Two ship commissionings in the news show some decent salutes to those who have sailed into history in days prior.
In New York on Saturday– one day shy of the USMC’s 249th birthday– the Navy commissioned the second destroyer to carry the name of GySgt John Basilone,DDG-122.
Why New York? Basilone was born in Buffalo and grew up in Raritan, New Jersey, just 45 minutes away from the Big Apple.
During Basilone’s service on Guadalcanal, he led two machine gun sections of the 1st Battalion, 7th Marines, 1st Marine Division, where he used his detachment’s M1917 water-cooled Browning machine guns and an M1911 .45 Government Issue pistol to great effect to break up a Japanese charge of some 3,000 Japanese against his emplacement. The feat earned him the nation’s highest military decoration and was depicted in 2010’s “The Pacific.”
His Medal of Honor citation, from his public file in the National Archives:
Basilone. He was posthumously honored with a Navy Cross for his actions on Iwo Jima, making him the only enlisted Marine in WWII to earn both of the service’s two highest honors.
In 1945, the Navy named a destroyer after Basilone, and in 1948, a life-sized statue of him was installed in his enlistment hometown of Raritan, New Jersey.
The new USS John Basilone’s battle flag includes a pair of crossed M1917s inside the Blue Diamond shoulder patch of the 1st Marine Division.
The Battle Flag is on the portside yardarm. (Photo: General Dynamics)
As detailed by the Navy, “These words characterize the life and service of Gunnery Sergeant Basilone, honor his legacy, and charge future generations of Selfless Warriors to sharpen their spears, take a stand, and move forward.” (Photo: General Dynamics)
Once commissioned, the USS Basilone will be part of the Atlantic Fleet. If she has anything like the service life shown in the rest of her class, she will only retire around 2064.
‘Old Ironsides’ Assist
Meanwhile, up the coast from NYC in Boston, the 27th Littoral Combat Ship, the future USS Nantucket (LCS-27) is set to commission on 16 November at the historic Charlestown Navy Yard. The 14th Freedom-variant is the fifth navy warship to honor “the rich heritage of the people of Nantucket and the maritime legacy that the island represents.”
The monitor USS Nantucket, seen in her post-war configuration. Loaned to the North Carolina Naval Militia in 1895, she was somewhat fancifully recommissioned for Spanish-American War service and only sold for scrapping in 1900. NH 66760-A.
The fourth, a 177-foot steel-hulled Alert-class gunboat (PG-23) commissioned in 1876, carried the name Nantucket as a training ship for the Massachusetts Maritime Academy from 1918 through 1942.
USS Nantucket (PG-23), formerly USS Ranger and USS Rockport, was then loaned to the State of Massachusetts for use at Massachusetts Nautical School. Courtesy of Mr. Gershone Bradford. NH 500
Fittingly, PCU Nantucket (LCS-27) is tied up near the USS Constitution this week as she awaits entrance to the fleet.
Walther has reached into the vault to bring back one of its most classic designs, now refined and ready for a new century. Like a spy in from the Cold, the PPK in .32 ACP has returned unexpectedly, and we have the debrief.
The background of the gun is well established. In a nutshell, Fritz Walter, the heir to the famed Carl Walther rifle works, moved in the early 1900s to expand the company into handguns with a line of simple blowback pocket pistols to compete with models like the Colt Vest Pocket and Pieper Bayard. Moving to more advanced designs using a workable single-action/double-action trigger system by the 1920s, the Polizei Pistole, or PP series, soon became a smash hit, despite it being twice as much as the company’s earlier models.
While not the first DA/SA handgun on the market, the PP was much more successful, and soon an abbreviated version pitched as a detective’s gun, the Polizei Pistole Kriminal, hit the catalog in 1930. With a 3.25-inch barrel and offerings in not only .32 ACP (the original PP’s bread and butter) but also spicier .380 ACP, which was then and still is seen as big medicine for European LE types, the sleek, almost Art Deco, PPK soon filled holsters and desk drawers.
The Walther PP/PPK has some serious history to it. (All Photos: Chris Eger/Guns.com)
A huge driver for the gun came from pop culture. While the Walther PP series appeared on screen in films as early as 1938, it was the James Bond film franchise that kicked the pistol into the stratosphere. Sean Connery’s Agent 007 was first issued a Walther in 1962’s “Dr. No” to replace his favored .25 ACP Beretta.
It would continue as his standard through his six-film run and go on to be picked up off and on by successive generations of Bonds.
The pistol is iconic, and in many cases can be a work of art, as shown here at the Walther factory in Ulm, Germany.
By 2013, with the market demand for the .32 waning in favor of the .380, Walther put the models chambered in the smaller caliber to bed.
Now, with improvements in bullet and propellant design leading to the resurgence of 9mm over .40 caliber, and .380 seen as the new 9mm, and .32 seen as the new .380, the stubby little round is much more popular these days.
So, it should be no surprise that Walther is bringing the “old” caliber back for both the PPK and the PPK/S, in stainless and black variants. We have been testing one for the past couple of months.
Official wartime caption: “Pvt. James L. Poust, Hughesville, Pa., displays a mud-covered face after having carried wounded men over mired and muddy roads of eastern France, 13 November 1944.”
80 years ago this week. 9 November 1944. Official wartime caption: “Jet-Propelled Take-off for Mariner, South Pacific – As the massive, bi-motored Martin mariner rises into the air, streams of smoke are ejected from the rockets situated under the wings. Jet propulsion is being more and more widely used to assist in speedy take-offs for more cumbersome planes. This picture was taken at a Pacific base by the new power-driven, portable K-25 camera.”
Official US Navy photo via the James Allison Collection, MacArthur Museum of Arkansas Military History
Keep in mind just the immense size of the PBM Mariner: 118-foot wingspan, 79 feet in length, 27 feet in height, and 25 tons in weight. Only one is left in the U.S., BuNo. 122071, located at the Pima Air & Space Museum.
I was able to take a peek at her last year and she is just… gigantic.
About the closest thing I can equivalate the above JATO shot to is seeing “Fat Albert,” the USMC KC-130 support Hercules attached to the Blue Angles, doing its dramatic JATO-STO maneuver, in which the 70-ton aircraft hops 500 feet up in about three seconds.
The inshore construction tender USCGC Smilax (WLIC 315) celebrated her 80th anniversary during a ceremony attended by current and former crewmembers in Atlantic Beach, North Carolina this week.
USCGC Smilax (WLIC 315), 2023. (USCG photo)
Commissioned 1 November 1944 during World War II, the 100-foot Smilax is the oldest active Coast Guard cutter, recognized as the “Queen of the Fleet,” a title she has held since 2011 when the fellow WWII vet, USCGC Acushnet (WMEC-167)/ex-USS Shackle, was decommissioned after 67 years of service.
The crewmembers of the USCGC Smilax (WLIC 315), Coast Guard Queen of the Fleet, take a moment for a group photo, Nov. 7, 2024, during the 80th Anniversary celebration of the cutter held in Atlantic Beach, North Carolina. The celebration hosted multiple former crewmembers of the Smilax and current crewmembers provided tours of the cutter as well. (U.S. Coast Guard photo by Petty Officer 1st Class Jonathan Lally)
The Smilax was built in 1943 by Dubuque Boat & Boiler Works in Dubuque, Iowa. When most other ships were being built in 40 days, Smilax was built over the course of a year and cost approximately $194,238, making her the most expensive ship in its class.
She was originally homeported in Fort Pierce, Florida but moved to a new homeport in New Smyrna Beach, Florida from June 1, 1954, to Nov. 9, 1965.
After being fitted with new engines and receiving a 70-foot barge, the Smilax was re-classified as a WLI-315, making her an inland buoy tender responsible for short-range ATON along the coastal and inland waterways, particularly in shallow waters or areas where larger tenders cannot reach.
She moved to a new homeport in Brunswick, Georgia on Nov. 9, 1965, before being re-classified again as a WLIC on Oct. 1, 1979. As a WLIC, or inland construction tender, the Smilax became responsible for constructing, repairing, and maintaining fixed ATON within inland waterways. It remained there until July 1999, when she moved to her current homeport in Atlantic Beach, North Carolina.
“One ship, one crew, everything says Smilax and they all work together,” said retired Chief Warrant Officer Scott McAloon, former commanding officer of the Smilax, from 2010 to 2014. “Everybody’s dirty in a set of coveralls, and it’s just such a fun ship to be part of. These construction tenders, they will humble you. From ship driving to getting out on the deck and working, it’s a real special thing.”
Smilax plays a crucial role in maintaining navigation aids in Oregon Inlet, Hatteras Inlet, Ocracoke Inlet, and Beaufort Inlet. She oversees 1,226 fixed aids and 26 buoys across the Outer Banks to ensure safe passage for various types of vessels. She also operates a 70-foot barge equipped with a crane capable of lifting heavy aids, making her well-suited for the shallow and shifting waters of the region.
By comparison, the oldest active-duty ship in the Navy (besides the floating museum ship USS Constitution) is the 7th Fleet flagship USS Blue Ridge (LCC-19).
Blue Ridge’s keel was laid on 27 February 1967, and she was commissioned on 14 November 1970. Her rich history includes commanding Operations Eagle Pull and Frequent Wind during the Vietnam War, receiving the Humanitarian Service Medal in 1984 for rescuing Vietnamese refugees during Operation Boat People, performing a nine-and-a-half month deployment as flagship for U.S. Naval Forces Central Command during the Persian Gulf War, and rushing supplies and relief to Japan during Operation Tomodachi.
She became the oldest in the fleet in 2014 when the USS Denver (LPD-9) was decommissioned after 46 years of service.
Like Smilax, Blue Ridge is also still hard at work, having recently wrapped up her longest summer patrol in five years, a 77-day, 10,000-nautical-mile West Pac cruise with stops in Malaysia, Palau, the Philippines, Singapore, Thailand, and Vietnam.
And she carries golden anchors, albeit to denote her regular retention awards. After all, duty in Yokosuka is pretty sweet.
240820-N-CV021-1063 YOKOSUKA, Japan (Aug. 20, 2024) The U.S. 7th Fleet flagship, USS Blue Ridge (LCC 19), returns to Commander, Fleet Activities Yokosuka, Aug. 20, after completing a two-and-a-half month scheduled patrol around the Indo-Pacific region. The Blue Ridge is the oldest operational ship in the Navy and routinely operates with allies and partners in preserving a free and open Indo-Pacific region. (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 3rd Class Alexandria Esteban)
Summer of 1910, Cordova, Alaska: An armed naval landing party dispatched from the U.S. Revenue Service Cutter Rush— which is seen in her gleaming white and buff livery tied up to the pier behind the group. It should be noted that during this period in the Territory’s history, the USRCS served largely the same role as the Army’s horse cavalry during the settlement of the Old West, being typically the only armed federal force in most of the region.
Photo by: U.S. Coast Guard Historian’s Office, VIRIN: 221215-G-G0000-109.
With a typical complement of eight officers, a USPHS surgeon, and 40 ratings, you are looking at a big hunk of the 175-foot cutter’s manpower. Note a boxcar of the short-lived Copper River Railway, a line that only ran from the copper mines at Kennecott to Cordova.
Of interest, besides the Navy-pattern jumpers, leggings, and dixie cups, the “Revenuers” are armed with Army Krag pattern .30-40 caliber bolt-action rifles and clad in SpanAm period USMC Mills cartridge belts, sans suspenders, as better seen in this inset:
The Marines had used the 12-pocket M1895 belt for the old clip-fed straight-pull Lee-Navy 6mm rifle, which was retired by the Navy in 1907.
The circa 1895 belts, originally black, aged to more charcoal and then gray tone, especially after long periods in salt air
The 4th Revenue Cutter named after Richard Rush, John Quincy Adams’s Secretary of the Treasury, our 300-ton hermaphrodite steam schooner was built in 1885 by Hall Brothers of San Francisco for $74,000.
The service, always pinching pennies, recycled the old boiler and 400 h.p. compound-expansion steam engine of the previous 140-foot circa 1874 cutter of the same name, of which she was officially a “reconstruction.”
U.S. Revenue Cutter Rush rides at anchor off Seattle in the early 1900s
Stationed on the West Coast, she roamed the next 27 years from Alaska– where she typically made an annual summer Bearing Sea Patrol– to Washington and California where she cruised during the winter.
Her service included operating under Navy control during the Spanish-American War– when she likely picked up the Krags for her small arms locker to augment her trio of 6-pounders. During the conflict, Rush served with the understrength Pacific Squadron protecting vessels traveling between San Francisco and the Klondike gold fields.
As detailed by the USCG Historian’s Office:
She became famous for her dogged pursuit and prosecution of seal poachers who quickly learned that if they wanted to get in a large hunt, they’d have better “Get there ahead of the Rush!”. The term is also “Get there early to avoid the Rush” and “Beat the Rush“, but all date back to this single ship and the work of her crews in Alaskan waters.
She retired in 1912 and sold to the Alaska Junk Company for $8.500 on 22 January 1913.
The later USCG would recycle the name Rush two additional times, for a Prohibition-era 125-foot “Buck and a Quarter” (WSC-151) that would continue to serve until 1947 including WWII service as a subchaser, and the Hamilton-class 378-foot cutter (WHEC-723) which commissioned in 1969 and continued to serve until 2015 including stints off Vietnam where she delivered naval gunfire support to troops ashore and interdicted weapon-carrying North Vietnamese junks.
Norfolk Naval Shipyard on Wednesday announced they have successfully completed the inactivation of the Moored Training Ship Sam Rayburn (MTS 635), an evolution that included prepping the boat for towing to Puget Sound Naval Shipyard and Intermediate Maintenance Facility in spring 2025.
What is a MTS?
Long the last remaining boat of her class still afloat, the MTS 635 was originally commissioned 2 December 1964 as SSBN-635, part of the James Madison-class of Cold War-era fleet ballistic missile (FBM) submarines.
USS Sam Rayburn (SSBN-635) c. 1964, with her missile hatches showing their “billiard ball” livery
A member of the famed “41 for Freedom” boats rushed into service to be the big stick of mutually assured destruction against the Soviets, Rayburn was named for the quiet but determined WWII/Korea War speaker of the House, Samuel Taliaferro Rayburn.
After carrying Polaris SLBMs on a rotating series of deterrent patrols from the East Coast and Rota, Spain, Rayburn had her missile compartment removed in 1985 as part of the SALT II treaty and decommissioned, transitioning to her role as an MTS.In the meantime, all of her sisters were disposed of through recycling by 2000, leaving Rayburn to linger on in her training role. Similarly, MTS Daniel Webster (MTS-626), originally a Lafayette-class FBM decommissioned in 1990, has been in the same tasking.
However, all things eventually end. As the MTS role has now transitioned to a pair of recently sidelined 1970s-construction Los Angeles-class attack boats– La Jolla (SSN/MTS 701) and San Francisco (SSN/MTS 711)— Webster and Rayburn are ready for razor blades.
Today, she looks pretty rough, as one would imagine.
Norfolk Naval Shipyard (NNSY) successfully completed the inactivation of the Moored Training Ship Sam Rayburn (MTS 635) Nov. 6, marking the Navy’s first inactivation of a Moored Training Ship. Sam Rayburn served at Nuclear Power Training Unit (NPTU)—Charleston for more than 30 years as a Moored Training Ship training Sailors in the operation, maintenance and supervision of nuclear propulsion systems.
And NNSY had to do lots of work to get her to look that good!
Ensuring the 60-year-old ship was ready for the voyage and storage required installing more than 250 lap plates on the non-pressure hull given several areas had experienced corrosion. Extensive welding was performed to ensure the integrity of the hull and piping systems during storage. The project team also installed and tested all required tow equipment.
Some 80 years ago today, 7 November 1944, outside of recently occupied Aachen, Germany. 3rd Armored Division men Sgt. Arnold J. Wethingston, of Indianapolis, Ind (left) and S/Sgt. Kenneth R. Peterson, of Barron, Wis., posted the highlights of the recent election results on a highway intersection.
Army Signal Corps photo SC 196293, Photographer: Sgt. Joseph A. Demarco, 165th Signal Photo Co., NARA Archives
For the record, FDR’s tough fourth presidential campaign, fought against Republican candidate Thomas E. Dewey, saw Roosevelt gaining 53 percent of the popular vote, some 25 million votes, against Dewey’s 46 percent, 22 million tally. At the Electoral College, FDR secured 432 votes to Dewey’s 99.
Of course, Dewey would return to challenge FDR’s successor, Harry Truman, during the tense times of the Berlin Airlift in 1948, with similar results, despite what the papers said.
Following a decision to pencil whip the service lives of 12 early Flight I Arleigh Burke-class (DDG 51) destroyers, pushing each beyond its 35-year expected service life to gain another 48 “ship years” in total from the high-mileage Cold Warriors, SECNAV made a similar announcement that will slow roll the retirement of a trio of Ticonderoga class cruisers.
We’ve been chronicling the snuff film that is the Ticos’ departure at the same confusing time that several class members have just completed very lengthy (up to 8 years per hull) and very expensive (you don’t want to know the cost) modernizations.
That odd duality caught up to the SECNAV at just the right time when the Navy’s frigate replacement class had lapsed years behind schedule.
The Department of the Navy plans to operate three Ticonderoga-class (CG 47) cruisers beyond their expected service life: USS Gettysburg (CG 64), USS Chosin (CG 65), and USS Cape St. George (CG 71). This decision adds 10 years of cumulative ship service life from fiscal year 2026 to 2029.
All three cruisers received extensive hull, mechanical, and engineering, as well as combat system upgrades as part of an extended modernization program. USS Gettysburg (CG 64) and USS Chosin (CG 65) completed modernization in fiscal year 2023 and fiscal year 2024, respectively. USS Cape St. George (CG 71) is on schedule to complete modernization this fiscal year.
Further, the Navy pointed out that Chosin recently broke new ground in the respect that she pulled off a successful VLS re-arm at sea demonstration last month. The Transferrable Reload At-sea Mechanism (TRAM) demonstration was the first time the Navy transferred missile canisters from a replenishment ship to a warship while at sea.
The Ticonderoga-class guided-missile cruiser USS Chosin (CG 65) steams alongside the Lewis and Clark-class dry cargo ship USNS Washington Chambers (T-AKE 11) during an at-sea demonstration of the Transferrable Reload At-sea Method (TRAM) while underway in the Pacific Ocean Oct. 11, 2024. Sailors aboard Chosin used the hydraulically- powered TRAM device to load an empty missile canister into the ship’s MK 41 Vertical Launching System (VLS) while off the coast of San Diego. (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 2nd Class Charlotte Dudenhoeffer)
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Warship Wednesday, Nov. 6, 2024: The Ones That Got Away
Above we see the period depiction by renowned German maritime artist Willy Stöwer of the armed sailing ship (segelschiff) SMS Ayesha off Hodeida (now Al Hudaydah, Yemen) in January 1915, to the warm welcome of allied Ottoman troops. Stöwer, best known for his decades of painting battleships, cruisers, and U-boats, apparently made an exception for the humble Ayesha, as she had an incredibly interesting story that began some 110 years ago this week.
And a tale rather different from the one shown above.
The Background
Part of Admiral Maximillian von Spee’s Eastern Squadron, the 4,200-ton Dresden class of light cruiser SMS Emden was detached from the rest of Von Spee’s force to become an independent raider in the Western Pacific, as the main force of five cruisers made for the Eastern Pacific and, ultimately, the South Atlantic. In doing so, Emden was sort of a sacrificial rabbit to draw away the British, Australian, French, Russian, and Japanese hounds as Von Spee made his exit.
In an epic 97-day patrol, Emden captured 23 merchant ships (21 Brits, one Russian, one Greek) with 101,182 GRT of enemy shipping, sending 16 to the bottom, releasing three, and keeping as four as prizes. In each encounter with these unarmed merchies, Emden practiced “cruiser rules,” in which all passengers and crew on board these ships were brought to safety. She took off the kid gloves and accounted for two warships by sucker punching the 3,500-ton Russian light cruiser Zhemchug and the 300-ton French destroyer Mousquet as they slumbered in Penang harbor in British Malaysia.
German cruiser SMS Emden off Madras. Artwork by Hans Bohrdt. Courtesy of the Library of Congress
Fire from Bombardment of Madras by SMS Emden
Emden also bombarded oil depots in Madras, India, sending shivers through the Raj, and tied up dozens of allied warships in running her to ground. This included four brawlers– any of which could make short work of the smaller German warship– that had closed the distance to within just 50 miles of the raider: the 14,600-ton British armored cruiser HMS Minotaur, the 16,000-ton Japanese battlecruiser Ibuki, and the twin 5,400-ton Australian light cruisers HMAS Sydney and Melbourne.
This game all cumulated in the Cocos (Keeling) Islands on 9 November 1914.
Direction Island
The remote Cocos (Keeling) Islands, two desolate flat, low-lying coral atolls made up of 27 islets in the Indian Ocean some 800 miles West of Sumatra, in 1914 only had a population of a few hundred. The British colony was defacto ruled by the Clunies-Ross family, which had settled the archipelago in the 1850s, and whose paterfamilias generally served as the resident magistrate and Crown representative.
Modernity had reached this corner of the British Empire, with the Eastern Extension Telegraph Company, in 1901, establishing a cable station on Direction Island on the top of the Cocos chain with submarine cables eventually running to Rodrigues (Mauritius), Batavia (Java), and Fremantle.
By 1910, this had been complemented by a Marconi wireless station, making it a key link in the communication chain between India and Australia.
A link worthy of breaking, in the mind of Emden’s skipper, Fregattenkapitän Karl von Müller.
Arriving just offshore of the Cocos over a deep trench– Emden needed at least 18 feet of seawater under her hull to float– in the predawn of 9 November, a landungskorps was assembled and ready to go ashore, seize the station, wreck it, and withdraw with any interesting portable supplies to feed the cruiser’s 360-member crew.
Going ashore at dawn in a steam pinnace and two whaleboats was Kpt. lt Hellmuth von Mücke, Leutnants Schmidt and Gysling, six petty officers, and 41 ratings, including two signalmen who knew what to destroy and a former French Foreign Legionnaire who was good with languages (among other things). Expecting resistance from a company-sized garrison at the colony, Mücke raided Emden’s small arms locker, taking four Maxim guns– each with 2,000 rounds of ammunition– 29 dated Gewehr 71 rifles, and 24 Reichsrevolvers.
With a strange warship offshore, disguised by a false fourth funnel, overhearing a coded signal from Emden to her prize ship-turned-tender Buresk, and three small boats filled with armed men headed in from the sea, the wireless station went into alert and started broadcasting at 0630 about the unknown man-of-war, only to be jammed by chatter from Emden’s powerful Telefunken wireless set turned to maximum power.
However, the part of the message broadcast before the jamming– “SOS strange ship in harbor,” and “SOS Emden here”– reached HMAS Sydney, escorting a convoy some 50nm away. The Australian cruiser replied that she was on the way to investigate. Her call letters, NC, led Emden’s signalmen to think she was the cruiser HMS Newcastle, which ironically was also in the Far East just nowhere near Emden, and they estimated by her signal strength and bearing that she was over 200 miles away.
In short, Emden’s skipper thought they had more time, but was very wrong.
Once landed, Von Mücke’s shore party got busy wrecking. Local photographers A.J. Peake and R. Cardwell, apparently EETC employees, began snapping photos documenting the activities of the landing party over the next two days.
The force soon captured and wrecked the undefended telegraph office without a shot– the island’s entire arsenal amounted to a “few 12 bore guns and two small and ancient pea-rifles”– cut three of four underwater cables, and felled the station’s transmission mast via explosives. This caused collateral damage as coral shot around like shrapnel, holing buildings and destroying the island’s supply of scotch.
Emden’s launch grappling for cable at Direction Island. NLA obj-149336815
The Eastern Extension Telegraph Company office after the German raid, 9 November 1914. NLA obj-149337412
The bottom of the mast with the wireless hut at the back. NLA obj-149338323
The wireless mast as it lay across the garden. NLA obj-149338122
More shots of the destroyed cable station. Sir George Grey Special Collections, Auckland Libraries, AWNS-19150107-39.
Under the German flag, Direction Island, November 1914. Note the sun helmet and Mauser of the German sailors. NLA obj-149336272
At 0900, with Emden spotting an incoming ship and soon acknowledging it was not her tender Buresk, the cruiser cleared decks and signaled her shore party to return immediately.
“Landing party having been recalled by the Emden, leaves the jetty but turns back on seeing Emden putting to sea.” In the background is the copra schooner Ayesha, owned by the Clunies-Ross family.” Note the white-uniformed officer complete with pistol belt. NLA .obj-149337219
“The Emdens’ landing party left the island on their futile attempt to rejoin their ship, Direction Island, 1914.” NLA obj-149336127
Not able to catch up to the withdrawing Emden, her away force returned to the docks on Direction Island. Soon signs of a battle could be seen over the horizon.
View from the beach of Direction Island with the battle between the SMS Emden and HMAS Sydney in the far distance. NLA obj-149338507
Unknown to Von Mucke and his men, nor to the colonists on Direction Island, Emden, and Sydney clashed between 0940 and 1120 in a one-sided battle that left the German cruiser grounded and ablaze on North Keeling Island with more than half of her 316 men aboard dead, missing, or wounded.
German raider, SMS Emden is sunk by Australian Cruiser, HMAS Sydney, RAN collection.
German cruiser SMS Emden beached on Cocos Island in 1914
Sydney suffered four fatalities and a dozen wounded.
Von Mucke knew that Emden was either sunk or had fled over the horizon and that the only warship coming to collect them would likely be an enemy. He set up his Spandaus on the beach and waited.
A German Maxim gun and ammunition boxes were set up to repel landings at Direction Island, on 9 November 1914. NLA obj-149337513
Meet Ayesha
The local coconut and cargo hauler, the 97-ton, 98-foot three-master schooner Ayesha, was anchored just off the docks on Direction Island, with Von Mucke’s crew passing close by on their way to the island that morning. She was a fine-looking vessel, for a coastal lugger, and typically sailed the local waters with a crew of five or six mariners and a master.
The schooner Ayesha, Cocos (Keeling) Islands, November 1914. NLA obj-149336020
Ayesha in open water State Library of Australia PRG-1373-29-15
The solution, to Von Mucke, was to seize the schooner, requisition supplies from the station, and load his men on board with the hope of heading to Dutch Sumatra, some 800 or so miles away, where they could figure out the next steps.
He boarded her with one of his officers for an inspection.
From a June 1915 New York Times interview with Von Mucke translated from the Berliner Tageblatt:
I made up my mind to leave the island as soon as possible. The Emden was gone the danger for us growing. I noticed a three-master, the schooner Ayesha. Mr. Ross, the owner of the ship and the island, had warned me that the boat was leaky but I found it a quite seaworthy tub.
“Schooner Ayesha commandeered by Germans being prepared for the voyage” Sails have been bent to the booms and forestays. AWM P11611.027.002
Germans commandeer cable station stores to provision the yacht Ayesha, owned by the Clunies-Ross family after the German raider SMS Emden was driven ashore at North Keeling Island by HMAS Sydney on 9 November 1914. On the evening of 10 November 1914, a party from the Emden used the Ayesha to escape from the island. AWM P03912.001
A German landing party at Direction Island, preparing to go aboard the yacht Ayesha, after their ship the German raider SMS Emden was destroyed by HMAS Sydney on 9 November 1914. AWM P03912.002
The master and mate were released from their duties, although they warned Von Mucke the ship’s hull, thin, “worn through” and overgrown, could not handle an ocean voyage. Inspecting the hold, the wood was indeed “red and rotten, so much so, indeed, that we stopped our scratching as we had no desire to poke the points of our knives into the Indian Ocean.”
On the evening of 10 November, the Germans used the Ayesha to escape from the island.
The locals– according to both German and British reports– actually gave the Germans three cheers as they left. Von Mucke said they went even further and asked for their autographs. Emden’s fame had proceeded them.
“Steam pinnace taking last of Germans aboard the Ayesha. The Germans are waving to the British, who have given them three cheers.” NLA obj-149339081
It wasn’t until the next day, 11 November, that sailors and Marines from HMAS Sydney arrived at Direction Island to find out that the Emden’s shore party had come and gone, with a decent head start.
A party of armed sailors from HMAS Sydney lands on Direction Island, on 11 November 1914. A party from the German raider Emden had landed and taken possession of the cable station on the island, but on the evening of the 10th, they escaped in the schooner Ayesha, which belonged to the owner of the island. AWM EN0390
Von Mucke raised their small war flag and christened the schooner SMS Ayesha (Emden II) to three hurrahs from her new crew. Nonetheless, she struck her flag soon after and sailors soon went over the side to paint over the ship’s name. Word had to have gone out and the British were no doubt looking for her.
Ayesha’s navigational equipment was limited to a sextant, two chronometers, and a circa 1882 Indian Ocean Directory, filled with quaint old high-scale charts and notes made as far back as the 1780s. With 50 men crowded onto a ship designed for five, they fashioned hammocks from old ropes and slept in holds and on deck.
Even more limited was the crew’s kit, as the men had landed on Direction Island for a raid and only had the clothes on their backs and cartridges in their pouches.
The whole crew went about naked in order to spare our wash…Toothbrushes were long ago out of sight. One razor made the rounds of the crew. The entire ship had one precious comb.
Further, Ayesha’s canvas was old and rotten, and three of the schooner’s four water tanks had been contaminated with salt water.
She had enough canvas to rig fore and aft sails on the main and mizzen and two square sails on the foremast. Still, these were threadbare and had to be patched constantly as they “tore at the slightest provocation.”
One condemned sail was rigged over the ballast for use as a shared bed by ratings, which sounds almost enjoyable until you find out that the schooner leaked so bad that water rose over the ballast at sea and typically sloshed around just below the sail bed.
From Von Mucke’s later book, as translated in 1933 and republished by the USNI:
Below deck, aft of the hold, were two small cabins originally fitted with bunks, but in these, we were compelled to store our provisions. Swarms of huge cockroaches made it impossible for human beings to inhabit them.
Another old sail was rigged up to catch and filter rainwater into three repurposed Standard Oil cans for drinking which was rendered palatable by “a dash or lime juice of which we had fortunately found few bottles among the provisions of the former captain.”
Gratefully, it turned out that the crew’s former Legionaire was a crack chef and managed to cobble together decent meals from the larder of rice and tinned beef.
At night, the only light was two oil lamps that “gave off more smoke than light.”
Most of the armament was secured down below, with the Spandaus concealed and arranged to fire through loopholes on deck should they be needed.
Leaving the steam pinnacle behind for the islanders to use, Von Mucke originally towed the two cutters from Emden behind the Ayesha, as there was no tackle available to bring them aboard nor deck space to house them but eventually, they were lost. Soon all they had in terms of small boats were a pair of jolly boats that the schooner carried in small davits, each able to hold two men. At times of doldrums, they were put out to tow the schooner with the help of Emden’s lost cutter’s long oars.
After 16 days at sea wandering towards Sumatra and keeping over the horizon from steamers, Ayesha was intercepted by the Dutch Fret-class destroyer Lynx (510 tons, 210 feet oal, 30 knots, 4×3″, 2xtt) on 26 November and was escorted into Padang in Wester Sumatra the next day.
Given 24 hours in port, Von Mucke was warned by Lynx’s Belgian-born skipper “I could run into the harbor but whether I might not come out again was doubtful.”
Von Mucke related that at the time he “felt truly sorry for the Lynx. It must have been very irritating to her to have to trundle behind us at the wonderful speed of one knot, a speed which, with the light breeze blowing, the Ayesha could not exceed.”
The Dutch did not allow Ayesha to take on clothes, charts, or tackle, as they could have added to the warship’s effectiveness. What was allowed were some tinned provisions and ten live pigs, the latter stored in a makeshift pen around the chain locker.
They left the Dutch port with reinforcements as two reserve officers, LTs Gerdts and Wellman, who had been interned at Pandang on German steamers earlier in the war and wanted to cast their lot with Von Mucke. Once smuggled aboard under darkness via rowboat, as berthing was already a problem, their spaces were found on the deck under the mess table.
The German schooner was towed back out to sea on the evening of the 28th. She was followed out of territorial waters by the Dutch cruiser De Zeven Provincien.
Another bright spot of her brief stay in the Dutch East Indies was that the local German consul managed to smuggle the crew a small bundle of chocolate, cigarettes, and German newspapers. There was also a promised rendezvous location out to sea in a fortnight or so with a German merchant steamer that was still afloat and filled with enough coal to steam anywhere on the globe.
With a few weeks’ worth of food left from the stockpile removed from Direction Island, but relying largely on rainwater for drinking and bathing, the schooner spent the next two weeks wandering West into the Indian Ocean, keeping hidden while drifting towards her promised rendezvous.
Finally, in heavy seas near South Pagai in the Dutch Mentawai Islands on 14 December, Ayesha spied the Norddeutscher Lloyd (NDL) freighter Choising (ex-Madeleine Rickmers), a slight vessel of just 1,657 tons. Still, she was the best Christmas present Von Mucke could ask for.
The meeting, in the fog and mist, was probably traumatic to the complement of the steamer whose ship’s officers and engineer were German, and most of the crew were Chinese.
Up flew our ensign and colours. The steamer ran up the German flag. The crew climbed aloft into the shrouds, and three cheers rang from deck to deck. As usual, our men were dressed in the manner customary in thc Garden of Eden, a costume which necessity had forced upon them. The men of the Choising confided to us later that they were speechless with astonishment when suddenly, out of the fog, emerged a schooner, the shrouds of which were filled with naked forms.
Having sailed Ayesha for 1,709 sea miles, the crews waited until the waters calmed on the 16th to transfer to the steamer then scuttled the schooner, Emden’s final victim. They removed Ayesha’s wheel and figurehead and took them along to their new ship.
Willy Stöwer – Ayesha im Indischen Ozean nach Treffen mit Choising
The overloaded Choising set out West across the Indian Ocean towards Yemen on the Arabian peninsula, part of the now-German allied Ottoman Empire. Thumbing through Choising’s Lloyds book, the freighter assumed the identity of the Italian steamer Shenir, which was similarly sized and had the same general layout.
This included painting Shenir, Genoa on her bow and crafting an approximated Italian flag from sailcloth and a green window curtain from the captain’s cabin.
They stayed out of the shipping lanes, celebrated a low-key Christmas and New Year at sea, and after entering the Bab-el-Mandeb, passing close abreast of two British gunboats in the darkness, made it to Hodeida on 5 January 1915, having crossed 4,100 miles of the Indian Ocean successfully.
Cruise of the Emden, Ayesha, and Choising. Bestanddeelnr 22032 010
Arabian Nights
With the French cruiser, Desaix spotted near Hodeida, Von Mucke and his men bid Choising farewell. With no Ottoman naval officials to turn to, she went across the straits to Massawa in Eritrea which was under Italian control and still neutral, intending to link up with the cruiser SMS Konigsberg which they thought was still off the coast of Africa but was trapped upriver in the Rufiji.
Choising, remaining in Somaliland, would go on to be seized by the Italian government once that former German ally declared war against the Empire in May 1915. This led to her final service as the Italian-flagged Carroccio. As part of a small Italian convoy, she was sent to the bottom of the Adriatic Sea on 15 May 1917 off the coast of Albania by the Austrian destroyer Balaton in a messy surface action known today as the Battle of the Strait of Otranto.
Meanwhile, contrary to early rosy reports that the Turks welcomed Von Mucke with open arms in Hodeida and soon spirited them via train up the Hejaz railroad to Constantinople and from there to Germany, it would be five long months of slogging across Arabia to Damascus before the Germans had any sort of safety.
Overland from Hodeida, from Von Mucke’s book
The reason for choosing the port was simple:
Our only knowledge regarding Arabian ways and customs was a ” round the world’ guidebook that would have answered the purposes of a sight-seeing couple on their honeymoon very well. From it we learned that Hodcida is a large commercial city, and that the Hedjaz railway to Hodeida was in course of construction. As the book was some years old and as one of my officers remembered that years ago he had met a French engineer who told him that he had been engaged in the construction of a railway to Hodeida, we took it for granted that the railway was completed by this time.
Nonetheless, the word would precede them, hence Willie Stower’s fanciful depiction of the long-scuttled Ayesha arriving at a big red carpet Ottoman welcome at Hodeida.
Another such propaganda piece from 1915:
With the railway incomplete, the journey, which is a bit off subject for a Warship blog, included a three-day firefight with a battalion-sized force of Arab rebels, unruly camel caravans with wary Bedouins watching from the dunes, creeping up the uncharted coast on local fishing dhows (zambuks), and avoiding being kept as “guests” by local Turkish garrison commanders and sheiks looking to add the Teutonic travelers to their muscle.
SMS Emden crew is attacked by Arabs on their desert hike to Jeddah, Der Krieg 1914/19 in Wort und Bild, 35. Heft
Finally arriving at the terminus for the Hejaz railroad at Al Ula, a trek of 1,100 miles from Hodeida on 7 May, the force met Berliner Tageblatt correspondent Emil Ludwig, who was waiting for them, and within days they were being hosted by the German counsel in Damascus. By this point, their firearms cache had been whittled down to one machine gun, a few revolvers, and just 13 rifles, the rest bartered along the way for food, safe passage, boats, and camels; or lost in zambuk wrecks.
The photo of the Damascus meeting shows the Emden’s men complete with crisp new Turkish uniforms and fezes!
Besatzungsmitglieder von SMS Ayesha im Garten des Kaiserlichen Konsulats in Damaskus 11. Mai 1915. 2) Kapitänleutnant Hellmuth von Mücke, 3) Konsul Walter Rößler. Note the Gewehr 71 Mausers.
Then came an even larger show in Constantinople, attended by foreign legations and German RADM Wilhelm Souchon, former commander of the Kaiser’s Mediterranean Squadron and current unofficial commander of the Ottoman fleet. Souchon had a gift for the men: Iron Crosses sent directly from Berlin.
Six of the 50-man forces that had landed at Direction Island six months prior had been left behind, three killed by rebels, and three by assorted diseases and accidents. Of Emden’s 360 crew, virtually all except Von Mucke’s detachment were dead or POWs by this point in the war– to include the Kaiser’s own nephew. The same could be said broadly for all the fine young men of Von Spee’s squadron.
The arrival of Captain Mücke with the SMS Emden’s landing party in Constantinople
Captured German photograph of the captain and officers of the Ayesha being presented to the Turkish authorities by the American Ambassador. Figures from right to left are (1) Enver Pasha; (2) German Ambassador; (3,5,6) Officers of the raider Emden; (4) Provost of Town; (7) Admiral Suchow Pasha of Goeben. AWM A011403
Captured German photograph showing the arrival of the officers who escaped from the raider Emden after commandeering the yacht Ayesha, with the German flag which saved them from falling into the hands of the enemy. AWM A01402
They were lucky.
Soon after Von Mucke’s trip up the Arabian peninsula, another group of Von Spee’s men, elements of the crew of the river patrol boat SMS Tsingtau including Kptlt. Erwin von Möller, LtzS Hans von Arnim, Vizesteuermann Heinrich Deike, Karl Gründler, Heinrich Mau, Arthur Schwarting plus Turkish ship’s cook Said Achmad, sailed the coastal schooner Marboek for 82 days from Sumatra where they were interned to the Arabian coast at Hadramaut, then headed out overland for Sana, much like Von Mucke.
They were all killed in the desert by rebels on 25 May 1916.
Epilogue
Von Mucke, whose interviews with Emil Ludwig soon circled the globe, spent some time as head of a Turko-German river flotilla in the Euphrates, then finished the war back in Germany as head of the Danube Flotilla. You could say the Kaiserliche Marine wanted to keep him from being lost at sea. Sadly, half of the men who had returned with him from Emden had been killed later in the Great War.
His mug was snapped often and widely distributed. A dashing hero with a romantic tale.
Capt. Von Mucke & bride & sailors of EMDEN LOC ggbain-20400-20461v
Kpt. Von Mucke in Berlin LOC ggbain-19500-19578v
He also penned two thin wartime books, one on each of the vessels he served on during the conflict.
Postwar, retired from the Navy after an 18-year career, he had six children and earned a living in Weimar Germany through writing and conducting lecture tours, retelling his story. Turning to politics, he briefly held a seat in the Saxon state parliament, flirted with the Nazis (membership number 3,579) before they rose to power, then by 1930 had become an outspoken pacifist and member of the Deutschlandbund, an anti-Nazi group. Banned from writing after 1933, he was labeled a communist and tossed into concentration camps on at least two occasions. Despite the fact his naval pension had been suspended, he volunteered for combat with the Kriegsmarine in 1939 at age 58 but was rejected because he was considered politically unreliable.
Remaining in East Germany post-WWII, Von Mucke wrote pamphlets against the rearmament of West Germany for the communists but soon fell out with them as well. He passed in 1957 at age 76 and is buried in Ahrensburg.
As she sat in shallow water along the reefs off Keeling and was extensively salvaged over 40 years, literally tons of souvenirs of Emden exist, primarily in Australia, where her bell and several relics are on display at the AWM in Canberra while two of her 10.5 cm (4.1 in) SK L/40 guns are in parks in the Canberra and Sydney.
Relics from Sydney and Emden’s battle on display at the Australian War Memorial
It is also likely that many tons of her good Krupp steel armor plate were recycled for use by the Japanese Combined Fleet, as her salvors for long periods in the 1920s and 30s were from Yokohama.
However, little, if anything, survives of Ayesha other than period photographs and romanticized postcards, along with the works of Von Mücke.
She is remembered in postal stamps of the Cocos Islands, for obvious reasons.
The small 4×6 Reichskriegsflagge flown over Keeling by Emden’s Landungskorps, then our subject schooner and brought back to Germany in 1915 with Von Mücke and the gang at some point was put on display in the Marienkirche (St. Mary’s Church) in Lübeck.
Then in the 1930s, it was passed on to Kapt. Julius Lauterbach. A HAPAG reserve officer who had served on the liner Staatssekretär Kraetke before the war and as Emden’s 1st navigation officer during the conflict. He left the cruiser with a 15-man prize crew put aboard the captured 4,350-ton British steamer Buresk in September 1914 to serve as a tender. Captured after Emden was destroyed and Buresk scuttled, he escaped along with 34 other Germans held by the British in Singapore during the Sepoy Mutiny in February 1915. Returning to Germany on his own, (like Von Mücke he also wrote a thin book published during the war, “1000£ Price on Your Head – Dead or Alive: The Escape Adventures of Former Prize Officer S. M. S. Emden”) he was given command of a trap ship (German Q-ship), and subsequently the raider SMS Mowe. In 1955, Lauterbach’s widow donated the flag to German militaria collector Karl Flöck who placed it on display at the Gasthaus zum Roten Ochsen in Cologne for years until it went up to auction in 2009. It is now in private hands.
The tale of Emden has been told numerous times in numerous ways, but it generally left out that of Von Mucke and his refugees. Of note, a 2013 German film, Die Männer der Emden, included it. The trailer includes camels, suffering, and a bit of swashbuckling, as it should.
Ships are more than steel and wood And heart of burning coal, For those who sail upon them know That some ships have a soul.
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