Lucky Lady: The World War II Heroics of the USS Santa Fe and Franklin
Steve Jackson. New York: Carroll & Graf, 2003. 494 pp. Bib. Index. $28.00.
Reviewed by Colonel John G. Miller, U.S. Marine Corps (Retired)
Sailors are a superstitious lot, and older hands on board the Santa Fe (CL-60) had a sense of foreboding when Caroline Chavez, niece of U.S. Senator Dennis Chavez of New Mexico, christened their ship in 1942. Instead of the traditional bottle of champagne, the raven-haired beauty struck the bow with a bottle of water taken from the Santa Fe River and blessed by the archbishop of Santa Fe. Neither were the crew’s superstitions soothed by the ship’s assignment to Cruiser Division 13 in the Pacific, where she remained for most of World War II. By war’s end, she had sailed more than 225,000 miles and gone in harm’s way in the daring rescues of the Houston (CL-81) and the Franklin (CV-13). Through it all, the “Lucky Lady” and her crew emerged remarkably undam aged and unhurt. Sometimes it is better to be lucky than rich.
In contrast, the Houston and Franklin, commissioned a month apart one year after the Santa Fe, seemed relatively star-crossed. During operations preceding the Battle of Leyte Gulf in fall 1944, the Houston suffered two aerial torpedo hits, which left her dead in the water with more than 6,000 tons of floodwater amidships. Taken under tow with another crippled cruiser, the Houston formed the nucleus of Admiral William F. Halsey’s “Cripple Division,” a ruse to lure and trap Japanese surface and air forces seeking to destroy (in their own self-delusional words) “the crippled remnants of the Third Fleet.” The Cripple Division was covered by the Santa Fe, among other surface combatants, and several carrier task groups that succeeded in defeating most of the Japanese effort.
The Franklin's captain and crew appeared to be sanguine about the number 13, hut they did not have much choice. The number was everywhere—on the ship, her air group, and every one of the group’s squadrons. Damage from a bomb hit in mid-October 1944 was relatively light, but a kamikaze attack at the end of that month killed 56 and caused enough damage to get “Big Ben” sent to the States for repairs. The refurbished carrier barely had taken station off the coast of Japan in March 1945, when misfortune struck again in the form of two 500-pound bombs on a crowded flight deck, setting off waves of fires and explosions of the fuel and munitions on board that took raw courage and the best part of a day to bring under control.
With superior shiphandling skill, the Santa Fe’s skipper made a risky, high-speed approach to the heavily listing carrier, swinging tightly alongside to assist, finally taking on board more than 800 of the Franklin’s crew. Within 24 hours of the attack, the fires were under control, the unsafe munitions had been jettisoned, and the Franklin was under way on her own power, eventually making up to 15 knots as she headed toward Ulithi and temporary repair facilities. The toll was staggering: 724 killed and 265 wounded. The air group had been swept from the flight deck, now filled with gaping holes. Fortunately, the engineering spaces were restored to operating condition—but Big Ben was out of the war.
In an effort evocative of James Bradley’s Flags of our Fathers (New York: Bantam, 2000), Steve Jackson begins with the story of his father Donald, who served in the Santa Fe, and weaves it into those of his shipmates and the men of the Franklin. It is a tale rich in moods and memories of the late 1930s as well as the war years, and a highly readable tribute to Tom Brokaw’s “Greatest Generation”—one of several such generations, the author points out.
When the focus shifts to broad-brush history, however, the picture clouds somewhat and some inaccuracies appear. The Third and Fifth Fleets are initially described as separate entities; but the Third and the Fifth were the same horse with two jockeys—the Third when ridden by Admiral William Halsey, the Fifth when ridden by Admiral Raymond Spruance. Marine pilots are erroneously placed in cockpits of the Army Air Forces P-38s that shot down Japanese Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto. And the first wave of Marines ashore at Tarawa did not suffer disproportionally heavy casualties, as claimed; it was the later waves that were chewed to pieces. A sanity check and more careful editing would have precluded these and other historical gaffes and a number of irritating typos. But do not read this book for the big picture. Read it for the down-home, heart-tugging stories of the men who fought the war and the women who supported them on the home front.
At war’s end, the Lucky Lady had earned 13 battle stars and was on her way to fight for another—the dreaded invasion of Japan, predicted to produce casualties in the millions and make the desperate battles for Iwo Jima and Okinawa look like strolls in the park by comparison.
Perhaps Japan’s sudden capitulation was the Santa Fe’s luckiest break of all.
An Army at Dawn: The War in North Africa, 1942-1943
Rick Atkinson. New York: Henry Holt, 2002. 681 pp. Photos. Maps. Notes. Sources. Index. $30.00.
Reviewed by Dean C. Allard
Rick Atkinson is a journalist and author of a previous book dealing with the 1991 Gulf War and another on the impact of the Vietnam War on West Point’s class of 1966. In his current book, which won the 2003 Pulitzer Prize for U.S. history, Atkinson turns his attention to the World War II North African campaign. His well-researched account is the first volume of a projected trilogy recounting the liberation of Europe.
As the title suggests, Atkinson’s primary subject is the U.S. Army. He begins the book, however, with a full discussion of the naval role in the Allied landings in Morocco and Algeria in November 1942. The two expeditionary forces engaged in these operations were embarked in Virginia and the United Kingdom, thousands of miles from their objectives. Amphibious operations were a new experience for most of the officers and men involved. Nevertheless, the U.S. and British navies were able to establish Allied troops ashore in the face of short-lived but often determined opposition by the Vichy French. Atkinson gives appropriate credit to Rear Admiral Henry K. Hewitt, the senior U.S. naval commander on the scene, for his amphibious leadership.
Following the lodgments in Morocco and Algeria, Tunisia became the decisive theater of operations in North Africa. There the Germans and Italians engaged the Americans, British, and now-allied French over the next six months. It soon became evident that U.S. soldiers, most of them relatively untested in battle, initially were inferior to their foe, demonstrated, for example, by the bloody battles fought in the area of Kasserine Pass early in 1943. The U.S. defeats there are described fully by the author, who in the process vividly depicts the confusion that is so often associated with warfare. But it is Atkinson’s thesis that the Tunisian campaign was the crucible from which an effective U.S. Army emerged. This was the time when U.S. forces learned how to integrate armor, infantry, artillery, and, to some extent, air power in combined warfare operations. Atkinson also argues that the Tunisian campaign led U.S. soldiers to become imbued with hatred for the enemy. Recognition by the rank and file that World War II had become a personal grudge match explained a great deal about the future combat effectiveness of U.S. forces.
Throughout his book, Atkinson paints insightful portraits of the principal commanders, including such powerful personalities as Field Marshal Erwin Rommel, Lieutenant General Bernard Montgomery, and Major General George S. Patton. Many readers will be especially interested in the author’s evaluation of Lieutenant General Dwight Eisenhower, the overall theater commander. In Atkinson’s estimation, Eisenhower at the outset of the North African campaign lacked self confidence, especially because of his recognition that he had very limited combat and command experience. He also was uncertain whether to act primarily as a politician or as a more traditional military figure. But the author agrees with John Eisenhower’s observation that North Africa transformed his father into a leader who was “full of authority, and truly in command.” In fact, Eisenhower had no choice but to apply political skill in handling the conflicting ambitions and approaches of his U.S. and Allied colleagues. Yet it was equally essential for the general to assume the classic duties of military command.
Less than three months after the Kasserine defeats, the triumphant Allies drove the German and Italian armies, numbering about 250,000 men, into a shrinking coastal pocket in the Tunis-Bizerte area of Tunisia. Because of Allied control of the sea, these forces could not be evacuated, reinforced, or supplied adequately. The Axis enemy surrendered in May 1943.
Atkinson makes an important contribution by reminding us of the major significance of that capitulation. Coming only several months after the German debacle at Stalingrad, the outcome in North Africa reaffirmed that the tide of war had shifted against the Axis. In Atkinson’s words, following this campaign Hitler “lost the strategic initiative, forever.” At the same time, the author notes, the Allies emerged from Tunisia with an “insuperable momentum.”
Civil War Ironclads: The U.S. Navy and Industrial Mobilization
William H. Roberts. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2002. 285 pp. Illus. Notes. Bib. Index. $46.95.
Reviewed by William N. Still Jr.
The Civil War frequently is referred to as the first modern conflict. Among the reasons for this assertion, technology is given prominence. The railroad, electric telegraphs, aerial observation, rifles, repeating small arms, submersibles, and armored ships all were employed during the war. The armored ship is considered the most significant naval development during the period, and monitors were the most important armored ships employed by the Union Navy during the war.
Civil War Ironclads is an account of the Union’s efforts to build a fleet of monitor-type warships during the conflict. This book concentrates on the construction of 39 coastal and oceangoing armorclads; the ironclads built for service on the western rivers are not included. The author’s work highlights a triumvirate of individuals who were most instrumental in the monitor program: John Ericsson, the designer of the original Monitor as well as other classes of ironclads; Gustavus Vasa Fox, the Assistant Secretary of the Navy and the official in the Navy Department who had oversight of the monitor program; and Alban C. Stimers, a naval engineer who became de facto head of the monitor building program. Secretary of the Navy Gideon Welles appointed Stimers director of the monitor “project office,” a bureau that was virtually independent of the Navy’s established administrative system.
This book provides a detailed explanation of the monitor acquisition program from design through commission. Private contractors in both the east and west built the monitors. The author describes their difficulties and failures in meeting deadlines because of labor problems, lack of building materials, and the absence of experience in the new technology of iron warship construction. Primarily as a result of modifications initiated by the project office, the program failed, at least as far as getting a large percentage of the monitors in commission in time to carry out their intended roles in the conflict. The author concludes that the monitor building program did not stimulate iron shipbuilding in the postwar years; if anything, the program retarded it.
The author is a retired naval officer, a surface warfare commander, who received a doctorate in military history from Ohio State University. He is perhaps uniquely qualified to write this study. This is a very good book, and it is well written. The research is impressive, and the author’s analyses and conclusions are thoughtful and convincing. There is some room for improvement, however. The author does discuss the construction of some monitors in the west (primarily in Pittsburgh and Cincinnati), but only those that came under the jurisdiction of the monitor project office. Yet the Union Navy built other ironclads in the west, such as those designed to operate on the Mississippi and its tributaries. Although Stimers’s office had no direct control over their construction, indirectly they did affect his program. For example, there was competition for labor, materials, and machinery.
Although one cannot compare naval shipbuilding in the Confederacy with that in the Union (and the author does not do so), it is interesting to note that some of the problems encountered by Southern shipbuilders also were experienced by their Northern counterparts. Both had difficulties obtaining qualified labor and building materials, for example, and both faced similar technological challenges.
William Roberts has made a significant contribution not only to the naval side of the Civil War, but to the industrial history of the Union during that conflict.
Sailors to the End: The Deadly Fire on the USS Forrestal and the Heroes Who Fought It
Gregory A. Freeman. New York: William Morrow, 2002. 320 pp. Photos. Bib. Index. $25.95.
Reviewed by Captain Paul Rinn, U.S. Navy (Retired)
Gregory Freeman tells a harrowing tale, capturing the horror and heroics of the tragic Forrestal (CVA-59) fire in August 1967. It is a story of sailors performing heroic acts, as they valiantly worked to save a severely stricken ship from major disaster and total loss. No sailor goes through shipboard firefighting school without seeing the riveting film of the Forrestal fire. The film vividly shows firefighting teams attacking an out-of-control fire as exploding ordnance engulfs the flight deck in flames.
The book is based on first-person accounts of those involved in the fire. These men provide details of what happened that day. The mishap was caused by the accidental release of a rocket that shot across the flight deck into a preflight-positioned A-3 Skywarrior aircraft. The resulting explosion caused the fire to get out of control rapidly. Secondary explosions from thin-skinned ordnance, unprotected from the danger of high temperatures or fire, detonated and fueled the ensuing conflagration.
The heroic survivors and lost souls deserve to have their story told in a detailed and accurate manner. Unfortunately, this account is a disjointed description of facts and interviews, insufficiently and incoherently tied together. For example, one can be very familiar with the Forrestal— but without a diagram of the ship to show below-deck spaces or hangar-bay layout, it is very difficult to follow the story.
The description of several actions frequently are either awkwardly stated or simply incorrect. It was equally disturbing to find a lack of editing for technical accuracy. This resulted in numerous errors throughout the book. At one point the author says, “Rowland made it to the rank of commander, a high ranking enlisted man.” Other inaccuracies include stating that an A-4 Skyhawk had two engines (instead of one) or that a World War II Japanese Betty aircraft was a fighter (not a bomber). These and other gaffes show an obvious lack of familiarity with military terminology, equipment, and procedures and calls into question the author’s credibility and ability to tell this epic story with historical accuracy.
The author lacks a clear knowledge of carrier manning and operations. He tends to focus on the notion that the Forrestal was the most powerful carrier in the fleet to the point of overstatements such as describing her as “a one of a kind carrier.” It also was surprising that instead of using a picture to emphasize the ship’s capabilities in 1967, Freeman uses a scene from an earlier period (on page 180) showing F9F Cougars, FJ Furies, and AD Skyraiders instead of the F-4 Phantoms, A- 4 Skyhawks, and E-2 Hawkeyes the Forrestal was carrying at the time of the fire.
As the author deals with the fire, he describes the event through the eyes of various members of the crew and captures their reactions, performances, emotions, characters, and in some cases, insights into their souls. Freeman gives a running commentary of the lives of individual sailors. He jumps back and forth among these men and (although at times it becomes difficult to follow the story) the dramatic plot holds the reader’s attention.
As Freeman is describing the effects of the explosions and fire on the Forrestal’s crewmembers, he decides to deal with the technical causes of the catastrophe. In so doing, he raises a serious issue concerning older, unstable munitions that were on board the carrier. He comes to a controversial conclusion that although these were not the cause of the fire, they were the fuel that turned the Forrestal into an inferno. The author asserts that the Forrestal was loaded with outdated, unstable munitions and that this was driven by Washington’s demand for an intensely increased bombing campaign in Vietnam. He does not, however, provide any corroborating evidence to substantiate this claim. The condition of older ordnance being handled that day on the Forrestal has been debated frequently since the event. Why raise it now, as an issue of some great discovery? Although older bombs may have cooked off faster than newer ones, the fire was so intense any kind of ordnance likely would have cooked off eventually. Regardless, this line of inquiry changes the focus of the book from its presumed intent: to tell the stories of men dealing with a life-and-death struggle to save their ship.
Key individuals who should be included in any story of an accident on board a naval vessel are omitted. For instance, the executive officer is mentioned only in the context of his responsibility to conduct the crew’s messing and berthing inspections (and then only after the fire was under control), and the damage control assistant (who was the chief engineer’s principal advisor during the fire) is not mentioned at all. Freeman suggests the captain was isolated and out of touch. For example, although the commanding officer’s cabin may be private (the author’s words) his description of the captain’s at-sea cabin as being overstated and isolated from what was going on board the ship is inaccurate. As the captain arrived on the bridge, one can be sure he was aware he faced a very difficult situation.
The fire on the Forrestal was an epic milestone in discovering how much needed to be done to make carrier aviation safer. Lessons learned in firefighting techniques, equipment design, personnel preparedness, and training were instrumental in making all future carrier crews better equipped. There would be other carrier fires after this event but the lessons learned from the Forrestal would be responsible for saving many sailors who otherwise would have been lost. Afterward, the physical and mental challenges presented by this conflagration at sea have been indelibly etched on every sailor’s mind and soul.
Gregory Freeman has written a compelling book based on a gripping and historic event. It makes an interesting read. The historical accuracy of the work, however, must be called into question. It could more accurately be characterized as “historical fiction” rather than as an accurate documentation of the Forrestal fire.