Category Archives: World War One

Warship Wednesday 6 May 2026: 50 Years Low and Slow

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

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Warship Wednesday 6 May 2026: 50 Years Low and Slow

Historic New England PC047.02.5870.09396

Above we see the class-leading shallow-draft, single-masted armored sloop USS Wilmington (Gunboat No. 8) in Boston Harbor for a naval parade on 2 September 1898, just after the SpanAm War. Note her array of 4″/40 guns, including two forward behind shields, two aft, and two in her portside casemates.

Basically a low-horsepower light cruiser, Wilmington went on to have an amazingly long service life.

Steel Navy’s early gunboats

The first steel-hulled steam warship that was (eventually) rated as a gunboat was the 1,400-ton 16-knot dispatch vessel USS Dolphin, which was authorized by the New Navy Act of 1883. Carrying a three-masted schooner rig, later reduced to two masts, she carried a single 6-inch gun on a 255-foot hull.

USS Dolphin at Galveston, Texas, 1 March 1919. Photographed by Paul Verkin, Galveston. Note that the ship is still wearing pattern camouflage nearly four months after the World War I Armistice. Donation of Dr. Mark Kulikowski, 2007. NH 104949

Then in 1889 came the trio of Yorktown class boats (PG 1, 3-4), which went 1,900 tons and carried six 6-inchers. They also had an armored conning tower, clad in two inches of nickel steel.

Yorktown Class Gunboat USS Concord pictured about to depart Dry Dock No.1 at Mare Island Navy Yard on June 26th 1903.

USS Petrel (PG-2) was a smaller boat, just 867 tons, armed with four 6-inchers and capable of just 11 knots.

USS PETREL (PG-2) (1899-1920) in Japanese waters, during the 1890s. Collection of Shizuo Fukui, copied from Dr. S. Watanabe’s Album. The photo was provided by William H. Davis. NH 42706

USS Bancroft (PG 4 1/2, not kidding) mimicked Petrel but mounted four-inch guns and could gin up 14 knots plus, as a bonus, carried two torpedo tubes.

Bath Iron Works in Maine in 1893 built the twin 15-knot gunboats USS Machias (PG-5) and Castine (PG-6), which went 1,310 tons and 203 feet overall, while mounting eight 4-inchers. These boats carried armor, two inches of it, protecting their casemates. This left them with a 15-foot draft.

USS Machias

The Newport News-built USS Nashville (Gunboat No. 7), at 1,300 tons and 233 feet, was good for 16 knots on a 2,530shp plant and, like the Machias twins, carried eight 4-inch guns while the casemate armor had been upped to 2.5 inches. She was awarded on 22 January 1894 in Newport News’s first Navy contract, and was laid down as Yard No. 7 on 9 August 1894.

Gunsboat USS Nashville PG-7

This sets the stage for our subject.

Meet Wilmington

Wilmington, the only commissioned U.S. Navy warship named for the Delaware city, was ordered specifically to be a shallow draft gunboat, capable of floating in nine feet of water. Running 250 feet overall with a plow bow, she was a beamy girl, at 40 feet.

Line drawing from Transactions of the Society of Naval Architects and Marine Engineers, Vol. 2, 1894. Robb Jensen collection

Displacing 1,397 tons standard (1,689 full) she was powered by six single-ended Hohenstein cylindrical coal-fed boilers pushing twin vertical triple expansion engines powering twin screws, and capable of generating 1,988 horsepower, good for 15.5 knots (light, 13.2 full). While her normal load was 100 tons, when her bunkers were packed with 277 tons, she had a 5,500nm range at 10 knots

Wilmington Olangapo PI dry dock

Wilmington Olangapo PI dry dock

Her main battery consisted of eight single 4″/40 Mark III mounts, the yankee version of the 4″/40 (10.2 cm) QF Mark XI, which was staple when it came to U.S. gunboats from PG-5 through PG-35, as well as secondary batteries on the Iowa (B-4), Puritan (M-1), Columbia (C-12) and New York (ACR-2) classes. Designed to deliver 8-9 rounds per minute, well-trained American crews in the war with Spain found themselves able to pump out as many as 15 rounds per minute when needed in battle.

USS Wilmington (PG-8) getting underway from Port of Spain, Trinidad, 21 January 1899 for Orinoco/Amazon Rivers cruise, giving a good view of her stern pair of 4″/40s. NH 77614

Her secondary armament consisted of six 57mm/50 6-pounder Driggs-Schroeder Mk II anti-boat guns and two 37mm/40 Driggs-Schroeder heavy Mk I 1-pounders.

Crewmen at the six-pounder and one-pounder guns of USS Wilmington (PG-8), circa January 1899, with the latter commonly used for saluting and challenges. Courtesy of Mrs. Chapman C. Todd, 1973.NH 77633

The 1904 Jane’s entry for the class showing the battery arrangement with two 4″/40 guns forward, two rear, and two on each beam, while the 6- and 1-pounders were split between an amidships gundeck with two aloft in the fighting top.

A pair of Colt Gatling guns and a 3-inch field gun were also issued with the intention that they could be dismounted for service ashore. Speaking of which, it was expected that her 175-man crew could provide a reinforced two-platoon (70-man) landing force if called upon, with rifles and marching kit stocked aboard if needed.

Sailors at Musketry Drill, circa 1900-1910. They are armed with M1898 (Krag-Jorgenson) rifles. Note Warrant Officer at left, holding a sword. The sword was abolished in 1905 for landing party duty, but may have continued in use, informally, for drill. Courtesy of Carter Rila, 1986. NH 100833

Her armor plan included a watertight deck with 3/8″ armor on the slopes and 5/16″ on the flats. In addition, her conning tower, casemates, and machinery spaces had a 1-inch belt while she had shields for her deck-mounted 4-inchers.

Our girl was ordered for $280,000, laid down at Newport News as Yard No. 8 on 8 October 1894, just two months behind Nashville, and the two very different gunboats were built side-by-side.

USS Wilmington (PG-8) and USS Nashville (PG-7) ready for launching at Newport News, Virginia, 19 October 1895. Photo by Hart, New York. NH 63204

Miss Anne Grey, daughter of Senator Grey of Delaware, just before christening USS Wilmington (PG-8), at Newport News, Virginia, 19 October 1895. Photo by Hart, New York. NH 63206

Miss Anne Grey, daughter of Senator Grey of Delaware, christening USS Wilmington (PG-8), at Newport News, Virginia, 19 October 1895. Photo by Hart, New York. NH 63208

Wilmington launched at Newport News Shipbuilding & Drydock Co., 19 October 1895. Photo by Hart, New York. NH 63202

Wilmington during fitting out with no armament installed. NH 63584

Wilmington would commission on 13 May 1897.

Her first skipper was CDR Chapman Coleman Todd (USNA 1866), late from his post as the Ordnance Officer, Navy Yard, Norfolk. The son of Kentucky steamboat captain, Franklin County sheriff, state legislator, and state penitentiary warden Harry Innes Todd, the younger Todd secured his appointment to Annapolis from Governor John J. Crittenden at age 13 during the Civil War.  He would prove a man of action.

Newport News would build one sister to Wilmington, USS Helena (PG-9), which commissioned on 8 July 1897.

Wilmington and Helena gunboats, Janes 1898

Officers of the USS Helena (PG-9) and HMS Espiegle alongside the Helena in China, 1903-1904. Courtesy of Captain E.B. Larimer, USN, 1931.NH 133

Wilmington conducted sea trials and underwent training off the east coast, and joined the South Atlantic Squadron at Key West.

War (her first)

At the beginning of 1898, the U.S. Atlantic Fleet was split into Northern and South Squadrons with all of the country’s battleships (except USS Oregon), armored cruisers, and monitors (save for Monadnock and Monterey). The South Atlantic Squadron, consisting of the cruiser USS Cincinnati and the gunboats Castine and Wilmington, was meanwhile detailed to cruising north along the coast of South America. Meanwhile, Wilmington’s sister, Helena, was detailed to the two-ship European Squadron along with the Bancroft, lounging at Lisbon.

On 21 April 1898, two months after the sinking of the battleship Maine in Havana harbor, Cuba, the United States declared war on Spain.

The blockade began in earnest on the morning of 23 April with USS Puritan, Marblehead, Cincinnati, Wilmington, Foote, and the Revenue Cutter Winslow ordered to the eastward of Havana to blockade Matanzas and Cardenas, and to patrol the coast between the latter and Havana.

A haze gray USS Wilmington. Halftone photo from “War in Cuba”, 1898. Note the gun shields are installed on her 4″/40s. NH 85651

On 4 May, the tug Leyden, with Captain J. H. Dorst, of the U.S. Army, aboard, landed ammunition for the Cuban insurgents near Mariel. Spanish cavalry that attempted to prevent Captain Dorst’s plucky landing were dispersed by a few 4-inch shells from the Wilmington. The next day, Wilmington, along with Newport and the USRC Morrill, captured the French steamer Lafayette while off Havana with a cargo of provisions and 161 passengers.

On 11 May, Todd was made a defato commodore and given a little flotilla including the schooner-rigged gunboat USS Machias (PG-5), the torpedo boats Winslow and Foote, and the armed Revenue Service tug Hudson, tasked with destroying the Spanish gunboats sheltering at Cardenas and bombarding any troops found inside the sheltered bay.

Machias, drawing 15 feet, remained outside Cardenas due to her greater draft, and destroyed the signal station of Cayo Diana, while Wilmington, Foote, and Winslow entered the bay, amidst a dense fog and haze, hoping to make short work of the much inferior Spanish squadron. Hudson held back to tow any prizes.

Opposing the American force was a pair of small 42-ton cañoneras, Ligera and Alerta, armed with a single 42mm Nordenfelt and a 37mm Maxim. The problem was, Ligera was already disbled with a shot through her boiler in a 25 April engagement with Foote. They were augmented by the armed Trasatlántica-company 68-ton tugboat (remolcador) Antonio Lopez, which had been pressed into service, as well as shore batteries.

With the cañoneras hugging the shallows, the heavier Lopez was forced to stand just off the wharf and fight– and she did– taking the leading American warship, Winslow, under fire, beginning an 80-minute artillery duel.

While the Spanish Navy got a bad rap when it comes to remembering the war of 1898, they made a good showing at Cardenas with the little Antonio Lopez taking at least 12 hits from Winslow’s 1-pounder popgun, and in turn fired 135 shells with her single 57mm 6-pounder, riddling Winslow and keeping up her fire until her magazine was empty. Dead in the water and with her XO, Ensign Worth Bagley, and five enlisted killed and her skipper wounded, Winslow had to be towed to safety by Hudson.

The engagement only ended, via DANFS, when “Wilmington and Hudson brought their guns to bear on the Spanish ship and shore batteries, and the combined fire of the three American warships put the Spanish gunboat out of action and caused the shore batteries to slacken fire.”

La batalla de Cárdenas, Museo naval de Madrid, showing the gunboat Antonio Lopez facing off against Wilmington, Winslow, and Foote, at distances made shorter for artistic license.

Engagement off Cardenas, May 11, 1898. Death of Ensign Bagley of the Winslow by Henry Reuterdahl. Left to right: USS Winslow, Hudson, and Wilmington. NH 71837-KN

Battle of Cárdenas USS Wilmington USS Winslow Hudson

Todd, who wrote a chapter about the battle (The Affair at Cardenas) for the book, With Sampson Through the War, noted the results of the battle:

The amount of damage from the guns of the three American vessels engaged could not be determined at the time, apart from the burning of two or three buildings near the location of the gunboats; but a few days later there came on board a Cuban pacifico, who was in Cardenas at the time of the engagement, and who visited the locality where the gunboats were lying the day following the engagement.

He brought the information that both of the large gunboats were riddled and practically destroyed. They could not sink, as they were lying in only six feet of water. This information was undoubtedly correct.

The net results of this attack on Cardenas may be stated as:

1st. The destruction of two Spanish gunboats.

2d. It was the first severe blow struck, which had a great effect upon the swarms of Spanish gunboats surrounding the island of Cuba, rendering their attacks by night much less probable, as shown by experience.

3d. It made feasible the anchorage at Piedras lighthouse for coaling purposes, and it was so used.

4th. It made the Spaniards feel they were not free from attack even though the channels were mined, and forever destroyed their sense of security, no matter how well defended they might be. They now knew that American ships-of-war would take and hold the offensive during the war.

5th. Here was made evident the great advantage of smokeless powder over the ordinary brown powder used by the American ships. The only gun used by the Spaniards, burning brown powder, was the one that fired from the bow of the gunboat moored bows out at the wharf. The others, including field guns observed on the shore and the machine guns on both gunboats, used only smokeless powder, thus making a very poor target for a vessel surrounded, as were the American ships, by clouds of overhanging smoke.

According to Spanish sources, the American bombardment of Cárdenas on 11 May destroyed the English consulate, warehouses, and several houses and buildings, resulting in two fatalities: a volunteer militiaman and a civilian– while a sergeant and seven soldiers were wounded.

Wilmington continued on her blockade service, was credited with seizing two other Spanish ships, dragged for and cut the telegraph line from Santa Cruz and Jucaro, and, oh, yeah, took part in a second, much more successful raid on a Cuban port, Manzanillo (about 80 miles from Santiago, on the south coast of the island), to destroy shipping.

The raid would be led by Wilmington/Todd, joined by sistership Helena, a collection of armed yachts (Hist, Scorpion, Hornet, and Osceola), and the tug Wompatuck (YT-27).

As detailed by DANFS, the Manzanillo raid was textbook:

Accordingly, at 3:00 a.m. on 18 July 1898, the American ships set out from Guayabal and set course for Manzanillo. At 6:45 a.m., the group split up according to plan: Wilmington and Helena made for the north channel; Hist, Hornet, and Wompatuck for the south; Scorpion and Osceola for the central harbor entrance. Fifteen minutes later, the two largest ships entered the harbor with black smoke billowing from their tall funnels and gunners ready at their weapons.

Taking particular care not to damage the city beyond the waterfront, the U.S. gunners directed their gunfire solely at the Spanish ships and took a heavy toll of the steamers congregated there. Spanish supply steamer Purissima Concepcion caught fire alongside a dock and sank at her moorings; gunboat Maria Ponton blew up when her magazines exploded; gunboats Estrella and Delgado Perrado also burned and sank while two transports, Gloria and Jose Garcia, went down as well. Two small gunboats, Guantanamo and Guardian, were driven ashore and shot to pieces.

Beyond the effective range of Spanish shore batteries, the Americans emerged unscathed, leaving columns of smoke to mark the pyres of the enemy’s supply and patrol vessels. The twenty-minute engagement ended with the attackers withdrawing to sea to resume routine patrol duties with the North Atlantic Squadron for the duration of hostilities.

American sources list between eight and nine (five gunboats, three merchant vessels, and one pontoon) successfully destroyed at Manzanillo without suffering any losses, while the NYT that week ran the story, citing at least seven.

Spanish personnel losses were negligible for the raid, typically referred to as the Third Battle of Manzanillo, as the vessels were largely abandoned due to the Americans having superior range, with Spanamwar.com noting, “The casualties among the Spanish squadron were a wounded boatswain, and the garrison suffered two dead and five wounded, and one wounded civilian.”

The war ended just 24 days later in an armistice.

Our gunboat headed home and was drydocked at Boston for repairs and peacetime overseas service.

Wilmington, just after the SpanAm War, Boston Harbor for a naval parade on 2 September 1898, Historic New England PC047.02.2970.10961

Her crew was eligible for the Sampson (West Indies Naval Campaign) Medal with “Wilmington” and “Manzanillo” bars, authorized by Congress in 1901.

Following repairs, the ship departed the Massachusetts coast on 20 October bound for the reestablished South Atlantic Squadron.

Roaming

Wilmington was then sent some 150 miles up Venezuela’s Orinoco River in January 1899 from Barrancas to Ciudad Bolivar, followed by an impressive 1,800-mile trip up the Amazon across the South American continent from Pernambuco, Brazil, to Iquitos, Peru, into May.

The 32-page report prepared by CDR Chapman C. Todd makes for interesting reading, especially when the extensive photos of the trip (taken by one hired professional shutterbug, Mr. F.S. Bassett) are taken into account.

Talk about a time capsule!

USS Wilmington (PG-8) portrait photo of the ship’s officers in January 1899, by the helm. The commanding officer was Commander Chapman C. Todd, seated second from the left. Francis B. Loomis, the U.S. minister to Venezuela, is in civilian dress, and Army Captain Charles Collins, military attaché to Venezuela, is seated on the right. Courtesy of Mrs. Chapman C. Todd, 1973. NH 77638

USS Wilmington (PG-8) crew members on the forecastle of the ship, circa January 1899, while the ship was on an exploratory cruise of the Orinoco River, Venezuela. Note the 6-pounder to the right. NH 77631

Wilmington at anchor at Ciudad Bolivar, Venezuela, during the ship’s exploratory cruise up the Orinoco River, January 1899. Ciudad Bolivar was the most inland point reached. The river was not navigable by ship shortly beyond this point. NH 77625

Wilmington at anchor in the Orinoco River at Ciudad Bolivar, Venezuela, during the ship’s exploratory cruise up the Orinoco, January 1899. Note stevedoring on the merchant ship. NH 77626

USS Wilmington, gunboat #8 LOC Detriot LC-DIG-det-4a16361

Gunboat No 8, USS Wilmington, pictured on the Orinoco River, Venezuela. LOC det 4a05681

Ship at anchor during a brief visit to Barrancas, Venezuela, returning downstream from the USS Wilmington’s exploratory cruise up the Orinoco River, January 1899. Barrancas is located near the delta formed by the Orinoco. NH 77629

Ship’s bugler and a rapid-fire gun squad of USS Wilmington, circa January 1899. Crewmen not identified. Description: NH 77613

USS Wilmington (PG-8) saluting the governor of the province at Ciudad Bolivar, Venezuela, during the ship’s exploratory cruise up the Orinoco River, January 1899. NH 77628

Coal-passers of the ship on deck with mascot (goat), circa January 1899, while the ship was on an exploratory cruise of the Orinoco River, Venezuela. NH 77632

USS Wilmington (PG-8) approaching anchorage at Guanta, Venezuela, in February 1899. Guanta was a village on the north coast of Venezuela. Note laundry drying. NH 77636

USS Wilmington (PG-8)  anchored in Guanta Harbor, Venezuela, circa February 1899. NH 77637

Todd even used unit funds to create cages for living animals collected from the region, with the ship’s doc, Passed Asst. Surgeon Frank Clarendon Cook, responsible for their care. From the report:

In his report to the State Department, Loomis stated that the Wilmington had made a “strong and agreeable impression wherever she went in Venezuela and, as a result of the trip, American prestige has been substantially and handsomely augmented.”

Wilmington would remain on South American station until October 1900, when, in the midst of the Boxer Rebellion and Japanese-European encroachment in Manchuria, she was ordered to China service. She arrived in Manila on 21 January 1901 after a three-month voyage via Gibraltar, the Suez, Red Sea, and Indian Ocean, and for the next 21 years remained in Asiatic waters, alternating between the Philippines and China.

Wilmington and Callao at Canton, China, 1912

As detailed by DANFS:

Ordinary activities included the usual calls and port visits to such places as Hong Kong, Canton, and Swatow. She conducted target practice after constructing her own target rafts and laying out a firing area. On one occasion, Chinese fishermen decided that the raft presented a good perch from which to carry out their piscatorial pursuits. Repeated attempts by the gunboaters to shoo away the fishermen only ended in frustration. Finally, as the ship steamed slowly toward the area, she fired a few blank rounds purposely “over,” and the squatters promptly abandoned their erstwhile fishing vantage point.

USS Wilmington seen at Hong Kong BCC (British Crown Colony), likely during her stint as station ship from 30 June 1912 to 30 June 1914. Note she still has her bow crest. NH 49466

War (again)

Stationed in the Western Pacific during the Great War, Wilmington in 1914 had her secondary battery of 6-pounders, 1-pounders, and Gatling guns replaced with four 47/40-45 Driggs-Schroeder Mk II 3-pounders and a pair of Colt Model 1895 .30-06 machine guns.

In Shanghai, when Congress declared war in April 1917, the Chinese government ordered all U.S. ships to leave in 48 hours or be interned. This left Wilmington on patrol of the Philippines for the duration.

Great Lake Days

Returning to the U.S. for the first time since 1899, Wilmington arrived at Portsmouth on 20 September 1922 after a 15-week cruise via Singapore, Colombo, Bombay, Karachi, Aden, Port Said, Gibraltar, and the Azores, with the last leg under tow by USS Sapelo (AO 11) due to the poor state of her engines.

After a refit, which included changing out her legacy boilers for four new Babcock & Wilcox sets, she was reduced to a Naval Reserve training ship, assigned to the Ninth Naval District, for the states of Kentucky and Ohio, based in Toledo. She arrived on Lake Erie via the Soulanges, Cornwall, and Welland Canals on 1 August 1923.

She would spend the next 18 years in a quiet existence of winter layups and summer training cruises with her assorted reservists, with her deck guns removed to keep from violating the Rush-Bagot Agreement of 1817 with Canada. Her NRF bluejackets could still drill with small arms and practice stands, seen below.

A 5″/51 gun training stand, which helped drill rammers, loaders, and powdermen. A second stand would be used for training pointers and trainers.

USS Wilmington was taken in the 1920s while operating in the Great Lakes as a training ship. Courtesy of Mr. A.W. Mears, 1967. NH 49465

USS Wilmington (IX-30, ex PG-8) during the 1930s, while serving as a Naval Reserve training ship on the Great Lakes. NH 76514

Wilmington circa 1920s-30s on the Great Lakes. Note that her casemates are empty and deck guns removed. Indiana University Frank M. Hohenberger Photograph Collection Hoh034.000.0003

During this same period, sister Helena, on Asiatic Station since February 1899, was decommissioned there in 1932 and sold for scrap.

Helena & Wilmington, 1929 Janes

(Yet another) War

As the U.S. edged towards its second world war in just 21 years, the old gunboat Wilmington was *redesignated USS Dover (IX-30) on 27 January 1941, and soon got involved in neutrality patrol, rearmed for the first time in 18 years.

*The renaming came as the Navy intended to upcycle the name “Wilmington” to a planned Cleveland-class light cruiser, CL-79, which ultimately entered service as the Independence-class light aircraft carrier USS Cabot (CVL-28). Nonetheless, the Navy did use “Wilmington” for a planned Fargo class, USS Wilmington (CL-111), which was laid down in March 1945, but was suspended in August and later scrapped.

Sporting a single 5″/38 over her stern, our old Wilmington/Dover even clocked in on convoy duty, escorting the five merchant ships and one auxiliary (the 11,000-ton USS Antares (AG-10)) of  HF-24 from Halifax to Boston over Christmas 1942, with 106 men embarked as her crew, sailing under the command of LT Raymond George Brown, USNR.

Sailing via New York and Miami, Wilmington/Dover arrived in Gulfport, Mississippi, on 3 February 1943 to serve the Eighth Naval District as an Armed Guard training ship, moored along with the 187-foot circa 1914 patrol yacht USS Lash (PYc 31), the 183-foot Kil class gunboat USCGC Marita (WYP-175), and the old 261-foot armed freighter USCGC Monomoy (WAG-275).

Dover at Gulfport, May 1944

Dover at Gulfport, May 1944

Dover at Gulfport, May 1944. Note her cased 20mm guns

Dover at Gulfport, May 1944

Besides training Armed Guards at a rate of 585 per week, the ships also served as “floating laboratories for the students in the Basic Engineering School.”

Wilmington/Dover would remain there until 27 November 1944, the Monday after Thanksgiving weekend, when she was sent to Alabama Shipbuilding and Drydock Company at Pinto Island in Mobile Bay for two weeks of refurbishment to allow her to transfer to Treasure Island, California, upon the pending disestablishment of the Gulfport Armed Guard base.

She arrived at her last homeport via the Panama Canal on New Year’s Day 1945, LT William Louis Hardy, USNR, in command.

In just her limited time at Treasure Island, Wilmington/Dover gave refresher gunnery training to 84 officers and 3,370 enlisted men in the San Francisco area during 1945.

She was finally decommissioned on 20 December 1945.

Stricken from the Navy List on 8 January 1946, Wilmington/Dover was sold for scrap on 30 December 1946 to the San Francisco Barge Company, and sunk at sea in early 1947.

Epilogue

Little remains of our subject.

Wilmington’s first skipper, CDR Chapman Todd, who commanded her during the SpanAm War and her trips across the rivers of South America, went on to serve as hydrographer of the Navy Department, where he supervised the initial survey of the newly acquired U.S. territories of the Philippines, Cuba, and Puerto Rico. Promoted to captain in 1901, he commanded the cruiser USS Brooklyn on Asiatic station during the Philippine insurrection. He retired from active service in October 1902 with the rank of rear admiral after a naval career that spanned 41 years, counting his time at Annapolis.

RADM Todd passed away in April 1929 at the Naval Hospital in Washington, aged 80, and was buried in Kentucky. At the time of his passing, his son, CDR Chapman Todd, Jr. (USNA 1913), was an officer on the battlewagon USS Florida (BB-30) who would go on to serve in WWII. Besides the two scrapbooks whose images are in the Naval History and Heritage Command’s files, many of which are seen in the above article, the senior Todd’s 1870 Lieutenant’s commission, signed by President Grant, is in the Kentucky state archives– along with his Civil War dress epaulettes. 

Thanks for reading!

Meminisse est ad Vivificandum – To Remember is to Keep Alive

***

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Sanitäter!

From the collections of the Imperial War Museum.

Great War-era German sanitäter’s (medical orderly’s) pouch, with contents.

IWM SUR 821

Contents:

Rectangular brown leather pouch, stamped on rear “Frank Lutges & Co. Berlin 1915” containing a roll of adhesive tape, a rectangular Seife soap tin containing a fragment of soap, a round tin of antiseptic ointment, a tube of tartaric acid tablets, an empty tube of charcoal tablets (Dopp. Kohlens.Natron) and empty bottles for tincture of opium, ammonium hydroxide (salmiakgeist), oil of turpentine, and ether/valerian tincture. Contents: pouch, adhesive tape, soap tin, mustard papers in wallet, antiseptic ointment tin, tube of tartaric acid tablets, empty tube of charcoal/soda (?) tablets, and 4 empty bottles: tincture of opium, ammonium hydroxide, oil of turpentine, and ether/valerian tincture.

A German infantry regiment in World War I typically had a regimental aid station (Truppenverbandplatz) serviced by a dedicated medical detachment (Sanitätstrupp) staffed with 4–7 officers and 31–43 enlisted men (Sanitätssoldaten, medics/corpsmen). This team included a medical officer, 4–6 specialized Medical Corpsmen, runners, and stretcher-bearer squads, with dedicated personnel at both company and battalion levels. Once stabilized, wounded and injured would either be returned to their units, sent to the rear for recuperation, or rushed to field hospitals (Feldlazarette) for more care.

Then, as now, the regimental band would double as stretcher bearers during combat.

USCGC Tampa, found

The 190-foot, 1,200-ton Miami-class auxiliary gunboat/steel-hulled “cruising cutter” Tampa (WGC-11) was built to spec at Newport News and commissioned on 19 August 1912.

Constructed at $250,000 for the Revenue Cutter Service, she was a simple coastwise vessel, armed with a trio of 6-pounders in peacetime, with weight and space reserved to upgrade those to 3-inchers during war.

USCGC Tampa photographed in harbor, before World War I. Note her two visible whalers. Completed in 1912 as the U.S. Revenue Cutter Miami, she was renamed Tampa in February 1916. U.S. Naval History and Heritage Command Photograph. NH 1226

She spent her first few years stationed in southern Florida (go figure), under her original name (Miami), service she alternated with heading to the North for the International Ice Patrol every spring– remember these were the years just after the loss of the Titanic.

Crew photo of the Revenue Service Cutter Miami (future USCGC Tampa) while on Ice Patrol, circa 1912-16. Note one of her 6-pounder guns to the right of the photo

Revenue Cutter Miami, the future USCGC Tampa, USCG 190326-G-G0000-1001

Then came war, and Tampa was quickly modified for overseas service with five other large cutters.

As detailed by the CG Historian’s Office:

On 1 February 1916, three days before the Gasparilla Carnival and South Florida Fair in Tampa, her name was changed to Tampa. Again that year, she made the ice patrol and then returned to Key West. The year 1917 was very eventful for the crew of Tampa. The South Florida Fair and Gasparilla Carnival at Tampa was the greatest yet, lasting nine days, from 2 February through the 10th. With four days to recuperate from this gala affair, they went on to patrol the Annual Motor Boat Regatta at Miami from 15 to 17 February 1916.  On 27 and 28 March, they patrolled the races of the St. Petersburg Yacht Club in St. Petersburg, Florida.

There was a shadow over the spring gaiety of 1917, however.  On 2 February 1917, the opening day of the Fair and Carnival in Tampa, was the day the United States broke off diplomatic relations with Germany.  Perhaps the men of Tampa sensed that this would be their last celebration with the citizens of their favorite city. On 6 April 1917, the United States declared war on Germany, and immediately, Tampa and other Coast Guard cutters were transferred to the Navy. During the next four months, she received heavier armament by trading her three six-pounders for four 3-inch guns and a pair of machine guns. After preparations at the Boston Navy Yard, Tampa moved to the New York Navy Yard on 16 September and reported for duty to the commanding officer of USS Paducah (Gunboat No. 18). Ordered to duty overseas, the warship departed New York on 29 September in company with Paducah, Sterling, B.H.B. Hubbard (SP-416), and five French-manned, American-made submarine chasers in tow. After stops at Halifax, Nova Scotia, and Ponta Delgada in the Azores, Tampa and her sailing mates reached Gibraltar on 27 October 1917.

Based in Gibraltar, the Tampa, Seneca (her companion ship during the ice patrols), Yamacraw, Ossipee, Algonquin, and Manning made up Squadron 2 of Division 6 of the Atlantic Fleet Patrol Forces. Their mission was to protect convoys from submarine attacks. In the little more than a year left to her, Tampa escorted 18 convoys, comprising a total of 350 vessels, through the U-boat-infested waters from Gibraltar to Britain. Her record during this period was outstanding. She was never disabled, and her one request for repairs had been on two minor items, in spite of spending more than fifty percent of her time at sea and steaming an average of 3,566 miles a month.

A haze grey USCGC Tampa moored in a European port (possibly Gibraltar), circa 1917-1918. Note the paddle tug astern of Tampa and the large converted yacht in the distance. The latter may be a British Navy vessel. Donation of Charles R. Haberlein Jr., 2009. U.S. Naval History and Heritage Command Photograph. NH 106706

She was sunk while escorting a convoy on 26 September 1918– just seven weeks before the Armistice– in the Bristol Channel off the coast of Wales by German UB III-class submarine UB-91 (Kptlt. Wolf Hans Hertwig).

As detailed by DANFS:

Tampa, in company with her fellow escorts, departed Gibraltar with the 32-ship convoy HG 107, bound for Liverpool, on 17 September 1918. The convoy proceeded without incident beyond Cornwall and into the Irish Sea. During the late afternoon of 26 September, Tampa parted company with the convoy as she was in need of refueling. Ordered to put into Milford Haven, she proceeded independently toward her destination. At 7:30 p.m., as she steamed toward the Bristol Channel, UB-91 (Kapitänleutnant Wolf Hans Hertwig) spotted the ocean escort and, according to the U-boat’s war diary entry, dived and maneuvered into an attack position. From a range of about 550 meters, UB-91 fired one G6AV torpedo with a special attachment from her stern torpedo tube at 8:15 p.m. Minutes later, the warhead detonated on Tampa’s port side amidships, throwing up a huge, luminous column of water. Two minutes later, the U-boat was shocked by a second detonation, most likely caused by Tampa’s depth charges reaching pressure fuse depth, as the cutter sank.

All 131 souls aboard— 111 Coast Guardsmen, four U.S. Navy signalmen, a captain of the British Army, 10 seamen of the Royal Navy, and five British dock workers– were killed, representing the largest single loss of life for the Coast Guard during the conflict and, except the disappearance of the collier USS Cyclops, was the largest loss of life suffered by U.S. Naval forces in any incident of the First World War.

Painting of the sinking of Cutter Tampa by the German submarine UB-91, painted by noted marine artist John Wisinski. Photo by: USCG Historian’s Office, VIRIN: 220818-G-G0000-1001

Admiral William S. Sims, the senior U.S. naval officer on duty in Great Britain, received the following letter from the Lords of the British Admiralty:

“Their Lordships desire me to express their deep regret at the loss of the USS Tampa. Her record since she has been employed in European waters as an ocean escort to convoys has been remarkable. She has acted in the capacity of ocean escort to no less than 18 convoys from Gibraltar, comprising 350 vessels, with a loss of only two ships through enemy action. The commanders of the convoys have recognized the ability with which the Tampa carried out the duties of ocean escort. Appreciation of the good work done by the USS Tampa may be some consolation to those bereft, and Their Lordships would be glad if this could be conveyed to those concerned.”

Two bodies in U.S. naval uniforms later washed ashore, one of which was identified by a waterlogged pocket tag as being Seaman James Marconnier Fleury, USCG. They were both buried with full military honors at Lamphey Churchyard (a small country churchyard in Wales). Fleury’s family later brought home his body and buried him in a cemetery in Long Island, New York, but the unidentified Coast Guardsman still rests in Lamphey Churchyard. Local citizens care for his grave to this day.

Unknown Tampa Crewman, Lamphey Churchyard, Wales, United Kingdom, ca. 2014 “In loving memory of our unknown shipmate from the USS Coast Guard Cutter Tampa torpedoed in the Bristol Channel September 26th, 1918. Erected by the USS Tampa Coast Guard Post 719 American Legion, New York. USCG 170602-G-XX000-152

The UB-91 was surrendered at Harwich on 21 November 1918. Operated by a British crew, she toured several cities, including Cardiff and Newport, where she was displayed from 12–20 January 1919 and visited by local officials to raise funds for mariners’ charities. After the boat’s breakup at Briton Ferry in 1921, her deck gun was moved to Chepstow’s war memorial. Her only wartime skipper, Hertwig, credited with 14,668 tons of shipping (Tampa and three steamers) returned to Germany on board the transport Lucia Woerman and resigned from the Imperial Navy in 1920. He later joined the Kriegsmarine in 1937 at age 52 and held a series of training and desk jobs. KzS Hertwig was taken prisoner by the British during the liberation of Denmark in May 1945 and held in a PoW camp till the end of 1946. He passed in 1958, of cancer.

Until now, the only tangible part of Tampa that has ever been located was a brass boat plate from one of her whalers, found on 14 April 1924, almost six years after she was lost, discovered by a 14-year-old lad while beachcombing at Rest Bay, Porthcawl, England.

Tampa boat plate NH 41869

Now it seems, as reported by the Gasperados Dive Team, that the final resting place of Tampa is in 320 feet of water, some 50 miles off Newquay, England.

As detailed by the USCG Historian’s Office:

“Since 1790, the Coast Guard has defended our nation during every armed conflict in American history, a legacy reflected in the courage and sacrifice of the crew of Coast Guard Cutter Tampa,” said Adm. Kevin Lunday, commandant of the Coast Guard. “When the Tampa was lost with all hands in 1918, it left an enduring grief in our service. Locating the wreck connects us to their sacrifice and reminds us that devotion to duty endures. We will always remember them.  We are proud to carry their spirit forward in defense of the United States.”

In 2023, the Coast Guard Historians Office was contacted by the Gasperados Dive Team regarding the Tampa. Over the past three years, the all-volunteer team conducted an extensive search for the wreckage.

“We provided the dive team with historical records and technical data to assist in confirming the wreck site,” said Dr. William Thiesen, Coast Guard Atlantic Area Historian. “This included the archival images of the deck fittings, ship’s wheel, bell, weaponry, and archival images of the Tampa.”

The Coast Guard is now developing plans for underwater research and exploration in coordination with its offices of specialized capabilities, historians, cutter forces, robotics and autonomous systems, and dive locker.

And so we remember.

In Waters Deep– Eileen Mahoney

In ocean wastes no poppies blow,
No crosses stand in ordered row,
There young hearts sleep… beneath the wave…
The spirited, the good, the brave,
But stars a constant vigil keep,
For them who lie beneath the deep.
‘Tis true you cannot kneel in prayer
On certain spot and think. “He’s there.”
But you can to the ocean go…
See whitecaps marching row on row;
Know one for him will always ride…
In and out… with every tide.
And when your span of life is passed,
He’ll meet you at the “Captain’s Mast.”
And they who mourn on distant shore
For sailors who’ll come home no more,
Can dry their tears and pray for these
Who rest beneath the heaving seas…
For stars that shine and winds that blow
And whitecaps marching row on row.
And they can never lonely be
For when they lived… they chose the sea.

30,000 Miles From Moscow to Marseille

In late 1915, it was hit on an idea for the soldier-rich but equipment-poor Imperial Russian Army– which had lost immense supplies of pre-war arms and ordnance in their series of sweeping defeats delivered by the Germans in the 12 months from Tannenberg in August 1914 to the capture of Warsaw in August 1915– that one of the best ways to help its allies in France was to send men there to fight with French-supplied arms.

While the French asked for a 400,000-strong Russian Expeditionary Force, the REF led to the piecemeal dispatch of ultimately five picked two-regiment brigades, plus an artillery brigade and an engineer battalion, some 44,319 volunteers in all.

The 1st Russian Special Brigade, 180 officers and 8,762 enlisted under Maj. Gen. Nikolai Aleksandrovich Lokhvitsky, left Moscow on 3 February 1916 and, during the coldest stretch of the Russian winter, set out East across the Trans-Siberian Railway to board four waiting French ships that would take them to the Western Front via the Indian Ocean and Suez Canal.

30,000 miles of the 1st Russian Expeditionary Brigade to France, 1916

After 80 days and 30,000 miles of travel by rail and ship, on 20 April 1916, the first two ships (Amiral Latouche-Tréville and Himalaya) carrying the lead elements of the brigade arrived in Marseille, having passed through Samara, Krasnoyarsk, Irkutsk, Harbin, Dairen, Saigon, Colombo, and Port Said.

It would be the first time that armed Russian formations had marched through France since Alexander I’s boys came in 1814 to get rid of Napoleon.

While only the officers and NCOs shipped out with their personal arms (handguns) and a picked “colors company” was equipped with Mosins, by and large, the Russians came sans small arms.

The newly arrived Russians were billeted at the training camp at Mailly-le-Camp in Champagne, where they learned to use their new French equipment, which included primarily Mle 1874/80/14 Gras rifles (often with Mle 66 bayonets) that had been rechambered to fire 8mm Lebel ammunition, Hotchkiss machine guns, gas masks, and Adrian helmets.

Besides the nearly 50,000 Gras rifles used by the REF (M1874/80/14 8mm conversions), France shipped another 400,000 (mostly original 11mm models) directly to Russia to help alleviate shortages. Even though a hopelessly obsolete design by 1916, it was better than no rifle at all

After the 3rd brigade (the 2nd and 4th brigades had been sent to the Salonika front in the Balkans) arrived in France in September 1916, it was merged into a “square” four-regiment division under Major Gen. Mikhail Ippolitovich Zankevich at Mourmelon-le-Grand, then sent to the Front.

Russian units took part in the Battle of Verdun. After serious losses during the April offensive of 1917 on the Western Front, amounting to 5,183 soldiers and officers killed and wounded– more than a quarter of their strength– the Russian 1st and 3rd Brigades were withdrawn to rest in the La Courtine military camp near Limoges.

Although the Revolution back home in Russia eventually caught up to the REF aboard– resulting in a widespread mutiny that had to be put down by French forces in September 1917– reformed Polish, Lettish (Latvian) and Russian Legions emerged from the REF’s ashes in 1918 and continued to fight until the Armistice. The two-battalion Russian Legion of Honor (Légion d’Honneur Russe) was notably folded into the colonial troops of the Moroccan Division (Division marocaine, 1re D.M), and provided notable service and ended the war on occupation duty in Worms, Germany, in 1919.

Some 9,000 who elected in March 1918 to continue fighting as their country had signed the peace with the Central Powers at Brest-Litovsk, were sent to North Africa to perform hard labor in construction projects under the watchful eyes of the French Foreign Legion. As the war continued, nearly 1,000 of these later requested to go back to the front!

Sent back home in waves via French ships, the trio of legions would form key parts of the Latvian, Polish, and White Russian armies in early 1919. By 1920, those left in North Africa were repatriated home, or given the option to join White Russian exiles then streaming into Europe.

Of the six brigade and division commanders of the REF that remained with the force to Armistice, all went back to Russia and fought with the Whites, then fled in exile after the Bolshevik Reds won the Civil War. Four, Lokhvitsky, Zankevich, Leontiev (4th Brigade Cdr), and Taranovsky, all settled in France, with Leontiev later opening a nightclub on the Riviera and retiring to Tahiti.

Today, more than 900 Russian war dead are interred at Saint-Hilaire-le-Grand Cemetery near Mourmelon, outside of Reims, while numerous monuments exist around France to the Adrian-helmeted troops of the Tsar that arrived to die for the Republic some 110 years ago this week.

They are well remembered by the Brigades Russess 16-18 Association.

Warship Wednesday 22 April 2026: The Morning Star

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

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

Warship Wednesday 22 April 2026: The Morning Star

Photo via the Danish Naval Museum (Orlogsmuseet) Archives THM-6115

Above, we see the small protected (krydserenGejser (also variously known as Gisjer and Geyser) of the Royal Danish Navy in Copenhagen, with the historic St. Alban’s Church in the background.

The class leader of a new series of modern warships under the Dannebrog, she joined the fleet’s 1st Squadron (I Eskadre) some 130 years ago this month and would go on to perform a solid 30 years of enjoyable, even picturesque, service, punctuated by a moment of horror.

Danish cruisers

The first warship rated as a “cruiser” in Danish service was the 2,663-ton ram-bowed iron-hulled sail-rigged steam schooner cruiser (skonnert-krydseren) Fyen, which commissioned in 1884. She carried an impressive 16 5.9-inch Krupp guns (two 149/32 RK L/35 C/80s and 14 shorter 149/22 RK L/25 C/78s), along with two 356mm bow torpedo tubes, protected by 39mm of armor plate. Capable of 12.5 knots, she was swathed in a 1.5-inch armored steel deck.

Danish cruiser Fyen’s armor and gunnery plan, showing her impressive battery of 16 5.9″ Krupp guns and two torpedo tubes, which wasn’t bad for 1884

Danish cruiser Fyen photographed during the winter of 1885-86, likely during one of her early Mediterranean cruises. By 1907, replaced by newer and more modern ships, she was disarmed and immobilized, turned into a barracks/school hulk, a role she held until scrapping in 1962. NH 85361

Then came a quartet of old (built 1862-78) armored screw schooners/sloops: St. Thomas (1,550 tons) Dagmar (1,200 tons), Ingolf (1,019 tons) and Absalon (533 tons) which were modernized in 1885-88 with new powerplants and a main battery of 4.7″/27 RK L/30 C/84 Krupp guns, backed up by 87mm and 37mm QF guns, to be reclassed as 3rd rate cruisers (krydstogtskib 3. klasse), to remain in service as such for a decade.

The 228-foot Danish Orlogsskonnerten St. Thomas in white tropical paint with yellow stacks and masts, common for service in the Danish West Indies (the Virgin Islands), where she was a station ship during the Spanish-American War. She had been re-armed in 1885 with eight 4.7″27 Krupp breechloaders along with six 37mm Hotchkiss 1-pdrs and redesignated a cruiser corvette (krydserkorvet)

Then came the British-built 3,000-ton krydserkorvet (cruiser corvette) Valkyrien, a close cousin of the Armstrong-built Chilean protected cruiser Esmeralda. Entering service in 1890, she cruised the world and waved the Dannebrog as far away as Siam and Hong Kong, and is most notable for overseeing the Danish West Indies (Virgin Islands) to the U.S. in 1917.

Valkyrien, dansk krysser, krigsskip, Oslofjorden Norwegian archives HHB-15663

This brings us to the 1,322-ton Helka, which would be the first of three planned protected cruisers to replace the old, converted 3rd rates, which were nothing but a stopgap for new construction. Laid down as Yard No. 70 on 9 April 1889, at the Royal Dockyard Copenhagen (Orlogsværftet, København), Hekla had a sloping (1.75-inch to 1-inch) “turtle back” armor deck right, fore, and aft, protecting engines, magazines, steering engines, and shell hoists. Meanwhile, her open gun mounts were all protected by shields.

Danish cruiser Hekla Farenholt collection NH 66303

As noted in 1889’s (London) Engineer [notes mine].

The upper deck is clear fore and aft, leaving ample scope for firing the two 6-inch [149/32 RK C/88 Krupp Schnelladekanone Länge 35] guns, one of which is placed at each end of the ship. Amidships are four [57/40 M.1885] rapid firing guns and two torpedo [381mm] launching tubes. Above the deck houses are six machine guns [37mm M.1875 Hotchkiss 1-pounder Gatling types]. The bridge and a conning tower constructed of nickel steel armor plate are forward. A powerful electric search light is placed on the top of the conning tower and another at the stern of the ship. The Hekla is 225 feet long, her breadth being 33 feet, and of light draught. The engines have been supplied by the Burmeister and Wain Shipbuilding and Engineering Company, Copenhagen.

Before she was even fully outfitted and commissioned, the guns on the old third-rate cruisers were evaluated on the new Hekla.

Danish protected cruiser Hekla photographed at Copenhagen dockyard, 1891, after trials of her cellulose protection in which a 4.7″ shell was fired at 30-35 m. distance by gunboat (3rd rate cruiser) Absalon. The dotted line indicates the bow wave. Searchlights and secondary armament are not in place. NH 85349

Same as above of Hekla, NH 85363

Proven satisfactory in terms of arms and armor, Hekla’s 8-pack of coal-fed locomotive boilers and twin VTEs generated 3,000 shp on twin screws, which was good for 16 knots. Her bunkers could hold 113 tons of coal, which was enough for 1,700nm at 10 knots.

The Danes thought they could tweak that powerplant to do better.

Meet Gejser

Named for the turbulent steam and water discharge common to Iceland (then a Danish territory), Gejser was based on Hekla and nearly identical above water save for the fact that she had a single funnel rather than Hekla’s twin pipe arrangement.

Ordered from Burmeister & Wain, the future Gejser launched on a beautiful summer day on 5 July 1892 with HM King Christian IX in attendance.

Gejser photographed at launch, 5 July 1892, at Burmeister & Wain in Copenhagen. Note her forward 450mm torpedo tube in her ram bow, restraining cable, two old hulks (probably steam frigates Sjaelland and Jylland) in the background, and coast defense battleship Helgoland to the right. Local reports noted, “The beautiful weather had lured many spectators out to the naval yard to watch the launch, both ladies and gentlemen.” NH 85379

As completed, Gejser had roughly the same armament scheme as Hekla save smaller main guns (4.7″/38 QF L/40 C/92s) rather than Hekla’s 5.9s, while retaining the same four 3.45″/37 SK L/40 secondary guns, six 37mm Hotchkiss 1-pdr machine guns, and four torpedo tubes (one 450mm bow, two 381mm beam, one 381 over the stern).

She also had two 35-inch searchlights (Spejlprojektører) and two 8mm machine guns. It should be noted that, while our cruiser had smaller main guns than Hekla, Gejser’s guns could fire more than five rounds per minute compared to one round in Hekla, to a range of 9.2 km compared to 8 km for Hekla’s guns.

Danish Krydseren Gejser

Danish cruiser Gejser NH 85350

Danish cruiser Gejser NH 85354

Gejser had more significant changes from her half-sister when looking below deck, which included the first installation in an armored ship (not a torpedo boat) of eight Thornycroft water tube style boilers (instead of the locomotive boilers on Hekla), which enabled a combined SHP of 3,157 on her full power trial and a speed of 17.1 knots. Further, the smaller (and faster to heat) boilers and other minor changes shaved some 80 tons off Gejser’s displacement when compared to Hekla, even while allowing a gently strengthened armor scheme because of lessons learned from the latter’s 1891 trials.

Via the December 1892 edition of the Engineer (London):

The Danes liked the new Thornycroft boilers so well that they used them on the new “bathtub battleship” armored coastal defense ship Skjold, which was 2,160 tons and mounted 9.4-inch SK L/40 Krupp guns and had up to 10 inches of armor.

Gejser and Skjold in Aarhus THM-6470

The Danes also ordered a near carbon-copy of Gejser, the single-funneled Orlogsværftet-built cruiser Hejmdal (Heimdall), which launched in August 1894 and commissioned in 1895. Meanwhile, Hekla had her boilers upgraded to the new standard in a later refit.

The one-stacked Danish Gejser-class cruiser Hejmdal anchored in a harbor, probably in France, during the summer of 1910 when she was employed as a training ship for naval cadets. She spent much of her early service as the Icelandic station ship, patrolling those waters from March to October-November, then retiring to metropolitan Denmark for the winter. THM-16033

Danish Krydseren Gejser, Heimdal, Hekla, Janes 1904, with several errors. 

Quiet Peacetime service

Delivered on 8 May 1893, Gejser spent her first few years in the fleet in a series of extended tests, trials, and showboating, later steaming that fall on a Baltic cruise with the coastwise battlewagon Iver Hvitfeldt, the cruiser Valkyrien, and four torpedo boats.

Gejser, showing off her stern “stinger” torpedo tube. THM-3241

Then came a series of shipyard availabilities in 1894, followed by a mission to neighboring German waters in the summer of 1895 with her sister Hekla, and the torpedo boats Narhvalen, Støren, Søløven, and Havhesten to represent Denmark at the opening of the Kiel Canal. Seventy-six warships totaling 380,000 tons from 15 different nations anchored in the roadstead for this historic event.

The Danish ships were positioned in the international naval parade ahead of the German cruisers SMS Kaiserin Augusta and Gefion and behind the American USS Marblehead (Cruiser No. 11) and New York (Armored Cruiser No. 2), anchored just off the German Marine Akademie.

The squadron representing Denmark at the official opening of the Kaiser Wilhelm Kanal in Kiel in 1895. The ships, identified in verso of the frame, consist of modern war vessels: the torpedo boats “Nahrvalen” (launched 1888), the “Havhesten”, the light cruiser “Hekla” (launched 1890), the torpedo boat “Støren” (launched 1887), the light cruiser “Gejser” (launched 1892) and the “Søløven” by Vilhelm Karl Ferdinand Arnesen.

Plan of the harbor, showing anchorages of warships present for ceremonies opening the Kiel Canal, June 1895. NH 89539

Fully operational, Gejser joined the 1st Squadron in 1896 and remained in the fleet’s first line until 1903. One of her skippers during this period was Prince Valdemar, a career naval officer who just happened to be the last son of King Christian IX of Denmark and brother to King George I of Greece and Frederick VIII of Denmark.

She was then tasked as a training ship (Øvelsesskib), home to the gunnery and torpedo school.

She would continue in this role, clocking in for regular Squadron exercises each fall, until November 1905, when she was used, along with the bruising coastal battleship Olfert Fischer, to escort the royal yacht (kongeskibet) Dannebrog to Oslo, the latter taking Prince Carl of Denmark to become the king of newly independent Norway upon the dissolution of that country’s near century-long union with Sweden.

The Danish Prince Carl sailing on his way to becoming King Haakon VII of Norway. The Dannebrog was escorted by the Danish coastal defense ship Olfert Fischer (to the right) and the small cruiser Geiser (behind O.F.). Painted by Vilhelm Karl Ferdinand Arnesen.

Prince Carl and Princess Maud arriving in the Oslofjord as King Haakon VII and Queen Maud of Norway in 1905. The royal yacht Dannebrog leads the column, escorted by the Danish naval ships Olfert Fischer and Geiser and joined by two Norwegian coastal defense ships. Painted by Vilhelm Karl Ferdinand Arnesen.

After spending most of 1906 in refit (she had 10 years of squadron service behind her), Gejser shipped out with the Royal Division (Kongedelingen) alongside the Danish EAC steamer Birma (ex-Arundel Castle) to carry King Frederick VIII and the members of the Danish Parliament to the Faroe Islands and Iceland in the summer of 1907.

King Frederik VIII’s departure from Reykjavik, 1907. Frederik VIII visited Iceland in 1907 with a deputation of members of parliament. The picture depicts the king’s departure from Reykjavik on board EAC’s Birma. Cruiser Gejser following. Painted by Vilhelm Karl Ferdinand Arnesen.

Gejser then returned to service as the training ship for the Artillery and Torpedo School (Artilleri- og Torpedoskolen), a stint interrupted by escorting Frederik on his visit to relatives in Russia (the Tsar was his first cousin) in the summer of 1909, with the Danish royal family gathering at the Tsar’s palace at Peterhof.

Russian Empress Alexandra Feodorovna, Queen Louise of Denmark, Victoria Battenberg, King Frederik, Tsar Nicholas II, Grand Duchess Olga, Tsarevich Alexei, Grand Duchess Marie, Grand Duchess Anastasia, Princess Thyra of Denmark, and Princess Dagmar of Denmark in front of the Lower Dacha in Peterhof, July 1909.

During a circa 1910 refit, both Gejser and Hejmdal landed their half-dozen 37mm Hotchkiss guns in exchange for a quartet of more modern 57mm 6-pounder M.1885 Hotchkiss high-angle anti-aircraft (antiluftskytskanoner) guns. Meanwhile, older half-sister Hekla was transferred to the reserve and disarmed. Hekla was converted into a depot and logistics ship by 1913. Hejmdal returned to service as a cadet training vessel.

In ordinary from 1 October 1912 to 7 January 1914, Gejser was brought back into active service for use as a submarine tender, leaving the Valkyrien as the Danish Navy’s only active cruiser.

At the time, the Danish fleet had nine submarines: eight Whitehead (Fiume) diesel-electric types of 129 feet/200 tons and the older gasoline-engined Fiat-built 114-foot/130-ton Dykkeren.

War!

When the lights went out across Europe in August 1914, the Danish navy counted some 4,000 officers, men, and cadets. They protected not only the country’s coastline and overseas possessions (Iceland, Greenland, Faroes, West Indies), but also its merchant fleet, which at the time had some 558 registered steamers (398,323 tons all told) and over 3,400 sailing vessels of all sizes.

At its disposal were five coastal battleships (Peder Skram, Olfert Fischer, Herluf Trolle, Skjold, and Iver Hvitfeldt), three remaining cruisers (Gejser, Hejmdal, and Valkyrien) rushed back to front-line service, 20 assorted torpedo boats, the nine small submarines detailed above, and a handful of mine ships, gunboats, and “fisheries cruisers” (inspetionsskibe), with none of the latter larger than 700 tons.

With that, on 4 August 1914, the fleet was put on a war footing and, as the Security Force (Sikringsstyrken), was divided between the 1st Squadron in the Øresund in the North between Denmark and Sweden and the 2nd Squadron in the Great Belt (Storebælt) to the West between Zealand and Funen.

Gejser spent most of the war alternating between squadrons, with exceptions for a refit (from September to December 1916) and for brief stints as a training ship.

She even carried King Christian X from Copenhagen to Korsør in November 1915.

King Christian X onboard Danish cruiser Geiser in snow squall on the way to Korsor, 25 November 1915, with three torpedo boats following. By Vilhelm Karl Ferdinand Arnesen

One of Gejser’s past skippers, CDR Rord Hammer, who commanded her from 1905-09, would lead the delegation carrying the bodies of the men killed aboard HM submarine E.13, which, after being grounded at Søndre Flindt, was fired upon by German torpedo boats on 19 August 1915.

Post-war tragedy

With peace, of a sort, falling over Europe, Gejser was moved back to her regular mission of summer cadet cruises and school ship duties, interspersed with training evolutions.

Gejser’s training cruise, 1919 THM-33595

Coal gang during Gejser’s training cruise, 1919 THM-33597

Cutlass drill during Gejser’s training cruise, 1919 THM-33598

Gejser’s training cruise, 1919 THM-33599

To the cutlass! Gejser’s training cruise, 1919 THM-33605

Gejser’s training cruise, 1919. THM-35518

Danish Krydseren Gejser 1921 Janes

A ship designed with naval thinking that predated the Spanish-American War, Gejser was well past her prime in the 1920s. Her typical service during this period was in summer exercises and maneuvers (May-July).

The worst day aboard Gejser came on 25 May 1923 when, during a demonstration of a new fog generating apparatus (Taageudviklingsapparater), an explosion occurred.

The device used “the devil’s element,” yellow phosphorus, held in a tank that, when fed via a steam line from the ship’s boilers, would yield great clouds of billowing smoke used to hide the cruiser and its accompanying force. Shown off to an assembled crowd of officers gathered from throughout the fleet, the novel device exploded with a shot like that of a cannon, and Gejser was enveloped in an extremely poisonous and flammable cloud of vaporized phosphorus, glowing like a morning star through the smoke.

No less than 47 men were extremely injured, including her skipper, Capt. Godfred Hansen, the famed second-in-command of Amundsen’s Gjoa expedition through the Northwest Passage in 1903-06.

Most of the commanders of the exercise squadron’s nine torpedo boats and three minelayers were also among the wounded. LCDR Paul C. Rützou, commander of the torpedo boat Delfinen, died at the Garrison Hospital in Vordingborg after an agonizing 16 days. Crown Prince Frederik (later King Frederik IX from 1947), then a junior officer, had only left Gejser moments before returning to his torpedo boat.

Many of the men suffered terrible disfigurement, with Sir Harold Delf Gillies, known as the father of plastic surgery in Britain, traveling to Denmark especially to treat them.

Gejser was repaired and returned to service. Notably, she conducted a series of cadet training cruises around the Baltic and Mediterranean in 1924, 1925, 1926, and 1927. She also functioned as an escort ship in the Royal Division for King Christian X’s trip to the Faroe Islands and Iceland in 1926.

Danish cruiser Gejser 1926

Geyser in dry dock Naval Yard 1926 THM-7305

She was removed from the fleet’s list on 28 May 1928 and sold for her value in scrap.

Her sister Hejmdal was likewise disposed of in 1930.

Danish cruiser Hejmdal circa 1922 THM-8985

Their collective older half-sister Hekla, hulked in 1915, amazingly was only disposed of in 1955.

Epilogue

Little remains of our cruiser that I can locate, other than an abundance of maritime art.

Danish cruiser Gejser, by Vilhelm Arnesen, showing off her bow torpedo tube

As Iceland gained sovereignty as a separate kingdom under the Danish crown in 1918, and then moved toward complete independence in 1944, Denmark had little impetus to name another warship after geysers.

When it comes to Gejser’s former skippers, Emmanuel Briand de Crevecoeur (as headmaster of the artillery school in 1923 and then as her commanding officer proper from 1926-27), was a rear admiral holding the tough dual seats of Chief of the Naval Command and Acting Director of the Ministry of the Navy in 1940 after the Germans occupied Denmark, assuming the spots vacated by RADM Hjalmar Rechnitzer, who had resigned in disgrace. Later interned by the Germans, De Crevecoeur retired after liberation in 1945, wrapping up a career that he began as a cadet in 1898. Spending his retirement as a professor of languages at Krogerup College, he passed away in 1968.

Perhaps the best-known of Gejser’s skippers, the polar explorer Hansen, recovered from his wounds and held several further seagoing commands before becoming commandant of the Danish naval academy. He passed in 1937, aged 61, while still a rear admiral on the naval rolls.

However, the legacy of Gejser’s 1923 explosion echoed well into the 1950s.

One of Gejser’s junior officers, 1Lt Kai Hammerich, was so debilitated in the blast that he was under medical treatment in both Denmark and England for several years thereafter. Later transferring to the country’s lighthouse service, he soon became active in the Danish Red Cross and, as head of the organization in 1950, took command of the 356-bed Danish hospital ship MS Jutlandia during the Korean War. Serving for 999 days during the conflict, Jutlandia cared for 4,981 gravely wounded soldiers from 24 different nations, as well as over 6,000 Korean civilians.

Royal Danish Navy Reserve Capt. Kai Hammerich aboard MS Jutlana during the Korean War, one of Gejser’s most prominent veterans. Hammerich was awarded a South Korea’s Order of Merit (대한민국장), the country’s highest honor, in March 1952 UN Photo 7667766

Thanks for reading!

Meminisse est ad Vivificandum – To Remember is to Keep Alive

***

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Istanbul (Not Constantinople)

Some 80 years ago this week. Off Istanbul, Turkey, on 5 April 1946.

Here we see the famed Iowa-class fast battleship USS Missouri (BB 63) moored in the Bosporus. She had just brought home for burial the body of the late Turkish Ambassador to the U.S., Mehmet Munir Ertegun. This visit was also aimed at influencing Russian Middle East policy. The Gearing-class destroyer USS Power (DD-839) is at left.

Note that Missouri is wearing a more peacetime solid-blue hull (Measure 22) over her wartime Measure 32/22d camouflage, which she wore through the end of WWII, just seven months prior.  National Archives. Catalog #: 80-G-702557

At right is the infamous Turkish Moltke-class battle cruiser Yavuz Sultan Selim (ex-SMS Goeben), some 36 years old at the time.

When Missouri, the light cruiser Providence (CL-82), and Power had entered the straits on 5 April, Missouri and Yavuz exchanged 19-gun salutes, two great bookends in battlewagon history.

A better look at Missouri on this cruise. Note the Curtiss SC-1 Seahawk floatplane on her catapult. Official caption: “Mediterranean Cruise 1946 of USS Missouri (BB 63). USS Missouri (BB 63) anchored in the harbor of Piraeus, Greece.” 80-GK-9343

Off Istanbul, Turkey, 5-9 April 1946. Missouri center. She had brought the body of the Late Turkish Ambassador to the United States, Mehmet Munir Ertegun, home for burial, on a mission that was also made to influence Soviet Middle East policy. USS Power (DD-839) is at left, and the Turkish Battlecruiser Yavuz (formerly the German Goeben) is at right. The Dolmabahce Mosque is in the foreground. Official U.S. Navy Photograph, now in the collections of the National Archives. 80-G-366179

The camouflaged Yavuz (Turkish Battlecruiser, 1911, formerly the German Goeben). Off Istanbul, Turkey, in April 1946, during USS Missouri’s visit there. Photographed by Lieutenant Commander Dewey Wrigley. Official U.S. Navy Photograph, now in the collections of the National Archives. 80-G-376888

Still somewhat capable of at least scratching the paint of a Soviet battleship or providing NGFS against land forces trying to close the strait, when Turkey joined NATO in 1952, Yavuz picked up a B-series hull number (B70) before she was decommissioned in 1954 after 42 years of service (40 of those to the Turks). Even while laid up, she continued to be used as a stationary headquarters for the Battle Fleet until 1960.

Offered as a museum ship to West Germany, and unable to preserve the historic 25,000-ton vessel themselves, Goeben/Yavuz was instead sold by the Turks for scrap to M.K.E. Seyman in 1971, although several relics were preserved.

Check out this great original color clip of the old girl in 1973 as she was preparing for tow to the breakers:

Warship Wednesday, 11 March 2026: Mighty Morrill

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

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Warship Wednesday 11 March 2026: Mighty Morrill

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

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

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

Meet Morrill

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Remember the Maine!

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

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

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

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

Morrill’s wardroom during the Spanish-American War:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

White hull days

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Kaiser to St. Helena!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Back to a changing Coast Guard

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Morrill saved the crew– then put them in shackles.

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

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

Epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thanks for reading!

Meminisse est ad Vivificandum – To Remember is to Keep Alive

***

If you like 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 25 February 2026: ‘Sorry, Your Bird’

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

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

Warship Wednesday 25 February 2026: ‘Sorry, Your Bird’

Via The Times History and Encyclopaedia of the War Vol XXI, London 1920 (p.127)

In the above depiction, we see, on the left, HM’s Armed Merchant Cruiser Alcantara (M.94), late of the Royal Mail Steam Packet Co, fighting what appears to be a Norwegian-flagged steamer Rena but was actually the very well-armed German auxiliary cruiser (Hilfskreuzer) SMS Greif, some 110 years ago this week.

It was a cutthroat affair, one of swirling action, six-inch guns, and, finally, torpedoes.

At the end of the day, both ships were at the bottom of the North Sea.

Meet Alcantara

Built at Harland & Wolff, Govan (Yard number 435G) for the RMSP Company’s Southampton-to-South America run, RMS Alcantara was a beautiful A-series ocean liner of some 570 feet in length with a displacement of 15,831 GRT. Carrying one large single funnel, two four-cylinder triple-expansion steam engines drove her two outward screws while a low-pressure steam turbine drove the centerline shaft, enabling the liner to cruise at 18 knots all day.

RMS Alacantara, John Oxley Library, State Library of Queensland. 1_125487

She had accommodation for 1,390 passengers (400 first class, 230 second class, and 760 third class passengers, as well as five holds and a refrigerated cargo space for frozen meat.

Launched 30 October 1913 and completed 28 May 1914, she was preceded in service by her sisters, the Belfast-built RMS Arlanza, Andes, and Almanzora.

Alcantara’s only pre-war commercial cruise was a maiden voyage in June 1914 on RMSP’s route from Southampton to Rio de Janeiro, Montevideo, and Buenos Aires.

Once the Great War kicked off in August 1914, she and several of her sisters were subsequently taken up from trade and quickly modified into armed merchant cruisers. They had lots of company as the Admiralty had over 60 commissioned AMCs employed on patrol– and later convoy protection– during the Great War.

In this, the now HMS Alacantara was fitted with eight BL 6″/40 Mark II naval guns repurposed from old battleships, two 6-pounders, and two 3-pounders. By 10 March 1915, she then joined the Tenth Cruiser Squadron, a catch-all outfit for AMCs that at one time had 33 such vessels on its list, tasked with enforcing the blockade along the Northern Patrol.

Her only wartime skipper was a regular, Capt. Thomas Erskine Wardle, RN, who came aboard on 23 March 1915. Shipping out on the training ship HMS Britannia at the ripe old age of 13 in 1890, Wardle had previously commanded the old battlewagon HMS Canopus in 1909, served as Naval Secretary to the Ordnance Board, and been the skipper of the armored cruiser HMS Crescent and then the small AMC HMS Calyx (formerly SS Calypso) in operations around St Kilda earlier in the war.

Wardle was a scrapper.

Her log books for her 11 months with the Northern Patrol detail she was a busy little searcher, challenging at least 57 ships encountered on the sea and boarding another 77 via small boat despite rough sea states, low temperatures, and howling winds common in the region. During that period, she spent no less than 215 days at sea.

Meet Greif

Meanwhile, the planned 432-foot, 4,962 GRT, steel-hulled ship Guben for the German-Australian Line (DADG) was still on the builder’s ways at Neptun Werft AG, Rostock, when the war began. Unfinished, she was subsequently converted for naval service at Kaiserliche Werft, Kiel in 1915 and commissioned as SMS Greif on 23 January 1916.

The only image I can find of Guben/Grief. Her external appearance was later altered by removing her distinctive second funnel, which was false anyway. She was disguised as the freighter Rena from Tønsberg with large Norwegian flags painted on her sides, plus “NORGE” (Norway)

Slow at just 13 knots on her two-boiler/3,000shp suite, she was armed with four 5.9-inch SK L/40s (two forward abeam, two staggered aft, taken from old battleships) and a single 4-inch SK L/40 hidden aft as well as two 50cm torpedo tubes, one on each side of the bow. and provision to carry as many as 300 mines. Outfitted with an oversized 317-man crew (10 officers, including two doctors; and 307 enlisted– 130 regular navy and 167 reservists), she carried extra manpower to equip prize vessels encountered while on patrol.

Speaking of which, two 2.3-inch landing guns were carried, broken down, for use in arming future raiders of opportunity, ideally in the Indian Ocean.

Her only wartime skipper was Fregattenkapitän Rudolf Tietze, aged 41, previously commander of the old coast defense battleship SMS Wörth, which had been reduced to an accommodations hulk in January 1916.

Inspected on commissioning by Großadmiral Prinz Heinrich von Preußen, Greif was detailed to raid the South Atlantic and work her way into the Indian Ocean. Packing enough coal and canned foodstuffs in her holds for an expected 35,000nm sortie, she also shipped aboard 600 6-inch shells, 200 4-inch shells, 12 torpedoes, an extensive small arms locker, and crates of demolition charges. While designed for mines, I am not positive she carried any.

If unable to return home, Greif’s crew was ordered to attempt to land and join colonial warlord Lettow-Vorbeck, holding out in the rump of German East Africa.

Greif set sail from Cuxhaven on 27 February 1916, following behind the submarine U-70, which would see her through the minefields of the Skagerrak.

Our subjects meet

Naval Intelligence advised Jellicoe that an armed German raider was steaming north from the Skagerrak. On this news, he ordered two light cruisers and four destroyers to sail from Rosyth to secure the English east coast against an advance by the expected German auxiliary cruiser. It was probably initially assumed that Greif would lay mines off one of the English naval bases, similar to what SMS Meteor had done at the time.

In addition, three light/scout cruisers, HMS Calliope, Comus, and Blanche, each accompanied by a destroyer, were sent from Scapa Flow to the Norwegian coast to block the northern route for the enemy. They would soon join the alerted Alcantara, low on coal and due to be relieved by her sister Andes. 

The AMCs Columbella and Patia were tasked with searching north of the Shetlands.

Post-war German reports note that Greif encountered two large British auxiliary cruisers working their searchlights and quietly sending short low-power Morse signals back and forth– surely Alcantara and Andes–while poking some 70 miles off Bergen in the pre-dawn of 29 February 1916, but, halting engines and engaging their smoke device, Greif managed to remain unseen.

At 0855 on the same morning, while some 230 miles east of the Faeroes, Alcantara, with Andes not far off, sighted the Norwegian ship Rena, alerted to the prospect that a German raider was trying to break out into the Atlantic. Alcantara fired two blank charges from her 3-pounder, ordered the ship to stop, and prepared a boarding party to check for contraband.

After much hemming and hawing and back-and-forth challenges, Alcantara and “Rena” closed to within 1,100 yards.

FKpt. Tietze ordered his guns to open up at 0940, and Greif’s initial salvo, as noted by Wardle, “put the tellmotor steering gear, engine room telegraph, and all telephones on the bridge out of action, besides killing and wounding men, and disabled Alcantara’s communications equipment.”

Wardle also noted that Greif, most ungentlemanly, dropped the Norwegian ensign and “fought under no flag.” German accounts later note that her Reichskriegsflagge war ensign had been mounted on a corroded line, which broke, then rose later.

The combat was swirling, with the larger and better-armed Alcantara, which had regained steering control, missing two of Greif’s torpedoes but unfortunately catching the third, while the British gunners raked the raider’s decks, hull, and superstructure.

The raider’s ready ammunition for her stern guns was hit, sparking a secondary explosion and blaze that soon spread to her oil tanks.

Greif’s torpedo officer, one Lt. von Bychelberg, remained on the raider’s burning bridge until that final fatal torpedo was fired at 2,800 meters.

By 1015, “Rena” (Greif) was aflame some 3,500 yards off Alcantara, which was listing. With the enemy fire ceased, Wardle ordered his own guns to stop while likewise passing the word to abandon his own stricken ship.

By 1120, Alcantara was under the waves, her survivors attempting to crowd into 15 lifeboats. As the engagement took place “North of 60,” the water temperature was a balmy 44 degrees F.

Meanwhile, her sister Andes, joined by the faster and more proper cruiser Comus and the destroyer Munster, rapidly arrived on the scene.

View of HMS Comus alongside Swan Hunter & Wigham Richardson shipyard, seen from the south side of the River Tyne, c1915. Equipped with two 6-inch and eight 4-inch guns as well as four torpedo tubes, the 28-knot C-class light cruiser was more than a match for Greif, even if Greif was still in fighting condition when Comus came on the scene. (TWAM ref. DS.SWH/5/3/4/2/B187).

When a round cooked off on the sinking Greif, Comus followed by Andes, opened up on her from 8,000 yards, then, receiving nothing further, signaled, “Sorry, your bird.”

Greif drifted, ablaze, from 1139 to 1212, then sank, carrying 192 of her crew to the bottom, including five of ten officers, her skipper and XO among the lost. With just two of her boats not shot out and generally reserved for use by wounded men, Greif’s survivors grabbed whatever would float that was at hand– ammunition box lids, hatch covers, planking– and took to the water.

Her survivors were picked up by Comus. Post-war German naval tomes report that the remaining officers from Greif were treated well on Comus, fed in the officers’ mess, while the enlisted were “provided for as best as possible.”

Her most senior officer remaining was the navigator, KptLt (Reserve) Jungling, who later compiled a report to the German admiralty in 1919.

Those surviving officers were encamped in Edinburgh Castle, and there found out the extent of British Naval Intelligence’s reach.

Translated from Der Kreuzerkrieg in den ausländischen Gewässern: 

From the interrogation questions posed to the prisoners in Edinburgh Castle by naval officers who spoke fluent German, it emerged that the English knew that the Greif had been moored in the Kiel shipyard next to SMS Lützow and that the Greif crew had been provisioned there initially. Furthermore, it was known that the Greif had been inspected on February 24th by Prince Henry of Prussia and the station commander, Admiral Bachmann. It was also known that the Greif had been anchored in Gelting Bay on February 23rd and 24th.

Her movements out to sea were also apparently known, likely due to decoded signal traffic from U70.

“Alcantara sinks in battle with the German auxiliary cruiser Greif, February 29, 1916” By Willy Stoewer

Alcantara lost 72 with two ratings passing of wounds later in March. Her survivors were picked up by Munster and Comus.

HMS Comus rescuing survivors of the Greif, 29 February 1916. The sinking ship on the left is the Greif, which was finished off by the Comus after being crippled by gunfire from the armed merchant cruisers Andes and Alcantara. The ship shown indistinctly on the far right is probably the Andes since the Greif returned the fire of Alcantara, also managed to torpedo her, and she too sank in the action. National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, London, Caird Collection

Of note, the Kaislerliche Marine once again tried to send a raider out, the Hilfskreuzer Leopard, disguised as the Norwegian Rena, in 1917. That ended with Leopard being sunk with all hands by the intercepting British cruisers HMS Achilles and Dundee.

Versenkung des deutschen Hilfskreuzers Leopard durch HMS Achilles und HMS Dundee, Art.IWMART15814

Not the first odd twist in this tale.

Epilogue

While FKpt. Tietze, Greif’s skipper, was killed by shrapnel during the sea fight, Capt. Wardle of Alacantra was decorated with a DSO for his gallantry in this fight, then, after a stint with the Naval Intelligence Division, was given command of the light cruiser HMS Lowestoft in the Med, followed by the famed battleship Dreadnought, and, post-war, the cruisers Danae and Calliope. In 1924, he was made Rear-Admiral Commanding, Royal Australian Navy Squadron, a position he held for two years before retiring after a 36-year career.

Appointed Companion of the Order of the Bath, he was made a vice admiral on the Retired List in 1931 and passed in 1944, aged 67.

Vice-Admiral Thomas Erskine Wardle, CB, DSO. Australian War Memorial photos. 

One of Alacantra’s most famed survivors was English stoker and firefighter Arthur John Priest, who had previously survived a collision at age 19 aboard RMS Asturias in 1908, then the collision between RMS Olympic and HMS Hawk in 1911, the sinking of the RMS Titanic (1912) and the loss by mine of HM Hospital Ship Britannic (November 1916), then would go on to be an albatross of sorts on his old ship, HMHS Asturias (torpedoed and beached March 20-21st, 1917), and the SS Donegal (sunk in April 1917). Priest, “The Unsinkable Stoker,” subsequently left sea work and spent the rest of his life on dry land in Southampton, passing in 1937 at the age of 49.

Shifting to more infamous survivors, Greif’s waterlogged ship’s doctor from the raider’s decimated wardroom, Assistant Naval Surgeon (Reserve) Hans Gerhard Creutzfeldt, went on to become a fairly well-known psychiatrist and neuroscientist. After spending just three months in a British POW camp, he was part of a prisoner exchange and spent the rest of the war assigned to the German naval mission to Constantinople, where he was discharged in 1919. He went on to discover Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease and had a rather “complicated” working relationship with the SS during WWII that is beyond our scope.

In a curious twist of fate, the later Royal Mail Lines steamer RMS Alcantara, built by Harland & Wolff in 1926, was taken up in WWII and used as an AMC for three years. She also encountered a German raider at sea, the Hilfskreuzer Thor, with both ships landing hits on each other in the South Atlantic in 1940, then mutually breaking off the fight and limping away.

HM Armed Merchant Cruiser Alcantara (1926) showing battle damage while anchored off Brazil in August 1940 with the Kriegsmarine raider Thor

Sometimes history is like a carousel. You see the same horses over and over.

Thanks for reading!

Meminisse est ad Vivificandum – To Remember is to Keep Alive

***

If you like 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!

A ‘Prestigious Man Stopper’ The Mark VI Webley .455

With a story that runs nearly the entire length of the 20th Century, the iconic top-break British Webley in .455 Caliber Eley is a beast.

My personal interest in the Webley, specifically the bonkers-large Mark VI, which entered service with a 6-inch barrel standard, dates to watching old war movies and TV shows as a kid in the 1970s and 80s, and there were plenty to choose from.

According to IMFDB, they appeared in the hands of Gary Cooper, Peter Lorre, Peter O’ Toole (several times, including “Lawrence of Arabia”), Clark Gable, Richard Burton, Gregory Peck, Bob Hoskins (anachronistically in “Zulu Dawn” of all things!), Burt Lancaster, James Keach, Edward Woodward, Michael Crawford, Christopher Lee, and so on.

It was just a commanding piece.

I mean, look at it:

Webley Mark VI .455 revolver
The Mark VI Webley .455 (All photos unless noted: Chris Eger/Guns.com)
Webley Mark VI .455 revolver
The Mark VI runs almost a foot long, taping out at 11.25 inches. It weighs 2.5 pounds, unloaded. 

Plus, the beautiful rimmed .455 rounds are short and almost comically fat. Stout like a British bulldog. A sumo wrestler compared to the more puny contemporaries such as the 8mm French used in that country’s M1892 revolver, the Russian 7.65×38 used in the Tsarist-era Nagant, and the rimmed 9mm round used by the Japanese Type 26 revolver (the latter of which only generated a velocity of about 500 fps!).

Webley Mark VI .455 revolver bullet
The .455 Webley (right), in this case a 262-grain lead round-nosed Mk.II bullet, compared to a 230-grain .45 ACP FMJ, a bullet familiar to readers this side of the pond. The .455 was introduced in 1891, whereas Browning’s .45 ACP dated to about two decades later. 
Webley Mark VI .455 revolver
When loaded with .455, the unmodified Webley Mark VI has a decent cylinder lock-up with minimal gap. 

I recall reading a book on guerrilla warfare weapons, published in 1990, that noted the Webley was still often encountered in the hands of insurgents as flotsam from the old British colonial empire and was “a prestigious man stopper.”

Only it wasn’t really.

Sure, any time you get hit by a 218-265 grain bullet, it is going to smart, but, seeing as the projectile typically only traveled at about 600 to 750 fps, the energy imparted on impact was only in the 220-300 ft./lb. range, which is about on average to what you get out of .38 Special (and that’s not even +P loads, either). This was compounded by at least five different generations of service bullets and loads for the .455, all attempting to make it more effective, though they never came close to modern self-defense designs.

But, when used at bad-breath range against the Kaiser’s skinny Landsers on the Western Front in 1915, or poorly clad indigenous warriors and bandits in far-off lands who are probably already fighting parasites and poor diets, it likely worked just fine.

Still, the large 2.5-pound square-butt revolver could prove a useful club when needed.

Fairburn and Sykes, who knew a thing or ten about the Webley in service, had the following passage in their 1942 “Shooting to Live” Commando primer in the chapter on “Stopping Power.”

We shall choose for our first instance one relating to the big lead bullet driven at a moderate velocity. On this occasion, a Sikh constable fired six shots with his .455 Webley at an armed criminal of whom he was in pursuit, registering five hits. The criminal continued to run, and so did the Sikh, the latter clinching the matter finally by battering in the back of the criminal’s head with the butt of his revolver. Subsequent investigations showed that one bullet only, and that barely deformed, remained in the body, the other four having passed clean through.

Webley Mark VI .455 revolver
“Stopping Power!” as debated in 1942.

A closer look at the gun

The Webley top-break revolver itself dates to the company’s original Mark I service revolver, which was adopted by the British military in 1887, starting around £3 each, and a host of generational changes until the wheel gun seen in this piece, the Mark VI, arrived on the scene in May 1915.

A top-break six-shooter, it replaced the shorter Mark V, which had a rounded bird’s head style grip, with a much larger gun using a squared butt, 6-inch barrel, and a somewhat adjustable front sight. Best yet for His Majesty’s bean counters, the wartime finish Mark VI only cost some 51 shillings per gun, or about £2.5.

More gun for less money has always been popular.

Webley Mark VI .455 revolver
The Webley Mark VI was the end-result of nearly 30-years of Webley top-break revolvers and shared much DNA with its predecessors. 
Webley Mark VI .455 revolver
It is akin in size to the big 5.5-inch barreled S&W DA 45, which was adopted as the M1917 by the U.S. military about the same time the Webley Mark VI entered service. The DA 45 was one of Smith’s first N-frames. 
Webley Mark VI .455 revolver
The double-action/single-action Webley Mark VI has a stout double-action trigger pull (we couldn’t gauge it; it kept maxing out), cutting to a truly short and crisp 8-pound single-action pull that is all-wall. 
Webley Mark VI .455 revolver
The hammer is very old-school. No transfer bar safety here. 
Webley Mark VI .455 revolver
The large lever, under the hammer and over the rear sight, frees up the top strap of the revolver. 
Webley Mark VI .455 revolver
The star extractor positively ejects all spent brass and live rounds when the action is opened. 

Approximately 280,000 Mark VI Service models were produced during the war, starting around serial number 135,000. Our example, featured in this article, is serial number 245,288, bearing a 1917 Webley roll mark on the frame, along with corresponding Birmingham proof marks and British military broad arrow and GR acceptance marks. These weapons were not only issued to officers and sergeants but also to artillery, machine gun, and tank crews. They saw further hard use in trench raids and tunnel warfare under said trenches.

Better-grade models of the same gun, based on the old W&S Target, but with a higher fit and finish, were available for personal purchase through the Army & Navy Co-operative store. Many gentlemen officers chose to acquire their Webley in such a fashion, while others simply went with the issued revolver. Aftermarket accessories included the early Prideaux and Watson pattern speed loaders, and the Greener-produced Pritchett bayonet, although none were made in quantity.

Webley Mark VI .455 revolver
The large lanyard ring on the bottom of the butt came in handy not only in the trenches but in mounted service. You didn’t want your Webley to bounce out of the holster while on the trot. 

Second Lieutenant JRR Tolkien, the future author of “The Hobbit” and “The Lord of the Rings,” shipped off for France a year after graduating from Oxford. As a young officer with the 11th Battalion, Lancashire Fusiliers, in June 1916, he saw service at the grueling military charnel house that was the Battle of the Somme, where some 57,000 casualties were suffered in the first day alone– making it the bloodiest day in British military history. Both at the Somme and a later trench raid near Thiepval, Tolkien had with him an early first-year Mark VI Service, serial number 169,710. It is now in the Imperial War Museum, complete with its lanyard.

The Mark VI also saw service in the sky and on the sea.

Webley Mark VI .455 revolver
A British Royal Flying Corps field armory in France, circa 1918. Note the assorted Webley Mark VIs for use by pilots and observers who were frequently left walking back across No Man’s Land after their flying machines were shot down or broke down. 
Webley Mark VI .455 revolver
The Webley also saw service afloat with the Royal Navy for use in boarding parties and landing parties ashore. (Photos: Imperial War Museum)
Webley Mark VI .455 revolver
As the RN saw extensive service against pirates, smugglers, revolutionaries, and bandits in the 1920s and 30s, you can bet the old Webley was there on the sharp end of things. Some think that the coup de grace delivered to Rasputin in December 1916 came from Oswald Rayner, a British MI6 agent in Petrograd, who used a Webley, possibly obtained from the small arms locker of a British submarine working with the Russian fleet in the Baltic. 
Webley Mark VI .455 revolver
The Webley Mark VI was officially augmented and then replaced in service with the remarkably similar but .38 caliber Enfield No. 2 in 1932 (left). Before that, the Royal Small Arms Factory at Enfield Lock built around 30,000 Webley Mark VI pattern revolvers between 1921 and 1926. 

While officially replaced, the big .455 Webley remained in secondary service and was even preferred by many as their go-to sidearm.

Webley Mark VI .455 revolver
By the 1930s, the leather Sam Browne style holsters had been replaced by simpler canvas holsters, typically worn butt-forward. 
Webley Mark VI .455 revolver
The old Webley saw extensive service in World War II, as well as in Korea, and anecdotally with Australian troops in Vietnam, and Rhodesian and South African troops in the Bush Wars of the 1970s. 
Webley Mark VI .455 revolver
Further, the Webley was seen with “Dad’s Army” in the Home Guard, an initially almost unarmed force that peaked at some 1.7 million volunteers ready to take on Mr. Hitler should he send his legions across the Channel. As the Home Guard often used long-retired Great War-era officers in senior positions, they brought their personally owned Army & Navy store pedigree Mark VIs back to service with them. In early units, they were often the only firearms available, save for some fowling pieces. 
Webley Mark VI .455 revolver
Ultimately, the Browning Hi-Power L9A1 would replace all top-break revolvers in British service starting in 1954. 

An Irish tale

The Webley Mark VI entered Irish service in several ways, both via IRA-looted police, British Army, and auxiliary barracks during the 1919 to 1921 Irish War of Independence, and as guns handed over to the new Provisional pro-treaty government in 1922 and subsequently used against the anti-treaty IRA during the follow-on Irish Civil War. The Oglaigh na hÉireann (IRA) circulated printed training memos on the Mark VIas early as November 1921.

Webley Mark VI .455 revolver
The new Irish Free State government received at least 7,000 Webley Mark VIs in 1922, which were used extensively to fight the IRA, who were often armed with Mark VIs themselves. 
Webley Mark VI .455 revolver
Our specimen has had its serial number on its barrel assembly and frame aggressively crossed out and replaced with a simple “N.125,” which, per Webley experts Chamberlain and Taylerson, is common for Webleys taken up by Irish forces in the 1920s. 

A circa 1917 Mark VI was recovered from the late General Michael Collins after he was killed in an anti-Treaty ambush in West Cork in 1922. The same year, another circa 1917 Mark VI was used in the assassination of anti-Irish  British Field-Marshal Sir Henry Wilson in London.

Second-hand Shaved Webleys

With the adoption of the Browning Hi-Power in British —and later Commonwealth —service in the 1950s, the final stocks of Webley Mark VIs began to move into the commercial market.

Surplus Irish guns met a similar fate when Sam Cummings of Alexandria, Virginia-based Interarmco (Interarms) made a sweet deal with the Dublin government in 1959 for almost all of the old Republic’s unneeded hardware at scrap-per-ton cash-and-carry prices including a couple hundred Model 1921 Thompsons, 801 Lewis guns, 9 water-cooled Vickers machine guns, 17 Mark I and Mark II 18-pounder field guns, 22 4.5-inch howitzers, four 3-inch anti-artillery guns, 51 Browning aircraft machine guns, pallets of Enfield .303 rifles, and crates of Webley revolvers.

The Webleys were soon sold off through mail order outlets, Hunters’ Lodge, Potomac Arms, and others, for the bargain basement price of $14.50 in NRA Good condition and $19.95 in NRA Very Good Condition with .455 milsurp rounds at a pricy $1.50 per 24 (two, 12-round paper packets). Adjusted for inflation, that’s $165-$225 per revolver, and $17 for 24 rounds of ammo.

Eventually, the stock of Webleys outlasted the stock of surplus .455 and British ammo makers such as Kynoch and Eley trimmed back on production of new cartridges, further driving up the price of the increasingly hard-to-find rounds. To sate the demand, distributors by the 1960s hit on the concept of shaving the rear of the Webley’s six-shot cylinder to allow the rimless .45 ACP round to work* in a pinch, if used in company with half-moon clips as used with the old M1917 DA .45 revolvers. The .45 Auto Rim, made for use with the M1917 sans clips, would work as well.

Webley Mark VI .455 revolver
The .45 ACP shaved cylinder job needed half-moon three-round clips to work. A “full-moon” six-shot clip will sometimes work, depending on the clip. 
Webley Mark VI .455 revolver
Comparing a shaved Webley cylinder (left) and an intact .455 cylinder (right) with the old GR acceptance marks and proofs giving the latter away. 
Webley Mark VI .455 revolver
Note the difference in cylinder length, with the intact cylinder on top having more “beef” around the serial number, while the shaved .45 ACP cylinder on the bottom has less room around its serial. 
Webley Mark VI .455 revolver
The lever that secures the cylinder to the barrel assembly uses a coin-slotted screw designed to use the rim of a .303 cartridge or a “bob” (British shilling/5-pence coin). We found a 1976 Bicentennial quarter to work fine. 

*A word of strong warning should be imparted when talking about using .45 ACP in a .455 Webley. It is inadvisable to run full-power commercial .45 ACP in any top-break revolver, including one of those beefy, seemingly indestructible Webley Mark VIs. Special low-power loads (under 13,200 psi vs the standard pressure of 21,000 psi seen in regular loads) are now on the market, made by Steinel specifically for use in shaved cylinder Mark VIs.

Speaking of ammo, Bannerman (Graf), Fiocchi, and Steinel all make new runs of .455 Eley/Webley loads as well, running about $60-$70 for a box of 50. Other than that, running this old revolver is more in the realm of handloaders who dig heavy bullets over small loads, but it is better than just having a “wall hanger.”

No matter what the backstory on this gun, it remains a “Cool Revolver.”

Just ask John Wick.

John Wick Webley
The Webley Mark VI made cameos in both “John Wick 3” and 4, continuing a nearly 100-year cinematic run. (Photo: IMFDB)

Polar Bears in the trees…

With all of these polar vortices and bombs recently (I mean, we just had like 11 days in a row that hit below freezing on the Mississippi Gulf Coast), these images from roughly 107 years ago seemed appropriate.

Take a look at this photo, know it is in Northern Russia, February 1919, and ask yourself the nationality of the snow-camo-ed troopers masking themselves among the birch, pines, spruces, and larches of the region.

U.S. Signal Corps photo 111-SC-161113 via NARA.

If you guessed American, you are right, as they are the “Polar Bears” of the U.S. 339th Infantry Regiment (a Wisconsin-Michigan outfit) that fought in North Russia in 1918-19 against the “Reds.”

As the 339th, who unenthusiastically used American-made Mosins in combat against Russians, who unenthusiastically sometimes used lever-action Winchesters against the “Interventy” (Interventionists), I always thought the campaign bordered on the absurd.

The official caption for the above image:

American Soldiers on patrol wear white capes to reduce the chances of discovery while operating in the snow-blanketed forests, which line the Vologda railroad line on each side. Left to right: Bugler Charles Metcalf, Company I; Private Harold Holliday, Company M; and Sgt. Major Ernest Reed, 3rd Battalion, 339th Infantry, 85th Division, February 21, 1919. 111-SC-161113

And these others from the same period:

Blockhouse at Verst 455 on the Vologada Railway, surrounded by the forest, white with a new covering of snow. Photo taken on one of the coldest days of the year, when the temperature reached a point 50 degrees below zero. The American soldier in the foreground is Corporal Hearn of Company I, 339th Infantry, 85th. Division Verst 455, Vologda Railroad front, Northern Russia. 17 February 1919. 111-SC-161081

339th Inf in Russia Verst 455, Vologda Railway Front Feb 1919, with Mosins and Lewis guns. The Lewis was also probably chambered in 7.62x54R (30 cal Russian), drawn from U.S. Savage-made stockpiles originally contracted by the Tsar. 111-SC-161112

339th Inf in Russia Verst 455 Volgada Railway front Feb 1919 Mosins 111-SC-161090.

The 339th served in Russia from September 1918 to June 1919, rather involuntarily clocking in during the Russian Civil War with their more supportable Mosins, then shipped back to a much more agreeable service in post-Great War springtime France, where they were all too happy to get their M1917 Enfields back before shipping home, arriving back in the Midwest in July, wrapping their confusing, and bitter, war.

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