Book Review, Codename Nemo: The Hunt for a Nazi U-Boat and the Elusive Enigma Machine

by Charles Lachman
Reviewed by Lee Duckworth, HRNM docent

Author Charles Lachman’s book, Codename Nemo: The Hunt for a Nazi U-Boat and the Elusive Enigma Machine, provides a unique perspective of life on board WWII German U-Boats, US Navy ships, and merchantmen. The book reads like a historical novel and relies heavily on personal US and German sailor diaries as the author weaves the story from both Allied and Axis viewpoints.

Lachman gives a thorough history of Germany’s U-505 from pre-commissioning through its current resting place (Museum of Science and Industry, Chicago, IL). He discusses the operational history of the submarine and spends a significant amount of time on each of her three German commanding officers.

The author also details the lives of US Navy sailors who were involved in the search for and ultimate capture of U-505. He devotes several pages to each member of the nine-person boarding party and his action-packed chapters highlight the drama from both sides: the hunter and the hunted.

His characterization of US Navy Captain Dan Gallery (Commanding Officer of USS Guadalcanal (CVE 60), and officer in tactical command of a five-ship task group (TG 22.3), depicts him as a “maverick” and makes one wonder how higher authority allowed him to formulate plans for capture of a U-Boat. This daring and dangerous scheme includes actions that would never be tolerated in today’s Navy: ordering pilots to self-qualify for night carrier landings; allowing his ships’ fuel to get so low that he nearly needs to be towed to port; and seemingly carrying out his own personal quest for capture of a U-Boat. All of this was accomplished without making higher authority completely aware of his actions until they were either already under way or completed.

U-505 sinking (NHHC)

The most riveting chapters of Codename Nemo contain detailed descriptions of the unmatched bravery of the nine-man US Navy boarding party. They unhesitatingly boarded the sinking U-505, not knowing if there were still armed German sailors or booby traps on board, whether they could stop the flooding in the scuttled submarine, or if they could even right her for towing. The extraordinary, risky, and time-critical actions (sometimes just having to guess which valves to turn) in their attempt to stop the progressive flooding make you feel like you are right there alongside them.

Crewmembers of USS Pillsbury, some of the first Sailors to board U-505 (NHHC)

Lachman uses scant official US Navy or German documents in his research and relies almost entirely on diaries or books written by the main participants. Deeper dives into ship’s logs and other official US Navy records might have enhanced his book. He writes little about the actual significance of the capture of the Enigma machine at this stage of the war (mid-1944). Although he alludes to its importance throughout the book, he fails to present any detail about the importance of the capture other than one paragraph where he states it may have shortened the war. This lack of the specific importance of capture of the U-505 enigma machine and code books seemingly lessens the heroics of the US Navy boarding party who risked their lives to recover these items.

Perhaps one of the most remarkable achievements of the US Navy task group is that there wasn’t a single leak from any Sailor about the capture of U-505. The fact that virtually nothing was divulged and Germany and most of the US Navy knew nothing about the U-505 capture is a real testimony to those Sailors.

I recommend Codename Nemo to readers who want a fast-paced account of the audacious plan to hunt, capture, and keep secret one of the most daring actions of WWII.

Book Review: From Yeomanettes to Fighter Jets: A Century of Women in the U.S. Navy

by Randy Carol Goguen
Reviewed by Lee Duckworth, HRNM docent

From Yeomanettes to Fighter Jets covers a century of the role of women in the U.S. Navy as author Randy Carol Goguen paints a vivid canvas of their storied advancement. Her book is divided into four phases: 1917-1947 militarization; 1948-1966 marginalization; 1967-1993 transition; and 1994 to present. Goguen’s book goes into great detail surrounding the economic and political conditions, and cultural and technological changes that both plagued and advanced their cause.

The path to progress for Navy women is highlighted by examples of some unlikely leaders with unique personalities and views that bolstered women’s rights over the course of the century. She opens the book in 1917 with Josephus Daniels, the secretary of the navy who acted independently of the secretary of war and others, including senior navy officers. Daniels took advantage of a gap in law (others later do the same) with the Naval Reserve Act of 1916 which didn’t specify sex as defining eligibility to bring women into the navy. Eventually, 11,880 women served as yeoman (F) during WWI and the author details how the exigency of war prevented others from overriding this new policy.

Four Yeoman (F) in the late 1910s (NHHC)

Though openings were advertised for numerous positions, WWI Navy women were assigned mostly administrative duties. The author’s premise is that new technology, such as the typewriter and telephone, opened opportunities for women and, as there were many unknowns as to how this technology would be used, little prejudice against women had developed. Despite the overall satisfaction of the performance of the yeomen (F), they were rapidly discharged at the end of the war.

Goguen’s research reveals that during the inter-war period, only two offices (Bureau of Aeronautics and Office of the Chief of Naval Operations) were “positive” about allowing women in the Navy. As aviation was a “new” industry, there were no preexisting barriers or traditions in that field to break down. A wide variety of billets were opened to women but they (other than nurses) were not allowed to serve outside the continental United States or aboard vessels or combat aircraft. Additional detail and discussion of the WWII era would have provided a more even balance to the book.

Members of the first class of WAVES to graduate from the Aviation Metalsmith School, at the Naval Air Technical Training Center, Norman, Oklahoma, 1943. (NHHC)

The concept of separate spheres for men and women enjoyed a resurgence in the post-WWII era, marginalizing military women for the ensuing three decades. In June 1948 the first peacetime draft was initiated, with a two percent ceiling established for women in the total force. Several factions wanted to retain women in a “reserve status” while others felt a need for regular commissions. Most of the service leaders supported a regular commission for women, though Congress did not. President Harry Truman signed the 1948 Women’s Armed Service Integration Act, which set permanent status for women in regular components in the armed forces, though they were prohibited from going to sea in ships other than transports and hospital ships. Yet, two years later when the Korean War broke out, an active-duty recall was established which included women.

By the mid-1960s, despite much controversy over the Equal Rights Amendment (ERA), cultural attitudes toward women in the Navy had changed little since 1917. The author goes into great depth as to how Chief of Naval Operations Adm. Elmo Zumwalt Jr. charted a new course for Navy women by expanding opportunities. As the advent of the telephone in the WWI era provided a viable career path for Navy women, development of the Integrated Undersea Surveillance System (IUSS) specialty did the same in the 1970s.

The final section of her book goes into significant detail of the turmoil of the late 1980s and the initiatives and changes to allow women on combat ships and aircraft. During those strained times, Congress, SecNav, CNO, and presidential influence wavered greatly, depending on who was in office. The Tailhook scandal of 1991 demonstrated a catastrophic failure of leadership, yet finally opened the door for Navy women to go to combat.

Airman Ora Howard, Plane Captain, (left), and Airman Grisselle Martinez, perform a routine maintenance on an A-7 Corsair II aircraft, November 1988. (US Navy)

The author delineates the rapid progress in the 1990s and recognition that successful integration could be achieved in units that possessed an excellent command climate and strong leadership. By the early 2000s, successful integration in aircraft and ships was commonplace and warfare specialties became available to women in nearly every area of the U.S. Navy. The integration of women into the Navy succeeded despite the cultural challenges. Set in motion by the exigency of war, progress in the first half of the twentieth century and scandals in the second half led to eventual qualification for sea-going and combat assignments.

CNO Admiral Lisa Francetti (US Navy)

This well researched and written book is a must-read and belongs in the library of every Navy person—man and woman.

The International Naval Review of 1893

By Brenda Hale
HRNM Volunteer

The first International Naval Review (INR) took place in Norfolk, VA, from April 17 to 24, 1893. The April 25, 1893, Norfolk Virginian newspaper reported that the vessels gathered from around the world was “the greatest assembling of warships witnessed in modern times.” The 1893 INR was part of the World’s Fair in Chicago, and the final INR event took place in New York Harbor.

The INR event was part of a World's Fair bill, passed by Congress in 1890, “provided that a naval review of the ships of this and other nations shall be held in the harbor of New York in April, 1893, and that for this purpose they shall rendezvous at Hampton Roads [Norfolk], before proceeding to New York.” The bill went on to say, “That there should be exhibited . . . the functions and administrative faculty of the Government in time of peace, and its resources as a war power.”

A few ships of the 1893 INR

President Grover Cleveland had been handed INR 1893 from President Benjamin Harrison’s previous administration. In Harrison’s fourth Annual Message, December 1892, he praised the Navy, saying, “Our naval officers . . . have responded magnificently to the confidence of Congress and have demonstrated to the world an unexcelled capacity in construction . . . of Great War ships. . . . The ships from our Navy, which will appear in the great naval parade next April, will be a convincing demonstration to the world that the United States is again a naval power.” The 1890 Norfolk Chamber of Commerce said, “The future . . . will see a great ship building boom, and Norfolk will certainly take a lead as a ship building port.”

The 1893 Chicago World’s Fair, titled “World’s Columbian Exposition,” commemorated the 400th anniversary of Christopher Columbus’ explorations in America. Spain sailed models of Columbus’ three ships, Nina, Pinta, and Santa Maria, which accompanied the first INR group of ships from Hampton Roads to New York harbor.

The parades and gaiety of the INR may have been one of the few highlights of President Cleveland's second term. The Norfolk Virginian related, “Thousands went down to Old Point, while large crowds witnessed the great Naval parade from Sewell’s Point and Ocean View.”

The First International Naval Review, painting by Louis Kurt and Alexander Allison (fordlibrarymuseum.org)

The painting above shows a gun salute for Cleveland in the 1893 INR at New York Harbor. Cleveland had embarked on USS Dolphin (PG 24), a U.S. Navy cruiser, commanded by CDR Willard Herbert Brownson. Dolphin was the first U.S. Navy ship to fly the flag of the United States President. Dolphin was a stepping stone in the construction of the three larger steel-hulled, steam-powered protected cruisers (Atlanta, Boston, and Chicago).

USS Dolphin (PG 24) (Navsource.org)

USS Philadelphia, flagship of the 1893 INR (Navsource.org)

USS Philadelphia (C 4), flagship for the INR, had Rear Admiral Bancroft Gherardi at the helm. The Italian American Veterans Museum stated Gherardi was “a versatile officer and distinguished leader in the modern American Navy.” Gherardi commanded INR’s thirteen U.S. ships and oversaw the armada of foreign visitors’ ships as they arrived in Hampton Roads in April 1893. The INR had 30 warships, with the United States’ thirteen ships, and foreign nations brought 17 ships from England, France, Italy, Germany, Russia, Spain, Brazil, and Holland. Argentina went straight to the New York harbor with one ship. There were battleships, gunboats, torpedo boats, and cruisers of various kinds. Historians from the Tesla Society described the naval review, saying, “Never before had the squadrons of England, France, Russia and Germany, of Italy and Spain, in line with those of other empires and monarchies, passed parade before a president of the United States.”

Rear Admiral Bancroft Gherardi (iavmuseum.org)

This first INR was so successful that it continued on various significant U.S. occasions:
Second INR, 1907: Hampton Roads was again the site, in observance of the 300th anniversary of Jamestown, Virginia’s founding. President Theodore Roosevelt reviewed the Jamestown Exposition INR, which laid the groundwork for Naval Station Norfolk.
Third INR, 1957: Hampton Roads hosted, for the 350th anniversary of Jamestown’s founding. President Dwight Eisenhower extended invitations to nations of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO).
Fourth INR, 1976: New York Harbor hosted “Salute to Maritime Heritage,” reviewed by President Gerald R. Ford as a “most fitting bicentennial salute to our nation's maritime heritage . . . reflected the great hope of all men for world peace and for continued cooperation between the people of all lands to ensure that peace.”
Fifth INR, 1986: Rededication of Statue of Liberty and reviewed by President Ronald Reagan, which brought together naval ships from the U.S. and 13 countries.
Sixth INR, 2000: New York City, reviewed by President Bill Clinton, which coincided with Op Sail 2000.
Seventh INR, July 4, 2026: to be held in New York City on the 250th birthday of the United States of America.

USS Wisconsin's Burials at Sea

By Alex Bowback
Maintenance Coordinator, Battleship Wisconsin

USS Wisconsin (BB 64) never suffered fatal casualties directly resulting from combat. However, during the ship’s tours of service, Wisconsin was not unfamiliar with the high price of war paid by many Sailors. Equipped with the best at-sea medical facilities, Battleship Wisconsin received many Sailors from destroyers with wounds severe enough to need treatment that could not be rendered on the smaller vessels. Battleship Wisconsin’s medical personnel provided the best care they could for the wounded, but in some cases those wounds were just too severe.

USS Wisconsin sailing in the western Pacific, December 1944 (NHHC)

Harry Vivian Yetter was only 20 years old when he found himself being transferred by high line to USS Wisconsin above the rolling seas of the Pacific Ocean in April 1945. A Seaman 1st Class aboard USS McDermut (DD 677), Yetter was among a string of severe casualties transferred for treatment after a friendly fire incident: USS Missouri, attempting to shoot down a low-flying kamikaze, peppered USS McDermut with countless anti-aircraft rounds and one 5-inch shell, the latter creating a four-foot diameter hole in the hull and penetrating the forward fireroom. Some of the casualties needed more treatment than could be provided by the limping destroyer’s medical team. Unfortunately, war has its cost and even on a ship with state-of-the-art medical equipment, some wounds are just too severe.

After suffering a long night in critical condition in USS Wisconsin’s sick bay, Harry Vivian Yetter of Chatfield, Minnesota, succumbed to his wounds and was buried at sea from the starboard side fantail on April 16, 1945. He is one of three Sailors who were buried at sea from USS Wisconsin during wartime operations when the ship was with Battleship Division Nine during the Second World War.

The two other WWII Sailors who were committed to the deep from USS Wisconsin also served on destroyers that screened carrier groups. Machinist’s Mate 3rd Class Robert Edward Caya, a 37-year-old Sailor born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, was transferred to Wisconsin after his ship, USS Watts (DD 567), came under attack by Japanese kamikaze. He was buried at sea on August 11, 1945. Gunner’s Mate 2nd Class Mervin Randolph Clark was on USS Maddox (DD 731) when his ship came under fire from Japanese guns. He was transferred to Wisconsin, where the ship’s medical team tried to save him, but 27-year-old Mervin Randolph Clark, born in Limestone, Tennessee, succumbed to his wounds and was buried at sea on January 22, 1945.

A Sailor on USS Wisconsin stops to pray. (NHHC)

By the time USS Wisconsin had laid to rest Harry V. Yetter, Mervin R. Clark, and Robert E. Caya, these Sailors had already done the same with two members of their own crew a few months prior. One of these sailors was Seaman 2nd Class Joe J. Goldblatt, who died on August 21, 1944, on authorized leave while the ship was in Philadelphia. He was buried in Tiferet Israel-Agudas Achim Cemetery, Dallas, Texas. The other Sailor was Seaman 2nd Class Frank O. Ratcliffe. He developed pneumonia while the ship was anchored in Honolulu, Hawaii, and at 8:10 A.M. on November 16, 1944, while he was in sick bay, he died from his illness. Ratcliffe was buried at the National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific in Honolulu.

USS Wisconsin closed out WWII having suffered no casualties of its own as a result of combat; but in 1951, when the ship was reactivated for the Korean Conflict after a few years in mothball, the starboard side fantail was again prepared to commit another man to the deep. This time, however, it would not be a Sailor from USS Wisconsin’s own Navy. It would be a combatant from the other side of the 38th parallel, a North Korean prisoner of war.

There are not many details about the burial at sea of this North Korean POW. The only evidence that can be found are photographs from USS Wisconsin’s 1951-52 cruise book and oral accounts from Sailors aboard the ship at the time of the burial. From the evidence we do have, we know that this North Korean POW was given full military honors and was committed to the deep with the same respect a Sailor from the U.S. Navy would have received. No exact date has been found, but we know the year to be 1951, while USS Wisconsin was serving off the Korean peninsula.

It is important to remember these five Sailors and North Korean POW when understanding USS Wisconsin’s military career in both WWII and the Korean Conflict. These six show us just how personal war became to the Sailors of USS Wisconsin, whether it was members of the ship’s own crew, like Frank Ratcliffe and Joe Goldblatt; or members of other ships’ companies who were transferred to Wisconsin for medical care, like Harry Yetter, Mervin Clark, Robert Caya, and the unnamed POW. For the latter four, the fantail is the closest thing to a tangible grave they have and should be respected as a place of memorial for those who gave the last full measure of devotion to their country. It is the last place their earthly bodies would rest among their comrades as the words “we therefore commit this body to the deep” rang out to all hands standing silently on deck.

A Tragic Anniversary: The Loss of USS Scorpion (SSN 589)

By Zach Smyers and Mark Freeman
HRNM Staff

In May 1968, the nuclear attack submarine USS Scorpion (SSN 589) was 350 feet below the surface of the Mediterranean Sea traveling at a speed of 15 knots. Commander Francis A. Slattery, commanding officer of Scorpion, sent a message to COMSUBLANT (Commander, Submarine Force Atlantic). In the message, Slattery said that Scorpion was closing in on a Soviet submarine and research group “to begin surveillance of the Soviets.” This would be the last message ever sent by Scorpion.

Commander Francis Slattery, CO of the Scorpion (NHHC)

Ten years earlier, in August 1958, the keel was laid for Scorpion, which was built at the Electric Boat Division, General Dynamics Corporation, Groton, Connecticut. Scorpion was the second submarine to be built as part of the U.S. Navy’s Skipjack-class. The Skipjacks had the latest in technology in terms of armament, sonar, and nuclear propulsion. Capable of speeds in excess of 30 knots while submerged, Scorpion would be ideal for covert observations of Soviet naval activity during the busy years of the Cold War.

Launching of the Scorpion (Navsource.org)

Commissioned on July 29, 1960, USS Scorpion (SSN 589) would be the sixth U.S. Navy vessel of that name. The previous USS Scorpion (SS 278) was a Gato-class diesel submarine that served during World War II and was lost with all hands in 1944. First assigned to Submarine Squadron 6, Division 62 out of New London, Connecticut, Scorpion’s first deployment was participating in exercises in Europe working with units from the U.S. Navy’s Sixth Fleet and other NATO allies. In September 1961, it changed homeports, moving to Norfolk, Virginia, where Scorpion operated for the rest of its short career.

Sailors disembark from USS Scorpion in Norfolk (NavSource.org)

In February 1967, Scorpion went to Norfolk Naval Shipyard for a scheduled overhaul. At the time, the Navy required a 36-month overhaul period to determine that the submarine maintained all safety standards, including watertight integrity of the hull. However, during Scorpion’s time at Norfolk Naval Shipyard, the 36-month period was reduced to one year, and Scorpion received only emergency repairs in order to return to sea faster.

On February 15, 1968, Scorpion left Norfolk for what would be its final deployment. Working with the Sixth Fleet, Scorpion headed west, making the return trip for home in May. However, on May 20, 1968, Vice Admiral Arnold Schade issued orders for Scorpion to make its way toward the Canary Islands.[i] Scorpion’s tasking was to observe and track Soviet warships operating in the area, which included an Echo II Class submarine, a submarine, rescue vessel, and two hydrographic survey ships. A Soviet guided-missile destroyer and an oiler joined the group three days later. On May 21, 1968, Scorpion was 250 miles south of the Azores, and was making its way back to Norfolk with an estimated time of arrival of 1pm on May 27. That day, Scorpion was reported as overdue for returning to Norfolk. Scorpion had failed to respond to a series of classified message traffic. The Navy made multiple attempts to communicate with Scorpion, but the crew never responded. Scorpion was declared missing, and the U.S. Navy began searching for the lost sub using aircraft, ships, submarines, and aircraft from the Coast Guard and U.S. Air Force. The size of the search area was 2,100 miles, which is almost equivalent to all seven cities that make up the region referred to as Hampton Roads.

On June 5, 1968, the U.S. Navy officially declared Scorpion lost and the crew dead. The Navy established a formal Court of Inquiry regarding the loss of Scorpion. The court convened from June 1968 through most of July 1968. During this time, the court learned that in December 1967, Scorpion did have an unarmed MK-37 training torpedo start up accidentally while still inside the tube. During this particular incident, the crew was able to jettison the torpedo. The court considered that the activation of the torpedo’s battery while the torpedo was still in the tube could have sunk the Scorpion. On July 25, 1968, the court reached the conclusion that there was no proof of the exact cause of the boat’s loss.

The last known picture of Scorpion (NHHC)

In October 1968, the oceanographic research ship Mizar (T AGOR 11) located Scorpion. Sections of its hull were found 400 miles southwest of the Azores in water deeper than 10,000 feet. Pictures and data were collected from the wreck site, but the question remained: what caused the submarine to sink? In 1969, the deep surveillance vessel Trieste II made nine dives surveying the wreckage of Scorpion. These dives confirmed that the Scorpion had broken into three separate sections.

Map showing location of USS Scorpion's wreck (Wikimedia)

While we may never know the precise reason Scorpion sank, there are several theories about this event. In the 1998 issue of Proceedings, author Mark A. Bradley concluded that Scorpion sank due to lack of necessary safety improvements. In the 1998 book Blind Man’s Bluff: The Untold Story of American Submarine Espionage, the authors conclude that the battery used to power the MK-37 torpedo aboard Scorpion could have caught on fire, which in turn would cause the torpedo’s warhead section to explode and sink the submarine. Another popular theory is that Scorpion was attacked and sunk by the Russian navy. While this theory may seem far-fetched, there is some evidence to support it in a letter Scorpion crewmember MMC Robert Bryan wrote to his son, Samual Bryan, about the Scorpion’s final mission. Bryan wrote, “Russians followed us with guns down the entire time.” Regardless of the cause, Scorpion went down with all of its crew and will forever remain on eternal patrol.

This year marks the 56th anniversary of the loss of USS Scorpion (SSN 589). To this day, any submarine entering Naval Station Norfolk will pause to render honors to Scorpion and the boat’s fallen Sailors. Current submariners do this by sounding the ship’s whistle as submarines pull into port from a long deployment. It is a somber yet respectful way to keep the memory of that crew alive. Along with the tribute from current active submarine Sailors, there are several monuments throughout the country commemorating the loss of USS Scorpion, one of which is pictured below. We may never know with total certainty why Scorpion sank. We should, however, stop to remember the crew’s sacrifice over fifty years later.

USS Scorpion monument in Newport News, VA (hmdb.org)

[i] The Admiral’s orders for Scorpion remain classified to this day.

Book Review: America’s First Aircraft Carrier: USS Langley and the Dawn of U.S. Naval Aviation

By David F. Winkler
Reviewed by David J. Scherer, HRNM Volunteer

America's First Aircraft Carrier is an account of the Navy's leap into air combat. It is an incisive report that pinpoints the obstructions faced entering into a new faction of sea warfare, chronicling its costs, both financial and personal. This book was written by David F. Winkler, a retired surface warfare officer, naval historian, and adjunct professor at the Naval War College.

Major changes in military aviation took place in the early 1920s, after the First World War. It was then that costs became a giant concern, and seemingly everyone in a uniform and in an office chair had suggestions but without offering sensible answers. Opposition to sending colliers to sea was loud and long until someone stunned the naysayers with this idea: convert the old collier Jupiter into a prototype aircraft carrier and make aviation an adjunct to the fleet. Two colliers, Jupiter and Jason, were given the honor.

Jupiter at Mare Island in 1913 (Wikipedia)

The hearings about the Navy’s foray into aviation were legendary. Even Army Air Service Maj. Gen. William (Billy) Mitchell asserted sternly that the Navy needed to stay on the water and allow the newly-formed U.S. Army Air Service handle airborne threats. On the arguments went, with Mitchell finally going overboard. He talked himself into a court martial as he hammered home the point that surface vessels were highly susceptible to air attacks (as if airborne vessels were not). His claim was that the Army Air Corps was designed and manned specially to meet that particular threat. An illustrious military aviation career ended for Mitchell all because the Navy promoted an independent naval air arm, and he could not accept that proposal.

The first aircraft carrier certainly was a sight to see, but not in terms of beauty. It began life as a collier, destined to become the first United States aircraft carrier USS Langley (CV 1), named for a Naval Academy assistant professor. This former coal collier underwent a major restoration to become the first aircraft carrier. Workmen peeled back several levels of the collier's superstructure and laid down a wooden deck in its place, bow to stern. A few steel cables were stretched crosswise and anchored in place with heavy bags near the stern—arresting gear, they called it.

USS Langley underway in 1927 (NHHC)

One can imagine what went through the mind of the first “visiting” aviator, flying an Aeromarine 39B bi-wing aircraft, and looking down on what he thought was an American aircraft carrier. He was right. It was USS Langley (CV 1), collier-turned-carrier with a bit of genius woven throughout. What that aviator would have seen from a few thousand feet above was a long, flat deck and trailing wake. The ship had no superstructure. Most of what made the wake was under the deck, where the business of flying over water begins. Lined atop the deck and near the rear were several thick adjustable cables lined perpendicular to the flying deck edges. Their job was to snag a hook dangling from the aircraft's tail section, thus bringing the plane and pilot to a jolting stop. Ultimately, Langley was in service into the Second World War.

America’s First Aircraft Carrier is a detailed and deeply researched demonstration of the myriad snags and drags at the beginning of naval aviation. The cost was more about the loss of life of those early carrier pilots than about monetary concerns. USS Langley faces up to and fends off an enemy striving to sap its fuel and blood.

Winkler interprets the evolution of naval aviation as only an acclaimed writer and historian can. He is studied and thorough. His descriptions are extensive, as Langley confronts numerous Japanese vessels in the sea battle for Java. It does not end well for an old coal hauler turned fighting ship. Langley met its end in 1942 off the coast of Java when it was attacked by Japanese aircraft. The crew was rescued, and Langley was scuttled.

As a World War Two history junkie and one who lived two years aboard an aircraft carrier in the late 1950s, I found America's First Aircraft Carrier to be incisive and replete with people and places that recounted America's war in the Pacific Ocean.