“The Seawolfs Sodium- Cooled Power Plant”
(See R. B. Laning, pp. 45-48, Spring 1992; W. J. Morgan, p. 6, Spring 1993; T. Rockwell, pp. 3-4, Summer 1993; A. Morse, p. 8. November-December 1993; Editor’s Note, A. Morse, p. 8, January-February 1994 Naval History)
Eugene B. Canfield
I was pleased to read Anthony Morse’s letter stating that the many leaks in the superheater’s tubes was a major reason for the Navy’s ultimate rejection of the sodium-cooled nuclear reactor. After a while, my friends at General Electric’s Schenectady plant nicknamed the Seawolf (SSN-575) “20,000 Leaks Under the Sea.”
“Humphreys’s Real Innovation”
(See T. G. Martin and J. C. Roach, pp. 32-37, March-April 1994 Naval History)
Lloyd McCaffrey
There seems to be some doubt as to whether the diagonal riders were installed in the Constitution.
I have a microfilm copy of the original letter book from 1794 listing the riders, in five pieces, for the frigates. Proof that they were installed comes from the progress report on the construction of the frigates reproduced in American State Papers, Class VI, Naval Affairs, Volume 11, page 28, in an entry dated 16 June 1797.
There is at least one other reference to diagonal riders—i.e., eight of them being sent to New York for installation in the President. It is in Naval Documents Relating to the Quasi-War Between the United States and France (Volume 1, page 216). Perhaps a careful search of that series of documents and the Naval Documents Relating to the Wars with The Barbary Powers would turn up more references to them.
Donald A. Wambold
I appreciate Naval History’s continued effort to publish scholarly articles such as this one, which simplified the terms and procedures of early naval architecture.
In some recent research involving Joshua Humphreys’s letters (which are located at the Pennsylvania Historical Society in Philadelphia), I found a number of letters sent to the appointed naval constructors in the other five cities along with shipments of precut frames for the construction of the first frigates. However, I was unable to determine if Joshua Humphreys’s proposed “Dimensions and Sizes of Materials for Building a Frigate of Forty-Four Guns” was the final plan used for the construction of the 44-gun frigates, or if the design employed was a consolidation of ideas from Joshua Humphreys and Josiah Fox.
“The Necessity of the Fight”
(See W. Cronkite, pp. 37-41, May-June 1994 Naval History)
Hap Rocketto
It seems odd to be writing to a naval publication to bring into sharper focus an incident in Walter Cronkite’s life concerning the U.S. Army Air Forces. However, Mr. Cronkite’s interview was of particular interest to me because I count among my friends the pilot of the B-17 Flying Fortress that took him over the coast of France on D-Day.
The lead aircraft, “Scorchy II,” was piloted by Captain L. E. Daub with Lew Lyle as the bombardier. Lew Lyle was a lieutenant colonel on D-Day—not a captain as Mr. Cronkite recollects—and a combat pilot of impeccable credentials who also had qualified as a bombardier. To ensure the best possible bombing patterns, he elected to lead the mission from behind a Norden bombsight instead from the left seat on the flight deck
Mr. Cronkite did not fly with Lew Lyle as the interview seems to imply, but aboard “Shoo-Shoo Baby” piloted by Captain Bob Sheets, who went on to become a squadron commander in the 303rd Bombardment Group. Interestingly enough, the aeronautical feat that has followed Bob Sheets throughout his military career was not a demonstration of his skills as pilot or combat leader, but rather a display of youthful bravado.
While flying to Europe in October 1943, Bob and three other B-17 pilots, buzzed Yankee Stadium during the opening game of the World Series. The action stirred up quite a hornet’s nest. New York Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia let the Army brass know that he was greatly displeased. It was only because of their good flying records— and the critical need for combat crews— that all four pilots escaped with only substantial fines and letters of reprimand.
In a set of history’s unusual coincidences, Mr. Cronkite’s future CBS colleague Andy Rooney wrote up the Yankee Stadium incident in The Stars and Stripes and the son of Billy Southworth, the St. Louis Cardinals’ manager during that World Series, also served in the same squadron as Bob Sheets.
“Those Other Grads”
(See T. J. Cutler, pp. 46-49, March-April 1994 Naval History)
Commander Eugene R. Crilly, U.S. Naval Reserve (Retired)
As one of the V-12 students sent to the Reserve Midshipmen’s School at the U.S. Naval Academy, I read Lieutenant Commander Cutler’s article with great interest and much nostalgia.
One small correction: Commander Cutler refers to 10 classes of such students; actually, 12 classes graduated. I was in the 11th class, which graduated on 25 April 1945, and a friend of mine was in the succeeding class which graduated in late August 1945. I still have the booklet with pictures of our three companies and battalion officers and other mementos of my 16 weeks at Annapolis. All of the midshipmen at that time either had their engineering degrees or had completed eight semesters in a civilian engineering college. Under the letter designator system in use at the time, classes ahead of mine had been given engineering-limited or E(L) designator. For some inexplicable reason, however, my class received deck-limited or D(L) designator which, in my own case, caused some difficulty when I reported to the Kasaan Bay (CVE-69) in May 1945.
My 16 weeks at the U.S. Naval Academy instilled in me a deep love for the Navy. As with many of the reserve officers commissioned during World War II, I was released to inactive duty as the Navy’s manpower was reduced after the war. However, after graduate school and a move to California in 1954, I became attached to the Naval Reserve Intelligence Program in 1955 and retired from the Naval Reserve in 1975. I often think that those of us who were fortunate enough to be trained at Annapolis should be granted some form of recognition by the Naval Academy Alumni Association—perhaps an Associate Membership.
“Normandy: Why, and How?”
(See S. Ambrose, pp. 7-9, May-June 1994 Proceedings)
William John Shepherd
Stephen Ambrose’s commentary on D-Day was little more than a thinly veiled denigration of our British Allies in general and Field Marshal Bernard Law Montgomery in particular. This argument about the British performance in Normandy is an old and tiresome one and, more than anyone else, Dr. Ambrose should know better than to substitute generalities and anecdotes for incisive analysis. The entire British war effort cannot be characterized as irresolute just because one British unit might have stopped to pick strawberries. After all, the invasion scarcely would have been possible if it had not been for British intelligence, logistics, technology, and manpower.
Field Marshal Montgomery’s ego was colossal, but it was only one of many burdens that General Dwight D. Eisenhower had to bear as Supreme Commander (remember General George Patton?). Success generally outweighed failure in this incredible campaign—regardless of nationality—and much of that success can be credited to General Eisenhower. However, Dr. Ambrose borders on hagiography with such ridiculous statements as “the Supreme Commander was Dwight David Eisenhower the whole way through” from 1940 to 1945. The United States did not enter the war until December 1941. General Eisenhower was not even appointed to the command of Overlord until December 1943 and took charge of an operation which had been planned largely by Britons Lord Louis Mountbatten and Sir Frederick Morgan. Perhaps Dr. Ambrose should reflect upon Winston Churchill’s observation “that the only thing worse than fighting a war with allies is to fight one without them.”
“As If History Had Stopped”
(See P. Stillwell, pp. 52-54, March-April 1994 Naval History)
Jim Weitkamp
I am in complete agreement with Professor William Still that the Navy’s role in World War I is woefully underdocumented. As time passes more of this history is lost, and that which has been recorded becomes harder to ferret out.
Several years ago, I acquired some uniforms and personal effects from the family of Pharmacist Mate Second Class Arthur L. Winney, U.S. Navy. Petty Officer Winney’s family knew only that he had served in France with the 4th Marine Brigade and that he had been wounded at some point during the war. Through the Military Personnel Records Center in St. Louis, I obtained documentation of Petty Officer Winney’s service with the American Expeditionary Force. He had served with the 43rd Company, 5th Marines until he was seriously wounded on 4 October 1918 at Blanc Mont Ridge. Petty Officer Winney recovered from his wounds and rejoined the Marines in January 1919 for occupation service in Segendorf, Germany. A pleasant surprise among the documents was a 1944 letter to Petty Officer Winney informing him that he had been awarded the Silver Star for his actions at Blanc Mont on 3 October 1918. Unfortunately, it had been sent to his home of record as of 1917; by 1944, he had moved to a new address and, therefore, when he died in 1961, he never knew that he had received a decoration. The Silver Star medal was presented to Petty Officer Winney’s daughter, Kathleen Rose, by Congressman Ron Packard (R-CA) in 1992.
During my research into Petty Officer Winney’s service in World War I, I realized that the story of the Navy Medical Corps in France is a stunning, albeit almost lost, chapter of naval history. There were 331 men who served as doctors or corpsmen with this unit; 183 of them were killed or wounded during roughly six months of combat. These men received a total of 597 individual decorations, including six Medals of Honor, 78 Navy Crosses, 45 Army Distinguished Service Crosses, 299 Silver Stars, and 118 French Croix de Guerre. Lieutenant Commander Joel Boone, U.S. Navy, was the 6th Marines’ Regimental Surgeon; he was awarded the Medal of Honor, the Distinguished Service Cross, the Silver Star with five Oak Leaf clusters, the Purple Heart with two Oak Leaf clusters, the French Legion of Honor, three Croix de Guerre, and Italy’s Croce di Guerra. Hospital Apprentice First Class David Hayden was awarded the Medal of Honor, the Silver Star, the Croce di Guerra, and Portugal’s Cruz de Guerra. There are many more such men; however, most naval historians are unaware of these heroic men and their deeds. Virtually none of the numerous Army and Marine Corps histories of World War I makes mention of the Navy medical detachment despite its amazing combat record.
In fact, the only book about this unit is Medical Department of the United States Navy With the Army and Marine Corps in France in World War I (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Navy Bureau of Medicine and Surgery, 1947) by George G. Strott. Mr. Strott served as a pharmacist mate with the 6th Marines during the war. The book did not have a large print run and, therefore, is very difficult to obtain. The search for my copy took me seven years.
Leonard G. Shurtleff, Director, The Western Front Association, U.S.A.
Mr. Stillwell states that, during World War I, many U.S. soldiers carried “. . . British .30-06 rifles, because they were more effective than .... the 1903 model Springfield.”
Actually, most U.S. infantrymen did not carry Springfield rifles, because there weren’t enough of them. The Springfield Armory and other armories simply could not produce the numbers needed for wartime. The rifle they carried was the Model 1917, a version of the British .303 Enfield rifle rechambered to fire .30-06 ammunition. Before the United States’ entry into World War I, the Model 1914 had been produced in large numbers for Great Britain in U.S. factories.
Corporal Alvin York used this rifle, not the Springfield carried by Gary Cooper in the film Sergeant York.
David A. Brown
Mr. Stillwell incorrectly states that, during World War I, “many of the U.S. soldiers wound up carrying British .30-06 rifles because they were more effective than their old standby, the 1903 model Spring- field.” The British never had any .30-06 rifles.
In 1903, the U.S. Army adopted the Model 1903 rifle, popularly known as “the 03 Springfield.” It was a variant of the German Mauser design and, until we entered World War I, the U.S. government paid a royalty on every rifle made. The 03 Spring- field originally was chambered for the .30- 03 cartridge and bullet (.30 caliber, design of 1903), but because of advances in ballistics technology, it was rechambered for the .30-06 round (.30 caliber, design of 1906). Both these rounds were developed in the United States.
The Model 1903 rifle was produced at the Springfield Arsenal in Massachusetts and the Rock Island Arsenal in Illinois. A few years before World War I, the Rock Island Arsenal was closed and its skilled workers discharged, on the grounds that the United States had an overcapacity for making rifles.
In 1914, the British army adopted a new rifle, the Enfield Pattern 14, chambered for the standard British .303 round. Before the new rifle could be put into production, however, the war broke out. Rather than shut down and retool its own facilities for the new weapon, the British contracted Winchester, Remington, and other U.S. manufacturers to produce it. These firms soon were turning out hundreds of thousands of the Pattern 14 rifles.
In 1917, the United States entered the war and the Army was projected to expand from less than 100,000 to 8 million. Obviously, the Springfield Arsenal could not provide enough rifles. The government then chose to take over the production facilities that were churning out Pattern 14 Enfields. Instead of shifting them to production of the 03 Springfield, however, it was decided to rechamber the Pattern 14 to fire the .30-06 cartridge and adopt it as the Model 1917, popularly known as the U.S. Enfield.
Because the production capacity of the private manufacturers was so much greater than that of the Springfield Armory, there soon were many more Enfields than Springfields. As a result, most National Guard and National Army units were equipped with Enfields while the Regular Army and the Marines continued to carry the Springfield.
After the war, with more than one million Enfields on hand, a proposal was made to adopt the Model 1917 Enfield as the standard rifle and put all the Springfields into reserve storage. While this proposal was being considered, labor unrest caused strikes at several private firearms firms, and the concept of relying entirely on private weapons sources was abandoned hastily.
The Enfields remained in storage until 1940, when large numbers of them were sent to Britain to rearm the British forces after Dunkirk. The British stencilled “.300” on the stocks of the U.S. Enfields so they would not be mistaken for the British Enfields—many of which had been made in the United States!
Was the Enfield better than the Spring- field? It’s a matter of opinion. The .30-06 bullet generally is considered superior to the British .303. The Enfield has some desirable features for a battlefield rifle, but the Springfield probably is more accurate in the hands of a trained rifleman. I have one of each in my collection and I can attest that the Enfield kicks like a Missouri mule and the Springfield has a sight that is difficult to use properly.
“Taking the Fight to France”
(See H. E. Bergner, pp. 41-45, March-April 1994 Naval History)
David G. Dethiefs
The photograph on page 42 does not show LST'282 unloading onto a rhino barge. Rather, the stem bulkhead of a tank landing craft (LCT) has been removed and the ramp of LST-282 has been rested on the LCT’s deck. On the right, the crew’s quarters of the LCT can be seen; on the left, there is the ladder leading to a 20-mm gun tub over the captain’s quarters.
“Women At War”
(See M. T. Armas, pp. 10-14, March-April 1994 Naval History)
Mrs. Clinton B. D. Brown
Where on earth did the term “Navy Women’s Auxiliary Reserve” come from? Nothing by this name was established during World War II, either by congressional action or Navy regulations.
I know this because as a reporter, I covered the entire legislative process that opened the way for women to serve in the Navy. Then, in October 1942, I was commissioned an ensign and assigned directly to the Press Section of the Navy Department’s Office of Public Relations—located in the old “Main Navy” building—to handle all press information on the Women’s Reserve, as we called it. I suspect that the popular name WAVES was the brainchild of some Navy planners who thought it was cute and might forestall other, less flattering nicknames. To justify it, the term— Women Accepted for Voluntary Emergency Service—was written into Navy regulations. As Ms. Armas notes, women who joined the Navy became enlisted personnel or commissioned officers in the U.S. Naval Reserve; there was no separate corps of women, auxiliary or otherwise. My commission plainly stated, “U.S.N.R.,” although later the designation was changed to “USNR (W)."
The smart uniforms were more a recruiting device than an early manifestation of the Tailhook mentality. The fact is they did nothing to emphasize the figure!
The condescending tone of this article—especially the underlying notion that women joined the Navy only for glamour, sex, and novelty—is unjustified. Ms. Armas should not have relied solely on printed resources and taken the time to interview some of the women who served in the Navy during World War II.