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Captain's Progress Report - Letter Home

 

The following information is extracted from a history compiled privately by members of the Army units ashore at Binh An.  Of interest is their description of the Navy gunfire O'BRIEN and other Navy ships fired into the battle.

Sea and ground units usually operated separately, only coming together for operations like this one at Binh An.  Putting the stories together from original participants for a more complete description like this is very rare, esp. after the passing of 45-50 years.

The Battleships of D-Day

The Battleships of D-Day

The ships described in Captain Dunham's Sea Story told in the previous posting are further described in this piece telling of their action during the Invasion of Europe that started on D-Day.

Captain Dunham's 1968 Sea Story only survived because I took down from the O'BRIEN bulletin board, the sheet telling it and saved it all these years.  Today, 44-years on from 1968 and 68-years on from 1944, these two old stories are brought together.
                                         

The 14″ Guns of USS Nevada in action at Normandy

On June 6th 1944 Allied Forces landed on the beaches of Normandy. Six American, British and Canadian Infantry Divisions, three Airborne Divisions and numerous supporting units came ashore in landing craft or were airdropped into Normandy. Backing them was an immense Naval Task Force which provided naval gunfire support, screened the force from German U-Boat or surface naval forces and transported the massive ground force.  It was an amazing armada.

HMS Rodney bombarding German positions off Caen

It was an armada that also is forgotten by many who read about Normandy or whose only exposure to the landings are films such as Saving Private Ryan. Today I think it is fitting to remember Battleships that served at Normandy, USS Arkansas, USS Texas, USS Nevada, HMS Warspite, HMS Ramillies and HMS Rodney.

USS Arkansas off Omaha Beach

The naval gunfire support force included Battleships, Cruisers and Destroyers as well as specialized gunfire support ships.  The largest and most powerful ships were the six American and British Battleships.  These ships were important in providing the heavy firepower needed to destroy the strongest fortifications and shore batteries and to fire at targets far beyond the shoreline that were vital for German reinforcements.

However the ships involved were not the modern behemoths which were built in the 1930s and since the beginning of the war but rather among the oldest ships still active in either the United States or the British Royal Navy. At one time they had all been the hearts for their navies but now old, slow and with less than modern armament and fire control systems they were regulated to supporting amphibious forces or escorting convoys.

USS Arkansas BB-33

The oldest of these venerable ships was the USS Arkansas BB-33 which was commissioned in 1912. A Wyoming Class Battleship she mounted twelve 12” guns in six twin turrets, two forward, two aft and two midships. She displaced just over 27,000 tons. She had spent most of the war escorting convoys in the Atlantic before being assigned to the Normandy landings. She stood off Omaha Beach dueling with German shore batteries and pounding the German troops who were making Omaha a living hell for the men of the US 1st and 29th Infantry Divisions.  She would continue her valuable service off of Normandy and would do the same in to support the landings in Southern France before steaming to the Pacific where she would do the same at Iwo Jima and Okinawa.

USS Texas BB-35

The USS Texas, BB-35 of the New York class had been in commission since 1914. She mounted ten 14” guns in 5 twin turrets, two forward, two aft and one midships and was slightly larger than the Arkansas.  More modern she was more extensively modernized between the wars than was Arkansas and was one of the first US ships to carry experimental radar sets.  She also conducted convoy operations but was used to bombard Vichy French troops and positions during Operation Torch, the Allied invasion  of North Africa.  At D-day she was in the western sector of Omaha and bombarded Point Du Hoc and cruised to within 3000 yards of the beach to clear the western exits of the beach near Vierville.  She remained in the area a number of days and would subsequently support the attack on Cherbourg, the invasion of South France and then serve in the Pacific at Iwo Jima and Okinawa.

USS Nevada BB-36

The USS Nevada BB-36 was the first of a new class of battleships which set the basic pattern of US Battleship design through the ratification of the Washington Naval Treaty. Her main battery of ten 14” guns was mounted in four turrets, mounted fore and aft two triple and 2 twin turrets.  She was he powered by oil fired boilers as opposed to coal and   was designed with a longer cruising radius to meet the demands of War Plan Orange.  Nevada received major upgrades between the wars and on December 7th 1941 was moored on Battleship Row when Peal Harbor was attacked by the Japanese. The only Battleship to get underway during the attack Nevada was set upon by Japanese aircraft as she steamed toward the harbor entrance. Heavily damaged she was grounded off Hospital Point. She was re-floated and sailed to the United States where she was heavily modernized with a modern AA battery of twin 5” 38 caliber guns, and fire direction radars. She was modernized to the point that she no longer resembled the ship sunk at Pearl Harbor. After her repair and modernization she participated in the invasion of Attu Island and did convoy escort duty before reporting for the invasion of Normandy. Nevada supported the US 4th Infantry Division at Utah Beach and subsequently served with Texas and Arkansas in South France before going to the Pacific to support the invasions of Iwo Jima and Okinawa. Had the war continued she would have been involved in the invasion of the Japanese Mainland.

HMS Warspite

The Royal Navy Battleships of D-Day were also elderly veterans. The eldest was the heroic HMS Warsipte commissioned in 1915 and a veteran of the Battle of Jutland and numerous actions during the Second World War including the slaughter of the German Destroyers at Narvik, the Battle of Cape Matapan and the invasion of Sicily and Italy.  The Queen Elizabeth Class Battleship mounted eight 15” guns in twin turrets and was extensively modernized between the wars. At Salerno Warspite was hit by three of the earliest guided missiles, the Fritz-X type launched by Luftwaffe Aircraft. She was heavily damaged and required major repairs before returning to service at Normandy. She supported British troops at Sword Beach and later Gold Beach. She again was heavily damaged by a magnetic mine and received temporary repairs to allow her to continue bombardment duties against German positions France and Belgium before being placed in reserve in January 1945.

HMS Ramillies

The HMS Ramillies was a Revenge Class Battleship commissioned in 1917. These ships were a compromise design that was smaller, slower and cheaper than the Queen Elizabeth Class but had the same main battery of eight 15” guns.  The compromises prevented them from receiving significant upgrades between the wars and limited their employment. Ramillies operated as a convoy escort and was also involved in action in  the Mediterranean and Indian Ocean. She participated in the hunt for the German Pocket Battleship Graf Spee and shielded Convoy HX-106 from the Scharnhorst and Gneisenau and later took part in the hunt for the Bismarck. However she but was not engaged against any of the German ships but her presence prevented Admiral Lutjens from risking Scharnhorst and Gneisenau to attack the convoy. She took part in the initial battle between the Royal Navy and the Italians at the Battle of Cape Spartivento getting off several salvos before her slow speed forced her out of the action. She was heavily damaged by a torpedo from a Japanese mini-submarine in Diego Suarez harbor during the invasion of Madagascar in May 1942. Following repairs and the addition of extra deck armor and modern anti-aircraft guns she returned to action at Normandy were she supported British troops ashore and drove off an attack by German Destroyers. She stayed in action firing over 1000 shells at Normandy before supporting the invasion of Southern France. Too slow to be of use in the Pacific she was placed in Reserve in January 1945.

HMS Rodney

The youngest of the Battlewagons at Normandy on June 6th was the HMS Rodney which was commissioned in 1927. She and her sister ship HMS Nelson were to be the first of the post WWI super battleships and was designed as a larger and more powerful ship. With the limitations of the Washington Naval Treaty the ships were “cut down” and reduced in size and speed. Her armament made her one of the most powerful battleships of period but her engineering plant was not always reliable. Since she was relatively modern she did not receive any major refits before the war and apart from a repairs to her engines in Boston in 1941 (before the US entry into the war) and a brief refit in 1942 she received no further refits during the war. With the HMS King George V she helped sink the Bismarck and would escort convoys and participate in the Allied invasions of North Africa, Sicily and Salerno before being assigned to the Normandy invasion force attacking targets near Caen.  Her sister HMS Nelson was held in reserve and joined the battle on June 10th but she was not present on D-Day.

Warspite aground and Rodney being scrapped (below)

Despite their age and limitations all of these ships and their performed heroically during the war. The post war period was not as kind to the ships. Arkansas and Nevada were used in the Atomic Bomb tests at Bikini Atoll. Nevada survived and was expended as a target in 1948. All of the British ships were scrapped following the war due to their age, wear and damage incurred during the war. Warspite was being towed to the breakers when she broke a tow line and went aground. She ended up being partially scrapped in place.  Mementos of all these ships remain including a gun from Ramillies at the Imperial War Museum. The lone survivor was the USS Texas which became a museum ship and memorial at the San Jacinto battlefield in 1948. She is the last of the Dreadnought ships remaining. Other more modern US Battleships have been preserved but only Texas remains from those ships that at one time ruled the waves and pounded the Germans at Normandy.

The author aboard USS Texas in March 2011

The fire support provided by these proud ships and their consorts ensured the success of the Normandy landings. Without them it is very possible that the landings would not have succeeded and many more Allied soldiers would have died and the war extended.

To these great ships and all their heroic crews…

Peace

Padre Steve+

A Sea Story

USS O’BRIEN (DD-725)

29 June 1968 – Saturday

Naval Gunfire Support – Gulf of Tonkin

The following message received from COMDESRON 2 (Capt. F.C. Dunham, Jr.):

Perhaps it is because war itself is such a cruel and harsh business, or maybe it’s because we’re a long way from home.  At any rate, when the guns are occasionally silent, conversations are different over here from those we used to hear back home.  They are mostly flavored with nostalgia, romance, and philosophy—or maybe just reminiscences.  In the Navy, it’s a great time for exchanging sea stories.

Just such a moment occurred the other day on board USS BLANDY, a Norfolk-based destroyer, a few thousand yards to seaward of the Vietnam demilitarized zone.  BLANDY had just silenced an enemy artillery site with her five-inch guns and was standing by for another mission.  Captain Frank C. Dunham, Jr. of Norfolk, Virginia, Commander of the Cruiser-Destroyer “Gun Line”, was talking to his flagship skipper, Commander Joel H. Berry, Jr. of Virginia Beach, Virginia, as he pointed to a nearby destroyer, USS O’BRIEN, which had just reported for duty as gunfire support ship in that area.  Dunham recalled how the O’BRIEN was the destroyer which might well have saved his life almost exactly 24-years ago, the 25^th of June 1944.  

As an Ensign on board the old battleship, ARKANSAS, he had been an anti-aircraft control officer at his battle station on the maintop when ARKANSAS, TEXAS, NEW YORK, NEVADA, and four destroyers entered the fortified harbor of Cherbourg, France, to knock out the heavy guns which had been taking a toll on the allied troops moving along the peninsula to recapture the city of Cherbourg after having fought their way ashore at Normandy.  “It was the worst pasting old battleship division FIVE took throughout the entire war,” Dunham recalled.  (Recon photo below taken 4-days before the battle described in Capt. Dunham's story.) 

“All the battleships had been hit at least once except the ARKANSAS within the first few minutes of our duel with the shore batteries.  The destroyers were ordered to lay a covering smoke screen for the battleships and they reversed course promptly and came back belching black from their stacks.  One of those destroyers was O’BRIEN,” Dunham went on.  “As she was passing down our port side doing about 25 knots and making a beautiful black curtain for us to maneuver behind, there were two tremendous explosions.  O’BRIEN had been hit and hit hard by two high-explosive projectiles targeted for the ARKANSAS.  Her entire superstructure had been blasted away.”  Thanks to O’BRIEN, ARKANSAS remained unscathed throughout the three hour battle.  With the enemy’s big guns finally silenced, O’BRIEN was towed out of harm’s way for repairs.

Many months later, when ARKANSAS was taking a breather between bombardment missions at Okinawa, Captain Dunham can recall “Attention to starboard” being sounded by the ship’s marine bugler.  Such protocol under battle conditions is most unusual and this occasion certainly was.  The battleship’s captain was honoring a destroyer passing down her starboard side—a very special destroyer—USS O’BRIEN, battle damage repaired and as scrappy as ever.

When Captain Dunham sent a greeting to O’BRIEN, 24-years later almost to the day, welcoming her to the gunline, it carried very special thoughts and recollections with it.  And this “Sea Story” is true.

     – This piece was printed aboard O’BRIEN, 29 June 1968 in the ship’s Plan of the Day.  O’BRIEN had just reported for duty on the gunline three days earlier and had been involved in a large combined services operation attacking an NVA battalion of about 300-men at the hamlet of Bin An, 9-miles NE of Quang Tri City.  O’BRIEN fired over 1500, 5-inch rounds during the 3-day battle and O’BRIEN with its crew were subsequently awarded a Vietnam Gallantry Cross Unit Citation.

Shellback

Captain George W. Farris, USN, was a mustang with WWII service—a man who had first served in the Navy as an enlisted sailor. As a mustang, he had an understanding of his ship and his crew that could have only come from his having had the experience. Captain Farris highly respected his Chief Petty Officers, depended on them, and had little use for his Ensigns and not much more use for his JGs. He knew the successful operation of his ship depended on the performance of his Chiefs and their sailors. The junior officers were fresh out of college and they came and went regularly to and from the ship.

Captain Farris had a commander’s presence and in early 1968 when I joined the O’BRIEN’s crew, he was in his 26th year of Navy service. The Captain (actually he was a 3-stripe Navy Commander) had been the ship’s captain for just over a year and had taken the ship on a 7-month WESTPAC cruise to Vietnam the year before. Two sailors had been killed when the ship had been hit by North Vietnamese shore batteries during an operation called Sea Dragon. The O’BRIEN had a long history of being in the thick of sea battles dating back to shortly after its launch in 1943. After D-Day it had been hit by the big shore batteries at Cherborg, hit again by a kamikaze off Okinawa, again by shore batteries at Wonsan during the Korean War, and most recently by North Vietnamese shore batteries near the DMZ.

Regular sailors didn’t have much to do with Captain Farris. He spoke to his Executive Officer, who spoke to his department heads, who spoke to their division officers, who spoke to their chiefs, who spoke to their first class petty officers, who spoke to their second class petty officers, who got their sailors together and got the jobs done. There was quartermastering to do, boilers to tend, machines to run, radar & radios to operate, electronics to fix, DASH to fly, torpedoes to tend, guns to fix & fire, personnel to record, food to cook & serve, decks to swab, superstructures to paint, and on, and on.

Every member of the crew had regular jobs to do both underway and in port. And in addition, each crew member had their general quarters stations where during combat conditions the ship was prepared to not only fight, but to repair itself while fighting. It was an elegant organization that was not only practical, but steeped in centuries-old traditions.

“Pops” Churchwell was called “Pops” because he was one of the oldest sailors in the OI Division--Radar. He was 26. And most of what I recall about him was his sardonic assessment of Navy service, succinctly summed up in one of his favorite maxims, “Nav sucks.” His delivery of anything he uttered, which for Pops was not much, always came out low pitched, from the side of his mouth. My sense of humor at the time, quickly meshed with Pops’ dry Montana wit. With a shared glance and one word, we could sum up and convey our thoughts about a complex observance, “Sucks” he would say, to which the quick response was a nod and a word, “sucks.”

“The destroyer is different from the rest of the ships. It is small, fast and personal. No other ship offers the experience that a destroyer does in any sea state. Long after they are gone, their crews remember.” These are words posted to a destroyer website and they are quite true.

At the end of our deployment to Vietnam, by some circumstance, the Captain arranged to take our ship to Australia for his change of command ceremony. There, he would turn the O’BRIEN over to another Captain for the return trip home. Our Australian odyssey was, until that moment, unplanned, and presented some tough choices for some of us. A number of reserve sailors, including me, were advised in September that we would be eligible for early release from our active duty commitment as soon as we got home; some of the guys got up to a year taken off their active duty hitch—my reduction amounted to about 11-months. In the Philippines we reserves were given the option to ride the ship to Australia for a 2-week vacation, then take it home, or leave the ship at Subic Bay and fly home for immediate release. I took the Australia trip, never having been one to pass up an opportunity for an adventure.

For the first time since leaving Long Beach, we detached from our squadron for a ship movement and sailed alone for the rest of our time at sea—about 10,000 miles across the South Pacific. Our route south from the Philippines took us to Manus in the Admiralty Islands for fuel. Manus was a British Naval installation and for some reason, we were not to let anyone know we were there—something to do with political problems was the rumor. The island was hot, dry, but with lush vegetation and the Brits wore tropical white shorts. And for the first time, we saw South Sea natives row their outriggers up to the side of the ship to try and sell some of their handcrafts...it was right out of a Captain Cook tale. After Manus, we sailed through the Solomon Sea and the Coral Sea, both locations of huge sea battles during WWII, and continuing south to Brisbane for a week, then another week in Sydney.

However, before we arrived at Manus, we held a second Equator crossing ceremony northwest of the Admiralties. As a result of the earlier equator crossing south of Singapore, most of the crew were “Shellbacks” and the unfortunate few that had joined the crew since late July were severely outnumbered. The Captain proclaimed that only a few of the “Shellbacks” would initiate the “Polywogs” into the mysteries of the deep, thus protecting them from potential injury.

It is a serious Navy “no-no” to lean or pull on the lifelines and protective railings if you really don’t need them. As the afternoon initiation ceremony unfolded, the Captain decided to observe the festivities from the helicopter deck, one level up from the main deck where the initiations were taking place. Surrounding the helicopter deck was a series of adjustable life lines/railings that could be laid horizontal when flying a helicopter, but brought up to a vertical position, providing a safety rail while underway. These railings were to be locked with pins when they were upright in order to fix them into position. Someone had forgotten to pin them, and when the Captain leaned on one of the rails, some said he did a very nice half-gainer off the port side and quickly disappeared into the wake.


The ship was underway at its usual 17-knot cruise speed, the officer of the deck (OOD) on the bridge was the least experienced Ensign on board (due to the Shellback festivities), and the aft lookout was a black sailor whose enunciation was difficult to understand when he was unexcited. There was a yell, “Man Overboard” and the aft lookout began screaming to the bridge through his sound-powered phones—his screams were utterly unintelligible on the bridge and the ship steamed on at 17-knots. When the word was finally understood on the bridge, the inexperience of the young OOD kicked in.

A normal man overboard recovery involved a 60-degree turn, quickly followed by a 240-degree turn in the opposite direction to establish a straight-line course back to the man in the water (a Williamson turn).  There was no reduction in speed until making the final approach and it normally took about 10-12 minutes to recover your man. Unfortunately, the young OOD was apparently unfamiliar with this procedure and ordered “Full Reverse” to the engine room. The ship shuttered to a very, very slow stop—it takes quite a bit of time and distance to halt 3000 Tons doing 17-knots. Then, it takes quite a bit more time to get it going again. I think it took us about 30-minutes or more to recover our Captain, during which time he was treading water, alone in the South Pacific, no life jacket or life ring, and about 200-300 miles from the nearest land. Good thing for him, he wasn't a Captain Bligh...the crew liked him.

Crew members had certain pre-assigned duties in the event of a man going overboard and as a part of our continuous training, we had conducted a number of drills where a dummy was thrown overboard for practice recoveries. So on this day, almost everyone else (except the young OOD) went about their jobs without confusion and of course we had plenty of time to get to our stations. Radarmen marked the approximate spot and continuously called out bearings and ranges, Lookouts kept their binoculars scanning the surface, Gunnies went for the rifles to shoot sharks, others went for life rings, and I think there might have been some recovery swimmers as well. Other members of the crew were available for whatever was needed. I didn’t have a specific assignment for these events, unless on underway watch, and so I went down to the berthing compartment for my camera—this event had to be recorded. I believe I was the only one to do that, and may have come away with the only visual record of this most unusual event—a United States Navy Captain falling off his own ship in peaceful waters.

When I returned to the berthing compartment, Pops glanced at me, spotted the camera and out of the side of his mouth growled, “You get it?” “Yep,” I replied. He rolled his eyes a little, and out of the side of his mouth exhaled, “Nav sucks.” I grinned, lowered my eyes, and shook my head. Not much longer for me, I thought.

Captain George W. Farris was pulled back aboard his ship, and the Equator crossing festivities were ended. We continued on to Manus, and then to Australia where Capt. Farris relinquished command and headed for an assignment in Washington, D.C. I have not spoken with very many Navy veterans of that time, but I did hear there was, for a long time, a sea story circulating through the 7th Fleet that a Captain had fallen overboard from his own ship, but it was an unconfirmed rumor.


However, there is this one picture. . .


***

They that go down to the sea in ships,
that do business in great waters;
These see the works of the LORD,
and His wonders in the deep. . .

For He commandeth,
and raiseth the stormy wind,
which lifteth up the waves thereof.
They mount up to the heaven,
they go down again to the depths:
their soul is melted because of trouble.
They reel to and fro,
and stagger like a drunken man,
and are at their wits' end.
Then they cry unto the LORD in their trouble,
and He bringeth them out of their distresses.
He maketh the storm a calm,
so that the waves thereof are still.
Then are they glad because they be quiet;
so He bringeth them unto their desired haven.

Psalms, 107:23-30