The date of the event 20 years ago slipped by, but it is a moment in the history of the US Navy worth keeping in mind: 4/12/1988, the day the Crew of the USS SAMUEL B ROBERTS (FFG-58) tangled with an Iranian mine and came out winners.

I found my way to a story in the Mayport Mirror of the 20th anniversary ceremony held at Bath Iron Works in Portland, Maine by backtracking search engine hits on this blog:

USS Samuel B. Roberts Honors Ship’s Past

From USS Samuel B. Roberts

USS Samuel B. Roberts (FFG 58) joined former shipmates in remembering a blast in the ship’s history.

On April 14, 1988, Sammy B. was rocked by a mine blast while underway in the Persian Gulf. USS Samuel B. Roberts Commanding Officer, Cmdr. Wally Lovely, and five other crew members traveled to Portland, Maine on April 11 to commemorate the 20-year anniversary of the mine blast. The weekend of remembrance included a welcoming reception, a presentation from Bath Iron Works Corporation, the company that built Sammy B., and concluded with a ceremonial dinner in downtown Portland.
[…]

Noted in the text of the article:

Retired Capt. Paul X. Rinn, the first commanding officer of Sammy B., was in command during the mine incident. He gave accounts of the heroism, loyalty, and devotion to duty which he saw firsthand. Rinn referenced a brief he received from Naval Sea Systems Command who determined that the mine blast “should have sunk the ship in less than thirty minutes.”

He ended his remarks by stating that “the ship would have sunk had it not been for the expertise and hard work of the members of BIW, and the dedication and determination of the crew.”

Words worth considering about professional ship builders, team work and training. If you haven’t read the “long form” of this comment, then you have missed a well done documentation of the entire history of this fateful day by Brad Peniston. Get your hands on a copy of “No Higher Honor” Children of the Corn divx and settle down for an engaging read.

In the meantime, BZ to the Captain and Crew of the Sammie B who spilled their blood and sweat to bring her home and the BIW workers who put her back to sea.

Quicksand release

Required reading: Eagle1 on aiming the ship’s guns

and Fred Fry’s Maritime Monday 112!
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Memorial Day, 2008. I’m going to take a moment to talk about a man who never had a ship named after him, but he is someone I knew, no longer with us, who served, so this is my memorial to him.

CDR David Martin, USN. I met CDR Martin 4/4/1977 as part of my check in process aboard my first command assigned as ship’s company. He was the Executive Officer of USS MILWAUKEE (AOR-2). He was an 1110 (Surface Warfare Officer) working for a captain who was a submariner.  As we sat in his stateroom/office in the after superstructure and he scanned my service record (it was pretty thin back then), he said “Great! You’ve been to Legal School!”  I don’t recall a lot more of the conversation, but it was a Monday, I had sort of dropped into their lap on short notice, but, they had a need for a Combat Information Officer (CICO), as ENS Ralston was leaving soon, and I was it.

Dave was tall and thin. Bald on top, a smoker, and a seeming no nonsense guy. I recall is that in the about 18 months I served with him, I never heard him raise his voice. What he directed to be done just was. The one time I did see him upset was when the “trolls” (his term for the shore establishment) had screwed us over. I don’t recall what it was they did, but, given his temperament it had to have been something of great significance. That lesson stays with me, as a model of leadership that did not have to be shrill, profane or abusive to have a well run organization.

He got things done, with out directing. He took everything in stride and flexed to keep the organization running. To add to this story, the MILWAUKEE being what she was, was manned with a significant number of experienced crew members, to include many limited duty officers and warrant officers. That made his job easier, but he certainly was a major element in setting the command attitude.

I think the second week I was aboard, we went underway in the VACAPES OPAREA to conduct replenishment operations with a CVN. CDR Martin had indicated I would be assigned to the collateral position as Helicopter Control Officer (HCO), which, in this case, meant I was the “airport supervisor.” I worked from the control tower, located between the two helo hangers. It was an interior spaces, equipped with the controls for the traffic light to indicate deck status, radios and internal communications circuits and room for three people comfortably. It was about 3AM one morning when Dave knocked on my door and told me it was time to start learning. We headed up to the helo tower and it was so dark, all that you cold see was the scene on the flight deck, illuminated by red flood lights. There was no moon and it was overcast, so everything else around us was pitch black. That began my time as the person sitting in the tower and coordinating the movement of the twin rotored CH-46 SeaKnights for two years. I assume, and I never thought to ask, Dave had been responsible before that, but I might be mistaken. Hours later, well after the sun had risen and the clouds had cleared, I had seen my first of many major ammo moving evolutions of my career. I was on my way to being the person responsible for ensuring the safe and efficient execution of many more event such as this.

As Public Affairs Officer and Legal Officer, I spent many hours in CDR Martin’s office going over issues from Courts Martial proceeding, administrative separations, Captain’s Mast (Article 15) and Hometown News Release stories. He was fair minded and through, but not a micromanager. He had a dry sense of humor and did regularly refer to the trolls on the beach. Along with just business came much subtle career counseling.

Being but a young married Ensign, and having one car, Dave indicated he would be happy to pick me up and bring me home. In my inexperience, I certainly noted the economy, but failed to understand, before saying yes to the offer, that I would be working the XO’s hours. That, actually, didn’t come to be a conscious thought until much later on. Anyway, Dave’s house was in the Princess Anne Plaza area of Virginia Beach, and I was in the Pembroke vicinity, not far from the mall in an apartment. The other car pooler, who always rode shotgun, was LCDR Leo Pivonka, the Ship’s First LT. I was relegated to the rear seat, and was able to listen in on the many discussions between two very experienced officers had regarding a variety of topics, mostly dealing with the operation of the ship. That was an education you couldn’t have paid for, then or now.

The XO and First LT always worked beyond the end of the work day, but the advantage was more work got done, and you still got home about the same time. If you left around 4PM, you sat on I-64 and/or the Virginia Beach “Expressway” in traffic, and you got home in about an hour. If you waited until about 4:45 to 5PM to leave the Norfolk Base, you pretty much drove straight home in about 30 minutes (it was 18 miles to my door). Dave taught me that, not by telling me, but showing me during our time inport.

Dave left during our Med Cruise and was relieved by CDR Al Leightly. I recall he left and went to the Board of Inspection and Survey (INSURV), but he may have gone to the Propulsion Examination Board (PEB) first. After he departed, he continued to mentor me along, now in a more obvious format, via letters, providing guidance in response to my questions.

As Dave approached his retirement, he went for his final physical exam. While having and EKG, they noted he had a minor heart attack. A few days later, three days from retirement, CDR Martin passed away in his sleep. He left behind his wonderful wife, Mame and two teenage sons.

CDR Martin also left an indelible mark on me. How to lead was the deepest one, and throughout my career, I constantly would consider the model he presented for me as to how to approach the next challenge, particularly while I was in my XO job.

The only other piece of Dave’s career I can remember is him telling me he had been the Navigator for the USS NORTHHAMPTON (CC-1). I thought he was a graduate of King’s Point, but a check with them doesn’t show him as a student at the Merchant Marine Academy.

Not all those who served have ship’s named after them, yet they all are part of the engine of freedom. CDR Dave Martin is one of them.

And he said, when the lines were singled: “You did everything I’d do, but 30 seconds later.”

It is a real statement made to me, after morring at Naval Weapons Station, Yorktown, VA for an offload of ordnance.

about 45 minutes earlier, Captain Maixner asked “Have you ever taken one (SPRUANCE Class DD) to the pier without tugs?”

What brought this stroy back from the memory banks is the current events…of how one can sit and listen to someone for 20+ years, then decide what is being said is depicable…

More later…work calls…but…it is a good story about life aboard a Navy vessel…

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Required reading: Fred Fry’s Maritime Monday 109 (whew! that’s a lot of blogging!) and The Big Squeeze at Eagle1’s Sunday Ship History series.
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I’m behind, but…having fun with mental challenges or making data tell a story.

Speaking of stories, the past few weeks have driven home a point that not all our heros have had ships named after them. Sure, that’s obvious, but I will begin to devote some time to pulling together some other material, something like the series that launched Matt Burden’s Black Five blog with the “Someone You Should Know” posts.

I have ordered Inferno: The Epic Life and Death Struggle of the USS Franklin in World War II”, spurred on by the post in March by SteelJaw Scribe about the almost loss of USS FRANKLIN (CV-13). I am in contact with the son of a man who’s father died that fateful day and did his share to save some of his shipmates.

In the interim, here’s a link to a past Monday Maritime Matters, for those of you who came to class late:

CDR George Rentz, USN, Chaplin Corps is a hero worth reading about this day. He went down with the ship, so other might have a chance to survive.

Required reading: Fred Fry’s Maritime Monday 108 and Eagle 1’s link to the US Naval Institutes’s “Americans at War” interview series.
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Today’s subject:

ADM Jesse Oldendorf, USNBorn February 16th, 1887, he graduated from the US Naval Academy in 1909.Jesse Oldendorf was a man who achieved something other surface officers never got to do: He went toe to toe in a night action, battleship to battleship.

Born February 16th, 1887, he graduated from the US Naval Academy in 1909. From the Microworks site, some background of this battle tested officer:

Oldendorf made pre-WWI cruises in cruisers and destroyers, commanded the armed guard of a freighter and was officer aboard a transport. Both of the latter ships sank. Then he was engineering officer aboard the cruiser Seattle, and exec of the transport Patricia. Land assignments in Pittsburgh and Baltimore followed, as did an assignment as flag secretary to three successive commanders, Special Service Squadron.

Was aide to three commandants of the navy, and CO of the destroyer Decatur (DD-341).

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Was navigation officer of battleship New York and taught navigation at the Naval Academy. Commanded cruiser Houston until September 1941, then went to the staff of the Naval War College. In February 1942, he was assigned to command the Aruba-Curacao sector in the Caribbean, a vital chokepoint of coastal and tanker traffic, in the rank of Rear-Admiral. In August 1942, he was moved to the Trinidad sector. He remained in the anti-submarine business when transfered to Argentia, Newfoundland, as Commander, Western Atlantic convoy escorts, from May to December 1943.

He appeared in the Pacific in January 1944 as commander, Cruiser Division Four, flagship Louisville, and supported the landings in the Marshalls, Palaus, Marianas, and Leyte Gulf. There, he led his bombardment force to intercept the enemy’s Southern Force and annihilated the Japanese with minimal losses to his own force. He then commanded his units on a sweep following the Southern Force.

On the night of 24 October, 1944, he led a battle force into the Surigao Strait to “cross the tee” of the approaching Japanese Southern Force in the early morning hours of 25 October.

His capital units were the phoenixes of the US Navy (West Virginia The Tailor of Panama movies , Maryland, Mississippi Straight-Jacket film

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• The Conversation

) who took their fury to the Japanese battleships and escorts, besting them in a night battle (which was specialty of the Japanese at the beginning of WWII), sounding defeating them in detail, while supporting forces from PT boats, to subs and destroyers and cruisers, that harassed and channeled the enemy to their destruction.

ASW, amphibious landing support by gunfire, and ship to ship slug fests. What a life, what a career.

ADM Oldendorf retired in 1948 at the rank of Admiral (four stars), and passed away April 27th, 1974.

And the vessel that carried his name to sea:

USS OLENDORF (DD-972)Commissioned March 4th, 1978, USS OLDENDORF (DD-972) was the 10th hull of the SPRUANCE Class of destroyers. Initially homeported in Everett, WA, she later was re-assigned to the forward deployed homeport of Yokosuka, Japan. in 1991, she changed her homeport to San Diego, CA. OLDENDORF deployed to the Pacific theater, the Indian Ocean and the Perisan Gulf, as well as performing duties in drug interdiction operations off South America.

USS OLDENDORF (DD-972) was decommissioned June 20th, 2003 and was sunk as a gunnery target by the USS RUSSEL (DDG-59) in 2005.

Post updated 4/25/2008 to reflect “corrective inputs” from the H-3 Crewman.

USS BONEFISH 24 April, 1988 USS CARR’s motor whaleboat

Photo Credit: Paul Perris on navsource.orgLast year, on this date, I thought I had culminated a series on the USS BONEFISH’s fire. History has proven to be elusive, and the web has made a more accurate description of the day’s events, and some of the issues that got the sub to that day more accessible. At the end of this post, the links to all posts in this series are listed for you to catch up on the events leading up to the rescue operations that day.Today is the 20th anniversary of the fire in the battery well aboard USS BONEFISH (SS-582), approximately 160 miles east of Mayport, FL, while the USS JOHN F KENNEDY (CV-67), the USS CARR (FFG-52) and the BONEFISH were conducting training operations together.

As a result of the posting before, the aircrewman aboard the SH-3 Sea King from the KENNEDY has met with me and described the initial chaos from about 30 feet above the water, as he hoisted submariners to safety. He left a comment letting me know the record of the reports I had heard almost 20 years ago were not completely accurate. I was able to find and contact the then XO of the BONEFISH, who graciously spent his time typing up and forwarding his recollections.

One of the most significant discoveries to date has been the comment left by FT2(SS) Bill Baker, which uncovered a selfless act of one of the three men who perished during the fire. Lt Ray Everts purposely refused to don an EBA mask, so that he could effectively use the periscope, unhindered, to clear the surface, as two surface ships were operating in the area. That decision cost him his life, yet ensured his shipmates were not exposed to a further danger of a collision while coming up.

I have also noted, based on the input from LCDR Pete LeStrange that my understanding that the three men lost had not been on the boat but a few weeks is incorrect. Beginning with this post, and over the next few days, I’ll try to pull more of this information together on the blog for the historical record.

In July last year, Jim Chapman, the AW in the HS-7 helo “Dusty 613” from KENNEDY, and I met to discuss his recollections of the day. Here is the synopsis of the notes I took:

The pilot was LCDR Waickwicz that day. He was the Operations Officer for HS-7. LT Martin was the co-pilot. The helo had been conducting dipping sonar tracking of the BONEFISH when Jim heard the underwater telephone communication indicating there was a fire and they were surfacing. When BONEFISH did get to the surface, they were right there, having gone into a circular pattern to watch the surfacing. The hatches opened and the black smoke was pouring out. Jim manned the rescue hoist and got to work, which ended up being about 2 hours of hovering. Jim said their secondary concern, as he got the sub crew aboard, was that the sub might explode and there they were, not many feet above, most certainly at risk, but they stayed in the hover, getting about 10 to 11 men abaord.

Consider that situation further: It was a hot day, and hot days have thinner air, which then reduces the lift of any aircraft, so hovering close to the surface, let alone above a burning vessel, is a feat of airmanship. LDCR Waickwicz and his co-pilot handled the task until they had all they could manage to get to the relative safety of the H-3.

Jim described the situation after he got some of the BONEFISH men in the helo as an extremely difficult one. Manning the aft area of the helo alone with only a very junior second crewman, he was the hoist operator and manager of the wounded, which mostly were the badly burned sailors. Jim was laying on the deck of the helo, head out of the starboard side door, using one of his legs to help hold down one sailor who was convulsing. Jim had to consider the operations of hoisting the next most urgent cases, while keeping people from falling back into the sea, while his other aircrewman tended to the wounded and kept a head count.

At one point, a sailor on the sub refused to take the collar and indicated that the helo should head to the area of the aft deck hatch. They did and sent the hoist back down, actual lowering it into the sub. Then they got the signal to hoist up. something was stuck below and as the helo labored to stay airborne, while the blades were flexing (I take that as an sign that the helo is nearing the edge of the performance envelope), and with Jims’ hand on the “guillotine” (the cable cutting safety device switch) out of the rear hatch, a sailor weighing about 250 pounds literally popped out, just before he was about to chop the cable to save the helo.

Jim told me at one point a sailor did don the “horse collar” incorrectly, but once he began to bring him up, he assessed the situation as being safe enough and brought him all the way up, so he could get more men hoisted faster. Capt Johnson had told me this was the reason why he demanded the H-3 leave, and Jim told me LCDR Waicwiaz refused, remaining in position to effect more rescues.

Jim’s helo deposited their survivors on the CARR and got airborne, with the last flight of the day being to take six of the critical cases to the KENNEDY for further medical treatment.

Jim’s glimpse into Dusty 613 helped my understanding of the events that day and tells the story of some very professional action taken by his crew to get the BONEFISH crew to safety. He did tell me his eyes were exceptionally irritated for the next 4-5 days, most certainly a result of the toxic smoke he was hovering in for several hours.

Jim’s helo was not the only KENNEDY bird in the air that day. When BONEFISH surfaced he said 3-4 more H-3s were launched to assist. What they did, we’ll have to hope for more detail later. Jim also commented that hoist in his H-3 performed flawlessly, which, we’d like to think all equipment does, but he said there was known problems with those hoists, where they didn’t allow for extended use, so this was another bit or remarkable events surrounding the day.

Jim and his pilot co-authored articles on the operation that day that were published in Approach

• Numb video

The Conversation dvdrip and All Hands magazines just before 9/11 happened. I haven’t yet tried to chase down those in the archives for review. If anyone has a source, I’d appreciate a link/point of contact.

FT2 Baker left this comment on the VI post, and it’s worth bringing to the “front page” of the blog for reading:

Bill Baker FT2(SS) | [email protected] |

Funny, I was looking for something else and came across this.I have read Richard’s recollection of it many times. I will give you some of my remembrances:I was on watch as messenger of the watch at the time of the accident (we didn’t run a full time FTOW -Fire Control Technician of the Watch because it was the old Mk101 system).When the call came out “Fire in Berthing, Fire on Third Street”, I sounded the general alarm. I then got out an EAB for me and one for the officer of the Deck (Lt. Ray Everts). The OOD disregarded the EAB to take the ship to PD. If anyone has ever been on a scope with an EAB on, you know that you can’t really do a good search. I believe he disregarded it because of the Carr and Kennedy being in the area, he wanted to get to PD quickly but more importantly, safely. While the boat was on the way to PD, I heard what can only be described as the sound you hear when you throw an old wet decomposing log on a fire. That crackling sound. At that point, smoke entered the control room. I have never believed in smoke as a living thing, but the smoke looked like a hand closing around Lt. Everts. At that point, things are a bit fuzzy. Things I do remember are my EAB getting filled with warm smoke (which I later found out was the dirt, oil, dust from the MSA filters installed in the system burning off). The entire ship went black and literally, you could not see your hand in front of your face.
The next thing I remember was a couple of hands raking down my arm and someone wheezing “Help, I can’t breathe”. I didn’t know who it was but found the persons head, took my own EAB off and put it on his face. Immediately his hands flew to the facemask and I realized he didn’t want to give it back. I forcibly took it back, took 3 breaths and gave it back to him and told him we were going to buddy breath while I secure another mask. When he had the mask, I got out another one. We buddy breathed till I got the mask setup. During all this, the CO came into control and stated “XO, it’s not worth it. Abandon ship”. I know that the word went out on the 1MC. I later heard that people aft of the engine room door didn’t hear the word.

I lost track of Lt. Everts at this time. I know from other accounts that he went to the bridge (without an EAB), tried to open the bridge hatch, but couldn’t. It was known on-board that the dogs were misaligned, but Lt. Everts came from our sister ship Barbel (SS-580) and was already qualified the ship. Squadron also knew that the hatches were messed up but when the TM1 who transferred to squadron tried to do hatch inspections and they started failing, he was ordered to stop. The inspections were later nowhere to be found. Anyway, I saw Lt. Everts on the deck nearby. I grabbed him, got out another EAB and put it on him. I will never forget the next events. I had Lt. Everts head in my lap and I was sitting cross legged. Lt. Ellsworth had gotten the hatch open and the smoke was starting to clear. Lt. Everts proceeded to go into convulsions from smoke inhalation and looked me directly in the eyes. Just thinking it caused a picture of it in my mind that was as vivid as the day it happened. I heard someone calling for people by station to leave. I distinctly heard helmsman, planesman, etc. What I never heard was messenger. The control room got deathly quiet. I called out “is anyone there” and got no response. I did it again, and then lifted the mask thinking people couldn’t hear me because I had the EAB on. Again, I heard nothing. Lt. Everts breathing became very shallow and he was unresponsive. I looked down at him and thought to myself, I can stay here and die with him, or I can get out. I chose the latter. I stood up, and then did the stupidest thing in my entire life. I took the mask off and then attempted to get it free of my belt. In my panic, I ended up pulling my entire belt off. While attempting to locate the bridge trunk, I found the chart table next to the DRT table had come down blocking the ladder. I climbed over it and got about half way up the trunk when I heard my wife’s voice “they aren’t going to do anything about that boat till it kills someone”. My response was always “I’m not going to leave you a rich widow”. I then made it to the upper level and told someone up there I was the last man alive out of control. Funny thing was, Tony Silvia was behind me coming out of the hatch and he had the connection of an EAB in his hand. Tony was in distress. On the other end was Bob Bordelon. Shawn Glappa dropped down to the nav level and was attempting to push Bob up. I had hold of his “poopy suit” at the collar. None of the three of us was able to pull Bob up. Bob was not a big guy, but our strength was just sapped. I can still hear the sound of his body tumbling down the trunk.
Tony was taken off from the fairwater planes by helo. I ended up on the aft deck just past the sail. When the boat would go down in the wave, it would lift us up and when the boat would come back up, we would scramble back to the center and attempt to hold onto the safety track and each other.
When it was my turn to go, I go up, went to the side of the sail and threw my new sneakers into the water. When the lifeboat got close and the boat was up and going down, I jumped on top of the raft and pulled myself inside. The next 2 hours were some of the worst in my life. I was seasick and the only place I could throw up was to unzip my poopy suit and throw up into it. I was by a hatch but couldn’t lean out. I remember just wanting to close my eyes and sleep. TMC Blackburn grabbed my hand and told me I could close my eyes, but I had to occasionally squeeze his hand to let him know I was still alive. I appreciated that. After a while, a diver came to the hatch and we were taken out one by one to a helicopter. I remember when I was in the water with the guy holding me, telling me what was going to happen, I threw up on him. To his credit, he just washed it off and kept going. He later ended up on the Kennedy on a makeshift bed next to me. He had rescued about twice the number of people he was supposed to.
From the helo, I was deposited on the Carr and I remember a gung ho corpsman (he had just finished a tour with the marines) came up to me. All I wanted was to get horizontal. They took my clothes and gave me a dry poopy suit and I lay down. I got an IV and then transferred me to the Kennedy. When the chopper started to take off, the door was open, I was strapped into a stretcher and the stretcher moved. I grabbed the post holding the seats and held on for dear life.

While aboard the Kennedy, they had a fire. I remember having trouble getting to sleep (couldn’t breathe well and throat was sore). On the CCTV was a Captains mast when the fire alarm went off. No one moved. I questioned what I was to do and they told me to go to bed, the fire department will take care of it.

The next day, we go on a helo and were taken to the hospital. En-route, I was allowed to put on a harness and look out the open door. It was cool.

Once at the hospital, they did triage and it was determined that I had pretty extensive smoke inhalation. I ended up on oxygen and albuteral. I was finally able to get in touch with my wife and family. Maybe another time I will tell you what she went through during all this. Suffice it to say, squadron was very unprepared for something like this to happen.

I was discharged a few days later and went home.

There were some definite heroes that day:
Lt. Everts – For getting the ship safely to PD and the surface.
Tony Silvia – For trying to save Bob Bordelons life.
??? Ledbetter – For jumping in and getting the life rafts to the boat when they were dropped off.
Rescue swimmers – For going above and beyond.
Jim Yates – For telling squadron about the hatches -though they shut him down on this.
TMC ??? – Who tried like hell to get squadron to allow the hatches to be inspected.
Lt. Ellsworth – For getting up there and getting the hatch open.

There were also some not so heroes. I will not mention names. I will say that there is only one person whom I feel will need to answer a higher power at some point. He ordered a young seaman to let him out of the torpedo room because he wanted to be “Johnny on the spot” and ended up needing rescue not once, but twice. He wouldn’t have needed it at all if he had just stayed where he was. He needlessly risked his life and those of his shipmates. Definitely not someone I would ever want to serve on a submarine with ever again.

Apr 15, 2:28 PM — [] — A Date with Destiny – Part VI

• Dust Devil hd

I sent the link to the XO and he indicated, that of the many interviews conducted in the days following the event, this report hadn’t made it’s way up the reporting chain. More history, more heroism that happened.

Pete was kind enough to send his story, and a detailed one it was. The months before, and some of the issues that arose, as well as the report as one who stood staring into the battery well at glowing cheery red connector links on the battery, before being inundated by a fire ball caused by an HP air line rupturing and feeding the fire. I have posted the .pdf here.

It begins here:

These notes will chronologically cover the 18 months that I was associated with the USS Bonefish (SS 582) from reporting aboard as XO in early January 1988 to the sale of the ship for scrap in approximately June 1989. There are an infinite number of rumors, sea stories and other perspectives floating around regarding Bonefish, the fire itself, and the ship’s subsequent last days as a US Navy asset. I will comment or provide descriptions for only what I personally know to be true. If I provide any beliefs or opinions they will be clearly identified as such. That said, here we go:

January 1988: I report aboard Bonefish and assume duties as the XO. I did meet my predecessor; however, it was not exactly a contact relief. He had been diagnosed as having diabetes and was therefore being medically disqualified for continued submarine duty. As I recall, we had only a few hours to converse on the status of the unit before he departed and I had the job. Over the next few days I learned that the ship had last been to sea in the fall of 1987 and had returned from sea with a number of significant mechanical issues, including severe problems with the main engines, the air compressors and the fresh water still. It appeared that it was going to take some time to return the ship to a sea worthy status. Additionally, crew morale seemed to be very low at that point, although they were all working hard in trying repair and maintain the submarine.
[…]

I’ll have to get back to reducing some of his point to blend with the rest of the story later today, but if you value lessons learned, there are many there to go around.

One part of the story I have not taken the time to dig for is the towing and salvage operation. A short note last year mentioned a past shipmate of the writer had been the CO of USS HOIST (ARS-40), who was tasked with securing the partially flooded and burnt hull of the BONEFISH at sea. It sounds like it had been quite a chore, but, as with the rest of the story, another part of the professionalism demonstrated in the emergency 20 years ago today.

I plan to continue to update this story as I uncover, or am provided with, more information.

My thanks to Jim Chapman and Pete LeStrange, and to all the commenters with first hand information of this moment in time.

Update 4/28/2008: Added a link to the current bio of RADM Waickwicz (and corrected the spelling of his name).

Seems like Eagle1 and I are behind the power curve again…

Been a wild weekend, showing the boss how to make use of a 35K long list in Excel…reminds me of planning operations at sea, it does. At sea “second nature” skills seems to flow freely to the top. and astonished longs are all around.

Please mark your reading calenders for the 24th. Something big is in the works, for a special edition of Maritime Matters.

Check later today for a real post in this space. Amuse yourselves by reading Fred Fry’s Maritime Monday 107 Martyrs video download Shock Waves and check out how DCTT procedures have made their way outside the haze gray lifelines!

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VADM Aaron Merrill, USN, was another hero of the Pacific Campaign in WWII, like ADM Conolly I documented last Monday. Born March 20th, 1890 in Plantation Stanton, Mississippi, the grandson of a Civil War veteran, and was given the same nickname as his Grandfather: “Tip,” derived from service at the Battle of Tippecanoe. The Miracle Maker psp

Graduating from the US Naval Academy in 1912, Aaron Merrill was assigned to the USS LOUISIANA and then USS TENNESSEE, and was deployed to the Mediterranean to protect US interests in the area during the Crimean War.

He sounds like a sailor’s sailor. From a page at Geocities, a long and impressive list of sea and shore tours is seen:

Jan 1913-July 1914 He volunteered for duty in the gunboat USS Scorpion and served in the Black Sea and Eastern Mediterranean with Constantinople, Turkey as home port. He was engineering officer.

13 Oct 1914 to 18 June 1916 Following brief duty with the Practice Squadron at the Naval Academy, he served duty on the destroyer USS Roe and then duty on the USS Conyngham. The Conyngham was a ship of the “Mayflower Division” which was the first United States Unit to participate in World War I.

He trained officers and personnel for new Destroyers at San Francisco, CA; he was Executive Officer at Naval Training Camp, Detroit, MI. The last months of World War I he was aboard the USS Aylwin (DD-47), a unit of the Destroyer Force based in Plymouth, England.

March 1919 He went to Harwich, England where he assumed command of the USS Harvard. Under his command it sailed the English Channel, Baltic Sea and the Gulf of Finland.

June to Nov 1919 He was executive Officer of the Lafayette Radio Station being built in Crois d’Hins, France.

Nov 1919-Aug 1923 Merrill, who had been promoted to the temporary rank of Lieutenant commander, reported for duty as Flag Lieutenant, and later as Intelligence Officer, on the staff of Rear Admiral Mark L. Bristol, United States High Commissioner to Turkey and Commander of United States Naval Forces in the Eastern Mediterranean.

It was in Constantinople, Turkey he met Louise Witherbee, whom he married in New York in January 1922, returning to Constantinople after a brief honeymoon in the States.

Aug 1923 He had several months’ duty in the Receiving Ship, New York, NY.

Mar 1924-July 1925 Consecutive service as Communications Officer of the USS Nevada and Commander of the USS McCormick bound for China.

July 1925 Commander of the gunboat USS Elcano, operating with the Asiatic Fleet in the upper reaches of the Yangtze River.

7 Aug 1926 He reported for duty as Squadron Engineer of Destroyer Squadron, Asiatic Fleet.

Summer 1927 Duty in the Office of Naval Intelligence, Office of the Chief of Naval Operations, Navy Department, Washington, DC.

June 1929 Commander of the USS Williamson a unit of the Scouting Fleet.

June 1932 After three years at sea he was promoted to the rank of Commander and again assigned for a year to the Office of Naval Intelligence, Washington, DC.

June 1933 to 01 May 1934 Aide to the Assistant Secretary of the Navy, Henry Latrobe Roosevelt.

1 June 1935 Commander Merrill was assigned to the 8″gun cruiser USS Pensacola. He was aboard when she conveyed the remains of the Ambassador to the United States, Paul May, to his home in Antwerp, Belgium. Merrill was honored as an Officer of the Order of the Crown by the Belgium Government for his service.

8 June 1936 He was ordered to command Destroyer Division Eight, flying his pennant on the USS Barry (DD-248).

May 1937-38 Assigned as Naval Attaché for Air at the American Embassy, Santiago, Chile. During his period he cruised extensively with the Chilean Fleet. He was the first foreigner to round the Horn in a Chilean Man-of-war. For his service to Chile, he was awarded the Order al Merito Grade de Comendador by the Government of Chile.

1938-1939 Merrill completed the senior course at the Naval War College, Newport, RI which was climaxed by his promotion to Captain.

1939-1940 He commanded Destroyer Division of Leaders in the Pacific with the USS Sommers as his Flagship.

Early 1941 He requested duty as Professor Naval Science and Tactics, Tulane University, New Orleans, LA. He was serving there with the Naval Reserve Officers’ Training Corps Unit when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor on 7 December 1941.

April 1942 Relieved of duty at Tulane University, Aaron Stanton Merrill became the first commanding officer of the new Battleship USS Indiana, BB-58. He assumed command upon her commissioning, 30 April 1942

23 Jan 1943 Relieved as Captain of the USS Indiana by Captain Thomas Green Peyton

11 Feb 1943 His nomination as Rear Admiral was confirmed by the Senate, and he assumed command of the 12th Light Cruiser Division. This Division comprised the new cruisers USS Montpelier, USS Columbia, USS Cleveland and USS Denver. After a brief period of training, Cruiser Division 12 was assigned to Task Force 38 under the command of Rear Admiral Giffin, and based at Havana Harbor in the New Hebrides Islands. USS Montpelier was his Flagship.

Cruiser Division 12 got its first bloody nose the night of 30 January 1943 in the night battle of Rennell Island. The heavy cruiser USS CHICAGO was torpedoed in this action by Jap planes and sunk by torpedo planes the following day while under tow.

Shortly after the Rennell Island action, Admiral Giffin’s Division of Heavy Cruisers were ordered to Alaskan waters, and Admiral Merrill fell heir to The Task Force which “won its spurs” as Task Force 36.2

Mar 1943 to Mar 1944 Under his command Task Force 36.2 operated as a unit of the Third Fleet in the Solomon Islands Areas.

15 June 1944-23 April 1945 Director of Office of Public Relations, Navy Department. Shortly after he reported for duty in Washington, Merrill was appointed Navy member of a mission to hold hemispherical defense conversations with the Chilean government in Santiago, Chile. While on this duty, he laid the groundwork for an American Naval mission to Chile to replace the traditional British mission which had continued since the days of Admiral Lord Cochrane. For this service he was made “Grand Officer of the Order of Merit ” of Chile.

3 Jan 1946 Commandant of Eight Naval District, New Orleans, LA. In June he was assigned additional duty as Commander of Gulf Sea Frontier. Merrill continued to serve in this command until relieved of active duty pending retirement for physical disability with the rank of Vice Admiral on 1 November 1947

After his retirement Vice Admiral and Mrs Merrill moved to Natchez, MS where they lived until June 1951. They later bought a home at 1503 Valence Street, New Orleans, LA.

28 Feb 1961 Vice Admiral Aaron Stanton Merrill died in Natchez, MS

While the above list is rather dry, it provides details or a career spent in the Fleet, or in direct support of operations, but VADM Merrill’s major significance in WWII was in the opening amphibious assaults made by the Allied Navies in the vicinity of Guadalcanal. He led his four light cruisers and eight destroyers during the fighting in “The Slot” and later being noted for his leadership at the Battle of Empress Augusta Bay. His actions during this battle earned him the Navy Cross.
In VADM Aaron “Tip” Merrill’s honor, the USS MERRILL (DD-976) was commissioned March 11th, 1978.

More later today, but to be brief, the USS MERRILL was stationed in San Diego, and carries the distinction of being the first vessel of the Navy to be fitted with the TOMAHAWK Weapons System (TWS), being designated the “OPEVAL” unit for the system.

The MERRILL was decommissioned on Macrh 26th, 1998 and was sunk in 2003.

Required reading: Sunday Ship History: Really Big Submarine Ideas by Eagle1 and Fred Fry’s Maritime Monday 105 for all things newsworthy in the maritime realm!
BT

A native of Waukegan, IL, Richard L. Conolly was born April 26th, 1892. He entered the Naval Academy and graduated in 1914.

From the DD979.COM website:

After graduation in 1914 he was ordered to Mexican waters where he served in USS VIRGINIA. He continued duty in that battleship until May 1915, when he reported aboard USS MONTANA for torpedo instruction. In November 1915 he rejoined VIRGINIA, and in March 1916 he was assigned to USS VERMONT as Torpedo Officer of that battleship for two months. Transferred in May 1916 to USS SMITH, he was aboard that destroyer when the United States entered World War I, in April 1917, and served aboard SMITH while she performed escort duty in European waters out of Brest, France.

He was awarded the Navy Cross for services while attached to SMITH in connection with salvaging the transport WESTBRIDGE, torpedoed by a German submarine in August 1918, as follows: “For distinguished service in the line of his profession on the occasion of the torpedoing of the WESTBRIDGE, when he, with a party of eight others remained on board for five days steering by hand and handling the lines from the tugs, while the ship was towed four hundred miles to port.”
[..]

Admiral Conolly continued his naval career after WWI, serving on a variety of surface ships, including three destroyers and two battleships, before attaining his first command tour, that being the USS DUPONT (DD-152) in August, 1929.He was there in the opening days of WWII, and escorted the USS HORNET and Gen Dolittle’s raiders across the Pacific.ADM Conolly went on to be in charge of major naval operations in both the Pacific and Atlantic oceans for the remander of the war, then became one of the top officers in the opening days of the Cold War:

Assuming command of Destroyer Division 7 in May 1939, he was transferred to duty as Commander Destroyer Squadron 6 on January 30, 1941. He was at sea, in command of Destroyer Squadron 6 at the time of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. He subsequently participated in the initial attack on the Gilbert and Marshall Islands on February 1, 1942, as part of the gun bombardment force under command of Fleet Admiral William F. Halsey, Jr.; and in April his destroyers served as escort for the aircraft carrier HORNET from which Lieutenant General Doolittle’s Army planes took off for the first bombing of Tokyo. He also participated in a shore bombardment of Wake Island in command of destroyers in Rear Admiral Raymond A. Spruance’s Task Group.

July 2 1943 Operation Husky

Task Force 86 under the command of Rear Admiral Conolly was scheduled to land the 3rd Infantry Division and two Ranger Battalions of the U.S. Army on the beaches of Licata, Sicily.

Admiral Conolly had a most difficult task: that of moving some 25,000 men from Africa to Sicily in a fleet of landing ships, tank; landing craft, tank; and landing craft, infantry, which was designated JOSS Force. Traveling in a convoy of seven columns, they were slowed at times to a speed of two and a half knots by strong winds and heavy seas. This was the first shore-to-shore amphibious operation to make such extensive use of these landing ships. The Sicilian coastline presented a further complication. Because it was known to be fronted with false beaches which would prevent landing ships from placing their troops and equipment on the shore, pontoon causeways were brought along to bridge the gap. The newly developed amphibious truck, called DUKW, was first employed in this operation and met with great success. False beaches presented no problem for the DUKWs, which could continue in land, as needed, with their cargo.

Jan. 31, 1944 Marshall Islands

Rear Admiral Richard L. Conolly commanded the Northern Task Force, responsible for landing troops under Marine Major General Harry Schmidt. These troops were from the Marine 4th Division. Their objectives were Roi and Namur islands in northern Kwajalein Atoll. On Feb. 1, ships responsible for fire support and bombardment moved in to extremely close range, maximizing their effectiveness, killing a significant number of defenders, and earning Conolly the nickname “Close-in,” along with the gratitude of the troops, who were able to come into the beaches standing up. Navy ships and pilots dropped 6,000 tons of heavy explosives before the Marines set foot on Roi-Namur.

D-Plus 1, Roi

During the afternoon of D-Day, Marines of both regimental combat teams transferred from the transports, outside the lagoon, to the LST’s from which (it had been planned) amphibian tractors would in turn run the assault waves into the lagoon and thence to the beaches. Meanwhile, both Admiral Conolly and General Schmidt had already seen the confusion incident to boating the IVAN Landing Group. They concluded that the only realistic course of action would be to move the LST’s inside the lagoon and launch the morrow’s assault amtracs from positions reasonably near the line of departure. Moreover, considering both the scattered location of many tractors, as well as their dwindling fuel supply, movement of the LST’s would bring sources of support nearer the hard-pressed, dispersed vehicles of the 10th Amphibian Tractor Battalion.

July 1944 Guam

Admiral Conolly, the amphibious group commander for that assault, found it hard to obtain reliable information on the reefs around Guam, he sought out the services of an American geologist who had conducted a prewar survey of the island. And it was Conolly’s detailed questioning of the geologist at Pearl Harbor, prior to his sailing for the operational area, that provided him with the confidence that the assault plan for landing the Fifth Amphibious Corps over the western beaches at Guam was viable.

On July 8 1944 four cruisers of Southern Attack Force led off with a 3-day bombardment, firing five thousand five hundred 5- and 8-inch shells on the coastal defenses. From the 12th through the 16th, four battleships fired more than three thousand 14- and 16-inch shells. During the next 4 days 3 battleships were Joined by 2 others and by 6 cruisers, and they blasted the island with more than 16,000 shells. LCI(G)’s (Landing Craft, Infantry [Gunboat]), closing to within a few yards of the reef, raked trenches and pillboxes and reported the location of enemy positions to the heavier ships. Destroyers screened the larger ships and delivered harassing fires at night. Admiral Conolly, directed the bombardment from the flagship, and supervised the destruction of every known gun emplacement that would seriously endanger the assault landing.

On July 21st 1944 Admiral Conolly’s Task Force 53 lands an Assault Force on Guam under the overall command of Marine Major Gen Roy S. Geiger. After three weeks of hard fighting by Major Gen Allen H. Turnage’s 3rd Marine Division and Brig Gen Lemuel C. Shepard Jr’s 1st Provisional Brigade and Army Major Gen Andrew Bruce’s 77th Infantry Division, Guam’s defenders under LtGen Takeshima Takeshi are overwhelmed and the former American territorial island is retaken.

In 1946 Admiral Conolly was a U.S. Naval Advisor to the Council of Foreign Ministers at the Paris Peace Conference.

In 1950 Rear Adm. Richard L. Conolly was the commander of the U.S. fleet in the Mediterranean and east Atlantic.

On April 8, 1950, a United States Navy patrol plane vanished over the Baltic Sea. The plane, carrying four officers and six enlisted men, was a Privateer, a four-engine plane with a tail assembly somewhat resembling that of the B-29. U.S. officials stated that the plane left Wiesbaden Air Base in Germany and that its destination was Copenhagen, Denmark. Some debris was later sighted by search planes, but there were no survivors. The Soviet Government subsequently stated that Russian planes had fired upon a B-29 Flying Fortress after it had failed to comply with orders and had opened fire upon the Soviet planes.

THE PRESIDENT. “There is an investigation, and it has been ordered by Admiral Conolly, and I can make no comment on it until we know all the facts.”

1951-1953, Admiral Conolly, became President of the Naval War College. (Conolly Hall is named in honor of Admiral Conolly.)

ADM Conoyly and his wife died in a commercial plane crash March 1st, 1962.

In honor of Richard Conolly’s long and distinguished service to the Nation, the 17th destroyer of the SPRUANCE Class was commissioned October 14th, 1978. Some trivia about USS CONOLLY (DD-979):

• She was the only one of the 31 “SPRU-Cans” to not have an oval shaped ship’s insignia.
• She was the first SPRUANCE in the Atlantic Fleet to be equipped with TOMAHAWK (in the armored box launchers, as seen above).

CONOLLY was the first DD-963 unit to act as a fleet oiler, delivering about 30K gallons of F-76 to USS JESSE L BROWN (FF-1089) in the South Atlantic.

• There is a “minor mis-alignment” on the structure of the transom, starboard side, where there is a (maybe no longer) matching chunk of concrete pier missing in Dakar, Senegal.
• She did participate in an “OTL” (operational test launch) of a TOMAHAWK Land Attack missile in August, 1986, accompanied by USS IOWA (BB-61), that also fired a TLAM test weapon. These two ships formed a nominal “BBBG” (Battleship Battle Group), supported by USS DOYLE (FFG-39) with a dual SH-60B LAMPS MK III detachment embarked. This exercise was to formulate tactics for the employment of BBBGs for sea control operations. The Officer in Tactical Command was COMDESRON 32.
Until a very recent decision by DoN, USS CONOLLY was to be a museum ship, located at Waukegan, IL on the Great Lakes. She would have been the only SPRUANCE to be saved. Last year, however, the Navy decided to sink her as a target ship. The date is still pending.
• and…then there was the vaccum powered sewage system malfunction…

Assigned to COMDESRON 10 in the Atlantic Fleet after commissioning, CONOLLY spent her entire time in commission homeported in Norfolk, VA. Her first “cruise” was to the Mediterrean in 1981, with her second to the Middle East Force (read: Persian Gulf) in 1982. In the summer of 1983, she sailed south to the Panama Canal to make her third cruise as the flagship for UNITAS XXIV/WATC.

The picture shown is post-1984-85 regular overhaul. I will link in the supporting sea stories and reports about USS CONOLLY this evening.