Standing Into Danger Read online

  STANDING INTO DANGER

  Other Books by Cassie Brown

  Death on the Ice

  A Winter’s Tale

  STANDING

  INTO

  DANGER

  ABRIDGED EDITION

  A dramatic story of shipwreck and rescue

  CASSIE BROWN

  Copyright © 1979 by Cassie Brown.

  This edition copyright © 1985 by Cassie Brown.

  Reprinted 1988 All rights reserved.

  Printed and bound in Canada

  Diagrams and line drawings conceived by Cassie Brown

  Canadian Cataloguing in Publication Data

  Brown, Cassie, 1919-1986.

  Standing into Danger

  Orginally published: Toronto : Doubleday Canada, 1979.

  ISBN 1-894463-02-11.

  1. Truxton (Ship) 2. Wilkes (Ship) 3. Pollux (Ship) 4. Shipwrecks -New-foundland

  5. World War, 1939-19ffl -- Naval operations, American.

  6. St. Lawrence (Nfld.) -- History. 1. Title.

  VK1255.T7B76 1999 971.8 C99-950149-6

  Published in Canada by

  Flanker Press Ltd. P 0 Box 2522, Station C St. John’s, Newfoundland A1C

  6K1

  Tel/Fax: (709) 739-4477

  email: [email protected] Website: www.flankerpress.com

  To the men of the USS Pollux and the

  USS Truxtun who were all heroes,

  and to the people of St. Lawrence and

  Lawn, Newfoundland, for the honor

  and glory they brought to our people.

  CONTENTS

  PREFACE

  PART ONE STANDING INTO DANGER

  PART TWO SHIPWRECK

  PART THREE THE COURT OF INQUIRY

  APPENDIXES

  PREFACE

  THIS IS THE true story of one of the worst disasters in United States naval history. On February 18, 1942, two American destroyers, USS Wilkes and USS Truxtun, and the supply ship USS Pollux ran aground in a storm, less than a couple of miles apart, under sheer cliffs on a lonely stretch of land on the south coast of Newfoundland. The USS Wilkes, the flagship, was refloated within three hours, but the Pollux and the Truxtun were hard aground and were subsequently battered to pieces. Two hundred and three young American sailors died in the heroic struggle for survival. One hundred and eighty-five survived. In large part they owe their lives to eight men of Lawn and almost the entire community of St. Lawrence, Newfoundland, who worked desperately to effect the rescue.

  A United States Naval Court of Inquiry was held at the Argentia Naval Base in Placentia Bay, Newfoundland, from February 20, 1942, to March 9, 1942, after which two courts-martial were conducted in Boston: from June 23 to July 3, 1942, and from July 13 to August 3, 1942.

  The captain and the navigator of the USS Truxtun and all of the ship’s records were lost in the disaster; therefore, navigation data of the Truxtun were not available to the inquiry. Also lost were the records of the USS Pollux.

  The captain and the navigator of the USS Pollux survived, but they were named defendants, and became ineligible to testify. Only the USS Wilkes had complete information pertaining to he hours preceding the groundings. As the flag-ship, the Wilkes bore the brunt of the blame.

  Because of the exigencies of wartime operational requirements and the necessity of returning personnel to wartime duties, the court of inquiry was abruptly terminated on its eighteenth day, although the president of the court had planned to call more witnesses.

  Six officers were recommended for general court-martial. After five months only the division commander, Walter W. Webb, and the commanding officer of the Wilkes, John D. Kelsey, were court-martialed, and it was decided by higher authority (Admiral Ernest J. King) that “radical administrative action short of court-martial proceedings would permit the best over-all war effort.” The court was directed to enter nolle prosequi in the cases of Commander Hugh W. Turney (Pollux), Lieutenant Arthur J. Barrett (Wilkes), Lieutenant William A. Smyth (Wilkes), and Lieutenant William C. Grindley (Pollux). Therefore the suits against them were dropped.

  The radical administrative action ruined the naval career of Lieutenant Smyth and forced the resignation of Lieutenant Grindley from the U.S. Navy. Over the years both men tried unsuccessfully to clear their names. Their in-depth stories are told here for the first time.

  My initial interest in this disaster was in the courageous actions of the American sailors as they fought desperately to save themselves and their shipmates from certain death, and in the exciting drama of the rescue efforts made by the people of Newfoundland. But, as letters and cassettes arrived from the Pollux survivors, it became apparent that the full story of the disaster had not emerged from the court of inquiry or the courts-martial.

  In a taped conversation with Henry Strauss I was told, “The true story is a wild one.”

  Said Alfred Dupuy: “It was rumored that Lieutenant Grind-ley, that night, pleaded with Captain Turney to change course; that the course was wrong that the SOPA [Senior Officer Present Afloat] set.” In Arthur Appel’s story there is also mention of the navigator wanting to change course. Thomas Turner spoke of dissension between the Pollux and the Wilkes: “Our navigation department was trying to convince them that there was trouble brewing, and they wanted a definite change of course to the right, until daybreak, but the division commander would not agree to this.”

  Within the confines of a formal court of inquiry, the facts emerge from specific answers given to specific questions; but more often than not, the human factors attendant on such a tragedy are never revealed. Grindley, as a defendant, was silenced. The nolle prosequi wrote finis to his hopes of clearing his name in a court-martial.

  Basically, this is a book of contradictions; of facts not brought to light during the court of inquiry or the courts-martial, all cut short by the pressing demands of war. The story is told through the eyes and memories of the survivors as well as through the court records. Dialogue has been reproduced from those records, and from the recorded and written recollections of the people I interviewed. Signalman Parkerson’s story is told by the Newfoundland men involved in the rescue of the Truxtun personnel.

  My research began in September, 1974, with time-consuming efforts to trace survivors of the shipwrecks. My thanks go to the women of St. Lawrence who have kept in touch with the men they took into their homes that grim day. From these survivors, who reside from the East Coast to the West Coast of the United States, came other names and addresses. Ultimately, twenty-six of them gave me their stories through letters, cassettes, and personal interviews.

  I wish to express my deepest appreciation to the following men: From the USS Truxtun: Ensign James O. Seamans, Ensign William J. Maddocks, Boatswain’s Mate First Class Harry M. Egner, and Seaman First Class R. Jim Brown. From the USS Pollux: Lieutenant Commander Samuel C. Bostic, Lieutenant William C. Grindley, Lieutenant George C. Bradley, Lieutenant Jack R. Garnaus, Ensign Alfred I. Pollack, Signalman Third Class Warren A. Greenfield, Storekeeper Third Class Alfred M. Dupuy, Fireman First Class Lawrence J. Calemmo, Storekeeper Second Class Laurence A. Weaver, Jr., Boatswain’s Mate Second Class George L. Coleman, Quartermaster Third Class Isaac Henry Strauss, Machinist’s Mate First Class Walter C. Bulanowski, Fireman Second Class James M. Ross, Quartermaster Third Class Thomas R. Turner, Seaman First Class Arthur W. Appel, Fireman Second Class Ernest L. Califano, Boatswain’s Mate Second Class Jack J. Janocha, Storekeeper Third Class Samual L. Nicosia, Seaman First Class Thomas J. McCarron, Shipfitter First Class William L. Stanford, and Apprentice Seaman Wayne Brewer. From the USS Wilkes: Commander John D. Kelsey and Lieutenant William A. Smyth. From the USS Prairie, flagship of the U.S. Naval base in Argentia: Lieutenant Charles R. Longenecker
.

  I also wish to thank the following people of Newfoundland who provided details of the rescue in taped interviews: Ena [Farrell] Edwards, Lillian Loder, Isabel Farrell, Clara Tarrant, Patrick Tarrant, Adam Mullins, Henry Lambert, Theo Etchegary, Gus Etchegary, Gregory Handrigan of St. Lawrence; Joseph Manning of Lawn.

  Thanks are also due Mrs. Harry Hummell of Schuylkill Haven, Pennsylvania, sister of Lieutenant George W. Bollinger; Captain Alex J. Provan, Captain Dennis Drown, and Captain Wilfred Blackmore of the College of Fisheries, Navigation, Marine Engineering, and Electronics, St. John’s, Newfoundland; Mr. Joseph J. Peck, president, Veteran’s Association, 1st Battalion, 3rd Division, New York, New York; the Department of the Navy, Office of the Advocate General, Naval Historical Center, Bureau of Naval Personnel, National Archives and Records Center, Washington, D.C.

  Special grateful thanks go to my sister Vera McDonald.

  CASSIE BROWN

  St. John’s, Newfoundland

  November 1978

  POSTSCRIPT

  For this abridged edition, I have included the memorandum sent to the Secretary of the Navy from Vice Admiral A.L. Bristol, on February 26, 1942, for which I thank Captain Robert C. Morton, USN (Ret.). Captain Morton wrote: “The letter is couched in such unusual language for a flag officer that I thought you would like to see it.”

  C.B.

  The storm raged over the clifftops of the bleak, uninhabited stretch of coast from Lawn Head to Chambers Cove, on the south coast of Newfoundland.

  In the black winter night the wind, blending with the roar of the sea smashing on the rocks below, sang its threnody of perpetual mourning.

  The brooding granite scarp rose abruptly from the depths of the Atlantic. Waves, ending their long journey of more than a thousand miles, expended their force in a tremendous rush up the face of the rocky height. Spray and a sleety rain knifing from the southeast crusted the face of the land. There was no haven for sailors here.

  Presently, upon the tempestuous seas, three phantom shapes, with muffled beat, loomed out of the night, steaming straight into the snarling waters at the base of the cliffs.

  A cry... “My God! Look ahead!”

  Minutes apart, the three ships grounded beneath the sheer precipice and, in a spectacular fight for survival, 203 young American sailors would die.

  PART ONE

  STANDING INTO DANGER

  CHAPTER 1

  USS WILKES

  FEBRUARY 17, 1942-2200 HOURS

  CATASTROPHE WAS attendant upon the USS Wilkes, Flagship, Destroyer Division 26, and she was in trouble, though unaware of it. Along with the cargo ship USS Pollux, and the destroyer USS Truxtun, in formation on course 047° true toward the U.S. Navy base in Argentia, Placentia Bay, Newfoundland, from Portland, Maine, she was navigating by dead reckoning* because of storm conditions.

  The raw southeast wind blowing on her beam howled around the superstructure, making strange sounds in the ventilators. Heavy, white-crested seas jostled, punched, and sent her pitching and rolling so wickedly that the enlisted kids, just out of boot camp, clung gray-faced and seasick to whatever came to hand. Buckets, strategically anchored in niches around the ship, were very much in use. With glazed eyes the youthful sailors hung over them.

  What a way to fight a war!

  At this time, two hours before midnight, the deck officer, Ensign Overton D. Hughlett, was halfway through his watch and, other than keeping an alert eye out for the guide ship, Pollux, which seemed to have a tendency to wander from her course, was experiencing an uneventftil if uncomfortable duty watch.

  As far as Hughlett was concerned all was well. They were still far out into the Atlantic, and did not expect to close in on land for another six or more hours. Radar was performing well, permitting them to moniter the Pollux and the Truxtun; there had been no sign of the enemy submarines that had been reported between Cape

  Official Formation of the Convoy

  Race and Cape Sable, and with the exception of the RDF (radio direction finder), which had not been able to overcome the heavy atmospheric static conditions to pick up radio signals, all equipment seemed to be in tip-top working condition.

  Within the past hour the flag officer, Commodore* Walter W. Webb, the skipper, Commander John D. Kelsey, and the navigator, Lieutenant Arthur “Toughie” Barrett Jr., had gone off duty, one after the other, a clear indication to Hughlett that all was normal on this approach to land.

  Yet all was not normal, for even at this hour the Wilkes was beset by problems not as yet impressed upon the awareness of her crew. The zigzag plan (26) she was executing was one of them, and would be one of the factors contributing to the disaster facing them, for to confuse the German U-boats it involved course changes every ten minutes, which, in the stormy hours ahead, would complicate the navigation of the ships. Usually, in heavy weather at night, the zigzag was discontinued until daylight. Tonight, regardless of the storm and the low visibility, the commodore decided it was to be continued.

  Another problem was radar. A Sail Cast model with an exposed antenna array, it was already obsolete when it had been installed on the Wilkes six weeks earlier. Because special care was required to keep it in top working order, it was used only in low visibility or at night to keep track of other ships. After ten hours of use, particles collected on the grids giving a fuzzy picture and causing the images to jump excessively. Then it was necessary to heat the grid to a white heat in order to throw off the particles and decontaminate it, which had been done at 1600 hours. This fact too would play a role in what was ahead, for it would camouflage the real message of danger when time was running out.

  An Official U. S. Fleet bulletin, not received aboard the Wilkes as yet, warned that ice could diminish the range in which the indications of land could be picked up. Also, the exposed antenna array was recognized as a source of trouble under conditions of ice and bad weather.

  This particular model of radar had a range of nearly thirty miles and the crew were more than thankful for it, for if they did get too close to land in low visibility they would have plenty of warning. In the circumstances this was a misplaced trust.

  Hughlett did not realize it but radar was already acting up, showing the Pollux erratically wandering from her designated position and generally “messing up” the zigzag.

  But most serious of all, the Wilkes was not where she was assumed to be, for all three ships were not only being blown northwestward, toward land, but had been influenced by the current in that direction for the past sixteen hours.

  To cap it all, among her crew of roughly 190 sailors, she had only a handful of experienced U.S. Naval officers, relatively few experienced sailors, and a green crew.

  Zigzag Plan 26

  It could be said that as a flagship* the Wilkes had two commanding officers: Commodore Walter W. Webb, the division commander, and Commander John D. Kelsey, skipper of the Wilkes.

  Although Kelsey, like all CO’s, preferred not to have the division commander aboard, he and Webb got along well. The relationship between them was well understood. Kelsey, as the ship’s commanding officer, was responsible for the proper operation and safety of the Wilkes. Webb, as Task Unit Commander, was responsible for the proper operation and safety of the Task Unit.

  Yet, in the moment of crisis it would not work quite that way.

  CHAPTER 2

  USS POLLUX FEBRUARY 17,

  1942-2200 HOURS

  IF THE Wilkes was uneasy about the Pollux’s tendency to wander, the Pollux was no less uneasy about the Wilkes, but for a different reason. Earlier in the day, after they had come around Cape Sable (Nova Scotia), a stream of messages about their speed and position had been directed at them from the Wilkes. It had been irksome, and the deck officer of the Pollux decided it was probably some ambitious junior OOD (officer-of-the-deck) trying his wings during the daylight watch. It had not set well with the crew, and particularly with Commander Hugh W. Turney. A merchant Navy captain might growl “Go to hell!” and ignor
e the messages but, like the officers of the Wilkes and Truxtun, Commander Turney was a Naval Academy man himself and those messages could be construed as a reprimand from his peers. The Pollux, as the formation guide, had to maintain the position that had been established by the Task Unit commander on the Wilkes and, as the guide, must carry out the course and speed as directed by the commodore. They were doing that.

  It is doubtful that her crew felt that their ship was causing any undue concern. In their estimation, the Truxtun on their port bow kept looming up too close for comfort, and the watch kept a sharp lookout for any unexpected converging of that ship. It set a mood of unease; those bothersome messages would have far-reaching effects as the convoy neared land.

  In comparison to the Wilkes’ green crew, the Pollux had the same crew that put her in commission in the Brooklyn Navy Yard on May 8, 1941. Not only had they trained together, but also most had come from New York and surrounding towns. They were hard workers, tremendous fighters, and they stuck together like flies on honey. They were New York’s own. Her normal complement was 143 enlisted men and 16 officers. This trip there were 233 aboard, for she carried 16 passengers for the USS Prairie* in Argentia as well as 58 raw young recruits who were being transported to Argentia for training and assignment to vessels in the North Atlantic theater of operations.

  Commander Hugh Turney, age forty-two, was proud of his crew; he made them feel that they were a great and wonderful team. In turn, they felt that he was a great skipper.

  There were rumors that he was scheduled to put the battleship USS Massachusetts in commission and this was his last trip with them, so on his forty-second birthday, February 13, two days before leaving port, they made him an ice-cream birthday cake and sung “Happy Birthday” to him. What the hell! They loved the guy.