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▼ ▼ as it fortuitous, or did we plan !t that way? However it happened, the small aircraft carriers converted from cargo and tanker merchant ships played a vital role in the U. S. victory in World War II. The “baby flattops,’’ “jeep carriers,’’ or “Woolworth carriers” — however you dub them—were planned to transport aircraft from the mainland to an operation theater, perform escort duties for merchant convoys (and incidentally rewrite the antisubmarine warfare book), and to supplement fleet- type carriers during amphibious landing operations.
One wonders, though, whether these missions were so clearly defined when war plans in the late 1930s called for the conversion of passenger liners such as Matson Lines’ Lurline and Matsonia 'nto aircraft carriers upon the start of hostilities. Or, whether the ultimate uses of the versatile ships were envisioned in the early planning of such officers as Marc Mitscher, Donald Duncan, Ernest King, and Emory Land, which resulted in the conversion of the Moore McCormack Lines’ Mormacmail into the auxiliary aircraft carrier, USS Long Island, subsequently CVE-1.
President Franklin D. Roosevelt was extremely interested in this conversion job. Perhaps his interest spurred the conversion yard, Newport News Shipbuilding and Dry Dock Company, into finishing the job in 77 days. For whatever reasons and planning, with this conversion the U. S. Navy was feeling its way toward a highly useful, productionline version of a small-but-capable type of aircraft carrier some time before the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. The flood of small carriers did not really begin until late in 1943; the ground work for their production was laid with the Long Island.
This first auxiliary aircraft carrier was converted from a C-3 Maritime Commission hull. The result was so successful as to cause the Navy to consider other merchant types. The Cimarron (AO-22) class fleet oiler was chosen, and the Sangamon (ACV-26/CVE-26) class of four carriers was produced. These prototypes formed the basis for the Commencement Bay (CVE-105) class of “jeeps” which started coming off the production line early in 1944 and continued rolling off until after V-J Day. The Long Island herself was the prototype for the Bogue (ACV-9/CVE-9) class, which distinguished itself in the Battle of the Atlantic in 1943. These ships, and the brilliant ASW work they performed, broke the back of the German Navy’s U-boat threat. The British requested Bogue-class carriers even before the Long Island was completed. The first “jeeps” delivered to the British carried such intriguing names as Charger, Avenger, Biter, Dasher, and Tracker.
The influx of “jeep” carriers upset the Navy’s ship classification system. They, like other ship types that were not included in the standard pre-World War II classification system, caused changes in it to include them. The “jeeps” were first classified as AVGs, auxiliary aircraft carriers, February 1942; then ACVs, auxiliary aircraft carriers, 5 August, 1942; and finally CVEs, aircraft carriers,
escort, 15 July, 1943.
The Long Island was finished without an island for ship and flight control. This was probably the result of the pressure for early completion of the conversion applied by the government on the builder. The quickest way to complete the design work for the conversion was to copy an existing arrangement, i.e., the old Langley (CV-1), so no island was provided. Follow-on “jeeps” were all equipped with islands, as operational experience soon indicated that to control an operation well it was best to be able to view it. The island gave the overview needed for good control. The advantage of this control outweighed the small disadvantage of obstruction in the landing area that the island imposed.
“Jeep” islands were of a “standard” design (no standards are ever really that “standard”) for all conversions. They were small, being designed for only the minimum of equipment and personnel for ship control and air operations. Parkinson’s Law soon applied; personnel quickly filled all available space! These islands did not include boiler uptakes as did the island structures for fleet-type carriers.
The “jeep” carrier version which comprised the most ships was the Casablanca (CVE-55) class, also known as the “Kaiser” carriers. Their genesis is an interesting story. Industrialist Henry Kaiser, who had made his fortune in aluminum, submitted a proposal to the Navy for 30 aircraft transports to be delivered in six months. The Navy didn’t accept the offer, so Kaiser took his scheme to Admiral Land, the Maritime Commissioner. Conferences were held on Kaiser’s proposal between Commission and White House personnel and a contract was arranged between Kaiser and the Commission for 50 aircraft carriers to be built on Maritime Commission P-1 hulls. This contract was signed in June 1942 and called for the first ship to be delivered in six months. The first ship was delivered the following April. Although she was three months late, this was still a remarkable shipbuilding performance: to deliver an operable aircraft carrier from a shipyard whose only building experience had been gained since the beginning of hostilities with Japan, in less than one year from the date of the contract! Subsequently, the USS Admiralty Islands (CVE-99) and USS Bougainville (CVE-100) took only 76 days from keel laying to commissioning. One wonders whether this speed was achieved because the Long Island1 s conversion had been accomplished in 77 days— under the whip of Presidential scrutiny.
This achievement was even more spectacular when one considers the unusual procedures that surrounded the letting of the contract for these ships. Kaiser’s contract was with the Maritime Commission for aircraft carriers. The ships were designed for Kaiser by the naval architectural firm of George G. Sharpe, Inc., of New York, and were to be designed without supervision by the Navy. The ships were to be manned by civilian crews. As work started, it soon became obvious that Navy participation to some degree was desirable, for the ships would need catapults and arresting gear for air operations, and these could be supplied by the Navy’s Bureau of Aeronautics. Some guns and ammunition were called for and could be supplied by the Bureau of Ordnance. The manning of the carriers by civilian crews presented so many problems that this scheme was soon dropped, and Navy crews were supplied. Under normal Navy contracts for shipbuilding, supervision of work at private shipyards was carried out by an office of Supervisor of Shipbuilding. No such office was established at the Kaiser Yards. A Navy liaison officer—with no supervisory powers—was allowed at the shipyard. Outfitting and commissioning of the ships were carried out at the Astoria (Oregon) Naval Station, an entity established to get the Kaiser ships to sea. All of this work was done in a period of time that today would not be adequate to even develop one “cost-effective” alternate design.
The problems associated with a building program that produced over 100 “jeep” carriers in a period of about three years—about 90 of them during the last two—were vast. Facilities expansion illustrates part of the problem; but included in it were the sub-problems of staffing and training. At the beginning of World War II, there were about 12 recognized private shipbuilding firms in the U. S. By late 1942, there were over 300! Locations with adequate waterfront dimensions, buildings, facilities, all needed developing. Staffing and training that staff presented a monumental task. Four West Coast shipyards did almost all of the CVE building: the Kaiser yard at Vancouver, Washington, and the Oregon Shipbuilding Company of Portland, Oregon, for the Kaiser carriers; the Seattle-Tacoma Shipbuilding Company
at Tacoma, Washington, for the Bogue class, and the Todd-Pacific Shipbuilding and Dry Dock Company at their Tacoma plant for Commencement Bay class.
Material priorities had a direct bearing on the types of equipment supplied to the "jeeps.” Equipment known to be in short supply was chosen on the basis of what had the best chance of being available when it would be needed. Machinery for these ships is a good case in point. The Bogue class, starting first, had a combination of diesel and steam machinery, all of which was familiar to the maritime community. The Commencement Bay class, starting next, was equipped with standard geared turbines. The Casablanca class, both because of its numbers and its last starting position in the race for contracts, had to settle for less desirable machinery, but machinery which might be available when needed. This turned out to be the Skinner Uniflow reciprocating steam engine, powerful enough, but seldom considered for marine use because it could not compete economically with diesel and turbine equipment. In operating it, it was difficult to maintain an adequate supply of clean boiler feed water. Because of the nature of the engine, condensate could contain lubricating oil carried over with the expended steam. Diatomaceous earth filters in the condensate lines and loofa sponges in the hot wells of the ships made the problem manageable, but it was another "twist” that required special knowledge by the crew and a sufficient supply of filter material in the Navy supply system for only this class of ship.
original configurations to that of an aircraft carrier was planned for a minimum of work for the shipbuilder. Oversimplifying the design planning process, the ship’s original main deck became the hangar deck. A flight deck was added over it, and a second deck added below to provide accommodations for the crew. Storerooms, magazines, and gasoline stowage were located below the second deck. Accommodations were spartan compared with today’s quarters. This was, in part, because as much combustible material was left off the ships as possible to lessen the fire hazard that could occur from enemy action. Protection against bombs and gunfire was provided in the form of splinter protection for control stations and gun positions topside. Transverse subdivision was the only practical means of providing protection against torpedoes.
The remarkable shipbuilding performance that produced over 100 CVEs, most of them in a period of two and a half years, is particularly striking in comparison to today’s time requirements for shipbuilding. And when one notes the price tag of $11 million 1942 dollars for a Commencement B^y-class ship, one must conclude that these ships were "cost-effective” even when measured by today’s yardstick!
Top left: USS Bismarck Sea (CVE-95) unloads SBDs in August 1944.
Above: The wheelhouse of the Mission Bay (CVE-59)—like those of all the jeeps—was cramped.
Top right: An escort carrier rolls on the stormy Atlantic in the winter of 1943-44.
Middle: A contrast in size: USS Yorktown (CVA-10) dwarfs the Point Cruz (CVE-119) at Yokosuka in October 1954.
Bottom: Jeep carrier islands became considerably more sophisticated as time passed. The profusion of electronic gear is the most evident difference between the USS Charger (AVG-30), left, in May 1942 and the Point Cruz, right, in March 1955.
Above: Captain Dan Gallery's USS Guadalcanal (CVE-60) lies to in June 1944 after capturing U-505 in the Atlantic.
Left: USS Bogue CVE-9) in dry dock at Norfolk in October 1943.
In the Battle of Leyte Gulf on 25 October 1944, both the St. Lo (CVE-63) and Gambier Bay (CVE-73) were sunk by an overwhelming Japanese force.
Below: St. Lo on fire after Kamikaze hit.
Left: Gambier Bay amidst salvo of heavy cruiser projectiles.
Bottom left: St. Lo and other ships lay smoke early in the battle.
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Right: An HRS-1 helicopter returns to the Sicily after airlifting Marines from the coast of Korea in October 1952.
Below: While being used as a target by Pacific Missile Range, the Makassar Strait (CVE-91) broke a mooring and drifted ashore on San Nicholas Island, California.
Bottom right: Jeeps in mothballs at San Diego in 1971 after being reclassified as aircraft ferries. Front to rear: Saidor (AKV-17), Commencement Bay (AKV-37), Cape Gloucester (AKV-9), Rendova (AKV-14), and Rabaul {AKV-21).
Left: The Gilbert Islands (ex-CVE-107) was transformed into the major communications relay ship Annapolis (AGMR-l) for the Vietnam War.
Middle: USNS Kula Gulf (T-AKV-S) loads weatherproofed Army helicopters at Mayport, Florida, for the long trip to Southeast Asia.
Below: In November 1964, USNS Croatan (T-AKV-43) off Wallops Island, Virginia, was used by NASA for launching and tracking meteorological rockets.
Bottom: The Thetis Bay, which was CVE-90, CVHA-l, and LPH-6 in her time, comes to the end of the line at Portsmouth, Virginia in 1966.
Below: A TBM Avenger after overrunning the flight deck of the USS Charger (CVE-30) and winding up in a forward 5-inch gun mount.
Bottom: Flight deck crews shovel snow on board the Badoeng Strait (CVE-116) in November 1950. Soon afterward, Marine Corsairs on deck took off to attack North Koreans.
Bottom Right: In May 1945, a kamikaze buckled the elevator and flight decks of USS Sangamon (CVE-26).
Opposite page top: A helo from the Block Island (CVE-106) attempting to rescue the pilot of a downed plane in 1953.
Opposite page bottom: With a giant War Bond on her bow, the Rendova (CVE-114) is launched in December 1944.
The Old Indispensables
By Captain Fitzhugh L. Palmer, Jr., U. S. Navy (Retired)
i t was one thing to make a jeep carrier out of an oil tanker. It was quite another to make a jeep carrier pilot out of one with fleet carrier experience.
In my own case, I was detached from Fighting Squadron Eight on board the USS Hornet (CV-8) right after the famous Doolittle raid on Tokyo in April 1942. I was ordered as executive officer of squadron VF-26, then forming up for service in the USS Sangamon (ACV-26). The new carrier had been built on the hull of the former AO-28, and she was a far cry from what 1 was accustomed to during previous service in the Hornet and the Wasp (CV-7). By the autumn of that year, though, we had to make do with what we had because of the impending invasion of North Africa in November. The only carriers available to support the assault were the old Ranger (CV-4) and the Sangamon’s three sisters, the Suwanee (ACV-27), Chenango (ACV-28), and Santee (ACV-29). As a group, the four jeeps were known as the “Old Indispensables.”
We had a hurry-up shakedown that showed me how much different this new kind of ship was from the faster fleet carriers. She was shorter and a good deal slower. The Sangamon's standard speed was 15 knots, and 16 was full. Our “flank” speed of 18 Vi could be achieved only when going downhill with a strong wind at our backs. When the squadron formed up in May, only the commanding officer and I were carrier qualified. One flyer had gotten his wings after graduating from the Naval Academy and completing flight training. The other 17 were college graduates who had become pilots through the aviation cadet program. In a way, these frisky young fellows had an advantage when it came to flying their F4F Wildcats on and off the Sangamon’s deck. Since they’d never been on the bigger carriers, they didn’t know what they were missing. For me, it was quite an adjustment to go from an 800- foot-long deck with 30 knots of wind to 550 feet of deck and the hope for 20 knots of relative wind.
We were usually able to get enough wind in the Atlantic. The problem came later when we moved over to the Pacific and found that that ocean lived up to its name. I’ll never forget landing aboard the Sangamon the first time after she passed through the Panama Canal. The ocean was a deep blue and so calm you could almost see the ship’s propellers. She chased any puff of breeze she could find until we finally decided we had to get aboard regardless and landed with 18 knots of wind over the deck.
The plane had to hit the center of the deck, straight on, and had to catch one of the middle wires. Hitting an early wire ran the risk of pulling it clear out to its stops. Luckily, the F4F was a sturdy plane and could stand the strain.
We pilots could too, although it obviously became a good deal easier after some practice. We just had to be a little more careful on a calm day.
Fortunately, all our operations were in the daytime, but we did have to qualify with two landings at night. For a day pilot, that was pure hell because it was so different. There were no visual reference points except for one light on the port beam to tell us when to turn into the landing groove. Once we got near the deck, we could see the shielded landing lights which outlined it. Then it was a matter of following the signals given by the lighted wands of the landing signal officer. It was strictly a “feel” operation—by guess and by God. Later, there were better lights, better wands, and better instruments in the planes.
On night takeoffs, however, there was no point of reference at all. Obviously, it was much easier in the daytime. Catapulting was a rare thing in those days, even in the big carriers. With the shorter deck run and lower relative wind speed, we had to devise a method to give us both the speed and the lift we needed. After revving up the engine to full bore, we’d release the brakes and start the run with the wing flaps up to build speed. Then, near the forward end of the flight deck, we put the flaps down to give us the lift we needed to get airborne. The throttle was open all the way. We used this technique with a standard of 30 knots of wind and 300 feet for takeoff. Whenever the wind was less than that, the deck run had to be proportionately longer. Finally, we got around to using the ship’s air/hydraulic catapult. After I found out how well it worked, I wouldn’t go off any other way, particularly because the deck runs usually had to be made between two parallel rows of planes parked along the flight deck because of the shortage of space in the constricted hangar deck below.
The Sangamon and her sisters were the first American escort carriers to be involved in combat. As with the landing and takeoff techniques, everything was so new that we were making up doctrine as we went along. The Chenango carried a deckload of P-40 Warhawks for Army Air Forces use as soon as airfields were established ashore in North Africa. The Ranger and the remaining three jeeps were employed as frontline carriers because they were the only ones available. The Japanese had pretty well wiped out our fleet carrier strength. Our air group consisted of 12 Wildcats, nine TBF Avenger torpedo planes, and nine SBD Dauntless dive-bombers. The Sangamon'% mission was to cover the invasion of Port Lyautey, near Casablanca, and to provide close air support after our troops were ashore. Captain “Jocko”
Clark was skipper of the Suwanee during the operation. We could almost hear him bellowing at his pilots from 2,000 yards away. I’m sure if he was facing aft, the Suwanee could make 19 knots, and if he was facing forward, she could go only 17.
The long transatlantic crossing gave us an indication of some of the benefits of converting an oiler into a jeep carrier. For one thing, the Sangamon carried a million and a half gallons of fuel oil, and that allowed us to refuel any and all ships which needed it during the trip across. The ship also rode well because of her deep tanker draft. Many of the ship’s crew members were as inexperienced as the young pilots in my squadron, but they did a fine job of learning fast. They had to.
When we got to North Africa on 8 November, we flew three missions a day for three days, attacking both air and ground targets. We burned a number of planes on the ground and also attacked trucks, tanks, and even a fort. Fortunately, the French mounted little organized opposition, and U.S. forces soon had control of the air. Though communications were frequently poor, we were controlled from the ground on occasion, a first for that type of troop support.
During one mission over the target, I got part of one aileron shot away by ground fire. I found out that I could fly as slow as 90 knots and still keep control of the plane by using full right rudder and full right stick. I wound up landing the Wildcat almost sideways, and I don’t know to this day how I made it back onto the deck of the Sangamon.
Right after the African landings finished up, the ship headed back to Norfolk for a few days around Thanksgiving and then proceeded to the war in the Pacific. The chief engineer never took his throttle off 15 knots except when going in and out of port. When we did tangle with the Japanese, our escort carriers and air groups became—I believe—the first U.S. naval aviation units to experience combat in both the European and Pacific theaters. They were indeed indispensable.