Bathyscaphe
In 1960, Navy Lieutenant Don Walsh and Swiss scientist Jacques Piccard left the destroyer escort USS Lewis and climbed into a strange vessel that had been named Trieste. Less than sixty feet long and known technically as a “bathyscaphe,” this oddity was a submarine of sorts that used a combination of iron pellets (nine tons of them) for ballast and gasoline (twenty-eight thousand gallons) for buoyancy. The two men were crammed into a sphere on Trieste’s underside that was made of an alloy of nickel, chromium, and molybdenum and had an interior diameter of just six and one-half feet.
Casting off from Lewis, Walsh and Piccard headed down toward their destination—the bottom of the Marianas Trench, at the time believed to be the deepest point in all the world’s oceans at 35,800 feet, or nearly seven miles. At about 800 feet, all light was gone, and they continued down into inky darkness, where no man had ever gone before. At about 6,000 feet, it became so cold they had to put on warmer clothing. As they continued their descent, they suddenly felt the vessel shake violently as though an explosion had taken place; one of the windows in the entrance shaft to the vessel had cracked from the tremendous pressure that was building as the vessel went deeper into the ocean. This was not a venture for the fainthearted.
After four hours and forty-eight minutes, the two men felt a soft bump, and they knew they had arrived at the deepest point in the world’s oceans. The pressure at this depth was more than one hundred thousand tons, and Walsh and Piccard were astonished to see a flounderlike fish and some shrimp on the bottom as they peered out through their eight-inch-thick glass window.
Their ascent to the surface took three hours and seventeen minutes, and when Walsh emerged from the confines of the bathyscaphe, he tossed a weighted American flag over the side so that it would go to the bottom and mark the spot of the record-setting dive. To this day, that record has not been broken.
Friday the Thirteenth
Meeting in Philadelphia on Friday, 13 October 1775, the delegates to the Second Continental Congress voted to fit out two sailing vessels with ten carriage guns and eighty-man crews and sent them out on a cruise of three months to intercept transports carrying munitions and stores to the British army in America. This was an audacious move, considering that it would be nearly nine months before that same Congress would produce the Declaration of Independence proclaiming the new United States of America. One might argue that it was also a move bordering on the irrational, considering the size and incredible power of the Royal Navy. One might also note that Friday the thirteenth was not the ideal date to make such a move. But undaunted by such things, men like John Adams, who understood the importance of sea power, got the resolution passed, little realizing that they had signed the “birth certificate” of what would eventually become the most powerful navy in the history of the world.
In 1972, the CNO issued a long-overdue decree, officially authorizing recognition of 13 October as the appropriate date for celebrating the Navy’s birthday. Since that time, each CNO has encouraged a Navy-wide celebration of this occasion “to enhance a greater appreciation of our Navy heritage, and to provide a positive influence toward pride and professionalism in the naval service.” On that date every year, Sailors the world over gather for formal parties ashore, or have a piece of cake specially prepared by the cooks in the ship’s galley, or simply pause for a moment before assuming their next watch to reflect on what it means to be part of an organization that is hundreds of years old, has changed in countless ways, and yet carries with it the same bold spirit that was present at its birth.
Remembrance
Herman Wouk is one of the greatest writers of naval fiction and was once a Sailor himself. Countless Sailors have read Wouk’s Pulitzer Prize–winning The Caine Mutiny, which has often been used as a textbook at the Naval Academy for its insights into a portion of the Navy’s heritage and for its lessons on leadership. And Wouk’s two books chronicling the history of World War II, The Winds of War and War and Remembrance, stand as monuments to the Navy’s great struggles in the victory at sea in the Pacific.
Although his works are technically fiction, they are filled with historical facts and, more importantly, they provide a deeper understanding of the human experience of war than any straight history can ever do. It is noteworthy, then, that this great writer stepped out of his role as anonymous narrator only once to make an overt comment about what he was writing.
He had been describing the sacrificial attack of the torpedo bombers at the Battle of Midway, telling how these aircraft, manned by an assortment of young men representing most of the states that are combined to make up the United States, charged headlong into battle and certain death, and in so doing turned the tide of battle and altered the course of the world’s history. He had been relating how, in just a very few minutes, thirty-three pilots and thirty-five radioman gunners were killed as they distracted enemy fighter aircraft long enough for their fellow Sailors in the dive-bombers to strike a fatal blow into the very heart of the Japanese navy, the same aircraft carriers that had struck at Pearl Harbor on the first day of the war. Describing this incredible moment as “the soul of the United States of America in action,” Wouk wrote that “the memory of these three American torpedo plane squadrons should not die.” He then halted the telling of his story, pausing for several pages to list the names and the birthplaces of each of the sixty-eight men who paid the ultimate price that day.
This unusual tribute to real people in the midst of a work of fiction tells us that there is something truly extraordinary about the Battle of Midway. On its Web site, the Naval Historical Center describes the battle as “the decisive battle of the war in the Pacific,” and few historians dispute that. It was a battle that was won by the courage and sacrifice of those pilots and gunners who took to the air knowing that the odds were stacked against them. It was also won through some exceptional intelligence work by a handful of cryptanalysts working long hours for weeks on end to decipher the enemy’s intentions. And by hundreds of shipyard workers who performed maintenance miracles to ensure that three instead of just two American aircraft carriers were available to fight. And by several admirals who made key decisions at the right times. And by those anonymous others who muscled the bombs onto aircraft, found the winds for the launch, kept the steam flowing and the electrons streaming, prepared the meals, kept the records, and cleaned, lubricated, repaired, and performed countless other duties to ensure that this outnumbered and outclassed fleet was ready to do battle, to do what U.S. Sailors are meant to do.
Recognizing the particular significance of this battle and, more importantly, what it represents, the CNO sent out a message to the entire Navy on the fifty-eighth anniversary of the battle, saying: “Midway was won, not by superior numbers or daunting technology, but by the courage and tenacity of Sailors who fought a vicious air and sea battle against overwhelming odds. Their victory helped win us the world we have today, and it is appropriate that we remember it and those who participated in it.” In that same message, the CNO then decreed:
The two most significant dates in our Navy’s history are 13 October 1775, the birth of our Navy, and 4 June 1942, the Battle of Midway. These two prominent days will henceforth be celebrated annually as the centerpieces of our heritage. Twice a year, we will pause as a Navy, to reflect upon our proud heritage and to build in all hands a renewed awareness of our tradition and history. Through such reflection, we will help define the significance of our service today in defense of our country’s freedom. We are the caretakers of a torch passed on by nearly two hundred and twenty five years of naval heroes. Honoring their contributions will enrich each of us. I believe it is appropriate that we take time to pause and reflect formally upon our proud naval heritage.
And, ever since, the Navy has heeded that CNO’s words. In the spring of every year, no matter where they are stationed, American Sailors come together to remember a moment in our Navy’s history when the extraordinary was accomplished by the ordinary, t
o reflect on what that represents to each man and woman who wears or has worn a Navy uniform, to hope that they too will be ready should the day come when they will have to meet similar challenges and find the strength to carry on the finest ideals of the United States of America, just as those at Midway once did.
Bravo Zulu
It is appropriate to close the final chapter of this book with a discussion of two words, strange to the rest of the world but very meaningful to the men and women who serve in today’s Navy. Every Sailor knows (and aspires to) the two words “Bravo Zulu.” It is the Navy’s unique way of praising someone, of saying, “Well done.” While everyone in the Navy knows what it means, not everyone knows how it came to be. “Why not Whiskey Delta?” one might ask.
The origins of the term can be found in the practice of using codes to convey information or orders at sea. Before radio was invented, ships needed some means of communicating with each other. A set of signal flags representing letters and numbers was produced so that messages could be created and hoisted by one ship and read by other ships within visual range. But trying to spell out a message of very many words would require a lot of halyard space, so signal books were devised with simple codes that assigned longer meanings to short combinations of letters. For example, if all ships in a squadron had the same signal book that assigned the code letters “DCV” to mean, “Engage the nearest enemy from wind-ward,” the squadron commodore could order that for all his ships at once, simply by hoisting those three flags. This system had an added advantage: if the enemy did not have the same signal book, he would not know what the commodore was intending.
When radio was invented, the same codes could still be used to convey longer messages in shorter terms (over longer distances), simply by broadcasting the code letters by voice or Morse code. The problem with voice radio is that letters such as t, d, e, and p sound too much alike. A commodore intending to tell his ships to “engage the enemy” (DCV) might accidentally tell them to “return to port” (TCE) if they misheard the letters. To counter that problem, a “phonetic alphabet” was devised, where each letter has a word assigned to it so that there will be no confusion. In the first such alphabet, created in 1913, “DCV” became “Dog Cast Vice” and “TCE” became “Tare Cast Easy.”
Over the years, for various reasons, the phonetic alphabet was changed (once in 1927, again in 1938, and yet again in World War II). The final change, resulting in the phonetic alphabet in use today, occurred in 1957, altering the phonetic words to make them more easily pronounceable by America’s NATO allies. The only words to remain the same since 1913 are “Mike” and “X-ray.”
The signal books, assigning specific meanings to different combinations of letters and numbers, have also changed to reflect advances in technology and to keep enemy forces from becoming familiar with the codes. The codes have also grown, incorporating administrative as well as tactical information. One of the signals included along the way was that which allowed a commander to send his approval for a successful evolution, to say, “Well done.” During World War II “Tare Victor George” was listed in the codebook with that meaning.
A new codebook, called the Allied Naval Signal Book (ACP 175), was adopted after NATO was created in 1949. Until then, each navy had used its own signal code and operational manuals. World War II experience had shown that it was difficult, or even impossible, for ships of different navies to operate together unless they could readily communicate, and ACP 175 was designed to remedy this problem.
ACP 175 was organized in the general manner of other signal books, that is, starting with one-flag signals, then two-flag signals, and so on. The two-flag signals were organized by general subject, starting with AA, AB, AC . . . AZ, BA, BB, BC . . . BZ, and so on. The B signals were the “administrative” signals, and the last signal on the administrative page was “BZ,” standing for “well done” (thus replacing the old “TVG”). This was spoken as “Baker Zebra” until 1957, when the phonetic alphabet was changed to the “Alfa, Bravo, Charlie, Delta” one still in use today. With that change, “BZ” became “Bravo Zulu,” the code familiar to, and coveted by, Sailors today.
Theodore Roscoe’s informal history, This Is Your Navy, written specifically for Sailors, was the inspiration for this book in a number of ways. The cover for that earlier book was simple in design, yet so very appropriate. Featuring simply the title, the author’s name, and three Navy signal flags, it was Roscoe’s way of summing up the content of his book, which unashamedly sang the praises of the U.S. Navy. The three flags were Tango, Victor, and Charlie, forerunner to Bravo Zulu: “Well done.”
Appendix
Battle Streamers
Since 1971, the U.S. Navy has observed the practice during ceremonial occasions of adding a cluster of multicolored streamers adorned with silver and bronze stars to the top of its flag. These streamers and stars symbolize the dedicated and heroic service that Sailors have demonstrated for more than two hundred years.
All streamers are three feet long and two and three-quarters inches wide, but each one is unique in its combination of colors and represents an individual war, campaign, or theater of operations. The embroidered stars further represent individual battles or specific operations that rate special recognition. One battle or operation is represented by one bronze star. To save space, five battles or operations are represented by one silver star. The three battles of the Quasi-War with France, for example, are recognized by a streamer with three bronze stars, while the fourteen separate battles of the War of 1812 are represented by two silver stars and four bronze stars.
Some battle streamers represent wars (such as the Revolutionary War and the Spanish-American War), while others represent a period or campaign (such as operations against West Indian pirates and the China relief expedition). World War II was such a vast war that it is represented by a series of streamers, each one standing for a different theater of operations (Asiatic-Pacific Theater, European–African–Middle Eastern Campaign, and so on).
Taken together, these battle streamers provide a summary operational history of the U.S. Navy. Each battle streamer is listed below, followed by a brief description of the war, campaign, or theater of operations it represents. Also listed are the individual battles or special operations recognized by the stars on each streamer.
Note: The stars on three banners pictured in this appendix—Revolutionary War, Armed Forces Expeditionary Service, and Vietnam Service—do not correspond to the paragraphs that describe them. At the time we went to press, copies of the updated streamers were not available to reproduce here.
Revolutionary War, 1775–83
Beginning with actions in coastal waters in early 1775, followed by Commodore Esek Hopkins’s 1776 amphibious assault to capture military stores at New Providence in the Bahamas, and reaching a climax in 1781 when French fleet action off the Virginia Capes led to victory at Yorktown, the war at sea played a vital role in the nation’s struggle for independence. Small, fragmented American naval forces lacked the capabilities for major fleet engagements, but their contributions were crucial to failure or success.
The Continental Navy was aided by various state navies, privateers, and a fleet of schooners sent to sea by General George Washington. With these various seagoing forces, the Americans captured nearly two hundred enemy merchant ships to provide vitally needed supplies for the hard-pressed Army, periodically transported Washington’s troops, and joined in the defense of important port cities—New York, Philadelphia, and Charleston. Despite overwhelming odds, American Sailors carried the patriotic cause to sea against the overwhelming strength of Britain’s Royal Navy. Operations in European waters, especially when John Paul Jones and his men in Bonhomme Richard defeated HMS Serapis in battle, brought the war to England’s shores.
Stars
Two silver stars are included on the Revolutionary War battle streamer, representing ten different battles, campaigns, and operations.
1. New Providence, Bahamas, operation
(3 March 1776). In the first Continental Navy operation of the war, a squadron of ships commanded by Esek Hopkins landed shore parties in the Bahamas and captured a British fort at New Providence, bringing back much-needed ammunition and weapons to General George Washington’s Army.
2. Inland waters and amphibious operations. An outclassed American force at Lake Champlain was able to slow the British advance from Canada and set up the vital American strategic victory at Saratoga in 1777. Eleven of the thirteen states (New Jersey and Delaware were the exceptions) created navies for the defense of their seaports, and some participated in commerce-raiding operations. On several occasions, Washington relied upon local vessels to effect some of his most important operations: his escape from New York, in which nine thousand men were ferried across the East River in nine hours, and his assault across the Delaware River to capture Trenton are notable examples.
3. West Indies and European convoy operations. Although not part of the rebellious colonies, the West Indies were an important component of the economy in the New World, as well as a source of great distraction for the Royal Navy as it defended both its holdings there and its convoys carrying goods to and from the region.
4. Operations in European waters. Various American ships under the command of Lambert Wickes, Gustavus Conyngham, and John Paul Jones operated in the waters near Britain and France, seizing British ships and conducting raids ashore. This caused a great deal of alarm in England and further resulted in British merchants demanding naval escorts for their ships.
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