“‘Outside World, Are You There?’ Memories of OCS (W)”
(See Barbara Bradlyn Morris, pp. 48-53, June 2007 Naval History)
Lieutenant Commander Paul E. Cornelius, U.S. Navy (Retired)
Ah, nostalgia! The article brought back a flood of memories. Immediately after graduating from Duquesne University in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, I entered the Navy through OCS, Newport, Rhode Island, in Class #50 of June 1960.
Ms. Morris’ story set my mind to recalling how it was to be a young college graduate with no nautical knowledge entering the Navy. My world forever changed at the end of that train trip from Pittsburgh to Newport.
I suspect that some of the experiences that we male officer candidates were exposed to were somewhat more “salty” than those of our female counterparts. I learned a lot of lingo from those crusty old Navy chiefs, many words of which are not found in the Division Officer’s Guide! There were some similarities in our training, i.e., male and female OCS types: all of our text books thrown on the barracks’ deck because they were not stowed properly; returning from class to find our mattresses had been thrown out the second deck windows because they were not made properly; plotting a three-line star fix in navigation class and getting a rather large triangular fix, to which our grizzled chief quartermaster said, “Who cares, as long as you are in the middle of the ocean!”
But nothing can compare with my pride when I graduated from OCS in old Building #1801 and sailed my hat into the air as an ensign. Oh, by the way, I am proud to say that our OCS class produced a Medal of Honor recipient, Captain Thomas G. Kelley.
“Pray for a Miracle”
(See E. H. Taylor, pp. 58-62, April 2007 Naval History)
Commander Burton G. Wright, U.S. Naval Reserve (Retired)
The three vessels in the U.S. Army photograph on page 61 are misidentified. They are not landing craft, infantry (LCIs); they are LSMs (landing ship, medium).
LSMs were not only active in the Philippines—one was sunk by a kamikaze in Ormoc Bay—they were also at the invasions of I wo Jima and Okinawa, and the initial landings of occupation troops in Japan at Wakayama. They were specifically designed for operations in the Asia-Pacific campaign, where beaches were shallower and distances greater than in the European theater.
Although they were smaller than the LSTs (landing ship, tank)—203 vs. 328 feet long—they had nearly twice the propulsive horsepower of the larger ships. They were thus faster, more maneuverable, and more versatile. They were crewed by 50 enlisted men and five officers, could carry five Sherman tanks and 50 troops or combinations of many other things—from beer and mops to torpedoes and 16-inch gun barrels.
Although more than 550 were built, they seemed a fairly well-kept secret. Often, when entering a new port, they were accosted by a flashing light signaling, “what kind of ship is that?”
At least one is still afloat. In 2004 the USS LSM-LSMR Association donated the LSM-45 to the Marine Corps Museum of the Carolinas at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina.
“In Contact” and “Historic Aircraft”
(See L. Lavrakas, p. 65, June 2007 and N. Polmar, pp. 12-13, April 2007 Naval History)
Staff Sergeant John Pauly, U.S. Marine Corps Reserve
With all due respect to the great Samuel Eliot Morison, I wouldn’t mention his comment that the British Coastal Command had made the waters extending out to 600 miles from the British Isles as “safe as the Great Lakes” to any members of the U.S. 66th Infantry Division. The day before Christmas 1944, the SS Leopoldville, carrying 2,500 men of the division, was sunk in the English Channel by a U-boat, killing 798 officers and men.
Kudos on the Brewster Buffalo article and the inspired idea to include the obscure McClelland Barclay camouflage pattern. Not many folks have heard of it, let alone seen an example.
“Will the Navy Unshackle Old Ironsides?”
(See C. A. Melhuish, pp. 42-46, June 2007 Naval History)
Mark Warren
I would like to offer a possible compromise to the problems associated with sailing the USS Constitution to other ports on the eastern seaboard. The Navy could charter the services of a semisubmersible heavy-lift ship, such as the Condock V. This vessel successfully transported the USS Gladiator (MCM-11), an Avenger-class mine- countermeasures ship from Ingleside, Texas, to Bahrain in January 2006.
The USS Constitution could be floated onto the heavy lift vessel in Boston Harbor. The two could transit at the required speed set by the Navy and the frigate floated off in the destination harbor, such as New York City. The frigate could then make small sailing trips within the safety of the harbor.
Yes, having the Constitution arrive under the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge on a heavy-lift vessel is not as spectacular as having her arrive under tow. However, simply having the old warship arrive in New York at all would be magnificent. In addition, by using the heavy-lift ship, the number of possible destinations grows considerably—from Portland, Maine, to Houston, Texas. The West Coast and foreign ports are also possibilities.
Now the Boston politicians will have to figure out a new reason to keep the USS Constitution tied up in Charlestown.
“Putting the Midway Miracle in Perspective”
(See D. M. Goldstein, pp. 16-23, June 2007 Naval History)
Captain Thomas W. Glickman, U.S. Navy (Retired)
The portrait of Admiral Chester Nimitz appearing next to that of Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto on page 17 illustrates a physical attribute the two had in common: Each had nine fingers. Admiral Nimitz lost one when a glove caught in machinery during a demonstration of early marine diesel engines. Admiral Yamamoto lost one during the Battle of Tsushima in 1905.
Colonel John Haile Cloe, U.S. Army (Retired)
I retired as an Air Force historian and wrote a book on the Aleutian campaign and an article about the Army Air Forces participation in the Battle of Midway. Naturally, I read Donald M. Goldstein’s article with interest.
Dr. Goldstein’s assertion that the Doolittle Raid on 18 April 1942 helped convince Japan’s military leaders to proceed with the Midway-Aleutian operation is correct. Japan was suffering from a bad case of “victory disease” at the time, but it also realized that it had to strike decisively before America completed its massive rearmament program, begun in 1940, and fully mobilized its forces. Japan lacked the resources to fight a protracted war.
The result was the Midway-Aleutian Directive, issued by the Japanese Imperial Headquarters, 16 April. It called for a new defensive line stretching from the western Aleutians through Midway to the Samoan, Fiji, and New Caledonia islands and the destruction of the U.S. Pacific Fleet in a climatic naval battle reminiscent of the Japanese defeat of Russia’s Baltic Fleet at the Battle of Tsushima Strait in 1905.
While the Japanese Navy pushed the plan, the Army was more reluctant, fearing that its forces would be spread too thin in far-flung garrisons. The Doolittle Raid cinched the argument to proceed. Goldstein did not fall into the trap of believing the raid led directly to Midway and it had been launched from the Aleutians, as some historians have asserted. The Japanese were fully aware of the raid’s origin.
Following the defeat at Midway, the Japanese decided to proceed with the occupation of the western Aleutians as a ploy to mask its defeat and later produced a propaganda film to that effect. They were also concerned about the United States using the islands as an invasion route from the north.
While much has been written about Midway, the Aleutians have been relegated by historians to the backwaters of World War II despite the fact that the Aleutian campaign was the only one fought on North American soil during the war.
“Courage in a Hostile Place”
(See G. B. Palmer, pp. 38-41, June 2007 Naval History)
Commander Robert C. Whitten, U.S. Navy Reserve (Retired)
This article brought back memories of my experience in Wonsan Harbor. Our ship, the USS Ozboum (DD-846), was anchored in the harbor about a mile south of Sin Do island on Sunday, 14 February 1951, oblivious to any possibility that we might be taken under fire. Suddenly, about noon, the Ozboum was hit twice by fire from a battery on Sin Do. We opened up immediately firing about 400 shells at the island. The first lieutenant, like me a graduate of the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy, quickly broke the detachable link holding the anchor, and we were under way. Fortunately, personnel casualties were minor, a few cuts from a near miss. Material losses were the MK 56 gun director and all of the chief engineer’s shoes that were not on his feet. I was napping in the forward officers’ quarters when I heard the general alarm and immediately took off for my battle station in the after engine room. The commanding officer at the time was Commander (later Captain) Charles O. Akers and the officer in tactical command and ComDesDiv 112 was Captain (later Vice Admiral) Bernard F. Roeder, who started the sobriquet of “Mayor of Wonsan.” I believe the Ozboum was the first destroyer hit at Wonsan and the Owen (DD-536) was apparently the last. The Ozboum action is well described in Korea Remembered: Enough of a War,
James Healy
Mr. Palmer is indeed correct that some of the most grueling ship-to-shore fights at Wonsan occurred in the waning days of the Korean War. The Owen’s (DD-536) partner that day, the USS Maddox (DD- 731), was also hit. (She was a destroyer that would gain more fame at the start of another war.) On 17 June, my ship, the USS Irwin (DD-794), on her very first day of patrol, engaged in a furious gun battle with Wonsan shore batteries. The USS Henderson (DD-785) took hits and departed under cover of our smoke. Task Force 77 planes had to furnish air support for the two-hour action. The next day the battle resumed, and it was our turn to take a deck hit, wounding four men in the upper handling room for mount 52. The St. Paul (CA-73) and the Rowan (DD- 782) were also hit in the same action, with the Rowan taking five hits, wounding nine men. Once patched, we returned to complete our siege time in Wonsan including several more fire fights.
I have since read that Wonsan was a controversial blockade, and many wanted to abandon the effort. The naval siege at Wonsan was also unusual as it was undertaken within the inner harbor, making it much more difficult and dangerous for maneuvering warships. Historian Colonel Michael Hickey, in his book The Korean War: West Faces Communism (Overlook, 2000), concurred, noting that American destroyers were “boldly handled” in Korea.
“Looking Back”
(See P. Stillwell, p. 2, June 2007 Naval History)
Captain John E. O’Neil Jr., U.S. Navy (Retired)
Like Paul Stillwell, I also had my only launch and trap on the USS John F. Kennedy (CV-67). Mine was in April 1972. Paul mentioned an interesting bit of trivia. “In one of the engineering spaces on board the JFK an artistic crew member—or perhaps more than one— had painted a large mural that depicted Jesus Christ.”
I embarked the JFK in Boston for the last underway period in the ship’s active duty life from 4-10 March 2007. Paul’s memory of the painting is correct. The large mural is in the auxiliary machinery room, where it shares space with two generators and a distillation plant. The painting is on a large white bulkhead and has several spotlights on it to brighten an otherwise shadowed part of this space. We guests were wondering how long this painting had been on the bulkhead, and with Paul remembering it in place in 1976, this dates the painting as at least 31 years old.
Separation of church and state may be more pronounced today than when the mural was painted more than three decades ago, but I surmise that only touch-ups were done to keep it in good shape without regards to political correctness. There are other murals and decorative paintings around the ship. The main magazines under the amidships mess decks have a series of murals on different decks and the forecastle has several pieces of Sailor art as well.
“The Wahoo Discovered”
(See C. LaVO, pp. 52-55, February 2007 Naval History)
Norbert F. Toczko
In the early 1930s, my dad was a plank owner on the heavy cruiser USS Chicago (CA-29). One of her junior officers was Ensign Dudley W. Morton. My dad remembered him as very popular, one of those rare officers who could fraternize with the enlisted men without losing their respect or his authority over them.
I first came across Morton when reading Submarine! by Captain Edward L. Beach (Henry Holt, 1952). The book said Morton went directly into submarines as soon as he could. My dad told me otherwise.
Like most junior officers, Morton was bored with duty on board the big ships of the peacetime Navy and was looking for some area where he might find a little adventure and perhaps a quick promotion. One day, he made his choice and went ashore to take his flight physical.
He returned to the ship in the afternoon in a foul mood wearing a pair of glasses, which quickly earned him the nickname “Banjo Eyes.” Word spread that the flight doctors had disqualified him for poor eyesight, issued him a pair of glasses on the spot, and shipped him back to the Chicago.
When my dad left the ship at the end of his cruise, Ensign Morton was still on board, still grumbling over those “idiot doctors.” If he had been accepted and gained his wings, he would possibly have been a squadron commander at the time of the attack on Pearl Harbor. No doubt he would have made his mark, and perhaps naval aviators would be studying some aerial maneuver known as the “Morton.”