Midshipmen summer cruises have long been integral to training at the U.S. Naval Academy. In the summer of 1940, Midshipman Third Class Amedeo H. Galvani made his youngster (sophomore) cruise on board the battleship USS Texas (BB-35). He graduated with the Class of 1943 and served on the USS Burns (DD-588) in the Pacific in World War II, receiving a Bronze Star. During a 30-year career he commanded three ships. He retired in 1972. Captain A. H. Galvani observed his 100th birthday in August 2020 and is one of the oldest living graduates of the Naval Academy. He described his summer cruise experiences on board the Texas in a long letter to his grandson, written in 2002. This is his letter.
It was June 1940, and upon graduation of the seniors, it was customary for the new seniors, called first classmen, and the new sophomores [third classmen or youngsters] to embark on a three-month battleship cruise1 during June, July, and August. The battleships assigned for our cruise consisted of the flagship USS Texas (BB-35), New York (BB-34), and Arkansas (BB-33). I happened to be assigned to the Texas.2
The third classmen, of which I was one, numbering over 200 in each ship, replaced and took over the duties of a comparable number of the regular ship’s company seamen who were given leave to make room for us. The first classmen assumed the duties of junior officers and also supervised the watches and travails of the third classmen.
In prior years, the cruises took the midshipmen to European ports. However, with the winds of war already blowing full force in Europe, commencing in 1938 the midshipman training cruises stayed on this side of the Atlantic.3
On the day following the 6 June graduation ceremonies, we embarked in motor launches and were taken out via the Severn River to the battleships anchored in Chesapeake Bay.4 I had been assigned to Second Division, one of the deck divisions whose responsibility was to maintain the ship’s hull, decks, boats, anchor gear, etc.
We came aboard, each of us with one large canvas seabag plus our Navy-issue black suitcase filled with our white service uniforms, white works,5 sneakers, shoes, raincoats, toilet articles, cameras, and other assorted gear to sustain us for three months. The small metal locker used by seamen held only about a third of our gear. The rest of it stayed in our seabag and suitcase and had to be stowed in assigned remote unlockable locations, such as the fireroom uptakes, after which they were guarded continuously by one of us through assigned watches. Access to them was permitted only on given days at given times.
We quickly were indoctrinated into the rigorous daily routine of the seamen in the deck divisions. This was intended to give us a good appreciation of the life of the men we would one day work with and lead, and this it certainly did. Reveille was at 0530 followed by storage of our hammocks, saltwater scrubdown of the decks, racing with our towels and toilet articles to the after washroom, where we scrambled for space to shave and clean up, then go have breakfast. We learned what “holy-stoning”6 was, and by means of that kept the teak deck gleaming bright throughout our cruise.7
(U.S. Naval Institute Photo Archive)
My “home aboard” was in the casemate of one of the 5-inch/51-caliber guns on the port side of the ship. A casemate is a large armored room that houses a gun mount. It has a large opening in the side of the ship through which the gun barrel extends and the gun is fired. Our casemate provided sufficient space for the gun crew of 11 men to operate in while loading, aiming, and firing the gun. Here we lived, ate, and slept.8
Each evening at hammock call, we got our hammocks out of the storage bin and attached them to hooks in the overhead using two wood spreader bars to keep the hammocks from folding in over us. They were very tippy and easily fallen out of. Spending all night in a hammock is a far call from relaxing for a couple of hours in one strung between two trees at home. And sleeping on one’s stomach proved to be an impossibility. Most of us soon took to bringing our hammocks up on deck and sleeping there whenever the weather permitted. The hard wooden deck proved to be no problem for our tired bodies.
Its wide expanse also provided an excellent area for sunbathing, which we frequently took advantage of when the day’s work was done. Under that hot tropical sun, it was not long before we all had fairly good tans.
Our dining tables had folding metal legs, and after meals were over, we hung them on hooks in the overhead of the casemate. We third classmen took turns bringing the food, trays, and eating utensils from the galley to the casemate at mealtime, and for returning them after meals. The first classmen ate with us quite civilly as we were no longer plebes, but “upper classmen” like them. The harassments of Plebe Year were over!
Our life on board as seamen was consumed with much chipping and scraping of rusted paintwork down to the bare metal followed by sanding, red leading or yellow chromating, then applying the final familiar coat of haze gray paint. We also polished the brightwork endlessly.
We stood regular watches each day or night on the bridge, signal bridge, after steering room, in the galley and bakery, scullery, and in the engine rooms and firerooms. I particularly enjoyed my watch as steersman, though the regular steersman kept a watchful eye on my efforts, ready to take over if I strayed too far off course. The officer of the deck also kept an occasional eye on our wake to ensure that it stayed acceptably straight. Every evening there was a movie on the fantail, and these were greatly enjoyed by all, both ship’s company and midshipmen.9
We third classmen also had course books to complete, which were intended to familiarize us with all aspects of the ship. They included tracing many of the ship’s water and steam systems and answering a myriad of questions about them. These books had to be completed and turned in before the end of the cruise, and so we were kept busy during our watches in the various spaces as well as at other times. It was quite a relief when they finally were done and turned in for review by our Academy officers, a number of whom accompanied us on the cruise.
(National Archives)
A large part of our training was devoted to gunnery. I was assigned as rammerman on a 5-inch/51-caliber gun that, as I recall, was manned entirely by midshipmen. We underwent many hours of intensive training on the loading machine in preparation for live firing exercises when we arrived in Guantanamo Bay, or Gitmo as we called it.10 These were bag guns and their projectiles weighed 50 pounds. The bore had to be inspected after each shot to ensure that there were no burning embers left there that might cause the next powder bag to blow before the breech was closed, killing all in the vicinity.
I must admit we were all a little nervous as the day of live firing approached. Each gun crew was finally issued 12 red-leaded projectiles (solid shot) for the exercise. Each crew was given a different color with which to paint their projectiles so that it could be determined which guns had hit the tug-towed target. Upon conclusion of the firing, the tug crew would inspect the target and determine our success or failure from the color of the paint left in the holes in the target fabric made by the shells. We also were allowed to paint the names of our girlfriends on the shells.
Finally, the short-range battle practice at Gitmo took place. It marked the culmination of our cruise training, and we all breathed a sigh of relief when it was over. I don’t recall which guns scored what hits, but at least we had no casualties.11
I also had a secondary battle station in the upper handling room of one of our 14-inch gun turrets.12 It was a small, dark space illuminated only by red lamps protected by thick glass globes, lest the spark from a broken lamp ignite the ether whose odor emanated from the powder bags. These bags came to us through a flame-proof scuttle. We rolled them along a brass tray, then boosted them up through another flame-proof scuttle into the gun mount. The charge for each gun consisted of four of these bags. I must say that I was greatly relieved when the firing of the 14-inch guns was over. Working in that confined space of the upper handling room made us feel like human cogs in a gear train.
(USNA Digital Collection)
While life on board a man of-war in those days was quite strenuous, visits to good liberty ports were justifiable compensation.13 We anchored out most of the time, and rode those large motor launches ashore. I’ll never forget the huge, ever-present ground swells at our anchor at La Guairá, Venezuela.14 Getting into or out of a motor launch was always a feat there.
From La Guairá we traveled inland by taxi caravan, four middies per cab, over hazardous mountain roads15 to Caracas, the capital, whose buildings were a strange mixture of the ancient and the modern. In the city, our driver tooted his horn endlessly, scattering the pedestrians right and left. I soon understood why the horn was powered by squeezing the large rubber bulb at its rear. Had it been battery-powered, he probably would have run down his battery in no time.16
Early July found us anchored off a fine deserted beach near Ponce, Puerto Rico.17 We celebrated the Fourth by going ashore and having a day-long beach party.18 I remember getting quite a sunburn in spite of my already fairly good tan. I was in misery when we got under way the following day, and I had the midnight-to-four watch in the hot fireroom.
The 1939 World’s Fair was still in full swing when we arrived at New York City.19 We put on our white service uniforms and marched in a parade there. We attended a show by the Radio City Rockettes, and some midshipmen were lucky enough to have dates with them that evening.
We paraded also during our six-day stay in Boston.20 Since we were only 45 miles from my home in Plymouth, I also was able to get a couple of days’ leave to go home.21
Lacking in radar, air conditioning, mess halls, and living spaces with bunks and mattresses, those vintage battleships were a far call from the men-of-war today. Still, they carried a formidable punch and served as excellent platforms for our at-sea training. Since our shortened three-year schedule at the Academy22 eliminated the customary destroyer cruise at the end of [our] second year, those two and a half months gave us our only underway training before commissioning. When we joined the fleet two years later [our ships were] already engaged in heavy fighting. That training stood us in excellent stead and also made us appreciate the difficulties experienced by our seamen when at sea. I’m sure that it created a soft, understanding spot in our hearts for our fellow mariners, and no doubt favorably affected our dealings with them throughout our service careers.
The USS Texas was a fine ship, and I’m proud to have been a member of her crew for even those few months back there in 1940. It is both amazing and reassuring to know that she is still afloat some [106] years later in the Lone Star State for which she was named.23
1. The group of ships was called the Atlantic Practice Squadron. (’43 Lucky Bag, 131)
2. The Texas was commissioned in 1914. She had a crew of about 1,000 officers and sailors. A 15-month overhaul (31 July–November 1926) in the Norfolk Navy Yard extensively modernized the ship.
3. The cruise began and ended in Annapolis. The Texas’s port visit schedule included Colon, Panama Canal Zone; La Guairá, Venezuela; Puerto Rico; New York City; Newport, R.I.; Boston; and Guantanamo Bay, Cuba.
4. The Lucky Bag notes that on “Our last morning ashore we formed and marched to the dock, the band played ‘The Girl I Left Behind Me,’ and the launches shoved off—officially embarking us on THE CRUISE.”
5. “White works” consisted of a white cotton jumper and white cotton trousers. The circular cloth cap, often called a “dixie cup,” worn by midshipmen third class had a broad blue stripe around it to differentiate midshipmen from enlisted personnel.
6. A holystone is a brick of soft sandstone used for cleaning and brightening the wooden weather decks of a ship. Sometimes sailors got on their hands and knees to scrape the bricks over the deck. Some holystones had a hole that allowed fitting a broom handle to it so the sailor could clean the deck while standing.
7. The Texas’s routine for Monday, 1 July, provides a look into a midshipman’s day at sea. Reveille was sounded at 0530 and “turn to, wash down decks” came at 0600. Hammocks were to be stowed by 0650. Breakfast was at 0700. School call for midshipmen started at 0800 and continued until 1600 with interruptions for gun drills, battle station exercises, and lunch. Supper was at 1730. “USS Texas Routine for Monday 1 July 1940” can be found in the Robert Hailey papers as noted in the references below. Midshipman First Class Robert Hailey, Class of 1941, also was on board the Texas for the cruise and kept a diary from 7 June through 4 July. Hailey had a distinguished career in the Navy and retired as a captain; he passed away in 2011.
8. The Texas’s secondary battery included 5-inch/51-caliber single-pedestal gun mounts.
9. Movies shown included Babes in Arms (Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland, 1939) and Only Angels Have Wings (Cary Grant and Jean Arthur, 1939).
10. The Texas visited Guantanamo Bay 29 July–9 August.
11. The Lucky Bag notes that at Guantanamo, “We finally got to put our endless hours of gun drill to use and were scared silly when the big guns were fired.”
12. The Texas’s main battery consisted of five turrets of 14-inch/45-caliber guns. Each turret had two barrels. Two turrets were forward, two aft, and one amidships.
13. Midshipman Galvani did not mention the Texas’s first port call at Coco Solo in the Panama Canal Zone 15–20 June.
14. The Texas stopped here 24–28 June.
15. In his diary entry for 24 June, Midshipman Hailey wrote that on the mountainous drive to Caracas he could see “the ships nestled on the fringe of a vast blue mantle which gleamed and sparkled as far as the eye could see.”
16. On Thursday, 27 June, the President of Venezuela, Eleazar Lopez Contreras, visited the Texas, the squadron’s flagship. Midshipman Hailey was assigned to act as an interpreter and was sent as part of a welcoming group to the pier to assist with the visit. He described his experiences in his diary: “. . . at 1130 . . . went to docks. There we took our stations and waited with 12 motor boats, gigs, and the admiral’s barge standing by to take visitors out [to the ship]. The President of Venezuela came first with his retinue of officers and ministers . . . Then the cabinet members, officers, diplomats, and about everyone of any importance. I talked quite a bit with one of the cops on the dock, but all I could get to do with the big shots was to salute.” The following day a note in the ship’s Plan of the Day stated, “The Captain and the [Executive Officer] thank all hands for their splendid work in connection with the State Luncheon and Reception to the President of Venezuela. The success of this function reflects the greatest credit on the entire personnel of the TEXAS.”
17. The Texas was at Ponce 2 and 3 July.
18. The beach party, arranged by the governor of the Virgin Islands, was at Magens Bay on 4 July.
19. From St Thomas the Atlantic Practice Squadron steamed north. The Lucky Bag notes that “The nights got colder and colder and one foggy morning we lay off New York.” The squadron was there 12–16 June. The World’s Fair opened on 30 April 1939 and closed on 27 October 1940.
20. From New York, the Texas went to Newport, Rhode Island, 18–19 July. She visited Boston 20–23 July.
21. From Boston the squadron steamed south to Guantanamo Bay for gunnery drills 29 July–9 August. The squadron returned to Annapolis, arriving on 14 August and debarking the midshipmen the next day.
22. While the Atlantic Practice Squadron was at sea, the Navy, due to the urgent need for more officers in the rapidly expanding fleet, shortened the course of study at the Naval Academy. The Class of 1941, on the cruise as first classmen (seniors), would graduate in February 1941 vice June 1941. The Class of 1942 became a three-and-a-half-year class, graduating in December 1941. Midshipman Third Class Galvani’s class would graduate a year early in June 1942 instead of June 1943 but was still called the Class of ’43.
23. The battleship Texas, located today in La Porte near Houston, has been a museum ship since 1948. The ship is now closed for public visitation. Severe deterioration of her hull has placed her survival in question.
