway July 7, 1930. The paintings show the Danish coastal defense ship Niels Juel (left) and the gunboat Fylla saluting the Norwegian King in Olso. The two vessels carried the Danish king Christian X to the Faeroe Islands and Iceland from June 1930, so this visit must have been on their way home to Copenhagen. Benjamin Olsen seems to have been part of the entourage. By Benjamin Olsen 1930 via the Forsvarsgalleriet.

The coastal defense ship Niel Juel gun-saluting at Iceland. Between 1923 and 1939. By Benjamin Olsen. Auctioned at Sotheby’s, London on November 30, 2005. Lot W05705/215.

Coast defense ship Niels Juel Danish Naval Museum gallery artist Benjamin Olsen Denmark

Other trips around the Med in the winter months and the Baltic in the summer were common throughout the 1930s.

A series of incremental upgrades and modernizations between 1929 and 1936 saw a new mainmast fitted, her old 3-meter Zeiss rangefinders replaced by much more effective 6-meter models and her four 57mm AAA guns swapped out in favor of 10 more modern Madsen/DISA 20mm cannons, the latter one of the better AAA guns of the 1930s.

HDMS Niels Juel pictured on sea trials at Copenhagen post her major refit on July 10th, 1936 courtesy of Mr. Brian James

Niels Juel (Danish Coast Defense Ship, 1918-1952) Photographed after July 1, 1936, following a refit to receive a new mainmast. NH 88491 & THM-22287

Photographed circa 1938. NH 88492

Artillery ship Niels Juel, new post-1936 mast and bridge, flanked by 5.9-inch guns. THM-39470

War!

Denmark tried to be as neutral in WWII as it had been in 1914-1918 but Germany wasn’t having it and blitzkrieged the country in a lopsided invasion (Operation Weserübung – Süd) on 9 April 1940. The interwar Danish government, which had been controlled by socialists in the 1920s and 30s, had gutted the military and, while the rest of Europe was girding for the next war, the Danes were laying off career officers, disbanding regiments and basically burning the bridge before they even crossed it.

Five Danish soldiers with a 37mm anti-tank gun outside Hertug Hansgades Hospital in Haderslev on the morning of 9 April 1940 Denmark. They were ordered to lay down their arms before noon.

This made the German invasion, launched at 0400 that morning, a walkover of sorts, and by 0800 the word had come down from Copenhagen to the units in the field to stand down and just let it happen. That doesn’t mean isolated Danish units didn’t bloody the Germans up a bit. In fact, they inflicted some 200 casualties on the invaders while suffering relatively few (36) of their own. (More on that in detail here)

The peace agreement reached with Berlin allowed the country to still be sort of independent, although extensively garrisoned by the Germans, while the Danish military would still be allowed to exist, just deprived of fuel, and largely kept under lock and key by their new friends.

Of course, that didn’t stop extensive Free Danish forces to be formed overseas, most of the Danish merchant marine to sail for the Allies– over 5,000 Danish merchant sailors manned over 800,000 tons of shipping for the Allies, many never to be seen again– and the training ship Danmark, in the U.S. in 1940, to train over 5,000 Americans for while operating for the USCG. Two small Danish Navy fisheries patrol boats, Maagen and Ternen, were in Greenland and would serve the Allies.

God Save the King, God Save Denmark, Destroy the Ship!

Then came August 1943, with Danish workers on strike in Odense and Esbjergwhen and a growing homegrown resistance movement, the Germans decided that, with the invasion of Sicily and the perceived increased threat to an Allied invasion in Northwest Europe, they enacted Unternehmen Safari (Operation Safari), a “state of emergency” and on 29 August 1943 the Danish government and military had its mandate canceled.

There was resistance, with the Danish military suffering about 100 casualties and inflicting about 70 on the Germans. Many armories had a chance to spike their weapons and remove the bolts from their rifles before the Germans swarmed in.

Danish weapons after the disarmament of the Danish soldiers on 29 August 1943 at Næstved Barracks in connection with the state of emergency. The weapons were destroyed before being seized. FHM-170310

As for the Navy, in a pre-arranged signal and in an ode to the epic scuttlings of the Dutch fleet at Java and the Vichy French fleet at Toulon the previous March and November, respectively, Danish RADM Aage Helgesen Vedel flashed a prearranged signal– K N U — instructing all his crews to attempt to sail for neutral Sweden or scuttle their ships.

Across Denmark, the Danes gave their own fleet the hard goodbye and fought off the arriving Germans in the process, with at least nine Danish sailors killed and around a dozen seriously wounded in the process.

Some 32 Danish ships– two-thirds of the fleet– were wrecked within hours. An impressive feat considering most were in and around Copenhagen and the fast-moving German troops were literally pulling up at the docks while the scuttlings were underway. The Germans kicked off Safari at 0400, Vedel flashed his order at 0408, the first scuttling charge was blown at 0413, and the last one went off at 0435.

Following the operation, the senior-most German Kriegsmarine officer in Denmark, VADM Hans-Heinrich Wurmbach, told Vedel, “We have both done our duty.”

Danish warships after the fleet’s sinking at Holmen in connection with the state of emergency on 29 August 1943. From the right is seen the artillery ship Peder Skram, torpedo boat Vb. 2, and the motor torpedo boat Hvalrossen (only the masts are visible). In the background is the frigate Fyn. FHM-166686

Danish warships at Holmen after the sinking of the fleet in connection with the state of emergency on 29 August 1943. Here the minesweepers Laaland (right) and Lougen (left) are seen sunk in the Søminegraven. FHM-166766

Danish warships at Holmen after the sinking of the fleet in connection with the state of emergency on 29 August 1943. In the foreground are the submarines Bellona and Havmanden. Behind these workshop ship, Henrik Gerner. FHM-166843

Sailors with life belts on board the inspection ship Hvidbjørnen before the ship was sunk in Storebælt off Korsør on 29 August 1943. The sinking took place in connection with the state of emergency on 29 August. FHM-167263

The minesweeper Søbjørnen on Holmen after the sinking of the fleet in connection with the state of emergency on 29 August 1943. FHM-166994

The minesweeper Lougen on Holmen after the sinking in connection with the state of emergency on 29 August 1943. FHM-166807

Assorted Danish submarines scuttled including C-3. THM-21265

Only 14 Danish ships were taken intact by the Germans, but they were generally of low value (survey ships, minesweepers, inspection boats, barracks ships, etc.), were decommissioned, or were still under construction and uncrewed.

Four small fast movers– the torpedo boat Havkatten, and the 80-foot minesweepers MS 1, MS 7, and MS 9, reached the safety of Sweden– where they formed a Danish naval flotilla in exile that would sail back with their flags flying proudly in May 1945.

The torpedo boat Havkatten, which escaped to Sweden on 29 August 1943, returns to Copenhagen on 11 May 1945. Her 27-member crew at this point manned two 57mm AAA guns and a 40mm Bofors. FHM22287

But what about our Niels Juel?

The pride of the Danish fleet was the largest warship flying the Dannebrog to attempt to displace to Sweden. Unfortunately, with a speed of just 14 knots and harried by German Heinkels and Stukas, she couldn’t clear the water from Holbaek to Malmo.

Niels Juel leaves Copenhagen, on 26 August 43, on her last trip. Note the Danish recognition flash added after 1940. FHM-165422

The running battle saw the Danish ship, under skipper CDR Carl Westermann, exchange hot fire with German bombers, then, once the outcome was clear, strike her flag and leave her on the bottom, suffering five casualties. It is known today in Denmark as the Battle of the Isefjord.

The artillery ship Niels Juel is bombarded by German planes north of Hundested, when the ship, according to orders, searched for a Swedish port on 29 August 1943. FHM-167241

As told by one of her officers, in a 1945 issue of Proceedings:

August 27th, we had called at Holbaek and were supposed to stay over Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I had leave from Sunday, 9:00 P.M. and intended to take a trip home. We understood that something was wrong because nobody got liberty Friday night, and I figured I had to give up the idea of going home. Friday night at 11:00 P.M. orders were given to fire up under all boilers and to prepare to leave port any minute- Rumors went wild all over the ship and Saturday afternoon two of our men went up to the commander, Captain Westermann, and requested an explanation. We were told that we were supposed to defend ourselves with all means if necessary. So, we knew that this was it. We reinforced all watches, and when I had to go on watch at 4:00 A.M. nobody doubted any longer that something would happen. I served as messenger for the Captain and I had just brought him a message when he came out to the commander of the watch and gave the order “Clear ship for action.” Within a moment all guns were manned.

It was pitch dark, but it did not last long until all was in readiness and with the first sign of dawn breaking, we left the pier. I had managed to get a letter on shore which I had written the evening before. In it I had given an account of the situation. Little did I expect to see any of you again. It seemed to me that there was only one way out. To try to escape to Sweden or fight until the ship sank.

It was a gray morning with low-hanging clouds. We were looking out sharply for enemy planes. The tug which had towed us lowered the flag and everybody aboard took off their hats as we passed by.

We sighted a German plane at the horizon but it disappeared soon. We hoisted ammunition up to the big guns on our way out. While sailing through the Isefjord, coffee was brought up to us. Nothing was rationed any longer and we distributed all our cigarettes among the gun crews. Morale was high and everybody was in good spirits in spite of the seriousness of the situation.

After having traveled for half an hour, orders were given for action stations. The enemy had been sighted off Hundested, one heavy cruiser and two destroyers. We were out of range, as yet, but everything was being prepared. Their superiority was definite but we had to engage them and we wanted to.

We were right off the pier of Hundested when one of our mine-sweepers signaled that the enemy had mined the entrance of the firth all night long. From the bridge we were told that we would try to force the barrage some 400 meters from land and hold our course. Only a moment later, we saw bombers circling around us at proper distances but we could not see how many there were as they kept flying in and out of the clouds. Suddenly a Heinkels dived on us, strafing our deck with cannon fire. A few were wounded. The plane disappeared in a jiffy, but by now we were all set. The next one got a hot welcome and was shot down. The next again dropped two heavy bombs which narrowly missed our quarter-deck, while a couple of others strafed our deck with cannon. It was almost unbearable. Shell fragments and projectiles kept on whizzing around us. It was hardly believable that so few of us were killed or wounded. One howled terribly, another was taken down to the sickbay on a stretcher unconscious. A mate came running along and told me that warrant officer Andreasen was killed. He was gun captain of an anti-aircraft gun. The gun had been hit and the crew had taken cover. I ran up there right away and found him lying on the platform. I thought him dead but suddenly he moved and groaned. At that moment, two planes dived and opened fire. That was the only time I got the chills. There was no cover so I flung myself down and grasped Andreasen’s hand. The poor soul yelled when they started shooting. He had been hit in the belly and was scared. A big iron splinter struck off the platform. The whole deck was desolate, only the gun captains had taken cover behind the rail after sending their crews down. Only the anti-aircraft guns remained manned but, of course, they were the only ones which had something to harvest.

When the planes had gone, another warrant officer came and got Andreasen down. In the meantime, however, the captain had received orders to go back: the enemy ships had been reinforced.

Then came the Stukas.

They came howling and screaming from ’way up high and let go their bombs. The detonation seemed to be right under us and we jumped up into the air. All lights in the whole ship went out, and we discovered a leak in the port coal bunkers. The bunker door in the deck was flung up, and people on land told us later that the only thing visible of the whole ship was the stem. It was probably two 250-kilo bombs. Now we set the course toward land for full speed and prepared to abandon ship. The Diesel engines were smashed and we had to pack the most necessary things in complete darkness. When we took the ground, foot valves were removed and thrown overboard and all suction valves were opened. The ship went down and sank deeply into the bottom.

Niels Juel (built 1918) bombed and set aground in the Isefjord on 29 August 1943. THM-21411

“The artillery ship Niels Juel ran aground in Nykøbing Bay after an unsuccessful attempt to sail to Sweden on 29 August 1943. The escape attempt took place in connection with the state of emergency on 29 August. The ship is salvaged by a salvage vessel from Svitzer.” FHM-167255

Sadly, the Germans were able to raise the damaged Dane in October, and, landing her guns for use in coastal fortifications, tow her to Kiel for repairs. They ultimately put her back into service as the training ship Nordland in September 1944, operating in Polish waters.

Niels Juel as a German cadet ship, with the guns removed as training ship “Nordland”. FHM-167262

Ex-Niels Juel/Nordland withdrew to Kiel to escape the oncoming Soviets and, at the end of the line, was scuttled in May 1945 in the Eckernførde inlet in 92 feet of water.

Epilogue

The Germans interned most of the captured Danish sailors and officers such as at the Tårnborglejeren arena and at the KB-Hallen arena in Frederiksberg to include Westermann and Vedel.

Danish sailors interned in KB Hallen. The dormitory is arranged on an indoor tennis court. Note the triple-decker bunks. FHM-170704

Operation Safari cost the Danish Navy six men were killed and 11 injured, while 258 officers and 2,961 ratings were taken into custody.

Ice distribution in Tårnborglejeren near Korsør, where the crews from the inspection ships Hvidbjørnen and Ingolf were interned after the Germans declared a state of emergency on 29 August 1943. FHM-174949

The sites closed in October 1943 and the men were paroled.

Most subsequently took to a range of resistance activities.

Vedel began interfacing with the British and, in May 1945 when the Allies came to liberate Denmark, immediately began working with Royal Navy VADM Reginald Vesey Holt to supervise German disarmament and minesweeping work. He later served as the Danish Flag Officer to NATO, retired from the Navy in 1958, and passed in 1981.

The usable 5.9-inch guns from Niels Juel, which were landed in Denmark before the hulk was towed to Kiel, were installed by the Germans in a new coastal defense fort near Frederiksberg to defend the Jutland peninsula. Surrendered to the Danes in 1945, they remained in service until 1962 and Bangsbo Fort is today a museum. 

M270 bunker med 150mm Bofors kanon fra Niels Juel by Carsten Wiehe via Wikimedia

The wreck of the old Niels Juel was sold by the Danish government to the salvage firm of Em. Z. Svitzer in 1952, and most of the superstructure was raised to be scrapped. Her hull, however, is still in the Eckernførde.

The Danes reused her name, with the third Niels Juel being the lead ship (F 354) of a class of handy corvettes that remained in service from 1980 to 2009.

Starboard-bow view of the Danish Navy Frigate HMDS Niels Juel (F 354) underway in the Baltic Sea on the coast of Ventspil, Latvia, while participating in BALTOPS 2005. 330-CFD-DN-SD-07-00068

The fourth Niels Juel (F 363) is an Iver Huitfeldt class frigate that was laid down in 2006 and commissioned in 2011. Her motto is Nec Temere, Nec Timide (Neither reckless nor timid).


Ships are more than steel
and wood
And heart of burning coal,
For those who sail upon
them know
That some ships have a
soul.


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So long, R/P FLIP 

As easily explained by the Marine Physical Laboratory of Scripps Institution of Oceanography, “FLIP, the FLoating Instrument Platform, is not a ship, but a 355-foot-long research platform that can be deployed for oceanographic research.”

Maybe a picture or three would help:

330-PSA-149-62 (USN 1060451): A new oceanographic research vessel – Floating Instrument Platform (FLIP), has been constructed for the Marine Physical Laboratory of Scripps Institution of Oceanography under contract to the Office of Naval Research. When the craft is flipped to a vertical position, the bow section remains above, water, shown here are the plan view and inboard elevation of the research craft. Photograph released May 25, 1962

330-PSA-149-62 (USN 1060451): A new oceanographic research vessel – Floating Instrument Platform (FLIP), has been constructed for the Marine Physical Laboratory of Scripps Institution of Oceanography under contract to the Office of Naval Research. When the craft is flipped to a vertical position, the bow section remains above, water, shown here are the plan view and inboard elevation of the research craft. Photograph released May 25, 1962

Offical caption: Floating Instrument Platform (FLIP). FLIP is in the vertical position. Photograph released August 7, 1962. Master caption: A new type of oceanographic research vessel – Floating Instrument Platform (FLIP) – is undergoing operational tests by the U.S. Navy in Dabob Bay, near Seattle, Washington. FLIP has been constructed for the Marine Physical Laboratory of Scrupps Institution of Oceanography under contract to the Office of Naval Research. The craft can literally flip from a horizontal to a vertical position while at sea. FLIP is flipped into the vertical position by flooding its long aft section with sea water. Only its “four story” bow section remains above the water. To return the vessel to a horizontal position, high pressure air blows the water out of the submerged section. FLIP will be used for studies of wave motion, marine biology, internal waves, sound waves, and other phenomena. The vessel has accommodation for four people and can carry enough supplies to last for about two weeks. In the vertical position, the research laboratories, living quarters, and engine room are above the water. Two diesel engines supply electrical power for air conditioning and other miscellaneous electrical equipment. Two waterfront tubes permit the crew to descent to 150 feet below the water. Upon completion of the tests in Dabob Bay, FLIP will be towed to San Diego, California, to begin its sea voyages. 330-PSA-207-62 (USN 1061426)

Scripps created FLIP with funding from the Office of Naval Research as it was seen at the time (1962) as a platform that could help better understand the mechanics behind wave height, acoustic signals, water temperature, and density– all valuable things when it comes to submarines and ASW.

The 355-foot, 700 GT vessel was unpowered and had to be towed to/from her location, where she had a trio of diesel generators (on rotating beds) to deliver electricity. She could remain “flipped” with a crew of a dozen researchers for as many as 35 days, long enough for the local fish to use her as structure.

A wild concept, FLIP in action was always neat to see, and I remember watching videos like this back in the 1970s and being blown away by the vessel.

As with everything, especially everything Cold War era maritime, FLIP has come to an end of her useful life, and was recently towed off to be scrapped.

“FLIP set the stage for thinking big about what could be done with technology to enable new scientific discoveries,” said Scripps’ Marine Physical Laboratory (MPL) Director Eric Terrill. “It was built in an era of risk-taking; a spirit that we try to embrace to this day and encourage in the next generation of seagoing scientists.”

The venerable spar vessel has been towed off for the last time, but a piece of it remains at Scripps. The institution has arranged for one of FLIP’s booms to be removed and mounted onto a pier, where it will continue to be used to deploy instruments into the water.

Dragoon Jeep Carriers IN COLOR!

Check out this beautiful original Kodachrome. Official caption: “Southern France Invasion, August 1944. USS Kasaan Bay (CVE-69) seen through signal flags of USS Tulagi (CVE-72), on ‘D-Day’ off Southern France, 15 August 1944.”

Photo by Miller. National Archives Catalog #: 80-G-K-15369

Casablanca-class escort carriers, Kasaan Bay and Tulagi were built nearly side-by-side by Kaiser Co., Inc. in Vancouver under a Maritime Commission contract on freighter hulls. Commissioned by the Navy on 4 December and 21 December 1943, respectively, after workups and moving from the Pacific Northwest around the globe to the Med, the twins were in RADM Calvin T. Durgin’s Task Group 27.7 for the Dragoon landings along the Riviera, just eight months after commissioning.

DANFS on Kasaan Bay’s landing operations:

Kasaan Bay departed Malta on 12 August, and 3 days later arrived in the invasion area off the French Riviera. Planes from the carrier bombed and strafed German positions, destroying hundreds of enemy vehicles and tanks and downing two enemy aircraft over the beach. She completed her assignment on 30 August and departed Oran, Algeria, on 6 September, arriving in Norfolk 12 days later.

DANFS on Tulagi’s Dragoon days:

On D-day, Tulagi steamed in formation 45 miles off the invasion beach; and, at 0546, she launched her first flight of Hellcats. In the next week, aircraft from Tulagi flew a total of 68 missions and 276 sorties, inflicting considerable damage on the enemy. Weather was generally good as carrier-based planes conducted spotting missions and made strikes at various targets ashore, including gun emplacements and railway facilities. On 21 August, Tulagi’s last day in support of Operation “Dragoon,” German forces were in retreat before the Allied thrust. Tulagi’s fliers conducted a devastating attack along the line of march of a German convoy which snarled the roads for miles around Remouline and crowned her achievements of the day by downing three German Ju 52s.

A U.S. Navy F6F Hellcat fighter of VOF-1 is waved off during a landing attempt on USS Tulagi (CVE-72) after a close air support mission over southern France during Operation Dragoon, D-day, 15 August 1944 (80-G-K-15370).

The remainder of the war for these twins saw them in the Pacific, lending their 500-foot decks and composite air wings on the drive to the Japanese Home Islands, assigned alternately to antisubmarine and direct support activities.

Inactivated in 1946, with one carrier laid up on the Pacific Fleet mothballs and the other on the Atlantic, they were sold for scrap by the 1960s

Tulagi received four battle stars for World War II service while Kasaan Bay, who saw less Pacific action, only received one.

Warship Wednesday, Aug. 9, 2023: The Lost Desert Wind

Here at LSOZI, we take off every Wednesday for a look at the old steam/diesel navies of the 1833-1954 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, Aug. 9, 2023: The Lost Desert Wind

Photo by Stewart Bale Ltd, Liverpool, Imperial War Museums’ Foxhall Collection, no. IWM FL 19059 http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205121477

Above we see the third flight S-class diesel boat, HM Submarine Simoom (P225), underway, likely in 1943, her only year of service. A rather unlucky boat, Simoom fired 15 war shot torpedoes in her career and, although she never hit a target that she intended to punch a hole into, she did manage to spectacularly claim her only “kill” some 80 years ago today.

The mighty S-class

Built to replace the aging boats in RN service, the first pair, HMS Swordfish, and HMS Sturgeon, were ordered in the 1929 program. Small boats, running just over 200 feet in overall length and displacing around 600 tons (900 submerged), they were relatively fast for the day, capable of breaking almost 14 knots on the surface, making them able to catch up to slow-moving merchantmen, and carried a full dozen Mark VIII torpedoes for their six-pack of forward 21-inch tubes. Meanwhile, a 3-inch deck gun and a Vickers light machine gun gave a topside armament. This could be augmented by a dozen mines. Able to operate in shallow waters, with a draft of only 10.5 feet, and able to submerge in 10 fathoms, they could crash dive in just 25-30 seconds with a good crew if needed.

Not bad for a 1920s design.

The 1929 Chatham Dockyard plan of the flight I S-class boats. Chatham would only produce two boats (HMS Shalimar and Sportsman), whereas most were built by Cammell Laird and smaller numbers by Scotts and Vickers.

As noted by Richard Worth in his Fleets of World War II:

“Meant as replacements for the old H-class, they required the same virtues of maneuverability and quick diving. But the Admiralty wanted more– improvements in range, armament, and surface speed. The “S” types became a pillar of His Majesty’s Submarine Force; not remarkable in any respect, rather they performed well all tasks at acceptable levels, a class of well-balanced and workmanlike boats that proved safe and easy to operate.”

A great period color shot of the S-class submarine HMS Seadog (P216), in the foreground moving off, Holy Loch, 1942. The Group 1 T-class submarine HMS Thunderbolt (N25) is in the background. Of note, Thunderbolt was originally HMS Thetis which sank with heavy loss of life in the Mediterranean just before the war and was subsequently salvaged. The two objects seen on her after casing are containers for human torpedo chariots. IWM TR 612

In all, the British would order no less than 73 S-class boats in three flights across 12 construction programs, and they would remain in production from 1930 through 1945, spanning both the interbellum and WWII era. In all, 62 were completed.

Meet HMS Simoom

The name “Simoom” after the desert wind, dates to an 1842 paddlewheel frigate and was used in no less than five other ships by the Royal Navy. The subject of our tale is the sixth and (thus far) final HMS Simoom.

Ordered in the largest batch of S-class boats (20 hulls) under the 1940 war program, she was a third flight vessel and as such had several minor improvements including a slightly higher freeboard forward, a less complicated and simplified engineering layout that allowed a maximum speed approaching 15 knots (one of the batch, HMS Seraph, could hit 16.75 knots). She also had a seventh tube installed, an external one, giving her 13 torpedoes in total. Also, in lieu of a Vickers gun, the 3rd flight S-boats carried a 20mm Oerlikon AAA gun and a primitive air warning RDF receiver. They also carried a Type 138 ASDIC system and a Type 291/291W early-warning radar.

Laid down at Cammell Laird, Birkenhead (a yard that built at least 26 of the class) on 14 July 1941, Simoom was launched the following October and commissioned on 30 December 1942, her construction spanning just under 17 months.

A series of great images were captured of her in April 1943, steaming in conjunction with the captured German Type VIIC U-boat U-570 (HMS Graph, P715).

HM SUBMARINE SIMMOM AND GRAPH AT HOLY LOCH. 20 APRIL 1943, HOLY LOCH. (A 16049) HMS SIMOOM (right) and HMS GRAPH. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205149055

HM SUBMARINE SIMOOM. 20 APRIL 1943, HOLY LOCH. (A 16041) The SIMOOM from the beam. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205149047

HM SUBMARINE SIMOOM. 20 APRIL 1943, HOLY LOCH. (A 16047) The SIMOOM from dead ahead. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205149053

HM SUBMARINES SIMOOM AND GRAPH. 20 APRIL 1943, HOLY LOCH. (A 16048) HMS SIMOOM (nearer) and HMS GRAPH together at Holy Loch. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205149054

HM SUBMARINE SIMOOM. 20 APRIL 1943, HOLY LOCH. (A 16043) The SIMOOM from the beam. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205149049

HMS SIMOOM, BRITISH S-CLASS SUBMARINE. 20 APRIL 1943, HOLY LOCH. (A 16045) Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205149051

HM SUBMARINE SIMOOM. 20 APRIL 1943, HOLY LOCH. (A 16043) The SIMOOM from the beam. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205149049

As detailed by Uboat.net, her wartime service was brief.

Her first war patrol off Northern Norway to provide cover for convoy operations to and from Northern Russia in early 1943 was uneventful as was her second in the Bay of Biscay.

Transferring to the still very active Med, her third patrol, off the West coasts of Corsica and Sardinia was a bust.

Her 4th, providing coverage for the invasion of Sicily harassed some coastal shipping and, in the end, she would sink the Italian destroyer Vincenzo Gioberti on 9 August 1943.

Simoon had fired a brace of six torpedoes at the big boys of RADM Giuseppe Fioravanzo’s 8th Cruiser Division (light cruisers Giuseppe Garibaldi and Emanuele Filiberto Duca d’Aosta) but caught the smaller Vincenzo Gioberti instead, making her the last Italian tin can sunk in the war.

Italian destroyer Vincenzo Gioberti, photographed before World War II. NH 47663

She is believed to have taken 95 men to the bottom with her after dramatically breaking in two parts and sinking. Some 171 survivors of Gioberti were recovered by MAS torpedo boats from La Spezia.

The end of Italian destroyer Vincenzo Gioberti, torpedoed by HMS Simoom on 9 August 1943. She was the last Regia Marina destroyer to be lost in the war against the Allies. Photo by “Storia Illustrata” magazine

Other rather sedate patrols followed.

The mysterious end of Simoom‘s tale came in November while on her 7th patrol.

Via Uboat.net:

2 Nov 1943
HMS Simoom (Lt. G.D.N. Milner, DSC, RN) departed Port Said for 7th war patrol (5th in the Mediterranean). She was ordered to patrol between Naxos and Mikonos, Greece. At 1142B/2 she reported that she did not hold the letter coordinates for November and would use those of October. This prompted Captain S.1 to communicate them the following evening.

On the 5th she was ordered to patrol off the Dardanelles, five nautical miles west of Tenedos.

On the 13th she was ordered to leave her patrol area PM on the 15th passing between Psara and Khios, through 35°06’N, 26°44’E and then on the surface from 34°25’N, 29°59′ E. She was due in Beirut at 0901B/20 but this was later corrected to the 19th.

Simoom did not show up at Beirut. She was declared overdue on 23 November 1943.

At 1729 hours, on 15 November, the German submarine U-565 (KL Fritz Henning) fired a single stern torpedo from 2000 metres at a target described as “probably a submarine” on course 250°, one hit was heard after 3 minutes and 48 seconds. The position recorded was Quadrat CO 3381 (36°51’N, 27°22’E or off the east coast of Kos) and it is unlikely that HMS Simoom was in the area. Post-war analysis concluded that she was probably mined on 4 November 1943 on a new minefield laid off Donoussa Island (ca. 37°06’N, 25°50’E).

Her roll of lost, marked “missing presumed killed” 19 November 1943:

ADAM, William G, Able Seaman, P/JX 344969, MPK
ANGLESEA, John, Engine Room Artificer 5c, D/MX 102924, MPK
BALSON, Lewis F C, Warrant Engineer, MPK
BEDFORD, Maurice A, Ty/Leading Seaman, D/SSX 27992, MPK
BROADBRIDGE, Thomas G, Stoker 1c, C/KX 83568, MPK
CASPELL, George E, Telegraphist, C/JX 163711, MPK
COLE, Edward, Stoker Petty Officer, P/KX 83973, MPK
CROSS, Charles M, Ty/Sub Lieutenant, RNVR, MPK
DAY, Horace C, Signalman, C/JX 207606, MPK
ELLIN, Sidney, Petty Officer Telegraphist, C/JX 135616, MPK
ELLIOTT, Robert, Able Seaman, P/JX 322974, MPK
FRANCIS, Rolland J, Stoker 1c, D/KX 137871, MPK
GARBETT, Basil M, Lieutenant, MPK
GILL, Geoffrey, Able Seaman, C/JX 235129, MPK
GOWLAND, William R, Able Seaman, D/SSX 15958, MPK
GRIFFITH, Ben, Petty Officer, D/J 113001, MPK
HANNANT, James H, Able Seaman, D/JX 202875, MPK
HARRIS, Walter, Stoker 1c, D/KX 134758, MPK
HATTON, Charles W, Able Seaman, C/JX 169095, MPK
HERD, Charles E, Ordinary Seaman, P/JX 281907, MPK
HERSTELL, Norman, Able Seaman, P/JX 347783, MPK
JOHNSON, Robert J, Able Seaman, C/SSX 26525, MPK
JONES, Louis F, Ty/Sub Lieutenant, RNVR, MPK
KENNEDY, Gordon A, Leading Telegraphist, D/JX 154462, MPK
KERR, David A, Engine Room Artificer 4c, P/MX 55013, MPK
LANDING, John, Leading Stoker, P/KX 84477, MPK
LILLYCROP, Francis W, Stoker 1c, P/KX 145412, MPK
LOVELL, Ernest A, Able Seaman, P/SSX 18599, MPK
MARSDEN, Tom, Engine Room Artificer 4c, P/MX 79301, MPK
MASON, George H, Act/Leading Stoker, P/KX 90779, MPK
MAY, Sidney J, Able Seaman, C/SSX 30974, MPK
MCLENNAN, Harold B W, Ty/Act/Leading Telegraphist, C/JX 259236, MPK
MILNER, Geoffrey D N, Lieutenant, MPK
MORTIMER-LAMB, Robert J, Ty/Petty Officer, C/JX 145875, MPK
OLDING, Walter G, Act/Chief Engine Room Artificer, P/MX 46951, MPK
O’LEARY, Michael T, Electrical Artificer 3c, D/MX49539, MPK
RAWE, James A, Act/Chief Petty Officer, RFR, P/JX 136102, MPK
SALMON, Alfred W, Able Seaman, P/JX 295724, MPK
SAUNDERS, Arthur, Able Seaman, P/JX 155201, MPK
SCHOFIELD, Bernard P, Able Seaman, C/JX 241234, MPK
SEABORNE, William J R, Stoker 1c, D/KX 94051, MPK
SHANKS, Thomas S, Ty/Sub Lieutenant, RNVR, MPK
SHARP, Norman, Able Seaman, D/JX 223594, MPK
SHEPHERD, John V, Stoker 1c, P/KX 83132, MPK
SMITH, William J, Stoker 1c, D/KX 145306, MPK
SONGHURST, Thomas J, Stoker 1c, C/KX 83463, MPK
TAYLOR, James, Engine Room Artificer 4c, C/MX 77617, MPK
WARDALE, Irvin, Able Seaman, D/JX 303574, MPK
WILSON, William, Act/Petty Officer, P/SSX 18131, MPK

Epilogue

In 2016, Turkish wreck-hunter Selcuk Kolay found HMS Simoom (P225) about 6 nautical miles northwest of the Turkish Aegean Island of Bozcaada (Tenedos) in 67 meters of water. There was extensive damage near the starboard hydroplane with the conclusion that Simoom had hit a mine while running on the surface. The mine Simoom hit was believed one sown by the German minelayer Bulgaria and the Italian torpedo boats Monzambano and Calatafimi in September 1941.

Likewise, Simoom’s only “kill,” the Italian destroyer Vincenzo Gioberti, had been discovered the year prior.

The Royal Navy’s wartime losses totaled 74 submarines. Of those, no less than 19 were S-class boats.

Across over 3,000 patrols, HM submarines sank 158 enemy combatant ships and damaged 54 others, in addition to sinking 1.6 million tons of enemy merchant shipping. A lot of that came from S-class boats.

Nonetheless, they were small and slow by postwar standards. By 1946, Janes listed just 39 S-class boats under the British fleet’s entry and a half-dozen of those warned “may be discarded in the near future.”

Soon, nine would be transferred to France, Portugal, and Israel.

One, HMS Sidon (P259), was wrecked by its own torpedo explosion on 16 June 1955 then refloated and sunk as a target. Another, HMS Sportsman/French submarine Sibylle, was lost off Toulon in 1952 in a diving accident.

Of the dwindling number of S boats still in RN service, most were withdrawn in the late 1940s and 1950s while still relatively young with just a couple lingering on for a few years longer. HMS Sea Devil, completed just after VE-Day, was paid off for disposal at Portsmouth on 4 June 1962, and was the last of the S class in service with the Royal Navy, completing 17 years of service. She was sold to the shipbreaker Metal Recoveries and arrived at Newhaven on 15 December 1965.

The sparsely used trio of boats operated postwar by Portugal (HMS Saga/NRP Nautilo, HMS Spearhead/NRP Nepunto, and HMS Spur/NRP Narval) were disposed of in 1969.

The last of the class afloat, HMS Springer, was used by Israel until 1972 as INS Tanin and had landed commandos in Egypt during the Six-Day War.

Submarine INS Tanin (ex-HMS Springer) arrives at Port of Haifa in 1959. She would be the last S-class boat


Ships are more than steel
and wood
And heart of burning coal,
For those who sail upon
them know
That some ships have a
soul.


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Beware Japanese destroyer bows if you are in a plywood boat…

I’m on the road this week and don’t have time to do a proper Warship Wednesday but I would be remiss if I missed the 80th anniversary of the loss of an Elco-built 80-foot motor torpedo boat, lost when she was split in two by the Japanese destroyer Amagiri (LCDR Kohei Hanami)— whose name means “mists in the heavens”– in the predawn darkness of 2 August 1943 east of Gizo Island in the Blackett Strait, on the southern side of Kolombangara Island.

The loss of PT-109, 2 Aug 1943, to the Japanese destroyer Amagiri, as portrayed by Gerard Richardson, courtesy of the JFK Library

The skipper of the lost PT boat was one Lieutenant John F. Kennedy, USNR, later president

USS PT-109, 1943. Lieutenant John F. Kennedy, USNR, (standing, far right with the survival knife) with other crewmen onboard USS PT-109 at a South Pacific Naval Base, 1943 U.S. Information Agency Photograph, now in the collections of the National Archives. Accession #: 306-ST-649-9

PT-109 was lost. Two sailors, TM2 Andrew Kirksey, and MoMM2 Harold Marney, were never seen and presumed killed in the collision with Amagiri. The Japanese tin can was later sunk by a mine in the Makassar Strait in April 1944.

Meanwhile, the young Kennedy, after an epic survival story that involved natives, coconuts, and coastwatchers, along with the rest of his crew, were all eventually rescued and returned to service.

Warship Wednesday, July 26, 2023: The Iron Woman

Here at LSOZI, we take off every Wednesday for a look at the old steam/diesel navies of the 1833-1954 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, July 26, 2023: The Iron Woman

USN photo by LCDR John Leenhouts. DN-SC-88-08301. National Archives Identifier 6430231

Above we see an air-to-air front view of a Spanish AV-8S Matador (Harrier) in flight over the Spanish aircraft carrier Dedalo (R01), below, in the Mediterranean Sea in the summer of 1988. If you think Dedalo looks much like a WWII light carrier, your hunch is correct, and she entered service under a different name and flag some 80 years ago this week.

“30/30” Ships

In 1942, the Navy had its ass in a bind.

Starting the war with just six large-deck fleet carriers, within the first six months of combat was down to just four, and by the end of the year; just a single one of these (Enterprise) was still afloat and operational.

While the first huge and ultra-modern 34,000-ton Essex-class carriers were building as fast as the riveters could rivet and the welders could chip slag, they would not be able to arrive in numbers until 1944. This put the Big Blue behind the Japanese 8-ball in naval warfare.

FDR, himself always a Navy man (he won a naval warfare essay contest while a teenager and slept with Mahan’s The Influence of Sea Power upon History on his nightstand before being appointed Asst. Scty of the Navy during World War One), came up with the idea to convert a bunch of cruisers that were already partially complete at the New York Navy Yard over to flat-tops. Although the Navy balked, FDR was the commander and chief, so guess who won?

USS Cleveland CL-55 1942. The Navy wanted between 40-50 of these hardy little cruisers. They settled for much less, and nine of those became aircraft carriers while still under construction

USS Cleveland CL-55 1942. The Navy wanted between 40-50 of these hardy little cruisers. They settled for much less, and nine of those became aircraft carriers while still under construction

The 14,000-ton Cleveland class light cruisers were designed after the gloves came off in 1940 and the U.S. no longer had to abide by the Washington and London Naval treaties of the 1920s and 30s. As such, these were very large cruisers, at just a hair over 600 feet long, and very fast (33 knots). Designed to carry a dozen 6-inch and a supplemental dozen 5-inch guns, they were also heavily armed.

In all the Navy wanted something on the order of 40 of these cruisers to lead destroyer groups, escort convoys, scout ahead of battle groups, and screen carriers and battleships. Well, FDR carved nine whose hulls were nearing completion but did not have decks, guns, or superstructures installed yet.

A scale model of the Independence-class light carriers and the Cleveland-class light cruiser. Note the hulls.

A scale model of the Independence-class light carriers and the Cleveland-class light cruiser. Note the hulls.

It was not that hard of a concept. Many of the first carriers were auxiliaries, cruisers, and battleships that had their topside removed and covered with a flat top. Langley, the first U.S. carrier, was a collier. Lexington and Saratoga, the country’s second and third carriers respectively, were originally laid down as battlecruisers.

The first of the class of FDR’s “cruiser carriers,” laid down originally as the cruiser Amsterdam but commissioned instead as the USS Independence, was commissioned on 14 January 1943 and rushed to the fleet. Over the next nine months, eight sisters would join her, roughly one every 45 days on average. They were all constructed in the same yard to keep the program streamlined.

A “30/30” ship, they could make 30+ knots and carry 30+ aircraft while having legs long enough to cross the Pacific and operate on their own for a few weeks before she needed to find an oiler. While they were still much smaller than a regular fleet carrier such as the Enterprise that could carry 80-90 aircraft, they could still put a few squadrons in the air and fill lots of needs.

Simultaneously, they were much faster than the similarly sized quartet of converted oilers that had already been rushed into service and could keep up with a fast-moving battle force. Initially classified as normal fleet carriers (CV), all were re-designated “small aircraft carriers” (CVL) on 15 July 1943.

From U.S. Navy manual FM 30-50: Recognition Pictorial Manual of Naval Vessels, showing U.S. ship silhouettes showing the relative size of the various classes of aircraft carriers, battleships, cruisers, and destroyers. Note the big difference between the size of the large fleet carrier classes (top center), the assorted escort carriers (center to bottom) and the Independence class CVLs, which are right in the middle

Side-by-side comparisons show the principal fleet carriers of the Pacific War compared to an Independence-class CVL. Outside left are the prewar USS Saratoga (CV-3) and USS Enterprise (CV-6), moored near the short-hulled Essex-class USS Hornet (CV-12). Beyond the Hornet is moored the Independence-class USS San Jacinto (CVL-30). U.S. Navy photo 80-G-701512

Worth, in his Fleets of World War II, described the Indys as such:

These were not attractive ships. They had no deck edge elevator, just one catapult, and a small air group (usually 33 planes). Though meant to carry one or two 5-inch DP guns, they never received them. The armor layout provided modest protection, though the first two ships scrambled into service so hurriedly they never got their side armor. In spite of all of this, the design was a success. Not a war winner, it augmented the fleet’s main strength, having sufficient size and speed to bring modern aircraft into battle.

Meet Cabot

The name “Cabot,” after the English-employed Venetian explorer John Cabot (Giovanni Caboto), was one of the oldest in the Navy.

As far back as 5 January 1776, the first Continental Navy squadron under Commodore Esek Hopkins was ordered to sea by Congress to seek the British off coasts of the Carolinas and Rhode Island and in the Chesapeake Bay. The ships under Hopkins’s flag were Alfred, Columbus, Andrea Doria, Cabot, Providence, Hornet, Wasp, and Fly. Sadly, Cabot was also the first Continental naval ship captured by the British, which may be why the Navy waited until 1943 to reissue it.

The second Cabot was laid down as light cruiser USS Wilmington (CL-79) on 16 March 1942, by New York Shipbuilding Co. in Camden, then was reclassified to an aircraft carrier (CV-28) and renamed Cabot during her conversion.

USS Cabot (CV 28), launching at Camden, New Jersey. Photographed April 4, 1943. 80-G-41832

Launched on 4 April 1943, she was reclassified as a small aircraft carrier (CVL-28) just before her commissioning on 24 July 1943 —some 80 years ago this week.

Her first airwing was Carrier Air Group 31, made up of the “Flying Meataxers” of Fighter Squadron 31 (VF-31) and Torpedo Squadron 31 (VT-31), which came aboard in November 1943. CAG 31 would remain on Cabot until 4 October 1944, when CAG 29 (VF-29 and VT-29), late of the USS Santee, came aboard. In general, these CAGs would ship out with 9 TBM/TBF Avengers and 24 F6F-3/5 Hellcats, for a total of 33 aircraft.

They were good at their job.

VF-31 would end up with the highest kill ratio per pilot of any squadron in the US Navy, credited with 165.6 Japanese airplanes destroyed in aerial combat.

For a much deeper dive into her war record, please refer to the extensive 120-page War History completed in late 1945 and available in the National Archives.

We’ll get into the high points below.

Shipping out for the Pacific on 15 January 1944, she joined Task Force 58 and got into the fight for real.

USS Cabot, CVL-28 off Philadelphia Naval Shipyard. 27 AUG 43

Task Force 58 raids in the Carolines, July 1944. RADM J.J. Clark’s task group 58.1 reverses course during attacks on Yap, 28 July 1944. USS HORNET (CV-12) is in the center, with USS CABOT (CVL-28) in the left middle distance and USS YORKTOWN (CV-10) on the right. Six F6F fighters are overhead. Photographed with a K-17 camera from a HORNET plane. 80-G-367247

Crossing the line ceremony on USS Cabot, CVL-28

U.S. Marines drilling on the flight deck of USS Cabot (CVL 28). Photographed by the crew of USS Cabot, July 3, 1944. 80-G-263276

Hitting Truk, the Marshalls, raids on the Palaus, Yap, Ulithi, and Woleai; the Hollandia landings, the famous “Marianas Turkey Shoot,” the liberation of the Philippines, raiding Formosa, Indochina, Hong Kong, Kyushu, and Okinawa, Cabot and her airwing were hard at work.

Just look at this fighting chart chronicling her actions off Formosa, 13-18 October 1944.

Divine Wind

The class would take quite a beating from Japanese aircraft. Sister USS Princeton (CV/CVL-23) was destroyed following a bomb hit during the Battle of Leyte Gulf that sparked fires that got out of hand. Likewise, both sisters USS Belleau Wood (CV/CVL-24) and USS Independence (CV/CVL-22) endured significant damage but pulled through.

Cabot had her own turn in the barrel on 25 November 1944, two days after Thanksgiving.

USS Cabot (CVL-28) is hit by a Kamikaze while operating with Task Force 38 off Luzon, 25 November 1944. Official U.S. Navy Photograph, 80-G-289608

As detailed by DANFS

Cabot had fought off several kamikazes when one, already flaming from hits, crashed the flight deck on the port side, destroying the still-firing 20-millimeter gun platform, disabling the 40-millimeter mounts and a gun director. Another of Cabot’s victims crashed close aboard and showered the port side with fragments and burning debris. Cabot lost 62 men killed and wounded, but careful training had produced a crew that handled damage control smoothly and coolly. While she continued to maintain her station in formation and operate effectively, temporary repairs were made.

Damage to the catapult room of USS Cabot (CVL 28) caused by a crash dive by a Japanese plane. The hole through to the catapult room. The area formerly contained a generator station and crew shelters. 80-G-270879

From her war history:

Back in the fight

Patched up, Cabot returned to action on 11 December 1944, steaming with the force in support of the Luzon operations.

Ernie Pyle shipped out on the Cabot for three weeks and filed reports from her decks on the push to Tokyo.

Pyle, right, on the bridge of Cabot with the skipper –CAPT (later RADM) Walton Wiley Smith (USNA 1920)–during strikes in the North Pacific against Tokyo, February 1945. 80-G-262854-001

The only aircraft carrier he ever visited, Pyle publicized the nickname of the “Iron Woman.”

One of his reports from Cabot:

In the Western Pacific–An aircraft carrier is a noble thing. It lacks almost everything that seems to denote nobility, yet deep nobility is there….It doesn’t cut through the water like a destroyer. It just plows…

Yet a carrier is a ferocious thing, and out of its heritage of action has grown nobility. I believe that today every navy in the world has its No. 1 priority, the destruction of enemy carriers.

That’s a precarious honor, but it’s a proud one.

My Carrier is a proud one. She’s small, and you have never heard of her unless you have a son or husband on her, but still she’s proud, and deservedly so.

She has been at sea, without returning home, longer than any other carrier in the Pacific, with one exception. She left home in November of 1943.

She is a little thing, yet her planes have shot down 228 of the enemy out of the sky in air battles, and her guns have knocked down five Japanese planes in defending herself.

She is too proud to keep track of the little ships she destroys, but she has sent to the bottom 29 big Japanese ships.

She has weathered five typhoons. Her men have not set foot on any soil bigger than a farm-sized uninhabited atoll for a solid year.

They have not seen a woman for nearly ten months. In a year and a quarter out of America, she has steamed a total of 149,000 miles!

Four different air squadrons have used her as their flying field, flown their allotted missions, and returned to America. But the ship’s crew stays on– and on and on.

She is known in the fleet as “The Iron Woman”, because she has fought in every battle in the Pacific in the years 1944 and 1945.

Her battle record sounds like a train caller on the Lackawanna railroad. Listen— Kwajalein, Eniwetok, Truk, Palau, Hollandia, Saipan, Chichi Jima, Mindanao, Luzon, Formosa, Nansei Shoto, Hong Kong, Iwo Jima, Tokyo…and many others.

She has known disaster. Her fliers who have perished cannot be counted on both hands..She has been hit twice by Kamikaze bombs. She has had mass burial at sea..with dry-eyed crew sewing forty-millimeter shells to the corpses of their friends as weights to take them to the bottom of the sea.

Yet she has never even returned to Pearl Harbor to patch her wounds. She slaps on some patches on the run and is ready for the next battle.

My Carrier, even though classed as “light”, is still a very large ship. More than 1,000 men dwell upon her. She is more than 700 feet long…

She has been out so long that her men put their ship above their captain. They have seen captains come and go, but they and the ship stay on forever.

They aren’t romantic about their long stay out here. They hate it, and their gripes are long and loud. They yearn pathetically to go home. But down beneath, they are proud— proud of their ship and proud of themselves.

And you would be too.

Pyle left Cabot at the end of February 1945 and just six weeks later was killed on Ie Shima with the Marines when a bullet from a Japanese machine gun hit him in the left temple below the rim of his helmet.

Cabot would remain on the line until April 1945, when she was sent to Mare Island for a much-needed overhaul.

But before she left, her air group was able to get in some licks on the ill-fated Japanese super battleship Yamato.

USS Cabot (CVL-28) flies a long Homeward Bound pennant as she departs the Western Pacific for overhaul in San Francisco, California, on 13 April 1945. She had been operating in the combat zone since January 1944. The view looks aft from the ship’s island, with her SK-1 radar antenna at the left and other shipping in the distance. Aircraft on Cabot’s deck include (from right front): OS2U, SOC, TBM, SB2C, F4U, and F6F types. NH 96958

Sailing back to the front lines, her last combat missions were flown against Japanese-occupied Wake Island on 1 August while en route to Eniwetok.

USS Cabot (CVL-28) Underway at sea, 26 July 1945. Official U.S. Navy Photograph, now in the collections of the National Archives. 80-G-262768

She then joined Task Group 38.3 to support the landings of occupation troops in the Yellow Sea area in September and October.

Embarking homeward-bound men at Guam, Cabot arrived at San Diego on 9 November, then sailed for the East Coast.

Cabot earned a Presidential Unit Citation and nine battle stars for service during WWII.

Her end of the war tally sheet, via her War History.

USS Cabot (CVL-28) close-up view of the ship’s port side bridge wing, showing her insignia, circa 1943-44. The design is based on the slogan of Cabot’s first Commanding Officer, Captain Malcolm F. Schoeffel: Up Mohawks, At ‘Em!. Mohawk was the ship’s voice radio call sign at the time. 80-G-263253

Cabot was placed out of commission in reserve at Philadelphia, Pa., on 11 February 1947.

Korean War Service

Independence class light carriers, Janes 1946

Recommissioned on 27 October 1948 after spending just 20 months in mothballs, Cabot was assigned to the nascent Naval Air Reserve training program. Operating first out of Pensacola, then NAS Quonset Point, she would embark NAR squadrons on summer cruises to the Caribbean and make herself available to the training command for carrier deck quals.

SNJ-5B Bu51927, coming to grief on the USS Cabot (CVL-28) sometime before late 1951

It was around this time that Cabot was given a series of quiet upgrades and strengthened flight deck supports that made her both suitable for helicopters and for the weight of larger aircraft such as the F8F Bearcat. The electronics fit was also updated.

Assistant Sec. of the Navy for Aviation, John F. Floberg, does a solo pass USS Cabot CVL-28 on April 18, 1952, in an SNJ Texan. Floberg would get his carrier quals. The cover is the June 1952 edition of Navy Aviation News

F8F-2 Bearcat Naval Air Training Command carrier qual on USS Cabot CVL 28 June 20, 1952

USMC H-19 Chickasaw on an elevator aboard the refit USS Cabot 1952

One of the young budding Naval Aviators she would qual would be the first man on the moon. Before transitioning to the F-9F Panther jet, which he would fly with VF-51 for 78 combat missions over Korea, Neil Armstrong, flying an F8F Bearcat, would make his first six carrier traps on Cabot in March 1950. By August, he had aced his carrier quals.

Armstrong, shown left on Cabot after his first trap. note the 40mm Bofors behind him.

Cabot even made an operational deployment of sorts, embarking COMCARDIV 14 in January 1952, loading a squadron of short-lived AF-2S/AF-2W Grumman Guardians from the “Duty Cats” of VS-24, adding a det of HUP-1 helicopters from the “Fleet Angels” of HU-2 for liaison work and plane guard roles, then setting out for a Med cruise. 

USS Cabot (CVL-28) underway, circa 1951–1952, with what appear to be two AF-2 Guardians from Antisubmarine Squadron (VS) 24 “Duty Cats.” NARA image.

same as above

same as above

She returned stateside on 26 March 1952 and went back into the training pipeline for a few more years. 

Newly-delivered PA-tail coded T-28B Trojan and T-34 Mentor over Pensacola NAS, note the CVL training carrier below, likely USS Monterey but possibly Cabot or USS Saipan– the latter one of two light carriers built on a Brooklyn-class heavy cruiser hull. The photo is likely from 1955-56. 

Cabot was again placed out of commission, in reserve, on 21 January 1955, and was later reclassified to an auxiliary aircraft transport (AVT-3) while mothballed.

Her career in the U.S. Navy had concluded.

A new flag

The Navy had previously transferred two of the remaining eight Indys to France in the 1950s– USS Langley (CVL-27) and USS Belleau Wood (CVL-24), which became La Fayette and Bois Belleau, respectively.

Meanwhile, the Spanish Navy had been chasing the dream of an aircraft carrier, going back to their seaplane tender and balloon carrier, Deadalo, which was active from 1921 through 1934, even getting in some carrier air raids during the Rif War.

With the general post-WWII rapprochement between a still very fascist Franco and the Western allies, the 1953 Madrid agreements thawed the chill between the U.S. and the country, opening it to military aid in return for basing.

Soon, the country would receive its first modern submarine, the snorkel-equipped USS Kraken (SS-370) (taken in service as Almirante García de los Reyes, E-1), later joined by three Guppy’d Balao-class smoke boats. Five Lepanto-class destroyers– WWII Fletcher-class tin cans– starting with USS Capps (DD-550) in 1957, were transferred. These were soon joined by five more FRAM I Gearing class destroyers, starting with USS Eugene A. Greene (DD/DDR-711) in 1972, as the Churruca class. By this time, the Spanish were also getting five new-made Baleares-class frigates, variants of the Knox class destroyer escort/fast frigates updated with Standard SAM suites.

In many ways, the Spanish fleet by the late 1960s was very American.

Looking for a helicopter carrier/amphibious assault ship and being rebuffed when they wanted the converted escort carrier USS Thetis Bay (LPH-6), and after taking a look at the laid-up USS San Jacinto (CVL-30) and passing, the Spanish went with Cabot as she had embarked and supported helicopters in the 1950s and had a better sensor and radio fit than just about any other mothballed flattop on the menu.

Cabot was loaned to the Spanish Navy on 30 August 1967, which renamed her Dédalo (R.01). She was then stricken from the Naval Vessel Register on 1 August 1972, and sold to the Spaniards.

In Spanish operations, she would embark 16-24 helicopters in 4-packs starting with H-13 Sioux, H-19 Chickasaws, and Agusta-Bell 204s, then evolving to SH-3 Sea Kings, torpedo-carrying Hughes 500ASW variants, Agusta-Bell AB.212s, and AH-1 Cobras.

Ever thought you’d see a blue Cobra gunship on a WWII light carrier?

Look at how cute the Hughes 500ASWs are!

Spanish Marina ordered eight AH-1G Cobras and flew them in blue livery from Delado. They were the only country besides the US to operate the model

Dédalo, far right, and hospital ship Esperanza del Mar– the ex-4,000-ton WWII coastal minelayer USS Monadnock (ACM-10)– with one of the carrier’s SH-3D Sea King hanging out on her helideck– a tight fit!. Also, note the stacks of a Descubierta-class corvette to the left

Spanish Arma Aérea de la Armada SH-3D Sea King of Quinta Escuadrilla on Dédalo/Cabot with AS-12 missiles and a torpedo rigged for carry

Entry in Janes, 1973

By 1972, Spain bought eight British-built Harriers. Designated VA.1 Matadors in Spanish service, they were essentially modified variants of the USMC AV8A/B series and were classified as AV-8S/TAV-8S models.

Spanish Dédalo/Cabot with Harrier and helicopters

By 1976, the jump jets were active on Dedalo, providing both air defense and strike capabilities for the Spanish fleet, ultimately buying 13 of the type.

An aerial port bow view of the Spanish aircraft carrier DEDALO (R01) underway. Note the mix of Matadors, AB-212s, and Sea Kings. DN-SC-88-08303

Check out this amazing footage of Dedalo operating with her Matadors off the Canary Islands in 1978, “Defensa de las Canarias,” which simulated the repulsion of a Soviet amphibious assault on the chain.

However, with Spain’s WWII-era fleet beginning to show its age in the early 1980s, a refresh was soon underway that saw the Guppy boats traded in for a quartet of new French Agosta-class submarines, the Fletchers and Gearings replaced by a half dozen Santa Maria-class frigates (a Spanish version of the Oliver Hazard Perry-class), and a plan to replace Dedalo.

A port beam view of the Spanish amphibious assault ship DEDALO (PA-01), formerly the USS CABOT (AVT-3), in the foreground and the frigate BALEARES (F-71) participating in exercise Ocean Venture ’81.

The planned Almirante Carrero Blanco, built to a modified U.S. Navy Sea Control Ship study, entered service in 1988 as the 16,700-ton Príncipe de Asturias. Equipped with a 12-degree ski jump and powered by GE LM2500 gas turbines that could push the carrier along at 26 knots, the new Spanish carrier would embark and launch the larger and more advanced AV-8B Harrier II, which was produced locally at CASA’s facility in Seville, Spain, as the EAV-8B Matador.

Príncipe de Asturias (R11)

The old Dedalo, unneeded, was headed to the breakers, and her old AV-8As were soon resold to Thailand for use with that country’s building HTMS Chakri Naruebet, which was based on the design of Príncipe de Asturias and constructed in Spain.

On 12 July 1989, Dédalo was decommissioned, capping a 46-year career.

A brief reprise

Rushing in to save the day was a group of WWII U.S. Navy vets and their supporters. At the time that Cabot was retired, she was by far the only member of her class still around. In addition to her nine battle stars and Presidential Unit Citation for WWII, there was also her Korean War service, her connections to Neil Armstrong and Ernie Pyle, and her Cold War journey that made her worthy of preservation.

Ultimately, she was brought to New Orleans triumphantly in August 1989 when she still looked amazing– having only left Spanish naval service the month prior. Within months, she was designated a National Historic Landmark by the National Park Service.

Then, sadly, the successive efforts to preserve her all tanked for one reason or another, typically money-related (or lack thereof), and she sat along one dock or another in the Crescent City for eight years, suffering marine collisions, looting, and neglect.

Being a warship nerd in my 20s at the time, I snuck through a series of fences to get a snapshot of her tied up on a foggy morning near the Mandeville docks.

USS Cabot/Spanish Dédalo, tied up in New Orleans. Photo by Chris Eger

By 1997, with her time all but gone, she was towed to Texas, where she would soon be involved in a confusing series of lawsuits and seizures by the U.S. Marshals for debts owed. Slowly scrapped there over the next several years, she disappeared by August 2001.

As summed up by WWII After WII, who covers her tragedy in detail:

The USS Cabot fiasco was a sad, but in some ways foretelling, end to the boom of WWII warship museums in the United States. From the late 1970s to the early 1990s, these seemed to proliferate – however, with a few exceptions (USS Intrepid in NYC being particularly successful) they were extremely difficult to keep financially sound after opening. To display a P-51 Mustang fighter or M4 Sherman tank ashore doesn’t take a whole lot beyond the purchase cost, but afloat decommissioned ships are “financial zombies” in that even when dead, they require constant money just to stay above the waterline, let alone be profitable, and this only increases as the ship continues to age – the USS Texas saga being a good example. Often visitor admission fees just aren’t enough.

Anger was directed at the original Foundation, who were portrayed in veteran’s circles as idiots, grifters, or both. This is not fair as the original intentions were good; and in fact, much of the early fundraising was done by veterans at a VFW post in Louisiana on their own time. It might be better to say that they had no idea what they were getting into and quickly found themselves in way over their head.

Epilogue

Several echoes of Cabot endure.

There is, of course, the USS Cabot Association.

The National Museum of the Pacific War has a plaque honoring her as well as CAG 29 and 31.

The National Archives has her plans, diaries, and logs on file.

At the National Naval Aviation Museum, the center floor display includes a replica of the wooden flight deck and island superstructure of Cabot. Assisted by his son, the same sailor who painted the original scoreboard highlighting the combat record of the ship and its embarked air groups duplicated his work for the museum.

(Photo: Chris Eger)

(Photo: Chris Eger)

One of her screws and some of her WWII-vintage Bofors mounts went to USS Lexington, which is preserved in Corpus Christi, just a couple of hours away from where she was scrapped.

Meanwhile, the Spanish Navy’s AH-1G Cobras that flew from Dedalo proved to be a time capsule for the U.S. Army and are now gems in the collection of the Army Aviation Museum in Alabama, as most of their type in U.S. service were either scrapped or converted to updated models.

This toothy G-model Cobra served with the Spanish Navy and was recently returned to the U.S. Note the early 7.62mm minigun and 40mm grenade launcher in the chin. (Photo: Chris Eger)

A few years ago, scale model maker Amo released an AV-8S Matador kit (AMO-8505) that features box art by Valery Petelin that includes Cabot/Dedalo cruising below.

AV-8S Matador AMO box art by Valery Petelin, with Delado/Cabot below

Of Cabot’s sisters, besides USS Princeton (CV/CVL-23), which was lost in 1944, USS Independence was extensively damaged in the Crossroads tests and then, filled with radioactive material, was scuttled off the coast of California in deep water in 1951.

Langly/ La Fayette and Belleau Wood/Bois Belleau, after operating with the French off Indochina and Algeria, were returned to the Navy in the 1960s and scrapped, replaced in French service by the new domestically built Clemenceau-class carrier,s which were twice as large and were built from the keel up to operate jets.

USS Bataan (CVL-29), which added seven Korean War battle stars to the six she earned in WWII, was scrapped in 1961.

USS Bataan (CVL-29) was photographed on 22 May 1953, as she was en route to Naval Air Station San Diego, California, following a deployment to Korean waters. Note crew paraded on the flight deck spelling out the word “HOME” and an arrow pointing over her bow. Aircraft on deck include 19 Grumman AF “Guardian” anti-submarine planes and a solitary Vought F4U “Corsair” fighter (parked amidships on the starboard side. NH 95808

USS Cowpens (CVL-25), laid up after the war, was reclassified as an auxiliary aircraft transport (AVT-1) while in mothballs and was scrapped in 1960.

USS Monterey (CVL-26), on which the future president Gerald Ford served aboard in WWII, served as a training carrier (AVT-2) during the Korean War, then was decommissioned in 1956 and scrapped in early 1971.

USS San Jacinto (CVL-30) would be the last in U.S. Navy possession, sold to the breakers in December 1971 after sitting on red lead row for 24 long and unkind years.

The Indys earned a total of 81 WWII battle stars, and it is a crying shame that none remain.


Ships are more than steel
and wood
And heart of burning coal,
For those who sail upon
them know
That some ships have a
soul.


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!

Warship Wednesday, July 19, 2023: Red Sub Circumnavigator

Here at LSOZI, we take off every Wednesday for a look at the old steam/diesel navies of the 1833-1954 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, July 19, 2023: Red Sub Circumnavigator

Above we see the type IX-bis S (Stalinets) class “medium” Guards Red Banner submarine S-56 returning to Polyarni in early 1944 from a patrol off the coast of German-occupied Norway. The most celebrated of her class, she claimed one of her biggest “kills” some 80 years ago today.

The S-class

It is a little-known fact that the Tsarist Imperial Navy entered the Great War in 1914 with more submarines in its inventory than anyone else. Following the national disaster that was the Russian Revolution and Civil War, the reformed Red Navy inherited a few of these old boats and even managed to keep some of them in operation into the 1950s!

When it came to new designs, by the late 1920s the Soviets built a half dozen modest 1,300-ton Dekabrist-class (Series I) submarines constructed with Italian expertise, followed by 25 minelaying Leninets-class (L class, or Series II) submarines of the same size which were essentially reverse engineered from the lost British L-class submarine HMS L55 which was recovered by the Soviets, and a staggering 88 Shchuka-class (Series III, V, V-bis, V-bis-2, X, X-1938) “medium” submarines that went some 700 tons and were ideal for use in the cramped Baltic and Black seas.

Then, the Stalinets class in IX, IX-bis, IX-bis-II, and XVI series, began to appear in 1936.

Besides the lessons learned in making the Italian-based Dekabrist-class and English-based Leninets-class boats, the Russians, who were very close to a quietly rearming Weimar Germany in the early 1930s, worked with the Dutch front company Ingenieurskantoor voor Scheepsbouw (IvS), which was, in fact, a dummy funded by the German Weimar-era Reichsmarine using design assets from German shipyards AG Vulcan, Krupp-Germaniawerft, and AG Weser to keep Berlin in the sub-making biz while skirting the ban on such activity by the Versailles treaty.

IvS had previously built boats and shared technology with Finland and Spain and it was with the latter’s planned Submarino E-1 that the Soviet S-series was based.

Spanish submarine E-1 at the shipyard in Cádiz. Built in Spain from 1929-30, Soviet engineers participated in her construction and trails. Although her design would go on to be used as the basis for both the German Type IA submarine and the Russian Stalinets class, ironically, the Spanish Navy never operated E-1, as she was sold to Turkey in 1935 just before the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War. She went on to fly the star and crescent until 1947 as TCG Gür.

Some 255 feet long and with an 840/1070 ton displacement, the basic Stalinets design was good for 19.5 knots on the surface and a cruising range of 4,000nm. Carrying four forward torpedo tubes and two sterns, they also mounted a 100mm deck gun and a 45mm backup as well as machine guns that could be set up for AAA use. Besides the six 533mm torpedoes in the tubes, they could carry another six spare fish.

Stalinets class

The first flight of three boats used German diesels, something that was corrected in follow-on ships that evolved slightly across their construction, hence the four different flights. In all, some 41 Stalinets would be completed. The first, C-1, was laid down on Christmas Day 1934 (because who needs religion in the worker’s paradise) and delivered on 23 September 1936 while a final eight whose construction began at around the same time languished on the builder’s ways during WWII, and were only finished post-war.

The subject of our tale is the most successful of the class. Of the 33 Stalinets class boats completed in time for WWII, 16 were lost. Of the 30 that saw combat patrols, 19 claimed tonnages. This would include the infamous S-13, which sank five ships including two large transports Wilhelm Gustloff and General Steuben, regarded as among the worst maritime disasters in history.

1946 Janes entry on what was left of the class at that time

Two submarines of the class were awarded the rank of Guards, and seven boats earned the Red Banner, only S-56 was awarded both distinctions.

Meet S-56

A 2nd series (IX-bis) Stalinets, S-56 was intended for service in the Pacific Fleet and therefore was assembled at the Dalzavod works at Vladivostok from a kit sent across Siberia from Leningrad starting on 24 November 1936. Launched Christmas 1939, she was commissioned on 20 October 1941, as the Germans were on the outskirts of Moscow.

With the Soviets eschewing combat against the Japanese until after Berlin was licked, on 6 October 1942, S-56, along with sisters S-51, S-54, and S-55, departed Vladivostok ahead of the ice to join the Red Navy’s Northern Fleet at Murmansk. They would be joined by the Leninists-class minelaying subs L-15 and L-16 sailing from Petropavlovsk on a 17,000-mile transoceanic voyage across both Pacific and Atlantic, maneuvering the seas of Japan, Okhotsk, Bering, Caribbean, Sargasso, Northern, Greenland, Norwegian and Barents with stops in Dutch Harbor, San Francisco, the Panama Canal, Guantanamo Bay, Halifax, and Rosyth.

At least that was the plan.

L-16 was lost en route with all hands, believed torpedoed and sunk by the Japanese submarine I-25 on 11 October 1942 approximately 500 miles west of Seattle. This was even though the Soviet Union and Japan were officially at peace. Fog of war, after all.

Via Combined Fleets on I-25:

While returning to Japan on the surface, I-25 spots two ships, apparently en route to San Francisco. The seas are rough. LCDR Tagami first identifies the ships as two battleships. Later, he identifies them as two “American” submarines. At 1100, he dives and fires his last remaining torpedo. It hits 30 seconds later. Several heavy explosions follow. One of the explosions wrecks a head aboard I-25.

The leading submarine starts to sink rapidly stern first with its bow up 45 degrees. A second explosion follows. When the smoke clears there is only an oil slick on the water. The submarine sinks with all 56 hands (a Russian crew of 55, a naturalized American and American interpreter/liaison officer Sergey A. V. Mikhailoff (USNR) who boarded the submarine at Dutch Harbor) at 45-41N, 138-56E. (Postwar, it is learned that the submarine was Soviet Cdr Dmitri F. Gussarov’s 1,039-ton minelayer L-16 en route from Petropavlovsk, Siberia via Dutch Harbor, Alaska to San Francisco.)

The accompanying Soviet L-15 reports seeing one more wake, fires five 45-mm rounds at I-25 and mistakenly claims a hit on I-25’s periscopes.

The five remaining Russian boats were captured several times by American and Canadian cameras while en route to Murmansk.

Russian S-type submarine probably photographed about 1942. 80-G-636837

The Russian submarine S-54 is seen departing Mare Island on 11 November 1942. USN photo # 6697-42

Russian submarine SS-55 is seen departing Mare Island on 11 November 1942. USN photo # 7001-42

The skippers had a chance to meet and pose for a snapshot in Panama, where they rested from 25 November 25 to 2 December 1942.

From left to right: S-54 skipper, LCDR Dmitry Kondratievich Bratishko, S-51 skipper Captain 3rd rank Ivan Fomich Kucherenko, submarine group commander, Captain 1st Rank Alexander Vladimirovich Tripolsky, commander of S-56 LCDR Grigory Ivanovich Shchedrin, commander L-15 Captain 3rd Rank Vasily Isakovich Komarov, Commander S-55 Captain 3rd Rank Lev Mikhailovich Sushkin. Unfortunately, the names of the American officers are not noted.

Soviet “L” Class submarine (L-15) in Halifax harbor. Date: January 1943. Reference: H.B. Jefferson Nova Scotia Archives 1992-304 / 43.1.4 180.

In March 1943, S-56 became part of the 2nd division of the submarine brigade of the Northern Fleet, after a voyage of 153 days.

Her combat career would encompass 125 days underway on eight patrols against the Germans in which she was declared overdue and likely destroyed no less than 19 times, more an issue of poor radio communications than anything else.

S-56 in the Northern Fleet

She logged 13 attacks and fired 30 torpedoes. This included several runs on German convoys, escaping a surface duel with a pair of escorts, surviving a glancing torpedo strike from the German U-711, and reportedly hitting at least one large freighter with a dud torpedo.

Although she would claim 14 enemy transports and warships sunk with a total displacement of 85,000 tons, her post-war validated tally is a good bit smaller (as are most subs from all sides).

Her successes detailed by U-boat.net, included:

  • 17 May 1943 sank the German tanker Eurostadt (1118 GRT) off the Kongsfjord.
  • 17 July 1943 sank the German minesweeper M 346 (551 tons) west of the Tanafjord.
  • 19 July 1943: Torpedoed and sank the German auxiliary patrol vessel NKi 09 / Alane (466 GRT, former British ASW trawler HMS Warwickshire) off the Tanafjord near Gamvik.
  • 31 July 1943 sank the German merchant Heinrich Schulte (5056 GRT) west of the Tanafjord.

C56 Victory Parade July 1945

Epilogue

In 1954, the now famed S-56 was sent back to her birthplace at Vladivostok via the then very perilous Northern Sea Route through the Arctic, thus becoming the first Russian submarine to circumnavigate the globe.

Decommissioned in 1955, she was retained in the Pacific Fleet as a floating charging station and damage control training hulk, renamed ZAS-8 and then UTS-14.

In 1975, on the 30th anniversary of VE Day, she was installed as a museum ship on the Korabelnaya Embankment, where she remains well preserved today, the last of her class.

She is also celebrated in several heroic Soviet maritime art pieces.


Ships are more than steel
and wood
And heart of burning coal,
For those who sail upon
them know
That some ships have a
soul.


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!

Old School and the New Class

80 Years Ago Today, 14 July 1943, while steaming from San Diego to Norfolk: The mighty dreadnought USS Nevada (Battleship No. 36), seen after her extensive repairs due to the pummeling she took at Pearl Harbor 19 months prior, returning from Alaska, where she had provided naval gunfire support from 11 to 18 May 1943 for the liberation of Attu (Operation Landcrab).

Photo # 80-G-74411 now in the collection of the US National Archives

Nevada, in the above, was bound for the Norfolk Navy Yard to undergo another several months of further modernization in preparation for service in the Atlantic Ocean and to support amphibious landings in the European Theater of Operations.

As noted by DANFS

After her time in the yard, she shifted to Boston and for several months, she engaged in convoy duty calling at New York, Maine, Massachusetts, and Ireland. On 18 April 1944, Nevada sailed from Casco Bay, Maine, bound for British waters in order to prepare for Operation Neptune, the landing component of Operation Overlord, the invasion of Normandy.

Trailing astern Nevada is the newly commissioned Bogue-class escort carrier USS Croatan (CVE-25), one of just 11 who served in the U.S. Navy. Just finished at Tacoma in time to sail with the battleship for the East Coast, Croatan would eventually lead her own hunter-killer ASW group that would account for six German U-boats by the end of the war. She would outlast Nevada in the fleet, lingering until 1970 when she concluded her final use as the MSTS-manned aircraft ferry, USNS Croatan (AKV-43) carrying hundreds of Army helicopters to Vietnam.

Warship Wednesday, July 12, 2023: Mr. Gallatin’s Shallow Water Angel

Here at LSOZI, we take off every Wednesday for a look at the old steam/diesel navies of the 1833-1954 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, July 12, 2023: Mr. Gallatin’s Shallow Water Angel

Halftone photo from “War in Cuba,” 1898. Official U.S. Navy Photograph. NH 191

Above we see the fine Harlan & Hollingsworth-built schooner-rigged steam yacht Almy, with her summer of 1898 warpaint on, as the gunboat USS Eagle during the Spanish-American War. Late of the New York Yacht Club and rushed into naval service, she won what would turn out to be an unexpected victory over the much larger and better-armed Compañía Trasatlántica Española (CTE) steamer Santo Domingo some 125 years ago today.

Fine lines and good bones

In addition to making steam engines and railcars, Wilmington’s Harlan & Hollingsworth were one of the earliest iron shipbuilders. Constructing 347 hulls between 1844 and 1904 when they were acquired by Bethlehem Steel, besides their bread and butter fare like barges, ferries, and tugs, they also won a few Navy contracts (the monitors USS Patapsco, Napa, Saugus, and Amphitrite; the sloop USS Ranger, destroyers USS Hopkins and Hull, and torpedo boat USS Stringham).

Starting in the 1870s, they began a string of more than 30 fine hermaphrodite steam yachts including Dr. William Seward Webb’s Elfrida, William Astor’s Nourmahal, H W Putnam’s Ariadne, W. K. Vanderbilt’s Alva, Cass Canfield’s magnificent Sea Fox, Florida shipping magnate H. M. Flagler’s Alicia, and William DuPont’s Au Revoir.

Another of these yachts was contracted from H&H by New York attorney Frederick Gallatin. A resident of 650 Fifth Avenue (now a 36-story office tower adjacent to Rockefeller Center), he was a grandson of early Treasury Secretary Albert Gallatin and from old Hamptons money. Married to Almy Goelet Gerry (daughter of Tammany Hall “Commodore” Elbridge Thomas Gerry, with the title coming as head of the NYC Yacht Club) it was only logical that Gallatin would order a yacht from H&H named for Almy.

Hull No. 256 was 177 feet long overall with a 24-foot beam, she had a nice stiletto-like 7.5:1 length-to-beam ratio and had a draft of just 7 feet with a 14-foot depth of hold. Powered by a single-ended cylindrical boiler pushing a T.3 Cy (18″,23″ & 42-33″) steam engine with a nominal 101 NHP (850ihp) venting through a single stack, she had an auxiliary two-mast sail rig and was good for a stately 12 knots although on her trials she made 15.5 knots. Coal stowage was 85 tons.

View of the engine room, of USS Eagle, built as yacht Almy, at Portsmouth Navy Yard, N.H. 31 August 1916. Note the builder’s plaque on the bulkhead and disassembled engine parts on the deck. NH 54333

Steel-hulled with a 364 GRT displacement, she carried electrical lighting in every compartment as well as topside and was reportedly very well-appointed. Her normal crew, as a yacht, was four officers and 20 mariners.

Delivered to Gallatin in August 1890– just in time to catch the end of “the season”– the New York Times mentioned Almy in its yachting news columns more than a dozen times in the next eight years including one mention in 1895 of an epic blue fishing trip to Plum Gut where “he landed some of the finest fish captured this season.”

Typically, Gallatin would ply her during the summer and, every October, send her back down to winter at the builder’s yard where she would be drydocked and freshly painted every spring, ready to do it all again.

Then came war

As part of the general rush to avenge the lost USS Maine on 15 February, the scions of the NY Yacht Club soon offered up their yachts to be converted to fast dispatch boats and scouts. Ultimately, the Navy bought no less than 28 large yachts, including 13 that topped 400 tons, in addition to almost 70 other auxiliaries for support duties to the fleet.

Several yachts took part in fights with Spanish forces including three, USS Gloucester, Hist, and Vixen, which were present during the Battle of Santiago. Among the former NYYC H&H-built yachts that went to the Navy for the war with Spain were Flagler’s Alicia (renamed USS Hornet after purchase for $117,500) and Dr. Webb’s Elfrida (which was taken in service as USS Elfrida for $50,000).

The 28 yachts converted to armed auxiliaries in 1898. Via The Society of Naval Architects and Marine Engineers, Vol. VI, 1898, click to big up.

While negotiations continued with a Navy purchasing agent, Gallatin allowed Almy to go to the Brooklyn Navy Yard on 26 March to begin her conversion to an armed picket ship. Eventually, he let Almy go for $110,000 on 2 April 1898 and the Navy renamed her USS Eagle, the fourth such vessel to carry that name.

Given a coat of dark paint and armed with a quartet of 6-pounder 57mm deck guns (two forward, two aft) and two Colt machine guns forward of the deck house, her early admission to BNY allowed her to be commissioned three days later under the command of LT William Henry Hudson Southerland (USNA 1872).

Other changes from her civilian life, as detailed by The Society of Naval Architects and Marine Engineers, Vol. VI, 1898, included:

  • Magazines for supplying ammunition to the above battery were built under berth deck, just forward of the fireroom bulkhead, with ammunition cranes to the hatches, directly over.
  • Steel plating 7/8 inch thick and 8 feet wide was worked on outside of the vessel for the length of the engine and boiler space.
  • Her foremast was cut down and made a signal mast, while the mainmast and fittings were entirely removed.
  • The ornate dining room was cleaned out and fitted up as crew space while extensive wood and brass works were removed.
  • The vessel was drydocked, cleaned, and painted throughout. All plumbing, drainage system, and auxiliaries were overhauled and put in order. The entire exterior of the vessel, including spars and metal deck fittings, was thickly painted a “lead color.”

She carried 75 men to war, drawn largely from the Naval Militia, when she left New York on 17 April headed for duty with the North Atlantic Squadron on blockade and dispatch duty in Cuban waters. She was at sea when war was declared on 25 April.

By 28 April, Eagle, along with the gunboat USS Nashville and the Montgomery-class unprotected cruiser USS Marblehead, established a blockade off Cienfuegos. The next morning, Nashville seized the Spanish steamer Argonauta which had Col. Corijo of the Third Cavalry Regiment (Regimiento de Caballería “Montesa” N.º 3) and 19 men of its headquarters troop aboard. This sparked a 25-minute naval gunfire duel between Eagle and Montgomery versus three Spanish torpedo boats coming out of the river to contest the affair under cover from a shore battery.

Southerland reported to RADM William T. Sampson that Eagle fired 59 rounds of No.4 shell in the engagement and suffered no casualties, although, ” Two of the enemies shot passed close over this vessel, another close astern, and another within a few feet of the bowsprit.”

On 29 June, Eagle shelled the Spanish battery at Rio Honda, showing that, while her little six-pounders were small, they could still breathe fire.

On 5 July, while Eagle was on the blockading route in the vicinity of the Isle of Pines, she sighted the provision-laden Spanish schooner Gallito five miles to the South and immediately gave chase.

As detailed by James Otis in “The Boys of ’98”:

The schooner ran in until about a quarter of a mile from the shore, when she dropped her anchor, and those aboard slipped over her side and swam ashore. Ensign J. H. Roys and a crew of eight men from the Eagle were sent in a small boat to board the schooner. They found her deserted, and while examining her were fired upon by her crew from the beach. Several rifle shots went through the schooner’s sails, but no one was injured. The Eagle drew closer in and sent half a dozen shots toward the beach from her 6-pounders, whereupon the Spaniards disappeared. The Gallito was taken into Key West.

A week later, on 12 July, Eagle came across her biggest prize yet. The Govan-built iron-hulled CTE screw steamer Santo Domingo, some 344 feet in length. Formerly the D. Currie & Co’s Dublin Castle (which carried British troops during the Zulu War), she had been sold in 1883 to Spanish interests and by 1886 was sailing for CTE on a regular Havana to New York service.

Santo Domingo

Otis describes the event:

The auxiliary gunboat Eagle sighted the Spanish steamer Santo Domingo, fifty-five hundred tons, aground near the Cuban coast, off Cape Francis, and opened fire with her 6-pounders, sending seventy shots at her, nearly all of which took effect.

While this was going on, another steamer came out of the bay and took off the officers and crew of the Santo Domingo. When the men from the Eagle boarded the latter, they found that she carried two 5-inch and two 12-pounder guns, the latter being loaded and her magazines open. The steamer had been drawing twenty-four feet of water and had gone aground in twenty feet.

The men from the Eagle decided that the steamer could not be floated, and she was set on fire after fifty head of cattle, which were on board, had been shot.

The Santo Domingo carried a large cargo of grain, corn, etc. While the steamer was burning, the vessel which had previously taken off the crew emerged from the bay and tried to get off some of the cargo, but failed. The Spanish steamer burned for three days and was totally destroyed.

It made big news back home.

On 30 July, Eagle supported the gunboat USS Bancroft with the seizure (twice) of a small Spanish schooner in Sigunea Bay. I say twice because, once taken by two rifle-armed sailors from Bancroft’s steam launch and tied near the wreckage of Santo Domingo devoid of crew, the Spanish promptly sailed out in two small boats to reclaim her, an event that ended with Eagle and Bancroft, by this time joined by the gunboat USS Maple, in a chase and possession of all three small enemy vessels.

Hostilities ceased on 13 August, capping the 16-week conflict. 

Continued peacetime service

Post-war, Eagle was painted white, two of her four 6-pounders landed, and she was retained for survey work, a role she was suited for with her extremely shallow 7-foot draft. She then spent much of the next two decades working to compile new charts and corrected existing ones for the waters surrounding Cuba, Puerto Rico, and Haiti– all central to American interests. In this task, she typically had a team of civilian engineers and surveyors aboard.

USS Eagle (1898) at anchor off Norfolk, VA. Jan. 19, 1899. UA 461.33 Henry Bundy Collection

As detailed by DANFS:

Troubled conditions throughout the Caribbean often interrupted Eagle’s surveying duty and she gave varied service in protecting American interests.

She patrolled off Haiti in January and February 1908 and again in November and December and off Nicaragua in December 1909.

In June 1912 she transported Marines to Santiago de Cuba and Siboney to protect American lives and property during a rebellion in Cuba and continued to investigate conditions and serve as base ship for the Marines until 1914.

She also had gunboat duty with a cruiser squadron during the Haiti operation of July 1915 to March 1916 and was commended by the Secretary of the Navy for her creditable performance of widely varied duty. 

She then headed back home for a much-needed dry docking and overhaul.

In dry dock at the Portsmouth Navy Yard, N.H. in September 1916. Note bt this time she had her second mast reinstalled. NH 54334

Then came another war

Eagle as she appeared in early 1917. NH 64949

Once America entered the Great War, Eagle returned to Cuban waters as part of the American Patrol Detachment, Atlantic Fleet, and throughout 1917 and 1918 was continually on patrol off Cuba and the southern coast of the U.S. This was while the Ford-built “Eagle boats” were being cranked out in Detroit.

Eagle in Havana Harbor, Cuba, October 1917 NH 54335

At one point, Eagle was detailed to protect an American-owned sugar mill at Manati, Cuba, in early 1917, and did so by putting ashore a modest landing force including hauling one of the ship’s 6-pounders and machine guns ashore– half her armament. It was thought the mill would be an easy target for a German U-boat. A machinist’s mate among the crew, John G. Krieger, had a small portable camera and captured a great array of snapshots during this period.

Men from the Eagle with a mail bag and flag, at Manati, Cuba, in 1917, when the ship’s crew was protecting a local sugar mill. Note the sailors’ crackerjacks are whites that have been “tanned” via the use of coffee grounds. The officer is Ensign Hubert Esterly Paddock, who was with Eagle as Surveying Officer. The donor comments that Paddock surveyed with a motorboat and took regular watches at sea. Of note, Paddock would go on to command the destroyer tender USS Dobbin (AD 3) in WWII and retire post-war, passing in 1980, one of the last U.S. Navy officers left from the Great War. Photographed by John G. Krieger. NH 64955

Mounted Guard furnished by USS Eagle to protect a sugar mill at Manati, Cuba in 1917, shortly after the U.S. entered World War I. Note the motley uniforms and M1903 Springfields. The officer is the ship’s XO, LT (JG) Jerome A. Lee, a skilled electrician who had served on Arctic expeditions before his time on Eagle and would continue to serve through WWII. Photographed by Mr. John G. Krieger. NH 64957

Ford Automobile armed with a Colt M1895 “potato digger” machine gun complete with AAA shoulder rests, staffed by members of the Eagle’s crew, who were guarding a sugar mill at Manati, Cuba, shortly after the U.S. entered World War I. Photographed by Mr. John G. Krieger. NH 64958

Eagle crew members with machine gun-equipped “Gas Car” railway work wagon, assigned to the protection of a sugar mill at Manati, Cuba, in 1917. Photographed by Mr. John G. Krieger and donated by him in 1966-67. NH 64959

A six-pounder gun mounted in a tower at Manati, Cuba, in 1917 by Eagle’s crew. Photographed by Mr. John G. Krieger. NH 64960

Her 1916-17 skipper, LT Henry Kent Hewitt (USNA 1906), seen ashore on service in Cuba with Eagle’s landing party and on the bridge of his gunboat. He would go on to earn a Navy Cross commanding the destroyer USS Cummings escorting Atlantic convoys in 1918 and command the amphibious landing forces for the Torch, Husky, and Dragoon Landings in WWII. After chairing a post-war Pearl Harbor investigation, he would retire as a full admiral. The Spruance class destroyer USS Hewitt (DD-966) was named in his honor, christened at Pascagoula by his daughters. Photographed by Mr. John G. Krieger. NH 64953/64952

The entire landing party, about 40 strong– half the crew– posed for Krieger. NH 64956

Eagle in the Ozama River, Santo Domingo, in July 1917. U.S. Navy Coal Barges Nos. 300 and 301 are in the foreground. NH 64948

Post-war, with that Navy no longer needing a 30-year-old converted yacht with a pair of 6-pounders, Eagle was detached from her southern climes and ordered to Portsmouth Navy Yard in April 1919 to pay off, being decommissioned there on 23 May 1919.

Epilogue

Disarmed and sold by the Navy on 3 January 1920, the former pride of the NYC Yacht Club soon appeared as the tramp coaster Reina Victoria owned by one M.F. Kafailovich, sailing out of Santiago de Cuba.

She was listed in Lloyds as such from 1921 to 1927 and then disappeared.

Her final fate is not known.

As far as relics from Eagle, I can’t find any that exist other than the pennant and ensign of the Santo Domingo which were installed among the 600 banners installed in the United States Navy Trophy Flag Collection in 1913.

Gallatin? His dear Almy passed in 1917 and their $7 million estate was subsequently divided among their six adult children. After this, he withdrew to the Hotel Plaza where he passed in 1927, aged 86. His NYT obit memorialized him by saying “he was well known as a yachtsman.”

Eagle’s Span-Am War skipper, LT William Henry Hudson Southerland, would go on to serve as hydrographer of the Navy from 1901 to 1904, commanding the gunboat USS Yankee as well as the battleship New Jersey (BB-16), taking part in the Great White Fleet’s circumnavigation. Appointed rear admiral in 1910, he later became commander of the Pacific Fleet and was the final Civil War naval veteran (he was a 12-year-old powder monkey in 1865 before becoming a naval apprentice and attending Annapolis) still in active service.

Captain William H. H. Southerland, USN. A circa 1907 photograph was taken at the time he served as Commanding Officer of New Jersey (BB-16). NH 45029

RADM Southerland retired in early 1914 after 49 years of service, just missing the Great War, and passed in 1933. The Allen M. Sumner– class destroyer USS Southerland (DD-743) was named in his honor.

Curiously, other than a WWII Q-ship, USS Eagle (AM-132), which was quickly renamed USS Captor during her construction, the Navy has not elected to use further use the name USS Eagle.


Ships are more than steel
and wood
And heart of burning coal,
For those who sail upon
them know
That some ships have a
soul.


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First of Ford’s Subusters Hits the Water

Here we see, 105 years ago today, “Patrol Eagle (PE) Boat #1” ready to be Launched at the Ford River Rouge Plant, on the outskirts of Detroit, 11 July 1918. The vessel is seen sliding bow-first from the mammoth construction that was “Building B,” which was considered a temporary structure at the time

Ford Motor Company. Photographic Department. From the Collections of The Henry Ford. THF97490

And there she goes…THF270203

During World War I, Ford built “Eagle” anti-submarine patrol boats at a new plant on the Rouge River. Ford assembled the boats using the same mass-production assembly-line techniques it perfected for its automobiles. The launching of the first Eagle, above, was cause for celebration.

The Rouge Plant consisted of a 1,700-foot assembly line that would spit out a 200-foot patrol boat at the end, ready to take on the Kaiser’s undersea pirates. When fully operational, it could do so at a rate of 25 vessels a month. It was initially thought that 125 Eagles would be a good number to start with.

During World War I, Ford Motor Company built “Eagle” anti-submarine patrol boats for the U.S. Navy. Henry Ford called on industrial architect Albert Kahn to design the Eagle factory, located at the mouth of the Rouge River. Kahn created three principal structures: a fabricating shop, a main assembly building, and a fit-out shop. Via the Henry Ford Museum

Eagle No. 1 had her keel laid on 7 May 1918, was launched on 11 July, and was commissioned on 27 October, a span of 173 days. This rate never really shortened, and, by Eagle No. 11, which was completed post-war, was stretching well over a year. 

Inside Building B at Rouge. Construction of Ford Eagle Boats (200′ Patrol Boats #1 to 60) Ford Motor Company, Detroit, Michigan. March 29, 1918. NH 112098

Ford Built Eagle Boat No 1 via Hampton Roads Naval Museum

Ford Built Eagle Boat No 1 via Hampton Roads Naval Museum

These boats had a solid cement bow, specially built for ramming and sinking submarines– a popular early Great War ASW practice. They were equipped with 4-inch guns on the bow and stern and also carried depth charges and primitive sound gear. Here, class leader, USS PE-1. NH 85434

Ford Built Eagle Boat No 1 via Hampton Roads Naval Museum

Note the depth charge stern racks and projectors. Via Hampton Roads Naval Museum

Ford Built Eagle Boat No 1 via Hampton Roads Naval Museum

However, the war ended four months later, before any of the boats saw combat, and, in the end, just 60 were built. Only the first three were in commission on Armistice Day. 

Downright ugly and generally seen as being unsuccessful due to poor speed and range, they were largely disposed of by the early 1930s without ever firing a shot, although eight survived long enough to see limited CONUS WWII service. It was in that later conflict that one, PE-56, was sunk on 23 April 1945 by the German submarine U-853 off Portland, Maine just two weeks before VE Day

Meanwhile, after Eagle production ended, Ford exercised its option to buy the production “B” Building from the federal government, which postwar became the core of Ford’s Rouge factory complex. It was from that building that “everything from Model As to Mustangs” were made. It remained in use until 2004.

The Ford has an extensive online resource on the Eagles.

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