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Warship Wednesday 15 July 2026: El Abuelo

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

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Warship Wednesday 15 July 2026: El Abuelo

NH-87930

Above we see the Spanish battleship (acorazado) España underway late in her career, circa 1931, firing a salute. Commissioned under a different name, she was the site of a naval mutiny and dockyard siege some 90 years ago this week that would lead to her eventual demise and throw her country into a very dark half-century.

Spanish 20th Century Battleship Needs

The Real Armada had its heart torn out during the war (el Desastre) with America in 1898, with 11 of its fairly modern cruisers (eight protected and three armored) sunk, captured, or otherwise lost in combat operations between Manila and Santiago. The fact was that Madrid had deployed the bulk of its first-class warships overseas to protect its colonies, and both the territories and the vessels were lost.

By 1900, the main line of the Spanish Navy consisted of just five steel-hulled vessels they rated as “battleships.” Of those five, the largest and most formidable was the circa 1887 French-built Pelayo (9,900 tons/330 feet oal, 2×12.6″, 2×11″, 16 knots), which was the only vessel in the Spanish fleet with 12-inch guns, albeit stubby low-angle 12″/35 M1880 Canet models.

German U-boat coming alongside Spanish battleship Pelayo after surrender on Dec 20 1918

The newest of the five were the sisters Cardennal Cisneros, Cataluña, and Princesa de Asturias, which had been built slowly in Spain (too slow to take part in the war of 1898) and, while some 7,000 tons and capable of 20 knots on a 14,800 hp plant, their two-gun 9.4-inch main battery and 5.5-inch secondary made them more underpowered armored cruisers than battleships.

The same can be said of the one-off 9,000-ton Emperador Carlos V, which, while she could make 19 knots and carried a pair of 11-inch guns balanced by eight 5.5-inchers, only had a two-inch armor belt, which again left her as more an armored cruiser, and a slow one at that.

The state of the once proud fleet had become something of a joke by 1904.

Fleet Admiral José Ferrándiz y Niño, in a popular cartoon by Joaquín Moya from 1904 in the Spanish satirical magazine Gedeón depicting Spanish Council of Ministers President Antonio Maura’s reaction to the “formidable squadron” at Viggo, only to be told by Ferrándiz that it was a Russian one (the Baltic Fleet’s 2nd Pacific Squadron under Rozhestvensky headed to Tsushima):

By 1906, with HMS Dreadnought changing the battleship game forever, Spain knew it needed something more, both to display enough muscle to keep its African colonies (Guinea, Rio de Oro, Spanish Morocco, etc.), and contribute something to the growing web of European military alliances. Speaking to the latter, the Pact of Cartagena in May 1907, co-signed with Britain and France, set the stage for Madrid to join its newfound partners in a future theoretical conflict with Germany, Italy, and Austro-Hungary.

And that meant at least a few new battleships.

Which brings us to…

The World’s Tiniest Dreadnoughts

ADM Ferrándiz’s Naval Plan of 1907 sought to build a thoroughly modern fleet that the country could afford, centered on a squadron of new battleships, supported by three new destroyers, 22 torpedo boats, four gunboats, and several auxiliary vessels

It was decided early on that the three new battleships would be constructed domestically by the newly-formed Sociedad Española de Construcción Naval (SECN) in Ferrol, which was in turn majority-owned by the British shipbuilding firms of Vickers, Armstrong Whitworth, and John Brown & Company, with a Garantia Tecnica Comite made up of British executives drawn from said companies.

This led to a very, well, English design, only abbreviated for cost.

Line drawing of Spanish battleship España from her launching book

The overall length was but 459 feet with a 78-foot beam and 26-foot draft. Normal standard displacement was 15,452 tons (16,400 full). While the smallest on record for completed dreadnoughts, not counting such creatures as the WWII-era German “pocket battleships,” they still weren’t as small as one would think.

Their dimensions put the new Spanish ships only about 70 feet shorter and 3,000 tons lighter than HMS Dreadnought herself (18,410 tons std, 527 feet oal), while the American South Carolina-class battleships were on a slightly shorter hull than the Spanish (452 feet oal), just with heavier armor and guns putting them in the 17,900 ton class when fully loaded.

The Spanish ships also compared decently to the period German Nassau-class dreadnoughts (18.700 tons, 479 feet oal) and the Austrian Tegetthoff-class (20,000 tons, 498 feet oal). All ships mentioned in this paragraph carried 11- or 12-inch main guns.

Speaking of guns, the Spanish dreadnoughts would carry a series of unique 30.5 cm/50 (12″) Vickers (VSM) Mark H guns in four twin turrets, arranged en echelon.

12″/50 Spanish naval gun at Vickers Eskmeals Gun Range

Spanish Vickers 12inch 50 España Twin Mounting Layout. Sketch Courtesy of Javier Villarroya del Real, via NNavweaps

Espana’s guns installed

305mm guns Spanish battleship España crew

Espana gunnery tests, June 1914

Espana gunnery tests, June 1914

Espana gunnery tests, June 1914

While decent in performance (they could fire an 850-pound AP shell to 20,000 yards with a rate of fire of 1.5 rounds per minute, per gun), the arrangement allowed six guns firing forward and over the stern (in certain narrow angles) but effectively also limited the broadside to six guns due to likely damage from cross-decked turrets. Magazines were shallow, and while most battleships of the era packed at least 100 shells per gun in the main battery, the Spanish ships could carry only 80.

Their secondary armament consisted of 20 4″/50 Vickers E series guns with a firing angle of 120 degrees, carried ten per broadside. However, they were protected in casemate positions that were too close to the waterline to be useful in even a moderate sea state.

Defense against torpedoes and torpedo boats came from Bullivant series metal nets carried on 20 40-foot outrigger booms. Boats coming close enough would have to face four Vickers 47mm 3-pounder QF mounts, while two 7mm Maxim machine guns were mounted on the bridge wings. For a landing party, she could send a company-sized force of light infantry ashore armed with rifles, pistols, and two light guns.

Their Vickers and Armstrong-supplied Krupp Cemented steel armor plan ranged from an 8-inch belt amidships (thinning to just 3 inches at the bow) with 8 inches over the gun houses (6 inches at the barbettes), 6 inches over the casemates, and a 10-inch conning tower.

It doesn’t take a naval scholar to see this is more akin to what you would see on a big cruiser than a dreadnought, and was closer to that seen on the lightly armored British Invincible-class battlecruisers, which carried a 6-inch belt, 7 over the turrets, and 10 in the conning tower. However, while Invincible at least had 2.5-inch torpedo bulkheads under the waterline, the Spanish vessels had no such underwater protection, making do with just 1.5 inches of HT screens over 12 of her 16 sections.

Spanish Espana class battleships, Janes 1921

When it comes to manning, during peacetime, the ships could make do with a 650-700 man crew, growing to 854 on mobilization. This is a bit larger than on HMS Dreadnought (810 wartime) and on par with USS South Carolina (869), with the Spanish ships universally noted as being cramped, especially so in the enlisted berthing as space had been carved out for carried sumptuous (often unoccupied) suites for admirals.

The engineering plant consisted of a dozen coal-fired Yarrow pattern boilers built domestically under license by Maquinista Terrestre y Marítima (MTM) in Barcelona, which had made the boilers and machinery for the cruiser Extremadura in 1902 as well as for the cruiser Lepanto before that and the engines for the Infanta María Teresa class armored cruisers in the 1890s. Each ship would use four Parsons turbines built at Ferrol by SECN to generate 15,500shp for 19.5 knots. Using forced draft and oil-sprayed coal to reach full power of 21,582 shp, ships on trials bested 20 knots.

The construction of Parsons turbines for the Espana-class battleships by SECN at Ferrol under the supervision of Parsons’ Mr. Dixon. The turbine house went on to craft engines for Hamburg-America liners post-war and today is still around as Navantia Seanergies’ Fábrica de Turbinas facility, still located in Ferrol:

The class used four, three-bladed screws

They were modern ships, with hydraulically operated main turrets whose guns could be loaded at any angle, electric lifts and lights, forced ventilation, and six independent electric bilge pump systems. Six large 30-inch searchlights dotted the superstructure and her two masts. A Telefunken TSH wireless station, only first installed in Spanish service on the battleship Pelayo in 1904, was standard on each ship.

At the end of the day, three Spanish dreadnoughts were ordered and built: Espana, Alfonso XIII (also seen as Alfonso Trece), and Jaime I, with the first two built nearly side-by-side.

Construction was all done at Ferrol, with Espana laid down in December 1909 and the last hull, Jaime I, delayed by the Great War, completed only in December 1921.

Cost per hull, with machinery and armament, was 43 million Spanish pesetas, leaving the program total at about 150 million pesetas. Adjusted for inflation in 2026 USD is $281 million per ship and about $1B for the program as a whole.

They would be the largest warships built in Spain until the only slightly bigger 16,700-ton light carrier SPS Príncipe de Asturias (R-11) was delivered by Bazan, Ferrol, in 1988.

Spanish battleship España at the Ferrol shipyard

Spanish battleship España, lead ship of her class, receiving the finishing touches at the Victoria Eugenia dock in the port of Ferrol before being launched in May 1913.

Spanish battleship España launching at the Ferrol shipyard

Spanish battleship España launched at the Ferrol shipyard

Acazadoro España christening cover

But that’s not all. The Spanish admiralty planned a follow-on class of three 21,000-ton Reina Victoria Eugenia-class ships, carrying 13.5-inch guns and capable of 21-knots, laid out as sort of a more compact HMS Queen Elizabeth-class battleship.

The official plan, set to come to fruition around 1918-20, would be that the six completed dreadnoughts would be joined by the three existing 7,000-ton Princesa de Asturias-class armored cruisers, three new 5,000-ton/25-knot protected cruisers based on HMS Birmingham, and up to a dozen new Bustamante-class destroyers under a grand strike force dubbed 1.er Escuadrón.

Well, anyway…

Meet Alfonso XIII

Our subject was the second Spanish warship named in honor of King Alfonso XIII de España, “el Africano,” who had been born to the country’s queen regent in May 1886, six months after his father, Alfonso XII, passed away. This made him the infant king at birth, and he held the throne for 44 years until April 1931.

The previous warship to carry his name was a Reina Regente-class protected cruiser built at Ferrol for a cost of 9 million pesetas and, overloaded and with cranky engines, was immediately relegated to training when completed in 1896, then was decommissioned four years later and scrapped in 1907. The class leader sank during a storm at sea in 1895, taking all 420 men to the bottom, while the third member of the class, Lepanto, was removed and scrapped just 12 years after she was completed, closing the book on the experimental and ineffectual class.

The Reina Regente-class protected cruiser Alfonso XIII anchored in Mahón circa 1898. Naming a battleship after the king had much better optics than this humble and unsuccessful vessel, which was largely restricted to daytime sailing within sight of shore.

Announced on 17 November 1909 with the other two members of her class, the keel of the future battleship Alfonso XIII was laid at the SECN shipyard in Ferrol on 23 February 1910.

The keel of the battleship Alfonso XIII is being laid at the Ferrol arsenal. The battleship Espana is under construction on the left.

Great War service

In August 1914, Spain had the Espana fully complete and only completed gunnery trials two months prior, the old Pelayo, the four previously mentioned Princesa de Asturias and Emperador Carlos V-class armored cruisers, the protected cruiser Reina Regente (5781 t, 10×6″ guns, 19 knots), the small cruiser Río de La Plata (1875 t, 2×5.9″, 4×4″, 2xtt, 20 kts), the scout cruiser Extremadura which was deployed as a station ship to Mexico, and about 30 destroyers, gunboats, and minelayers. None of the new planned light cruisers and only one of the new Bustamante-class destroyers had been completed. Reina Victoria Eugenia, the planned 21,000-ton battlewagon, was soon canceled along with her two never-named sisters.

All in all, not a commanding fleet to take on any other European power, and certainly not the planned 1.er Escuadrón.

Spanish dreadnought battleship España during WWI IWM Q 68264

As Spain’s entry to the war on the side of France and Britain centered on Italy entering on the side of Germany and Austria, once Italy declared neutrality on 3 August 1914, the conservative Spanish government of Eduardo Dato announced on 7 August it was sitting out the war as well, at least for now. Plus, some 80 percent of the 220,000-strong Spanish Army (13 of 16 divisions) had been deployed to Morocco since 1911 to fight the rebellious Rif.

Launched on 7 May 1913, while fitting out, Alfonso XIII’s completion was delayed by the outbreak of the Great War, as much of her equipment, including her fire-control systems, was on hold in Britain pending developments. She was only commissioned into service, joining España in the 1.er Escuadrón, in August 1915, using an improvised fire-control system secured via Sweden, another neutral.

España and Alfonso XIII’s Great War consisted primarily of training exercises, frequently conducted off Galicia, and a naval review off Santander during the namesake king’s usual summer holidays there. Alfonso even stood by in home waters while España sailed across the Atlantic to Panama along with a Portuguese cruiser to mark the opening ceremonies of the Panama Canal.

A little excitement came whenever German, French, or British ships skirted the Spanish coast, and U-boats occasionally appeared on official business or, damaged, sought internment.

The Spanish fleet was responsible for the continued watch on 70 German and 25 Austrian merchant vessels that spent the war immobilized in the country’s harbors.

Further, Alfonso assisted the tug Antelo after the latter ran aground off Cape Prior in April 1917 and searched for the missing destroyer Terror (one of the fleet’s few survivors of the 1898 war) when the latter went missing in a storm.

She was also called upon to send a landing force ashore at Bilbao in August 1917 to put down a rebellion by armed miners and railway workers that required a “whiff of gunpowder” to put down, resulting in the death of one of the battleship’s sailors and the arrest of 22 Reds who were dutifully hauled back to the ship for detention.

The follow-on Figueroa, Prieto, and Maura governments would keep up the wobbly neutrality through the end of the brutal conflict. That didn’t stop Spanish factories from making arms for the allies and shipping them millions of tons of raw materials (for the first time in its modern history, Spain did not have a trade deficit), 2,000 Spanish/Catalan volunteers crossing the Pyrenees to join the French Foreign Legion, or German U-boats from sinking 80 Spanish merchantmen during the war– a full quarter of the country’s merchant marine.

Likewise, the country became a hot-bed for spies from both sides, and the Spanish African colony of Guinea had to accommodate 47,000 German refugee colonists and soldiers from nearby Kamerun after it was captured by the British and French in February 1916.

The Spanish king founded the humanitarian Oficina Pro Cautivos, or Pro Captives Office, which oversaw the exchange in Spanish ports of 21,000 sick POWs from both sides under the aegis of the Red Cross while handling 250,000 requests for information about (mostly French and Belgian) missing persons or prisoners, and Spanish military attachés abroad conducted more than 4,000 visits to POW camps across Europe for inspections.

The country eventually took a bit of reparations in the form of 12 German merchant ships totaling 35,704 GRT seized in Spanish ports in October 1918 or handed over after the war for compensation for the U-Boat sinkings. These included the fine 9,000-ton Hansa steamer Neuenfels, which became the Spanish Navy’s seaplane tender (portahidroaviones) Dédalo, but that is another story.

Peacetime Cruising

Following the end of hostilities, the Spanish were finally able to complete the third España-class battlewagon, and Alfonso XIII received her originally intended fire control equipment. Further, all three were modernized by removing the four 1900s vintage 47mm Hotchkiss guns in favor of a pair of new 3″/34 Vickers FF model AAA mounts.

Battleship Alfonso XIII in Cartagena in the early 1920s

Alfonso was busy.

She landed troops to guard Barcelona’s railway system for 44 days during riots in early 1919.

In June 1920, Alfonso set out on an American goodwill tour with naval cadets aboard, stopping at the Canary Islands on the 22nd, becoming the first Spanish warship to visit Cuba since 1898 (calling at Havana on July 9) and Puerto Rico.

Battleship Alfonso Xlll visiting La Habana newspaper 1920 first Spanish warship since 1898

Battleship Alfonso XIII visits Havana in 1920

Battleship Alfonso XIII visits San Juan, PR, July 9, 1920

Battleship (Acorazado) Alfonso XIII visits San Juan, PR, July 9, 1920

Calling at Annapolis, the academy’s training hulk, the former Spanish cruiser USS Reina Mercedes, captured in 1898, raised the old flag in honor.

She then called at New York City, the first Spanish warship to do so since Vizcaya in early 1898. There, she picked up parts and material for the Spanish submarine Isaac Peral (A 01), which had been built at Fore River in 1916, as well as the Spanish B-class submarines which were being built back home in Cartagena based on designs from Electric Boat, then called on Norfolk for another goodwill visit before heading back home in October.

In 1921, she started off the year by visiting Portugal in April, then by July was off the coast of Spanish Morocco to bombard the Rif, who were busy winning their war. Alfonso would spend the next four years deployed off and on to the colony, exchanging artillery duels with Rif field guns, landing troops and marines for campaigns ashore, and delivering naval gunfire support.

It was during the conflict that class leader España ran aground off Cape Tres Forcas in August 1923 while providing NGFS ashore and was lost.

Spanish battleship España during Rif war 1923

Salvage vessel Kanguro during the rescue of the 305mm guns from battleship España

The campaign culminated with the Alhucemas landings in September 1925, which saw 13,000 Spanish and French troops kick in the door to take the Rif stronghold head-on.

Alhucemas Landing, 8 September 1925, Moro Nuevo Beach

Supported by 164 aircraft, a dirigible, and 17 tanks, the battleline for the landings included the two remaining España-class sisters (Alfonso and Jaime) as well as the French Courbet-class battleship Paris. Six cruisers: the Spanish Méndez Núñez, Blas de Lezo, Victoria Eugenia, and Extremadura; and the French Metz and Strasbourg, also took part in the effort along with the seaplane carrier Dedalo and nearly 100 assorted destroyers, monitors, gunboats, and transports.

It was the largest amphibious operation since Gallipoli, and proved far more successful, keeping the tactic alive in the mind of strategists for another generation.

Besides her experience fighting the Rif, Alfonso carried out several additional goodwill cruises, including one to Italy in 1923, carried her namesake and his wife on a cruise of the Galician coast in the summer of 1927, and led the international naval parade for the 1929 Barcelona International Exposition.

Spanish battleships Alfonso XIII and Jaime I in 1929.

Nothing Civil About War

The national economic crisis that hit Spain as part of the Great Depression in 1931 led the King to abdicate his throne in April and head to Rome in exile, leaving the new socialist government to order the battleship named after him to be renamed to España, recycling the name left vacant after her sister sank in 1923.

As part of austerity measures, both España (ex-Alfonso) and Jaime I were placed in reserve at Ferrol on 15 June 1931.

1931 Janes Spanish battleships Espana Jaime Primero Alfonso XIII

While a series of proposed modernizations for the obsolete battlewagons were mulled over the next four years, the government’s grip on the country grew tenuous. Jaimie was reactivated in 1934 to help put down the anarchist Asturian Revolution, firing her guns into the Cimadevilla neighborhood of Gijón and bringing reliable Spanish Legion and the Regulares colonial troops up from Morocco to fight the 30,000-strong Red Army.

Spanish North African troops (the Grupos de Regulares de Melilla) parade down Corrida Street in Gijón after crushing the Asturian revolution. The troops had been carried to the city by Jaimie I and the cruiser Almirante Cervera, which also bombarded several rebel-held towns.

Spanish battleship Jaime I circa 1933 note double white id flash on funnels

Spanish battleship in Barcelona, Jaime I, 1930s

When the coup that kicked off what is now known as the Spanish Civil War kicked off in July 1936, Jaime was in Santander, with her cannons pointed at the military barracks which had been ready to go over to the rebels of Franco’s right-aligned Nationalists.

Meanwhile, still in dry dock in Ferrol, the skeleton crew of España (ex-Alfonso) joined with that of the cruiser Almirante Cervera to resist the pro-Franco coup which carried the Naval Arsenal there on 20 July 1936.

Spanish battleship España (formerly Alfonso XIII) photographed in Ferrol in 1936

After a two-day siege of the dry yard and dry dock by the Nationalist forces and out of bullets for their rifles (they had no shells for the ship’s guns), the loyalist crew of España laid down their arms. In the immediate aftermath, 72 sailors from the battleship were put on trial by the new government, with 28 duly shot by firing squad and 34 hauled off to the brig.

With the whole yard ordered to bring España (ex-Alfonso) into fighting trim, she was placed back into commission on 12 August 1936, although only half of her 12-inch Vickers H guns (turrets Nos 1 and 4) were operable, along with 12 of 20 4″/50 casemate guns, plus she had a much-reduced and very green crew.

By this stage of the Civil War, the Republican (loyalist government) side had the battleship Jaime Primereo, the light cruisers Libertad (Galicia), Miguel de Cervantes, Mendez Nunez, 12 destroyers, six torpedo boats, five subs and several smaller craft.

Marino: un heroe, a Republican Navy recruiting poster based on Jaime Primereo made by Arturo Ballester. UC San Diego Library.

Casting their lot with the Nationalist (insurgent) forces under Franco besides España (ex-Alfonso) were the heavy cruisers Canarias, Baleares, and Almirante Cervera, and the old light cruiser Navarra (ex- Republica, ex-Reina Victoria Eugenia), the destroyer Velasco, TRs 2, 7, 9, 16, and 19, the submarines C3, C 5, C 6, and B 5, all six of the country’s minelayers, the gunboats Canoaros del Castillo and Dato, along with a myriad of smaller craft.

Escorted by the destroyer Velasco, España (ex-Alfonso), dubbed Abuelo (grandfather) by the forces she supported, carried out blockade missions on the Republican-held coastline for the next six weeks until the end of September. These included bombarding vital fuel depots at Santurce, hitting troop concentrations at Gipuzkoa, San Sebastián, Irún, and Fuenterrabía, helping break the siege of Simancas, and in the capture of several ships transporting supplies to the Republicans.

Improvements to España (ex-Alfonso) and subsequent yard periods saw the battleship by October 1936 return a third turret (No 3) to operation, her fourth turret used as a source of spare parts for the other three. She saw eight of her 4-inch casemate guns removed for service ashore. To counter possible Nationalist air attacks, she was fitted with four German 88mm SK L/45 C/13s and two 20mm C/30 flak cannons.

Returning to service, she shrugged off a series of torpedo and air attacks over the next six months but, while chasing the British steamer Knitsley, struck a mine near Santander on 30 April 1937, likely laid by the Nationalists as they controlled the country’s entire minelayer fleet. Suffering from a combination of poor underwater protection and an inexperienced crew, she was lost, sinking slowly over the course of three hours. Her escorting destroyer Velasco managed to save all but five of her crew.

It was claimed at the time that she was sunk by air attack.

Airmen Who Sank The Espana. — All Loyalist Spain is feting the Government airmen who made history by sinking the rebel battleship, “Espana”, the first battleship ever to be destroyed in an air attack. The feat was accomplished by the airmen while the “Espana” was trying to stop the British steamer “Knitsley” (4,261 tons) from entering Santander with a cargo of iron ore. Six hundred men of the “Espana” went down with their ship four miles off Cape Mayor, near Santander. The officers were rescued by the rebel destroyer “Velasco”. Photo shows the airmen who sank the “Espana” photographed at Santander on their return. Via UC San Diego Library

Her final sister, the Republican-controlled Jaime, ran aground at Punta Sabinar on 15 April, managed to refloat herself, and took refuge first in Almería, where she was hit first by a wave of Italian S-79 bombers then by German Condor Legion Heinkel He 59s of Aufklärungsstaffel See/88. Limping to Cartagena for repairs, a magazine explosion there (oft attributed to sabotage) sent the aging and weary battleship to the seabed, causing some 300 deaths in the process.

Spanish battleship Jaime Primero, listed as sunk in Jane’s 1938

Jaime’s 12-inch guns were salvaged and placed in the Strait of Gibraltar in coastal batteries D9 and D10 at El Vigía and Casquebel near Tarifa, while her smaller 4-inchers were placed in single mounts in the coastal batteries at Rafalbetx and Cabo Blanco in Mallorca, kept in service through the 1980s.

Likewise, the original España’s 12-inch and 4-inch guns, salvaged in 1924 from her wreck, were emplaced in numerous coastal defense batteries, the last of which, the La Marquina Battery in Cádiz, was still in operation until 1999.

Batería D9 El Vigía en Tarifa, Vickers 305 50 Spanish battleship acorazado Jaime I, foto cortesía de Alejandro Chaves.

Epilogue

Our subject’s wreck was discovered and charted by the Spanish Navy in 2016 by the salvage ship Neptuno.

She rests largely intact at a depth of 242 feet, making her a deep but not impossible dive.

She is also remembered in maritime art.

Battleship Alfonso XIII with Spanish Torpedero no 3

Spanish battleship Alfonso XIII, painting by Oscar Parkes

Thanks for reading!

Meminisse est ad Vivificandum – To Remember is to Keep Alive

***

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Warship Wednesday 8 July 2026: Bringer of Evil to the Evil

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 July 2026: Bringer of Evil to the Evil

Royal Navy photo via the Imperial War Museum catalog IWM (A 5439)

Above we see the patched-up Queen Elizabeth-class 15-inch “super-dreadnought” HMS Malaya (01) sailing past New York City after a much-needed refit at Brooklyn Navy Yard on the U.S. dime, on 9 July 1941, some 85 years ago this week. Note the Empire State Building in the distance

The Jutland veteran was a child of WWI and had already seen much hard WWII service in the Atlantic and Mediterranean, but more work would be required of the aging battlewagon before she could rest.

The QEs

Entire books have been written about the Queen Elizabeth class battleships, and by much better historians than I, so we’ll just give the kind of 10,000-foot view here before moving on to Malaya, who is about the most often forgotten of her breed.

The 1912 Naval Programme planned for three new battleships, originally intended to be improved HMS Iron Duke type (25,000 tons light, 623 feet oal, 21.5kts on a 29,000shp coal-fired plant, ten 13.5″/45 guns in five twin turrets, and up to 12 inches of armor).

The problem was, with word that both the Americans and Japanese were planning battleships with larger guns (USS New York with ten 14″/45s and Kongo with eight 14″/45 Vickers), gears shifted to design new ships around a battery of 15-inch guns, while adding a bit more speed.

The resulting Queen Elizabeth class ships were a bit bigger, of course, (27,500 tons light and 645 feet oal) were fast for their day (23 knots on a 56,000shp oil-fired plant), well-armored with as much as 13-inches of good Krupp Cemented armor in their belt, tower, and turrets; and packed a punch from eight massive new BL 15 inch (381mm) Mk I naval guns in four twin turrets.

The 15″/42 Mk I, described by Navweaps as “quite possibly the best large-caliber naval gun ever developed by Britain and it was certainly one of the longest-lived of any nation, with the first shipboard firing taking place in 1915 and the last in 1954,” was a bruiser capable of firing a 1-ton shell out to 19,700 (later 32,000) yards, enabling them to outrange most German naval guns of the era. Plus, they proved even more accurate than the 13.5-inch Mk. V guns on Iron Duke.

The barrel of a 15-inch naval gun in the Coventry Ordinance Works. September 1917. Photo by Horace Nicholls. IWM (Q 30141)

Queen Elizabeth-class battleship HMS Malaya on a Sunday morning at Gibraltar in February 1942. General view of Divisions on board the battleship, with the Padre standing on the turret of the stern 15″/42 guns. Photo by LT J.G. Marshall, RN, IWM (A 7377).

Some 184 of these 15-inchers were made by Armstrong Whitworth, W Beardmore, Vickers, Royal Gun Factory, and Coventry Ordnance Works, serving on numerous subsequent British battleship (Royal Sovereign and Vanguard classes), battlecruiser (Glorious, Repulse, and Hood/Admiral classes), and monitor (Marshal Soult, Erebus, and Roberts classes) designs.

15 inch Mk 1 naval gun Sept 1917 Coventry Gun Works. IWM (Q 30141)

The guns were rotated between the 58 turrets built to accept them across ships of six classes, having a life of about 200 rounds before requiring relining, with the example that one gun which served on HMS Valiant during Jutland later wound up being captured by the Japanese at Singapore where it was serving as shore-mounted coastal artillery.

Each QE-class battleship had space for 800 15-inch shells, 100 per gun.

At sea. 1943. Aboard HMS Malaya. Maneuvering “iron ration” 15-inch projectiles in the shell room of the 31,000-ton battleship. (British Admiralty photograph, 16968 MAS). AWM 128469

When it came to fire control, they were built with five 15-foot Barr & Stroud FT type tripod-mounted rangefinders (one in each turret and one in the Gunnery Control Tower), along with three 9-foot RFs in the foretop and Turret Control Tower. While all of this was linked by phone, there were also Evershed bearing indicators which could transmit to each main turret from the GCT along with Barr & Stroud Mark III single range transmitters and receivers. Each ship carried a central Mark IV Dreyer Table while each turret had a Dreyer Turret Control Table. This was not your father’s dreadnought, and most of this gear was installed for the first time on a battleship with the QEs.

The secondary battery was made up of 16 (later 14) 6″/45 Mk XIIs in casemates, while a handful of smaller guns (two 3″/45 QF Mk I, and four 47mm Hotchkiss 3-pounders) gave a thin veneer of theoretical defense against zeppelins and torpedo boats. Four 21-inch torpedo tubes were mounted on the beam, with a magazine able to carry 20 fish, typically Mark IVs during the Great War.

Designed to take damage and keep fighting, they had 26 watertight bulkheads with up to 6 inches of armor, a 13-inch lower belt, 11 inches on the gunhouses and conning tower, and even armored funnel tops to help prevent light aerial bombs from dropping down the stacks into the fire room. Jane’s noted in 1921, “Internal protection on these ships is very fine.”

The first British battlewagons with an “All-Oil” suite, these ships had a lot of power under the hood, nearly twice as much as the Iron Dukes that preceded them by just a couple of years. While Iron Duke had 18 boilers and four Parsons steam turbines using a mix of both coal and oil to generate 29,000 shp for 21 knots, Queen Elizabeth and her class added a third more boilers (24), efficiently burning all-oil, and four turbines to produce 56,000 shp for 23 knots. With forced draft and the boilers overloaded, they could hit 24-25 knots for brief periods of time. For example, on her two-hour full power speed trials in late 1915, Malaya clocked 25 knots but had to generate 76,074shp to do it! Further, the high speed could be maintained longer than on coal-burning ships due to the fact they didn’t have to fight against ash accumulation and stoker fatigue, something that later became an issue with the Germans at Jutland as the battle wore on.

Another big advantage the class had over every coal-burner was that the lack of heavy coal smoke, especially in high speed operations, made them a better gunnery platform simply because the spotters and fire control setters could actually see what was going on around them.

Jane’s 1914 entry for the Queen Elizabeth class battleships, featuring a very clean line drawing:

While it was envisioned from the start that the ships of this class would form their own dedicated “fast division” in the battleline, in the interest of peacetime detached service, all were set up to accommodate an admiral and staff, with QE, Barham, and Warspite later having a stern walk/smoking deck installed, accessed from the admiral’s cabin.

All in all, especally in Britain, these 25-knot/15-inch gunned vessels were considered quite commanding when built and would maintain their “Rex Montis” status even after other RN battleship classes followed on, with the later Royal Sovereign/Revenge class being basically a slower (21 knots on 18 boilers) and cheaper version of the QEs, the 1920s Nelson “Treaty” class twins likewise still being slower (23 knots) although arguably better armed with nine all-forward 16″/45s, and even the much faster (28 knot) King George V class ships of the late 1930s only carrying 14″/45s, albeit with the latter having a markedly better armor scheme.

Jane’s noted in their 1921 edition:

“In appearance and general design, these five ships are the finest in the British Navy. Their decks are remarkably clear, and internal arrangements are very spacious. Taken all around, they present the most successful type of capital ship yet designed.”

Each vessel was constructed at a different yard, with class leader Queen Elizabeth built at Portsmouth Dockyard, Warspite at Devon Dockyard, Barham at John Brown (Clydebank), Valiant at Fairfield (Govan) and Malaya at Armstrong. This allowed them to be built more or less simultaneously, laid down within 364 days between October 1912 and October 1913, and all commissioned between January 1915 and February 1916, a remarkable achievement for any era. Could you imagine designing, ordering, building, and delivering five of the best capital ships in the world at the time in just under five years?

The first four were paid for under the 1912 Estimates while the fifth, Malaya, was a gift. In all, the Admiralty put down just over £15 million for the class, or £1.4 billion in today’s equivalent, which is still a bit of a bargain.

A sixth unit, Agincourt, was ordered under the 1914 Programme but as she had not been laid down the order was cancelled shortly after the outbreak of war.

Meet HMS Malaya

Our subject was the first of HM’s warships named after the Malay states of Selangor, Perak, Negeri Sembilan and Pahang, which had been first colonized by the British in 1826 and were British protectorates, organized as the Federated Malay States in 1895.

She was fully funded at significant cost (£2,945,709) by the FMS Council and flew the states’ distinctive white-red-yellow-and black striped tiger flag in a four-triangle naval ensign, sans cat, from her bow on special occasions.

The Jack was basically a British P&O Lines House Flag with blue and red swapped and the former replaced with black.

The ship received a set of silk flags presented by the European Ladies of the Federated States; a 30-foot White Ensign, a 15-foot Union Jack, a 15-foot Malayan Jack, and two miniature Malayan Jacks for the ship’s chapel.

HMS Malaya, anchored in her original pre-1927 twin-stack configuration. Note the White (St George’s) Ensign on her stern, the National (Union) Jack on her bow, and the FSM Jack on the top of her Foremast head.

The tiger, however, was carried over to the ship’s crest, complete with a fearsome Malay Keris Sundang (kris) sword.

In a similar vein, there had been a short-lived plan for Canada by its Prime Minister Borden (in consultation with First Sea Lord Winston Churchill) to pay some $35 million for three additional Queen Elizabeth-class vessels, to be named HMCS Acadia, Ontario, and Quebec, but that didn’t materialize, and Canada never did get a proper battleship of its own.

Malaya was the only member of her five-ship class constructed at Armstrong Whitworth, South Tyneside, laid down as Yard No. 867 on 20 October 1913. She hit the water, eight months after the Great War began, on 18 March 1915. Outfitted and delivered, she commissioned on 1 February 1916, the last member of her class to enter service.

When she entered the fleet, she carried pennant No. 3A (her sisters were all wildly different, in RN fashion, carrying 10, 57, 97, and 34, respectively).

Malaya’s first skipper was 45-year-old Capt. Algernon D.E.H. Boyle, RN, a regular with a reputation for being a naval marksman who earned the Goodenough Medal in 1891 for his top gunnery marks as a cadet and 21 years later became the Captain of the Devonport Gunnery School. Before moving into the unfinished captain’s cabin of Malaya in November 1915, Boyle had a full career, shipping out on HMS Royal Sovereign, Indefatigable, and Dreadnought, then commanding the old battlewagon HMS Hibernia and the cruisers HMS Edgar, Cumberland, and Bacchante.

Jutland

Commissioned just 120 days before the great naval clash at Jutland/Skagerrak, our subject was one of the youngest capital ships of either side, only beaten by the ill-fated German battlecruiser SMS Lutzow, which had only commissioned on 20 March 1916.

Of the 29 British battlewagons at the engagement, Malaya and three of her four sisters (Queen Elizabeth was undergoing maintenance in dry dock) were clustered together in the 5th Battle Squadron of the Grand Fleet under the command of RADM Hugh Evan-Thomas, whose flag was on Barham.

The Famous 5th Battle Squadron, consisting of the Queen Elizabeth class, of which four fought at Jutland. 1920 watercolor by Frank Watson Wood.

HMS Warspite and Malaya seen from HMS Valiant at 14:00 hrs on 31 May 1916 during the Battle of Jutland. Two hours later they would be in the thick of it. IWM Q 114833

The 5th took part in the initial “Run to the South,” coming up just behind VADM David Beatty’s battlecruisers. Sailing into the maelstrom that Beatty found himself in, they punished the advancing High Sea Fleet’s own battlecruisers of Von Hipper’s Scouting Group, being sandwiched between two German battle lines as they provided cover for Beatty’s “Turn to the North.”

In all, 5BS came into action against the German battlecruisers at 16.08 and fired their last shots at 19.30.

Admiral Beatty’s Battle Cruisers at Jutland; with HMS ‘Lion’ leading, 31 May 1916, about 19.20. The ships left to right are HMS Defence, Warrior, Lion, Princess Royal, Tiger, New Zealand, Barham, Warspite, Valiant and Malaya (the last four being battleships). By William Lionel Wyllie RMG PW2246

British battleships of the Fifth Battle Squadron at the Battle of Jutland, 31 May 1916 by Arthur Douglas Wales-Smith

5th Battle Squadron at Jutland Arthur Douglas Wales Smith RMG BHC0663

The four sisters delivered an estimated 24 hits on the German battlecruisers SMS Lutzow and Seydlitz. Lutzow, already damaged from hits from HMS Lion and Princess Royal, eventually sank, a bit of quick payback for the punishment she helped deliver to the battlecruiser HMS Invincible and armored cruiser HMS Defence at the start of the battle. Seydlitz, a famous “shell magnet,” somehow limped back home with 5,300 tons of seawater onboard and her topside wrecked.

German battle cruiser Seydlitz burns in the Battle of Jutland, May 31, 1916

Of the 1,355 shells fired by 5BS at Jutland, Malaya fired the most (421), with flagship Barham firing 335, Warspite 311, and Valiant 288. In fact, Malaya was only bested by the battlecruiser HMS New Zealand, which fired 430 shells. Of note, the 1,355 rounds fired by the 5BS are nearly a third of the 4,354 shells fired by the entire Grand Fleet, while its four battleships made up only about an eighth of the capital ships in the British line.

The four sisters also showed they could take massive punishment and keep fighting, with Warspite suffering 30 casualties from 15 direct hits from German 11- and 12-inch shells, with one jamming her steering gear and leaving her in a “death circle” long enough for a struggling cruiser, HMS Warrior, to escape. Barham took six large caliber hits which caused over 70 casualties. Our Malaya, the last ship in 5BS’s battle line, suffered eight 12-inch hits, which left her with a 4-degree list from a waterline hit, along with 65 killed and 68 wounded–  the worst butcher’s bill of any surviving British battleship in the battle.

The fact that Malaya wasn’t hit more during the escape from the High Seas Fleet is likely due to a subterfuge by quick-thinking Captain Boyle, who ordered his starboard secondary battery of 6-inch guns to fire deliberately well short into the sea to throw up a wall of waterspouts to confuse the German spotters as to their shot fall and range. The battery, however, had 104 of its 121 men killed or wounded when the final German 15-inch shell hit it square, causing fierce cordite fire.

The rest of Malaya’s Great War

Immediately after the battle, the 5BS was in bad shape, with Warspite sent for repairs in No. 1 dry dock at Rosyth, Barham sent for repairs at Devonport, and Malaya repaired in the floating dock at Invergordon.

Only Valiant did not require any extensive repairs and, in fact, emerged remarkably unscathed, a lucky ship indeed!

Malaya would remain in Invergordon for eight weeks to patch up her damage.

HMS Malaya at the Invergordon dry dock between June and July 1916, undergoing repairs after Jutland. Invergordon Archives Photo No. 1397.

A great stern shot with her four screws. HMS Malaya at the Invergordon dry dock between June and September 1916, undergoing repairs after Jutland. Invergordon Archives Photo No. 1375.

Rejoining the Grand Fleet, the freshly-repaired Malaya sortied again on 18 August to meet the Germans and intercept the High Seas Fleet on the way to raid the port of Sunderland, courtesy of Room 40 signals intelligence. However, Scheer had the benefit of a U-boat screen and two zeppelins, so the two battle lines never got to within 50 miles of each other before he turned back home on the 20th. The guns remained quiet, with the only blows delivered between the two fleets being from submarine torpedoes.

A port quarter view of the Queen Elizabeth-class battleship HMS Malaya at Scapa Flow on 27th August 1916. This photograph was taken from HMS Queen Elizabeth. Ahead of her and to the left of the picture are two of her sister ships, Barham and Valiant. Note the plated-over apertures for the two rear BL 6-inch Mk XII naval guns that were never fitted. Photo via Clydebank Battlecruisers

HMS Warspite, HMS Malaya, HMS Valiant and HMS Barham in formation.

With that, our battleship spent the next two years in a cycle of limited patrol work as the High Seas Fleet became stationary. Malaya had some modernizations during this period, as did her sisters, to include the addition of another inch of plating over magazines on their lower and middle deck levels, removing two of the 6″/45 open mounts, and adding two additional 3″/46 Mk 1 guns to increase anti-air defense.

Speaking of aircraft, it was at about this time that the class was fitted with short (20-30 foot) flying-off platforms constructed atop turrets “B” & “X” to be used for little Sopwith Scout (Pup) single-seaters or two-seat Sopwith 1 1/2 Strutters.

Malaya circa 1918 with Sopwith on her turret. IWM (Q 75202)

These aircraft were micro-sized scout fighters, running just 19 (Pup) to 25 (Strutter) feet long and had a max take-off weight of 2,100 pounds (just 1,200 for the Pup), making them basically a step up from powered kites. They had teeth in the form of .303 caliber machine guns, and vetted the flying-off theory, with a Pup flown from a platform on the cruiser HMS Yarmouth downing the German Zeppelin L 23 off the Danish coast in 1917.

 

HMS Malaya Sopwith 1 1/2 Strutter being hoisted onto the flying-off platform, with the gun tube being used as a crane

Sopwith 1 1/2 Strutter takes off from the launch pad of turret B of the battleship HMS Malaya

She met the Germans one more time in the war: when the Grand Fleet stood by to escort the 74 ships of the HSF to internment at Scapa Flow in late November 1918.  By that time, she was carrying pennant 06, after briefly carrying 84 for the first three months of the year. She would shift to her final pennant, 01, in November 1919.

By then, it was a totally different world.

Interbellum

HMS Malaya in her original configuration, with her crew manning the rails. Note she has unoccupied flying off platforms on her B and X turret tops and her glad rags flying. This would date the photo to between April 1918 and 1922, with the latter more likely.

In February 1920, Malaya carried the Allied Peace Commission from England to Germany to enforce the peace treaty, part of a series of ancillary tasks performed over the next two decades by the battleship, punctuated by refits and rebuilds.

Queen Elizabeth-class battleship HMS Malaya travels through the Suez Canal, 25-27 December 1920. Note her flying off platforms but no aircraft.

Jane’s for the class, circa 1921:

In November 1922, she was tapped to carry the disgraced last Sultan of the Ottoman Empire, Mehmed VI, from Istanbul into exile on Malta after the 600-year Sultanate was abolished by the new Turkish republic.

Ottoman Sultan Mehmed VI; the shot at the end is of him arriving at Malta on Malaya.

Mehmed only remained on Malta a few months, living in an apartment in the Pini Barracks, before leaving for Arabia as a guest of King Hussein (yes, the same guy who led the revolt against the Sultan in 1916) and finally dying in Italy in 1926.

Malaya at Malta sometime between May 1926 and 1927.

Between September 1927 and February 1929, Malaya was in the shipyard as part of an 18-month modernization. This saw massive anti-torpedo bulges fitted bulges were fitted which increased her beam from 90 feet to 104. These added 815 tons to the ship but were thought to be able to resist a direct hit from a 700-pound warhead.

Her engineering suite was rebuilt with her two funnels trunked into one. Gone were her flying off platforms, two torpedo tubes, and her 3″/45s, replaced by four newer 4″/45 QF Mk Vs. By this time, her displacement had increased to 30,000 tons but, with the upgraded plant, was still capable of 23.5 knots. Her four sisters received similar conversions between 1924 and 1934, for £1 million per hull.

HMS Malaya in 1929 after conversion

Jane’s on the class, circa 1929:

HMS Barham in heavy seas, while participating in exercises of the Atlantic and Mediterranean Fleets near the Balearic Islands, circa the later 1920s, as seen from HMS Rodney. Barham is followed by the battleship Malaya and the aircraft carrier Argus. U.S. Naval History and Heritage Command Photograph. NH 61776

Queen Elizabeth-class battleship HMS Malaya pictured in Norway, June 15th 1932. Norwegian State Archives.

Placed in ordinary once again from October 1934 to December 1936, Malaya’s second major reconstruction saw her receive extra main deck armor over her engine rooms (3.25 inches) and magazines (5 inches) to help protect against more modern bombs. Her old conning tower was replaced with a lighter one with just 5 inches of armor (down from 11) to help trim topside weight. She landed her 4″/45s that were mounted in the 1920s as well as her final two torpedo tubes. She then picked up four new 4″/45 QF Mk XVIs, two octuple 40mm 2-pounder Vickers pom-pom mounts, and four .50 cal Vickers Mk III quads.

Queen Elizabeth-class battleship HMS Malaya in 1936, after her second modernization. 

Meanwhile, an athwartship D-II-H catapult was fitted before the main mast with hangar space established for up to four seaplanes, putting her back in the aviation business for the first time in more than a decade. She carried Fairey IIIFs for a minute then switched to Fairey Swordfish I “Stringbag” floatplanes operated by 700 Squadron, Fleet Air Arm. Such “Catapult Flight” detachments, depending on how many aircraft they had, would typically have 2-4 flying officers/observers and 8-12 maintenance ratings.

Fairey Swordfish V4367, 700 Sqn, being hoisted aboard HMS Malaya, 1 October 1941

V4367 in color plate via Profile Publications No. 212, 1972.

With a 75,000 shp plant due to a new six-pack of Admiralty 3-drum boilers and new turbines, she was rated for 25 knots even though her displacement had swelled to 35,100 tons, full.

By the late 1930s, Malaya and sister Barham had lagged behind sisters Queen Elizabeth, Warspite, and Valiant in terms of upgrades. While the latter three sported a new profile from a more extensive 1930s £2.1 million rebuild (as opposed to Malaya and Barham’s more miserly £976,000 refit), the others still looked mostly the same.

Importantly, the ships which got the more expensive refit saw their gun houses tweaked to be able to elevate their barrels to 30 degrees (from the old 20), which, when combined with a new streamlined ballistic cap (6crh) on their shells, pushed the range of their 15″/42s out to an amazing 32,000 yards. Malaya and Barham never got that elevation upgrade, though they did get a slight range boost to 23,700 yards when using the new 6crh capped shells.

HMS Malaya unleashes a broadside in 1939

Jane’s even considered the two as separate from the rest of the class, as noted by their entry.

Barham and Malaya 1938 Janes.

The U.S. Navy did the same, as shown in ONI 202.

As the Arab revolt engulfed British-controlled Palestine, Malaya was sent to Haifa in August–September 1938 to wave the flag and try to impress the locals.

She also clocked in on the Spanish Civil War Neutrality Patrol, policing the coastlines controlled by Franco’s Nationalists, which included the peripheries of Gibraltar.

HMS Malaya in service with the Mediterranean Fleet between 1937-1939, with Spanish Civil War neutrality stripes just visible on the side of B Turret.

HMS Malaya, HMS Warspite and HMS Nelson, March 1938. Note the neutrality stripes 

HMS Resolution together with HMS Warspite, HMS Malaya, HMS Royal Oak and HMS Rodney in Torbay, August 8, 1939. Note the lingering neutrality stripes

Another War

When the Germans marched into Poland in September 1939, Malaya was deployed with the Mediterranean Fleet at Alexandria as part of the 1st Battle Squadron with her sisters Warspite and Barham.

HMS Nelson, HMS Rodney, HMS Malaya, HMS Valiant, HMS Queen Elizabeth and HMS Barham, October 1939

Joining with the carrier HMS Glorious, the squadron, along with a cruiser-destroyer screen, sailed through the Suez to conduct anti-raider sweeps of the Indian Ocean throughout October and November, with the group later designated Force J.

It was in this period roaming from Aden to Durban and back that Malaya and company was on the fruitless prowl for the pocket battleship Graf Spee in mid-November when the raider sank the small British tanker Africa Shell (706 GRT) off the eastern coastline of Mozambique and stopped the Dutch merchant Mapia.

With Graf Spee confirmed in the South Atlantic (and duly run to ground in mid-December), Malaya got orders to head to the North Atlantic for convoy duty.

By 24 December 1939 she was in Gibraltar and arrived at Halifax on 2 January 1940. Two weeks later, Malaya sailed with her first of three nearly back-to-back trans-Atlantic convoys, HX 016, later covering HX 026 and HX 032 by mid-April. Notably, while on HX 026, Malaya had to sink one of her merchantmen, the British steamer Rossington Court (6922 GRT), after the latter suffered a crippling collision and had to be abandoned.

One of those return trips from the Clyde to Halifax saw Malaya secretly carrying a load of gold bullion for transfer to Canada for safekeeping, part of Operation Fish.

Separated from HX 032 at Plymouth on 14 April 1940, Malaya got orders to rejoin the unit she had started the war with, the 1BS, reinforcing the Med for the expected entry of Italy into the war. She duly arrived in Alexandria on 3 May.

By early July, she was part of Force C, centered around the carrier HMS Eagle, joined by the battleship HMS Royal Sovereign, and a squadron of destroyers.

Sailing on Operation MA 5, the escort of Convoy MS 1, they met the Italian fleet at sea on the 9th in what is remembered as the Battle of Calabria (Punta Stilo). The swirling surface gun battle was conducted at long range with few hits on either side, with Malaya’s 15 inchers maxing out and falling 2,700 yards short of the Italian battleship Giulio Cesare while sister Warspite, steaming alongside Malaya and carrying improved 30 degree elevation gun houses giving her longer range, was straddled at 26,000 yards by the Italians and in turn made a hit on Cesare from that distance– one of the longest documented gun hits on record in naval combat.

Malaya then helped provide escort for the Aegean convoys AN 2 and AS 2, the bombardment of Italian positions around the fortress of Bardia on 17 August, and Operation Hats (convoys MF 2 from Alexandria to Malta and AS 3 from Piraeus to Port Said).

Then came more convoy support and Operation BN (the first British landings on Crete), with Malaya at the time the 1BS flagship of RADM Rawlings.

Malaya started 1941 in Gibraltar, then sailed on 7 January part of Force H with the battlecruiser HMS Renown and the carrier HMS Ark Royal to cover the passage of additional convoys to Malta and Piraeus. Encountering fierce attacks from Italian SM79s, Force H had to return to The Rock four days later.

L-toR: HMS Ark Royal, HMS Malaya, and HMS Renown departing Gibraltar 

Plastering Genoa

On 9 February 1941, Malaya was part of Force H during Operations Picket, Result, and Grog, and bombarded Genoa. The Brits lost a single aircraft that day (one of Ark Royal’s Swords) but sank four cargo ships and damaged 18 more. During the engagement, Malaya fired 148 rounds of 15-inch CPC, besting HMS Renown’s 125 rounds. The cruiser HMS Sheffield fired 782 rounds of 6-inch HE. As for Ark Royal, her 13 Swords were busy, loaded to the gills with 250-pound bombs and incendiaries.

A salvo from Malaya landed just 50 yards short of the Italian battleship Duilio, at the time undergoing repairs in dry dock north of Molo Giano (Giano Pier). Another of her 15-inch AP shells hit the historic Cathedral of San Lorenzo (Duomo di Genova) but failed to detonate, miraculously coming to rest in the sanctuary between the confessional booths.

Scaring off Scharnhorst and Gneisenau

On 17 February 1941, Malaya left Gibraltar headed to Freetown as part of the escort for Convoy WS6A, arriving 2,000 miles away in Sierra Leone at the end of the month without much delay.

While escorting the 54 merchant ships of Convoy SL 67 from Freetown to Liverpool in March 1941, Malaya was the big-gunned escort flagship and only assisted by the destroyers HMS Faulknor and Forester, the armed merchant cruiser HMS Cilicia, corvette Asphodel, the armed trawlers HMS Kelt, Spaniard, and Turcoman.

On the afternoon of 8 March, Malaya’s embarked Swordfish floatplanes briefly sighted the German battlecruisers Scharnhorst and Gneisenau steaming towards the convoy– tough work for a slow battleship and a couple of tin cans. Commanded by RADM Gunther Lütjens, the two were six weeks into their Operation Berlin anti-shipping sortie.

Following the report of the sighting, Malaya and the two destroyers left the convoy to chase and engage the enemy. After three hours of closing to gun range, the German battlecruisers turned away and applied their greater speed, apparently not wanting to duke it out with Malaya’s 15-inch guns although their own 11″/54 SK C/34s were capable of 40,000 yards, outranging the lone English capital ship which was able to come to within 26,000 yards of Scharnhorst before they turned.

Pity, as it surely would have been a good fight pitting speed vs muscle with Faulknor and Forester as wild cards.

Lutjens then sent in his supporting submarines, U-105 and U-124, to zap Malaya that night so he could revisit SL 67 but, while the two boats sank five merchantmen in the darkness, they somehow failed to locate the giant British battleship in their midst. Lutjens turned back out into the Atlantic in search of easier prey.

As a sidenote, Swordfish P4073 of 700 squadron from Malaya ran out of fuel whilst shadowing Scharnhorst on 8 March 1941. The floating aircraft and crew were recovered by the Spanish liner Cabo de Buena Esperanza off the Canary Islands and interned, with P4073 entering service with the Spanish as HR6-1 of 54 Escuadrilla out of Tenerife for the rest of the war. The crew was later repatriated to Britain in 1942, and the Spanish bought P4073 for 1,200,000 pesetas.

Headed to the Big Apple

Although she managed to escape Lutjens’ two U-boats, Malaya’s luck ran out two weeks later when, while escorting SL-68 some 250 miles west-northwest of the Cape Verde Islands on the night of 20 March 1941, the battleship was hit by a torpedo fired at long range by U-106 (Jürgen Oesten). Suffering no casualties but developing a 7-degree list and shedding speed, Malaya was still afloat and functional but was forced to leave her convoy behind and make for the closest friendly port in Trinidad, making Port of Spain three days later.

From there, she left Trinidad after temporary repairs and made it to the Brooklyn Navy Yard on 6 April, where she became the first British ship repaired in a U.S. yard during the war (keep in mind America was still eight months out from Pearl Harbor and officially neutral.

It was while in Brooklyn that her skipper at the time, Capt. (later ADM Sir) Arthur F.E. Palliser, accepted the transfer of four decommissioned 250-foot Lake class cutters (ex-USCGC Saranac, Mendota, Tahoe, and Pontchartrain) on 30 April 1941 as part of the “Destroyers for Bases” deal. These would become the sloops HMS Banff, Culver, Fishguard, and Hartland, with their new crews provided from among Malaya’s complement. Two of these four cutters-turned-sloops would be sunk by the end of 1942.

An incredible series of RN images were snapped as the repaired Malaya sortied out of the Big Apple, headed back to war in July.

HMS Malaya, escorted by tugs, leaving New York harbor after refit in the United States. Part of the Brooklyn Bridge can be seen in the background. IWM (A 5444)

HMS Malaya, escorted by tugs, leaving New York harbor after refit in the United States. The Statue of Liberty is on the right in the distance. IWM (A 5443)

IWM (A 5435)

IWM (A 5445)

From New York, she sailed for Halifax to join Convoy TC 12 as an escort for four large 20,000-ton troopships (Duchess of York, Empress of Canada, Orion, and Strathmore).

Arriving back in the Home Isles for the first time since April 1940, Malaya arrived in the Clyde on 28 July 1941. Once back home, she received a whole array of new sensors including Type 281 air warning radar and Types 282, 284, and 285 fire control radars along with another 11 20mm Oerlikon singles in place of her four quad .50 cal Vickers.

Back to the Med

On 27 October 1941, Malaya arrived at Gibraltar to join Force H where she became VADM Somerville’s flagship.

A Fairey Mk I Swordfish seaplane catapulted from the deck of HMS Malaya, October 1941. IWM (A 5691)

Within two weeks, she was sailing East as part of Operation Perpetual, carrying aircraft through the Axis gauntlet to Malta aboard the carriers Ark Royal and Argus. While they were able to get close enough to Malta to launch 37 Hurricanes to reinforce the island, on the return voyage, Ark Royal was torpedoed by a German U-boat and sank, a costly trade.

On 19 December, Malaya became the only operational Allied battleship in the Mediterranean as sisters Queen Elizabeth and Valiant were knocked out by Italian frogmen in Alexandria. Valiant was knocked out of action for about 6 months (until August 1942), while Queen Elizabeth was off-line for over two years, returning to service in January 1944. Warspite, damaged by German bombs, had left the theater in June 1941, headed to the U.S. for repairs at Bremerton, then would spend 1942 in the Indian Ocean. Tragically, sister Barham had been torpedoed and sunk by U-331 off the Egyptian coast in November 1941.

Nonetheless, Malaya wasn’t kept preserved in a bottle. There was work to be done, including escorting vital troopship convoys (WS 16 and WS 17A) past Gibraltar, getting Spitfires to Malta (Operation Spotter in February 1942, Operations Spotter II, Picket I and Picket II in March), and the epic Harpoon (MW4) Convoy in June during which only two of the six supply ships made it to Malta. Harpoon saw repeated attacks by 175 land-based Italian aircraft, augmented by German Ju-88s, but still managed to get 15,000 tons of desperately needed supplies to the besieged island.

15 June 1942, Malaya under attack by Italian torpedo aircraft off Pantelleria during the Harpoon Convoy. Luce photo.

Light duty

Given a break and temporarily leaving no British battleships in the Med for the first time in over 40 years, Malaya was sent from Gibraltar on 24 June to join the escort for slow Capetown/Durban-bound Convoy WS 20. She then escorted Convoy RT 1 from South Africa to Freetown on the return leg.

Arriving at Rosyth on 8 October, Malaya, showing her age and mechanical deficiencies, entered refit which lasted until late November. Her catapult and seaplane equipment were removed, and she received two twin 4″/50 Mark XVIs, two more 40mm octuple Vickers pom poms, and  Type 273 radar.

She also sported a Western Approaches style camo scheme by this time in her career.

HMS Malaya in camouflage during WWII by Norman Wilkinson

Then came work ups, trials, and exercises in the Firth of Forth and off Scapa Flow that continued for the next year with a few noted breaks to include clocking in briefly on a series of passing convoys (WS 27 and KMF 10A) and sailing with mixed RN/USN task groups in the Atlantic (including the battleships USS Alabama and South Dakota in May 1943 followed by the carrier USS Ranger and cruiser Tuscaloosa that August 1943).

May 1943. IWM caption: One of the 6 inch guns on board battleship HMS Malaya. The crew is wearing anti-flash gear; some are operating the gun or ramming home a shell whilst others supply it with further ammunition. Propellant charges for the guns are contained within the card and leather Clarkson cases which are over two sailors’ shoulders. IWM A 16964

HMS Malaya leads USS South Dakota and USS Alabama through the North Atlantic, May 1943. These operations were part of Operation Camera, which was a feint towards Norway to throw the Germans off the scent of the upcoming Husky landings in Sicily. Later ops with USS Ranger were part of the similar Operation Governor to mask the Avalanche landings in Italy.

Royal Navy battleship, HMS Malaya, in Scapa Flow, Orkney Islands, Scotland, August 1943. NHHC 80-G-81451

King George VI inspects Queen Elizabeth-class battleship HMS Malaya, August 1943, with one of the ship’s four twin 4″/50 Mark XVIs behind him and a Royal Marine-manned Oerlikon 20mm single in the foreground, one of 17 installed at the time. By the end of the war, Malaya had six twin 4″/50s and 47 Oerlikons, plus pom poms. IWA A18624

Testbed

While at Plymouth on 15 October 1943, the battleships Malaya and Valiant exchanged crews, with the latter battleship headed to join the Eastern Fleet in Ceylon to fight against the Japanese. Meanwhile, Malaya was paid off to reserve at Faslane because of her overall poor machinery state.

She was just worn out.

They made some improvements, landing all 12 of her old 6″/45s, which included removing her casemate armor and plating over the empty ports with two-inch plates. Also gone were her Type 273 and 281 radars, replaced with newer Type 277SQ and 281Bs, along with a Type 650 countermeasures suite.

By this stage in the war, she still had her 15″/42s, which, with new maximum load Super Charges that traded gun life for range, were able to fire out to 28,800 yards when using 6crh shells, even with just a 20-degree elevation. She also had 12 4″/45 Mk XIXs, four octuple 40mm Vickers pom poms, and 47 Oerlikons along with Type 281B, 282, 284, and 285 fire controls. In this final form, she had a full load displacement of 37,710 tons but struggled to break 20 knots.

Between 15 and 17 May 1944, Malaya was used as a testbed for a device intended to kill the dreaded German battleship Tirpitz as she hid in her Norwegian fjord.

A 10-minute video exists in the IWM of Malaya acting as a target ship at Loch Striven and Reculver, Scotland, for RAF De Havilland Mosquitos, Vickers Wellingtons, and SBD testing inert experimental Highball “Bouncing Bomb” cases designed by Barnes Wallis. She was swathed in splinter nets and hydrosphere booms so as to prevent damage, although at least two punched a hole in the ship’s side.

While Barnes developed a production 1,200-pound Highball war-shot bomb for Tirpitz with data from the tests on Malaya, they weren’t needed as the German had been capsized by dozens of his 12,000-pound Tallboy earthquake bombs in three raids (Paravane, Obviate, and Catechism) between September and November 1944.

By that time, the abused Malaya was already back in action.

Last Hurrah

For Overlord/Neptune, a total of seven British and American battleships delivered naval gunfire support at Normandy. Of these, five directly participated in the bombardment on D-Day, while the other two remained in reserve and would join the bombardment force later in June. Three were American (USS Arkansas, Texas, and Nevada), while four, including the two that joined later, were British (HMS Ramillies, Warspite, and the sister ships Nelson and Rodney). Additionally, the decommissioned old French Courbet and British HMS Centurion were towed in just after the landings and used as immobile breakwaters/AAA batteries.

Malaya missed out on the first few weeks of the Normandy landings but, in the event the primary battlewagons were forced to retire due to issues or damage, our very worn-out Malaya was recommissioned on 22 June (D+16) and took passage to Portsmouth to make ready to join the gunline, just in case, as a reserve for the reserve. As it happened, with Warspite developing machinery defects and Nelson hitting two sea mines in the campaign, Malaya got the call.

It was in this effort that she fired her final shots in anger,  delivering some 120 15-inch rounds between 30 August and 2 September 1944 against the heavily fortified German garrison on the island of Cezembre near Saint-Malo. Malaya reported having obtained hits on both battery positions and on the barracks. The 12,000 surviving Germans on the island, a mix of “ear and stomach” men and turncoat Russians stiffened by a couple of battalions of Fallschirmjägers, surrendered to troops of the U.S. 83rd Infantry Division on 2 September.

In October 1944, with the campaign moving inland for the final act of the European Theatre and her usefulness in the Pacific in doubt, Malaya was once more paid off into Reserve at Faslane, where she would remain until after VE Day, when she was converted to an unarmed accommodation and training ship for continued use at Portsmouth for Torpedo School duties.

HMS Malaya at Greenock, 1944. IWM (FL 9315)

battleships HMS Ramillies HMS Malaya at HMS Vernon 1947 by Charles Edward Turner via NMM

By the end of the war, she carried six battle honors: Jutland 1916 – Atlantic 1940-41 – Calabria 1940 – Mediterranean 1940-41 – Malta Convoys 1941-42 – English Channel 1944.

Between 28 November 1915 and May 1945, she had 29 captains. Of these, six would become full admirals, another seven would be vice admirals, and five would be rear admirals. Among these would be her first skipper and Jutland commander, the future Admiral Sir Algernon Douglas Edward Harry Boyle, K.C.B., C.M.G., M.V.O., who retired in 1924 after a stint as Fourth Sea Lord.

Her motto was Malem Fero Malis (“I bring evil to the evil”).

The old girl was placed on the Disposal List in 1947 and sold to BISCO the next year for breaking at Faslane. None of her remaining sisters remained out of the scrap yard past 1950.

Epilogue

Our subject was the only ship to carry the name of the British territory, with Malaysia gaining its independence in 1957. It is still a Commonwealth nation, and HMS Malaya’s contributions are well remembered, with several relics of the battleship held in reverence.

Royal Malaysian Navy personnel visiting the Malaysian National Hydrographic Centre, where an original war-flown white ensign from HMS Malaya is preserved.

Her main ship’s bell is in the elite East India Club in London, while her Second Watch bell was given to the Victoria Institution in Kuala Lumpur to replace the school’s original bell, which was lost during the Japanese occupation.

In 2007, the school presented this bell to the Royal Malaysian Navy, and it is on display at the National Hydrography Centre, Pulau Indah Naval Base, in Selangor.

Several preserved 15-inch Mark I naval guns survive, leaving a chance that at least one of them may have cycled through Malaya’s gun houses over her career.

A replica of her unexploded 15-inch shell that hit the Cathedral of San Lorenzo in Genoa during Operation Grog in 1941 is maintained in the church’s sanctuary.

Her last surviving crewmember was likely Alec King, who gave an interview in 2019 at age 96.

She also lives on in maritime art.

HMS Malaya by Norman Wilkinson, National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, BHC3470.

HMS Malaya under tow, a view looking back at the bows of the battleship from a tug, sailing with two other tugs on either side. By Stephen Bone, War Artists Advisory Committee commission, 1944. IWM (Art.IWM ART LD 4145)

HMS Malaya leaving anchorage. By Stephen Bone, War Artists Advisory Committee commission, 1944. Russell-Cotes Art Gallery & Museum. BORGM 00313

HMS Malaya Refueling Destroyers at Sea by Rowland Langmaid, National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, BHC1584

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

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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!

Warship Wednesday 1 July 2026: The Klinker Dinker

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 1 July 2026: The Klinker Dinker

Above we see a great period Kodachrome of the well-armed Crosley-class high-speed transport USS Kleinsmith (APD-134) moored next to the Chicago Sun Times building in July 1959 during the celebration of the opening of the St. Lawrence Seaway.

Laid down in WWII as a destroyer escort but completed as a frogman delivery vehicle, she starred in an iconic movie released some 75 years ago this week on Uncle Sam’s “fin-footed, goggle-eyed, beach-blasting heroes,” before heading off to hold the line in the South China Sea for another 30 years.

The Crosley class

During the early days of WWII, with a dire need for small and fast amphibious warfare vessels, especially in the South Pacific, the Navy quickly converted 32 old flush-deck destroyers left over from the Great War.

Dubbed “Green Dragons,” such conversions meant landing their 4-inch guns, which went on to equip armed merchant ships, as well as their torpedo tubes. Also left behind were half of their boilers, which dropped their speed down to 25 knots. These high-speed transports (APDs) were given a trio of newer high-angle 3-inch/50 guns, one 40 mm AA gun, and five 20 mm AA guns, and the capability to carry up to 300 Marines or soldiers for a brief period. Where torpedo tubes once were, they now carried four 36-foot LCVP landing craft on large davits.

USS Colhoun (APD-2) February 1942. In her Green Dragon configuration 80-G-464374

These converted flush-deckers saw very hard service, with one three out of the four Dragons of TransDiv 12, USS Colhoun (DD-85/APD-2), Gregory (DD-82/APD-3), and Little (DD-79/APD-4), all lost in the Guadalcanal Campaign within a week of each other. The surviving fourth, USS McKean (DD-90/APD-5), was later sunk by a Japanese bomber.

With the concept of destroyer-sized transports vetted and with replacements needed, the Navy soon ordered 99 Buckley– and Rudderow-class destroyer escorts converted as APDs (though five were canceled).

Just under 1,800 tons and 306 feet long, the Rudderows were hardy 23-knot ships that would be classified as sloops or corvettes in other navies, but the term destroyer escort seemed a better fit for the USN and their pair of 5 inch /38 dual purpose mounts, four 40 mm Bofors, ten  20 mm single mount Oerlikons, torpedo tubes and depth charges allowed them to punch out of their weight class. Plus, they could float in just 11 feet of seawater, which meant they could get pretty close into old Hirohito’s backyard.

To maximize their usefulness, these ships were redesigned from the stack back, with the aft 5-incher and torpedo tubes never fitted. This left them with six Bofors in a 3×2 arrangement and six single 20mm mounts along with two stern racks for depth charges. Surface search radar (SA, SF, SL or SU) and a QGA sonar set were standard.

The first Rudderrow APD conversion was USS Crosley (APD-87, ex-DE226) which entered service in October 1944, the leader of what would become a 51-vessel class.

Drink in these images of Crosley-class member USS Joseph M. Auman (APD-117).

Auman carried UDT-7 to the Pacific in late 1945, then was laid up in 1946. In 1963, she was transferred to the Mexican Navy and served as ARM Tehuantupec (H05) until 1989

Their reason for existing was to carry a company-sized element of Marines, UDT teams, Army Rangers, etc., and bring them to the three-fathom line out from the surf, where landing craft would take over and do the rest of the job to get them over-the-beach.

To get their Marines in the water, the Crosleys had four 36-foot LCVP landing craft, each capable of holding 36 men in marching order, able to theoretically land 144 men in a single lift.

A 26-foot whale boat was shoe-horned in to serve as a gig/control vessel. Six 25-man floater nets and eight 25-man balsa wood floats provided emergency accommodations for 350 men should the APD have to be vacated in an emergency, and the boats were not available.

Ship’s crew included a skipper and 10 wardroom officers, 15 CPOs, and 164 crew, all with their own personal gear lockers. Less than luxurious accommodations were provided for 12 “greenside” officers and 150 enlisted, without the aforementioned lockers, as they were supposed to be short-term riders. Total berthing was for 346 souls (24 in officers’ country and 322 assorted enlisted), leaving only six to hot bunk if all the billets were full.

There was also a series of small storage compartments and allotted deck space, designed to carry six 1/4 ton trucks (jeep/GPW equivalent), two M-2-4 1 ton trucks, four ammunition carts, four 75mm M1 pack howitzers, 6,000 cu. ft. of ammo, 3,500 cu. ft. of general cargo (C-rats, etc.), as well as bunker space for 7,000 gallons of mo-gas. With no vehicle deck to speak of and her landing craft in davits, the only way to load these was via the crane on the stern once the Higgins boats were in the water.

The Bethlehem-built Crosley-class high-speed transport USS Scribner (APD-122) underway off Boston on 20 October 1944. She is painted in Camouflage Measure 31, Design 20L. U.S. National Archives photo BS 76150

Crosley-class high-speed transport USS Scribner (APD-122) underway. She earned a single battle star running UDT divers during the Okinawa campaign, was laid up in 1946, then sold for scrap in 1966. NHHC 19-N-76151

Meet Kleinsmith

Our subject was named after Water Tender First Class Charles Kleinsmith (NSN: 2428775), a regular who enlisted in the Navy just after his 18th birthday in 1922. After service as an engineering rate on the battleships USS Wyoming (BB-32) and Maryland (BB-46), cruisers Milwaukee (CL-5), Cincinnati (CL-6), Portland (CA-33), and Honolulu (CL-48), and the carrier Saratoga (CV-3), he transferred to the new flattop Yorktown (CV-5) on Halloween 1940.

He earned a Navy Cross, the kind they give your family after, during the Battle of Midway aboard Yorktown, giving his last to fight a fire in Boiler Room No. 1 and assisted in keeping the boiler under steam to keep the ship’s auxiliary power in operation after a Japanese attack that “enabled the fighting carrier to attain the speed necessary for launching planes to oppose a Japanese aerial attack.” Lost in the battle, he is still listed as missing, presumed dead, promoted to Chief Water Tender, posthumously.

Watertender First Class Charles Kleinsmith

The 25th of the 37 destroyer escorts (Yard Nos. 266-303) ordered from the Defoe Shipbuilding Co of Bay City, Michigan, starting in October 1942, the future USS Kleinsmith was laid down as Defoe Hull No. 291 on 30 August 1944, a Rudderow-class destroyer escort (DE-718).

She was launched 27 January 1945, sponsored by Mrs. Mary Agnes Kleinsmith, Charles’s widow.

Note the fella holding on to the bow!

Towed down the Mississippi to New Orleans via the Illinois River and Lakes Michigan and Huron, she finished outfitting there and was commissioned as USS Crosley (APD-87), 12 June 1945, just before what would have been her namesake’s 41st birthday.

The future USS Kleinsmith (APD-134) in the tow of tug John W. Weeks passing downstream on the Illinois River under the Morris Highway Bridge, 23 May 1945. Kleinsmith was in tow down the Illinois and Mississippi Rivers to New Orleans for commissioning. War Department US Engineers Office, Chicago, IL. Photo #556 from the collections of the Wisconsin Maritime Museum, Home of the SS Cobia. Via Navsource

Making future Kleinsmith (APD-134) fast to the Towboat John W. Weeks at the Marseilles Lock on the Illinois River, 23 May 1945. Kleinsmith was in tow down the Illinois and Mississippi Rivers to New Orleans for commissioning. War Department US Engineers Office, Chicago, IL. Photo #564 from the collections of the Wisconsin Maritime Museum, Home of the SS Cobia. Via Navsource

Her plankowner c/o was LCDR Alden James “Doc” Laborde (USNA 1938). It was the young Louisianan’s third command after being called back from the reserve list in 1942, having been skipper of USS PC-560 and USS Blair (DE 147) on Atlantic duty.

Of note, just two other tin cans were completed by Defoe past Kleinsmith, Hull 292 USS Weiss (DE 719/APD 135) and Hull 293 Carpellotti (DE 720/APD 136), with Hull Nos. 294-303 canceled by the Navy.

War!

Commissioned in the twilight period between VE-Day and VJ-Day, Kleinsmith’s war was short but she still served.

Leaving New Orleans for a shakedown cruise to Guantanamo Bay and post-shakedown availability at Norfolk, she departed the East Coast on 4 August 1945 for the Pacific via the Panama Canal. In post-war interviews with Laborde, he was advised the little APD would be used as a UDT ship for the Operation Olympic Landings in Southern Japan in November, but VJ-Day scrubbed that plan.

After calls at San Diego and Pearl Harbor, she reached Buckner Bay, Okinawa on 1 October and spent the next five months on Occupation duty in Japanese and Chinese waters with Task Group 59.2.

Leaving Sasebo on 21 February 1946, she arrived at San Francisco six weeks later with 118 returning veterans embarked.

With a one-page War History, her crew was eligible for the Navy Occupation Service Medal and China Service Medal (for period 28 September 1945 to 22 February 1946), but Kleinsmith did not rate any battle stars.

None of the 51 Crosley-class APDs were lost in the war, with 34 mothballed in gently used condition by 1947.

One of just 17 Crosleys retained on active duty post-war, Kleinsmith departed the West Coast on 10 April 1946 for the East Coast via the Panama Canal, arriving in Norfolk on 1 May, where she would call home for the rest of her U.S. Navy career.

The 1954 Jane’s entry for the 92 remaining DE-APD conversions still in the U.S. fleet, with the Crosleys (converted Rudderows) lumped in with the Lawrences (converted Buckleys). Most of the ships in both classes were in mothballs at this time:

Cold War

Operating with the UDT frogmen out of Little Creek and assorted East Coast Marine units, Kleinsmith spent the next 14 years on a series of exercises ranging from Puerto Rico (amphibious training at Vieques Island) to Maine (submarine shakedown support), with ship-to-shore, gunfire support, ASW, and antiaircraft drills alternating with seven very real deployments to the Mediterranean during an era where the Soviets were always over the horizon.

USS Kleinsmith (APD-134) during the 1950s with her boats launched. NHHC L45-158.05.02

It was while in the Caribbean on one such exercise that Kleinsmith was tasked with what would be referred to these days as a Non-Combatant Evacuation Operation (NEO) on 24 October 1958 when she rescued 56 U.S. citizens and 3 foreign nationals at Nicaro, Cuba, where they were endangered by military operations ashore between Batista’s Army and Castro’s rebels.

In the summer of 1959 (27 May to 3 August), Kleinsmith became one of the few active duty U.S. warships in modern history to conduct an extended operation on the Great Lakes, transiting the newly opened St. Lawrence Seaway.

In doing so, she was the first naval vessel in several Lake ports in a century or more.

USS Kleinsmith (APD-134) first warship in Ashtabula since 1812. Cleveland Plain Dealer, June 25, 1959

Several images exist of her in Chicago that summer.

USS Kleinsmith (APD-134) moored next to the Sun Time Building at Chicago in July 1959. Kleinsmith was part of the task force that was in Chicago for the opening of the St. Lawrence Seaway.

Same as the above

Movie Star

For three weeks in 1951 (15 January to 6 February) the old “Klinker Dinker” stood by at Naval Station Key West to serve as a floating movie set for the Richard Widmark vehicle, The Frogmen.

Highlighting the efforts of Navy UDT men during WWII, many of the extras on the “set” were real UDT men, brought down by Kleinsmith from Little Creek for the occasion, and the film shows some very realistic depictions of period tactics and methods used by these men.

Our little APD shows up in scene after scene.

The film was a major box-office success, ranking 37th among that year’s top earners.

Distributed by 20th Century Fox, it became a cultural phenomenon and is still widely recognized for bringing scuba diving and underwater action to mainstream audiences, clearing the way for a generation of follow-on “dive suit” movies and no doubt driving eager volunteers to The Teams for decades.

The film also enjoyed a wide overseas release.

Under a New Ensign

Several of the Crosleys that had been laid up in 1946 were held in mothballs for 15 years, then transferred aboard to overseas allies looking for a cheap-to-run escort with low mileage.

Crosley herself was stricken from the Naval Register on 1 June 1960, pulled from her rusty berth at Green Cove Springs, and transferred to Ecuador. Likewise, ex-USS Brock, Tollberg, and Ruchamkin were transferred to Colombia in the 1960s. Ex-USS Rednour went to Mexico in 1969 along with Auman. Four others went to South Korea.

In that vein, Kleinsmith was tapped in late 1959 for transfer to the Republic of China (Taiwan) under the Military Assistance Program.

To support the handover, in early 1960, the ROCN sent a 20-person team led by LCDR Chen Zhenmin to  San Diego or on-board training. Subsequently, her hybrid U.S./ROCN crew sailed the ship to Taiwan in March, arriving at Tsoying on 16 May for a combined decommissioning/handover/commissioning ceremony.

She was named ROCS Tien Shan, which translates to “Heavenly Mountain,” and given pennant APD-815. Assigned to the 212th Destroyer Squadron, she engaged in regular patrol and amphibious warfare exercises for the next seven years.

The 1960 Jane’s entry:

By 1967, the ROCN had seven active ex-USN APDs, all dubbed the Mountain class after Tien Shah (Kleinsmith).

Jane’s for that year:

Others left unclaimed in U.S. service were soon scrapped, while a handful were given an extension to continue to serve a few more years, reclassified as LPRs (amphibious transport, small).

In May 1967, Tien Shah (Kleinsmith) was sent on the fourth Dunmu (Goodwill) voyage under RADM Guo Xunjing. Carrying 4th year naval cadets, she steamed to South Korea, Guam, Okinawa, and the Philippines, returning in August. It was the longest and best-traveled of the ROCN’s Dunmu cruises at the time.

In December 1967, Tien Shah had her pennant changed to APD-215, and she was assigned to the amphibious fleet.

Before 1974, she and most of her sisters picked up a second 5″/38 Mk 12 mount on their stern, taken from a similarly modernized Fletcher-class destroyer which had been given other armament, as well as six 324mm ASW torpedo tubes.

As described in that year’s Jane’s:

She was also later given some modern AA defenses in the form of a RIM-72C Sea Chaparral launcher.

By April 1978, pushing 33 years old, Tien Shah was then reclassed as a patrol frigate (PF-615, later PF-815) and transferred to the 131st Fleet, a coastal defense force tasked with counter-smuggling and fisheries protection.

That saw her armament reduced to just her forward twin 40mm Bofors.

Late in her career as an OPV, with just her forward Bofors. 

She would soldier on for another 14 years, carrying pennant LPR-815 for most of that era, and still using the same checkerboard and seahorse crest as Kleinsmith, kept for good luck.

Via Baker, circa 1995 on the class:

Her final skipper passed on an extensive video in English to the APD Association/Kleinsmith Association in 1995 on the occasion of the tin can’s 50th anniversary reunion, including a walk-through of how the vessel looked at the time.

Decommissioned in October 1995 after 50 years of service, she was sold for scrap.

The ROCN ultimately operated 13 Mountain-class frigates/transports, and the last in service, ROCS Shou Shan (PF-837), the ex-Crosley-class USS Kline (APD-120), was put to pasture in May 1997. She was sunk as a target three years later.

Epilogue

Our subject had a remarkable 36 skippers, 25 of those Taiwanese.

Perhaps the most famous of Kleinsmith’s American captains was “Doc” Laborde, her plankowner wartime commander. After leaving the Navy, he designed and built the first submersible offshore drilling rig, Murphy Oil’s Mr. Charlie. He also founded ODECO, Tidewater Marine, Gulf Island Fabrication, and the Almar Foundation. A well-known mover and shaker in Gulf drilling for decades, Laborde passed in New Orleans in 2014, aged 98, and left behind five children, 18 grandchildren, and 35 great-grandchildren.

Tien Shah’s best-known skipper was ROCN VADM Lan Ningli, who has served as Deputy Chief of Staff of the Naval Headquarters, Commander of the 124th Naval Fleet, Director of the Intelligence Division of the General Staff Headquarters, Chief of Staff of the Naval Anti-Submarine Warfare Command, and Director of the Naval Headquarters Intelligence Agency. Retired in 2017 after 40 years of service, he is a noted wargamer and naval pundit.

ROCN VADM Lan Ningli

Much of Kleinsmith’s 1950s logs are digitized in the National Archives.

Further, a quick YouTube search shows that The Frogmen is available to stream for free.

As for the APD/LPRs left on the U.S. Navy List, there were still at least 23 Buckley (Lawrence) and Crosley-class vessels still around in 1967, with some of the survivors given FRAM updates and others given limited conversions to serve as flagships.

Jane’s for that year, including a good list of disposals and transfers:

However, that would soon come to an end.

In November 1969, USS Beverly W. Reid (APD-119/LPR-119) was decommissioned and placed in reserve at Orange, where she remained inactive, for almost five years before her sale for scrap. She was the last Crosley in U.S. service.

Today, only one Crosley exists, the Colombian Navy’s ARC Cordoba (DT-15), formerly USS Ruchamkin (APD-89). Most of her has been serving as a museum ship at Jaime Duque Park since the 1980s.

USS Ruchamkin (APD-89) ( ARC Córdoba (DT-15)) on display in the Jaime Duque Park, Tocancipá, Colombia. Via Wikicommons.

The ROCN still conducts Dunmu goodwill training cruises, with the latest one seeing three ships crossing the Pacific Ocean and entering the Panama Canal and the Caribbean Sea, sailing 20,000 miles and calling at ports as diverse and far-flung (to Taiwan) as Saint Kitts and Nevis, Saint Lucia, Saint Vincent and the Grenadines, Belize, and Guatemala.

The photo shows three ships of the ROCN Dunmu Goodwill Fleet: from left to right, the Cheng Kung-class guided-missile frigate ROCS Yueh Fei (PFG-1106), the oiler and ammunition supply ship Pan Shih (AOE-532), and the Kang Ding-class guided-missile frigate Di Hua (PFG-1206), docked at the Port Zante pier in St. Kitts and Nevis, April 2026.

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 24 June 2026: Scourge of the Med

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 24 June 2026: Scourge of the Med

Image by German official photographer, part of the German official post-war exchange catalog, BUFA No. 2565. U.S. National Archives 165-GB-02565

Above we see the U-31-class submarine, SM U-35, stopping an Allied steamer during the Great War, with her deck gun slewed towards the aforementioned merchantman and ripping a round out.

Under skipper Kptlt. Lothar von Arnauld de la Periere, across 11 war patrols conducted between January 1916 and March 1918, the little boat would claim no less than 188 vessels (not a misprint) from 13 countries, including 40 ships in June 1916 alone– and that wasn’t even a whole month.

And that wasn’t even her best patrol!

Early German U-boats

Germany only got into the modern submarine game in 1906 with U-1, a small 139-foot/283-ton coastal boat with Körting gasoline engines. Armed with a single 17.7-inch torpedo tube and three fish, she was good for 10 knots and had an operational constructed diving depth (Konstruktionstauchtiefe) of a shallow 100 feet. Her range was 1,500nm. Built at Germaniawerft in Kiel (as Werke 119), she was a stumbling yet important first step.

The godfather behind Germaniawerft’s sub program was Hans-Heinrich Ludwig Friedrich Techel, a young engineer who had worked with the early Spanish submarine designer Raimundo Lorenzo d’Equevilley-Montjustin.

Next came U-2 in 1908, followed by U-3 and sister U-4 in 1909– all built by KW Danzig.

Then came a class of four Germaniawerft boats of the U-5 series and another four from Danzig of the U-9 class in 1910-1911.

Germaniawerft-built U-5 class German submarine SM U-7 with four Körting petrol engines and a huge telltale white exhaust plume from her raised stack, circa 1912. This boat was lost in 1915 during the war in a blue-on-blue incident with a very unfriendly torpedo from U-22 in the North Sea. LOC ggbain-17700-17780u

Keeping the contracts and development flowing, another three Danzig-built U-13s and two U-17 class boats were delivered in 1912, along with the one-off Germaniawerft U-16 boat. All of these were slightly bigger than the last, and retained the dangerous petrol engines, short range, 100-foot depth, and 17.7-inch tubes of U-1.

The game changer for the pre-war German submarine fleet was U-19 and her three sisters. Delivered by Danzig in 1913, they had grown to 210 feet overall and tipped the scales at over 800 tons, more than twice the size of the original U-1 that had preceded them by just seven years. Double-hulled ocean-going boats, they were the diesel-powered German submarines and toted a combination of two MAN diesels and two AEG electric motors, capable of nearly 16 knots on the surface and 10 submerged. Further, they had big 19.7-inch tubes and could dive to 165 feet, also key firsts for the Kaiser’s growing fleet of steel sharks.

It was Techel at Germaniawerft who had first used diesels in the Italian boat R.Smg. Atropo, which was launched in Kiel in March 1912, while he also designed the Kiel-built Norwegian sub Kobben and the Austro-Hungarian Navy’s SM U3 and U4.

Germaniawerft, with Techel busy with the designs, continued down the same vein with their new U-23 class quartet delivered in late 1913-early 1914, which went the same general size (212 feet/860 tons) and characteristics (19.7-inch tubes, 165 foot depth, 16 knot speed) of the U-19s but used Germania diesels and SSW Modyn electric motors.

The Germaniawerft-built U-23 class boat SM U-24, powered by diesels. Postkarte Photogr. u. Verlag Gebr. Lempe, Kiel

German official war photograph. BUFA 2146. Signal Corps 165-GB-2146

Forward submarine torpedo room of a German U-boat. German official war photograph. BUFA 2157. Signal Corps 165-GB-02157 Photograph of the Engine Room of a German Submarine.

German submarines at Kiel on 17 February 1914. Caption says: “Our submarine boats in the harbor” (in German). Identifiable are: SM U-22 , U-20 , U-19 , and U-21 (first row, left-right); U-14 , U-15 , U-12 , U 16 , U 18 , U-17 , and U-13 (second row, left-right); U-11 , U-9 , U-6, U-7 , U-8 , and U-5 (third row, left-right). The newest boat, U-22, was commissioned in November 1913. Bain News Service photo via LOC ggbain. 17782

Acheron and early German submarines U-13, U-5, U-11, U-3, and U-16 in the front row and U-9, U-12, and U-6 in the second row. Note the smokestacks raised on the gas boats. LC-DIG-ggbain-18519

The U-31s

With the writing on the wall, and Danzig working on another run of improved U-19s (the U-27s), the “more” button was pressed, and Germaniawerft was given an order in turn for a class of 11 improved U-23s in 1912.

Starting with U-31 (Werke 191) and running through U-41 (Werke 201), the first boat of the 11-pack would hit the water in January 1914 and be completed soon after.

The U-31s were a very developed product, especially considering they were ordered just six years after U-1 had been delivered. With a submerged displacement of nearly 900 tons, they ran 212 feet overall. Capable of holding 110 tons of diesel oil, they had an impressive 8,800nm range on the surface at 8 knots but could make twice that speed in an attack run.

They used a pair of two-stroke 850hp GW diesel engines with their cylinders over-bored an additional 10mm to develop 925 hp at 430 rpm, as explained by Rössler.

Via Rossler.

The 11 U-31s were constructed nearly side-by-side at GW. Here, U-37 and U-38 are in the company’s Slip 5, while U-25 and U-26 are in Slip 4 in the background. Despite the work en masse, the class was delivered an average of six months later than scheduled due to delays in the construction of the GW-made engines.

Four 19.7-inch tubes, two bow and two stern, provided the primary armament with room for six fish, the new alcohol-powered G/6K torpedo. Adjustable for running depth and speed (35 knots at a 2,000m range or 27 knots at 5,000m), the G/6 had a 362-pound Hexanite/TNT warhead.

Early German Submarines from a British RN Intelligence bulletin 1917

While U-31 and some of the first of her class were completed without a deck gun, soon after delivery, they would receive either a 75mm/15 UK L/18 or 88mm/27 TK L/30 C/08, later upped to a 105mm/43 TK L/45 C/16 gun. This was later expanded during the war to two guns in some boats, but we are getting ahead of ourselves.

Firing drill on submarines. German official war photograph. BUFA 2153. Signal Corps 165-GB-02153

Meet U-35

Our little boat, SM Unterseeboot U-35, was ordered from GW with the rest of her 11-boat class on 29 March 1912. Laid down at Kiel as Werke 195 on 20 December 1912, she was launched on 18 April 1914 during the Kaiserreich’s last golden spring and commissioned, with the war already in progress, on 3 November 1914. Her cost was 2,891,000 marks.

Our little boat’s first skipper was Korvettenkapitän Waldemar Kophamel. Aged just 24 at the time, young Kophamel was already a world traveler, having shipped out to North Africa on the training ship SMS Stosch as a cadet and then to East Africa on the light cruisers Niobe and Thetis as a lieutenant. Beyond that, he had served on the battleships SMS Westfalen and Ostfriesland, commanded the torpedo boat S.3, participated in the sea trials of U-1, and been under the sea on U-2 and U-9.

This salty young man was headed into history.

War!

On 1 August 1914, with Germany, France, and Russia joining the Balkan sideshow that had been brewing against Austro-Hungary and Serbia/Montenegro, things got a bit out of hand.

Operational prewar planning by the Kaiserliche Marine had envisioned a force of 70 sea-going U-boats with 36 used rotationally to protect the German Bight, 12 to patrol the approaches to Kiel, another 12 for offensive operations in the North Sea, and 10 kept for training and reserve.

In true “you go to war with the force you have,” reality, the German admiralty only had exactly 28 operational blue water U-boats in its High Seas Fleet when the lamps went out across Europe.

Soon after commissioning, U-35 was assigned to the II. U-boot Flottille in Heligoland and completed her first two war patrols (19-21 January and 24-26 January 1915) in the Bight/North Sea, without much to show for it.

As with the other large boats in the German fleet, U-35 soon sent to spearhead the Handelskrieg (trade war) and her 3rd patrol (7-20 March 1915) took place from the English Channel to the Irish Sea and saw Kophamel and company bag her first two victims, the British steamer SS Blackwood (1,230 tons) and the French trawler Gris Nez (208 tons) as well as damaging the large freighter SS Hyndford which limped away.

U-35’s 4th war patrol (29 April to 2 May) only accounted for a small Norwegian steamer, Laila (748 tons).

Her 5th patrol was her longest to date, some 25 days (29 May to 23 June 1915), and led to the boat taking 14 ships (five large steamers and nine smaller sailing vessels) on a trip around Ireland. This included sinking four ships in a single day (8 June) off Lundy Island and bagging the large freighter SS Strathcarron (4,347 tons).

Headed South

On 4 August 1915, U-35 sailed out of Kiel on her 6th patrol, bound for the Austro-Hungarian naval base at Cattaro (now Kotor, Montenegro). A Habsburg stronghold going as far back as 1797, Cattaro in 1915 was the home port of the Austrian Fifth Fleet. The cruise to the Adriatic carried U-35 out into the Atlantic over north Scotland, and eventually hooked east past Gibraltar and Malta, arriving on the 23rd. On the way, Kophamel attacked a trio of sailing vessels (a Russian, a Frenchman, and a Norwegian) off Fastnet and sent the latter two to the bottom.

U-35 and her sister U-34, which had traveled at the same time, became part of the budding U-Boot-Sonderkommando Pola, which had been established in April with the small minelayer boats UC-12, UC- 13, UC-14, and UC-15, which had been transported by rail to Pola in sections for assembly, and joined by the ocean-going U-21 in July. In a bit of subterfuge, as Italy had not yet joined the war, the German boats flew Austrian flags until after August 1916 so as not to further inflame the situation.

SM U-35 leaving Pola (Pula) while flying the Austrian flag, passing an Erzherzog Karl-class battleship, 1915

The German U-boat U-35 in the Cattaro (Kotor) Harbour, her primary base port when operating in the Mediterranean, 1915-1917. IWM (Q 24049)

U-35’s 7th patrol, her first from Cattaro, took place 12-22 September 1915, remained in the Adriatic Sea, and sank three medium-sized steamers, two British and one French.

Her 8th patrol saw her penetrate the Eastern Mediterranean in early October 1915, sinking the old Italian steamer Scilla (1,220 tons) off Sporades Island in the Aegean, followed by the British troopship Marquette (7,057) off Salonica, sending the latter to the bottom with 167 men, primarily members of the ammunition column of the British 29th Division and a New Zealand medical unit.

HMT Marquette (Image courtesy NZ National Maritime Museum)

U-35’s 9th patrol (25 October to 13 November 1915) included a curious sortie to support the Senussi rebels in Libya who were fighting the British. This amounted to putting in at Orak Adasi (near Bodrum), taking on 10 Ottoman officers, 120,000 gold francs, 300,000 rounds of rifle ammunition, and 80 ammunition belts for machine guns, and, together with two small schooners carrying 120 Turkish soldiers and other war materiel, shepherding them 380 miles across the Med to Bardia.

She was then released on her own and would account for a diverse mixture of 11 vessels including an Egyptian coast guard boat (the small 298-ton Abbas), the large tanker Lumina (6,218 tons), the 1,800-ton armed boarding steamer HMS Tara (sunk in a raid on the Egyptian port of Sollum) and the infamous Leyland Lines steamer SS Californian, the vessel widely believed to have been the so-called “mystery ship” seen from the decks of the Titanic in 1912 that did not come to her rescue. Kophamel torpedoed and sank Californian some 60 miles SSW of Cape Matapan, sending her to the bottom.

The F. Leyland & Co. steamer SS Californian (6,223 tons) was notorious for being close enough to the sinking RMS Titanic to spot distress rockets but failed to respond. Inquiries heavily condemned her skipper and the Californian’s crew for their inaction, concluding that a prompt response could have saved many lives. Kophamel sank her while in ballast on U-35’s 9th patrol.

Enter Arnauld

Following the completion of U-35’s 9th war patrol, the well-proven Kophamel was given a promotion to Korvettenkapitän on 18 November 1915 and placed in command of the growing German submarine group in the Adriatic, which had been renamed U-Flottille Pola, a billet he would hold down through June 1917.

This left U-35 without a skipper.

Entering stage left, we have one unproven Kapitänleutnant Lothar von Arnauld de la Perière. A Prussian noble of French heritage (his great-grandfather fled France to become an officer for Fredrick the Great), Arnauld joined the Imperial German Navy as a midshipman in 1903, at the age of 17 (Crew 4/03). Before the war, he sailed aboard the square-rigger training ship SMS Stein to the West Indies, held down a spot in the wardroom of the battleships SMS Kurfürst Friedrich Wilhelm, Schlesien, and Schleswig-Holstein, as well as on the light cruiser Emden, before being attached to Admiral von Pohl’s staff in 1914. Transferred to the submarine service, he completed a command course on the training boats U-1 and U-3, then shipped to Pola by train to board U-35, both his first command and his first combat.

U-35’s 10th patrol, Arnauld’s 1st, began in mid-December 1915, with the boat setting out into the Central Mediterranean. It wasn’t until after the New Year that the new skipper would prove himself, sinking the British steamer SS Sutherland (3,542 tons) on 17 January 1916 while some 192 miles SE of Malta, filled with a cargo of manganese bound from Bombay to Hull.

U-35’s 11th patrol (21 February to 4 March 1916) saw Arnauld log four kills, including the 1,200-ton sloop HMS Primula and the large French auxiliary cruiser La Provence (13,753 tons). A beautiful two-funneled CGT-owned liner before the war, La Provence was carrying a full load of 1,700 French troops from Toulon to Salonika when she was torpedoed off Cerigo Island. She went down so quickly that she carried the lifeboats with her, and more than 1,000 perished, including virtually an entire battalion of the Third Colonial Infantry (3e RIC) regiment.

French Steamer ‘La Provence’, 1911, by Antonio Jacobsen

The only noteworthy incident on her 12th patrol was torpedoing the British Atlantic lines passenger steamer SS Minneapolis (13,500 tons) off Malta while bound from Marseille to Alexandria in ballast. Despite being one of the largest vessels sunk by a U-boat during the war, she had no cargo and only suffered 12 casualties.

Then came the epic 13th patrol of U-35. Between 13 June and 29 June 1916, Arnauld and his little boat would sink or damage no less than 40 vessels. While many of these (19) were small Italian sailing vessels, sent to the bottom via demolition charges or a few well-placed shots from the submarine’s deck guns, there were also some significant prizes such as the French passenger steamer Herault (2,299 tons), sunk off of Cabo San Antonio while on the way to Oran, the Italian steamer Mongibello (4,059 tons) sunk off Port Mahon while carrying a cargo from Baltimore destined for Genoa, and the British steamer Beachy (4,718 tons), which was filled with cargo bound for Hull from Calcutta.

German U-Boat, U-35, at work sinking the French steamer, Herault (2,299 tons), in the Mediterranean Sea, off Cabo San Antonio, Spain, 23 June 1916. Halftone photograph. Courtesy of the Library of Congress.

Stopping an Allied merchantman. IWM Q 88310.

It was during this cruise that U-35 went on to sail unabashedly into neutral Spain at Cartagena on 21 June 1916, saluting the Spanish cruiser Cataluna and semi-secretly landing German spy Heinrich Karl Fricke under the official cover of delivering a letter from Kaiser Wilhelm II to King Alfonso XIII.

U-35 photographed in July 1916 while entering Cartagena harbor, Spain, by Casau of Cartagena. She was commanded at this time by Kptlt. Lothar von Arnauld de la Perière, and has two deck guns mounted. NH 43793

The crew of the German submarine U-35 saluting those of the Spanish cruiser Cataluna when leaving the port of Cartagena, where it was presented on the 21st day of the current month. The commander of the submarine has brought an autograph letter from the Kaiser to H. M. the King. Drawing of Don Verdugo Landi

German U-boat U-35 running into the Spanish port of Cartagena. IWM (Q 46498)

U-35 photographed in June 1916, moored alongside the interned German liner SS Roma in Cartagena harbor, Spain, by Casau of Cartagena. She was commanded at this time by Kaptlan Lothar von Arnauld de la Periere. NH 43794

The crew of the German U-boat U-35 ashore in the Spanish port of Cartagena for one hour. Note the Spanish officers keeping tabs. BUFA 3657 IWM (Q 46497)

Her 14th patrol would be even more sensational, prowling for 25 days in the French-patrolled Western Mediterranean between Marseille and Corsica. Prowling from 26 July to 20 August 1916, U-35 accounted for a staggering 54 merchant ships (32 Italian) totaling 90,350 GRT. The largest of these was the Italian LVN passenger steamer SS Siena (4,372 tons), captured and sunk by gunfire some 20 miles SW of Planier Island on the morning of 4 August while plying the Colon to Genoa route. Arnauld accomplished all this with only four torpedoes, the rest being accomplished by demo charges and gunfire, with the little U-boat crammed with 900 shells when she left Cattaro, the ordnance crammed in every nook and cranny of every compartment.

The patrol was regarded as the most successful single submarine war patrol of all time.

In any conflict.

During any war.

U-35’s 15th patrol, from 20 September to 7 October 1916, accounted for 22 ships. These included the 1,200-ton French gunboat Rigel and the bruising 14,900-ton French auxiliary cruiser Gallia, broken in half off Cape Spartivento near Sardinia. A brand-new Cie. de Navigation Sud-Atlantique steamer, Gallia, had been sailing unescorted (!) and carrying 2,000 troops (1,650 French/350 Serbian) along with a cargo of artillery and ammunition from Marseille to Salonika when she was torpedoed 35 miles SW of San Pietro. She exploded and sank in just 15 minutes, carrying 1,338 men to the bottom. It was a butcher’s bill higher than that on Lusitania.

Arnauld would receive the coveted Prussian Pour le Mérite, the Blue Max, just a week after Gallia was reported lost and U-35 made it back to Cattaro with the news. Of note, while over 5 million Iron Crosses were handed out during the Great War, only 1,600 Maxes were presented.

U-35’s 16th and 17th patrols (3-11 January and 8-28 February 1917) were successful, adding another 20 ships to her tally, albeit with a half-dozen of those being small (under 400 ton) sailing vessels.

Ready for my close-up

With all the fame that the renowned Kptlt. Arnauld had garnered back home, he was sent out on U-35’s 18th patrol in April 1917 with a BUFA film crew embarked to chronicle the voyage for the good damen und herren back in the Vaterland.

These images are from said film, Der Magische Gürtel, which is available in both the IWM (21 minutes) and NARA (12 minutes) with post-war English cards and the 44-minute original German version (in three parts), with stills in both as well as the LOC, making U-35 probably the best photographed submarine of the Great War.

The film crew was aboard U-35 for 36 days, during which the boat sank 23 enemy and neutral ships, with 10 of the sinkings captured on film.

It was an exciting cruise, with the steamers SS Parkgate, Maplewood, Corfu, Nentmoor, India, and Stromboli taken. The largest of U-35‘s targets on the patrol, the 9,737-ton Union-Castle Mail steamer SS Leasowe Castle, bound for Liverpool, managed to limp away with only a torpedo in her hold, received while some 90 miles off Gibraltar. Leasowe Castle was one of just 10 damaged ships that managed to escape U-35 in the boat’s career.

The German U-boat U-35 taking torpedoes on board before setting out for her cruise in the Mediterranean, April-May 1917. IWM (Q 53012)

German U-boat U-35 in the Mediterranean taking on board cases of Pestle’s condensed milk from her collapsible boat, April-May 1917. IWM (Q 53013)

The garlanded German U-boat U-35 putting out to sea from harbor, probably in Cattaro (Kotor), April 1917. Note the surface steering position in the fairwater. IWM (Q 53028)

The German U-boat U-35 running on the surface in the Mediterranean about to submerge, April-May 1917. IWM (Q 53019)

The German U-boat U-35 half-submerged during her cruise in the Mediterranean, April-May 1917. IWM (Q 53008)

British tanker Maplewood (3,239 tons) being sunk by SM U-35 47nm southwest of Sardinia, 7 April 1917. Rehse Collection. Halftone photograph. Courtesy of the Library of Congress.

“A shot from the 105mm deck gun to hasten her sinking.” 7 April 1917, the British steamer SS Parkgate (3,232 tons), on a voyage from Malta to Gibraltar in ballast, was sunk by gunfire by the German submarine U 35. 16 lives were lost. BUFA 3607

Captains of SS Parkgate, SS Maplewood, SS Corfu, SS Nentmoor, SS India, and SS Stromboli arrive on board U-35 and are questioned by Captain von Arnauld de la Perière. Still from IWM film, reference number IWM 560, reel 1, title “The Exploits of German Submarine (U-35) Operating in the Mediterranean”. IWM (Q 69777)

The German U-boat U-35 on the surface in the sunset in the Mediterranean, April-May 1917. BUFA 2122 IWM (Q 53023)

The German U-boat U-35 cruising in the Mediterranean, April 1917. IWM (Q 20380)

The German U-boat U-35 off the African Coast at Cape Magroua, Algeria. BUFA 3667 IWM (Q 53015)

Two German U-boats, U-35 (nearest camera) and the U-42, meeting in the Mediterranean, April-May 1917. German official war photograph. BUFA 3674. Signal Corps 165-GB-03674

Two submarines meet on the high seas. German official war photograph. BUFA 2160. Signal Corps 165-GB-02160

The crew of a freighter comes alongside the submarine with the ship’s papers. German official war photograph. BUFA 2762. Signal Corps 165-GB-02162

The crew of an enemy steamer is taken off by the crew of the submarine. April 1917. German official war photograph. BUFA 2553. Signal Corps 165-GB-02553

After the sinking of an enemy steamer. The crew of the steamer is towed by the submarine towards land. April 1917. German official war photograph. BUFA 2560. Signal Corps 165-GB-02560

She also had several meetings with German seaplanes while on patrol, to both collect dispatches and transfer captured papers to see if actionable intelligence could be discerned.

A Friedrichshafen 33H seaplane (serial number 687) bringing dispatches to the German U-boat U-35 during a cruise in the Mediterranean. IWM (Q 54435)

A Friedrichshafen seaplane (serial number 729) bringing dispatches to the German U-boat U-35 during a cruise in the Mediterranean. IWM (Q 54436)

Transfer on the high seas of important captured papers from a German submarine to a German Friedrichshafen amphibian plane. April 1917. German official war photograph. BUFA 2555. Signal Corps 165-GB-02555

German U-boat U-35 approaching Cattaro (Kotor) in the Mediterranean, April-May 1917, with Fort Arza on the port side and Fort Mamula on Lastavica Island to the starboard. She is flying a pennant for each ship sunk on the cruise. IWM (Q 53025)

The German U-boat U-35 showing the 10.5 cm gun. She is returning to Cattaro (Kotor), her base port, and is flying a pennant for each ship sunk on the cruise – 21 steamers and 3 windjammers (white pennants), April-May 1917. IWM (Q 46496)

The German U-boat U-35 entering the harbor of Cattaro (Kotor), her Mediterranean base port, April 1917, approaching the Austro-Hungarian auxiliary submarine tender SMS Gäa/Gaea (ex SS Fürst Bismarck). IWM (Q 53021)

The cartoon shows the Grim Reaper with his scythe (labeled “Submarine Toll”) scuttling ships in the Mediterranean. A sign on the scythe reads “Vienna reports 67 ships sunk — 5000 persons drowned in six weeks.” Expresses the pro-Allied view of the frightfulness of German submarine warfare during World War I. Drawing by Lute Pease. LOC DLC/PP-1954:R02.75

U-35’s 19th patrol would not come until mid-October 1917, concluding in early November. Her 20th, conducted in December, would close out the year. Between the two, Arnuald would add another 20 ships to his lengthy record, including a trio of steamers– the British SS Argo (3,811 tons) and Cliftondale (3,071 tons), along with the Norwegian Nordol (2,053 tons)– sunk on Christmas Day just off Algiers.

U-35’s 21st war patrol, Arnuald’s 11th, would venture out into the Med in early 1918 (22 February to 10 March) and bring back flag for five kills to include the big Japanese steamer Daiten Maru (4,555 tons) sunk off Sicily while bound for Reggio with cargo from Baltimore.

On 16 March 1918, Arnauld was relieved by U-35’s incoming new commander, Kplt. Ernst von Voigt, late of U-73, UC-35, and UB-8. While Voigt claimed 32 vessels before coming to U-35, he would never add a 33rd to his list.

Post Arnauld

Across Kophamel and Arnauld’s 19 successful patrols, U-35 reliably claimed 226 ships sunk (538,500 tons) and 10 ships damaged (36,889 tons), including three large troopships with their vital human cargo. With that, suffering from cranky engines, she was sent into semi-retirement, ordered back to Kiel to serve as a training boat.

The German U-boat U-35 about to dive, note the training flotilla triangle on her sail. IWM (Q 53032)

German U-35 submarine off the coast of Norway, Aug. 05, 1918

In October 1918, just three weeks before the Armistice, Kptlt. Heino von Heimburg, a Blue Max wearer who had sunk the British submarine E20, British troop transport HMS Royal Edward, the Italian submarine Medusa, and the Italian cruiser Amalfi, took over U-35.

Heimburg’s command would be cut short.

In the end, U-35 was one of 122 remaining German U-boats that surrendered to the Allies post-Armistice. The scourge of the Mediterranean was handed over to Great Britain on 26 November 1918 and scrapped in Blyth between 1919 and 1920.

Ultimately, of the 373 German U-boats used by the Kaiserliche Marine during the Great War, 178 were lost in operations during the conflict. These included U-35’s sisters U-31 and U-34 (disappeared on patrol), U-32 (sunk by depth charges from British sloop), U-37 (lost to a mine), U-39 (damaged by French seaplanes and interned at Cartagena in 1918), U-40 (sunk by a decoy ship and partnered British sub), along with U-36 and U-41 (sunk by Q ships).

Post-war, the damaged U-39 was handed over to France, as was Max Valentiner’s famed U-38, while the surviving U-32 was nominated for transfer to the British. All three were broken up soon after Versailles, sharing U-35’s fate and thus ending the tale of the U-31 class.

Speaking to the out-sized success of the U-31 class, the four highest scoring U-boats of the Great War, U-35 (226 ships), U-39 (154 ships), U-38 (139 ships), and U-34 (119 ships) were all from the same 11-boat class. The seventh highest-scoring was sister U-33 (84 ships), leaving the class to hold fully half of the top ten slots.

Epilogue

As far as I can tell, other than the 44-minute film of U-35’s April-May 1917 patrol, and the above images, little remains of the boat.

The film enjoyed a wide release in English-speaking countries in 1919, a window into the once-novel seagoing pestilence that had claimed over 11 million tons of merchant and fishing shipping during the war.

When it comes to her skippers, after leaving his exceptionally well-fought U-boat flotilla at Pola in 1917 (it had chalked up 1.8 million tons of shipping under his command), Kophamel returned to Germany and commanded the big submarine cruisers SM U-151 and U-140, chalking up an additional two patrols to his credit before the war ended, having personally been at the scope for the sinking of 54 ships for 148,852 tons. Kophamel was the seventh U-boat commander to be awarded the Blue Max. Post-war, he briefly commanded the small cruiser Strasbourg in the Reichsmarine before he was demobilized in August 1920. He passed away in 1934, aged 54. The Kriegsmarine used his name for a 5,600-ton Bauer-class submarine tender for 27. U-Flottille in 1939. Sunk in 1944 by British bombers at Gotenhafen (Gdynia) in Poland, the Soviets raised the tender and used her for another 25 years in their Baltic fleet.

Ernst von Voigt, who brought U-35 back to Germany but never got a “kill” to his credit while on her decks, was retired from the Reichsmarine in 1919. Having spent just 13 years in uniform, he didn’t rate a pension despite his Blue Max, which meant increasingly less in the coming years. Korvettenkapitän der Reserve Ernst von Voigt, with the Staff of the Kriegsmarine’s Inspection of Naval Artillery Office (Stabe der Inspektion der Marineartilleriezeugämter) during WWII, survived the maelstrom and passed in Hannover in 1961, aged 73.

U-35’s final skipper, Heimburg, finished the war with 21 ships (55,036 GRT) to his tally. Retained by the U-boat-less Reichsmarine, he was a putschist with Knapp in Berlin, then spent the interwar years in a series of positions ranging from navigator on the old cruiser Amazone to XO of the elderly battlewagon Schlesien and commander of the fortifications at Cuxhaven. Promoted to a rear admiral in 1939, he spent the next few years in desk jobs and, a convinced National Socialist, often clocked in on assorted kangaroo tribunals and military courts. Upgraded to vice admiral status when shifted to the retired list in 1943, he was captured by the Soviets in 1945. He died in a POW camp near Stalingrad, aged 55.

Waldemar Kophamel, Ernst von Voigt, and Heino von Heimburg during their glory days. (Illustrirte Zeitung, 1918)

Finally, after leaving U-35 and Pola, Arnauld commanded the U-cruiser U-139 late in the war and added five small ships to his tally. The Reichsmarine made sure to keep the Blue Max-clad hero on the rolls post-war despite the fact it had zero submarines by stipulation of the Versailles treaty. He was a nav officer on a variety of surface ships, led the training division, was a staff officer, and finally skipper of the new light cruiser Emden from 1928 to 1930, including visiting New Orleans with the man-o-war for Mardi Gras, where she was the first German warship to visit the U.S. since 1914, and he was welcomed aboard the battlewagon USS Texas.

After retiring from the Reichsmarine in 1930 as a captain with 27 years of service, Arnauld authored a book about his war (U 35 auf Jagd), then taught at the Turkish Naval Academy while wearing an admiral’s uniform for the rest of the decade until called back to serve in the Kriegsmarine in September 1939. Riding a desk as a frocked admiral, though still listed as retired, Arnauld perished in a plane crash in France in 1941, just shy of his 55th birthday.

In memoriam, U-boat Wolfpack Arnauld operated in the Atlantic later that year and during its short run sank the British carrier HMS Ark Royal (91) in the face of a trying Force 11 storm off Gibraltar.

The old man would probably have been touched.

A methodical people, the Germans have reissued the U-35 designator twice since 1915, not counting the small Great War-era coastal and minelaying boats UC-35 and UB-35.

The Kriegsmarine’s Type VIIA U-boat U-35 was appropriately built at Germaniawerft (Werke 558) in 1936, and was a showboat in her brief career, later run to ground on her second war patrol in November 1939 and scuttled.

Today’s German submarine U-35 (S185) is an ultra-modern Type 212 SSK that entered service in 2015.

Part of 1. Ubootgeschwader at Eckernförde, she followed in the footsteps of her Great War namesake by deploying to the Med in 2021 as part of the EU’s Operation Irini, albeit without any gun actions or torpedoes fired.

German U-35 leaving eckenförde for Operation Irini in the Mediterranean Sea (Type 212A)

U-35 (S185) in Malta during Op Irini in 2021.

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 10 June 2026: Tough Trolle

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 10 June 2026: One Tough Trolle

Via the National Library of Norway

Above we see the class-leading Danish kystforsvarsskibet Herluf Trolle some 120 years ago this month at the coronation of Prince Carl of Denmark and his wife as King Haakon VII and Queen Maud of Norway on 22 June 1906 in Trondheim, Norway.

A ship of peace, Herluf Trolle had a long, quiet career, save for some tense wartime service, but is nonetheless a fascinating subject.

The Trolles

In the 1890s, Denmark was in need of a new, modern navy with steel hulls, steam propulsion, torpedoes, and breechloading weapons.

The country’s prototype “bathtub battleship,” Skjold (Shield), was ordered in 1893. A 2,200-ton ship, she was stubby at 227 feet overall and drew 14 feet under her steel hull.

Danish armored coastal defense ship Skjold

Using a three-stroke engine with water-tube boilers, which were quick to fire, and with her single 9.4″/40 main gun’s rotation and ammunition supply handled by electric motors (which, for the time, was revolutionary), Skjold was modern and capable of 13 knots when summoned. Further, with up to 11 inches of armor, she could take a beating.

The Danes then moved forward with a three-pack of improved coastal battleships with the lessons learned from Skjold, with emphasis on more guns and better speed, coupled with the ability to remain in the shallows.

What resulted was the Trolle class, which was nearly half again as heavy as Skjold (3,750 tons), not to mention over 50 feet longer (283 feet oal), yet could still float and fight in 16 feet of water.

Herluf Trolle circa 1908 via Kalundborg Maritim formidling

They were designed to carry two main guns very similar to those of the larger (328-foot, 7,000-ton) Chilean battleship Capitan Prat, which was built in France at FCM in 1889-91.

Chilean battleship Capitan Prat, Engineering Magazine, Jan 4, 1895, gun diagram

While Prat had four 9.4″/35 Canet guns, Trolle would carry two improved 9.4″/38 L/40 Canets dubbed M/96 models in Danish service. These had a better rate of fire (1.3 rounds per minute) than the guns mounted on Skjold (one round every two minutes) and, of course, there were two of them. Plus, the Canets were good out to 11,500m while Skold’s gun had a maximum range of 9,800 even with its slightly longer barrel.

Officers posed in front of one of Trolle’s 9.4″/35 Canet guns.

Boxing practise on the deck of Herluf Trolle THM 4494

Her secondary battery was four 5.9-inch Bofors PK L/43 M/96s mounted on a gun deck protected by a central casemate. A tertiary battery was intended for defense against boats, including ten 57mm/40 M.1885s and eight 37mm/20 M.1885 Hotchkiss guns. To help spot those incoming TBs, she carried two 30-inch and two 35-inch electric searchlights.

Finally, a torpedo battery of one bow and two abeam below the waterline 18-inch tubes was installed in three different compartments.

This scheme of Trolle from circa 1917, when she had replaced most of her 57mm 6-pounders with heavier 3″/52 L/55 KM.07s, gives you a good understanding of her arrangement. Note the forward torpedo tube as well as the beam/keel-mounted tube.

Also like Prat, Trolle would use an armor belt and scheme of Creusot steel, just not as much (the Prat had a nearly 12-inch belt). The Dane’s scheme included a 2-inch deck, a belt that was 7 inches amidships tapering to four at the stern, 6 inches over the casemates, and 7 solid inches in the barbettes, bulkheads, and main gun houses. The conning tower ran 7.5 inches.

When it came to propulsion, Trolle was designed with two Burmeister & Wain vertical triple expansion engines and six Thornycroft boilers arranged in a central room turning twin shafts. At 4,200 shp, she was good for 15.5 knots and carried enough coal (245 tons) to cruise 2,400nm at 9 knots, not long enough legs for cross-ocean service, but she was designed to fight in and around the North and Baltic Seas, just over the horizon from home.

Jane’s 1904:

The three ships of the class were all incrementally different and upgraded from one another.

Danish Herluf Trolle-class coastal defence ship Olfert Fischer on trials

Among the changes were that Trolle’s immediate sister, Olfert Fischer, had Krupp cemented nickel steel armor of the same scheme rather than Creusot plate, had slightly better Bofors M/03 model 9.4″/42s and Bofors M/01 5.9″/42s. This was a big deal as the Bofors 9.4s had a better rate of fire (1.8 rounds per minute versus 1.3 on Trolle’s Canet guns) and a longer range (13,700m vs 11,500m). Fischer was also fitted out as an admiral’s flagship, with extra cabins.

Peder Skram entering the port of Aarhus at the South Pier circa 1919 by Arge Andersen

Meanwhile, the third member of the class, Peder Skram, carried better engines of 5,400 shp, which were needed as she went some 200 tons heavier on a slightly longer and wider hull. Like Olfert Fischer, she had Krupp armor of the same (general) scheme and, again, even a better mark of Bofors M/06 9.4″/43 and Bofors M/06 5.9″/50s, while carrying 10 3-inch guns from the start instead of the 57mm 6-pounders.

Jane’s 1921 entry for the class, showing the differences between the three half-sisters.

Which sets the stage for us to…

Meet Herluf

Our little battlewagon carried the name of one of the Danish Navy’s biggest heroes, the 16th-century Admiral Herluf Trolle. He bested a larger Swedish fleet under Jakob Bagge at Öland in 1564, wrecking the massive 173-gun Swedish flagship Mars and capturing Bagge. He took on a second Swedish fleet at Bukow in 1565 and, gravely wounded, returned home to his wife and school only to pass away there 17 days later at age 49.

Together with his wife Birgitte Gøye, he transformed the Skovkloster monastery into the Herlufsholm school, which is still in operation.

Our subject was laid down at Orlogsværftet, København, the yard which built the entire class, on 20 June 1897.

Sketch of Herluf Trolle under construction, c. 1898, by Paul Pedersen

HDMS Herluf Trolle on a slipway before her launch on 1 September 1899. Note her ram bow with her forward 18-inch torpedo tube under the “beak.”

HDMS Herluf Trolle on a slipway before her launch on 1 September 1899.

Launched 1 September 1899, Herluf Trolle entered the fleet on 7 June 1901, some 125 years ago this week, and was on her trials through 20 July.

Danish coast defense ship Herluf Trolle on trials in 1901

Herluf Trolle, 1902

Looking at the launching and completion dates of her sisters, it would seem they followed on the same graving dock, with Olfert Fischer joining Trolle in May 1905 and Peder Skram in September 1908. The fact that each subsequent ship was laid down after trials of her previous sister makes the numerous small changes from ship to ship logical.

A great postcard of Herluf Trolle showing her original profile with two tall masts and an assortment of Royal Danish Navy rate badges below, including gunners, torpedomen, medical, musicians, machinists, electricians, and boatswains. THM 7889.

The most powerful Danish warship when commissioned, Herluf Trolle was a showboat at the time and undertook two long, independent summer cruises (14 June 14- 4 October 1902 and 2 June- 30 September 1904), waving the flag in the Baltic and Western Europe.

Danish coast defense ship Herluf Trolle, early in career, with buff superstructure. THM 3587

The former included attending the fleet review at Spithead on the occasion of King Edward VII’s Coronation.

The June 1902 Spithead review included 160 warships from around the world, including Herluf Trolle.

A 1905 refit, after her sister Olfert Fischer arrived in the fleet, saw Herluf Trolle bolster her armament with six 47mm/40 M.1885 3-pounders.

As noted in the opening of the post, the summer of 1906 saw her in the Royal Division in Norway for the coronation of one of Denmark’s princes as the Scandinavian country’s new king.

Danish coast defense ship Herluf Trolle during the coronation of the Norwegian king Haakon VII, 22 June 1906, National Library of Norway

Danish coast defense ship Herluf Trolle during the coronation of the Norwegian king Haakon VII, 22 June 1906, National Library of Norway

Danish coast defense ship Herluf Trolle during the coronation of the Norwegian king Haakon VII, 22 June 1906, National Library of Norway

The next seven years saw Trolle alternate her summers with a series of exercises and maneuvers with the fleet’s main squadron (1.Eskadren), then settle into a winter nap period.

Around 1909, Trolle and her sisters switched to a more 20th-century battle gray (kampgra) scheme.

Danish coastal battleships Herluf Trolle and Olfert Fischer, 1909, Squadron service, dressed in flags and firing salutes. THM 36515

A subsequent 1910 refit saw her land her troublesome new 3-pounders in exchange for a couple more 57mm 6-pounders.

Herluf Trolle in the Kaiser Wilhelm Kanal, June 1911. THM 6625

Danish coastal defence ship calling in Scotland on the Tyne in June 1914, photo by Bob Short

War!

On 1 August 1914, with Germany, France, and Russia joining the Balkan sideshow that had been brewing against Austro-Hungary and Serbia/Montenegro, Denmark moved to a robust war footing, the concept of a strong neutrality appealing to the government.

The Navy participated in this Security Force (Sikringsstyrken) with the traditional single fleet squadron splitting into two, with the 1st Squadron guarding Øresund and the 2nd Squadron in the Great Belt. The squadrons were made up of the Trolles along with Denmark’s handful of light cruisers and assorted torpedo boat flotillas. 

Great War service: Torpedo boat Tumleren, coast defense ship Herluf Trolle, by Benjamin Olsen, painting in the Danish Naval Museum Gallery

Dismantling enemy mine during the Great War on Herluf Trolle THM 7352

Herluf Trolle in battle gray (kampgra) with her masts folded and decks clear for war in a Christmas 1914 postcard.

The Danish Navy in 1914 had two Donnet-Lévêque FBA Type A seaplanes in service, dubbed Maagen 1 & 2, as well as five aviators. Here is one seen off the stern of Herluf Trolle. Note the rifle-armed sentry under the barrel of her aft 9.4-inch gun. The Danes later built a domestic seaplane factory, Luftmarinestation København, and constructed a dozen seaTHM 7353

Trolle and her sisters were building blocks and flagships in the Sikringsstyrken for the next half decade, Denmark only demobilizing on 28 February 1919.

Back to peace

Following the war and the inevitable peacetime budget cuts by increasingly liberal Danish governments, Herluf Trolle was relegated to reserve status in 1922, while her sister Olfert Fischer was used as a training ship, even carrying an HM-1 seaplane (Danish-built Hansa-Brandenberg W.29) for a period.

Trolle was retained as a pier-side training ship for officer candidates until paid off in 1930, then later sold for scrap.

Her place in the fleet had been taken by the new artillery training cruiser Niels Juel, which had entered service in 1923.

Holmen, 1932, with the Niels Juel to the left, royal yacht Dannebrog top left, the famed Mastekranen crane center with Herluf Trolle, Olfert Fischer, and Peder Skram at the bottom center

Fischer ended her career as a target ship for naval aviation, clad in extra coats of wood planks over her decks, and able to steam at 9 knots with a skeleton crew. A purported 389 practice bombs would rain down on her decks. Eventually, she was decommissioned in 1936 and discarded.

The final member of the class, Peder Skram, was used in the 1930s as an accommodation ship for the Apprentice School and in various other training tasks until WWII brought her back to the good graces. Rather than be surrendered to the Germans, she was scuttled by her crew at Holmen in August 1943, salvaged by the Kriegsmarine and commissioned as the gunboat Addler, then was sunk a second time in Friedrichsort by Allied aircraft, raised, and then later scrapped by 1949.

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

Lived on in Coastal Artillery

Continuing to serve, Herluf Trolle’s main guns were sent to form a battery protecting the naval station at Holmen, while her four 5.9-inch guns were sent to Kongelundsfortet, on the southern end of the Copenhagen Fortress.

Danish coastal artillery Kongelundsfortet THM 319541

Emplaced in 1939, the Germans came along in 1940 and moved the 150s to the Sjællands Odde (Gniben reef) to control the submarine barrier in the Kattegat in 1943. Utilized by the Germans during the War and returned to the Danes immediately after, the guns were scrapped in the 1950s, although Artilleriskolen Sjællands Odde endures as a training ground for roughly 200 naval gunners per year. Meanwhile, Kongelundsfortet is preserved as a park and nature trail. 

At least some of Trolle’s guns, likely drawn from her myriad of small 75mm, 57mm, 47mm, or 37mm counter-boat/AAA batteries, are in the extensive collection of the Royal Armory of the Danish War Museum (Krigsmuseet) in Copenhagen, albeit not on display.

Epilogue

Our subject these days is best remembered in period paintings and postcards.

Herluf Trolle at Copenhagen by Christian Benjamin Olsen, 1902

Copenhagen circa 1907 with the Danish Herluf Trolle, Russian imperial yacht Polar Star, and Frigate Jutland/Jylland, Christian Benjamin Olsen

Postcard for Danish coastal battleship Herluf Trolle THM-30778

Storm in Drogden Sound by Christian Mølsted, 1919, with Herluf Trolle in the distance

A beloved naval hero, Herluf Trolle’s name endures.

At least one large naval barracks in Denmark carries the name.

One of the companies of the detested German-raised Schalburg Corps (Schalburgkorpset) of Danish SS volunteers was named after Herluf Trolle and had the cuff band to show for it.

The Royal Danish Navy recycled the name for a circa 1967 Peder Skram-class frigate (F 353) that served 20 years on active duty and a few more in the reserve before she was scrapped in 1995.

Danish Peder Skram-class frigate Herluf Trolle (F 353) visiting Kiel, West Germany, 20 June 1970. Photo by Georg Gasch, Stadtarchiv Kiel.

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 3 June 2026: The Mighty Mud Duck

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 3 June 2026: The Mighty Mud Duck

USCG Historians Office

Above we see the 240-foot Tampa-class cruising cutter/gunboat USCGC Modoc (WPG-46) in her circa 1922-1940 peacetime white and buff livery, likely somewhere off North Carolina, her stomping grounds when not on ice patrol.

A hard-charger in an interesting class of cutters, Modoc had several brushes with history during her career and wartime service.

The Tampas

In late 1917, with 47 USCG cutters and 272 boat stations transferred to the Navy’s control under the mobilization plan for the American entry to the Great War, six of the smaller service’s largest cruising cutters on the East Coast– the 205-foot USCGC Algonquin and Manning, Seneca (204 feet), Ossipee (165 feet), Tampa (190 feet), and Yamacraw (191 feet)– had been quickly fitted with extra guns and depth charges and sent overseas to Gibraltar.

The 205-foot USCGC Seneca, among the largest and most capable cutters when the U.S. entered the Great War, spent 1917-19 overseas on convoy escort duty

The six-pack formed Patrol Squadron Two of the Atlantic Fleet Patrol Forces, Sixth Division, and were tasked with escort duties for convoys sailing between England and the Mediterranean. They gave yeoman service, with Tampa tragically lost during the conflict. Seneca alone escorted 30 convoys, accounting for an armada of more than 500 ships.

With that as a forward, on 12 November 1917, the Navy General Board met with USCG Constructor Frederick E. Hunnewell to discuss the smaller service’s future shipbuilding program. It had been decided that the service would begin construction on a new class of larger, more capable cutters. The guidelines favored a 240-foot vessel with decent warfighting characteristics (speed and armament) as well as endurance and seakeeping, with the Navy stressing a 16 knot speed (most of the cutters deployed to Europe pushed 12 knots, maximum) and Board member RADM Charles Badger (USNA 1873) urging “three 5-inch guns centerline, one 3-inch anti-aircraft gun, and two machine guns” as standard armament.

With magazine space for 200 rounds per 5-incher, a 6,000-gallon-per-day evaporator, a five-kilowatt radio, day and night signaling apparatus, a submarine signal receiver, two 30-inch searchlights, an ice machine, and six 30-foot small boats, the estimated cost of six desired new 240-foot cutters so armed would be $700,000 apiece, with the class pushing $4.2 million and change.

However, with the Navy prioritizing its own vessels for construction during the war, the planned half-dozen 240-footers never made it to the schedule before the Coast Guard reverted to the Treasury Department in 1919 upon the outbreak of peace.

Still a program of record, the service whittled the number of hulls down from six to four and pursued novel cost-savings measures and innovations to cover the basics of the circa 1917 mandate, but on a more shoestring T-department budget.

In 1921, Captain Quincy B. Newman, Engineer-in-Chief of the Coast Guard, introduced the first synchro-turbo electric drive on ships in any of the U.S. services on the class leader of the new 240-footers, the USCGC Tampa (WPG-48). The plant consisted of two Babcock & Wilcox, cross-drum type, 200 psi, 750° F superheated boilers transferring to a General Electric 2,040 kVa electric motor driven by a turbogenerator, pushing a single 13-foot four-bladed screw.

At the time, they were the largest and most capable cutters ever to enter service.

A more in-depth dive by Newman, from Marine Engineering and Shipping Age, January 1922:

On trials, Tampa made 16.2 knots against a planned 16. Effective range was 5,500nm at 9 knots, about what a plodding convoy was good for.

Here’s a better look at the plan of these 240s. Note the forward “officers’ country” for the eight members of her wardroom. The berthing for the 81 enlisted was over the engineering spaces.

Robert Scheina notes that:

“The 240-foot cutters followed the traditional cutter hull form, having a plumb bow and counter stern. These features proved particularly undesirable while on the International Ice Patrol. Heavy seas coming up under the counter caused severe shocks. The wardroom in this class was well forward; thus, the deck sloped upward. This feature was known as the ‘Honeywell Hill,’ in honor of the principal architect of the class.

Armament in peacetime would be two unshielded 5″/51 Mark 8 single mounts (new guns for the Coast Guard, only entering Navy service in 1911), a 3/50″ DP gun, a pair of 57mm 6-pounders (loved by the Coast Guard for “shots across the bow”), and a 1-pounder saluting gun. Weight and space were reserved on deck for multiple depth charge racks, while the 6-pounders could be swapped out with additional 3″/50s in time of war.

Modoc’s stern 5″/51 in gunnery practice during the ice season, 27 November 1928. Note the extra deck space for depth charge racks and projectors. NARA 26-G-11-27-28(20)

Another shot of Modoc’s 5″/51

Another shot of Modoc’s 5″/51 in peacetime practice

Note her 3″/50 was on a platform before the bridge:

One of Modoc’s two 6-pounders. Navy Secretary Edwin Denby (far right) and Treasury Secretary Andrew Mellon (third from right) aboard the new U.S. Coast Guard cutter Modoc, prior to her first sailing, at the Washington Navy Yard, April 1922, LOC npcc.06082

When it came to peacetime, the typical magazine allowance was 100 5-inch Service rounds, 100 3-inch Service, 110 6-pounder Service, 60 1-pounder Target, and 110 6-pounder Blank charges. Also stored were 20 Torpedo “D” wrecking mines with another 20 TNT booster charges. This went out the window in wartime.

Likewise, with the Coast Guard long keeping the ability to send up to half of a cutter’s 89-man complement ashore to suppress assorted rowdies, bandits, and pirates, as needed, the class had an allowance of 53 “Landing Force Kits” each consisting of a M1903 Springfield rifle with bayonet, scabbard, and belt; a canteen with cup and cover, a haversack, and canvas leggings. For good measure, 25 M1911 pistols with belts and magazines were also included. Other goodies in the small arms locker included two Lewis guns, a single Thompson sub gun, two 22LR rifles and two .22LR pistols for marksmanship training; two .45-70 black powder line throwers, and four 1-inch Very pistols.

Landings, boardings, recoveries, and rescues were accomplished by eight boats: a 27-foot whaleboat, two 26-foot Monomoy surf boats, a 26-foot sailing launch, a 26-foot self-bailing surfboat, a 22-foot motor dinghy, and an 18-foot punt.

All four of the class (Tampa, Haida, Mojave, and Modoc, all named for Native tribes) were built by the short-lived Union Construction Company of Oakland, with Tampa laid down on 27 September 1920 and the last, Modoc, delivered on 14 January 1922.

Tampa class, 1929 Jane’s

240-foot Coast Guard cutters, likely Modoc, Mojave, and Tampa, September 1937 26-G-09-01-37(8)

Which sets the stage for us to…

Meet Modoc

Ordered in 1920 with the rest of her four-member class, the future Modoc was Yard No. 19. Launched  1 October 1921 with a bottle of sparkling cider smashed by a Miss Jean Lemard, Modoc commissioned 14 January 1922.

After completion, she headed via the Panama Canal to join sisters Tampa and Mojave on the East Coast while Haida remained on the West. Modoc’s first homeport was Wilmington, North Carolina, where she augmented and then replaced the old (circa 1899) 188-foot USCGC Seminole, with the latter eventually shuffled off to semi-retirement in the Great Lakes.

She is well remembered in Wilmington, which she called home for much of the next 18 years. She was captured by local photographer Louis T. Moore in her typical dock in front of the Customs House.

US Coast Guard Cutter Modoc in Wilmington, photo courtesy of the Historical Society of the Lower Cape Fear

US Coast Guard Cutter Modoc in Wilmington, photo courtesy of Historical Society of the Lower Cape Fear

Coast Guard Cutters Modoc and McAdoo dock at Wilmington, while the plodding ferryboat, Menantic, plies the waters by Moore

Modoc “defended” the town from faux buccaneers during the Feast of Pirates, which was held during the summers of 1927-29.

McKean Maffitt, secretary of the Feast of Pirates and Wilmington’s city engineer.

She also had some very real LE operations against bootleggers during Prohibition. Of note, the Tar Heel State maintained its own liquor ban from 1909 to 1935.

Modoc’s crew outside of the Customs House in Wilmington with smashed cases of smuggled hooch. Photo by Louis T. Moore

In the Ice

During the April-to-June ice season, when bergs from Greenland calve and drift south into the North Atlantic shipping lanes, Modoc, Tampa, and Mojave alternated 15-day stints on the International Ice Patrol, a service founded just after the loss of the Titanic.

Forward based out of either Boston or Halifax (it changed throughout the decade), these cutters tracked, day by day, the icebergs and field ice, determining their set and drift, then duly reporting their presence and location to the hydrographic office of the Navy while broadcasting the data by radio for protection of shipping. Each season in the 1920s typically tracked 400 large bergs.

It was customary for the cutter on station during the anniversary of the great liner’s loss to hold a ceremony. The skipper read prayers, three volleys were fired, and taps were sounded by the ship’s bugler. One such service aboard Modoc in 1925 was filmed and remains in public archives.

Memorial Service on board April 14 (in the late 1920s?), the Anniversary of the sinking of the S.S. TITANIC after colliding with an iceberg. Modoc was serving with the International Ice Patrol at the time. NH 45947

April 1928 saw Modoc as one of the spotting beacon ships off the Newfoundland for the German transatlantic plane Bremen, attempting a crossing from Dublin to St. John’s.

A modified Junkers W 33 monoplane, Bremen achieved the first successful non-stop airplane flight across the Atlantic Ocean from east (Baldonnel Aerodrome, Ireland) to west (Greenly Island, Quebec) in 36.5 hours, seen at Greenly above. Library and Archives Canada / PA-126212

Lifesaver

While not on Ice Patrol, Modoc performed the standard counter-smuggling, derelict destruction, law enforcement, and SAR that you would expect from a Coast Guard cutter.

She participated in several peacetime “saves.”

In February 1923, Modoc was sent from Wilmington to the lumber schooner Friendship, reported sinking in Oregon Inlet, about 90 miles south of Virginia Beach, and effected a rescue.

In January 1924, she rushed to the site of the Danish freighter Normania, reported foundered off Norfolk, but the steamer’s crew had already been rescued by the closer SS Henry R. Mallory just before their vessel plunged to Davy Jones.

In December 1926, Modoc responded to the sinking of the Coast Guard schooner Lincoln, which was destroyed by fire with a loss of six lives, several miles southwest of Cape Lookout Lightship. Lincoln, a seized rumrunner, was being used to carry oil and gasoline to lightships and stations.

In October 1926, Modoc responded to the de-masted schooner Purnell T. White, which had been caught in the northeaster off Cape Lookout and towed her to port.

January 1928 saw her tow the disabled motor yacht Cutty Sark, owned by Alexander Smith of Chicago and New York, into Charleston.

In January 1929, three barges loaded with lumber from Fernandina, Florida, to Georgetown, South Carolina, broke away from their tug in a storm, and one, the barge Belfast, foundered off Frying Pan Shoals, with Modoc saving her four-man crew.

March 1930 saw Modoc involved in the sweeping search for the missing yawl Nahma, owned by Mr. A. Felix Du Pont, with 12 souls, including his 19-year-old son Richard, aboard. They eventually turned up, but Nahma, Richard, again at the wheel, was lost off Cape Hatteras just two years later, the six aboard rescued by the Army transport Republic. Richard Chichester du Pont would meet his end in 1943, piloting an experimental glider at March Field in California, aged just 32, with a commercial carrier he had founded beforehand, now today’s American Airlines.

In February 1936, Modoc was sent to the aid of the 7,200-barrel Atlantic Refining Company tanker Albert Hill, bound from Philadelphia to Atreco, Texas, for a cargo, 200 miles off the coast of South Carolina. Soon after taking her under tow, the 435-foot Hill suffered an explosion, with the cutter rescuing all but four of her crew. Nonetheless, Hill was pulled into port and eventually returned to service after extensive repair at Robins Dry Dock in New York and was only scrapped in 1947.

In July 1936, Modoc was sent to search for the schooner Dewless, which started that summer’s biennial 635-mile Newport-to-Bermuda race and then promptly vanished. Dewless, owned and skippered by F. William Schnirring of New York, was located safe and sound two days later.

While on the Ice Patrol, in May 1930, the cutter documented an encounter with a white whale.

Boston Navy Yard, 24 June 1934. Top to bottom is USS Farragut (DD-348) to the left, a 250-foot Lake class USCG cutter to the right, a 240-footer, likely either Modoc or Mojave, USS Eagle PE-19, the battlewagons USS Texas (BB-35) and New York (BB-34), the French Sloop D’Entrecasteux, and the venerable frigate USS Constitution. (49629216003)

Not War, but You Can See It from Here…

When the Germans invaded Poland on 1 September 1939, Modoc was steaming off the Virginia Capes, conducting small arms gunnery drills. Ordered to put into Norfolk with leaves canceled and those detached recalled, she soon transferred 24 enlisted, nearly a third of her complement, to bring the large 327-foot USCGC Bibb up to a more warlike footing. The bigger cutter was soon bound for duty with the newly formed U.S. Neutrality Patrol in the North Atlantic.

Even with a reduced crew, Modoc soon was on patrol herself, trailing and identifying passing vessels offshore, exemplified by this entry from 15 November 1939, in the Atlantic.

This continued through 1940, with a break at the Coast Guard Yard in Curtis Bay for a quick refit, and patrols as far south as the Caribbean and Gulf of Mexico.

Modoc began New Year’s 1941 on patrol in the Florida Straits and in early February, she responded to the distressed 2,512-ton Brazilian freighter SS Mahukona, which disappeared without a trace while sailing from Newport News to Rio.

By April, Modoc was in drydock at Algiers across from New Orleans, prepping for continued North Atlantic service, calling at her traditional home port of Wilmington by the end of the month. Sent from there to the Boston Navy Yard for weapon upgrades, including adding two water-cooled .50 cal machine guns, two depth charge racks and two Y-gun projectors to her stern, she steamed out of Beantown for the Gulf of Maine on 12 May 1941, beginning a North Atlantic patrol off Newfoundland two days later, in doing so relieving cutter Northland (WPG-49), whose mission was to patrol the convoy lanes and pick up survivors of merchantmen sunk by German U-boats.

On the afternoon of Saturday, 24 May 1941, the neutral USCGC Modoc was shadowing British Convoy HX-126 on the lookout for survivors of nine freighters and tankers sunk by Wolfpack West over 20-22 March. Her radiomen overheard British traffic concerning the sinking of the vaunted battlecruiser HMS Hood, sent to the bottom of the Denmark Strait with 1,400 of her crew by the battleship Bismarck that morning.

Soon enough, Modoc’s lookouts reported a mysterious man-of-war on the horizon, followed by a biplane, and three other warships in the distance. It turned out the first ship was Bismarck, the aircraft was a Swordfish torpedo plane from the carrier HMS Victorious, and the three trailing ships were the battleship HMS Prince of Wales and the cruisers Suffolk and Norfolk.

Managing to avoid fire from either side, Modoc was able to observe the Sword’s attack on the German battleship and the resulting flak, then slipped back into the mists as the faster ships sped on for their rendezvous with destiny.

Her deck log from that evening:

Still in her peacetime white and buff scheme, the British reportedly thought she was a yacht at first, then almost opened fire on her.

Coast Guard Cutter Modoc (WPC-46) and the German battleship Bismarck by James Flood https://www.jamesaflood.com/uss-modoc-cg-wpg-46/

Following this exciting patrol, Modoc reported for duty with the Navy on 1 June 1941 and was designated flagship of the South Greenland Patrol, serving in the waters of that frozen subcontinent through the rest of the year.

As noted by DANFS:

Transferred to the Navy by Executive Order No. 8929 of 1 November 1941, Modoc joined the Greenland Patrol, whose orders were to do “a little of everything.” This duty involved keeping convoy routes open, breaking and finding leads in ice for the Greenland convoys, escorting the convoys and rescuing survivors from torpedoed ships, constructing and maintaining aids to navigation, and reporting weather conditions. Ships of the patrol were also expected to discover and destroy enemy weather and radio stations in Greenland, continue hydrographic surveys, maintain communications, deliver supplies, and conduct search and rescue operations. All these duties, the Coast Guard performed with exemplary fortitude and faithfulness throughout the war.

War!

With the U.S. officially in the war after Germany declared war on it on 11 December 1941, following Pearl Harbor, Modoc was in Greenland’s waters. Sent back to Norfolk for six weeks of repairs and alterations in early 1942, she returned to Greenland on 26 April, escorting the oiler USS Laramie (AO-16), the latter filled with a vital cargo of gasoline and oil for Army bases on the island.

In May, she escorted the empty Laramie, SS Omaha, and SS Azra back to Boston. Then came subsequent convoy runs from Newfoundland to Greenland and back for the rest of the year, often working with sisters Tampa and Mohawk.

Modoc in WWII Greenland Patrol livery

USCG Modoc or Tampa seen in Greenland, LT JG George R. Boyce in foreground, October 1942, NARA

The Ice Patrol suspended during the war; on 19 March 1943, the massive 14,795-ton whale factory ship Svend Foyn collided with an iceberg 70 miles south of Cape Farewell while sailing with Convoy HX-229A from New York to Liverpool with a cargo of fuel oil. The vessel foundered two days later with the loss of 43 out of the 195 crew and passengers aboard, with the USCGCs Aivik, Algonquin, and Frederick Lee on scene, later joined by Modoc to transfer those plucked from the sea to the latter cutter for transport to St. Johns.

It was an epic rescue.

As related by DANFS

Due to the deep roll of the Modoc, operating without lights in the middle of the night, the taking on of the half-frozen survivors was a difficult feat. Several of her crew distinguished themselves by going down the net and working waist-deep in the icy water to haul half-numb survivors aboard. One man, Leonard W. Campbell (101-707) CBM, almost lost his life in this rescue work. He and two others–John T. Hendrix (200-373) CEM, and William F. Coultas (251-300) Sea1c, were commended, and each of them later received the Navy and Marine Corps Medal. The Svend Foyne finally sank with 24 persons reported trapped aft. When the vessel sank, the Modoc and Algonquin searched the position and heard cries for help, but could not sight any survivors. Nearly four hours later, she took aboard one man who died of heart failure an hour later due to the extreme cold of the water in which he had been immersed for hours.

Modoc steamed into St. Johns with 128 living men from Svend Foyne on 28 March 1943.

Returning to convoy work for the rest of 1943, Modoc joined the CGCs Storis and Comanche in a futile search for survivors of the lost USAT Nevada, which had gone missing in a storm off Greenland on 16 December.

During a stateside refit in 1944, Modoc landed her 5-inchers, Y-gun depth charge throwers, and .50 cals, kept her 3″/50s, added four 20mm Oerlikons, as well as 4 K-gun throwers and two forward Mousetrap ASW devices. She also picked up SF-1 and SC-3 radars and a QCJ-3 sonar. Not bad, given the circumstances.

Modoc, along with the cutters Tampa and Algonquin, spent part of March and April 1945 as ASW cats in the waters off Portland, Maine, chasing the “tame mouse” Italian submarine Goffredo Mameli (T.V. Cesare Buldrini) in exercises.

Remaining a fixture on the Greenland convoy routes the rest of the war, Modoc went to the assistance of the distressed HMT Strathella in February 1944, the steamer Chippewa in November 1945, and RMS Begun in December 1945.

Modoc returned to the Treasury Department in accordance with Executive Order No. 9666 of 28 December 1945.

Modoc 1944-45

She earned one battle star for her WWII service.

But she still had at least one more good sub-arctic rescue in her.

Damaged by heavy seas, the EC2-S-C1 type Liberty ship SS Henry Baldwin, carrying 589 troops, radioed for help (“Developed plate crack in starboard of after-deck. Extremely heavy westerly seas”) on 16 January 1946 from a position about 300 miles southeast of Cape Race, Newfoundland. Modoc, sailing back to the U.S., was ordered at once to her aid, and Baldwin limped into Argentia. After repairs, the freighter continued service for another 24 years.

Afterward, Modoc reported to Boston Navy Yard on 26 January for installation of weather equipment and repairs.

On 26 March 1946, Modoc inaugurated the first post-war International Ice Patrol, using radar and LORAN for the first time in the IIP’s history. Also, for the first time, patrol aircraft were used to assist the cutter– USCG PBY-5As and PB4Y-1s of VP-6CG out of Argentia.

Decommissioned 1 February 1947, just shy of 25 years of service, ex-Modoc was sold to Manuel Velliantis in Honduras.

She was converted for merchant use as a barco bananero (banana boat) and renamed Amalia V. Later registered in Ecuador in 1950 by Tropical Navigation Co., she was renamed Machala, and served as a merchantman until scrapped in 1964

Epilogue

Little exists of the Modoc outside of her logbooks and plans in the National Archives and the occasional relic on the collector market.

The Coast Guard recycled the name Modoc for use on the transferred WWII-era USS Bagaduce (ATA-194), which served as USCGC Modoc (WATA-194/WMEC-194) from 1959 to 1979. That 143-foot vessel saw an active post-military career, serving as a bed and breakfast and as a sea base with the Earthrace Conservation group.

Since the International Ice Patrol has been maintained by the Coast Guard, there has been no berg-related loss of life in the area during the annual season, which now typically counts. The last cutter patrol was by USCGC Spar in 1990, the mission transitioning to aircraft and, by 2016, a combination of aerial and satellite surveillance.

Thanks for reading!

Meminisse est ad Vivificandum – To Remember is to Keep Alive

***

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Warship Wednesday 20 May 2026: Long Night of the Wolf

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 20 May 2026: Long Night of the Wolf

Naval History and Heritage Command NH 85868

Above we see the modified Spica (Alcyone)-class torpedo boat Lupo at sea during maneuvers likely at the “H” naval review off Naples on 5 May 1938. Note her “LU” hull identifier, 3.9″/47 OTO M1937 forward, and four 17.7-inch torpedo tubes aft.

Lupo had a short career– as did most of her assorted three dozen sisters– but she was exceptionally well-fought (or lucky, depending on the outlook) some 85 years ago this week.

The Spicas

The Italian navy was huge, and I mean huge, fans of torpedo boats.

Going back to the 80-foot Thornycroft-built Nibbio and Yarrow-built Avvoltoio in 1881, they had already built and discarded more than 60 Aldebaran and Euterpe class boats before the Great War began.

In the early 1920s, the fleet had almost 100 newer torpedo boats on hand (Condore, Pellicano, Gabbiano, four Sirio class, 18 Perseo class, four Oriones, 38 1PN-class, 39 40PN-class) that went 200~ tons, were good for 25-27 knots, and carried a few 350mm or 450mm tubes with a couple of light guns.

Italian torpedo boat 54 AS during World War I. She was one of 39 40PN-class boats built during the war. At 150 tons, they ran 139 feet oal, could make 27 knots, and carried two 76mm guns, two 450 TT, and had space for 10 mines.

That’s not even counting the 422 small 20-30 ton mosquito boats of the MAS (Motoscafo Armato Silurante) type that were ordered during the Great War, of which 244 were completed.

As we said, the Italians really liked torpedo boats. I mean, if you look at the Italian coastline and consider the short ranges involved in fighting in the Adriatic and chokepoints such as the Strait of Messina and Strait of Bonifacio, it makes perfect sense.

Fast forward to the late-1920s/early 1930s and, with Italy’s 100 Great War vintage large torpedo boats slow, poorly armed, and aging, the Italian admiralty moved to replace them with a new class of faster (34 knots) boats that were much better armed (three 3.9-inch guns, four Vickers 40mm AAA guns, four 450mm tubes, as many as 28 mines).

To allow the weight and space for needed engines (two sets of Tosi geared steam turbines and two Yarrow boilers generating 19,000hp, good for 37 knots) and extra armament, this new class of TBs would come in just under 600 tons (on paper) to take full advantage of the London Naval Conference of the 1930s minimum tonnage threshold for regulated warships.

This left a fairly large 269-foot hull with a layout similar to a downsized Italian Freccia class destroyer (1,200 tons, 315 feet oal, 44,000hp). When compared to other navies, these ships would be more akin to destroyer escorts or frigates, only faster and without the ocean-crossing range, the latter a feature that the Italians didn’t need.

The Italian Freccia-class light (1,200 ton) destroyer Saetta, probably at the 5 May 1938 fleet review off Naples. The Spicas could be seen as essentially just downsized Freccias at 45 feet shorter and half the weight.

Main gun armament was three OTO 100/47 Mod. 1931 guns in single mounts, backed up by a AAA battery of eight 13.2 mm machine guns in four twin Breda Mod. 31 mounts.

Torpedo armament was four 17.7-inch tubes arranged either in a twin turnstile with a single tube on each side of the bow, as in class-leader Spica, or in four single tubes, two on each side of the bow, as in the Vega and her flight.

17.7-inch torpedo tube mount on an Italian torpedo-boat, summer 1941

450 mm (17.7 inch) torpedo being launched by the Italian Spica class torpedo boat Pallade during an exercise, 1936

See below from Jane’s 1938 edition:

Jane’s 1938 entry. Disregard the mention of 37mm guns. Only Spica and Astore had two twin 40/39 Vickers-Ternis. None had 37s. The typical pre-war AAA mounting was M.31 Breda mounts with twin 13.2mm guns. These were later replaced by twin Breda 20/65 Mod. 1935 and then by four single Scotti-Isotta-Fraschini 20/70 Mod. 1939 mounts.

They also had weight and space reserved for two depth charge throwers, although they had no listening gear, at least pre-war.

When it came to mines, they could both mechanically sweep (with embarked cables and paravanes) and lay mines (able to carry up to 28) if needed.

Lupo’s stern showing her paravane stowed with a good look at her two aft 3.9″/47 OTO mounts.

A good stern view of Lupo showing her beam-mounted tubes, aft 3.9s, and “peppermint” aerial recognition pattern over her bow

Named for constellations, the first two of the class, Spica and the Astore, both built in the Bacini & Scali Napoletani (BSN) yard between 1933-35, were sold to Sweden in 1940 and commissioned as the destroyers (jagaren) Romulus and Remus, respectively, serving that Scandinavian Navy until 1958.

HSwMS Romulus (Jagare Nr 27) Swedish Marinmuseum  D 14939:179

Plan of HSwMS Romulus (Jagare Nr 27) in her 1950s layout, sans torpedo tubes and with sonars and M/48 Bofors 40mm guns fitted. Swedish Marinmuseum

The next 30 were built in three flights (16 “Alcyone” type, 6 “Climene” type, and 8 “Perseus” type) with very minor variations in armament. Besides BSN, which built four more vessels, CT Riva Trigoso built two (Canopo and Cassiopea), CNR Ancona built four, Ansaldo Genoa built 12, and CNQ Fiume 6, all entering service by November 1938.

The brand new Italian Spica-class torpedo boat Calipso setting sail from Naples. She was sunk on 5 December 1940, by mines from submarine mine-layer HMS Rorqual east of Tripoli

Launch of Italian Spica-class torpedo boat Altair in 1936. She was sunk on 20 October 1941 in the Saronic Gulf, also by mines laid by HMS Rorqual

They proved prolific in pre-war images of the Regia Marina at play.

Several Italian Spica-class torpedo boats photographed in 1938. The Circe (1938-1942) appears in the left foreground. NH 85999

Italian Trento-class heavy cruiser and Spica-class torpedo boats in the late 1930s, probably photographed at the 5 May 1938 naval review off Naples, Italy. NH 86334

Italy Torpedo Boats. CG=Cigno, SI=Sirio, VG=Virgo, SG=Sagittario, PS=Perseo, AD=Andromeda (classe di Climene). Spica – Partenope class, circa 1938. New York Times Files. NH 111510

Several Italian Spica-class torpedo boats, probably photographed at the 5 May 1938 naval review off Naples. NH 111485

Meet Lupo

Lupo was one of a dozen of the Spicas built by CNQ (Cantieri navali del Quarnaro S.A.) in Fiume in spitting distance of the old Whitehead torpedo factory with her direct sisters Libra (LB), Lince (LC), and Lira (LR), all having the same armament and arrangement.

Late model boats, they suffered a bit from mission creep and had grown to 785 tons standard, 1,035 full load, on a hull some six feet longer than the original Spica design but with the same engineering plant. This dropped the maximum speed down to just over 30 knots, a big difference from the blistering 37 that Spica got in light load on trials.

Italian torpedo boat Libra (Fiume-built Alcione type Spica class). Circa 1939. Note her two stern 3.9″/47s, twin paravanes, beam-mounted torpedo tubes, and Breda 13.2mm AAA guns on bandstands amidships. NH 111428

To be sure, by this stage, they were more DE than TB.

Jane’s 1938 entry putting Lupo and the rest of the “L” boats built by CNQ as part of the 16 Alcyone/Alcione type vessels listed as Partenope type.

Laid down 7 December 1936, Lupo launched 7 November 1937, and commissioned 20 February 1938, under the command of LCDR (capitano di corvetta) Pio Valdambrini, based in Sicily.

Lupo at launch, when she carried an “LP” pennant. This was soon changed to “LU.”

War!

By the time Italy entered WWII on the side of the Axis during the Fall of France, Lupo and sisters Lince, Libra, and Lira, were part of the VIII Torpedo Squadron (Squadriglia torpediniere) based at Torpediniere Rhodes in the Aegean Naval Command.

Beginning the war under the command of LCDR Gennaro Cioppa, by December 1940, Lupo’s skipper was 37-year-old LCDR Francesco Maria Mimbelli. A Livorno-born regular from a Dalmatian family who put on his cadet uniform at age 15, by 1923, he was serving as a junior officer on the gunboats Caboto and Carlotto on China Station. Part of the Italian delegation sent to the London Naval Conference, he later served on the cruiser Trento and commanded torpedo boats during the 1939 invasion of Albania.

Lupo drew her first blood at 18:00 on 31 January 1941 when, taking part in a patrol of the Caso Channel in the Dodecanese with sister Lince, spotted part of British Convoy AN.14 and went in to attack. Headed from Alexandria to Piraeus, the small (Aegean Northward) convoy element had two merchantmen escorted by the light cruiser HMS Calcutta and two corvettes.

With Lince pulling away Calcutta with a torpedo attack that failed, Lupo went after the largest merchie, the big Shell tanker Desmoulea (8,120 GRT), and hit her with two fish (the British say one), badly damaging the vessel. Abandoned by her crew in a sinking condition, the tanker was later towed the next day to Suda Bay with her cargo intact.

Notably, along with torpedo damage inflicted on the cargo ship Clan Cumming (7,264 GRT) of Convoy AS.10 on 19 January by the Adua-class submarine Neghelli (NG), Lupo’s hit(s) on Desmoulea were the only Italian naval successes against British convoys in the Aegean.

Lupo and her sisters were soon pressed into service shuttling troops around the Greek littoral.

On 25 February, she and Lince, along with the old destroyers Crispi and Quintino Sella, carried a reinforcement force of 240 soldiers and 88 marines to the embattled islet of Castelrosso (Kastellorizo​) in the Levantine Sea, which was being assaulted by British 50ME Commandos in the rather slapstick Operation Abstention. This led to a swirling night action between the two TBs and the British destroyers HMS Hereward and Decoy, with no casualties on either side. Finally able to land their troops on the 27th, Lupo and Lince also turned their 3.9-inch guns on said Commandos (reportedly causing three deaths and seven wounded), which withdrew the next day.

This brings us to the…

Night of the Wolf

As part of the epic German airborne assault on Crete, while Kurt Student’s Fallschirmjäger made their last ride-of-the-Valkyries level jump to glory in Operation Merkur, a two-pronged seaborne assault was attempted by the mountain troops of Julius Ringel’s 5. Gebirgs-Division.

One of these convoys of mountain troops was made up of 21 overloaded requisitioned Greek caiques, coasters, and barges, carrying 2,331 men, which left Piraeus on 19 May, bound for Maleme on the Allied-held Greek island at a lumbering seven knots. A second, larger, flotilla of 42 vessels would carry 4,000 mountain troops to Heraklion.

Both convoys were surveilled by RAF reconnaissance aircraft and duly reported.

The smaller Gebirgsjäger convoy was escorted at first by the Spica-class torpedo boat Sirio, but had to be replaced as she lost her starboard propeller. Her intended replacement, the old de-rated destroyer Curtatone, was sunk by mines on 20 May.

This left Lupo to answer the call alone.

Assigned to the defenseless convoy of wallowing caiques, she arrived on scene on the 21st of May and by that night made contact with British RADM Irvine Glennie’s Force D north of Canea, still 18 miles from their intended landing beaches at Maleme.

First involved was the destroyer HMS Janus, which Lupo fired two torps at from 1,000m at 2233.

Then came another vessel looming out of the night, the cruiser HMS Dido, which got a third and fourth torp fired at her from 700m at 2235.

Then came a second cruiser, HMS Orion, which she avoided ramming by just a few feet.

A third, the legendary HMS Ajax of Graf Spee fame, was on scene, as were the destroyers Hereward, Hasty, and Kimberley.

There was no way one Italian torpedo boat could compete with that kinda pressure, especially when the Brits had radar on their side. Just counting the cruisers, Lupo had three 3.9-inch guns against the British cruiser’s 10 5.25-inch and 16 6-inch guns. Then add the 20 4.7-inch guns on the four British greyhounds.

Lupo broke contact, and the Brits were able to sink 10 caiques in the night, sending over 300 German troops to the bottom of the Med, decimating the III Battalion of the 100th Gebirgsjäger regiment. Two caiques, altogether loaded with 113 Germans, made it to shore on Crete at Cape Spatha. The other caiques were able to slip away in the confusion and made it back to Piraeus.

Lupo during the Battle of Crete convoy action

The second, larger, convoy was recalled to prevent a similar fate.

The only damage done to the RN was via friendly fire, with Orion suffering 11 casualties due to 40mm (2-pounder) hits (which Lupo didn’t carry). The Brits also fired a tremendous amount of ammunition in the clash, with the cruisers firing some two-thirds of their magazines (Orion had 38 percent of her shells left, Ajax 42 percent, and Dido just 30 percent). Further, Ajax rammed and sank a troop-carrying barge, damaging her bow in the process, her stem fractured and bent over waterline level, and her forepeak flooded.

Lupo had been hit at least 18 times by 6-inch and 4.7-inch shells from British destroyers and cruisers, although most of the AP rounds passed cleanly through her without exploding. She suffered two dead, quartermaster Orazio Indelicato and gunner Nicolò Moccole, and 26 wounded. This against a complement of 116 officers and men. She nonetheless returned to the scene of the convoy massacre at dawn on the 22nd to pick up survivors, with Lupo, seaplanes, and rescue launches picking up 242 waterlogged Gebs by 1600 that afternoon.

The 5th Gebirgs-Division reported 506 missing in the Crete campaign, with most having drowned with the caiques, delivered to Posiedon by Force D.

German assault on Crete – May 1941 via USMA collection

Most of the Gebs involved in Operation Merkur that arrived on Crete did so as fly-in reinforcement, with 5,000 brought by Junkers 52s.

As for Lupo, she sailed back into Taranto looking like Swiss cheese.

The clash saw Mimbelli awarded the Gold Medal of Military Valour, while Lupo had the Silver Medal placed on her ensign.

Continued campaigning

Repaired and refitted, Lupo picked up a more ASW-oriented battery to include landing her 13.2mm guns for four twin Breda 20/65 Mod. 1935s, and taking on hydrophones and as many as 40 depth charges, with many of her sisters so converted.

Italian Libra (Fiume-built Alcione type Spica class), late in the war with camouflage. Note her depth charge racks instead of torpedoes and twin Breda 20/65 Mod. 1935 on port beam. Aldo Fraccaroli collection.

Thus rearmed, the Spicas became a fixture on Italian convoys in the Med, supplying outposts in occupied Greece and running troops to North Africa.

Italian Spica class torpedo boat Lupo, May 1941

Italian Spica class torpedo boats Libra, Lupo, and Lira in Mytilene, 4 May 1941

Italian torpedo boat Lupo and hospital ship Gradisca Tobruk, Libya, on 28 May 1941

While escorting a convoy of four steamers with the torpedo boats Altair and Monzambano and the auxiliary cruiser Barletta on the evening of 19 October 1941, Altair struck a mine laid eleven days earlier by the British submarine Rorqual in the Gulf of Athens, and her sister Lupo came to her aid. Taking 124 men aboard from Altair, Lupo tried to tow the vessel, whose bow had been blown off, but had to cut ties and let the stricken TB sink.

On 23/24 November 1941, Lupo and sistership Cassiopea, while escorting two German steamers, Maritza and Procida, to Benghazi with supplies for Rommel, bumped into British Force K, which had been birddogged to the convoy by deciphered Ultra messages. This pitted the two Italian TBs against the light cruisers HMS Aurora and Penelope and the destroyers HMS Lance and Lively. The resulting night action in the rain left the two German steamers sunk, but the Italians survived to fight again. Lupo is generally credited with hitting Penelope’s superstructure with her 3.9s, causing minor damage, and in turn, picking up some minor damage herself.

Lupo was with another convoy, from Piraeus to escort to Suda, again with sister Cassiopea, escorting three merchies when they escaped an attack from HM Submarine Porpoise on 17 January 1942.

In March 1942, the now-famous Mimbelli was sent to command the IV MAS Flotilla operating in the Black Sea, leaving Lupo in the hands of her third wartime skipper, LCDR Giuseppe Folli.

Committed to a series of Piraeus to Tobruk convoy runs, it was on one of these sorties on 2 September 1942 that Lupo’s convoy came under the combined attack of USAAF B-24s and HM Submarine Thrasher.

On her next run to Tobruk, with sister Sirio and three small freighters, Lupo survived an attack from HM Submarine Taku.

The extremely lucky Lupo’s run ended on the evening of 2 December 1942 when, along with the TBs Ardito, Aretusa, and Sagittario, she was escorting three steamers from Naples to Tripoli. After dodging Albacore bombers of NAS 828 out of Malta, which struck the steamer Veloce, the convoy again found its old nemesis, Force K, this time composed of the radar-equipped destroyers HMS Jervis, Nubian, Kelvin, and Javelin.

Lupo, at the time attempting to tow Veloce and bathed in the light of 40-inch searchlights, was smothered in 4.7-inch shells at 2,000 yards, and sank in the Gulf of Gabès at 2345.

Lupo carried LCDR Folli and 134 other souls to the bottom of the sea. Just 29 survivors were picked up by Ardito.

The shattered wreck of the ship, missing her bow and stern, was found approximately 96 miles SW of Lampedusa and 20 miles off the Kerkennah Islands in December 2011 by AHTS Buccaneer, some 435 feet down. It has been extensively surveyed.

Epilogue

The Italians recycled the name “Lupo” for Battaglione Lupo, a marine infantry unit within the infamous Xª Flottiglia MAS in 1944. It fought with Mussolini’s rump Italian Social Republic in Northern Italy against Allied forces and partisans until the end of the war.

Lupo Battalion Italian Marines of X MAS division, La Spezia, Italy, 1944. Note the “samurai” mag carriers and MAB 38 Beretta SMGs.

The modern Italian Navy commissioned a frigate (F 564) using the Lupo name in 1977, which served until 2003. She is still in service with Peru as BAP Palacios (FM-56).

Italian frigate Lupo (F564)

Of Lupo’s 30 Spica-class sisters in Italian service, 23 were lost during the war. Seven survivors returned to Italian service, modernized as fast corvettes outfitted with radar, sonar, and Hedgehog ASW devices. The last two, Sagittario and Libra, were only retired in 1964.

As for Lupo’s only victim during the war, the Greenock-built Shell D-class tanker Desmoulea was patched up, survived a second torpedoing in May from an Italian S.79 bomber, was patched up again, survived German He. 111s, and continued sailing until 1961. A tough-to-kill tanker for sure!

The Shell tanker, Desmoulea, Fremantle, 1948. Fremantle History Collection LH004488

Lupo’s most famous skipper, LCDR Mimbelli, earned two Iron Crosses (EK1 and EK2) for the Sevastopol campaign and picked up two companion Silver Medals and five Bronze to his Gold for leading several actions with his speedy MAS boats along the Calabrian and Sicilian coasts. Post-war, he commanded the battleship Vittorio Veneto and the cruiser Garibaldi before heading the Naval Academy in Livorno.

The Italian fleet’s CNO from September 1959 to April 1961, Ammiraglio di Squadra Francesco Maria Mimbelli, moved to the retired list in 1964 and passed in 1978, having spent 57 of his 72 years in uniform.

As noted by the Marina Militare, “The mission report of the Royal Torpedo Boat Lupo, written by Commander Mimbelli in a dry and elegant style, is kept by the Historical Office of the Navy in Rome, for current and future generations.”

In 1993, an Ammiragli-class destroyer, ITS Mimbelli (D 561), was commissioned with his name and remains in service.

The destroyer Francesco Mimbelli in Valletta, Malta, 17 May 2005. Wiki Commons by Anthony Vella.

Thanks for reading!

Meminisse est ad Vivificandum – To Remember is to Keep Alive

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Old School

I always love to see the old M-14 clocking in with the fleet. Sure, it is just shooting lines here, but work is work, baby. The steel-and-wood M-14 was officially replaced in service by the M-16 platform in 1967, but is still kicking by all means.

“Crimson Connection.” Sailors aboard the guided-missile destroyer USS John Finn (DDG-113) shoot a line during a replenishment with the fleet replenishment oiler USNS John Lewis, May 13, 2026. The John Finn is deployed to the U.S. Central Command area of operations to support maritime security in the Middle East. U.S. Navy Photo 260513-D-D0477-9009.

The Pascagoula-built Finn, a Flight IIA Burke, entered the fleet in 2017 and is forward-deployed and assigned to Commander, Task Force (CTF) 71/Destroyer Squadron (DESRON) 15, the Navy’s largest DESRON and the U.S. 7th Fleet’s principal surface force.

The destroyer’s namesake, Chief Aviation Ordnanceman John W. Finn, would no doubt approve of the M-14. He earned his MoH the hardest of ways on 7 December 1941 when he ran to a VP-14 training stand at Kaneohe Bay and worked a water-cooled Browning during the attack on Pearl Harbor, remaining at his gun even after picking up wounds from strafing Japanese fighters, until ordered to seek medical attention.

Warship Wednesday 13 May 2026: Unexpected Blockade Enforcer

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 13 May 2026: Unexpected Blockade Enforcer

Photo from the collection of Rosalie and Bascom Grooms, Sr., courtesy of Florida Keys Public Libraries

Above, we see the U.S. Lighthouse Service Tender Mangrove around 1897, when she entered service.

Though not built with military service in mind, Mangrove would serve in three wars under Navy orders, including one where she fired the last shot and captured one of the largest enemy prizes.

Background on the Lighthouse Service’s steel tenders

The foundations of the Lighthouse Service, also known as the U.S. Light-House Board, were advanced by a Congress whose Senate was headed by John Adams and approved by President Washington on 7 August 1789.

While not a military branch, Navy officers often filled many roles in the organization, and its men and tenders clocked in for the greater good during times of war. For instance, during the War of 1812, the keeper of the lighthouse at Havre de Grace, Maryland, is reported to have defended that town from an attack by the enemy.

The USLHT Van Santvoort was transferred to the Union Navy in 1861 and served as the gunboat USS Coeur de Lion during the Civil War, while USLHT Shubrick— which carried several small guns in order to protect light keepers and citizens from Indian attacks on the Oregon coast– transferred to the Revenue Cutter Service. Famously, the service’s head in 1860 was one CDR Raphael Semmes, USN, soon to be captain of the CSS Alabama, while at least five USLHTs were seized in Southern states, with most pressed into service with the CSN.

At the end of FY1893, the USLHS had 1,312 lighthouses and beacon lights, 419 day beacons, 1,751 post lights, 4,315 assorted buoys in position, 39 lightships, and 32 tenders to service them, including two sail and 30 steam, the latter often with auxiliary sail rigs. Staffed by 1,139 lightkeepers, 1,503 laborers, and 821 “other employees, including crews of lightships and tenders,” the service was spread thin across 16 coastal districts as well as several large inland river systems. All this was paid for by an outlay of $2,558,500, with the largest expense ($670,000) being that of lightkeeper salaries. Vessel and crew expenses for tenders came in at a paltry $250,000, or about one tenth of the overall budget.

The 1893 period saw the USLHS add two new large steel-hulled sea-going steam tenders, the 800-ton/164-foot Maple, built for $93,888 in New Jersey for use with the 5th LH District out of Baltimore, and the $92,125 Ohio-built Columbine (643-tons/155-foot oal), for the 13th LH District in Oregon. Columbine’s twin sister Lilac had been delivered the year prior.

US. Lighthouse Tender Columbine, steaming, at 15 knots, Columbia River, May 10, 1894. She later served in the Navy twice during wartime, was in commission for over 32 years, and steamed a total of 400,920 miles. Courtesy of Rear Admiral A. Farenholt, (MC), USN. NH 55298

Lighthouse Board plan for Lilac and Columbine

Other modern tenders delivered in the years prior included the Madrono (1885) and the Armeria (1890), both of similar 164-foot designs.

Tender Madrono, 164-foot USLHS tender commissioned 1885

Complete with compound steam engines, Scotch-type boilers, twin propellers, and a deck that featured a wooden derrick with a steam-powered winch, these were a new breed of general-purpose vessels and had a general layout that the service would stick with for the next forty years. They proved capable of supplying fuel, mail, and materials to remote lighthouses; transporting work crews and equipment up and down the coastline, towing lightships, and setting even the heaviest of buoys. Further, they typically proved to be excellent sea boats while still being able to operate in shallows as low as nine feet.

This sets the stage for our subject.

Meet Mangrove

A steam tender of the new sea-going type was approved in FY1896 to service the 7th Lighthouse District (from Miami to Mobile Bay) and the 8th (Mobile Bay to the Rio Grande). The contract was awarded to Crescent Shipyard, Elizabethport, New Jersey, and construction began. The final $37,500 of the tender’s $74,997.63 cost was appropriated on 4 June 1897 by the sundry civil appropriation act.

She was to be 164 feet overall with a 30-foot beam and draw just over eight feet under her hull with a standard 821-ton displacement. Rated for 10 knots, she had two Page Burton watertube coal-fired boilers and two compound inverted reciprocating steam engines driving two four-bladed props.

Among her outfit was a hydraulic hoisting winch, a new piece of equipment for the service, and a naphtha “alchol-vapor” powered launch acquired from the Valor Engine Company for $1,371.90.

The new tender, the first to be named Mangrove in the LHS standard “tree” naming convention, was launched on 26 June 1897, sponsored by Miss Mabel Snow, wife of CDR (later RADM) Albert Sidney Snow, USN. A veteran of the Civil War and 1871 Korean expedition, Snow, at the time, was holding the post of Inspector for the 3rd Lighthouse District.

A near sister, the 164-foot USLHT Mayflower, was completed at Bath Iron Works at the same time.

Mangrove was commissioned on 1 December 1897 and assigned to Key West. Arriving aboard Mangrove was a new skipper, Captain Phillip Louis Cosgrove, Sr., a Key West fixture who had been with the USLHS since 1873 and was pretty salty at age 64, having previously commanded the tenders Arbutus and Laurel for many years.

Leaving Tompkinsville, New York, on 27 December 1897, Mangrove arrived at her new home in Key West on 8 January and soon got to work establishing new buoys in the Dry Tortugas. In the first quarter of 1898, she steamed 2,634 nm on USLHS missions, burning some 404 tons of coal in the process. In that time, her crew cleaned and painted 115 buoys, changed 83, and worked three days at the district’s light house depot.

On the evening of 15 February 1898, the battleship USS Maine sank while at anchor in Havana following a terrific explosion, and Mangrove, just heading into her fifth week on station at Key West, was the closest and most prepared American vessel to the stricken warship.

Mangrove, with Captain Clendenin, Assistant Surgeon, U.S. Army, and his hospital steward aboard, left for Havana from Key West immediately at 0300 on 16 February under the orders of CDR  James M. Forsyth, commander at the naval station there, followed by the 160-foot gunboat USS Fern (which, ironically, was a former USLHST).

Arriving on scene the next morning, Mangrove loaded the Maine’s 60 wounded survivors for return to the United States. A second sortie from Key West to Havana and back soon after would carry salvaged guns and evacuated U.S. civilians from Cuba.

USS Maine, sunk in Havana Harbor, Feb. 15, 1898

Refugees from Havana brought by Mangrove to Fort Taylor in Key West, along with the original graves of the lost Maine crew

A court of inquiry was held in Mangrove’s salon to try to ascertain the cause of the destruction of the Maine. With much of the inquiry held in Havana over the first two weeks of March, Mangrove’s searchlights were in continuous use each night, assisting divers and other activities as the Navy officers made their home on the humble tender.

USS Maine Court of Inquiry, 1898. Members of the Navy Court of Inquiry examining Ensign Wilfrid V. Powelson, on board the U.S. Light House Tender Mangrove, in Havana Harbor, Cuba, circa March 1898. Those seated around the table include (from left to right): Captain French E. Chadwick, Captain William T. Sampson, Lieutenant Commander William P. Potter, Ensign W.V. Powelson, and Lieutenant Commander Adolph Marix. “The Court made a most patient, thorough, and searching investigation into all matters pertaining to the destruction of the Maine, examining the wreck in detail, above and below the water line, with the assistance of expert Naval Constructors and divers, and examining all witnesses whose testimony promised to throw light, in the faintest degree, on the subject.” NH 46764

After meeting on Mangrove for 18 days of hearings, the Court shifted to the more regal and accommodating battleship USS Iowa, newly arrived at Key West from Hampton Roads, from whose deck it released its report on 21 March, stating they felt Maine had been destroyed by a submarine mine of unknown origin.

On 10 April, Mangrove was transferred to the Navy Department and retained her name but became USS rather than USLHST. Mangrove received a new, more warlike skipper, LCDR William Henry Everett (USNA 1867), borrowed from the old gunboat USS Michigan, along with a quick coat of grey paint, two 6-pounder guns, and a 1-pounder. Everett also had a young ensign assigned to him, one John H. Dayton, and an even younger midshipman– one of 123 such cadets pulled from class and rushed from Annapolis to help flesh out the ranks for the war. Ole Phil Cosgrove remained on board as first mate and sailed to war as such.

Additionally, Mangrove was fitted with cable repair and grappling tackle with the idea that she would be useful in cutting the telegraph lines around Cuba and Puerto Rico. Meanwhile, her 30-man crew would get on-the-job training as instant bluejackets, sans crackerjacks.

War (her first)

On 21 April 1898, two months after the sinking of the battleship Maine in Havana and 11 days after Mangrove transferred to the Navy, the United States declared war on Spain.

The blockade began in earnest on the morning of 23 April, with Mangrove reporting to Capt. Henry Clay Taylor of the battleship USS Indiana, which also had the armed tug USS Algonquin in retainer.

After helping to cut the submarine cable out of Havana on the evening of 25 April, Taylor ordered Mangrove North to Key West on a mail run, then sped Indiana south toward RADM Sampson’s flagship, USS New York. At around 5:25 p.m., Mangrove spotted a large ship approaching Havana. It turned out to be the Trasatlántica company liner, SS Panama (2,080 GRT), en route from New York to Havana, Progresso, and Vera Cruz, carrying 29 mostly Spanish passengers, mail, and general cargo.

Caught on the high seas, Panama was prepared for service as an auxiliary cruiser should war come, carrying a pair of 18-pounders (Hontroia 90mm guns, with 30 shells for each) as well as a Maxim gun on the bridge, two signal guns, 20 Remington rolling block rifles, and 10 Mauser bolt action rifles, all with ammunition, as well as a companion supply of bayonets and swords. Further, Panama was capable of 12 knots while Mangrove was closer to 8.5 at her overloaded condition, meaning even if she didn’t want to fight, the Spaniard could have simply outrun the armed tender.

After firing three shots across the bow, Mangrove was able to get the Panama to heave to for boarding at a range of 4,800 yards, with the intrepid Ensign Dayton rowed across for the task as the sole member of a VBSS team.

Everett had put in a requisition for a crate of rifles, along with a box of revolvers, with proper belts, cartridges, bayonets, etc., and it had been duly approved and forwarded, but the arms never made it to Mangrove. In the morning, she encountered Panama, the only weapons to be found among the crew included one revolver– the private property of the cadet midshipman– and the dress swords of the three officers. In fact, the crew who manned the cutter to put the boarding officer on the Panama (the Ensign Dayton) rowed over in their civilian dungarees as no Navy uniforms had arrived either.

Nonetheless, Mr. Dayton came aboard to the shrieks of female passengers, went to the bridge, advised the Spanish captain his elegant vessel was a prize, war having been declared between the United States and Spain, and he acquiesced.

Simple as that.

The NYT on the capture:

As Mangrove couldn’t spare the manpower, Indiana, which had closed on the scene, supplied 15 Marines and an Annapolis Cadet (Walter Maxwell Falconer, one of 13 Mids on the battleship) as prize crew while the tender escorted Panama to Key West.

Panama was later sold at public auction by the U.S. Marshal in New York on 20 June, with the U.S. Government being the high bidder at $41,000 (vessel only, her cargo garnered another $14,523.12). This was one of the highest prices realized from among the more than 50 captured Spanish vessels sold during the war, eclipsed only by the fine steamers Rita, which was bought by the Army for $120,000, the Guido, which went for $130,000, and the Pedro, which was sold to the U.S. Navy for $200,000. The Army went on to use her as a livestock transport.

After bringing Panama as a trophy to Key West, Mangrove returned to Cuban waters, serving as a dispatch vessel for Admiral Sampson and in general blockade duties.

Mangrove seen with torpedo boat USS Ericson 2024.01.0014

Mangrove helped seize the small Spanish schooner Oriente on 2 May, along with the tug USS Tecumseh and gunboat Vicksburg.

On 7 June, LCDR Everett was dispatched to the Asiatic Squadron to join Dewey’s staff and replaced on Mangrove by another Navy regular, LCDR Daniel Delehanty Vincent Stuart (USNA 1869). The tender-turned-gunboat also landed her loaned cadet midshipman (presumably with his celebrated pistol!), in exchange for Ensign Charles A. Brand (USNA 1890), who had been sent down from detached service on the survey schooner USC&GSS Endeavor.

On July 22, Mangrove captured her third prize, the Spanish sloop Anguedita, singlehandedly, and duly convoyed said vessel to Key West.

Ordered in early August to support the Cuban expedition aboard the schooners Dellie and Ellen F. Adams at Cayo Francés in Buena Vista Bay on the north-central coast of Cuba, Mangrove stood picket near Caibarien to spoil any attacks on the beachhead by a collection of Spanish gunboats known to be sheltering there. Chief of these was Hernand Cortés, commanded by LCDR (teniente de navío de 1.ª clase) Angel Izquierdo Pozo, and three small launches, Cauto, Viliente, and Intrepida, the latter armed with 1 pounders. The Spanish mosquito boat flotilla had previously sortied out and engaged U.S. blockaders twice before, on May 10th and 18th.

A fine Clydebank-built Pizarro-class gunboat (canonero), Hernan Cortes was a brand-new 300-tonner equipped with 57mm Nordenfelts and designed to intercept filibuster expeditions. Capable of 13 knots, the stiletto-hulled 155-foot patrol boat had a 50-man crew. All the above should have more than made her a match for a gently armed buoy tender.

Should have.

Spanish gunboat (canonero) Hernan Cortes, probably photographed early in 1896 while undergoing trials at the Builder’s Yard, Clydebank, Scotland. Note the two single Nordenfelt 75mm guns mounted fore and aft. These were replaced before 1898 by two smaller 57mm guns and two 7mm Maxim guns. NH 88600

On the morning of 14 August, some 3 miles east of Caibarien at approximately 10:55 a.m., Mangrove’s crew spotted a large Spanish gunboat and opened fire with her port-side 6-pounder gun, slowly gaining range. Cortes retaliated, and for the next 90 minutes, a long-range artillery duel continued, with Cortes largely stationary and the three smaller Spanish launches, armed with short-range 1-pounders, also returned fire as Mangrove alternated passing gun runs on her port and starboard sides.

Breaking contact around 12:30, the small Spanish launch Cauto soon approached with a white flag aloft and advised the garrison had just been informed by wire that the hostilities between Spain and America had ceased the day prior, leaving Mangrove with the distinction of firing the last war shots of the conflict. In all, the tender fired 103 rounds from her 6-pounders and three from her 1-pounder. According to most reports, at least four of the larger shells found themselves in the engine room of the Cortes, explaining the vessel’s stationary position for most of the engagement.

According to a dispatch published in the Army & Navy Journal, Mangrove bombarded the town as well, letting loose some 87 shots at the fort and village.

With that, Mangrove’s war service ended.

Similarly, the lighthouse tenders Armeria, Maple, and Mayflower were also taken into Naval service for the duration of the conflict, though none saw the combat and success that Mangrove did.

The closest was Mayflower, which, as USS Suwanee, was given a much bigger battery than Mangrove and provided gunfire support for Marines engaged in consolidating the American position at Guantanamo Bay in June 1898 and again for the Army troops advancing on Aguadores in July.

USLHT Mayflower in 1898 at Norfolk Navy Yard, complete with service insignia on her bow. Note she has twin 6-pounders fore and aft, as well as two 3″/50s.

The United States Navy auxiliary cruiser USS Suwanee (ex-United States Lighthouse Service lighthouse tender USLHT Mayflower) (center) underway off Siboney, Cuba. The troop transports USS St. Louis is at left, and the patrol yacht USS Vixen is at right. NH 85649

The most enduring change that came to the USLHS during the War of ’98  was the temporary militarization of 78 lighthouses for use as coast watching stations. This saw 92 miles of land telegraph and telephone lines laid, along with 43 miles of submarine cables, to establish round-the-clock contact with these often-remote locations. Further, each keeper was provided with a set of first-class binoculars, signal flags, and code books.

Mangrove was cited by the Navy Department for “Conspicuous Service” during the war, while her crew was authorized the Naval Campaign West Indies (Sampson) Medal in 1901 with “Mangrove” ribbon clasp.

They ultimately split the prize money for Panama in 1903 after lengthy legal efforts to successfully exclude the much larger crew of the battleship Indiana, with the Supreme Court noting, “The adventure of the Mangrove may not have been a brilliant event that will live in story, but it was sufficient to give its officers and crew the profit of the law.”

She was returned to the Lighthouse Service on 18 August 1898 and remained moored at Key West’s Man-of-War Harbor until 19 October 1898 to land her guns and military equipment. She was then sent to Mobile for drydocking and repairs– including replacing the port propeller plate whose edge had been shot off by one of Cortes’s guns at Caibarien, her only wartime damage.

Leaving Mobile on 15 December 1898 with a refreshed USLHS livery, she resumed her post serving in the 7th LH District.

Back to the Lighthouse Trade

One of Mangrove’s first post-war assignments was, somewhat appropriately, heading to Havana in March 1899 to relieve and reset all channel and harbor boys. She also planted buoys to mark the wreck of USS Maine.

She remained a busy beaver. For instance, the Annual Report of the Light-House Board of the United States to the Secretary of the Commerce Department details that, for FY1901, Mangrove cleaned and painted 79 buoys, worked 25 days at the depot, and steamed 8,722 nm, burning 1,038 tons of bituminous coal in the process.

She was also an angel on the sea and a savior to those in peril upon it, repeatedly.

In September 1900, Mangrove was ordered from Key West along with the Revenue Cutters Algonquin, Onondaga, and Winona to bring 25 tons of provisions and medical supplies across the Gulf to Galveston, which had been hit by the worst hurricane to ever make landfall in the U.S., claiming the lives of more than 10,000. The crews of the relief vessels pitched in where they could in the massive cleanup effort.

From 14 July 1906 to 25 April 1907, Mangrove was under overhaul and repair at the League Island Navy Yard.

In October 1909, Mangrove rendered assistance for several days to the U. S. Revenue Cutter Forward, stranded by a hurricane at Key West. She also rendered assistance the following June, to the steamer Lassell, of New York, aground on Carysfort Reef.

In January-February 1911, Mangrove was part of the joint naval task force, including the USRC Forward, the tug USS Massasoit (YT-15), and four destroyers, lining the 90 miles from Key West to Havana for the attempt by Canadian aviation pioneer John Alexander Douglas McCurdy to make the trip in his Curtiss flying machine. Keep in mind, this was only a bit over seven years after the Wright Brothers’ first flight.

J.A. McCurdy before his flight on February 7, 1911. Monroe County Library Collection.

The flight was unsuccessful, and the aviator had to be rescued from the Florida Straits by the nearest support ship, USS Terry (DD-25), just within sight of the Cuban coast.

The Navy crews from USS Terry recovered McCurdy’s plane after his failed attempt to fly from Key West to Havana on January 30, 1911. Gift of Senator Warren Henderson.

On 12 February 1912, our tender picked up the dismasted American schooner Otis about 2.5 miles from Rebecca Shoal light station, Florida, and towed the vessel to Key West. The same year saw Mangrove commended for hauling the British steamer Antaeus off French Reef, and assisting the stranded schooner Igo.

Mangrove spent much of 1913 in overhaul, with most of her officers and crew cross-decked to man the near-sister Lilac, which had just emerged from overhaul sans crew.

The same year, she picked up her sixth skipper, Capt. Ernest O. Tull. Tull entered the Lighthouse Service in 1889 in the Fifth district and served during the SpanAm War on Mayflower/Suwanee. In 1912, while first officer on the tender Orchid, Tull jumped into the water and rescued an unconscious member of the crew of that vessel, who was knocked overboard as the result of an accident to the derrick. He would become a staple of Mangrove’s history for the next 13 years.

On 7 February 1915, Mangrove would rescue the crew of the wrecked schooner William H. Yerkes, which was lost on the Frying Pan Shoals with a cargo of phosphate rock bound for Baltimore. The trusty tender brought the waterlogged crew to Wilmington the next day.

In January 1916, the tender came to the assistance of the submarine USS K-5 (SS-36), which had been out of communication with command. For this, the USLHS and Commerce Department received an official note of thanks from the Navy Department.

Showing how versatile her type was, Mangrove that year also helped move the 51×56 foot keeper’s dwelling of the Georgetown Light Station some 1.25 miles across Winyah Bay– while the keeper’s family remained inside.

War (again)

The Naval Appropriations Act of 29 August 1916 (39 Stat. L., 556, 602) authorized the USLHS to transfer to the Navy and/or War Department in time of emergency as directed by the President. The plan was for the War Department to take some tenders to supplement Army Coast Artillery Corps mine planters for the establishment of minefields outside U.S. ports, while the Navy would absorb others– as well as coastal stations, depots, and lighthouses– for use in patrol work.

Though a civilian agency of a neutral country, the USLHS had already tasted war from the Germans, courtesy of U-53 in October 1916, when the submarine torpedoed three vessels off Nantucket Island, and the Nantucket Shoals Light Vessel sheltered 115 shipwrecked men and 19 lifeboats for several days.

The United States declared war on the Kaiser on 6 April 1917 and just five days later, President Wilson signed Executive Order #2588 activating the provisions of the August 1916 Navy Act, including the transfer of USLHS installations, ships, and personnel to the Navy although the CNO soon made it clear that when it came to actual lighthouses, “that it would be preferable to take over as few as possible.”

Speaking of “as few as possible,” in the end, the War Department felt it didn’t need any lighthouse tenders and allowed the Navy to take over all 50 of the service’s vessels for better or worse.

As detailed by Theodore J. Panayotoff in the November 2011 Lighthouse Digest:

Upon transfer, all officers and crewmembers were inducted into the US Naval Reserve Force (USNRF) with the officers receiving commissions with the rank of LTJG or ENS. Counting the tenders, light stations, and lightships, there were 1,284 Lighthouse Service personnel transferred to the Navy Department, or about ¼ of the Lighthouse Service at the time.

The word went out via Western Union telegram in most cases during the week of 18 April.

This figure later grew to 1,132 LHS personnel, while 152 employees of the service that had not been transferred in turn resigned and joined the Army or Navy directly as volunteers.

On 19 April 1917, Mangrove, Ernest O. Tull commanding, assisted in floating the ship Nevisian.

Again, we fall back to Panayotoff on the role the tenders played in 1917-19 Navy operations:

The tender deck log holdings of the National Archives were reviewed to shed light on what these “military” duties may have been. An interesting discovery was that, based on the few cases where deck log holdings are listed for both the Naval vessel and the Lighthouse Service tender, dual logs were kept on board the vessels. Entries in the Department of Commerce Form 304, the Lighthouse Service deck logbook, were handwritten, and the Navy Department Bureau of Navigation logbook sheets were typewritten. The log entries were word-for-word identical. It is possible that the Lighthouse Service log served as a rough log, and the Navy Department log was the smooth log. The respective organizations retained their logs, signed by the Commanding Officer, USNRF, and Master, USLHS, respectively. Although not every entry of the available logs was read, it appears that the tender activities were all lighthouse-related.

As further explained by the USLHS Annual Report in 1923, looking back on the Great War:

“The naval representatives on an interdepartmental board stated: “The service being performed by these tenders in the various naval districts is extremely valuable. In some cases, they are the main reliance of the district commandants for seagoing vessels; in some instances, the work being performed by these tenders is of a nature for which the Navy has no suitable vessels, for example, the laying of the defensive submarine nets.”

While Mangrove survived her second war without a scratch, not all were so lucky. The Diamond Shoal Light Vessel (LV-71), off Cape Hatteras, was sunk on 6 August 1918 by U-140 after the submarine discovered the light ship was broadcasting warnings of her presence. All 12 of her crew, however, managed to escape by launch as the sub’s deck guns were smashing about their light ship.

All USLHS men who served with the fleet were awarded Victory medals by the Navy Department. In July 1919, all vessels and personnel were retroceded to the Department of Commerce.

Mangrove in the last days of the USLHS

Mangrove, with Tull still commanding, on 20 October 1920, rendered assistance in extinguishing a fire on the gasoline launch of the USS Dixie while in Charleston Harbor.

Our tender affected her biggest rescue in the case of the Clyde Line steamship SS Lenape in October, when the 7,000-ton liner went aground on the Nassau Bar, transferring 247 passengers to another one of the Line’s vessels.

As detailed in the 1922 Lighthouse Service Bulletin:

In 1922, Mangrove was shifted up the Eastern Seaboard and assigned to the 6th Lighthouse District, based out of Charleston, South Carolina, where she operated for the rest of her government career.

On 6 February 1923, Mangrove went to assist the crew of a stranded oyster barge and towed them to a safe anchorage in the Ashepoo River.

While in the thick winter fog along the Savannah River on 3 January 1924, Mangrove came to the assistance of the steamship City of Savannah, which was unable to turn around in the narrow channel.

Capt. Tull medically retired from the USLHS in early 1926, leaving Mangrove after 13 years as Master. A veteran of both the SpanAm War and the Great War, he passed on 29 July 1926 in Charleston, having completed 37 years of service.

(Yet another) War

By the time Mangrove’s third war came around, the 150-year-old USLHS no longer existed, its assets and 5,800 employees having been absorbed by the USCG in July 1939, including all 64 of its assorted tenders. The service’s 1,195 regular tender and lightship crewmen and officers were given a three-option choice: accepting a rank/rate in the uniformed service, retiring if they had enough time in the pension system, or moving on to other endeavors.

In turn, Executive Order 8929 of 1 November 1941 transferred the entire Coast Guard to the Navy for the coming “Big Show” against the Axis. By this time, the 44-year-old Mangrove had picked up a pennant number  (WAGL-232), gray paint, and guns. By the end of the war, she carried not only a pair of 20mm Oerlikons and depth charges but also a SO-1 type surface search radar set.

Her fellow SpanAm and Great War veteran near-sister, Mayflower, likewise, served as USCGC Hydrangea (WAGL-236) during WWII to avoid being confused with the Navy’s USS Mayflower.

Mangrove continued naval service as a buoy tender until 1 January 1946, when she was returned to the Treasury Department. Her service during WWII was uneventful, and she decommissioned on 22 August 1946.

Unneeded in a Coast Guard that had 39 brand-new 180-foot Balsam-class seagoing buoy tenders on hand, ex-Mangrove was sold for scrap in March 1947.

Epilogue

A few relics of our subject endure.

The Key West Lighthouse & Keeper’s Quarters Collection holds both Mangrove’s SpanAm War streamer pennant and a Quarantine Flag flown from the tender.

Her 1897-marked bell has also been spotted in circulation.

Of Mangrove’s Caibarien nemesis, Hernan Cortés survived the war and was repaired enough to return home to Spain in the Spring of 1899 in a sad convoy of survivors of the conflict, including her sister, Vasco Nunez de Balboa, the cruiser Magallanes y Marqués de la Ensenada, the auxiliary cruisers Patriota and Rapido, torpedo boats (cañoneros-torpederos) Nueva España, Martín Alonso Pinzón, Marqués de la Ensenada, and Vicente Yáñez Pinzón. The convoy assembled at Fort de France (Martinique) and sailed on 7 March, arriving at Cadiz on 1 April via El Hierro, a slow running 3,900 miles, with several ships being towed. Shifted to Morocco, Cortes proved especially handy in capturing smugglers and fighting the Rif, remaining in further Spanish service until 1924.

Mangrove’s first skipper, the venerable Capt. Cosgrove, in charge of the lightning response to the stricken Maine and served as Mate during the ’98 War, resigned from the USLHS in 1906, capping a 33-year career. He passed in Key West just six years later, aged 78. Buried on the Key, his home remains and is a noted historic building.

Of Mangrove’s two Navy skippers in the SpanAm War, LCDR Everett, who commanded her during the capture of the steamer Panama, retired from the service as a rear admiral in 1906, completing 43 years in uniform, including his time as a midshipman. He passed away in 1912, aged 65. LCDR Daniel Stuart, who inadvertently ordered the last shots of the war, also retired as a light admiral. Stuart’s decorations, including an exceedingly rare “Mangrove” marked Sampson medal, recently sold at auction for $8,000.

What of the young ensign who confidently took command of Panama in 1898, armed only with a borrowed personal revolver and a dress sword? VADM John Havens Dayton (USNA 1890) retired from the Navy after being an early skipper of the dreadnought USS Arizona, earning a Navy Cross as captain of the battleship USS Michigan in the Great War, and commanding the European Squadron in the 1920s. He passed in 1953, aged 84, and is buried in the cemetery at Annapolis– as you would expect.

Thanks for reading!

Meminisse est ad Vivificandum – To Remember is to Keep Alive

***

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Warship Wednesday 6 May 2026: 50 Years Low and Slow

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

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 6 May 2026: 50 Years Low and Slow

Historic New England PC047.02.5870.09396

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

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

Steel Navy’s early gunboats

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

USS Machias

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

Gunsboat USS Nashville PG-7

This sets the stage for our subject.

Meet Wilmington

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

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

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

Wilmington Olangapo PI dry dock

Wilmington Olangapo PI dry dock

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wilmington during fitting out with no armament installed. NH 63584

Wilmington would commission on 13 May 1897.

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

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

Wilmington and Helena gunboats, Janes 1898

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

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

War (her first)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Battle of Cárdenas USS Wilmington USS Winslow Hudson

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

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

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

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

1st. The destruction of two Spanish gunboats.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As detailed by DANFS, the Manzanillo raid was textbook:

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

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

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

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

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

The war ended just 24 days later in an armistice.

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

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

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

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

Roaming

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

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

Talk about a time capsule!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wilmington and Callao at Canton, China, 1912

As detailed by DANFS:

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

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

War (again)

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

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

Great Lake Days

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Helena & Wilmington, 1929 Janes

(Yet another) War

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

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

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

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

Dover at Gulfport, May 1944

Dover at Gulfport, May 1944

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

Dover at Gulfport, May 1944

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

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

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

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

She was finally decommissioned on 20 December 1945.

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

Epilogue

Little remains of our subject.

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

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

Thanks for reading!

Meminisse est ad Vivificandum – To Remember is to Keep Alive

***

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