As I reached the bridge of the Chatelain was wheeling out of our destroyer screen, a long creamy wake boiling up asterl, the "submarine" and "emergency" flags whipping from her yardarm. I grabbed the mike and broadcast to the Task Group: "Pillsbury and Jenks help Frenchy (code name for destroyer Chatelain) –others follow me!" We reversed course and got the hell out of there at top speed. A carrier smack on the scene of a sound contact is like an old lady in the middle of a bar room brawl! –she'd better move fast and leave room for the boys who have work to do.
I hollered into the squawk box: "Put those two Wildcats we've got in the air of Frenchy's contact!" Then, with the Flaherty and Pope scurrying after us, we swung into the wind, sounded general quarters, and scrambled to battle stations to launch more planes.
A salvo of twelve depth charges arched into the air from the Chatelain and splashed into the sea. Seconds later the ocean rumbled, quaked and erupted into great white plumes of water. Ordinarily we would have to wait several minutes while the ocean's reverberations died out, and then have the tin cans begin a wary search of the area–hunting for oil, wreckage, a dead whale, or possibly another sound contact. But this time, almost immediately after the blasts, a Wildcat pilot named John W. Cadle sang out on the radio, "Sighted sub! Revers course Frenchy and head where I'm shooting."
In the clear Atlantic waters off Cape Blanco, Cadle could see the long dark shape of the sub running completely submerged and maneuvering to go deeper and shake off the destroyers. Cadle pushed over and cut loose with his four .50 caliber guns. These couldn't damage the submerged sub, but the bullet splashes showed us where it was.
Chatelain swung around and dropped another salvo. As the depth-charge plumes were subsiding, Cadle shouted, "You've struck oil, Frenchy! She's coming up!"
Half a minute later the huge black shape of the U-505 heaved itself up from the depths, white water pouring of her sides. Our quarry was at bay.
When a sub surfaces like this, you never know exactly what it's going to do. She might be coming up to surrender, but she also might be planning to get off one last salvo of torpedoes and take you to the bottom with her. To play it safe, you should clobber her with everything you've got.
This time, however, we were going to try something different. On our last cruise we'd gone after the U-515 and she'd surfaced right smack in the middle of the Task Group. We'd been forced to throw everything but the kitchen sink at her before she finally up-ended and sank. After we'd fished her skipper out of the water, he told us that his only purpose in surfacing was to get his crew off–the fight had gone out of him. We realized then that if we could get on board the sub quick enough, we might be able to prevent the scuttling and capture ourselves a U-Boat. Accordingly, the orders had gone out that nobody was to hit the sub with any heavy stuff, as we'd have a tough enough time keeping her afloat without blowing a hole in her ourselves.
Not since 1815 had an American naval vessel captured and boarded a foreign man-of-war on the high seas, but we were going to try it. The moment the U-505 broke surface and her hatches popped open, I broadcast to the task group, "I want to take this bastard alive!"
Small black figures scrambled out of the hatches and swarmed onto the decks of the sub. Pillsbury, Chatelain and Jenks opened up with .50 caliber and 20 millimeter guns, and the mm who weren't hit at once dived into the water. Within a few moments her decks were abandoned–nothing was moving. She was running at about 8 knots, fully surfaced, in a tight circle to the right. Unless she was mined, booby-trapped, or loaded with armed men–she was a sitting duck.
"Cease firing!" barked from the squawk boxes on all bridges, followed by an electrifying cry that hadn't been heard on a U.S. Navy ship for 129 years: "Away all boarding parties!"
Whaleboats plopped into the water and took off after the floundering U-boats like harpooners after a wounded whale. As the Pillsbury's boat, manned by Lt. Albert David and 11 sailors, overhauled the sub I broadcast over the TBS. "Heigho, Pillsbury! Ride 'em, cowboy!" Not very salty, but it go the message across.
David and his boys had every reason to believe there were still Nazis below decks, setting time bombs and opening the scuttle valves. Even if all the Germans were gone, the U-boat was setting rapidly by the stern and looked as if she was going to up-end and sink any minute. I suppose my men thought about these things as they plunged through the choppy sea toward the dying ship, but the moment their whaleboat touched the U-boat they leaped out on her slippery decks. It was the first time any of these men had ever set foot on a submarine.
"Follow me!" David yelled, scrambling up the superstructure toward the conning-tower hatch–an opening about the size of a sewer top that leads straight down 20 feet into the U-boat. A dead man was lying at the top of the hatch, his glazing eyes staring emptily at the men as they started down. David glanced quickly down into the dark hatch, knowing that almost anything could be waiting for them down in the blackness below. He gestured to two men, A. W. Knispel and S. E. Wdowiak, and they plunged down into the bowels of the ship.
Instead of a burst of gun fire, their only greeting was the eerie hum of engines, still driving the sub in her crazy circle to the right. As soon as he realized the Nazis were gone, David ran for the radio shack. The sub gave a shudder and her stern raised slightly. Any minute she might make her last dive, but he knew the risks were justified if he could find the Nazis code book. It was a 100-1 chance. The primary orders of any Naval skipper are to destroy his code books before abandoning the ship, even if there is no enemy within 1,000 miles, and we had been breathing down the U-boat's throat when she surfaced.
David burst into the radio shack, looked quickly around, and saw that his long shot had paid off. Everything was intact–code book, cipher machines, charts of the English Channel mine fields, recognition signals, and all tactical instructions for submarines. He and his men quickly passed everything up the hatch to the whaleboat. This would turn out to be the greatest intelligence windfall of the U-boat war.
While David and his boys were removing the secret files, the sup, still circling, had settled another ten degrees by the stern. Time was running out, when another lad, Zenon Lukosius, motor machinist mate first class, decided to see what he could do about the water that was pouring in. Surrounding by the bewildering maze of gauges, valves and pipes in the main control room, and feeling the ship settling under him, while water swished past his feet, he carefully looked for the leak. Finally he found it–an 8-inch stream of water spouting through a sea chest with the cover knocked off. The cover was gone. The water was now above the floor plates. Luke bent down, fishing around in the swirling mass of wreckage and sea water, and found the cover. He jammed it back in place, set the butterfly nuts, and checked the inrush of ocean. Had he taken one minute longer, it would have been too late.
By now the Guadalcanal had a whaleboat alongside the sub, with a handpicked party that included my Chief Engineer, Earl Trosino, and our only submarine "expert"–a lad who had been a yeoman on one of our own pig boats and could tell us anything we wanted to know about the U-505's paperwork and filing system. Trosino, even though never aboard a submarine before, was our real expert. Earl is one of those engineers who know machinery like Toscanini knows musical instruments. He can walk into a strange engine room, take a quick look around, and start bringing order out of chaos while the rest of the men are still trying to figure out which was is aft.
As Trosino and his party came alongside, a large swell picked them up and dumped them, whaleboat and all, on the deck of the still circling sub, smashing the whaleboat and spilling them all out on the deck. They pulled themselves together and scrambled down the conning tower.
Trosino said abruptly to David, "I'm going to stop these engines–you get up on deck and stand by to pick up a towline." David nodded and started above.
But, when Trosino stopped the motors, the sub began settling rapidly by the stern–the only thing that had kept her afloat was the planing effect of the hull. When Trosino felt the floor plates tilting under him, he slammed the switches back and the sub forged ahead and rose again in the water. Earl told me later that as he played with those switches, any one of which might have been booby-trapped, his hair was standing on end as stiff as wire. I had the same feeling myself next day when I wen t aboard the sub to disarm a suspected booby trap.
While Trosino was stopping the motors, Gunner Burr was doing a job with a very short future. We knew that every Nazi sub had 14 demolition charges scattered throughout the ship and designed where the switch was, so Burr went rooting around uncovering charges and ripping the wires off of them. He found and pulled the fangs on thirteen. We didn't find the fourteenth until two weeks later in Bermuda, but by that time we had located the firing switch–somebody had goofed and left it on safe, so the charges couldn't have exploded, anyway.
The Pillsbury now attempted to take the runaway sub in tow. She steamed up alongside on the outboard arc of the circle and put a heaving line aboard like a cowboy roping a runaway steer. But steers have horns and so did this U-boat. The destroyer crowded too close alongside and the sub's bow flipped a long underwater gash in her thin plates. The Pillsbury hauled clear and radioed to me, "Sub says they have to be towed to stay afloat, but we don't think a destroyer can do it."
That dumped the job in my lap. I didn't like the idea of taking on a clumsy, water-logged tow when I had planes in the air that would have to land soon, but I didn't have much choice. Trosino pulled the switches again and we all held our breath as the sub slowed sown and finally laid dead in the water. She was down by the stern about 20 degrees, her conning tower was almost awash and she seemed to be settling lower every minute. If I took time out now to land planes she might be gone when we got back.
In such a spot you just play it by ear as you go along, crossing each bridge when and if you come to it. I told the planes in the air to be as thrifty as possible with their gas supply, and we steamed over to the spot where the sub was wallowing like a drowning dog trying to keep it's nose above water.
We laid our stern within heaving line range of the U-boat's snout, got a messenger line over, and the boys hauled our inch-and-a-quarter wire aboard, working knee-deep in the green seas that broke across the deck. When they reported it secured I kicked the engines ahead. As we picked up speed the sub rose again and took a better trim, but then I noticed that she was still circling. She swung way out on our starboard quarter and hung there with our big wire taut as a fiddle-string. I signaled Trosino to put the rudder amidships, and he answered, "Electric steering gear NG. Can't get at hand steering gear because after torpedo room is flooded and hatch is booby trapped."
I had four planes in the air which would soon be out of gas, so with "Junior" (as we called the U-505) reluctantly dragging her heels on our starboard quarter, we swung into the wind, said a short prayer, and brought the planes in. Since there was no strain in doing this 1 immediately launched a couple of others. We were smack in the middle of the U-boat lanes, had been hanging around this one spot for hours, and we had every reason to suppose that Junior had gotten off a report on our position. There would be a full moon that night–ideal for submarines and very bad for aircraft carriers with subs in tow.
At sunset we brought our boarders back and I got a first-hand report from Trosino. He said he had pumped some of the water out, didn't think any more was coming in, and that unless we hit bad weather he thought he could save our prize.
That night our sonar operators let their imaginations run riot. According to their dope we were surrounded by the whole Nazi U-boat fleet. They had "possible sound contacts" all over the place, and several reported "submarine screw noises." The radar operators caught the fever and spotted disappearing radar blips by the dozen. Some of the lookouts even sighted what I began calling "Porposcopes." I guess maybe I got nervous at that, because during the night I steamed too fast and parted the towline. We had to circle the drifting sub until sunrise, keeping track of her by radar. Early next morning we got another towline aboard, and Trosino and a few others and I went over to look into that booby trap. I was an ordinance post-graduate and felt that I knew quite a bit about fuses and firing circuits.
The booby trap was on the watertight door leading into the after-torpedo room. This door had been dogged shut when our first boarding party went aboard, and in deference to the trap they had left it that way. The Nazis that we'd fished out of the water claimed that the after torpedo room was flooded, and the stern trim seemed to confirm this, but we had to get in there if we were going to straighten out the rudder.
The booby trap was a fuse box with the cover accidentally jarred open in such a way that you couldn't move the main dog on the door without closing the fuse box cover. There were dozens of circuits leading out of that box, and any one of them could have led to an explosion charge. I traced a few of the circuit wires, and found they led to perfectly normal places. I looked at the box for a few minutes, thinking over the possibilities. The men watched me, not speaking.
While it looked like the type of booby trap the Nazis would think of, we knew that they'd gotten off in a hell of a hurry, and that wouldn't have given them much time–considering they would have had only a few seconds to flood the torpedo room and set the trap. And they hadn't put out any other traps. I finally decided that this baby wasn't loaded. I looked at the other boys. "What do you think?"
They shook their heads. "It's up to you, captain."
"Well, we can't stand here all day looking at this damn thing," I said. "Here goes, boys!" I slammed the fusebox cover shut.
Nothing happened.
We carefully eased the door open, ready to jam it shut again if water squirted out, and found the torpedo room was dry. We scrambled in, connected up the hand steering gear, and put the rudder amidships. Trosino pleaded with me to let him start the diesel engines, charge the batteries, and bring the sub in under her own power. I wished later that I'd let him do it, but at the time I was afraid he might open the wrong valve and lose her.
He found a way to recharge the batteries, even though I wouldn't let him run the diesels. He disconnected the clutches on the diesels and persuaded me to tow at 10 knots. This high speed turned over the sub's propellers which spun the armatures of the sub's electric generators, and they in turn charged the batteries. We were thus able to use the sub's pumps to empty the after ballast tanks and bring her up to full surface trim.
Back on board the Guadalcanal, I went down to sick bay to see the Nazi skipper, whose name was Harald Lange. He had shrapnel wounds in both legs and was propped up in a sitting position in his bunk. Lange was a big angular man of about 35, and looked more like a preacher than a U-boat skipper.
I walked in and said, "Captain, my name is Gallry. I'm commanding officer of this ship." He bowed respectfully but said nothing.
"We have your U-boat in tow," I said.
He looked up quickly, his face as shocked as if I had slapped him. "No!" he cried. I pulled out some pictures of his family, taken from his cabin, and he lowered his face into his hands, muttering in perfect English, "I will be punished for this."
I tried to cheer him up. "The Nazis are going to lose this war," I said. "A new government will take over, and this will be forgotten."
"I will be punished," he said. Four years ago I got a letter from him saying he had a good job on the Hamburg docks, so his fears were apparently unfounded.
After getting the sub pumped out and fully surfaced, we squared away on a course to Bermuda, 2,500 miles away. I had just one big worry left now–I had stretched the glide too far on my fuel oil, and didn't have enough left to reach even the nearest port, let alone Bermuda. Nothing in this world can make a skipper look sillier than running out of oil and wallowing around dead in the water waiting for a tow, but CINCLANT (Commander-In-Chief Atlantic) came to my rescue. He split off a tanker and the fleet tug Abnaki from an Africa-bound convoy and we rendezvoused with them in mid-Atlantic. The Abnaki took over the towing job and, after a long swig of oil from the tanker, we headed for Bermuda.
On June 19 we steamed into the harbor entrance with the traditional broom proudly hoisted at our mast head, and Junior obediently tagging along behind. I turned her over to the commandant, U. S. Naval Operating Base, and got his official receipt for "One Nazi U-boat No. 505, complete with spare parts.
People often ask me, "why did the U-505 give up so easily?" Actually, she didn't give up any easier than most of the other 600 Nazi subs that were sunk at sea. When a skipper thought his boat was fatally wounded, it was standard operating procedures to surface and give his crew a chance to escape and be rescued. No sub ever deliberately surfaced under attack unless her skipper was convinced that she was finished, but I knew dozens of cases in which these abandoned subs remained afloat for hours, under heavy bombardment, before going down. I think the real answer to why we were able to capture the U-505 with such comparative ease is that we caught her by surprise.
Something like pounding depth charges can be pretty damned unnerving, to put it mildly. From apprentice seaman to skipper, they all know they've only got a few seconds to decide what to do. If they blow their tanks in time they may make it to the surface and get off before the boat takes her final plunge. It they wait too long, they go down with her. When shock waves are smashing against your hull, you're being slammed crazily about in the water, your lights are out, and your men are screaming that your pressure hull is ruptured, it's hard to think calmly. Lange believed that his men were right about the hull being ripped open, and came to the surface. Scores of other U-boat skippers have made the same decision, and if my men hadn't been able to pull off a crazy stunt never before attempted in submarine warfare, the U-505 would have gone to the bottom just like the other 600.
For extreme heroism Lieutenant David got the Congressional Medal of Honor, Wdowiak and Burr got Navy Crosses, and the rest of the Pillsbury's original boarding party received the Silver Star.
Perhaps the most remarkable part of this fantastic business was the fact that the German never found out that we had captured the U-505. After the war we learned that she'd been listed as sunk, just like all the others that had failed to return. The Nazis continued to use the codes we'd taken off the U-505, and we read every order they sent out to their U-boats. This was the main reason for our high rate of sinkings during the last year. The Nazis changed their codes every few weeks so that we wouldn't get too familiar with their pattern, but the key to all these routine changes just as easily as we did our own.
The main credit for keeping the Germans in the dark belongs to the 3,000 men in our task group. We got them all together on the way back to Bermuda and explained the vital importance of secrecy. I had a hunch that some of the boarders had picked up souvenirs, so I asked everyone to turn in anything they'd taken off the sub. I pointed out that a souvenir's no good unless you can show it around and brag about it, and any bragging would endanger security. Not only that, but I'd throw the book at any man who disobeyed my order. I announced that Washington had told me that the stuff would all be returned after the war.
Next day we were swamped with the damnedest collection of junk I'd ever seen–pistols, cameras, officer's caps, name plates–everything but torpedoes. How they had the time and patience to collect all that stuff from a sub that might sink any minute I'll never know. Anyhow, I shipped all the souvenirs off to Washington, and that was the last anybody saw of them. The chairborne commandos in the Pentagon glommed onto them for keeps. Now, whenever I meet one of the lads who was in that boarding party, I know exactly what his first words will be– "Captain, where the hell are those binoculars you made me turn in?"
--Rear Admiral D. V. Gallery
From: The United States Navy in World War II
Compiled and Edited by: S.E. Smith
Part II: Chapter 11: The Capture of U-505
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Class: Casablanca-Class Escort Carrier
Registry: CVE-60
Commissioned: 25, September 1943
_lying_alongside_captured_U-505.jpg) | |
Career (United States)
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Name:
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USS Guadalcanal
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Ordered:
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1942
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Builder:
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Laid down:
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5 January 1943
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Launched:
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5 June 1943
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Commissioned:
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25 September 1943
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Decommissioned:
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15 July 1946
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Struck:
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27 May 1958
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Motto:
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Can do
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Fate:
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Sold for scrap on 30 April 1959
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General characteristics
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Class & type:
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Displacement:
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7,800 tons
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Length:
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512 ft (156 m) overall
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Beam:
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65 ft (20 m)
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Draft:
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22 ft 6 in (6.86 m)
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Propulsion:
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Speed:
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19 knots (35 km/h)
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Range:
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10,240 nmi (18,960 km) @ 15 kn (28 km/h)
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Complement:
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Armament:
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Aircraft carried:
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27
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Service record
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Part of:
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Task Group 21.12 (1943-44)
Task Group 22.3 (1944-45)
Atlantic Reserve Fleet (1946-58)
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Commanders:
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Operations:
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Victories:
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Awards:
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USS Guadalcanal (CVE-60) was a Casablanca class escort carrier of the United States Navy. She was the first ship to carry her name.
She was converted from a Maritime Commission hull by Kaiser Co., Inc., of Vancouver, Washington. Originally Astrolabe Bay (AVG-60), she was reclassified ACV-60 on 20 August 1942 and launched as Guadalcanal(ACV-60) on 5 June 1943, sponsored by Mrs. Alvin I. Malstrom. She was reclassified CVE-60 on 15 July 1943; and commissioned at Astoria, Oregon on 25 September 1943, Captain Daniel V. Gallery in command. After shakedown training in which Capt. Gallery made the first take off and landing aboard his new ship, Guadalcanal performed pilot qualifications out of San Diego, California, and then departed on 15 November 1943, via the Panama Canal, for Norfolk, Va., arriving on 3 December. There she became flagship of Task Group 22.3 (TG 22.3), and with her escort destroyers set out from Norfolk on 5 January 1944 in search of enemy submarines in the North Atlantic.
First hunter-killer cruise[edit]
Earlier patrols by escort carriers had taught U-boats the danger of surfacing during daylight while aircraft were patrolling; but surfacing at night was safer because the escort carriers considered night flight operations too dangerous. The best the escort carriers could do was substitute extra fuel tanks for depth charges on a Grumman TBF Avenger, launch at sunset, and recover at dawn after the Avenger flew around all night.[1]
When Ultra intelligence revealed a planned U-boat refueling rendezvous 500 miles west of the Azores just before sunset on 16 January 1944,Guadalcanal stayed clear of the area until launching eight Avengers just before sunset to comb the rendezvous area. The Avengers found two U-boats engaged in refueling with another standing by, and dived out of the clouds to drop depth charges. All three submarines disappeared; but 32 survivors of U-544 were floating in a pool of oil. In their excitement to see the effects of their first successful attack, the Avenger pilots stayed aloft so long they returned to the carrier after sunset.[1]
Aircraft recoveries were slow because of bad approaches in the gathering dusk. After four landed successfully, the fifth Avenger landed too far right and put both wheels into the gallery walkway with its tail fouling the flight deck. The flight deck crew was unable to move the Avenger; and the three remaining planes were running out of fuel in total darkness. Guadalcanal turned on the lights and urged the pilots to try landing on the left side of the flight deck. The nervous pilots came in too high, too fast, and too far to port until one of them desperately cut power, bounced, and landed inverted in the water off the port side. The plane guard destroyer rescued the three crewmen from the unsuccessful landing and the crewmen from the two remaining planes which were instructed to ditch.[1]
No more night flying was attempted, and no more U-boats were discovered during daylight patrols. Gallery kept his flight deck crew busy training with the wrecked Avenger between flight operations. The Avenger was cabled to the ship so it wouldn't be lost; and the crew was timed with a stopwatch to see how long it took them to push it over the side. The plane would then be winched back aboard for another drill. After they could reliably clear the flight deck within four minutes; they were allowed to finally push the battered Avenger overboard with no cable attached.[1] After replenishing at Casablanca, the task group headed back for Norfolk and repairs, arriving on 16 February.
Second hunter-killer cruise[edit]
Departing again with her escorts on 7 March, Guadalcanal sailed with newly assigned air group VC-58 to Casablanca and got underway from that port on 30 March with a convoy bound for the United States. After three weeks of daylight flights finding no U-boats, Guadalcanal attempted night flight operations under the full moon of 8 April 1944. Four fully armed Avengers were launched just before sunset with recovery scheduled for 22:30. One of the Avengers found U-515recharging batteries on the surface northwest of Madeira, and forced the U-boat to submerge by dropping a stick of depth charges with U-515 silhouetted in a down-moon approach. Guadalcanal kept four Avengers aloft at all times through the night, and U-515 was repeatedly forced to submerge when attempting to surface to recharge batteries. Each sighting gave another fix on U-515's position; and Chatelain, Flaherty, Pillsbury and Pope detected the U-boat with SONAR at 07:00. The ships made coordinated attacks until U-515 was forced to the surface with depleted batteries and foul air at 14:00, andKapitaenleutenant Werner Henke scuttled his ship.[1]
Guadalcanal Avengers had detected a second U-boat about sixty miles away while holding down U-515; so they maintained patrols through the night of 9 April. U-68 was discovered at daybreak on 10 April recharging batteries on the surface 300 miles south of the Azores. Three Avengers attacked out of the dark western sky with depth charges and rocket fire. U-68 sank leaving three lookouts swimming in the wreckage, but only Hans Kastrup survived to be rescued when destroyers arrived an hour later.[1]
With the confidence gained through sinking two U-boats in the first two nights of flight operations, Guadalcanal continued night flight operations as the moon waned, and aircrew were well trained when the convoy arrived safely at Norfolk on 26 April 1944. Guadalcanal's success encouraged other carriers to practice might operations.[1]
Capture of U-505[edit]
After voyage repairs at Norfolk, Guadalcanal and her escorts departed Hampton Roads for sea again on 15 May 1944. Two weeks of cruising brought no contacts, and the task force decided to head for the coast of Africa to refuel. Ten minutes after reversing course, however, on 4 June 1944, 150 miles West of Cape Blanco in French West Africa, Chatelain detected U-505 as it was returning to its base in Brest, France after an 80-day commerce-destroying raid in the Gulf of Guinea. The destroyer loosed one depth charge attack and, guided in for a more accurate drop by circling TBF Avengers fromGuadalcanal, she soon made a second. This pattern blew relief valves all over the boat and cracked pipes in the engine room of the submarine, and rolled the U-boat on its beam ends. Shouts of panic from the engine room led Oberleutnant Harald Lange, making his first patrol as her captain, to believe his boat was mortally wounded. He blew his tanks and surfaced, barely 700 yards from the USS Chatelain in an attempt to save his crew. The destroyer fired a torpedo, which missed, and the surfaced submarine then came under the combined fire of the escorts and aircraft, forcing her crew to abandon ship.
Captain Gallery had been waiting and planning for such an opportunity, and having already trained and equipped his boarding parties, ordered Pillsbury's boat to make for the German sub and board her. Under the command of Lieutenant, junior grade Albert David, the party leaped onto the slowly circling submarine and found her abandoned. David and his men quickly captured all important papers, code books and the boat's Enigma machine while closing valves and stopping leaks. As Pillsbury attempted to get a tow-line on her the party managed to stop her engines. By this time a larger salvage group from Guadalcanal led by Commander Earl Trosino, Guadalcanal's Chief Engineer, arrived, and began the work of preparingU-505 to be towed. After securing the towline and picking up the German survivors from the sea, Guadalcanal started forBermuda with her priceless prize in tow. Abnaki rendezvoused with the task group and took over towing duties, the group arriving in Bermuda on 19 June after a 2,500-mile tow .Gallery later apologized to Trosino, a pre-war Merchant Marine chief engineer by training who had long since figured out the U-Boat's propulsion system, for not allowing him as prize captain to bring her in under her own power.[2]
U-505 was the first enemy warship captured on the high seas by the U.S. Navy since 1815. For their daring and skillful teamwork in this remarkable capture, Guadalcanal and her escorts shared in a Presidential Unit Citation. Lieutenant David received the Medal of Honor for leading the boarding party, and Captain Gallery received the Legion of Merit for conceiving the operation that led to U-505's capture. The captured submarine proved to be of inestimable value to American intelligence (for the remainder of the war she was operated by the U.S. Navy as the USS Nemo to learn the secrets of German U-boats), and its true fate was kept secret from the Germans until the end of the war. U-505 is the submarine exhibited in the Museum of Science and Industry (Chicago).
Arriving in Norfolk on 22 June 1944, Guadalcanal spent only a short time in port before setting out again on patrol. She departed Norfolk on 15 July and from then until 1 December, she made three anti-submarine cruises in the Western Atlantic. She sailed on 1 December for a training period in waters off Bermuda and Cuba that included refresher landings for pilots of her new squadron, gunnery practice, and anti-submarine warfare drills with Italian submarine R-9. Guadalcanalarrived Mayport, Fla., for carrier qualifications on 15 December and subsequently engaged in further training in Cuban water until 13 February 1945, when she arrived back in Norfolk. After another short training cruise to the Caribbean, she steamed into Mayport on 15 March for a tour of duty as carrier qualification ship, later moving to Pensacola, Florida for similar operations. After qualifying nearly 4,000 pilots, Guadalcanal returned to Norfolk, Va., and decommissioned there on 15 July 1946.
Guadalcanal entered the Atlantic Reserve Fleet at Norfolk and was redesignated CVU-60 on 15 July 1955, while still in reserve. She was finally stricken from the Naval Vessel Register on 27 May 1958 and she was sold for scrap to the Hugo Neu Corp. of New York on 30 April 1959. She was in the process of being towed to Japan for scrapping, when Capt. Gallery also made the very last landing and take off from the ship, using a helicopter, off Guantanamo, Cuba.
Awards[edit]
Guadalcanal was awarded three battle stars and a Presidential Unit Citation for service in World War II. Her Presidential Unit Citation was personally ordered by Admiral Ernest J. King, Chief of Naval Operations.[3]
Class: Type IXc U-Boat
Commissioned: 26, August 1941
U-505 shortly after being captured
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Career (Nazi Germany)
|  |
|---|---|
Name:
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U-505
|
Ordered:
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25 September 1939[1]
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Builder:
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Deutsche Werft AG, Hamburg
|
Yard number:
|
295[1]
|
Laid down:
|
12 June 1940[1]
|
Launched:
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24 May 1941[1]
|
Commissioned:
|
26 August 1941[1]
|
Fate:
| |
Status:
| |
General characteristics
| |
Type:
| |
Displacement:
|
1,120 t (1,100 long tons) surfaced
1,232 t (1,213 long tons) submerged
|
Length:
|
76.8 m (252 ft 0 in) overall
58.7 m (192 ft 7 in) pressure hull
|
Beam:
|
6.8 m (22 ft 4 in) overall
4.4 m (14 ft 5 in) pressure hull
|
Height:
|
9.4 m (30 ft 10 in)
|
Draft:
|
4.7 m (15 ft 5 in)
|
Propulsion:
|
2 MAN M9V40/46 supercharged 9-cylinder diesel engines, 4,000 hp (3,000 kW)
2 SSW GU345/34 double-acting electric motors, 1,000 hp (750 kW)
|
Speed:
|
18.2 knots (33.7 km/h) surfaced
7.3 knots (13.5 km/h) submerged
|
Range:
|
24,880 nmi (46,080 km; 28,630 mi) at 10 knots (19 km/h) surfaced
117 nautical miles (217 km; 135 mi) at 4 kn (7.4 km/h) submerged
|
Test depth:
|
230 m (750 ft)
|
Complement:
|
48 to 56
|
Armament:
|
6 torpedo tubes (four bow, two stern)
22 55 cm (22 in) torpedoes
1 10.5 cm SK C/32 naval gun[4](110 rounds)
|
Service record
| |
Part of:
|
4th U-boat Flotilla (Training)
26 August 1941 – January 1942
2nd U-boat Flotilla (Front Boat, 12 patrols)
1 February 1942 – 4 June 1944
|
Identification codes:
|
M 46 074
|
Commanders:
|
KrvKpt. Axel-Olaf Loewe
(26 August 1941 – 5 September 1942)
Kptlt. Peter Zschech
(6 September 1942 – 24 October 1943)
Oblt.z.S.. Paul Meyer (acting)
(24 October – 7 November 1943)
Oblt.z.S.. Harald Lange
(8 November 1943 – 4 June 1944)
|
Operations:
|
12 patrols
|
Victories:
|
Eight ships sunk for a total of 44,962 gross register tons (GRT)
|
U-505 (IXC U-Boat)
| |
  | |
Coordinates
| |
Built
|
1941
|
Architect
|
Deutsches Werft Shipyard, Hamburg, Germany
|
Governing body
|
Private
|
NRHP Reference #
|
89001231
|
Significant dates
| |
Added to NRHP
|
1989[5]
|
Designated NHL
|
1989[6]
|
U-505 is a German Type IXC U-boat built for service in theKriegsmarine during World War II. She was captured on 4 June 1944 byUnited States Navy Task Group 22.3 (TG 22.3). Her codebooks,Enigma machine and other secret materials found on board assisted Allied code breaking operations.[7]
All but one of U-505's crew were rescued by the Navy task group. The submarine was towed to Bermuda in secret and her crew was interned at a US prisoner of war camp where they were denied access toInternational Red Cross visits. The Navy classified the capture as top secret and prevented its discovery by the Germans.
In 1954, U-505 was donated to the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago, Illinois and is now a museum ship.
She is one of six U-boats that were captured by Allied forces during World War II, and the first warship to be captured by U.S. forces on the high seas since the War of 1812. In her uniquely unlucky career with theKriegsmarine, she also had the distinction of being the "most heavily damaged U-boat to successfully return to port" in World War II (on her fourth patrol) and the only submarine in which a commanding officertook his own life in combat conditions (on her tenth patrol, following six botched patrols).[8] U-505 is one of four German World War II U-boats that survive as museum ships, and one of two Type IXCs still in existence, the other being U-534.
Anti-sub task force[edit]
Ultra intelligence from decrypted German cipher messages had informed the Allies that U-boats were operating near Cape Verde, but had not revealed their exact locations.[23][24] The U.S. Navy dispatched Task Group 22.3, a "Hunter-Killer" group, commanded by Captain Daniel V. Gallery, USN, to the area. TG 22.3 consisted of Gallery's escort aircraft carrierGuadalcanal, and five destroyer escorts under Commander Frederick S. Hall: Pillsbury, Pope, Flaherty, Chatelain, andJenks.[25] On 15 May 1944, TG 22.3 sailed from Norfolk, Virginia. Starting in late May, the task group began searching for U-boats in the area, using high-frequency direction-finding fixes ("Huff-Duff") and air and surface reconnaissance.
Detection and attack[edit]
At 11:09 on 4 June 1944, TG 22.3 made sonar (ASDIC) contact with U-505 at21°30′N 19°20′W, about 150 nautical miles (278 km; 173 mi) off the coast of Río de Oro.[23] The sonar contact was only 800 yards (700 m) away off Chatelain's starboard bow. The escorts immediately moved towards the contact, while Guadalcanal moved away at top speed and launched an F4F Wildcat fighter to join another Wildcat and a TBM Avenger which were already airborne.[26]
Chatelain was so close to U-505 that depth charges would not sink fast enough to intercept the U-boat,[citation needed] so instead she fired Hedgehogs before passing the submarine and turning to make a follow-up attack with depth charges.[23]At around this time, one of the aircraft sighted U-505 and fired into the water to mark the position while Chatelain dropped depth charges. Immediately after the detonation of the charges a large oil slick spread on the water and the fighter pilot overhead radioed, "You struck oil! Sub is surfacing!"[27] Less than seven minutes after Chatelain's first attack began, the badly damaged U-505 surfaced less than 600 metres (700 yd) away.[26] Chatelain immediately commenced fire on U-505with all available automatic weapons, joined by other ships of the task force as well as the two Wildcats.[23]
Believing U-505 to be seriously damaged, Oblt.z.S.. Lange ordered his crew to abandon ship. This order was obeyed so promptly that scuttling was not completed, (although some valves were opened) and the engines were left running.[23] With the engines still functioning and the rudder damaged by depth charges, U-505 circled clockwise at approximately 7 knots (13 km/h). Seeing the U-boat turning toward him and believing she was preparing to attack, the commanding officer ofChatelain ordered a single torpedo to be fired at the submarine; the torpedo missed, passing ahead of the now-abandonedU-505.[23]
Salvage operations[edit]
While Chatelain and Jenks collected survivors, an eight-man party from Pillsbury led by Lieutenant (Junior Grade) Albert David came alongside U-505 in a boat and entered via the conning tower. There was a dead man on the deck (the only fatality of the action), but U-505 was otherwise deserted. The boarding party secured charts and codebooks, closed scuttling valves and disarmed demolition charges. They stopped the water coming in, and although low in the water and down by the stern,U-505 remained afloat. They also stopped her engines.[23]
While the boarding party secured U-505, Pillsbury attempted to take her in tow, but collided repeatedly with her and had to move away with three compartments flooded. Instead, a second boarding party fromGuadalcanal rigged a towline from the aircraft carrier to the U-boat.[23]
Commander Earl Trosino (Guadalcanal's chief engineer), joined the salvage party. He disconnected U-505's diesels from her electric driving motors, while leaving these motors clutched to the propeller shafts. With the U-boat moving under tow byGuadalcanal, the propellers "windmilled" as they passed through the water, turning the shafts and the drive motors. The motors acted as electrical generators, and charged U-505's batteries. With power from the batteries, U-505's pumps cleared out the water let in by the attempted scuttling, and her air compressors blew out the ballast tanks, bringing her up to full surface trim.[23]
After three days of towing, Guadalcanal transferred U-505 to the fleet tug Abnaki. On Monday, 19 June, U-505 entered Port Royal Bay, Bermuda, after a tow of 1,700 nautical miles (3,150 km; 1,960 mi).
This action was the first time the U.S. Navy had captured an enemy vessel at sea since the War of 1812. 58 prisoners were taken from U-505, three of them wounded (including Lange); only one of the crew was killed in the action.
U-505's crew was interned at Camp Ruston, near Ruston, Louisiana. Among the guards were members of the U.S. Navy baseball team, composed mostly of minor league professional baseball players who had previously toured combat areas to entertain the troops. The players taught some of the U-505 sailors to play the game.[28]
Outcome[edit]
The material from U-505 arrived at the decryption establishment at Bletchley Park on 20 June 1944. While the Allies were able to break most Enigma settings by intense cryptanalysis (including heavy use of the electromechanical "bombes"), having the Enigma settings for the U-boats saved a lot of work and time, which could be applied to other keys. The settings break was only valid until the end of June and therefore had an extremely limited outcome on the eventual cracking of the enigma code, but having the weather and short signal codebooks and bigram tables made the work easier.
The "coordinate" code was used in German messages as an added layer of security for locations. Allied commanders sent Hunter-Killer task groups to these known U-boat locations, and routed shipping away.[29]
A more lasting benefit came from the intact capture of the U-boat's two G7es (Zaunkönig T-5) acoustic homing torpedoes. These were thoroughly analyzed and then tested on the range, giving information that was invaluable in improving theFoxer and FXR countermeasures systems, as well as the doctrine for using them to protect escorts.[30]
That U-505 was captured and towed—rather than merely sunk after the codebooks had been taken—was considered to have endangered the Ultra secret. The U.S. Chief of Naval Operations, Admiral King, considered court-martialling Captain Gallery.[29] To protect the secret, U-505's crewmen, who knew of the U-boat's capture, were isolated from other prisoners of war; the Red Cross were denied access to them. Ultimately, the Kriegsmarine declared the crew dead and informed the families to that effect. The last of the German crew was not returned until 1947.[31]
For leading the boarding party, LTJG Albert David received the Medal of Honor, the only time it was awarded to an Atlantic Fleet sailor in World War II. Torpedoman's Mate Third Class Arthur W. Knispel and Radioman Second Class Stanley E. Wdowiak, the first two to follow David into the submarine, received the Navy Cross. Seaman First Class Earnest James Beaver, also of the boarding party, received the Silver Star. Commander Trosino received the Legion of Merit. Captain Gallery, who had conceived and executed the operation, received the Navy Distinguished Service Medal.
The Task Group was awarded the Presidential Unit Citation. Admiral Royal E. Ingersoll, Commander in Chief, U.S. Atlantic Fleet, cited the Task Group for "outstanding performance during anti-submarine operations in the eastern Atlantic on 4 June 1944, when the Task Group attacked, boarded, and captured the German submarine U-505 ... The Task Group's brilliant achievement in disabling, capturing, and towing to a United States base a modern enemy man-of-war taken in combat on the high seas is a feat unprecedented in individual and group bravery, execution, and accomplishment in the Naval History of the United States."[23]
U-505 was kept at the navy base in Bermuda and intensively studied by U.S. Navy intelligence and engineering officers. Some of what was learned was included in postwar diesel submarine designs. To maintain the illusion that she had been sunk rather than captured, she was temporarily renamed USS Nemo.[32]
Museum ship[edit]
After the war, the Navy had no further use for U-505. She had been thoroughly examined in Bermuda, and was now moored derelict at the Portsmouth Navy Yard. It was decided to use her as a target for gunnery and torpedo practice until she sank.[23] In 1946, Gallery, now a rear admiral, told his brother Father John Gallery about this plan. Father John contacted President Lenox Lohr of Chicago's Museum of Science and Industry (MSI) to see if they would be interested in U-505. MSI, established by Chicago businessman Julius Rosenwald, was a center for "industrial enlightenment" and public science education, specializing in interactive exhibits. As the museum already planned to display a submarine, the acquisition of U-505seemed ideal.[23] In September 1954, U-505 was donated to Chicago by the U.S. government, a public subscription among Chicago residents raised $250,000 for transporting and installing the boat. The vessel was towed by United States Coast Guard tugs and cutters through the Great Lakes, making a stop in Detroit, Michigan in the summer of 1954.[33] On 25 September 1954, U-505 was dedicated as a permanent exhibit and a war memorial to all the sailors who lost their lives in the two Battles of the Atlantic.
When U-505 was donated to the Museum, she had been sitting neglected at the Portsmouth Navy Yard for nearly ten years; just about every removable part had been stripped from her interior. She was in no condition to serve as an exhibit.
Admiral Gallery proposed a possible solution. At his suggestion, Lohr contacted the German manufacturers who had supplied U-505's original components and parts, asking for replacements. As the Admiral reported in his autobiography, Eight Bells and All's Well, to his and the museum's surprise, every company supplied the requested parts without charge. Most included letters that said in effect, "We are sorry that you have our U-boat, but since she's going to be there for many years, we want her to be a credit to German technology."[34]
In 1989, U-505 was designated a National Historic Landmark. When the U.S. Navy demolished its Arctic Submarine Laboratory in Point Loma, California in 2003, U-505's original observation periscope was discovered. Before the submarine was donated to the MSI, the periscope had been removed from U-505 and placed in a water tank used for research. After being recovered, the periscope was given to the museum to be displayed along with the submarine.[35][36]
By 2004, the U-boat's exterior had suffered noticeable damage from the weather; so in April 2004, the museum moved the U-boat to a new underground, covered, climate-controlled location. Now protected from the elements, the restored U-505reopened to the public on 5 June 2005.
Daniel V. Gallery
| |
|---|---|
 | |
Born
|
July 10, 1901
|
Died
|
January 16, 1977 (aged 75)
|
Buried at
| |
Allegiance
| |
Service/branch
| |
Years of service
|
1917–1960
|
Rank
| |
Commands held
|
U.S. Navy Fleet Air Base, Reykjavik, Iceland
|
Battles/wars
| |
Awards
| |
Relations
|
Brothers: Philip D. Gallery, Rear Admiral, USNA, World War II, Decorated Destroyer Commander; William O. Gallery, Rear Admiral, USNA, Naval Aviator, World War II, DFC; John I. Gallery, Catholic Priest and, during World War II, Navy Chaplain; an elder brother died in childhood. Sisters: Margaret Gallery; Marcia Gallery, d. age 17.
|
Rear Admiral Daniel Vincent Gallery (July 10, 1901 – January 16, 1977) was an officer in the United States Navy who saw extensive action during World War II. He fought in the Battle of the Atlantic, his most notable achievement was the capture of the German submarineU-505 on June 4, 1944. In the post-war era, he was a leading player in the so-called "Revolt of the Admirals" – the dispute between the Navy and the Air Force over whether the U.S. Armed Forces should emphasize aircraft carriers or strategic bombers. Gallery was also a prolific author of both fiction and non-fiction.
In 1942, Gallery took command of the Fleet Air Base in Reykjavík, Iceland, where he was awarded the Bronze Star for his actions against German submarines. It was there that he first conceived his plan to capture a U-boat.
In 1943, Gallery was appointed commander of the escort carrier USS Guadalcanal, which he commissioned. In January 1944 he commanded antisubmarine Task Group 21.12 (TG 21.12) out of Norfolk, Virginia, with Guadalcanal as the flagship. TG 21.12 sank the German submarine U-544.[3]
In March 1944 Task Group 22.3 was formed with Guadalcanal as the flagship. On this cruise Gallery pioneered 24-hour flight operations from escort carriers (by this time, U-boats were remaining submerged during daylight to avoid carrier-based aircraft). On April 9, the task group sank U-515 (commanded by the U-boat ace Kapitänleutnant Werner Henke). After a long battle the submarine was forced to the surface among the attacking ships and the surviving crew abandoned ship. The deserted U-515 was hammered by rockets and gunfire before she finally sank. Captain Gallery saw that this would have been a perfect opportunity to capture the vessel. He decided to be ready the next time such an opportunity presented itself. The next night aircraft from the task group caught U-68 on the surface, in broad moonlight, and sank her with one survivor, a lookout caught on-deck when the U-boat crash dived.
On the next cruise of TG 22.3, Captain Gallery took the unusual step of forming boarding parties, in case of another chance to capture a U-boat arose. On June 4, 1944, the task group crossed paths with U-505 off the coast of Africa.[4] U-505 was spotted running on the surface by two F4F Wildcat fighters from Guadalcanal. Her captain, Oberleutnant Harald Lange, dived the boat to avoid the fighters. But they could see the submerged submarine and vectored destroyers onto her track. The experienced antisubmarine warfare team laid down patterns of depth charges that shook U-505 up badly, popping relief valves and breaking gaskets, resulting in water sprays in her engine room. Based on reports from the engine room, the captain believed his boat to be heavily damaged and ordered the crew to abandon ship, which was done so hastily that full scuttling measures were not completed.
Captain Gallery's boarding party from the destroyer escort USS Pillsbury was ordered to board the foundering submarine and if possible capture her. The destroyers in range used their .50 caliber and 20 mm antiaircraft guns to chase the Germans off the vessel so the boarding party could get onto her. They replaced the cover of the sea strainer, thus keeping the U-boat from sinking immediately. The boarders retrieved the submarine's Enigma coding machine and current code books. (This was a primary goal of the mission because it would enable the codebreakers in Tenth Fleet to read German signals immediately, without having to break the codes first). They got her under control, making U-505 the first foreign man-of-war captured in battle on the high seas by the U.S. Navy since the War of 1812.
This incident was the last time that the order "Away All Boarders!" was given by a U.S. Navy captain. Lieutenant Albert David, who led the boarding party, received the Medal of Honor for his courage in boarding a foundering submarine that presumably had scuttling charges set to explode – the only Medal of Honor awarded in the Atlantic Fleet during World War II. Task Group 22.3 was awarded the Presidential Unit Citation and Captain Gallery received the Distinguished Service Medal for capturingU-505.
He also received a blistering dressing-down from Admiral Ernest J. King, Chief of Naval Operations.[5] King pointed out that unless U-505's capture could be kept an absolute secret, the Germans would change their codes and change out the cipher wheels in the Enigma. Gallery managed to impress his crews with the vital importance of maintaining silence on the best sea story any of them would ever see. His success made the difference between his getting a medal or getting a court-martial. (It is interesting that two noted naval historians, Samuel Eliot Morison and Clay Blair, Jr. are on opposite sides of Gallery's case.) After the war, Admiral King personally approved the award of the Presidential Unit Citation to Task Group 22.3 for the capture of the U-boat.[6]
Toward the end of World War II Captain Gallery was given command of the aircraft carrier USS Hancock.
Class: Edsall-Class destroyer escort
Registry: DE-149
Commissioned: 22, September 1943
| Career (US) | |
|---|---|
| Namesake: | Hubert Paul Chatelain |
| Builder: | Consolidated Steel Corporation,Orange, Texas |
| Laid down: | 25 January 1943 |
| Launched: | 21 April 1943 |
| Commissioned: | 22 September 1943 |
| Decommissioned: | 14 June 1946 |
| Struck: | 1 August 1973 |
| Honours and awards: | 5 battle stars plus thePresidential Unit Citation |
| Fate: | Sold for scrapping 24 June 1974 |
| General characteristics | |
| Class & type: | Edsall-class destroyer escort |
| Displacement: | 1,253 tons standard 1,590 tons full load |
| Length: | 306 feet (93.27 m) |
| Beam: | 36.58 feet (11.15 m) |
| Draft: | 10.42 full load feet (3.18 m) |
| Propulsion: | 4 FM diesel engines, 4 diesel-generators, 6,000 shp (4.5 MW), 2 screws |
| Speed: | 21 knots (39 km/h) |
| Range: | 9,100 nmi. at 12 knots (17,000 km at 22 km/h) |
| Complement: | 8 officers, 201 enlisted |
| Armament: |
|
USS Chatelain (DE-149) was an Edsall-class destroyer escort built for the U.S. Navy during World War II. She served in the Atlantic Ocean and the Pacific Ocean, providing destroyer escort protection againstsubmarine and air attack for Navy vessels and convoys. At war’s end, she returned home proudly with five battle stars and the Presidential Unit Citation.
She was named in honor of Hubert Paul Chatelain who was awarded aSilver Star posthumously for his valiant actions before he was killed in action 26 October 1942 during the Battle of the Santa Cruz Islands.
Chatelain (DE-149) was launched 21 April 1943 by Consolidated SteelCorp. of Orange, Texas; sponsored by Mrs. L. T. Chatelain; commissioned 22 September 1943, Lieutenant Commander J. L. Foley in command; and reported to the Atlantic Fleet.
Destined to play an important part in sweeping the Atlantic of Germansubmarines, Chatelain escorted two convoys from east coast ports toDerry and Gibraltar between 20 November 1943 and 7 March 1944, and was then assigned to operate as part of the hunter-killer group formed around USS Guadalcanal (CVE-60). During the last year of the European war, while operating with the Guadalcanal group, Chatelainjoined in the sinking of two German submarines, and the capture of a third.
Sinking of the German submarine U-515[edit]
Her first action took place 9 April 1944, as her group sailed from Casablanca to the United States. U-515 was detected when her radio transmissions were picked up, and planes and ships of the task group pressed home a firm attack.Chatelain forced the enemy submarine to the surface with two depth charge attacks, then joined in the general firing at point-blank range which followed, sending U-515 to the bottom at 34°35′N 19°18′W.
Capturing the German submarine U-505[edit]
On 4 June 1944, Chatelain had the distinction of initiating one of the most dramatic incidents of the war, when she made a sound contact, and hurled a barrage of hedgehogs at a U-boat. A second attack by Chatelain, this time with depth charges, holed U-505 's outer hull and forced her to surface, her crew jumping overboard as she broke water. Now the task group seized its chance to carry out the boarding operation it had been planning for months, for the first capture by Americans of an intact German submarine. Successful in taking control of the submarine and executing the damage control that made its towing practicable, the group was awarded the Presidential Unit Citation for this action.
Class: Edsall-Class Destroyer Escort
Registry: DE-133
Commissioned: 7, June 1943
.jpg) | |
| Career (US) |  |
|---|---|
| Namesake: | John E. Pillsbury |
| Builder: | Consolidated Steel Corporation,Orange, Texas |
| Laid down: | 18 July 1942 |
| Launched: | 10 January 1943 |
| Commissioned: | 7 June 1943 to 1947 15 March 1955 to 20 June 1960 |
| Reclassified: | DER 133, August 1954 |
| Struck: | 1 July 1965 |
| Honours and awards: | 5 battle stars and a Presidential Unit Citation |
| Fate: | Sold for scrapping, 1966 |
| General characteristics | |
| Class & type: | Edsall-class destroyer escort |
| Displacement: | 1,253 tons standard 1,590 tons full load |
| Length: | 306 feet (93.27 m) |
| Beam: | 36.58 feet (11.15 m) |
| Draft: | 10.42 full load feet (3.18 m) |
| Propulsion: | 4 FM diesel engines, 4 diesel-generators, 6,000 shp (4.5 MW), 2 screws |
| Speed: | 21 knots (39 km/h) |
| Range: | 9,100 nmi. at 12 knots (17,000 km at 22 km/h) |
| Complement: | 8 officers, 201 enlisted |
| Armament: |
|
USS Pillsbury (DE-133) was an Edsall-class destroyer escort built for the U.S. Navy during World War II. She served in the Atlantic Ocean and provided destroyer escort protection against submarine and air attack for Navy vessels and convoys. She returned at war's end with five battle stars and a Presidential Unit Citation.
She was named after Rear Admiral John E. Pillsbury, known as having been one of the world’s foremost geographers and as an authority of the Gulf Stream. Actively identified with the National Geographic Societyfor many years, he was president of the society at the time of his death, 30 December 1919.
Pillsbury (DE–133) was laid down by the Consolidated Steel Corp.,Orange, Texas, 18 July 1942; launched 10 January 1943; sponsored by Mrs. Elsie G. Richardson; and commissioned 7 June 1943, Lt. Comdr. W. Parker, USNR, in command. Parker would later be succeeded byFrancis L. Dale (later owner of the Cincinnati Reds, and a member ofRichard M. Nixon's campaign staff.)
After shakedown Pillsbury’s first duty was as flagship for Escort Division4, escorting convoys into Casablanca and Gibraltar. Pillsbury then reported to Task Group 21.12, consisting of USS Guadalcanal (CVE-60)and four destroyer escorts, on hunter killer patrol to seek out and destroy enemy submarines operating along or near convoy routes from the United States to Europe.
Sinking the German Submarine U-515[edit]
On the night of 8 April 1944, planes from Guadalcanal attacked a surfaced German U-boat. The U-boat immediately submerged for deep evasive tactics. Pillsbury and USS Flaherty (DE-135) raced to the scene and Pillsbury made initial sound contact and attacked with hedgehogs. The depth charges forced the U-boat to the surface, but the German sailors were determined to fight to a finish with their torpedoes. Flahertyjoined Pillsbury, and in a murderous crossfire made short work of U-515. Six officers, including the Captain, and fifty-seven of the crew were captured.
After repair at Norfolk, Virginia, the hunter-killers sailed from Norfolk in May with a special mission to “bring one back live.”
Capturing the German Submarine U-505[edit]
On 4 June 1944, about 100 miles off the Cape Verde islands, sound contact was made on a U-boat trying to penetrate the destroyer screen for a shot at the Guadalcanal. Two pilots sighted the submarine running under the surface, and splashed the sea with gunfire to point out the contact to Pillsbury, USS Jenks (DE-665), and USS Chatelain (DE-149) rushing to the attack. Their depth charges blasted a hole in the outer hull of the submarine and her inexperienced captain, believing his boat was doomed, surfaced and ordered the crew to abandon ship, which they did while leaving her engines running.Pillsbury lowered a boarding party, led by Lt. Albert David. The party boarded the still-circling U–505, climbed its conning tower and stormed down the hatches, fully expecting to meet stiff resistance. Finding the boat deserted, the boarders set about collecting charts, code books, and papers, tearing out delayed-action demolition charges, closing valves, and plugging leaks. For this demonstration of conspicuous gallantry and achievement, Pillsbury was awarded the Presidential Unit Citation. Lt. David was awarded the Medal of Honor and two other members of the boarding party were awarded theNavy Cross. The U-boat's captain, five officers, and fifty-three of her crew were rescued, taken prisoner, then held incommunicado to keep the boat's capture secret. U-505 was towed 2,500 miles to Bermuda and revealed some of theGerman Navy’s most guarded secrets. The U-505 is now permanently displayed at the Chicago Museum of Science and Industry.
Class: Buckley-Class Destroyer Escort
Registry: DE-665
Commissioned: 19, January 1944
| Career | |
|---|---|
| Laid down: | 12 May 1943 |
| Launched: | 11 September 1943 |
| Commissioned: | 19 January 1944 |
| Decommissioned: | 26 June 1946 |
| Struck: | 1 February 1966 |
| Fate: | Sold for scrap, 5 March 1968 |
| General characteristics | |
| Displacement: | 1,740 tons full 1,400 tons, standard |
| Length: | 306 ft 0 in (93.27 m) |
| Beam: | 36 ft 9 in (11.20 m) |
| Draft: | 13 ft 6 in (4.11 m) |
| Propulsion: | GE turbo-electric drive, 12,000 shp (8.9 MW) two propellers |
| Speed: | 24 knots (44 km/h) |
| Range: | 4,940 nautical miles (9,150 km) at 12 knots (22 km/h) |
| Complement: | 15 officers, 198 men |
| Armament: | 3 × 3 in (76 mm) DP guns, 3 × 21 in (53 cm) torpedo tubes, 1 × 1.1 in (28 mm) quad AA gun, 8 × 20 mm cannon, 1 × hedgehog projector, 2 × depth charge tracks, 8 × K-gun depth charge projectors |
USS Jenks (DE-665) was a Buckley-class destroyer escort of theUnited States Navy, named in honor of Lieutenant (j.g.) Henry P. Jenks(1914–1942).
Jenks was laid down by Dravo Corporation, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, 12 May 1943; launched on 11 September 1943; sponsored by Mrs. M. L. Jenks. mother of Lieutenant (j.g.) Jenks; and commissioned atNew Orleans, Louisiana, on 19 January 1944, Lieutenant CommanderJ. F. Way in command.
Following shakedown training out of Bermuda in February, the ship moved to the all-important Atlantic convoy lanes to act as an escort ship during the great buildup of men and supplies in Europe. She arrived atNew York on 21 April after one such voyage to the United Kingdom in April. Following training exercises, she steamed to Norfolk, Virginia on 10 May and joined escort carrier USS Guadalcanal (CVE-60) and herhunter-killer group under Captain Daniel V. Gallery. The ships sortied 15 May bound for the Atlantic shipping lanes in quest of German U-boats. After two weeks of searching, the group was headed towardCasablanca when on 4 June it detected U-505 and closed for the attack. An accurate depth charge attack by USS Chatelain (DE-149) brought the submarine to the surface, where her crew abandoned ship. Immediately, a well-planned boarding action commenced; and, despite the danger from damage and German booby traps, salvage parties succeeded in saving the submarine. Jenks picked up survivors from the U-boat, and her boat went alongside to take off valuable bridgepublications. Through skillful damage control work the captured submarine, a major intelligence find, was gotten safely and secretly to Bermuda.
Jenks returned from this history-making cruise 16 June and arrived atNew London, Conn. on 28 June to serve as a training ship. She remained on this duty until late July, and departed Norfolk the 31st with another convoy to the Mediterranean. In the months that followed the ship made four escort voyages toAfrican ports, helping to protect the vital flow of supplies and men. Between assignments she engaged in training out ofCasco Bay, Maine.
Jenks reached Boston on her final convoy voyage 19 May 1945, the war against the European foe then over. The ship underwent much-needed voyage repairs at Boston Navy Yard and then sailed to Miami, Florida, arriving 8 June to serve as school ship for the Naval Training Center. In August she took part in training exercises in the Caribbean. Jenks continued peacetime operations out of Charleston, S.C. and Key West, Fla. until arriving Green Cove Springs, Fla., 2 May 1946. Shedecommissioned on 26 June entered the Atlantic Reserve Fleet, and was later moved to the Texas Group, where she remained until she was struck from the Navy List on 1 February 1966 and scrapped.
Jenks received two battle stars for World War II service, in addition to the Presidential Unit Citation for taking part in the capture of U-505.
Albert Leroy David (July 18, 1902 – September 17, 1945) was an officer in the United States Navy during World War II and a recipient of the Medal of Honor. He was awarded the Medal of Honor for his role in helping to capture German submarine U-505, off the coast of French West Africa in June 1944.
| Albert Leroy David | |
|---|---|
  | |
| Born | July 18, 1902 Maryville, Missouri |
| Died | September 17, 1945 (aged 43) Norfolk, Virginia |
| Place of burial | Fort Rosecrans National Cemetery, San Diego, California |
| Allegiance | United States of America |
| Service/branch | United States Navy |
| Years of service | 1919–1945 |
| Rank | Lieutenant |
| Unit | USS Pillsbury |
| Battles/wars | World War II |
| Awards | Medal of Honor |
Born in Maryville, Missouri David enlisted in the Navy at Kansas City, Missouri, on September 30, 1919. After undergoing his training at the Naval Training Station, San Francisco, he served on the battleshipUSS Arkansas (BB-33) for the rest of his first enlistment.
Reenlisting at Omaha, Nebraska, on July 19, 1921, David served his second enlistment in a succession of ships: USS New York (ACR-2),USS Preston (DD-327), USS Delaware (BB-28), USS Utah (BB-31), andUSS Texas (BB-35), reenlisting on board Texas on May 12, 1925. He then served in USS Trenton (CL-11), USS Cincinnati (CL-6), andUSS Salt Lake City (CA-25), reenlisting at Philadelphia, Pennsylvania on June 15, 1931.
He reported on board USS Dobbin (AD-3) on July 3, 1931, and served in that destroyer tender until his transfer to the Fleet Reserve on August 10, 1939.
World War II[edit]
David was recalled to active duty, though, on September 27, 1939, less than a month after World War II broke out in Europe with the Germaninvasion of Poland.
Appointed machinist on May 13, 1942, David was assigned to theSubmarine Repair Unit, San Diego on May 28, and served in that unit for five months. While there, he received his promotion to ensign on June 15. Reporting thence to the Naval Training School for diesel engineers at the Madison campus of the University of Wisconsin, for instruction, David ultimately reported for duty at the Naval Training Station, Naval Operating Base, Norfolk, before he traveled to Orange, Texas to assist in fitting out the destroyer escort USS Pillsbury (DE-133), which was commissioned at the Consolidated Steel Corporation yard on June 7, 1943.
Promoted to lieutenant (jg.) while Pillsbury was fitting out, David served in that ship as she operated in the Atlantic, escorting convoys into Casablanca and Gibraltar, and serving with a "hunter-killer" unit formed around USS Guadalcanal (CVE-60). He was serving as Pillsbury's assistant engineering and electrical officer when Guadalcanal's task group located a German submarine off Cape Blanco, French West Africa, on June 4, 1944 and forced it to the surface.
Pillsbury lowered a boat and sent a party of nine men, led by David, to board the U-boat, soon identified as U-505, which was still underway and running in a circle on the surface. Although he "had every reason to believe" (Verified in “Attack and Capture: The Story of U-Boat 505” by Discovery Channel) that Germans were still below decks setting demolition charges and scuttling the ship, David led Pillsbury's men on board and down the conning tower hatch, and took possession of the ship. Although he found the sea flooding into the U-boat, David remained below directing the initial salvage operations—aware that at any moment the submersible could blow up or sink. Men from Guadalcanal arrived soon thereafter to aid in the battle to keep U-505 afloat, and David remained on board directing the salvage operations. As a result of his vigorous and heroic efforts, the valuable prize was eventually taken to Bermuda.
Promoted to lieutenant soon thereafter, David received the Medal of Honor for his part in the "first successful boarding and capture of an enemy man-of-war on the high seas by the United States Navy since 1815."
He died of a heart attack at Norfolk, Virginia, however, before the medal could be presented to him; it was presented byPresident Harry S. Truman to David's widow, Lynda Mae David, on October 5, 1945, in a ceremony at the White House.
Medal of Honor citation[edit]
His Medal of Honor citation reads:
For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty while attached to the U.S.S. Pillsbury during the capture of an enemy German submarine off French West Africa, June 4, 1944. Taking a vigorous part in the skillfully coordinated attack on the U-505 at the end of a prolonged search by the Task Group, Lt. (then Lt. j.g.) David boldly led a party from the Pillsbury in boarding the hostile submarine as it circled erratically at 5 or 6 knots on the surface. Fully aware that the U-boat might at any moment sink or be blown up by exploding demolition and scuttling charges, he braved the added danger of enemy gunfire to plunge through the conning tower hatch and, with his small party, exerted every effort to keep the ship afloat and to assist the succeeding and more fully equipped salvage parties in making the U-505 seaworthy for the long tow across the Atlantic to a U.S. port. By his valiant service during the first successful boarding and capture of an enemy man-of-war on the high seas by the United States Navy since 1815, Lt. David contributed materially to the effectiveness of the Battle of the Atlantic and upheld the highest traditions of the U.S. Naval Service.
| Born | 23 Dec 1903 | Hamburg | |
| Died | 3 Mar 1967 | (63) |
 | Ranks
Decorations |
U-boat Commands
| U-boat | From | To | |
|---|---|---|---|
| U-180 | Oct, 1943 | 7 Nov 1943 | No war patrols |
| U-505 | 8 Nov 1943 | 4 Jun 1944 | 2 patrols (90 days) |
Oblt. Harald Lange was brought onto the troubled U-505 in an attempt to restore the morale of the crew after the disappointing command of Kptlt. Peter Zschech and his suicide on board on 24 Oct 1943. Dönitz chose well as Lange at 40 years old one of the oldest U-boat commanders of WWII. He managed to bring the troubled boat again into proper fighting condition.
When the boat was attacked by the USS Guadalcanal hunter-killer group on 4 June 1944 the boat was in a very bad position, low on electricity and the odds were very much against her. Lange did well in saving all but one of his crew – although the capture of the boat was not ideal of course.
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