From the Shores of Normandy to Orient Point, Long Island: The Tank Landing Ship (LST 510) in War and Peace

By CAPT Alexander Monroe, USN (Ret.)
HRNM Volunteer

World War Two brought innovations in the ways in which offensive maritime operations were carried out. Amphibious operations was a way of projecting great combat power to a hostile foreign shore to ensure ultimate victory. Tank Landing ships, designated LSTs, were built in non-traditional locations known as “corn belt shipyards,” such as Jefferson Boat and Machine Company, and steamed down inland rivers to the open ocean.[i] They were designed to embark vehicles and troops and put them ashore through large bow doors. Once offloaded in an opposed landing, they could be retracted from the beach by anchors that had been deployed astern. LST 510, nicknamed “the Woolworth ship,” was later renamed USS Buncombe County (LST 510). Today, over 80 years after being launched into the Ohio River at Jeffersonville, Indiana, the venerable and venerated ship, which once served as a ferry in Virginia, performs a similar task in the fleet of Cross Sound Ferries between Orient Point, New York, and New London, Connecticut. The management has gone to great lengths to recognize and honor the ship’s Navy heritage and those who served aboard, including displaying its hull number and service ribbons. 

LST 510's plaque (Wikimedia Commons)

LST 510 began its life on November 30, 1943, and was placed in full commission with Lieutenant George P. Andrews, a rough-hewn former enlisted man in command on January 31, 1944, after cruising down the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers to New Orleans in reduced commission.[ii] Following shakedown in the Gulf of Mexico, the ship was loaded with another landing craft, LCT 709 (Landing Craft Tank), and left the United States from New York in convoy on March 29, 1944.[iii] The transit was complicated by bad weather, encountering icebergs, and the fact that it was loaded with 600 tons of ammunition. Only the captain had gone to sea before. The danger of German submarines was ever present, and one nearby ship in the convoy was torpedoed. Despite these factors, the ship reached Londonderry, Northern Ireland, on April 13, 1944, transited the Irish Sea, stopped briefly in Wales, and ultimately went to Plymouth, England.[iv] The month of May was spent making last preparations for the invasion, and on June 1, the ship embarked 250 men and associated vehicles, went to anchorage, and sealed the ship. After one attempt at cross-channel transit delayed by an unexpected storm, LST 510 got underway at 3:55 AM on June 5, arriving on the 6th.[v] As it approached shore near Vierville, the crew observed bodies in the bloody water, and offloaded troops and equipment onto self- propelled Mulberry barges known as “Rhinos.”

Ensuing operations involved evacuation of the wounded from Normandy to England and resupply of the forces ashore. Doctors worked to give life-saving care in what became known as a “Hall of Mercy,” and resupply of troops ashore was accomplished at the port of Le Havre. Other supplies and ammunition were delivered on Omaha and Utah Beaches. In certain instances, the ship transited the Seine River as far upstream as Rouen. On one occasion at Christmas, near Cherbourg, the ship hit an underwater obstruction, was towed back to Portland, and dry docked for repairs.[vi] 

LST 510 after hitting an underwater obstruction, December 1944 (Navsource.org)

For three months, the ship fell into the routine of cross-channel transits. On February 5, 1945, in a dense fog south of the Isle of Wight, it collided bow-on with SS Chapel Hill Victory. Considerable damage was done to the port bow door, the ramp, and the bow area. In addition, Seaman Mark H. Warren was killed.[vii] The ship was dry docked at Falmouth for extensive repairs, spending the next four months in the yard.[viii] On June 7, 1945, it departed Falmouth to return to the United States. The ship was decommissioned in July 1946 and placed in an inactive ship facility near Jacksonville and later withdrawn, recommissioned, and renamed USS Buncombe County (LST 510) on July 1, 1955. Declared unfit for further service, it was finally stricken from active naval service on November 1, 1958. 

LST 510 after colliding with SS Chapel Hill Victory, February 1945 (Navsource.org)

In 1959, the former USS Buncombe County (LST 510) began what has been an uneventful protracted civilian career amassing some 64 years of service. First sold to the Chesapeake Bay Ferry Corporation in Norfolk, Virginia, it and two other LSTs were converted at the Norfolk Shipbuilding and Dry Dock Corporation. This entailed modification of the stern so that up to 90 cars could be loaded through the bow doors and discharged through the after end. It was renamed M/V Virginia Beach, and the two others M/V Northampton and Old Point Comfort. The former LSTs provided car and passenger service between a pier at Little Creek and Cape Charles, on the Eastern Shore. The service operated until April 15, 1964, when the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel opened.

M/V Virginia Beach (Navsource.org)

The new facility was opened on a cloudy day, marred by an impending stormy weather. Lucius Kellam, Executive Director of the Bay Bridge Authority, and Mrs. Mills Godwin, wife of the Governor of Virginia, conducted the ceremony. Concurrently, Theodore C. Bright of the Delaware River and Bay Authority handed over a check for $3,265,000 to purchase the former USS LST 510 and its two sister ships. It was renamed SS Cape Henlopen and was to provide ferry service from the Delaware coast to North Cape May, New Jersey.[ix]

The ship served from July 1964 until the summer of 1975, when it began an unproductive period. In 1983, Cross Sound Ferry Service bought the ship and began an ambitious refurbishment effort. The entire main cabin was gutted and redecorated with photos of the 1945 crew; the June 6, 1944, invasion of Normandy; and contemporaneous quotes. One such wall panel contained a statement by Vincent Lijoi, who noted, “We actually saved the world, thank God for America.” The goal of Cross Sound Ferries was thus to honor the young men who had worn the cloth of the nation and in so doing changed the course of history. 

LST 510 as the Cape Henlopen Ferry (Wikimedia Commons)

While serving in a daily pedestrian way, the ship’s crew responded to the needs of other mariners. On August 14, 2021, Captain Eva Van Camp, United States Coast Guard, presented a Coast Guard Certificate of Merit to the crew of Cape Henlopen. On July 20, 2021, crew members steaming the ship to New London had seen and rescued five boaters from a foundering small boat. As the captain observed, “This is not only what the Coast Guard does, but also what ferries do.”[x] The Steamship Historical Society has conferred its highest honor, the prestigious Ship of the Year Award, on Cape Henlopen. In so doing, it noted that it is one of the few ferries in the world with such lengthy service.[xi] In fact, the ship reached the 80th anniversary of the start of construction on September 23, 1943, having served with distinction in war and peace. 

Service bar on SS Cape Henlopen (Wikimedia Commons)

Notes:
[i] Over 120 LSTs were built in Jeffersonville, Indiana on the banks of the Ohio River.
[ii] “LST 510, One Battle Star,” LST Scuttlebutt, December, 1990, p. 16.
[iii] This vessel landed elements of the 50th Signal Company, U.S. Army, at Utah Beach, Normandy on June 6, 1944
[iv] Ltr, Ship’s History, USS LST 510, File P1-7 Serial 17, 13 January 1946, pp.1-8
[v] See again Ltr note ii, p.4.
[vi] See again Ltr note ii, p.7
[vii] Ltr, War Diary, Commander LST Group 49 to Commander U.S. Fleet, 17 March 1945.
[viii] Report of Changes in the Muster Rolls of USS LST 510, Month of February 1945, in the case of Seaman Second Class Mack H. Warren, 575-42-06, who died on February 5, 1945.
[ix] “Traffic Rolls Across the Bay, Span in Business,” Norfolk Virginian Pilot, April 16, 1964.
[x] “Coast Guard Honors Cross Sound Ferry Crew for July Rescue,” East End Beacon, Beth Young, August 17th, 2020, p. 1.
[xi] Cross Sound Ferry Vessel Earns “Ship of the Year” Honor, North Fork Patch, September 24, 2021.

An Ill Wind that Blew USS Yancey (AKA 93) No Good

By CAPT Alexander Monroe, USN (Ret.)
HRNM Volunteer

USS Yancey, laden with ice but apparently undamaged, arrives at Naval Station Norfolk (Virginian Pilot)

On January 21, 1970, the Norfolk Virginian Pilot noted poor weather in the Hampton Roads area. Small craft warnings had been posted since 5pm the day before, and “snow that gave the Tidewater area 1 inch of snow should be on its way to the Northeast.” Weather for the 21st and 22nd would be fair and cold with the temperature dropping to 17 (F). Northerly winds were predicted. It was a severe backdrop for a catastrophic event.[i] USS Yancey (AKA 93), scheduled for impending deployment to the Mediterranean, completed a day’s amphibious refresher training on the 20th and anchored three miles north of the Little Creek Amphibious Base and 1¼ miles west of the south trestle of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel. The ship’s commanding officer, Captain Dean R. Johnson, noted that because of extreme cold and high wind conditions, “a full anchor watch was set on the forecastle, and steam was at the throttles.” One anchor was underfoot, and one of two boilers was on line. Yancey had but one propeller and one rudder, making maneuvering difficult under the best conditions. Early on the morning of the 21st, strong, gusty, unexpected winds from 35 to 50 knots caused the anchor to drag. Efforts to put another anchor down were unsuccessful and the 26-year-old ship moved inexorably toward the bridge’s south span stern first. Despite efforts by a Coast Guard tug, it came alongside the trestle, starboard side to. At 1:37am and again at 3:30am, the ship struck and went through the trestle. In so doing, Yancey sustained a four-by-six foot gash in the starboard quarter. A 400-foot gap was created in the roadway. Access to the Eastern Shore of Virginia, a major route for commercial vehicles, vacationers, and commuters who worked in South Hampton Roads, was abruptly gone.[ii] In a statement made just after the collision, the commanding officer noted that the situation developed with such celerity that there was no time to react and that he had done soul searching to consider how he might have reacted differently.

Navy leadership acted swiftly in two areas: the first was to determine how the mishap occurred. In this regard, a service spokesman announced that Rear Admiral Philip S. McManus had appointed Captain J.F. Riley to investigate the circumstances of the incident and submit through the chain of command such findings of fact, conclusions, and recommendations that were warranted. Completion of the investigation might take a month. Of equal, if not greater, importance was relieving the inconvenience and economic distress to Eastern Shore residents and commercial users.[iii] The Navy announced that a regular helicopter shuttle service would operate between the Amphibious Base at Little Creek and Cape Charles. Later in the operation, the Navy initiated a regular sea lift using Landing Craft Utility (LCU craft) with a capacity of 100 passengers between the inactive Kiptopeke Ferry dock and Little Creek (with supplemental bus transportation to gate 2 of the Naval Station on Hampton Boulevard). Subsequently, an airlift using a C 131 Samaritan aircraft, carrying 44 passengers, operated between the Naval Air Station at Norfolk and Melfa, on the shore.[iv] The air transportation function was ultimately assumed by the Commonwealth of Virginia.[v] Concurrently, Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel leaders estimated that restoration of the span would require 3 to 5 weeks.

Navy and civilian authorities worked in tandem to relieve immediate needs and restore normal operations. The Bay Bridge Tunnel District management, with the assistance of Navy divers, surveyed the crash site to locate wrecked trestle debris, although initial efforts were hindered by bitter cold winds and frigid sea water temperature.[vi] They located the span debris by January 29, 1970.[vii] In a providential step, the Bridge Tunnel staff had stockpiled five 75-foot sections of roadway. This meant that Tidewater Construction Company of Norfolk, whose employees would execute the restoration, could work around the clock and not be hindered by materials shortage.[viii] The trestle area was declared off limits to all but essential workers.[ix] Restoration proceeded apace, and had it not been for extremely high winds, heavy seas, and bitter cold weather, the work would have been completed on March 1, 1970. Two days after that deadline, it was reported that the bridge would open on the 5th. The Norfolk Ledger-Star reported that after the scheduled opening, traffic flow returned to normal levels.[x] Additionally, aboard USS Yancey, Captain Johnson was relieved on March 2 because the administrative proceedings in the mishap had not been completed and the ship was scheduled to leave for Europe on March 16. The change of command was considered administrative, not punitive.[xi]

Closure and restoration of the bridge tunnel played out amid an outpouring of comment from users. Among those immediately affected—aside from commuters—were commercial trucking firms, whose employees used the route to avoid a time-consuming, expensive North-South inland detour.[xii] In particular, one firm’s president complained that his business was down by 40%. Cape Charles and Northampton County’s political leaders issued a strongly worded statement attributing the accident solely to incompetence of the Navy.[xiii] Eastern Shore business people and citizens even criticized Governor Linwood Holton, demanding that he issue an emergency declaration, the only way the Navy would give more support. Holton, a former Navy officer, visited the repair site with Navy officials and praised the service for support to shore citizens. He opined that every feasible step to restore the span rapidly was being taken. He observed that employees of Tidewater Construction were working around the clock, noting that he and his staff would monitor the situation carefully.[xiv]

Concurrently with reopening the bridge-tunnel, additional matters required action. On February 18, 1970, the investigating officer recommended that Captain Johnson be issued a Letter of Reprimand and if the sanction were upheld, it would effectively end his career. The recommendation was concurred with as it worked its way up the chain of command. The captain unsuccessfully appealed the action, then appealing to the Secretary of the Navy.[xv] He contended in an 11-page letter that his career should not be jeopardized by a single event. The review process was excruciatingly slow, and on June 30, 1971, Secretary of the Navy John Chafee set aside the Letter of Reprimand, substituting a Letter of Admonition, noting the “mitigating effect” of the captain’s otherwise unblemished record. He also noted that there was inadequate advance warning of the storm, that the Yancey’s anchor had been judged defective 22 years earlier and that 6 other ships dragged anchor that night.[xvi] The harshness of the unexpected storm and danger presented to other ships in Hampton Roads was a factor noted in contemporaneous news accounts.[xvii] In the end, as noted in a Virginian Pilot editorial, the punishment for Captain Johnson was in accordance with the tradition that with authority comes accountability.[xviii] Yancey’s career ended somewhat prior to Secretary Chafee’s action in the former commanding officer’s service. The ship entered the Norfolk Naval Shipyard for preparation for decommissioning. One day short of the one-year anniversary of the events of that terrible storm, Yancey was removed from service. While a major challenge for those affected by the bridge-tunnel’s closure, the negative consequences of USS Yancey’s accident were mitigated by the resourcefulness of the bridge tunnel staff in setting aside additional span sections, along with the devotion of those who carried out the restoration under adverse conditions.[xvix] 

Note: The author wishes to thank Troy Valos at the Sargeant Memorial Collection, Slover Library, Norfolk, VA, for assistance locating the images in this article.


Notes:
[i] “Snow to move on” Norfolk, Virginian Pilot, January 21,1970, p. B7.
[ii] “Navy Ship Cuts 400 foot Gap in the South Span,” Norfolk Virginian Pilot, Ken Wheeler, January 22, 1970, pp. A 1-6, “Eastern Shore also feels the bump,” Norfolk Virginian Pilot, James A. Harper, p. A1; “Yancey 4th vessel to strike the bridge,” Norfolk Virginian Pilot, January 22, 1970, p. A6. One incident occurred in 1966, and 2 in 1967. One involved a Navy Ship, USS Churchill County (LST 583). The others involved unpowered barges, one of which was under tow and the other anchored. Each involved winds from the North and Northwest.
[iii] Closing Doors Jar Orphaned Delmarva,” Norfolk Virginian Pilot, Cliff Hubbard, January 23, 1970, p. A1. It was reported that a motel owner in Cape Charles had to lay off all 24 employees, and the manager of a Virginia Employment Commission office in Exmore noted a marked increase in applications for unemployment compensation. Norfolk Virginian Pilot, p. A 1.
[iv] “Air Sea Shuttle to Start,” Norfolk Virginian Pilot, Ken Wheeler, February 7, 1970, p. B1.
[v] “Virginia to Assume Shore Flights,” Norfolk, Virginian Pilot, February 10, 1970, p. B1.
[vi] “Weather hampers bay span probe,” Norfolk Virginian Pilot, January 25, 1970, p. B1.
[vii] “Divers find sections,” Norfolk Virginian Pilot, January 27th, 1970. P. B1..
[viii] “Slab stockpile speeds up span repairs,” Norfolk Virginian Pilot, January 23rd, 1970, p.A1.
[ix] “Trestle area Off Limits,” Norfolk Virginian Pilot, January 27, 1970, p. B1.
[x] “Bay crossing notes healthy traffic rise,” Norfolk Virginian Pilot, October 22, 1970, p. C3.
[xi] “Reassignment for Skipper,” Norfolk Virginian Pilot, March 3, 1970, p. B1.
[xii] “Truckers ask compensation,” Norfolk Virginian Pilot, January 29, 1970, p. C1.
[xiii] “Shore Group raps Holton,” Norfolk Ledger Star, Richard C. Bayer, February 3, 1970, p. B1.
[xiv] “Holton Inspects Bay Span, Navy praised for service,” Norfolk Virginian Pilot, February 8, 1970, Shirley Bolinga, p. A1
[xv] “Yancey’s skipper fights reprimand,” Norfolk Virginian Pilot, May 1, 1970, p. C8.
[xvi] “Skipper’s punishment lessened,”Norfolk Virginian Pilot, June 30, 1971, p. B11.
[xvii] “Wind that blew the Yancey down,” Norfolk Virginian Pilot, March 14, 1970, p. B1.
[xviii] “ In the Wooden Ship Tradition,” Editorial, Norfolk Virginian Pilot, March 10, 1970.

[xvix] “Chesapeake Bay Heroes,” Editorial, March 4, 1970, p. A10.

120 Years Ago: USS Texas Joins the Fleet

USS Texas, depicted in a Koerner & Hayes print made between 1897 or 1989 (Naval History and Heritage Command Image via Flickr).

By Jerome Kirkland 

Hampton Roads Naval Museum Educator

In August of 1895 the United States got its first steel battleship.  USS Texas was this first battleship, beating USS Maine by just one month.  Texas was built at the Norfolk Navy Yard, spent much of her service based in Norfolk, and was eventually sunk in the Chesapeake Bay for target practice, which demonstrated the importance of Hampton Roads to the new Steel Navy.  Texas's production faced years of delays and was largely outdated by the time the ship was launched, but, like the ABCD Ships that preceded her, USS Texas was still an important step forward for American shipbuilding. 

Both USS Texas and USS Maine were authorized by Congress in August of 1886 as second class battleships. “Second class” meant the ship was meant more for coastal defense rather than as an oceangoing battleship meant to take the fight to a foreign country.  Although USS Maine was originally meant to be an armored cruiser, this role changed during the construction process, resulting in two “near” sister ships. Maine and Texas represented the latest in battleship construction at the time of their design and early construction, but delays in their completion resulted in outdated ships by their commissioning nine years later.  Chief among the “advanced” design elements that became outdated by their launch was the “en echelon” placement of the main gun turrets.  This meant that for USS Texas, the forward turret was placed to the port (or left) of the centerline, while her aft turret was placed to starboard (or right), and not centered like on modern ships.

USS Texas postcard by the Rotograph Company of New York (Hampton Roads Naval Museum Collection).

After her launching, a series of defects and mishaps earned Texas the nickname “Old Hoodoo.” While undergoing sea trials before her commissioning, several deck plates buckled and cement near the keel cracked.  These problems were fixed by reinforcing the hull and brackets supporting the deck.  In 1896, Texas ran aground off Newport, Rhode Island.  After being freed she was sent to a shipyard in New York for repairs, where she sank due to a broken valve yoke.  Three months later, in February 1897, while anchored in Galveston, Texas, the tide pushed the battleship aground in a mud flat.  It took a tug at high tide the next day to get her free.

A Whitehead Torpedo, designed in Britain, made in Germany, and carried aboard the ill-fated Spanish cruiser Vizcaya during the Spanish-American War, dominates the Hampton Roads Naval Museum's Steel Navy gallery.  The original builder's model of the battleship Maine, with her actual ensign as a backdrop, rests at the end of the gallery.  Her mysterious, violent destruction in Havana harbor on February 15, 1898, helped precipitate the Spanish-American war (Photo by Jerome Kirkland).  

This apparent hex would be dispelled by her service in the Spanish-American War.  At the start of the war there was fear that the Spanish fleet might attack the east coast of the United States.  This resulted in the formation of the “Flying Squadron,” based out of Hampton Roads, which would be able to respond if the Spanish fleet showed up.  When it became apparent that the Spanish fleet was in Cuban waters, USS Texas--along with the rest of the Flying Squadron--was dispatched to Cuba.  Here the battleship played a key role in defeating the Spanish fleet at the Battle of Santiago de Cuba.  Engaging several Spanish ships, including the armored cruiser Vizcaya, she did much damage while taking only one hit from a 6-inch gun.

An enterprising yet unidentified Sailor poses aboard USS Texas after the Battle of Santiago de Cuba with a signal light salvaged from the Spanish cruiser Vizcaya, replacing the one destroyed during the battle. (Photo by Edward H. Hart/ Detroit Publishing Company. Library of Congress image via Naval History and Heritage Command/ Flickr)

 After the war several attempts to modernize her were made, but by 1911 USS Texas was simply too outdated.  She was renamed the San Marcos in order to free up the name Texas for a new modern battleship under construction.  In 1911, now named the San Marcos, she was towed to shallow waters in the Chesapeake Bay for use as a target to test the effectiveness of newer guns.  USS New Hampshire (BB-25), a Connecticut-class battleship commissioned in 1908, made several passes even after San Marcos settled on the muddy bottom with her deck still above the waves.  The results from this test helped the Navy understand the relationship between armor and modern guns.  San Marcos continued to be used as target practice through the post-WWII years.

Inspecting damage to the San Marcos armor after gunnery tests (Historic Ships blog).

After being sunk in the Chesapeake, San Marcos/Texas continued to rack up the “hits,” with at least seven ships damaged and at least three confirmed sinkings.  This post-service record far exceeded her wartime record.  Unfortunately, these were all commercial and private vessels that ran into her because she was not visible beneath the surface.  This prompted the Navy to use explosives to force her down into the mud at least 30’ below the surface in 1959.

Although USS Texas was outdated by the time she was launched, she was vital to the development of our modern steel Navy. The lessons learned in her construction and from her sinking supplied vital information in developing steel battleships.  Her service in war and as a target gave many lessons in effective combat skills.

For more about the sinking of San Marcos, please see Norfolk Naval Shipyard's History Matters blog post on the subject. 


This post was written by Hampton Roads Naval Museum Educator Jerome Kirkland.