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Warship Wednesday, Aug. 30, 2023: Weaving the Falls

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

Warship Wednesday, Aug. 30, 2023: Weaving the Falls

Admiralty Official Collections of the Imperial War Museum, Catalog no. A 3295 by Harold William John Tomlin, a Royal Navy official photographer.

Above we see a circa 1941 image of a Royal Canadian Navy officer aboard the 4th group Town class destroyer HMCS Niagara (I57) making his bunk with a very interestingly camouflaged Mk I “battle bowler” style helmet at the ready. As for the U.S. Navy crest on a bunk cover?

There is a good reason for that, one that goes back 105 years ago this week.

The Wickes

Our ship was one of the iconic first flights of “Four Piper” destroyers that were designed in 1915-16 with input from no less an authority as Captain (later Admiral) W.S. Sims. Beamy ships with a flush deck and a quartet of boilers (with a smokestack for each) were coupled to a pair of Parsons geared turbines to provide 35.3 knots designed speed– which is still considered fast today, more than a century later.

The teeth of these 314-foot, 1,250-ton greyhounds were four 4-inch/50 cal MK 9 guns and a full dozen 21-inch torpedo tubes.

They reportedly had short legs and were very wet, which made long-range operations a problem, but they gave a good account of themselves. Originally a class of 50 was authorized in 1916, but once the U.S. entered WWI in April 1917, this was soon increased and increased again to some 111 ships built by 1920.

Wickes class USS Yarnall (DD-143): Booklet of General Plans – Inboard Profile / Outboard Profile, June 10, 1918, NARA NAID: 158704871

Wickes class USS Yarnall (DD-143): Booklet of General Plans – Main Deck / 1st Platform Deck / S’ch L’t P’f’m, S’ch L’t Control P’f’m, Fire Control P’f’m Bridge, Galley Top, After Dk. House and 2nd Platform Deck. / June 10, 1918, Hold NARA NAID: 158704873

Wickes class. A close-up of her stern top-down view of plans shows the Wickes class’s primary armament– a dozen torpedo tubes in four turnstiles and stern depth charges.

Of the 111 Wickes completed, there were three subclasses besides the 38 standard-design vessels built at Bath Iron Works, Cramp, Mare Island, and Charleston. Then came the 52 Bethlehem-designed ships built at the company’s Fore River (26 ships) and Union Iron Works (26 ships) led by USS Little, the Newport News-built variants (11 ships) starting with USS Lamberton, and New York Shipbuilding-built variants (10 ships) led by USS Tattnall.

The subclasses were constructed to a slightly different set of plans modified by their respective builders, which made for some downright confusing modifications later. In addition, the Bethlehem-designed Little variants tended to have shorter legs and proved unable to cross the Atlantic in a single hop without stopping in the Azores for refueling or completing an underway replenishment.

Anyway…

Meet Thatcher

Our subject was the first warship commissioned to honor RADM Henry Knox Thatcher, USN. Born in 1806, this grandson of Maj. Gen. Henry Knox (George Washington’s artillery master) was first appointed to West Point in 1822 then, after being out sick and resigning, subsequently received an appointment as a midshipman with the Navy the following March at age 16, spending the next four years at sea aboard the frigate USS United States in the Pacific. Then came a string of seagoing assignments as a junior officer in the antebellum period (schooner Porpoise, sloops Erie and Jamestown, frigates Delaware and Brandywine, storeship Relief) before earning his first command, that of the sloop Decatur in 1857.

The Civil War saw him promoted to captain and later commodore, commanding the sloop Constellation in European waters, the screw frigate Colorado with the North Atlantic Blockading Squadron, and a division of Porter’s squadron against Fort Fisher. The war ended with him in command of the Western Gulf Squadron tasked with the reduction of Spanish Fort and Blakeley– the last two holdouts in Mobile Bay– then accepting the surrender of Sabine Pass and Galveston, the last rebel ports.

Promoted to rear admiral in 1866, he held command of the North Pacific Squadron and was placed on the retired list in 1868 after a 45-year career, Thatcher passed in 1880, aged 73.

Appropriately, USS Thatcher (Destroyer No. 162) was laid down on 8 June 1918 by Fore River at Quincy, Massachusetts; launched 105 years ago this week on 31 August 1918 sponsored by Miss Doris Bentley, the grandniece of RADM Thatcher; and, too late for the Great War, was commissioned on 14 January 1919, with LCDR Francis Warren Rockwell (USNA 1908)– a Navy Cross holder for his time on the destroyer USS Winslow (DD-53) during WWI and future VADM who later commanded the 16th Naval District in the Philippines at the outbreak of World War II in the Pacific— as her first seagoing skipper.

USS Thatcher (Destroyer # 162) At the Boston Navy Yard, Massachusetts, 14 January 1919. Panoramic photograph by J. Crosby, Naval Photographer, # 11 Portland Street, Boston. NH 99264

In all, USS Thatcher’s construction only lasted just 220 days, a wonder of wartime shipbuilding.

Her active-duty U.S. Naval career was correspondingly short, spanning just 40 months but she was part of the support group for the pioneering NC-4 flying boat crossing of the Atlantic in May 1919.

USS Thatcher (DD-162). Leading other destroyers into a harbor, circa 1919-1921. The next ship astern is USS Crosby (DD-164). This was likely during the NC flying boat crossing as Thatcher operated on picket station number 9, one of 21 stations strung out from Newfoundland and Labrador to the Azores, between her sister ships Walker (Destroyer No. 163) and Crosby. Underway at sea, she provided visual and radio bearings for the flying boats as they passed overhead on their way toward Lisbon, Portugal. NH 41952

USS Cuyama (Oiler # 3) at Acapulco, Mexico, circa 1919, with several destroyers alongside. Destroyers off Cuyama’s starboard side are (from left to center: USS Walker (Destroyer # 163); USS Crosby (Destroyer # 164); and USS Thatcher (Destroyer # 162). USS Gamble (Destroyer # 123) is moored along Cuyama’s port side. Courtesy of Donald M. McPherson, 1976. NH 85033

USS Thatcher (DD-162) underway, circa 1920. NH 41953

Transferred to the Pacific in the autumn of 1921, Thatcher operated out of San Diego, conducting exercises and training cruises off the West Coast with reduced manning (her last three skippers were ensigns and LTJGs) until decommissioned there on 7 June 1922.

Pacific Fleet Through Panama Canal US Destroyer “162”, Balboa Inner Harbor July 25, 1919. National Archives Identifier 100996438

Destroyers at the Mare Island Navy Yard, 1919 (from left to right): USS Tarbell (Destroyer # 142); USS Thatcher (Destroyer # 162); USS Rizal (Destroyer # 174); USS Hart (Destroyer # 110); USS Hogan (Destroyer # 178); USS Gamble (Destroyer # 123); USS Ramsay (Destroyer # 124); and USS Williams (Destroyer # 108). Donation of Rear Admiral Ammen Farenholt, NH 42537

Destroyers at the Mare Island Navy Yard, 1919, L to R: USS Tarbell (Destroyer # 142); USS Thatcher (Destroyer # 162); USS Rizal (Destroyer # 174); USS Hart (Destroyer # 110); USS Hogan (Destroyer # 178); USS Gamble (Destroyer # 123); USS Ramsay (Destroyer # 124); and USS Williams (Destroyer # 108). Donation of Rear Admiral Ammen Farenholt. NH 42538

She would sway quietly along with others of her kind in the California mothball fleet for another 17 years.

Brought back to life

With war coming again to Europe, Thatcher was recommissioned at San Diego on 18 December 1939, then transferred to the Atlantic the following spring after shakedowns and workups.

Transiting the Panama Canal on 1 April 1940, just before the German blitzkrieg against France and the Low Countries, Thatcher conducted Neutrality Patrols and training cruises off the east coast and in the Gulf of Mexico through the summer of 1940.

USS Thatcher (DD 162) off Brooklyn Navy Yard, New York. Lot 5124-2

Headed to serve the King

With Europe again at war, on 2 September 1940, FDR signed the so-called Destroyers for Bases Agreement that saw a mix of 50 (mostly mothballed) Caldwell (3), Wickes (27), and Clemson (20)-class destroyers transferred to the Royal Navy in exchange for limited basing rights on nine British overseas possessions. Canada would receive seven of these ships including five Wickes, doubling the number of destroyers in the Canadian Navy in days. 

In respect of Canada’s naming tradition for destroyers, all seven RCN flush deckers were named for Canadian rivers, ideally, those that ran in conjunction with the U.S. border, a nice touch. Thatcher, therefore, became HCMS Niagra, so named after the river that becomes the Falls in New York.

Sailed by scratch USN crews from Philadelphia, Thatcher and five of her sisters arrived at Halifax, Nova Scotia, on 20 September 1940, the third group of the “flush deckers” transferred.  

Transfer of U.S. destroyers to the Royal Navy in Halifax, Sept 1940. Wickes-class destroyers USS Buchanan (DD-131), USS Crowninshield (DD-134), and USS Abel P. Upshur (DD-193) are in the background. The sailors are examining a 4-inch /50 cal deck gun. Twenty-three Wickes-class destroyers were transferred to the RN, along with four to the RCN, in 1940 under the Destroyers for Bases Agreement. (Library and Archives Canada Photo, MIKAN No. 3199286)

Decommissioned from the U.S. Navy on 24 September 1940, Thatcher was renamed HMCS Niagara (I57) and, headed for a refit for RN service by HM Dockyard Devonport, departed Halifax on 30 November; proceeded eastward via St. John’s, Newfoundland where she joined Convoy HX 080 as an escort on 10 December.

She wasn’t struck from the U.S. Navy List until 8 January 1941.

Besides HX 080, she would ride shotgun with no less than 13 Atlantic convoys in 1941 as part of the Newfoundland Escort Force (NEF), 17 in 1942, 16 in 1943, and one in 1944 for a total of 48 wartime convoy runs.

During this service, she was often a lifesaver, for instance escorting the battered Danish merchantman Triton into Belfast in January 1942, rescuing the survivors of the American merchantman SS Independence Hall two months later, then picking up 12 shaken survivors from the sunken steamer SS Rio Blanco, which had been torpedoed by U-160 in April; followed by 8 survivors from the Norwegian tanker Kollskegg that sent to the bottom by U-754.

Harold William John Tomlin, a Royal Navy official photographer, took a series of detailed shots of the (reserve) officers and crew of HMCS Niagara in action, likely in 1941, and they are preserved in the collections of the Imperial War Museum.

HMCS NIAGARA, TOWN CLASS DESTROYER, ONE OF THE FIFTY DESTROYERS HANDED OVER BY THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA IN EXCHANGE FOR THE USE OF THE BASES. 1941, ON BOARD THE DESTROYER, SHE HAS AN ENTIRELY CANADIAN CREW, SOME OF WHOM ARE EXPERIENCING THEIR FIRST TASTE OF NAVAL LIFE. AMONGST THEM ARE LUMBERJACKS, FARMERS, WAREHOUSEMEN, ETC., WHO UNTIL THEY BROUGHT THE NIAGARA ACROSS THE ATLANTIC HAD NEVER BEEN TO SEA. TYPES OF CANADIANS FORMING THE CREW OF HMCS NIAGARA SOME WEARING THEIR UNUSUAL HEADGEAR, ETC. (A 3289) HMCS NIAGARA. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205137695

THE ROYAL CANADIAN NAVY DURING THE SECOND WORLD WAR (A 3277) Jack Farrell, a sailor in the Royal Canadian Navy, walks across the deck carrying a sack over his left shoulder aboard HMCS NIAGARA an ex-American Town class destroyer, 1941. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205119367

THE ROYAL CANADIAN NAVY DURING THE SECOND WORLD WAR (A 3273) Gerald Moore, a sailor in the Royal Canadian Navy, smokes a cigarette whilst sitting on the deck of HMCS NIAGARA an ex-American Town class destroyer, 1941. He is wearing a peaked hat with tied-up ear covers commonly worn by Canadian servicemen. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205119365

THE ROYAL CANADIAN NAVY DURING THE SECOND WORLD WAR (A 3275) Ski Doyle, a sailor in the Royal Canadian Navy, leans against the railings of HMCS NIAGARA an ex-American Town class destroyer, 1941. Rather than the standard bib, Doyle is dressed in a woolen roll-necked jumper. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205119366

THE ROYAL NAVY DURING THE SECOND WORLD WAR (A 3293) Two Canadian sailors from HMCS NIAGARA hand washing from improvised lines strung across the deck of their ship. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205185254

THE ROYAL NAVY DURING THE SECOND WORLD WAR (A 3284) The Navigating Officer of HMCS NIAGARA uses a sextant to get a bearing at sea. He is wearing a heavy coat to protect him from the cold of the open bridge. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205185253

THE ROYAL NAVY DURING THE SECOND WORLD WAR (A 3297) The Blue watch has a sing-song on board HMCS NIAGARA, a Town class destroyer. An accordion, guitar, and mandolin are being played by some of the sailors. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205185255

THE ROYAL NAVY DURING THE SECOND WORLD WAR (A 3299) The Engineer Officer of HMCS NIAGARA carries out an inspection of the boiler room to make sure that all is ready for sea. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205185256

HMCS NIAGARA, The First Lieutenant, a veteran of the last war makes the rounds of the ship. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205137709

HMCS NIAGARA, Up on the signal deck, Signalmen receive a signal instructing the Commanding Officer to take his ship to sea. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205137704

HMCS NIAGARA, Down on the mess deck members of the Red Watch play cards. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205137701

HMCS NIAGARA, In the Wardroom, officers enjoy a quiet spell while awaiting orders to put to sea. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205137698

HMCS NIAGARA The gun sight setter with his voice tube awaits orders. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205137692

HMCS NIAGARA The Mate, (a rank not used in the British Navy) Sub Lieutenant G H Doty, who until he joined the Canadian Navy was a newsreel cameraman, works out the course on the chart. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205137705

HMCS NIAGARA Petty Officer Ben Pearse was a lumberjack on Vancouver Island. The eye cover is the result of a slight accident. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205137685

HMCS NIAGARA Gordon Charlebois, French Canadian, of Alexandria, Ontario, who before joining the NIAGARA had never been on board a ship. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205137687

HMCS NIAGARA, Down in the engine room, the Telegraph rings ‘half speed ahead’. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205137707

HMCS NIAGARA In his cabin the Engineer Officer, Lieut E Surtees, enters up details of the work done by his staff. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205137702

HMCS NIAGARA Members of the crew fix the fuse caps to projectiles for the ‘Twelve Pounder’ gun. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205137690

HMCS NIAGARA On the Bridge, the Captain prepares to take the ship to sea. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205137706

HMCS NIAGARA The boiler room receives instructions on the boiler room telegraph. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205137708

HMCS NIAGARA In the Galley the cook prepares for the next meal, going to sea makes no difference to his routine. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205137697

HMCS NIAGARA A member of the ship’s company having a haircut on deck by the ship’s barber. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205137699

HMCS NIAGARA Jack Lawrence, age 21, of Newfoundland, had served in yachts and merchant ships. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205137684

HMCS NIAGARA Lou Kiggins was a drugstore assistant on Prince Edward Island. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205137688

HMCS NIAGARA Leading Seaman Les Porter, who was the Mate of a Lake Steamer. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205137686

HMCS NIAGARA Replacing the oil fuel jets after ensuring the efficiency of these important sections of the motive power. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205137703

HMCS NIAGARA Action Stations, loading the ‘Twelve Pounder’. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205137691

HMCS NIAGARA When at sea the Captain can only leave the bridge for brief snatches of sleep. Here is the Commanding Officer of HMCS NIAGARA having a well-earned nap, but fully clothed ready for instant summons from the bridge. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205137693

HMCS NIAGARA Tom Williamson was a cable maker at Niagara Falls. Now he is the ship’s rigger in HMCS NIAGARA. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205137689

HMCS NIAGARA HMCS NIAGARA. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205137696

U-570

Niagara’s most famous exploit was in the capture of U-570, a low-mileage German Type VIIC boat operating out of Trondheim, in August 1941.

After being damaged by depth charges from a British Hudson aircraft (269 Sqn RAF/S) in the North Atlantic south of Iceland and surfacing showing a white bed sheet on her tower, Niagara and the destroyer HMS Burwell (H 94)— another destroyer for bases vessel, formerly the Clemson-class four-piper USS Laub (DD-263)— together with a quartet of armed trawlers– HMT Kingston Agate, Northern Chief, Westwater and Windermere— were dispatched to the scene, arriving the next morning.

U-570, its German crew on the conning tower; evident to the left of the conning tower is the white sheet used to surrender to the RAF Lockheed Hudson of No. 269 Squadron.

A camouflaged Niagara stands by as a Royal Navy boarding party of four armed men from the HMS Kingston Agate has taken the U-570 under control, their Carley Float (rubber raft) can be seen tied alongside; photo taken from an Iceland-based PBY Catalina during a low pass — Morning, August 28, 1941.

Taking off 43 Germans under the bizarre Kptlt. Hans-Joachim Rahmlow, just seven days into his first war patrol, then installing a prize crew aboard, the trawlers took turns towing the damaged U-boat to Thorlakshafn, Iceland where she was beached, and very thoroughly inspected, detailed plans of her forwarded across all Allied channels.

The U-570 beached on the coast of Iceland at Þorlákshöfn, photo taken probably August 30, 1941.

General Plan of the U-570, U.S. Navy ONI Report Enclosure of the redrawn and translated plan of the submarine captured on board — prepared by the David W. Taylor, Model Basin, U.S. Navy (1941).

While Rahmlow had managed to jettison the boat’s the boat’s Enigma machine and codebooks, an officer from HMS Burwell retrieved documents with plain language and enciphered messages which helped the British to read Enigma messages.

Further, the boat was in fine shape with British inspectors noting, “Internally the damage was negligible and consisted mostly of a few broken gauges, gauge glasses, and light fittings probably caused by the depth charges and also by ignorantly conceived attempts to destroy various fittings.” Her motors, engines and pumps, compressors, auxiliaries, etc., appeared to be undamaged and battery compartments dry and sound.

The swashbuckling pistol-wearing skipper of Niagara, LT Thomas P (“Two-Gun”) Ryan, OBE, RCN, a Great War minesweeper veteran, one-time mercenary in South America, and a former police inspector in Ireland, conducted the initial interrogations of the captured German POWs, who were relieved to be (in their understanding) headed to a much quieter life in Canada.

“Two Gun” Ryan aged 51 at the time of U-570’s capture. A recipient of the Bronze Medal in WWI, he later went on to command HMCS Ingonish (J 69), HMCS Dawson (K 104), and HMCS Shediac (K 110) post-Niagara, then shipped out in 1946 to Manilla to distribute Red Cross supplies and write a memoir.

Formal RN interrogators cited U-570’s crews’ shocking lack of experienced hands, noting, “The chief petty officers, and to a lesser extent, some of the petty officers, expressed great concern at the inadequacy of the training and the lack of U-Boat experience, not only of the men but also of the officers and petty officers; no attempt was made to disguise the incompetence of the crew and the officers were severely criticized by all the men.”

U-570 became the British submarine HMS Graph on 5 October 1941 and, as the first operational German U-boat under Allied control– the more famous Type IXC U-505 wasn’t captured by the U.S. Navy until June 1944 — was key to understanding the tactics that would go on to win the Battle of the Atlantic.

German U-Boat U-570 entering the dock at Barrow-in-Furness after her capture by the Royal Navy. IWM Photo, FL 951

Importantly, the U-570/Graph was the only U-boat to see active service with both sides during the war, sent back out for her first Royal Navy war patrol on 8 October 1942.

Back to the war…

Niagara served and served hard, the unforgiving life of a tiny and aging greyhound in the North Atlantic. Suffering from structural weakness and with her boilers worn out, coupled with the fact that other, more modern escort ships were joining the fleet and needed crews, by March 1944 she was pulled from frontline service.

She continued to serve as Torpedo Branch training ship at Halifax throughout 1944 and, shifting to St. John, New Brunswick the following year, would endure in this important service.

Loading practice torpedoes on HMCS NIAGARA – Sep 1944

Niagara with the British Royal Navy Submarine HMS P553 (former USS S-21) alongside. This image was taken at Halifax circa 1943-44 as P553, transferred to the Royal Navy at New London on 14 September 1942, was then based at Halifax as an anti-submarine warfare training boat until returned to the USN at Philadelphia on 11 July 1944 and sunk as a target.

Paid off and placed on the Disposal List on 15 September 1945, Niagara was sold to International Iron and Steel for demolition on 27 May 1946 then taken in tow to Hamilton where she arrived at the Breaker’s Yard on 12 December 1947.

Epilogue

The old HMCS Niagara is well remembered by the Royal Canadian Navy Historical Project, For Posterity’s Sake.

Her wartime replacement bell (the original USS Thatcher bell was retained by the U.S. Navy, disposition unknown) has for some time been in the Niagara Falls Museum.

As for the U.S. Navy, a second USS Thatcher, a Fletcher-class destroyer (DD-514), was built at Bath in Maine– just miles from where RADM Thatcher was born– and commissioned on 10 February 1943. She was rushed to the Pacific– helping to sink the Japanese destroyer Hatsukaze during the Battle of Empress Augusta Bay in November 1943– and earned 12 battle stars for World War II service.

The newly commissioned USS Thatcher (DD 514) in Boston Harbor, Massachusetts, on 28 February 1943. Note 20mm guns amidships and forward using the photographing aircraft as an opportunity for tracking practice. Worn out from her WWII service which included surviving two kamikaze hits off Okinawa, a post-war survey board decided that the ship should be scrapped, and she was decommissioned on 23 November 1945 and then sold for scrap. National Archives photograph, 80-G-36537

There has not been a third USS Thatcher.

As for the name HMCS Niagara, the Royal Canadian Navy’s liaison base as part of the Canadian Embassy in Washington D.C. was known as the shore establishment HMCS Niagara from 1951 to 1965.


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


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Warship Wednesday, Aug. 23, 2023: The Last Violet

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

Warship Wednesday, Aug. 23, 2023: The Last Violet

USCG Historian’s Photo 220211-G-G0000-010

Above we see the Department of Commerce’s United States Lighthouse Service’s Violet-class coast-wise tender Lilac standing by the wreck of a derelict sailing ship in New York harbor, circa 1930s, with Lady Liberty in the background, likely during one of the vessel’s regular trips to the Service’s St. George Depot on Staten Island. If you look closely, you’ll note the USLHS’s brass lighthouse emblem bolted to her bow.

Lilac would later go on to serve, including a spell in haze gray, for another 40 years, and continues to clock in today.

The last tenders of the USLHS

The U.S Lighthouse Establishment was founded in 1789 and morphed across several iterations until, as the U.S Lighthouse Board in the 1890s, developed a basic design for its largest steam tenders that would remain little changed for a century. Between 1892 and 1939, no less than 33 such large coast-wise tenders were built, typically ranging in length from 164 to 174 feet and outfitted to carry about two dozen crew to work a series of large steam-powered booms to service a growing array of federally maintained aids to navigation– 11,713 in 1910 when the USLHS was formed swelling to 30,420 by 1939. These included lighted aids (lighthouses, lightships, and buoys), fog signals, radio beacons, unlighted buoys, and daymarks.

The trio of Violet class tenders (joined by the near-sister Arbutus) was led by the Manitowoc-built USLHT Violet, contracted in September 1929, followed by our Pusey & Jones Co. built Lilac and Mistletoe. Modern vessels, they were built almost entirely of riveted steel, including hulls, decks, deckhouses, and masts, edged with wood as a protective against heavy buoys, chains, and cement anchors. They had electric lights throughout and refrigerated storerooms.

Some 173 feet in length (163 feet six inches on the waterline) the class had a molded breadth of 32 feet, and the minimum depth of hull at the side, from the top of the main deck to the top of the keel, of 14 feet 6 inches. At a displacement of approximately 770 tons (799 is full load), the draft is 10 feet seven inches in salt water, essential to being able to tread in hazardous shoals.

Early plans of near-sister Arbutus, which was of the same overall type although slightly deeper of hold and with Foster-Wheeler boilers rather than Babcock & Wilcox as used by the Violets.

Arbutus out of the water before launch at Pusey & Jones. Note the wooden strakes to protect her hull while working buoys and the USLHS lighthouse insignia on her bow. (USCG photo)

The fuel capacity of the class was 29,000 gallons of fuel oil for their pair of Babcock & Wilcox boilers, each driving a triple expansion engine. The designed top speed of the class was approximately 13.7 knots at 1,000 hp– although later maximum speed was in the typically 11.5 knot range. They were not built as racehorses. The range, at 10 knots, was 1,734 nm which allowed them to range along the coast and keep station for weeks if needed.

Lilac, seen here ready for launch at Wilmington Delaware in 1933. She was moved through the water by twin four-bladed propellers 7 feet 5 inches in diameter. Each propeller was driven by a triple expansion, reciprocating steam engine developing 500 indicated horsepower at 160 revolutions per minute. The engines were built by the ship’s builders, Pusey & Jones of Wilmington, Delaware, and had high, intermediate, and low-pressure cylinders 11 1/2, 19, and 32 inches in diameter respectively with a 24-inch stroke. Steam to operate the engines and booms was supplied at 200 pounds per square inch by two Babcock & Wilcox oil-fired watertube boilers. (Hagley Library)

The deck gear included a 20-ton capacity boom with a steam-powered hoist, here seen in action aboard Lilac in 1948. (Philadelphia Inquirer archives)

Besides normal crew berthing of about six officers and 20 crew while on USHLS orders, the class also had spare accommodations to allow ferrying rotating crew members to lightships and keepers to lighthouses as well as providing space for district and national officials on periodic inspection tours.

Meet Lilac

Our subject had been planned to be named Azalea, contracted on 13 April 1931 to Hampton Roads Shipbuilding of Portsmouth, Virginia. However, Pusey & Jones subsequently underbid Hampton Roads, and the former was awarded the contract, after which the USLHS changed the new tender’s name to Lilac.

The name “Lilac” was the second in the USLHS, with the first being a 155-foot tender built in 1892 that served in the Navy during the Great War on patrol off the East Coast and in the Caribbean.

Ordered for $334,900 from Pusey & Jones on 16 August 1932, she was launched on 26 May 1933 and entered service with the service later that same year under the command of Capt. Andrew J. Davidson, a man who began his long career 42 years prior as a ship’s carpenter aboard the lighthouse tender Zizania and would be her skipper for five years.

USLHS Lighthouse Tender Lilac, NARA Identifier 26-LG-69-64

Lilac was assigned to the Fourth Lighthouse District, which covered the Delaware River, from Trenton, New Jersey south to the mouth of the Delaware Bay. She replaced the old (c. 1899) tender Iris and was based in Edgemoor, Delaware, just north of the mouth of the Christina River, where she would spend the next 15 years. Among her more famous charges was the Breakwater Lighthouse, founded in 1885 and now part of the Cape Henlopen State Park.

The Delaware Breakwater Lighthouse. LOC.

Joining the Coast Guard

On 1 July 1939, with the world edging towards war, the USLHS merged with the U.S. Coast Guard, which is still in charge of the maintenance and operation of all U.S. lighthouses, lightships, and aids to navigation. Lilac and her sisters were among 63 existing and building tenders of all sorts transferred to the USCG. With that, the triangular pennant of the Lighthouse Service was lowered for the last time on 7 July and the Coast Guard pennant ran up.

Upon commissioning into the Coast Guard, the vessels were given the WAGL designation meaning “auxiliary vessel, lighthouse tender” with the “W” being the USCG’s service differentiator. Lilac’s pennant number, therefore, became WAGL-227.

Other changes included repainting the all-black stacks to the standard Coast Guard buff with a black cap and removing the brass USHLS lighthouse emblems from the bows. Internally, the complement switched to two officers, two warrant officers, and 34 enlisted. Room for a small arms locker was set aside and plans were made to mount a topside armament drawn up.

When the Coast Guard was transferred to the Navy under Executive Order 8929 of 1 November 1941, out came the guns and thick haze grey paint. The Violets would pick up a single 3″/50 DP mount on the foc’sle, a pair of 20mm/80 Oerlikon single mount amidships behind the wheelhouse, and a pair of depth charge tracks over the stern. They would also, late in the war, pick up an SO-1 (Violet, Lilac, and Arbutus) or SO-8 (Mistletoe) detection radar on the top of their masts and WEA-2 sonars.

Mistletoe seen in 1943 during WWII before she had her SO-8 radar fit.

Lilac seen in late Sept. 1945, with her armament apparently landed but still wearing her “war paint.” 4th Naval District Photographer WC Dendal

Lilac would spend her war in the 5th Naval District on orders in the Delaware River system and would be fitted with a degaussing system for protection against magnetic mines laid off the mouth of the Delaware Bay by German U-boats. She would stand by when they brought in the surrendered U-858 in May 1945 and docked her at Fort Mills.

Mistletoe and Violet, also under 5th District Orders based in Norfolk and Baltimore, respectively, would work in Chesapeake Bay during the war.

Arbutus, assigned to the 1st Naval District, was used as a net tender at Newport RI. Her armament would be much the same with the exception of a smaller 3″/23 rather than a 3″/50 and a BK series radar initially fitted as early as 1943.

The men who tended the lights and buoys were in the war as well, and it should be remembered the USLHS lightship LV-71 was sunk in the Great War by the German submarine U-104 near Diamond Shoals, North Carolina while the unarmed USCG Speedwell-class buoy tender Acacia (which had joined the old USLHS in 1927) was sent to the bottom by gunfire from U-161 in 1942 during WWII. Another tender, the former 173-foot circa 1904 USLHT Magnolia, was lost in USCG/Navy service in 1945 when the American Mail Line freighter SS Marguerite Leland in Mobile Bay ran her down.

Postwar

Postwar, Lilac and her sisters would return to a more typical life, reverting to their peacetime livery. At first this would be a black hull with a white superstructure and bow eyebrow and buff stack with a black cap. 

Tender Lilac 5 Sept 1946 near Burlington NJ Photographer McKisky

Tender Lilac 5 Sept 1946 at Harbor of Refuge. Note the radar fit on her mast top. Photographer McKisky

Mistletoe, 1947, note her SO-8 radar on her top mast. USLHS Digital Archive

Then this would change to an all-black hull, losing the eyebrow, and wearing large white hull numbers.

Tender Lilac 5 W227 1950s

Lilac underway circa 1940s (U.S. Coast Guard)

Lilac with unidentified light

In 1948, Lilac was transferred to Gloucester City, New Jersey, where, in addition to her ATON work, would be remarkably busy in a series of SAR cases.

As detailed by the Coast Guard Historian’s Office, here is just a two year-run down:

  • On 15 to 17 May 1952, she assisted following the collision between the motor vessels Barbara Lykes and F. L. Hayes in the Chesapeake and Delaware Canal. 
  • On 22 May 1952, she assisted the tug Pateo and the Atlantic Dealer in the Delaware River. 
  • On 26 May 1952, she assisted following the collision between the tanker Michael and the motor barge A. C. Dodge near Ready Island. 
  • On 30 January 1953, she assisted the fishing vessel Benjamin Brothers in the Delaware River. 
  • From 6 to 12 June 1953, she assisted following the collision between the tankers Pan Massachusetts and the Phoenix in the Chesapeake and Delaware Canal. 
  • On 24 and 25 June 1953 she fought the fire on board the tanker Pan Georgia and searched for survivors in the Christina River. 
  • On 30 December 1953, she assisted the motor vessels Atlantic Dealer and Atlantic Engineer in the Delaware River. 
  • On 13 July 1955, she assisted the yacht Nip and Tuck in the Delaware River. 

LILAC underway circa 1950s (U.S. Coast Guard)

Taking buoy on board Lilac (Philadelphia Enquirer)

Bridge, buoy tender LILAC 220211-G-G0000-011

Wheelhouse of Lilac (Philadelphia Enquirer)

In a 1961 refit for a further decade of service, she would be equipped with an SPN-11 radar and UNQ-1 sonar.

By 1965, the USCG switched the WAGL designation to WLM for “‘medium or coastal buoy tender” and Lilac became WLM-227.

She would pick up the now-classic Coast Guard racing stripe after 1967.

With the service having the much-improved all-welded diesel-powered 180-foot buoy tenders on hand in serious numbers, by 1972 the riveted-hulled steam-powered Lilac was seen as incredibly old-fashioned.

She was decommissioned on 3 February 1972, capping just under 40 years with the USLHS/Navy/USCG.

Tender Lilac decommissioning

Her sisters Arbutus, Mistletoe, and Violet had been taken out of service already, decommissioned and disposed of between 1963 and 1969. None are afloat.

Arbutus met her end in Florida in the 1980s after serving as one of treasure hunter Mel Fisher’s “sentry” vessels over the Atocha wreck site.

The Arbutus wreck was celebrated, and she was later used by Jimmy Buffett for a back cover shot for his 1985 album ‘Songs You Should Know By Heart’.”

Switching careers

Just a few months after she was decommissioned, ex-USCGC Lilac was donated to the Harry Lundeberg Seafarers International Union seamanship school in Maryland, where she was used as a stationary pier side training vessel until 1984. In this role, she provided accommodation and class space to mariners upgrading their ratings across both bridge, deck, and engine room departments.

After 1984, she passed hands a few times and was used as a salvage company’s office for a spell, grounded in a dredged berth along the James River outside of Richmond, before she was listed in 1999 for scrap value, still relatively intact but showing her age.

Preservation

The non-profit NYC-based Tug Pegasus Preservation Project became involved in the prospect of saving Lilac and she was refloated on 25 February 2003, then towed to a shipyard in Norfolk where, after a favorable report on the condition of the ship’s hull– she had spent most of her life in freshwater– she was purchased on 11 March 2003, with the intent to return her to operation as a steam vessel based in New York harbor.

After berthing at the Hudson River Park’s Pier 40 and transfered to the newly created non-profit LILAC Preservation Project, she was eventually moved to the newly built Pier 25 in Tribeca in 2011 and has since opened as a museum ship.

The last unaltered American steam-propelled and steam-hoisting lighthouse tender designed for work on the open sea and connecting bays and sounds, Lilac is special and, other than the diesel-powered tender Fir (which was still under construction when the service was absorbed by the USCG was preserved at the Liberty Maritime Museum in Sacramento for a half-decade and is now apparently looking for a new owner) is the only USLHS tender still around– and the only one on display.

She is the oldest Coast Guard “black hull” afloat.

If you have a chance to visit her, please do.


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


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

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

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

Photo by Nationalmuseet, Danmark, THM-30863

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

The Danish Navy

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

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

Postcard for Danish coastal battleship Herluf Trolle THM-30778

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

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

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

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

The future Niels Juel launched at Holmen on 3 July 1918

This left the Danes to come up with another idea.

Meet Niels Juel

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Niels Juel’s plan via 1931 edition of Janes.

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

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

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

Happy service

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

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

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

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

THM-39469

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photographed circa 1938. NH 88492

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

War!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But what about our Niels Juel?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then came the Stukas.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

Most subsequently took to a range of resistance activities.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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


If you liked this column, please consider joining the International Naval Research Organization (INRO), Publishers of Warship International

They are possibly one of the best sources of naval study, images, and fellowship you can find. http://www.warship.org/membership.htm

The International Naval Research Organization is a non-profit corporation dedicated to the encouragement of the study of naval vessels and their histories, principally in the era of iron and steel warships (about 1860 to date). Its purpose is to provide information and a means of contact for those interested in warships.

With more than 50 years of scholarship, Warship International, the written tome of the INRO, has published hundreds of articles, most of which are unique in their sweep and subject.

PRINT still has its place. If you LOVE warships, you should belong.

I’m a member, so should you be!

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

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

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

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

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

The mighty S-class

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

Not bad for a 1920s design.

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

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

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

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

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

Meet HMS Simoom

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Other rather sedate patrols followed.

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

Via Uboat.net:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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


If you liked this column, please consider joining the International Naval Research Organization (INRO), Publishers of Warship International

They are possibly one of the best sources of naval study, images, and fellowship you can find. http://www.warship.org/membership.htm

The International Naval Research Organization is a non-profit corporation dedicated to the encouragement of the study of naval vessels and their histories, principally in the era of iron and steel warships (about 1860 to date). Its purpose is to provide information and a means of contact for those interested in warships.

With more than 50 years of scholarship, Warship International, the written tome of the INRO has published hundreds of articles, most of which are unique in their sweep and subject.

PRINT still has its place. If you LOVE warships you should belong.

I’m a member, so should you be!

Warship Wednesday, July 26, 2023: The Iron Woman

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

Warship Wednesday, July 26, 2023: The Iron Woman

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

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

“30/30” Ships

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Meet Cabot

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

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

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

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

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

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

They were good at their job.

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

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

We’ll get into the high points below.

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

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

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

Crossing the line ceremony on USS Cabot, CVL-28

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

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

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

Divine Wind

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

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

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

As detailed by DANFS

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

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

From her war history:

Back in the fight

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

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

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

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

One of his reports from Cabot:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you would be too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Korean War Service

Independence class light carriers, Janes 1946

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

same as above

same as above

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

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

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

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

A new flag

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Look at how cute the Hughes 500ASWs are!

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

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

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

Entry in Janes, 1973

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

Spanish Dédalo/Cabot with Harrier and helicopters

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

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

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

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

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

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

Príncipe de Asturias (R11)

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

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

A brief reprise

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Epilogue

Several echoes of Cabot endure.

There is, of course, the USS Cabot Association.

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

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

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

(Photo: Chris Eger)

(Photo: Chris Eger)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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


If you liked this column, please consider joining the International Naval Research Organization (INRO), Publishers of Warship International

They are possibly one of the best sources of naval study, images, and fellowship you can find. http://www.warship.org/membership.htm

The International Naval Research Organization is a non-profit corporation dedicated to the encouragement of the study of naval vessels and their histories, principally in the era of iron and steel warships (about 1860 to date). Its purpose is to provide information and a means of contact for those interested in warships.

With more than 50 years of scholarship, Warship International, the written tome of the INRO, has published hundreds of articles, most of which are unique in their sweep and subject.

PRINT still has its place. If you LOVE warships, you should belong.

I’m a member, so should you be!

Warship Wednesday, July 19, 2023: Red Sub Circumnavigator

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

Warship Wednesday, July 19, 2023: Red Sub Circumnavigator

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

The S-class

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stalinets class

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

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

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

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

Meet S-56

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

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

At least that was the plan.

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

Via Combined Fleets on I-25:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

S-56 in the Northern Fleet

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

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

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

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

C56 Victory Parade July 1945

Epilogue

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

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

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

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


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


If you liked this column, please consider joining the International Naval Research Organization (INRO), Publishers of Warship International

They are possibly one of the best sources of naval study, images, and fellowship you can find. http://www.warship.org/membership.htm

The International Naval Research Organization is a non-profit corporation dedicated to the encouragement of the study of naval vessels and their histories, principally in the era of iron and steel warships (about 1860 to date). Its purpose is to provide information and a means of contact for those interested in warships.

With more than 50 years of scholarship, Warship International, the written tome of the INRO, has published hundreds of articles, most of which are unique in their sweep and subject.

PRINT still has its place. If you LOVE warships, you should belong.

I’m a member, so should you be!

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

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

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

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

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

Fine lines and good bones

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then came war

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Santo Domingo

Otis describes the event:

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

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

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

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

It made big news back home.

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

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

Continued peacetime service

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

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

As detailed by DANFS:

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then came another war

Eagle as she appeared in early 1917. NH 64949

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

Eagle in Havana Harbor, Cuba, October 1917 NH 54335

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Epilogue

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

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

Her final fate is not known.

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

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

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

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

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

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


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


If you liked this column, please consider joining the International Naval Research Organization (INRO), Publishers of Warship International

They are possibly one of the best sources of naval study, images, and fellowship you can find. http://www.warship.org/membership.htm

The International Naval Research Organization is a non-profit corporation dedicated to the encouragement of the study of naval vessels and their histories, principally in the era of iron and steel warships (about 1860 to date). Its purpose is to provide information and a means of contact for those interested in warships.

With more than 50 years of scholarship, Warship International, the written tome of the INRO, has published hundreds of articles, most of which are unique in their sweep and subject.

PRINT still has its place. If you LOVE warships, you should belong.

I’m a member, so should you be!

Warship Wednesday, June 28, 2023: A 22,000-Yard Fish and a One-Man Army

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

Warship Wednesday, June 28, 2023: A 22,000-Yard Fish and a One-Man Army

Official U.S. Navy Photograph, now in the collections of the National Archives. Catalog #: 80-G-52931

Above we see the Fletcher-class destroyer USS Strong (DD-467) as she highlines mail to the light cruiser USS Honolulu (CL-48) during operations in the Solomon Islands area, circa early July 1943. Our fighting tin can had the misfortune of being lost to what is credited as the longest-range torpedo hit in military history some 80 years ago today, 5 July 1943. A war baby, she had only been in service for 332 days.

Fletcher class background

The Fletchers were the WWII equivalent of the Burke class, constructed in a massive 175-strong class from 11 builders that proved the backbone of the fleet for generations. Coming after the interwar “treaty” destroyers such as the Benson- and Gleaves classes, they were good-sized (376 feet oal, 2,500 tons full load, 5×5″ guns, 10 torpedo tubes) and could have passed as unprotected cruisers in 1914. Powered by a quartet of oil-fired Babcock & Wilcox boilers and two Westinghouse or GE steam turbines, they had 60,000 shp on tap– half of what today’s Burkes have on a hull 25 percent as heavy– enabling them to reach 38 knots, a speed that is still fast for destroyers today.

USS John Rodgers (DD 574) at Charleston, 28 April 1943. A great example of the Fletcher class in their wartime configuration. Note the five 5″/38 mounts and twin sets of 5-pack torpedo tubes.

LCDR Fred Edwards, Destroyer Type Desk, Bureau of Ships, famously said of the class, “I always felt it was the Fletcher class that won the war . . .they were the heart and soul of the small-ship Navy.”

Meet USS Strong

Our vessel was the first named in honor of naval hero James Hooker Strong. A New Yorker who was appointed midshipman in 1829 at age 14, he learned his trade fighting buccaneers while with the Brazil Squadron and spent long years on the Mediterranean and East India Squadrons. Commander of the steamer Mohawk when the Civil War began, by 1863 he was skipper of the steam sloop USS Monongahela as part of the Western Gulf Blockading Squadron. Under Farragut, he sailed Monongahela into the heart of the Confederate stronghold of Mobile Bay and his ship was the first to engage the fearsome rebel ironclad CSS Tennessee.

RADM James Hooker Strong, a hero of the Battle of Mobile Bay, retired from the Navy in 1876 completing a 48-year career. He passed away in 1882. The photo above shows him with a special sword awarded by Congress for the Battle of Mobile Bay.

The first USS Strong (DD-467) was laid down on 30 April 1941 at Bath Iron Works in Maine. Launched on 17 May 1942, sponsored by Mrs. Susan H. Olsen, the great-grandniece of the late RADM James Hooker Strong, and commissioned at the Boston Navy Yard on 7 August 1942, her construction took just under 16 months.

Her first and only skipper was CDR Joseph Harold Wellings (USNA ’25)

Strong Fitting Out 190225-N-ZV259-0183

USS Strong (DD-467). Heavily retouched copy of a photograph taken circa the later part of 1942. The retouching, which includes the land in the distance and the ship from the forward smokestack to the top of the pilothouse, was mainly done for censorship purposes, to eliminate radar antennas from the ship’s gun director and foremast. NH 97883

After a quick shakedown in the Casco Bay area and along the East Coast– which included active screening escort missions for the battleship USS Massachusetts— by October Strong was tagging along on convoys in the Caribbean and, by November, she was part of Convoy UGS-2 steering a course for North Africa to take part in the Torch landings.

Returning to New York on westbound Convoy GUF-2, she would sail two days after Christmas 1942 as part of Task Force 39, bound for Nouméa in Free French New Caledonia, the staging area for the push into Guadalcanal and the Solomons.

Strong at the New York Navy Yard three days before Christmas of 1942, Mt. 51, and Mt. 52 of her main battery are prominent in the foreground. Parenthetical numbers refer to recent modifications: (1) the raised platform and foundation for a 20-millimeter Oerlikon on the centerline aft of Mt. 52; (2) the large-type BL radar antennae; and (3) the relocated groups of vertical fighting lights. (U.S. Navy Bureau of Ships Photograph BS-40290, National Archives, and Records Administration, Still Pictures Division, College Park, Md.)

USS Conyngham (DD-371) At Espiritu Santo, New Hebrides, 15 February 1943. The destroyer in the right background appears to be USS Strong (DD-467). 80-G-38661

By March 1943, Strong, along with sisters USS Nicholas, Radford, and Taylor, as part of TG 18.6, was delivering 5-inch shells on the roofs of Japanese shore installations in late-night raids of Kolombangara Island.

Strong delivered 368 shells in that raid, all fired in just under 10 minutes.

Via her report “USS STRONG – Act Rep, Bombardment of Vila-Stanmore, 3/15-16/43” in the National Archives.

On the night of 7 April, while screening the cruiser Task Force 18 off San Cristobal Island, Strong came across one of the Emperor’s submarines, RO-34.

Via DANFS:

Strong’s searchlight revealed the presence of what proved to be RO-34 (Lt. Cmdr. Tomita Rikichi). Strong opened fire with her main battery and machine guns — expending ten 5-inch/38 rounds, 98 40-millimeter rounds, and 288 20-millimeter rounds. The destroyer reported that she struck the submarine three times with her 5-inch fire. During the barrage, RO-34 dove into the sea, down by the stern.

Strong circled RO-34’s location and dropped ten Mk. 6 depth charges and six Mk. 7 depth charges, to ensure RO-34’s journey to the bottom. Before she returned to the task force, Strong observed debris from RO-34 on the surface at 10°05’S, 162°08’E, and she was later credited with the sinking. After the war Japanese records indicated that RO-34 was given orders on 16 April to return to Rabaul, New Britain, which went unanswered, leading to the presumption that she was lost with all 66 souls on board.

USS Strong coming alongside, 1943. Note the highline.

May found Strong, as part of her task force, returning to her late-night NGFS raids of Japanese positions at Kolombangara, Enogai Inlet, and Rice Anchorage. She expended 815 rounds of 5-inch shells and, while retiring the next morning, popped off another five shells at interloping Japanese aircraft.

Speaking of aircraft, by 16 June, Strong, steaming with Nicholas (DD-449) and the oiler Monongahela (ironically), encountered a wave of 15 Val bombers joined by another half dozen Zekes. In the fight, all three American ships made it safely out of it while Strong, reportedly firing 194 5-inch, 750 40mm Bofors shells, and 980 20mm shells in just seven mad minutes, splashed three aircraft.

With an active career that saw her sink a submarine, shoot down a trio of incoming bombers, and hit enemy positions with almost 1,200 shells inside a span of just four months– all without any losses or damage of her own– Strong was in for a harsh meeting with fate.

Battle of Kula Gulf

On the night of 4/5 July, Strong, in company with three cruisers and four destroyers, was headed back to Kolombangara for another nighttime gun raid. As the second ship in the column behind USS Nicholas, Strong steamed into the Kul Gulf just after midnight on the 5th and plastered Japanese positions on Kolombangara Island, then around the Bairoko Inlet on New Georgia Island.

At 0043, she was struck by a torpedo that detonated on the port side of the forward fireroom at about frame 90.

The damage was catastrophic.

Via Destroyer Report: Torpedo and Mine Damage and Loss in Action: 17 October 1941 to 7 December 1944

While the cruisers moved off, with Nicholas as a screen, the destroyers USS Chevalier and O’Bannon moved in to assist Strong with rescue operations. All during the rescue, Japanese 140mm guns at Enogai Inlet kept firing star shells and AP rounds, some of which landed awfully close including both “shorts and overs.” Chevalier came alongside and managed to take off about three-quarters of the ship’s company before Strong’s depth charges exploded, wrecking Chevalier’s radars and sound gear.

USS Chevalier (DD-451) Moored to the Government Wharf, Tulagi, Solomon Islands, 6 July 1943. Her bow was damaged while rescuing the crew of the sinking USS Strong (DD-467) during the 5 July 1943 Battle of Kula Gulf, and her 5/58 gun mount # 3 shows the effects of a hang-fire, explosion, and fire immediately after that rescue was completed. Courtesy of Rick E. Davis, 2012. This is a cleaned version of National Archives’ Photo # 80-G-259220.

From Strong’s loss report.

Through the courageous actions of the men of the USS Chevalier, most of Strong’s crew was safely taken aboard before the destroyer sank. Some 46 of her 325-man complement were listed as missing including several last seen “floating on a raft in the Kula Gulf.”

One of those considered MIA was LT Hugh Barr Miller Jr., USNR.

A standout of the Alabama football team, Miller was with the Crimson Tide when they won the national championship at the Rose Bowl in 1931 with a 24-0 shutout of Washington State. Old “Rose Bowl” Miller went on to become a southern lawyer who volunteered for the Navy in 1941 and, eschewing JAG work for surface warfare, was assigned to Strong as the destroyer’s 20mm and stores officer.

Making it to nearby Japanese-held Arundel Island, Miller survived there for 39 days, alternatively fighting, and coming on top in lop-sided battles against malnutrition, dehydration, and Japanese troops before he was recovered. 190225-N-ZV259-0184

Strong received three battle stars for her short but spectacular service in World War II,

Epilogue

There is a Project USS Strong DD-467 webpage and, as noted above, most of her reports are in the National Archives.

Post-war, it was established that Strong was likely holed by a Type 93 Long Lance torpedo from the Japanese Akizuki-class destroyer Niizuki, fired from no less than 11 nautical miles. If true, it is the longest confirmed wartime torpedo hit on record. Fittingly, Niizuki was sunk the next night in a clash with American surface ships.

Niizuki’s wreck was discovered by RV Petrel in January 2019. She sits upright in 2,444 feet of water and is heavily damaged. A month later, Petrel came across the shattered wreck of Strong in 980 feet of water.

CDR Joseph H. Wellings, Strong’s only commander, would earn the Bronze Star Medal, with Combat Distinguishing Device “V” and the Silver Star Medal for the destruction of the submarine RO-34 and the destroyer’s other actions. Following the sinking of the Strong, he was hospitalized until January 1944, then went on to command DESRON TWO for which he earned a Gold Star in lieu of the Second Bronze Star Medal, with Combat “V” for actions in the Philippines in early 1945. Post-war, he would command the cruiser USS Columbus (CA 74) and hold a series of senior appointments, retiring as a rear admiral in 1963. Admiral Wellings died on March 31, 1988. His papers take up 32 boxes in the U.S. Naval War College Archives.

As for “Rose Bowl” Miller, the hard-to-kill lieutenant was awarded the Navy Cross, two Silver Stars, six Bronze Stars, two Purple Hearts, and 27 other individual and unit decorations.

Miller was awarded the Navy Cross, personally bestowed on him by Eleanor Roosevelt, seen here in a Red Cross uniform, who was on a Pacific swing with the American Red Cross. Note Halsey looking on. 190225-N-ZV259-0185

Miller’s story was dramatized by the Navy in his lifetime, a real “One-Man Army”:

And he appeared on an episode of This is Your Life, hosted by Ronald Reagan.

Miller retired as a Navy Captain before passing away in 1978.

As for Strong’s Fletcher-class sisters, 24 were sunk or evaluated as constructive total losses during WWII including Strong’s companion Chevalier, which was scuttled after being torpedoed by a Japanese destroyer during the Battle of Vella Lavella, 6 October 1943. These ships were sent into harm’s way. 

The rest of her surviving sisters were widely discarded in the Cold War era by the Navy, who had long prior replaced them with more modern destroyers and Knox-class escorts. Those that had not been sent overseas as military aid were promptly sent to the breakers or disposed of in weapon tests. The class that had faced off with the last blossom of Japan’s wartime aviators helped prove the use of just about every anti-ship/tactical strike weapon used by NATO in the Cold War including Harpoon, Exocet, Sea Skua, Bullpup, Walleye, submarine-launched Tomahawk, and even at least one Sidewinder used in surface attack mode. In 1997, SEALS sank the ex-USS Stoddard (DD-566) via assorted combat-diver delivered ordnance. The final Fletcher in use around the globe, Mexico’s Cuitlahuacex-USS John Rodgers (DD 574), was laid up in 2001 and dismantled in 2011.

Today, four hard-charging Fletchers are on public display, three of which in the U.S– USS The Sullivans (DD-537) at Buffalo, USS Kidd (DD-661) at Baton Rouge, and USS Cassin Young (DD-793) at the Boston Navy Yard. Please try to visit them if possible. Kidd, the best preserved of the trio, was used extensively for the filming of the Tom Hanks film, Greyhound.

The name USS Strong was recycled during the war for a new Allen M. Sumner-class destroyer (DD-758) laid down on 25 July 1943 by Bethlehem Steel Co., San Francisco. Commissioned on 8 March 1945, she made it to the Japanese Home Islands just in time for VJ-Day. She would then be highly active in the Korean War, conducting gun strikes up and down the peninsula, and then go on to conduct gunline conducting harassment and interdiction missions against North Vietnamese water-borne logistic craft in the 1960s.

USS Strong (DD-758) underway off the coast of Oahu, Hawaii on 21 May 1968. Photographer: PHCM Louis P. Bodine. Official U.S. Navy Photograph NH 107152

This second Strong received one battle star for Korean service and three battle stars for service in Vietnam before she was decommissioned and struck from the Navy list on Halloween 1973, transferred to Brazil for further service before being lost at sea while headed to the breakers in 1997.

With that, both USS Strongs rest on the sea floor.


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


If you liked this column, please consider joining the International Naval Research Organization (INRO), Publishers of Warship International

They are possibly one of the best sources of naval study, images, and fellowship you can find. http://www.warship.org/membership.htm

The International Naval Research Organization is a non-profit corporation dedicated to the encouragement of the study of naval vessels and their histories, principally in the era of iron and steel warships (about 1860 to date). Its purpose is to provide information and a means of contact for those interested in warships.

With more than 50 years of scholarship, Warship International, the written tome of the INRO has published hundreds of articles, most of which are unique in their sweep and subject.

PRINT still has its place. If you LOVE warships, you should belong.

I’m a member, so should you be!

Warship Wednesday, June 28, 2023: The Tsar’s Jutland Veteran

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

Warship Wednesday, June 28, 2023: The Tsar’s Jutland Veteran

Archivio Centrale dello Stato

Above we see the Italian light cruiser Bari moored at Patras in Axis-occupied Greece in May 1941. Note her laundry out to dry, her 5.9-inch guns trained to starboard, and her crew assembled on the bow with the band playing. A ship with a strange history, a wandering tale, she was lost some 80 years ago today.

The Muravyov-Amurskiy class

No fleet in military history was in desperate need of a refresh as the Imperial Russian Navy in the 1910s. Having lost 17 battleships (depending on how you classify them), 13 cruisers, 30 Destroyers, and a host of auxiliaries to the Japanese in 1904-1905, the Russians were left with virtually no modern combat ships except those bottled up in the Black Sea by the Ottomans. Also, with lessons learned from the naval clashes, it was clear the way of the future was dreadnoughts, bigger destroyers, and fast cruisers.

To fix this, the Russian Admiralty soon embarked on a plan to build eight very modern 25,000-ton Gangut, Imperatritsa Mariya, and Imperator Nikolai I-class battleships augmented by a quartet of massive 32,000-ton Borodino-class battlecruisers. With the age of the lumbering armored cruiser over, the Russians went with a planned eight-pack of fast new protected cruisers of the Svetlana and Admiral Nakhimov classes (7,000 tons, 30 knots, 15 5.1-inch guns, 2 x torpedo tubes, up to 3 inches of armor) as companions for the new battle wagons.

And, with Russia all but writing off its larger Pacific endeavors, eschewing rebuilding its former battle fleet there in favor of a much more modest “Siberian Military Flotilla” based out of often ice-bound Vladivostok and Petropavlovsk, the Tsar’s admirals deemed that just two light scouting cruisers were needed for overseas use in the Far East, typically to wave the flag, so to speak.

That’s where the Muravyov-Amurskiy class came in.

The two cruisers, at 4,500 tons displacement and 426 feet overall length, were generally just reduced versions of the Svetlana/Admiral Nakhimov classes being built in Russian yards already.

Planned to be armed with eight 5.1-inch guns and four torpedo tubes, they were turbine powered and expected to be fast– able to touch 35 knots at standard weight for short periods although published speeds were listed as 27.5 knots.

Mine rails over the stern allowed for up to 120 such devices to be quickly sown– a Russian specialty.

Their armor was thin, never topping three inches, and spotty with just a protective deck above machinery spaces, a protected conning tower, and 50mm gun shields.

Muravyov-Amursky class in 1914 Janes.

It should be noted the Russian cruisers feel very much like a follow-on to the experimental “cruiser corvette” SMS Gefion (4,275 t, 362 ft oal, 10 x 4-inch guns, 1-inch armor) that Schichau built at Danzig in the mid-1890s for overseas service. 
 

SMS Gefion, commissioned in 1895, would serve briefly in East Asia before she was laid up in 1901. After service as an accommodation hulk through the Great War, she was converted to use as a freighter, Adolf Sommerfeld, in 1920, only to be broken up a few years later.

The two new vessels were to be named after historic 19th Century Russian figures who had expanded the country’s reach towards the Pacific: General Count Nikolay Nikolayevich Muravyov-Amursky, a statesman who proposed abolishing serfdom; and Admiral Gennady Ivanovich Nevelskoy, a noted polar explorer.

General Muravyov-Amursky and Adm. Nevelskoy.

They were ordered in the summer of 1913 from F. Schichau’s Schiffswerft in Danzig, as yard numbers 893 and 894.

The choice to have a German firm build the new cruiser class wasn’t too unusual for the Tsarist fleet as the Russian cruiser Novik and four Kit-class destroyers was built at Schichau in the 1900s while Krupp delivered the early midget submarine Forel at about the same time. The Russian protected cruiser Askold, one of the most successful of her type, was built at Kiel by Germaniawerft while the cruiser Bogatyr was ordered from AG Vulcan’s Stettin shipyards, also in Germany.

Besides German orders and construction at domestic yards along both the Baltic and the Black Sea, the Russians also ordered warships and submarines from France, Britain, Denmark, and the U.S.– they needed the tonnage.

The planned future Muravyov-Amursky at Schichau-Werke, Danzig, on the occasion of her launch, 29 March 1914 (Old Style), 11 April (N.S.).

Ironically, this was at the same period that Russia’s primary military ally was France, whose principal threat was from Germany. However, most Russian Stavka strategists and statesmen of the era assumed that they would be far more likely to fight the Ottomans or Austrians– perhaps even the Swedes– long before the Germans.

Then came August 1914 and relations between Germany and Russia kind of took a turn.

Kreuzer Pillau

When Germany declared war on Imperial Russia, Muravyov-Amursky had been launched just four months prior and was fitting out with an expected delivery in the summer of 1915. Sistership Admiral Nevelskoy was still on the ways with her hull nearly complete. With the Kaiserliche Marine hungry for tonnage, they seized the two unfinished Russian cruisers and rushed them to completion.

Muravyov-Amursky was renamed after the East Prussian town of Pillau, and Nevelskoy after the West Prussian port city of Elbing. Muravyov-Amursky/Pillau was completed in December 1914 and Nevelskoy/Elbing was delivered the following September.

To keep them more in line with the rest of the German battleline, they were fitted with slightly larger (and better) 15 cm/45 (5.9″) SK L/45 guns, the same type used as secondary armament on German battleships and battlecruisers as well as later on most of their cruisers built during the Great War.

Pillau as seen during her German career. Courtesy of Master Sergeant Donald L.R. Shake, USAF, 1981. NHHC Catalog #: NH 92715

SMS Elbing of the Pillau class, circa 1915-16

SMS Pillau shortly after entering service, 1915

Pillau had her baptism of fire in the Battle of the Gulf of Riga in August 1915– ironically against the Russians– while Elbing took part in the bombardment of Yarmouth in April 1916. Both were assigned to the High Seas Fleet’s 2nd Scouting Group (II. Aufklärungsgruppe), commanded by Contre-Admiral Bödicker, and took a key role in the Battle of Jutland.

While Jutland is such a huge undertaking that I won’t even attempt to showcase it all in this post as I would never have the scope to do it properly, Elbing scored the first hit in the battle, landing a 5.9-inch shell against HMS Galatea from an impressive distance of about 13.000 m at 14.35 on 31 May. In the subsequent night action, she was accidentally rammed by the German dreadnought SMS Posen and had to be abandoned, with some of her crew saved by the destroyer S 53 and others landed on the Danish coast by a passing Dutch trawler.

As for Pillau, she was hit by a single large-caliber shell– a 12-incher from the battlecruiser HMS Inflexible— that left her damaged but still in the fight while she is credited with landing hits of her own on the cruiser HMS Chester. In all, Pillau had fired no less than 113 5.9-inch shells and launched a torpedo in the epic sea clash while suffering just four men killed and 23 wounded from her hit from Inflexible.

Her chart house blown to memories and half of her boilers out of action but still afloat, Pillau then served as the seeing eye dog for the severely damaged battlecruiser SMS Seydlitz— hit 21 times by heavy-caliber shells, twice by secondary battery shells, and once by a torpedo– on a slow limp back to Wilhelmshaven with the dreadnought’s bow nearly completely submerged.

German battlecruiser SMS Seydlitz, low in the water after Jutland. The image was likely taken from Pillau, who led her back to Wilhelmshaven from the battle

SMS Seydlitz after the Battle of Jutland, 1916. Amazingly, she only suffered 150 casualties during all that damage and would return to service by November– just six months later. Colorized photo by Atsushi Yamashita/Monochrome Specter http://blog.livedoor.jp/irootoko_jr/

Then, her work done, Pillau had to lick her wounds.

SMS Pillau in Wilhelmshaven showing heavy damage to her bridge, caused by a 12-in shell hit from the battlecruiser HMS Inflexible.

She only suffered 27 casualties at Jutland while her sister, Elbing, was lost.

The entry wound, so to speak

Repaired, Pillau took part in the Second Battle of Heligoland Bight on 17 November 1917 as well as other more minor operations before the end game in October 1918 in which her crewed mutinied and raised the red flag rather than head out in a last “ride of the Valkyries” suicide attack on the British Home Seas Fleet.

SMS Pillau passing astern of a ship of the line, winter 1917

SMS Pillau on patrol in Helgoland Bay, 1918 note AAA gun forward

Incrociatore Bari

Retained at Wilhelmshaven as part of the rump Provisional Realm Navy (Vorläufige Reichsmarine) under the aged VADM Adolf von Trotha while 74 ships of the High Seas Fleet surrendered to the British in November 1918 to comply with the Armistice, Pillau was saved from the later grand scuttling of that interned force seven months later at Scapa Flow.

The victorious allies, robbed of the choicest cuts of the German fleet, in turn, demanded Pillau be turned over for reparations along with a further nine surviving battleships, 15 cruisers, 59 destroyers, and 50 torpedo boats. Pillau was therefore steamed to Cherbourg and decommissioned by the Germans in June 1920.

It was decided that Pillau was to go to the Italians as a war prize, with the Regia Marina renaming her after the Adriatic port city of Bari in Italy’s Puglia region. The Italians also were to receive the surrendered German light cruisers SMS Graudenz and SMS Stassburg, the destroyer flotilla leader V.116, and the destroyers B.97 and S.63. Italy would further inherit a host of former Austrian vessels including the battleships Tegtthof, Zrinyi, and Radetzky; the cruisers Helgoland and Saida; and 15 destroyers.

The future light cruiser Bari seen in rough shape, with the provisional denomination “U” painted on her bow, right after being ceded to Italy, Taranto, 5 May 1921.

Embarrassingly, just after she entered service with the Italians, Bari ran aground at Terrasini and was stuck there for a week before being refloated.

Aerial photos of Bari stranded at Terrasini, 28 August 1925.

Still, she went on to have a useful and somewhat happy peacetime service with the Italian fleet.

L’incrociatore leggero Bari late 1920s a

L’incrociatore leggero Bari late 1920s

L’incrociatore leggero Bari late 1920s, seen from the port side.

Bari, fotografiado en Venecia en el año 1931

Italian cruiser Bari, in Venice in the early 1930s. Colorized by Postales Navales

Cruiser Bari (ex SMS Pillau ) in floating dock, 1930s

Italian light cruiser Bari (formerly the German SMS Pillau) moored at the pier in 1933

Italian Light Cruiser RM Bari pictured at Taranto c1929 

Bari would be extensively rebuilt in the early 1930s, including a new all-oil-fired engineering suite that almost doubled her range but dropped her top speed to 24 knots. This reconstruction included several topside changes to appearance as well as the addition of a few 13.2mm machine guns for AAA work.

Bari crosses the navigable canal of Taranto after the second round of modification works, circa 1933-40. Compare this to the postcard image shown above taken at the same angle and place that shows her mid-1920s appearance

Bari in the 1931 Janes Fighting Ships

She took part in the Ethiopian war in 1935 and would remain in the Red Sea as part of the Italian East African Naval Command well into May 1938. She then returned home for further modernization at Taranto in which her torpedo tubes were removed and a trio of Breda 20mm/65cal Mod. 1935 twin machine guns were installed and two twin 13.2/76 mm Breda Mod. 31s.

Bari, as covered by the U.S. Navy’s ONI 202, June 1943.

When Italy joined WWII, Bari was soon sent to join the invasion of Greece where she conducted minelaying and coastal bombing missions in the Adriatic and the Aegean. She served as the flagship of ADM Vittorio Tur’s Special Naval Force (Forza Navale Speciale, FNS), an amphibious group that was used to occupy the Ionian Islands including Corfu, Kefalonia, Santa Maura, Ithaca, and Zakynthos. She would also participate in naval gunfire bombardment operations on the coast of Montenegro and Greece against partisans and guerrillas.

Bari in Patras in occupied Greece, as the flagship of the Forza Navale Speciale, May 1941

Another shot from the same above.

Bari moored in Patras, around 18 June 1941, with the ensign of Ammiraglio Comandante Alberto Marenco di Moriondo aboard.

ADM Tur and the FNS, with Bari still as his flag, would go on to occupy the French island of Corsica in November 1942 during the implementation of Case Anton, the German-Italian occupation of Vichy France after the Allied Torch landings in North Africa.

Bari anchored at the breakwater of the harbor of Bastia, Corsica, on 11 November 1942, as the flagship of the Forza Navale Speciale that was then occupying the island after Operation Torch.

The cruiser in Bastia on November 11, 1942, during the Italian landings. Note the steel-helmeted blackshirt troops in the foreground

In January 1943, with the FNS disbanded and ADM Tur assigned to desk jobs, Bari retired to Livorno where she was to be fitted as a sort of floating anti-aircraft battery, her armament updated to include a mix of two dozen assorted 90mm, 37mm, and 20mm AAA guns.

This conversion was never completed.

On 28 June 1943, she was pummeled by B-17s of the 12th Air Force and sank in the industrial canal at Livorno, deemed a total loss.

From 10 June 1940 to the sinking, the Bari had conducted 47 war missions and steamed 6,800 nautical miles.

After the Italian armistice, the Germans attempted to salvage the cruiser for further use but in the end wound up scuttling it once more in 1944. Post-war, she was stricken from the Italian naval list in 1947 and raised for scrapping the following year.

Epilogue

Very few remnants of these cruisers endure.

A painting by German maritime artist Otto Poetzsch was turned into a series of widely circulated Deutsches Reich postcards, used to depict both Pillau and Elbing.

Elbing‘s wreck has been extensively surveyed and studied over the years and is generally considered to be in good shape after spending a century on the bottom of the Baltic. Besides her guns, she has china and glassware scattered around the hull.

The Russian scale model firm Combrig makes a 1/700 scale kit of Pillau.


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


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Warship Wednesday, June 14, 2023: Shoestring Tin Dragon

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

Warship Wednesday, June 14, 2023: Shoestring Tin Dragon

U.S. Naval History and Heritage Command Photograph. NH 60479

Above we see the Wickes (Little)-class four-piper USS Colhoun (Destroyer No. 85) seen wearing her fresh Great War-era Type N-12, Design K, dazzle camouflage, likely in mid-1918. Our tough flush deck would see rough, albeit short, duty in both world wars.

The Wickes

Colhoun was one of the iconic first flights of “Four Piper” destroyers that were designed in 1915-16 with input from no less an authority as Captain (later Admiral) W.S. Sims. Beamy ships with a flush deck and a quartet of boilers (with a smokestack for each) were coupled to a pair of Parsons geared turbines to provide 35.3 knots designed speed– which is still considered fast today, more than a century later.

The teeth of these 314-foot, 1,250-ton greyhounds were four 4-inch/50 cal MK 9 guns and a full dozen 21-inch torpedo tubes.

They reportedly had short legs and were very wet, which made long-range operations a problem, but they gave a good account of themselves. Originally a class of 50 was authorized in 1916, but once the U.S. entered WWI in April 1917, this was soon increased and increased again to some 111 ships built by 1920.

Wickes class USS Yarnall (DD-143): Booklet of General Plans – Inboard Profile / Outboard Profile, June 10, 1918, NARA NAID: 158704871

Wickes class USS Yarnall (DD-143): Booklet of General Plans – Main Deck / 1st Platform Deck / S’ch L’t P’f’m, S’ch L’t Control P’f’m, Fire Control P’f’m Bridge, Galley Top, After Dk. House and 2nd Platform Deck. / June 10, 1918, Hold NARA NAID: 158704873

Wickes class. A close-up of her stern top-down view of plans shows the Wickes class’s primary armament– a dozen torpedo tubes in four turnstiles and stern depth charges.

Of the 111 Wickes completed, there were three subclasses besides the 38 standard-design vessels built at Bath Iron Works, Cramp, Mare Island, and Charleston. Then came the 52 Bethlehem-designed ships built at the company’s Fore River (26 ships) and Union Iron Works (26 ships) led by USS Little, the Newport News-built variants (11 ships) starting with USS Lamberton, and New York Shipbuilding-built variants (10 ships) led by USS Tattnall.

The subclasses were constructed to a slightly different set of plans modified by their respective builders, which made for some downright confusing modifications later. In addition, the Bethlehem-designed Little variants tended to have shorter legs and proved unable to cross the Atlantic in a single hop without stopping in the Azores for refueling or completing an underway replenishment.

Anyway…

Meet Colhoun

Our subject, USS Colhoun, was the first U.S. Navy ship to carry the name of RADM Edmund Ross Colhoun.

Born in 1821 in Chambersburg, Pennsylvania, Colhoun was appointed a midshipman in 1839 and served with Commodores Conner and Perry, at Alvarado and Tabasco, respectively, during the war with Mexico. Master Colhoun resigned from the Navy in 1853 then returned to service as a Commander in the War Between the States with service in both the North and South Atlantic Blockading Squadrons including as skipper of the gunboats USS Hunchback and USS Ladona, and monitors USS Saugus and USS Weehawken.

He wasn’t a bad sketch artist, either:

Gunboat USS Lodona, sketch by Commander Edmund R. Colhoun, from his letter book of 1865-1885 in the Naval Historical Foundation’s Colhoun Collection. He was Lodona’s Commanding Officer during the Civil War. Courtesy of the Naval Historical Foundation, Washington, D.C. NH 51415

Post-war, Colhoun went on to command the South Pacific Station and Mare Island Navy Yard then was promoted to an admiral on the Retired List in 1883. He passed in 1897, aged 75, and is buried at Arlington, Section 1, Grave 617.

Laid down by Fore River at Quincy, Massachusetts, on 19 September 1917, USS Colhoun was launched by RADM Colhoun’s granddaughter on 21 February 1918 and commissioned on 13 June 1918– some 105 years ago this week.

In all, her construction only lasted just 268 days, a wonder of wartime shipbuilding.

Destroyer hulls on the building ways at Fore River, 1 October 1917. Those closest to the camera are the future USS Colhoun (DD-85) and Stevens (DD-86), which had builder’s numbers 280 and 281. The ships on the left are probably the future USS Sigourney (DD-81) and Gregory (DD-82). NH 43019

Ships fitting out at the Fore River shipyard, 19 March 1918. The six “Little” Wickes class destroyers are Little (DD-79), Kimberly (DD-80), Sigourney (DD-81), Gregory (DD-82), Colhoun (DD-8,5) and Stevens (DD-86), which had builder’s hull numbers 274-277 and 280-281 respectively. The freighter at right is Katrina Luckenbach, yard hull # 267, which served as USS Katrina Luckenbach in 1918-19. Most of the equipment on the pier is for her. Note the large submarine being built in the background, under the revolving crane. NH 43022

USS Colhoun (Destroyer # 85) in port, circa late 1918 or early 1919. Note her pattern camouflage and the splinter protection mats hung over the face of her bridge. The ship that is partially visible alongside Colhoun’s starboard side appears to be USS Alert (1875-1922). Donation of Dr. Mark Kulikowski, 2006. NH 104157

Here’s some better details on her camo pattern.

Camouflage Type N-12, Design K plan prepared by the Bureau of Construction and Repair in 1918, for a camouflage scheme for U.S. Navy Flush Deck type destroyers. It shows the ship’s starboard side, bow, set,rn and superstructure ends, and was approved by Naval Constructor John D. Beuret, USN. USS Robinson (Destroyer # 88) is known to have worn this camouflage pattern. USS Colhoun (Destroyer # 85) also appears to have received it. NH 103218

Rushed through construction and further rushed into service, Colhoun was on North Atlantic escort duty just three weeks after she was brought to life, shuttling between New York and European ports, shepherding troopships taking the AEF “Over There” to lick the Kaiser.

USS Colhoun (DD-85) escorting a convoy of troopships, in mid-1918. The two-stack transport beyond her bow is USS Siboney (ID # 2999). Photographed by R. Bowman. Courtesy of Jack L. Howland, 1983. NH 95200

She spent the tail end of 1918 at New London as part of experiments with sound equipment then under development, a job that was interrupted to rush to the rescue of the transport Northern Pacific on New Year’s Day 1919 as she had run aground at Fire Island with a load of Doughboys coming back home. Colhoun embarked 194 of her returning troops and landed them at Hoboken, which was surely a mixed blessing if you have ever been to Hoboken.

USS Colhoun (DD-85) close-up view of the ship’s port side midships area, with her small wartime hull number, probably taken in the Azores circa early 1919. The ship is still painted in World War I dazzle camouflage. Courtesy of the U.S. Naval Library, Treasure Island, California, 1969. NH 67715

Colhoun spent the remainder of 1919 in a series of operations in the Caribbean and off the east coast.

USS Colhoun (DD-85), sans camouflage. Photographed on 15 November 1919. NH 55255

Placed in reduced commission status at Philadelphia Navy Yard on 1 December 1919, Colhoun was given an overhaul and decommissioned there on 28 June 1922, joining almost 100 other tin cans on the yard’s “Red Lead Row” for the next 18 years.

View of part of about 100 U.S. Navy destroyers that saw action in the First World War in storage at the Philadelphia Naval Shipyard in April 1923. Note that the guns and other vital parts that are exposed to the weather are covered with grease so that the ships could be ready for service at a moment’s notice. When in commission each carried 115 enlisted men and 7 officers. One of the ships identified is USS Ellis (DD-154). NH 69126

Dragon days

While no Wickes were lost to the Germans in 1918, two of the class– USS DeLong and USS Woolsey— were lost while on interbellum service.

Then, with the U.S. Navy having dozens of spare destroyers, especially sticky while trying to lobby Congress for modern new ones (derisively termed “Gold-platers” by salty old destroyerman), no less than 29 often low mileage Wickes tin cans were scrapped or sunk as targets in the 1930s, a few as close to WWII as April 1939. Others were converted just prior to and just after the beginning of the war to fast minelayers (DM) and fast minesweepers (DMS).

Another 27 Wickes class destroyers were transferred to the Royal Navy and Royal Canadian Navy in 1940 as part of the Destroyers-for-bases deal– and seven of these well-used ships later passed on to the Soviets in 1944.

Many of the remaining Wickes in U.S. inventory were soon converted to high-speed amphibious transport (APD).

Such conversions meant landing their 4-inch guns, which went on to equip armed merchant ships, as well as their torpedo tubes. Also leaving were half of their boilers, which dropped their speed down to 25 knots. 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 LCP landing craft on davits– manned by Coast Guard coxswains.

Once converted, these ships, usually painted in an all-over alligator green scheme, became known as “Green Dragons.”

Colhoun was only the second dragon, picking up the hull number APD-2 on 2 August 1940, while mid-conversion at Norfolk where she had been towed in June. She would be recommissioned on 11 December 1940 and would soon embark on a series of training exercises between Norfolk and the Caribbean.

USS Colhoun (APD-2) February 1942. 80-G-464374

USS Colhoun (APD-2) photographed while tied up to a mooring buoy, circa early 1942. NH 97775

From the same set. Note her pattern camouflage. NH 97776

USS Colhoun (APD-2) photographed in port, circa early 1942. NH 97777

Ringbolt-Shoestring

Within weeks of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor and the subsequent push into the Solomons that followed the Battle of Midway, Colhoun, under the command of T/LCDR George Bernard Madden (USNA 1931) was ordered to sail for the forward Allied staging area in Noumea, French New Caledonia, where she arrived 21 July 1942.

She had been detailed to Operation Ringbolt, the seizure of Tulagi, Gavutu, and Tanambogo islands off the larger Florida island in the Solomon Islands group in parallel to the more complex Watchtower landings across the Sealark Channel to Guadalcanal.

Colhoun, joined by her converted green dragon sisters Gregory (APD-3)Little (APD-4), and McKean (APD-5), would carry Lt. Col. Merritt Edson’s 1st Marine Raider Battalion to Blue Beach as part of Transport Group Yoke on the morning of 7 August.

Port bow view of the high-speed transport USS Colhoun (APD-2) coming alongside the destroyer USS Mugford (DD-389) off Guadalcanal in early August 1942. The Australian War Memorial (P01233.004) contends that this was takeon n 7 August 1942 off Tulagi as she transports elements of the 1st Marine Raider Battalion. This is possibly the last photo taken of the ship. The University of Utah – J. Willard Marriott Library #941326

Then came what has been termed Operation Shoestring, the thin supply line that kept the Marines on Guadalcanal in the fight for the rest of the month.

As detailed by RADM Samuel J. Cox, Director NHHC: 

Just as the Marines’ supply situation became critical, the four fast transports of Transport Division 12 arrived on 15 August, under orders from Vice Admiral Robert Ghormley, the Commander of the South Pacific Area, to make all efforts to keep the Marines supplied. The fast transports (converted World War I destroyers) Colhoun (APD-2), Gregory (APD-3), Little (APD-4), and McKean (APD-5), under the command of Commander Hugh W. Hadley, USN, mostly delivered supplies and gear intended to make Henderson Field operational. The Marines had the benefit of captured Japanese rations, so food was not a critical issue at that point (the four APDs returned on 20 August with rations for the Marines). Another U.S. ship attempting to supply the Marines, the overloaded converted China riverboat Lakotai, capsized and sank all by herself before reaching Guadalcanal.

It was while on Shoestring that Calhoun suffered what Cox described as what “may be the most accurate bombing of a ship by high-altitude horizontal bombing during the war,” when she was hit by at least four bombs dropped by a flight of Japanese twin-engine bombers on 30 August.

Colhoun sank in under two minutes with the loss of over 50 of her crew. Many of her survivors had to swim to shore and for weeks were counted by the Navy as missing in action, although they were among the Marines.

The report of her loss, filed by her skipper, LCDR Madden, while he was recovering on the cargo ship USS Betelgeuse (AKA-11) along with several other wounded members of his crew:

TransDiv12’s days were numbered.

Just five days later, her sisters USS Gregory (DD-82/APD-3) and USS Little (DD-79/APD-4)— luckily just after transferring a Marine Raider Battalion to Savo Island– would be sunk in a one-sided night action with three much stronger Japanese destroyers. Nimitz observed, “Both of these small vessels fought as well as possible against the overwhelming odds … With little means, they performed duties vital to the success of the campaign.”

Meanwhile, the last of the original four green dragons of TransDiv12, USS McKean (DD-90/APD-5), was sunk in November 1943 by a torpedo from a Japanese G4M Betty bomber off Empress Augusta Bay.

Colhoun earned one battle star for her World War II service.

Epilogue

Plans, reports, and logs of both destroyers Colhoun have been digitized in the National Archives.

There are a few period postcards floating around.

Thomas Crane Public Library. Fore River Shipyard Postcard Collection

As for her Guadalcanal skipper, LCDR Madden earned a Silver Star for his actions on Calhoun. He would go on to command the destroyers USS Williamson (AVD 2), USS Young (DD 580), and USS Shields (DD 596). He retired postwar as a rear admiral.

Besides the ill-fated four DD/APDs of TransDiv12, at least nine other Wickes class destroyers were lost during World War II in U.S. service. The remainder were scrapped between 1945 and 1947.

Today no Wickes-class tin cans survive. The last one afloat, USS Maddox (DD–168), was scrapped in late 1952 after serving in the US, then RN, then Canadian, then Soviet navies.

However, one of the class, USS Walker (DD-163), has been given new life in the excellent alternate history series Destroyermen written by Taylor Anderson.

Meanwhile, the Colhoun name was recycled for a new Fletcher-class destroyer  (DD-801) laid down on 3 August 1943 at Seattle, by the Todd Pacific Shipyards. Sponsored by Capt. Kathryn Kurtz Johnson, WAC, a great-grandniece of the ship’s namesake, she commissioned on 8 July 1944.

USS Colhoun (DD-801) lies to in Puget Sound, 21 July 1944, painted in a disruptive three-color camouflage. Official U.S. Navy Bureau of Ships photo 19-N-7125

DD-801’s career would be much shorter than her predecessor, and she was awarded one battle star for her World War II service at Okinawa, where she was sunk as a result of the first heavy kamikaze raid on 6 April 1945. Some 35 members of Colhoun’s crew died and 21 were injured.

USS Colhoun (DD-801) hit by a suicide bomber off Okinawa, Ryukyu Islands. The destroyer is zigzagging at high speed during the attack. Note the oil slick to the left from a bomber shot down by fire from ship and fighter planes. Photographed by USS Anzio (CVE 57) pilot Lieutenant Junior Grade T. N. Banks, April 6, 1945. U.S. Navy photograph, now in the collections of the National Archives. 80-G-317257

The Navy has not used the name of RADM Edmund Colhoun since then.


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


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