“As If History Had Stopped”
(See P. Stillwell, pp. 52-54, March-April 1994; J. Weitkamp, L. G. Shurtleff, D. A. Brown, pp. 7-8, July-August 1994 Naval History)
Richard A. Freedman
I can add a footnote as to the eventual use of some of the U.S.-manufactured Model 1917 Enfield rifles. In the spring of 1943, I went through infantry basic training at Fort McClellan, Alabama. Upon arrival, we were told that there were not enough M-ls available at that time.
Therefore, about half of the trainees were issued M-l rifles; the others, including me, were issued Enfields. The Enfield served well enough for basic training—e.g., the manual of arms—and could be used with blank cartridges for training exercises. However, we were told that under no circumstances were they to be used to fire live (ball) cartridges! Therefore, when we went to the rifle range to qualify, the M-l rifles had to be shared.
The Enfields were left behind when we left basic training, and I never saw one again. However, I did see a few .30-06 Springfields; they were fitted with scopes and issued to men designated as snipers.
“He Who Sees First Lives Longest”
(See A. van der Moer, pp. 35-40, July- August 1994 Naval History)
Mark C. Jones
Because most accounts of the Battle of the Java Sea are written by U.S. and British participants, I enjoyed Admiral van der Moer’s article immensely. He certainly had a dramatic first two years of the war, but he did not explain how he spent the rest of the war. With the exception of most of the submarines, the cruiser Tromp, and a few smaller surface ships, the ships of the East Indies Squadron of the Royal Netherlands Navy either were destroyed by the Japanese or scuttled by their crews. I would be interested to know if Admiral van der Moer was one of the relatively few personnel who were evacuated to Australia or India and later formed the nucleus of a reconstituted Royal Netherlands Navy.
I certainly hope that the publication of Admiral van der Moer’s article will encourage other authors to submit articles on the operations of the “navies-in-exile” of Poland, the Netherlands, France, Norway, and Greece. These sailors manned significant numbers of ships and submarines in the European and Pacific theaters of World War II. An article about, say, a multinational escort group in the North Atlantic might address some of the challenges faced in contemporary multinational naval operations.
Editor’s Note: According to Admiral van der Moer, soon after his ship was sunk, he and other Dutch personnel were ordered to leave the Dutch East Indies. The admiral and about 800 other sailors left Tjilatjap, Java, on the Dutch freighter Kota Baroe and set course for Ceylon (now Sri Lanka).
Upon his arrival at the naval base in Trincomalee, Ceylon, Admiral van der Moer requested reassignment to a destroyer. However, he was ordered to Dutch Guyana (now Surinam). He first was transported to Durban, South Africa on the converted Dutch passenger liner, SS Nieuw-Amsterdam and continued to Dutch Guyana in the merchant ship Baarn. Admiral van der Moer served in Dutch Guyana for the remainder of the war.
“Normandy: Why and How?”
(See S. Ambrose, pp. 7-9, May-June 1994; W. S. Shepherd, p. 7, July-August Naval History)
Ian Marshall
Mr. Shepherd’s letter encourages me to add a little to the discussion.
Recently published books on Field Marshal Bernard Montgomery and General Dwight D. Eisenhower—i.e., The Lonely Leader by Alistair Horne (HarperCollins, 1994) and Ike and Monty by Norman Gelb (William Morrow & Co., 1994)—provide new insights on their personalities and John Keegan’s Six Armies in Normandy (Viking Press, 1982) remains perhaps the most masterly account of the Normandy campaign.
Clearly enunciated in the forward planning and—thank heavens—successfully concluded in practice, Montgomery’s strategy was to draw the weight of the German Army—particularly its armored divisions—to oppose the British and Canadian forces in the eastern part of the beachhead, thereby allowing the U.S. forces on the western flank the opportunity to break out and encircle the enemy.
The final encirclement of the Falaise pocket was a less decisive victory than it might have been, due in large measure to General Omar Bradley’s failure to restrain General George Patton’s wild gallop to the south and the east and to keep Montgomery—who was, after all, the commander of the Allied land forces at that stage—better informed.
Having briefly sketched-in just one feature of an immense and complicated operation, I must quickly add that no general can escape criticism, and that all historians have the benefit of hindsight without the awful responsibility of command.
There is no denying Monty’s abrasive manner or his egoism nor Ike’s essential role as a conciliator. Both, it seems, were needed to win the war.
“Those Other Grads”
(See T. J. Cutler, pp. 46-49, March-April 1994; E. R. Crilly, p. 6, July-August 1994 Naval History)
Melvin H. Wilson
Lieutenant Commander Cutler said that the Reserve Officer Candidate School (ROC), proposed by Admiral Holloway in April 1948, was not created until the early 1950s.
Actually, the ROC program started in the summer of 1949 at both San Diego, California, and Newport, Rhode Island. I know, because I was one of 200 candidates who attended the ROC School in San Diego.
The San Diego school was housed in a World War II barracks complex across Highway 101 from the west end of the San Diego Naval Station. The command staff, officer instructors, and most of the enlisted cadre were drawn from the Naval Reserve. The candidates’ uniforms were chief petty officer khakis with ROC badges. For the first summer, we were paid as seaman first class; for the second, we received the petty- officer-third-class pay.
Although the Korean War broke out in June 1950,1 attended the second six-week session at San Diego and also was allowed to complete college. I graduated from college in early June 1951, was commissioned as of June 1, called up in October, and assigned to the USS Cimarron (AO-22). I was released from active duty in April 1954 and entered law school. My service in the Naval Reserve continued until 1961 when the demands of my civilian career precluded the level of active participation in the Naval Reserve necessary for continued promotion.
I always have had a warm regard for the Navy, because it provided me an early insight into bureaucratic institutions as well as the opportunity to satisfy my intellectual curiosity about things arcane to civilians. Probably in recognition of my interest, Chief Warrant Boatswain Patrick Shannon gave me a membership in the U.S. Naval Institute that I have renewed every year since 1953.
Farewell to a Winning Weapon
Commander Joseph E. Lyons, U.S. Navy (Retired)
The decommissioning of the USS Long Beach (CGN-9) this summer represents the passing not only of the Navy’s oldest nuclear-powered warship but also of the venerable 5-inch/38-caliber Mk-12 gun.
This weapon has served continuously in the fleet since the commissioning of the USS Hull (DD-350) on 11 January 1935. Certainly no other weapon can match it for either its longevity or overall contribution to the Navy’s missions around the world and in many different conflicts. If there was one reason the U.S. soldiers got off Omaha Beach, it surely was this weapon fired from destroyers in so close that some touched bottom.
Those of us with experience of the 5 inch/38-caliber and its successor, the 5 inch/54-caliber, never regretted the dearth of micro switches in the loading system of the former and often mourned the unreliability of the latter. As one of my Destroyer School instructors put it, the 5-inch/38-caliber was “the gun that won the West.”
“Women at War”
(See M. T. Armas, pp. 10-14, March-April 1994; C. B. D. Brown, p. 9, July-August 1994 Naval History)
Command Master Chief Guerdon C. Davis, Jr., U.S. Navy (Retired)
During World War II, the minimum age for enlistment in the WAVES was 21 years old. That seems young to me today, but when I joined the Navy during the war I was 17 years old; therefore, to me, these women seemed old. However, I had first-hand experience with WAVES as aerial-gunnery instructors and aviation mechanics—and these older ladies performed superbly.
Martin A. Snyder
The story of the WAVES brought back a fond memory from my early career. From the middle of 1946 to early 1951, I was a civilian engineer at the Flight Test Division, Naval Air Test Center at the Naval Air Station Patuxent River, Maryland. Among the many civilian and naval clerical personnel was one WAVE whose physical stature could be described only as petite. I imagine that she just met the minimum height and weight requirements for enlistment. Because of her relatively small size, it was decided that she was not big enough to be a WAVE; therefore, she was described as a “ripple.”
No doubt many people today might consider this unacceptable; however, everyone involved accepted the description in the good humor in which it was intended.
“Patrick O’Brian’s Aubrey/Maturin Novels: An Overview”
(See R. C. Jones, pp. 55-56, January- February 1994; W. J. Shepherd, p. 6, May- June 1994 Naval History)
Michael Smookler
• Dr. Jones and Mr. Shepherd brought attention to two excellent authors of naval stories set in the Age of Fighting Sail.
There are several other authors who have written books in the same genre;
• Alexander Kent’s Richard Bolitho series.
• Naval historian Dudley Pope’s Ramage series.
• Kenneth Poolman’s many books include Guns Off Cape Ann, a novel about the War of 1812 duel between HMS Shannon and the USS Chesapeake.
• Showell Styles’s novels include Sea Road to Camperdoum, the stirring adventure story of the defeat of the Dutch fleet by Admiral Adam Duncan at the Battle of Camper- down.
• Edwin P. Hoyt and his Stephen Decatur novels.
• C. Northcote Parkinson and his character Richard Delancey.
• Kenneth Maynard and his Matthew Lamb series.
• Adam Hardy and his Fox series.
• Dan Parkinson and his Patrick Dalton stories.
• Canadian author Victor Suthren has written two series. One concerns Paul Gallant, an Acadian officer in the 18th century French Navy; the other is about Edward Mainwaring, an American in the 18th century Royal Navy.
If anyone interested in acquiring any of these books cannot do so in the United States, they can order them from: Blackwell’s; 50 Broad Street; Oxford, England 0X1 3BQ. Blackwell’s telephone number is (0865) 792792; the facsimilie number is (0865) 791438. Their prices are comparable to those in the United States; checks and major credit cards are accepted.
Also, fans of Patrick O’Brian’s novel can receive the occasional O’Brian Newsletter by writing to: Department SRL, W. W. Norton & Company; 500 Fifth Avenue; New York, NY 10110.
“Sentimental Mission to Memphis”
(See E. L. Beach, pp. 16-20, September- October 1993; B. J. Nederhiser, p. 7, March-April 1994 Naval History)
J. B. Lawrence
The loss of the USS Memphis (CA-10) on 29 August 1916 was due obviously to a earthquake-spawned tidal wave. Why then do the Medal of Honor citations for Claud A. Jones and George W. Rudd describe the event as a “hurricane”?
“Flying the Barrier”
(See W. J. Sifnas, pp. 15-16, March-April 1994 Naval History)
Captain Robert C. Peniston, U.S. Navy (Retired)
This article made me recall my days as captain of the USS Savage (DER-386) from December 1959 to June 1961. The Savage was one of several ships assigned to the mid-Pacific Barrier—which stretched from Midway Island to Unalaska Island in the Aleutians. To the best of my knowledge, no Soviet bomber ever penetrated the barrier, but there were probes by friendlies to keep us on our toes.
Duty on the Atlantic and Pacific barriers had one thing in common: The weather was terrible for a good part of the year. High winds and heavy seas were quite common, and life on board the ships on the picket line could be most uncomfortable. During the periods of great discomfort, I often thought the aviators in the WV-2s—which flew a racetrack pattern around Midway and Unalaska—had an easy time of it. Therefore, I was quite surprised initially by the high reenlistment rate among the picket ships’ crews. I soon figured out, however, that the sailors were willing to accept discomfort at sea for a set schedule known far in advance.
In 1961, the Savage was spared two barrier patrols in order to shadow the Soviet ships involved in the Venus space probe in early February and Yuri Gagarin’s orbital flight on 12 April. These two respites were most welcome. The hostile environment of the barrier notwithstanding, of my four commands, pound for pound, this one was the best.
“The Chicago Piano”
(See K. F. Schreier, pp. 44-46, July-August 1994 Naval History)
Thomas Wildenberg
Mr. Schreier failed to mention that the 1.1-inch gun was developed specifically to defend warships against dive bombers.
In 1928, the Navy conducted its first dive-bombing exercises. The results showed that this new form of aerial attack posed a great danger to small, thin-skinned ships, such as destroyers, and the personnel on larger warships who manned relatively exposed positions, such as secondary batteries and gunnery directors. So concerned was the Navy’s General Board with this threat that it held special hearings in 1929 on how to defend against it. In its report to the Secretary of the Navy, the General Board “attached great importance to the early development of a multiple-barrel rapid-fire gun to meet this attack.” According to Norman Friedman in U.S. Naval Weapons (Naval Institute Press, 1982), this concern spurred the development of the 1.1-inch gun—as well as the 5-inch/38-caliber dual-purpose gun and the Mk-37 director, a fire-control system that entered the fleet in 1939.
The reason for the development of the 1.1-inch gun also explains many of its characteristics—e.g., its high muzzle velocity and rate of fire and explosive shell— and the reasons behind its complex mounting. The gun’s mount had a special gearing arrangement that allowed all four guns to be slewed from side to side, independent of train, in order that the gunners could follow a diving plane even when the gun was elevated at extremely high angles.
The 1.1-inch may not have been the most successful antiaircraft weapon of World War II. Nevertheless, the longstanding concern with antiaircraft defense it represents is frequently overlooked—and often discounted altogether—by many who claim that the U.S. Navy was unprepared for war at the time of Pearl Harbor.
Gordon F. Graham
As a gunnery office yeoman on the USS Philadelphia (CL-41) in 1942, I recall the gunners griping about what they called the “1.1-inch, 75-caliber." During the summer of 1942, the guns were removed from the Philadelphia at the Brooklyn Navy Yard.
Perhaps I can offer a clue as to what happened to at least some of these and other 1.1-inch guns that were taken off warships. The next Chicago Pianos I encountered were part of the armament of a U.S. Army transport on which I was a naval communications officer. During a convoy trip to Australia in May 1943, the commander of the ship’s Naval Armed Guard detachment, Lieutenant Joseph Bailey, decided on a target practice session with the 1.1-inch guns. There was an explosion, and a piece of metal (probably from the water cooler jacket) struck an Army veterinarian who was standing on an upper deck quite a distance for the gun. Fortunately, he was hit on the wrist and his heavy I.D. bracelet saved his tendons. The ship’s Chicago Pianos never were fired again—on that voyage at least.
“History in the Yard”
(See T. B. Allen, pp. 52-54, July-August 1994 Naval History)
“Historic Fleets”
(See A. D. Baker, p. 62, July-August 1994 Naval History)
Richard S. Schatz, President, National LSM Association
Because it is rare to see any mention of the Navy’s landing ship medium (LSM) or its variant—the landing ship medium (rocket) (LSM[R])—I was very happy to see them profiled in Mr. Baker’s feature.
Also, the model mentioned by Mr. Allen is not of a landing ship, tank (LST), but of a LSM, specifically LSM-201, which was the first LSM launched.
Built to 1:8 scale—1.5 inches equal 1 foot—it is 26 feet long (making it the largest model owned by the Navy), weighs about 4,000 pounds, and is made entirely of brass and copper. It is detailed down to coffee pots, galley equipment, machine tools, fire-fighting apparatus, and the infamous enlisted men’s toilet trough.
As Mr. Allen mentioned, the model was built to be used as a training aid for the crews of LSMs. However, it was not completed until September 1948.