Above we see the Balao-class fleet submarine USS Bergall (SS-320)upon her triumphal return to Freemantle, Australia, some 80 years ago this week, on 23 December 1944, on completion of her epic Second War Patrol. The path of a 278-pound 8-inch shell fired from the Japanese heavy cruiser Myokois clearly marked, having passed from port to starboard through the sub’s pressure hull.
But you should see the other guy!
The Balaos
A member of the 180+-ship Balao class, she was one of the most mature U.S. Navy diesel designs of the World War Two era, constructed with knowledge gained from the earlier Gato class. U.S. subs, unlike those of many navies of the day, were “fleet” boats, capable of unsupported operations in deep water far from home. The Balao class was deeper diving (400 ft. test depth) than the Gato class (300 feet) due to the use of high-yield strength steel in the pressure hull.
Able to range 11,000 nautical miles on their reliable diesel engines, they could undertake 75 day patrols that could span the immensity of the Pacific. Carrying 24 (often unreliable) Mk 14 Torpedoes, these subs often sank anything short of a 5,000-ton Maru or warship by surfacing and using their deck guns. They also served as the firetrucks of the fleet, rescuing downed naval aviators from right under the noses of Japanese warships.
Some 311 feet long overall, they were all-welded construction to facilitate rapid building. Best yet, they could be made for the bargain price of about $7 million in 1944 dollars (just $100 million when adjusted for today’s inflation) and completed from keel laying to commissioning in about nine months.
An amazing 121 Balaos were completed through five yards at the same time, with the following pennant numbers completed by each:
Cramp: SS-292, 293, 295-303, 425, 426 (12 boats)
Electric Boat: 308-313, 315, 317-331, 332-352 (42)
Manitowoc on the Great Lakes: 362-368, 370, 372-378 (15)
Mare Island on the West Coast: 304, 305, 307, 411-416 (9)
Portsmouth Navy Yard: 285-288, 291, 381-410, 417-424 (43)
Bergall was named for a small fish (Tautogolabrus adspersus) found along the East Coast.
Via the State of New York Forest, Fish, and Game Commission, 1901, painted by SF Denton.
Laid down on 13 May 1943 at Electric Boat in Groton, Bergall launched just nine months later and commissioned on 12 June 1944, her construction running just 396 days.
Electric Boat Company, Groton, Connecticut. Shipway where future USS Bergall (SS-320) is under construction, circa summer 1943. Two welders are at work in the foreground. 80-G-K-15063
Her plankowner skipper, T/CDR John Milton Hyde, USN, (USNA 1934), had already earned a Silver Star as executive officer of the Salmon-class submarine USS Swordfish (SS-193) across four Pacific war patrols that bagged 11 Japanese ships and commanded that sub’s sister, Snapper (SS-185) while the latter was under overhaul.
Bergall carried out shakedown operations off New England for three weeks then, following post-shakedown availability at New London, set out for the Pacific via the Caribbean and the Panama Canal, pausing to rescue the two fliers of a crashed Army training plane in the Mona Passage off Puerto Rico.
She arrived at Pearl Harbor on 13 August and was soon ready for battle.
War!
Made the flagship of SubRon 26’s SubDiv 262, Bergall departed from Pearl Harbor on 8 September 1944 on her First War Patrol, ordered to hunt in the South China Sea.
Arriving off Saipan on the 19th, she soon had her first encounter with the Empire’s fighting men:
Her first contact with the enemy came a day and a half west of Saipan when in the high periscope she sighted a small boat containing five Japanese infantrymen. Bergall closed, attempting rescue, but the efforts were abandoned when the Japanese made gestures that indicated that they wanted us to leave them alone and that we were the scum of the earth. The Americans marveled at the pride and insolent bearing of the enemy, admired their courage, and pitied their stupidity.
Continuing West, she damaged a small Japanese transport vessel with gunfire east of Nha Trang, French Indo-China on 3 October with an exchange of 5-inch (20 rounds) and 40mm (40 rounds) gunfire, and six days later sank a small (700-ton) Japanese cargo vessel just south of Cam Ranh Bay with a trio of Mark 14 torpedoes.
She followed up on that small fry on 13 October by stalking a small four-ship convoy off the coast of Vietnam and sent the tanker Shinshu Maru (4182 GRT) to the bottom via four Mk 23s– and survived a five-hour-long depth charging in retaliation.
On the 27th, she torpedoed and sank the big Japanese tanker Nippo Maru (10528 GRT) and damaged the Japanese tanker Itsukushima Maru(10007 GRT, built 1937) south-west of Balabac Strait, a heroic action seeing the two vessels were protected by a thick escort of four frigates.
On her way back to Freemantle on 2 November, she sank, via 420 rounds of 20mm, a small junk loaded with coconuts and chickens east of the Kangean Islands. Hyde noted in his patrol report “Regret the whole affair as picayune.”
Bergall’s very successful First War Patrol ended at Freemantle on 8 November 1944, covering 15,702 miles. Seventh Fleet authorized a Submarine Combat Insignia for the patrol and credited the boat with sinking 21,500 tons of Japanese shipping.
Not a bad first start!
Hyde would pick up his second Silver Star while the boat’s XO, LCDR Kimmel was awarded the Bronze Star Medal with Combat “V.”
Cruiser Shootout
On 2 December 1944, Bergall departed Fremantle for her Second War Patrol, ordered once again to hunt in the South China Sea.
On 13 December, nearing sunset, our boat spotted a large ship at 35,000 yards off Royalist Bank and made a plan to attack after dark.
Over the next couple of hours, running in just 12-to-14 fathoms of water, she fired six Mk 23s while on the surface and received gunfire back. It turned out she blew the stern off the heavy cruiser Myoko and left her dead in the water. In return, the surfaced submarine was bracketed by shells typically credited as being 8-inchers from Myoko but more likely 5-inch shells from the escorting Japanese destroyer Ushio. One of these zipped right through Bergall’s pressure hull, a disaster that kept the submarine from surfacing while floating some 1,200 miles inside Japanese territory.
Her patrol report on the attack:
While the shell impact left no personnel casualties, the sub was severely damaged and, with no welding capability, repairs consisted of a mix of brazed and bolted plates, plugged with pillows and mattresses:
With all guns manned, demolition charges set for scuttling, and her damage patched up as best as possible, Bergall headed for home and was grateful when, on the morning of 15 December, she rendezvoused with the Gato-class submarine USS Angler (SS-240).
Transferring 2/3rds of her crew (54 men and one officer, the junior ensign) to Angler, Hyde noted of the attempt to make the Karimata Strait:
“if mandatory we could dive in shallow water and sit on the bottom. With Angler near at hand the enterprise didn’t seem too bad for the skeleton crew and officers. To have scuttled our ship in itself seemed unthinkable and it wasn’t much further to deep water in the right direction that it was in the wrong. The weather was very much in our favor too. The sky was heavily overcast with rain storms coming from the west-northwest.”
The men who remained aboard, all volunteers, comprised eight officers and 21 crew, the latter including at least three chiefs. This allowed an underway watch bill with two officers on the bridge, two men (helm and radar) in the tower, three (Chief of Watch, Aux, and I.C.) in the control room, and one EM in the maneuvering room.
By the end of the 16th, Bergall and Angler cleared the Karimata Strait without incident.
By the 18th, they cleared the Lombok Strait– just skirting Japanese patrol boats in the dark.
Making Exmouth on the tip of Western Australia’s North West Cape on the 20th, Bergall was able to remove the lightly brazed plating from the torpedo loading hatch and had new plates arc welded in place, enabling her to make for Freemantle on the 23rd where she ended her abbreviated patrol.
Hyde would receive the Navy Cross for the patrol and three other officers received the Silver Star.
The patrol was later dramatized in an episode of The Silent Service coined, “The Bergall’s Dilemma.” Hyde appears at the end of the episode for a brief comment.
As for Myoko, arriving at Singapore via tow on Christmas day, she would never sail again under her own power and surrendered to the Royal Navy in September 1945.
Japanese Heavy Cruiser Myōkō in Singapore four days after surrendering to Royal Navy units, tied up alongside the submarines I-501 (ex U-181) and I-502 (ex U-862) – September 25, 1945 IWM – Trusler, C (Lt) Photographer IWM A 30701
Captain Power visits the damaged Japanese cruiser. 25 September 1945, Singapore. In May 1944, five ships of the Twenty-Sixth Destroyer Flotilla attached to the British East Indies fleet, led by HMS Saumarez, with Captain M L Power, CBE, OBE, DSO, and BAR, as Captain (D), sank the Japanese cruiser Haguro in one hours action at the entrance to the Malacca Strait. When Saumarez entered Singapore Naval Base, Captain Power with his staff officers, paid a visit to Myoko, the sister ship of Haguro, now lying there with her stern blown off after the Battle of the Philippines. Crossing to the deck of the Myoko via the conning tower of a German U-boat, Captain Power and his party were met by Japanese officers who took them on a comprehensive tour of the ship. Two British naval officers examine what is left of the Myoko’s stern. IWM A 30703
However, with a short range (just 5,000 yards), the shallow-water Cuties had to be used up close to work. Carrying a warhead with just 95 pounds of Torpex, they were meant for killing small escorts.
Between 27 January and 7 February, Bergall made five nighttime attack runs with Cuties while in the Lombok, each time allowing a single slow (12 knots) Mk 27 to swim out at ranges as close as 200 yards. The result was in sinking of the Japanese auxiliary minesweeper Wa 102 (174 tons)– picking up two survivors and making them POWs– and damaging the store ship Arasaki (920 GRT).
Moving toward the Philippines, Bergall sank the Japanese frigate Kaibokan 53 (745 tons) and damaged the tanker Toho Maru (10,238 GRT) off Cam Ranh Bay.
Then, on 13 February, working in conjunction with fellow subs USS Blower and Guitarro off Hainan island, she came across a ripe target for any submariner– a pair of Japanese battlewagons– the hybrid battleship/carriers Ise and Hyuga.
She ripple-fired six Mk 14s in a risky daylight periscope attack from 10,000 yards– without success.
She ended her patrol on 17 February at recently liberated Subic Bay, PI, having traveled 6,070 miles.
The “Cutie Patrol” would be immortalized in an episode of The Silent Service, “The Bergall’s Revenge.”
The hits keep coming
The boat’s uneventful Fourth War Patrol (5 March to 17 April) which included a special mission (typically code to land agents) and rescuing four USAAF B-25 aircrew from the water, ended at Freemantle.
Bergall then left Australia on 12 May 1945 on her Fifth Patrol, bound to haunt the coast of Indochina.
On the morning of the 18th, she battered a small Japanese coastal freighter in the Lombok Strait but didn’t get to see it sink as enemy aircraft were inbound.
Joining up with an American wolfpack in the Gulf of Siam including USS Bullhead (SS-332), Cobia (SS-245), Hawkbill (SS-366), and Kraken (SS-370), she sighted a small intercoastal convoy of tugs and barges in the predawn moonlight of 30 May, and sank same.
Then, on 13 June, she swept a mine the hard way while chasing an enemy convoy.
Ironically, the minefield, a mix of three dozen acoustic and magnetic-induction type mines, had been laid by Allied aircraft out of India in March and was unknown to the Seventh Fleet command. While the mine, which had at least a 490-pound explosive charge, was believed to be some 90 feet away from the hull when it went off, and Bergall’s hull retained integrity, it nonetheless rocked the boat severely.
The impact of the detonation jarred the entire ship. Personnel were knocked off their feet, tossed out of bunks, and in the maneuvering room were thrown up against the overhead. Lighting failed in the maneuvering and after torpedo rooms. The overspeed trips operated on Nos. 2 and 3 main Diesel engines, which were on propulsion, and No. 1 main Diesel engine, which was charging the batteries, causing all three engines to stop and thereby cutting off power to the main propulsion motors.
However, just 20 minutes after the explosion, Bergall had restarted her engines and was motoring away. While still capable of operations, her engineering suite was so loose and noisy it was thought she would be unable to remain operational and she was ordered to Subic, arriving there on 17 June.
Quick inspection at Subic found that the facility was unable to effect repairs and Bergall was ordered to shlep some 10,000 miles back to New London via Saipan, Pearl Harbor, and the Panama Canal.
Arriving at New London on 4 August 1945, she was there when the war ended.
Bergall earned four battle stars and a Navy Unit Commendation (for her 2nd patrol) for her World War II service. Her unconfirmed record at the end of the war included some 33,280 tons of enemy shipping sunk across five sunken warships and five merchantmen along with another 66,000 tons damaged.
Her WWII battle flag carried an upside-down horseshoe with the number “13” inside of it since so many incidents in her service had occurred on the 13th day of the month.
CDR Hyde, when he left the vessel in September 1945, was given a farewell watch by his crew. Engraved on its back was a large “13.”
As for Myoko, she towed to the Strait of Malacca in 1946 and scuttled off of Port Swettenham (Port Klang), Malaya.
Cold Warrior
Finishing her repair and overhaul– she picked up new sensors including an SV radar– Bergall rejoined the Pacific Fleet at Pearl Harbor in December 1945 and, as part of SubRon1, would spend the next five years stationed in Hawaii. This typically involved a series of reserve training dives, simulated war patrols and cruises between the West Coast and Hawaii, ASW exercises with the fleet, and acting as a tame sub for maritime patrol squadrons.
From December 1948 through February 1949, she roamed to the West Pac, visiting Australia and Japan for a bottom mapping exercise, a cruise that earned her a Navy Occupation Service Medal and a China Service Medal.
Bergall at Brisbane in December 1948, note she is still largely in her WWII configuration. Via Navsource. Photo courtesy of John Hummel, USN (Retired).
Transferring to the Atlantic Fleet in June 1950, she had her topside streamlined, landing her deck guns and receiving a new sail, then, between November 1951 and April 1952, received a Fleet Snorkel conversion at Philadelphia Navy Yard.
Bergall circa 1950, with her topside streamlined but before her snorkel conversion.
The first, in 1949, was to a passing Van Camp tuna boat off the California coast.
The second, during LANTFLEX on Halloween 1954, had her periscopes and radar masts where sliced through by the destroyer USS Norris (DDE-859)’s bow, luckily without any casualties.
Ironically, USS Angler, the same boat that stood by Bergall after she was holed in the fight against Myoko a decade prior, stood by her and escorted the sub into port.
Bergall (SS-320) as a causality on 2 November 1954. Photo and text i.d. courtesy of Mike Brood, bergall.org.
Repaired, she completed two Mediterranean cruises (9 Nov 1955-28 Jan 1956 and 31 Aug -6 Dec 1957), and, once she returned, was reassigned to Key West Naval Station for preparations to be handed over at military aid.
Bergall 1958, returning from Bermuda just before she was handed over to a NATO ally as military aid. Via Bergall.org
Turkish Guppy Days
Between May 1948 and August 1983, the Turkish Navy would receive no less than 23 second-hand U.S. Navy diesel submarines, all WWII-era (or immediately after) fleet boats.
These would include (in order of transfer): ex-USS Brill (SS 330), Blueback (SS 326), Boarfish (SS 327), Chub (SS 329), Blower (SS 325), Bumper (SS 333), Guitarro (SS 363), Hammerhead (SS 364), Bergall (SS 320), Mapiro (SS 376), Mero (SS 378), Seafox (SS 402), Razorback (SS 394), Thornback (SS 418), Caiman (SS 323), Entemedor (SS 340), Threadfin (SS 410), Trutta (SS 421), Pomfret (SS 391), Corporal (SS 346), Cobbler (SS 344), Tang (SS 563), and Gudgeon (SS 567).
Our Bergall would sail from Key West on 26 September 1958, bound for Izmir, Turkey, where she would arrive 19 days later.
On 17 October, she was decommissioned and handed over in a warm transfer to the Turkish Navy in a ceremony that saw her renamed Turgutreis (S-342), officially on a 15-year lease.
The highlights of the handover ceremony, in Turkish:
Ex-Bergall/Turgutreis (S-342) in Turkish service. She would take part in the Cyprus War in 1974, among other operations with the Turkish fleet.
Turkey’s collection of Snorkel and GUPPY modified U.S. Navy fleet boats via the 1960 edition of Janes, to include Bergall/Turgutreis.
While in Turkish service, Bergall in the meantime had her name canceled from the Navy List in 1965 and was stricken from the USN’s inventory altogether in 1973, with ownership transferred to Istanbul.
Following the delivery of new Type 209 submarines from West Germany, Bergall/Turgutreis was no longer needed for fleet operations and in April 1983 she was decommissioned.
Renamed Ceryan Botu-6, she was relegated to pier side service at Golcuk Naval Shipyard for another 13 years, where she was stripped of parts to keep other American boats in operations while serving as a battery charging boat with a 15-man crew, primarily of electricians.
In June 1999, Ceryan Botu-6/Turgutreis/Bergall was pulled from service and sold for scrap the following year.
Turkey only retired its last two ex-USN “smoke boats,” Tang and Gudgeon, in 2004
Her wartime skipper, John Milton Hyde (NSN: 0-73456), retired from the Navy following Korean War service as a captain with a Navy Cross and three Silver Stars on his salad bar. He passed in 1981, aged 71, and is buried in Arlington’s Section 25.
“The Old Man” completed 12 war patrols, five of them on Bergall.
The Navy recycled the name of its rough-and-tumble Balao for another vessel, SSN-667, a Sturgeon-class hunter-killer built, like her namesake, at EB, ordered on 9 March 1965.
USS Bergall (SSN-667) conducts an emergency surfacing test off the east coast, in September 1969. K-77428
Commissioned on 13 June 1969 (!) her ship’s crest carried five stars in a salute to the old Bergall’s five WWII Pacific war patrols. In another, less Navy-approved similarity to her namesake, she suffered a casualty-free peacetime collision with the submarine rescue vessel USS Kittiwake (ASR-13).
Notably, SSN-667 was the first submarine in the fleet to carry the Mk 48 heavy torpedo on deployment, as well as the first east coast-based submarine to carry a DSRV, and earned two Navy Unit Commendations. She decommissioned on 6 June 1996.
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Warship Wednesday, Dec. 18, 2024: Ignore the orders, we will save the Sailors
U.S. Navy photograph, now in the collections of the National Archives. 80-G-299180
Above we see, some 80 years ago today, the cramped deck of the tiny “WGT” (John C. Butler-class) destroyer escort USS Tabberer (DE-418), crowded with shocked and waterlogged survivors of the lost destroyers USS Spence (DD 512) and USS Hull (DD 350). LCDR James A. Marks, USN, the former skipper of Hull, is being brought aboard to the left.
How had Tabberer survived the tempest that sent a trio of three larger greyhounds to the bottom? Keep reading.
The Butlers
At just 306 feet long overall, the 1,750-ton Butlers were not built to slug it out in surface actions, as they only mounted a pair of 5″/38 DP guns and a trio of 21-inch torpedo tubes, which was about half the anti-ship armament of contemporary U.S. Navy destroyer. Alternatively, they did come to war with an impressive anti-submarine armament for their size in the form of two Mk 9 depth charge racks, and eight Mk 6 K-gun projectors, along with 100 “ash cans” to keep them at work, making them popular in convoy escort in the Atlantic. A fixed 24-spigot Mk 10 Hedgehog ASW rocket launcher rested in a box between the No. 1 5-inch gun and the forward 40mm twin.
Likewise, they had a decent AAA suite for their to include a mix of 15 to 20 40mm and 20mm cannons, which would come in handy in smoking attacking Japanese planes at low level. The typical fit was two twin Bofors, one forward and the other aft, along with 10 Oerlikon singles clustered in four mounts around the bridge wings, four amidships around the stack, and two aft sandwiched between the stern 5-inch mount and the depth charge racks.
Camouflage Measure 32, Design 14D prepared by the Bureau of Ships for a camouflage scheme intended for escort ships of the DE-339 (John C. Butler) class. This plan, showing the ship’s starboard side, stern, superstructure ends and exposed decks, is dated 17 May 1944 and was approved by Commander William C. Latrobe, USN. 80-G-109627
Using a pair of “D” Express boilers and a matching set of two Westinghouse geared turbines (hence the WGT designation), they had 12,000 shp installed, allowing the Butlers to run up to a theoretical maximum of 24 knots (although one of the class, USS Samuel B. Roberts, made an estimated 28.7 knots while on a torpedo run against impossible odds by raising pressure on her boilers past the safe limit and diverting steam to the turbines.)
USS John C. Butler (DE-339) underway, possibly off Boston Navy Yard
While not fast enough for fleet operations, this was enough for convoy and patrol work. It also allowed them to have a nice, long range of some 6,000 nm when poking along at 12 knots.
Capable of being produced rapidly, some 293 Butlers were on the drawing board at one time or another from four shipyards (Boston NSY, Brown SB, Federal SB, and Consolidated Steel), with many constructed in fewer than six months apiece.
However, “just” 83 were completed, ranging from USS John C. Butler (DE-339), which was laid down on 5 October 1943 to USS Vandiver (DER-540) which, although laid down only a month later, languished on the builder’s ways until she was finally commissioned in 1955.
Meet Tabberer
USS Tabberer (DE-418) was the first vessel named in honor of Lt. (jg.) Charles Arthur Tabberer.
Born in 1915, he enlisted in the USNR’s aviation cadet program in 1939 and, a newly minted ensign with a set of gold wings on his chest, was assigned to Fighting Squadron 5 (VF-5) in early 1941, flying first the pokey F3F biplane and then the F4F Wildcat.
Making j.g. on 29 May 1942, Tabberer and his squadron flew from the old USS Saratoga (CV-3) for the invasion of Guadalcanal and he perished on 7 August during a swirling dogfight under near suicidal odds.
Lt. (jg.) Tabberer earned the Distinguished Flying Cross, posthumously:
DE-418 was one of 23 Butlers built at Brown Shipbuilding Company, Houston, Texas. Laid down on 12 January 1944 she was launched on 18 February 1944, sponsored by Mrs. Mary M. Tabberer, widow of the late Lt. (j.g.) Tabberer.
Tabberer’s sister, the famed future USS Samuel B. Roberts (DE-413) leaving the ways at Brown Shipbuilding Company, Houston, Texas, 20 January 1944. All 23 of the Butlers built at Brown were side-launched.
USS Tabberer was commissioned on 23 May 1944, her construction period spanning just 132 days.
USS Tabberer (DE-418) underway near Houston, Texas (USA), circa in May 1944. She is painted in Camouflage Measure 31, Design 22D. U.S. Navy Bureau of Ships photo BS 95010A
Tabberer’s first skipper was LCDR Henry Lee Plage, USNR (Georgia Tech NROTC ’37). A Florida insurance adjuster who volunteered for active duty and sea service in 1941, Plage had already picked up some solid chops as a small escort sailor, commanding the subchaser USS PC-464 in 1942, then serving as XO on the Evarts-class destroyer escort USS LeHardy (DE-20) and then skipper of her sister, USS Donaldson (DE 44), until just two months before Tabberer was commissioned.
Following an abbreviated shakedown cruise across the Gulf Coast and up the East Coast to Boston NSY– one of the yards where her sisters were built– Tabberer spent two weeks in post-shakedown availability then left for Hawaii via the “Ditch.”
She arrived at Pearl Harbor on 7 September, to spend a month working up with the ships she would deploy with to the West Pac. Of her 225 officers and men, only about 10, primarily chiefs, were regular Navy.
On the night of 9 October, while acting as a plane guard for the Casablanca-class escort carrier USS Anzio (CVE-57), Tabberer made her first rescue at sea in the form of one of the flattop’s aviators.
It would be just one of many for our tin can.
War!
On 16 October 1944, with sequential escort sisters USS Lawrence C. Taylor (DE 415), Melvin R. Nawman (DE 416), Oliver Mitchell (DE 417), and Robert F. Keller (DE 419) of Escort Division 72, Tabberer joined the new anti-submarine Hunter Killer group (T.G. 12.3, later T.G. 30.7) built around Anzio and her embarked air group. The overall commander of the group was Captain George Cannon Montgomery (USNA ’24), a tough career naval aviator from Alabama.
USS Anzio (CVE-57) underway at sea, on 21 May 1945, with an Avenger (TBM-3E) and three Wildcats on deck. NH 96548
The Anzio group– consisting entirely of ships that were all just barely off their shakedowns– would be responsible for at least five confirmed “kills” of Japanese submarines in the eight months between 18 November 1944 and 16 July 1945: I-41 (Kondo), RO-43 (Ts’kigata), I-368 (Irisawa), I-361 (Matsuura) and I-13 (Ohashi). Using Anzio’s embarked Wildcats and Avengers of VC-82/VC-13 to spot and pin the Japanese boats in place, the greyhounds would get to finish off the carcass and sift through the wreckage to find out which of the Emperor’s boats they killed.
This type of work was extremely dangerous for small escorts such as the Tabberer and her sisters as their compact hulls couldn’t shrug off a torpedo hit of any sort. At least two Butlers were lost to Japanese subs in October 1944 alone: USS Shelton sunk by RO-41 off Morotai, and USS Eversole by I-45 east of Leyte.
Besides her task in helping to send Japanese subs to the cold and dark embrace of Poseidon, Tabberer continued to perform the yeoman work long familiar to escorts in a carrier group– that of plane and lifeguard to the flattop’s aircrews. On at least two further occasions (7 July and 12 July 1945) she plucked soggy Anzio aircrews from the drink after water landings and delivered them back “home” via breeches buoy.
USS Anzio pilot and observer began to extricate themselves after their TBM-1C (Bu# 73282) crashed on take-off, 21 December 1944. 80-G-298075/80-G-0298071
Pacific maelstrom
While at Ulithi Lagoon with the rest of the Anzio group, on 6 December 1944, the group logged 39-knot winds in squalls and high seas.
With the weather slacking, and operations in the Philippines looming (the landings at Mindoro), the group left Ulithi on Sunday 10 December on orders from Com3rdFlt (Halsey), linking up with a replenishment group of oilers (T.G. 30.8) along the way. The next few days saw Anzio’s DEs race at flank speed to investigate sonar contacts as the skies grew grey.
The Navy’s Fleet Weather Center in Pearl Harbor had analyzed the sparse data in the area to show the typhoon much further east than it was and forecast it to move northward, avoiding the Fleet. However, the U.S. Army Air Force forecast center on Saipan sent a reconnaissance flight and found the storm heading toward Halsey and with estimated winds of 140 knots (260 km/hr). Capt. Reid Bryson tele-typed the observations to Pearl Harbor, but the Navy forecasters didn’t believe him and did not forward the information to the Third Fleet. Halsey’s chief aerologist, CDR George Kosco, who would later dub the storm “Cobra”, also believed the typhoon was closer than Pearl Harbor was depicting but still thought their southeastern course would avoid the worst of the storm.
By the 17th, the jeep carrier observed that a “tropical typhoon was developing and approaching during the day, with wind and sea increasing in intensity and Anzio laboring heavily. The northerly course toward the rendezvous assigned, 15 30′ N, 127 40′ unfortunately led near the path of the typhoon.”
That afternoon, she lost an Avenger on approach, with the crew picked up by Oliver Mitchell, and three planes in her hangar broke loose during a 19-degree roll to port. One of her escorts, Melvin Nawman, noted the ship’s barometer was dropping at .02 per hour, every hour.
USS Anzio. Rolling heavily while trying to maintain course and speed during a typhoon east of the Philippines, 17 December 1944. Note TBM Avenger heavily lashed to the flight deck. 80-G-298079
By 0629 on the 18th, Capt. Montgomery signaled Halsey that the Anzio group, along with the refueling group, were giving up on heading northeasterly to their assigned rendezvous point– into the storm– and instead reversed course south for safety. The 512-foot/11,000-ton jeep carrier had difficulty that morning holding a steady course against the wind abeam even with a 30-degree rudder and turns for 5 knots on one engine and 15 on the other.
Typhoon Cobra, as observed by radar. NOAA photo
The worst of the storm hit the two groups around 1000 and, losing radio and visual contact with the rest of her group, Anzio measured winds of 90 knots sustained before the vanes on her anemometer were carried away. Her Met department estimated she was taking 120-knot winds and seeing 60-foot seas. She rolled 36 degrees to starboard then 38 to port, losing two planes stored topside overboard while 11 others cracked up. By 1400 the seas became calmer, the winds dropped to gale force, and soon she was able to start maneuvering again. However, as the storm went by, she was only in contact with one of her five escorts who had somehow managed to remain on station– Lawrence C. Taylor.
The other DEs had suffered indeed.
Robert Keller and Oliver Mitchell, blown several miles off by the cyclonic force and heavy seas, remained out of contact with Anzio over the horizon until 1903. Keller had narrowly avoided a collision with Tabberer who was sighted around 0930 in the trough of a 60-foot swell and then vanished from radar. Mitchell lost TBS and radar contact with Melvin Nawman at 0908 and with Tabberer at 1213.
Nawmanrolled an amazing 62 degrees and she lost her mast including all her radar and TBS gear. She only managed to ride best at 4 knots, right full rudder, to the NW. Steaming alone and blind back toward Ulithi at 15 knots, she contacted a passing PBM via blinker to ask the flying boat to relay that she was still afloat and headed in. Later that afternoon she spotted a different refueling group, TG 30.8.6, and fell in with it. She arrived back at Ulithi on 23 December, coming alongside the tender USS Markab to begin immediate repairs.
As for our Tabberer, her top weight was removed where possible and, fully ballasted and battened down on orders from her skipper, she survived an amazing roll of 72 degrees to starboard while visibility fell to about 30 feet and wind speed came at over 100 knots. The ship’s barometer bottomed out at 27.92 inHg (921 millibars, within the range considered “Category 4” on the Saffir-Simpson Hurricane Wind Scale) at 1230 on the 18th. At 1351, she lost the top of her mast and by 1828 the entire mast buckled while the escort was on a 50-degree roll, with the ship having to stop all engines and break out a cutting torch and axes to cut away the offending wreckage– at the loss of her radio, radar, and TBS ability.
In the darkness, CRM Ralph Tucker climbed to the highest point remaining on Tabberer— her stack– to rig a makeshift TBS radio antenna– good for a couple of miles– and saw a light in the still-heaving seas. A light attached to a voice. A voice attached to QM3 August Lindquist, of the destroyer USS Hull (DD-350), one of the escorts of the Anzio group’s adjacent T.G. 30.8 refueling group.
Besides Hull, USS Monaghan (DD-354) and USS Spence (DD-512), both also riding light with the refueling group, were lost in the storm. Monaghan rolled to starboard at least six times and on her final roll continued and capsized. Spence succumbed to a 72-degree roll that flooded her electrical system, killing her pumps and lights, leaving a follow-on roll to deliver the coup de grace.
Between the Hull, Spence, and Monaghan, no less than 718 souls perished on the sea on or about 18 December 1944. Nimitz noted later that “It was the greatest loss that we have taken in the Pacific without compensatory return since the First Battle of Savo.”
Besides the skippers of Spence (LCDR James Andrea, USNA ’37) and Monaghan (LCDR Floyd Garrett, USNA ’38), several newly minted ensigns of the Annapolis Classes of ’44 and ’45 were lost on their first assignments.
Over the next several days, 3rd Fleet ships scoured the seas for survivors.
Just 24 men were recovered from Spence, 10 of those by the destroyer escort USS Swearer (DE-186), part of the screen for the jeep carrier USS Rudyerd Bay (CVE-81).
USS Brown (DD-546), part of the screen for the light carriers of TG 38.1, rescued the six survivors from Monaghan as well as 13 men of Hull’s ship’s company from a life raft on 21 December, delivering them to Ulithi on Christmas Eve.
Anzio group escort Robert Keller found four additional survivors of the Hull on the 21st. The same day, Mitchell and Lawrence C. Taylor each recovered three men who were “beyond human help” and later consigned them to the deep with honors.
As for our Tabberer, she picked up 55 living men at peril on the sea: 41 from Hull including her skipper and four other officers, and 14 from Spence on the 20th. The latter came due to Plage disobeying orders to retire.
Keep in mind that Tabberer was using her big 24-inch searchlights only about 150 miles off the coast of Japanese-occupied Luzon, in waters thought crawling with enemy submarines.
With the waves still too high to launch small boats, Tabberer went for the recovery in the old-fashioned way and used her cargo nets and close-in maneuvering to get near enough for the survivors to grab on.
Volunteers with safety lines and lifejackets went over the side to help those who could not.
Typhoon Cobra (Halsey’s Typhoon), December 17, 1944. Survivors of USS Spence (DD 512) and USS Hull (DD 350) were rescued by USS Tabberer (DE 418) after the typhoon had capsized the U.S. destroyers on December 17, 1944. Shown: Tabberer’s gunnery officer Lieutenant Howard J. Korth, USNR, in water where he added to the rescue. Note, the other destroyer lost was the USS Monaghan (DD 354). Photograph released on January 21, 1945. U.S. Navy photograph, now in the collections of the National Archives. 80-G-299181
As a twist of fate, Tabberer had Escort Division 72’s only doctor, LT Frank W. Cleary, aboard going into the storm, and all of the 55 men she pulled from the ocean survived.
Typhoon Cobra (Halsey’s Typhoon), December 17, 1944. Survivors of USS Spence (DD 512) and USS Hull (DD 350) were rescued by USS Tabberer (DE 418) after the typhoon had capsized the U.S. destroyers on December 17, 1944. Shown: Officers and men of USS Hull (DD 350) recuperating from their ordeal onboard USS Tabberer (DE 418). Note, the other destroyer lost was the USS Monaghan (DD 354). Photograph released on January 21, 1945. U.S. Navy photograph, now in the collections of the National Archives. 80-G-299182
The seriously damaged, blind, and mute Tabberer remained on station for 40 hours.
Plage sent the below memorandum to all hands on the 20th after the escort made her belated turn to Ulithi:
When she rolled into the immense 3rd Fleet anchorage, she looked pretty rough.
Almost unidentifiable.
USS Tabberer demasted after Typhoon Cobra
Legend has it that, when passing the mighty battlewagon USS New Jersey, Halsey’s flagship, she was signaled:
“What type of ship are you?”
Weary and exhausted, his vessel packed with 55 survivors he had to fight both the sea and the brass to save, Plage had his signalmen proudly reply: “Destroyer escort. What type are you?”
In addition to the serious damage to Tabberer and Nawman, three light carriers, another three escort carriers, three destroyers, and the cruiser USS Miami also sustained yard-worthy injuries, with many losing men to the sea during the storm. For example, on the light carrier USS Monterrey (CVL 26), three men were killed and another 34 seriously injured. At least 19 other vessels logged lesser damage.
USS Santa Fe (CL 60) rolls heavily, 53 degrees, as she rides out of a wave encountered in the South China Sea during Typhoon Cobra, December 1944. 80-G-700024
Destroyer in heavy seas during heavy weather in the China Sea. Possibly taken during a typhoon in December 1944. Photographed from USS New Jersey (BB-62) by LCDR Charles Fenno Jacobs, USNR. The destroyer wears camouflage design 9d. 80-G-470284
The entire Third Fleet was sidelined for 18 days following Cobra.
Nimitz noted, “Some 146 planes on various ships were lost or damaged beyond economical repair by the fires, by being smashed up, or by being swept overboard.”
It was a hell of a lick.
Plage was presented a Legion of Merit by Halsey himself during a 20-minute visit and inspection on 29 December.
In the name of the President of the United States, the Commander, Third Fleet, United States Pacific Fleet, takes pleasure in awarding the Legion of Merit to
LIEUTENANT COMMANDER HENRY L. PLAGE
UNITED STATES NAVAL RESERVE
for service as set forth in the following
CITATION
For exceptionally meritorious conduct in the performance of outstanding service to the Government as Commanding Officer of the U.S.S. Tabberer operating in the Western Pacific war area from December 18, 1944 to December 20, 1944. During this period, while his ship was combating a storm of hurricane intensity and mountainous seas causing severe damage, Lieutenant Commander PLAGE directed the rescue of fifty-five survivors from two destroyers which foundered as a result of the same storm. In spite of seemingly insurmountable hardships and adverse conditions, he persisted in the search for survivors for fifty-one hours. Lieutenant Commander PLAGE’s courageous leadership and excellent seamanship through treacherous and storm-swept seas and his timely reports aided materially in the rescue of additional survivors by other ships which later arrived at the scene. His outstanding conduct was in keeping with the highest tradition of the United States Naval Service.
W. F. Halsey
Admiral, U.S. Navy
In addressing the assembled crew, Halsey was frank:
Your seamanship, endurance, courage, and the plain guts that you exhibited during the typhoon we went through are an epic of naval history and will long be remembered by your children and their children’s children. It is this spirit displayed throughout the world by the American forces of all branches that is winning the war for us.
Plage had recommended decorations for those who had spent considerable time in the water aiding men who were either too weak or injured to climb the boarding nets unassisted. These included the ship’s XO, LT Robert M. Surdam, the ship’s gunnery officer, LT Howard L. Korth, TM1/C Robert Lee Cotton, and BM1/C Louis Anthony Purvis. The brass authorized the Navy & Marine Corps Medal, the highest non-combat decoration awarded for heroism by the United States Department of the Navy, for these four men.
Dressed in their best and gathered in the wardroom of USS Tabberer after the Typhoon Cobra rescue are seated (left to right): LT Robert M. Surdam, USNR; LCDR Henry L. Plage, USNR, and LT Howard L. Korth, USNR. Standing, (left to right): TM1/C Robert Lee Cotton and BM1/C Louis Anthony Purvis. This photo was likely taken on 29 December 1944 during Halsey’s visit to the battered ship at Ulithi Atoll. 80-G-299183
Tabberer, and all hands, were the first to receive the new Navy Unit Commendation (although others would receive it retroactively for past service that predated the honor).
THE SECRETARY OF THE NAVY
WASHINGTON
The Secretary of the Navy takes pleasure in commending the
UNITED STATES SHIP TABBERER
For service as follows:
For extremely meritorious service in the rescue of survivors following the foundering of two United States Destroyers in the Western Pacific Typhoon of December 18, 1944. Unmaneuverable in the wind-lashed seas, fighting to maintain her course while repeatedly falling back into the trough, with her mast lost and all communications gone, the U.S.S. TABBERER rode out the tropical typhoon and, with no opportunity to repair the damage, gallantly started her search for survivors, steaming at ten knots, she stopped at short intervals and darkened her decks where the entire crew topside, without sleep or rest for 36 hours, stood watch to listen for the whistles and shouts of survivors and to scan the turbulent waters for small lights attached to kapok jackets which appeared and then became obscured in troughs blocked off by heavy seas.
Locating one survivor or a group, the TABBERER stoutly maneuvered windward, drifting down to her objective and effecting rescues in safety despite the terrific rolling that plunged her main deck underwater. Again and again, she conducted an expanding box search, persevering in her hazardous mission for another day and night until she had rescued fifty-five storm-tossed and exhausted survivors and had brought them aboard to be examined, treated, and clothed.
Brave and seaworthy in her ready service, the TABBERER, in this heroic achievement, has implemented the daring seamanship and courage of her officers and men.
All personnel attached to and serving on board the TABBERER, during the above-mentioned operation, are hereby authorized to wear the NAVY UNIT COMMENDATION RIBBON.
James Forrestal
Secretary of the Navy
Continued Service
Sent to Pearl Harbor NSY on 30 December in company with her storm-damaged sisters Nawman and Conklin (DE 439), the three patched-up tin cans escorted another Cobra survivor, the light carrier USS Monterey (with future President Gerald Ford aboard as a junior officer) to Oahu via Eniwetok for repairs. Proceeding at 15 knots, they made Pearl on 10 January 1945, with Tabberer docking at Berth Baker 17.5.
The workers at Pearl worked fast in 1945 and, just a fortnight later, both Nawman and Tabberer, fresh and looking new, set out for Eniwetok as part of T.U. 16.8.5, the covering force for Convoy PD-275-T.
Transferring to the 5th Fleet on 28 January 1945 saw the Anzio group switch numbers from TG 30.8 to TU 50.7.1. Tabberer and Nawman rejoined the group at Saipan on 7 February– the first time back with Anzio since Cobra hit some seven weeks prior.
Joining up with other baby carriers– including USS Rudyerd Bay, Saginaw Bay (CVE 82), Makin Island (CVE 93), Luga Point (CVE 94), and Bismarck Sea (CVE 95), the force, under RADM G.R. Henderson, headed for Iwo Jima.
Tabberer was present for the five-plane kamikaze attack during the night of 21-22 February that hit the latter carrier, sending her to the bottom with 318 gallant sailors. The destroyers of the screen rescued 625 men from the water that night.
Large explosion on board Bismarck Sea (CVE-95), after she was hit by a kamikaze during the night of 21-22 February 1945, while she was taking part in the Iwo Jima operation. She sank as a result of her damage. Photographed from Saginaw Bay (CVE 82). 80-G-335103.
Regrouping, the force continued their operations off Iwo for 42 days, with Tabberer typically spending burning the midnight oil (and jo pots full of coffee) running nightly ASW sweeps of the area while rousing her sleepy gun crews back to GQ during daylight as enemy planes came in close.
Given a short few days of downtime in San Pedro Bay in mid-March, Tabberer would spend the next six weeks screening assorted TF38 vessels during the invasion of Okinawa, again in night-time ASW sweeps supporting Anzio, spending another 52 days at sea under combat situations.
USS Tabberer (DE 418) underway replenishment, taken from the escort carrier USS Makin Island (CVE-93) on 25 March 1945. 80-G-323053
Sent to Guam for a short yard period in early May, by the 23rd of that month she was back on station off Anzio, sanitizing shipping and supply routes between the Marianas and Okinawa of Japanese submarine activity.
This continued for the next several weeks, with the Anzio group ordered closer to Tokyo in July to screen replenishment ships just offshore of the Japanese Home Islands. This saw Tabberer’s crew engage in target practice on assorted floating mines belonging to the Emperor and rescue aviators from both an F4F and a TBM.
TBM lost from Anzio, July 1945
Post VJ Day, she was sent to Korean waters on occupation duties, berthing at Jinsen (Incheon) on 11 September for nine days before being sent to Okinawa.
On 7 October, steaming out of Buckner Bay with her fellow tin cans of Escort Div 72 (without Anzio for once), they made for Tsingtao, China, the treaty port that had been under Japanese control since they wrested it from the Germans in 1914, followed by the troopship USS Dade (APA 99), filled with U.S. Marines returning to China for the first time since 1941. From there, the force went to Taku, China on the 12th, with Tabberer sinking two floating Japanese mines via gunfire– the mines apparently missing the memo that the war was over. On the 15th she saved a lost Allied aviator from the water off Taku anchorage and then escorted a convoy of LSTs and LSMs from Chinese waters to Okinawa.
Detonating three more floating mines on 19 October, she then escorted USS Blue Ridge (AGC2) to Tsingtao and Taku, sinking another mine on the 23rd and a 75-foot derelict coaster on the 29th. Remaining in Taku at the disposal of Com7thPhib until 15 November, she was sent as an escort for three auxiliaries returning to Okinawa before heading back to Taku by the end of the month with her old friend, Melvin Nawman.
Tabberer would remain in Chinese waters until 22 December 1945 when she was ordered back to to CONUS for the first time since August 1944, stopping at Okinawa, Eniwetok, and Pearl Harbor before entering San Francisco on 15 January 1946 with her homeward-bound pennant whipping overhead.
“With over 110,000 miles of steaming behind her, the Tabberer has contributed her share to the records set and glory earned by the ships of the Navy’s Pacific Fleet,” ended her official War History.
She was placed out of commission, in reserve, at San Diego on 24 April 1946.
In her 15 months of WWII service and four months on occupation duty, Tabberer earned four battle stars, received the Navy Unit Commendation, and survived the Navy’s worst storm suffered at sea.
Cold War
With the Korean War mobilization, Tabberer was dusted off and recommissioned on 7 April 1951. Ordered to the East Coast, she was homeported at Newport for the next decade.
September 1953. USS Tabberer (DE 418) at sea off Newport, Rhode Island. Note the Cold War-era big hull numbers, her twin 40mm Bofors behind mount No. 1, and her WWII-era sensors. Note there are two rockets loaded in her deck-mounted Mk 10 Hedgehog. 80-G-626823
Her taskings were typically being used as an ASW exercise vessel for subs out of New London and in taking Annapolis and NROTC midshipmen on summer cruises to the Caribbean and back, interspersed with trips down south to get her annual gunnery tables at Vieques to help beat the old smoke boats at Key West.
Speaking of which…
In November 1954, she suffered a collision with the submarine USS Diablo (SS-479) while in ASW exercises off Block Island that caused no casualties and left both vessels still afloat.
In the mid-1950s our DE underwent a series of modifications including landing her 20mm guns along with her fixed Mk 10 Hedgehog as well as her surface torpedo tubes, installing a remotely trainable 24-spigot Mk 15 Hedgehog device forward. Her 40mm twins were moved to platforms amidship, instead of twin 3″/50s which would have added too much weight.
She also picked up accommodations for a squadron commodore and his staff to allow Tabberer to serve as the flagship of an escort squadron. She rated more modern radar (SPS-6), sonar, and communications upgrades.
USS Tabberr (DE-418) seen 1950s after her modernization. Note her trainable 24-spigot Hedgehog ASW system, just behind her No. 1 mount and more modern radar package on her mast. Courtesy of Mr. Ted DiCecco, Avondale, Pennsylvania. NH 73660
Same as above. Note her hull number repeated on her No.1 mount. You can also make out the two twin Bofors mounts aft of her stack. NH 73661
On 30 August 1957, as part of Operation Deep Water, a test of Atlantic convoy duty should WWIII break out, Tabberer got operational from Key West, bound for Europe as the flagship of CortRon12.
Her outbound squadron comprised four other WWII-era DEs including her old bosom buddy, Melvin Nawman. By 2 September, the escorts linked up off the Virginia Capes with a mixed group of nine troopships, auxiliaries, and phibs, packed with a reinforced Marine brigade, to shepherd over to Europe at the regal speed of 12 knots. Engaging Allied OPFOR submarines along the way, the circular convoy stepped it up to 14.5 knots and made it successfully to Naples by noon on 14 September.
Attached to PhibGroup2, Tabberer, and company spent the next seven weeks in a series of amphibious warfare exercises and friendly port calls in the Mediterranean ranging from Saros Bay, Turkey (the country had joined NATO in 1952) to Patras, Greece; Suda Bay, Crete; Palermo, Sicily; Palma, Spain, and Gibraltar.
The exercise saw 8,000 Marines hit the beach in Gallipoli, linking up with a Turkish Army corps, simulating a response to a Soviet attempt to seize the straits. It was notable as it was both the first Marine vertical envelopment during an overseas deployment and the first time that a U.S. Marine joint air-sea-ground task force had been used in a NATO exercise. Supported by three full carrier battle groups, it sent a message.
Leaving “The Rock” late in the night of 7 November, the five aging but still operable DEs set out across the Atlantic again. Without having to shepherd a convoy, they made Bermuda without issue on the morning of 15 November, pulling up to the British colony at 19.5 knots. Following a couple days of libo, the DEs, led by Tabberer with ComCort12 still aboard, made Key West on the 19th. It was her last operational deployment.
Transferred to Philadelphia, she would spend the next two years in the same sort of laid-back semi-reserve service she had before Operation Deepwater.
Effective Friday, 2 September 1960– the 15th anniversary of VJ Day– USS Tabberer was decommissioned at Philadelphia, having been towed, cold iron, under the bridge to the Reserve Basin and, placed in mothballs for the second, and final, time on the 1st.
The Butler class listing in the 1960 Janes. Most of these vessels were in mothballs.
On 1 July 1972, Tabberer’s name was struck from the NVR and in October 1973 she was sold for scrapping to Mr. David Hahn, of Key West.
Navy destroyer escorts USS Raymond (DE-341), USS Oswald (DE-767), USS Melvin R. Nawman (DE-416), USS Tabberer (DE-418), and USS Coffman (DE-191) laid up at the Philadelphia Naval Shipyard, Pennsylvania (USA), circa in early 1973. By Jim Cunliffe via Navsource
No Butler class destroyer escort is preserved or remains in service.
She has a tribute marker at the National Museum of the Pacific War (the Nimitz Museum) in Texas.
The Navy, in its wisdom, has not elected to reuse the name Tabberer for another vessel.
For the men associated with the vessel, her most famous wartime skipper, LCDR Henry Lee Plage, remained on sea duty after the war and gave the Navy 17 years of service before retiring in 1954. Returning to Florida, he passed in 2003, aged 88, leaving behind a batch of children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.
Plage. The Navy could use a destroyer named in his honor.
Of the 92 survivors rescued from the sea after Typhoon Cobra, 55 were saved by Tabberer. Those men went on to lead their own lives and create children to carry on their own stories.
The most senior of those survivors, LCDR Marks, the lightning rod skipper of the ill-fated USS Hull, committed suicide in 1986.
Capt. George Montgomery, the gold wing-wearing leader of the Anzio group that gave the order counter to Halsey to turn his ships south, earned a Legion of Merit of his own for his group’s work off Iwo and Okinawa in 1945.
Basketball team, USS Anzio, 1945. “Over two years, undefeated.” Capt. Montgomery at center.
Post-war, Montgomery joined the staff of the Naval War College and was commander of a fleet air wing in the Caribbean then capped his career, appropriately, as Chief of Naval Air Safety before retiring in 1954 after 30 years in the Navy. RADM Montgomery passed in 1992, aged 92. He was survived by a son, retired Navy Capt. George C. Montgomery Jr., three grandchildren; and a great-grandson. It seems the salt was in the blood.
Meminisse est ad Vivificandum – To Remember is to Keep Alive
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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Above we see the magnificent modified York-class heavy cruiser HMS Exeter (68), entering Grand Harbour, Valetta, Malta, likely during her service with the Mediterranean Fleet’s 1st Cruiser Squadron at Alexandria, during the Abyssinian crisis between October 1935 and July 1936.
Simultaneously the final British warship to be built with 8-inch guns and the last “Washington” treaty cruiser built for the Royal Navy, she would use her guns to good effect against a tough “pocket battleship” some 85 years ago this week.
The Yorks
Sometimes referred to as the “Cathedral” class cruisers, York and her near-sister HMS Exeter (68) were essentially cheaper versions of the Royal Navy’s baker’s dozen County-class cruisers, the latter of which were already under-protected to keep them beneath the arbitrary 10,000-ton limit imposed by the Washington Naval Treaty of 1922. Weighing in at 8,250 tons, the Yorks were intended not for fleet action but for the role of sitting on an overseas station and chasing down enemy commerce raiders in the event of war.
York mounted six 8″/50 (20.3 cm) Mark VIII guns in three twin Mark II mounts. Fairly capable guns, they could fire a 256-pound SAP shell out past 30,000 yards at a (theoretical) rate of up to six rounds per gun per minute. Importantly, they carried 172 rounds per gun, up from the 125-150 carried by the preceding County class, a factor which allowed a slightly longer engagement time before running empty.
Bow turrets of HMS York. Photograph by Mrs. Josephine Burston, via Navweaps
Notably, Exeter was completed with the same main gun but in Mark II* mounts, which allowed for a shallower 50-degree elevation.
Cruiser HMS Exeter training her 8-inch guns to starboard
Exeter vessel also had a slightly different “straight” arrangement for her funnels and masts, whereas York’s carried a slant, giving each sister a distinctive profile.
Exeter’s 1930 rigging plan
HMS York. Note the slant to her masts and stacks. Photograph by Walter E. Frost, City of Vancouver Archives Photo No. 447-2863.1
Rounding out the cruisers’ offensive armament was a half-dozen deck-mounted 21-inch torpedo tubes a battery of DP 4-inch guns and a few Vickers machine guns to ward off aircraft.
Built with overseas service in mind, they could cover 10,000nm at 14 knots. Able to achieve 32.3 knots due to having 80,000-ship via Parsons geared steam turbines, they sacrificed armor protection for speed and magazine space, with just 1 inch of steel on their turrets and a belt that was just 3 inches at its thickest.
Exeter, Janes 1931
As noted by Richard Worth in his excellent tome, Fleets of World War II:
In trimming down the County layout, designers managed to retain several features, though sea keeping suffered. Protection also received low priority; the armor scheme (similar in proportion to the County type) included some advances, but all in all, the Yorks seemed even more vulnerable, especially in the machinery spaces.
Meet Exeter
Ordered as part of the 1926 Build Programme, Exeter was the fifth RN vessel to carry the name since 1680 and carried forth a quartet of battle honors (Adras 1782, Providien 1782, Negapatam 1782, and Trincomalee 1782) from these vessels. Constructed for £1,837,415 by HMNB Devonport Dockyard, Plymouth, she launched on 18 July 1929.
Her sponsor at the christening was Lady Madden.
Anchored off Plymouth, England, during her builder’s trials in May 1931. NH 60806
Bestowed with the familiar motto, Semper fidelis, Ever Faithful, she long maintained a relationship with her ancient namesake cathedral city along the River Exe.
On 23 May 1931, just before she was commissioned, HMS Exeter’s skipper and officers visited the town’s Mayor H W Michelmore, at the Exeter Guildhall. By tradition, Royal Navy ships named after a town are given a small gift by the town, and the Mayor announced that a model of the hall, paid for by public subscription, would be made of silver. Michelmore and a crowd of local dignitaries presented the finished model, about the size of a breadbox, three months later.
“On behalf of myself, my officers and ships crew, and of those who will come after us, I thank you most heartily and sincerely for the beautiful gift you have given us,” her plankowner skipper, Captain (later RADM) Isham W. Gibson, told the delegation. “We hope that you will count us as citizens of Exeter, afloat.”
NH 60803
Exeter, August 1931. NH 60804
Peacetime idyllic cruising
She was a striking vessel for her age. A true peacetime cruiser.
For the next decade, she would embark on a series of “waving the flag” port visits around the globe as she shifted between North America and West Indies Station, based in Bermuda, to the Mediterranean Fleet. This would involve roaming along the coast of Latin America, trips through the Panama Canal with corresponding port calls on the West Coast of America as far north as Esquimalt, BC, and cruising along the Caribbean.
On one such port call, the U.S. Navy dutifully took lots of close-up photographs of her armament and layout that were no doubt forwarded to the ONI, hence their preservation for posterity.
Exeter, .50 cal quad Vickers anti-aircraft machine gun mount. Note the Bluejackets aboard. NH 60811
Shagbats! Exeter with Supermarine Walrus amphibians on catapults. NH 60809
Same as above, NH 60810
Exeter 4″ anti-aircraft gun. NH 60808
Exeter At Montevideo, Uruguay in 1934. NH 60816
Exeter in Balboa harbor, canal zone, 24 April 1934. NH 60812
HMS Exeter, Panama Canal, 1930s. 33rd infantry honor guard at the Miguel locks. N-173-3
HMS Exeter, Northbound, Gamboa Signal Station, March 8, 1935, 185-G-2031
HMS Exeter returning to Devonport from the Mediterranean in July 1936, note her “homeward bound” pennant.
British heavy cruiser HMS Exeter, 1936
HMS Exeter at the Royal Naval Dockyard, on Ireland Island, Sandys Parish, in the British Imperial fortress colony of Bermuda, with Gibb’s Hill Lighthouse beyond, circa 1936
Aerial view of HMS Exeter, Panama Canal Zone, circa early 1939. NH 60807
Exeter off Coco Solo canal zone, circa 1939. NH 60814
Get the Graf!
Skipping a planned dockyard period at Devonport in early August 1939 due to rising tensions in Europe, Exeter’s crew was recalled from leave and prepared to return to service with the South Atlantic Division of the West Indies Squadron, escorting the troopship Dunera to Cape Verde before diverting to Freetown.
On her bridge was newly promoted Capt. Frederick “Hooky” Secker Bell, a fighting sailor who served as a mid on HMS Challenger in the Cameron Campaign in 1914, on board the battleship HMS Canada at the battle of Jutland in 1916, and, as a young lieutenant in 1918, was one of only two survivors of his destroyer when it was sunk from under his feet by one of the Kaiser’s U-boats. He had been XO of the battlewagon HMS Repulse just before moving into Exeter’s captain’s cabin– a battleship man in a cruiser.
When Hitler sent his legions into Poland in September, Exeter was in passage to Rio de Janeiro, and, clearing for war service, she soon took up station off Rio for the purpose of trade defense and interdicting German shipping.
By early October, with German surface raiders afoot in the South Atlantic, Exeter joined Hunting Force G along with the older but more heavily armed County-class heavy cruiser HMS Cumberland (9,750 tons, 8×8″ guns, 31 knots, 4.5-inch belt) and the Leander-class light cruisers HMS Ajax and HMNZS Achilles (7,270 tons, 8×6″/50s, 32.5 knots, 4-inch belt), with the force ranging from the Brazilian coast to the Falklands.
These hounds would eventually find fruit in the chase for the German Deutschland-class panzerschiff cruiser KMS Admiral Graf Spee (14,890 tons, 6×11″/52, 8×5.9″, 28.5 knots, 3.9-inch belt), however, its strongest asset, Cumberland, was in the Falklands under refit at the time, leaving our Exeter and the two lighter cruisers, Ajax and Achilles, to fight it out.
Kriegsmarine Panzerschiff Admiral Graf Spee im Spithead U.K. 1937. Colorised photo by Atsushi Yamashita/Monochrome Specter http://blog.livedoor.jp/irootoko_jr/
A detailed retelling of what is now known to history as the Battle of the River Plate would be out of the scope of this post, but, beginning with Graf Spee’s sighting of Force G at 0520 on the morning of 13 December, and ending when the engagement broke off around 0730 with the big German cruiser retreating into the River Plate estuary, is the stuff of legend.
In those swirling two hours, Graf Spee had been hit at least 70 times by British 8- and 6-inch guns, with the German suffering 36 killed and another 60, including her captain, Hans Langsdorff, wounded– in all about a fifth of her complement. While in no danger of sinking and still very much able to fight– albeit with only a third of her 11-inch shells left in her magazines– the panzerschiff had her oil purification plant, desalination plant, and galley destroyed, factors that would make a 6,000 mile run back to Germany likely impossible.
Graf Spee also gave as good as she got, with Exeter, pressing the fight against the larger ship repeatedly, getting the worst punishment in the form of hits from seven 660-pound 11-inch shells– ordnance she was never expected to absorb. Listing and with her two front turrets knocked out, Exeter had 61 dead and 23 wounded crew members aboard and could only make 18 knots. With only one turret still operable– and under local command only– Captain Bell had vouched that he was ready to ram Graf Spee before the German had retired.
As detailed by Lt Ron Atwill, who served in Exeter during the battle:
‘A’ and ‘B’ turrets were out of action from direct hits.
‘Y’ turret firing in local control.
The Bridge, Director Control Tower, and the Transmitting Station were out of action.
A fire was raging in the CPO’s and Serving Flats.
Minor fires were burning on the Royal Marine messdeck and in the Paint Shop.
There were no telephone communications – all orders had to be passed by messengers.
The ship was about four feet down by the bows due to flooding forward and had a list to starboard of about eight degrees due to some six hundred and fifty tons of water which had flooded in splinter holes near the waterline plus accumulations of fire fighting water. This degree of list is quite considerable and makes movement within the ship very difficult when decks are covered with fuel oil and water.
Only one 4-inch gun could be fired.
Both aircraft had been jettisoned.
W/T communications had completely broken down – mostly due to aerials having been shot away.
HMS Exeter (68) as seen in 1939, shows splinter damage to ‘A’ and ‘B’ turrets and the bridge from the German cruiser Admiral Graf Spee. While her rear ‘Y’ turret was intact, its electrical system had suffered a short from saltwater intrusion and was down to manual control. CDR RD Ross photo IWM HU 43488
Swiss cheese splinter damage to Exeter’s stacks. Splinters had riddled the ship’s funnels and searchlights, wrecked the ship’s Walrus aircraft just as it was about to be launched for gunnery spotting, and slaughtered her exposed torpedo tube crews. Shrapnel swept the bridge, killing or wounding almost all the bridge personnel and knocking out most of the ship’s communications and navigational tools, forcing the vessel to be directed by one of the compasses pulled from a launch. CDR RD Ross photo IWM HU 43505
With no means to fight left at her disposal other than the single 4-inch open mount still working, Exeter remained on watch with the lighter Ajax and Achilles, both damaged and nearly out of shells, keeping station at the Plate’s mouth should Graf Spee attempt to escape. Cumberland, rushed 1,000 miles from the Falklands in just 34 hours, arrived to reinforce the force late on the night of 14 December and relieve Exeter, who was ordered to retire to the Port Stanley for emergency repairs.
Ordered by Berlin not to have his ship interned in Uruguay, options were limited to Langsdorff, Graf Spee’s skipper. Partially due to his ship’s damage, and partially because the three British cruisers at the river’s mouth could bird-dog him should he put to sea, a factor acerbated by openly exaggerated signals that RN carriers and battlewagons were rapidly inbound (they were in fact still five days away), Langsdorff landed his crew– who he refused to sacrifice in vain– scuttled his ship in Montevideo, and then blew his brains out.
Admiral Graf Spee in flames after being scuttled in the River Plate estuary, 17 December 1939. IWM 4700-01
Later Allied inspection of Graf Spee’s hull showed Exeter got in at least three hits from her “puny” 256-pound 8-inchers, including the key destruction of her oil purification plant, the blow that cut off the big cruiser’s legs.
Admiral Graf Spee, ship’s port bow, taken while she was at Montevideo, Uruguay in mid-December 1939, following the Battle of the River Plate. Note crew members working over the side to repair damage from an eight-inch shell fired by the British heavy cruiser Exeter. The notation The ‘Moustache’ refers to the false bow wave painted on Admiral Graf Spee’s bows. The original photograph came from Rear Admiral Samuel Eliot Morison’s World War II history project working files. NH 83003
Admiral Graf Spee photograph of a shell hole in the ship’s forward superstructure tower, made by an eight-inch shell fired by the British heavy cruiser Exeter. The sketch below shows the location of the hole, and describes it as large enough to crawl through. Taken on board the ship’s wreck in the River Plate, near Montevideo, Uruguay, where she had been scuttled in December 1939. Page from an intelligence report prepared by USS Helena (CL-50) during her shakedown cruise to South America. The photograph was taken on 2 February 1940 by Ensign Richard D. Sampson, USN. NH 51986
Admiral Graf Spee photograph of the interior of the ship’s forward superstructure tower, showing damage caused by an eight-inch shell fired by the British heavy cruiser Exeter during the Battle of the River Plate. Cut wires and the absence of a fire control tube were noted on the original report in which this image appeared. Taken on board the ship’s wreck in the River Plate, near Montevideo, Uruguay, where she had been scuttled in December 1939. Photographed on 2 February 1940 by Ensign Richard D. Sampson, USN, for an intelligence report prepared by USS Helena (CL-50) during her shakedown cruise to South America. NH 51987-A
Arriving at Port Stanley on 20 December, Exeterwould remain there for a month, patched up with steel plate salvaged from the old Grytviken whaling station while her wounded were cared for in local homes, until the battered cruiser began her slow voyage back to England. She arrived at Plymouth on 15 February 1940.
HMS Exeter arrives back in the UK after emergency repairs at Port Stanley in the Falkland Islands following the battle of the river Plate. Lighter paintwork can be seen where the damage was patched up.
Churchill, at the time First Lord of the Admiralty, visited the cruiser and addressed the crew. The bulldog had come “to pay my tribute to her brave officers and men from her shattered decks in Plymouth Harbor”
Arrival at Plymouth with Churchill coming aboard. IWM HU 104428
On 23 February, her celebrated crew marched through the City of London. Bell was made a companion knight of the Bath while the other members of the crew would pick up two DSOs, seven DSCs, and nearly 40 DSMs.
Leap Day 1940 saw Bell lead 87 members of his crew on a Freedom of the City parade with fixed bayonets through Exeter, where seemingly the entire town turned out. The cruisermen brought with them a host of souvenirs to hand over to the city including Exeter’s shell-torn White Ensign and her bell, left with the city for safekeeping.
Pacific maelstrom
Exeter’s extensive repair would stretch for a year and included rebuilding her gun houses, installing new catapults and torpedo tubes, as well as modernization that saw a Type 279 search radar, Type 284 gunnery control radar, tripod masts, and improved anti-aircraft armament shipped aboard. The latter included landing her old 4.1-inch singles for four twin 102/45 QF Mk XVIs along with two massive octuple 40mm 2-pounder MK VIII mounts.
In that period, her near-sister, York, was lost to MTMs of Xª Flottiglia MAS in Suda Bay.
HMS Exeter, off Devonport after refit, March 1941, by Harold William John Tomlin. IWM A3553
HMS Exeter, off Devonport after refit, March 1941 hoisting Walrus, by Harold William John Tomlin. IWM A 3555
Stern view, same place and time as above. A 3552
Exeter’s ninth and final skipper, Capt. Oliver Loudon Gordon, took command on 11 March 1941.
Following post-refit workups with the Northern Patrol in April 1941, Exeter was transferred to the East Indies Squadron, which was beefing up as tensions with the Empire of Japan were at an all-time high. Likewise, Bell was ordered to a new position as Flag Captain to the Flag Officer, Malaya,
Sailing south with a military convoy on 22 May– while keeping an eye out for the raiding Bismarck and Prinz Eugen— she arrived in Freetown on 4 June and Durban two weeks later before spending the next six months as escort a series of different slow convoys (CM 014, BP 012, CM 017, and MA 001) shuttling around the Indian Ocean.
On 7 December 1941, she was ordered to Singapore to join the ill-fated Force Z– the battleship HMS Prince of Wales and the battlecruiser HMS Repulse. She didn’t make it to join the force before it was destroyed by Japanese land-based bombers three days later in the South China Sea.
Instead, Exeter leaned into her speed and, under the combined ABDA Command in Java, she spent January and February 1942 as part of several different Allied convoys (DM 001, BM 010, BM 011, BM 012, JS 001, and SJ 5) running troops to Singapore and around the Dutch East Indies.
HMS Exeter firing at Japanese aircraft which unsuccessfully attacked convoy JS1 in the Bangka Strait during the 14/15 February 1942, NIMH 2158_017924
A harbor tug crosses the bow of the 8-inch gun cruiser HMS Exeter as she lies anchored in the congested harbor of Tanjong Priok, the port for Batavia, now Jakarta, in the first days of February 1942. Exeter helped clear the congestion, taking thirty merchant ships to sea. AWM P04139.003
On 25 February, Exeter, along with the RAN Leander-class light cruiser HMAS Perth (sister to Ajax and Achilles) and destroyers HMS Electra, Encounter, and Jupiter, were detailed to join the ABDA’s Eastern Striking Force under Dutch RADM K.W.F.M. Doorman at Soerabaja, which was then renamed the Combined Striking Force. Doorman’s force was slight, made up of just the Dutch light cruisers HrMs De Ruyter and HrMs Java, the heavy cruiser USS Houston (CA-30), and a mix of nine Dutch and American destroyers, mostly old “flush deckers” from the Great War.
Of the five allied cruisers, only Houston was more powerful than Exeter, carrying nine cramped 8″/55 guns in her thin hull. However, only six of Houston’s 8-incher were operable as her aft turret had been knocked out in an earlier air attack. Further, only Exeter had radar.
Rushing out to confront a force of 30 Japanese troops transports on 27 February 1942 protected by RADM Takeo Takagi’s two heavy cruisers, two old light cruisers, and 14 destroyers, things got pear-shaped pretty fast in what became known as the First Battle of the Java Sea.
A flurry of over 90 Long Lance torpedoes sank a Dutch destroyer while a lucky 7.9-inch hit from the Japanese Myoko-class heavy cruiser Haguro penetrated to Exeter’s aft boiler room and knocked six of her eight boilers offline, dropping the British cruiser’s speed to just five knots.
Retiring South towards Surabaya via the Sunda Strait with Encounter and the American destroyer USS Pope (DD-225) escorting, Exeter had the supreme misfortune of running into the four Japanese heavy cruiser sisters Nachi, Haguro, Myoko, and Ashigara, along with their four escorting destroyers, supported by the carrier Ryujo over the horizon, on the morning of 1 March.
Although Exeter had managed to increase her speed to 23 knots by this time, it was far too slow to avoid being overtaken by the armada of bruisers and fast greyhounds. The disparity in ordnance in big guns alone– 40 7.9″/50s vs six 8″/50s– was staggering before even taking into account smaller guns and torpedo tubes.
Japanese shells rain down around HMS Exeter during her ill-fated encounter in the Java Sea
Despite Encounter and Pope bravely making smoke and attempting torpedo runs against impossible odds– the same sort of bravery later seen by American escorts in the defense of Taffy 3 in October 1944– it was all over in about three hours and all of the Allied vessels were sent to the bottom piecemeal.
Exeter sinking on 1 March 1942 after engagement with Japanese Cruisers off Java. This Japanese photo was captured by U.S. Forces at Attu in May 1943. Collection of Admiral T. C Kinkaid, USN. NH 91772
NH 91773
Exeter sinking after engaging Japanese heavy cruisers in the Java Sea, 1 March 1942. Image taken from the captured Japanese wartime booklet “Victory on the March” 80-G-179020
Exeter earned three battle honors (River Plate 1939, Malaya 1942, and Sunda Strait 1942) to add to the four she carried forward.
Epilogue
Over the next two days, Japanese destroyers would pick up some 800 Allied survivors from the three lost warships in the water after the battle including 652 men of the crew of Exeter, the cruiser remarkably “only” losing 54 in the battle itself. A large reason why so many of Exeter’s crew survived the battle was that Capt. Gordon, his ship lost, ordered her evacuated before the final bloody game could play out. Like Capt. Langsdorff at Montevideo, Gordon owed it to his men not to ask them to perish in vain.
Tossed into the hell that was the Japanese POW camp systems no less than 27 of Pope’s sailors, 37 of Encounter’s, and 30 from Exeter died in the prison camps, usually from either malaria or pneumonia. When it came to Japanese camps, they typically lost a full quarter of those housed within.
Recovered from camps in the Celebes, Macassar, and Nagasaki in September 1945, Exeter veterans were given emergency medical care and repatriated. AWM photos
The wrecks of Encounter, Exeter, and Pope have been extensively looted by illegal salvagers.
Capt. Gordon, while being removed from Japan on USS Gosper (APA-170) in October 1945, finally had a chance to deliver his 12-page report on Exeter’s final battles to the Admiralty, via U.S. channels. With the traditional English gift of understatement, he noted that, during the evacuation of the cruiser, “The ship was evidently leaking oil fuel considerably, which, with a slight lop, made conditions in the water decidedly unpleasant, at first.”
July 1942 portrait of Capt. Oliver L Gordon, RN, HMS Exeter, who was captured in the Java Sea. Capt Gordon was a prisoner of war in Zentsuji Camp, Shikoku, Osaka, Japan. He later wrote of his experiences both in command of the Exeter and as a prisoner of war in Japan in the book Fight It Out, published in 1957, and passed in 1973. AWM P04017.059
As for “Hooky” Secker Bell, Exeter’s commander during the fight with Graf Spee, he escaped Singapore before the fall in 1942 and survived the war. In January 1946 he took command of the battleship HMS Anson, was named an ADC to King George VI, and retired on health grounds in January 1948.
In 1956, he served as an advisor to the film The Battle of the River Plate which included the huge Des Moines class heavy cruiser USS Salem as the Graf, Achilles as herself, the light cruiser HMS Sheffield as Ajax, and the light cruiser HMS Jamaica as our Exeter.
Her 1931-marked bell and River Plate battle-damaged ensign, along with a scale model of the cruiser, are in Exeter as part of the city’s archives.
St Andrews Chapel in Exeter has several relics and a memorial stained glass window which incorporates the ship’s badge.
She is celebrated in maritime art, and for good reason.
HMS Exeter at Plymouth in 1940: Back from the Graf Spee action, by Charles Ernest Cundall. IWM (Art.IWM ART LD 1848)
Battle of the River Plate, 13 December 1939 watercolor by Edward Tufnell, RN (Retired), depicting the cruisers HMS Exeter (foreground) and HMNZS Achilles (right center background) in action with the German armored ship Admiral Graf Spee (right background). NH 86397-KN
Admiral Graf Spee vs Ajax, Achilles, and Exeter painting by Adam Werka
The Battle of the Java Sea, painting by Van der Ven. From left to right two American destroyers (Four stackers), cruiser Hr.Ms. De Ruyter, HMAS Perth, HMS Exeter, Hr.Ms. Witte de With, Hr.Ms. Kortenaer (sinking) and HMS Jupiter. NIMH 2158_051001.
The Royal Navy, when passing through the Sunda Strait, typically holds a memorial service for the lost cruiser and her escorts.
HMS Montrose showers the now-calm waters of the Java Sea with poppies over the site where 62 men lost their lives when cruiser HMS Exeter and destroyer HMS Encounter fell victim to the Japanese, 2019. MOD photo
In 1980, a Type 42 destroyer, HMS Exeter (D 89), joined the fleet to perpetuate the name. She earned the ship her eighth battle honor (Falklands- 1982) and was only decommissioned on 27 May 2009.
October 1987. Gulf Of Oman. A starboard beam view of the British destroyer HMS Exeter (D-89) underway on patrol while stationed in the region as part of a multinational force safeguarding shipping during the war between Iraq and Iran. PH1 T. Cosgrove. DN-ST-93-00902
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Warship Wednesday, Dec. 4, 2024: Danish E-Boat Days
Foto: Tøjhusmuseet
Above we see a great Royal Danish Navy recruiting poster from 1951 by Aage Rasmussen. Reading roughly, “A healthy life. A future – become a naval officer,” it shows a well-dressed lieutenant in the Danish RN style uniform, complete with Marineglas 6×30 binos produced by Carl Zeiss.
You may find the planing torpedo boat– the hull number, P558, makes it Musvaagen— in the poster’s foreground familiar. We’ll get into that.
The Danish TB Saga
Denmark loved fast torpedo boats probably longer than any other naval force in history, fielding no less than 108 of them between 1879 and 2000.
Danish torpedoer Hajen, first of her type in service to the King of Denmark
As we have touched on with a past Warship Wednesday (“A Tough Little Wolf”) which focused on the Great War-era Søridderen and Tumleren classes, the country had 17 such TBs on hand going into 1914.
The green-painted Tumleren class torpedo boat Vindhunden aside the anchored panserskibet coastal defense ship Peder Skram at Østre Mole. Commissioned in 1911, Vindhunden and her class would be retired by 1935. (Aarhus Stadsarkiv)
Danish Tumleren class torpedo boat Vindhunden in Aarhus Harbour between 1919 and 1924, note the cutlass worn, likely by the crew’s bosun. There is just so much I love about this image from the dirty whites and flatcaps to the drying kapok life jackets and the grimy snipe catching a smoke. (Aarhus Stadsarkiv)
During WWI, the country managed to construct 10 further vessels of the 126-foot Springeren class, the last two of which were finished in 1919. This allowed the country, interbellum, to retire elderly boats left over from the late 19th Century.
June 1927. Three Great War-era Springeren-class TBs in Aarhus harbor including Søhunden (Nr.7), Narhvalen (Nr.5), and Havhesten (Nr.6), June 1927 at the Østre Mole. At the time, Søhunden was under the command of HKH Kronprins Frederik, the Danish heir. (Photo: Aarhus Stadsarkiv)
By 1929, six big (195-foot) and well-armed Dragen/Glenten-class torpedo boats began entering service, which gave enough breathing room to the Danish admiralty to finally put the last of their pre-1914 TBs (the six members of the Søridderen and Tumleren classes) to pasture, and downgrade the Springeren-class to fast mine warfare vessels (capable of both laying and sweeping).
Danish Torpedobåden Dragen T1 overhead. Capable ships of 335 tons, the Dragen/Glenten-class torpedo boats carried two deck guns, two bow-mounted 17.7-inch tubes, and 4 or 6 further 17.7-inch tubes on turnstiles.
Danish torpedo practice 1939 Torpedobåd affyrer skud i Aarhus Bugten.
Danish Torpedobåden Dragen (T1). THM-12146
Danish Mandskab, Torpedosektionen Dragen class in background 1937-38 THM-6114
Danish Aarhus Harbour, torpedo boats T1 Dragen, T2 Hvalen, and T3 Laxen are located at the Quay 1939, iced in
Danish torpedo boat T3 Laxen in Aarhus Bay in the autumn of 1939
Aarhus, Denmark, Torpedo boats T2 Hvalen, T5 Høgen, and T4 Glenten, 1939. Note the six chemical smoke cylinders on the stern and twin 75-foot mine rails on each boat.
Then came WWII.
Denmark entered the conflict in 1939 the same way it had in the First World War, as a neutral. To enforce this neutrality on the sea, she had the aforementioned Dragen/Glenten TBs in her fleet– balancing several small gunboats, 10 fast minesweepers (the old Springeren-class TBs, sans torpedoes), four submarines, the training cruiser (artilleriskib) Niels Juel, and the old bathtub battleship (kystforsvarsskib) Peder Skram.
Ordered not to resist when the Germans blitzkrieged through the country in April 1940, and then largely disarmed, the Danish Navy was further humiliated by its government and ordered to “lease” their beautiful Dragen/Glentens to the occupier in February 1941. The Kriegsmarine used them as U-boat support ships and torpedo retrievers, numbered TFA1 through TFA6.
One, TFA3 (ex-Dragen) was lost to a mine, while the other five were in condemned condition by the end of the war.
Wrecked former Danish torpedo boats, the Dragon class, photographed in Flensburg harbor after Donau’s explosion, 14 June 1945. A4= “ex-Glenten”, 5= “ex-Hvalen, 6= “ex-Laxen” THM-6979
Officially rerated in the 1930s as a minesweeper, Havkatten only had a single 17.7-inch torpedo tube still mounted in her bow– but no torpedoes!
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
Besides Havkatten, the Danish flotilla at VE Day only contained three small 80-foot coastal mine boats (MS 1, MS 7, and MS29), each with a 12-man crew and armed with a 20mm cannon, nine even smaller coast guard launches with 5-man crews, and the 41-foot motor launch Fandango, with the latter types only armed with small caliber machine guns.
Schnellboote Solution!
Looking to get back into the TB business after WWII, the easiest way to pull this off was for the Danes to get reparations in the form of former Kriegsmarine Schnellboote, or E and S-boats in Allied parlance.
The Danes had the hulk of one, S116, on hand already in 1945.
As chronicled by Die Schnellboote Seite, beginning in early 1947, OMGUS, the U.S. occupation government in Germany, authorized the sale of 10 scratch-and-dent German E-boats collected at Bremerhaven for $80,000. With that also came whatever 21-inch torpedoes and parts could be scrounged.
S64 in Kriegsmarine service with the panther emblem of 4. Schnellbootflottille. Post-war, she was the Norwegian Lyn and then the Danish Stormfuglen
Hejren (P566) ex-S117, in Danish green livery.
Copenhagen kept reaching out concerning similar boats and obtained four more from U.S. stores in 1948, and another four from the British.
In 1951, the Danes picked up six E-boats from Norway, where they had been in coastal service.
Ultimately, the Danes would own no less than 22 former German E-boats and eventually get 18 of them working.
The first operational, appropriately dubbed Glenten (T51), formerly the Kriegsmarine’s S306, entered service in July 1947, and those that followed are typically known as the Glenten class in Denmark even though the boats came from several slightly different German classes. Meanwhile, in English-speaking sources, these are often broken down by former German sub-classes: Glenten/T51/S170, Gribben/T52/S38, and Havørnen/T53/S139.
See table:
German Number
German class, builder
Entered Service
Seized By
Norwegian Name
Danish Name
Entered Danish Service
Danish Number
S15
S14 Lürssen
27 February 1937
USN
N/A
(Cannibalized)
(1947)
T46
S115
S109 Schlichting
30 May 1942
UK
N/A
(Cannibalized)
(1947)
S116
S109 Schlichting
4 July 1942
Denmark
N/A
(Cannibalized)
(1945)
S122
S26 Schlichting
21 February 1943
UK
N/A
(Cannibalized)
(1947)
S306
S151 Lürssen
Incomplete
USN
N/A
Glenten
07/31/1947
P551 (T51)
S107
S26 Schlichting
6 July 1941
USN
N/A
Gribben
04/15/1948
P552 (T52)
S216
S151 Lürssen
27 December 1944
USN
N/A
Havoarnen
11/19/1948
P553 (T53)
S133
S26 Schlichting
31 December 1943
USN
N/A
Hærfuglen
03/21/1949
P554 (T54)
S206
S151 Lürssen
31 August 1944
USN
N/A
Hoegen
03/28/1949
P555 (T55)
S127
S26 Schlichting
10 July 1943
USN
N/A
Isfuglen
07/08/1949
P556 (T56)
S305
S301 Lürssen
29 March 1945
USN
N/A
Jagtfalken
07/08/1949
P557 (T57)
S79
S26 Lürssen
27 June 1942
Norway
N/A
Musvaagen
07/15/1950
P558 (T58)
S196
S171
Lürssen
3 July 1944
UK
N/A
Raagen
11/01/1949
P559 (T59)
S97
S26 Lürssen
25 March 1943
USN
N/A
Ravnen
01/10/1953
P560 (T60)
S207
S171
Lürssen
19 September 1944
UK
N/A
Skaden
10/07/1950
P561 (T61)
S64
S26 Lürssen
2 November 1941
USN
Lyn (1947)
Stormfuglen
10/08/1953
P562
S303
S301 Lürssen
24 February 1945
USN
E2, Brann
Taarnfalken
05/12/1952
P563
S85
S26 Lürssen
7 December 1942
USN
Storm
Tranen
11/03/1955
P564
S302
S301 Lürssen
12 February 1945
USN
E1, Blink
Falken
02/07/1953
P565
S117
S109 Schlichting
8 August 1942
USN
B97, Tross
Hejren
01/05/1956
P566
S195
S171
Lürssen
10 July 1944
USN
E3, Kjekk
Lommen
04/21/1955
P567
S68
S26 Lürssen
1 July 1942
USN
N/A
Viben
11/03/1955
P568 (T62)
By late 1954, the fleet reached its zenith, with 15 former German E-boats in active service, a full decade after WWII ended.
Danish Glenten class Schnellbooten. Note the boat to the right has been retrofitted with a U.S. 40mm L60. THM-24118
Musvaagen (P-558, ex-S79) first in a nest of Danish Glentenklassen E-boats.THM-24137
Same as above, with Musvaagen’s name plainly visible on the deck house. Note the forward 20mm cannon mounts and starboard torpedo tube hatch.THM-24145
Isfuglen (P-556) outboard of a group of Danish Glentenklassen S-boats. THM-24129
As acquired by the Danes, most of these boats had two 21-inch forward torpedo tubes- the first time the Danish Navy went with such large fish– with two torps loaded and room for a reload, giving them the capability to carry four torps. War-surplus German G7 straight runners were used.
Torpedo fired by Danish Glentenklassen Schnellboote. THM-24148
Deck-mounted armament at first typically consisted of anywhere from two to five 20mm/65 Flak C30/C38s. The guns were classified as the Mk M/39 LvSa in Danish service. The boats also had some capability to run a few mines and/or depth charges on stern racks.
2 cm Flugabwehrkanone 38 Danish Glentenklassen Schnellboote. Note the American M1 helmets. THM-24157
2 cm Flugabwehrkanone 38 Danish Glentenklassen Schnellboote E-boat S-boat THM-24156
2 cm Flugabwehrkanone 38 Danish Glentenklassen Schnellboote. THM-24150
With all the E-boats running 114 feet in length on similar hulls, the force was all powered by a trio of Daimler-Benz diesels, albeit in three different variants across the classes. Even the slower models could still touch 38 knots at a full clip, at least for the length of a couple of attack runs, while the zestier of the herd could log 45. Their range was typically 700 miles, more than enough to cover the narrow Kattegat and Skagerrak straits.
One of three 3,000 hp Daimler-Benz MB518 diesels on a Danish Glentenklassen Schnellboote. Other models included 2,500 hp MB511s or 2,000 hp MB501s. THM-24154
By 1951, with NATO standardization, the Danish E-boats started landing their German-made flak guns in favor of, first, a single 40mm/60 Mk M/36 Bofors aft, and then by late 1955 an improved new Swedish-made 40mm/70 Bofors SAK 315 single (M/48 LvSa in Danish service) as well a U.S. supplied 20 mm/70 Mark 7 Oerlikon (Mk M/42 LvSa) forward.
40mm Bofors L60 on Danish Glenten class Schnellboote. THM-24121
March 1957. 40mm Bofors L70. Danish boats mounted these on the stern and had a 20mm single forward in the “zero gravity” area near the bow. Note the U.S. M1 helmets. Aarhus Archive.
Likewise, they received a small surface search radar and NATO pennant numbers, transitioning from the Danish T series (e.g. T54) to the NATO P series (e.g. P554).
In Danish service, these craft typically had 22 member crews including two officers, two petty officers, and 18 ratings.
In Danish service, boats were originally in a grey/green livery but the country did experiment with a flash white scheme as well.
4 September 1953. The MTB tender HMDS Hjælperen (A563) in Aarhus Harbor together with six motor torpedo boats, all former S-boats. Note that four are painted flash white and two are grey/green. Note the forward mounts have been landed (Photo: Aarhus Stadsarkiv)
Glenten (P551, ex S306) with the experimental flash white scheme
Our subjects were augmented in service by 10 brand-new Danish-built Flyvefisken and Falken-class vessels, which were constructed at Copenhagen based on a scaled-up 118-foot version of the German design they had been working with since 1945.
12 August 1959, Danish torpedo boats motortorpedobåde in the harbor off Vejerboden. Five Danish motor torpedo boats: Sværdfisken (P505), Flyvefisken (P500), Glenten (P551), and Falken (P565). The boats are part of a large NATO squadron of 69 ships that docked in Aarhus Harbour. Of note, Sværdfisken and Flyvefisken, despite their lower pennant numbers and appearance, are actually brand-new TBs commissioned in 1955, built at Orlogsværftets, København as an ode to the German E-boats. Note their stern 40mm L70s and surface search radar fits. (Photo: Aarhus Stadsarkiv)
The first to be decommissioned by the Danes, Hærfuglen (ex-S133), Isfuglen (ex-S127), and Musvaagen (ex-S79) were all early boats with smaller diesels and were pulled from service in November 1954. Speed was everything with these boats, after all.
By 1960, the Danes still had 11 left in service. Via the 1960-61 Janes:
However, all things fast eventually run out of time, and by September 1965, the last, Viben (ex-S68), was withdrawn, capping some 20 years of E-boat fun under the Dannebrog.
November 1957 Motortorpedobåde entering Aarhus (Base). (Photo: Aarhus Stadsarkiv)
Epilogue
None of the Danish-operated E-boats survive.
Supplemented by the newer Flyvefisken and Falken-class near-sisters, they were replaced by a half-dozen of the Soloven (British Vosper Brave-Ferocity type). Short boats at just 98 feet, they carried four torpedo tubes and could reach a paint-peeling 50 knots.
Danish Soloven (Sea Lion) Class Vosper Brave SØHUNDEN (P514).
Finally, in 1974 the Danish Navy introduced their penultimate torpedo boat, the 10 ships of the Willemoes class. Sleek 139-footers running on Rolls-Royce Proteus gas turbines, they could make 40 knots and carry a combination of Harpoon AShW missiles, up to six torpedo tubes for modern wire-guided torpedoes, and a 76mm OTO Melera.
Danish Willemoes klassen torpedo missile boats
The Willemoes would remain in service until 2000.
The end of an era.
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, Nov. 27, 2024: Ron Three
French Navy image
Above we see the white-hulled U.S. Coast Guard Reliance-class cutter Valiant (WMEC 621), steaming alongside the French Navy’s surveillance frigate FS Ventose (F733) on 29 Sept. 2024, while underway in the Windward Passage. Valiant, built in the 1960s, originally carried a 3″/50 DP gun of the same sort they used to put on submarines in WWII, but since the 1990s has only carried a 25mm chain gun forward. Ventose, which is only marginally larger than the cutter, totes a 3.9″/55 DP gun in a CADAM turret recycled from the old carrier Clemenceau.
The French, in their design concept behind Ventose and her sisters, intended them for solo overseas constabulary service, roughly akin to what the USCG’s large cutters have done for over a century Sadly, the Coast Guard long ago landed their big guns and today just have 57mm pop guns on even their largest cutters.
It wasn’t always like that.
Coast Guard Squadron Three
Immediately after the Gulf of Tonkin Incident in 1964, the Navy got heavily involved in Southeast Asia. One rub of the situation was that road-poor Vietnam had a river and stream-dotted 12,000-mile coastline and a myriad of some 60,000 small craft in its littoral. That meant the only way you could halt and screen this shallow-water maritime traffic was by getting your own shallow-water assets and the saga of the “Brown Water Navy” and Operation Market Time was born.
By August 1965, TF 115 comprised eight large U.S. Navy vessels (primarily DERs augmented by MSOs and MSCs), 11 Coast Guard WPBs, 15 VNN Sea Force ships, and 215 junks. These were soon augmented by hundreds of the new 50-foot PCFs (Swiftboats), and the Navy sent more and more old destroyers and escorts into the near-shore zone for interdiction and naval gunfire support.
ADM Roy Johnson, Commander Pacific Fleet, forced in March 1967 to reassign Market Time DERs to a new interdiction campaign, known as Operation Sea Dragon, against lines of communication in North Vietnam, requested five Coast Guard high endurance cutters (WHECs) to replace the DERs in the Market Time barrier. Thus was born Commander, Task Unit (CTU) 70.8.6 (Coast Guard Squadron Three).
The Ships
In early 1967, the Coast Guard had 37 of what they termed at the time “high endurance cutters,” larger ocean-going vessels that were expected to be pressed into service as destroyer escorts/patrol frigates should WWIII start.
Between 4 May 1967 and 31 January 1972, no less than 31 HECs completed lengthy deployments to Vietnam, one of them twice. These weren’t short cruises. All were at least six months long while many were well past that to nine or ten months. Keep in mind this was while the agency was still part of the civilian U.S. Transportation Department (they have been part of Homeland Security since 2003) and not transferred wholesale to the Navy as in WWI and WWII.
These 31 ships included six of six 327-foot Treasury-class cutters that had seen convoy escort and amphibious landing operations in WWII; nine of 18 smaller and almost as well-traveled 311-foot Casco-class cutters (former WWII Navy Barnegat-class small seaplane tenders); nine of 13 stubby 255-foot Owasco-class cutters which entered service just after WWII, and the seven of nine brand-new 378-foot Hamilton-class cutters which included such modern features as helicopter hangars and gas turbine powerplants.
Nine of the 18 311-foot Casco class cutters would serve in CGRON3 off Vietnam– and two of them would transfer to the RVNN at the end of their U.S. service (listing via the 1960 ed of Janes)
A big reason these were sent to Vietnam was that they had a relatively shallow draft (12.5 feet on the 311s and 327s, 17 on the 255s, and 15 on the 378s), allowing them to operate close to shore, surface search radar (SPS-23, augmented by SPS-29 air search), had a decent commo suite that allowed interfacing with Big Navy C4I assets, had crews familiar with sometimes sketchy coastwise interdiction in a littoral, and, most importantly, all carried a simple and easily supportable Mark 12 DP 5-inch gun (in enclosed Mk 30 single mountings with local Mk. 26 Fire Control) and knew how to use it.
The Deployments
In all, the 31 cutters sent to Vietnam steamed 1,292,094 combined miles on station, spending some 62.6 percent of their time underway conducting 205 Market Time patrols.
Five Casco class Barnegat class cutters 311 USCG Squadron Three, probably taken in Subic Bay on the way to Vietnam in 1967
CGRON3 headed to Vietnam in a column from Subic Bay
This was enabled by 1,153 underway replenishments and a smaller number of vertical replenishments.
At sea off Vietnam. Australian destroyer HMAS Hobart approaching a Mispillion class replenishment oiler USS Passumpsic (AO-107) as it is tanking a Coast Guard 311-foot HEC, likely CGC Pontchartrain. AWM Photo P01904.005 by Peter Michael Oleson.
The Coast Guard sent eight deployments of HECs to support CGRON3 with the first five each comprised of five high-endurance cutters. The sixth deployment included three high-endurance cutters, with two of the three turned over to the Vietnamese Navy at the end of the tour. The seventh and eighth deployments each consisted of just two cutters.
First Deployment
USCGC Barataria (WHEC 381) 4 May 67 — 25 Dec 67 (Casco) USCGC Half Moon (WHEC 378) 4 May 67 — 29 Dec 67 (Casco) USCGC Yakutat (WHEC 380) 4 May 67 — 1 Jan 68 (Casco) USCGC Gresham (WHEC 387) 4 May 67 — 28 Jan 68 (Casco) USCGC Bering Strait (WHEC 382) 4 May 67 — 18 Feb 68 (Casco)
Naval Base Subic Bay – USCG Squadron 3, first deployment, showing five freshly-painted Casco-class cutters alongside the repair ship USS Jason (AR-8) in late April before heading to Vietnam. Note this is before the Coast Guard adopting their now famous bow “racing stripe” 221206-G-G0000-120
A rusty and hard-serving USCGC Barataria (WHEC 381) off Vietnam in late 1967 showed a less than gleaming appearance. Note she doesn’t have a racing stripe yet and her 26-foot Monomoy is away. 230807-G-M0101-2004
Barataria set a fast pace of effectiveness during her deployment in Vietnam waters. Underway 83 percent of the time, the cutter cruised over 67,000 miles without a major mechanical or electrical failure. Keeping a close watch on all moving craft in her surveillance area, Barataria detected, inspected, or boarded nearly 1,000 steel-hulled vessels traversing her area, any one of which could have been a trawler trying to sneak supplies to the enemy. Barataria was called upon many times to use her main battery against shore-based enemy troops who were aggressively engaged with Allied forces. Representative of the high state of readiness and training of the cutter’s men is the fact that U.S. Army spotter planes reported all rounds on target, never once falling out of the target area. On one mission three direct hits were scored on point targets that had been spotted by aircraft. She returned to the US on 12 January 1968 and was reassigned to San Francisco.
Second Deployment
USCGC Androscoggin (WHEC 68) 4 Dec 67 — 4 Aug 68 (Owasco) USCGC Duane (WHEC 33) 4 Dec 67 — 28 Jul 68 (Treasury) USCGC Campbell (WHEC 32) 14 Dec 67 — 12 Aug 68 (Treasury) USCGC Minnetonka (WHEC 67) 5 Jan 68 — 29 Sep 68 (Owasco) USCGC Winona (WHEC 65) 25 Jan 68 — 17 Oct 68 (Owasco)
255-foot Owasco class USCGC Minnetonka (WHEC 67), Vietnam
Of the above, Winona noted in her history that:
She steamed 50,727 miles, spent 203 days at sea, treated 437 Vietnamese, sunk one enemy trawler, destroyed 50 sampans and damaged 44 more, destroyed 137 structures and damaged 254, destroyed 39 bunkers and damaged 27, destroyed two bridges and damaged another, destroyed 3 gun positions and killed 128 enemy personnel, expending a total of 3,291 five-inch shells.
“W O W . . . . . .The initials of these three high endurance cutters spell out that expression of surprise as they nest alongside Riviera Pier at the U.S. Naval Base, Subic Bay, R.P. The three, Winnebago, Owasco, and Winona, along with a fourth unit of Coast Guard Squadron Three, the Bibb, was in Subic Bay for inchop, outchop, and upkeep, marking the first time that this many ships of the five-cutter squadron had visited there since it was formed 18 months ago. The squadron is a part of the Seventh Fleet’s Cruiser Destroyer Group and the cutters serve on the Coastal Surveillance Force’s Operation Market Time in Vietnam.” COMCOGARDRONTHREE PHOTO NO. 101068-01; 18 October 1968; Dale Cross, JOC, USCG, photographer
Owasco’s history notes that on her Vietnam deployment:
By the end of her tour overseas, she had supplied logistical support to 86 Navy Swift boats and 47 Coast Guard 82-foot patrol boats. She had detected 2,596 junks and conducted 178 “actual boardings and 2,341 inspections,” exceeding the “results of any Squadron Three cutter thus far.” She conducted 17 Naval Gunfire Support Missions, firing 1,330 rounds of 5-inch ammunition.” She was officially credited with killing four enemy soldiers, destroying 18 bunkers, and damaging 10, destroying 11 “military structures” and damaging 17, destroying 550 meters of “Enemy Supply Trails,” destroying 1 sampan, 1 loading pier, and interdicting 3 “Enemy Troop Movements.” She carried out 49 underway replenishments while in theatre and her medical personnel carried out 7 medical and civil action programs (MEDCAP), treating 432 Vietnamese civilians.
Fourth Deployment
USCGC Spencer (WHEC 36) 11 Feb 69 — 30 Sep 69 (Treasury) USCGC Mendota (WHEC 69) 28 Feb 69 — 3 Nov 69 (Owasco) USCGC Sebago (WHEC 42) 2 Mar 69 — 16 Nov 69 (Owasco) USCGC Taney (WHEC 37) 14 May 69 — 31 Jan 70 (Treasury) USCGC Klamath (WHEC 66) 7 Jul 69 — 3 Apr 70 (Owasco)
Both Taney and Spencer had already seen much WWII service, with the former being at Pearl Harbor and the latter a bona fide U-boat slayer. Here, on April 17, 1943, USCGC Spencer sinks U-327. National Archives Identifier: 205574168 https://catalog.archives.gov/id/205574168
Fifth Deployment
USCGC Hamilton (WHEC 715) 1 Nov 69 — 25 May 70 (Hamilton) USCGC Dallas (WHEC 716) 3 Nov 69 — 19 Jun 70 (Hamilton) USCGC Chase (WHEC 718) 6 Dec 69 — 28 May 70 (Hamilton) USCGC Mellon (WHEC 717) 31 Mar 70 — 2 Jul 70 (Hamilton) USCGC Pontchartrain (WHEC 70) 2 Apr 1970 — 25 Oct 1970 (Owasco)
Sixth Deployment
USCGC Sherman (WHEC 720) 22 Apr 70 — 25 Dec 70 (Hamilton) USCGC Bering Strait (WHEC 382) 17 May 70 — 31 Dec 70 (Casco) USCGC Yakutat (WHEC 380) 17 May 70 — 31 Dec 70 (Casco)
USCGC Castle Rock (WHEC 383) 9 Jul 71 — 21 Dec 71 (Casco) USCGC Cook Inlet (WHEC 384) 2 Jul 71 — 21 Dec 71 (Casco)
Interdiction
The primary reason for these big cutters to be in Vietnamese waters was to sanitize them by combing out vessel traffic smuggling contraband, primarily small arms and munitions, to Viet Cong guerillas in the south. They did this in spades, closing with some 69,517 vessels in the five years that CGRON3 was part of Market Time. Of these, no less than 50,000 were inspected alongside, while 1,094 were boarded and searched.
At Sea – USCG Squadron 3, Vietnam. Note the 26-foot Mark V Motor Surf Boat, YAK2, likely from CGC Yakutat, dating the photo to 1970. The nine-man crew includes at least two M16s and five flak jackets, hinting at a five-man boarding team. 221206-G-G0000-119
CGC Winona on Market Time Patrol by JOC Dale E. Cross, USCG. Note the M16-armed Coastie on the lookout to the right while the flak-vest-equipped junior officer goes over a mariner’s papers. 231220-G-G0000-107
CGC Winona on Market Time Patrol by JOC Dale E. Cross, May 16, 1968. Release No. 36-68 231220-G-G0000-106
New armaments were fitted to assist with this type of seagoing asymmetric warfare. Cutters typically picked up at least two (later cutters carried as many as six) .50 caliber air-cooled M2 Brownings on pintel mounts.
Also new were pintel-mounted 81mm mortars which could be used either for launching illumination parachute rounds, in counter-ship operations, or in suppressing fire near-shore (out to 4,500 yards).
At Sea – USCG in Vietnam – Market Time – Squadron Three with a detainee on deck, one of at least 128 detained and handed over to local ARVN assets. Note the loaded M2 .50 cal to the left and the sidearm-equipped CPO on watch. 221206-G-G0000-121
CGC Klamath on Market Time, showing off her new 50 cal and mortar emplacement
The 81mm mortar was mounted on either side of the No. 1 (5-inch) mount
311-foot Casco (Barnegat) class cutter Half Moon firing the 5″/38 on NGFS in Vietnam. Note the two mortars on the base of the superstructure between the ship’s Hedgehog ASW device
Campbell’s mortar team
Campbell’s mortar team “hanging an 81” ashore
The circa early 1960s small arms lockers for HECs included 40 M1 rifles, five M1 carbines, 17 .45 caliber M1911s, two Thompson SMGs, and two M1919 .30-caliber LMGs. With Vietnam on the schedule, this was updated.
Clark’s Commandos: CGC Klamath’s Market Time boarding team. Note the M16s, flak vests, .45s, and shotguns
Campbell’s boarding team, casual in flak vests and cut-off dungaree shorts, complete with M16s
From Shots that Hit, a Study of USCG Marksmanship, 1790-1985 by William Wells:
The cutters exchanged their M1 rifles and Thompson SMGs for the M16 rifle. However, many Coast Guardsmen were exceptionally adept at procuring arms of any nature. The use of revolvers in many calibers and models was common, as were communist weapons of which the AK-47 was the favorite. In addition to the M16, the M79 grenade launcher and the M60 machine gun were added. As far as weapons on board the cutters, it was an anything-goes allowance.
Naval Gunfire Support
The large cutters of CGRON3 conducted no less than 1,368 combined NGFS missions, firing a staggering 77,036 5-inch shells ashore. Keep in mind that most of these cutters only carried about 300 rounds in their magazines, so you can look at that amount of ordnance expended being something like 250 ship-loads.
Minnetonka (WHEC-67) providing fire support during the Vietnam War. Note the loose uniform of the day
Minnetonka’s 5-inch “Iron Hoss” blistered after all-night fires
USCGC Wachusett (WHEC-44) NGFS Vietnam
CGC Waschusett At Sea with USCG Vietnam Squadron 3, logging gunfire missions, with the spades due to “digging dirt.” 221206-G-G0000-118
USCGC Cook Inlet conducts a fire support mission off the coast of Vietnam, in 1971
Color photograph of Cutter Duane performing gunfire support mission with its forward 5-inch gun off the coast of Vietnam. U.S. Coast Guard photo.
5/”38 from USCG Hamilton-class cutter providing NGFS off Vietnam
Powder and shell consumption was so high that some cutters would have to underway replenish or VERTREP 2-3 times a week while doing gun ops.
“Crewmen cart high explosive projectiles across the deck of the 311-foot U.S. Coast Guard Cutter Half Moon for the ship’s five-inch gun to hurl at a Viet Cong emplacement near a U.S. Special Forces Camp in the Song on Doc area, South Vietnam.” Coast Guard Photo Rel. No. 6215; 12/67;
To the casual observer, the all-white hulls of Market Time’s high-endurance cutters looked like angels of mercy, but the 5-inch 38-caliber gun mounts on these ships could let loose significant destructive power upon an unsuspecting enemy up to nine miles away. Nine men worked in the cramped confines of these turrets, enduring extreme heat and the ever-present smell of gun grease and cordite, to place ordnance on targets.
In built-up areas like Song On Doc, where the Viet Cong often sheltered in structures, the methodology for dislodging defenders was to set the initial rounds to burst in the air to kill anyone exposed outdoors. Assuming troops will then run for bunkers and slit trenches soon after a bombardment begins, the next shots would be set to hit the ground and explode. Gunners would then walk the rounds across a target area like a checkerboard so as to cover as much of the kill zone as possible. White phosphorus represented the grand finale. Since many Vietnamese structures were made of bamboo, it did not take many well-placed WP rounds to transform a small village or small settlement into smoldering ashes. Shards of white phosphorus extending outwards from an airburst shot literally created a rain of fire, igniting everything in a wide dispersal area.
Commander Herbert J. Lynch, who commanded Winona (WHEC-65) in early 1968, claims it was “nothing to fire 50 rounds of shoreside support. We did so much shooting we had to re-barrell the gun.”
The shallow draft of the cutters was key.
Again, Sherwood:
Although many of these rounds consisted of unspotted harassment and interdiction missions that did little more than tear up ground and knock down palm trees, when Coast Guard vessels were allowed to fire at actual targets, the results could be devastating. For instance, on 27 August, Half Moon conducted a gunfire mission against Viet Cong troops operating on the Ca Mau Peninsula in An Xuyen Province. Subsequent intelligence reports stated that 5-inch fire destroyed three enemy buildings and killed 11 Viet Cong.
On 26 September 1967, Yakutat (WHEC-380) destroyed or damaged 27 fortified enemy positions, four sampans, and an enemy canal blockade in a single gunfire support mission off the coast of An Xuyen Province.
The high endurance cutters, with their relatively shallow 22-foot draft, were the only ships with 5-inch guns capable of operating in the shallow waters of An Xuyen Province and much of the rest of the IV Corps area.
“Sometimes we would go into areas with only one or two feet clearance between the hull and sea floor,” recalled Captain Robert W. Durfey, who commanded Rush (WHEC-723) in 1970, but “fortunately the bottom was mostly mud.”
The Cutter Rush, working with an Australian destroyer, brought its guns to the aid of a small Special Forces camp in the village of Song Ong Doc. The village, located in the middle of Viet Cong-held territory, was being overrun. Gunfire from the two ships drove off the attackers and left 64 Viet Cong dead.
The results, as reported back by ground and air observers, included 2,612 structures destroyed, another 2,676 damaged, and body counts (Vietnam was big on body counts) including 529 enemy KIA and 243 enemy WIA.
Surface engagements
When it came to fighting often heavily-armed enemy cargo trawlers, several pitched sea fights, typically at night, are all but lost to history.
One such fight in March 1968, as told by Sherwood:
The Coast Guard cutter Androscoggin (WHEC-68) made radar contact with the infiltrator at 2047 local time and began maintaining covert surveillance. Early in the morning of 1 March, the trawler crossed into the 12-mile contiguous zone 22 miles from Cape Batangan, and Androscoggin soon challenged it by firing an illumination round. The trawler responded with machine gun fire, and Androscoggin returned fire with her 5-inch 38-caliber guns, hitting the trawler in the starboard quarter. Army helicopter gunships, Point Welcome, Point Grey, and PCFs -18 and -20 joined the attack as the trawler headed toward the beach. At 0210, the trawler beached itself and blew itself up in two attempts. During the battle, machine-gun rounds hit Androscoggin and other units but caused no casualties. Salvage crews later recovered a variety of military cargo from the scene, including 600 rifles, 41 submachine guns, and 11 light machine guns along with ammunition. Of the North Vietnamese crew, all that was recovered was a head and a full set of teeth.
Another fight on the same night saw Winona close to within 550 yards of an armed trawler that lit up the cutter with a mix of .50 caliber and .30 caliber machine guns, hitting the little 255-foot cutter at least 13 times and wounding three of her crew. Once Winona got her 5-incher into play, however, the trawler “disintegrated” with the entire fight lasting just two minutes.
From her history:
“We shadowed the trawler for six long hours into the night before it finally turned for the beach, our cue to intercept. Closing to 700 yards we illuminated and challenged them to stop when a running gun battle ensued. The effect in the night outfourthed the 4th of July. .50 cal. tracers, fiery red in the black, streaked both ways, punctuated by 5″ gun flashes, white with the intensity of burning magnesium. The ricochets whined off into the distance, or metal piercing rounds thwacked through steel. For seven minutes we fought until a 5” round found home at the base of the trawler’s deckhouse, and the night was day, and our ship rocked from the explosion that rained debris on our decks. For meritorious achievement that night, Captain Lynch was awarded the Bronze Star. Lt. Commander [J.A.] Atkinson, conning officer, Lt. [M.J.] Bujarski, gunnery officer, and BM3 “Audie” Slawson, director operator were awarded Navy Accommodation Medals. All four were authorized a Combat “V”.”
There were no enemy survivors. Enemy fire pierced Winona’s hull and deckhouse six times and also left several dents but she sustained no personnel casualties.
Capt. Paul Lutz describing the battle between the cutter Sherman and the large armed trawler SL3 at the mouth of the Mekong on the night of 21 November 1970:
“Sherman sinks armed enemy vessel, SL3, at Mekong River mouth, 21 November 1970” by John Wilinski
After the first round in direct fire with point detonating rounds, I saw an explosion and a bright illumination of the enemy vessel. I knew that prior enemy vessels had usually destroyed themselves when caught by allied forces and accordingly I thought it must be a self-destruct explosion. However, as our succeeding rounds showed as they hit there was the same marked explosion and a vivid illumination of the enemy vessel. Sherman was firing her forward 5″ 38 caliber gun at a maximum rate of fire (as I remember 18 rounds/minute) and every round hit and brilliantly illuminated the enemy. The rhythmic hit, hit, hit, etc. were synchronized with the firing of Sherman’s 5-inch gun and were awesome to observe. After about 8 to 10 rounds (and hits), taking about one half a minute the enemy ship was stopped and brightly burning.
Navy divers later found the trawler full of .60 caliber machine guns and recoilless rifles along “with enough ammunition and weapons to arm a division.”
Motherships
Operating between two and 20 miles offshore, these big cutters were often the closest thing to “The Fleet” that was available to the truly small boats that were running missions inshore.
They proved a home away from home for the growing fleet of CGRON1’s 82-foot patrol boats, of which ultimately 26 were deployed to Vietnam.
Point class cutter refueling from USCGC Dallas in Vietnam
Point class refueling from USCGC Dallas in Vietnam.
USCGC Point Lomas (WPB-82321) alongside the 327-foot USCGC Duane WHEC 33 1968 Vietnam
They also proved of vital support to Navy PCFs, with the small 50-foot Swiftboats typically having to swap out crews every 24 hours to remain on station. This meant lots of hot meals provided for these Brown Water sailors in the cutters’ mess, cold seawater showers, and a place to drop off mail and grab an (often warm) bunk. Then of course the boats would top off their fuel and water, and grab some snacks and ammo as a parting gift before motoring off with a rotated crew.
CGC Bibb in Vietnamese waters with a six-pack of nursing Swiftboats 200227-G-G0000-1003
The cutters also served as a floating hospital, with the ship’s corpsmen and public health service doctors ready to do what they could.
Wounded Swiftboat personnel being transferred to USCGC Campbell
As told by Mendota, who was only a 255-footer herself, a good 30 feet smaller than any cramped destroyer escort fielded in WWII!:
Mendota was not only home to the 160 men who were permanently assigned as her crew. She also served as a mother ship to U.S. Navy Swift boats and their crews, and to a lesser degree the Coast Guard 82-foot patrol boats, which operated in the inner barrier closer to shore. Mendota serviced the 82-footers 40 times during her stay while the Swift boats received logistic support daily, and the crews alternated being on board Mendota every other day. The medical staff also aided 51 men who had been wounded in action.
In all, CGRON3 logged 1,516 small craft replenishments over its five-year history.
Medcaps
As part of the “winning hearts and minds” concept, these big cutters were also active in humanitarian initiatives during lulls in combat. Ongoing Medical Civil Action Program, or MEDCAP, services saw the cutters land their medical personnel ashore to provide public health aid to locals.
This is well-told by Chief Hospital Corpsman Joseph “Doc” White, who served on CGC Bering Strait in 1970 and had to race ashore to respond to an attack on Song Ong Doc village.
Chief Joe White providing medical care to local Vietnamese and their children during a visit to a village in South Vietnam. (Via Mrs. Misa White, USCG photo 201218-G-G0000-1003)
“Doc” White providing medical care to wounded Vietnamese villagers. (Via Mrs. Misa White, USCG photo 201218-G-G0000-1005)
Besides the MEDCAPs, the cutter’s crews were also involved in assorted Civic Action Projects that ranged from installing playground equipment at a village school to passing the hat for enough donations for a refrigerator for the Saigon School for Blind Girls.
She was assigned to Coast Guard Squadron Three, Vietnam, serving in theatre from 2 March to 16 November 1969, while under the command of CDR Dudley C. Goodwin, USCG. She was assigned to support Operation Market Time, including the interdiction of enemy supplies heading south by water and naval gunfire support [NGS] of units ashore. By July 1968, she had conducted 12 NGS missions, destroying 31 structures, 15 bunkers, 2 sampans, and 3 enemy “huts.”
Combat duties were not all the cutter did. The Sebago’s medical staff, including the cutter’s doctor, Public Health Service LT Lewis J. Wyatt, conducted humanitarian missions in Vietnam, treating over 400 villagers “for a variety of ills.” The crew visited the village of Co Luy, 80 miles south of Da Nang, and built an 18-foot extension to a waterfront pier for the villagers. She also served as a supply ship for Coast Guard and Navy patrol boats serving in Vietnamese coastal waters.
The crew of Mendota also participated in humanitarian missions while serving in Vietnam. These missions were concentrated on the village of Song Ong Doc, on the Gulf of Thailand. The medical team conducted MEDCAPS (Medical Care of the Civilian Population), treating over 800 Vietnamese for every variety of medical malady during 14 visits to the village. The crew also helped rebuild a small dispensary. In addition, assistance was rendered to Vietnamese and Thai fishermen who were injured while fishing. U.S. and South Vietnamese forces were also treated by the medical personnel.
Being the Coast Guard, the big cutters took a break from walking their Market Time beat to respond to numerous calls for assistance from mariners in distress.
This included Bibb responding to the Thai M/V Daktachi and her shop crafting her a new drive shaft for her broken fuel pump, Campbell aiding the Filipino vessel Carmelita which had a broken propeller shaft and was drifting in the San Bernadino Strait, Morgenthau rescuing 23 survivors from the sinking merchant ship Joy Taylor, and Owasco pulling off the crew of the SS Foh Hong and towing the flooded vessel to safety. One cutter, Winnebago, chalked up three different maritime rescues, going to the assistance of the swamped Vietnamese coastal freighter Thuan Hing, pulling 35 people from the distressed M/V Fair Philippine Anchorage, and responding to an SOS from SS Aginar.
Endgame
As part of Vietnamization, the Coast Guard did a lot of out-building for the South Vietnamese Navy. The 26 Point class cutters of CGRON1 were all handed over in warm transfers by 1971. Of the 18 311-foot Casco-class cutters operated by the USCG, seven– Absecon, Chincoteague, Castle Rock, Cook Inlet, Yakutat, and Bering Strait — were transferred to South Vietnam in 1971 and 1972.
The last two, Bering Strait and Yakutat, were selected to be used by the Vietnamese Navy as offshore patrol units and operated hybrid mixed crews for the last half of 1970. This earned Bering Strait a haze-grey scheme.
Profile photograph of High-Endurance Cutter Bering Strait in a rare paint scheme of haze gray with Coast Guard “Racing Stripe.” Mackinaw. (Mrs. Misa White)
As detailed by Tulich:
They arrived in Subic Bay in June 1970 with a small cadre of Vietnamese on board, which was supplemented by another contingent at Subic. The VNN personnel were taught the operations of the ship and soon took over important positions in CIC boarding parties, NGFS details, and repair crews. The VNN also performed the external functions of the ship, especially boardings. The VNN officers soon became underway and in-port OODs. Teams assumed engineering watches, navigated, piloted, and provided all the control and most other positions in the NGFS teams. Their training became apparent when a combined USCG/VNN rescue and assistance party from Yakutat extinguished a serious fire and performed damage control on a USN landing ship.
The transfer of Bering Strait and Yakutat at the end of their 1970 deployment, in full color (but silent):
CGRON3 was formally disestablished on 31 January 1972, leaving three shore establishments– the Con Son and Tan My LORAN stations and the USCG Merchant Marine Detachment in Saigon– as the last remnants of the service’s efforts in Vietnam. Even those would be gone by 5 May 1973 when the final Coast Guard personnel departed the country.
Ingham returning from Vietnam in 1969
USCGC Duane (WHEC-33) returning from Vietnam, 1968
Between 1965 and 1973, the USCG sent some 8,000 men to Vietnam– nearly a quarter of its active force– with the bulk of these, more than 6,000, being those afloat with CGRON3.
Of the seven large cutters handed over to the VNN in 1971-72, six escaped to the Philippines after the fall of Saigon in 1975 and went on to be used to varying degrees by the Filipino Navy for another decade. The seventh ship, the former CGC Absecon, was captured and bore a red flag as part of the Vietnam People’s Navy into the 1990s.
The Coast Guard eventually whittled down its remaining Vietnam Veteran cutters with two, Taney and Ingham, preserved as floating museums in Maryland and Florida, respectively.
USCGC Ingham, both a WWII and Vietnam Vet, retired in 1988, is well-preserved in Key West (Photo: Chris Eger)
The last cutter in service that had fired shots into Vietnam in anger, CGC Mellon, only decommissioned on 20 August 2020, capping a 54-year career.
Ironically, Mellon is slated to be transferred to the Vietnam People’s Coast Guard at some point in the future, where she will join former CGRON3 sister Morgenthau, which has been flying a red flag since 2017.
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Warship Wednesday (on a Thursday) Nov. 21, 2024: The Sweet Pea
Official U.S. Navy Photograph, 19-N-70346
Above we see the leader of her class of “heavy” cruisers, USS Portland (CA-33) off the Mare Island Navy Yard, on 30 July 1944, spick and span in her new Measure 32 (Design 7d) camouflage livery.
You wouldn’t know it from her rakish good looks, but “Sweet Pea” had already survived three of the four most pivotal sea battles of the Pacific War, and was on her way back to finish out her dance card.
Treaty Cruisers
Portland was the lead ship of the third class of “treaty cruisers” built following the Washington Naval Treaty of 1922. Made to be compliant with a 10,000-ton standard displacement maximum (further defined as “heavy” cruisers by the London Naval Treaty of 1931 if they carried guns larger than 6 inches but smaller than 8.1 inches in bore). This saw a whole generation of very lightly protected vessels, leaving armor behind in exchange for shaft horsepower and guns, to make weight.
The 1920s/30s thinking about how cruisers would be employed in a coming war– as commerce raiders and in stopping commerce raiders as well as fast over-the-horizon scouts for the battle line– fit this well. For instance, it would have been interesting had the Graf Spee been chased to ground by three American treaty heavies in an alternative version of the Battle of the River Plate.
The first of the U.S. treaty cruisers, USS Pensacola (CL/CA-24) and Salt Lake City (CL/CA-25), came in under the bar with a 9,096-ton standard (8,689-ton light) displacement and could make 32.5 knots on a 107,000 hp suite of 8 boilers and 4 steam turbines while carrying 10 new 8″/55 guns, only had 518 tons of armor. This was really just proof against splinters and light guns, with even the conning towers protected by just 1.25 inches of plate. By comparison, the WWII-era Atlanta class light cruisers, which were notorious for their thin skin, had more armor (585 tons).
Little wonder these cruisers were often derided as “tinclads.”
The next class, the USS Northampton (CA-26) and her five sisters– USS Chester, Louisville, Chicago, Houston, and Augusta— went slightly heavier at 9,390 tons standard and 8,693 light while having the same horsepower, one fewer 8-inch gun, and a bit more armor (686 tons). Top-heavy, they proved to be violent rollers in heavy seas, a metric that the Navy sought to correct with the next class.
Then came our Portland and her ill-fated sister USS Indianapolis, which were essentially copies of the Northamptons with alterations in weight distribution to improve stability. Some 40 tons of mattressed armor was spread over the bridge work– which was higher– while the masthead was dropped some 30 feet. Using the same 107K shp engineering suite and the same main armament (nine 8″/55 guns in three cramped triple gun houses), the total armor protection remained the same as on the Northamptons (686 tons) while the displacement increased incrementally to 9,315 light.
Treaty heavy cruisers are seen maneuvering off San Pedro, California likely around 1937. The nearest ships are USS Northampton, sisters USS Indianapolis, and USS Portland, along with USS Chester, showing good profiles for these closely related vessels. 80-G-1009038
For what it is worth, the fourth and final class of American treaty cruisers, the Astoria class (with six sisters USS New Orleans, Minneapolis, Tuscaloosa, San Francisco, Quincy, and Vincennes), went just slightly over the “10,000-ton” line at 10,050 standard and more than doubled the amount of armor, bringing 1,507 tons of protection to the game while keeping the same armament and engineering. This was only possible by dropping fuel capacity by a third (from the 847,787 gallons enjoyed by the Portlands to a more meager 614,626 gallons in Astoria). Tellingly, the first U.S. Navy heavy cruisers designed post-treaty, the Baltimore class, shipped with 1,790 tons of armor plate while the follow-on Des Moines class carried a whopping 2,189 tons.
Nonetheless, these extensively compartmented ships, enjoying the benefit of hardy damage control teams– a skill very much learned on the job– would often keep even these “tinclads” afloat after extreme punishment. Those lost during the war only succumbed due to torrents of shells and torpedoes, often hand-in-hand.
The most surprising quality in this ill-armored lineage was its ruggedness even with regard to torpedo damage. American cruisers suffered torpedo hits on 31 occasions, but only seven of the ships sank, and none sank from a single hit. By comparison, of the 24 torpedoed Japanese cruisers, 20 sank, three of them after single hits, The Americans had the advantage of their expert damage control, especially after the merciless lessons of Savo Island.
Still, these 17 thin-skinned treaty cruisers, forced to do the work of absent battleships in 1942-43, then used as AAA escorts for the precious carriers and in delivering shore bombardment in 1944-45— none of which were their primary design concept– got the job done, although seven would be left at the bottom of the Pacific along the way.
Our subject was the first American warship named for the city in Maine. Ordered to be built at commercial yards, Portland (CA-33) was laid down at Quincy, Massachusetts by Bethlehem Steel Corporation’s Shipbuilding Div., on 17 February 1930 while her sister, Indianapolis, was laid down at the nearby New York Shipbuilding Co just six weeks later.
As Prohibition was still a thing, when Portland was launched on 21 May 1932, 12-year-old Ms. Ralph D. Brooks of Portland, Maine smashed on bottle of sparkling water across her bow.
USS Portland fitting out at Boston (Charleston) Navy Yard, December 1932, BPL Leslie Jones collection
USS Portland fitting out at Boston (Charleston) Navy Yard, December 1932, BPL Leslie Jones collection
A good shot of her secondary battery of 5″/25 dual-purpose guns. She had eight of these unprotected mounts, four on each side. At the time, the only other guns she had were her small arms locker, eight water-cooled.50 caliber mounts, and a field gun for her landing company. BPL Leslie Jones collection
Commissioned on 23 February 1933, Captain (later VADM) Herbert Fairfax Leary (USNA ’05), a Great War Grand Fleet veteran who earned a Navy Cross in 1918 and was fresh off a stint as the Naval Inspector in Charge of Ordnance at Dahlgren Naval Base, assumed command. All her skippers would be WWI-era Annapolis alumni.
While still on her shakedown period, Portland was the first naval vessel at the scene of the lost airship USS Akron (ZRS-4) which had been destroyed in a thunderstorm off the coast of New Jersey on the morning of 4 April 1933, killing 73 of the 76 aboard. She would spend the next 21 days directing the search of a 400 sq. mile area for wreckage and survivors, only coming across the former.
1933- Cruiser USS Portland (CA-33) looking for survivors after the crash of the airship USS Akron.
It was her first brush with Naval Aviation tragedy, this one the greatest loss of life in any airship crash (the “Oh, the humanity” moment on Hindenburg had cost 36).
Once in the fleet, Portland had a very comfortable peacetime career for the next six years. Her class had space and accommodations for a cruiser squadron commodore and his staff and notably was used to escort FDR’s three-week Pacific trip aboard USS Houston in October 1935.
USS Portland (CA 33) at Naval Station, Hampton Roads, Virginia, with the formation of four of her Vought O2U planes overhead, April 24, 1933. 80-CF-392-16
Same as above with a great view of her stern bombardment clock on her aft mast and her secondary 5-inch battery. Note she has a fifth O2U on her catapult. 80-CF-392-15
USS Portland (CA-33) during the fleet review at New York, 31 May 1934 NARA 520826
USS Portland (CA-33) during the fleet review in New York, 31 May 1934. Note four floatplanes on her cats. NH 716
When she called at Portland, Maine for a two-week port call in August 1934, she was mobbed with 25,000 visitors and a delegation of city leaders who presented the skipper a silver service, purchased by the town’s residents via subscription.
USS Portland (CA-33) underway at sea, 23 August 1935. NH 97832
USS Portland during training maneuvers close to shore, 1930s. Southern California UCLA collection 1429_4040
USS Portland, 1930s. Univ of Oregon Collection Z1157
USS Portland, 1930s.Univ of Oregon Collection Z1155
USS Portland, 1930s. Univ of Oregon Collection 67971.0
A great interbellum shot of Portland passing close to Alcatraz Island in San Francisco Bay. Courtesy of Mr. Donald M. McPherson, 169 Birch Avenue, Corte Madera, California, 1969. NH 68314
USS Portland passing under St. Johns Bridge, in Portland Oregon, 1937. Angelus Studio card 74843.0. University of Oregon. Libraries. Special Collections & University Archives
While operating out of Bremerton bound for Dutch Harbor, Alaska in October 1937, Portland, who was nicknamed for a time “The Rolling P” suffered a heavy storm and high seas while hitting 42 degrees on her inclinometer, leaving her with six-foot cracks near midship on each side of her hull that warranted shipyard repair.
This led Robert Ripley, in his “Believe It or Not” series, to claim at that time that no other ship had ever rolled over as far as she had without completely capsizing.
Portland At anchor off Gonaives, Haiti, on 28 January 1939. 80-CF-2134-2
With tensions high between the U.S. and Japan, Portland spent most of 1941 on a series of West Pacific cruises, escorting Army cargo to Manila with stops in New Guinea, Borneo, and Australia.
Gun turret and bridge of USS Portland (CA-33) at Brisbane, 25 March 1941 (StateLibQld 1 100920)
Portland in Sydney Harbor, Australia, March 1941. Note she has on her haze gray but has not been fitted with a radar set at this time. NH 66290
When she arrived at Pearl Harbor on 1 December 1941, her crew was expecting some much-needed downtime.
War!
At 0627 on the early morning of Friday, 5 December, Portland’s crew no doubt grumbled that their 10-day libo– and upcoming weekend– was to be ruined as they weighed anchor and steamed out of Pearl Harbor en route to Midway with the fellow treaty cruisers USS Astoria, Chicago, and Minneapolis and five destroyers.
They were soon joined by the grand old fleet carrier USS Lexington— carrying 18 Marine SB2U Vindicator dive bombers of VMSB-231 to the remote base in addition to the 65 aircraft of her air group, and the oiler Neosho.
Expecting to get some gunnery practice in during the cruise and not wanting to risk the caulking of small boats stored near the guns, Portland’s skipper ordered left behind the ship’s gig, a motor whaleboat, and one of her motor launches at the Pearl Harbor Coal Docks with a 10 man detachment under the command of BMl/c CJ Brame, detached on temporary duty with:
Booth, E.K., 375-81-81,MMl/c
McKirahan, S. A., 316-68-98, Fl/c
Kemph, A. M., 376-13-20, GM3/C
Robinson, P. S, 337-37-19 Sealc
DeYong, L. R., 356-49-95, Sealc
Koine, W. M. ,321-48-33, Seal/c,
Reimer, J. R, 337-39-70, Seal/c
Sullivan, G. A.,Seal/c
Mc Lain, T. E., 321-48-39, Seal/c
McKellip, G.,368-48-47, Seal/c
Although the U.S. was still a mighty neutral in World War II, the task force zig-zagged on its way out, steaming at an easy 16 knots, and darkened ships at night.
Still 500 nm southeast of Midway, at 0832 on 7 December, Portland found herself in the war.
Portland’s crew spent the rest of the day at hard work, stripping ship. They took down the mess deck’s light globes and unnecessary flammable items, like the wooden paneling in the wardroom. They painted over the topside wooden decks, heretofore beautifully white from so much holystoning, but now made a darker color so the ship would be harder to see from the air. They rigged false radar antennas and made other topside alterations to change the appearance of the ship. One of the things they dumped over the side was the beautiful mahogany brow, the gangway used by the men to pass from the ship to the pier and back when Portland was tied up. By the time Sweet Pea went to general quarters in the evening of December 7, no one in the crew thought it a drill.
LIFE photographer Bob Landry was onboard the cruiser at the tense moment and caught several now-iconic images of her crew getting ready for a real-life shooting war– with echoes of Pearl Harbor in their ears and the knowledge that a giant Japanese striking force could be just over the horizon. Talk about the pucker factor.
USS Portland’s crew painting the ship’s hangar doors darker after Pearl Harbor. LIFE Bob Landry. Note the Sea Gull has its depth charge censored out.
More of the above
Crewmen on USS Portland CA-33 unpack .50 cal ammunition after news is received of the Japanese Attack on Pearl Harbor. Bob Landry, LIFE.
Portland and the rest of the Lexington carrier group spent the next week searching frantically for the Japanese strike force to the south of Hawaii, combing as far down as Johnson Island– with a continuous airborne combat air patrol overhead. Luckily for them, all they found was an empty ocean as the Japanese Kido Butai had retired to the north.
Meanwhile, BMl/c Brame and his 10-man, 3-boat, 1 rifle (with 10 bullets) detachment, left behind at Pearl Harbor, had spent the “Day Which Will Live in Infamy” very much hard at work in the harbor, rescuing sailors from the flaming waters, carrying returning sailors from the Liberty Landing to their ships, firing their paltry few rounds of ball ammo at low-flying meatballs, and basically just trying not to be killed– by both sides.
Koine had the rifle loaded in short order and was firing at the planes that came over our area. There was nothing we could do but take cover, standing in knee-deep water under the dock. At that time I lost track of time by the clock. After some time there was a definite lull in the action over the harbor. One of the enemy planes had crashed into some hospital barracks about a hundred yards from our location. Having no idea what to do, we went to the area and helped firemen tend hoses to put out the fire. It was an unoccupied wooden building and not much damage was done. When the fire was out we looked through the wreckage of the plane. At that time I chose to eat the second of my breakfast sandwiches. When I saw part of the torso of one of the occupants of the plane I did not finish my sandwich.
Reimer, Koine, and the gang reunited with Portland when she returned to Pearl Harbor along with the Lexington group on 13 December, mooring at berth C-5 at 1803. Her crew was fleshed out for war service from the Emergency Fleet Pool, augmented with several men late of the sunken battleship USS California.
It was noted in her log that “No records or accounts for the above men were received,” for obvious reasons.
Portland left again at 1141 on 14 December for war service– having spent just over 17 hours at berth.
She would spend the next five months in a series of fruitless patrols between the West Coast, Hawaii, and Fiji. It would be her only quiet service during the conflict.
At least she picked up radar in February 1942 at Mare Island– SC search along with Mk 3 and Mk 4 fire control. She also got a better AAA suite, landing her next to worthless .50 cals, then picking up four quad 1.1-inch Chicago Pianos and 12 Orelikons.
She would soon need them.
Coral Sea
In the first large sea battle of the Pacific War, Portland served in RADM Thomas Kinkaid’s Attack Group TG 17.2 during the four-day Battle of the Coral Sea on 4-8 May, which intercepted a Japanese invasion force bound for Port Moresby, New Guinea and sank the small Japanese carrier Shoho, damaged the large carrier Shokaku, and gutted the aircrew from the carrier Zuikaku— which effectively zeroed out these three from being part of Nagumo’s First Striking Force at Midway a month later.
Portland provided close AAA support to the carriers USS Yorktown and USS Lexington during the battle and, on the morning of the 8t,h fired 185 rounds of 5-inch, 1,400 rounds of 1.1-inch (bursting a barrel on one of these guns), and 2,400 rounds of 20mm at eight incoming Japanese planes, with her crews claiming at least one splashed.
In all, Portland’s gunners would claim 22 aircraft splashed during the war, and at least another 11 downed with “assists.”
Sadly, the big Lex was in trouble and, ablaze and smoking, began to list.
Battle of the Coral Sea, May 1942. Smoke rises soon after an explosion amidships on USS Lexington (CV-2), 8 May 1942. This is probably the explosion at 1727 hrs. that took place as the carrier’s abandonment was nearing its end. Ships standing by include the cruiser Minneapolis (CA-36) and Sims-class destroyers Morris (DD-417), Anderson (DD-411), and Hammann (DD-412). 80-G-16669.
From Portland’s log:
Portland would take aboard 22 officers, 317 enlisted, and 6 Marines from Lexington’s crew, delivered via breeches buoy and motor launch from the Sims-class destroyer USS Morris (DD-417).
On the evening of the 10th, another Sims, USS Anderson (DD-411), would come alongside and transfer a further 17 officers and 360 men, formerly of Lexington, in the dark. This brought the number of guests at Hotel Portland to 722.
Arriving in Pearl Harbor on 27 May via Tonga, Portland would welcome Capt. Laurance Toombs “Dubie” DuBose (USNA ’13) aboard as her skipper, her third since the war started.
Midway
During the Midway campaign, as part of Task Group 17.2 (Cruiser Group) under RADM WW Smith, along with the cruiser Astoria, Portland was assigned to stick to the carrier Yorktown, one of three American carriers left in the Pacific, and screen the vital flattop from Japanese aircraft.
She did a good job, too.
When Yorktown was attacked by a swarm of homeless Japanese aircraft from the carrier Hiryū on 4 June, Portlandfilled the sky with 235 5-inch shells, 1,440 1.1-inch shells– rupturing the barrels of two of these guns– and 3,200 rounds of 20mm. She even fired five rounds from her big 8-inchers into the sea to wash the low-flying planes out of the sky. Her gunners claimed at least seven kills.
Her diagram from the action:
Sadly, Yorktown was damaged by at least three bombs dropped by Vals and two Type 91 aerial torpedoes delivered by Kates. Dead in the water but still afloat, once again, Portland began taking on crews from a sinking American carrier– one that was given a coup de grace by a Japanese submarine the next day.
Battle of Midway, June 1942. Two Type 97 shipboard attack aircraft from the Japanese carrier Hiryu fly past USS Yorktown (CV-5), amid heavy anti-aircraft fire, after dropping their torpedoes during the mid-afternoon attack, 4 June 1942. Yorktown appears to be heeling slightly to port and may have already been hit by one torpedo. Photographed from USS Pensacola (CA-24). The destroyer at left, just beyond Yorktown’s bow, is probably USS Morris (DD-417). Official U.S. Navy Photograph, now in the collections of the U.S. National Archives. 80-G-32242
The cruiser would triple the number of men taken aboard from Lady Lex at Coral Sea, hosting an amazing 2,046 survivors from Yorktown for a few days.
From Generous:
In not quite a full day, Sweet Pea took what might have been the biggest at-sea transfer of men between ships in the history of the U.S. Navy. Destroyers Russell, Balch, Benham, Anderson, and Hamman came alongside Sweet Pea between 1835 on June 4, and 1430 on June 5. They delivered, respectively. 492, 545, 721, 203, and finally 85 survivors of the stricken Yorktown The total 2,046 refugees from the carrier almost tripled the number that had come from Lexington after the Coral Sea, itself a figure that had stretched the cruiser’s resources.
Destroyer USS Benham (DD-397), with 722 survivors of USS Yorktown on board, closes USS Portland (CA-33) at about 1900 hrs, 4 June 1942. A report of unidentified aircraft caused Benham to break away before transferring any of the survivors to the cruiser, and they remained on board her until the following morning. Note Benham’s oil-stained sides. The abandoned Yorktown is in the right distance. NH 95574
Battle of Midway, June 1942. USS Portland (CA-33), at right, transfers USS Yorktown survivors to USS Fulton (AS-11) on 7 June 1942. Fulton transported the men to Pearl Harbor. 80-G-312028
USS Portland (CA-33) at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, 14 June 1942 just after Midway, with her crew paraded on deck in Whites. Note the external degaussing cable fitted to the hull side of this ship. NH 97833
USS Portland (CA-33), left, and USS San Francisco (CA-38) (R), as part of Task Force 16, turning to starboard after firing several broadsides during exercises off Hawaii, 10 July 1942. 80-G-7861
Guadalcanal
Sailing forth once again from Pearl Harbor on 15 July 1942 as part of TF 16, she was soon attached to screen the carrier USS Enterprise for the landings at Tulagi and Guadalcanal in early August before splashing three aircraft attempting to sink Enterprise, which is now known as the Battle of the Eastern Solomons on the 24th of August.
The Tarawa Raid
After escorting Enterprise back to Pearl Harbor for repairs– where she would be for six weeks– Portland was cut loose to conduct a single ship raid against Japanese-held Tarawa, Maina, and Apemama in the Gilbert Islands. Acting as TU 16.9.1, she blasted the enemy base with 245 8-inch shells on 15 October while two of her scout planes dropped bombs on a freighter.
Directed to Espiritu Santo, she rejoined the Enterprise Group on 23 October just in time for the Battle of the Santa Cruz Islands three days later. In this, her fourth carrier-on-carrier fight in six months, Portland zapped another three planes and reportedly was hit by three Japanese torpedoes that were launched too close to arm!
In all, her crew would have close calls with at least eight torps during the war.
Battle of Santa Cruz Islands, October 26, 1942. Japanese dive bombing and torpedo plane attack on USS Enterprise (CV-6). Photographed by a sailor on USS Portland. 80-G-30202
Third Savo
Needed to help stop the nightly Japanese run down the “Slot” in Ironbottom Sound off Guadalcanal, Portland sailed from Noumea on 7 November and joined a surface action group in the Solomons by the 11th, splashing two Japanese land-based bombers the next day.
By the night of the 12th/13 (as in Friday the 13th), 13 ships under RADM Daniel Callaghan in the cruiser USS San Francisco, with Portland being the only other heavy cruiser, sailed out to meet the Japanese in the Sound. With Callaghan’s force balanced by the light cruisers Helena, Atlanta, and Juneau, along with eight destroyers, they ran right into RADM Hiroaki Abe’s battleships Hiei and Kirishima, the cruiser Nagara, and 11 destroyers.
In the confusing, swirling action, Portland helped pummel the destroyer Akatsuki out of existence, hit the destroyer Ikazuchi with two 8-inch shells to the bow, and delivered several salvos to the battlewagon Hiei.
In exchange, Portland suffered her first enemy hits of the war, with two of Hiei’s 14-inch shells– gratefully HE rounds as the battleship was headed to bombard the Marines at Henderson Field– that exploded when they hit the cruiser’s svelte 4-inch belt.
She also took a dud 5-inch shell through her hangar.
What did far more damage was a hit at Frame 134 from a Long Lance torpedo fired either from the Japanese destroyer Inazuma or Ikazuchi, which blew a 60-foot hole in the stern, jamming her rudder in a 5-degree turn to port, blew off her inboard props, and disabled the cruiser’s aft turret. This left Portland performing a series of slow circles– her forward guns still firing four six-gun salvos whenever the burning and nearly stationary Hiei came into view– for the rest of the battle.
It is amazing that Portland only had 17 members of her crew lost in the fight.
Still circling slowly at dawn- picking up American survivors from other ships in the process– Portland spotted the abandoned destroyer Yudachi at 12,500 yards and, with DuBose directing, “sink the S.O.B.” put the tin can below the waves with six 6-gun salvos.
Halsey appreciated the touch, later noting “The sinking of an enemy destroyer by Portland 3 hours and 45 minutes after the night action, while still out of control, was one of the highlights of this action.”
Shortly afterward, with the help of the old minesweeper USS Bobolink (AM-20) and a Yippie (YP-239) who steadied the cruiser’s bow as she steamed slowly, her rudder still locked to the right, Portland made Tulagi just after midnight on 14 November and only narrowly avoided an attack from two PT boats standing guard.
Spending a week camouflaged and hidden from enemy air while repairs were made and her rudders locked in the middle position, Portland was pulled from her hide at Tulagi on 22 November by the tug USS Navajo, which rode shotgun with her to Sydney, where the cruiser arrived on the 30th under her own power
USS Portland (CA-33) in the Cockatoo Drydock, Sydney, New South Wales, Australia, circa late 1942, while under repair for torpedo damage received in the Naval Battle of Guadalcanal on 13 November 1942. Note the arrangement of gun directors on her forward superstructure: main battery director atop the foremast, with FC fire control radar; and a secondary battery director, with FD fire control radar, on each bridge wing. Also note this ship’s external degaussing cables, mounted on her hull sides. Courtesy of Vice Admiral T.G.W. Settle, USN (Retired), 1975. NH 81992
After two months in Sydney, she made for Mare Island with stops at Samoa and Pearl Harbor, arriving on the West Coast on 3 March.
In this refit, she upgraded radars to SG and SK sets and beached all her worthless 1.1-inch quads to make room for four quad Bofors.
By late May, she was ready to get back to work.
USS Portland (CA-33) off the Mare Island Navy Yard, California 16 May 1943. 19-N-47582
Alaska
After a training cruise in California waters, Portland arrived in the Aleutians on 11 June 1943 where, as part of TG 16.7, she first blockaded and then bombarded Kiska on 22 July (when the Japanese were still there), fought off a swarm of mysterious unidentified pips on 25/26 July (the “Battle of Sitkin Pip”), covered the fog-shrouded landings on since evacuated Kiska once more on 15/16 August, and covered the close reconnaissance of nearby Little Kiska on the 17th that confirmed it was also abandoned.
Portland left Alaskan waters on 23 September, bound for Pearl Harbor.
Island Hopping
From November 1943 through February 1944, Portland participated in the Gilbert and Marshall Islands campaigns, then screened carriers during air strikes against Palau, Yap, Ulithi, and Woleai in March.
She bombarded Darrit Island in the Marshalls at the end of January, firing 149 8-inch shells and a dozen of 5-inch AA common.
Eniwetok and Parry Island got a very serious shellacking by 776 8-inch HC, 35 8-inch AP (used against bunkers as an experiment), 980 rounds of 5-inch, 4,716 40mm, and 1,286 20mm over the course of four days in February. The Bofors were reportedly very good at “hedge trimming” coconut groves to remove cover for enemy positions.
In early March, Portland picked up a new skipper, Capt. Thomas G. W. “Tex” Settle (USNA ’18). A destroyerman during the Great War, he spent most of the 20s and 30s in a series of aviation posts as a test pilot and lighter-than-air (blimp) expert. Having been in charge of Airship Wing Three just before catching a PBY to Eniwetok and never commanded a warship larger than a 165-foot river gunboat, he nonetheless proved ready to take our cruiser into harm’s way.
Portland continued her work.
She screened carriers as they conducted air strikes on New Guinea– where she had four men wounded by splinters from an enemy aircraft attack on 29 March– and the Japanese stronghold of Truk in late April.
Detached with five other cruisers as a surface action group, Portland then conducted a bombardment of Satawan (Satowan) Island in the Caroline’s Mortlock chain, on 30 April 1944, plastering the thin atoll with 89 8-inch shells and coming away with her spotter planes reporting the airstrip there “unusable.” The battalion-sized Japanese force there was left to wither on the vine and only surrendered post-VJ Day.
On 14 May, having been hard at work from Kiska to the Kokoda Trail for a solid year, she was given orders to head to Mare Island for refit and upgrades.
Her fire control radars were upgraded to Mk 8 and Mk 28 sets and she picked up eight more Bofors (four twins) and five more Oerlikons (singles). This gave her a combined armament of 9 8″/55s, 8 5″/25s, 24 40mm Bofors, 17 20mm Oerlikons, and one catapult with provision for two seaplanes in her hangar.
Portland, 1946 Janes.
She emerged at the end of July in her final form, including a new camo scheme.
Camouflage Measure 32, Design 7D drawing prepared by the Bureau of Ships for a camouflage scheme intended for heavy cruisers of the CA-33 (Portland) class. USS Portland (CA-33) and USS Indianapolis (CA-35) both wore this pattern. This plan, showing the ship’s starboard side, superstructure ends, and exposed decks, is dated 21 March 1944 and was approved by Captain Torvald A. Solberg, USN. 80-G-109726
USS Portland (CA-33), off the Mare Island Navy Yard, 30 July 1944. Her camouflage is Measure 32, Design 7d. 19-N-70344
Same as above. 19-N-70345
USS Portland (CA-33), view looking aft from the foredeck while at sea in 1944. Note the ship’s two forward 8/55 gun turrets and the arrangement of her forward superstructure. A Mk 33 gun director with Mk 28 fire control radar is atop the pilothouse. The director atop the tripod foremast is an Mk. 34, with Mk 8 fire control radar. The large radar antenna at the foremast peak is an SK. Courtesy of Vice Admiral T.G.W. Settle, USN (Retired), 1975. NH 82031
On 7 August, she left California bound for points West.
Peleliu
Arriving off Peleliu in the Palau Group just before dawn on 12 September, some 4,000 miles west of Pearl Harbor but only 500 miles east of the Philippines, Portlandlent her guns to the massive softening-up process covering the Operation Stalemate II landings there that began three days later, a role she would continue for the rest of the month, often working alongside her sister, Indianapolis.
In all, Portland fired 1,169 8-inch HC, another 77 of 8-inch AP in counter-bunker work, 1,945 5-inch, and 10,156 40mm hedge trimmers in support of the 1st MARDIV. Her nights were also busy, popping off 5-inch illumination rounds, as many as 129 a night.
Portland was also the subject of an air attack around 2030 on the night of 19 September when a single-engine plane, believed to be a Japanese Aichi E13A (Jake) floatplane, approached in the dark, dropped two small bombs that landed 200 yards off her port quarter, and caused no damage or casualties.
The P.I.
Given two weeks of forward-deployed downtime at Seeadler Harbor, Manus, Portland sailed with Cruiser Division 4 as part of TG 77.2 for the Leyte Gulf to support the landings there, which began the liberation of the Philippines. Entering the Gulf on the 18th, by 0618 on the 19th, she began delivering naval gunfire support ashore. Over the next five days, she sent 797 rounds of 8-inch and 373 5-inch shells over the beach, plus another 163 5-inch shells to defend against air attacks.
Then came a call on the afternoon of the 24th that Japanese capital ships were sailing up the Surigao Strait, sparking one of the four sprawling engagements that made up the larger Battle of Leyte Gulf.
The last battleship-to-battleship action in history saw VADM Shoji Nishimura’s “Southern Force,” including the old battleships Yamashiro and Fuso, the heavy cruiser Mogami, and four destroyer,s stumble into Oldendorf’s waiting six battleships, four heavy cruisers (including Portland), and four light cruisers, after fighting through a mass of destroyers and PT boats.
Portland sailing into the battle on the evening of 24 October as part of Oldendorf’s left-flank column behind USS Louisville. Minneapolis, Denver, and Columba were following.
Given lots of forewarning due to their PT boat and triple destroyer pickets, as well as superior surface search radar, Portlandopened fire at 0352 with her main battery to starboard on enemy ships bearing 186 True, 15,500 yards. The target ended up being Yamashiro, at least the second battleship that Portland would land hits on during the war.
U.S. cruisers firing on Japanese ships during the Battle of Surigao Strait, 25 October 1944: USS Louisville (CA-28), USS Portland (CA-33), USS Minneapolis (CA-36), USS Denver (CL-58), and USS Columbia (CL-56), October 24, 1944. 80-G-288493
In the swirling night action, with Portland running seventh in the column, she got her licks in. She would fire 233 rounds of 8-inch by the time her guns went quiet at 0539, engaging four different targets between 13,700 and 23,000 yards, with her plot radar tracking contacts out to 40,000.
Chief of these targets was believed to be the 13,000-ton heavy cruiser Mogami, with Portland wrecking the bigger ship’s compass bridge and the air defense center while killing her skipper, Capt. Ryo Toma and his XO, Capt. Hashimoto Uroku, along with several junior officers.
Tex Settle, the destroyerman-turned-balloonist, who had left Mare Island just two months prior with a crew filled with hundreds of newly minted sailors and then been thrown into the gunline at Peleliu to get some on-the-job training, delivered a sobering assessment in his action report.
In his own report to Nimitz, Oldendorf noted, “The USS Portland was well handled during this action and her high volume of accurate fire was a material contribution to the complete defeat of the Japanese force.”
Still very much needed, Portland took a brief break at Ulithi to refill her magazines and then, by 5 November, was screening carriers striking Japanese airfields around Luzon. She then spent most of December in a series of AAA engagements against kamikaze strikes while supporting the Mindoro landings.
USS Portland (CA-33) moves into position off Mindoro, just before the opening of the D-Day barrage, on 15 December 1944. Note her camouflage scheme: Measure 32, Design 7d. NH 97834
From 3 January through 1 March 1945, Portland participated in the operations at Lingayen Gulf and Corregidor, including bombarding the vicinity of Cape Bolinao and the Eastern shore of the Gulf while swatting swarms of suicide aircraft.
Off Rosario for almost two weeks, she extensively supported the 43rd “Winged Victory” Infantry Division, dropping photos and sketches of Japanese lines for the unit’s staff via her floatplanes while delivering 485 rounds of 8-inch on-target. In this, U.S. Sixth Army commander, Gen. Walter Kruger, commended the photo recon work of Portland’s pilots.
On 1 March, she retired to San Pedro Bay in the Leyte Gulf for some downtime, maintenance, and provisioning, capping 140 days operational.
She would need it for the next op.
Okinawa
Arriving off Okinawa via Ulithi on 26 March 1945, Portland would become a fixture, conducting operations for almost three months straight. In her first month alone, she survived 24 air raids, shot down at least a quartet of enemy aircraft, assisted with downing another eight planes, and delivered several tons of ordnance.
Portland also scrapped with a Japanese sub.
Between August 1944 and early March 1945, the Japanese Navy sent at least 12 new 86-foot Type D-TEI (Koryu) and 11 80-foot Type C (Hei Gata) midget submarines to hardened pens built for them along Okinawa’s Unten Bay on the island’s northern coast.
Japanese Ko-hyoteki Hei Gata Type C midget submarine Guam 1944. The description from Portland’s action report matches this type to a tee.
However, through a mixture of pre-invasion Army bomber strikes and Hellcats from USS Bunker Hill and Essex, most were out of action by the time of the landings.
On the nights of the 26th and 27th, the final six operational Japanese midget subs, each carrying a pair of torpedoes forward, crept out to attack the American fleet, sinking the destroyer USS Halligan (DD-584) in the process.
On the morning of 27 March, Portland squared off with HA-60, a Type C, and, while the Japanese boat fired both its torpedoes at the cruiser Pensacola without success, the Portland’s gunners managed to soak the little sub’s periscope and tower with several hundred rounds of 40mm and 20mm while the ship attempting to ram, her stem missing the boat by just 20 feet.
While HA-60 managed to get away, she had a damaged scope which hampered her further attacks. The last Japanese midget sub on Okinawa, HA-60 was abandoned on 31 March.
Sent to Ulithi on 20 April for replenishment and repairs, Portland was back on the gunline with CTG 54.2 off Hagushi Beach on Southwestern Okinawa by 8 May, continuing this vital mission through 17 June.
One of her typical days:
Her ordnance expended in this second Okinawa cruise:
Besides providing aerial spotting and recon for NGFS and nightly illumination, Portland also stood ready to clock in as a floating triage station, reliving the immense pressure on the dedicated hospital ships. On one occasion, no less than 26 wounded Soldiers and Marines were brought out via landing craft.
Anchored at Buckner Bay when the news of the Japanese capitulation came, the celebrations had to be placed on hold as the Navy had one more mission for the old Sweet Pea.
Endgame
Embarking VADM George D. Murray, Commander Marianas, and his staff on 31 August, Portland was given the task of accepting the surrender of the Japanese Navy’s 4th Fleet, under VADM Chuichi Hara, and the Japanese 31st Army, under Lt. Gen. Shunzaburo Mugikura, who were still holding out at the bypassed fortress of Truk.
Other than the Dutch East Indies, Indochina, Singapore, and Hong Kong, where British and their Commonwealth forces were addressing, Truk was the last large Japanese stronghold in the Pacific. Although its lagoons were filled with 44 wrecks and nearly 300 burnt-out aircraft were hulked on its airstrips, some 40,000 men remained under arms on the outpost.
Arriving at Truk on 2 September, the event was quick. The Japanese signatories boarded Portland from motor launches at 0920, had a short briefing in the cruiser’s spartan wardroom, then proceeded to the deck where the ceremony took place before the assembled crew at 1015. The delegation left with their copies of the document and Portland raised anchor for Guam directly.
A very happy Japanese Lieutenant General Shunzaburo Mugikura, Commanding General, 31st Army, comes on board USS Portland (CA-33) to attend ceremonies surrendering the Japanese base at Truk, Caroline Islands, 2 September 1945. Truk is visible in the background. Note the wooden grating at the top of the embarkation ladder. Collection of Fleet Admiral Chester W. Nimitz. NH 62796
Japanese delegation comes on board USS Portland (CA-33), on 2 September 1945, to surrender the base at Truk, Caroline Islands. Those in the front row are (left to right): Lieutenant A.M. Soden, USNR, interpreter; Lieutenant F. Tofalo, USN, Officer of the Deck; Lieutenant General Shunzaburo Mugikura, Commanding General, 31st Army; Vice Admiral Chuichi Hara, Commander, 4th Fleet; Rear Admiral Aritaka Aihara, head of the Eastern Branch of the South Seas Government, and Lieutenant Kenzo Yoshida, Aide to LtG. Mugikura, (carrying bundle). Standing behind them, partially visible, are (left to right): Rear Admiral Michio Sumikawa, Chief of Staff, 4th Fleet; Colonel Waichi Tajima, Chief of Staff, 31st Army, and Lieutenant Ryokichi Morioka, Aide to VAdm. Hara, (carrying briefcase). Note the whaleboat rudder in the left background, and Truk islands in the distance. Collection of Fleet Admiral Chester W. Nimitz. NH 62798
Japanese delegation’s senior members in the wardroom of USS Portland (CA-33), 2 September 1945. They were on board to surrender the base at Truk, Caroline Islands. Those in the front row are (left to right): Vice Admiral Chuichi Hara, Commander, 4th Fleet; Lieutenant General Shunzaburo Mugikura, Commanding General, 31st Army, and Rear Admiral Aritaka Aihara, head of the Eastern Branch of the South Seas Government. Standing behind them are (left to right): Rear Admiral Michio Sumikawa, Chief of Staff, 4th Fleet, and Colonel Waichi Tajima, Chief of Staff, 31st Army. Collection of Fleet Admiral Chester W. Nimitz. NH 62799
Japanese delegation in formation on the well deck of USS Portland (CA-33), 2 September 1945. They were on board to surrender the Japanese base at Truk, Caroline Islands. Those in the front row are (left to right): Vice Admiral Chuichi Hara, Commander, 4th Fleet; Lieutenant General Shunzaburo Mugikura, Commanding General, 31st Army, and Rear Admiral Aritaka Aihara, head of the Eastern Branch of the South Seas Government. In the next row are (left to right): Rear Admiral Michio Sumikawa, Chief of Staff, 4th Fleet, and Colonel Waichi Tajima, Chief of Staff, 31st Army. In the rear row are (left to right): Lieutenant Ryokichi Morioka, Aide to VAdm. Hara, and Lieutenant Kenzo Yoshida, Aide to LtG. Mugikura. Collection of Fleet Admiral Chester W. Nimitz. NH 62801
Japanese Navy Vice Admiral Chuichi Hara, Commander, 4th Fleet, signs the document, at ceremonies on board USS Portland (CA-33) surrendering the base at Truk, Caroline Islands, 2 September 1945. U.S. Navy officers present around the table are (left to right): Lieutenant S.E. Thompson, USNR, Flag Lieutenant; Captain O.F. Naquin, USN, Acting Chief of Staff; Vice Admiral George D. Murray, USN, Commander, Marianas, (seated), who accepted the surrender on behalf of the Commander in Chief, Pacific Fleet and Pacific Ocean Areas; Captain D.N. Cone, USN, representing Commander, Marshalls and Gilberts; Captain L.A. Thackrey, USN, Commanding Officer, USS Portland; Lieutenant L.L. Thompson, USN, Flag Secretary, and Lieutenant A.M. Soden, USNR, interpreter. Note the Marine Corps photographer in right-center background, and the U.S. flag used as a backdrop. Collection of Fleet Admiral Chester W. Nimitz. NH 62802
Ironically, on 16 September 1945 in the port of Tsingtao, China, which the Japanese had possessed since taking it away from the Germans in 1914, Sweet Pea’s Surigao Straits skipper, Tex Settle, now a rear admiral, accepted the surrender of six of the Emperor’s remaining destroyers and seven merchantmen along with VADM Shigeharu Kaneko’s Qingdao Area Special Base Force command.
Portland then carried 500 men from Guam to Pearl Harbor, and from there some 600 troops for transportation back to the States.
USS Portland (CA 33) nearing Pearl Harbor, Territory of Hawaii, with 500 Naval personnel, 20 September 1945, two weeks after the surrender at Truk. Note men crowded on her decks, and the long homeward bound pennant flying from her mainmast peak. 80-G-495651
Transiting the Panama Canal on 8 October, she was the feature of Navy Day at Portland, Maine on 27 October.
Our well-traveled cruiser consigned to mothballs at Philadelphia Naval Shipyard, was decommissioned there on 12 July 1946.
Struck from the Navy List on 1 March 1959, she was sold for scrap to the Union Mineral and Alloys Corporation of NYC five months later and scrapped.
6 Sep 44 – 14 Oct 44 Capture and occupation of southern Palau Islands
9 Sep 44 – 24 Sept 44 Assaults on the Philippine Islands
10 Oct 44 – 29 Nov 44 Leyte landings
24 Oct 44 – 26 Oct 44 Battle of Surigao Strait
5 Nov 44 – 6 Nov 44, 13 Nov 44 – 14 Nov 44, 19 Nov 44 – 20 Nov 44: Luzon attacks
12 Dec 44 – 18 Dec 44, 4 Jan 45 – 18 Jan 45: Mindoro landings
15 Feb 45 – 16 Feb 45 Mariveles-Corregidor
25 Mar 45 – 17 Jun 45 Assault and occupation of Okinawa Gunto
These resulted in a Navy Unit Commendation (for Surigao Strait) and in 16 battle stars for World War II service although her crew, in post-war reunions, argue she probably should have gotten more like 18 stars when the Tarawa raid and Aleutians service are included, plus she had a detachment just off Battleship Row during the attack on Pearl Harbor.
Still, no matter if it was 16 or 18, that’s a lot of campaign service.
As detailed by Generous:
Sweet Pea was the only ship at all three of the great battles in the early days of the war when Japan might have won. She was the only heavy cruiser in history that twice faced enemy battleships in nighttime engagements, not only surviving to tell the tale but winning both battles. She rescued thousands of men from sunken ships.
If USS Portland (CA-33) was not the greatest heavy cruiser of them all, let someone else try to make the case.
Epilogue
Sweet Pea had 14 skippers across her 13-year career between 1933 and 1946, one of which, DuBose, served twice. Of these men, fully half rose to the rank of admiral, one of them, DuBose, to a full four-star. What do you expect from someone who earned three Navy Crosses and a matching trio of Legions of Merit?
Tex Settle twice received the Harmon Trophy for Aeronautics and, for his service in WWII, was awarded the Navy Cross, Legion of Merit, and Bronze Star. He retired from the Navy as a Vice Admiral in 1957 after 29 years of service and passed at age 84 in 1980. Buried at Arlington, in 1998 was inducted to the Naval Aviation Hall of Honor. His papers, appropriately are in the Smithsonian Air & Space Museum’s collections.
A veterans association, once very vibrant, went offline in 2023. According to the VA, as of 2024, there are just approximately 66,000 living World War II veterans in the United States, which is less than 1 percent of the 16.4 million Americans who served in the conflict.
Her mast and bell have been preserved at Fort Allen Park in Portland, Maine.
The Navy has gone on to recycle the name “Portland” twice, first for an Anchorage-class gator (LSD-37) commissioned in 1970 and struck in 2004, and then for a San Antonio-class amphibious transport dock (LPD-27) that joined the fleet in 2017.
An elevated starboard bow view of the dock landing ship USS Portland (LSD-37) is underway during Exercise Ocean Venture ’84. DN-ST-86-02284
Gulf of Aqaba (Nov. 15, 2021) The amphibious transport dock USS Portland (LPD 27), right, and the Israeli navy corvette INS Hanit, conduct a passing exercise in the Gulf of Aqaba. 211115-M-LE234-1400. (U.S. Marine Corps photo by Sgt. Alexis Flores)
Meminisse est ad Vivificandum – To Remember is to Keep Alive
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, Nov. 13, 2024: One Busy Bug
Official U.S. Navy Photograph, now in the collections of the National Archives. 80-G-684905
Above we see the Balao-class fleet submarine USS Bugara (SS-331), in her gun-less Fleet Snorkel configuration, off Oahu on the 14th anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor. Commissioned some 80 years ago this week on 15 November 1944, you wouldn’t think she’d even have a chance to get in the Big Show before the war ended.
You’d be very wrong about that.
The Balaos
A member of the 180+-ship Balao class, she was one of the most mature U.S. Navy diesel designs of the World War Two era, constructed with knowledge gained from the earlier Gato class. U.S. subs, unlike those of many navies of the day, were “fleet” boats, capable of unsupported operations in deep water far from home. The Balao class was deeper diving (400 ft. test depth) than the Gato class (300 feet) due to the use of high-yield strength steel in the pressure hull.
Able to range 11,000 nautical miles on their reliable diesel engines, they could undertake 75-day patrols that could span the immensity of the Pacific. Carrying 24 (often unreliable) Mk14 Torpedoes, these subs often sank anything short of a 5,000-ton Maru or warship by surfacing and using their deck guns. They also served as the firetrucks of the fleet, rescuing downed naval aviators from right under the noses of Japanese warships.
Some 311 feet long overall, they were all-welded construction to facilitate rapid building. Best yet, they could be made for the bargain price of about $7 million in 1944 dollars (just $100 million when adjusted for today’s inflation) and completed from keel laying to commissioning in about nine months.
An amazing 121 Balaos were completed through five yards at the same time, with the following pennant numbers completed by each:
Cramp: SS-292, 293, 295-303, 425, 426 (12 boats)
Electric Boat: 308-313, 315, 317-331, 332-352 (42)
Manitowoc on the Great Lakes: 362-368, 370, 372-378 (15)
Mare Island on the West Coast: 304, 305, 307, 411-416 (9)
Portsmouth Navy Yard: 285-288, 291, 381-410, 417-424 (43)
Our subject was the first (and only) U.S. warship named for the common label for the Rainbow surfperch (Hypsurus caryi), a multicolored little guy found along the coast of California. Laid down on 21 October 1943 at Groton, Connecticut by the Electric Boat Co, she was launched on 2 July 1944, and sponsored by Mrs. Anna A. Perry, the wife of Annapolis All-American football legend Capt. Lyman Spencer “Pop” Perry (USNA ’19), who at the time was serving as a Commodore of training operations on the West Coast.
80-G-448203
Commissioned at the U.S. Submarine Base, New London, on 15 November 1944, Bugara’s plankowner skipper was T/CDR Arnold Frederic Schade (USNA ’33). He was the youngest submarine commander in the Navy for a time and started the war on the training boat USS R-12 (SS 89), then was XO on the famed USS Growler (SS 215) when his commander in February 1943, CDR Howard Walter Gilmore, earned the MOH the hardest way.
In all, the 32-year-old Schade was the veteran of eight previous war patrols, including the last two as Growler’s skipper. He already had a Navy Cross and Silver Star on his jacket for sinking a trio of Japanese destroyer leaders on the 4th of July 1942 and for five other ships on the second patrol.
Bugara’s crew was one of veterans, no surprise as the Navy had been at war for three hard years when it was formed. Of the sub’s nine officers that made up her wardroom and seven chiefs in her goat locker, they counted no less than 73 war patrols among them, including one LT (j.g) with the unintentionally ironic last name of “Sinks” who had nine patrols on his own.
After abbreviated shakedowns and post-delivery maintenance, Bugara left New London for the Pacific via Panama on Christmas Day 1944. After all, there was a war on.
First Patrol
This overhead view of the Bugara (SS-331) was taken during torpedo practice firings off Panama Bay in January 1945 while heading to the Pacific. The torpedo retrieving davits are rigged, which are used for hauling the practice torpedo out of the water. Note at this point she only has one 5″/25, forward, as well as a twin 40mm Bofors aft. USN Archive photo # 19-N-76588.
Bugara cleared Pearl Harbor on 21 February 1945 on her 1st War Patrol and steamed directly to recently secured Saipan, ordered to patrol north of Luzon, Philippines in support of the Iwo Jima campaign.
A snooze fest with Japanese shipping already largely sanitized from the area, she fought off a typhoon and had to crash dive for several enemy aircraft while on the surface. In fact, she encountered far more fellow Allied submarines on patrol– American (USS Perch, Besugo, Blueback, Tuna, Tigrone, Puffer, Spot, Sea Fox, Hake, and Pargo), British (HMS P-248) and Dutch (Hr.Ms. K-14)– than she did anything else.
Disappointingly, the only Japanese vessels she spotted that were large enough to warrant a torpedo were marked as hospital ships. The only “action” her crew saw was in destroying a floating mine via gunfire.
It was essentially a qualifying cruise, with 29 of the 36 crewmembers who lacked their “Dolphins” earning them while underway.
On 21 April 1945, Bugara ended her inaugural patrol at the big Allied sub base at Fremantle, Australia after steaming 13,724 miles in 59 days.
Award of a Combat Insignia was not authorized for the patrol by COMSUBPAC.
Schade noted, “Morale of all hands is high despite the lack of combat opportunity.”
Second Patrol
After a three-week turnaround that included installing a second 5″/25 on her aft deck– the so-called gunboat submarine configuration— and director antennae for her APR, on 16 May 1945 Bugara sailed out of Fremantle for her 2nd War Patrol, ordered to hunt in the South China Sea off Hainan and serve as a floating “Log Joint” lifeguard station for aircrews downed at sea during the Okinawa campaign.
As on her first patrol, Bugara met or operated with other Allied subs on just about every day she was underway, and only a few local native craft– Chinese junks from which she would barter cigarettes for fresh fish– were spotted. Likewise, while on her first patrol, she often had to cope with Japanese aircraft, they too were scarce and instead, she typically logged voice contacts with passing four-engine Navy PB4Y Privateers.
On 20 June 1945, Bugara ended her monotonous 36-day patrol at recently liberated Subic Bay, where, in a twist of fate, she tied up next to the new Fulton-class sub tender USS Howard W. Gilmore (AS-16), named after Schade’s old boss on Growler.
Bugara logged zero enemy contacts despite the fact she steamed 10,118 miles across the Western Pacific, waters that the Empire had owned just a year prior.
Award of a Combat Insignia was not authorized for the patrol by COMSUBPAC.
Such boring late-war patrols often drove eager submarine skippers to think out of the box to find a fight.
For instance, in April 1945, USS Bluegill under LCDR Eric Barr landed some Australian Commandos followed by a short party of his own on the deserted low-lying reef of Pratas, some 160 miles southeast of Hong Kong, and “captured it.”
57 Sunk!
Shifting operations further south where the Japanese may still have some naval and merchant assets and with the new Loran navigation system installed, on 14 July 1945 Bugara departed Subic Bay to begin her 3rd War Patrol, ordered to the relative backwater of the Gulf of Siam where the Japanese had been unabated since early 1942.
The 29-day patrol report makes absolutely great reading and I cannot recommend it strongly enough.
On the night of 23 July, she put a “Commando Party ashore north of Lem Chong Pra– armed to the teeth with demolition equipment,” but had to take them back off the next morning just before dawn “highly embarrassed as the jungle had been so thick they couldn’t get off the beach.”
While a six torpedo spread against a small Japanese convoy on the early morning of 20 July yielded no hits– all of the fish running deeper than their settings– she had much better luck with her guns. In fact, while a normal load of “fish” was 24 torpedoes, Bugara had instead left Subic with just 12 (apparently worthless) torpedoes but with a full 240 rounds for her 5-inchers including 60 rounds of VT, stowing four racks full of ammo in her torpedo room instead.
In all, she made contact with 62 small surface vessels and, after finding them to be under Japanese control, sent at least 57 to the bottom in a series of one-sided gun actions over the fortnight between 24 July and 7 August, many in the dark.
From her War Patrol report:
She even ran into a batch of canoe-borne Malay pirates while in mid-attack on a Chinese schooner and performed actions worthy of the days of Stephen Decatur and Edward Preble.
In all, she fired 201 rounds of 5-inch, 291 of 40mm, and 400 of 20mm, finding in fact that the VT fuzed shells were not ideal as they were fired typically too close (within 600 yards on average) to arm.
Realizing that many of the crews on these wooden coasters and schooners were natives working under threat of death, Bugara’s crew went to great lengths to save them, even though on one occasion she had to submerge when a strange aircraft approached and left her rescues bobbing in the Gulf of Siam for a few minutes until she surfaced again after it had passed. Keep in mind that during this period she was working in typically just 10 fathoms (60 feet) of water, almost bottoming when completely submerged.
This also allowed her to glean some good old-fashioned HUMINT, with one particularly friendly Chinese who spoke pidgin English kept aboard for a couple of weeks as a translator. Schade included it with a wish list of items should he be sent back to the area:
On 17 August 1945, Bugara ended her final patrol of WWII at Fremantle, two days after Japan announced its unconditional surrender. Bugara and her crew were finally awarded the Submarine Combat Insignia for a patrol.
Few late-war subs could beat her record of “bunny bashing” in gun actions. The only one I can think of was Bill Hazzard in USS Blenny (SS-324) which bagged 62 mischievous Japanese vessels.
Bugara’s 3rd Patrol was the subject of at least one patch by her crew, emblazoned with a “57” on a hapless skull.
Bugara’s WWII patches. NHHC 2017.001.020 and NHHC 2017.001.021.
Sent with SubRon 5 to Subic Bay in September, she patrolled local waters there into mid-November when her squadron was ordered to clear Japanese-held islands in the South China Sea. This included Bugara sending large and heavily armed landing forces ashore at Tizard Bank and Itu Aba, where all they found were destroyed weather and radio stations.
Arriving back at San Diego in February 1946, three months later, she was back in Pearl Harbor, SubRon 5’s next home port.
There, as part of Operation Road’s End, on 28 May 1946, Bugara successfully sank her only Japanese ship via torpedo– the captured Type AM (I-13-class) submarine I-14in a test of the new Mark 10-3 exploder– which worked.
A huge aircraft-carrying submarine (the largest submarines ever built until U.S. Poseidon SSBNs of the 1960s), I-14 was sent to the bottom in deep water off Barber’s Point at deliberately unrecorded locations along with four other captured enemy boats (I-400, I-401, I-201, and I-203) to keep their technology out of Soviet hands.
I-14 and I-400 alongside USS Proteus (AS-19), in Japanese home waters, after WWII. Note: the crew of deck and another sub (unidentified) along in the background. NH 50387
These boats, had the war gone on long enough, were part of a Japanese plan to wage biological warfare against cities in Southern California, in retaliation for the U.S. firebombing of Japanese cities, or alternatively an attack on the Panama Canal– keep that in mind the next time someone says the A-Bombs didn’t have to be dropped.
To prove to Stalin that these went to Davy Jones, the Navy filmed the sinking of all these big I boats– in beautiful color.
Bugara received three battle stars for her service in World War II, one for taking part in the Iwo Jima campaign (12-16 March 1945), one for Okinawa (17 March to 4 April 1945, and one for her third patrol (14 July 45 – 17 Aug 45) as well as an Occupation Service clasp for July- August 1948 when she returned to the area on a West Pac patrol.
Korea
Stationed at Pearl Harbor when the Norks crossed the 38th Parallel into South Korea in June 1950, she was soon sent forward on a series of war patrols off the embattled peninsula that was broken up by a five-month Fleet Snorkel conversion at Pearl Harbor Naval Shipyard in late 1951 that saw her guns landed, a snorkel fitted along with better sensors, and a new, streamlined fairwater that covered her scopes installed.
Compare these two silhouttes.
Bugara received two Korean War battle stars during the conflict, logging four periods in theatre (5 Oct-28 Nov 50, 20 Jan-18 Jun 51, 20 Apr-4 Jun 54, and 14-27 Jul 54).
She also survived a crack-up during the conflict with the escort USS Whitehurst (DE-634) that left both vessels damaged but gratefully without any casualties, and each soon returned to work.
That’s not going to buff out
By August 1955, she was transferred to San Diego as part of SubRon 3.
USS Bugara (SS-331), May 1956. Shown while operating off San Diego. 80-G-696504
Same as above. 80-G-696503
USS Bugara (SS-331) off Oahu, Territory of Hawaii, December 7, 1955. 80-G-684904
She would fall into a decade of drills training evolutions, shipyard availabilities, and regular WestPac deployments and SEATO exercises where she would typically interact with the growing Japanese, Filipino, Australian, and Taiwanese fleets.
USS Bugara with an S-2 Tracker overhead, likely in an ASW exercise. Submarine Forces Museum
She also got a bit of payback against tin cans for her Whitehurst damage.
In April 1958 while using a practice torpedo against USS Yarnall (DD-541), which was set to run at 30 or 40 feet, it actually ran at 10 and smacked the Fletcher class destroyer on the port bow.
Yarnall’s skipper radioed, “We’ve been hit and are taking on water.”
Bugara’s skipper offered assistance.
Yarnall’s captain replied, “You can go to hell!”
Then came…
Vietnam
During the U.S. involvement in Southeast Asia, no less than 60 different submarines were operational off Vietnam at some time between 1964 and 1975, many staying long enough to earn campaign stars. Most, 42, were old “smoke boats,” such as Bugara, including many of her sisters. Eighteen others were modern SSNs which were utilized more sparingly.
Vietnam War. June 1969. Sailors aboard the guided missile frigate USS Brooke (DEG 1) watch as the Gato-class submarine USS Bluegill (AGSS 242) travels on the surface. Official U.S. Navy photo (K-74080)
In 1968, at the request of COMNAVFORV RADM Kenneth L. Veth, the Seventh Fleet deployed a submarine just off the coast of Sihanoukville (Kampong Saom) Cambodia to monitor shipping traffic. COMNAVFORV and 7th Fleet later pioneered tracking inbound gun-carrying trawlers passing through the strait between the Chinese mainland and Hainan with submarines working with over-the-horizon P-3s. The result was the ability to track a trawler’s passage, sight unseen, with the final act being an interception by surface assets and destruction. Sculpin in one known 1972 incident, tracked a Chinese trawler from its homeport across some 2,500 miles to the Southern coasts of South Vietnam, where it was sent to the bottom by the RVN Navy.
Communications intelligence personnel on board the submarine intercepted a message from the trawler that made clear the enemy was unaware of the submarine trailing her until the last hours of the mission. During the passage from Hainan, the submarine’s sonarmen became intimately familiar with the trawler’s distinctive shaft and propeller sounds. Periscope photographs of the white-colored trawler confirmed their analysis.
They also performed submerged lifeguard duty for downed aviators between Hanoi and Haiphong and the carriers on Yankee Station.
A U.S. Navy Sikorsky SH-3A Sea King from Helicopter Anti-Submarine Squadron 2 (HS-2) “Golden Falcons” sits on the flight deck of the aircraft carrier USS Hornet (CVS-12) for a deployment to the Western Pacific and Vietnam from 12 August 1965 to 23 March 1966. In the background is the Fleet Snorkel Balao-class submarine USS Segundo (SS-398).
Others, such as Perch and Tunny, would carry out commando raids near shore. Submarines carried UDT 11 and UDT 12 frogmen to their dangerous missions in Operations Starlite, Jackstay, Dagger Thrust, Blue Marlin, and scores of other amphibious operations during the war.
Some, such as USS Salmon (SSR-573), would lay mines off North Vietnamese harbors.
They also served as an OPFOR “tame wolf” for the carriers’ escorts, embarked SH-2/3s, and land-based P-3 Orions to keep their ASW skills sharp should a Russki boat come poking too close.
A U.S. Navy Sikorsky SH-3A Sea King from Helicopter Anti-Submarine Squadron 8 (HS-8) “Eightballers” from USS Bennington (CVS-20) is seen flying over an unidentified Fleet Snorkel conversion submarine during the carrier’s deployment to the Western Pacific and Vietnam from 30 April to 9 November 1968.
Many of these submarines still have the exact details of their Vietnam service classified. They don’t call it the “Silent Service” for nothing.
Those who tallied up multiple Vietnam campaign stars included USS Grayback (8 stars), Razorback (5), Tunny (5), Barbel (4), Bluegill (4), Bonefish (4), Sea Fox (4), Swordfish (4), Tang (4), Salmon (3), Scamp (3), Tiru (3), Wahoo (3), Barb (2), Blueback (2), Bonefish (2), Carbonero (2), Pomfret (2), and Rasher (2).
Our girl Bugara beat out all but Grayback and received an Armed Forces Expeditionary Medal and seven campaign stars for her service during the Vietnam War.
Bugara was, by most accounts, the first submarine ordered into Vietnamese waters with a war face on since WWII, assigned to Task Force 77 for operations in the South China Sea as a result of the Gulf of Tonkin Incident in August 1964.
In 1965, Bugara passed her 6,000th dive on her 21st birthday.
Steaming cross-Pacific in 1966 allowed her the rare treat of “Tying the Knot” by doing surfaced and submerged 360-degree turns at both the Equator and the 180th meridian.
She appeared in several films and broadcasts highlighting the American Navy in Vietnam as she was one of the few subs to make port calls in Thailand (Bangkok, Ko Sumui, and Satahib) and Vietnam (DaNang) in addition to her regular WestPac calls at Subic Bay, Australia (Perth and Geraldton), Yokosuka, Hong Kong, and Taiwan (Kaohsiung and Keelung).
On 7 July 1967, she loaded and fired four exercise torpedoes. She also carried one war shot torpedo, serial #63813 which she would use on the 11th to send the stricken Buckley-class destroyer escort ex-USS Currier (DE-700) to the bottom in deep water off California.
ex-USS Currier (DE-700) SINKEX by USS Bugara, 1967. (Photo: Bugara Veterans’ Group)
Close up. (Photo: Bugara Veterans’ Group)
Currier, who had received two battle stars for WWII service and one for Korea, had been with the Fleet Sonar School since 1954 and was sent to mothballs for seven years before her SINKEX.
Part of Bugara’s 1968 enlisted crew with non-reg black berets of the type commonly available in Vietnamese markets, complete with embroidered Dolphin insignias. (Photo: Bugara Veteran’s Site)
With the ASW vendetta between The Bug and the 7th Fleet’s escorts continuing, in 1969 she was hit by a practice MK 44 torpedo shot by an American destroyer. The torpedo failed to shut down as it was expected to, causing a big hole in Bugara’s aft superstructure. While the exercise torp was never recovered, months later its transducer and nose of the torpedo were found in a space outside of the pressure hull below the aft torpedo tubes.
Her 12th and final post-Korea WestPac cruise was capped in August 1969 when she arrived home in San Diego. She logged her 7,000th dive later that year.
Despite a year-end yard period and battery renewal that would have bought Bugara another half-decade of service, the first week of January 1970 instead brought a flash from the CNO that the five remaining Fleet Snorkel boats (our girl plus USS Medregal, Segundo, Carbonero, and Sabalo), considered too obsolete to transfer overseas much less to keep in service, were to be prepped for use as mobile targets for Mk. 48 torpedo service weapon tests.
Bugara (SS-331) possibly off San Diego, 11 June 1970. Note the four-man MK 7 Mod 6 swimmer delivery vehicle (SDV) on her pressure hull. Photo courtesy of Cole Smith and atlanticfleetsales.smugmug.com. Via Navsource
Bugara in the end cheated to torpedo its meal and made her final dive on her own terms.
Decommissioned and Stuck from the Naval Register on 1 October 1970, ex-Bugara was slated to be expended in a SINKEX off the Washington coast.
However, in the tow from Mare Island to her death ground, our girl sank in a towing accident in the Strait of Juan de Fuca about 4 miles NW of Cape Flattery on 1 June 1971, with no injuries or lives lost. The next day, the Navy sent an NRF reserve ship out from Tacoma, USS Uhlmann (DD-687), to find the sunken hulk with sonar, and later DevGroupOne sent out an early deep-diving robot to film Bugara upright on the ocean floor.
In all, she stacked up a full dozen battle/campaign stars– three for WWII, two for Korea, and seven in Vietnam. In addition to the 57 “little boys” she sent to the bottom in 1945 in gun actions, she also deep-sixed a big Japanese I boat postwar and a tin can that was past its prime. All in all, not a bad run in 26 years.
Epilogue
Little remains of Bugara on dry land. Her WWII Jolly Roger-style battle flag has faded into history and I believe her bell was still aboard when she sank.
She rests 800 feet below the surface of what is now the Olympic Coast National Marine Sanctuary.
In September 2008 ex-USS Bugara was surveyed by NOAA Ship Okeanos Explorer as part of that oceanographic vessel’s shakedown cruise in a test of her state-of-the-art multibeam sonar system (Survey ID EX0801).
In 2017, she was surveyed as part of a larger expedition by NautilusLive.
She had a fairly active veteran’s group that, from what I can tell, had their last reunion in 2017 and has been offline for the past several years (archived here). They still maintain a group of images on Flickr, heavy on those released by NautilusLive.
She had 16 skippers between 1944 and 1970, the most noteworthy of which was Arnold Schade. Once he left Bugara in February 1946 he went on to other submarine commands, including SUBCOMLANT, a role in which he advised President John F. Kennedy during the Cuban Missile Crisis. As Commander Middle East Force in 1963-64, he earned the Legion of Merit and later pinned a Gold Star to his Distinguished Service Medal. VADM Schade retired in 1971 after 38 years of service– ironically the same year as Bugara.
Schade passed at the age of 91 in San Diego and is buried at Fort Rosecrans National Cemetery, Section CBEE, Row 2, Site 121.
She also had the deepest-dived Navy man in history as part of her wardroom during the Cold War. Bugara’s XO in 1962-63 was LCDR Don Walsh. Two years before being piped aboard the sub, he and Swiss oceanographer Jacques Piccard, while aboard the bathyscaphe Trieste (DSV-1), made the record maximum descent in the Challenger Deep, dropping into the darkness to 35,813 feet.
The world’s record descent, man’s deepest dive, had taken nine hours.
Krupp Sphere to Bathyscaph Trieste, 1960. Jacques Piccard center left and Lieutenant Don Walsh stand next to the sphere alongside an unidentified naval officer and civilian. National Museum of the U.S. Navy Photograph. NMUSN-4764
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, Nov. 6, 2024: The Ones That Got Away
Above we see the period depiction by renowned German maritime artist Willy Stöwer of the armed sailing ship (segelschiff) SMS Ayesha off Hodeida (now Al Hudaydah, Yemen) in January 1915, to the warm welcome of allied Ottoman troops. Stöwer, best known for his decades of painting battleships, cruisers, and U-boats, apparently made an exception for the humble Ayesha, as she had an incredibly interesting story that began some 110 years ago this week.
And a tale rather different from the one shown above.
The Background
Part of Admiral Maximillian von Spee’s Eastern Squadron, the 4,200-ton Dresden class of light cruiser SMS Emden was detached from the rest of Von Spee’s force to become an independent raider in the Western Pacific, as the main force of five cruisers made for the Eastern Pacific and, ultimately, the South Atlantic. In doing so, Emden was sort of a sacrificial rabbit to draw away the British, Australian, French, Russian, and Japanese hounds as Von Spee made his exit.
In an epic 97-day patrol, Emden captured 23 merchant ships (21 Brits, one Russian, one Greek) with 101,182 GRT of enemy shipping, sending 16 to the bottom, releasing three, and keeping as four as prizes. In each encounter with these unarmed merchies, Emden practiced “cruiser rules,” in which all passengers and crew on board these ships were brought to safety. She took off the kid gloves and accounted for two warships by sucker punching the 3,500-ton Russian light cruiser Zhemchug and the 300-ton French destroyer Mousquet as they slumbered in Penang harbor in British Malaysia.
German cruiser SMS Emden off Madras. Artwork by Hans Bohrdt. Courtesy of the Library of Congress
Fire from Bombardment of Madras by SMS Emden
Emden also bombarded oil depots in Madras, India, sending shivers through the Raj, and tied up dozens of allied warships in running her to ground. This included four brawlers– any of which could make short work of the smaller German warship– that had closed the distance to within just 50 miles of the raider: the 14,600-ton British armored cruiser HMS Minotaur, the 16,000-ton Japanese battlecruiser Ibuki, and the twin 5,400-ton Australian light cruisers HMAS Sydney and Melbourne.
This game all cumulated in the Cocos (Keeling) Islands on 9 November 1914.
Direction Island
The remote Cocos (Keeling) Islands, two desolate flat, low-lying coral atolls made up of 27 islets in the Indian Ocean some 800 miles West of Sumatra, in 1914 only had a population of a few hundred. The British colony was defacto ruled by the Clunies-Ross family, which had settled the archipelago in the 1850s, and whose paterfamilias generally served as the resident magistrate and Crown representative.
Modernity had reached this corner of the British Empire, with the Eastern Extension Telegraph Company, in 1901, establishing a cable station on Direction Island on the top of the Cocos chain with submarine cables eventually running to Rodrigues (Mauritius), Batavia (Java), and Fremantle.
By 1910, this had been complemented by a Marconi wireless station, making it a key link in the communication chain between India and Australia.
A link worthy of breaking, in the mind of Emden’s skipper, Fregattenkapitän Karl von Müller.
Arriving just offshore of the Cocos over a deep trench– Emden needed at least 18 feet of seawater under her hull to float– in the predawn of 9 November, a landungskorps was assembled and ready to go ashore, seize the station, wreck it, and withdraw with any interesting portable supplies to feed the cruiser’s 360-member crew.
Going ashore at dawn in a steam pinnace and two whaleboats was Kpt. lt Hellmuth von Mücke, Leutnants Schmidt and Gysling, six petty officers, and 41 ratings, including two signalmen who knew what to destroy and a former French Foreign Legionnaire who was good with languages (among other things). Expecting resistance from a company-sized garrison at the colony, Mücke raided Emden’s small arms locker, taking four Maxim guns– each with 2,000 rounds of ammunition– 29 dated Gewehr 71 rifles, and 24 Reichsrevolvers.
With a strange warship offshore, disguised by a false fourth funnel, overhearing a coded signal from Emden to her prize ship-turned-tender Buresk, and three small boats filled with armed men headed in from the sea, the wireless station went into alert and started broadcasting at 0630 about the unknown man-of-war, only to be jammed by chatter from Emden’s powerful Telefunken wireless set turned to maximum power.
However, the part of the message broadcast before the jamming– “SOS strange ship in harbor,” and “SOS Emden here”– reached HMAS Sydney, escorting a convoy some 50nm away. The Australian cruiser replied that she was on the way to investigate. Her call letters, NC, led Emden’s signalmen to think she was the cruiser HMS Newcastle, which ironically was also in the Far East just nowhere near Emden, and they estimated by her signal strength and bearing that she was over 200 miles away.
In short, Emden’s skipper thought they had more time, but was very wrong.
Once landed, Von Mücke’s shore party got busy wrecking. Local photographers A.J. Peake and R. Cardwell, apparently EETC employees, began snapping photos documenting the activities of the landing party over the next two days.
The force soon captured and wrecked the undefended telegraph office without a shot– the island’s entire arsenal amounted to a “few 12 bore guns and two small and ancient pea-rifles”– cut three of four underwater cables, and felled the station’s transmission mast via explosives. This caused collateral damage as coral shot around like shrapnel, holing buildings and destroying the island’s supply of scotch.
Emden’s launch grappling for cable at Direction Island. NLA obj-149336815
The Eastern Extension Telegraph Company office after the German raid, 9 November 1914. NLA obj-149337412
The bottom of the mast with the wireless hut at the back. NLA obj-149338323
The wireless mast as it lay across the garden. NLA obj-149338122
More shots of the destroyed cable station. Sir George Grey Special Collections, Auckland Libraries, AWNS-19150107-39.
Under the German flag, Direction Island, November 1914. Note the sun helmet and Mauser of the German sailors. NLA obj-149336272
At 0900, with Emden spotting an incoming ship and soon acknowledging it was not her tender Buresk, the cruiser cleared decks and signaled her shore party to return immediately.
“Landing party having been recalled by the Emden, leaves the jetty but turns back on seeing Emden putting to sea.” In the background is the copra schooner Ayesha, owned by the Clunies-Ross family.” Note the white-uniformed officer complete with pistol belt. NLA .obj-149337219
“The Emdens’ landing party left the island on their futile attempt to rejoin their ship, Direction Island, 1914.” NLA obj-149336127
Not able to catch up to the withdrawing Emden, her away force returned to the docks on Direction Island. Soon signs of a battle could be seen over the horizon.
View from the beach of Direction Island with the battle between the SMS Emden and HMAS Sydney in the far distance. NLA obj-149338507
Unknown to Von Mucke and his men, nor to the colonists on Direction Island, Emden, and Sydney clashed between 0940 and 1120 in a one-sided battle that left the German cruiser grounded and ablaze on North Keeling Island with more than half of her 316 men aboard dead, missing, or wounded.
German raider, SMS Emden is sunk by Australian Cruiser, HMAS Sydney, RAN collection.
German cruiser SMS Emden beached on Cocos Island in 1914
Sydney suffered four fatalities and a dozen wounded.
Von Mucke knew that Emden was either sunk or had fled over the horizon and that the only warship coming to collect them would likely be an enemy. He set up his Spandaus on the beach and waited.
A German Maxim gun and ammunition boxes were set up to repel landings at Direction Island, on 9 November 1914. NLA obj-149337513
Meet Ayesha
The local coconut and cargo hauler, the 97-ton, 98-foot three-master schooner Ayesha, was anchored just off the docks on Direction Island, with Von Mucke’s crew passing close by on their way to the island that morning. She was a fine-looking vessel, for a coastal lugger, and typically sailed the local waters with a crew of five or six mariners and a master.
The schooner Ayesha, Cocos (Keeling) Islands, November 1914. NLA obj-149336020
Ayesha in open water State Library of Australia PRG-1373-29-15
The solution, to Von Mucke, was to seize the schooner, requisition supplies from the station, and load his men on board with the hope of heading to Dutch Sumatra, some 800 or so miles away, where they could figure out the next steps.
He boarded her with one of his officers for an inspection.
From a June 1915 New York Times interview with Von Mucke translated from the Berliner Tageblatt:
I made up my mind to leave the island as soon as possible. The Emden was gone the danger for us growing. I noticed a three-master, the schooner Ayesha. Mr. Ross, the owner of the ship and the island, had warned me that the boat was leaky but I found it a quite seaworthy tub.
“Schooner Ayesha commandeered by Germans being prepared for the voyage” Sails have been bent to the booms and forestays. AWM P11611.027.002
Germans commandeer cable station stores to provision the yacht Ayesha, owned by the Clunies-Ross family after the German raider SMS Emden was driven ashore at North Keeling Island by HMAS Sydney on 9 November 1914. On the evening of 10 November 1914, a party from the Emden used the Ayesha to escape from the island. AWM P03912.001
A German landing party at Direction Island, preparing to go aboard the yacht Ayesha, after their ship the German raider SMS Emden was destroyed by HMAS Sydney on 9 November 1914. AWM P03912.002
The master and mate were released from their duties, although they warned Von Mucke the ship’s hull, thin, “worn through” and overgrown, could not handle an ocean voyage. Inspecting the hold, the wood was indeed “red and rotten, so much so, indeed, that we stopped our scratching as we had no desire to poke the points of our knives into the Indian Ocean.”
On the evening of 10 November, the Germans used the Ayesha to escape from the island.
The locals– according to both German and British reports– actually gave the Germans three cheers as they left. Von Mucke said they went even further and asked for their autographs. Emden’s fame had proceeded them.
“Steam pinnace taking last of Germans aboard the Ayesha. The Germans are waving to the British, who have given them three cheers.” NLA obj-149339081
It wasn’t until the next day, 11 November, that sailors and Marines from HMAS Sydney arrived at Direction Island to find out that the Emden’s shore party had come and gone, with a decent head start.
A party of armed sailors from HMAS Sydney lands on Direction Island, on 11 November 1914. A party from the German raider Emden had landed and taken possession of the cable station on the island, but on the evening of the 10th, they escaped in the schooner Ayesha, which belonged to the owner of the island. AWM EN0390
Von Mucke raised their small war flag and christened the schooner SMS Ayesha (Emden II) to three hurrahs from her new crew. Nonetheless, she struck her flag soon after and sailors soon went over the side to paint over the ship’s name. Word had to have gone out and the British were no doubt looking for her.
Ayesha’s navigational equipment was limited to a sextant, two chronometers, and a circa 1882 Indian Ocean Directory, filled with quaint old high-scale charts and notes made as far back as the 1780s. With 50 men crowded onto a ship designed for five, they fashioned hammocks from old ropes and slept in holds and on deck.
Even more limited was the crew’s kit, as the men had landed on Direction Island for a raid and only had the clothes on their backs and cartridges in their pouches.
The whole crew went about naked in order to spare our wash…Toothbrushes were long ago out of sight. One razor made the rounds of the crew. The entire ship had one precious comb.
Further, Ayesha’s canvas was old and rotten, and three of the schooner’s four water tanks had been contaminated with salt water.
She had enough canvas to rig fore and aft sails on the main and mizzen and two square sails on the foremast. Still, these were threadbare and had to be patched constantly as they “tore at the slightest provocation.”
One condemned sail was rigged over the ballast for use as a shared bed by ratings, which sounds almost enjoyable until you find out that the schooner leaked so bad that water rose over the ballast at sea and typically sloshed around just below the sail bed.
From Von Mucke’s later book, as translated in 1933 and republished by the USNI:
Below deck, aft of the hold, were two small cabins originally fitted with bunks, but in these, we were compelled to store our provisions. Swarms of huge cockroaches made it impossible for human beings to inhabit them.
Another old sail was rigged up to catch and filter rainwater into three repurposed Standard Oil cans for drinking which was rendered palatable by “a dash or lime juice of which we had fortunately found few bottles among the provisions of the former captain.”
Gratefully, it turned out that the crew’s former Legionaire was a crack chef and managed to cobble together decent meals from the larder of rice and tinned beef.
At night, the only light was two oil lamps that “gave off more smoke than light.”
Most of the armament was secured down below, with the Spandaus concealed and arranged to fire through loopholes on deck should they be needed.
Leaving the steam pinnacle behind for the islanders to use, Von Mucke originally towed the two cutters from Emden behind the Ayesha, as there was no tackle available to bring them aboard nor deck space to house them but eventually, they were lost. Soon all they had in terms of small boats were a pair of jolly boats that the schooner carried in small davits, each able to hold two men. At times of doldrums, they were put out to tow the schooner with the help of Emden’s lost cutter’s long oars.
After 16 days at sea wandering towards Sumatra and keeping over the horizon from steamers, Ayesha was intercepted by the Dutch Fret-class destroyer Lynx (510 tons, 210 feet oal, 30 knots, 4×3″, 2xtt) on 26 November and was escorted into Padang in Wester Sumatra the next day.
Given 24 hours in port, Von Mucke was warned by Lynx’s Belgian-born skipper “I could run into the harbor but whether I might not come out again was doubtful.”
Von Mucke related that at the time he “felt truly sorry for the Lynx. It must have been very irritating to her to have to trundle behind us at the wonderful speed of one knot, a speed which, with the light breeze blowing, the Ayesha could not exceed.”
The Dutch did not allow Ayesha to take on clothes, charts, or tackle, as they could have added to the warship’s effectiveness. What was allowed were some tinned provisions and ten live pigs, the latter stored in a makeshift pen around the chain locker.
They left the Dutch port with reinforcements as two reserve officers, LTs Gerdts and Wellman, who had been interned at Pandang on German steamers earlier in the war and wanted to cast their lot with Von Mucke. Once smuggled aboard under darkness via rowboat, as berthing was already a problem, their spaces were found on the deck under the mess table.
The German schooner was towed back out to sea on the evening of the 28th. She was followed out of territorial waters by the Dutch cruiser De Zeven Provincien.
Another bright spot of her brief stay in the Dutch East Indies was that the local German consul managed to smuggle the crew a small bundle of chocolate, cigarettes, and German newspapers. There was also a promised rendezvous location out to sea in a fortnight or so with a German merchant steamer that was still afloat and filled with enough coal to steam anywhere on the globe.
With a few weeks’ worth of food left from the stockpile removed from Direction Island, but relying largely on rainwater for drinking and bathing, the schooner spent the next two weeks wandering West into the Indian Ocean, keeping hidden while drifting towards her promised rendezvous.
Finally, in heavy seas near South Pagai in the Dutch Mentawai Islands on 14 December, Ayesha spied the Norddeutscher Lloyd (NDL) freighter Choising (ex-Madeleine Rickmers), a slight vessel of just 1,657 tons. Still, she was the best Christmas present Von Mucke could ask for.
The meeting, in the fog and mist, was probably traumatic to the complement of the steamer whose ship’s officers and engineer were German, and most of the crew were Chinese.
Up flew our ensign and colours. The steamer ran up the German flag. The crew climbed aloft into the shrouds, and three cheers rang from deck to deck. As usual, our men were dressed in the manner customary in thc Garden of Eden, a costume which necessity had forced upon them. The men of the Choising confided to us later that they were speechless with astonishment when suddenly, out of the fog, emerged a schooner, the shrouds of which were filled with naked forms.
Having sailed Ayesha for 1,709 sea miles, the crews waited until the waters calmed on the 16th to transfer to the steamer then scuttled the schooner, Emden’s final victim. They removed Ayesha’s wheel and figurehead and took them along to their new ship.
Willy Stöwer – Ayesha im Indischen Ozean nach Treffen mit Choising
The overloaded Choising set out West across the Indian Ocean towards Yemen on the Arabian peninsula, part of the now-German allied Ottoman Empire. Thumbing through Choising’s Lloyds book, the freighter assumed the identity of the Italian steamer Shenir, which was similarly sized and had the same general layout.
This included painting Shenir, Genoa on her bow and crafting an approximated Italian flag from sailcloth and a green window curtain from the captain’s cabin.
They stayed out of the shipping lanes, celebrated a low-key Christmas and New Year at sea, and after entering the Bab-el-Mandeb, passing close abreast of two British gunboats in the darkness, made it to Hodeida on 5 January 1915, having crossed 4,100 miles of the Indian Ocean successfully.
Cruise of the Emden, Ayesha, and Choising. Bestanddeelnr 22032 010
Arabian Nights
With the French cruiser, Desaix spotted near Hodeida, Von Mucke and his men bid Choising farewell. With no Ottoman naval officials to turn to, she went across the straits to Massawa in Eritrea which was under Italian control and still neutral, intending to link up with the cruiser SMS Konigsberg which they thought was still off the coast of Africa but was trapped upriver in the Rufiji.
Choising, remaining in Somaliland, would go on to be seized by the Italian government once that former German ally declared war against the Empire in May 1915. This led to her final service as the Italian-flagged Carroccio. As part of a small Italian convoy, she was sent to the bottom of the Adriatic Sea on 15 May 1917 off the coast of Albania by the Austrian destroyer Balaton in a messy surface action known today as the Battle of the Strait of Otranto.
Meanwhile, contrary to early rosy reports that the Turks welcomed Von Mucke with open arms in Hodeida and soon spirited them via train up the Hejaz railroad to Constantinople and from there to Germany, it would be five long months of slogging across Arabia to Damascus before the Germans had any sort of safety.
Overland from Hodeida, from Von Mucke’s book
The reason for choosing the port was simple:
Our only knowledge regarding Arabian ways and customs was a ” round the world’ guidebook that would have answered the purposes of a sight-seeing couple on their honeymoon very well. From it we learned that Hodcida is a large commercial city, and that the Hedjaz railway to Hodeida was in course of construction. As the book was some years old and as one of my officers remembered that years ago he had met a French engineer who told him that he had been engaged in the construction of a railway to Hodeida, we took it for granted that the railway was completed by this time.
Nonetheless, the word would precede them, hence Willie Stower’s fanciful depiction of the long-scuttled Ayesha arriving at a big red carpet Ottoman welcome at Hodeida.
Another such propaganda piece from 1915:
With the railway incomplete, the journey, which is a bit off subject for a Warship blog, included a three-day firefight with a battalion-sized force of Arab rebels, unruly camel caravans with wary Bedouins watching from the dunes, creeping up the uncharted coast on local fishing dhows (zambuks), and avoiding being kept as “guests” by local Turkish garrison commanders and sheiks looking to add the Teutonic travelers to their muscle.
SMS Emden crew is attacked by Arabs on their desert hike to Jeddah, Der Krieg 1914/19 in Wort und Bild, 35. Heft
Finally arriving at the terminus for the Hejaz railroad at Al Ula, a trek of 1,100 miles from Hodeida on 7 May, the force met Berliner Tageblatt correspondent Emil Ludwig, who was waiting for them, and within days they were being hosted by the German counsel in Damascus. By this point, their firearms cache had been whittled down to one machine gun, a few revolvers, and just 13 rifles, the rest bartered along the way for food, safe passage, boats, and camels; or lost in zambuk wrecks.
The photo of the Damascus meeting shows the Emden’s men complete with crisp new Turkish uniforms and fezes!
Besatzungsmitglieder von SMS Ayesha im Garten des Kaiserlichen Konsulats in Damaskus 11. Mai 1915. 2) Kapitänleutnant Hellmuth von Mücke, 3) Konsul Walter Rößler. Note the Gewehr 71 Mausers.
Then came an even larger show in Constantinople, attended by foreign legations and German RADM Wilhelm Souchon, former commander of the Kaiser’s Mediterranean Squadron and current unofficial commander of the Ottoman fleet. Souchon had a gift for the men: Iron Crosses sent directly from Berlin.
Six of the 50-man forces that had landed at Direction Island six months prior had been left behind, three killed by rebels, and three by assorted diseases and accidents. Of Emden’s 360 crew, virtually all except Von Mucke’s detachment were dead or POWs by this point in the war– to include the Kaiser’s own nephew. The same could be said broadly for all the fine young men of Von Spee’s squadron.
The arrival of Captain Mücke with the SMS Emden’s landing party in Constantinople
Captured German photograph of the captain and officers of the Ayesha being presented to the Turkish authorities by the American Ambassador. Figures from right to left are (1) Enver Pasha; (2) German Ambassador; (3,5,6) Officers of the raider Emden; (4) Provost of Town; (7) Admiral Suchow Pasha of Goeben. AWM A011403
Captured German photograph showing the arrival of the officers who escaped from the raider Emden after commandeering the yacht Ayesha, with the German flag which saved them from falling into the hands of the enemy. AWM A01402
They were lucky.
Soon after Von Mucke’s trip up the Arabian peninsula, another group of Von Spee’s men, elements of the crew of the river patrol boat SMS Tsingtau including Kptlt. Erwin von Möller, LtzS Hans von Arnim, Vizesteuermann Heinrich Deike, Karl Gründler, Heinrich Mau, Arthur Schwarting plus Turkish ship’s cook Said Achmad, sailed the coastal schooner Marboek for 82 days from Sumatra where they were interned to the Arabian coast at Hadramaut, then headed out overland for Sana, much like Von Mucke.
They were all killed in the desert by rebels on 25 May 1916.
Epilogue
Von Mucke, whose interviews with Emil Ludwig soon circled the globe, spent some time as head of a Turko-German river flotilla in the Euphrates, then finished the war back in Germany as head of the Danube Flotilla. You could say the Kaiserliche Marine wanted to keep him from being lost at sea. Sadly, half of the men who had returned with him from Emden had been killed later in the Great War.
His mug was snapped often and widely distributed. A dashing hero with a romantic tale.
Capt. Von Mucke & bride & sailors of EMDEN LOC ggbain-20400-20461v
Kpt. Von Mucke in Berlin LOC ggbain-19500-19578v
He also penned two thin wartime books, one on each of the vessels he served on during the conflict.
Postwar, retired from the Navy after an 18-year career, he had six children and earned a living in Weimar Germany through writing and conducting lecture tours, retelling his story. Turning to politics, he briefly held a seat in the Saxon state parliament, flirted with the Nazis (membership number 3,579) before they rose to power, then by 1930 had become an outspoken pacifist and member of the Deutschlandbund, an anti-Nazi group. Banned from writing after 1933, he was labeled a communist and tossed into concentration camps on at least two occasions. Despite the fact his naval pension had been suspended, he volunteered for combat with the Kriegsmarine in 1939 at age 58 but was rejected because he was considered politically unreliable.
Remaining in East Germany post-WWII, Von Mucke wrote pamphlets against the rearmament of West Germany for the communists but soon fell out with them as well. He passed in 1957 at age 76 and is buried in Ahrensburg.
As she sat in shallow water along the reefs off Keeling and was extensively salvaged over 40 years, literally tons of souvenirs of Emden exist, primarily in Australia, where her bell and several relics are on display at the AWM in Canberra while two of her 10.5 cm (4.1 in) SK L/40 guns are in parks in the Canberra and Sydney.
Relics from Sydney and Emden’s battle on display at the Australian War Memorial
It is also likely that many tons of her good Krupp steel armor plate were recycled for use by the Japanese Combined Fleet, as her salvors for long periods in the 1920s and 30s were from Yokohama.
However, little, if anything, survives of Ayesha other than period photographs and romanticized postcards, along with the works of Von Mücke.
She is remembered in postal stamps of the Cocos Islands, for obvious reasons.
The small 4×6 Reichskriegsflagge flown over Keeling by Emden’s Landungskorps, then our subject schooner and brought back to Germany in 1915 with Von Mücke and the gang at some point was put on display in the Marienkirche (St. Mary’s Church) in Lübeck.
Then in the 1930s, it was passed on to Kapt. Julius Lauterbach. A HAPAG reserve officer who had served on the liner Staatssekretär Kraetke before the war and as Emden’s 1st navigation officer during the conflict. He left the cruiser with a 15-man prize crew put aboard the captured 4,350-ton British steamer Buresk in September 1914 to serve as a tender. Captured after Emden was destroyed and Buresk scuttled, he escaped along with 34 other Germans held by the British in Singapore during the Sepoy Mutiny in February 1915. Returning to Germany on his own, (like Von Mücke he also wrote a thin book published during the war, “1000£ Price on Your Head – Dead or Alive: The Escape Adventures of Former Prize Officer S. M. S. Emden”) he was given command of a trap ship (German Q-ship), and subsequently the raider SMS Mowe. In 1955, Lauterbach’s widow donated the flag to German militaria collector Karl Flöck who placed it on display at the Gasthaus zum Roten Ochsen in Cologne for years until it went up to auction in 2009. It is now in private hands.
The tale of Emden has been told numerous times in numerous ways, but it generally left out that of Von Mucke and his refugees. Of note, a 2013 German film, Die Männer der Emden, included it. The trailer includes camels, suffering, and a bit of swashbuckling, as it should.
Ships are more than steel and wood And heart of burning coal, For those who sail upon them know That some ships have a soul.
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Photograph by Walter E. Frost, City of Vancouver Archives, CVA 447-8946.1
Above we see the Buckley-class destroyer escort USS Whitehurst (DE-634) of ResDesDiv 273 as she makes a port call in Vancouver on 31 July 1965.
At just over 300 feet long, she doesn’t look like much, but by this time in her career, she had already fought in WWII– sinking a Japanese submarine some 80 years ago this week– earned battle stars during Korea, cruised off Vietnam, and would go on to live forever on the silver screen.
The Buckleys
With some 154 hulls ordered, the Buckleys were intended to be cranked out in bulk to counter the swarms of Axis submarines prowling the seas.
Just 306 feet overall, they were about the size of a medium-ish Coast Guard cutter today but packed a lot more armament, namely three 3″/50 DP guns in open mounts, a secondary battery of 1.1-inch (or 40mm), and 20mm AAA guns, and three 21-inch torpedo tubes in a triple mount for taking out enemy surface ships.
Buckley-class-destroyer-escort-1944 USS England by Dr. Dan Saranga via Blueprints
Then there was the formidable ASW suite to include stern depth charge racks, eight depth charge throwers, and a Hedgehog system.
Powered by responsive electric motors fed by steam turbines, they could make 24 knots and were extremely maneuverable.
Class-leader, USS Buckley (DE-51), cutting a 20-knot, 1,000-foot circle on trials off Rockland Maine, 3 July 1943, 80-G-269442
Meet Whitehurst
Our subject carries the name of Ensign Henry Purefoy Whitehurst, Jr. who, originally scheduled to graduate in February 1942, was matriculated early from Annapolis with the rest of his class 12 days after the attack on Pearl Harbor, becoming the second Class of 1941.
Rushed to the Pacific, Henry was lost along with 233 shipmates aboard the heavy cruiser USS Astoria (CA 34)when “Nasty Asty” was sunk early in the morning of 9 August 1942 by Japanese surface forces at the Battle of Savo Island. The young officer was 22.
Ensign Henry Purefoy Whitehurst, Jr. 16 Feb 1920-9 Aug 1942. He is remembered on the Tablets of the Missing at the Manila American Cemetery and Memorial.
Laid down on 21 March 1943 at San Francisco by the Bethlehem Steel Co and launched on 5 September 1943, USS Whitehurst (DE-634) was sponsored by Ensign Whitehurst’s grieving mother, Mrs. Robie S. Whitehurst, and commissioned on 19 November 1943.
Her plankowner skipper was T/LCDR James Robert Gray, USN, 78836, (USNA ‘37). As a young LT(jg), he was the officer of the deck on duty aboard the high-speed minesweeper USS Wasmuth (DD-338/DMS-15) at Pearl Harbor and got the ship underway and fighting, claiming one plane downed. He then served as Damage Control Officer on the heavy cruiser USS New Orleans (CA-32) at Coral Sea and Midway. Whitehurst was his first command.
Headed to War!
Following sea trials, calibration tests, and shakedown off the West Coast, Whitehurst arrived at Pearl Harbor on 4 February 1944 and then got underway for the Solomons three days later as part of a small convoy.
Such work, riding shotgun for troop transports, LCIs, and LSTs on slow and steady (8-9 knot) runs, would be her bread and butter.
She took part in the Palau, Yap, Ulithi, Woleai raid (30 Mar 44 – 1 Apr 44), and, from 26 April through 7 June, she was upfront for the Hollandia operations followed closely by Toem-Wakde-Sarmi and Biak landings, including a very close brush with Japanese shore batteries off the latter.
From her War Diary:
She then joined in the operations to clear out the Northern Solomons from 22 June into early October, which for our tin can meant escorting the PT-boat mothership USS Mobjack (AGP-7) as she shifted ports, patrolling for Japanese submarines and surface contacts, conducting exercises and drills as part of Escort Division 40.
By this stage of the war, the Solomons had become a backwater.
It was there, at Blanche Harbor on Treasury Island on 1 September, that LCDR Grey was relieved by LT Jack Carter Horton, DE-V(G), USNR, 96845. Grey was being sent on to command USS Lawrence C. Taylor (DE 415). Horton, who had gone through the wartime midshipman school with 738 fellow “90-day wonders” at Northwestern University in Chicago, knew Whitehurst well– he had been her XO since commissioning.
The death of I-45
On 12 October, Whitehurst got underway from Humboldt Bay with orders to escort Task Unit 77.7.1, the fueling force for the 7th Fleet for the upcoming invasion of the Philippines. This included four oilers (Ashtabula, Saranac, Salamonie, and Chepachet), the civilian tanker Pueblo, and three fellow Buckleys: the sequential sisters USS Witter (DE-636), Bowers (DE-637), and Willmarth (DE-638).
Nearing the Philippines, Japanese activity increased and folks got jumpy. Just after 0200 on 17 October, a sharp echo underwater led to a radical course change, and a pattern of 13 depth charges dropped over the side as a precaution. Whitehurst’s War Diary notes, “The contact was evaluated as a large fish due to its erratic movements and narrow width.”
Creeping through the Ngaruangl Passage on 20 October, three days later they steamed through the Surigao Straits into the Leyte Gulf, anchoring off Homonhon Island, with her log taking care to note, “This part of the island in Japanese hands.”
Starting the next morning, at 0826 on 24 October, Whitehurst’s tanker group began a four-day running fight with Japanese ground-based aircraft, fending off a series of air attacks by Betty twin-engine and Val single-engine bombers as they repeatedly shifted positions. This included making emergency turns, burning both chemical and oil smoke, and filling the air with 3″/50 and 20mm shells whenever planes came within range. All the while the force managed to conduct underway refueling and escape the battleships and cruisers of Nishimura’s “Southern Force,” although they observed the flashes in the distance of the Battle of Surigao Strait over the night of 24/25 October.
Just when things started quieting down, at 0325 on 29 October Whitehurst observed a strong underwater explosion “some distance away” and received word via TBS that the Butler-class destroyer escort USS Eversole (DE-404) had been torpedoed and sunk by the Japanese Type B2 submarine I-45, taking 80 of her crew to the bottom.
Japanese submarine I-45 (B-class new type-1), on speed trial run off Sasebo, 1943
Whitehurst was detached from her task unit to screen the sistership USS Bull (DE-402) which was picking up what would be 136 survivors from the lost greyhound.
Picking up a sonar contact as she closed with the scene, Whitehurst delivered a series of four barrages of 7.2-inch Mk.10 Hedgehog charges and was rewarded with a series of secondary underwater explosions.
Just after dawn, a large (500-yard by 2,000-yard) oil slick was observed, filled with debris.
From her War Diary:
Japanese Sixth Fleet HQ had no further contact with I-45 and she is presumed lost with LCDR (promoted CDR posthumously) Kawashima Mamoru and his 103-member crew, removed from the Imperial Navy List on 10 March 1945.
Back to work
Continuing her involvement in the Philippines through the end of the month, a role that included blowing up random floating mines with rifle fire, on 2 November Whitehurst was dispatched to escort the damaged oiler Ashtabula to Hollandia for repairs. There, she witnessed the horrific disintegration of the USS Mount Hood (AE-11), packed with 4,500 tons of high explosives, in Seeadler Harbor.
Ordered to leave the harbor with a force of small LSMs and LCTs for Humboldt Bay the same day, by 12 November Whitehurst headed back to the Philippines as escort for Echelon L-13, a mix of 23 LSTs in four columns and 11 merchants in another four columns.
Entering the Surigao Strait by the 19th, enemy planes were sighted off and on over the next few days, cumulating with an attack on the 21st by two Kawasaki Ki-48 “Lily,” with one of the twin-engine light bombers shot down in flames. Whitehurst’s gunners contributed 382 rounds to the effort.
Sent back to Manus in December, she remained in the Admiralty Islands on interisland convoy runs and training duties, drydocking in January 1945, and then escorting the destroyer tender USS Sierra (AD-18) and repair ship USS Briareus (AR-12) to Purvis Bay in the Solomons in February.
Then came a well-earned 10-day R&R period in Australia, reporting to Ulithi afterward for the next big show.
Okinawa
Assigned to TF-51 along with two destroyers, USS McDermut (DD-667) and Leutz (DD-481), and the escort USS England (DE-635),Whitehurst and company formed the anti-submarine screen around the light cruisers USS Mobile and Miami for the assault and occupation of Okinawa Gunto, leaving Ulithi at the end of March.
By 6 April, the first Japanese aircraft out of Okinawa were engaged by Whitehurst, whose gunners fired 263 rounds that day.
Three Japanese Vals closed with the destroyer escort and two were shot down by the ship’s gunners. The third, in a steep 40-degree angle dive, smoking from 20mm hits, crashed into the ship’s bridge at 1502.
The entire bridge structure was enveloped in flames– with all the pilothouse and CIC personnel killed outright– and all control and communications lost. By 1507, with secondary control restored, with gun control conducted by voice, the ship’s force was fighting the fires that were under control by 1515.
The minesweeper USS Vigilance (AM-324) and assault transport USS Crosley (APD-87) came alongside the smoking warship to render medical assistance and rescue.
All of the men in the ship’s radio room as well as those in the forward gun crews had been either killed or seriously wounded by bomb fragments. In all, Whitehurst suffered 31 deaths and 37 wounded while six men were missing in action, presumed blown overboard. Overall, the casualties amounted to a third of the crew.
With Vigilance leading the way and a signalman from the minesweeper on Whitehurst’s deck passing commands back and forth via semaphore flag and handheld blinker lamp, the damaged escort made the protection of the Kerama Retto anchorage by 1830.
Four days later, patched up enough to make for the sea once again, Whitehurst joined a slow convoy bound for recently occupied Saipan and arrived there on the 20th. On the 22nd, she received a dispatch ordering her back to Pearl Harbor for battle damage repairs and alterations. Arriving in Hawaii via Eniwetok on 10 May, where she unloaded munitions and entered the Naval Yard two days later.
P.I. Powerhouse
The brutal month-long campaign to Liberate Japanese-occupied Manila, once considered one of the most beautiful of cities in the Far East, had left the Philippines’s capital a pile of rubble amid destruction perhaps only surpassed by Warsaw.
Manila, Philippine Islands, Feb. 1945. (U.S. Air Force Number 59680AC)
According to post-combat accounting, the fighting destroyed 11,000 of the city’s buildings, leaving 200,000 Filipinos homeless in addition to the 100,000 killed when the smoke cleared in early February 1945. Survivors had no running water, sewage treatment, or electricity.
That’s where Whitehurst and her sisters came in.
Gen. Kruger’s Sixth Army engineer train, tasked with helping to stand Manila back up in addition to pursuing the Japanese into northern Luzon, was soon operating two floating diesel powerplants to provide the city with a trickle of power.
Responding to the call, USS Wiseman (DE-667), one of Whitehurst’s sisters, was given a set of ship-to-shore power reels and transformers, allowing her to send juice into the Manila Electric Service by using the destroyer escort’s main propulsion plant.
Two large cable reels and a transformer were added between the X-position director and the smokestack. The transformers installed as part of the conversion provided electricity in six different voltages ranging from 2,400 and 37,500 volts using the ship’s GE generators
Photo of a power cable reels on the USS Wiseman (DE-667) from the open bridge. The Wiseman helped provide power to Manila for a time in 1945. U.S. Navy Memorial Foundation Collection: Frank M. Frazitta Papers. 0677-048-b1-fi-i6. East Carolina University Digital Collections. https://digital.lib.ecu.edu/24920. Accessed 29 Oct. 2024
As detailed by DANFS on Wiseman’s mission:
Arriving at Manila on [March] 23d, she commenced furnishing power to that nearly demolished city on 13 April and, over the next five and one-half months, provided some 5,806,000 kilowatt-hours of electricity. In addition, Wiseman’s evaporators furnished 150,000 gallons of drinking water to Army facilities in the harbor area and to many small craft. Her radios were also utilized to a great extent. Placed at the disposal of the Navy’s port director, the ship’s communication outfit was used to handle harbor radio traffic until the director’s equipment arrived and was installed ashore.
As part of her yard period in Pearl Harbor following her kamikaze strike, Whitehurst received a similar set of ship-to-shore transmission reels, which she tested on 1 July 1945 by illuminating a test grid ashore at the Navy Yard.
3 July 1945: Whitehurst at Pearl Harbor, undergoing Inclining tests, note her TEG conversion reels are visible behind her stack. (U.S. Navy photo, National Archives #19LCM-DE634-3)
Receiving munitions, provisions, and new crew members (including a new skipper), she spent three weeks on a series of speed and maneuvering trials, augmented by gunnery and ASW exercises then shoved off on 25 July bound for the Philippines.
On 14 August 1945, Whitehurst, which had just escorted the jeep carrier USS Core (CVE-13) from Ulithi to Leyte, arrived at Manila’s inner harbor and tied up, reporting to Sixth Army to relive Wiseman.
She soon after started lighting up the P.I. at a regular 13,200 volts (5.8746E-25 MWh), 24×7.
She would continue this unsung yet vital post-war recovery service for more than two months until relieved on 26 October.
Her services were needed in Guam, and Whitehurst steamed there in early November where she tied up and supplied electrical power to the dredge YM-25, in support of the 301st Naval Construction Bn, into 1946.
No less than six other destroyer escorts– all Buckley class ships– were at some point converted into floating Turbo-Electric Generators (TEG) in such a manner: USS Donnell (DE-56), Foss (DE-59), Marsh (DE-699), Maloy (DE-791), HMS Spragge (K-572, ex-DE-563) and HMS Hotham (K-583 ex-DE-574). Notably, Donnell, which had been extensively damaged by a torpedo from U-473 in May 1944, was reclassified IX-182 and used to supply shore power off Omaha immediately after D-Day.
This allowed them to operate in important expeditionary and humanitarian roles if and when needed, a trick some of them would be called to do in later conflicts. For example, Foss and Maloy went to the aid of blacked-out Portland Maine in 1947 while Wiseman and Marsh powered the respective Korean ports of Masan and Pusan in 1950 during the Korean War.
But we are getting ahead of ourselves.
Korea
Finally returning to CONUS in April 1946 after more than nine months of service as a floating generator, Whitehurst was decommissioned six months later and placed in the Atlantic Reserve Fleet at Green Cove Springs, Florida. She earned six battle stars for her World War II service.
Not all of her sisters were as lucky. Four had been lost during the war: USS Fechteler, sunk by U-967 northwest of Oran, Algeria 5 May 1944; Rich; lost to mines off Utah Beach 8 June 1944 just months after joining the fleet; Bates, sunk by kamikazes off Okinawa 25 May 1945; and Underhill, sunk by a Japanese Kaiten human torpedo northeast of Luzon 24 July 1945. Meanwhile, England, like Whitehurst, was damaged by suicide planes off Okinawa, but unlike our subject was not repaired following the war.
The truth was that the peacetime Navy had little use for slow DEs with their open gun mounts when so many modern, fast, and well-armed new destroyers were just leaving the shipyards.
Port broadside aerial view of destroyer escort USS Whitehurst (DE-634) November 30 1949 USN 200669
When the Norks crossed the 38th Parallel during the summer of 1950 into South Korea, Whitehurst was dusted off and recommissioned on 1 September 1950. Sent to the Far East as part of Escort Squadron 11 (CortDiv 112), she earned three battle stars (First UN Counter Offensive, Communist China Spring Offensive, and UN Summer-Fall Offensive) for her activities during the Korean War in the seven months between 25 February and 19 September 1951.
Remaining in the Westpac until 1955, she transferred to Pearl Harbor for another year of service that included poking around the remote islands and atolls of the U.S. Trust Territories for the Pacific, winning hearts and minds by providing aid and medical care for the locals while enforcing fishing regulations and low-key looking for Japanese hold outs.
With an 11-foot draft and the ability to easily launch rubber rafts due to her low freeboard, littoral surveillance came easy.
For instance, take this deck log note from March 1957 into account:
By June 1957, she was one of the last destroyer escorts remaining on active duty in her WWII configuration (if you disregard her TEG equipment).
This led to the ship and her crew being placed at the disposal of 20th Century Fox for six weeks for Dick Powell to film The Enemy Below.
Dubbed the fictional USS Haynes in the film, Whitehurst appears in several significant passages, all filmed in amazing DeLuxe Color.
Reserve Days, and her final mission
Once filming wrapped, Whitehurst was sent to the 13th Naval District at Seattle, Washington in October 1957 to serve with Reserve Escort Squadron 1 (ResCortDiv 112) as a Naval Reserve Training ship, used for weekend cruises one weekend per month and a two-week summer cruise per year.
Decommissioned a second time on 6 December 1958, Whitehurst remained “in service” as a training asset, keeping up her regular drill work.
USS Whitehurst (DE634), note the post-war hull numbers
This continued until October 1961 when she was recommissioned a second time during the Berlin Wall crisis, manned by activated reservists, and sent to Pearl Harbor to join Escort Squadron 7 for 10 months.
Buckley class USS Whitehurst (DE-634)
It was during this time that she was sent to Vietnam in March 1962 along with Escort Division 71. Operating in the South China Sea and the Gulf of Siam, she conducted training of South Vietnamese naval officers out of Danang.
Postwar view of Whitehurst, with her distinctive cable reels on the 01 level amidships
Decommissioned a third time on 1 August 1962, she returned to her weekend warrior NRT job in Seattle as part of Destroyer Squadron 27 (ResDesDiv 273) where, during a 1963 refit, she landed much of her WWII armament and her TEG reels.
Her summer cruises, longer two-week affairs, often ranged as far as Canada and Mexico.
Whitehurst, City of Vancouver Archives. 31 July 1965.
This quiet reserve life continued into October 1968 when she was shifted to Swan Island outside of Portland, Oregon, becoming an NRT vessel there.
On 12 July 1969, Whitehurst was struck from the Navy List as the likelihood of her offering anything as a training asset was slim. By that time, she was one of the final members of her “disposable” class still in the Navy’s hands, a record only surpassed by a handful of fellow NRT ships which lingered into the early 1970s.
Stripped, she was towed to sea by USS Tawasa (ATF-92) and sunk as a target by the submarine USS Trigger (SS-564) on 28 April 1971 in deep water off Vancouver Island, during the development of the MK 48 torpedo– its first live warshot test.
28 April 1971 ex-Whitehurst quickly slides beneath the waves. This photo was taken by the Trigger’s Periscope Photographer, Tom Boyer.
In her ending, she served the Navy one last time by helping to test new weapons and train new bluejackets in their use.
Likewise, 11 of her class were disposed of in similar SINKEXs between 1967 and 1973: ex-USS Lovelace, ex-James E. Craig, ex-Otter, ex-Darby, ex-J. Douglas Blackwood, ex-Alexander J. Luke, ex-Vammen, ex-Loeser, ex-Currier, ex-Cronin, and ex-Gunason.
She has a memorial at the Museum of the Pacific War in Texas.
A website DE634.org, endures to keep her memory alive. Their last reunion listed, combined with veterans of USS Silverstein, Walton, and Foss, was in 2020.
As for her first skipper, James Grey, went on to command two other destroyer escorts and a troopship, including sea time during Korea, then served in several high-level shore assignments until he retired in 1960, capping 23 years with the Navy. He passed in Sunnyvale, California in 2002, aged 87.
Her first XO and second skipper, 90-day wonder Jack Horton, who commanded the ship during the battle against I-45 and somehow survived the kamikaze his ship took to the bridge six months later, mustered out in December 1945 and, settling in Houston, passed in a sailing accident on the Gulf of Mexico in 1970. Life is funny like that.
The Navy has not seen fit to commission a second USS Whitehurst.
However, The Enemy Below endures, and she is still beautiful in rich DeLuxe Color.
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
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.
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Warship Wednesday, Oct. 23, 2024: A Tough Little Wolf
Nationalmuseet, Danmark, asset THM-3367
Above, we see the Danish Soridderen (Sea Knight) class torpedobåden patrol boat Søulven(Sea Wolf)—also cited in the West as Soloven, Soeulven, and Søulv —as she passed near the Trekroner Søfort at the entrance to the Copenhagen harbor before 1920.
A small boat with a fearsome name, her skipper and crew proved all-heart during the Great War, and a noteworthy British admiral doubtlessly owed his life to her pluck.
The Søridderen trio
Between 1879, when Hajen, Torpedobaad Nr.4, joined the fleet through Svaerdfisken, which entered service in May 1913, the Royal Danish Navy fielded 40 assorted torpedo boats across several different classes to include designs from British (Samuel White, Yarrow, Thornycroft), French (Forges & Chantiers), German (F. Schichau) and domestic (Burmeister & Wain, Orlogsvaerftet) yards. No less than 17 of these were still in service by the time Gaviro Princep caught up to Franz Ferdinand in Sarajevo, and set the world alight.
In 1911, a program of three new German Schichau-designed boats and a matching set of three British Yarrow-designed boats were ordered. The lead ship would be built overseas in each case, and the two follow-on units would be constructed domestically. This led to the Schichau-designed and built 250-ton Tumleren (and Orlogsvaerftet-constructed sisters Vindhunden and Spaekhuggeren) and the 230-ton Yarrow-designed and built Søridderen (accompanied by the Burmeister & Wain-constructedFlyvefisken and Soulven).
The ships were competing designs of similar size, armament, and capability with the Tumlerens running 250 tons, 186 feet long, 18 feet on the beam, and with a 6-foot draft while the Søridderen went 181x18x6 feet.
The German-built Danish torpedobåden Tumleren. Note her trainable torpedo tubes. THM-3340
Both classes were coal-fired steam turbine-driven and fast (27.5 knots), as well as armed with five 18-inch torpedo tubes (one fixed in bow and four trainable on deck) and two 12-pounder 3″/52 M.07 QF guns.
Danish Torpedobåden Tumleren i Svanemøllebugten, 1915, by Christian Benjamin Olsen. These boats were notoriously smokey especially when using the thrifty Danish navy’s (preferred) cheap coal to stretch training dollars.
The Søridderens went a bit faster than designed on trails, hitting 28.3 knots.
Søridderen class member Flyvefisken, seen in a color period postcard. THM-30779
Søridderen member Flyvefisken, the port view seen underway. THM-4490
Jane’s 1914 listing for the Søridderen class.
The British-designed ships were also seen as more seaworthy than the German-designed boats. However, the events of 1914 precluded further orders.
Meet Soulven
Our subject carried a traditional Danish navy moniker and repeated one used by one of the Scandinavian country’s first batch of torpedo boats, a little 95-footer built in France that remained in service until 1911.
Photo showing the first torpedo boat Søulven, Torpedobaad Nr.5, launched in 1880 at anchor in Copenhagen. The picture also shows the visiting German armored battery ship Heligoland and the French cruiser Chateau Renault. Photographed Sep 8, 1891. THM-9524
The second Danish torpedo boat Soulven joined the fleet in 1911, likely recycling most of the crew of her namesake which was decommissioned at the same time.
Note her forward bow tube and trainable singles.
She would spend her first three years as a training ship, and there are some great images of her pier side conducting training with Madsen light machine guns complete with massive 40-round detachable box magazines. A treat for any gun nerd!
Soluven crew at Flådens Leje with Madsen LMGs THM-6173
Soulven note bridge and Madsens THM-6175
THM-6175 inset
War!
When the Great War began in August 1914, Denmark armed-up to protect her neutrality, having just fought Germany in 1864 and the Brits in 1807. This meant mobilizing 52,000 reserves and new drafts to add to the professional 13,000-man Army and building the 23 km-long Tunestillingen line of defenses outside of Copenhagen. Likewise, the Danish Navy dusted off its guns and torpedo tubes and began to actively patrol its waters.
With that, Soulven left her training duties behind and became the flagship of 1. Torpedobådsflotille, assigned to patrol in the Oresund, the strait that separates Denmark and Sweden.
Torpedo inspection on board Soulven 1914 THM-4687
Her skipper at this time, and dual-hatted commander of the 1st TBF, was Kapt. Eduard Haack, 43, a career regular with 28 years of service on his seabag that included tours in the Danish West Indies (Virgin Islands) on the old steam frigate Jylland, Med cruises on the gunboat St. Thomas and cruiser Hejmdal, a stint as an officer instructor at the service’s NCO academy, service aboard the coastal battleships Iver Hvitfeldt and Herluf Trolle, command of a section of the naval mine corps (Søminekorpsets), and command of the icebreaker/OPV (inspektionsskibet) Absalon on the Greeland-Iceland-Faeroes beat.
Haack was a professional.
Haack, on Iver Hvitfeldt before he war. THM-4745
The E-13 Affair
It was during this time that the British started sending small E-class submarines through the Skagerrak and the Kattegat around Jutland then through the Oresund and across the Baltic to the Tsarist port of Revel in the Gulf of Finland. HMS E-1 and E-9 made it by October 1914, while E-11 turned back. They would soon be joined by HMS E-8, E-18, and E-19. One of their less fortunate sisters was HMS E-13.
Around 2300 on 17 August 1915, while E13 was attempting to make the passage through the Oresund to join the other British Submarines operating with the Tsar’s Navy, she experienced a gyro compass failure and ran aground in the mud on the Danish Island of Saltholm, her hull surrounded by nine feet of water.
English submarine E13 grounded on Saltholm THM-12243.
Spotted by the old (circa 1888) Danish Thornycroft-built torpedo boat Narvalen at 0500 on the morning of 18 August, the Dane dutifully notified E13 they had 24 hours to get unstuck or be interned for the duration. LCDR Geoffrey Layton, RN replied that he understood and would work to free his boat. His executive officer, LT Paul Leathley Eddis, was sent ashore to see if he could arrange a tug.
Soon after, at 0620, two German S90-class large torpedo boats on patrol, SMS G132, and G134, likewise spotted the disabled British sub, with her crew resting atop E13’s casing. The 215-foot S90s were really more destroyer than TB, and ran large at 535 tons, carrying an 88mm gun, two 2″/40 guns, and three torpedo tubes.
S90-class Hochsee-Torpedoboot SMS S-125, a good representative of her class. Photographed by A. Renard of Kiel, probably before 1911. U.S. Naval History and Heritage Command NH 45400
To guard the beached sub, flotilla leader Søulven arrived on the scene at 0845 with Narvalen’s sister Støren. The Danish bathtub battleship Peder Skram, armed with 9.4-inch guns and swathed in as much as 8 inches of armor, was just over the horizon and making steam for the area.
With the greenlight from RADM Robert Mischke, head of the Küstenschutzdivision der Ostsee, by radio, at 1028 the German torpedo boats went on the offensive.
Signaling “Abandon Ship Immediately,” G132 and G134 heeled over and made maximum revolutions for the grounded E13, sailing into Danish coastal waters with their guns blazing. Some 15 British submariners were killed outright.
English leave E13 after the shelling, 19 Aug. 1915 THM-4679
Despite being outgunned by the two larger German boats, Søulven’s skipper, Kapt. Haack gave the order to move his boat directly between E13 and the German guns to shield the British, with the Dane calling on the Germans to halt. The maneuver worked and at 1035, the German boats turned away and left Danish waters, having closed to within 300 yards of the submarine. Haack noted that the German commander of G132 raised an arm in the air as a sign that the protest was accepted.
The Danes soon went to work rescuing the survivors of E13, including Storen’s boatswain, one AFP Olsen, who reportedly dived into the frigid water and pulled a wounded Tar, Leading Seaman Herbert Lincoln, off the bottom. Olsen would be awarded an Albert Medal by the British government for his action, but not allowed by the Danish Foreign Ministry to accept it.
The wounded were passed on to Peder Skram, who would take them to Copenhagen. The recovered bodies of 14 of the 15 men lost were loaded aboard Søulven’s sister Søridderen and brought to Lynettehavnen. The 15th was later recovered and joined his shipmates.
The reaction in the British and Scandinavian press to the German violation of neutrality was understandable.
What occurred over the next several days in Denmark was an outpouring of mourning for the British submariners who were killed in their waters. This included some 200 Danish sailors providing an honor guard for the recovered bodies during a funeral procession in Copenhagen where the survivors of E13, clad in Danish dress uniforms, were assisted in carrying their shipmate’s coffins to the refrains of Handel’s Dead March. The proceedings were well-attended by the international legations.
Photos from the event show Haack and his men prominently.
THM-3427
Note the Remington falling block 1867s with sword bayonets. THM-3426
THM-3421
While most foreign bodies recovered in Danish waters during the war– such as Jutland sailors buried at Frederikshavn cemetery– were simply interred in Danish soil with military honors, London approved a Danish ship to carry the E13 crew remains to return speedily to England.
This led the procession solemnly to the Det Forenetede Dampskibsselskab (DFDS) steamer SS Vidar (1,493 tons) while a crowd of thousands of Danes stood by to observe in procession, with Dannebrogs lowered at half-mast across the country.
Vidar carried the remains to Hull, accompanied by the Danish torpedo boats Springeren and Støren as escorts. Vidar carried a Danish Ministry of the Navy’s representative, CDR Rørd Regnar Johannes Hammer, a Knight Commander Dannebrogorden, with 39 years of service on his record, who was responsible for the steamer’s grim cargo. Most were later interred at the Haslar Royal Naval Cemetery. CWGC in Hampshire.
The British consul in Denmark, Robert Erskine, commended the Danish authorities for the dignity and efficiency with which the handling of the dead was conducted.
As for the survivors, interned for the duration of the war under international law, they were put up at the Copenhagen Naval Yard under very loose custody– referred to by the Danes as engelske orlogsgaster (“English military guests”)– and allowed to travel around the city on their own recognizance.
The crew of the English submarine E13 before leaving for Russia in 1915. Half of these men would perish in Danish waters and the other half would cool their heels in Copenhagen for the duration. Had it not been for Soulven, their story would have been likely very different. THM-4680
The Danes likewise “entertained” assorted German naval personnel as well during the war, such as the crew of Zeppelin L.3.
German Navy zeppelin LZ-24 (Luftschiff.3) participated in 24 reconnaissance missions over the North Sea, including the first raid on England on 20 January 1915. She was scuttled by her crew after a forced landing caused by an engine failure during a snowstorm on Fanø Island, Denmark on 17 February 1915. The crew were interned. Remnants of the zeppelin are displayed in a museum in Tonder, Denmark.
Rather than enjoy this comfortable prison, E13‘s skipper, LCDR Layton, accompanied by his No. 1, LT Paul Leathley Eddis, released himself from polite custody/parole, leaving a note behind to explain his actions, and made his way back to England via Sweden three months later.
The rest of E13’s crew remained in Denmark until after the Armistice. The sub’s third officer, Sub-LT William Garriock, RNR, was left behind to command these marooned submariners.
Largely to prevent the Germans from attempting to do so, the Danes recovered E13 and towed it to Copenhagen.
E13 grounded at Saltholm, 1915 THM-6768
Shell-wrecked English submarine, E13, beached at Saltholm THM-12244
Salvage work on English submarine E13 at Saltholm THM-12245
English submarine E 13 under tow between pontoons and salvage steamers Odin and Thor. 1915. THM-4482
Her shell and shrapnel-ridden hull were on public display for the world to see.
English submarine E13 at Copenhagen harbour THM-12255
As were recovered relics including her pierced periscope and a shot-up prayer book.
The sub was put in drydock at Orlogsvaerftet, with her interned sailors allowed to come and claim personal property and mementos. Several even reportedly helped in the ultimately futile three-year effort to repair the vessel and place it in Danish service.
Ultimately, E13 was refloated and tied up alongside the Danish submarine tender Helka in 1918, used for training purposes.
U-bådsstationen, Cophenhangen. Petty officers aboard the Danish submarine tender Hekla in 1918. The group was photographed on deck in front of the ship’s stack. To the right is the tower of the salvaged HMS E13. THM-3494
In February 1919, after the Danish Navy washed their hands of the hulk, the British sold it to a local Danish company for its scrap value.
But back to our Søulven.
Continued Service
Søulven, returning to her role in protecting Denmark’s territorial sea, conducted several rescues and police actions in the Oresund before the end of the war, including capturing Swedish smugglers on two different occasions.
Photo showing the bridge of a torpedo boat with her bow 3″/52. To the left of the picture is the torpedo boat Soulven underway, seen from the front to port. Taken in the 1920s. THM-22312
Transferred to the reserves in 1929, along with her two sisters, Søridderen and Flyvefisken, and the three rival Tumlerens, they were collectively stricken in 1935-1937 and disposed of after they were replaced by the new and very strongly armed torpedo boats of the Dragen and Glenten classes.
Their hulls were stripped of anything usable and scrapped, with their 3″/52s recycled for use as coastal artillery around the Danish littoral for another decade.
Danish Den næstnordligste 7,5 cm kanon i Hørhaven from old torpedo boats
Epilogue
Of our cast of characters, Soulven’s skipper and commander of the 1st TBF during the Great War, Eduard Haack, finished the war as head of coastal defense for Northern Denmark. He retired from the Navy in 1920, with his last post as inspector of lighthouses. He became chief ship inspector at Statens Skibstilsyn, the Danish Shipping Authority, the next year, and remained in that post until 1936. He then helped organize the Icelandic Shipping Authority and received, among other things, a knighthood in the Icelandic Falcon Order (Islandske Falkeorden) and was made a commander of the Dannebrogordenen order. Capt. Haack passed in 1956 and is buried at St. Olai cemetery in Kalundborg, aged 85.
The German admiral who gave the go-ahead for the attack on E13, Mischke, would end the war as a vizeadmiral and pass in 1932. His family is the owner of Lahneck Castle, which he purchased in 1907.
The two torpedo boats used in the attack on E13, G132, and G134, at the end of the war were disarmed and served as minesweepers out of Cuxhaven. Retained briefly by the Reichsmarine they were scrapped in 1921.
E13’s skipper went on to be known as ADM Sir Geoffrey Layton, GBE, KCB, KCMG, DSO. After returning to England via Sweden in time for Christmas in 1915, he was given command of the experimental steam submarine HMS S-1. Transitioning to capital ships in the 1930s, he started WWII as commander of the 1st Battle Squadron, consisting of the battleships HMS Barham, HMS Warspite, and HMS Malaya. Sent to command the ill-fated China Station in September 1940, he handed it over to Tom Phillips just before the Japanese went ham in the Pacific in December 1941. He went on to command British forces in Ceylon through 1945. Retiring in 1947 as head of Portsmouth, he passed in 1964.
ADM Layton
Layton’s XO, LT Paul Eddis, survived continued submarine service in the Great War only to be killed when his boat, HMS L24, was tragically lost with all hands in a collision with the battleship HMS Resolution off Portland on 10 January 1924. Subs are a dangerous game even in peacetime.
Speaking of which, the funeral transport for E13’s 15 recovered sailors, the Danish steamer Vidar, was herself sent to the bottom during WWII while traveling from Grimsby to Esbjerg via the Tyne with coal and general cargo, torpedoed by the German submarine U-21 (Kptlt. Wolf-Harro Stiebler) in the North Sea in January 1940– four months before Germany invaded neutral Denmark. In tragic irony, she carried 15 of her crew to the bottom.
The very well-marked Vidar. Photo courtesy of Danish Maritime Museum, Elsinore
The Danes would recycle the name of Soulven for use with a new class of fast torpedo boats ordered in the early 1960s from Britain (heard that before?). This Danish third torpedo boat Soulven (P 515) would serve from 1967 to 1990.
Danish Sea Lion Class Vosper PT boat MTB P 515 Søulven (The Sea Wolf)
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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