“Last of the Sailing Corvettes”
(See J. Barnard, pp. 22-26, July/August 1999 Naval History)
Dana Wegner
Mr. Barnard makes several references to our official technical report, Fouled Anchors: The Constellation Question Answered. The report was written by Colan Ratliff, Kevin Lynaugh, and me as employees of the U.S. Naval Surface Warfare Center, formerly called the David Taylor Research Center. Beginning in 1989, we analyzed several technical and historical aspects regarding the age of the Constellation, and we concluded that the ship was not built in Baltimore in 1797, but in Norfolk in 1853-55. We found that the 1797 origin of the ship largely had been defended by an elaborate series of mutually supporting “historical documents,” most of which had been faked.
The actual connection between our 1991 report, the Naval Institute, and the current restoration of the ship is not made in the article. More than a year after its publication, some groups adamantly refused to accept the Fouled Anchors findings. I was invited by the Naval Institute to participate in a paneled debate regarding the true age of the Constellation, held at the Naval Institute’s 119th Annual Meeting on 28 April 1993. To promote the seminar and the debate, a brief and critical article by retired Navy Admiral Joseph Metcalf titled “Save the Constellation” was published in the April 1993 Proceedings. The article prompted officials at the Naval Sea Systems Command (NavSea) to take a fresh look at the physical condition of the ship. NavSea asked the Naval Historical Center’s USS Constitution Detachment in Boston to inspect the Constellation, and in August 1993 she was found to be in poor shape. This eventually led to her current refurbishment as an 1855 corvette.
The puzzlement over the true age of the ship was so long standing that it was dubbed “The Constellation Question.” Well known in the maritime history field, the “question” had been disputed for more than four decades. Many did not think it ever could be answered. As the article states, Fouled Anchors was vehemently, perhaps maliciously, attacked by some groups and individuals. One of the mildest critics wrote that we had accumulated useless facts and tried to find how many angels could dance on the head of a pin. Little did we know then that those facts and little dancing angels would save the ship.
Revealing the intrigue and controversy clouding the ship between 1949 and 1991, copies of our 200-page illustrated report still are available for a fee through the U.S. National Technical Information Service by calling (800) 553-6847, or e-mail at [email protected].
“Pan Am Gets a Pacific Partner”
(See J. Libby, pp. 24-28, September/October 1999 Naval History)
Robert W. Blake
It certainly is true that Pan Am’s pioneering in the Pacific in the 1930s was conducted in close coordination with the U.S. Navy. It also is true that, as a private corporation, it could do certain things that the Navy could not. In fact, throughout its history Pan Am nearly always was able to negotiate better deals with foreign governments than the State Department.
There are a couple of anachronisms in the article. “Navy blue uniforms with gold braid” were not worn by Pan Am flight crews until well after World War II. Navy blue, yes; gold braid, no. The original Pan Am flight crew uniform was a double- breasted navy blue suit with black buttons, the same as any civilian of that era might wear for Sunday best. Gold stripes were not added until the mid-1950s, at the request of the pilots themselves.
“Pan American World Airways” was not the company name in use in the Harold Gatty era. The official name at that time was Pan American Airways, Inc. “World” was added to the corporate name in the 1950s. Also, I never saw any Pan Am aircraft painted blue in my 41 years with the company. The seaplanes used in the Pacific were all silver or bare metal plus an International orange recognition stripe on the upper wing surface.
Jack E. Hammond
Dr. Libby states that on 29 July 1938, a Pan Am Martin M-130 flying boat was lost without a trace on its way to Manila from Guam. The author relates the rumor that the M-130 may have been commandeered by Japanese agents and flown to one of the mandate islands, and that the Japanese may have used the plane as a model for the Kawanishi H6K—known as Mavis by the Allies. There is only one problem with this rumor: the first H6K flew in 1936.
“My Favorite Year”
(See P. Stillwell, p. 4, July/August 1999 Naval History)
Lieutenant William J. Morgan, U.S. Naval Reserve (Retired)
Mr. Stillwell’s reference to the chain of events that led to meeting his wife has a parallel in my life. I had been released from active duty in winter 1946, and was awaiting my acceptance letter to college. By chance, my former gunnery officer, who was released about the same time, was transferred by his company in Indiana to my hometown. We were not close friends during our shipboard tour of duty, as he was a lieutenant and I was a second class petty officer. The fact that he remembered I was from Greensboro, North Carolina, surprised me! We began a friendship that resulted in my joining his company after college. Now—some 54 years later— our families remain good friends. My civilian career was affected directly by my World War II naval service and a chance meeting with a former shipmate. It is, indeed, a small world.
“It Still Takes My Breath Away”
(See T. Brokaw, pp. 16-19, March/April 1999; W. Gregson, p. 6, May/June 1999; D. Goode, pp. 8-10, July/August 1999 Naval History)
Commander Alan Hayashida, U.S. Naval Reserve
With all due respect to Mr. Goode’s naval service and his status as a member of the “Greatest Generation,” I think he has missed the main point of Tom Brokaw’s book. I do not believe it was intended to be a comprehensive history of World War II. I think that all Mr. Brokaw wanted to do was pay tribute to a rapidly disappearing cadre of courageous Americans who endured two of the most devastating ordeals mankind has ever wrought: the Great Depression and World War II.
I enjoyed Mr. Brokaw’s book immensely. I wish that my dad—who served as a military intelligence linguist with the U.S. Army’s Sixth Infantry Division in the Pacific while my mother was interned in the Japanese relocation center at Manzanar, California—could have lived to read
it. I know that I would have enjoyed being able to discuss it with him. I prefer to echo the sentiments expressed by Major General Gregson: “What a great thing for him to do. Thank you, Tom Brokaw.”
“Navy Yarns”
(See R. Smith, p. 16, September/October 1999 Naval History)
William R. Deeble
How can “Navy Yams” report the “mutual protection” message from the LST to the New Jersey (BB-62) without noting that the last part reproduces verbatim the signal from Captain Josiah Slocum in his little Spray to the Oregon off Cape Horn during the Spanish-American War? What do you bet, the LST skipper knew exactly whom he was quoting, and the captain of the New Jersey recognized it and knew no reply was needed?
“Tiny Miracle: The Proximity Fuze”
(See C. Collier, pp. 43-45, July/August 1999 Naval History)
R. O. Holbrook
Midshipman Collier’s article has confused the transmitter/receiver system electronic tubes with the glass ampule of the electrolyte used in the battery (called the “reserve energizer”). The fuze contained four electron tubes consisting of an oscillator, an amplifier, a discriminator, and a thyratron. The tubes were about the size of a ten-year-old child’s little finger. When the reflected signal returning from the target reached a certain strength, the thyratron fired, closing the firing train and causing the projectile to explode.
It must be noted that the distribution of electrolyte into the battery plates (caused by centifigul force) did not arm the fuze, but only provided power to the electronic parts. Arming was provided by aligning the out-of-line position of the explosive train or by centrifugal force, causing liquid mercury to traverse through porous nickel to complete the electronic circuits and the firing chain.
My interest in the VT fuze stems from my time at the Naval Ordnance Laboratory in White Oak, Maryland, in the 1950s. During the Korean War, we were responsible for testing production electron tubes used for VT fuzes. The tests consisted of selecting a sample of tubes from current production, inserting them in a special small- caliber projectile, and then firing the projectile in a vertical direction—thus giving the tubes an acceleration of 20,000g. The projectiles would land base down in a plowed field. The electron tubes were then tested to specification requirements and had to meet a certain level of quality.
Commander Harold H. Sacks, U.S. Navy (Retired)
Few will remember that the VT fuze played an important role for the U.S. Navy during the Vietnam War, despite the fact that no air threat ever materialized. Destroyer crews, from commanding officer to mess cook, eagerly anticipated their release from stultifying rescue destroyer duty on Yankee Station, in order to participate in gunfire support role, as “shotgun" in Operation Seadragon, or in an anti-maritime infiltration role. The rules of engagement for the latter were very simple. Wooden boats proceeding perpendicular to the coast of Vietnam were, by definition, fishing boats. Those boats proceeding parallel to the coast were assumed to be running supplies for the Viet Cong. The difficulty we faced was that the point detonating high explosive 5-inch ammunition frequently was not triggered even in the case of a direct hit—it merely made a 5-inch hole in the flimsy craft, one easily plugged up. Ultimately, someone remembered what happened to VT rounds that did not result in an airburst during antiaircraft exercises; they burst just before hitting the sea. So we employed VT fuze ammunition against the wooden infiltrators with devastating results. The low-level airbursts literally shredded the boats to pieces. I had the privilege of commanding the USS Steinaker (DD-863) on one of these shoots with over 30 vessels confirmed destroyed. That was in 1968. I have no idea how much longer such operations took place, but the “tiny miracle” had this last opportunity to serve our Navy in combat, and it served well indeed.