An Analysis of the Air Menace
(See page 649, May, 1932, Proceedings)
Lieutenant C. R. Brown, U. S. Navy. —Some years ago a landsman, conceded within the limitations of his training to be an authority on aircraft, made extravagant claims regarding the effectiveness of this comparatively new weapon against the battleship. Thus was precipitated a controversy which raged for a time with full partisan fury and resulted in assertions and denials based more upon feeling than logic. Gradually the storm has subsided and thinking people, handicapped no doubt, by lack of useful war-time data, have spent much time and thought in attempting to assign to aircraft their proper value as a weapon in naval warfare.
But, unfortunately, the controversy started as an argument between the proponents of the battleship and the airplane and almost seems destined to be thrashed out on these lines until the acid test of another war. This has resulted in a narrowing of discussion and a limitation of the conceptions embracing the proper usage of aircraft from which no subsequent thesis seems to be entirely free.
Commander Parker’s article is a clear, readable, intelligent, and unbiased study of this problem. Every possible factor has seemingly been developed and the entire paper gives such unmistakable evidence of the painstaking care and thought involved that one hesitates to insinuate his own conceptions into the midst of such an imposing and exhaustive array of conclusions. But, despite the fact that he has dealt with the potentialities of aircraft in a manner with which even rabid aviation enthusiasts must find little to quarrel, it is suggested that the aircraft-versus-battleship idea threads its way through the entire structure and all discussions seem eventually to come back to that nucleus.
May I suggest that we have allowed ourselves to be misled by a landlubber’s misconception of the problems of naval warfare and that, though the destruction of the enemy battle line may be the ultimate goal of a naval commander, there are more devious ways by which aircraft may contribute their part than by the simple expedient of launching bombs or torpedoes at their battleships?
The service of information is one of the major contributions of the airplane. As Commander Parker states, the days are past when contact meant that vessels from each side were within radius of visibility of each other and hence not so very far beyond gun range. Contact may be made when surface screening vessels are many miles apart and the main bodies still further separated.
Further, a tremendous initial advantage lies with the side which first makes contact. Let us presume Black to have thus contacted Blue. Command of the air, that difficult to obtain and highly important factor, lies within Black’s reach. An aircraft is a relatively small object and can quite possibly remain undiscovered after having sighted the enemy. Certainly it must be conceded a period of comparative freedom of movement and its ability to communicate the information obtained. And, though discovered, little can be learned of the direction, strength, or composition of Black’s forces from this fact. Meanwhile acting on information thus obtained, an immediate attack will unquestionably be launched against the Blue carriers for, to again quote Commander Parker, “You can kill more hornets by burning their nests than by waving a fly swatter as they come for you!” The comparative vulnerability of the carrier makes the probability of success much greater than any other offensive action aircraft may take against surface vessels. The target is broad and generous, nor is it necessary to sink the vessel in order “to burn the nest.” A few well directed bombs would be sufficient to write finis to the career of any of our modern carriers, though the vessel might suffer no loss of speed and continue to operate efficiently in the role of a scout. And with the elimination of each carrier, the preponderance of air strength would grow on Black’s side, making the eventual and perhaps speedy elimination of the remaining Blue carriers highly probable. With their elimination, Blue air strength ceases to be of any consequence. Any movement of catapult aircraft could be smothered at its source by vigilant fighters lurking out of gun range.
With complete command of the air the engagement becomes a game of blind-man’s buff with Blue blinded and Black able to meet every move of Blue’s in an intelligent manner. If Blue chooses to run instead of accepting an engagement, Black can still inflict damage with his swift moving bombers, and it is extremely doubtful if Blue can avoid some kind of a surface engagement. If he chooses to fight, action will come when and under what circumstances Black dictates. If a main engagement is to be fought, Black will utilize his aircraft to their fullest extent, probably by bombing and torpedo attacks immediately before action and certainly throughout the engagement to cripple as much as possible and add confusion to a heavily engaged opponent. Also, Black’s gunnery during the early phases of the action will have the unquestioned superiority of the unopposed assistance of spotting aircraft.
It is significant to note in the foregoing that aircraft were used against surface vessels other than carriers on only two occasions. First, to engage and damage as much as possible a retreating foe; second, to augment the hitting ability of the fleet during surface engagement.
Admittedly no action may be expected to follow so closely the checkerboard moves outlined herein. Weather, disposition of forces, and dozens of other factors may be expected to render any theoretical engagement unrecognizable before its completion. Bare essentials have been briefly outlined simply to demonstrate the fact that there is more than one way of skinning the proverbial cat. The possible uses of aircraft extend far beyond the original conception wherein the extremists of one side pityingly stated that the archaic battleship would fall an easy prey to an early morning flight of a few bombers, while those of the other blandly offered to have tea served on the quarter-deck while leaving their intrepid foe to circle busily overhead and try in vain to inflict the slightest damage.
Naval Uniforms-Origin and Development
(See page 517, April, 1932, Proceedings)
Dr. Ing. Wladimir V. Mendl.—May I be allowed to complement Mr. Schoonmaker’s excellent and most welcome article with a few remarks?
It is quite right that only in 1748 a definite uniform was prescribed in the Royal Navy, but even then only for officers. For the men the first regulations were issued as late as 1857. Nevertheless it is probable that before this date, as early as in the fifteenth century, the crews of the king’s vessels and of those of the Cinque Ports were uniformly dressed.
Up to this time (1857) the dress of the men was largely dependent upon the individual taste of the captain. Especially was it customary that the captain should decide upon the dress of the crew of his barge. Thus Anson, returning home after his circumnavigation of the globe, which brought him large sums of prize money, dressed the crew of his barge in scarlet red jackets with silver badges on the sleeves and in waistcoats of blue silk. As late as 1853 the captain of the brig Harlequin had the crew of his barge dressed as harlequins.
Today we are accustomed to the dark blue color of the naval uniforms of all the countries over the world. Thus it may seem curious that in older times other colors, in many instances red, were worn. Before the introduction of a uniform for officers of the Royal Navy, in 1745, red coats were the custom. When entering the Mediterranean, the junior officers bought them in Gibraltar.
The statement of the admiral, that the colors of the uniforms ought to be red and blue, “because they are our national colors” is quite natural. The color of the early military uniforms conformed as a rule to that of the coat of arms of the sovereign or of the chief. For this reason we find in uniforms mostly the colors blue, red, black, yellow, and white.
Green is not so frequent and mostly reserved to the riflemen. However, it is interesting that Mr. Schoonmaker mentions the early green uniforms (1776) of the U. S. Navy. Other navies too, even as late as the second half of the nineteenth century, have had green uniforms. An exception is, of course, the uniform of the marines which conforms to army standards.
But even in Great Britain the customary red coat has been abolished lately and a blue one substituted.
The author speaks of hats. They were introduced in the Royal Navy as early as the middle of the seventeenth century and were made of tarred sail cloth, with a wide brim and were called tarpaulins, which word was used later to designate sailors at large. In 1780, soft hats or caps of fur or wool were introduced and remained in favor until the wide-brimmed hat was again adopted. In 1802 straw hats were imported from the West Indies. By the way, the white hat of the American sailor with its brim standing up and down is peculiar to the U. S. Navy and is not to be found anywhere else.
Another garment characteristic of the old-time sailor was a kind of petticoat of sail cloth, sometimes tarred, and reaching down to the knees of the wearer like a Scotch kilt. Its purpose was protection against humidity. It was worn as early as the fourteenth century and was abolished only during the nineteenth.
As to the information that in 1797 regulations were issued governing the wearing of epaulets in the U. S. Navy, it may be interesting to note that these had been introduced in the Royal Navy as early as 1780, although the first official regulations are dated 1795. According to these latter the lieutenant had no epaulet at all; a captain with less than three years of service, a single one on the right shoulder and a commanding officer of lesser rank a single one on the left shoulder. Not until after 1812 were officers of the rank of lieutenant given a single epaulet on the right shoulder.
Mr. Schoonmaker records that according to tradition, “the buttons around the cuff originated from the whim of an old commodore who had them put on the cuffs of midshipmen to keep them from wiping their noses on the sleeves.” This may easily be, for the same tradition is very frequently encountered; for instance, the uniform of the Hungarian infantry of the old Austro-Hungarian empire had buttons and white linen laces on the cuffs. The tradition is that the Empress Maria Theresa devised this uniform for precisely the same purpose that buttons were placed around the cuffs of American midshipmen. The fact is, however, that in some navies, the French, Brazilian, etc., two small buttons on the back of the cuff, above and beneath the rank stripes are prescribed. The reason for this is protection to the cuff and stripes by making the buttons rub against the desk instead of the stripes.
As to the origin of the belled trousers, the version given is very plausible. The present writer has read that the custom dates back to the times when sailors were not furnished ready-made clothes, but were given certain quantities of cloth and, in order to use all of it, the legs of the trousers were cut of pieces of equal width right down instead of being made narrower at the bottom, as ordinary trousers are. It may be observed that the time to which this version refers is further back than 1817, when the regulations referred to in the article were issued.
It is curious to note that, in the early U. S. Navy, the surgeons were wearing velvet collars and cuffs. This was a very widespread custom and was to be found in most countries.
Whereas in 1838 in the U. S. Navy the gold bands around officers’ caps were changed for the first time for black ones, the same change took place in the Royal Navy only in 1856. Even today in certain navies, officers are wearing rank stripes around their caps. But it would seem as if everywhere the same development is taking place as in the U. S. Navy and in the Royal Navy—the gold bands on caps being abolished with time.
The custom of wearing gold stripes—according to rank—around the cuff is indeed very characteristic of the navies of our days. But just as characteristic is the custom of having the uppermost of these stripes form a curl in the middle of the sleeve, sometimes called Elliot eye.
Some navies have instead of this curl a badge just above the rank stripes, e.g., the star badge in the U. S. Navy. A few navies have nothing at all, neither curl nor badge, as has the French Navy and, since the Revolution, the Spanish, too. But stripes without curl are considered usually as indicative of the merchant service, although some British shipping companies have introduced the square “curl” for their officers. The curl referred to is sometimes called the “executive curl,” as originally it was worn only by officers of the line. However, the tendency has been to grant it to staff officers, too, just as these latter are addressed and designated now by the military title of their corresponding rank, even in so exclusive a navy as the German.
It is curious to note that in early days, viz., about the middle of the nineteenth century, there seems to have been imposed no limit upon the number of stripes, whereas today there is a general reluctance to use more than four stripes. A few navies have ranks with five stripes, e.g. the French, but the reluctance to use them goes so far that in the German Navy there are two different ranks with the same number of sleeve stripes.
“Railroad trousers” is a specific American expression. Its equivalent in the Royal Navy is “lightning conductors.”
The form-fitting service blouse was very characteristic for the officers of the U. S. Navy, although Italian and French officers used to wear a similar one. All of them have changed over to the standard double-breasted “monkey jacket,” so that a general tendency towards a more comfortable dress may be stated. This tendency is a general one and embraces the various armies, too, which exhibit a tendency to adopt the single breasted, open uniform jacket of British style. Another consequence of this tendency to make the officer more comfortable is the one to do away with the sword. Some navies have their officers wear no weapon when not on service, and most, if not all of them, have the same prescription for the men. Although such a custom is against the tradition of the more militaristic countries it was far easier for the navies to adopt it than for the armies, because of the fact that the personnel went ashore in many a foreign port without wearing arms.
To conclude it may perhaps be reminded that in the Royal Navy the two white patches of cloth on the collar of midshipmen’s jackets are familiarly called “the mark of the beast.”
The Yacht “America” Now Rides Peacefully at Her Moorings
(See page 732, May, 1932, Proceedings)
W. P. Stephens.—The yacht America is so closely interwoven in the history of the Navy of the United States, as well as in the history of American yachting, that Miss Duval’s story in the May issue of the Proceedings will, no doubt, be read by many; while it is in the main correct, it is, nevertheless, marked by some important errors and omissions.
The use of displacement as a factor of measurement was unknown in 1851, in fact it was not until 1903 that it was actually incorporated in the present “Universal Rule.” While the New York Yacht Club had a displacement rule on its books about the date of the America, it does not appear that it was ever used, as the displacement of the yachts was not known, and other rules were substituted. The rule in use by the Royal Yacht Squadron in 1851 was “Builder’s Old Measurement” (B.O.M.), a very old form of the first tonnage rule.
The length to be taken in a straight line along the lower side of the rabbet of the keel, from the back of the main sternpost to a perpendicular line from the fore part of the main stem, under the bowsprit, from which, subtracting three-fifths of the breadth, the remainder shall be esteemed the just length of keel to find tonnage; and the breadth shall be taken from the outside of the outside plank in the broadest part of the ship, whether above or below the main wales, exclusive of all doubling planks that may be wrought upon the sides of the ship; then multiplying the length of keel by the breadth so taken, and the product by half the breadth, and dividing the whole by 94, the quotient shall be deemed the true contents of tonnage.
It is uncertain under just which of several rules in use at New York the America was measured at 170 tons, but in all of these rules “the true depth,” from under side of deck plank to floor of hold, was used in place of the half-breadth. As the actual depth was but 9 feet, while the half breadth was 11 feet 3 inches, the American tonnage was less than the British, giving rise to the complaint of British yachtsmen that she was a “rule cheater” and unfairly measured for racing; later, under British ownership, she was measured at 208 tons.
The story of “Your Majesty, there ain’t no second,” which together with the title of “The Queen’s Cup” is so firmly imbedded in yachting history, is probably untrue, as the cutter Aurora, of but 47 tons, finished eight minutes astern of the America. The “cup” was given by the Royal Yacht Squadron, the America declining to start in the race of the following day for a “Queen’s cup.”
Shortly after the great race and a private match with the schooner Titania, the America was sold to Sir John de Blacquiere, soon to become Lord de Blacquiere by the death of his father. He took her to the Mediterranean, weathering a historic gale off Valetta, and sailed her in several races, finally selling her, in 1856, to Viscount Templetown, who changed her name to Camilla. It seems that the new owner had but little interest in the yacht and she was laid up at Portsmouth and later at East Cowes until in 1859, having developed dry rot, she was sold to Henry Sotheby Pitcher, one of the firm of George Pitcher & Son, shipbuilders, of Northfleet on the Thames. Here she was rebuilt, according to the most reliable accounts being taken apart, piece by piece, and each frame replaced by English oak, while she was replanked by elm or oak below and teak on the topsides. As her masts were also affected they were cut down, 6 feet from the mainmast and 5 feet from the foremast; a fore-topmast was added, a longer jib boom, and longer gaffs, with new sails by Ratsey, of hemp and loose-footed.
This work was done on speculation at times when the yard was idle, and in July, 1860, a purchaser was found in a Mr. Henry E. Decie, who was not a “Lord” and not “Deasy” as sometimes given. He possibly made a cruise to the Mediterranean, though no record is known, and in the fall started on a transatlantic cruise in the course of which he put in to Richmond and later Savannah. Here he made the acquaintance of some prominent southerners who were just preparing for the rebellion which broke out in the spring of 1861, and when he sailed from Savannah he carried, presumably as guests, Captain James H. North, formerly a lieutenant in the U. S. Navy and now a captain in the proposed Confederate Navy (accompanied by his wife and daughter) and Major E. R. Anderson, of the Confederate Army. The mission of Captain North was to purchase abroad vessels, armament, and ammunition for the Navy, and that of Major Anderson was of a similar nature for the Army.
On August 5, 1861, the yacht sailed a private match with an old antagonist, Alarm, since 1851 lengthened 20 feet and altered to schooner rig; following this she sailed for Cherbourg, where she arrived on August 17 and landed the Norths for a stay in Paris. Here all records end until, in April, 1862, she was found under water in the St. Johns River, Florida.
A long and diligent search has failed to reveal more of Mr. Decie than is stated above. Though he was a member of the Royal Victoria Yacht Club of Ryde and the Royal Western Yacht Club of Plymouth, no record of this membership is to be found by either club today. All that we know is that he transferred the yacht to some southern men, presumably residents of Savannah, and that she was used, possibly under the name of Memphis, in blockade running and the carrying of dispatches. How and where she was transferred is not disclosed in any British records or in those of the United States and Confederate Navies. It would be most interesting if more could be learned of Mr. Decie and of the doings of the yacht during these seven months.
The poem from Punch is less interesting than a long doggerel of unknown origin once popular in navy and yachting circles, its main feature being a rousing chorus:
Where did she come from?
New York town.
Who was her skipper?
Old Dick Brown.
The first and last of the twenty-odd verses will serve to give an idea of its merit as poetry:
Come listen to my ditty, and a song to you I’ll sing,
Of four and twenty yachting boys, all anchored in a ring.
It was “The Royal Yacht Club”—quinine of England’s pride,
And the pride of all the yachting clubs that ever sailed from Ryde.
The yachting season’s over, and we’ve had lots of fun,
And the cups and purses handed to the winners who have won;
The ladies pass, and kiss their hands, in token of adieu,
And all the cocks in coops about crow “Yankee Doodle doo-o-o.”
I can bear personal testimony as to the “gloating” of General Butler over the way in which he forced the sale of the yacht by the Secretary of the Navy, George M. Robeson; I heard the story told by him, with many a gleeful chuckle and wicked wink, to a party of yachtsmen aboard the old craft one evening in Marblehead Harbor in 1891; it certainly was a shrewd piece of chicanery.
As to the picture on page 788, it is badly in error, as the yacht, like all pilot boats and most yachts of the day, was steered by a tiller. As evidence of this it is only necessary to quote from the long and interesting speech of Commodore John C. Stevens at the great dinner given in his honor at the Astor House after his return from Cowes, describing the first informal brush with a British yacht, the cutter Lavrock, which came to meet the America as she weighed anchor for the final passage of some six miles up to Cowes after her run from Havre.
I have seen and been engaged in many exciting trials at sea and on shore. I made the match with Eclipse against Sir Henry (famous race horses) and had heavy sums, both for myself and for my friends, depending on the result. I saw Eclipse lose the first heat and four-fifths of the second without feeling one hundredth part of the responsibility, and without suffering one hundredth part of the fear and dread I felt at the thought of being beaten by Lavrock in this eventful trial. During the first five minutes not a sound was heard, save perhaps the beating of our anxious hearts or the slight ripple of the water upon our sword-like stem. The captain (Dick Brown) was crouched down upon the floor of the cockpit, his seemingly unconscious hand upon the tiller, with his stern, unaltering gaze upon the vessel ahead.
Needless to say, the America won this informal bout to windward and ended, then and there, her chances of a match with other than one yacht of the squadron fleet; too long to quote in its entirety, this speech of Commodore Stevens is something which all modern yachtsmen might read with advantage in spite of its seventy- one years.
When the tiller was replaced by a wheel is still a matter of doubt, it may have been either before or after the first cup race of 1870; there was in Brooklyn about twenty years ago an old gentleman, a Mr. Whiting, who had what he claimed was a piece of the tiller of the America, which indicates that the change might have been made at the Brooklyn Navy Yard.