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Warship Wednesday Dec. 4, 2024: Danish E-Boat Days

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

If you enjoy my always ad-free Warship Wednesday content, you can support it by buying me a cup of joe at https://buymeacoffee.com/lsozi

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

Post-war, the Danish Navy, which had committed ritual scuttling in 1943 to escape German capture, only had a single torpedo boat left, Havkatten, a circa 1920 member of the Springeren class had been able to escape to Sweden and returned home in 1945 as the flagship of the Free Danish Brigade’s 133-member flotilla (Den Danske Flotille).

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

Havørnen (P-553, ex-S216), Danish Glentenklassen Schnellboote. THM-24131

Jagtfalken (P-557, ex-S79) Danish Glentenklassen Schnellboote. THM-24132

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.

Gangway guard for a Danish Glentenklassen Schnellboote. Note the M1 Garand rifle (adopted as the M/50 GarandGevær). THM-24141

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

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

If you enjoy my always ad-free Warship Wednesday content, you can support it by buying me a cup of joe at https://buymeacoffee.com/lsozi

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.

At first, the Navy tried to grow its own force from local vessels, the Junk Force, augmented by old destroyers, mine warfare vessels, and some 82-foot Coast Guard patrol boats, the latter the start of a decade-long multifaceted involvement by the Guard in Vietnam.

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

From Barataria’s history: 

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.

All in a day’s work.

Third Deployment

USCGC Bibb (WHEC 31) 4 Jul 68 — 28 Feb 69 (Treasury)
USCGC Ingham (WHEC 35) 16 Jul 68 — 3 Apr 69 (Treasury)
USCGC Owasco (WHEC 39) 23 Jul 68 — 21 Mar 69 (Owasco)
USCGC Wachusett (WHEC 44) 10 Sep — 1 Jun 69 (Owasco)
USCGC Winnebago (WHEC 40) 20 Sep 68 — 19 Jul 69 (Owasco)

USCGC Wachusett (WHEC-44) in the Vietnam era

“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)

Seventh Deployment

USCGC Rush (WHEC 723) 28 Oct 70 — 15 Jul 71 (Hamilton)
USCGC Morgenthau (WHEC 722) 6 Dec 70 — 31 Jul 71 (Hamilton)

Eight Deployment

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.

PONTCHARTRAIN NGFS Vietnam 1970 Photo by LeRoy Reinburg

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;

PONTCHARTRAIN receiving 5-inch powder cases UNREP Vietnam 1970 Photo by LeRoy Reinburg

As described by John Darrell Sherwood in his War in the Shallows: U.S. Navy Coastal and Riverine Warfare in Vietnam:

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.”

Another anecdote from the USCG Historian’s office:

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.

As detailed by Sebago’s history:

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.

This from sistership Mendota:

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.

Seven Coast Guardsmen were killed in action, all with the smaller patrol boats of CGRON1, and their names are listed on the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, DC. Another 59 were seriously wounded in combat.

Epilogue

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.

Vietnamese Coast Guard’s patrol ship CSB-8020, formerly the Hamilton-class cutter USCGC Morgenthau (WHEC-722)

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 (on a Thursday) Nov. 21, 2024: The Sweet Pea

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

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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.

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

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.

But we are getting ahead of ourselves.

For a deep dive into American cruisers in this period, from which all the above figures were pulled, turn to U.S. Cruisers: An Illustrated Design History, by Norman Friedman. 

Meet Portland

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.

From her Deck Log: 

The ship was soon put ready to fight. Her holystoned decks and bright work disappeared under haze grey, never to be seen again.

From Sweet Pea at War: A History of USS Portland by William Thomas Generous:

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.

As detailed by Seal/c Reimer:

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, Portland filled 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.

From her war damage report: 

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, Portland lent 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, Portland opened 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.

The Navy lists her as taking part in an amazing 21 Pacific battles and campaigns during WWII:

  • 4 May 42 – 8 May 42 Battle of Coral Sea
  • 3 Jun 42 – 6 Jun 42 Battle of Midway
  • 7 Aug 42 – 9 Aug 42 Guadalcanal-Tulagi landings (including First Savo)
  • 23 Aug 42 – 25 Aug 42 Eastern Solomons (Stewart Island)
  • 26 Oct 42 Battle of Santa Cruz Islands
  • 12 Nov 42 Capture and defense of Guadalcanal
  • 12 Nov 42 – 15 Nov 42 Guadalcanal (Third Savo)
  • 20 Nov 43 – 4 Dec 43 Gilbert Islands operation
  • 31 Jan 44 – 8 Feb 44 Occupation of Kwajalein and Majuro Atolls
  • 17 Feb 44 – 2 Mar 44 Occupation of Eniwetok Atoll
  • 30 Mar 44 – 1 Apr 14 Palau, Yap, Ulithi, Woleai raid
  • 21 Apr 44 – 24 Apr 44 Hollandia operation (Aitape Humbolt Bay-Tanahmerah Bay)
  • 29 Apr 44 – 1 May 44 Truk, Satawan, Ponape raid
  • 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. 

Portland’s records are in the National Archives.

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.

A memorial site exists, with lots of crew stories. 

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

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

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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)

We have covered a number of this class before, such as the sub-killing USS Spikefish and USS Greenfish, the rocket mail-slinging USS Barbero, the carrier-slaying USS Archerfish, the long-serving USS Catfish, the U-boat scuttling USS Atule, and the frogman Cadillac USS Perch —but don’t complain, they have lots of great stories.

Meet Bugara

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-14 in 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)

Most of these boats would be tasked with providing “special” undersea reconnaissance and surveillance.

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)

Bugara’s 1969 Bangkok mooring, complete with locals. (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.

Her records are in the National Archives.

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

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

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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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Warship Wednesday, Oct. 30, 2024: Floating Powerhouse

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

If you enjoy my always ad-free Warship Wednesday content, you can support it by buying me a cup of joe at https://buymeacoffee.com/lsozi

Warship Wednesday, Oct. 30, 2024: Floating Powerhouse

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.

At 1500 on 12 April the Divine Wind came to Whitehurst.

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.

She reportedly added a 13-year-old war orphan, one Jimmie Pon Son, to her crew

Gilligan patrol…and movie star

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.

Epilogue

Few relics remain of Whitehurst.

Her war diaries and deck logs are in the National Archives. 

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.


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Warship Wednesday Oct. 23, 2024: A Tough Little Wolf

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

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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-constructed Flyvefisken 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.

Tender Hekla, British, submarine, E13 1918 THM-8938

THM-6767

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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Warship Wednesday Oct. 16, 2024: Skill and Perseverance

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

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Warship Wednesday, Oct. 16, 2024: Skill and Perseverance

Official U.S. Navy Photograph, now in the collections of the National Archives. Catalog #: 80-G-272783

Above we see, some 80 years ago this week, the Cleveland-class light cruiser, USS Houston (CL-81), making like a submarine with her decks nearly awash. This is not an optical illusion. She is seen under tow on 17 October 1944, after she had been torpedoed twice by Japanese aircraft during operations off Formosa. The first torpedo hit Houston amidships on 14 October. The second struck the cruiser’s starboard quarter just 43 hours later while she was limping away.

A ship with a standard design displacement of 11,744 long tons, it was later estimated that, in the above image, she was so full of water that she was at some 20,900 tons.

The Clevelands

When the U.S. Navy took off the shackles of the London Naval Treaty and moved to make a series of new light cruisers, they based the design on the last “treaty” limited 10,000-ton Brooklyn-class light cruiser, USS Helena (CL-50), which was commissioned in 1939 (and was torpedoed and sunk in the Battle of Kula Gulf in 1943).

The resulting Cleveland class was stood up fast, with the first ship laid down in July 1940. Soon, four East Coast shipyards were filling their ways with their hulls.

The Cleveland class, via ONI 54R, 1943

The changes to the design were mostly in the armament, with the new light cruisers carrying a dozen 6″/47 Mark 16 guns in four triple turrets– rather than the 15 guns arranged in five turrets in Helena as the latter’s No. 3 gun turret was deleted.

The modification allowed for a stronger secondary armament (6 dual 5″/38 mounts and as many as 28 40mm Bofors and 20 20mm Oerlikon guns) as well as some strengthening in the hull. Notably, the latter may have worked as one of the class, USS Miami (CL-89), lost her bow to Typhoon Cobra but lived to tell the tale.

Much overloaded at more than 14,000 tons when fully loaded, these ships were cramped and top-heavy, which led to many further mods such as deleting catapults, aircraft, and rangefinders as the conflict went on to keep them from rolling dangerously.

Although 52 hulls were planned, only 27 made it to the fleet as cruisers while nine were completed while on the craving dock to Independence-class light carriers. A further baker’s dozen (of which only two were completed, and those too late for WWII service) were reordered as Fargo-class cruisers, which was basically a Cleveland with a single funnel and a redesigned, more compact, superstructure.

Remarkably, although the Clevelands saw much hard service in WWII, none were lost in action. No other cruiser design in history has seen so many units sail off to war and all return home.

The Cleveland class in the 1946 edition of Jane’s.

Meet Houston

Our subject is the third U.S. Navy warship to carry the name of the Lone Star State’s city which itself is named in honor of Sam Houston.

Originally slated to be named USS Vicksburg, CL-81 was renamed on the ways to honor the sacrifice of the Northampton-class heavy cruiser USS Houston (CL/CA-30) which was tragically lost in a storm of Japanese torpedoes during the Battle of Sunda Strait on 1 March 1942, a vessel whose legacy is cherished in her home state. That ship’s 1,000-man crew all either perished or were “rescued” from the sea by the Japanese and sent to hellish POW camps.

That doomed cruiser had a special link to her “hometown” and would visit it three times between 1930 and 1939, collecting a special Silver Service donated from public subscription from city leaders.

USS Houston (CA-30) view taken at Houston, Texas, in late 1930, when the ship visited the city after which she had been named. Courtesy of Captain Henri H. Smith-Hutton USN ret., 1976 NH 85177

Two months after CA-30 was lost, 1,000 young men, the “Houston Volunteers,” mustered for service to replace those lost on the cruiser and, sworn in by RADM William A. Glassford before a local crowd of 150,000, unveiled a 60-foot model of the vessel before leaving directly for Naval Training Center San Diego aboard five special trains.

Likewise, the Harris County War Bond Drive raised over $85 million, enough to not only replace the USS Houston but also to build the light carrier USS San Jacinto (CVL-30). Don’t mess with Texas, indeed.

30 May 1942. Caption: “1000 men of Houston, Texas are sworn into U.S. Navy in a mass enlistment ceremony to replace 1,000 lost on cruiser ‘Houston’.” University of Houston Libraries Special Collections. do8941zg26p

Building the new USS Houston (CL 81) at Norfolk Navy Yard, Norfolk, Virginia, for launching on June 19, 1943. Workmen lifting a steel deck plate weighing many hundreds of pounds into place. Photograph released May 31, 1943. 80-G-68627

Building the new USS Houston (CL 81) at Norfolk Navy Yard, Norfolk, Virginia, for launching on June 19, 1943. Looking through the huge anchor-eye are John W. Jackson and Wilson Majors, both steamfitters. 80-G-68632

When it came time to find a sponsor for this new cruiser, Mrs. Claud Hamill, who led the campaign to raise funds for the second cruiser Houston, was the logical choice. She led a group of 20 Houstonians to the event and christened the vessel “on behalf of the people of Houston who ensured the perpetuation of a beloved American name in a great fighting ship!”

“Norfolk, Va., 19 June 1943– Mrs. Claude Hammill, of Houston, Texas, smashes a bottle of champagne against the bow of the new cruiser, Houston, as the ship starts down the ways at her launching 19 June 1943 at the Newport News Shipbuilding and Dry Dock Co., Newport News, Va. In the picture reading from the extreme left are Senator Tom Connally, of Texas, Governor Coke Stevenson, of Texas, Jesse Jones, Secretary of Commerce, Mayor Otis Massey, of Houston, Lieutenant Commander Wilson Starbuck, Public Relations Officer of the Fifth Naval District, and (front) Rear Admiral O.L. Cox, Supervisor of Shipbuilding at the Yard.” University of Houston Libraries Special Collections. do9829b816n

Future USS Houston (CL-81) Being christened by Mrs. Claude Hamill at Newport News, Virginia, 19 June 1943. 19-N-47116

USS Houston (CL-81) launched, at the Newport News Shipbuilding and Dry Dock Company shipyard, Newport News, Virginia, 19 June 1943. 19-N-47114

Commissioned on 20 December 1943, she would spend the next four months conducting shakedown and training cruises ranging from Boston to the Caribbean.

Her first skipper was Capt. William Wohlsen Behrens, a 45-year-old Mustang who had served during the Great War as an enlisted man on submarine patrol off the Atlantic Coast later picked up his butter bar after attending Temple University.

And his cruiser was beautiful!

USS Houston (CL-81) off the Norfolk Navy Yard, Virginia, 11 January 1944. She is painted in Camouflage Measure 32, Design 1d. Photograph from the Bureau of Ships Collection in the U.S. National Archives. 19-N-60240

Same as the above. Note her extensive radar fit including SG, SK-2, Mk 13, and twin Mk 25 radars. 19-N-60241

Same as the above. Just a great example of Measure 32, Design 1d for modelers. 19-N-60239

USS Houston (CL-81) vertical photograph of the ship underway off Norfolk, Virginia, 12 January 1944. This gives a fantastic view of her dozen 6″/47s, dozen 5″38s, 24 40mm Bofors, and 21 Oerlikons as well as her twin stern cats. 80-G-214194

USS Houston (CL-81) off Norfolk, Virginia, 12 January 1944. She is painted in Camouflage Measure 32, Design 1d. 80-G-214200

USS Houston (CL-81) underway off the U.S. East Coast, on 26 January 1944 on shakedown. NH 50219

War!

Catching orders to head to the Pacific, Houston arrived at Pearl Harbor on 6 May 1944 via the Panama Canal and San Diego and by the end of the month would join VADM Marc Mitscher’s fast carrier Task Force 58 at Majuro Atoll.

Her baptism of fire would occur in June as she screened those flattops on their raids of the Marianas and the Bonins— losing one of her Kingfishers to an accident on the 12th– before turning to Saipan for the Marianas campaign by mid-month.

After spending two weeks screening TF 58 as its carries haunted Saipan from 90 miles offshore during “The Marianas Turkey Shoot,” Houston was dispatched on 27 June, along with sister USS Miami (CL-89) and six escorting destroyers, as a surface action group with orders to shell Japanese-occupied Guam and Rota.

Houston let her big guns sing for the first time, delivering 542 6″/47 HC shells and 313 of 5″/38 AA Common. Her spotting planes reported her guns to have knocked out a dozen aircraft on the ground and set alight a factory building and three large fuel storage tanks.

Of this action, Behrens noted that “While the expenditure of ammunition was high for the results obtained on targets other than the airfield, I consider it well spent, in view of the experience gained by all hands. Firing at the radio or radar stations at Rota and Guam eliminated the nervousness apparent in firing at these first targets on both islands. The performance of all personnel was most satisfactory.”

Early September found her on another sortie with USS Miami, this time joined by sister USS Vincennes (CL-64), to plaster Japanese positions on Angaur, Peleliu, Ngesebus, and Palau. This time she spent 884 6-inch and 661 5-inch shells. Miami narrowly beat her, ripping off 900 of each. 

Houston then rejoined her carrier task force and screened it during airfield reduction strikes in the Philippines before returning to Peleliu to support the forces landing there in mid-September.

October saw her weather a 60-knot tropical storm at Ulithi Atoll on the 3rd before standing out against Nasei Shoto and Formosa as part of Task Group 38.2– the fleet carriers USS Bunker Hill, Intrepid, and Hancock; the light carriers USS Independence (loaded with night fighters) and Cabot; the battlewagons USS Iowa and New Jersey; and the anti-aircraft cruisers USS San Diego and Oakland. By the 10th, the TG was sending aircraft on raids against Okinawa.

On 11 October, Houston’s deck log noted “several enemy snoopers” probing the TG’s boundary and at least one unidentified submarine was spotted.

Behrens noted, “It does not appear that tomorrow’s strike on Formosa will be a complete surprise to the Japanese.”

Indeed, 12 October saw much excitement, with Houston splashing four Japanese land-based torpedo bombers while filling the air with 5,000 rounds of AAA and suffering two men with shrapnel wounds. The aircraft included new radar-equipped Mitsubishi Type 4 Ki-67 Hiryu (flying dragon)(“Peggy”) Army twin-engine heavy bombers of Imperial Army Air Force (IJAAF) Air Combat Group (Hiko Sentai) 98.

Houston helped repel another attack the next day, in which the brand-new Baltimore-class heavy cruiser  USS Canberra (CA-70) suffered damage. The leviathan, part of nearby Task Group 38.2, was holed by a Type 91, Mod. 3 torpedo that hit below her armor belt at the engineering spaces and blew a jagged hole in her side, killing 23 men outright. Due to the location of the wound, a whopping 4,500 tons of water flooded her after fireroom and both engine rooms, leaving the cruiser dead in the water and had to be taken under tow by the cruiser USS Wichita (CA-45).

With Houston ordered to take the limping Canberra’s spot on the screen the next day, just after sunset on the 14th, the flying dragons of Hiko Sentai 98 caught up to her as night fell. She struck down three of the attackers but caught a tough-to-fight torpedo directly under her hull.

USS Houston (CL-81) view looking aft, showing damage to the ship’s stern area resulting from a torpedo hit amidships received off Formosa on 14 October 1944. This photo was taken while Houston was under tow, but prior to the second torpedo hit on 16 October. Note the OS2U floatplane that had been jarred off the port catapult, breaking its wing on impact with the aircraft crane. 19-N-106304

From Behrens’ report:

The Excruciating Limp

As with the stricken Canberra, which was being slowly pulled away from Formosa by Wichita, a heavy cruiser, USS Boston (CA-69), came to the stricken Houston’s aid and took her under tow on the morning of the 15th. By midnight both Canberra and Houston were under tow to Ulithi for repairs at a stately 5 knots.

Houston transferred no less than 776 of her officers and men to escorting destroyers while a force of 450 remained behind to attempt to save their home. The radio room was ordered to destroy most of the ship’s codes and ciphers in case she had to be abandoned.

A destroyer alongside the damaged USS Houston (CL-81) (right) on 15 October 1944, removing excess crewmen after she was torpedoed by Japanese aircraft off Formosa. Photographed from USS Boston (CA-69). Note OS2U floatplane on Boston’s port catapult. 80-G-272781

Her men waged war against the sea and their home’s own warren of twisted steel and buried their found dead in the briny embrace of the warm and unforgiving blue Pacific. Among the dead was her engineering officer, CDR William H. Potts (USNA 1927), killed when Main Engine No. 1 was wrecked. Two other men trapped in the after fire room had been killed by fatal burns.

USS Houston (CL-81). Burial at sea for crewmen killed when the ship was torpedoed off Formosa on 14 October 1944. Photographed while Houston was under tow on 15 October. 19-N-110835.

With an 8-degree starboard list and a draft of 34 feet (against a normal mean maximum of 25 feet), Behrens ordered the cruiser’s port anchor jettisoned and her port chain payed out to 90 fathoms to keep the ship as even as possible.

Everything quickly got primitive as the ship was flooded to the third deck and the heat of the tropics set in:

The fleet tugs USS Munsee (ATF-107) and Pawnee (ATF-74) assumed the tows of Canberra and Houston on 16 October.

Then, that afternoon, the Japanese caught up to Houston once again and she soon caught another torpedo that wrecked her hangar and flooded her steering compartment.

Japanese aerial torpedo explodes against the ship’s starboard quarter, during the afternoon of 16 October 1944. Houston had been torpedoed amidships on 14 October, while off Formosa, and was under tow by USS Pawnee (ATF-74) when enemy torpedo planes hit her again. USS Canberra (CA-70), also torpedoed off Formosa, is under tow in the distance. The original photograph is in the USS Santa Fe (CL-60) Log, a very large photo album held by the Navy Department Library. NH 98825

Behrens noted that, “In the midst of the action, our towing vessel, Pawnee, sent us a very encouraging message saying, ‘We’ll hold on,’ and continued to make the usual 5 knots in the right direction.”

Later that afternoon, Behrens ordered more of his crew taken off by escorting destroyers. By dusk, there only remained 48 officers and 152 men left on board– with six of them too gravely wounded to risk moving. With sick bay in the dark and with no ventilation, the cruiser’s guest cabin was converted to a hospital, and the wounded were brought on deck whenever conditions permitted.

On the 17th, assisted by four gasoline-driven pumps sent over by Pawnee, Houston decreased her draft to 32.5 feet and her list to 6 degrees.

This slow parade continued for days, with the Diver-class rescue and salvage ship USS Current (ARS-22) arriving alongside and sending over experts and the fleet tug USS Zuni (AT-95) taking Houston in tandem tow with Pawnee.

With almost zero reserve buoyancy left, the days were spent lowering–by hand, block, and rope– 130-pound 6″/47 shells from the shell decks of the four main turrets to the lower handling rooms to help shift the cruiser’s center of gravity.

Armored doors were unbolted and, wrestled above deck, were cast overboard. Searchlight and gun director platforms were torched off and either used for patching material or thrown over the side as were many 20mm and 40mm guns. Abovedeck ammo stores were tossed. Anything too vital to Deep Six was transferred to LCVPs and whaleboats to give to escorting destroyers to store. Rank didn’t exist and officers worked on the repair parties alongside ratings.

Luckily, fresh water had been stored in forward voids as ballast and was siphoned off for cleaning and drinking. Behrens observed, “It had a strong paint and rust taste but did much to quench the thirst.”

On the morning of 27 October, with the help of several tugs, a still very wet and soggy Houston slipped through the Mugai Channel and moored alongside the repair ship and floating workshop USS Hector (AR-7) at Ulithi Atoll, wrapping a 1,250nm mile tow that took 13 days, at an average rate of 4 knots.

Behrens finished with this observation:

USS Houston (CL-81) alongside USS Hector (AR-7) at Ulithi Atoll, 1 November 1944. She was under repair after being hit by two Japanese aerial torpedoes on 14 and 16 October, during operations off Formosa. An LCM is passing by in the foreground. 80-G-373678

After temporary repairs, Houston proceeded to Manus on 14 December under tow by the tugs USS Lipan and Arapaho and escorted by a screen of three destroyer escorts and a coastal minesweeper. Making 6.5 knots, the little convoy (Task Unit 30.9.14) made Manus six days later.

The advantage of having a forward-deployed Advanced Base Sectional DryDock (ABSD) became readily apparent. After waiting in Seeadler Harbor over the Christmas holidays, Houston entered ABSD No. 2. after USS Reno (CL-96) floated out on 7 January 1945.

Overhauls of two light cruisers at a Pacific Base inside ABSD, circa 1944-45. USS Reno (CL-96) and USS Houston (CL-81) 80-G-K-2963

USS Houston (CL-81) damage to the ship’s hull, amidships, from a Japanese aerial torpedo hit received off Formosa on 14 October 1944. The torpedo struck the ship on her bottom, inboard of the starboard bilge keel, while she was in a turn, producing the inward displacement of bottom plating seen here. Photographed in an ABSD floating drydock at Ulithi Atoll while Houston was under repair, circa November 1944. 19-N-105803

After three weeks in dry dock, Houston floated out on Valentine’s Day 1945 and, with only No. 2 and 3 main engines and Nos. 1, 2, and 4 boilers available, she was able to operate under her own steam for the first time in four months and logged a remarkable speed of 23.4 knots.

By 16 February, along with the wounded but patched up Reno and the tin can USS Bowers (DE-637), Houston and company left Manus for Pearl Harbor, zig-zagging at 16 knots. Arriving in Hawaii on 24 February, after a three-day port call and much-needed libo, Reno and Houston set course for San Pedro, California on 27 February.

Crossing through “The Ditch” a much different cruiser than when she passed just 10 months prior, Houston eventually steamed to the New York Navy Yard, arriving on 24 March 1945. Reno followed her almost the whole way, only peeling off at Charleston three days prior.

Six months later, with an extensive rebuilding almost complete, the war ended with Houston still in New York.

Houston received three battle stars for World War II service.

Capt. Behrens was relieved and was assigned duty as Commander, Naval Training Center Bainbridge, Maryland, and served there in the rank of Commodore.

Peacetime Showboat

Her repairs complete, our subject visited her namesake city just after VJ Day to show the flag and line the decks for Navy Week in October 1945. Besides, she needed to show the taxpayers and Bond buyers what they paid for back in 1942.

Crowd on shoreline along the Houston Ship Channel to welcome the USS Houston (CL-81) light cruiser during Navy Week, October 1945. University of Houston Libraries Special Collections. do66558f697

Civilians along the Houston Ship Channel welcome the USS Houston (CL-81) light cruiser during Navy Week, October 1945. Sailors in uniform line the decks. University of Houston Libraries Special Collections do26967446b

Civilians along the Houston Ship Channel welcome the USS Houston (CL-81) light cruiser during Navy Week. Sailors in uniform line the decks. The cruiser carries two new Curtiss SC-1 Seahawk floatplanes– a type that only entered service in October 1944– with their wings folded. University of Houston Libraries Special Collections do5460qs96s

From April to December 1946, Houston was sent on a European and Mediterranean cruise, visiting cities in Scandinavia, Portugal, Italy, and Egypt.

Stockholm. Ships include the elderly (circa 1915) 6,700-ton Swedish coastal battleship (Pansarskeppet) HSwMS Sverige along with the light cruiser sisters USS Houston and USS Little Rock (CL-92), while the new Gearing class destroyers USS Perry (DD-844), Glennon (DD-840), Warrington (DD-843) and Cone (DD-866) are arrayed at pier side and in the distance, along with Swedish jageren (destroyers). Eskaderbild.eskader på Stockholms Ström 11. Juli 1946. Sjöhistoriska museet. Fo219541

Following a second Med cruise with Cruiser Division 12 in 1947, upon returning to Philadelphia, Houston decommissioned 15 December 1947.

Placed in reserve, she swayed on Philly’s redlead row until, stricken from the Navy List on 1 March 1959, she was sold for scrap to Boston Metals on 1 June 1961 and scrapped.

Epilogue

The Clevelands, always overloaded and top-heavy despite their hard service and dependability, were poor choices for post-war service and most were laid up directly after VJ Day with only one, USS Manchester (CL-83), still in service as an all-gun cruiser past 1950, lingering until 1956 and seeing much Korean War duty, successfully completing three combat tours with no major battle damage.

Six went on to see further service as Galveston and Providence-class missile slingers after an extensive topside rebuild and remained in service through the 1970s. One of these, USS Little Rock (CL-92/CLG-4/CG-4) has been preserved at the Buffalo Naval & Military Park, the only Cleveland currently above water.

The third USS Houston has a marker at the National Museum of the Pacific War. 

She is remembered in maritime art and scale models.

Her war diaries and reports are digitized in the National Archives. 

Her 79-page war damage report is epic, noting:

That Houston survived two torpedo hits which produced a precarious stability condition, extensive flooding, serious loss of structural strength amidships and a severe gasoline fire is due for the most part to the intelligent approach of her personnel to the damage control problems with which they were confronted and the skill and perseverance with which they carried out the control measures initiated.

USS Houston (CL-81) Plate I, Torpedo Damage. Formosa. 14-16 Oct. 1944. Profile of Vessel Heeled 30° to Port

As for her wartime skipper, RADM Behrens retired from the Navy in 1947, capping a 30-year career across two World Wars. Not bad for a Mustang.

He earned a Navy Cross for his time on Houston:

“For extraordinary heroism as Commanding Officer of the USS Houston, during action against enemy Japanese forces off Formosa on October 14, 1944. With his ship dead in the water and listing violently in the heavy seas following an enemy aerial attack, Commodore (then Captain) Behrens remained steadfast and calm, efficiently directing damage control measures and the removal of personnel to other ships in the formation before his crippled ship was taken in tow by another cruiser. With his ship again under attack by hostile aircraft two days later, he inspired his officers and men to heroic effort, maintaining control and contributing in large measure to his ship’s successful return to a friendly port. By his valiant leadership, determination, and grave concern for the safety of his ship and her crew. Commodore Behrens upheld the highest traditions of the United States Naval Service.”

RADM Berhens passed in 1965 and is buried in Arlington, Sec: 2, Site 994-1

His son, VADM William Wholsen Behrens, Jr. (USNA 1943), survived WWII service in the Submarine Force with six war patrols and a Silver Star to prove it then was involved in 28 amphibious operations during Vietnam. He capped his service as the first head of the newly organized National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration in 1972 and passed in 1986. He is also in Arlington. Good genes in that family.

The fourth USS Houston (SSN-713) was an early Flight I Los Angeles class hunter killer. Launched in 1981, this submarine was christened by Barbara Bush, wife of then Vice President George Bush which was appropriate as, while a Navy Avenger pilot (of a plane he named “Barbara”) in WWII, Bush crashed in the Pacific and was rescued by a submarine. The luckiest of her namesakes, she served a long career (33 years, 11 months, and 1 day) without loss and was decommissioned in 2016.

USS Houston (SSN-713) port quarter view of the nuclear-powered attack submarine USS Houston (SSN-713), foreground, and the aircraft carrier USS John F. Kenney (CV-67), background, departing Hampton Roads for a patrol. August 17, 1982. DN-ST-89-01391

The Navy desperately needs a fifth Houston, and maybe a first USS Behrens.


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


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

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

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

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

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

I’m a member, so should you be!

Warship Wednesday Oct. 9, 2024: A Cat with Several Lives

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

If you enjoy my always ad-free Warship Wednesday content, you can support it by buying me a cup of joe at https://buymeacoffee.com/lsozi

Warship Wednesday, Oct. 9, 2024: A Cat with Several Lives

Photo by Eugène Robert Philippe Petiot/ECPAD/Défense

Above we see, some 85 years ago this week in October 1939, a bachi-clad fisherman-turned-sailor and his hard-bitten cat mascot, aboard the merchant marine trawler Roche Noire (Black Rock), requisitioned and armed by the French Navy in the early days of WWII to serve as an auxiliary minesweeper (dragueur de mines auxiliaire). Sadly both the fisherman and his cat are lost to history.

As for Roche Noire, it wasn’t even her first war.

The RN’s Battle Trawlers

When the early days of the Great War showed that the British, while rich in battleships and cruisers, were lacking in small coastal escorts and mine warfare craft, the Admiralty soon turned to trawlers.

Dozens were taken up from trade in Hull and other fishing ports, others were requestioned on the builder’s ways, and still others were purchased from overseas. e.g. the large fishing fleets maintained in Spain and Portugal

Trawlers on patrol at Halifax, CWM

By 1916, with the Royal Navy hungry for an ever larger number of such hardy coastwise vessels, and many fishing boat yards near idle, the Admiralty soon placed orders for what would be an amazing 609 armed trawlers by the end of the war– many of which wound up being canceled.

As detailed by “British Warships 1914-1919” by F J Dittmar & J J Colledge, the RN ordered “military class” trawlers to three “standard” (and yes, that needs to be quoted) designs, this would include the 156-strong Mersey class (665 tons full load,148 feet oal), some 280 of the Castle/TR class (550 tons, 134 foot oal) and 173 members of the Strath class (429 tons full, 123 feet oal).

Lord Talbot was one of the new Admiralty Mersey class of trawlers. All were capable of using an auxiliary sail rig as shown.

Using a simple coal-powered boiler with a single vertical triple expansion reciprocating engine generating between 480 and 600 ihp depending on class, these vessels had a top speed of around 10 knots.

A stoker tending fires in an armed trawler. IWM (Q 18996)

Crewed by 15 to 20 men/boys, they had allowances in their plans for hydrophones and wireless sets, although precious few carried either– with the extra berths used for such specialists needed to operate the gear.

Most had the very basic armament of a single deck gun, typically a 3″/40 QF 12-pounder 12 cwt salvaged from retired destroyers and torpedo boats, placed well forward, along with whatever small arms could be scrounged.

The crew of a British armed trawler, including a boy sailor, receiving gun instruction. Great War. IWM (Q 18974)

Sailors on board British Steam trawler HMT Strathearn firing her 12-pounder gun, Great War. IWM (Q 18965)

A few carried larger 4-inchers, while some had to make do with smaller 6-pounders. Occasionally they would carry a bomb thrower (early depth charge projector), and some had basic mechanical sweeping gear installed.

Small arms were as motley as the trawlers themselves. 

Naval Reservists at Rifle Drill on a quayside; fixing bayonets. The crew of a British armed trawler drilling on shore. Great War. Note that the rifles appear to be a curious mix of Canadian Ross rifles, German Mausers, and old Lee-Metfords! IWM (Q 18972)

Same as above. You have to love the Martini-Henry cartridge cases. IWM (Q 18973)

The Straths were the smallest of the three designs. Compact little steam trawlers.

Ordered from a mix of 13 yards starting in February 1917, the most prolific of these builders would be the Scottish firm of Hall, Russell & Co Ltd, in Aberdeen, who had 66 under contract.

With so many different yards going all at once, the design inevitably changed from yard to yard and sometimes even from hull to hull, while the Admiralty itself contributed to the chaos by ordering minor “non-standard” changes of their own.

Delivery of the first standard Strath, HMT George Borthwick, occurred in August 1917.

With so many warships in need of names, these armed trawlers (His Majesty’s Trawler, or HMT) were bestowed the names drawn from the official crew rosters of ships at Trafalgar in 1805, with the Straths, in particular, coming from members of the crew of HMS Royal Sovereign and of Nelson’s HMS Victory.

Meet HMT William Barnett

Roche Noire entered the world in December 1917, constructed over four months at Hall, Russell (as Yard No. 622)  as a more or less standardized Strath-class armed trawler with a T3cyl (12, 20, 34 x 23in) engine constructed by the Dominion Bridge Co of Montreal.

Our subject as built was christened with the name of Petty Officer (Gunner’s Mate/Gunsmith) William Barnett, 31, of Scotland, who appeared on HMS Victory’s list of the 820 men who were awarded prize money and a Government Grant for enemy ships destroyed or captured during Trafalgar.

Digging deeper into Barnett’s service, he was born in Glasgow and volunteered for service in 1803 on the 64-gun HMS Utrecht as a Landsman before his transfer to Nelson’s flagship– where he would serve through Trafalgar. He would go on to serve on HMS Gelykheid, Zealand, Ocean, Salvador Del Mundo, Milford, and Prince Frederick, advancing to the rate of Armourer’s Mate, leaving the service in 1814.

Any gunner who sailed for more than a decade against Bonaparte deserves a ship named in his honor!

HMT William Barnett’s Admiralty Number was 3632.

Great War

Sadly, I could find no details of HMT William Barnett’s Great War service. Suffice it to say she almost assuredly spent 11 months across 1918 in a mix of dodging U-boats, escorting coastal traffic, searching for those lost at sea, guarding anti-torpedo/submarine nets at anchorages, and training young ratings.

Of her class, one member, HMT Thomas Collard (3686), was sunk in March 1918 by the German submarine SM U-19 while escorting the armed merchant cruiser HMS Calgarian North of Rathlin Island. Her crew survived.

Some deployed as far as the Adriatic and Aden.

Another classmate, HMT James Fennell (3753) would be wrecked at Blacknor Point, Portland.

Royal Navy armed trawlers in Dover harbor. IWM (Q 18226)

Eight early Straths (HMT Charles Blight, Peter Barrington, Joshua Budget, Richard Bowden, John Britton, Thomas Billincole, James Bashford, and Michael Brion) were loaned to the U.S. Navy during the war for patrol/mine work, specifically in laying and later taking up the Great North Sea Mine Barrage. The Americans would dispose of them in 1919.

British armed trawlers minesweeping in the North Sea. IWM (Q 18987)

Post-war, 23 Straths that were still under construction were canceled in 1919 while another 45 others that were sufficiently complete were finished to mercantile standards (unarmed) and sold as trawlers.

The 94 surviving members of the class in RN service were, following the dismantling of the North Sea Barrage, paid off slowly between 1919 and 1926– including Barnett— and, disarmed, were disposed of on the commercial market.

River Kelvin. Built 1919 for Scott & Sons Bowling Glasgow as Strath Class Trawler HMT George Lane. 05/1923 Acquired by Consolidated Steam Fishing & Ice Co Grimsby renamed River Kelvin. 09/1927 Registered to Consolidated Fisheries Ltd. 12/1938 Transferred to Lowestoft renamed Loddon registered LT 309. 1958 Sold to Craigwood Ltd Aberdeen. Photo via Deepseatrawlers.co.uk

Peacetime: Gone Fishing

Sold to Val Trawlers of London in 1919, Barnett became what she was designed to be from the outset– a commercial fishing boat. Named Valerie IV (sometimes seen as Valerie W), she would continue on this service out of Hull and Milford until October 1924.

Moving across the Channel, her registry soon changed to Soc. Nouvelle des Pecheries a Vapeur (New Steam Fisheries Co), in Arcachon along the Bay of Biscay just southwest of Bordeaux. With the name of Valerie IV no doubt needing a more Gallic upgrade, she became Roche Noire (ARC 3918).

In 1934, SNPV went belly up and its assets were liquidated by Credit de l’Quest. This left Roche Noire to be scooped up for a bargain price by Saint-Nazaire Penhoët Shipyards and Workshops, and operated by Nouvelle société de gestion maritime (New Maritime Management Company) out of Bordeaux (radio call sign TKED).

War! (Again)

With so many retired Straths floating around (pun intended) in 1939, it was a foregone conclusion several wound return to martial service.

Three ex-HMTs– William Hallett, James Lenham, and Isaac Harris— which had been sold on the commercial market in 1921, were taken back up by the RN in 1939– with Harris lost in December.

Three Straths in Australian waters, ex-HMTs William Fall, Samuel Benbow, and William Ivey; were taken up by the RAN as coastal minesweepers.

HMAS Samuel Benbow was in Sydney Harbour during the Japanese midget submarine attack in 1942. RAN image

Ex-HMTs William Bentley and Thomas Currell became Kiwi mine vessels in the RNZN.

Strath class HMT Thomas Currell as RNZN minesweeper during World War II

Meanwhile, in France, our William Barnett/Valarie IV/Roche Noire was requestioned by the French Navy in August 1939– even before the beginning of the war– and given hull number AD 355. Armed with a single elderly 75mm Schneider modèle 1897, she was to serve as an auxiliary minesweeper.

In October, during the doldrums of the “Phony War,” she was visited at Brest by photographer Eugène Robert Philippe Petiot who captured an amazing series of images of the (re)armed Admiralty trawler and her laid-back crew, now in the ECPAD archives.

Chalutier dragueur de mines auxiliaire Roche Noire, Oct. 1939, Brest, by Eugène Robert Philippe Petiot/ECPAD

Chalutier dragueur de mines auxiliaire Roche Noire, Oct. 1939, Brest, by Eugène Robert Philippe Petiot/ECPAD

Chalutier dragueur de mines auxiliaire Roche Noire, Oct. 1939, Brest, by Eugène Robert Philippe Petiot/ECPAD

Chalutier dragueur de mines auxiliaire Roche Noire, Oct. 1939, Brest, by Eugène Robert Philippe Petiot/ECPAD

Note her recently installed 75mm Schneider modèle 1897. Chalutier dragueur de mines auxiliaire Roche Noire, Oct. 1939, Brest, by Eugène Robert Philippe Petiot/ECPAD

Note the mix of uniforms and civilian attire, augmented with bachi caps. Chalutier dragueur de mines auxiliaire Roche Noire, Oct. 1939, Brest, by Eugène Robert Philippe Petiot/ECPAD

Dressing salted cod. Again, the only “uniform” item on many is the bachi. Chalutier dragueur de mines auxiliaire Roche Noire, Oct. 1939, Brest, by Eugène Robert Philippe Petiot/ECPAD

Raidoman is at work. Among the “war installations” for the trawler was a radio set and searchlight. Other than that, she was all 1918. Chalutier dragueur de mines auxiliaire Roche Noire, Oct. 1939, Brest, by Eugène Robert Philippe Petiot/ECPAD

Note her searchlight. Chalutier dragueur de mines auxiliaire Roche Noire, Oct. 1939, Brest, by Eugène Robert Philippe Petiot/ECPAD

Commanded by a Petty Officer. Chalutier dragueur de mines auxiliaire Roche Noire, Oct. 1939, Brest, by Eugène Robert Philippe Petiot/ECPAD

Who may have come from the retired list. Chalutier dragueur de mines auxiliaire Roche Noire, Oct. 1939, Brest, by Eugène Robert Philippe Petiot/ECPAD

Sadly, our humble Roche Noire was caught up in the fall of France in June 1940 and got the short end of the stick.

Two weeks after the “Miracle of Dunkirk” and just three days before the Armistice that brought about the Vichy regime, all ships fit to go to sea in Brest were ordered to either make for England or French colonies in Africa, ultimately carrying some 80,000 Commonwealth, Free Polish, and French troops with them.

The last ships to leave on the night of 18/19 June included the incomplete battleship Richelieu (bound for Dakar with just 250 shells and 48 powder charges for her main battery) and a flotilla under RADM Jean-Emmanuel Cadart composed of the five liners and cargo ships transporting 16,201 boxes and bags of gold– carried from Fort de Portzic by garbage trucks– escorted by the destroyers Milan and Épervier as well as the auxiliary cruiser Victor Schœlcher, bound for Casablanca.

Unable to sail, the torpedo boat Cyclone, patrol boat Étourdi the non-functional submarines Agosta, Achille, Ouessant, and Pasteur, the condemned tanker Dordogne, the auxiliary minelayer Alexis de Tocqueville, avisos Aisne, Oise, Laffaux, and Lunéville; the old armored cruisers Waldeck-Rousseau, Montcalm, and Gueydon; and a host of net-laying vessels, tugs, and assorted cargo ships were scuttled. They were joined by the armed trawlers Mouette, Trouville, Roche Noire, and Flamant.

Many of the crews of the scuttled ships made it out with RADM Cadart’s gold-carrying flotilla, so Roch Noire’s fishermen may likely have gone on to further adventures in North Africa and Senegal. 

The port facilities were likewise sabotaged, with 800 tons of gasoline and assorted ammunition stocks blown up.

Joachim Lemelsen’s 5th Panzer Division entered Brest on the 19th, and the Germans found little of immediate use, with the fires reportedly taking several days to die down.

Bundesarchiv Bild 101II-MW-5683-29A, Brest, June 1940

The strategic port would go on to endure 1,553 days of occupation and a 43-day siege before the Germans surrendered in September 1944.

And, Back to Fishing

Immediately after taking control of Brest in 1940, Kriegsmarine VADM Eberhard “Hans” Kinzel would inspect the facility to see what was salvageable.

In his report, he would note:

The auxiliary minelayer Alexis de Tocqueville, the auxiliary patrol boat Mouette, and the auxiliary sweepers Roche Noire, and Flamant are recoverable, but the three latter are of little interest to the Kriegsmarine and could be returned to the Government of Herr Laval to ensure supplies for the population.

Shortly after, Roche Noire was raised and, after a stint in Vichy use, was removed from the French naval rolls in November 1941. She was allowed to return to fishing.

Post-war, she continued to harvest her stocks from the deep for over a decade.

In 1957, she was sold across the Channel again, returning home to be added to the inventory of Wood & Davidson – J. Wood, Aberdeen. That year she was listed in Lloyds as FV Shandwick.

Eventually, all things come to an end, and our little trawler, which served in both wars, was finally broken up in 1964.

Epilogue

Little remains of the hardy Strath-class armed trawlers, save for a few wrecks and scattered relics. 

Some models are available.

The City of Aberdeen, where many Straths were completed, maintains several models, photos, and records of these otherwise forgotten trawlers.

German VADM Kinzel, who moved to resurrect our little trawler at Brest in 1940, survived the war only to take his own life in June 1945 near Flensburg.

And, while the Admiralty hasn’t elected to recycle the names of the old Strath class, Armourer’s Mate William Barnett included, HMS Victory, currently under a “Big Repair,” endures at Portsmouth’s Historic Dockyard.


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


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

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

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

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

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

I’m a member, so should you be!

Warship Wednesday Oct. 2, 2024: Slow Going

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

If you enjoy my always ad-free Warship Wednesday content, you can support it by buying me a cup of joe at https://buymeacoffee.com/lsozi

Warship Wednesday, Oct. 2, 2024: Slow Going

File-450-44 U.S. Navy Yard, SC 1 March 1944. Port Broadside, Down View

Above we see the Porter-class destroyer USS Moffett (DD-362) underway in Charleston, South Carolina passing under the Cooper Bridge on 1 March 1944. She was headed to the Big Apple, to undertake one of the screwiest– and most important– convoys of the war.

The Porters

Designed as “Gold-plater” destroyer leaders (of which 13 were allowed under the London Naval Treaty) to host a commodore of a four-piper DESRON and likewise make up for the American shortfall in light cruisers in the early 1930s, the eight twin-stack Porter-class destroyer leaders (381 feet oal, 1850 tons, 50,000shp, 37 knots, 8x 5-inch guns, 8x torpedo tubes) generated 50,000 shp to allow for 37 knots. The torpedo battery carried a reload, allowing the ships to pack 16 Mark 11 or 12 (later Mark 15) torpedoes.

A typical 1930s Porter:

The Porter class destroyer USS Balch (DD-363) underway, probably during trials in about September 1936. Note her superstructure including her large aft deck house, twin 4-tube torpedo turnstiles amidships, and twin funnels. NH 61694

They even had a class of follow-on half-sisters, the Somers, with a slightly different topside appearance to include three 4-tube torpedo turnstiles and a single funnel:

Somers class USS Jouett (DD 396), starboard view, at New York City 1939 NH 81177

Another thing that the Porters and Somers shared besides hulls was their peculiar Mark 22 mounts for their twin 5″/38 guns. These were limited elevation gun houses that relegated these rapid-fire guns to being capable of surface actions only.

As noted by Navweaps:

“Their low maximum elevation of +35 degrees of elevation was adopted mainly as a weight savings, as it was calculated that these ships would only be able to carry six DP guns rather than the eight SP guns that they actually did carry. The Mark 22 mounting used a 15 hp training motor and a 5 hp elevating motor.”

Check out those funky Mark 22 turrets! Somers-class sister USS Warrington (DD 383) arriving at New York City with Queen Mary and King George VI on board, 1939. Also, note a great view of her quad 1.1-inch AAA mount in front of the wheelhouse. LC-USZ62-120854

Most of the Porters and Somers would have their low-angle 4×2 Mark 22s replaced later in the war with 3×2 Mark 38 DP mounts, but we are getting ahead of ourselves.

Still, these destroyers got their SP 5 inchers into the fight during the upcoming war, as we shall see.

As for AAA, most as commissioned carried two “Chicago Piano” quad 1.1-inch mounts and a pair of flexible water-cooled .50 caliber MGs, guns that would soon be replaced during the war with 20mm Orelikons and 40mm Bofors.

Official U.S. Navy photograph, now in the collections of the National Archives. 80-G-21955

Meet Moffett

Our destroyer was the first (and so far only) in U.S. naval service to carry the name of RADM William Adger Moffett (USNA 1890) who earned a Medal of Honor while skipper of the cruiser USS Chester in a daring and dangerous night landing in 1914 at Veracruz, later became known as the architect of naval aviation and was killed in the loss of the airship/aircraft carrier USS Akron (ZRS-4) in 1933 at age 63– just six months shy of his mandatory retirement.

RADM Moffett, the Navy’s first Chief of the Bureau of Aeronautics, a position he held until he died in the crash of the rigid airship USS Akron (ZRS 4) in 1933. His MoH is on display at the National Naval Aviation Museum in Pensacola.

Moffett (DD‑362) was laid down on 2 January 1934 at Quincy, Massachusetts by the Bethlehem Shipbuilding Corporation.

Launched on 11 December 1935, she was sponsored by Miss Beverly Moffett, the daughter of the late admiral.

She was commissioned at Boston on 28 August 1936.

Quiet Interwar Service

Soon after delivery, Moffett, assigned to the Atlantic Fleet, slipped into a cycle of summer cruises to the Caribbean and the Gulf of Mexico, where she took part in exercises and gunnery drills in addition to regional port calls.

When FDR kicked off the Neutrality Patrol, Moffett once again roamed to points south, her old stomping grounds. In 1940, Moffett, operating out of Puerto Rico, was part of the task group keeping tabs on the Vichy French West Indies fleet based at Martinique and Guadeloupe that included the carrier Bearn and the light cruisers Jeanne d’Arc and Émile Bertin.

By August 1941, Moffett was detailed to escort the heavy cruiser USS Augusta (CA-31) as the latter carried Roosevelt to the Atlantic Charter Conference with Churchill at Argentia, Newfoundland.

Soon after, things got hot.

War!

Post Pearl Harbor, Moffett once again ended up in South Atlantic waters, tasked with a series of patrol and convoy missions including several voyages to West African parts.

USS Moffett (DD-362) in South American waters with a bone in her teeth, 15 January 1943. 80-G-64929

USS Moffett (DD-362) in South American waters, 15 January 1943. Note her depth charge racks. 80-G-64931

U-128

On 17 May 1943, as Moffett and her Somers-class half-sister USS Jouett (DD-396) were on escort duty south of Recife, Brazil, and were directed to a nearby surface contact where PBMs of VP-74 had spotted and fired a German submarine, the Type IX-C U-128 (Oblt. Hermann Steinert), some 42 days out of Lorient.

Two PBMs commanded by LCDR H.S. Davis, USNR, and LT(jg) H.C. Carey, USN, cripple the German submarine, U-128, in South Atlantic. One plane dropped depth bombs bringing her to the surface, while the second machine-gunned her. USS Jouett (DD-396) and USS Moffett (DD-362) led to the scene by one of the planes and finished her with direct hits. The PBMs dropped life rafts and the destroyer picked up many survivors. Shown: Eruption of water after depth charges. The conning tower may be seen (center), incident #3219. Photograph released May 17, 1943. 80-G-42064

Moffett fired 150 shells of 5-inch Common at the sub, hitting the boat at least six times.

Once U-128 took her final dive, Moffett stood by to rescue the survivors, numbering 51–four of which later died of wounds, a combination of chlorine poisoning and shrapnel. As detailed in later ONI interrogations of U-128’s crew, Moffett’s officers and crew “received high praise from all prisoners for the good treatment received while aboard her.”

The impounded property taken from U-128’s crew, as noted by Moffett in her report:

U-604

Across three days in August, while escorting the Omaha-class light cruiser USS Memphis (CL-13) and a merchant ship to windswept Ascension Island, Moffett made contact with what is believed to be the Type VIIC U‑604 (Kptlt. Horst Höltring) and fought the German so hard that her new skipper, LCDR Gilbert Haven Richards (USNA 1933) thought it was two different engagements.

With Navy aircraft in support, the running fight ensued through the night until the submarine surfaced some 95 miles north of Trinidad the next morning, with Moffett smothering her in shells until she disappeared.

From her report: 

Three days later, while still escorting Memphis, and again with the aid of aircraft, a sonar contact was regained and a submarine believed badly damaged by Moffett’s depth charges.

As DANFs notes, “In the dark and confusion of action, a friendly aircraft mistaking Moffett for the enemy made two strafing runs which caused minor damage. The stricken submarine was finally scuttled by her crew on 11 August; Moffett was credited with the kill.”

Throughout the action, Moffett’s gunners expended 28 star shells and 104 rounds of 5-inch common. She also suffered 13 men injured by blue-on-blue strafing.

From her report:

Then came a refit at Charleston followed by her most taxing convoy experience, this time in the North Atlantic.

Convoy NY‑78

On 25 March, designated TF 67, Moffett got underway from Pier 80 in the North River to join Convoy NY-78 (sometimes incorrectly seen as YN-78) as its sole destroyer and convoy commander. The “NY” convoy code denoted a New York-to-Britain slow convoy of which 57 transited between August 1943 and November 1943.

However, NY-78 would be very special indeed, and the Overlord landings depended on it.

USS Moffett (DD-362) underway at sea on 26 March 1944, leaving New York as the convoy boss of NY-78/TF-67. Note that she still carries four twin 5/38 low-angle gun mounts. 80-G-233588

The primary goal was to move 34 large (250 feet on average) railway car barges (or car floats) a type of vessel common in the Big Apple but rare and desperately needed for the logistics end of the D-Day landings, to Europe.

Workers from Arthur Tickle Engineering preparing “pickaback” barges for D-Day invasion, 1944. Source: National Archives

Capable of carrying 1,000 tons of deck cargo but only drawing 6 feet while doing it, these would be needed to move ammo and fuel into the landing beaches starting D+1.

A pickaback convoy heads out to the Narrows. National Archives.

These big barges, unlikely able to make the tow across the Atlantic in any sort of heavy seas, were specially modified into “Pickabacks” which meant lashing smaller composite barges taken up from coastal trade– including oil barges and wooden scows– to their decks, installing stronger cleats for the haul, reinforcing the hulls and decks via timber and concrete, making it all watertight by adding new covers and hatches– often replacing repurposed manhole covers– and welding on large skegs to cut down their tendency to yaw.

These Pickabacks took months to prepare, under the guidance of Capt. Edmond J. Moran, the scion of the NYC area’s go-to tugboat operation, Moran Towing. Work was done across a half-dozen Hudson area shipyards and terminals to rush the project to completion. Interestingly, since the barges were too large to lift via crane, the solution to make the Pickabacks was to install seacocks in the bottom of the railway car floats while in the bottom of a dry dock, open the dock, and allow the barge to submerge, float in the scows atop it, then close and slowly drain the dock, stacking the whole affair upon itself where it could then be lashed together.

From an August 1945 Popular Science piece published “Now it can be told” style:

Moffett’s point man would be the newly commissioned Buckley-class destroyer escort USS Marsh (DE-699) which was sailing on just her third Atlantic convoy. Her left and right arms would be Marsh’s sisters, USS Runnels (DE-793) and USS Tatum (DE-789), who were fresh off their shakedown and on their first convoy run. The Auk-class minesweeper USS Staff (AM-114)— destined to be the leading ship of the minesweeping group that led the invasion on D-Day– would also tag along.

A force of a dozen small 173-foot subchasers-PCs 564, 565, 567, 568, 617, 618, 619, 1232, 1233, 1252, 1261, and 1262-– would accompany the force as a way to get them to Europe, where they would be desperately needed just off the surf line during the landings.

To tow the 34 Pickabacks, the convoy had a motley mix of two dozen tugs that would remain in Europe for Overlord. This included the large 205-foot Cherokee/Abnaki-class fleet tugs USS Kiowa (AT-72), USS Bannock (AT-81), USS Pinto (AT-90), USS Abnaki (AT-96), USS Alsea (AT-97), and USS Arikara (AT-98); the Texas-built 143-foot Admiralty tug HMS Emphatic (W 154), the smaller 143-foot Sotoyomo-class rescue tugs ATR-97, ATR-98, and ATR-99; the 165-foot wooden hulled ATR-4, ATR-13, and ATR-15; and 10 large 186-foot ocean-going Maritime Commission contracted V4-M-A1 tugs (Black Rock, Bodie Island, Farallon, Gay Head, Great Isaac, Hillsboro Inlet, Moose Peak, Sabine Pass, Sankaty Head, and Trinidad Head) owned by the WSA and operated by civilian mariners of Moran Towing. As with the barges, these craft would all be needed on D-Day both to beach the ammo barges and to tow the hundreds of massive concrete caissons as part of Operation Mulberry. Later, they towed damaged ships to Britain for salvage or repair.

To provide fuel for the short-legged flotilla, the old oiler USS Maumee (AO-2), which had been in mothballs before the war, was sent along. Too slow for fleet work at just 13 knots top speed, but that wouldn’t be a problem on NY-78.

Highlights distilled from Moffett’s March and April 1944 War Diaries.

Sound contacts were reported on almost every day at some point, requiring general quarters and investigation. The convoy stretched out over more than 10 miles, sometimes twice that much, leaving Moffat to order individual PCs to form clusters and smaller sub-convoys inside the group. Every night brought an order to darken ships and every morning brought the need to inspect the spiderweb of towlines and count noses.

A pickaback convoy depiction, via Aug 1945 Popular Science

So many lines bridles and towlines were lost that Maumee’s machine shop set to nearly round-the-clock work turning fathoms of 1 5/8-inch beaching gear wire rope and thimbles into new bridles. Stragglers were a fact of life.

On 27 March, Convoy UC-16, composed of empty fast-moving tankers and freighters headed back from Britain to pick up waiting cargos in New York, was sighted in the distance, speeding away.

On 30 March, a mysterious keg was spotted, bumping along the convoy route. Moffett deep-sixed it via 544 rounds of 20mm and 81 of 40mm. The lagging Pinto group reported a barge down by the stern.

April Fools Day brought a breakdown, of ATR-4, which was ordered to be taken in tow by ATR-15, which in turn broke down the next day.

3 April brought an open-ocean chase down of separated barges lost from Bannock’s tow.

4 April saw Moffett’s HFDF picking up German radio transmissions and the convoy standing by while HMS Queen Mary raced by later in the morning.

5 April saw Moffett investigate an abandoned life raft found adrift. Ordered to clear the derelict, the destroyer hit it with an impressive array of ordnance– 643 rounds of 20mm, 111 of 40mm, and a Mark VI depth charge– to no avail. As noted by her log, “Raft punctured but still afloat.”

6 April saw an all-day effort to save a sinking barge in the Pinto group, with Moffett sending a 14-man DC party to dewater the vessel via portable pumps. With the barge saved, the boat returning the DC crew to the destroyer flipped in rough seas, leading to a SAR operation that stretched into the dark but recovered everyone. The next day would not be so lucky, with two of her complement in a rubber raft crushed between the destroyer and ATR-97 in heavy seas during efforts to chase down two adrift barges. The bodies were buried at sea.

And so it continued, with the deck log reading increasingly dicey, and refueling efforts repeatedly canceled due to heavy seas. Likewise, more and more barges were breaking loose. While early on in the convoy it was news if one was adrift, twos and threes became standard by the 11th.

On 12 April, ATR-98 reported a one-foot hole in her engine room following a collision in heavy seas with Abnaki. Within 40 minutes the crew, unable to counteract the flooding, were abandoning ship. Within an hour, Moffett had proceeded to the scene of the sinking tug and recovered all 44 survivors, with no casualties.

On the 16th, the lead barge being towed by ATR-4 broke in two, requiring her to heave to in heavy seas and restring her entire tow group, with the assistance of a PC and Emphatic.

The 17th brought a confusing day that began with a stack fire on USS Staff, and a 14-hour running battle with phantom sonar contacts and perceived torpedo sign that earned 19 depth charges from Staff, PC-619, and Moffett:

By the afternoon of 18 April, land-based British planes were sighted. It was over. 

The next morning, the convoy dispersed as Maumee, all the remaining tugs and barges, along with PCs 1233, 1252, 1262, and 1263 made for Falmouth under Admiralty orders while Moffett and the remaining units made for Plymouth, capping a 25-day epic run. A 3,400nm trek that averaged just under six knots!

After transferring the survivors of ATR-98 ashore, Moffett had 48 hours to replenish her bunkers and storerooms, then shoved off and headed home on the 22nd via Milford Haven and Belfast.

As for the Normandy landings, at least 16 of the large NYC rail barges delivered were loaded and towed to the landing areas where they were beached at high tide at D-Day and allowed to dry out. They were unloaded by trucks alongside when dry and LCVPs when wet. As the Navy notes on its Operation Neptune history: “During the D+12 storm [which disrupted the Mulberry harbors] this reserve supply of ammunition proved very necessary.”

Original Caption: CPU 11-15-11 Date: Rec’d 14 June 1944 Taken By: CPU 11 Subject: Beach on the coast of France, showing debris and wreckage in the foreground. Casualty evacuation boats in readiness. The barge grounded, Landing craft and ships in the background. 80-G-252564

The tugs gave yeoman service off Normandy, with some of the civilian-manned V4s making as many as 10 shuttle trips carrying Mulberry components, often while sidestepping German E-boats, midget subs, fire from shore batteries, mines, and aircraft.

The humble Pinto and Arikara earned Navy Unit Commendations– rare citations for tugs– off France as part of Combat Salvage and Fire Fighting Unit Force “O,” clearing wrecks from the beach area reserved for the erection of the artificial harbors and taking damaging fire in the process. Many of these tugs would pivot to the Med to take part in the Dragoon Landings in August.

The mighty USS Pinto (ATF-90) motors up the Elizabeth River on October 17, 1944, following an overhaul at the Norfolk Naval Shipyard

The dozen 173-foot subchasers brought over in the convoy formed PC Squadron One and served as control craft for the waves of LCIs headed to the beaches on D-Day, where PC-1261 was sunk off Utah Beach by a German coastal battery 58 minutes before H-Hour.

Coming in close– skirting the surf line– the PCs traded fire with German pillboxes in an attempt to support the landings. They also pulled wounded from the water and, later that day, did the same with bodies. Then came a full month of picket duty off the beaches, intermingled with repulsing German air and boat attacks– PC-619 downed a Heinkel He 177 on D+4 and picked up its sole survivor. They shuttled senior officers and dispatches from England to Normandy, blew up floating mines with their 20mm guns, escorted coal barges from Newcastle to France, and PC-1262 even patrolled down the river Seine, escorting a load of potatoes to the emaciated citizens of Rouen. The vessels of PCRON1 went on to blockade the Channel Islands, fight it out with E-boats, rescue freezing survivors from the SS Leopoldville, and were among the first American ships in a German port during the war, sailing into Bremerhaven to occupy the port in May 1945.

While the vessels of Convoy NY-78 went on to great things, Moffett’s war was on the last few innings.

End Game

Moffett, aerial view, in Hampton Roads, Virginia, 13 June 1944 80-G-236743

Moffett, late war in Measure 32/3d camouflage scheme.

Moffett went on to ride shotgun on several late war convoys from the East Coast to the Med and back including UGS 48 (July 1944: Hampton Roads – Port Said), GUS 48 (Aug 1944: Port Said – Hampton Roads), UGS 55 (Sept. 1944: Hampton Roads – Port Said), GUS 55 (Oct 1944: Port Said – Hampton Roads), UGS 62 (Dec 1944: Hampton Roads – Gibraltar), UGS 71 (Jan. 1945: Hampton Roads – Southern France), and UGS 83 (March 1945: Hampton Roads – Gibraltar).

Of note, Moffett was typically chosen to carry the TF/Convoy commander on these runs, which would include over a dozen, usually newer, escorts and as many as 70 merchies. She had a reputation for good luck and success– plus space for a commodore.

These convoys were largely anti-climatic milk runs except for UGS 48 which was twice attacked by enemy aircraft including an ineffective night attack by German He 111s and a follow-up by Italian S.79 torpedo bombers of Gruppo Buscaglia-Faggioni, leaving a Liberty ship (MV Samsylarna) damaged.

Moffett’s diagram of the He 111 attack, which saw the German bombers come in at mast top level at 2 a.m., defeating the destroyer’s SC-type radar:

Moffett at the Boston Navy Yard, 12 September 1944. 19-N-70743

After UGS 83, Moffett made for Boston NSY in April 1945 to begin extended repairs.

Following VE-Day, she was towed to Charleston for an extensive refit that planned to beef up her AAA suite and replace her 5-inchers with newer models.

Moffett aerial view, in Hampton Roads, Virginia, 13 June 1945. 80-G-236748

Moffett at Charleston, South Carolina, 1 July 1945. 80-G-365146

However, she was still in the yard at VJ Day and this reconstruction was halted.

She decommissioned on 2 November 1945, spent 14 months in mothballs, and then was stricken and sold for scrap on 16 May 1947 to the Boston Metals Co. of Baltimore.

Moffett only received 2 battle stars for World War II service.

Epilogue

Few relics other than postcards and canceled postal stamps remain of Moffett.

Her War Diaries are digitized in the National Archives. 

The Navy has not used the name “Moffett” for a second warship, perhaps because they renamed the old NAS Sunnyvale in California to Moffett Field, a moniker that endures even after the Navy pulled out in 1994, turning it over to NASA.

Of her our greyhound’s sisters, class leader Porter was torpedoed and lost at the Battle of the Santa Cruz Islands in 1942; Selfridge survived a torpedo in the night action at Vella Lavella, and Phelps was damaged by shore battery fire off Saipan in 1944. Like Moffett, none survived long after the war, and all were soon scrapped, made obsolete by newer Fletcher, Sumner, and Gearing-class destroyers.

Speaking of which, Moffett’s sixth skipper, Capt. Gil Richards– who was in command during the grueling multi-day battle with U-604 and the crazy NY-78 convoy– ended the war as the commander of the new Gearing-class tin can USS Kenneth D. Bailey (DD-713).

Postwar, in the summer of 1946, Richards was hospitalized at Bethesda Naval Hospital suffering from “the rigors of continuous sea duty,” and soon retired to civilian life. Moving to New Jersey, he died in 1983, aged 72. His civilian life was as successful as his Navy life, but his son noted, “His heart never left the U.S. Navy.”


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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