Dual-Purpose Gun’s Long Life
Captain Russ Haas, Commanding Officer and Professor of Naval Science, NROTC Unit, University of Wisconsin
I read with great interest Norman Friedman’s “Armaments & Innovations” column in the April issue about the 5-inch/38-caliber gun (pp. 10–11). At the Naval Reserve Officers Training Corps Unit University of Wisconsin, we are fortunate to have in our Naval Science Building a fully functional (except for firing pin), single-mount World War II 5-inch/38. It was built in 1942 and designed for the secondary armament of the USS Colorado (BB-45). The battleship was modernized in early 1942, which included replacing her battery of 5-inch/25 antiaircraft guns with single-mount 5-inch/38s.
Of the ten 5-inch/38s build for the Colorado, only six were used. The one at our unit sat out the war in a gun-replacement pool. In addition to the mount, we have the Mark 37 fire-control system, commonly known as the “director.” The gun and director were placed in our Naval Science Building in 1950. The 5-inch/38 can be rotated and elevated. Midshipmen routinely have to “wipe up” hydraulic fluid as part of their official duties.
Robert Dell
I very much enjoyed Norman Friedman’s article about the history of the 5-inch/38 in the April issue. I served in the U.S. Coast Guard from 1953 to 1957 and was very familiar with the weapon. Most people don’t think that Coast Guard cutters were very heavily armed, but the two I served in as a crew member—the Secretary-class Campbell (WPG-32) and Owasco-class Chautauqua (WPG-41)—had some potent power. The 327-foot Secretaries, 255-foot Owascos, and 311-foot Caseos (AVPs) had 40- and 20-mm guns, hedgehogs, depth charges (both roller racks and “K” guns) in addition to the 5-inch/38 mounts.
The Secretary class (launched in 1936 and ’37) did not start out with 5-inch/38s, but at some point the cutters received them. The Owasco class, launched in 1944–45, had 5-inch/38 mounts from the beginning. I’m not sure about whether the AVPs had the 5-inch/38 mount when the Coast Guard acquired them from the Navy in 1948, but they were on there from pretty early on.
I particularly remember the 5-inch/38 because, as an electrician, I had to go around and relamp the ship after firing practice. The job was particularly bad on the 255-footer; the whole ship shuddered when the gun was fired. Belowdecks, it would look like it was snowing because of all the particles of asbestos that were shaken loose during the firing drills. The Secretary class seemed to take the recoil of the gun somewhat better.
Lieutenant Colonel Jan Peter Fladeboe, U.S. Marine Corps (Retired)
I served as executive officer of the Marine detachment on board the USS Chicago (CG-11) in the mid-70s. She was formerly a Baltimore-class World War II heavy cruiser (CA-136) that was transformed into an Albany-class guided-missile cruiser in the early ’60s. The new Chicago initially carried two Talos and two Tartar missile launchers, as well as an ASROC launcher and torpedo tubes. The Albany class was initially meant to consist of all-missile warships with no naval guns, but later on, two open-mount Mark 24 5-inch/38-caliber guns were added to the port and the starboard sides of each. The story was that President John F. Kennedy saw a plan of the class and was aghast at the thought of a U.S. Navy ship with no guns. Thus the two 5-inch/38s were quickly installed.
On board the Chicago, sailors manned the starboard gun mount with the MarDet CO as the gunnery officer in a radar mount behind the gun; Marines manned the port gun with the MarDet XO as gunnery officer. There was keen competition between the two gun crews. Once, in the course of a surface gunnery exercise, the starboard gun accidentally went beyond its limits and blew apart a good portion of the captain’s gig. The Chicago led an eight-month deployment into the Indian Ocean in 1974. At times both the Talos and Tartar systems were down, so the 5-inch/38s were the only effective surface and surface-to-air weapons available. Perhaps President Kennedy was right after all.
Neptune’s Ill-Fated Battleship
Captain Lash Hansborough, U.S. Navy (Retired)
I enjoyed Greg Bailey’s April article, “King Neptune: World War II’s Pig with a Purpose” (pp. 56–57). But I would like to clarify a little of the confusing history of the USS Illinois (BB-65). Construction of the Iowa-class Illinois, her sister ship the Kentucky (BB-66), and five battleships of the Montana class were authorized in the Two Ocean Navy Act of 19 July 1940. Although all were authorized at the same time, the Illinois was never intended to be a Montana-class battleship, an error propagated on Wikipedia.
The construction contract was placed for the Illinois on 10 September 1940 for completion by 1 May 1946, but higher priorities for naval shipyards delayed her start. The hiatus allowed the Illinois hull plans to be changed to allow more welding and improve underwater protection. Her keel was finally laid down on 15 January 1945. Building proceeded rapidly because of the accumulated construction materials (including all the armor), prefabricated components, and knowledge gained from construction of her sister ships. Construction of the Illinois was canceled only seven months later, on 11 August, when she was 22 percent complete. Had that building rate been maintained, the Illinois would have been finished in July 1947—just 2 years and 6 months after her construction began.
King Neptune would have been proud and squealing in delight, I’m sure.
Santiago Firepower, Decisions, and Controversy
C. Henry Depew
Concerning the excellent article summarizing the status of the American and Spanish fleets and the fight off Santiago in the April Issue (“‘We . . . Must Expect a Disaster,’” pp. 16–24), it would have been nice if the author had included the contribution of the dynamite cruiser Vesuvius. The ship’s three 15-inch guns used compressed air to launch projectiles consisting of 500 pounds of gun cotton, dynamite, or other high explosive. The shells exceeded the explosive power of other shipborne artillery of the time.
The Vesuvius was one of the few ships whose shells could reach into Santiago Harbor where Spanish Rear Admiral Pascual Cervera’s ships were moored. During the Spanish-American War, she conducted eight shore bombardments against Santiago and its defenses. Rear Admiral William Sampson claimed that the bombardments had “great effect.”
Robert A. Jones
I have written a biography of Rear Admiral Winfield Scott Schley and am currently finishing the editing of my manuscript, so I read with interest Ensign Carlos R. Rosende’s article on the Battle of Santiago in the April issue, “‘We . . . Must Expect a Disaster.’”
With respect to the Brooklyn’s turn, Captain Francis Cook ordered the turn, and yes, Schley said he would have done so if Cook had not. The point is that the two senior officers looking directly at the oncoming Infanta Maria Teresa came to the same conclusion as to the best course of action. Later critics of the turn were to starboard or not there at the time. The Infanta Maria Teresa was turning before Cook’s order was given, and she had torpedoes she could have launched as she turned. Had the Brooklyn turned the other way, she would have exposed her whole starboard side to possible torpedo attack. The fact that the Spanish did not launch torpedoes was known only after the Brooklyn started her turn.
The article says the Brooklyn turned 360 degrees. This appears to be a typo because that is a full circle and would have put the Brooklyn on her original course. She actually turned about 270 degrees. Even with the turn, she led the fleet in the battle, signaling it, “Enemy’s ships escaping,” “Clear for action,” and “Close up.” With the exception of the torpedo-boat destroyers, shells from the Brooklyn’s guns hit all the Spanish ships.
With respect to the Sampson-Schley controversy, the “under my command” phrase in Rear Admiral William Sampson’s postbattle message precipitated the controversy. As the senior officer, Sampson was entitled to the victory. Schley in his 6 July report of the battle told Sampson, “I congratulate you most sincerely upon this great victory to the squadron under your command.” Reporters accompanying the fleet (what we now call embedded) took note of the fact that Sampson was not present when the Cristobal Colon surrendered. The Brooklyn’s signal log shows the New York, with Sampson on board, arrived 20 minutes after the surrender. To the reporters Schley had won the battle.
The controversy got out into the public, and Congress got involved. Schley asked for a court of inquiry after the author of a history textbook used at U.S. Naval Academy accused him of cowardice. This was not the first time, nor would it be the last, that reporters did not understand Navy protocol. But had the “under my command” phase not been used, the controversy might not have occurred at all. The American victory at Santiago was, as Schley said, “big enough for all of us.”
Working With ‘Old Ironsides’’ Wood
Commander Louis D. Chirillo, U.S. Navy (Retired)
The wood described in “Timber for America’s Wooden Walls” (April, pp. 58–62) also served to solicit the good will of influential people for the benefit of the Boston Naval Shipyard, where the Constitution was berthed. I know because during my assignment there, 1954–57, I carpooled with the frigate’s civilian woodworking planner, Russell MacDonald. Russ was from Lunenburg, Nova Scotia, where he learned woodworking skills from the master carpenters who had preserved shipbuilding technology from the sailing era.
Some years before, during the days when replacement masts had to be made from the same kind of wood used during construction of the Constitution, Russ was sent to a southern state where he selected trees from a grove of standing longleaf pine. Russ also drafted the planning documents that caused the trees’ procurement, felling, shipment to Boston, curing, shaping, and stepping in “Old Ironsides.” Beyond a shadow of a doubt, Russ was then the U.S. Navy’s expert concerning timber for America’s wooden walls. As a consequence, whenever the shipyard commander needed souvenirs made from the historic relic’s live oak, usually a few cigarette boxes or gavels, it was Russ who transmitted the requirement to the woodworking shop, and it was Russ who delivered the finished products.
One day during carpool chitchat, Russ advised that the only other source of live oak in the shipyard was part of the ancient boat-shop floor. He also told me that sometimes, rather than desecrate the venerated frigate, a piece of live oak was ripped from that floor.
Russ and I became close friends. When I finished the attic in my home, he showed me the neat routines that only master carpenters knew. When he refinished his kitchen, I did the complicated wiring. Afterward, Russ gave me a gavel that bears a brass plate inscribed: “THIS OAK REMOVED FROM USS CONSTITUTION.”
I asked facetiously, “What part of the boat-shop floor is this from?”
Russ, with his right hand over his heart while trying to prevent a smile, said, “Yours is really from the Constitution!”