Tag Archives: navy

Negative, Dragones, the pattern is full

Not a lot of times you see an Ecuadorian fighter buzzing a CVN with a Rhino of Strike Fighter Squadron 137 (VFA-137) “Kestrels” as a wingman.

You know that Hornet is pushing stall speed to get this photo! Credit: Navy Lt. William Shortal, VIRIN: 260408-N-NO803-9035

Official caption: “Blue on Blue” An Ecuadorian Air Force Embraer A-29 [EMB 314] Super Tucano flies alongside a U.S. Navy F/A-18E Super Hornet above the USS Nimitz during a bilateral maritime engagement in the Pacific Ocean, April 8, 2026. The USS Nimitz is deployed as part of Southern Seas, an exercise designed to enhance capability, improve interoperability, and strengthen maritime partnerships with countries in the region through joint, multinational, and interagency exchanges and cooperation.

If you are interested, it looks like the Sidewinder carrying 18E above is the Falcon 12 CO bird 301, BuNo 168866, carrying the NA tail code of CVW-17. It is a Block III circa 2013 bird, construction number E243, and used to belong to VFA-97 until the latter went Lightning.

The Fuerza Aérea Ecuatoriana’s 2311th Squadron (La Escuadrilla de Combate 2311 “Dragones”) operates all 17 of the country’s Tucanos, purchased in 2009 to replace Ecuador’s elderly fleet of Vietnam-era Cessna A-37 Dragonflies, and is the country’s only combat aircraft type.

Warship Wednesday 8 April 2026: Front Runner

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 8 April 2026: Front Runner

USN Photo 80-G-08937 via the National Archives.

Above we see the Cramp-built Balao (not Tench) class fleet boat USS Tusk (SS-426), some 80 years ago this week, in April 1946, just after she was commissioned. Note her late WWII style “gunboat” arrangement with two 5″/25s and two 40mm Bofors clustered around her fairwater.

Remember, National Submarine Day is on April 11th, and Tusk, which never fired a torpedo in anger (that we know of), nonetheless has one of the most epic careers in naval history

The Balao Class

A member of the 180+-ship Balao class, she was one of the most mature U.S. Navy diesel designs of the World War Two era, constructed with knowledge gained from the earlier Gato class. Unlike those of many navies of the day, U.S. subs were “fleet” boats, capable of unsupported operations in deep water far from home.

The Balao class was designed to dive deeper (400 ft. test depth) than the Gato class (300 ft.) due to the use of high-yield-strength steel in the pressure hull.

Able to range 11,000 nautical miles on their reliable diesel engines, they could undertake 75-day patrols that could span the immensity of the Pacific. Carrying 24 (often unreliable) Mk14 Torpedoes, these subs often sank anything short of a 5,000-ton Maru or warship by surfacing and using their deck guns. They also served as the firetrucks of the fleet, rescuing downed naval aviators from right under the noses of Japanese warships.

Some 311 feet long overall, they were all-welded construction to facilitate rapid building. Best yet, they could be made for the bargain price of about $7 million in 1944 dollars (just $100 million when adjusted for today’s inflation) and completed from keel laying to commissioning in about nine months.

USS Roncador (Balao) class plans

USS Roncador (Balao) class plans

An amazing 121 Balaos were completed through five yards at the same time, with the following pennant numbers completed by each:

  • Cramp: SS-292, 293, 295-303, 425, 426 (12 boats)
  • Electric Boat: 308-313, 315, 317-331, 332-352 (42)
  • Manitowoc on the Great Lakes: 362-368, 370, 372-378 (15)
  • Mare Island on the West Coast: 304, 305, 307, 411-416 (9)
  • Portsmouth Navy Yard: 285-288, 291, 381-410, 417-424 (43)

We have covered a number of this class before, such as the sub-killing USS Greenfish, the UDT-10 carrying USS Burrfish, the rocket mail slinger USS Barbero, the carrier-slaying USS Archerfish, the long-serving USS Catfish, the U-boat scuttling USS Atule, the cruiser bagging USS Charr, Spain’s “30-one-and-only,” and the frogman Cadillac USS Perch —but don’t complain, they have lots of great stories

Meet Tusk

Our subject is the only U.S. warship named for the cusk or tusk, a large edible saltwater fish related to the cod. The 14th and last submarine to be built by the Cramp Shipbuilding Company of Philadelphia, she was laid down as the future SS-426 on 23 August 1943, and launched into the Delaware River on 8 July 1945; sponsored by Mrs. Carolyn Park Mills, wife of RADM Earle Watkins Mills (USNA 1917) who was soon to take over the Maritime Commission from the retiring VADM Emory S. Land.

Mrs. Mills christens the future Tusk, 8 July 1945. Temple University Libraries, Special Collections Research Center, George D. McDowell Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Collection, SCRC 170

Launch of Tusk, 8 July 1945. The sign on her bow says she was paid for via War Bond Purchases made by the people of Philadelphia. There were eight war loan drives from 1942 to 1945. By the end of the war, 85 million Americans had purchased 185.7 billion dollars of bonds. Temple University Libraries, Special Collections Research Center, George D. McDowell Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Collection, SCRC 170

With the end of the war, construction slowed, and Tusk was only commissioned on 11 April 1946.

Tusk had a late war “gunboat” style arraignment, including two 5″/25s and two Bofors guns, along with points for detachable 50 cals

Her first skipper was CDR Raymond A. Moore, USN, who seems to just be a placeholder as he was replaced within a fortnight by CDR Marshall Harlan Austin (USNA 1935), who had commanded the Gato-class fleet boat USS Redfin (SS-272) on her 2nd, 3rd, 4th and 5th War Patrols, sinking a Japanese destroyer and four merchantmen to earn a Navy Cross.

These images were taken the day before her commissioning:

(Cold) War!

Under Austin, Tusk completed her shakedown cruise in the South Atlantic, visiting ports in Brazil, Curacao, and Panama from June to July 1946. She returned to New London in August and the week before Thanksgiving 1946, President Harry S. Truman, ADM William D. Leahy, and Annapolis Commandant, VADM Aubrey W. Fitch, toured Tusk while she was tied up at the Naval Academy.

Photograph of President Truman and Fleet Admiral William D. Leahy inspecting the USS Tusk, a submarine, during the President’s visit to the U.S. Naval Academy. Note the well-turned-out MM1 watch stander’s dolphins and hash mark on the sleeves of his cracker jacks. National Archives Identifier: 198606

Photograph of President Truman aboard a submarine, the USS Tusk, during his visit to the U.S. Naval Academy: (left to right) the President; Vice Admiral Aubrey Fitch, Superintendent of the Naval Academy; Fleet Admiral William Leahy, Chief of Staff to the Commander in Chief; and General Harry Vaughan, Military Aide to the President. NARA 198648

Truman waves from Tusk’s conning tower. NARA 198649

The next year saw Tusk participate in a series of exercises and a minor collision with the hospital ship USS Consolation (AH-15).

Repaired in Philadelphia, she then conducted oceanographic work along the Atlantic shelf with Columbia University and the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute

She ended 1947 at Portsmouth Naval Shipyard for a Greater Underwater Propulsion Power Program (GUPPY) II conversion, one of 24 Balao and Tench-class subs that received the SCB 47 rebuild.

During the subsequent seven months, Tusk underwent significant modifications to enhance her submerged performance. Four high-capacity 126-cell batteries replaced her original batteries, which had half as many cells, bedded into larger wells. The hull was streamlined by adding a rounded bow, recessing anchors, capstans, deck rail stanchions, and cleats; and eliminating propeller guards, improving hydrodynamic efficiency.

Topside, her deck guns were removed and sail enlarged and refined to accommodate three new masts (snorkel induction, snorkel exhaust and ESM), the snork enabling diesel-powered operation at periscope depth and battery recharging while submerged. The periscope and radar mast were enclosed. A BQR-2 sonar was fitted with hydrophones under the forefoot and its electronics housed in the forward torpedo room. Likewise, her Elliot Motor Co. high-speed drive electric motors with reduction gear were swapped out for low-speed direct drive motors of 2,500 hp per shaft, up from 1,370.

Her step-side Portsmouth Sail had a thinner top than those fitted to other GUPPYs by EB, with a curved trailing edge, square windows, and a sharper lower forward edge. They also had a fitting for the sub’s SV radar screen.

These upgrades transitioned Tusk from a submersible to an actual submarine and, while her surface speed was cut by about two knots, her submerged speed rose from 10 knots to about 15 knots.

After her G.II conversion in early 1948, she emerged looking very different from her original 1946 configuration, and, amid the Berlin Crisis, conducted a simulated war patrol to the Canal Zone in June and July as part of her post-modernization shakedown.

Her skipper during the cruise was CDR Guy F. Guggliotta, USN, another wartime sub driver who had commanded USS S-28 (SS 133), Halibut (SS 232) on her 10th War Patrol, and Raton (SS 270) on her 8th War Patrol, earning a pair of Silver Stars in the process.

Tusk, post GUPPY II conversion with her step side Portsmouth sail, seen off the New London Harbor Lighthouse.

Tusk seen between 1948 and 1962 post GUPPY II conversion with her step side Portsmouth sail, NH 67826

Cochino’s Last Dive

Attached to Submarine Development Group 2 out of Newport for the first six months of 1949, she sortied to the North Atlantic that July with SubRon 8 for a series of multinational NATO exercises that saw her visit Londonderry and Portsmouth in the British Isles.

At this point, Tusk was on her fourth skipper, WWII sub captain CDR Robert Kemble Rittenhouse Worthington, USN, who had earned a Navy Cross during Balao’s 8th, 9th, and 10th Patrols after sinking over a half-dozen small vessels, adding to a Silver Star he earned as a junior officer on four patrols aboard USS Silversides.

It was while still on these exercises that on 25 August, Tusk, operating alongside her sister USS Cochino (SS-345), which had been on a secret deployment above the Arctic Circle in the Barents Sea, encountered a severe gale off the coast of Norway that left Cochino in dire straits.

As noted of Cochino by DANFS, “huge waves slammed the submarines’ snorkel so violently, and jolted the boat so severely, that the pounding caused an electrical fire and battery explosion, followed by the release of deadly hydrogen [chlorine] gas,” forcing the stricken sub’s crew to evacuate the surfaced boat in terrible weather, and hunker down on her deck.

The last known photograph of USS Cochino (SS 345) was taken in July 1949. She now lies in deep water north of Norway near 71.35N. 23.35E, sunk stern first on 0146 on 26 August 1949 with no personnel aboard.

Receiving the underwater sonar signal from Cochino “Casualty surfacing,” Tusk worked over the next 14 hours on the rough seas to save first Cochino herself, then, after a second battery explosion made that impossible, to rescue Cochino’s 77 embarked souls via a prow rigged between the two boats on the open sea. Tragically, Tusk wound up trading 11 of her own crew and an embarked Philco techrep (Mr. Robert Wellington) to Poseidon in the deal, with only six later recovered from the sea alive.

A depiction of the USS Cochino battery fire that led to the sinking of the submarine in 1949, and cross-decking to Tusk, by Stanley Borack.

Greater detail from Tusk’s deck log:

Tusk, packed with nearly 150 personnel, many of them injured and suffering from exposure, she made for Hammerfest Harbor, Norway, and tied up at 0845 on the 26th to immediately receive a Norwegian medical team aboard.

Besides an officer (LCDR Richard M. Wright) sent to a Norwegian hospital in Tromso and four men flown home to Westover AFB for transfer to the Navy hospital at Chelsea, Massachusetts, the remaining 72 Cochino survivors crammed aboard Tusk once again two days later tor the return trip back across the Atlantic, arriving at New London on 9 September for a home town welcome.

Truly an epic sea story.

The 1950 Silent Service installment “The Last Dive” (Season 1, Episode 22) covered Cochino and Tusk’s final 14 hours together. A young Walter Matthau, DeForest Kelley, and Leslie Nielsen portrayed Cochino crewmembers, with LCDR Wright appearing at the end of the show, having completed 14 months of medical rehab.

Continued Cold War service

Tusk was assigned to the Submarine School at New London, then Submarine Development Group 2, interspersed with regular Atlantic Fleet exercises.

One of her declassified Dev Group tests now in the public archives is one for the Naval Research Laboratory in 1957, which involved the use of a light pulse transmitter to communicate with aircraft while submerged at depths of 90 feet.

In November 1949, during maneuvers 175nm off the Labrador coast in 40-foot seas, Tusk struck her periscope on the screw of a Navy supply ship USS Aldebaran (AF-10), picking up minor damage but suffering no casualties.

In late 1952, Tusk was assigned to SubRon 10 for a six-month Med cruise with the 6th Fleet, visiting Malta, Gibraltar, Cannes, Piraeus, Izmir, and French Oran.

USS Tusk (SS 426) post GUPPY II conversion 1 August 1952 USN 477116

Tusk would make four further European cruises over the next two decades. Notably, this would include a visit to Fiumicino during the 1960 Rome Olympics, calling in Portugal to mark the 500th anniversary of Prince Henry the Navigator, and a 1967 cruise where she would visit Bremerhaven, Aarhus, and Göteborg.

USS Tusk sailing into Malta on one of her Med deployments, pre 1965

Jane’s 1960 entry for the Tench class, with both the Cramp-built GUPPY’d Tusk and Trumpetfish listed incorrectly as members. At the time, the Navy was also operating at least 80 Balaos, including NRF ships and those in mothballs.

Tusk also pulled three shorter Operation Springboard readiness deployments to the Caribbean, a region of growing importance post-Castro. As you can imagine, annual Springboard exercises involved high-profile mock ASW, amphibious landings, and fleet maneuvers around Puerto Rico. It was a common gathering for GUPPYs in the 60s and 70s.

Balao-class Springboard GUPPYs with North Atlantic sails: USS Bang (SS-385) preparing to tie up alongside USS Chivo (SS-341) at San Juan Naval Station, Puerto Rico, during Operation Springboard. Of note, the lowest point on the keel to the IFF antenna atop the lowered snorkel was 49 feet 8.25 inches, while the height to the top of the whip antenna is 78 feet from the keel. You weren’t going to submerge one of these bad boys in 10 fathoms! Bang’s skipper, CDR R.J. Carlin, is giving orders from atop her sail. The bow of a Canadian Ojibwa (Oberon) class SSK is visible in the lower left, and a U.S. Coast Guard HU-16 Albatross amphibian is flying low in the center background. Photograph by PHC CJ Wiitala, USN, released 14 March 1968 by Tenth Naval District Public Affairs Office. NH 98697

Further, Tusk was involved in at least two extensive polar ice operations, including with USS Tench (SS-417) on ICEX ’60 and SUBICEX 1-62 with Skate (SS-578) and Entemador (SS-340).

USS Tusk, USS Entemedor, and USS Skate dusted with snow, 1962, during SUBICEX

Tusk on ICEX March 1960 with Tench

Entering Philadelphia Naval Shipyard in July 1965, Tusk was given a six-month major overhaul that including removing all her engines, motors, and generators for rebuild, receiving a new periscope with a built in electronic sextant for taking star shots while still submerged, and picking up the tall streamlined fiberglass/plastic clamshell “North Atlantic” style fairweather typically seen on most American GUPPYs after the mid-60s.

The new sail allowed extra room for the growing number of masts and aerials, a higher observation platform for lookouts, and a more habitable position for watch standers while on the surface. Tusk also received the new Prairie Masker bubbler system, increased air-conditioning capacity, additional storerooms, and additional fresh water tanks as part of the modifications.

Balao class GUPPY II sister USS Catfish post refit 1960s North Atlantic sail. Tusk had the same layout.

Balao class GUPPY II sister USS Catfish post refit 1960s North Atlantic sail. Tusk had the same layout.

Rejoining the fleet in January 1966, Tusk was transferred to SubRon 8.

Submarine Squadron Eight at New London, 1968, with a wild mix of eight Cold War fleet boat conversions. Left to right: USS Sea Robin (SS-407)(GUPPY IA with Portsmouth style step sail); Tusk (SS-426)(GUPPY II w North Atlantic sail); Sea Owl (SS-405)(Fleet Snorkel w EB style step sail and large Project Kayo BQR-4A horseshoe passive sonar array); Sablefish (SS-303)(Fleet Snorkel w North Atlantic sail); Halfbeak (SS-352)(GUPPY II w North Atlantic sail); Blenny (SS-324)(GUPPY IA w North Atlantic sail) and Becuna (SS-319)(GUPPY IA w Portsmouth step-sail). The eighth unidentified submarine on the left has PUFFS passive underwater fire control arrays for the BQG-4 system. NH 88415

Tusk (SS-426) at New London, Connecticut, June 1, 1968, as part of SubRon 8. USS Becuna (SS 319) is across the pier. Sailors on deck, civilians observe from the pier. Courtesy of D.M. McPherson, NH 86627

By 1969, Tusk had been transferred to SubRon 2 but was still based out of her traditional New London home. She was known as The Front Runner, so dubbed “due to its reputation for excellence and high-performance.”

This was supported by her being awarded the Fire Control “E” for several consecutive years and the Battle Efficiency “E” for fiscal year 1973.

Tusk underway in Hampton Roads, Virginia, 11 February 1970, as part of SubRon 2. NHHC K-81809

USS Tusk 1972 Provided by Tom Robinson QM2 (SS)

While on her fifth European deployment on 12 August 1972, while off the coast of Spain, the well-traveled Tusk made her 10,000th dive and surface, a benchmark few submarines have reached. Of note, Tusk’s Balao-class sister USS Spikefish (SS-404) had set the 10,000 record first in 1960 and earned the title of “The divingest Submarine in the World,” which was later claimed by another Balao, USS Piper (SS-409), who logged 13,724 before her decommissioning.

Speaking of decommissioning…

Under the Cog

In 1960, the ROC (Taiwan) Navy embarked on the Sea Shark Project, designed to create a submarine force.

This morphed into the Wuchang Project and, in October 1964, after months of wrangling, Capt Wang Xiling, the ROC naval attaché stationed in Rome, overcame diplomatic difficulties and ordered two 58-foot SX-404 class midget-submarines with a displacement of only 40 tons from the Italian commercial shipyard Cos.Mo.S. SpA, Livorno. Two CosMoS CE2F/X100 human torpedo chariot-style frogman SDVs were acquired as well.

ROCN 58-foot SX-404 class midget submarine Haijiao (Sea Dragon) (S-1) between 1968 and 1973

To avoid complications, the components were shipped from Europe to Tamsui and then assembled in Taiwan by CoS.MoS personnel. The two SX-404 boats were commissioned on 8 October 1969 as Haijiao (Sea Dragon) (S-1) and Hailong (Sea Dragon I) (S-2), and were immediately put to work as training vessels of the Wuchang Submarine Squadron for the nascent ROCN sub force. The CNO of the fleet, ADM Feng Qicong, personally handed out the country’s first dolphin badges that day to the program’s members.

By late 1970, and with two years of midget sub operations under the ROCN’s belt, Capt Wang Xiling, then moved to the embassy in Washington, persuaded the U.S. to sell two submarines to Taiwan as training vessels, citing the need to enhance the navy’s anti-submarine warfare capabilities. In other words, “tame mice” for the ROCN’s two dozen destroyers and frigates to play with.

On 21 April  1971, the U.S. confirmed the planned handover of two surplus GUPPY IIs, initially designated “Project Poseidon” by the Navy, and renamed “Project Mercury” in December. In March, 1972, the first batch of ROCN personnel receiving the Project Mercury submarines arrived at the U.S. Naval Submarine School in New London for training.

Tusk’s sister, USS Cutlass (SS 478), was transferred to the ROCN as ROCS Hai Shih (Sea Lion) (SS 91) on 12 April 1973, her hull number later changed to S-791

By May 1973, with Tusk just returned from a three-month Caribbean training cruise that saw her call at Guantanamo Bay, Ocho Rios, Port au Prince, and Montego Bay, she welcomed aboard 81 officers and men from the Republic of China to commence training for turnover.

In anticipation of the new (to them) vessels, Taiwan laid up its SX-404s and redesignated the Wuchang Submarine Squadron as the Republic of China Navy’s 256th Squadron (Submarine) in August 1973.

On 18 October 1973, Tusk was decommissioned at New London and was simultaneously transferred, by nominal sale, to the Taiwan Navy. Her name was struck from the Navy list on the same day.

She became ROCS Hai Pao (Seal) (SS 92) in the same ceremony, with LCDR David H. Boyd, USN, turning over the boat to CDR Cheng Kuo-Yu, ROCN. Kuo-Yu had served in the Wuchang Squadron since 1969 and had spent seven months in Sub School in New London before beginning training on Tusk/Hai Pao.

Jane’s 1975 entry on the Cutlass/Hai Shih and Tusk/Hai Pao. They have since changed their hull numbers to S-791 and S-792

Amazingly, both of Taiwan’s GUPPYs, for decades the last remaining Balaos in service, are still in operation with the 256th Squadron, training ROCN submariners for the current front-line subs, the Dutch Zwaardvis-class ROCS Hai Lung (Sea Dragon) and ROCS Hai Hu (Sea Tiger), which were delivered in 1988.

Nonetheless, they are still officially combat-ready and undergo regular dry docking, inspection, overhaul, and sea periods.

ex USS Tusk, now ROCS 海豹(seal), SS792 circa 2005

ex USS Tusk, now ROCS 海豹(seal), SS792 internals

ex USS Tusk, now ROCS 海豹(seal), SS792 Zuoying Naval Base Oct 2017 Tuo Chiang-class corvette

ex USS Tusk, now ROCS 海豹(seal), SS792 circa 2014

ex USS Tusk, now ROCS 海豹(seal), SS792 circa 2014

ex USS Tusk, now ROCS 海豹(seal), SS792 sail

ex USS Tusk, now ROCS 海豹(seal), SS792 circa 2014 Keelung

ex USS Tusk, now ROCS 海豹(seal), SS792 circa 2014 Keelung

ex USS Tusk, now ROCS 海豹(seal), SS792 circa 2014 Keelung

ex USS Tusk, now ROCS 海豹(seal), SS792 control room

ROC President Tsai Ing-wen attended the “2017 Naval Goodwill Flotilla Launch Ceremony and Submarine Indigenous Construction Design Initiation and Cooperation Memorandum Signing Ceremony,” emphasizing that submarine indigenous construction is the most challenging aspect of the national defense autonomy policy and a responsibility of the Commander-in-Chief to the nation. The ROC Navy’s Tusk/Hai Pao (SS-792) is moored to Tsai Ing-wen’s left fore-south.

When the first two domestically built Haikun (Seagull)-class SSKs arrive in service in 2026 and 2027 (?),  Cutlass/Hai Shih and Tusk/Hai Pao are expected to be retired with the 40-year-old Dutch boats rotating to fill the roles of the old GUPPYs.

The President of Taiwan presides over the naming and launching ceremony of the prototype submarine built domestically, the future ROCS Haikun (SS-711), on September 28, 2023.

Epilogue

Tusk’s logs and plans are in the National Archives.

There is at least one blog and one crewmember reunion group (who last met in 2017) to cherish Tusk’s memory and those who served on her.

Her U.S. service is remembered in Cold War classic maritime art.

“Cat and Mouse” by Wayne Scarpaci shows the GUPPY II USS Tusk (SS-426) with a Lockheed (P2V) Neptune flying overhead in ASW training.

Her skipper during the Cochino rescue, CDR Worthington (USNA ’38), had been on subs that earned a dozen battle stars and sunk 100,000 tons of shipping during WWII, earning him a Navy Cross, Silver Star, and three Bronze Stars. He didn’t need more medals. He retired from the fleet as a Captain on the staff of the Twelfth Naval District in San Diego in 1962, capping a very busy 24 years of active service. Worthington received an M.S. in Physics and Electronics from UCLA and worked for Lockheed Corporation on the design and construction of the pioneering submersible Deep Quest, which achieved a depth of 8,000 feet during a test dive. Leaving Lockheed in 1975, Worthington returned to the sea, sailing as master on several ocean vessels in Caribbean and Alaskan waters. He passed away in 1996, in San Diego, leaving a wife and two children behind. His papers are in the U.S. Naval War College Archives, of which he was an alumnus.

Thanks for reading!

Meminisse est ad Vivificandum – To Remember is to Keep Alive

***

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Warship Wednesday (on a Tuesday) 31 March 2026: Good Luck Sometimes Runs Thin

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 (on a Tuesday) 31 March 2026: Good Luck Sometimes Runs Thin

Admiralty photo by LT Sidney James Beadell, Royal Naval Voluntary Reserve (Sp), Imperial War Museum catalog A 1725

Above we see the twin 5.25″/50 QF Mark II DP gun turrets A, B, and Q forward of the very open bridge of the Royal Navy’s Dido-class light cruiser HMS Bonaventure (31), circa 1940. Note the compass platform and the canvas-covered rangefinder in the foreground.

Often credited with helping to spoil the attack of the much larger German super heavy cruiser Admiral Hipper on Convoy WS 5A– firing 438 rounds from the above three forward turrets in the space of only 24 minutes– Bonaventure gave her last full measure some 85 years ago today, just a short ten months after she was rushed into service.

The Didos

The Didos were very light cruisers indeed, designed in 1936 to weigh just 5,600 tons standard displacement, though this would later swell during wartime service to nearly 8,000 tons. Some 512 feet long, they were smaller than a modern destroyer, but, on a powerplant of four Admiralty 3-drum boilers and four Parsons steam turbines, each with its own dedicated shaft, they could break 32.5 knots on 62,000 shp.

They were intended to be armed with 10 5.25″/50 (13.4 cm) QF Mark II DP guns in five twin mounts, three forward and two over the stern, although most of the class failed to carry this layout.

Bow 5.25″/50 turrets on HMS Hermione as she enters Malta Harbor in September 1941. The muzzles of her third forward “Q” turret can just be seen above the crane at the upper left. She, along with Euryalus, Naiad, and Sirius, was the only Dido that completed with the full battery of five twin 5.25-inch mounts, largely due to a shortage of such guns. IWM A 5772.

The Dido class had provision for up to 360 rounds for “A”, “B” and “Q” turrets, 320 rounds for “X” turret and 300 rounds for “Y” turret and a properly trained crew could rattle them off at 7-8 shots per minute per gun out to a range of 23,400 yards or a ceiling of 46,500 feet when used in the AAA role. The fact that one of these cruisers could burp 70-80 shells within a 60-second mad minute gave them a lot of potential if used properly. However, this didn’t play out in reality, at least when it came to swatting incoming aircraft.

Gunnery booklet laying out the general plan of a Dido-class cruiser

As noted by Richard Worth in his Fleets of World War II, “Often referred to as AA cruisers, the 16 Dido-type ships shot down a total of 15 enemy planes. The entirety of British cruiser-dom accounted for only 97 planes, while enemy planes accounted for 11 British cruisers.”

Nonetheless, these vessels carried a decent (for the era) secondary AAA batteries as well.

Originally fitted with two quad .50-caliber Vickers guns, these were augmented with five single 20mm Oerlikons, whose numbers were further expanded until the ship carried over a dozen in twin mounts by the end of the war.

She was also equipped with a variety of quadruple 2 pdr 40mm MK VIII pom-pom guns on Mk.VII mountings.

WRNS visit Dido-class cruiser Euryalus of the Mediterranean Fleet, 3 May 1942, Alexandria. A Wren with her bearded Supply Petty Officer escort on the pom-pom platform. IWM A 8830 http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205142750

Meet Bonaventure

Our subject is at least the 10th RN warship to carry the Latin term for “good fortune” since 1489, giving her nine battle honors carried forward (Lowestoft 1665, Four Days’ Battle 1666, Orfordness 1666, Solebay 1672, Schooneveldt 1673, Texel 1673, Beachy Head 1690, Barfleur 1693, and China 1900).

The immediately preceding ninth Bonaventure was an Astraea-class second-class cruiser commissioned in 1894 and used mostly as a submarine depot ship until broken up in 1920.

“HMS Bonaventure and submarines” circa 1911 by William Lionel Wyllie. RMG PW2083. Inscribed, as title, and signed by the artist, lower right. The ‘Bonaventure’ (1892) was a second-class protected cruiser converted to a submarine depot ship in 1907. This finished watercolor shows the ship in her 1911-14 condition. Both the ‘Bonaventure’ and the trawler tender on the left are flying large red flags, advising other vessels to keep clear of a submarine operating area. 

Ordered from Scotts of Greenock on 21 March 1937 under the 1937 Programme, our future Dido-class Bonaventure was laid down on 30 August the same year as Yard No. 575 and launched on 19 April 1939, officially having a peacetime hull.

Bonaventure shared the same armament fit as class leader Dido and sister Phoebe, with her four twin 5.25″/40s (as opposed to five mounts as seen on Naiad, Euryalus, Hermione, Sirius, Cleopatra, and Argonaut), a single 4″/45 QF Mk V starshell gun in the position of her “X” turret (only ever seen on these three cruisers and Charybdis due to a shortage in the supply of the new 5.25s), two quad Vickers 40/39 2pdr QF Mk VIII pom poms, two quad Vickers 50 cals (guns just seen on the first six Didos, replaced on the latter vessels by Oerlikons) and the univesal torpedo tube fit of two triple 21-inch tubes.

On 24 May 1940, amid the evacuation from Dunkirk, Bonaventure was commissioned for Contractor’s Trials and accepted on 19 June, just days before the Fall of France.

Her plankowner skipper was Henry Jack Egerton, a 48-year-old Mountfield-born Englishman listed in the peerage (grandson of 1st Earl Brassey) who started “taking the king’s shilling” as a Mid in 1909. Serving as a junior officer during the Great War, he shipped aboard the battleship HMS Agincourt, the cruiser Caledon, and the battlecruiser Repulse. Interwar, he passed out of the Senior Officers’ War Course at Greenwich and the Imperial Defence Course before moving into the captain’s cabin of the destroyer Bridgewater, his first command, in 1936. When WWII began, he was commanding officer of the Emerald-class light cruiser Enterprise with the 4th CS on Atlantic escort duties.

War photographer LT Sidney James Beadell, RNVR, captured a series of images of “Britain’s latest light cruiser” and her skipper and XO, CDR Edward Francis Disbrowe, RN.

IWM A 1733

IWM A 1732

IWM A 1739

IWM A 1731

Note her two H-aerial (separate transmitting and receiving antennas) 70kW Type 279 A-band radar atop her mainmast, good for a theoretical 60nm for high altitude targets and about 2-6nm for surface targets. IWM A 1730

Note her missing “turret. IWM A 1734

Left: Captain E J Egerton, RN, and (Right) Commander E F Disbrowe, RN. Disbrowe, 39, had joined up in 1919 and had previously commanded the Acacia-class sweeping sloop HMS Laburnum out of Singapore. IWM (A 1735)

War! (Already in progress)

After just a couple weeks of trials and exercises in the Clyde followed by a short yard period to address defects, Bonaventure sailed out on 5 July to escort the liners Monarch of Bermuda, Batory, and Sobieski for Halifax– all loaded with £25 million in gold from the Bank of England, sent abroad for safekeeping in Canada should Mr. Hitler cross the Channel as part of Operation Fish. The little convoy was joined at sea by the battleship HMS Revenge and three destroyers.

On her return from the Canada run, Bonaventure was assigned to the 15th Cruiser Squadron, Home Fleet at Scapa Flow, and she shipped out with HMS Naiad to patrol the Faeroes for German blockade runners in late August.

HMS Bonaventure as seen from the destroyer HMS Javelin, August 1940, in the Firth of Forth. Note her four-turret arrangement. Photo by Reginald George Guy Coote, IWM (A 443).

By 6 September, she was part of Operation DF, a carrier raid built around HMS Furious on German shipping in the occupied Trondheim area.

The next month saw Operations DN 2/DNU which aimed to bag a group of 20 German fishing vessels and a patrol ship that were reported off Egersund. Only the 300-ton weather ship WBS 5 (ex-Adolf Vinnen) was found and sunk north of Iceland, sent to the bottom by detached destroyers.

November saw Bonaventure scrabbled to join the unsuccessful hunt (alongside Hood and Repulse) for the German pocket battleship Admiral Scheer after the latter attacked convoy HX 84, with our new cruiser sustaining weather damage to her foc’sle in the rough North Atlantic.

Nominated for duty in the Mediterranean Fleet with the rest of the 15th CS, Bonaventure put in for repair at Rosyth and was then assigned to escort the slow Middle East military Convoy WS (Winston Special) 5A, its 18 transports packed with 40,000 troops, from UK ports to the Suez. WS5A started leaving on 18/19 December and by Christmas Eve was some 700 miles West of Spain’s Cape Finisterre, where they stumbled across the bruising 18,000-ton German heavy cruiser Admiral Hipper on her Operation Nordseetour raid.

Not what you want to see chasing you if you are a British light cruiser.

While the convoy had two carriers attached (Furious and Argus), they only had a bare handful of two Swordfish of 825 NAS and three Skuas of 801 NAS available for ASW duties; the rest of their hangars and decks were packed with aircraft being ferried to Takoradi in Ghana.

That left the primary line of defense against Hipper in the hands of the County-class heavy cruiser HMS Berwick, our Bonaventure, and the old 4,000-ton Danae-class light cruiser Dunedin. While Berwick carried eight 8″/50s and went some 13,000 tons, her armor was thin. Likewise, Dunedin carried slow 6″/45 Mk XIIs, which had been all but replaced in RN service.

Hipper had made contact with the convoy with her DeTe radar at some 23km out late on Christmas Eve. Closing to 6,600 meters unseen, she attempted an unsuccessful three-fish long-range night torpedo attack at 0153 on Christmas, then closed for a gun action at 0639 in a heavy gale with whitecaps. Over the next 36 minutes, Berwick and Bonaventure fought Hipper at long range, with Dunedin laying smoke and the convoy dispersed, the weather dropping visibility to less than a mile. The Brits used Hipper’s gun flashes as an aiming point, with the German boogeyman turning to retire.

Berwick got the worst of the encounter, hit by at least four of Hipper’s 8-inch AP shells (which, for the most part, passed right through the ship), knocking out her X turret, killing four of her crew, and sending her to the yard for seven months. Hipper also landed an 8-inch shell on the liner/transport Empire Trooper (ex-German Cap Norte, 13,994 GRT), having fired 174 shells in the encounter, and a 4.1-inch DP shell hit on the freighter Arabistan (5,874 GRT). Hipper made Brest on 27 December.

For Bonaventure’s part, she fired a “prodigious amount of 5.25in shell,” some 438 rounds, from her forward six guns in 24 minutes at Hipper, who came away with no damage. I mean, that is probably understandable for the low visibility and heavy seas of the encounter, and her performance was mirrored by sisters Cleopatra and Euryalus, who fired 868 and 421 5.25-inch shells at the Battle of Second Sirte in 1942 and hit as many Italian ships as Bonaventure did Germans on Christmas ’40.

Sent to look for the damaged Empire Trooper-– which she located– Bonaventure got something of a consolation prize by encountering the 8,300-ton German blockade runner Baden on Boxing Day, sending the HAPAG freighter to the bottom via torpedo– as the weather conditions did not allow boarding– about 325 nautical miles northeast of Ponta Delgada in the Azores. All 39 crew members were rescued and taken to Gibraltar, with their skipper, Capt. Max Schaefer, reporting on the three-day ride on the cruiser: “The accommodation on board was very primitive, but the food was plentiful and good.”

The HAPAG steamer Baden was sent to the bottom by Bonaventure while coming from Tenerife and bound for occupied France.

January 1941 saw Bonaventure outbound from Gibraltar and involved in the periphery of Operation Ration, the interdiction of a four-ship Vichy convoy off Oran. Then came convoy ops in the Med to Malta (Operations Excess and Operation MC 4) with our cruiser generally credited with shooting down at least one (and up to three) attacking Italian Savoia bombers on the 9th.

By February, she was operating from Suda Bay with other cruisers of CS15 and took part in Operation Abstention, the failed commando raid on the Italian island of Casteloriso (Castelelorizo).

Dido-class cruiser HMS Bonaventure steaming at high speed in the Med, early 1941

March saw her with Force C, supporting Convoy MW 6 to Malta, where she survived a near miss from a German bomber, just narrowly missing the Battle of Cape Matapan.

Returning to Alexandria, Bonaventure joined Force A at sea on the 29th to escort another convoy, GA 8, from Piraeus, Greece. The convoy heading from Greece to Alexandria with the transports HMS Breconshire and Cameronia, along with the destroyers HMAS Stuart, HMS Griffin, and HMS Hereward, was soon being bird-dogged by Italian submarines.

Bonaventure came away from a night attack mounted by the Italian Adua-class submarine Dagabur (TV Domenico Romano) at 2037 on 30 March, with both of the sub’s fired torpedoes missing at 3,000 meters.

Our cruiser was not as lucky, just six hours later, when the Italian Perla-class coastal submarine Ambra (TV Mario Arillo) came across her while about 100 nm south-south-east of Crete.

Via Uboat.net:

At 0237 hours, Ambra was proceeding on the surface when, from the bridge, S.T.V. Ignazio Spinale observed a shadow in the mist at a distance of 2,000 meters, followed by another at about 1,000 meters.

At 0244 hours, three torpedoes were fired from bow tubes at 4-second intervals. After a lapse of time, T.V. Arillo thought the torpedoes had missed. He was about to order the firing of more torpedoes when a double explosion was observed. He immediately gave orders to crash-dive. ASDIC pings (described as “Hastings” in the Italian report) were heard, and many depth charges followed, but the submarine escaped.

Bonaventure sank in six minutes, taking 139 souls with her, including her XO, CDR Disbrowe. Stuart and Hereward heaved to and picked up 310 survivors. She was the third of HM’s cruisers taken out of action in the last week of March in the region.

The cruiser is often billed as the largest warship sunk by Italian submarines in WWII.

She was in the first batch of a staggering 206 Allied vessels lost in the Eastern Med during the Greek/Crete campaign and its follow-on evacuation between 28 March and 1 June.

Bonaventure’s slayer: the 600-ton. 197-foot Italian Perla-class coastal submarine Ambra. She was knocked out of service by RAF Wellingtons in 1943 and sent to the bottom for good by USAAF B-17s the following year

Of Bonaventure’s sisters, Charybdis, Hermione, Spartan, and Naiad were all lost during the conflict. Classmate HMS Scylla was badly damaged by a mine in June 1944 and was never repaired.

Epilogue

Our ship and her lost men are remembered by The Wartime Memories Project in the UK and For Posterity’s Sake in Canada, as at least two of her final complement hailed from the RCN/RCNVR.

Bonaventure’s only skipper, Jack Egerton, survived his ship. He continued in the cruiser trade, going on to command the familiar Berwick from Admiral Hipper fame while escorting convoys to North Russia, was named an ADC to the King, and ended the war as Senior British Officer in Russia then later became Captain in Charge, Singapore/Malaya with a CB on his chest before moving to the Retired List in 1948, capping 39 years in uniform. VADM Henry Jack Egerton, C.B., RN, passed in Coxwold in 1972, aged 80, and is buried in St Helen and the Holy Cross Churchyard in North Yorkshire with his wife. His eldest son. LT Edward Gervase Egerton, RN, was killed in action at Dieppe in 1942, aged 22. His younger son, Col. Christopher Charles “Kit” Egerton, M.C., passed in 1970, a former commander of the 15th/19th Hussars.

Captain E J Egerton, RN, as seen aboard Bonaventure, May 1940. By Beadle, IWM (A 1737).

The final Bonaventure (F139), the command and depot ship for the newly formed X/XE-craft of the 14th Submarine Flotilla, entered service in 1943 and, by extension, went on to be the most decorated ship in the fleet, her submariners earning no less than 4 VCs, 3 CBEs, 11 DSOs, a OBE, 10 MBEs, 17 DSCs, 6 CGMs, 12 BSMs, 4 BEMs, and over 100 MiDs from her deck during WWII. She returned to commercial service in 1948 and was scrapped in 1963.

HMS Bonaventure, Xcraft mothership, IWM 30564

Somehow, the RN has not seen fit to recycle the name.

Thanks for reading!

Meminisse est ad Vivificandum – To Remember is to Keep Alive

***

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Warship Wednesday (on a Thursday) 26 March 2026: Gallic Stepping Stone

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 (on a Thursday) 26 March 2026: Gallic Stepping Stone

Above we see the one-of-a-kind Croiseur d’aviation (aviation cruiser) Commandant Teste between May 1938 and August 1940 with a fat Loire 130 flying boat above her, likely from Escadrille Embarquée de Surveillance HS1.

Our subject was authorized under the French 1926 Programme some 100 years ago this year, and she was a very curious ship with a notable history.

French carrier beginnings

Before the Great War, the 6,100-ton torpedo boat tender (croiseur porte-torpilleurs) Foudre had been converted for experiments with seaplanes of a half dozen different types, minting the French Navy’s first 13 seaplane pilots, moving up to having a 33-foot flying off platform installed in early 1914.

A Caudron seaplane, being craned on La Foudre in April 1914.

During the war, while Foudre was put to use as a submarine tender and aircraft transport, the French Navy converted at least four small merchant steamers to carry a couple of light deck guns and a few Nieuport IV and later FBA C-type seaplanes for patrol purposes. Two, Nord and Pas-de-Calais, were 1,541-ton paddle-wheelers. A third, the 1,656-ton turbine-powered Rouen, was more effective. The largest, the 3,319-ton Campinas, would remain in service until early 1920. The old Foudre, used as an aviation school ship immediately after the war, was decommissioned by December 1921.

Enter: Lieutenant de Vaisseau Paul Marcel Teste. 

Born in 1892, Teste graduated from the naval academy and shipped out on the cruisers Duguay-Trouin and Vauban before WWI. By 1916, as commander of the gunboat Dragon, he was accepted to flight school by the end of the year, and was an observer on FBA seaplanes of Escadrille B101 out of Dunkirk. When his section of four lightly armed FBAs came across seven formidable German Hansa-Brandenburg W.12s on 26 May 1917, he was plucked out of the water after the clash and imprisoned first in Zeebrugge, then at Oflag Kavalier-Scharhorst in Karlsruhe. The intrepid young officer managed to escape and make his way to the Dutch border in January 1918. He earned his pilot’s license (no. 568) and finished the war as an instructor at Saint-Raphaël.

Drawing from British aircraft trials on the early carriers HMS Argus and Furious, LdV Georges Guierre was tapped to attempt to fly a wheeled aircraft (a Hanriot HD2 stripped of its floats) from a 49-foot platform on the No. 2 turret of the Courbet-class battleship Paris in Toulon on 26 October 1918.

LdV Georges Guierre battleship Paris Oct 26 1918

After Guierre’s success at Toulon, Teste moved to repeat the effort from Paris while docked at Corfu two days before the Armistice. He wound up in the water.

Following those tests, a comical 65-foot platform, some 28 feet wide, was built over the bow of the 245-foot Arras-class aviso Bapaume in March 1920. Over the next four years, Teste and others flew a series of light aircraft (Hanriot HD 2, Nieuport 21/23, and Nieuport-Delage NiD.32) from this tiny deck.

French Lieutenant Commander Teste on the Bapaume with his Hanriot

French Lieutenant Commander Teste on the Bapaume with his Hanriot, circa 1920

Then came Teste’s biggest claim to fame, becoming the first aviator to land and take off from the unfinished aircraft carrier Bearn off Toulon on 20 October 1920 in a proof of concept.

On Bearn, an incomplete Normandie-class battleship launched in April 1920 and likely bound for the scrappers due to the limits of the Washington Naval Treaty, a 148-by-30-foot wooden platform with an improvised arresting gear system that was weighted down with sandbags.

Teste trapping on incomplete Bearn 20 October 1920

Teste’s take-offs and landings using the temporary wooden flight deck were made in a two-seat Sopwith 11⁄2 strutter. During the 1921 trials, the Sopwiths were replaced by the two-seat Hanriot HD.3.

The tests a success, Bearn was sent for full carrier conversion, including hangar and elevators. She was commissioned in May 1928. However, Capitaine de Fregate Teste would never see her in her final form. He was killed in a test flight in 1925, aged just 32.

Meet the Commandant Teste

Under the 1.4 billion franc 1926 Program (up from the 1925 Program’s 1.31 billion), a 10,000-ton Treaty Cruiser with eight 8″/50 Modele 1924 guns was authorized, becoming Colbert, the second ship of the Suffren class.

Colbert was joined in the same 1926 Program by three 2,000 ton Bourrasque class destroyers, four smaller 1,500-ton L’Adroit class destroyers, seven submarines– the experimental cruiser submarine Surcouf and the start of the 630-series (Argonaute, Orion, and Diane classes)– the 6,000-ton sub tender Jules Verne, two tankers, a school ship (the 70-foot Breton yawl Mutin, which is still in service), and our Commandant Teste, named after the lost aviation pioneer.

It was thought that the Commandant Teste would act as a sort of tender to the building Bearn, and as a floating reserve from which aircraft supplies and spare planes could be drawn by the fleet’s battleships and cruisers, who were increasingly given facilities for float planes. Alternatively, she could always serve on colonial patrol and put up a decent air wing for light strike purposes (although she could not recover them very rapidly).

Still, heady stuff and on the cutting edge of modernity.

This 1931 cover of La Science et la Vie celebrates the Commandant Teste,

At 10,000 tons standard (12,000 full), the Commandant Teste was 547 feet overall length and had a very wide 88-foot beam, a roughly 6:1 ratio. She had a deep draft, some 22 feet. Powered by four mixed-firing super-heated Yarrow-Loire boilers and two sets of Schneider-Zoelly geared steam turbines, she had 21,000shp (23,230 forced) to turn her twin screws, enough for a 20.5 knot sustained top speed. On her trials, she sustained 21.77 knots for three hours. Carrying 720 tons of coal and 290 tons of fuel oil, she had a range of 6,000nm at 10 knots using coal alone.

1929 Jane’s on the new Commandant Teste, which had just been launched.

She had a cavernous hangar deck (hangar et teugue) that stood three decks high and ran 262.5 feet long and 86 wide, bisected by a central bulkhead.

This allowed at least 10 large torpedo bombers (Loire 130 twin engine flying boats with a maximum take off weight of nearly 8,000 pounds) to be stored with their wings folded or 20 smaller aircraft (e.g. the later Gourdou-Leseurre GL-812 HY reconnaissance floatplane used by Escadrille 7S2, which had a 34 foot fuselage, a 54 foot wingspan and 5,000 pound take off weight). Another half-dozen aircraft could be stowed, knocked down in crates.

. Gourdou-Leseurre 812 of Ecadrille 7S2 is being hoisted aboard Commandant Teste, Arzew, Algeria, May 1937. The three-place GL-812 HY used a single 420hp Gnome, was good for 110kts, could range 300nm, and carry 330 pounds of bombs to augment a single forward-firing 7.7mm machine gun and two used by the rear seater.

The Levasseur PL14 and PL15 three-seat biplane torpedo bombers were seen on Teste from early in her career, flying with Escadrille 7B2 until November 1933 (PL14) and HB1 (PL15) until April 1939.

The short-lived (in service on Teste) CAMS 37 and CAMS 55 flying boats were only embarked on the ship with Escadrille 7B2 from November 1933 to July 1934.

The big Loire 130 flying boat, akin to the RN’s Supermarine Walrus, could hit 119 knots on a pair of Hispano-Suiza V12s and stay in the air an impressive seven hours. Besides its three-man crew (and four passengers in a pinch), it could carry a pair of machine guns and two 165-pound bombs. The French Navy bought 111 of these, and they served with HS1 aboard Teste.

The Loire 130 was also used on the Richelieu and Dunkerque class battleships, as well as the light cruisers of the La Galissonière and Duguay-Trouin classes, carrying as many as five of the flying boats and two catapults.

The good-idea-on-paper Loire 210 was a single-seat catapult-launched fighter seaplane that, powered by a 720hp Hispano-Suiza 9Vbs, could only make 162 knots. Armed with four wing-mounted 7.5mm machine guns, they were prone to structural failure of the wings. Just 21 were delivered, flying with Escadrille HC.1 and HC.2 for six months in 1939.

By late 1938, the new Latecoere 298B folding wing torpedo bomber floatplane was arriving in the French fleet, which purchased 177 of the type. Using the same Hispano-Suiza 12Y as the MS.406 fighter, it could make 156 knots, range 600nm, and carry a very respectable 1,600 pounds of ordnance, be it a torpedo or bombs. It had three light machine guns for self-defense (two forward, one rear). Teste would ship two squadrons of these, HB1 (formerly 7B2) and HB2. In September 1939, four land-based squadrons 298s were operational, including 1T on the Étang de Berre (a lagoon on the Mediterranean coast), 2T at Cherbourg, and 3T and 4T at Boulogne.

Aboard Teste, aircraft were shuttled around on an innovative Decauville rail system of wheeled trolleys running throughout the hangar to the quarterdeck at the rear of the ship. No deck tractors here.

When it came to launching and recovery, he had four large Penhoet compressed-air catapults amidship and five cranes– one for each cat and one over the stern to serve the aft hangar entrance.

Catapultage Gourdou-Leseurre GL-810 HY Commandant-Teste vers 1936 (musée de la Marine)

French seaplane tender Commandant Teste with Morane Saulnier MS-406s moving via rail in her hangars circa 1940 on a ferry run

She had no elevators, and instead simply used her catapult cranes to pluck aircraft from a 50×23-foot hatch, one per cat, which opened to the hangar deck below. She could reportedly launch four aircraft in seven minutes and, with recovery taking about 20 minutes per airframe, would require as long as seven hours to re-embark a full 20-aircraft wing.

After hangar doors and cranes on the French seaplane carrier Commandant Teste

The French also employed a towed beaching ramp to enable floatplane recovery while steaming.

A postcard with Teste showing one of her Loire 130s along with an Air France Breguet Br.530 flying boat, registered as F-AJOB, flying over water in the late 1930s. The 20-passenger, three-engine Br.530 was used by Air France on their Marseille-Ajaccio-Tunis route.

A tinted version of the same card.

Besides her aircraft, Commandant Teste carried a full dozen 100 mm/45 (3.9″) Modele 1927 guns, capable of firing 10 35-pound shells per minute to 16,000 yards, controlled by two directors with 10-foot optical rangefinders. This weapon was only carried by our subject, with the updated Modele 1932 variant later used on three classes of torpedo boats (Melpomène class, Chevreuil, and La Capricieuse). Her decent secondary armament (for the time), was geared toward AAA and amounted to eight 37mm/50 (1.46″) Modele 1925 high-angle guns, and six twin 13.2mm/76 (52 caliber) Hotchkiss Modele 1929 heavy machine guns.

Armor included a two-inch belt that protected most of her length from bridge to her stern hangar deck, a 1.5-inch armored deck over her machinery spaces, and just over three inches of shielding for the conning tower. During a later refit, her 3.9-inch guns received shields.

She is described interchangeably in texts as an aviation cruiser, which is probably the most correct term, or, more simply, a transport d’hydravions (seaplane transport), which is more Treaty-friendly and less likely to draw the ire of other signatories of the age.

Boats included a 32-foot and 36-foot Motor Service Boat (Canot de Service a Moteur), two 40-foot and one 30-foot fast launches (Vedette Rapides), a 36-foot lug-rigged sail chaloupe, two 10-foot punts, and two 16-foot rowboats.

Ordered in May 1927, she was laid down at the Forges et chantiers de la Gironde, in Bordeaux, on 6 September 1927 and was launched on 12 April 1929.

Our subject is the only warship to carry the name of the late naval aviator, and the largest seaplane carrier used by a European fleet.

She was a rival to the Regia Marina’s very proud 4,500-ton seaplane carrier, Giuseppe Miraglia, which entered service in November 1927 and could carry as many as 20 light aircraft. Meanwhile, on the other side of the globe, the Royal Australian Navy in 1928 welcomed its new seaplane carrier, HMAS Albatross, which hit the scales at 7,000 tons and could carry nine aircraft.

Commandate Teste’s design was considered successful, and Chantiers shopped it to Portugal, albeit in a shortened concept.

Prewar service

Seaplane tender Commandant Teste during trials, July 1931

Seaplane tender Commandant Teste during trials, July 1931. Note that her guns are not installed. 

Commissioned to active service on 18 April 1932, Commandant Teste served with the French Mediterranean Squadron opposite the Italian Giuseppe Miraglia.

Over the next eight years, she had four squadrons associated with her Flottille F1H airwing:

Escadrille Embarquée de Surveillance HS-1/7S-2, which, as 7S-2, flew Gourdou-Leseurre 810/811s until October 1935, Gourdou-Leseurre 812/813 from April 1938, then, as HS-1, switched to Loire 130 flying boats from October 1938

Escadrille Embarquée de Bombardement 7B-2/HB-1 (“Walruses”), which, as 7B-2, flew Levasseur PL14s until November 1933, CAMS 37 and CAMS 55s until July 1934, from October 1938 to April 1939, then, as HB-1, flew Latecoere 298s from March 1939

Escadrille Embarquée de Bombardement HB-2, which also flew Latecoere 298s from September 1939.

Escadrille Embarquée de Chasse HC-1, which existed from July to November 1939 and flew the troublesome Loire 210 floatplane fighter.

In company with the submarine tender Jules-Verne, Commandant Teste took part in naval maneuvers off Quiberon in May 1934. The exercise aimed to intercept a naval force tasked with destroying a troop convoy from North Africa, with the cruisers Dugay-Trouin, Foch, Tourville, Dupleix, and Colbert.

She then took part in other fleet exercises in the Bay of Biscay and as far off as Dakar in West Africa.

French battleship Bretagne near Brest, 1935, with Commandant Teste, a trio of CAMS flying boats, and the cruiser Foch

French seaplane-tender Commandant Teste anchored off Saint Raphaël naval air base, August 5th 1936

Both Bearn and Commandant Teste were deployed during the Spanish Civil War. This led Teste to evacuate foreign nationals and civilians from Barcelona in August 1936.

After that, she was part of the international neutrality patrol there, protecting commercial shipping from “pirate submarines.”

“Latest volunteer in the undeclared Mediterranean War” by Daniel Fitzpatrick, lampooning the Italian pirate submarines in the Spanish Civil War. St. Louis Post-Dispatch, St. Louis, Missouri, 5 Sept 1937. Via The State Historical Society of Missouri https://cdm17228.contentdm.oclc.org/digital/collection/ec/id/11937

She was increasingly used to shuttle military aircraft from Europe to France’s overseas possessions.

Teste hauled 18 Dewoitine D.510s from GC II/1 and 5 Dewoitine D.510s to Sidi-Ahmed in Tunisia in November 1937, then repatriated 10 of the aforementioned aircraft back to France four months later.

She then brought 21 Morane-Saulnier MS.406 fighters from GC I/6 to Algeria in February 1939.

War!

Sadly, the French never seemed to take advantage of Commandant Teste in a combat capacity, just using her for patrol work for the first five months of the war.

Landing her Flottille F1H airwing in January 1940, her squadrons were reassigned to shore duty, with HS-1 flying from Oran and later Arzew, Algeria; HB-1 from Karouba, Tunisia, and HB-2 from Berre Lagoon outside of Marseille, where they flew surveillance missions until the Armistice.

Our subject, shorn of her air group, then clocked in as a transport, shuttling 26 MS.406s to Beirut in February 1940 for the I/7 fighter group based at Rayack.

With the French air force leaning into moving some muscle and training operations to North Africa, she then carried:

  • 6 Potez 63 recon/bombers and 1 Morane 406 to Port Said, Egypt in March.
  • 13 Potez 63s, 2 Loire 130s, and 11 vehicles to Beirut in April.
  • 38 Glenn Martin 167F (Maryland) light bombers of GB I/62 from Toulon to Algiers in early May.
  • 40 training aircraft (e.g. Dewoitine D.500/D.510s, Morane MS 225s, Breguet 14s) from Toulon to Algiers on May 22.
  • Another 40 training aircraft from Toulon to Algiers on 26 May.
  • And 40 more on 14 June.

French seaplane tender Commandant Teste, taking four squadrons of Morane Saulnier MS-406 fighters to North Africa, and Lebanon

French seaplane tender Commandant Teste, Beirut

French seaplane tender Commandant Teste, Beirut, with a Morane Saulnier MS-406 in the foreground.

Then came the Fall of France and the cessation of hostilities (at least with the Germans and Italians) on 25 June, ending the active six-week Battle of France and splitting the nation into an occupied north and a nominally free unoccupied France (the zone libre) in the Vichy-controlled south.

An uneasy Vichy “Peace.”

In the final days of France’s initial combat against the Axis in 1940, the French admiralty made definite moves to send their fleet outside of metropolitan France. While a few were interred in British ports (e.g., the old battleship Lorraine and four cruisers in Alexandria, the elderly battleships Paris and Courbet in Portsmouth), this saw numerous ships appear in French colonies in the Caribbean and Africa en masse.

The great naval anchorage of Mers-El-Kebir, Tunisia, by the end of June, was host to elements of ADM Marcel-Bruno Gensoul’s Force de Raid, which included the very modern 35,000-ton/29.5 knot fast battleships Dunkerque and Strasbourg, the older 26,000-ton Great War era battlewagons Provence and Bretagne, six destroyers, and our Commandant Teste.

French battleships Bretagne, Strasbourg, Provence, and Dunkerque at Mers-El-Kebir. This photo was taken from the Commandant Teste shortly before the British attack on 3 July 1940. One of her cranes can be seen in the foreground.

Then came ADM James Somerville’s Force H from Gibraltar in the Churchill-directed Operation Catapult. Backed by the battlecruiser HMS Hood, the battleships Valiant and Resolution, the Swordfish-carrying flattop Ark Royal (which dropped mines in the exit channel), and a force of cruisers and destroyers, Somerville issued an ultimatum to Gensoul: join him, sail to a British port, be interned in a neutral port, or scuttle their ships.

Long story short, Gensoul refused and, before French submarines and destroyers could arrive to reinforce him, Somerville bombarded the anchorage, leading to 1,297 French deaths. Most of these came from Bretagne, whose magazine exploded after at least four British 15-inch AP shells hit her. She rolled over and capsized with the loss of 36 officers, 151 petty officers, and 825 seamen.

Bretagne was seen sinking at Mers-El-Kébir from Commandant Teste. Note the range finder and Bachi cap.

Commandant Teste and her crew of nearly 700 men were, as noted by French naval texts, “miraculously spared” (miraculeusement épargnés) during the attack of 3 July 1940, only receiving a couple of shrapnel hits that caused minor damage and no casualties.

Bretagne sunk at Mers-El-Kébir, Commandant Teste seen with her boats in the water

The closest vessel to the lost Bretagne, Teste’s boats moved in swiftly to rescue as many survivors as could be found– 308 scarred men.

Ordered to Oran, accompanied by two destroyers, the next day with a cargo of burned and injured men, Teste was sighted by the P-class submarine HMS Proteus (N 29) that afternoon. However, before an attack could be started, the French ship altered course to the eastward and was soon lost out of sight by the British sub the French tender was able to drop off her human cargo.

Proteus sighted Commandant Teste again two days later, headed to Bizerte, on 6 July, but by then the Admiralty had ordered that no French ships should be attacked unless they attacked first, so the submarine let her be.

Once Commandant Teste returned to Toulon in metropolitan France, a deputation from her crew went to the Chapel of Notre-Dame de Bonne Garde in La Seyne-sur-Mer to place a votive offering (ex-voto) to the Virgin Mary there for having protected the ship during the cauldron of Mers-El-Kebir, where British shells rained all around her.

By August 1940, with her air wing officially dissolved, Teste was swaying at Toulon, her crew reduced and her magazines and bunkers empty. She spent the next two years as a floating schoolhouse.

French seaplane tender Commandant Teste, battleship Provence, and the accommodation hulk Condorcet, Toulon, July 1941

When the Great Sabordage came on 27 November 1942 after the German operation to seize the fleet at Toulon, codenamed “Unternehmen Lila” kicked off, within minutes, 77 French vessels– including three battleships, seven cruisers, 15 destroyers, 13 torpedo boats, 6 avisos (sloops), 20 submarines, and our Commandant Teste– were aflame or settled to the harbor docks, their crews busy wrecking everything they could.

The French suffered about 40 casualties. The Germans, only one motorcycle rider was wounded.

seaplane carrier Commandant Teste, the battleship Courbet, and the old predreadnought battleship Condorcet Toulon

Refloated in 1943 by the Italians, who hoped to use her, she was sunk again at Toulon by Allied air strikes the next year. Raised and dewatered in June 1945, it was thought she could be refitted and returned to service, perhaps with her superstructure converted to a flight deck and turned into a proper aircraft carrier.

As noted in the 1945 Jane’s:

Kept around for another 18 years, growing mold and accumulating barnacles, she was only sold for scrap in 1963.

Epilogue

Sadly, the French fleet has not reused the name of the vessel, and few relics are to be found.

The most tangible reminders are her distinctive ‘Blue T’ ship’s badges worn by her crew, which circulate among collectors.

And in period postcards.

Of course, the country went on to reboot its carrier tradition immediately post-war, operating as many as four flattops in the 1950s, and today maintains the only CVN CATOBAR carrier not in U.S. service, so there is that.

Odds are, old Paul Teste would take solace in that fact.

Thanks for reading!

Meminisse est ad Vivificandum – To Remember is to Keep Alive

***

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The Realm of the Valkyries

Official caption: “A sailor assigned to the USS Thomas Hudner attaches chains to an MH-60R Sea Hawk helicopter during flight deck operations as part of Operation Epic Fury in the U.S. Central Command area of responsibility, 16 March 2026.”

Note the four-pack of AGM-114 Hellfires, which entered Navy service in 1998.

VIRIN: 260316-N-NO146-1066M (Released).

CENTCOM officials claim to have destroyed, sunk, or seriously damaged over 100 and possibly as many as 130 Islamic Republic of Iran Navy (IRIN) and the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps Navy (IRGC-N) naval vessels since the beginning of Epic Fury. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the smaller vessels were bagged via Hellfire.

An Atlantic Fleet Flight IIA Burke, USS Thomas Hudner (DDG-116), has been seen with MH-60s from the Jacksonville-based Valkyries of Helicopter Maritime Strike Squadron (HSM) 50 aboard, with a big .50 cal on the starboard side and a four-pack of Hellfires to port.

AN MH-60R Seahawk helicopter, assigned to Helicopter Maritime Strike Squadron 50, departs Arleigh Burke-class guided-missile destroyer USS Thomas Hudner (DDG 116) during flight operations while underway in the Caribbean Sea, Dec. 27, 2025. U.S. military forces are deployed to the Caribbean in support of the U.S. Southern Command mission, Department of War-directed operations, and the president’s priorities to disrupt illicit drug trafficking and protect the homeland. (U.S. Navy photo)

A U.S. Sailor, assigned to Helicopter Maritime Strike Squadron 50, performs clear and safe checks on a .50 caliber machine gun on an MH-60R Seahawk helicopter aboard the Arleigh Burke-class guided-missile destroyer, USS Thomas Hudner (DDG 116), while underway in the Caribbean Sea, Dec. 27, 2025. U.S. military forces are deployed to the Caribbean in support of the U.S. Southern Command mission, Department of War-directed operations, and the president’s priorities to disrupt illicit drug trafficking and protect

A U.S. Sailor, assigned to Helicopter Maritime Strike Squadron 50, refuels an MH-60R Seahawk during flight deck operations aboard the Arleigh Burke-class guided-missile destroyer USS Thomas Hudner (DDG 116), while underway in the Caribbean Sea, Dec. 26, 2025. U.S. military forces are deployed to the Caribbean in support of the U.S. Southern Command mission, Department of War-directed operations, and the president’s priorities to disrupt illicit drug trafficking and protect the homeland. (U.S. Navy photo)

Warship Wednesday 18 March 2026: A Lake by any Other Name

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 18 March 2026:  A Lake by any Other Name

Via the New Zealand Navy Museum, Torpedo Bay, photo AAT 0005

Above we see the very Commonwealth-oriented Loch-class frigate HMNZS Tutira (F 571) with a bone in her teeth off Korea between August 1950 and April 1951.

Built in Tyneside, she served with a Canadian crew under a different name during WWII before shipping to her new home a world away with a Kiwi crew– and a much different war against a new enemy.

The Lochs

The 151 frigates of the River class, built in 29 yards across three continents between May 1941 and May 1946, were a baseline for anti-submarine escorts in the British Royal and Commonwealth nations. While built in five slightly different groups, the Rivers were all generally 1,500 tons light/2,000 tons full load displacement, 301 feet overall length, and with a 36-foot beam. Using twin reciprocating steam engines that could generate about 5,500 shp, they could make 20 knots and steam for 7,000 at an economical 12.

Manned by a ~100-man crew, they carried a couple of 4″/40s augmented by an AAA suite but were primarily outfitted as sub-busters with a Hedgehog projector, up to eight depth charge throwers, two depth charge rails, and allowance for as many as 150 “ash cans.”

River-class frigates fitting out at Vickers Canada, 1944

Where the Lochs were an incremental improvement over the Rivers was that they were gently larger (307 feet oal), were simplified in construction, used mercantile engineering machinery, and had an allowance for a single 4″/40 mount, then ditching the Hedgehog for a pair of triple-barreled Mark IV Squid ASW mortars. Each Squid could project three 440-pound depth bombs to 275 yards abeam.

The overall layout of the Loch class frigates. Note the single 4″/40 mount forward, followed by two Squids on the forecastle. Her quad 40mm Mark VII QF 2-pounder Pom Pom gun was aft, while two 40mm singles and as many as eight 20mm Oerlikons were arrayed abeam.

Installed on only some 70 RN and Commonwealth frigates and corvettes during the war, Squid’s first successful use was by the Loch-class frigate HMS Loch Killin on 31 July 1944, when she sank U-333.

HMCS Iroquois and Swansea at Halifax with two Squid ASW mortars shown forward. The system was credited with sinking 17 submarines in 50 attacks over the course of the war – a success ratio of 2.9 to 1. MIKAN SWN0284

Anti-Submarine Weapons: Anti-submarine Mortar Mark IV Squid launchers and loading apparatus on the forecastle of Loch class corvette, HMS Loch Fada, in Gladstone Dock, Liverpool. 27 October 1944 IWM (A 26153)

Royal Navy sailors loading a Squid anti-submarine mortar.

Battle class destroyer HMS Barrosa steams through the wake of her Squid anti-submarine mortar system, showing the usefulness of its triple-barreled format. IWM (A 33111)

The Loch design catered to small yards with limited infrastructure through the miracle of prefabricated modular construction techniques. No subassembly of the ship would be larger than 29 feet long, 8.5 feet wide, and 8.5 feet tall, with a maximum weight of 2.5 tons to allow for easy lift by even the most modest of crane and rail systems. As much as 80 percent of the ship could be prefabbed and then sent for assembly in the graving dock, with great effort meant to eliminate curves in favor of straight-line construction.

The late-war sensor fit was advanced compared to what RN escorts were working with just a few years earlier, with the Lochs carrying Type 277 radars (good for detecting high flying aircraft out to 40 miles and surface contacts at 20) and Type 144 ASDIC with Type 147B depth finding sonars.

Using a pair of  VT4cyl (18.5, 31 & 38.5, 38.5 x 30ins) engines and two Admiralty 3-drum boilers, they could gen up 5,500 hp and push it out on twin screws. With 724 tons of fuel oil carried, these ships were slightly slower than the 20-knot Rivers, typically hitting 19.5 knots on trials and 18 or so when dirty and fully loaded at 2,200 tons displacement, but had a higher cruising speed (15 knots vs 12) for a 7,000nm range.

Loch class frigate HMS Loch Insh, October 1944 IWM (FL 14742)

With class leader HMS Loch Achanalt (K424) ordered from Henry Robb Limited, Leith in July 1942, the first completed Lochs only started arriving in the fleet in early 1944.

While 110 hulls were planned and 82 ordered from at least 10 yards, peace intervened, and only 28 were completed, the rest being canceled or, in the case of 26, converted to Bay class AAA frigates for Pacific service with a much reduced depth charge capacity and no Squid mortars to allow room for a roughly doubled gun battery.

Meet Loch Morlich

Our subject is the only warship named for the peaceful 5,000-foot freshwater loch (Mhor Thalamic in Gaelic) in the Badenoch and Strathspey area of Highland, Scotland, near Aviemore. Ordered 13 February 1943 as Yard No. 1784 from the fine Tyneside firm of Swan Hunter, Wallsend, for construction at the Neptune Yard in Low Walker, the future HMCS Loch Morlich (K 517) was laid down five months later on 15 July 1943.

Loch Morlich was one of eight Loch class frigates ordered from Swan Hunter, with sister Loch Shin (K 421) ordered five months prior. Sister Loch Cree was instead completed by Swan as the South African Navy’s SAS Natal (K 10). Meanwhile, two other Swan-built sisters, the planned Loch Assynt and Loch Torridon, were instead completed post-war as the unarmed depot ships Derby Haven and Woodbridge Haven. Of the rest, Swan was told to cancel the planned Loch Griam, Loch Kirbister, and Loch Lyon as the war ended.

Morlich’s sister, HMSAS Natal (K 10), a South African Loch class frigate fitting out, 5 March 1945. One of three Lochs completed for the South African Navy, she would go on to sink the German submarine U-714 on 14 March, only four hours after having left Swan! IWM A 28216

Launched 25 January 1944, Loch Morlich was bound for Canadian service and fully Canadian manned with her first skipper, T/A/LCDR Leslie Lewendon Foxall, RCNVR, assuming command while she was fitting out on 6 March 1944. Foxall had commanded the smaller Flower-class corvette HMCS Chilliwack (K 131) for two years on Atlantic convoy runs, so he knew his trade.

War!

With WWII well into its sixth year, Loch Morlich broke out her colors on 17 July 1944 and was assigned to the 8th Canadian Escort Group. Two other Lochs likewise went to the Canadians, Loch Achanalt (to the 6th CEG) and Loch Alvie (9th CEG), in July and August, respectively.

Morlich’s workups in the Western Approaches were delayed due to accidents while training, but she eventually made ready and sailed with her first convoys, MKS 067G and SL 176MK, on 17-18 November.

Loch Morlich CTB016772

HMS Loch Morlic (K 517) secured to a buoy on the Tyne. IWM FL 6042

She would clock in on at least six other convoys over the next five months, most of them under the command of Lt. George Frederick Crosby, RCNVR, who took over from Foxall in December 1944.

The Lochs were on hand to corral the last of Donitz’s steel sharks at sea in May 1945.

Loch class frigate HMCS Loch Alvie (K 428), and a surrendered U-boat, May 1945. (Library and Archives Canada Photo, MIKAN No. 4950920, color)

The class is credited with assisting in the sinking of at least 17 U-boats as vetted by post-war examination boards.

After VE-Day, it was decided that the three Canadian-manned Lochs should return to England to prep for possible Pacific service under RN control. Morlich returned to Sheerness, and her Canadian crew was released on 20 June 1945, apparently returning home with the ship’s HMCS-marked bell. Paid off, the frigate was reduced to Reserve status.

Her RN crew never came, preempted by VJ Day.

No Lochs were lost in combat.

Meet Tutira

While some had thought the post-WWII New Zealand Squadron should be built around one of the RN’s many surplus aircraft carriers–after all, Canada and Australia had gotten into the flattop game as well– and, indeed, the Colossus-class carrier HMS Glory had operated from New Zealand as part of J Force in 1946, taking RNZAF Squadron No. 14 to Japan for occupation duties, RADM George Walter Gillow Simpson CB, CBE, head of the New Zealand Navy Staff in the late 1940s, instead championed for a smaller, more anti-submarine, force.

A series of non-violent mutinies among the ships of the NZ fleet in April 1947 over poor living and working conditions, coupled with outrageously low pay, further emphasized the downshift from such lofty carrier goals, and J Force returned home from occupation duties by September 1948, its mission complete.

While over 10,000 men served in the RNZN and RNZNVR during WWII on 60 commissioned ships, by the late 1940s, the peacetime New Zealand fleet shrank to just 2,900 officers and men, enough to man two 5,900-ton light (5.25-inch gunned) Dido class cruisers (HMNZS Black Prince and Bellona, later Royalist), six surplus ASW frigates, four 1,000-ton Bathurst-class escort minesweepers, eight minesweeping trawlers (including the famous Kiwi and Tui), the disarmed River-class frigate Lachlan used as a survey ship, a dozen 72-foot MLs, as well as miscellaneous tenders and tugs.

The half-dozen above-mentioned “surplus ASW frigates” were laid up Lochs that were sold to NZ for the princely sum of £1,500,000 for the lot, weapons included, transferred between 13 September 1948 and 11 April 1949 after refits. Loch Morlich in particular went for £228,250.

Taking a page from their original loch names, in NZ service they earned names of lakes from their new home country, with Loch Eck becoming HMNZ Hawea, Loch Achray – Kaniere, Loch Achanalt – Pukaki, Loch Katrine – Rotoiti, Loch Shin – Taupo, and our Loch Morlich now HMNZS Tutira. They kept their old pennant numbers, just changing the K to an F, with Loch Morlich (K 517), for example, becoming Tutira (F 517) in New Zealand service.

HMNZS Pukaki (formerly Loch Achanalt) and two other Loch class frigates of the Royal New Zealand Navy

HMNZS Taupo, a Loch class frigate of the Royal New Zealand Navy, Auckland Anniversary Regatta, 29 January 1951

Loch-class frigate HMNZS Hawea (F422), formerly HMS Loch Eck (K422), photographed in 1955

HMNZS Tutira F 517

The NZ Lochs were soon frolicking in their home waters in exercises with the British East Indies Fleet and RAN.

15 March 1950. Ships of the Australian and New Zealand naval fleets are arriving at Auckland for combined naval exercises. HMNZS Tutira (left) and Pukaki (middle). Auckland Libraries Heritage Collections 1370-U045-08.

March 1950. HMNZS Pukaki (F424) and other frigates in Akaroa Harbour during combined naval exercises of the Royal New Zealand and Australian Navies. The exercises included the British submarine HMS Telemachus, the Australian aircraft carrier HMAS Sydney, four New Zealand frigates-HMNZS Taupo, Rotoiti, Tutira, and Pukaki-the Australian frigate HMAS Murchison, the destroyers HMAS Bataan and Warramunga, and the cruisers HMNZS Bellona and HMAS Australia. Auckland Libraries Heritage Collections 1370-313-15.

March 1950. The cruiser HMAS Australia (D84) in the foreground with other ships in Akaroa Harbour during combined naval exercises of the Royal New Zealand and Australian Navies. The exercises included the British submarine HMS Telemachus, the Australian aircraft carrier HMAS Sydney, four New Zealand frigates-HMNZS Taupo, Rotoiti, Tutira, and Pukaki-the Australian frigate HMAS Murchison, the destroyers HMAS Bataan and Warramunga, and the cruisers HMNZS Bellona and HMAS Australia. Auckland Libraries Heritage Collections 1370-313-12

March 1950.Aircraft and crew on the deck of HMAS Sydney (note her 805 Squadron Hawker Sea Furies and 816 Squadron Fairey Fireflies) with an unidentified frigate behind during combined naval exercises of the Royal New Zealand and Australian navies in Akaroa Harbour. The exercises included the British submarine HMS Telemachus, the Australian aircraft carrier HMAS Sydney, four New Zealand frigates-HMNZS Taupo, Rotoiti, Tutira, and Pukaki-the Australian frigate HMAS Murchison, the destroyers HMAS Bataan and Warramunga, and the cruisers HMNZS Bellona and HMAS Australia. Auckland Libraries Heritage Collections 1370-313-18

On 12 May 1950, LCDR Peter James Hill Hoare, RN, assumed command of Tutira. Born just months before Jutland, the 34-year-old Hoare had graduated from the Nautical College at Pangbourne and earned his lieutenant’s stripe in 1938, going on to command the sloop HMS Bridgewater (L 01) and frigate HMS Hoste (K 566) on Atlantic convoy duties during WWII. He would soon be in his and Tutira’s second war.

Korea

Just three days after North Korea invaded its democratic neighbor to the South, New Zealand answered the call of the United Nations and said it would be dispatching two warships.

Those ships were our Loch Morlich/Tutira and Loch Achanalt/Pukaki, which ironically were two-thirds of the Lochs that had served with the Canadians during WWII.

As noted by the NZ Navy Museum, Torpedo Bay:

On the 3rd of July, HMNZS Tutira and Pukaki left Auckland. The ships arrived in Korea on the 27th of July and were given an escort role with up to four convoys a week. The assigned task of the frigates was described as the most thankless of the sea war – ‘dull, daily routine patrol’. However, this work was of vital importance to the United Nations cause in Korea. The commander of the U.S. Naval Forces, Vice Admiral Joy, noted ‘The unspectacular role of carrying personnel and supplies to Korea was perhaps the Navy’s greatest contribution’.

Skipped over in that description is the fact that the two NZ frigates were on hand for the famed amphibious landings at Inchon on 15 September 1950 as part of TG 90.7 (the screening and protective group) and patrolled the waters just off the bridgehead to guard the Marines ashore from potential seaborne attack.

Then came use with the U.S. Navy task group off Wonson in October. It was there that one of Loch Morlich’s crew, Petty Officer Henry Matthew Blizzard, was killed by shrapnel from an exploding mine, one of just three RNZN personnel killed during the war.

The NZ frigates remained in Korean waters until early November, when they were sent to Sasebo, Japan, for quick refit.

An RN photographer caught up to Tutira in Japan in November 1950 and captured some great images of her crew, which included several English lads and at least one Scot.

November 1950. The Asdic team of the Tutira kept constant watch for 42 days. In the harbor, they are engaged in depth charge equipment. A/B M Anderson, Tekuiti, North Island, New Zealand; A/B M M Clark, Wellington, New Zealand; L/S J Belcher, Torbay; A/B M W Bailey, Waitara, N Island, New Zealand; A/B R Allister, Liverpool; A/B M R Lewis, Christchurch, New Zealand. IWM 31760.

AB J Teaika, Christchurch, New Zealand, Tutira’s Quartermaster. IWM A 31759.

HMNZS Tutira’s port Oerlikon crew at action stations. Note the old tin plate helmets, certainly quaint in 1950. Leading Seaman B J Mason, Taihape, N Island, New Zealand; and Able Seaman A B Tripp, Wembley, England. IWM A 31754.

HMNZS Tutira. On the signal platform, left to right: Signalman R H (Curly) Richardson, Masterson, North Island, New Zealand; Signalman R P Davies, Morden, Surrey, England; Signalman C J Pitcher, Ringwood, Hants, England; Leading Signalman P J Stewart, Dunedin, South Island, New Zealand. IWM A 31755.

Tutira Galley staff, right to left: P/O Cook R Lowndes, Worthing, Sussex; Cook D Hornsby, Sheffield; Cook D W Jackman, Guildford, Surrey; Cook (O) A Davidson, New Plymouth, New Zealand; Cook M Pickard, Christchurch; Cook T Goddard, Southampton. IWM A 31757

Some of Tutira’s engine room company. Stoker Mech V G Brightwell, Auckland; Stoker Mech W Coppins, Ashford, Kent; Stoker Mech J O’Grady, Manchester; Stoker R A Blann, Epsom, Surrey; Stoker P/O J V Murray, Hythe, Kent; Stoker P/O A C Cameron, Auckland; Stoker Mech B A Gabb, Larkworth, New Zealand; Stoker Mech K D Bickham, Auckland, New Zealand; Stoker Mech W A Page, Deptford; ERA W S Watson, Christchurch, New Zealand; Stoker P/O J Adams, Aberdeen, Scotland; ERA C J de Larue, Auckland, New Zealand. IWM A 31758

Early 1951 saw Tutira and Pukaki patrolling Korea’s coast, supporting the evacuations from Inchon and Chinampo, and later supporting ROKN mine-clearing operations. In particular, they took turns operating with the South Korean Navy minesweepers YMS 502 and YMS 503 between 15 March and 7 April.

RNZN frigate crews in Korea often went ashore in several “Nelsonian” night raids against coastal targets and took several prisoners for intelligence gathering. One of Tutira’s former sailors, Able Seaman Robert Marchioni, who joined the crew of her sister Rotoiti, was killed ashore on 26 August 1951 on one such nocturnal raid near Sogon-ni while trying to do a prisoner grab on a Chinese gun emplacement. Marchioni’s body was never recovered.

While Pukaki was relieved by sister Rotoiti in February 1951, Tutira remained on station for three more months until relieved by sister Hawea, only arriving back home in Devonport on 30 May, having steamed 35,400 miles and having been away from New Zealand for nearly 11 months. LCDR Hoare and two ratings were awarded a Mention in Despatches, and the ship earned her only battle honor (Korea 1950-51).

New Zealand’s naval involvement in the Korean War lasted three years and involved all six of its Lochs, with the last, Kaniere, returning home on 2 March 1954. Almost half the manpower of the RNZN– approximately 1,350 officers and ratings-  shipped out for Korean waters over those nearly four years. In their eight tours (Rotoiti and Hawea both went twice), the New Zealand Lochs steamed 339,584 nautical miles and fired 71,625 rounds of ammunition in action.

Kayforce, a New Zealand Army artillery and engineer detachment that served in Korea from December 1950 onward with the 27th British Commonwealth Infantry Brigade, saw 4,600 men rotate through its ranks before it was finally brought home in July 1957, suffering 42 deaths and 79 wounded.

New Zealand’s 16 Field Regiment fired 800,000 rounds in the Korean War- far more than any Kiwi regiment fired in World War II- and the conflict was described as an “artilleryman’s paradise.” National Library PA1-f-113-1861

End time

After service with the 11th Flotilla and fleet exercises with the Australians, in August 1953, the well-traveled Tutira was put into reserve at Auckland, then partially refitted and given limited sea trials in late June 1954. Following these trials, she was partially cocooned and not modernized as her sister vessels had been. Placed in extended reserve, she was slowly and extensively cannibalized for parts to keep her active duty sisters on the job.

In February 1957, with the realization that, under SEATO, a future Pacific War would likely see combat against roaming Soviet submarines, the NZ government ordered a pair of Type 12 (Rothesay) class ASW frigates to be built eight months apart in Britain at Thornycroft and White, respectively. Named HMNZS Otago (F 111) and Taranaki (F 148), the 2,500-ton frigates were modern with a Seacat missile system, Limbo depth charge mortars, and a twin 4.5-inch turret. They were followed by a third, improved Type 12 (Leander) class, HMNZS Waikato (F 55) in 1966, while a fourth Type 12, HMS Blackpool (F 77) was leased from the RN.

These new vessels meant the New Zealand admiralty could divest itself of its obsolete WWII-era cruisers and frigates. Black Prince reverted to RN control and was scrapped in Japan in 1962, while Royalist was decommissioned in 1966, likewise reverting to the RN for disposal.

New Zealand Lochs, Jane’s, 1960

Of the Lochs in NZ service, Taupo and Tutira were sold for scrap to a Hong Kong-based broker on 15 December 1961, with Hawea and Pukaki following in September 1965. The final pair, Rotolti and Kanire, by then classed as 2nd Rate Escorts, served until they were disposed of in 1966.

October 1961. The frigates HMNZS Tutira F517 (right) and HMNZS Taupo (left) off Cape Reinga en route to Hong Kong, where they were sold for scrap. In the center, the Otapiri tows the tug Atlas to Whangaparāoa Harbor for repairs after its towline fouled the seabed five miles north of Cape Reigna. Auckland Libraries Heritage Collections 1370-029-22-02

Auckland Libraries Heritage Collections 1370-029-22-03

HMNZS Rotoiti paying off, 1965, Loch class frigate. Image AAR 0032 

As far as her Loch class sisters still afloat elsewhere, the RN kept a couple in service as F-pennant frigates (Loch Lomond and Loch Killisport) until as late as 1965, while Loch Fada served as a missile test bed until 1970– vetting Sea Wolf. One interesting sister who began life as Loch Eil was converted to a Bay class AAA frigate (Herne Bay), finally became the survey ship HMS Dampier, and was kept until 1968.

Of interest, Dampier, limping along with a broken shaft from Freetown to Chatham in December 1967, hoisted three lug sails and a set of square sails made from awning canvas to gain an extra knot or two to make England just in time for Christmas– thus is the pluck of frigatemen.

HMS Dampier (A303) – ex Loch-class frigate, survey ship. 1967 under sail

The South Africans kept their trio of Lochs active well into the 1970s, with the last, SAS Good Hope (ex-Loch Boisdale) scuttling in December 1978, the final member of the class. She remains part of an artificial reef some 101 feet under False Bay near Cape Town.

Epilogue

One of the Loch Morlich’s/Tutira’s 3-pounder guns has been preserved ashore at the stone frigate HMNZS Philomel, the RNZN base at Devonport, Auckland.

Her 1944-marked HMCS Loch Morlich bell, presumably removed before she went to New Zealand, has long been in private hands and was sold at auction in Boston last year for less than $3,000.

A For Posterity’s Sake page exists for Loch Morlich’s RCN veterans.

She and her sister Pukaki are also remembered in maritime art, immortalized on their Korean deployment.

Painting of HMNZS Pukaki and HMNZS Tutira at Inchon by Colin Wynn.

CDR Peter James Hill Hoare, OBE, Tutira’s Korean War skipper, retired from the RN on 29 January 1966, capping 28 years in uniform. He passed away in 1984, aged 68.

The Loch Class Frigates Association was formed in 1993 but held its last reunion in 2019 and disappeared from the internet in 2023. Before they faded away, they established a memorial cairn at Alrewas in 2005, finished with stones from each of the 28 Lochs completed.

Colin Sweett via IWM

Likewise, a Loch class frigate is featured on the Korean War memorial plaque at Devonport, New Zealand, dedicated by the New Zealand Korea Veterans’ Association in 2000. It rests upon a stone donated by the city of Pusan.

As you may remember, Devonport Naval Base is where Tutira and Pukaki sortied from for Korea on 3 July 1950.

Auckland Libraries Heritage Collections 3003-0217

Thanks for reading!

Meminisse est ad Vivificandum – To Remember is to Keep Alive

***

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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.

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I’m a member, so should you be!

$2.5 billion per hull, grease pencil not included

Official caption: “Keeping Tally. A sailor tallies launches as the USS Thomas Hudner fires a Tomahawk land attack missile in support of Operation Epic Fury in the U.S. Central Command area of responsibility, March 5, 2026.”

Note the columns for both TLAMS (43 marks) and SM-3ERs (9 marks); surely a story in two parts, while the fact that Hudner only has a 96-cell VLS is the third act of this tale.

260305-D-D0477-2924M.

The first Flight IIA (TI) Burke, USS Thomas Hudner (DDG-116), commissioned 1 December 2018, and the 66th hull of the class, and since joining the fleet, has been a SUFRFLANT asset, based in Mayport.

Her crew famously earned a Combat Action Ribbon for her time (October 2023 – April 2024) in the Red Sea during the quasi-war with the Houthis. You can bet a second one is inbound.

Warship Wednesday 4 March 2026: Lucky Tartar

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 4 March 2026: Lucky Tartar

Photo by Harold William John Tomlin, Imperial War Museum catalog A 4114.

Above we see a cluster of happy ratings aboard the Tribal (Afridi) class destroyer HMS Tartar (G 43) in June 1941 after having bagged a German Heinkel in the slow crawl back to Scapa after helping sink Bismarck. They had several reasons to be proud of their little greyhound, as Tartar, some 85 years ago today, chalked up as many as five German vessels in the Norwegian Sea off the Lofoten Islands as part of Operation Claymore.

And that wasn’t even the hairiest of her surface actions during the war!

The Tribals

The Afridis were a new type of destroyer designed for the Royal Navy in the late 1920s off experience both in the Great War and to match the large, modern escorts on the drawing boards of contemporary naval rivals of the time.

The Royal Canadian Navy’s HMCS Huron (G24), in dazzle camouflage, is sailing out to sea during the Second World War, during one of her countless trans-Atlantic escorting runs. The Tribal-class destroyer, commissioned on July 28, 1943, also served in the Pacific theatre during the Korean War under the new pennant number 216.

These 378-foot vessels could make 36+ knots on a pair of geared steam turbines and a trio of Admiralty three-drum boilers, while an impressive battery of up to eight 4.7″/45 (12 cm) QF Mark XII guns in four twin CPXIX mountings gave them the same firepower as early WWI light cruisers (though typically just three turrets were mounted).

Twin Twin Mk XVI 4-inch mount on Commonwealth destroyer L M Tribal by Alex Colville 7.29.1944 19820303-226

Tartar’s “A” gun crew cleaning their guns back in port, 9 July 1944. Photo by Harold William John Tomlin IWM (A 23986)

Gun crew on Tribal-class destroyer HMCS Algonquin cleaning up their 4.7″/45 (12 cm) Mark XII guns after firing at the Normandy Beaches on 7 June 1944. Note that the crewman kneeling in the rear is holding a 4.7″ (12 cm) projectile. Library and Archives Canada Photograph MIKAN no. 3223884

Some 32 Afridis were planned in eight-ship flights: 16 for the RN (named after tribal warriors: HMS Eskimo, HMS Sikh, HMS Zulu, et al.), eight for the Royal Australian Navy, and eight for the Canadians. Of the Canadian ships, four were to be built by Vickers in the UK and the other four by Halifax shipyards in Nova Scotia. All the Canadian ships were to be named after First Nations tribes (Iroquois, Athabaskan, Huron, Haida, Micmac, Nootka, Cayuga, etc.)

An unidentified Tribal class destroyer in profile

Meet Tartar

Our subject is at least the eighth warship (the 17th if prizes and launches are included) to carry the name in the Royal Navy, going back to a 32-gun fifth rate launched in 1702. They had a storied past and earned our subject the carried-forward eight battle honors: Velez Malaga 1704, Lagos 1759, Ushant 1781, Dogger Bank 1781, Baltic 1855, Shimonoseki 1864, South Africa 1899-1900, and Dover Patrol 1914-18.

The Archer class torpedo cruiser HMS Tartar seen at the 1893 Columbian Naval Review on the Hudson in New York City via the LOC’s Detroit Postcard company collection. This sixth Tartar, in service from 1886 to 1906, is famous for her crew rushing dismounted 12-pounder guns across 200 miles of rough terrain from Durban to Ladysmith in October 1899 to relive counter Boer “Long Tom” artillery– the historical basis of the Royal Navy’s command field gun competition.

Her colorful ship’s crest was taken from a circa 1690 depiction of the Emperor of Tartary.

Laid down on 26 August 1936 at Swan Hunter, Wallsend, alongside sister HMS Somali (the only other Tribal built at the yard), the eighth Tartar was launched on 21 October 1937.

She commissioned on 10 March 1939 while the world was (largely) still at peace. Given the pennant L43 while building, this changed to F43 by completion (Somali was F33). She was later shifted to G43.

Tartar was fitted for use as a Flotilla Leader and constructed for £339,750, exclusive of armament and RN supplied equipment.

Following trials, she was transferred to the newly reformed 6th Destroyer Flotilla alongside sisters HMS Somali, Ashanti, Bedouin, Matabele, Punjabi, and Eskimo.

Her first skipper was Capt. Gerald Harman Warner, DSC, RN, aged 48, a regular who joined up in 1911 and earned his DSC in Russia in 1919.

Warner’s steady hand would be needed on Tartar very soon.

War

Just a fortnight into the conflict, on 14 September, while on patrol out of Scapa Flow looking for German blockade runners, Tartar picked up 42 survivors from the torpedoed British merchant Fanad Head, which had been sunk by U-30 about 200 nautical miles west of the Hebrides.

HMS Tartar G43 at a buoy WWII IWM FL 19719

In October 1939, Tartar sailed on her first of at least 28 convoys, the dozen steamer Narvik 1, shuttling British merchant vessels back to Methill from neutral Norway. She would join two other Norwegian runs, Convoy ON 1 and Convoy HN 1, by mid-November.

In late November, she sortied to help chase the roaming German battleship Scharnhorst following the latter’s sinking of the armed merchant cruiser HMS Rawalpindi. 

Norway

Over the several months into the new year, she logged nine more Norway-to-Methill and back convoys (HN 6, ON 7, HN 7, ON 9, ON 10, HN 11, ON 22, HN 22, and ON 24), and was part of the posse that unsuccessfully chased the German blockade runner Trautenfels. She then helped screen the new liner RMS (HMT) Queen Elizabeth in March 1940 on her first outbound run. By this time, her skipper was CDR Lionel Peyton Skipwith, RN, who had earned his lieutenant’s stripe in 1922.

In April 1940, Tartar was heavily engaged in the Norway campaign, screening the fast battlecruisers HMS Renown and Repulse during Operation Duck, bombarding captured Norwegian airfields around Stavanger in April, then in May, rushing the troopships Ulster Monarch and Ulster Prince from Scapa Flow to Åndalsnes and Molde to evacuate Allied troops. June saw her once more screening Allied evacuations from the doomed Norwegian front, operating alongside the battlewagon HMS Valiant during the withdrawals from the Narvik/ Harstad /Tromso pockets.

Late July, following the Fall of France and the Low Countries, saw her once again sortie out with the fleet to chase a German raider, the battlecruiser Gneisenau, without luck.

By August, she was again on convoy runs, AP 1 and AP 2, shuttling desperately needed troops to Egypt, then tagged along with the Dakar-bound Convoy MP.

September 1940 saw her back in Norwegian waters, escorting the carrier HMS Furious and the battleship HMS Nelson on Operation DF, an anti-shipping raid off Trondheim. The same month, she escorted the ships of the 1st Minelaying Squadron during egg emplacement in Northern Barrage and helped shepherd the wounded cruiser HMS Fiji after the latter was torpedoed by U-32 off the Shetlands.

October through December 1940 saw Tartar in a much-needed refit by HM Dockyard, Devonport, and by January 1941, she was back to chasing reports of Scharnhorst and Gneisenau and riding shotgun on minelayer sorties, which would keep her very busy over the next couple of months.

4 March saw Tartar as part of Operation Claymore, the first large Commando raid on Norway, hitting the isolated Lofoten Islands, an all-day festival of destruction that saw the large cod boiling plant in the islands torched, 225 prisoners and collaborators bagged, and 300 local volunteers tag along back to Britain to join Free Norwegian troops. Further, Commandos sank four small German-controlled vessels by demolition charges while Tartar’s sister Bedouin sank a fourth via gunfire.

Raid on the Lofoten Islands, 4 March 1941. Commandos watching fish oil tanks burning.

Speaking of gunfire, during Claymore Tartar sank no less than two German merchant vessels at Solvær, the Hamburg (fishmeal factory ship, 6136 GRT) and Pasajes (1996 GRT). She likewise damaged the Kriegsmarine coal ship Elbing (1422 GRT) so badly that she had to be beached to keep from sinking and only returned to service a year later. Other reports cite Tartar as also sinking Bernhard Schulte (1058 GRT) and Gumbinnen (1381 GRT) during the operation, but most hold that the Army accounted for them.

Soon after, she was back to saving lives, joining on 25 March with sister HMS Gurkha to pull the entire 86-member crew from SS Beaverbrae when the freighter was sunk by land-based Condors of 1./KG 40.

Bismarck and Enigma

In May 1941, she was part of the epic chase that ran Bismarck to ground, escorting Rodney and being present at the leviathan’s sinking on the 27th. Ludovic Kennedy insists that film footage of Bismarck’s brutal last battle was apparently shot from HMS Tartar.

On the way back to Scapa with Tribal-class sister HMS Mashona, the two destroyers, low on fuel and forced to steam at a leisurely 15 knots, were attacked by numerous Luftwaffe Heinkel He 111  bombers of 1./KG 28 that left Mashona dead in the water and sinking. Tartar rescued her 184 survivors from her 14 officers and 215 ratings and landed them at Greenock.

Tartar then helped get the gang in Bletchley Park along in the Enigma decoding business when, sailing with the light cruiser HMS Nigeria and her sister Bedouin on 28 June, the task force chased down the 344-ton German weather ship (Wetterbeobachtungs-Schiff) Lauenburg (WBS 3) some 300 miles north-east of Jan Mayen Island via HF/DF. Although the weather ship’s crew tried to scuttle, Tartar’s boarding party managed to secure and recover codebooks and the vessel’s Enigma machine.

HMS Tartar’s boarding party prepares to board the German weather ship Lauenburg, north east of Jan Mayen.

The converted trawler, Lauenburg, deployed on Operations Gebiet northeast of Jan Mayen with a 20-man crew and eight meteorologists, began sending weather reports on 2nd June from naval grid square AB 47/48. She was sunk by Tartar on 28 June after the salvage of her sensitive equipment.

Lauenburg’s haul, coupled with a similar find from the captured trawler Munchen and the submarine U-110, effectively broke Naval Enigma.

July 1941 saw Tartar on an antishipping raid (Operation DN) off Norway’s Stadtlandet, followed by operations around and the evacuation of Spitsbergen (Operations FB and Gauntlet) in August.

By November 1941, she was screening the new battleship HMS Duke of York and later KGV during Russia-bound convoy operations out of Iceland, with the runs needing such big guns as the bruising heavy cruiser Hipper, the pocket battleship Scheer, and the actual battleship Tirpitz, which were all operating out of occupied Norway. As such, Tartar would sail with Convoys PQ 7B/QP 5 in January 1942, followed by PQ 12/QP 8 and PQ 13/QP 9 in March.

HMS Tartar going out on patrol. Taken from HMS Victorious at Hvalfjörður, Iceland, 6 February 1942. Photo by CH Parnall IWM A 7513

In June 1942, her next skipper, CDR St. John Reginald Joseph Tyrwhitt DSC, RN, arrived aboard, late of the destroyer HMS Juno (F 46)— on whose decks he earned a DSC.

Torch, Husky, Avalanche

HMS Tartar G43 28 June 1942

By August 1942, Tartar was nominated for detached service for support of the Malta relief operation, then sailed from Clyde as part of the escort for military convoys WS21 during Operation Pedestal. This soon saw her lock horns with the Italian subs Cobalto, Emo, and Granito, as well as U-73, missing torpedoes and replying with depth charges.

Her job done in the Med, she was back in Scapa by September and would sail with Force A out of Iceland to provide cover for Convoys PQ 18/QP 14.

Shifting back to the Med once again– twice in three months!– Tartar sailed with Force H from Scapa Flow on 30 October, including the familiar battlewagons Duke of York, Nelson, and Renown, bound to support the Torch Landings in North Africa.

She would remain in the Med through the rest of the year and continue to find work not only with Force H. Notably, on 23 March 1942, Tartar also picked up 14 survivors from the French armed trawler Sergent Gouarne that was sunk by U-755 about 25 miles north-east of Alboran Island.

Tartar was on hand for the June 1943 capture of the Italian islands of Pantellaria and Lampedusa between Sicily and Tunisia (Operation Corkscrew) in the weeks before the much larger Husky Landings on Sicily.

It was during Husky that Tartar came to the rescue of a second of her sisters when Eskimo was extensively damaged by two German dive bombers. Tartar towed Eskimo back to Malta, providing counter-U-boat and AAA defense the whole way, then returned to Sicily to conduct NGFS bombardments around the island.

August 1943 saw Tartar, once again with Rodney and Nelson’s screen, as part of Operation Hammer, plastering the Italian coastal batteries on the Calabrian coast adjacent to the Straits of Messina in preparation for the Avalanche landings in early September, during which Tartar supported the Allied landing between Catona and Reggio Calabria. It was there that Tartar embarked C-in-C, Mediterranean, ADM Andrew Browne Cunningham, to bring him inshore to inspect the landing beaches.

Off Salerno, she batted away attacks by German aircraft and radio-controlled glider bombs.

Salerno, 9 September 1943 (Operation Avalanche). The British destroyer HMS Tartar puts up an anti-aircraft barrage with her 4.5-inch AA guns to protect the invasion force from attack by enemy aircraft. Photo by Richard Gee, No. 2 Army Film and Photo Section, Army Film and Photographic Unit. IWM NA 6579

France

In late October, Tartar sailed back to HM Dockyard, Devonport, for refit and remained there into early 1944 when, following post-refit trials, she joined the 10th Destroyer Flotilla at Plymouth as leader in February.

The list of ships in the 10th was both familiar and historic:

On 15 March 1944, CDR Basil Jones DSO, DSC, RN, became Tartar’s 8th skipper and the 10th Commodore by extension. He had earned his DSC as commander of the destroyer HMS Ivanhoe (D 16) and his DSO on HMS Pakenham (G 06).

HMS Tartar G43, 1944

In the months before D-Day, Tartar and her sisters took part in Operations Specimen and Tunnel (anti-shipping patrols of the Bay of Biscay and French west coast) and Operation Hostile (minelaying operations off the French coast).

Then came D-Day itself, with the 10th up front, almost a footnote in Tartar’s extensive career.

On the early morning of D+3, eight destroyers of the 10th DF encountered three German destroyers, the Type 36A Z24 and Z32, and the ZH1 (formerly the Dutch destroyer Gerard Callenburgh), along with the Elbing-class torpedo boat T24 (Theodor von Bechtolsheim). When the smoke cleared, ZH1 was at the bottom, and the mauled Germans limped off to fight another day.

Tartar was hit in the swirling action three times, setting fires in her galley and bridge. Four men were killed and 12 wounded, including Commodore Jones. She arrived back at Plymouth with her foremast hung over the side and all of the radar and communications dead.

But she arrived– and had her shrapnel-riddled ensign flying.

Gifted RN war photographer, LT Harold William John Tomlin, captured a great series of images of our battle-scarred destroyer while back in port on 9 June.

Battlescarred Tartar June 9, 1944 IWM (A 23985)

One of Tartar’s gun crews in great form on their return. IWM A 23987

A wounded Commodore Basil Jones, DSO, DSC, RN (right) of Twyford, Bucks, Commander of HMS Tartar, and Lieut Cdr J R Barnes, of Yelverton, Devon, Commander of HMS Ashanti. IWM A 23988

“A proud souvenir, the torn Battle Ensign of HMS Tartar carried in her action with German destroyers in the Channel. It was in this action on 8 June 1944 at Barfleur that a German destroyer (ZH 1) was torpedoed and sunk by the destroyers Tartar and Ashanti, and the former was hit on the bridge by three 120 mm shells. Left to right: Able Seamen E G Nurse of Swansea; W Wetherall of Chiswick; D J Harvey of Worcester; G Lilley of Rockhampton and P Gill of Manchester. They have all served over three years in Tartar.” IWM A 30906

August 1944 saw Tartar and company maul a convoy of small German coasters in the Bay of Biscay north of the Île d’Yeu. In a single wild action on the night of the 5th, she is credited with assisting in the sinking of German Convoy Nr. 4121 with the minesweepers M 263 and M 486, the patrol vessel V 414, and the coaster Otto (217 GRT) were sent to the bottom.

Headed to the Far East

By October 1944, Tartar was selected for a tropical overhaul with plans to ship her and the rest of the 10th to the East Indies Fleet.

Such modified, she left the Clyde in March 1945 bound for Gibraltar for passage to Trincomalee via the Mediterranean and Red Sea. Once there, she joined Force 63 with her flotilla by 28 April, screening the battleships HMS Queen Elizabeth and Richelieu for a sweep of the Andamans and Nicobars areas. It was during that sweep that Tartar, across a three-night period, bombarded  Car Nicohar and Port Blair repeatedly.

She continued to bring the heat to the Japanese in Operation Dukedom, interdicting Japanese surface ships trying to evacuate troops from the Andamans. Then came a push into the occupied Dutch East Indies which included a surface action on 12 June 1945 when, sailing with Eskimo and Nubian, they intercept a Japanese convoy 20 miles north of Sumatra and sank the Japanese submarine chaser Ch 57 (420 tons) and landing ship Kuroshio Maru No.2 (950 tons, former T 149) in a short gun duel.

Afterall, her gunners were used to the work.

She later witnessed the Japanese surrender at Penang in September, then was ordered home, arrived at Plymouth on 17 November 1945, where she was promptly paid off and laid up for use as an accommodation hulk. Sold to BISCO for breaking up, she arrived at J Cashmere’s yard in Newport for demolition on 22 February 1948.

Tartar earned every one of her 12 WWII battle honors: Norway 1940-41 – Bismarck Action 1941 – Arctic 1941 – Malta Convoys 1942 – North Africa 1942-43 – Sicily 1943 –  Salerno 1943  – Mediterranean 1943 –  Normandy 1944  – English Channel 1944 – Biscay 1944 – Burma 1945. 

Of her 15 RN Tribal class sisters, only Ashanti, Eskimo, and Nubian survived the war, and all were scrapped by 1949. Her old 10th Flotilla partner, Haida, the “most fightingest ship” in the Canadian Navy, saw Korean War and Cold War service and survives as a memorial.

HMCS Haida today

Epilogue

Tartar had been adopted by the civil community of Finchley during a 1942 savings week program, and the area, now part of the London Borough of Barnet, maintains some small relics from her.

Of her skippers, her circa 1939 commander, Warner, retired in 1946 as a full captain. Bismarck and Russia Convoy-era Skipwith retired in 1952 and passed in 1975. Tyrwhitt, who commanded her for the Torch, Avalanche, and Husky landings, remained in the Navy until 1958, when he retired as a vice admiral after commanding the cruiser HMS Newcastle during Korea. The unsinkable Basil Jones pinned a Bar to his DSC for Tartar’s actions off Normandy in 1944 and faded into history after the war.

The RN recycled the name one last time, for a new 2,700-ton Tribal-class frigate, HMS Tartar (F133), that served from 1962 to 1984 and then for a further 16 years with the Indonesians. Her motto, appropriately, was “Without Fear,” and she had 21 battle honors carried forward to back it up.

Aerial view of Tribal-class frigate HMS Tartar (F133), 1971. Note her “T A” recognition letters on her heli rep platform. IWM HU 130006

While the current British government would never authorize a new warship by that name, it is the Admiralty’s loss.

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

***

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