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Overland Transport of German Ships During World War II
(See page 27, January, 1955 Proceedings)
Rear Admiral Walter Ansel, USN (Ret.)—The Germans had their Andy Higginses too. Among these was Fritz Siebel, aircraft designer and manufacturer of note and substance, who turned amphibcraft Producer during the crucial period following the fall of France in the summer of 1940— when all the world waited for the victorious Germans to hop the Channel and take over England. The craft he developed never got to England, but like those described by Herr Popp, they made important contributions to operations elsewhere after having been transported vast distances overland. Herr Siebel told me the following story of his introduction to the vagaries of amphibious warfare.
In the early twenties Siebel had given employment to a vagrant aviator of World War I, Hermann Goering. By the spring of 1940, Goering, head of the Luftwaffe, had employment for Siebel. The German war machine had crashed through the Allied defenses on both sides of Sedan and gone on to the west and northwest to reach the Channel at Abbeville on 20 May. The northeast corner of France, containing a number of aircraft factories, was thus cut °ff and fell prey to the Germans. They quickly turned the plants to their own use. Goering sent Siebel to installations near Albert with instructions to get them into Production.
Herr Siebel, now suddenly a major of the Luftwaffe, found himself with much to do. He turned to with a will but was forever Pestered by curious visitors wanting to look about and rubberneck at the war booty.
Usually Siebel excused himself—depending, of course, on the rank of the visitor—-and went ahead with his own headaches. One visitor, however, from a nearby Army “water” engineer unit struck bis fancy. This Army officer asked if he could have the empty gasoline drums stacked alongside of the factory. Siebel readily assented, asking only what the engineer wanted with them. To his amazement this one replied that he would fashion them into catamaran rafts for ferrying troops to England; the drums were just the thing.
The idea immediately fascinated Siebel, for he agreed that Britain had to be next on the list if the war were to be ended soon. He also knew from seagoing experience that something besides rafts built on gas drums would be needed for the job. The engineer had knowledge of some idle bridging pontoons; Siebel knew of a store of obsolescent aircraft engines. The two combined forces and commenced the development of the Siebel Faehre, without which Rommel’s Afrikakorps would have died on the vine long before it did.
The first product, later called die kleine Faehre (the little ferry), was a catamaran rig propelled by an air screw mounted between two small size-“B” bridging pontoons. A good four knots was achieved with devastating clamor and little maneuverability. (See opposite page, top illustration.) Dr. Justus Koch, Siebel’s close associate, tells me that the test pictured in the illustration took place late in June, 1940, on the Rangsdorfer See in the presence of General Udet, the Chief of Luftwaffe Production, and Rudolf Hess, Hitler’s Deputy. In mid-July 1940, writes Dr. Koch, a further demonstration took place before the bigwigs of the Army who were worried that the Navy might not be able to produce sufficient landing craft. The gentlemen of the Army came to the conclusion the Siebel contraption could not be used because troops crossing in them would arrive on the enemy shore unfit for combat. The German Navy had no opportunity to comment.
Nevertheless Siebel persisted. His craft progressed to larger pontoons and eventually to water screws. The final product consisted of a pair of the heaviest pontoons spanned by a sturdy steel connecting deck on which rose a control superstructure amidships. (See center and lower illustrations, page 1C44.) The vessels could mount three 88 mm. guns plus a quad and twin 20, or if only 20’s were used, they could transport sixty to eighty tons of cargo or troops. They later proved tough targets in the Med and gave Allied destroyers a bad time on several occasions. With the advantage of small draft and high maneuverability, they still had good sea-keeping characteristics. They could turn out 9 to 11 knots. It required 37 flat cars to transport one Faehre by rail, and this was done often. The Siebels performed yeoman service in such widely scattered areas as Oesel Island of the Baltic (their first operation in 1941), the Strait of Kerch in the Crimea, and far and wide in the Mediterranean. Some of them are still in operation under the Allies in the Rhine River Patrol. There I had the pleasure of riding one and looking her over in detail, during 1953. She was a handy job.
After Sea-lion (the operational code name for Invasion England), died on the shores of the Channel in the fall of 1940, Herr Siebel, who by this time was boss, or Colonel, of a sizeable Luftwaffe Navy, continued his ferry construction program. He was just getting well underway, and branched out into regular assault landing craft of conventional hull form. The most successful type, designated “I-Transpor- ter” (for Infantne Transpoter), came out in considerable numbers and found usefulness eventually as escort craft for the larger ferries. The Germans encountered the ramp unloading problem just as we did, and it is interesting to note that they apparently hit only belatedly on our solution of a ramp bow as an integral part of the hull. Quite naturally Siebel fell into competition with the Navy, which was developing the MFP (■Marine Faehre Prahm—Navy F erry ligh ter), but had none in commission with the operating forces as yet. These craft are mentioned by Herr Popp. The difference was that Siebel craft were from the beginning built for overland transport, whereas the Navy craft were designed and built to stay in the water, and transport overland had to be improvised. This was advantageous to the Siebel jobs, but their greatest asset came constructionwise: the craft could be produced quickly in mass from materials already on hand, and at the end of an overland trip they could be assembled by their own crews.
As I said in the beginning, the urgent need for craft originated on the troop operational level, not the planning level. Had such practical urge been taken to heart by the planners during the winter of 1939-40, and had led to the production of, say, 500 Siebel Ferries, Sea-lion might have come out with a different story.
The Last Cruise of the Monongahela
(See page 1421, December, 1954 Proceedings)
Captain K. C. McIntosh, (SC) USN, (Ret.)—Your comment in the December Proceedings on the Monongahela ends with a slight error.
On a clear night in the late summer of 1908, a Very rocket exploded on the Monongahela’s berth deck. Above the waterline the old ship was dry punk, held together by paint—she was so drytrotted that boats crews were instructed not to use the metal end of boat-hooks in fending off.
The flames spread so fast that officers and families on board escaped only with the clothes they had on. She burned to the water’s edge.
I was present, serving in U.S.S. Dubuque at the time, and I have reason to remember. The home-going mail ship was due next day; and the Dubuque’s mail bags were on the Monongahela for delivery as we were to sail before the Ward Liner came in. In that bag of mail were letters containing ninety- six “Exchange for Cash” checks I had written for crew-members. The mail and the checks burned.
Che process of issuing duplicate government checks is not as harrassing now as it used to be; but in those days, replacement of ninety-six of them took nearly a year of rapid correspondence and affidavits!
Community Planning and the Naval Air Station (See page 541, May, 1955 Proceedings)
(Editor’s Note: The author of this comment is a planning and zoning consultant in Miami, Florida.)
Commander John 0. Preston, CEC, USNR (Ret.)—Ideally, aviation is too dynamic to be fenced in. From both a legal and cost basis, aviation has to live in a Practical manner with other public and Private enterprises. Both the cost of clear sPace around airfields’ runways and the cost of avigation rights in glide path areas increase in proportion to the extent of existing and possible future use of privately owned land nearby. Legal questions involve complaints from noise and limitations on height of structures in the glide path. Unless the land is owned by airport interests, lt; ls not legal to reserve airport space in a community plan. On the other hand, prior establishment of an airfield does not present adjoining property owners from making reasonable and justifiable use of their nnd. Our courts do not recognize claims ased only upon one use of land having een established before another. While courts have ordered owners of private property adjacent to airfields to remove obstructions from under approach zones and S ide paths, this was because the obstructions were deemed to be hazardous nuisances, established without justifiable need (as spite fences) and not as zoning violations. , Ribbink refers to a zoning structural eight limit of fifty feet as being reasonable, lut our courts have awarded damages where flights under 500 feet were involved and more often where the glide path was 0 feet. The problem is complicated by increased use of private land around the airport encouraged by the airport itself.
rterial highways, built or widened to serve 1 e airfield, encourage development of nearby areas for residential uses which later object to noise and low flying planes.
Mr. Ribbink also refers to zoning regulations as the most satisfactory solution to the problem, but most of those having experience with zoning have found there are varying degrees of reliability in zoning protection. It is this phase of the problem that your commentator hopes to contribute some helpful information. Both the larger commercial airfields and military airfields have found, as Mr. Ribbink states, that residential development within 12,000 feet, or from 2J to 3 miles, especially under the approach zone, is incompatible with the demands of aviation. Some lawyers advocate the buying of avigation rights (or easements to use the lower air space over private property) in the belief that zoning is shadow boxing and unreliable. If based solely upon the police power of the state, the reliability of zoning protection is questionable. However, if properly prepared, based upon the laws of “equity” whereby zoning regulations and restrictions are adopted and fairly administered to guide and protect an over-all, comprehensive community development plan (including airfields and all the political subdivisions, cities, towns, and unincorporated areas within and surrounding the planned community and surrounding the airfield, including the approach zones, glide paths, turning areas, etc., where types of uses and height of structures are regulated), then zoning can be enforced.
An important consideration to justify airport zoning is that it must provide some measure of reciprocal benefit to all parties at interest, i.e., protect the owners of private property from some airport hazards and nuisances as well as protect the airport from high structures and conflicting nuisances, such as smoke, electrical disturbances, etc. If structures along abutting highways on private property are required to be set back and limited in height by the zoning regulations, then runways, fences and motor testing areas in the airport must be set back and suitably controlled. This is the basis of the law of “equity.”
Let’s face it: experienced airfield operators distrust zoning protection for another reason—the readiness of some short-sighted elected officials to be influenced by shortsighted, selfish individuals requesting variances on the basis of “rationalized” interpretations of the zoning regulations. In addition to properly prepared regulations, zoning protection is dependent upon:
(a) Competent, uniform and able administration by technical experts;
(b) Able public attorneys with experience in justifying the principles upon which the regulations are based;
(c) A strong advisory board composed of prominent citizens.
Since failure to enforce zoning regulations uniformly endangers the right of enforcement, or variations on one regulation tend to “waive” the right to enforce others, therefore elected officials should be controlled by well advertised public procedure, requiring recommendation by a strong citizens advisory board before any variations can be made; thus reducing undue pressure, or so-called political influence, under the guise of “free enterprise.” Short sighted and selfish interests must not be allowed to offer “spur of the moment” arguments direct to the elected officials without benefit of competent legal and technical advice by experts knowing the problems of aviation. Mr. Ribbink’s article offers a comprehensive basis for establishing a much needed understanding of protecting airfields of all types. Numerous airfields constructed by our military departments are turned over to civil authorities with possible return in time of national emergency. Many of these fields, and other civilian controlled airfields, have been and are being expanded with Federal aid because of the possible future need for defense purposes. As Mr. Rib- bink points out, some enabling legislation is needed to cure some headaches or they’ll get worse.
Japanese Naval Air Operations in the Philippines Invasion
(See page 1, January, 1955 Proceedings)
(Editor’s Note: The writer of this comment is the author of The Fall of the Philippines (1953) and is Chief of the Pacific Section of the U. S. Army’s Office of Military History.)
Dr. Louis Morton.-—The purpose of this letter, unlike most letters to the editor,
is to praise, not criticize. In my opinion General Shimada’s article on “Japanese Naval Air Operations in the Philippines Invasion” is an important contribution to one of the most controversial and least- understood episodes of World War II. Despite its formidable title it is one that should be read by all those who seek to learn from past mistakes lessons for the future. If anyone still harbors wartime delusions that the Japanese were rigid and inflexible, let him read General Shimada’s dramatic account of the bombing of Clark Field.
The story Shimada tells has already been told in part by Admiral Morison in his naval history and by this writer in The Fall of the Philippines, but neither had available to him this careful and detailed account of the planning and preparation that preceded the attack. What emerges vividly from this narrative by a major participant—Shimada is an erstwhile naval officer who by the vagaries of war has become a brigadier general in Japan’s Air Defense Force—is the slim margin of success the Japanese allowed themselves. We can see here how little they left to chance and misadventure, and how fortune favored them on the first day of war. Never did the Japanese pilots of the Formosa-based 11th Air Fleet expect to reap so rich a harvest as they found on Clark Field. After being delayed by fog for six hours they expected to find the enemy alerted, his airfields bare of planes, and his fighters in the air ready to meet the attack. “What is the matter with the enemy?” the pilots asked on their return to Formosa. “Could it be that no warnings from Pearl Harbor had yet gotten through -to the Philippines?”
Reports of the Pearl Harbor attack had indeed gotten through, and the command in the Philippines had the information almost as soon as the Japanese on Formosa. But by a strange sequence of events still not satisfactorily explained, the B-17’s had returned to Clark Field and were lined-up on the ground at the critical moment, like so many sitting ducks. The success of the Japanese naval aircraft, in which Shimada takes such pride, was undoubtedly due in part to the tragic misunderstandings and confusion which marked American activity on the first day of war. But even more it was the result of months of careful planning by the Japanese, of meticulous staff work, and intensive training all of which Shimada describes in great detail. Without these the Japanese pilots could not have taken advantage of the unexpected opportunity awaiting them at Clark Field.
Without in any way belittling the value of Shimada’s narrative, one wonders why the editors, who have accomplished the miracle of rendering a literal translation of the author’s Japanese into clear and forceful English, did not furnish in footnotes the data on the American side. That they are aware of and used these data is apparent, hut their failure to include them will prevent many of their readers from evaluating the author’s statements. Thus, if with Shimada’s estimate of American strength in the Philippines the reader was given the actual strength, he could measure for himself the accuracy of Japanese intelligence—which, incidentally, was remarkably good. Similarly, the Japanese estimate of planes destroyed and damaged could be measured agamst the actual losses reported by the Americans.
hfinor errors on the part of the author could have been corrected by this device also. To have done so so would have enhanced rather than diminished the value of Shimada’s highly personal account. Shimada, for example, makes much of the extensive fortifications on Bataan as revealed oy aerial photo reconnaissance and deplores the fact that these photos were not properly evaluated. Actually, no such forti- •cations existed at the time and perhaps 14th Army headquarters failed to appreciate the photos because the ground officers read them differently from their air colleagues. One might note also that Shimada’s fear that prewar reconnaissance had alerted t lacArthur’s headquarters was fully justi- md. These flights had been duly noted and reported by the Americans. That they were not interpreted as the prelude for air attack ls understandable.
The disaster at Clark Field was a crushes blow to the American cause in the Far ast as significant in its way as the Pearl Harbor attack. General Shimada has not
altered the story of the tragedy or explained its causes, but by giving us this detailed account of how it was accomplished he has added to our knowledge of the event and emphasized its tragic consequences. He and the editors are to be congratulated for giving the readers of the Proceedings so important and readable a narrative.
The U.S.S. San Jacinto
(See page 127, January, 1955 Proceedings)
Mr. JohnW. Brewer, Pawling, N.Y.— This article refers to a “paddle frigate” named the San Jacinto, but I believe this must be an error.
The only San Jacinto in the U. S. Navy at that time was a screw type ship which had a very peculiar design in that the shaft came through the stern beside the keel and extended beyond the rudder. She was laid down in 1847 and was wrecked in 1875.
(Editor’s Note: Mr. Brewer is 109% correct. There was no “paddle frigate” named the San Jacinto. The Naval Institute appreciates Mr. Brewer’s kind cooperation in helping to maintain the highest possible accuracy in the Proceedings.)
The First Light
(See page 1390, December, 1955 Proceedings)
Captain F. L. Oliver, USN (Ret.).— Please permit me to comment on “The First Light” by Captain Thompson. The Navy perhaps had another “First Light,” as it was common report some years ago that the first house in the United States lighted by electricity was one of the officers’ quarters at the Torpedo Station, Newport, R. I. I cannot verify this claim, but here is the story.
When the advantages of electricity began to be realized by our Navy, the Torpedo Station became the testing place for electrical devices and continued so for many years. Among other items tested was an early type of dynamo, and the story was that the officer in charge of the tests seeing no reason to waste electricity, ran a few lights in his quarters from a hook-up to the dynamo.
In 1911 when I went to the Torpedo Station for duty, employees who had been there since 1876, vouched for this story. The dynamo in question was then doing duty as a motor driving the forge-shop blower. It was an antique affair with vertical permanent magnet pole pieces perhaps three feet high carrying a few turns of wire.
Very probably it had been purchased for experimental work in connection with the electric installation contemplated for the Trenton. In a history of the Torpedo Station appears this entry, “On February 8, 1881, the Commanding Officer of the Torpedo Station was directed to visit the Herreshoff Works to examine an electrically lighted boat. The Station at this time was developing a system of electric lighting for ships.”
While the claim of “first house in the United States lighted by electricity” is probably an exaggeration, a more serious claim can be made for the first house under cognizance of the Navy to have been so lighted.
Many present-day Navy personnel probably are unacquainted with the fact that initially and for many years thereafter, gunners mates were in charge of electric plants on board ship under supervision of the navigator. After the rating of electrician was established, the navigator continued to be responsible for the electric installation and its operation until about the time of World War I.
For years there were two varieties of gunners, ordnance gunners and electrical gunners. When the grade of electrician was established, all except a few of the electrical gunners shifted to the new designation, and the old rating of electrician was changed to electricians mate.
The Monongahela's Final Tour
(See page 1421, December, 1954 Proceedings)
Homer C. Votaw.—Some time ago I had occasion to gather data on the mentioned St. Croix earthquake of November, 1877, that put the Monongahela ashore. Perhaps some readers would be interested in the vessel’s experience at the time. Two other of our naval craft, the Susquehanna and the De Soto, were at the nearby island of St. Thomas; and all three had been helping in the relief work following a bad hurricane. The narrow harbor entrance at this latter place cut the volume of inrushing water following the earthquake, but nevertheless the Susquehanna was swept ashore and then carried off again. And the De Solo snapped two anchor chains and vainly tried to climb upon a nearby wharf. The shocks over at the St. Croix open roadstead began about three o’clock in the afternoon, accompanied by a loud rumbling. This and the violent shaking of the anchored Monongahela caused her crew to believe something was happening to her engines or boilers, and many rushed up from below ready to jump overboard; in fact, one did. But an officer chancing to look at the nearby town of Frederickstadt explained everything with the cry, “It’s an earthquake; there goes the tower of the English Church!”
The ensuing dead silence was finally broken by the exclamations of those noticing that every craft was swiftly moving shoreward. The vessel’s anchor chain brought her up with a jolt that was followed by another as the balance of her released 130 fathoms of chain tore the bolt from the keelson. This movement and the agitation of the water crushed several boats tied alongside, killing three of the crew who chanced to be in them. Men sprang to activity, and the second anchor was let go as two sails were set. Then a man aloft shouted, “My God! Look out to sea!” Everyone did, but most wished they hadn’t. A bore of water at least thirty feet high was rushing in at a tremendous pace. Luckily this took the Monongahela on her quarter, and she was swept clear over a row of sheds and one of the town’s main warehouses into a street. There she glided back and forth as two more waves came in, and then was deposited upon a coral ledge stretching across the end of the street. Had she gone ten feet further she would have been pretty badly smashed. The crew’s feeling of helplessness can be imagined with the realization that the whole trip from off the beach took but three minutes! But now several decided their next duty was to themselves, and slid down ropes over the side so fast their hands were burned. One even broke both legs in a long jump to the ground. But all came back as soon as the worst shocks subsided, and aided the others in relieving the distressed citizens.
At first there was speculation as to whether the town’s newest addition should be made into a hotel or warehouse. But with deep water only 250 feet away the Navy decided to refloat her. And soon the bark Purveyor arrived with skilled men and gear from the New York Navy Yard. By March the craft was raised 21 inches onto four long ways, and repaired. But after gliding down 80 feet she stuck, twisting herself somewhat sidewise in the process. This necessitated 23 new ways from 40 to 160 feet in length, and many small boosting charges of powder to get her down the slight incline. Large purchase blocks attached to eight large anchors well out were also needed before the craft floated on May 11.
And her active days were not yet over. From 1879 to 1884 she served with the Asiatic Squadron. Then after her engines were removed at Mare Island, she was a storeship for the Pacific Squadron. As a training vessel on the East Coast later she was the last naval craft with studding sails. An accidental fire destroyed her on March
17, 1908.
Philo McGiffin Lore
(See page 1366, December, 1954 Proceedings)
Major Eames L. Yates, USA.—I read with great interest the article on Philo McGiffin. As a small boy I heard many wonderful stories about McGiffin from my grandfather, Hayden Eames, who was graduated from Annapolis in McGiffin’s class of 1882.
Grandfather told me of such exploits of McGiffin as the time that he promised that Jesus was going to speak soon. In any event, the resulting explosion came from an °ld cannon named “Jesus” in the Academy yard.
After McGiffin returned from China, my grandfather gave him a job in Hartford or New Haven but had to discharge him to Prevent loss of life among the workers. McGiffin was going to take the law in his °wn hands in the manner of decapitating one worker with a large butcher knife. Grandfather had to physically subdue McGiffin to keep him from accomplishing his mission.
Once, if I remember correctly, McGiffin, while holding a command in the Chinese Navy, was cruising in the vicinity of the ship wherein my grandfather was an ensign. McGiffin wigwagged from his bridge a simple question to the American ship: “Is Eames aboard?” The effect was sufficient to throw the U. S. Navy in a slight dither in that the code was a restricted code.
One McGiffin exploit which stands out in my mind is the one when, in order to gain entrance to some Chinese warlord, McGiffin had to run the gauntlet of some six or eight huge Chinese armed with swords and charged with the mission of keeping such interlopers out. McGiffin backed off, took a run, and a flying leap, skidded on his stomach by the barrier—escaping death by inches. He was heartily congratulated by his host, who allegedly entertained McGiffin with the execution by decapitation of the guards charged with keeping McGiffin out.
Another Whale Shark on the Stem
(See page 441, April, 1955, Proceedings)
Captain F. W.Laing, U.S.N.—I rise to the support of this “fish story.” Indeed it is quite correct to say that there is record of at least one other such encounter.
In 1937 while en route from the China station with my family in SS President Wilson, I witnessed a similar situation. The President Wilson in about April of that year while crossing the Indian Ocean was, for some unaccountable reason, slowed by about two or three knots. It was a clear sunny afternoon with smooth seas and calm winds, when the captain of the vessel invited me down to the forecastle to see a large creature impaled on the stem of the ship. The poor creature had apparently been luxuriating in an afternoon siesta one or two days before when the President Wilson rudely and brutally interrupted its peaceful existence. If he cares to inquire, I am certain that the American Dollar Line will lend support to the verisimilitude of Commander Sherman’s story.
Almost the same procedure was used by the skipper, for the same reasons, to disengage the carcass. I have always felt that this experience made a whale of a story!