Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

Submarine News: Present

Uncategorized | Posted by Rebekah
Mar 22 2013

News keeps coming out of the world of the submarines, both past and present, and in a way, future.

Three days after the man who set the May 23 and 16 June, 2012 fires on the USS Miami, yes another small fire was reported on March 18, 2013.  While this fire does appear to be purely accidental (reported as being sparked by a  damaged light fixture), it put Miami’s future in further doubt.

Initially determined to put Miami back in service, the Navy had to start making decisions about what and where to best put their money after the sequestration kicked in on 1 March 2013.  This most recent fire has only furthered those questions about whether Miami is most effective for the Navy refurbished and back in service, or torn apart (possibly for parts for her sisters).   As it is, the civilian workers at the Portsmouth Naval Shipyard are already going to have to take 22 days off without pay between April and September 30, which, of course, further slows the rate or repairs.

On the other hand, the US House passed a bill that would still preserve the construction of two Virginia-class Submarines in 2014, setting aside the approximate $777 million dollar cost for their materials and work for that calendar year.  That bill has headed to the Senate.

This debate opens up a new and interesting debate that’s been slowly growing in the Submarine Force.  Each submarine is the pinnacle of her era’s technology, and is constantly being updated between patrols and tours.  That being said, at the pace of technology, not to mention nuclear fuel rods, most submarines have a certain life-expectancy.  If you replace the fuel rods once, a submarine can expect to serve 32-33 years (Los Angeles, the longest in-commission submarine served 34 years from 1976 to 2010.  Currently, the USS Bremerton, (1981-current) is the closest to beating her title at 32 years and counting.).  But at the height of the Cold War, the American Navy was commissioning 2-5 submarines in a year.  Right now, Virginia class submarines, from the Virginia to the new John Warner, were being built and commissioned at the rate of one every other year to one a year.  On 2008 and 2010 two were commissioned, and two submarines were started in each year for 2011 and 2012.  If this bill goes through, the two subs for 2013 (likely the South Dakota and Delaware) will also start construction.

At the same time, the aging Los-Angeles Class boats are being phased out, frequently at a faster rate than the new constructions are being phased in.  From 2004-2007, only three Virginia class submarines joined the US Navy, (Virginia, Texas and Hawaii), while six submarines were deactivated (Hymen G. Rickover, Augusta (finally deactivated early Jan 2008, but scheduled for 2007) Salt Lake City, Honolulu, Portsmouth, and Parche).  This resulted in a net loss of three submarines.  While things are balancing out a little more, as some of the oldest boats in the Navy reach 30+ years of age, the Navy has serious issues to grapple with.

Submarines are some of our most versatile vessels.  They can go where surface ships can’t, whether by treaty or treacherous sea conditions.  Most submarines are positioned to be in a strategic position to strike any location on earth within a 24 hour time frame (or so I’m told).  Smaller numbers of submarines available means longer deployments, longer times between repairs, perhaps longer lifespans and limitations on technology as upgrades cannot be fitted into a boat without ripping her apart to her hull.

I’m not sure what the right answer is.  Each Virginia costs a $2-$2.4 BILLION each, but are designed to be highly versatile.  And the Virginia’s will age: Virginia herself is nine years old this year.  Building new is expensive.

But the expense in decommissioning or drawing down the number of decommissioned boats is also expensive.  AS anyone who owns an older car can tell you, breakdowns seem to occur more frequently as a car ages—and a sub is no exception.

 

 

 

Small Fire on the Miami: http://www.wmur.com/news/nh-news/Small-fire-reported-on-USS-Miami/-/9857858/19364840/-/2whb5tz/-/index.html

Virginia Submarines: http://www.onr.navy.mil/en/Media-Center/Fact-Sheets/Cost-Reduction-VA-Class-Subs.aspx

 

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Memorial Day: a Thank You

Uncategorized | Posted by Rebekah
May 28 2012

When I was a kid, Memorial Day to me was a weekend where Dad got to stay home an extra day,  weekend when we opened our pool and planted our garden.  Despite their best efforts to teach us about what Memorial Day really meant, it was hard for me to really comprehend it.  My grandfather served in WWII, my Uncle was in the Air Force in the 70′s, but both survived.  There was no close relative or friend who I knew who had gone away and HADN’T returned, no photo of that missing uncle or cousin, the grandparent who I knew only from stories, so despite my respect for veterans that my parents instilled in me and my siblings, it was a kind of an abstract concept for me for many years–in fact, well into my young adulthood.

It’s so different now.  I still don’t have that relative or friend who hasn’t returned from a warfront, whether WWII or Afghanistan or Iraq, though I know many who are serving and have served our country in the current theaters.  But working with veterans and listening to their stories, happy, sad, frightening, wistful, has opened a door into that world that I can no longer NOT see.  I’ve seen Submarine Veterans who literally live with ghosts, and have for years, of friends who they took R&R with, who schooled with, who got on a different boat and simply vanished.  In talking to Al Jacobson and Jim Alls of the Flier crew, and the relatives of the men who never returned, I’ve gotten to “know” in a little way, these men who were so bright an vibrant and have remained frozen in youthr decades now.  It’s so easy, especially when we’re young and “immortal”,  for us just to see old men who can’t stop telling stories about days long gone and a world that no longer exists…but when I finally  listened, I got to see the 18 year old behind the wrinkles, the greying hair, the cane, and hearing aids…and I got to meet the men who are fading into the mist if we DON’T listen.  Who had dreams, and families, and plans which never flowered…and my gratitude grew so much…and I’m so thankful.

So this Memorial Day, I’m still planting my garden with my kids, still celebrating the world my family and I are blessed to live in, but I do so with a thankful and sad heart that for some people, those who never returned, those who returned with struggles they did not have to bear, and those who bore their part at home.   I have greater respect than ever (sadly, six years too late) for my own grandfather who fought with Patton through the African Theater into Italy and Berlin, and who never spoke of it.  I wish I could tell him, what I say now: to anyone who has served, is serving, or will serve:

 

THANK YOU

 

Thank you for putting your life and dreams on hold to live where you’re told, wear what you’re told, and work together to do something, and even die doing something so that I can live at home and not have to fear.  Thank you for leaving your comfortable and familiar world to enter situations where life, death, and injury were sometimes a matter of luck, or seconds, or a few feet right or left.  Thank you for being willing to experience horrors to keep them from us.  Thank you for serving so I can live in a world where my biggest worries CAN revolve around the price of gas,  and the quality of my children’s education, not if someone will invade and rape, murder, torture me or steal my food and house and children, like so many of my ancestors had to worry about for centuries, and many people around the world still do.  Thank you for being some of the first on the scene in natural disasters here and around the world.  Thank you for being among  the first to build schools and help build in places blighted by violence and natural disasters.  Thank you for not only protecting those of us you leave behind in America, but protecting and serving those people whom have little connection to your personal world before you joined, and whom you may never see again.

Our military, both individually and collectively, isn’t perfect.  No human is, so no organization of humans can be. But when I watch all the branches of our military, and listen to those who are willing to talk, I see people who give their all, and do their best in situations that they are protecting me from.  There are no snipers in my neighborhood.  No warlords taking my daughter in lieu of food a drought won’t let me grow.  No one putting a gun to my head and threatening me or my family unless we change our faith, or politics, or opinions.  I will never have to choose between giving my children a good education at the risk of their lives…

And our men and women in uniform, past, present, and future, are a big part of the reason why.

So this Memorial Day, (as well as everyday) I want to say “Thank You” again.  For just doing what you do the best that you can, in often difficult, dangerous, and uncomfortable situations.

THANK YOU.

 

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Book Signing

Uncategorized | Posted by Rebekah
May 10 2012

Long story short, I’ve been away due to a minor health issue that is just sapping my energy (it’ll resolve itself soonish) and and ramp up in my contract work that’s mostly due soon. Both those things sap my energy and time so that this blog, sadly, got the short shaft. I have, however, in the process, discovered a lot more about the Submarine Force adn some of the stories behind it, so those will make their way here soon, when my health/energy improves or my docket clears up some.

But I did want to say that I’ll be speaking at 10 am tomorrow at the E.B Ball Center in Muncie, about the Flier and be signing my book. So if you’d like to see some of the photos that didn’t make the book, or were discovered too lately to use, or just talk submarines, I hope to see you there.

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On Eternal Patrol: USS Shark (I) SS-174 11 Feb 1942

Uncategorized | Posted by Rebekah
Feb 11 2012

USS Shark was an older Porpoise class submarine n December 7, 1941.  Launched in 1935, she had been in Manila for a full year when the Japanese attacked Manila harbor just hours after laying waste to Pearl.  Like most of the submarines, she survived the attack, and left on patrol the next day.  Like Swordfish, Shark was recalled to Manila to evacuate Manila personnel, in this case, Admiral Thomas Hart, Commander in Chief of the Asiatic Fleet.

Her career after this, was sadly, very short. So short, in fact, that no record of her War Patrol Reports is found at HNSA, which lists and carries all submarine War Patrol Reports from WWII.  So it appears that after December 8, 1941, Shark was never in port at a Sub Base long enough to file her war patrol reports, and sank with all of her records.  Without this record in her own words, we can only speculate about her movements.

On January 6, 1942, Shark radioed home saying she narrowly missed a torpedo dropped by a Japanese submarine. After observing Ambon Islands in theMoluccas, she headed north on the Molucca Passage, on her way to join a pack of submarines patrolling the area, as the Japanese worked their way quickly south.

February 2, she reported to Java that she’d been depth-charged, and missed a Japanese ship.  Febrary 7, she radioed in, reporting chasing an empty cargo vessel.  According to Clay Blair Jr.’s book, “Silent Victory: the US Submarine War against Japan.”, Admiral John Wilkes, coordinating and commanding the submarines from Java, upbraided Hart for breaking radio silence for a report on an empty cargo ship.

It was the last radio message from the Shark.

The next day, February 8, Shark was ordered to to proceed to Makkassar Strait.  She never responded.  She was ordered to respond.  And didn’t.  On March 18, the Navy released the following Communique:

Navy Department Communiqué No. 57, March 18, 1942

The U. S. submarine Shark has been overdue in the Far East for more than a month and must be presumed to be lost.  The next of kin of the personnel of the Shark have been notified.

During the month of December, the U. S. submarine Sealion which was under extensive overhaul at Cavite, was so damaged as to necessitate her demolition to prevent her use by the enemy in the event of capture.

After the war, Japanese records revealed a number of attacks on the 11th, 17th and 21st of February.  There were many English and Dutch submarines in addition to American subs, which may have been attacked, so until the Shark is discovered, it’s impossible to connect any particular date with her demise.

In her honor, Shark was honored with a little sister, Shark (II), SS-314.  Shark (II) commissioned 14 February 1944.  Serving three patrols, she shared her older sister’s fate.  Another, nuclear submarine, Shark (III) SSN-591 was named in both their honors.  Shark (III) thankfully, seemed to escape her sister’s fate.

The Shark (I) sleeps with 59 souls.

Rest in Peace.

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On Eternal Patrol: USS Swordfish, SS-193 January 12, 1945

Uncategorized | Posted by Rebekah
Jan 12 2012

The Swordfish started her life by setting an inadvertent record.  The color photograph taken of her launch on 1 April 1939, is the oldest color photograph in the Navy’s collection that can be definitively dated.  Swordfish was a Sargo-class submarine, one of the last two classes designed before the war began.  Designed to dive 250 feet, with a crew of (generally) 54 men and 5 officers, Swordfish had just over a year’s experience before going to war.

And here's that photo. US Navy Photo from navsource.org

On 3 November 1941, Swordfish, along with her sisters Salmon, Sturgeon and Skipjack, escorted their tender USS Holland to Manila for a new assignment.  The Navy was bolstering the defenses of Manila, where, they believed, an attack from Japan was most likely to occur.  (Some believed the target was actually Pearl, few imagined that the target was Pearl AND Manila AND Midway AND Wake AND Guam and a number of other places).   On the morning of 8 December 1941 (Day of Pearl Harbor attack, due to the International Date Line,) she set sail on patrol and therefore missed the attack on Manila.

On December 9, she fired two torpedoes at a steamer, but had to dive to avoid a gun counter-attack, and never knew the results.  On 11 December she sighted another freighter, but the torpedoes either both missed, or were duds (a sadly common occurrence for the next two years).

Swordfish kept busy, and in these, the opening days of the war, and with unrestricted warfare on the menu, there was no shortage of targets provided by the world’s second largest Navy and arguably largest civilian fleet.  She fired again  on the 14th but wasn’t able to see any damage or destruction by the night’s light.

Finally, on the 16th, Swordfish sighted rich pickings: six freighters accompanied by two destroyers.  The lead freighter was the ATSUTASAN MARU, and Swordfish sent three torpedoes sailing her way.

“Hit amidships, ATSUTASAN MARU eruped in a cloud of smoke, flame and escaping steam as she settled by the stern at (18°-06’N; 109°-44’E).”  –Official Navy History of USS Swordfish, SS-193

ATSUTASAN MARU ended up being the first confirmed sinking of a US Submarine after the start of the war.

Shortly after this, on 22 December, Swordfish was ordered to return to Manila.  The Japanese invasion was too strong, and the military and government, in an effort to minimize civilian casualties and unnecessary destruction of the city, abandoned Manila and declared it an “Open City” on December 24. (In essence, allowing the Japanese to come in freely in the hopes that no civilians would be harmed or have their property damaged.  This type of tactic was common, and happened several times in the European theater for both the Nazis and the Allies).  The Filipino government and military were not tucking tail, but reinforcing Corregidor Island and the more sparsly populated and defensible peninsula of Bataan.  But in the process of doing all this, the US lost Cavite Naval Base and the Nichols Air Base, and there was no space for submarines.  They were being moved to the Dutch Naval Base in Java.  Swordfish’s return order was to pick up Captain John Wilkes and his staff and taxi everyone to the new base.  She safely arrived there on 7 January, which is considered the end of her first war patrol.

Two weeks later, she was out again, and quickly re-routed back to Manila…again.  This time, her guests were Philippine President Manuel L. Quezon and his family, leading the Philippine Government in exile.  Quezon, his wife, their two daughers and son were joined by the Vice President Osmena, Chief Justice Santos, General Valdes, Colonol Nieto and their chaplain Captain Oritz.  The political party were headed to Australia and eventually America where they were re-set up the Philippine government in D.C., but Swordfish was needed for only two days, dropping them off at San Jose on the Philippine Island of Panay.  Sent straight back to Manila, she now picked up the Philippine High Commissioner, his wife, and nine more governmental officials.  Enroute to the Dutch Submarine Base in Java, Swordfish was re-routed to Fremantle.  The Japanese were already taking Java, and the Dutch Base was abandoned for Australia.

Corrigedor fell, and the Philippines completely taken before Swordfish could return with the supplies she had for the men trapped there. Still, she went on to finish ten more patrols, sinking at least 12 vessels, and earning an impressive eight battle stars.  Her age, however, was showing.  Now an old boat among the increasing crowd of new boats rolling off the ways at the rate of nearly two a week, Swordfish’s aging and battered hull and equipment sometimes forced her to terminate her patrols early for repairs.  But she and her crew kept going, getting some impressive scores.  They avenged the invasion of the Philippines by sinking the Japanese destroyer Matsukaze, which landed troops on Luzon.

Swordfish after a refit and overhaul stateside in 1943. This overhaul fixed some things, but apparently broke a whole lot more. Her patrol after the refit went well, but during her next one, the ninth patrol, she had so many problems, she was back in port after only three weeks. During the tenth patrol, she had so many mechanical problems she nearly was sunk a few times. But her men kept her going. In this photo, notice how much the conning tower has been cut down and re-shaped from her launch photo. US Navy Photo, from navsource.org

On 22 December 1944, Swordfish departed Pearl Harbor for her thirteenth patrol.  Besides the normal “if it flies the Japanese flag, sink it” general order, she had a special mission: photographic reconnaissance of Okinawa in preparation for the Okinawa campagain.

She stopped by Midway, and regueled on 26 December, and was ordered to delay her reconnaissance work until 11 January.  Swordfish acknowledged this change in orders on 3 January.  It was the last anyone heard of her.

After not responding to repeated radio calls, she was presumed lost by 15 Februrary.

So why is her loss date listed as 12 January?  Another submarine, USS Kete, was on her first (and, as it turned out, only complete war patrol)  in the area.  On 12 January, she noted the following in her war patrol report:

12 January

0508 (hours)      Friendly intereference -282°T

0759                 Submerged off passes-Received part of message while going down telling of PUFFER’s patrol craft contact between OKINOYTERNBU and YORON SHII-nothing in sight in our immediate vicinity

0949                 Heard about 15 distinct depth charges-Patrol craft were still around.

 

That “friendly intereference” at 5 am was supposed by the Navy to be the Swordfish, and her fate possibly also recorded by Kete, around 9:50 that morning.  The rest of the day, Kete reported seeing far more patrol planes than they had recently.  It’s possible that Swordfish was sunk by aerial attack, but Japanese records don’t mention anyone attacking any submarine on the morning of 12 January near Okinawa.  There were a number of mines planted around Okinawa, in anticipation of an attack, which may have taken Swordfish, or she could have sunk somewhere en route to Japan from Midway Island.

Until she is discovered, these questions will remain unanswered, but the Navy selected 12 January as the date of Swordfish’s loss.

The crew of the Swordfish with their battleflag sometime after their tenth patrol. I am unable to discover whether this flag was preserved, or went down with her.

Swordfish was honored with a younger sister, Swordfish (II) SSN-579in 1957.

The memorial for USS Swordfish stands at the Como Park Zoo and Conservatory in St. Paul Minnesota.

 

USS Swordfish’s lost crew

Article about one of Swordfish’s CO’s and the challenges they faced

Swordfish’s first War Patrol Reports and the Official Navy History of USS Swordfish

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On Eternal Patrol: USS Argonaut SS-166 Lost January 10. 1943

Uncategorized | Posted by Rebekah
Jan 10 2012

We’ll return to the Pearl Harbor story in a bit.  I love researching, and often find answers quickly to some questions, but the lead up to Pearl and resulting Blame Game have lead me down a bit of a rabbit hole and I’m really deep in.  I haven’t forgotten, but today, I’m starting the new year on the lost submarines of the US Navy and some unique stories.  I still will follow and bring to light more about Flier, but she had a number of remarkable sisters, whose stories also deserve to be told, and Pearl Harbor deserves a thorough post(s), and I have to thoroughly understand what I’m finding before I can write about it coherently, so I shall return to it soon

 

USS Argonaut was in a class by herself when she rolled down the ways on 10 November 1927.  The largest submarine yet built by the US Navy (and still the largest non-nuclear submarine built by the USA), she was designed to lay mines and have more powerful engines.  But like many good-idea-on-paper- projects, Argonaut and her sisters Narwhal and Nautilus, soon proved to be more problematic than they were worth.  While the minelaying devices were “ingenious” they were also “extremely complicated”. They also took up the final two compartments of the submarine.

Diving slowly, and cumbersome underwater, Argonaut and her sisters quickly became the only submarines of their class, and the submarine designers moved on to the Cachalot class boats, and soon, the Salmon class boats, working their way to the classic Fleet style submarine which would become the workhorse of WWII.

With such difficulties, Argonaut was moved to Pearl Harbor, and carried out routine duties, patrols, and participated in the Navy games.  A young officer, Richard “Dick” O’Kane came aboard in 1938 and qualified and served on Argonaut for four years.  (If you’re new to submarine history, just Google his name, as well as the names USS Wahoo and USS Tang—he had an interesting career!)

At the same time, a young radioman named Walter Klock, commonly called “Bud”, was assigned to the Argonaut for his first sub assignment.  Klock had a camera, and, prior to the WWII restrictions, photographed a bit of life on Argonaut, including what must have been a “Crossing of the Line” ceremony. This ceremony, which generally takes place any time a ship or sub crosses a main line, (Equator, Arctic/Antarctic circles, International Date Line, Prime Meridian, ect.) allows those men who have crossed said lines before to introduce the new guys, or “polliwogs” to it.  Prior to WWII on a submarine, this ceremony could get quite…interesting…and Klock sent home the photos to prove it.

Anyone recognize your ancestor?

 

On the left, may I present, ladies of King Neptune's Court. (Not sure about the other two...or the "ladies"...or anyone in this series of photos...) In the center...at least he looks like he's having fun. On the right...I don't know, and I don't know that I want to. I've heard guys say it takes a special kind of person to be a submariner...this might be proof! The Crossing of the Line Ceremony was already well established by 1938 when these series of photos were taken, and continued though WWII on some surface ships, though submarines could not risk being on surface for long enough to do this. Some captains banned them, some did small things, I've only heard of one sub doing a full on Neptune's Court and gauntlet INSIDE the submarine during WWII. Sometimes I wonder if they still do this sort of thing. Then I re-look at these and the other photos and think,...maybe what happens at sea, REALLY ought to stay there. Photos courtesy of family of Walter "Bud" Klock.

There were other times.  Shirley Temple visited the men of Argonaut as well, and Klock wrote to his mom about the many fine dances and other things to do in Hawaii.  A native Minnesotan from St. Paul, he stayed in Honolulu so long he said 60 degree Januarys were freezing him to death!

 

Shirley Temple and Argonaut next to an older S-boat (possibly the S-28, or S-26, it's hard to see). From the collection of Watler "Bud" Klock

Klock eventually moved on to the S-28 and was in San Diego in November1941, but his old boat remained behind.  The morning of December 7, she was on patrol near Midway Island, where she reported hearing many explosions.  Fearing that the Japanese were attacking Midway in addition to Pearl, HQ ordered Argo to take a close look, where she discovered two Japanese destroyers bombing the island, but doing little else.

Argonaut, with her difficulties, was not as suited to do the same patrolling that her Fleet sisters were assigned, but the Navy had special plans for them.  Shortly after Argo’s return following the attack on Pearl Harbor, she was shipped Stateside, where her minelaying equipment was removed, her troublesome engines replaced, and her new job revealed: troop transport.   Her large size made her and her sisters ideal for getting troops and supplies in and out of enemy controlled areas, and her first mission was urgent.  So urgent, that Argonaut had little time to drill before she, her crew, and their top secret guests headed out to sea.

 

On December 10, 1941, the Japanese invaded the small Makin Atoll (Now Butaritari Island) and took it over (no resistance made it easy).  It would be a seaplane base, extending Japanese reach over Allied held territories, and was fortified with about 160 troops, planes, machine guns and a few ships.  By August 1942, the US Navy, needing Japanese attention as splintered as possible during the initial landings on Guadalcanal and Tulagi, decided to send 211 Marines to Makin to destroy the fortification, take prisoners and gather intelligence.  Such a surprise attack required a submarine landing and pickup and the Nautilus and Argonaut, were ready (though barely).  121 Marines boarded the Argonaut, 90 on Nautilus, and on August 8, they left Pearl heading for Makin, near (modern) Papua New Guinea.

Taken from Argo's sister Nautilus, the Marines exercising on the sub decks in preparation for the raid, and the Marines disembarking on the morning of 17 August for their rafts and Malkin. Photos from National Archives

For five days, they pushed hard without diving, trying to make the best time possible and allowing the Marines to exercise on the deck.  But August 16, they sighted Makin, and at 3 am on August 17, the raid began.  The men on the Argonaut couldn’t do much after the Marines headed ashore on their rubber rafts except lay low, watch, and pray.  By 5:43 am they had their first message: “Everything lousy.”  Four minutes later: “Situation expected to be well in hand shortly.”

Nautilus, relying an order from the Marines, asked Argonaut to fire on a ship in the lagoon, but most of the day was spent just watching.

By 7 pm, the Marines were straggling back.  Initial information was good: they’d managed to destroy move of the Japanese garrison, and kill the vast majority of the soldiers stationed there.  But in other ways, it was a failure: no POWs and little intelligence. Several boats were reported having trouble working against the waves to get out to the Argonaut and Nautilus, and the submarines decided to stay on station another day looking for stragglers.  The next night, another four rubber boats, and a native boat with more Marines onboard came alongside.  Some of these Marines were seriously wounded and transferred to the Nautilus who, for this patrol only, had a doctor onboard.  Everyone arrived back in Pearl on 26 August.  Argonaut’s hasty prep work, however, had shown.  Between her arrival home and the 31st of August, her CO submitted over 58 work items that needed attention, including a serious leak from a fuel oil tank which would requite  a 6-7 week repair.

On the left, a returning Malkin Marine shows off the Japanese rifle he took, and ended up using to defend himself with. Center, sailors of the Argonaut read their mail that accumulated the three weeks they were out at sea. It's one of my favorite photos of the crew together. On the right, the Malkin Raiders and Argonaut crew retuning to Pearl. All photos National Archives

After repairs, she was sent to Brisbane, Australia, and from there she went out on her third war patrol on 2 January, 1943.  Before leaving Pearl, however, Argonaut’s crew decided to leave her bell behind, a move that would have interesting implications.

On 10 January 1943, Argonaut was in the Bismark Sea, and attacked five freighters and their escorts.  An American Army plane spotted her attack, and saw one of the escorting destroyers take a direct hit from Argo’s torpedoes.  The destroyers went on the offensive, launching a depth charge attack which apparently, destroyed Argonaut.  This attack perhaps broke her back (or rather, broke her keel, breaking her into two or more pieces. ) forcing Argo’s nose to break the surface for a moment.  The destroyers continued to fire at her until she slipped beneath the waves, never to surface again.  All 102 of her crew remain with her.

The Army plane, returning to his station, reported what he had seen, and also reported her loss, leading to Argo’s loss being reported relatively quickly by 26 February.  Due to his report, she was credited with damaging that destroyer, but after the war this score was revoked, since none of the ships in the convoy reported being damaged on 10 January.  It’s possible the torpedo was a premature explosion, which plagued many sub commanders early in the war.

Klock heard about the loss of his old boat while serving on his new one, Flier, in New London.  Since censorship of the war forbade all mentions of ship names, he normally could not tell his mother what had happened, but fate intervened.  A friend of his was going on leave back home, and Klock wrote a letter to his mother in plain language, hoping his friend could sneak it out and deposit it in the civilian post without the censors intervening.  It must have worked, for found among Mrs. Violet Klock’s papers was the following letter dated Easter, 1943: (Excerpt of full letter)

A friend of mine is flying out of the war zone tomorrow so I’m going to take a chance on getting this letter out.  Don’t repeat any of this or my name will be mud.  We are doing okay out here-the job gets rather tedious at times, but we are winning.  We sank four ships on our last two runs out.  We had one close call but nothing to become alarmed about.  That made a total of six sunk for this particular ship.  Not bad-huh? 

There isn’t much chance of me returning to the states for quite a while as we are operating out of a pretty hot spot.  But don’t worry about me—submarines are the safest thing to be on-we’ve only lost two or  three.  Incidentally, the one I as on for so long in Honolulu, the Argonaut got sunk.  She sunk [sic] several ships first though so paid her way fully.

The raid on Makin had unusual ramifications: the Japanese returned and REINFORCED the island with nearly four times the original troops the Raiders faced, forcing the Marines to return in November 1943 and thoroughly clean the place out.  The graves of the 18 Marines confirmed dead were found as well as the grave of one of the 12 Marines formerly listed as MIA.   Of the other 11, they were never located.  Eventually, records were found that show at least nine were captured by the Japanese and executed on Kwajalein Atoll.  The fate of the other two remains unknown.

Nearly 20 months after Argonaut’s loss, a Submarine Memorial Chapel was built and dedicated on the Submarine Base in Pearl.  (The story of how that got built is another whole post) The bell hanging in her steeple comes from Argonaut, and still rings today for services. As the bell is considered the “voice” or sometimes “soul” of a boat, it’s probably one of the more touching memorials a sub could ask for.

Finally, in honor of the lost Argonaut, a new Tench-class submarine was named in her honor:  USS Argonaut (II) SS-475 was commissioned on 15 January 1945, just over two years since the loss of her older sister.  Argo II actually made it to the Pacific theater for one patrol, rescuing a downed American pilot and sinking a 25-ton fishing vessel with her deck guns (for which she received no JANAC credit since they apparently didn’t consider anything lighter than 500 tons as a “ship”).  Argo II later served in the Atlantic during the 50′s and 60′s with the occasional Medditerranean deployment.  Sold to Canada in 1968, she served them a further six years as the HMS Rainbow before being scrapped in 1977.

 

After the war, Argonaut (I)  and her crew were assigned to the state of California for their memorial.  Dedicated in 2001, the USS Argonaut and USS Grampus combined memorial stands in the National Submarine Memorial West in Seal Beach, California.

The resting place of Argonaut and her crew has yet to be found.

 

Memorial page for USS Argonaut and the Malkin Raiders lost on Malkin

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Pearl Harbor Aftermath

Uncategorized | Posted by Rebekah
Dec 09 2011

The aftermath of Pearl Harbor was an overwhelming task. Only the drydocks, Fuel farm and Submarine Base were untouched.  Unknown to those recovering from the attack, they’d only suffered two-thirds of the total plan.  The Japanese had planned to send a third wave, which was assigned to destroy the fuel farm, and the drydocks, but, in December 1941, no one had yet managed to land on an aircraft carrier at night, which the third wave would be forced to do.  Since the second wave of Japanese planes had been shot down in a much higher number than the first surprise wave, the Japanese officers decided to spare their pilots for further fighting, rather than smash an enemy who was already fairly well destroyed.

It proved to be a crucial error.

With the fuel still intact, and the drydocks operations, the recovery effort began immediately.  The submarines at the Submarine Base were quickly fueled and sent to sea, assigned to sink anything flying the Rising Sun flag and report anyone else.  The Aircraft carrier Enterprise, nearly two days late getting to port (she was supposed to be in Pearl on December 6) entered on the 8th, and despite the wreckage of Pearl, the sailors managed to refuel her, restock her, and send her on her way in 24 hours, to protect what was left.  Pearl could still function, and her people threw themselves into recovery and support.

By some accounts, the burned and scorched oil was several inches thick in many parts of the harbor.  Ships that were only lightly damaged were quickly overhauled, fueled and sent to the States for final repairs.  Others, West Virginia, Oklahoma, California, would take longer.  Arizona and Utah’s fate was still unknown in those first days, and would end up resting in Pearl forever.

Edward Beach, who would become a celebrated submarine commander, and later author, recounted his feelings on nseein Pearl harbor in late May, 1942, nearly six months after the attack, in his book, “Submarine!”

“No one who saw it will ever forget the awful vista of Pearl Harbor. Although we had been prepared for it, the sight of four of our great battleships lying crushed in the mud staggered us.”

He further described the scene in his novel, Run Silent, Run Deep.

“The stench of crude oil was everywhere.  It struck my nostrils with almost physical pain.  The shoreline, wherever it could be seen was black; filthy; and the water was likewise filthy, and here and there a  coagulated streak of black grease clinging like relaxed death to bits of oily debris…The pictures showed a lot, but they could never show the hopeless, horrible desolation and destruction, the smashing, in an instant, of years of tradition and growth. 

California’s cage masts had seemed canted a bit peculiarly when we first caught sight of them, and now we could see why.  Her bow was underwater

 

 

…astern of her lay the bulging side and bottom of a great ship with one propeller sticking out of the water…this was Oklahoma…

 

 

another shattered sunken hulk showed its gaunt sides: West Virginia, once the pride of the fleet…a grimy dirty waterline, now high out of the water, showed how far she had sunk.  She was obviously afloat again, but horribly mangled. We could see some of the shattered side, gaping above the cofferdam built around it.

 

 

 

Abaft West Virginia, a single tripod mast stood in the water.  Below it a silent gun turrent, water lapping in the gun ports and around the muzzles of the huge rifles.  Nothing forward except a confused mass of rusty junk. A flag floated from the gaff of the tripod mast, symbol that the United States would never surrender. Arizona…”

It would take years.  By May, when Beach observed this scene, battleships Pennsylvania, Nevada, Tenessee, Maryland had already been recovered and sent to the States. Maryland and Tenessee were repaired and on patrol.   Pennsylvania, repaired, was testing of California.  Nevada was in Puget Sound being overhauled.

California would be refloated and on her way by June of ’42.

When  West Virginia was refloated in May of ’42, sixty-six bodies of her sailors were discovered.  While all the recovered ships had such sad recoveries to make, the Wee Vee had a few shocks within her.  The following is an excerpt from her salvage report.

29. Recovery of Bodies: During the salvage operations sixty-six bodies were recovered from the West Virginia. These were found widely scattered throughout the ship…

30. There were evidences that some of the men had lived for considerable period and finally succumbed due to lack of oxygen. In the after engine room, several bodies were found lying on top of the steam pipes, which areas were probably within the air bubble existing in that flooded space.

31. Three bodies were found on the lower shelf of storeroom A-111 clad in blues and jerseys. This storeroom was open to fresh water pump room, A-109, which presumably was the battle station assigned to these men. The emergency rations at this station had been consumed and a manhole to the fresh water tanks below the pumps had been removed. A calendar which was found in this compartment had an “X” marked on each date from December 7, 1941 to December 23, 1941 inclusive.

The “Wee Vee” would finally be stable enough to go to the States in May 1943, and would eventually participate in the Leyte Landings.

 Oklahoma would take months to roll over and refloat, and her hulk was still being salvaged when Flier entered Pearl Harbor December 1943.  She’d ultimately prove a total loss.

Utah, already an old target ship when she sank in the first moments of Pearl Harbor’s attack, was not to be salvaged. After Oklahoma was rolled over, the cranes were moved to Utah, rolling her over and out of the traffic lanes.  There, she was left to rest with her 54 lost crew, and the ashes of a baby girl.

Arizona, of course, never moved again.  Her hull was so shattered and broken it was thought she could not be salvaged even if she was refloated.  Nearly half of the Pearl Harbor casualties rested inside.  By the first anniversary of the attack, the decision had been made.  She would rest where she fell.

Her superstructure and guns were removed, to place most of her hulk underwater.  Her aft main guns became a battery protecting Kaneohe Bay.  Another set of guns, after being repaired, were placed on her sister Nevada, and fired against the enemy during the battles of Iwo Jima and Okinawa. (Today, yet another set of her guns lie rusting in the East coast.  The state of Arizona is seeking to bring them to her namesake state as a memorial.)

And the country of course advanced steadily into war, hundreds of ships running in and out of Pearl Harbor the whole time these repairs and salvages doggedly continued.  By 8 December, while Roosevelt and Congress declared war on Japan, the Japanese were landing on Wake Island, Guam, the Philippines, Thailand, and Maylasia.  By the time German and Italy declared war on the US and had the offer accepted and reciprocated on December 11, 1941, the Japanese military had expanded their reach beyond what most military strategists had assumed was possible so quickly. The American military, with their back broken in the form of battelships and destroyers, scrambled anything that could still move and sent it out on orders to conduct “unrestricted warfare.”

And the submarine, a curious misfit with little use on December 6, 1941, (according to some commanders) came into its own.

But Pearl wasn’t over.  The blame was beginning to settle.  But where? And on whom would it rest?

The following is film footage shot at Pearl just days after the attack

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Day of Infamy: The First Move: Manchuria

Uncategorized | Posted by Rebekah
Nov 03 2011

In honor of the upcoming 70th anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor, I’m presenting a series on the steps to war, and what better way to start than at the beginning?  Soon I’ll catch up and we’ll go thought what happened in real time.  Many WWII historians consider the Mukden Incident and the Japanese invasion of Manchuria to be the start of the Pacific War, and how and why that was important, was interesting.  I hope you enjoy.

 

Most historians agree that the roots of the European theater of WWII lie, at least in part, in the Versailles Treaty and the reparations required by Germany after WWI.  The roots of the Pacific theater of WWII reach much further back, even before WWI, or even the 20th century.  Those roots, like many, run deep and are rather tangled, so this will be a simplified account of what happened.

Shortly after Japan opened its doors to international trade in the 1850’s, they began to quickly modernize and have a population  explosion-which was a problem.  Japan had (well, has) extremely limited land and resources, and has long relied on trade, even during their isolationist “Shokoku” period.  In the late 1800’s the Japanese relied heavily on trade with Korea, and feared that if some other country took it over, colonized it, or it came under the influence of an unfriendly nation, it could make life difficult. The Japanese needed to annex it, or at least make sure it remained independent, and 1894 there were over three thousand Chinese Troops in Korea. The first Sino (Chinese)-Japanese War (1894-1895) ended with the Japanese capturing the Korean emperor, and signing the Treaty of Shimonoseki, which guaranteed Korean independence in perpetuity and gave the island of Taiwan (a Chinese island at that point) to Japan.

This move made both China and Russia nervous, so in 1898, China and Russia signed a treaty in Moscow, called the Li-Lobanov Treaty.  It essentially pledged mutual support in case of a Japanese attack (another one of those “secret treaties” that caused so much trouble during WWI), but also allowed the Russians to build an extension of the Trans-Siberian Railroad through a part of China known as Manchuria, just north of Korea, and control of the city the rail ended in: Port Arthur (modern Lünshunkou).  Port Arthur was a warm water port, something Russia doesn’t have many or any of in various points in her history, so this was a great, and well protected resource for them.  The treaty also gave them territorial authority to defend and man the rail, including depots, repairs, and more.

This map shows the strategic location of Port Arthur and its relative location to Korea, Manchuria and Beijing. From http://www.cityofart.net/bship/port-arthur.html

So enter the Russo-Japanese War (1904-1905). This war is considered the first great war of the 20th century by some historians. It’s origins are rather convoluted, but in the end, it centers around Port Arthur, which had seen action and occupation during the Sino-Japan war.  Besides being a warm water port, Port Arthur was important because it’s a bit like Gibralter in the Med, it’s a choke point and those who control Port Arthur can potentially control all shipping into and out of Beijing.  Those were the Russians, who also had a 25-year lease on the place. And as long as they had control, they were going to use it. They built up fortifications, machine shops, ammo and fuel depots, and all support facilities for the Russian Navy, which, in 1904 consisted of a number of modern battleships, cruisers and destroyers.

This made Japan uneasy.  Negotiations about this dragged on, and on and on and finally, on February 8, 1904, Japan struck Port Arthur again in a surprise night attack using a torpedo boat destroyer.  They quickly destroyed two Russian battleships and cruiser and distracted everyone….from the Japanese troops landing in Korea.

Japanese postcard showing battle of Port Arthur, and the destruction of Russian ships.

(Incidentally, it’s worth noting that Japan declared war on Russia three hours after the attack on Port Arthur began.  When the Russians complained that Japan had attacked without a formal declaration of war, Japan pointed out that Russia had attacked Sweden during the Finnish War nearly 100 years before prior to a formal declaration of war. After this war, it became international law to formally declare war opening actions.)

In the end, Russia capitulated (it didn’t help that Bloody Sunday and the ensuring 1905 Russian Revolution was also happening, making the war an unpopular drain)  Russian turned Korea over to the sphere of Japanese influence, and signed over its rights to Port Arthur and the railway that they had built.

Japan created a semi-private company and created the Southern Manchuria Railway, which ran from Port Arthur to Mukden.  Japan soon expanded along the railway zone, building coal mines, hotels, warehouses for goods, and bringing over Japanese men and their families to run most of it.  Soon there were smaller companies, mills, power plants, and steel works, and they soon acquired the contract to work the Korean Railway system.  During this expansion of growth, more and more Japanese came to live and work in Manchuria, protected by segments of the Japanese military which guarded the rail and the railway zone.

Fast forward to 1931, and the first step to war.  Sometime after 10 pm on September 18, 1931, a small bit of dynamite exploded near a track south of Mukden where a freight train was soon to come through (didn’t damage the track, the train came in just fine). This is what is now called the Mukden Incident. The Japanese soldiers stationed there claimed that they saw Chinese dissidents light the dynamite, and this was used to invade the local Chinese barracks (which was, due to tensions with Japanese troops in the area, aremed with dummy rifles…soooo…it wasn’t a long fight.) then Manchuria, utilizing troops from Korea as well, all in the name of self defense and defense of the Japanese people working the rail and the attached businesses.  The invasion of Manchuria (soon to be known as Manchuko) had begun.

This was precisely what the League of Nations had been formed to prevent, or at least, solve without violence.  Both China and Japan were members, and China had no problems taking this affair to the League.

Besides, there was something fishy about the Chinese dissident story…

Resources:

Information about the Sino-Japanese war and Russo-Japanese War

US Department of State website about the Mukden Incident

The Russo-Japanese War Research Society

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Countdown to the Day of Infamy: The Final Spies

Uncategorized | Posted by Rebekah
Nov 01 2011

Saturday, November 1, 1941: Honolulu Harbor, Hawaii.  8:30 am.

It was a familiar old ship, that pulled into Honolulu harbor that morning. She used to ply the seas from Yokohama to San Francisco every few weeks, always stopping here, docking to throngs of waving, cheering people, who draped on her lucky passengers and welcomed them ashore with dancers and music. But now, the American built ship, Taiyo Maru, flying the Japanese flag, had been chartered by the Japanese government to bring home any citizens who wished to return. Trade relations were broken, and the Honolulu Star-Bulletin warned that this might be the last ship bound for Japan permitted to dock here for months-or longer. So, even though she’d visited this harbor dozens of times, the local authorities and counter-intelligence watched her warily now, and established strict rules.

The Taiyo Maru, from a postcard during her glory days as a luxury passenger liner for NYK Line. If she looks familiar to long-time readers, it's because they're distant sisters.

There were rumors in the air, on this Saturday morning, November 1, 1941, and growing stronger, that the Japanese empire was seeking to expand her reach. The United States had recently cut Japan off from their shipments of oil and gas.  The diesel burning in Taiyo Maru’s tanks was already scarce, and there were rumors of immense aircraft carriers, battleships and destroyers back home which also needed those supplies. But Pearl wasn’t thought to be a target.  It was too far away, and a busy port. Even despite the embargo against Japan, dozens of ships pulled in and out daily, heading to and from America, the Philippines, Mexico, the Panama Canal, the South Seas, and Australia. No one could sneak in here, with so many eyes watching, much less an armed fleet.

And six miles away, sat the American Navy, inside Pearl Harbor. The great ships, including the mighty Arizona, flagship and pride of the American Navy, the aircraft carriers Enterprise and Lexington, and the submarine base, sat at the ready, constantly practicing, constantly drilling, for the war no one wanted. No one in Honolulu believed there was danger here. Manila maybe, Singapore, maybe, Hong Kong, maybe, but Japan, for all her might, couldn’t come this far unseen.

Still, the District Intelligence Office in Honolulu, long taxed from trying to track any hint of war from Japan, knew something was afoot. For months before the oil embargo, Japanese tankers would come and go every few days, most leaving behind or picking up a few hands, each time. So many men were impossible to track, and tensions were now so high that Customs and District Intelligence office refused to allow any hands off the Taiyo Maru, save a few the ship’s master deemed absolutely necessary for maintenance, and store purchases, and those few could easily be followed. Any passengers, once aboard, were not permitted to leave again. As far as possible, the District Intelligence Office was making sure that no information could get on or off, and the Taiyo was certianley going to leave with every person she brought with her still onboard.

They were right to fear spies.  Dozens had come through in the past months, many that never stayed in Honolulu more than a couple of hours while those tankers refueled, and there were three aboard the Taiyo now, disguised as stewards and an assistant purser. They were not trained in espionage, they were high ranking members of the Imperial Japanese Navy: Commander Mae-jima Toshihide, Commander Suzuki Suguru, and Lt. Matsuo Keiu, and they never planned to leave the Taiyo or set foot on Honolulu-at least, not on this trip.

They had, in fact, already completed half of the mission. The Taiyo Maru, rather than follow the well-traveled direct sea route from Yokohama to Honolulu, traveled north, and cut east between the Aleutian Islands and Midway, before turning sharply south.  During the whole journey the three men measured wind speeds, tracked the weather, and watched the horizon constantly for ships or air patrols, admittedly strange behavior for men who usually were more concerned with food and upkeep aboard.  But it had been a success: not even a fishing boat had been seen until they were nearly in sight of Oahu.

And they had managed to send information out of the Taiyo Maru.  Despite broken trade relations, there was still diplomatic relations between the countries.  Indeed, the Japanese Consulate in Washington D.C. was working through marathon talks to keep war at bay, while the consulate in Honolulu worked hard as well, but was it more diplomacy, or a cover for espionage?  District Intelligence had often wondered, but there was no way to break the sovereignty of the consulate and get inside information.  And as a Japanese ship, bound back home, according to diplomatic treaties and traditions, one of the Taiyo’s crew carried instructions from the Japanese government to the consulate written and sealed in the consulate pouch.  The consulate also returned a pouch with their own papers, observations, and recommendations to the Taiyo for transport home. What the District Intelligence Office didn’t know was there were written questions directly from the IJN officers aboard in the outgoing pouch, and the written responses, along with photos of Pearl Harbor, the anchorages of the Naval ships and other information, in the incoming pouch.

They were looking for final details, final answered questions, and, since the Taiyo docked on a Saturday, and would stay until Wednesday, the officers onboard would answer a few questions with their own eyes: how seriously did the Americans take their “weekend”? How many people seemed to attend Sunday services?  How many sailors and civilians were out and about on a weekend rather than a weekday?  How many ships and submarines were sighted going in and out of Pearl Harbor each day? When did they enter and leave? When was there a lot of traffic, and none?

These answers were crucial, since the talks continued in Washington and Tokyo, and this plan may never come to fruition depending on the answers the officers brought home.

The strangest thing of all, had to be that the plan they were proposing, and even now were scouting, was not new. In fact, Pearl Harbor had been attacked twice before in the ten years previous using this plan. By Americans.

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Inadvertant Hiatus

Uncategorized | Posted by Rebekah
Oct 16 2011

Hi everyone,

It’s bee a long summer, full of interstate travel, and emotional highs and lows. Things have been quite busy, and in the shuffle, this blog got dropped. Hard. (I’d say “Dropped like a lead balloon”, but the Mythbusters actually proved those things can float!)

But in that time, I’ve gotten to talk to more people and heard more stories, and will be back at it soon. The Flier Exhibit has been green-lighted, and we’re going through the blueprints, making sure it works, doesn’t violate any pesky codes or permits, or red tape, and trying to unearth those amazing little stories about the 85+ unique people that made up the Flier’s crew. Hopefully, I’ll be able to share some of that with you as we go.

So I’m back, and have that promised post on the second half of the life of the Hakusan Maru, and will try to post at least twice a week in the future.

Thanks for your patience, I am excited to be back!

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