Reuben James
Many remember Stephen Decatur as one of the bravest and most colorful sailors in the history of the U.S. Navy, but few remember him as a naturalist. He had a large collection of marine life specimens. One day, while in a small boat, he spotted a strange fish and shot it. When the fish sank, he told his coxswain, a quarter gunner named Reuben James, to retrieve it. James hesitated so Decatur dove in himself. Why Reuben James did not obey Decatur is unknown. Many explanations come to mind, but one thing is certain, James was no coward.
Not long before, Decatur had led a boarding party onto a Tripolitan gunboat in one of the engagements of the Barbary Wars. He and ten other U.S. sailors were outnumbered as they met the enemy in hand-to-hand combat. With cutlass in hand, Decatur slashed his way through the Tripolitans until he confronted the captain, a large Turk wielding a boarding pike. Decatur was able to avoid the Turk's initial thrust and parried with a powerful blow, hoping to sever the head of the pike. Instead, the cutlass broke off and the Turk's next thrust wounded Decatur in the arm and chest, but the intrepid American tore the pike from his body and wrestled it away from his enemy. The two men then grappled and fell to the deck, Decatur on top. A Tripolitan officer rushed forward with a raised scimitar and brought it down in a powerful slash aimed for Decatur's head. The blow surely would have killed the American except that Reuben James—already wounded in both arms—also rushed forward and took the blow to his own head.
Reuben James had served in the Constellation in her victories over the Insurgent and the Vengeance in the quasi-war with France. He had been with Decatur in the burning of the Philadelphia—called "the most bold and daring act of the age" by no less than Lord Nelson—and, miraculously surviving the Tripolitan's thrust to his head, he would serve later with Decatur in the War of 1812, participating in the capture of the frigate Macedonian and in the defense of the President—and be wounded three more times.
USS Minneapolis (CA-36)
One of the most decorated U.S. Navy cruisers during World War II in the Pacific, the heavy cruiser Minneapolis (CA-36) was awarded 16 battle stars for actions ranging from the Gilbert and Marshall Islands raid early in 1942 to the assault on Okinawa in April 1945. The most dangerous moment for the ship came on 30 November 1942 during the Solomon Islands campaign at the Battle of Tassafaronga, where she sank one Japanese transport and helped sink another. At 2327, near Savo Island, Japanese surface combatants struck the ship with two torpedoes. One torpedo cost the cruiser nearly 80 feet of her bow and caused fires that were quickly extinguished. The second hit below the armor belt, buckling the hull and damaging the engineering spaces. The extent of the damage took ten pages to list in the ship's official damage report. Not the least of the Minneapolis's problems had been the loss of six of her eight boilers and most of the auxiliary machinery in the flooded fire rooms.
Damage control allowed the hurt Minneapolis to limp at 3 knots into Sasapi Harbor, Tulagi, where she was moored to palm trees and tree stumps and camouflaged with foliage. On 5 December, the cruiser was further damaged by a forward gas explosion. Urgent repairs permitted her to leave Tulagi on 12 December for further work. The Minneapolis began her voyage home for final repairs on 7 January 1943 but soon experienced problems that delayed her departure until 10 February, when, in the company of other damaged warships, the cruiser began a 9.5-knot voyage to Pearl Harbor. Arriving at Pearl on 2 March, she then continued on to Mare Island Navy Yard, California, where her hull was rebuilt and the contents of three of her four boiler rooms were replaced by late August. The largely rebuilt Minneapolis departed the West Coast early in September, bound again for the combat zone.
The photo shows the unique camouflage applied at Mare Island; designed to make her look less like a target to Japanese submarines, the paint scheme featured large false, rectangular "windows" painted around the pilothouse portholes; out-of-scale life rafts painted on her sides; and dark paintwork to make her forecastle look as though it terminated abreast the bridge. The ship was deactivated in May 1946 after a dozen years of service and was sold for scrap in 1959.