Bloody Sixteen: The USS Oriskany and Air Wing 16 during the Vietnam War
Peter Fey. Lincoln, NE: Potomac Books, 2018. 282 pp. Appendices. Notes. Glossary. Biblio. Index. $32.95.
Reviewed by Vice Admiral Robert F. Dunn, U.S. Navy (Retired)
Bloody Sixteen is a well-told, extensively researched narrative about the USS Oriskany (CV-34) and Carrier Air Wing 16 over three deployments to the Tonkin Gulf during the Vietnam War—1965, 1966, and 1967. That ship and air wing operated during some of the most intense periods of Rolling Thunder, the air campaign over North Vietnam, with remarkable success, perhaps garnering more awards than any other Navy ship/wing team in the entire war. Peter Fey tells this story in clear, concise, and gripping words. He does not shy from describing the restrictions on conducting the air war emanating from Washington and sometimes Pearl Harbor. The environment, equipment, weapons, and tactics have changed markedly since the Oriskany and her air wing went to war, but the lessons learned can and should be applied today. Most certainly, the courage the ship and air wing displayed is an example for those who fly and fight the nation’s wars.
Too late for World War II, the Oriskany originally was commissioned in 1950 for the Korean War then converted in 1959 to the “Twenty-seven Charlie” configuration with angled deck, steam catapults, and more. She was not as big and therefore did not operate same type aircraft as her larger contemporaries, but she more than carried her load to the fight.
All three of her deployments coincided with the Lyndon B. Johnson administration’s effort “to bring the war home to the North Vietnamese.” Giant deckload “alpha strikes,” often three or more a day, were launched into one of the most heavily defended areas in the history of warfare. Small-arms fire, antiaircraft artillery, surface-to-air missiles, enemy fighters, and frequent bad weather made for a hazardous environment. Air Wing 16 losses reflected those conditions.
While not the first loss, an early and grievous event was the shootdown of the Air Group Commander (CAG), James Stockdale. As his performance as a leader of all Vietnam prisoners of war later showed, he was exceptional. Air Wing 16 and the Oriskany missed him terribly. Yet they quickly regrouped and, behind other leaders, performed their tasks in sterling fashion and flew the most difficult missions against the most difficult defenses.
As it so often turns out in war at sea, the greatest difficulty was not so much the enemy as the ship-at-sea environment. On the evening of 25 October 1966 while on Yankee Station, the ship was preparing for the next day’s operations and downloading and storing ammunition that might have been used during the night had those operations not been canceled. Early in the morning on 26 October, while Mark 25 flares were being stored in a hangar deck ammunition locker, a fuse was accidentally tripped and, in panic, the seaman doing the storing threw the activated flare into the locker. Flames and smoke spread throughout the ship, especially forward. General quarters was sounded, and all hands turned to, but the ensuing fire was not put out until 1500 that afternoon. Forty-four Oriskany and Carrier Air Wing 14 men died, countless others were injured, and the ship was ordered back to San Diego by way of Subic Bay. The 1966 cruise was over.
Back on the line in 1967 as part of Task Force 77 in the Tonkin Gulf, the Oriskany and Air Wing 16 picked up where they left off, only more so. They flew some of the toughest missions into the most highly defended areas and amid the heaviest antiaircraft artillery and surface-to-air missile environment of the war. Fey’s listing of Navy Crosses, Silver Stars, and other medals hint that what they did was exceptional; his research and writing certifies it.
Probably never again will airmen be required to brave such a deadly environment as did the men of Air Wing 16 and the other Navy, Marine, and Air Force aircrews who flew over North Vietnam in 1965–68. The aviators who flew over North Vietnam carried a calculated number of weapons, some left over from World War II, to ensure destruction of one target; aircrews in the Gulf War and later conflicts carried one weapon to ensure destruction of one target. Yet no one can take away from the courage and dedication of those who flew from ships such as the Oriskany and her sisters. They did the job they were asked; they and those who supported them should be proud.
Fey’s readable book is does a tremendous service to those who flew and those who supported those who flew in that often-unpopular war of so long ago.
Lest We Forget: The Great War
Colonel Jennifer N. Pritzker, Illinois Army
National Guard (Retired), and Kenneth Clark, eds. Chicago: Pritzker Military Museum and Library, 2018. 400 pp. Appendix. Biblio. Index. Illus. $60.
Reviewed by Gale Munro
In honor of the 100th anniversary of the United States’ entry into World War I, the Pritzker Military Museum and Library has published a history of that conflict, with period maps, photographs, and full-page color reproductions of posters from the Pritzker Collection. It is a marvelous volume. The breadth of the poster collection is enough to spark envy. The text by Michael Robbins, former editor of MHQ, is an interesting overview of the war, starting with the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria and ending with the Treaty of Versailles and the complications that continue to affect our geopolitics today.
The title, Lest We Forget, is a phrase—originally derived from scripture—used in military commemorations as a caution against forgetting sacrifices made on the battlefield. It would be easy to forget this war. One hundred years have passed, no veterans remain alive, and succeeding wars have exceeded it in scope and bloodshed. For the United States, the war was brief. Still, it changed the map of Europe, and saw the development of a number of modern-day defensive technologies, and in mobilization, the United States demonstrated an astonishing capability that still gives Americans pride. It behooves us to know something of this war.
This book gives the history methodically in 20 chapters, focusing not just on the fighting in Europe, but also on colonial conflicts in the Middle East, East Asia, the Pacific, and Africa. It has a chapter on the development of modern weapons: railroad guns, tanks, aircraft, and chemical weapons. It covers the war at sea in addition to the land battles. It discusses the great powers and the lesser ones. Considering that half of the book is images, it does so in a remarkably concise way.
At the front of each chapter is a pertinent section of map. Every odd page of a chapter has a sharp color poster reproduction, and every even page has text and a period photograph inset, also both related to text. The care taken in the selection and placement of images is evident. The pages are a generous ten-and-three-quarter-inches high, so the color images are big and detailed. The posters are of various types: recruiting, national loans, morale, production, and public notices, from Allied and Central powers.
Additional features include a lovely foreword by retired Colonel Jennifer N. Pritzker, Illinois Army National Guard, giving the case for the museum’s participation in World War I commemorations, and an excellent introduction by Sir Hew Strachan discussing why the maturing of poster technology was important to the war effort. At the end is an afterword by retired Army Colonel Robert J. Delessandro, discussing the American Battle Monuments Commission. A catalog of the posters follows, with collection numbers for those who wish to do further research, as does a list of resources and an index.
Lest We Forget is a good, general history of the Great War put together by experienced professionals in the field. For those looking for a good basic history, this is an excellent choice supported by good examples of period visual culture.
“Our Little Monitor”: The Greatest Invention of the Civil War
Anna Gibson Holloway and Jonathan W. White. Kent, OH: The Kent State University Press, 2018. 304 pp. Illus. Maps. Notes. Biblio. Index. $34.95.
Reviewed by Noah Andre Trudeau
I suspect that if one compiled a list of Civil War–era warships and sorted it by size of bibliography, the USS Monitor would be the first by more than a few nautical miles. This newest entry might be well described, with apologies to NPR, as “All Things Monitor Considered.” In it, authors Anna Gibson Holloway and Jonathan W. White touch all the bases regarding this iconic warship in a handsomely produced volume.
The core Monitor story is handled in chapters 14 and 67, covering the origins of the CSS Virginia and the Monitor, the construction race, Battle of Hampton Roads, the Virginia’s self-immolation, and the Monitor’s storm sinking. Primary sources are well mixed (both published and unpublished), with writing that is crisp and efficient. There is drama aplenty in this story, but the need to leave room for the other book elements leads to it being understated. Readers seeking a full-color version are directed to James L. Nelson’s Reign of Iron (HarperCollins, 2005), or William C. Davis’s Duel Between the First Ironclads (LSU Press, 1981).
The self-explanatory title of chapter 8, “Discovery and Recovery,” is a compelling saga in itself. Holloway has strong links to the USS Monitor Center at the Mariners’ Museum in Newport News, Virginia, so this is a story she knows well. Given its twists and turns, it must move briskly in such a compressed format as entire books exist covering the same ground. Thanks to it, a new term has entered my vocabulary: “rescue archaeology.” This refers to wrecks in difficult-to-access locations (the Monitor lies in deep water at the intersection of powerful ocean currents) where items of minor importance are sacrificed to reach and salvage those of greater significance.
The final 66 pages of the book’s main body contain a mix of primary materials. There are journal and letter excerpts from individuals who either served on board the Monitor or accompanied her for part of her service. A selection of newspaper items from October and November 1862 chart the repairs/revisions to the Monitor following the Battle of Hampton Roads. There also is a section that should resonate with Twitter and Instagram devotees—a sampling of suggestions received by the Lincoln White House proposing imaginative (and often whacky) tactics to fight the next ironclad battle.
I have saved for last chapter 5, which seems to be the heart of the book: “The Monitor in Popular Culture.” The authors make a telling point when they describe the transformation of the warship from a “Cheese box on a raft” to “The Pet of the People,” and how her image went viral (the pre-internet equivalent). When a wooden ship sailed into battle her masts and deck swarmed with human beings. When the Monitor fought, however, the only image was pure machine. But somehow the tinman gained a heart and a soul. Here I would have welcomed more context and analysis in lieu of plain description, even though much of it is fascinating.
This is a heavily illustrated volume, and the reproductions are all first class. A quibble: the ca. 1862 Hampton Roads color map (p. 14) purports to show “the location of the grounded USS Minnesota, as well as the Monitor and Virginia locked in close combat.” A good quality magnifying glass is required, and even then it is unsatisfying. Perhaps an insert containing an enlargement of the key section would have improved things.
This is a fine accomplishment by two scholars well versed in all things Monitor. Readers new to the subject would be better served by a more of a battle history, but if the Monitor bug proves infectious, this is an excellent next stop.