70 years ago, the RAF staged its attack against dams in western Germany using Barns Wallis’ ingenious rolling/skipping bomb. The attacks were successful, but at a high price.
To this day, 617 Squadron remains the most famous squadron in RAF service.
Tag Archives: World War II
China sends a message
China’s top newspaper on Wednesday published a call for a review of Japan’s sovereignty over the island of Okinawa — home to major US bases — with the Asian powers already embroiled in a territorial row.
The lengthy article in the People’s Daily, China’s most-circulated newspaper and the mouthpiece of the ruling Communist party, argued that the country may have rights to the Ryukyu chain, which includes Okinawa.
The island is home to major US air force and marine bases as well as 1.3 million people, who are considered more closely related to Japan in ethnic and linguistic terms than to China.
The authors of the article, two scholars at the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, considered China’s top state-run think-tank, said the Ryukyus were a “vassal state” of China before Japan annexed the islands in the late 1800s.
“Unresolved problems relating to the Ryukyu Islands have reached the time for reconsideration,” wrote Zhang Haipeng and Li Guoqiang, citing post-World War II declarations that required Japan to return Chinese territory.
I knew in my bones I’d see it at CDR Salamander’s place this morning.
China in the last 5 or so years has become increasingly expansionistic. As their military and economic power has risen, so to has a significant percentage of both the leadership and the population become more vocal about reclaiming territories they deem their own.
Ten years ago, the supposition was China primarily posed an expansionistic threat to Taiwan. Today, the emphasis has shifted away from Taiwan. That doesn’t reflect a change in mainland China’s goal for control of Taiwan, but rather a belief by many that sooner or later, Taiwan will fall effectively, if not de jure, under Chinese rule.
What is interesting in this case is that most of the previous recent disputes about maritime properties have related to areas with potential for resource exploitation such as oil, gas, or fishing rights. While there is certainly economic potential in the Ryukyus, any Chinese control of Okinawa would best be seen as an outpost of a defensive chain, much as the Japanese used several chains of islands during World War II. For that matter, much as we use it as a forward outpost today.
This increasingly aggressive foreign policy has sparked something of an arms race along the Rim of the Pacific. South Korea, already committed to strong self defense against its nutty neighbors to the north has in the past few years put great effort into expanding its navy. Today is it fielding world class blue water destroyers and helicopter carriers. The North Koreans have virtually no navy, and while this buildup can be seen as a balance against Japan, the Japanese Maritime Self Defense Force has long had a significant destroyer force. That force never lead to South Korea building up its navy before. Once can only conclude it is in response to the expansion of the Chinese fleet.
China is also feeling its oats along the China-India border.
One wonders what major shift in US foreign policy may have occurred in the past five years that might have encouraged China to embrace an increasingly confrontational foreign policy. Of course, the Chinese bear ultimate responsibility for their actions, but failure of the US to provide clear leadership and an unambiguous policy in the region isn’t helping matters.
Filed under ARMY TRAINING, Around the web
Monday Morning Linkage
So, a little birdie passed along this quiz of great commanders of history. I did pretty well on the Civil War and World War II stuff (and more recent stuff, of course) but wow, do I suck at ancient history.
No, I’m not telling you my score.
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Most armies, if you desert in wartime, you get lined up against a wall and shot. Ours? Not so much. This dirtbag faces a max of five years, and likely will get less than that.
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The Army is starting to look at future helicopter programs. I have to say, using a two-ship technology demonstrator to neck down to one production program of record isn’t exactly giving me a warm fuzzy. Since that was the methodology that brought us the F-35 JSF program.
There’s nothing particularly wrong with using competing technology demonstrators. The problem came when the program treated a technology demonstrator as a prototype for an actual combat aircraft. Neither JSF demonstrator was fundamentally incapable of being developed. Both teams should have been invited to compete for the actual JSF contract. But necking down at the technology demonstrator phase, intended to spare the expense of developing two fighters, left the government with only one design, in effect, a monopoly. And we’ve seen how well that worked out.
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US Navy bound and determined to prove that you don’t need ships to have a navy.
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NTP
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TAH has a bunch of stuff on phony soldiers. What I find even more depressing is when a former soldier, one with a perfectly respectable career, feels the need to puff up his credentials. Keith Keeton has a pretty reasonable collection of the usual awards and accomplishments.
So why is he lying his ass off?
I think the bravest thing I ever did in the Army was to take the last donut when the 1SG was reaching for it.
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Filed under army, ARMY TRAINING, Around the web
ANZAC Day
The small armies of Australia and New Zealand, during World War I sent troops to serve with the British Army. Formed into the Australia and New Zealand Army Corps, they quickly became known as ANZACs. Soon their wartime prowess earned them the reputation as the shock troops of the British Empire.
In World War II, both nations again provided key infusions of manpower into the imperial forces, and struggled to fight campaigns alongside the United States in the Pacific to achieve their own strategic goals.
And in virtually every major US campaign since World War II, troops from the antipodean nations have served alongside our soldiers and Marines.
Both Australia, and particularly New Zealand are small countries, with small armies. But both are highly respected for their professionalism, gallantry, and heritage. And so it is appropriate that we take a moment to remember the shared sacrifices of our allied neighbors from the other hemisphere as they celebrate ANAZC Day.
Filed under army, ARMY TRAINING, Around the web
Does the Army Still Need Armor?
That’s the question posed by this piece at Foreign Affairs. Sadly, it’s a premium article, so I can’t read the whole thing, just the set up. But it does raise the question. Do we still need heavy forces in an era of a “pivot to Asia?”
I’ll just note that we’ve actually spent a lot of time post-World War II fighting in Asia, and armor was important in every fight.
Plus, here’s a tank.
Barrage Rockets
Multiple Launch Rocket Systems are pretty handy. Our current MLRS and HIMARS have evolved from area suppression weapons into long range precision weapons with the Guided MLR round, and the ATACM long range guided missile. But for most of their history, rockets have been relatively short ranged, area fire weapons. They offer a massive barrage, but at the expense of long reloading times, and relatively poor accuracy.
During World War II, the Army used large numbers of 4.5” barrage rockets. At the very tail end of the war, the spin stabilized rocket was introduced to improve on the poor accuracy of the earlier fin stabilized rockets. The M16 rocket was fired from the T-66 launcher.
Shortly after the end of the Korean War, the US pretty much got out of the barrage rocket business. But the Soviet Union, who’d had great success with theirs in World War II (and were always big fans of artillery), used the 122mm Grad rocket launcher, primarily as a counter-battery weapon, but also for suppressive fires. The BM-21 is much longer than contemporary US rockets, giving it much greater range. Simple, cheap, and easy to use, the BM-21 Grad is mostly gone from Russian service, but is still used by a lot of former client states.
Since the 122mm rocket is still so popular, some folks are even now making launchers for it. And this might be the ultimate evolution of that concept.
Mine Warfare- Part II
The first post focused on surface laid, contact fused naval mines.
If only it were that simple. Beginning in the interwar period between World War I and World War II, both the method of delivery, and fusing options for naval mines underwent a revolution that vastly complicated the defense against naval mines.
Let’s take a quick look at delivery options first. Of course, there’s the traditional surface laid mine, delivered over the stern of a minelayer. Variations include other warships with rails installed, or the Mine Planters of the Army, or using almost any other vessel available to drop a couple over the side.
But stealth in the delivery of mines can be a powerful tool. Submarines were an attractive option for delivering mines in enemy waters. Both specialized minelaying subs, and specialized mines to be launched from conventional submarine torpedo tubes were developed. While the specialized submarine minelayer has passed into history, the submarine launched mine is still very much with us.
The other major method of mine delivery, and eventually the all time champ in terms of volume, was the airplane. Airplanes couldn’t carry very many mines compared to a ship, of course, but you could buy a lot more planes than ships for a given amount of money. And over the course of the time it would take a ship to load mines, steam to the target, drop the mines, and return, planes could make quite a few sorties. Medium and heavy bombers were quite well suited for dropping mines.
The problem with moored contact mines was that a ship had to, well, make contact. That limited the depths at which they could be laid, increased the weight of the mine (as the anchor for the mine was quite heavy), and reduced the likelihood of any one mine damaging a ship. If only there was some way to allow mines to trigger without direct contact.
As it turns out, weaponeers eventually designed several mines that responded to the influence of passing vessels to detonate. These influence mines used three primary methods.
Since the mine didn’t have to have contact to detonate, it need not be moored, and instead could be allowed to sink to the bottom of shallow waters. This also allowed for an under the keel gas bubble jet attack, which is devastating to almost any ship. Even if the target ship wasn’t directly overhead, shock, blast and whipping action from a nearby explosion could cause serious damage.
First, the magnetic mine. Steel hulled ships very slightly alter the magnetic field of the waters they transit. Just as a magnet swings a compass needle, this flux in the local magnetic field could be used to trigger a mine.
The second major type of influence mine was the passive acoustic mine. Hydrophones on the mine would listen for the sound of an approaching ship’s propellers. When the sound reached a threshold, the mine would detonate.
The third type was the hydrostatic, or water pressure displacement fused mine. The local change in water pressure caused by a ship’s hull moving through the water was used as the triggering method.
Bottom laid influence mines were particularly well suited for delivery by bombers, and during the Battle of Britain, the Luftwaffe made strenuous efforts to frequently mine the Thames River estuary, and other major shipping ports of England. The British were first somewhat flummoxed by the new mines, but after a missed drop left one ashore, they quickly devised sweeping countermeasures against them.
German World War II magnetic mine that landed on the ground instead of the water. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
German magnetic mine accidentally dropped ashore in England.
British Vickers Wellington bomber modified with magnetic mine exploder.
As always in warfare, advances in offence are met by advances in defense. And vice versa. As means of sweeping each type of influence mine evolved, so did means of making mines harder to sweep. Fuse functions were modified with “counters” so that, say, the first magnetic field to pass through the trigger mechanism would be ignored. Or maybe the first dozen. Only after a certain number of magnetic fields had influenced the trigger would the mine actually detonate. That meant that suspected minefields would have to be swept multiple times, and even then, there was no real way to assure that all mines had been swept.
Simply telling a mine to wait for a period of time, say 30 days, to activate would complicate sweeping.
Combining multiple influence fuses would also make mines less susceptible to countermeasures.
The British extensively mined waters in the North Sea and the Bay of Biscay to frustrate German shipping and U-boats.
The most effective mining campaign of the war was probably Operation Starvation, the use of B-29s to mine crucial Japanese shipping routes near the end of the war. The Army Air Force was loathe to use its B-29s for anything other than strategic bombing of land targets, but did dedicate one bomb group to the mission. For the loss of 15 bombers over the course of 6 months, and dropping only 12,000 mines, the campaign sank or damaged 670 vessels totaling about one and a quarter million tons of shipping. More importantly, it virtually paralyzed the already decimated Japanese merchant service.
The US would not again use aerial delivered mines until 1967, when A-6A Intruders of VA-35 mined the Red River in Vietnam, and more famously, in 1972, Navy and Marine jets from various squadrons laid the first of what eventually totaled over 11,000 mines in Haiphong and other Vietnamese ports. *
The initial mines were purpose built aerial delivered mines. But magazine space on ships is very limited, and aerial mines are bulky, complex weapons. Eventually, the Navy switched to the Destructor family of modular mine systems.
The Mk82 and Mk84 bombs were modular, in that they could use a variety of tail fin assemblies, and nose and tail fuse assemblies. The bright idea was suggested that using the Mk15 Snakeye high drag tail kit and a specialized fuse would allow any Mk82 or Mk84 to be used as an aerial delivered naval mine. Accordingly, the Mk36 Destructor series mines were invented. No modification to the delivery aircraft were needed, and the ballistics were identical to regular Snakeye bombs, so little extra training was needed. And since the bombs were already the mainstay of the ships magazines, and fuses took up little space, a plentiful supply could be kept on hand.
After the Destructor series of fuses were compromised by their use in North Vietnam, the Quickstrike series was fielded. Externally almost indistinguishable from the Destructor series, they have served for the last 30 years or so. But the general purpose bomb casing is roughly half steel and half explosive by weight. Fragmentation is great for a bomb, but fairly useless for a mine. Accordingly, the current US air delivered mine, the Mk65 Quickstrike, uses the fuse assemblies, but has a traditional bulky mine body maximizing the explosive content.
Quickstrike family of mines.
Submarines are still quite capable of delivering mines as well. Most sub delivered mines are 21” in diameter, to be place by ejecting them from a sub’s torpedo tubes. They tend to be roughly half the length of a torpedo, so for every torpedo offloaded, a sub can carry two mines.
Other sub delivered mines include the Mk67 SLMM or Submarine Launched Mobile Mine. A converted Mk37 torpedo, it is launched like a normal torpedo, navigates from the launch point to its designated target area, then sinks to the bottom, to lie in wait. This standoff allows a sub to mine waters such as river estuaries that the sub might ordinarily be able to attack.
*As part of the Paris Accords that ended US involvement in Vietnam, we also went in and swept all those mines.
Damn the torpedoes!
I’ve written about coast artillery a few times.
There’s a few other places I’ve mentioned seacoast defenses.
But one thing I’ve never really talked about was the other half of the seacoast defense program.
When Admiral David Farragut, at the Battle of Mobile Bay, gave his iconic order, “Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!” he was referring to naval mines laid in the harbor. The self propelled torpedo of today would not be invented for another decade, and not really practical for another 30 years.
Naval mines are to this day an effective weapon against warships. It should be noted, when Farragut gave his order, one of his ships had already struck a mine and was sinking.
When we think of naval mines, we have a vision of the classic moored contact mine, with horns that, when a passing ship strikes them, causes the mine to detonate.
And to be sure, mines of this sort are still used. In fact, the threat of these floating mines in the Straits of Hormuz is a key Iranian tool in manipulating public opinion world wide.
Such moored contact mines can be used either offensively, to blockade an enemy in his ports or to hinder his use of shipping lanes for commerce or military purposes, or they can be used defensively, to deny the enemy entry into friendly waters. Britain, during World War II, liberally mined the waters north of the English Channel to deny access to German U-boats and surface raiders.
But while the moored contact mine could be used to deny certain open waters to the enemy, it was a poor choice of weapon for defending harbors and ports. After all, the reason to defend those harbors and ports is to allow you to conduct trade and naval operations. And if your own channels are mined, your own ships can’t move.
When we think of moored minefields, we tend to think of minelayers dropping them over the stern to form a minefield. And in the Navy, that’s just how it was done. Several purpose built minelayers, and large numbers of converted destroyers served as minelayers in both World Wars.
But by law, the defense of harbors and the seacoast was the responsibility of the US Army. I’ll leave it to Craig to discuss the history of coastal defenses for the first century of our nation. In 1885, the Board of Fortifications, also known as the Endicott board, recommended a wholesale reorganization of the coastal defenses, and eventually lead to the division of Army artillery into the Field Artillery and the Coastal Artillery.
During the Endicott period, the Army made a massive investment in seacoast fortifications on both coasts. Virtually every economically significant harbor had a series of gun batteries constructed. But seacoast artillery alone was not the entire solution to harbor defense. During periods of limited visibility, artillery would have a tough time simply engaging any enemy forces. Searchlights could pierce darkness, but fog or stormy weather could blind the defenders. Further, the way to sink a ship isn’t by poking holes in the top, but rather in the bottom. Cannon fire can eventually sink most ships, but underwater weapons are, pound for pound, far more efficient.
Accordingly, the Army began plans to lay minefields to guard harbors. But unlike the naval mines so familiar to those of us who have seen countless WWII submarine movies, these were controlled minefields.
Army mines being serviced
Rather than being detonated merely by contact, Army minefields were connected to the shore via a series of electrical cables. Main cables from shore went to a junction box, with each junction box typically supporting 19 mines. DC current was used to monitor and test the mines, as well as signal to the shore that contact had been made. AC current would then be used to detonate the mine.
One of the advantages of a controlled minefield was that a shipping channel could be completely mined, and yet still usable for friendly shipping.
Establishing an effective controlled minefield was actually a fairly large investment in infrastructure. First, while theoretically a minefield could be left in place at all times, prudence would dictate that the field actually only be planted when hostilities are imminent. After all, mistakes can happen. So storage and maintenance facilities ashore would be needed for the mines. Typically, a mine storage shed would hold the mine itself. A separate magazine would be built to hold the explosives for the mine. In an era when dynamite or guncotton (both quite sensitive materials) were the primary explosives, placing this magazine well away from other facilities was a good idea.
Provision also had to be made for emplacing the mines. Wharf space for the mine planting ships had to be built. Then tramway tracks had to be laid to facilitate movement of the mines from storage to the wharf. Storage for miles and miles of electrical cable was needed as well. Since the cable needed to be tested for continuity in a salt water environment, large salt water vats also had to be provided.
Since the mines were electrically controlled, power generation facilities also had to be provided (remember, this was the age where electrification was far from universal in the nation).
Mine Casemate for controlled minefield
Then there was the fire control aspect of the mines. Generally, Army controlled minefields could be fired one of three ways:
- Command
- Contact
- Delayed Contact
Command detonation was just that. The firing center (known as the mine casemate) would send the signal to detonate a particular mine. This casemate was generally a reinforced concrete structure with switchboards for controlling the various strings of mines, telephones to fire control observation stations (sometimes called the “long base), and plotting tables to track any enemy force, and decide the proper time to detonate any mines.
Fire control for the mines was fairly sophisticated. At least two observation stations would use a pelorus to determine the bearing from their known point to the target vessel. The intersection of these lines of bearing would provide a location. Multiple sightings over even a fairly brief period of time would provide course and speed information as well. With that information, accurate plotting and a stopwatch, the commander in the casemate could specify which mines should be detonated, and when, with a fair degree of accuracy and likelihood of destroying or damaging the enemy target. For night firing, searchlights were used to track and illuminate targets.
In periods of fog or other limited visibility, when the target would likely be obscured, the minefield could be set to fire on contact, much like a traditional minefield. This was also useful if there were multiple targets, and the plotting team was overwhelmed trying to establish accurate tracks on all targets.
The final method, delayed contact, was in many ways the preferred method of firing. The mine itself served as a sensor. It’s DC power circuit would tell the casemate when contact had been made. The commander could then order detonation after a few seconds delay. One advantage of the short delay was the likelihood of the blast occurring closer to the midships section of the target, rather than the bows. The largest spaces on a warship are its firerooms and enginerooms, and thus most vulnerable to flooding. And they’re located amidships.
This delayed command method of firing also allowed the mine commander discrimination in his targets. If a small scouting vessel entered the field, the commander might forego attacking it, saving that mine for a later ship in the main body. That would conceal the minefield and expose a more valuable enemy asset to attack later.
Below is a sketch of a minefield protecting the Columbia River in Washington State.
Right click to embiggenfy.
Via the excellent Coast Defense Studies Group
Emplacing all the mines was a considerable task. Simply rolling mines off the back of a vessel wasn’t sufficient. Each mine had to be placed very specifically in it’s intended spot in the field. In fact, the vessels used by the Army were known as Mine Planters, rather than Minelayers. Each Mine Planter, while a coastal vessel, was still a fairly substantial size. It needed to be big enough to carry several mines, and carry the booms to transfer them over the side (and to recover them as well for maintenance, or when tensions were low enough leaving the field planted was no longer called for).
US Army Mine Planter via Wikipedia
But several other vessels were also required. Smaller ships laid the distribution boxes, while others handled the cables that connected the mines to the shore control station. Ideally, each defended port or harbor would have its own flotilla of mine planting vessels, but in practice, only a few did, and those vessels had to move from harbor to harbor to service the fields. Other stations used whatever civilian vessels were available if mine planters were not available.
Originally, Army mine planters were crewed by civilians, but the War Department felt such duties should be performed by military personnel. And so the Army Mine Planter Service came into being. Rather than having Army officers and gentlemen engage in the nasty business of running boats, the same act of 1918 that established the Army Mine Planter Service under the Coast Artillery Corps also established the grade of Warrant Officer. These would serve as masters, mates and engineers of the vessels. From there, the warrant officer would expand to other fields, especially those that had particular technical requirements.
It was no great secret that our harbors were defended by minefields. Any enemy force that did attempt to attack would be certain to attempt minesweeping operations. From the first, most minefields were co-located with major seacoast gun batteries. Additional smaller gun batteries, such as the 90mm Anti-Motor Torpedo Boat batteries (using a variant of the 90mm anti aircraft gun) had a primary mission of defeating any minesweeping ships.
Though the AMPS would not be officially disbanded until 1950, by the end of World War II, it was plain that legacy coastal defenses in the US were obsolete, and they were removed. Today, several old forts are parks or otherwise historical attractions. Of the mine casemates and storage sheds and other installations, the explorer has to look pretty hard to find any.
Filed under ARMY TRAINING, Artillery, history
The Battle of the Bulge
In Western Europe, the Allied Forces had routed the Nazis in France, destroying two armies and opening the way to the German frontier. British and US troops were slowed more by lack of supplies than German resistance. After the breakout in Normandy, the Army dashed across France and the Low Countries, only wheezing to a stop at the German border. Just as soon as the logistical tail could catch up, the columns of tanks, infantry and artillery would finish off the the feldgrau Wehrmacht. The Nazis were on the brink of collapse. Everyone knew it. It was only a matter of months, weeks, days…
But on the morning of December 16, 1944, a bitterly cold, foggy day saw a truly massive German counterattack against the weakest point of the Allied lines. The Ardennes forest was held by a tissue thin layer of troops. Green units that hadn’t heard a shot in anger, and units bled white in other battles were more a string of outposts than any sort of defense.
The Germans had amassed an incredible three field armies for the counteroffensive. Extraordinary security measures had kept Allied intelligence in the dark. The Allies knew reserves were being built, but failed to grasp the scale and the likely avenue of attack. Instead, the Allies though only strong local counterattacks were likely, and those were expected in the north.
The German aim was to split the Allied front, cross the Meuse river, and roll onto the vital port of Antwerp, the key logistical hub of the Allies. Having split the British and the Americans, the Germans intended to defeat them in detail, buying time in the West to focus on the Russians in the East.
The Ardennes had several times before been the favored German route of attack to the west. Armchair strategists have long criticized American generals for the weak defense of this sector. But the enormous frontage covered across Europe, and the relatively small numbers of troops available meant the US and British couldn’t be strong everywhere. The decision to leave a light screen across the Ardennes forest was a risk, but it was a calculated one.
The appalling weather of December 16 meant a key component of Allied strength would be absent. Low clouds, fog and snow meant Allied airpower was grounded. Indeed, a forecast of bad weather was a key factor in the German timing of the attack.
When the Germans slammed into the American lines, some units were simply overrun. Others melted away in panic, and others fought doggedly if ultimately futilely. Casualties and confusion were the order of the day. It took Allied leadership time to first grasp the scale of the assault, and then to tamp down incipient panic. If the Army’s nose was badly bloodied, there had been no knockout punch.
Hitler, who had crafted the plan almost singlehandedly, had visions of victorious troops slicing their way through the lines to victory in the West. But like most Hitlerean plans, the Ardennes offensive had grave flaws. The US Army in the Ardennes in 1944, thin as it was, was far more agile and mobile than the French forces the Germans had steamrolled in 1940. And even without airpower, those forces had far more firepower than the French of 1940. Further, for the most part, the US forces were a well trained, well blooded force, stubborn and with an esprit de corps the French could only dream of. And terrain too played its part. The very thing that made the Ardennes an attractive avenue of attack also made it a poor one. The Ardennes was lightly held because it was just a forest, with little infrastructure or industry, and an extremely poor road network. The Germans had three armies for the assault, but in reality, only fragments of each could be fed into battle at any one time. Without holding the hubs of the few road networks in the region, such as at Bastogne, the bulk of the German forces would spend the offensive sitting idly, useless as if they’d never been gathered.
Recognizing this, the Allies moved heaven and earth to hold key towns and roads. The Battle of Bastogne, memorialized in books and movies, has come to symbolize the Battle of the Bulge. The intersection of five main roads made Bastogne, an otherwise unremarkable town, the center of the world’s attention in December 1944. Troops from the 101st Airborne, and a hodgepodge of other divisions, cut off, surrounded, and under constant attack by overwhelming German forces seemed ripe for the picking. Urged by the German commander to surrender his hopeless position, Brigadier General Anthony McAuliffe, the senior American in the town, gave the most memorable reply –“Nuts!”
Eventually, Patton’s Third Army, lead by future Chief of Staff Creighton Abrams and his 37th Armor, would relieve the siege of Bastogne. And eventually, the Americans would halt the German penetration, and attack to regain the initiative. Countless German soldiers who could have been used to defend the Western Wall or the far bank of the Rhine, were instead caught in the open in Belgium. German losses mounted, and mounted again. The war wouldn’t be over in weeks or days, but the loss of so many troops did mean that the Germans would collapse in months.
The Battle of the Bulge remains to this day the largest battle in the history of the United States Army. Countless stories of valor and struggle came from it. Legends and traditions that inspire to this day arose from the battle. Sleepy villages across bucolic regions of the Benelux today were, 68 years ago, the scene of some of the most epic struggles in the history of warfare.
The Army has a nice website with more information and pictures.
Filed under history
The Cruel Sea
The complete movie adaptation of Nicholas Monserrat’s fantastic book of the Battle of the Atlantic.
I don’t know how long the video will stay up, so catch it now!
Reporting or Opportunism?
Sometime in December 1943, Navy photographer Charles Kerlee took this photo of a scene on Tarawa.
Tarawa, as you probably know, had just been captured in a bloody battle only a few weeks earlier. There are many scholarly works I could cite to explain why some marine or marines decided to use an enemy skull in such a grim, macabre manner. Doesn’t matter. We, as a civilized society, consider it a transgression. It’s taboo. It’s wrong. But it is a line that is sometimes crossed in war.
Kerlee’s photo went to the Navy’s files. It was not released to the press. Newspaper photographers captured many scenes like this during the war. The photos emerged over the years from the files, but few were run in the newspapers during World War II. Society – American society – just did not allow newspapers and magazines to run them.
For example, Life Magazine ran this photo in the May 22, 1944 issue (page 35 if you wish to browse the issue):
The caption reads, “Arizona war worker writes her Navy boyfriend a thank-you note for the Jap skull he sent her.” (And I think the expression on her face says a lot.)
I’ve not traced the definitive facts on the girlfriend and her Navy boyfriend. Most secondary sources state he received some punishment, and of course the service issued statements explicitly condemning the action. The public reaction to this photo was almost completely negative. It is one thing to see depictions of the enemy’s wartime atrocities. But it is another entirely to see atrocities acted out by one’s own. After posting this photo, and a few others showing mutilations (such as a burned head on top of a knocked out Japanese tank), Life agreed to stop running such depictions. The editorial staff recognized the negative impact on the magazine’s, military’s, and nation’s reputation. The magazine might, seizing the opportunity that grisly photos offer, sell a few more copies, but would loose in the long run.
Same country, same military, very similar situation….. different editorial staff:
Times Editor Davan Maharaj said, “After careful consideration, we decided that publishing a small but representative selection of the photos would fulfill our obligation to readers to report vigorously and impartially on all aspects of the American mission in Afghanistan, including the allegation that the images reflect a breakdown in unit discipline that was endangering U.S. troops.”
Thus the Los Angeles Times justifies their editorial decision.
Filed under history
What the LCS should be…
So, in response to my babblings earlier about the US Navy’s destroyer strength in World War II, Ultima Ratio Regis had some thoughts on what an inshore warfare type ship should be. I disagree about the feasibility of his suggested ship, but I’ll note that contrary to the current US Navy Littoral Combat Ship, every weapon system he proposes is hardware, not vaporware. Proven technology. I’m not at all against innovation, but I recognize that starting a ship program in which EVERY part of the ship is untried is an almost certain road to failure.
Currently the Navy has a formidable force of high end surface combatants, both the Ticonderoga class cruisers, and the Burke class destroyers. Both classes feature the Aegis combat system, the SPY-1 phased array radar, and Mk41 Vertical Launch System missile launchers, with their ability to launch a variety of anti-air and land attack missile systems. Both classes feature significant anti-submarine capability. Both classes were also creatures of the Cold War, originally envisaged as anti-air escorts for carrier groups in a blue water environment against massive Soviet saturation attacks. Over the years, they’ve certainly proven versatile enough to fulfill other missions across the spectrum of naval warfare. But these are high end assets. They aren’t cheap. Each costs billions of dollars. There will always be more naval missions to perform than there are Tico/Burke hulls to perform them. Consequently, it makes sense to have a low end ship to fulfill those less critical missions.
Historically, that ship was the frigate or the “destroyer escort.” Conceived in World War II, destroyer escorts, later known as ocean escorts, and today, as frigates, had about half the engineering plant of a full destroyer. They were about 3/4 the length of a destroyer, but had a significantly smaller battery, with either three 3” guns, or two 5” guns, as opposed to a destroyer’s four or five 5” guns. They also lacked the large torpedo armament of destroyers. While most destroyers carried from 10 to 16 tubes, DE’s carried, at most, three tubes. The point being, capability was sacrificed to gain numbers. Better a less capable ship on station than a perfectly capable ship that was busy somewhere else.
Today, the only frigates the Navy has left are about 30 of the FFG-7 Oliver Hazard Perry class ships. Their main battery, the Mk13 guided missile launcher system was removed about a decade ago due to the high cost of maintenance. While surrendering a good deal of the capability of a destroyer to achieve sufficient numbers makes a lot of sense, neutering the “Figs” has always struck me as silly. An FFG-7 is a lot of ship to carry around a 76mm gun. The Figs were designed with a specific role in mind, the escort of merchant and amphibious shipping against limited air threats, and more specifically, against submarine threats. That they have proven capable of fulfilling a wide variety of other roles is testimony to the inherent flexibility of ships as platforms of war and peace.
The Navy, has apparently decided that it no longer needs low end escort ships for open ocean protection of shipping. Fair enough. But if it doesn’t need low end warships for the ocean open, it has recognized that there are any number of places in “the littorals” that will require at a minimum a naval presence, and at worst, a tough fight in those waters. Similarly, there are a handful of key chokepoints where the majority of the world’s maritime trade passes through. Denying an enemy the ability to shut down those choke points is a key role for our Navy. The poster child for this concept, of course, is the Strait of Hormuz in the Arabian Gulf. I think it is a fair assumption that the Navy should have at least some ships optimized for that environment. That’s where the people are, that’s where the shipping is, and that’s where the threat is. The question is, what kind of ship should we have in that environment. That leads to two questions. First, what is the threat? Secondly, how do we want to address the threat?
Using the Strait of Hormuz as an example, the threat is actually a wide variety of weapon systems. Iran of course, is the most likely aggressor. Shipping in the area can be held at risk by Iranian conventional naval forces, submarines, airpower, sea mines, land based anti-ship missiles, and swarms of small boats, possibly including suicide bombers. Clearly, if things go to hell, it will be an unhealthy place.
If all threats are to be faced simultaneously, the full spectrum of our naval capabilities should be brought to bear, with the high end ships of the Tico and Burke classes engaging in anti-air and missile defense, as well as anti-surface and anti-submarine warfare. They would be supported by carrier based tactical air power, as well as land based airpower and other land based support such as signals intelligence.
But we can’t be strong everywhere at every time. Sometimes, at some places, you have to accept a degree of risk, and utilize a less capable platform. And if you are talking about a lower end platform, you’re almost by definition talking about a platform optimized for one warfare arena. In this case, I’d argue that the need is for an anti-surface warfare (ASuW) platform. Traditionally, since World War II, the US Navy has viewed the airplane as the best ASuW weapon, followed very closely by the nuclear powered attack submarine. That’s fine, if you’re facing a blue water fleet like the Soviets had. Starting in the 1970s, surface combatants also began to be equipped with the A/R/U/GM-84 series Harpoon missile. It too was optimized for a blue water role. But in the context of choke points like we’ve discussed above, the current threat isn’t a large blue water fleet. It is a number of small missile armed Fast Attack Craft (FAC) and swarms of small boats, possibly operating as suicide boats.
The current LCS was originally designed to counter this threat. To successfully engage numbers of FACs meant that it had to be missile armed. The Harpoon is getting long in the tooth, and isn’t as effective against modern defenses as it once was. The missile chosen to replace it, the NLOS missile, was developed by the Army, but cancelled for technical reasons- they couldn’t get it to work. That left the LCS with no viable mid range weapon system against missile armed FACs. As a counter to swarms of small boats, the LCS is armed with the 57mm Mk110 gun. This rapid fire gun has a short range, but a high rate of fire. Against small boats, it should be quite effective. The problem is, there’s only one gun on a 3000 frigate sized ship. And it only has an optical director. There’s no radar director for the gun. That limits its effectiveness as a defense against missiles, or during periods of limited visibility. And with only one gun, facing a potential swarm of boats, it has to “service” targets at a very high rate, killing quickly, and moving on to the next. That also has a tactical effect in that it virtually requires the ship to maneuver to keep all threats on one side of the ship. That is one reason the LCS has such an absurdly high speed requirement, to outmaneuver any swarm.
So we know what we don’t want. What do we want?
Well, in a perfect world, we’d be able to afford a specialized ship for constricted waters. That was the original intention for Streetfighter, that eventual grew into the colossus that is LCS. My choice would be something along the lines of the South Korean Pohang class corvette.
About 1200 tons, 32 knots, up to 4000nm endurance, and a decent gun armament. That’s the ASW variant above. I’d be tempted to combine it with the Harpoon armament of the ASuW variant. I’m willing to lose of of the twin 40mm mounts for that.
I assert that a Littoral Combat Ship that can actually survive combat in the Littorals would be an updated Gearing-type, with gas turbines, a helo deck, at least two 5″/62 mounts, CIWS, SeaRAM, and all the other modern features of the LCS designs. Tough, survivable, powerful units.
But alas, not “transformational”.
As I said in reply to him in that thread, I don’t think he’s calling for starting up the Gearing line again. I think he IS arguing that for 3000 tons, and well over $700 million dollars a pop, we should get more bang for our buck. And I certainly agree.
The problem is, the Navy has never liked small ships. First, the Navy has to send ships all over the world. That itself leads to larger ships, if only for the longer endurance. Also, with the traditional reliance of quality over quantity in the US, a “second rate” ship is by itself something of a hard sell to Congress. So the tendency has been to make every platform as capable as possible. Finally, having vanquished every other fleet in the world, either by battle or mere existence, the Navy hasn’t fought a major surface action in a long time. Given the tight constraints on dollars, and especially on manpower (which is essentially the same thing as dollars), the temptation is to build a “fleet in being” as Mahan would say, and leave the smaller vessels to be procured on an expedient basis when needed. But there’s an old saying. A ship can only be in one place at a time. There is a need for a certain number of ships, and the only way to get them is to build a certain number of ships in the low-end of capability. As noted before, in the post World War II era, this role has been filled by the Destroyer Escort, or as it has variously been known, the Ocean Escort, or currently, the Frigate. But those vessels were almost exclusively tailored to the blue-water Anti-submarine Warfare role. Today’s low end ship faces a different threat. In fact, a wide variety of threats.
To a certain extent, on a warship, more valuable than its weapons are its sensors. This fundamental shift in the role of a surface combatant was seen in World War II, where destroyers went from being an offensive and defensive adjunct to the battle line, to being screening vessels providing anti-aircraft fire for the carriers, to the picket role at the end of the war, where destroyers were positioned well in advance of the main body and their primary weapons weren’t their guns or torpedoes, but rather their air search radars, and the overhead Combat Air Patrol of fighters that they directed against Japanese attacks. Weapons on hand were strictly for last ditch self defense.
One large Aegis equipped cruiser or destroyer may have an awesome array of sensors, but the fact is, radar range hasn’t changed significantly since World War II. The physics of radio wave propagation mean the radar horizon for a surface mounted radar just aren’t going to be pushed back much. Signal processing advances have improved the likelihood of detection against a cluttered background, but not the range of that detection. That in itself is a powerful argument for an approach emphasizing numbers over quality. Sharing that information requires datalinks among all the platforms in a task force. Indeed, the Navy was among the very first computer users to use any form of networking. And it is the very cost of those combat systems, far more than the hull, machinery, and even the weapons mounts themselves, that drives up the costs of warships. The need to include them drives not just direct costs. In spite of the enormous leaps in computer technology over the years, the space required to operate these systems has actually grown. First, no commander has ever thought he had enough computer power or features. Second, the improvements in television technology means the displays for these systems have grown. That provides better information to the warfighter, but still drives up the size of the space needed to control a warship. And if you drive up the size of one space, you tend to drive up the size of all spaces. Which, since it’s a bigger, more expensive ship… you’re tempted to add just one more weapon, sensor, or technology. Don’t forget, the Ticonderoga and Burke class ships were both designed as austere alternatives to programs that died. Heck, the 14,0000 DDG-1000 Zumwalt program was originated as an austere, single mission alternative to the Burke! So, if you wish to design a smaller, low end platform, you, as CNO, NAVSEA, or a program manager, must be utterly ruthless. The very first thing you have to accept is that your ship won’t do all the things you want it to do. The one thing it can do, that other ships can’t, is BE THERE.
You have to, very early on, make the decision to freeze the weapon systems, combat systems, and other basic characterisics of a ship. In reviewing the design history of many ships, particularly those in the last 50 years, even Admirals seem consistently surprised to find that adding “just one little thing” drives the size and cost of ships into an ever increasing spiral. Simply adding 500 miles to the endurance of a ship can cause radical changes, and with those changes comes the desire to add ever more to the platform, since you’re already spending so much on it.
CDR Salamander, Galrahn at Information Dissemination, and a whole hatful of naval bloggers have pondered on what the best low end design for a ship would be, with many of them pointing to various European designs, particularly the Absalom class.
As I see it, the Navy actually needs two new ship designs, one a classic escort, and one a corvette sized vessel.
One of the reasons the LCS grew to such proportions was the realization that it would be forced, by the lack of other ships, to fulfill the role currently played by FFG-7 OH Perry frigates. So, why not just build a frigate instead? I’d be very happy to see repeat Perry class frigates. About 50 of them. The ONLY change I would make is to replace the Mk-13 guided missile launcher system (which has been removed, in any case) with a small, 8 to 16 cell Mk41 Vertical Launch System. We know that’s feasible. The Australians have done it. And the ONLY missile I’d plan for would be the Evolved Sea Sparrow Missile (ESSM). It has almost the same range and capability as the earlier SM-1 Standard/Tartar system. It would also provide a significant, if expensive, anti-surface capability against small craft.
If that wasn’t enough, there was a notion back about 1990, to build “half a Burke” with half the powerplant (that is, only two LM2500 turbines) on two screws. The SPY-1/Aegis system would have been deleted in favor of a Mk92 fire control system similar to the Perry class. It would have cost more than a Perry, and been slightly slower, but would still maintain a 64-cell VLS, longer range, and more space for growth.
The link above has several other viable approaches to low cost frigates. The Navy has the ideas, what they don’t have is the power to decide on a reasonable course of action.
As for a corvette sized vessel, one which could fulfill much of the routine work in coastal waters, such as Vessel Boarding, Search and Seizure, Search and Rescue, Counterdrug Patrols, Presence Patrols, and Surveillance and Sea Control, I’d look to a ship the US has already designed and built, the Israeli Sa’ar V class of ships. That’s right. They were designed and built here in the US, and Litton already holds the license to build them.
Of course, none of this matters. The Navy, with the aid and comfort of the OSD, will continue on its idiotic plan to buy the LCS in large numbers. And it will continue to suffer the consequences.
Filed under ARMY TRAINING
Ray Harris’s World War II Podcasts
I posted this earlier on my blog, but XBrad elbowed me to cross-post over here too:
Recently I discovered Ray Harris’ The History of World War II Podcasts. Thought I’d mention his excellent work as there are a few readers out there who’s focus is in that direction… and a good number of us who really need to diversify our military history!
Ray’s approach is somewhat different than other podcast series on the subject. Instead of touching upon several different aspects of the war, he takes the listener through major events or campaigns providing both a macro- and micro-viewpoint. For example, over the span of six episodes Ray covers the Dunkirk evacuation. He addressed the rather sticky situation between allied Britain and France, the failures and successes in German high command, all the while detailing the daily operations in the port and on the beaches.
He devoted a full episode to the destruction of the French fleet in 1940. As I’ve mentioned before I am rather familiar with that topic, having written my thesis on Operation Catapult. I found Ray’s coverage well rounded and complete for the allotted time slot.
Currently he is working through the Battle of Britain. The last few episodes have covered the opening actions in that air-battle – three days at a time. Beyond just the standard trip through the Battle of Britain – Hurricanes, Spitfires, Me 109s, radar, Fighter Command, Goering, the Blitz, perhaps a bit about tactics, and then “the Few” – Ray’s approach walks us through the changes with strategy and tactics, all the while pinned against the backdrop of two nations at war. The listener is not lost in the weeds discussing the aircrews and aircraft, but not held too high aloof considering the national leaders making grand decisions.
Ray’s got a great series going.
Filed under ARMY TRAINING
The Al-Can Highway
Since we’re on an Engineer kick, we might as well talk about one of the more impressive feats of engineering during World War II.
With the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, the defense of US possessions in the Pacific took priority. Among the many outposts of America that were to be defended, and late serve as a springboard for attacks on Japan, were installations in Alaska, then a territory of the US. There was no overland route to resupply our forces there. The only method of supply was via ship. This method was thought vulnerable to Japanese surface raiders and submarines, and further imposed requirements on the already strained shipping available. Accordingly, the US entered into an agreement to build a road from British Columbia, through the Yukon to Alaska.
Construction began in March of 1942 on a route that would stretch almost 1400 miles. Incredibly, by October of that same year.
Now, this wasn’t exactly a modern superhighway. It was in the vernacular of the day, a “pioneer road.” Most of the road was a simple dirt scraping through the forested wilderness. Many stream crossings were simple fords, or at best, expedient log bridges. Travel along the route would be possible for 2-1/2 ton 6×6 trucks, but your family car would be helplessly bogged down. Nevertheless, a road route was now available to support the buildup of forces in Alaska, as well as to support the transfer of airplanes to the Soviet Union for Lend-Lease.
As soon as the route itself was finished, improvements along the most troublesome parts of the route began, principally replacing fords with bridges and grading some of the worst steep spots. Gravel roadbed was laid along many stretches, particularly those areas that had been subject to permafrost, and other troublesome sections of road were replaced with “corduroy” road. Corduroy road is a roadbed of logs laid spanwise across the roadbed to support vehicles to prevent them from sinking into a quagmire of mud. It if from this bumpy surface texture that the pants take their name.
Under the agreement signed with Canada, immediately following the war, the road was transferred to Canada, and has been improved and paved almost continuously since then. It is still the only road route from America’s lower 48 to Alaska.
Demographics meant that the Army in World War II would draft large number of African Americans. Policy dictated that they would serve in roughly proportion to their population in the US, about 10 percent. Ergo, roughly 10 percent of the Army in WWII would be comprised of African Americans. But the policy of barring blacks from serving in combat units (with the exception of a relative handful of all black units) meant that supply and support services such as the Engineers would have disproportionately large numbers of black units. Again, the near ban on black combat units meant that divisional engineer combat battalions would be white, so those general service engineer regiments and separate battalions were often all black units. The majority of engineer general service regiments (EGSR) tasked with the construction of the Al-Can Highway were Negro units. Comprised mostly of unskilled laborers (due to poor literacy in the pre-war black population), they still managed to operate every bit as well as the all white EGSRs they served alongside.
Backgrounder
So, we’ll be posting more historical stuff about the Army of World War II. Many of the terms readers are familiar with today didn’t exist back then. Remember, there wasn’t even a Department of Defense back then. There were two cabinet level Departments, the Department of the Navy, and the Department of War.
The War Department was of course the office of the Secretary of War, but it was also the office of the Chief of Staff of the Army, or CSA (which during the period we’ll be discussing was GEN George C. Marshall). The CSA in the days before the war was the senior officer of the Army, but he was outside the chain of command. The SecWar gave the orders directly to commanders in the field (though as a practical matter, he transmitted them via the CSA). The CSA wasn’t so much in charge of the troop units, but rather with the institutions of the Army, such as the various arms and services. The arms were the Coast Artillery, Field Artillery, Cavalry, and Infantry. These arms were established by law. Similarly, the various services such as the Quartermaster Corps, Signal Corps and Ordnance Corps were established by law. Each of these branches was led by a Major General, and ran that branch’s center and school. Each branch established its own training and doctrine, and developed its own equipment, and ran the school establishment that served as each branches repository of corporate knowledge. The CSA also ran The Army Staff, which was responsible for the personnel (G-1), Intelligence (G-2), Plans and Training (G-3) and Supply (G-4) policy of the Army as a whole. The Army Staff likewise was outside the chain of command.
In an era when the wartime mission of the Army was seen as one of continental defense (or a single expeditionary force, such as in Mexico in 1917 or France in World War I), having the SecWar serve as the direct superior of the field forces wasn’t impractical. But Marshall and the staff foresaw that the coming world war would be different. The Army would likely have to fight in multiple theaters spread across the entire globe. Few Secretaries had the military background to effectively manage such a wide spanning endeavor.
Americans traditionally loathed the thought of a national general staff on the lines of the continental powers, preferring to keep a far greater degree of civilian control over the Army. But Congress finally recognized the need to centralize control of field forces under a uniformed commander in Washington. The Secretary would still be his superior, and responsible for overall policy and strategy. But the actual command would be vested in a general. But not just yet. A law was passed permitting the formation of General Headquarters, US Army. But the law restricted GHQ to plans and training until such time as the Army actually entered the war. Marshall was finally in the chain of command, sorta. In the interim, the Chief of Staff of GHQ, LTG Leslie McNair assumed responsibility for training of all troop units in the entire Army.
After Pearl Harbor, Marshall was determined to get a better grasp of the reins of the Army. He needed to reduce the influences of the branch chiefs, and cut back on the number of people that theoretically had the right to demand an audience form him. There was already the autonomous Army Air Forces, run by Hap Arnold, with its own Air Staff. Marshall in turn transformed GHQ into The Army Ground Forces, and simultaneously formed the Services of Supply (later renamed the Army Service Forces). This three legged stool was the stable platform that built the wartime Army.
Most of our posts that look at the Army in World War II will focus on the ground forces, and thus AGF.
AGF was what today would be called a “force provider.” That is, AGF didn’t command the troops in the field. Instead, it created, equipped, trained and prepared for deployment the troops that the various theater commanders would command in battle.
We’ll examine the creation and command of theaters of war later.
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Filed under ARMY TRAINING, history
Glory to the heroes of the Patriotic War!
Another video from the American Wartime Museum open house. This time a Ruskie!
The T-34/85 was perhaps top on the list of medium tanks during World War II. With a diesel engine and 85mm gun, the T34/85 compared well against the contemporary American M4 Shermans. While the German Panther tanks could beat it one-on-one, the T34/85 were rolling out of the factory at a rate of 1,000 a month!
I liked the living historians (what we call reenactors in high-brow discussions) hanging on the side of the tank. Sort of conjured up thoughts of Kursk or Berlin.
But I bet the guy in white ended up with a hefty dry-cleaning bill.
Best remembered for World War II service, the T34/85 remained in service well beyond 1945. Like the M4 Sherman, the T34s saw action in Korea and in other places the Cold War ran hot. Several countries retained T34s right up to the lifting of the Iron Curtain.
The T34/85 running laps was one of two on display at the event.
Impressive armor.
The political officer ordered me to say that – Craig.
Filed under armor
World War II Marine Assault Demo
Second video from the American Wartime Museum open house.
This one captures a demo by reenactors depicting Marines encountering a bunker on patrol. The team demonstrated some of the weapons used during World War II in order to combat enemy bunkers. Mortars, small arms, a bazooka, a tank, then a flamethrower….
Sorta reminds me of those dismounted lanes on the Multi-Purpose Range Complex (MPRC).
Here’s someone else’s video from last years’ version of the same demo.
I think you would agree the addition of the tank is a good touch.
Filed under marines
Heavy Howitzers: Around Full Circle
Craig here. XBrad opened the door (and threatened to push me through it) with regard to heavy howitzers noting the Republic of China use of what is basically the US M-1 240mm howitzer of World War II vintage. There’s a bit of irony finding those howitzers defending the shores of Taiwan. To appreciate such, let me discuss the background of those big old howitzers.
By the close of the American Civil War, heavy howitzers faded from the seacoast batteries of most nations. The United States retained a rather effective seacoast defense weapon known as the Columbiad which combined the ballistics of guns and howitzers. But most nations turned to higher velocity, direct fire rifled breechloading guns. Almost alone among major powers, the Americans produced several large-caliber mortars for coast defense.
During the “First War of the Twentieth Century,” the Russo-Japanese War of 1904, the Japanese laid siege to Port Aurthur (now in Manchuria, mainland China). Firing on the Russian far east stronghold were batteries of relatively new breech-loading rifled artillery, to include some of these big boys:
Japanese 28cm Howitzers at Port Arthur
These large siege guns not only caused great damage to the Russian defenses, but also worked over ships in the port. The 28cm (11-inch) howitzers were products of the great German armaments manufacturer, Krupp. Designed for use in the defenses of Tokyo, the Japanese reallocated the howitzers when the Russian fleet ceased to be a threat after the battle of Tsushima. And these big howitzers did a job on the Russian fleet in Port Arthur.
Remains of Russian Fleet at Port Arthur
European observers watched this development with great interest. In the years before World War I, all the great powers produced their own heavy siege howitzers. Although these could pull double duty as seacoast weapons, most of the continental powers looked for something to reduce the reinforced concrete fortifications on land. Of this “generation” of heavy guns Schneider, the French armaments manufacturer, produced a 280mm howitzer marketed for the Russians who were then re-arming. A few of these weapons ended up in French service during World War I.
When the US entered World War I, planners saw the need for a heavy howitzer to work over the German defenses on the western front. Furthermore, the Ordnance Department saw a need, beyond the wartime requirement, for a new heavy howitzer for mobile coast defense batteries. After some negotiation, the Army struck a deal with Schneider for license production of a 240mm version of their howitzer. Schneider built one example in France and shipped it to the US. And the French also sent engineers to the US to help start the production. Yet the project never picked up momentum. Only the original French gun was on hand at the time of the Armistice.
But with the mobile coast defense requirement in mind, the M1918 9.5-inch (240mm) howitzer project continued after the end of hostilities. Eventually a few rolled out of the factory. And only with a wink and a nod, we might call this “mobile.”
And I’ll start the unsubstantiated rumor the entire outfit was cleared for air-drop….
Only took six hours for the crew to set up this beast. And in action she looked intimidating.
The M1918 could throw a 346 pound shell over 17,000 yards. State of the art for that day. Only one problem… when the first M1918 went to the range for proofing, the cannon blew up! And follow-up corrections failed to resolve many of the gun’s problems. Only after a long gestation were 330 examples produced. Some of these guns went to Hawaii where concrete pads allowed wide traverse and coverage of potential enemy approaches.
M1918 on Coast Defense Mount
But for the most part, the Army shunted these howitzers to the storage yards. I’m not certain, but don’t think any were even offered up as Lend-Lease in 1940.
With America’s entry into the next world war, clearly the M1918 was a dated design. So back to the drawing boards went the Ordnance Department. The main drawback to the M1918 was (duh!) mobility. In the inter-war period, experiments to match the M1918 to high-speed towed carriages and even self-propelled platforms failed. But lessons learned projected into a new design, as XBrad highlighted – the M1 240mm howitzer.
T33 Prime Mover pulling a M1 240mm Howitzer
Regardless of what you downsize, big cannons are just… well big. The Army tried several different carriages, but finally settled on a two load arrangement. In the picture above the barrel, with recoil system, is on a six wheel trailer. A similar trailer transported the carriage. The concurrently developed M1 8-inch gun used the same carriage and transport. The M1 240mm howitzer weighed 64,700 pounds in action and fired a 360 pound shell to over 25,000 yards. The M1 8-inch gun weighed 69,300 pounds and pushed a 240 pound shell to 35,600 yards (with a 90 pound super charge).
M1 8-inch Gun at Aberdeen
These battery mates saw heavy action in the Anzio beachhead in 1944, firing counter-battery against the German railway guns.
240mm howitzer of Battery `B', 697th Field Artillery Battalion, just before firing into German held territory. Mignano area, Italy. January 30, 1944
These big guns followed the allied advance through Europe and also served in the Pacific.
240mm Howitzer in the Philippines
But the “system” was not mobile enough for the desires of US planners. Once again, someone figured to put the big cannons on tracked carriers. Based on the M26 Pershing Medium (originally Heavy) tank chassis, the T92 240mm Howitzer Motor Carriage and the T93 8inch Gun Motor Carriage made an appearance in 1945. Despite orders for several hundred, and designation of “limited standard,” only a handful rolled out before the end of the war.
Even in the face of air power lessons-learned during World War II, the Army still figured super-heavy artillery had some place in 1946. In particular, the Ordnance Department considered the newest technology in regard to counter-battery, interdiction, and coast defense. After all, everyone was giddy about the “atom” in those days. So out came the T1 240mm Gun.
240mm T1 Gun
And not quite so happy with that caliber, the Army turned to the T71 280mm which eventually became the M65 280mm Atomic Cannon.
Nuclear Test using 280mm M65
Or for those who like the ‘splodie fast forward to the 9 minute mark:
While the new carriages (based off some German heavy gun and railway carriages) were more mobile than the World War II types, the mushroom cloud effect sort of made that irrelevant. A few dozen of these entered service, but soon the Army turned to rockets and missiles that offered a little better range (well with the exception of that Davy Crockett thing). So by the 1960s the “big guns” of the field artillery were 8-inch howitzers and 175mm guns.
But consider the turn about here. The Armies and the cannons change, but from one century to another there are still those big howitzers placed to defend a Chinese coastline.
Mash-up
So, I was bouncing around yesterday trying to find something I felt like writing about. Two things came to mind.
I kinda wanted to write about large field artillery pieces, and I also wanted to touch on Coast Artillery some more. I’m intrigued by Coast Artillery from the turn of the century going forward (mostly because I grew up near Ft. Casey), whereas my co-author Craig focuses on Civil War Era seacoast artillery.
And in a happy coincidence, I found a nice intersection of the two.
Traditionally, US field artillery in the modern era has preferred to use the lightest possible gun as its main piece. Since World War II the main two tubes have been 105mm in light forces, and 155mm in heavy forces. But occasionally, you need something bigger. The largest tube we’ve deployed was the 240mm (9.44″) M1 Howitzer.
The M1 was used against very heavily fortified positions such as concrete and masonry fortifications and bunkers. It was also praised as an extremely accurate weapon. It was used in Italy, Western Europe, and even in the Philippines. A small number were also used in the Korean War with good effect.
But because it was produced in small numbers, I really hadn’t seen any pictures or video of it before. So I went looking. And lo and behold, it turns out, there are still some M1s in use.
Taiwan (the Republic of China) has long faced the problem of defending the Taiwan Strait from potential invasion from mainland China. Especially vulnerable are several small islands in the strait that are within easy range of small landing craft. Kinmen (Quemoy) and Matsu Islands have been the scene of several artillery duels and much sabre-rattling over they years. And even today, the ROC uses several slightly modified 240mm M1s in purpose built seacoast positions as coast artillery.
The M1 itself is a rather conventional split trail carriage mount. The ROC has modified the mount to fit on a rail that can be moved into concrete bunkers to avoid counter-battery fire.
There’s a long history of using traditional field artillery pieces in the coast artillery role. The primary difference in employment is the method of fire-control. Coast artillery has the benefit of firing from pre-surveyed positions, but has the challenge of trying to hit rapidly moving and maneuvering targets. Attack aviation has rendered seacoast artillery obsolete. Mostly. There are still a handful of places where well trained, well equipped coast artillery can have a valuable role to play.
Filed under ARMY TRAINING
Raising the Flag
On this day, February 23, in 1945, at around 10:20 in the morning a group of Marines raised this flag…
… at the top of Mount Suribachi on the island of Iwo Jima. Staff Sergeant Lewis Lowery, marine combat photographer, captured the marines moments later.
The team included Corporal Charles W. Lindberg, Platoon Sergeant Ernest I. Thomas Jr., Sergeant Henry O. “Hank” Hansen, Private Gene Marshall (sometimes disputed as Raymond Jacobs), and Private First Class James Michels.
That flag belonged to 2nd Battalion, 28th Marine Regiment. As the flag went up, everyone around and even off shore realized the significance – attaining the highest point on the bitterly contested island. Observing the flag, Secretary of the Navy James Forrestal indicated the desire to secure the flag as a trophy. The commander of 2nd Battalion had other ideas in mind, and sent one of his men to secure a second flag, which could then be impressed as the Secretary’s trophy.
So later that day, another group of Marines unfurled this flag on the top of the mountain.
Capturing the moment, photographer Joe Rosenthal snapped this photo.
And Bill Genaust caught the event on film.
Six marines – Sergeant Michael Strank, Corporal Harlon H. Block, Private First Class Franklin R. Sousley, Private First Class Ira H. Hayes, Private First Class Rene Gagon, and Pharmacist’s Mate John Bradley – appear in the photo and footage. Only three of which, Bradley, Gagon, and Hayes, survived the battle.
Of course the photos and film went on to become iconic, symbolizing the American spirit in the drive against the force of Imperial Japan and foretelling of the victory to come. The images stirred the last great War Bond drive to push the war effort to a successful conclusion. More so, the event became a fixture in American history, appearing in movies and print.
If you have not read “Flags of our Fathers” or watched the movie, I encourage you to do so. The story of the men before and after Iwo Jima is just as important as the actual event.
Over the years the background details of the story were debated and disputed. Some elements became more lore and legend. Some even charged the photograph and original film footage were staged. At times, the controversy behind the story became a convenient prop for those wishing to discount the significance of the event. And like any symbol of value, sometimes the image has been warped to other purposes.
But none of the dispute or re-direction takes away the fact that on this day in 1945, a group of Americans placed a flag up on a hostile mountain in the name of freedom.
Classic Reading – Company Commander
Craig again at the keyboard.
I often find myself re-reading the better volumes in my library of military history, considering some works as “classics” in the genre. One of those I’m in the process of re-reading is Company Commander by Charles B. MacDonald.
MacDonald wrote the book as a combat memoir of his service in the last eight months of the war in Europe. As such he covers at a small unit level three major phases in the American effort in northwest Europe – stalemate along the Siegfried Line, the Battle of the Bulge, and final drive in to Germany. When first arriving at the front, MacDonald commanded I Company, 23rd Infantry Regiment, in 2nd Infantry Division. After recovering from a wound suffered in the Battle of the Bulge, he took command of G Company in the same regiment. He wrote Company Commander shortly after World War II, as his first major publication.
The book appears on most professional development reading lists for good reason. What stands out in MacDonald’s writing is his evolution as a combat leader. Early in the book, he tells of his fears in a frank manner – shaking from fear, and being aware of that fear showing through in his voice. For his first operational mission he wrote, with emphasis, talking to himself:
Be calm. Be business-like. This is the same as maneuvers. Give some orders. Start things moving. you’re going to have a look at the German Army.
MacDonald took over a veteran company. In fact, veteran is actually an understatement, as the regiment had seen action from the Normandy Peninsula across France to the Siegfried Line. As a new company commander MacDonald sought to inspire confidence, but grappled with his own inexperience:
I must give these men confidence in me despite the fact that they know I’m inexperienced…. I must keep that confidence. I must! I must!
“Scared, Captain?” Sergeant Savage asked.
“A little,” I admitted. I took a long, slow drag on my cigarette.
“We all are,” Savage said. “We always are.”
In the first chapters of the book, MacDonald depicts the wearisome duty along the line. The narrative discusses day-to-day action defending a relatively inactive sector, with occasional enemy probes, artillery bombardments, or other harassing fires. Particularly well accounted are the relief operations as MacDonald’s company rotated into or out of the line.
MacDonald spends several pages recounting the confusion in the opening hours and days of the Battle of the Bulge. The 2nd Infantry Division maneuvered onto the northern shoulder of the German penetration on December 16-17, 1944. There, MacDonald’s company played a key role delaying the German advance, buying time for the division to secure a better position along Elsenborn Ridge. For those who have not read the book, I will not act the spoiler. But one of the men attached from the support company to MacDonald’s, Richard E. Cowan, received the Medal of Honor by holding his position against near impossible odds. MacDonald received the Silver Star for his own actions. But readers do not hear much of that. MacDonald proudly noted accolades from his regimental commander – “Nice work, Mac.”
A few days later, MacDonald received a wound to his leg. Not until March did he return to the regiment, and then reassigned to Company G. Arriving near the Remagen Bridge area, soon MacDonald led the company over the Rhine and back into action. The narrative continues through a series of offensive movements against crumbling German defenses; followed by non-tactical movements to other sectors; where the company again moves forward against weakened defenses. The combat actions stand out as interesting tactical vignettes on their own. MacDonald provides, again in rather frank language, the factors weighing on his decisions and his thought process.
MacDonald concludes the book describing the celebration on V-E Day in Czechoslovakia, accompanied by a young woman shouting “Dobri! Dobri!”
I suddenly realized that i could light a cigarette once again in the open and not be afraid of drawing enemy fire, and it did it. It was a simple thing, but it gave me a wonderful feeling that life was worth living again.
In my humble opinion, what makes Company Commander a classic is the narrative tightly focused at the company level. MacDonald rarely discusses the “big picture” and never plays up his role as more than an average company commander doing the job. He could have inserted pages upon pages of background information, explaining the strategic and operational settings. As the author or co-author of many histories (Many readers will recall Time for Trumpets, perhaps MacDonald’s best known work) of the campaigns in which he fought, MacDonald had the credentials to do so.
But he didn’t. Instead he provides one of the best combat memoirs of World War II. Nearly every page offers a quote worth remembering or some story to recall:
I called for a repeat of the barrage, and when battalion said “Roger,” I knew we had won.
Operation Flintlock – Sixty-seven Years Ago
On this day in 1944, a massive armada began landing US Army, Navy, and Marine Corps personnel on the islands of Kwajalien Atoll, in the central Pacific Ocean. Allies used the code name “Flintlock” for the operation. Over the next seven days, the force dislodged, and for all practical purposes annihilated, the Japanese garrison and gained control of the world’s largest coral atoll. As result, the US drive across the Central Pacific gained another base, extending land-based air coverage out towards the next objective – the Marianas Islands.
Map of Kwajalein
A landing force mostly comprised of the Army’s 7th Infantry Division landed on Kwajalein Island (on the southeast tip of the atoll in the map above) with the objective of an airfield there. Meanwhile the 4th Marine Division landed on the large island concentration of Roi-Namur in the north to secure Japanese facilities, including another airfield, there. The somewhat seasoned 7th Infantry had seen prior service in the Aleutians, but was making its first landing in the warmer Central Pacific. Flintlock was the 4th Marine Division’s first landing (first of four within the next thirteen months!) Both groups committed just over 20,000 combat troops each. Defending the Atoll were about 8600 Japanese.
Initial landings on December 31 occupied lightly defended minor islands in the Atoll, to secure landing craft passages for the main landings and to provide firing positions for divisional artillery batteries. The main landings started on February 1. After some confusion with landing craft, the Marines secured the beaches at Roi Island and moved inland with deliberate speed. Remarkably within 27 hours the Marines had secured the major islands in the north, at the cost of 195 killed and 545 wounded.
Clearing a Pillbox on Kwajalein
Observers described the Army’s landings in the south as nearly flawless, among the best conducted in the entire Pacific War. Terrain constricted movement, and the 7th Division slugged through several pillbox defense complexes over the next few days. By February 4, save some mopping up, the island was in American hands. The Army division lost 177 killed and 1037 wounded. The two forces completed Flintlock with a few additional landings, but by February 8, garrison troops arrived to convert Kwajalein into a major new American base. Of the entire Japanese garrison (including some Korean laborers), only 265 surrendered.
Aftermath of Battle - Sherman transports a Japanese Tank
The “lessons learned” from Operation Flintlock are many in number. But three deserve discussion here, as they pertain to military operations (and other endeavors) today as they did then.
First, prior to the operations, the Marines and Army troops practiced… and practiced… and practiced. The 7th Infantry setup mock Japanese bunker complexes on Oahu, Hawaii based on experience at Tarawa. These drills paid off during the landings, as the troops moved off the beach, and proceeded to reduce enemy defenses. Smart, directed training offered a substitute for experience in the Kwajalein landings.
Second, coming behind the long running campaign at Guadalcanal and the nearly disastrous battle of Tarawa, the US Army, Navy, and Marine Corps proved rather adaptable. Instead of differing doctrine changes to those back in the states, commanders and staff in the combat zone worked out new ways to work around enemy defenses. Naval ships moved closer inshore to provide gunfire support, and in heavier quantities than before. Aviation assets learned to provide pinpoint close air support. The services learned beachhead traffic management. Logisticians defined “combat loading” procedures. And the list goes on. In short, the Americans “learned” in the field and applied those lessons directly to the next action. This aspect of the “American way of war” continues to this day, with a force which time and time again proves adaptable to the situation.
Lastly, flying in the face of nearly two-hundred years of inter-service rivalry, the Army-Navy-Marine team worked as … well … a team! At Kwajalein, a Navy Admiral in charge of the operation brought a ground force under command of a Marine general which included a full Army Division (and then some). Flying long range cover for the entire operation were some fourteen squadrons from the Army Air Forces (gotta work in the USAF somehow here!). Flintlock was a true joint operation.
Today Operation Flintlock is but a footnote to the larger history of World War II, sandwiched between Tarawa and the “Great Marianas Turkey Shoot” in the books. Of note, historian S.L.A. Marshall conducted one of his first “oral histories” compiling accounts directly from the soldiers in action. The resultant work, published as Island Victory: The Battle of Kwajalein Atoll, stands as a landmark for the practice of military history, but also one of only a few studies of the action outside official histories.
I would encourage those interested in this early “joint” operation to read the Army “Green Book” covering the campaign or Volume VII of naval historian S.E. Morrison’s History of United States Naval Operations in World War II. Marshall’s book, while important, is like many of his works – a labor to read!
-Craig.
Filed under history
USS North Carolina
Since we are in sort of a naval arms race, thought I’d escalate with some views of the USS North Carolina (BB-55)
The battleship currently occupies a berth on the Cape Fear River, opposite Wilmington, North Carolina. The USS North Carolina was lead ship of a class of two (the other being the USS Washington), and the first capital ship built for the Navy after the “battleship holiday” of the 1920s. The North Carolina set standards for the US Navy’s last generation of battleships, but was limited by the Washington and London Naval Treaties. Laid down in 1937, she was not commissioned until April 1940. At that time she was the grandest ship in the Navy and earned the nickname “showboat” due to the lavish attention garnered in the press.
Main armament of 16-inch/45-caliber guns sat in three triple turrets…
…fed from magazines deep in the ship’s hold.
Secondary armament was twenty 5-inch guns arranged in dual-purpose twin turrets.
At the time of launch, the North Carolina featured the best protection on any ship afloat, with belt armor at a 16-inch maximum thickness.
After a tour in the Atlantic early during World War II, the North Carolina joined operations around Guadalcanal in August 1942. In the closely contested carrier battles, the battleship provided an anti-aircraft umbrella over the valuable CVs. But a submarine torpedo put her out of action for a few months (and the same spread of torpedoes sank the carrier USS Wasp).
Upon returning to action, the battleship bristled with 40mm…
…and 20mm anti-aircraft guns.
Throughout World War II, the North Carolina retained OS2U Kingfisher spotting planes.
But operating alongside the fast carriers, these became redundant in most regards.
Personally I was most impressed with the rather ample coffee pots. As an old Mech Army guy, I never had more than a thermos. The Navy is considerably more advanced in the coffee dispensing field.
The North Carolina was decommissioned in 1947 and held in reserve until 1962. The state of North Carolina purchased the battleship (for $330,000 according to one report) that year, transforming her into a memorial to North Carolinians who died in World War II. As with any old ship, the North Carolina suffers from wear and the elements. Recently teams restored the teak deck, in part with a gift of wood from Myanmar (Burma to us older types). In the near future, plans call for a coffer dam around the ship to effect repairs on the hull. Those repairs will follow similar work done recently on the USS Alabama.
Now let me get back to the tanks… else this will become XBrad’s battleship blog!
- Craig
Craig Swain
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