Tragedy At Honda (eBook)

Charles A. Lockwood, Hans C. Adamson (Autoren)

eBook Download: EPUB

2018
212 Seiten
Binnacle Books (Verlag)
978-0-359-32774-4 (ISBN)

Infos

Known to seafarers as 'The Devil's Jaw,' Point Honda has lured ships to its jagged rocks off the coast of California for centuries, but its worst calamity occurred on 8 September 1923, the night nine U.S. Navy destroyers ran into Honda's fog-wrapped reefs.

Textauszug

OVER THE STEEPLES AND the towers that grace the hills of the City by the Golden Gate, a favorite haven and host to seafaring men of all nations since the seventeen hundreds, the dawn of September 8, 1923, broke clear and warm. The accustomed fog, which plagued seagoing operations and ferry traffic during the hours of darkness, had lifted. The eastern sky was aflame with red as the sun tinged the edges of a few wind-blown black clouds. Soon it rose majestically over Mount Diablo to open and adorn the day as well as to drive the shadows of night from the cluttered waterfronts and streets of San Francisco and her sister cities that rim the Bay.

Image: The USS San Francisco steams under the Golden Gate Bridge in 1942, during World War II.

PROBABLY FEW OF THOSE awake to witness Nature’s thrilling color display on the birth of this new day gave even a passing thought to that age-old sailorman’s warning: “Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning,” an omen of death and disaster at sea. Hoary maxims of that kind belonged to the age of sail. In this day of steam and of steel-hulled ships, with thousands of horsepower awaiting a touch of the throttle, dangers from storm, wind, and wave have come to mean little to modern seamen.

Image: Duck hunting on the Sa Francisco Bay, 1915.

OR SO THEY SEEM TO think. The thoughts of watch-standing naval personnel on the decks and bridges of the large and small, shark-gray men-o’-war which crowded the docks and mid-stream anchorage were probably concerned with the fact that another Fleet Week in hospitable, fascinating San Francisco had passed into history.

Yes: Fleet Week, with its naval review, its fanfare, and its dances; with its parades, its boat races and baseball games; its thundering salutes to visiting dignitaries, snappy side-boys [crewmen detailed to flank the gangway when dignitaries board or disembark], and the shrill beeps of the boson’s pipe, was over. The mighty battleships of the United States Fleet, after a summer of Fleet Exercises in Puget Sound and northern areas, were even now, with attendant destroyer squadrons and auxiliary vessels, getting up steam for return to their regular bases at San Pedro and San Diego.

Image: Fleet Week, San Francisco, 1908.

THE DESTROYER Young was a trim, smart-looking member of Captain Robert Morris’ top-notch outfit, Destroyer Division 33. She was nested with her division mates at Pier 15 in San Francisco. On her deck, two men stood talking at the gangway. One, the Officer of the Watch, was a young ensign. Complete with binoculars slung around his neck and, in his hand, a cup of coffee strong enough to float a depth charge, he listened with evident interest to his Quartermaster of the Watch, a veteran of many cruises in “four-stackers” or “tin-cans,” as they were more familiarly known in Navy slang.

Idly passing the last few minutes before the time came to call all hands and get the ship ready for sea, the duo had been speculating upon the portent of such a blood-red sunrise. The Quartermaster had seemed worried.

“Yes, sir,” the older man was saying, “I know it’s a mighty red sky, but that’s not what’s bothering me. I’ve seen lots of threatening sunrises that didn’t bring on stormy weather. I guess it’s the fact that our new Chief Commissary Steward has been absent over liberty for two days. See? Unless he shows up in the next half hour, he won’t make this trip to San Diego with the Young. See, sir?”

“Yes, I see!” replied the OOD [Officer on Duty] as he suppressed a grin. “Lieutenant Donaldson, the Commissary Officer, also has been worried about that. He’s checked with the contractors ashore and inventoried the storerooms. The Chief’s accounts are straight, the provision lockers well stocked, and we won’t starve.”

“Well, sir, the truth is, according to scuttlebutt, that he’s been jittery about making this run down the coast. He is supposed to have said he had a hunch something’s going to happen; something bad. See? Guess he’s got some of the boys believing him. Me! I don’t quite know what to think. But ...”

“What! An old hand like you superstitious, Quartermaster?” scoffed the Ensign, as he smiled incredulously.

“No, sir and I actually hadn’t thought about it until yesterday afternoon. But on the First Dog Watch, I saw three or four rats trying to get ashore from our ship over the mooring lines and gangway. See? One of the black gang kicked two of them overboard. And, sir, you know that rats quitting the ship is a jolt to any sailor.”

From the distant Oakland waterfront, interrupting their talk, came the muted sound of sirens and whistles being tested.

It was echoed from the piers of San Francisco as other ships of Destroyer Squadron 11 tested their sound signal equipment preparatory to getting underway. As per routine, the four-stackers—the “Cavalry of the Sea,” were to precede the Fleet out the channel. Theoretically, their purpose was to liquidate lurking enemy submarines.

In the rush of getting underway, the conversation with the Quartermaster was forgotten. However, the Ensign OOD recalled later that, as lines were being singled up, he saw no rats deserting the ship.

The Chief Commissary Steward, however, was still missing as the Young backed away from the “nest.”

Image: Fisherman’s Wharf of San Francisco Bay, c. 1891.

DESDIV 33 BACKED OUT of Pier 15 and formed up into Division, with the flagship S. P. Lee leading, followed by the Young, the Woodbury, and the Nicholas. At the same time, DesDiv 31, commanded by Commander William S. Pye, was snaking its way out of Oakland Estuary from its berth at the Municipal Pier. The Farragut, as Division Flag, led the way with the Somers, Fuller, J. F. Burnes, Percival, and Chauncey tailed in her wake.

Upon signal to clear the harbor, DesDiv 32, commanded by Commander Walter G. Roper and nested at Pier 36 on the Embarcadero, backed out of its berth. One by one, its DDs formed up with the flagship Kennedy leading. The Thompson, the Paul Hamilton, and the Stoddert followed in that order.

The Delphy, Flagship of Captain Edward H. Watson, Commander Destroyer Squadron 11—composed of DesDivs 31, 32, and 33—after the preliminary shrill “Whripp, whripp, whripp” of her siren and the deep-throated “Whoot” of her whistle, got underway from her anchorage in mid-channel, with signal flags flying from both yardarms. Meanwhile Destroyer Squadron 12 , Captain James H. Tomb, scheduled to follow DesRon 11 to sea, had been clearing the throats of its whistles and sirens. For late sleepers in San Francisco, it was a noisy morning.

Image: Captain Edward H. (Howe) Watson (1874-1942), b. Frankfort, Connecticut.

THERE WERE FOUR ABSENTEES from the destroyers of Captain Watson’s command on that beautiful September morning.

The William Jones, of DesDiv 33, skippered by Lieutenant Commander B. B. Taylor, had suffered an engineering casualty which prevented her from working up to the higher speeds. She therefore had got underway shortly after midnight, following, through heavy fog, the movements of the destroyer tender Melville, flagship of DesRons, which also proceeded to sea at that hour.

Rear Admiral S. E. W. [Sumner Ely Wetmore] Kittelle, Commander Destroyer Squadrons, Battle Fleet, who flew his two-starred flag in the Melville, departed at this ghostly hour because of his Flagship’s limited speed and in order to reach the Destroyer Base in San Diego not too long after his more fleet-footed fighting ships arrived in their home port. The Farquhar of DesDiv 32, commanded by Lieutenant Commander Jeff Davis Smith, was another cripple and got underway on the stroke of midnight to trail the fog whistle of the Melville out of the Bay.

The Reno, also of DesDiv 32, backed away from her mates immediately after the Farquhar and headed seaward, amid the mournful hooting of fog signals, but not because of engineering difficulties.

On the contrary, her genial, good-looking skipper, Lieutenant Commander J. R. “Dick” Barry, a veteran destroyer man, had requested and received orders to take advantage of this operation to make the annual smoke prevention and full-speed run required of all destroyers.

His zeal and foresight was commendable and deserved success. However, Fate decreed otherwise, for the test was never completed. Still, from the human angle, the unforeseen outcome reflected great credit upon the Reno and her people.

Image: Rear Admiral Sumner Kittelle (1867-1950) was also the military Governor of the US Virgin Islands. He retired in 1931.

THE FINAL ABSENTEE was from DesDiv 33, the...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 31.12.2018
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Sachbuch/Ratgeber ► Geschichte / Politik ► 20. Jahrhundert bis 1945
• Themenwelt: Geisteswissenschaften ► Geschichte
• Schlagworte: famous shipwrecks • Honda disaster • Honda Point • Honda Point disaster • maritime disasters • shipwrecks California • US Navy shipwrecks
• ISBN-10: 0-359-32774-5 / 0359327745
• ISBN-13: 978-0-359-32774-4 / 9780359327744