Saturday, February 8, 2014

MURMANSK RUN

At first, armed guard duty was the least coveted assignment in the Navy.  A normal greeting extended to a shipmate who received orders to the Armed Guard was "Well, so-long fish-bait.  It was nice knowing you." An exclusive society was projected, "The Bitter Enders,"  whose membership was limited to Armed Guard personnel surviving a torpedoing.  Someone originated a paraphrase that the Armed Guard ironically adopted as its war-cry:  "Stand by.  Prepare to fire.  Abandon ship!"
     Or, even more to the point, after "Sighted sub: sank same" became famous, was the armed guard version--"Sighted Sub. Glub! Glub!"
     Men--and boys-- who had never seen salt spray in their lives returned from one Armed Guard cruise veterans of both sea and the war.
     There was one run that became wardroom and liberty legend.  It was told and retold by those that lived through to tell it.  And the men who had been on it were forever considered a little higher in the echelon of Armed Guard veterans.  It was the "Murmansk run."
     The German armies were at the very gates of Moscow by the end of 1041.  Relief, in the form of American war supplies, had to get through to the Soviet forces.  The shortest practicable route for this material was over the Arctic Circle and around the North Cape of Norway down to the port of Murmansk or into the White Sea to Archangel.  Bitter weather and a ruthless enemy combined to make that the most dangerous of voyages.
     Not only was there danger from enemy submarines, based all along the Norwegian coast; German airfields were close at hand, and--a more serious potential menace than either--the heavy units of the German Fleet, the von Tirpitz, the Hipper, and Scheer and Lutzow together with squadrons of Destroyers lurked in the deep rugged Alten Fjord, a constant murderous threat against anything smaller than a battleship daring to pass near their lair.
     To combat these heavy craft, the British Home Fleet had to maintain a constant patrol of the waters with ships of similar armor and armament.  More than this, the Home Fleet had to protect each Russia-bound convoy.  It was a heavy duty for a navy that had already taken serious losses.  Help was needed, and help was forthcoming.
     On 26, March, 1942, Task Force 99, under the command of Rear Admiral Robert C. Giffen, Jr., USN, sailed from Casco Bay, Maine, for Scapa Flow, to operate with the Home Fleet, The Admiral flew his flag from the battleship USS Washington (Captain Howard H. J. Benson, USN, commanding) and his force comprised the carrier Wasp (Captain John W. Reeves, Jr., USN), the cruisers Wichita (Captain Harry W. Hill, USN) and Tuscaloosa (Captain Norman C. Gillette, USN), and the destroyers of Desron 8 (Captain Don P. Moon, USN).
     The Wasp was detached from the Task Force for a special mission upon her arrival, and the remaining ships took up their share of the burden of keeping the big German vessels bottled up out of harm's way.
     Late in June a special job came up, one which promised vital action and, possibly, a chance to end the threat of the German "fleet-in-being."  Reconnaissance and intelligence agreed that the Tirpitz and the Nazi cruisers were being readied for sea.  At the same time one of the largest and most important convoys was heading for Murmansk.
     The Tuscaloosa and Wichita were assigned to the Cruiser Covering Force to escort the convoy from Iceland around the North Cape under the command of Admiral Hamilton, RN.  The Washington joined the heavy units of the Home Fleet under the command of Admiral Tooey, RN.
     The prime mission of the Cruiser Covering Force was to get the convoy through, with the secondary mission of luring or delaying any heavy units of the Nazi's into range of the big boys of the Allied force.  German air and submarine attacks were expected in great strength; a previous Murmansk convoy had got through with little damage, which made Hitler angry.  The particular convoy, PQ 17, being covered represented some seven hundred million dollars' worth of arms for hard-pressed Russia, which made the Nazis anxious.  An added prize for the Germans was convoy PQ 13, outward bound from Murmansk, scheduled to pass PQ 17 to northward of North Cape.
     The Tirpitz was lured out together with one or two cruisers (reports do not agree), a large screen of destroyers and a whole fleet of covering aircraft.  She eluded the heavy ships of the Home Fleet, and, while she never struck at either convoy, her presence in the area caused the cruiser Covering Force to be withdrawn.  The convoy scattered and found its way to Murmansk as best it could under continued heavy air and undersea attack.
     "Heavy air and undersea attack" could well have been a standard daily entry in any log of an Armed Guard officer.  It would have fitted naturally and normally after that other standard entry "Steaming as before."
     One of the veterans of the Murmansk run is Lieutenant Robert B. Ricks, USNR, of Gainesville, Georgia, now skipper of a destroyer escort, who was awarded the first Silver Star Medal presented to an Armed Guard officer.
     Lieutenant Ricks was assigned to SS Expositor in February, 1942.  Even by this time there were not enough men to give every officer a full gun crew.  To man his one 4-inch 50-caliber gun and four 30-caliber machine guns, Ricks had only four seamen and a signalman striker--"striker" in NAvy language meaning an enlisted man studying for non-commissioned promotion.
     At nine o'clock in the morning of 4, March, 1942, the Expositor left Pier 98 in Philadelphia and headed for New York.  Here, a cargo was taken aboard which caused the Armed Guard crew to feel a few shivers against which their pea jackets were no protection.
     The cargo was 5,000 rounds of 75-mm. shells, 5,000 rounds of 37-mm. shells and 5,000 cases of TNT.  With this lethal load aboard, the ammunition ship was incorporated in a convoy bound for the Clyde Anchorage in Loch Long off Gourock, Scotland.  At 0230, 27, March, the ships dropped anchor in that great convoy berthing spot.  But the Expositor was not unloaded. On 1, April, they were on the move again, in company with three other American merchant ships, SS Lancaster, Alcoa Rambler, and Paul Luckenbach.  The morning was clear and the weather was fine.  The water of Loch Long lapped gently on the grey stone seawalls of Gourock.  The gun crew watched the brown hills of Scotland fade in and they swapped wise cracks about April Fools' Day.  Their destination was certainly the Soviet Union, and on whom would the joke be if they didn't make it?
     At four o'clock that afternoon the lead ship in the convoy began to turn.  A message had been received from the British Admirality ordering the convoy to return to Gourock.  Anchored again in Loch Long, the reason for the return was made known.  The DEMS Office (Defensive Equipment for Merchant Ships, the counterpart of the Navy's Armed Guard) had decided the ships were insufficiently armed.  To the men of the Expositor, this was another certain proof that they were embarking on the hazardous Murmansk run.
     Next day additional guns arrived on board, two 20-mm.  Oerlikon AA machine guns and one twin-mount Hotchkiss machine gun.  It was an embarrassment of riches.  The battle bill for the gun crew had been complicated before with only five men to man five guns.  Now, with additional guns, volunteers form the merchant crew had to be drilled in their use.
     On 7 April, the quartet, under Admirality orders, left for the Lynn of Lorn, off Lismore Island, Scotland.  Three days later, a convoy which now consisted of twenty-five ships, American, British, and Russian, steamed out of the Lynn of Lorn bound for Reykjavik, Iceland, its last stop on the way to North Russia.  On the 15th the ships arrived off Reykjavik harbor and were ordered to Iceland's convoy anchorage area, Hvalfjordur Bay.  Their only excitement en route had been watching the destroyer-escort explode sixteen floating mines by gunfire.
     There the ships remained for ten days, surrounded by grim, brown lava cliffs from whose tops bristled anti-aircraft artillery.  It was remote from Reykjavik's few urban attractions, and the crew heard with relief that they were to be on the move again, even though it was now officially announced: "Destination, Murmansk."
     Then at 0800, 26 April, the convoy began to move.  On the second day out of Iceland, lookouts reported what was to b a continuous hazard all the way to Murmansk--floating mines.
     The third day was stormy.  The sky was low and goose-feather-gray and occasional snow flurries blotted out ships ahead.  It was still morning when a plane was heard, flying very high.  By the sound, it seemed to be circling.
     "One of those God-damned vultures,"  a veteran merchant seaman growled.
     The plane kept circling.  "He's radioing our position, speed, and course," the seaman added knowingly.  "And he's smart.  The bastard knows enough to keep out of range.  He's just a spotter.  We'll be in for it in a little while."
     "What do you mean?" a novice asked.
     "Bombers, that's what."
     The Expositor plodded along with the convoy.  All hands grew as fond of snow as a small boy with a new sled.  Sunshine, alternating with the flurries, was reviled.  Thus for four hours, and then--
     "I don't remember how many planes there were," Lieutenant Ricks says.  "We had just passed through a snow squall and were in the clear when we saw them coming in on our starboard bow."
     The signal to commence firing was hoisted.  The entire convoy seemed to open fire at the same time.  The planes roared over the fire-belching ships, their bombs falling off to the starboard side of the convoy.  The bombers climbed higher and disappeared into the clouds.
     Nobody had a chance to say "scared 'em off, hey?"  before one of the planes screamed down through the clouds on a dive-bombing run aimed at the lead ship in the port column.  The anti-aircraft cruiser guarding the convoy opened fire with every gun on her deck.  Guns from the merchantmen in the first three columns joined on the instant.  It was a blanket of fire such as no German pilot had ever expected to face.  The bomber never came out of it's dive.  It crashed about 150 yards off the port side of the number one column without dropping its bomb load.
     That was all.
     The Expositor's Armed Guard crew had had it's indoctrinating baptism of fire.  Not very exciting at that.  Buzz--whoosh--bang--bang!  But the old-timers muttered something about "luck" and wondered aloud what the next time would be like, and how soon.
     "We felt pretty good about it,"  Lieutenant Ricks recalls.  "We had shot down one of the planes, there was no damage done to us and we had driven off the others.  Spirits were pretty high."
     The convoy wallowed along resolutely, and without molestation.  Then at 15:30 the following afternoon, two more "vultures" were sighted.  Again the spotters carefully avoided flying over the convoy in gun range.  They circled far out of firing range.  They were still there five hours later, when the last man came up from evening mess blinking at the bright arctic sun.  Then, as if the pilot had spent all that time building up courage, one of the planes suddenly streaked toward the port wing of the convoy.  As the anti-aircraft fire forced the plane to seek cloud refuge.  The pilot seemed determined to have at least one shot at the ships.  The third time he came out of the clouds in a steep dive at the port wing of the convoy.  It was his last.  Streams of tracers poured into the plane and followed it as it crashed into the ocean.  The companion bomber made no attempt to attack.  It straightened out and disappeared over the horizon.
     Gun crews remained at their stations on watch.  It was still snowing in flurries and there was the feeling that something else was going to happen.
     It lacked about an hour before sunset, which is to say it was one o'clock in the morning when the Commodore hoisted a signal.
     "Expect attack!"
     Three planes were slanted in toward the starboard and the ships opened fire.
     "This was our first glimpse of torpedo bombers," said Ricks.  "The three planes continued their approach in formation toward us.  It looked like an attempt to pick off the leading line of ships.  They came in low, flying about fifty or seventy-five feet above the water."
     Then the torpedoes began to drop.  The men at the guns kept their eyes on the planes.  Above the ear-splitting chatter of the ordinance they heard the hollow, reverberating explosion that even the novices knew meant torpedoes had found targets against hulls.
     The starboad plane of the trio crashed in flames, as its companions sheered off into the clouds.  Then the gunners could look around.
     They saw the SS Bothaven, the Commodore's ship, plunging bow first into the water while men spilled from the decks and swam toward the three lifeboats that had been launched.  Where SS Cape Corso had been was a flame-shot column of smoke.
     "The explosion of that ship sent flames five hundred feet in the air," said Lieutenant Ricks.  "The entire mid-section seemed to blow up.  The ship was a flaming mass.  It sank in about thirty seconds, and there were no survivors."
     SS Jutland, steam pouring from her vents, was dead in the water and it's crew taking the boats from decks that inched closed and closer to the sea.
     "Three ships sunk by two torpedoes?"  somebody demanded.  "A submarine must have got one of them."
     And, as if in confirmation, the Expositor's lookout shouted: "Submarine!"
     "Where away?"  The sea beyond the convoy's perimeter was empty.  Te lookout was correct--fantastically correct.  A conning tower was rising in the very center of the convoy and just a few yards from the Expositor's starboard quarter!
     "The periscope was only about ten or fifteen feet away from the ship," reminisces Lieutenant Ricks, "and the submarine was surfacing.  It was so close aboard that none of our guns could be brought to bear, no machine guns, no broadside guns, no nothing.  And nobody else in the convoy could shoot at it without hitting us--loaded with TNT.  It was kind of embarrassing to say the least."
     One of the cooks aboard Expositor was standing on the fantail by the stern gun when the sub's conning tower bubbled up right under his bulging eyes.  The man stood there, unable to believe what he saw.  Then her turned to the mute gun, which had been depressed to it's lowest trajectory.  The mess hand rushed over to the piece, grabbed it by the barrel and tried to tug it into position to fire, grunting and groaning as he pulled.
     The submarine continued to surface until the conning tower was awash while the Expositor widened the distance from it.
     By the time the submarine was 25 yards away, the 4-inch gun could be brought to bear on the German craft.  The first shot missed.  The gun was still too high.  The second shot was a direct hit on the conning tower, at 30 or 40 yards.  It was blown completely off.
     After the second shot the submarine appeared to be sinking.  Water boiled up in a great froth of air bubbles.  As the man watched the oil spreading over the submarine's grave the lookout yelled: "Torpedo track off port bow!"
     The ship jolted as her screws went into reverse.  A few feet in front of her bow the torpedo hissed its way to nowhere.
     "I think the submarines and aircraft worked in very close cooperation on a job like this," Lieutenant Ricks calculates. "The reconnaissance planes did nothing but circle the convoy, evidently radioing to the subs, or to where the message could be relayed to them, our position, course and speed.  Then the subs would lie ahead of the convoy and as we came by would let us have it.  This particular submarine that came up in the center of the convoy was evidently hurt by some of the heavy depth charges that had been dropped by the DE's and corvettes after the Cape Corso was hit."
     This marked the end of enemy action for the day.  But as the ships fel into their convoy position, filling up the gaps left by the torpedoed, a fourth casualty was discovered.  A British corvette had disappeared in the melee, wiped out by a torpedo.
     The only casualty aboard the Expositor was a seaman's dungarees.  The deck hand, his arms full of 40-mm. ammunition, was on a ladder in the path of the 4-inch gun's blast.
     "The concussion ripped his pants off, I literally mean off,"  Lieutenant Ricks recalls.  "He didn't have a stitch on him.  He stood there in a daze for a moment, and then dropped his shells and tumbled to the deck after them.  Somebody ran to pick him up.  There wasn't any more of a scratch or bruise on him than there was pants.  He was just dazed, and he couldn't quite figure out why he was mother-naked."
     3 May was almost logged as an uneventful day, but a few minutes before midnight the attack signal was again jerked up the halyards.  This time the Germans changed tactics.  Two torpedo bombers appeared, one on each wing of the convoy.  They launched their tin fish simultaneously against both flanks of the flotilla. It was a clean miss all the way around.  No torpedo found its mark, nor did a shot from the anti-aircraft guns.
     Although evidences of submarine activity continued for the remaining week of the voyage, there were no further engagements with the Germans.  The Armed Guard crew could not loaf the time away, however.  Watches had to be maintained at any cost and the men worked with little rest and less sleep.
     on 6 May the convoy anchored in the harbor of Murmansk.  The port could accommodate only about ten ships at the docks, which had been bombed and rebuilt many times with timber.
     As the Expositor berthed, a sailor standing near Ricks made inquiry about liberty ashore.
     "I've dated all kinds of women in the world except Russians," he observed.  "I'd like to get me a date with a Russian."
     He learned over the rail to watch a Russian woman stevedore walking along the pier below.  She stopped to pick up a length of piling obstructing the path and nonchalantly tossed the 120-pound log out of the way.  The sailor spat reflexively into the water.
     "On second thought," he said, "I don't believe I care to meet these women."
     Now the weather sided against the Germans.  It snowed.  It snowed so hard for two days that the vessel's stern was invisible from the bridge.  The blizzard hampered the unloading considerably but it grounded the Luftwaffe until the third day.  Then the sun came out, and with it the bombers, skimming close over the ridge of low hills that curved around the harbor.
     Twelve of the big, multi-motored aircraft headed for the sitting ducks.  The gun crews went into action; everybody else scattered for shelter.
     It seemed impossible that the Germans could miss.  They did; the gunners didn't.  Only nine of the bombers flew back toward Finland, two brought down by gunfire and one by a Russian fighter plane that buzzed up to meet them.
     After the Expositor unloaded she traded places with an ammunition ship.
     "I don't know whether that ammunition ship had been spotted or not," said Lieutenant Ricks, "But that afternoon when we had taken her anchorage out in the stream we were the target for a direct attack by six dive bombers.
     "Bombs dropped fore and aft and to both sides of us, but they all missed by about 100 yards.  We were completely circled by bombs, but we weren't hit."
     The next day, about the same time in the early afternoon, the bombers came again.  This time the misses were nearer.
     "In fact,"  Ricks recalls, "the spray from the first bomb completely obscured the ship.  The British destroyer that was sitting on our starboard quarter signaled to ask 'What damage?'  Just as our signalman prepared to answer "No damage' a second flight of dive bombers came heading for us.
     "The bombs fell so near that the concussion lifted the ship and shook her like a dog shakes a rat."
     The twenty-two ships were unloaded in twenty days, despite bombings, blizzards and inadequate wharfing.  The men were anxious to leave.  Murmansk was a pile of rubble.  New buildings were all made of wood so they could be reconstructed quickly.  There was the International Club, open to everyone, for hot tea, chess and tattered old magazines in six languages, but the ship was the most comfortable place to stay when off duty.
     On 21 May the convoy left for Iceland.  Twice in the first three days submarine contacts were made.
     Late in the afternoon of the third day--late by the clocks, not by the sun--a reconnaissance plane began it's vulture-like circling beyond firing range.  Presently a torpedo bomber joined in the circular vigil above the ships.  For three hours the tantalizing surveillance continued.  Then each dropped two green flares.  Ten minutes later red flares were dropped, signals to lurking submarines.
     But as if n response to the flares, a Hurricane fighter plane was catapulted from a British ship.  It started in pursuit of the torpedo bomber.  Both planes disappeared in a cloud bank, where the fighter evidently lost its prey, because ten minutes later the Hurricane returned and started to close in on the second German plane.  Seconds later the torpedo bomber popped out of the cloud and turned to join the fight.  But it was too late to save the reconnaissance plane.  A savage burst of fire form the Hurricane sent the first Nazi crashing into the sea.  The bomber fled, and the Hurricane streaked after it.  The pursuit vanished over the horizon.
     The convoy churned on, the empty ships riding high.  Then a shout went up form the decks of the watching ships.  The Hurricane was returning--alone.  It pancaked on the water near it's mother ship and a boat put out to it.  The men crowding the rails of the other ships saw the pilot taken aboard, his plane abandoned.  A little while later a flutter of flags broke out on the Englishman.  The pilot had died of wounds.  For the remainder of the day all flags were flown at half mast in honor of the fighter who had given his life to save the ships.
     Next day the now familiar shores of Iceland were sighted.  The voyage was almost over.  There was the sub-infested water between Reykjavik and New York to cover, but after what the men had already been through that seemed almost a humdrum chore.  The ships remained in Iceland for two dreary, chafing weeks.  Only the master of the ship and the Armed Guard officer were permitted to go ashore, and then for the transaction of official business only.
     On 10 June the confinement was broken.  The ships left under escort.  Eight days later the men were reminded that they still were a long way from home.  A steamer on the edge of the convoy was torpedoed.  Four men were killed in the explosion, the rest taken aboard other ships.  Two days later another was torpedoed  and sunk.  Both times the attackers escaped, undetected.
     At one o'clock on 28 June, the Expositor dropped anchor just off the Statue of Liberty in New York harbor.  One Armed Guard crew had returned with all hands intact from the Murmansk run--12,000 miles, 116 days, the ship safe, and the metaphorical scalp of one submarine nailed to the mainmast.  It was--just another voyage; tougher than most, easier than some.
     Rick's adventures were probably duplicated scores of times.  They are related here not because they are exceptional, but because they are illustrative.  And not all gun crews survived the German-Finnish gantlet to tell their stories.
     The route to Archangel was, if anything, worse than the Murmansk run for being longer.  Consider the experiences of Lieutenant Albert Maynard, USNR, Armed Guard officer on SS Schoharie, which brought a shipload of tanks, ammunition and food to Murmansk in a convoy that numbered forty ships at sailing, and twenty-seven upon arrival at the subarctic port.
     The convoy was one of the most important, in the constant line of supply to the Soviet Union.  Stalingrad and Leningrad were in what seemed to be the last stages of siege and destruction.  To make delivery of the desperately needed supplies as secure as possible, the British provided the convoy with an escort of a converted aircraft carrier, a light cruiser, two antiaircraft cruisers, twenty-one destroyers and a small fleet of corvettes, minesweeper and trawlers--a task force in itself.  And yet, a third of the convoy was lost.
     It was on Sunday, 13 September, 1942, on the seventh day out of Iceland, that Lieutenant Maynard looked over the side in the course of gun inspection to see a British merchantman instantly blotted out in steam and smoke.  Before the signal to scatter could be raised, a second ship was torpedoed.
     The superstitious in that convoy had reason to confirm their distaste for the number 13.  Before that September day was done, a wolfpack of submarines ran riot inside the convoy's columns, a swarm of thirty-seven Heinkel torpedo planes made an attack at 25 feet above the water, and a half dozen Ju-88s subjected the shps to a divebombing attack.  A total of ten merchantmen was sunk, some outright, others left crippled with corvette protection only to be sent down later by the Nazis' aerial rear guard.
     Lieutenant Maynard, with desperate sincerity, described the lulls in the battle as the unforgettable parts of the daylong fight with an enemy who alternately dropped from the sky or rose from the ocean depths.  The business of fighting off dive bombers above, torpedo planes at deck level, and submarines, is too wholly occupying to permit mental note-taking.
     "During the attacks our reaction was not fright," Maynard remembers.  "But in the letdown periods of quiet it would be silly to say one of us was not downright scared."
     The view over the side was not cheering.  Cargo ships in convoy may not pause or break the established pattern to rescue the ship-wrecked.  That job is left for the escorting warships.  But it does not boost the morale of the Armed Guardsman to see men struggling in the icy brine as their own ship passes through the flotsam of battle; they are humanly prone to wonder when it will be their turn to cling with numbing fingers to shattered spar and see the ships go by.
     "There were men in the water, and men in lifeboats," Maynard recalls.  "Some of them swearing, some praying, and some mockingly sticking out their thumbs and calling 'Going my way, mister?' as we skid by not a hundred feet from them."
     Monday was inaugurated by the torpedoing of a tanker early in the morning.  At noon thirteen torpedo planes came out of the clouds and concentrated on the carrier, whose own fighters shot down six of the enemy without loss.  Half an hour later twenty Heinkels swarmed over the horizon.  One of them torpedoed an ammunition ship which disintegrated just as the plane skimmed over the stricken vessel's masts; the explosion blasted the Nazi plane and its crew to atoms.
     Day in, day out, the Heinkels and Junkers plagued the convoy.  The thirteenth ship was lost to Finnish dive bombers just as the battered flotilla stood in for the straits of the White Sea, but the convoy had to fight off attacks every day at sea of the four remaining, and for the four moonlit nights of unloading at Archangel.
     "And that," Lieutenant Maynard concludes, "is about all that happened on our trip to Archangel," a trip during which he himself once had to grab a fifty-caliber gun and train it against a Voss-Ha 140 boring in on the Schoharie.  The plane disappeared in a blur of flame and smoke, and tumbled "just like a ball of fire" into the sea.
     "I think that was the most fun I had on the entire voyage," Maynard muses.


--Captain Walter Karig, Lieutenant Commander Earl Burton, & Lieutenant Stephen L. Freeland
From: The Untied States Navy in World War II
Part II: Chapter 4: Murmansk Run
Compiled and Edited by: S.E. Smith

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USS Washington:
Class: North Carolina Class Battleship
Registry: BB-56
Launched: 1, June 1940
USS Washington anchored at the Puget Sound Navy Yard
Washington anchored at the Puget Sound Navy Yard in April 1944. She has just had heavy damage repaired after a collision with the battleship Indiana left about 60 feet (18 m) of her bow hanging down and into the water. Photo courtesy of the National Archives and Records Administration.
Career (US)
Name:USS Washington
Namesake:State of Washington
Ordered:1 August 1937
Builder:Philadelphia Naval Shipyard
Laid down:14 June 1938
Launched:1 June 1940
Commissioned:15 May 1941
Decommissioned:27 June 1947
Struck:1 June 1960
Honors and
awards:
Silver-service-star-3d.png Bronze-service-star-3d.png13 Battle Stars
Fate:Sold for scrap, 24 May 1961
General characteristics
Class & type:North Carolina-class battleship
Displacement:35,000 long tons (36,000 t)
Length:729 ft (222 m)
Beam:108 ft (33 m)
Draft:38 ft (12 m)
Speed:28 kn (32 mph; 52 km/h)[1]
Complement:108 officers, 1,772 men
Sensors and
processing systems:
CXAM-1 RADAR, and a series of upgrades[2]
Armament:9 × 16"/45 caliber Mark 6 guns[3]
20 × 5"/38 caliber guns
16 × 1.1"/75 caliber guns
Aircraft carried:3 × SOC Seagull[1]
Aviation facilities:2 × aircraft catapult[1]
USS Washington (BB-56), the second of two battleships in the North Carolina class, was the third ship of the United States Navy named in honor ofthe 42nd state. Her keel was laid down on 14 June 1938 at the Philadelphia Naval Shipyard. Launched on 1 June 1940, Washington went through fitting-out before being commissioned on 15 May 1941 with Captain Howard H. J. Benson in command. In early 1942, Washington and twenty other American ships were the first to be equipped with fully operational radar.[2] She has the distinction of being the only American battleship to sink an enemy battleship during World War II in a "one on one" surface engagement.[4] Washingtonsuffered no losses to hostile action during the entire course of the war, although she had some close calls: she was almost hit by "Long Lance" torpedoes off Guadalcanal, and was hit once by enemy ordnance, a 5-inch shell[3] that passed through her radar antenna without detonation.
In 1942, she was sent to the North Atlantic to fill in for British ships that had been redeployed around Madagascar. She was assigned to guard against a possible sortie by the German battleship Tirpitz, and to provide distant cover for several Iceland–Murmansk convoys

Although commissioned, her engine had not been run at full power—like North Carolina,Washington had major problems with acute longitudinal vibrations from her propeller shafts. A problem shared with her sister and other ships like Atlanta, it was only cured after different propellers were tested aboard North Carolina, including four- and five-bladed versions, as well as a cut-down version of the original three-bladed propeller. Eventually, a combination of two four-bladed propellers on the outside and two five-bladed inboardpropellers partially solved the issue, allowing Washington to run builder's trials on 3 August 1941. Loaded at about 44,400 long tons (45,100 t), the propulsion plant was tested at 123,850 shp, but speed was not recorded. On 2 December, Washington was able to steam at about 28 knots (32 mph; 52 km/h) when loaded at about 42,100 long tons (42,800 t), while a full power trial at 45,000 long tons yielded 27.1 knots (31.2 mph; 50.2 km/h). In February 1942 she achieved 127,100 and 121,000 shp. Still, various propeller combinations were employed through the greater part of 1943, and the vibrations were never fully corrected.[13]
Washington (BB56) 29 May 1941 shortly after commissioning 15 May.
During these tests, Washington joined Battleship Division Six as the flagship of Rear Admiral John W. Wilcox, Jr., the commander of the division and of all battleships in theAtlantic Fleet. During this time, she was accompanied at times by North Carolina and the recently commissioned aircraft carrier Hornet. On 26 March 1942, Washington was reassigned to Task Force 39, which was also commanded by Wilcox. She continued serving as his flagship as they departed that day from Portland, Maine with WaspWichita, and Tuscaloosa and an escort of six destroyers.[14] Their destination was the United Kingdom; they were needed to reinforce the British Home Fleet in case Tirpitz left port and to take the place of British ships being sent to Madagascar as part of Operation "Ironclad".[15]
While crossing the Atlantic, a man went overboard in heavy seas. It was found shortly thereafter that it had been Wilcox. Planes from Wasp assisted while Tuscaloosa droppedlife buoys and two destroyers combed the area behind the battleship. A crewman aboardWilson saw a body face-down in the water, but the ship was unable to bring it aboard due to the sea conditions. It will probably never be known what exactly happened; he could have been washed overboard by a large wave, while the Dictionary of American Naval Fighting Ships says "one school of thought has it that he had suffered a heart attack."[7][16][17]
Now commanded by Rear Admiral Robert C. Giffen in Wichita, the force continued to Scapa Flow, arriving on 4 April 1942. They became part of the Home Fleet, which was commanded by Admiral John C. Tovey; he flew his flag on the battleship King George V. The majority of this month was filled with maneuvers and practicing. It was only on 28 April that Washington left Scapa Flow for an operation. Accompanied by various ships, including King George VVictoriousKenya and six destroyers from Britain and Wichita,Tuscaloosa and four destroyers from the United States, Washington was assigned to provide distant cover for PQ-15, one of theIceland–Murmansk convoys. It was the first time that American ships had ever operated with the Home Fleet. Washington was damaged on 1 May when King George V accidentally rammed the destroyer Punjabi, cutting it in two. Directly behind King George V,Washington passed through the same stretch of sea as the sinking destroyer, receiving damage from depth charges as they went down with the ship and exploded as they sank. Though damage to the hull was minimal—limited to only one leaking fuel tank—many devices on the ship were damaged, including all of the main battery range finders and three circuit breakers. In addition, three fire control systems and the radar were put out of action from mechanical shockKing George V, her bow heavily damaged, was forced to leave the task force with an escort of destroyers to be repaired.[7][16][17][18]
Midshot with a large single engined propeller warplane in background. A man with military ribbons covering his chest—the King (see caption)—accompanied by navy officers walks down a lines of sailors who stand rigidly at attention.
King George VI of the United Kingdom(left column, walking toward the camera) aboard Washington, 7 June 1942. An OS2U Kingfisher is in the background.
The American ships in the group left formation on 5 May to put in at Hvalfjörður, Iceland to load supplies from Mizar. On 15 May they left to rejoin elements of the Home Fleet, and docked at Scapa Flow on 3 June. On 4 June, Washington hosted the commander of naval forces in Europe, Admiral Harold Rainsford Stark, who set up a temporary headquarters on the ship for the next few days. On 7 June, King George VI inspected the battleship. For the next month, Washington remained in the North Atlantic to provide distant cover against the threat of German heavy ships (including Tirpitz) for the next two PQ convoys, PQ-16 andPQ-17.[16][17][19]
PQ-17 was notable for being a complete disaster. In a confusing series of events, the British Admiralty ordered the convoy to scatter on 4 July; the way the messages were phrased indicated to the commanders of the convoy and escort that Tirpitz was nearby. However, Tirpitz, escorted by Admiral Hipper and six destroyers, was still off northern Norway. The decision to disperse the ships left many of the merchant ships alone; the ones that were lucky enough to still have an escort had only small warships, as all ships larger than destroyers had been ordered to sail west at high speed, fearing a U-boat attack. Only thirteen merchant ships of the thirty-four present before scattering reached Russia; the rest were sunk by U-boats and aircraft of theLuftwaffeWashington was recalled to the United States shortly after this debacle. She departed Hvalfjörður on 14 July with an escort of four destroyers and set sail for New York. She put in at Gravesend Bay on 21 July, but two days later she moved to the Brooklyn Navy Yard for an overhaul.

USS Wasp:
Class: Wasp Class Aircraft Carrier
Registry: CV-7
Launched: 4, April 1939
USS Wasp (CV-7).jpg
USS Wasp entering Hampton Roads
Class overview
Name:Wasp-class aircraft carrier
Operators: United States Navy
Preceded by:Yorktown-class aircraft carrier
Succeeded by:Essex-class aircraft carrier
Built:1936-1940
In commission:1940-1942
Planned:1
Completed:1
Lost:1
Career
Name:Wasp
Namesake:USS Wasp (1814)
Ordered:19 September 1935
Builder:Fore River Shipyard
Laid down:1 April 1936
Launched:4 April 1939
Sponsored by:Mrs. Charles Edison[1]
Commissioned:25 April 1940
(first Commanding Officer: Captain John W. Reeves, Jr.)
Struck:15 September 1942
Honors and
awards:
American Defense Service Medal ("A" device) / American Campaign Medal/European-African-Middle Eastern Campaign Medal (1 star) /Asiatic-Pacific Campaign Medal (1 star) / World War II Victory Medal
Fate:Sunk by IJN I-19, 15 September 1942
General characteristics
Type:Aircraft carrier
Displacement:As built: 14,700 long tons (14,900 t) (standard)
19,116 long tons (19,423 t) (full load)
Length:688 ft (210 m) (w/l)
741 ft 3 in (225.93 m) (o/a)
Beam:80 ft 9 in (24.61 m) (waterline)
109 ft (33 m) (overall)
Draft:20 ft (6.1 m)
Installed power:70,000 shp (52,000 kW)
Propulsion:2 × Parsons steam turbines
6 × boilers at 565 psi
2 × shafts
Speed:29.5 kn (54.6 km/h; 33.9 mph)
Range:12,000 nmi (22,000 km; 14,000 mi) at 15 kn (28 km/h; 17 mph)
Complement:1,800 officers and men (peacetime)
2,167 (wartime)
Sensors and
processing systems:
CXAM-1 RADAR[2]
Armament:
Armor:
  • As Built:
  • 60 lb (27 kg) STS conning tower
  • 3.5 in side and 22 ft 6 in (6.86 m)50 lb deck over steering gear
Aircraft carried:As built: Up to 100
Aviation facilities:3 × elevators
4 × hydraulic catapults (2 flight deck, 2 hangar deck)
USS Wasp (CV-7) was a United States Navy aircraft carrier commissioned in 1940 and lost in action in 1942. She was the eighth ship named USS Wasp, and the sole ship of a class built to use up the remaining tonnage allowed to the U.S. for aircraft carriers under the treaties of the time. As a reduced-size version of the Yorktown-class hull, Wasp was more vulnerable than other United States aircraft carriers available at the opening of hostilities. Wasp was initially employed in the Atlantic campaign where Axis naval forces were perceived as less capable of inflicting decisive damage. After supporting theoccupation of Iceland in 1941, Wasp joined the British Home Fleet in April 1942 and twice ferried British fighter aircraft to Malta. As a consequence of lower-risk assignments, Wasp was one of the few United States carriers to survive destruction in the Pacific aircraft carrier battles of 1942. Wasp was then transferred to the Pacific in June 1942 to replace losses at the battles ofCoral Sea and Midway. After supporting the invasion of GuadalcanalWaspwas sunk bythe Japanese submarine I-19 on 15 September 1942.

Shifting back to Casco Bay three days later, she sailed for the British Isles on 26 March, with TF 39 under the command of Rear Admiral John W. Wilcox, Jr., on the Washington. That force was to reinforce the Home Fleet of the Royal Navy. While en route, Rear Admiral Wilcox was swept overboard from the battleship and drowned. Although hampered by poor visibility conditions, Wasp planes took part in the search. Wilcox's body was spotted an hour later, face down in the raging seas, but it was not recovered due to the weather and the heavy seas.
Rear Admiral Robert C. Giffen, who flew his flag on the Wichita, assumed command of TF 39. The American ships were met by a force based around the light cruiser HMS Edinburgh on 3 April. Those ships escorted them to Scapa Flow in the Orkney Islands. While there, a Gloster Gladiator flown by Captain Henry Fancourt of the Royal Navy made the first landing of the war by a British plane on an American aircraft carrier when it landed on Wasp.








































USS Wichita:
Class: Variant on the Brooklyn Class Heavy Cruiser
Registry: CA-45
Launched: 16, November 1937
USS Wichita (CA-45)
Career (United States)
Laid down:28 October 1935
Launched:16 November 1937
Commissioned:16 February 1939
Decommissioned:3 February 1947
Struck:1 March 1959
Fate:Sold for scrapping, 14 August 1959
General characteristics
Type:Heavy cruiser
Displacement:Standard: 10,589 long tons (10,759 t)
Full load: 13,015 long tons (13,224 t)
Length:608 ft 4 in (185.42 m)
Beam:61 ft 9 in (18.82 m)
Draft:23 ft 9 in (7.24 m)
Propulsion:Parsons steam turbines
Babcock & Wilcox boilers
4 screws
100,000 shp (75 MW)
Speed:33 kn (61 km/h; 38 mph)
Range:10,000 nmi (19,000 km; 12,000 mi) at 15 kn (28 km/h; 17 mph)
Crew:929 officers and enlisted
Armament:9 × 8 in /55 Mk 12 guns
8 × 5 in /38 Mk 12
Armor:Belt armor: 6.4 in (160 mm)
Deck: 2.25 in (57 mm)
Turrets: 8 in (200 mm)
Conning tower: 6 in (150 mm)
Aircraft carried:scout planes
Aviation facilities:catapults
USS Wichita (CA-45) was a unique heavy cruiser of the United States Navybuilt in the 1930s. She was authorized by the 1929 Cruiser Act, laid down at the Philadelphia Naval Shipyard in October 1935, launched in November 1937, and commissioned into the US Navy in February 1939. The last American cruiser built under the terms of the London Naval TreatyWichita was a heavy cruiser variant of the Brooklyn class of light cruisers, and formed the basis for the later Baltimore-class cruisers. She was armed with a main battery of nine 8-inch (200 mm) guns in three triple turrets. Following her commissioning,Wichita was assigned to neutrality patrols in the Atlantic.


Wichita weathering a storm off Iceland.
Wichita left port on 5 January 1942 for training and a patrol in the Denmark Strait; she returned to Hvalfjörður on 10 January.[5] On the 15th, a powerful storm, with sustained winds of 80 knots (150 km/h; 92 mph) and gusts up to 100 kn (190 km/h; 120 mph), hit Iceland. Wichita was damaged by the storm, including a collision with the freighter West Nohno and the British trawler Ebor Wyke. She then ran aground off Hrafneyri Light.[15] The following day, the ship's crew evaluated her condition; she had suffered minor damage from the collisions, including some leaks, and damage to the hull from the grounding. Temporary repairs were effected in Iceland to allow Wichita to return to the New York Navy Yard for more thorough repairs. She arrived on 9 February, and repairs lasted until 26 February, when she left port for training maneuvers off Maine in early March.[5]
On 26 March, Wichita, assigned to Task Force 39, departed the United States to reinforce the British Home Fleet based in Scapa Flow. Task Force 39, commanded by Rear AdmiralJohn W. Wilcox, Jr., included Wasp, the battleship Washington, the cruiser Tuscaloosa, and eight destroyers. While en route, Wilcox was swept overboard in a heavy sea and lost. Rear Admiral Robert C. Giffen, who flew his flag in Wichita, took command of the task force.[16] After arriving in Scapa Flow, Wichita and the other American ships spent several weeks training with their British counterparts.[5] On 28 April, Wichita departed on her first major operation with the British. She was assigned to the Allied escort for theArctic convoys QP 11 and PQ 15. The American component, organized as Task Force 99, comprised WashingtonWichita,Tuscaloosa, and four destroyers. The British assigned the carrier Victorious, the battleship King George V, a light cruiser, and five destroyers.[17][18] After successfully escorting the convoys, Wichita returned to Hvalfjörður, arriving on 6 May.[5]
USS Wichita and USS Wasp in Scapa Flow in 1942.
Wichita sortied on 12 May to relieve Tuscaloosa, which was patrolling the Denmark Strait.Wichita returned to Hvalfjörður a week later, before putting to sea as part of another Allied convoy escort protecting one leg of the movement of Murmansk-bound convoy PQ 16 and eastbound QP 12. She put in to Scapa Flow on 29 May after completing the mission. While in Scapa Flow, King George VI inspected Wichita on 7 June. Wichita left Scapa Flow on 12 June, bound for Hvalfjörður, and arrived 14 June. She then relieved the British cruiserCumberland on patrol in the Denmark Strait. While on patrol on 17 June, Wichita spotted a German Focke-Wulf Fw 200 reconnaissance bomber and opened fire, though without result. Three days later, she engaged another Fw 200, again without success.[5]
After returning to Hvalfjörður, Wichita steamed to Seidisfjord at the end of June, where she joined Tuscaloosa and three destroyers. They were assigned to the escort for the convoyPQ 17.[19] The convoy escort also included WashingtonVictorious, and the battleshipDuke of York. The Germans organized a powerful task force, centered on the battleshipTirpitz and three heavy cruisers, to attack the convoy; the operation was codenamed Rösselsprung (Knight's Move). Swedish intelligence had meanwhile reported the German departures to the British Admiralty, which ordered the convoy to disperse. Aware that they had been detected, the Germans aborted the operation and turned over the attack to U-boats and the Luftwaffe. The scattered vessels could no longer be protected by the convoy escorts, and the Germans sank 21 of the 34 isolated transports.[20] The next day, while south of Spitzbergen, the ships were spotted and shadowed by a pair of Fw 200s. Both Wichita and Tuscaloosa opened fire with their antiaircraft guns, but the Fw 200s escaped without damage.[5]
In late July, Wichita went into drydock at the Royal Navy base in Rosyth, Scotland. Repairs, which included correcting a propeller shaft vibration, lasted from 24 July until 9 August. The repairs to the propeller shaft were ineffective, however, which necessitated a return to the United States. She reached the New York Navy Yard on 22 August for repairs, which lasted until 5 September. She completed a round of post-repair sea trials before conducting gunnery exercises in the Chesapeake BayWichita conducted training off the Virginia Capes for the rest of the month, after which she steamed to Casco Bay in Maine for further maneuvers.

USS Tuscaloosa:
Class: New Orleans Class Heavy Cruiser
Registry: CA-37
Launched: 15, November 1933
USS Tuscaloosa
USS Tuscaloosa off Iwo Jima on 16 February 1945
Career (United States of America)
Name:USS Tuscaloosa
Namesake:Tuscaloosa, Alabama
Builder:New York Shipbuilding Co.
Cost:US$11,000,000–12,000,000
Laid down:3 September 1931
Launched:15 November 1933
Commissioned:17 August 1934
Decommissioned:13 February 1946
Struck:1 March 1959
Fate:Scrapped in 1959
General characteristics
Class & type:New Orleans-class heavy cruiser
Displacement:9,975 tons
Length:574 ft (175 m) (waterline); 588 ft 2 in (179.27 m) (overall)
Beam:61 ft 9 in (18.82 m)
Draft:19 ft 5 in (5.92 m) (mean); 23 ft 6 in (7,160 mm) (maximum)
Installed power:107,000 shp (80,000 kW)
Propulsion:4 × Parsons geared turbines,
8 × Babcock and Wilcox boilers,
4 × shafts
Speed:32.7 kn (37.6 mph; 60.6 km/h)
Capacity:1,650 tons of fuel oil
Complement:708 officers and enlisted men
Armament:9 × 8 in (200 mm)/55 cal guns (3x3)
8 × 5 in (130 mm)/25 cal AA guns[1]
8 × 0.50 in (12.7 mm) machine guns, early on—machine guns later replaced with 16 × 40 mm guns, 19 ×20 mm cannons
Armor:
  • Belt: 5 in (130 mm) (amidships); 1.5 in (38 mm) (fore and aft)
  • Deck: 3 in (76 mm) + 2 in (51 mm)
  • Turrets: 5 to 6 in (130 to 150 mm) (face); 3 in (76 mm) (sides, back)
  • Conning Tower: 8 in (200 mm)
Aircraft carried:4 × floatplanes
Aviation facilities:2 × Aircraft catapults
USS Tuscaloosa (CA-37) was a New Orleans-class heavy cruiser of the U.S. Navy. Commissioned in 1934, she spent most of her career in the Atlantic and Caribbean, participating in several European wartime operations. In early 1945, she transferred to the Pacific and assisted in shore bombardment of Iwo Jima and Okinawa. She earned 7 battle stars for her service in World War II. Never damaged in battle, she led a charmed life compared to her six sister ships, three of which were sunk and the other three heavily damaged.

On 6 January 1942, the Tuscaloosa steamed out of Hvalfjörður along with the USS Wichita and two American destroyers—theGrayson and the Meredith—for a training mission through the Denmark Strait. After returning to port three days later, the heavy cruiser moved on to Boston for a navy yard overhaul from 8–20 February. She conducted refresher training out of Casco Bay and then underwent another brief refit at New York Harbor before joining Task Group 39.1 (TG 39.1), under the command of Rear Admiral John W. Wilcox, Jr., whose flag flew from the new battleship Washington.
The Tuscaloosa (foreground) anchored at Scapa Flow in April 1942.
TG 39.1 sortied from Casco Bay and then it struggled through the gale-whipped seas of theNorth Atlantic Ocean, bound for Scapa FlowScotland, in the Orkney Islands—the main base for the British Home Fleet. On 27 March, Rear Admiral Wilcox apparently suffered acoronary and then was washed overboard from the Washington. (Some have speculated that the admiral might have jumped overboard to commit suicide, but there was no prior evidence at all that this might happen.) The heavy seas ruled out rescue attempts, and the task group's commanding officer soon disappeared in the stormy Atlantic. With Admiral Wilcox's death, Rear Admiral Giffen, whose two-starred flag flew from the Wichita, assumed command of TG 39.1.
The Tuscaloosa arrived at Scapa Flow on 4 April and she immediately took on board a British signals and liaison team. She was initially employed with the British Home Fleet on training duties and later took part in covering runs for convoys to northern Russia.

June 1942 – October 1942[edit]

At that period, Anglo-American naval operations frequently were mounted in an attempt to lure the Tirpitz out of her snowy Norwegian lair. One such attempt, Convoy PQ-17, resulted in disaster in June 1942. The following two months found the Tuscaloosa still active in convoy covering and escorting assignments.
In mid-August, the Tuscaloosa received orders to carry supplies—including aircraft torpedoes, army ammunition, and medical equipment—to Northern Russia, via the Arctic Ocean. Soon after she and two destroyers set out on the mission, a member of the cruiser's crew developed symptoms of spinal meningitis. The sick man was quickly put ashore at Seyðisfjörður, Iceland, and the group got underway again on 19 August, bound for Kola Inlet.
On the next day, the Tuscaloosa and her screening warships—which by that time consisted of three destroyers (two American and one British)—were spotted by a snooping German reconnaissance plane. The task force changed course and, assisted by the worsening visibility in the northern latitudes, managed to shake the intruder. On the evening of 22 August, two more British destroyers joined Tuscaloosa's screen; and, the following day, a Russian escort guided them to Kola Inlet.
All hands turned-to and unloaded the valuable cargo. The cruiser then took on fuel; prepared to get underway; and, just before departure, embarked 243 passengers, most of whom were survivors of ships which had been sunk while serving in earlier convoys to Russia. Many of them had endured the special tribulation and agony of the PQ-17. With her human cargo thus on board, theTuscaloosa cleared Kola Inlet on 24 August and then she reached Seidisfjord on the 28th.
She remained there but briefly before steaming to the mouth of the River Clyde, where she disembarked her passengers. Detached from the Home Fleet shortly thereafter, the Tuscaloosa headed back to Hvalfjord and then proceeded thence to the East Coast of the United States for a many-weeks-long overhaul.




Paul Luckenbach:
USS Suwanee (ID-1320).jpg
USS Suwanee in 1919.
Career (United States)
Name:USS Suwanee
Namesake:An alternative spelling for theSuwannee River in Georgia andFlorida (previous name retained)
Builder:Bremer-Vulkan WorksVegesack,Germany
Completed:1913
Acquired:11 April 1919
Commissioned:11 April 1919
Decommissioned:4 October 1919
Fate:Transferred to United States Shipping Board 4 October 1919
Returned to commercial service
Notes:In commercial service as Germancargo ship SS Mark from 1913-1917 and as American cargo ship SSSuwanee from 1917-1919; renamedSS Poznan sometime after 1919 return to commercial service
General characteristics
Type:Transport
Tonnage:6,579 gross tons
Displacement:16,240 tons
Length:491 ft 2 in (149.71 m)
Beam:59 ft 1 in (18.01 m)
Draft:26 ft (7.9 m) (mean)
Propulsion:Steam engine
Speed:12.9 knots
USS Suwanee (ID-1320) was a United States Navy transport in commission in 1919. She was the second ship to carry her name.

Construction and service history[edit]

Suwanee was built as the German cargo ship SS Mark in 1913 at Vegesack,Germany, by Bremer-Vulkan Works for the North German Lloyd Line. She was the fifth freighter of the Rheinland-Class built for the Australian Freight Line via the Cape. When World War I began in August 1914, Mark was in Japan and left Kobe with 4,000 t of coal for the Squadron of Admiral Spee. Supplying the ships of the Imperial Navy at Pagan Island, she at last served for some days the auxiliary cruisers SMS Prinz Eitel Friedrich and Cormoran. On 7 October 1914 she took refuge at Manila on Luzon in the Philippine Islands, then a neutral territory of the United States, to avoid capture or destruction by Alliednaval forces. She was still there when the United States entered the war on the side of the Allies in April 1917. The United States Government seized her and placed her under the control of the United States Shipping Board. Renamed SS Suwanee, she served as an American civilian cargo ship through the end of World War I on 11 November 1918 and into early 1919.
USS Suwanee arrives in the southern United States, possibly at CharlestonSouth Carolina, in 1919 with her deck crowded with servicemen returning from Europe after World War I.
The U.S. Navy acquired Suwanee on 11 April 1919 for post-war use as a troop transport. She was assigned theNaval Registry Identification Number(Id. No.) 1320 andcommissioned the same day[1] as USS Suwanee with Lieutenant Commander John A. Chambers (USNR) in command.
Assigned to the Transport ForceNewport News Division, Suwanee made at least one Atlantic crossing to carry American servicemen home to the United States after their World War I service in Europe .
Suwanee was decommissioned on 4 October 1919 and returned to the Shipping Board the same day for disposal. Once again SS Suwanee, she returned to commercial service. Her named later was changed to SS Poznanof the Polish American Navigation and 1922 to Paul Luckenbach when R. Luckenbach Steamship bought her. 









Giffen, Robert C. Jr., Admiral:
Robert C. Giffen
RobertGiffen.jpg
Vice Admiral Robert C. Giffen. Official U.S. Navy photograph.
Born29 June 1886
West Chester, Pennsylvania
Died10 December 1962 (aged 76)
Annapolis, Maryland
Allegiance United States of America
Service/branch United States Navy
Years of service1907 – 1946
RankVice Admiral
Battles/wars
AwardsNavy Cross
Navy Distinguished Service Medal
Robert C. Giffen (1886 – 1962) was an admiral in the United States Navy.

Rear Admiral Robert C. Giffen wearing a battle helmet while on board ship, sometime during 1942-1943.
Giffen attended the Naval War College in 1940 and spent several months in Washington, D.C., as Director of the Naval Reserve Policy Division of the Office of the Chief of Naval Operations.
In March 1941, Rear Admiral Giffen became commander of a cruiser division. He led the North Atlantic Neutrality Patrol on increasingly "warlike" operations during the latter part of 1941. Once war formally began for the United States in December, he commanded surface forces that escorted convoys and, at times, operated with theBritish Home Fleet. In November 1942, he participated in the North Africa invasion, during which his task force actively engaged French warships and aircraft offCasablancaMorocco.





Benson, Howard H. J., CaptainBorn on October 8, 1888 in Baltimore, Maryland, the son of Admiral William S. Benson.
Graduated from Annapolis in 1909 and commissioned in 1911. 
Commanding Officer of the Submarine H-2 1913-1916 then the Guinevere, Corona, Noma and Roe 1917-1918. 
Commanding Officer of the Buchanan 1919-1920 then the Yarnell February-March 1920 and the Howard March-September 1920.  
Instructor at Annapolis 1920-1922. 
Commanding Officer of the S.P. Lee June-October 1922 then the Sloat May 1927-June 1929. Graduated from the Naval War College in 1930. 
Instructor at Annapolis 1930-1932. 
Commanding Officer of the Sapelo in 1932 and Acting Commanding Officer of the battleship Tennessee in 1934. 
Graduated from the Army War College in 1935. 
Commanding Officer of the Holland June 1936-July 1938, then the Reina Mercedes 1938-1941 and the Washington April 1941-July 1942. 
Chief of Staff to Commandant Seventh Naval District 1942-1945. Commodore in November 1944. Chief of Staff to Commander Gulf Sea Frontier 1945-1946. 
Retired in November 1946. 
Decorations included the Navy Cross and Legion of Merit.  
Died on January 28, 1975.

Reeves, John W. Jr., Captain:
John W. Reeves, Jr.
BornApril 25, 1888
DiedJuly 16, 1967 (aged 79)
Pensacola, Florida
Allegiance United States of America
Service/branchUnited States Department of the Navy Seal.svg United States Navy
Years of service1911-1950
RankUS-O10 insignia.svg Admiral
Commands heldUSS Wasp (CV-7)
Battles/warsWorld War I
World War II
AwardsDistinguished Service Medal (2)
Legion of Merit (4)
John W. Reeves, Jr. (April 25, 1888 – July 16, 1967)[1] was an admiral of theUnited States Navy who served as the Commander of the Alaskan Sector, Northwest Sea Frontier, during World War II. As such, he led the effort to dislodge Imperial Japan forces from the Aleutian Islands. A native ofHaddonfield, New Jersey, Reeves died at Pensacola, Florida.
Prior to flag rank, Admiral Reeves was the commanding officer of the USS Wasp (CV-7).








Hill, Harry W., Captain:
Harry Wilbur Hill
Harry W. Hill.jpg
BornApril 7, 1890
Oakland, California
DiedJuly 19, 1971 (aged 81)
Annapolis, Maryland
Allegiance United States of America
Service/branchUnited States Department of the Navy Seal.svg United States Navy
Years of service1907–1952
RankUS-O10 insignia.svg Admiral
Commands heldDewey
Wichita
Battleship Division Four
Fifth Amphibious Force
Battles/warsWorld War I
World War II
AwardsDistinguished Service Medal (2)
American Defense Service Medal
Asiatic-Pacific Campaign Medal
World War I Victory Medal
World War II Victory Medal
Harry Wilbur Hill (7 April 1890 – July 19, 1971) was an admiral in the United States Navy during World War II.

Ordered to sea, Hill assumed command of the heavy cruiser Wichita (CA-45), which operated for several months on convoy duty with the British Home Fleet to the North Russian port of Murmansk. Hill escorted a convoy that was reported on by Douglas Fairbanks, Jr.. In response to 4th of July greetings from the British Convoy Commander, "Many happy returns of the day. The United States is the only country with a known birthday", Hill replied "Thank you. I think England should celebrate Mother’s Day."[2]
Detached from command of Wichita on 28 September 1942.
























Gilette, Norman C., Captain: In World War II he was decorated by the Russians after making a perilous trip to Murmansk to bring in essential materials. 

Moon, Don P., CaptainFrom Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Don Pardee Moon
BornApril 18, 1894
Kokomo, Indiana
DiedAugust 5, 1944 (aged 50)
Place of burialArlington National Cemetery
Allegiance United States of America
Service/branchUnited States Department of the Navy Seal.svg United States Navy
Years of service1916–1944
RankUS-O8 insignia.svg Rear Admiral
Commands heldUSS John D. Ford
Battles/warsWorld War I
World War II
AwardsDistinguished Service Medal
Legion of Merit
Don Pardee Moon (April 18, 1894 – August 5, 1944) was a Rear Admiral of the United States Navy, who fought in the invasion of Europe. He was born inKokomoIndianaUSA. He married and had four children.













Hamilton, Admiral:
Sir Louis Keppel Hamilton
Admirals meet KG VI aboard HMS Duke of York 16-08-1943 IWM A 18577.jpg
Rear Admiral Keppel Hamilton, second from left, meets King George VI aboard HMS Duke of York at Scapa Flow, August 1943
Born31 December 1890
Died27 June 1957
Allegiance United Kingdom
 Australia
Service/branchNaval Ensign of the United Kingdom.svg Royal Navy
Naval Ensign of the United Kingdom.svg Royal Australian Navy
Years of service1908–1948
RankGeneric-Navy-O11.svg Admiral
Commands heldChief of Naval Staff, Australia
Flag Officer, Malta
HMS Aurora
Battles/warsFirst World War
West Africa Campaign
Second World War
Norwegian Campaign
Arctic Convoys
Malta
AwardsKnight Commander of the Order of the Bath
Distinguished Service Order
Order of St Stanislaus 3rd class (Russia)
War Cross (Norway)
Admiral Sir Louis Henry Keppel Hamilton KCBDSORAN (31 December 1890 – 27 June 1957) was a senior Royal Navy officer who was Flag Officer inMalta (1943–1945) and later served as First Naval Member & Chief of Staff of the Royal Australian Navy. During his early career he was generally known asL. H. Keppel Hamilton

In 1942, he was a Rear Admiral commanding the First Cruiser Squadron (CS1), which consisted of the British cruisers HMS London and Norfolk, the American cruisers USS Wichita and Tuscaloosa, and four destroyers. In that role, he was one of the senior officers of the disastrous Convoy PQ 17.






























Voss-Ha 140: **The article sites an HA-140 as attacking the Schoharie. Since only 3 of these planes were built, all prototypes, I doubt that is correct, But I didn't change the article that I didn't write**
Ha 140
RoleTorpedo bomber
ManufacturerBlohm & Voss (Hamburger Flugzeugbau)
DesignerRichard Vogt
First flight30 September 1937
Produced1937-38
Number built3
The Ha 140 was a German multi-purpose seaplane of the 1930s. It was designed for use as a torpedo bomber or long-range reconnaissance aircraft.

Design and development[edit]

The Ha 140 was a developed as a twin-engine floatplane, with an all-metal structure and an inverted gull wing, similar to the larger Ha 139. The crew consisted of a pilot and radio operator, with a gunner in a revolving turret in the nose or in a second gun position to the rear. The torpedo or bomb load was accommodated in an internal bomb bay. Three prototypes were built, but the design was not carried any further, as the similar Heinkel He 115 was selected for service.

Specifications (Ha 140 V2)[edit]

Data from Aircraft of the Third Reich[1]
General characteristics
  • Crew: 3
  • Length: 16.75 m (54 ft 11 in)
  • Wingspan: 22 m (72 ft 2 in)
  • Height: 3.05 m (10 ft 0 in)
  • Wing area: 92 m2 (990 sq ft)
  • Empty weight: 6,300 kg (13,889 lb)
  • Gross weight: 8,500 kg (18,739 lb)
  • Max takeoff weight: 9,230 kg (20,349 lb)
  • Fuel capacity: 2,365 l (520 imp gal)
  • Powerplant: 2 × BMW 132K 9-cyl. air-cooled radial piston engines, 597 kW (801 hp) each for take-off
    619 kW (830 hp) at 1,000 m (3,281 ft)
  • Propellers: 3-bladed variable pitch propellers
Performance
  • Maximum speed: 320 km/h (199 mph; 173 kn) at sea level
    333 km/h (207 mph) at 3,000 m (9,843 ft)
  • Cruising speed: 295 km/h (183 mph; 159 kn) at 85% power at sea level
  • Range: 1,150 km (715 mi; 621 nmi) with 1,390 l (306 imp gal) of fuel
  • Ferry range: 2,000 km (1,243 mi; 1,080 nmi) with 2,365 l (520 imp gal) of fuel
  • Service ceiling: 5,000 m (16,404 ft)
  • Time to altitude: 3,000 m (9,843 ft) in 11 minutes 30 seconds
    5,000 m (16,404 ft) in 39 minutes
Armament
  • Guns: 1× 7.92 mm (0.312 in) MG 15 machine gun in nose, 1× MG 15 machine gun at dorsal hatch
  • Bombs: 1× 952 kg (2,099 lb) torpedo or 4× 250 kg (551 lb) bombs

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