VJ Day Artifact Series (Part 2): Schoolhouse Arisaka Rifle

To commemorate the 75th anniversary of the end of World War II, we will be highlighting a few artifacts from the Navy's collection that highlight unique aspects of the Navy during the war. This week we are featuring an artifact from our own collection. 

This Type 99 Arisaka rifle was brought back to the U.S. by USS Wisconsin (BB 64) crewmember Frederick Mauritson. (HRNM 2000-347D-013/Elijah Palmer)

By Elijah Palmer
Deputy Director of Education

Small arms are typically not as common in naval museums as other, more ground based military museums. However that does not mean they are non-existent. Within the collection at HRNM is a captured Japanese Type 99 Arisaka rifle. The Arisaka was the standard issue rifle for the Japanese military during World War II, and thus became a fairly common war souvenir for American military personnel. 

Mauritson etched in "Sept. 16, 1945" on the rifle butt, the date he went into Yokosuka. (Elijah Palmer)

Signalman 3^rd Class Frederick Mauritson found this rifle in Yokosuka, Japan. The rifle was one of a cache hidden under the floor of an elementary school and were meant to be used by civilians in the case of the feared American invasion ("Operation Downfall"), which the entire nation was prepared to defend against. 

Japanese schoolgirls train on Arisaka rifles and a light machine gun (Wikipedia Commons)

A Marine destroys Japanese small arms (including Type 99 Arisaka rifles) with a hammer near Yokosuka Naval Base on August 30, 1945. (Naval History and Heritage Command)

American ships outside of Tokyo Harbor on August 27, 1945, with Mount Fuji in the background. (Naval History and Heritage Command)

Mauritson was a plankowner on USS Wisconsin (BB 64) and was off the coast of Japan on August 15, 1945 when word of the Japanese surrender arrived. The battleship came into Tokyo Bay on September 5, 1945, a few days after the surrender ceremony. He was able to finally get liberty and go ashore on September 16th. USS Wisconsin would leave Japan on September 22nd to participate in Operation Magic Carpet, bringing soldiers and marines back to the United States. When the ship sailed away, Mauritson had a few souvenirs stashed in his seabag, which would eventually find their way into HRNM's collection. 

Signalman 3rd Class Frederick Mauritson with his father, Lieutenant Frederick Mauritson (USN, 1919-1946) after the war. (from Mauritson's scrapbook in HRNM collection)

At HRNM: Scanning the Past, Printing the Future

By Joseph Miechle
Hampton Roads Naval Museum Educator

Recently at the Hampton Roads Naval Museum (HRNM) we had the opportunity to work with some local institutions in an exciting new capacity. We traveled to The National Museum of the Civil War Soldier at the Pamplin Historical Park in Petersburg, Virginia in order to 3D scan some rare Civil War artifacts.

HRNM Exhibits Coordinator Don Darcy sets up a 3D scanner in preparation of scanning objects at Pamplin Historical Park. Objects included a Costin Signal Gun and a quartermaster's telescope. (Photograph by Joseph Miechle)

We initially became aware of 3D scanning being used in historic institutions several years ago and have been trying to stay up with the technology as it evolves and incorporate it into our education programming. Scanning and printing of museum artifacts in 3D is a relatively new option but one that will certainly see more use as the technology becomes more viable and affordable. Here at HRNM we have purchased an affordable 3D scanner and our exhibits specialist had previously purchased his own 3D printer, which we utilize for printing our scanned objects. There are online companies that will print your scanned files for you and the Norfolk Public Library near our museum now has 3D printing capabilities.

HRNM Exhibits Coordinator Don Darcy scans a Costin Signal Gun. The black and white checkerboard pattern allows the scanner to track the image as it rotates and creates a better scan. (Photograph by Joseph Miechle)

Our 3D scanned images from Pamplin will be used to create faithful reproductions of artifacts that would normally not be permitted outside of the museum. This allows the public to hold and manipulate historic items they may not otherwise have the chance to do so. 3d printed objects are much more exciting for a learner than would be a traditional photograph. The use of 3D printed objects has other potential institutional uses as well.

Carly Elder, Collections Manager, of Pamplin Historic Park takes a turn at scanning 3D objects from their collection. The details in the USN buckle were difficult to capture. (Photograph by Joseph Miechle)

The 3D printed objects can be used to facilitate visitation by visitors to museums that are sight impaired. Visually impaired visitors may be discouraged from visiting an institution that houses their entire collection behind acrylic cases, but the availability of 3D printed materials for them to experience could surely enhance their visit as well as the enjoyment they take away with them. We have even attempted to scan a traditional painting and to reprint it in 3D. Much of the detail was lost during the printing process but the implications are there and as the technology evolves we hope to gain greater results.

HRNM Educator Joseph Miechle holds the plastic 3D reproduction (left) of a Blakely rifled shell recovered from the wreck of CSS Florida, which is much lighter than the original iron-and-lead shell (right), which is not only quite heavy but also fragile and requires two hands and gloves. (Photographs by Don Darcy)

At the HRNM we have partnered with another local institution, The Hermitage Museum and Gardens, and have several 3D printed artifacts from our collection (several not normally removed from storage) that are on display as part of their “3D Printing the Smithsonian” exhibit. We also have included some of our 3D-printed objects in the HRNM’s Civil War Traveling Sea Chest, which contains resources for teachers to use in their classes while teaching on the subject of the American Civil War.

The 3D-printed duplicate of a Bashley Britten shell from CSS Florida (center left) is among several 3D-printed artifacts from the Hampton Roads Naval Museum that are currently on display at The Hermitage Museum and Gardens in Norfolk. With it are (from right) facsimiles of a temple bell removed from a pagoda on Tinian Island after it was captured by American forces in 1944, and (just under the bell) a pipe bowl recovered from the wreck of the sloop-of-war USS Cumberland. To the shell's right is a reproduction of a painting of the Battle of the Capes. (Photograph by Max Lonzanida)

It is certainly exciting to see these items up close and the experience of holding an item that bore witness to great historic events may be limited to few people, but 3D printing may be closing that gap and changing how museums share their collections with the public. 

Visit The Hermitage Museum page on 3D printing here 

For more information about Pamplin Park visit their web page here

Seventy-Five Years Ago: Tragedy on the Tow Way

Within the picture files of the Hampton Roads Naval Museum are photographs from World War II that remained classified until 2009.  At first glance, they might look like pictures taken after the attack upon Pearl Harbor.  Surrounding a huge crater on one side, fires rage out of control within the blackened skeletons of hangars with the gnarled and twisted remains of aircraft nearby, while on the other side, other fires smoulder from within the piles of timbers that were once barracks and chow halls. 

A group of officers (center) including Rear Admiral (upper half) Herbert F. Leary, who had replaced Adm. Manley H. Simons as commandant of the Fifth Naval District in May 1943, along with his chief of staff, Captain E.C. Raguet, observe rescue and recovery efforts at Chambers Field with his staff after an accidental explosion of aerial depth bombs at Naval Air Station Norfolk on September 17, 1943. (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)

Looking south-southwest, Sailors attempt to move a station wagon that had driven into the crater left by a massive explosion of 24 aerial depth bombs that were in transit from Pier 2 of Naval Operating Base Norfolk to a magazine area on the far side of the east runway complex.  Several World War I-era barracks and a Chief Petty Officers' club in the background were reduced to splinters, while a newer brick fire station (R-43, also known as Fire Station 2) had most of its windows blown out. (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)

As emergency personnel arrive, three casualties of the explosion at the southeast corner of Chambers Field at NAS Norfolk lie where they were felled by shrapnel from the explosion. Note the holes torn into the cowling of the TBF Avenger they were working on. The body of a dog caught by the explosion is obscured by the detached bomb bay door in the photograph.  (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)

On a nearby aircraft ramp in front of the hangars, the bodies of Sailors lie where they had been standing moments before, felled in an instant by a wall of shrapnel that pierced the aircraft they were standing under as though they were made of paper.

Another view of the heavily-damaged Avenger near the southeast corner of Chambers Field. (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)

The shock wave of the explosion has clearly stove in the side of the Avenger and blasted way most of the canopy.  A dog that was standing under the aircraft still lies where it fell.  An unknown number of animals died in the blast. (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)  

Two survivors look at the body of a dog, possibly a squadron mascot, killed in the explosion. (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)

Although these photographs might look like they were taken in the aftermath of a devastating enemy attack, these pictures were not taken to document the carnage wrought by an enemy.  They were taken in the aftermath of a horrible accident that occurred near the main flight line of Naval Air Station Norfolk, right in the middle of Hampton Roads.

On the far side of the Avenger from the explosion site, a piece of shrapnel has torn clean through the center pontoon of a Curtiss SOC3 Seamew.  Thirty-three planes were affected by the blast, among those six were beyond repair, 15 required major overhaul and 12 were slightly damaged.(Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)

Friday, September 17, 1943, started out  as a normal day at busy NAS Norfolk. Besides preparing American and Allied air wings for the complicated business of carrier-based combat, antisubmarine patrols constantly transited NAS Norfolk to scour thousands of miles of the open Atlantic for U-Boats that continued to threaten the east coast.  The threat had significantly abated from the year before, when the German submarines taking part in Operation Paukenschlag (Drumbeat) had attacked merchant shipping just off coastal Virginia and North Carolina virtually unopposed.  Navy destroyers and Coast Guard cutters equipped with secret radio direction-finding equipment and bristling with guns and and torpedoes now plied the coasts day and night.  The enemy submariners also faced a violent storm from the sky if they dared surface for long.  Navy dirigibles and seaplanes scanned thousands of miles of open ocean, and Army Air Corps Liberators, Navy Privateers, and other patrol aircraft would swoop in to strafe the subs if they were caught on the surface.  Diving did not automatically mean deliverance, however, as many of the aircraft were equipped with depth bombs equipped with hydrostatic fuses that were just as deadly as depth charges that the destroyers and cutters carried.

Within the hangar deck of the escort carrier Santee (CVE 29), en route from Hampton Roads to North Africa to take part in Operation Torch in November 1942, squadron ordnancemen check Mark 17 depth bombs that will be used against enemy submarines.  The Mark 17s, which weighed 325 pounds each, contained TNT explosive, but less than a year later, the Mark 47 depth bombs, which were the same size yet 30 pounds heavier and contained the much more powerful Torpex explosive, were being hauled around on the same support equipment. (Lt. Horace Bristol/ Naval History and Heritage Command image) 

Naval Weapons Station Yorktown, across Hampton Roads and up the York River, kept the patrol aircraft well-supplied with these depth bombs.  Their lethality increased when the explosive within the mines was changed from TNT to the more powerful Torpex (derived from "torpedo explosive") after a new loading facility capable of handling the new explosive was established at Yorktown in December 1942.  Each 355-pound depth bomb carried approximately 252 pounds of Torpex.    

A depth bomb similar to the ones that exploded at NAS Norfolk, enclosed by its retaining brackets and held up by its hoisting lug. (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)

At about 11:00 am, a truck towing four dollies carrying six of these depth bombs each, enclosed in metal brackets, was on its way from from Pier 2 on the naval operating base and was passing the southeast corner of Chambers Field on the naval air station en route east towards weapons magazines on the far side of the larger East Field (today known as Chambers Field).  Though the exact chain of events is unclear, one of the 24 depth bombs partially slipped from a dolly and began dragging down Tow Way Drive.  A Marine sentry saw the wayward trash can-sized metal canister smoking, ordered the driver to stop, and either the driver or the sentry alerted the nearby fire station.  What is clear is that Assistant Fire Chief Gurney Edwards made a heroic but unsuccessful attempt to head off what would become the worst disaster in NAS Norfolk's long history.   

An investigative photo showing the depth bombs and the brackets that held them in place during transport.  (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)

Many of the photographs taken in the hours and days after the accident by photographers from the air station's public relations office were marked "Confidential" and remained under wraps for decades, yet the Hampton Roads Naval Museum now holds over 100 of them, from pictures taken during the firefighting and first response to the investigative phase.  

An investigative photograph showing fatigue or damage to one of the depth bomb brackets. (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)

Along with the tragedy of those lives which were lost and possible clues to what might have caused the accident, the photographers also documented the heroic efforts to limit the damage caused by the tremendous explosion, look for and rescue the survivors, and treat the wounded. 

NAS Norfolk personnel pick through the remains of a barracks that was demolished in the explosion. (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)

In addition to Seaman 2nd Class Elizabeth Korensky, the only female killed in the disaster, there were other WAVES (Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service) probably injured, as well as female civilian employees of the nearby Assembly and Repair Department of the air station, which was also damaged.  Here an unidentified female is assisted into an official vehicle for transport away from the area of the explosion. (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)

Local delivery trucks were pressed into service to help deliver the wounded away from the accident scene. (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)

At the damaged NAS Norfolk dispensary roughly 100 yards from the site of the explosion, stretcher bearers await admittance with some of the hundreds wounded in the accident.  many would be rerouted to the new Norfolk Naval Hospital compound established just south of the naval operating base (and today home to Fleet Forces Command), as well as Portsmouth Naval Hospital. (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)

Navy doctors, nurses, and other personnel helping to assist the wounded (with the Sailor at the far left possibly wounded himself) at the NAS Norfolk dispensary discuss how to proceed while standing on the broken glass that covers the floor.  (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)

Sailors injured by the blast at nearby Chambers Field convalesce within the NAS Norfolk dispensary, which has itself been damaged.  Note the blown-out windowpane to the right. (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)

One Century Ago: Greetings from NAS Hampton Roads

During your summer vacation, did you happen to pick up and mail any postcards?  Although not a widespread practice today, sending messages such as "Wish you were here" to friends and loved ones on the back of an inexpensive photograph or illustration of a favorite vacation scene became popular early in the last century, particularly after 1907, when areas for writing short messages became a common feature in the designs of postcards.   

There are a number of high-quality photographs of Naval Air Station Hampton Roads (known as NAS Norfolk after 1921) in the Hampton Roads Naval Museum collection, many of them taken 100 years ago to document construction work completed by contractors.  No official photo collections of NAS Hampton Roads' daily activities during World War I were mass-produced for public dissemination, however.  That is because official Navy photographers and other public affairs personnel were not yet stationed there.  Nevertheless there is an assortment of rare postcards in our collection made by enterprising civilian photographers who sold their wares, many in booklet form, to visitors or those stationed on the base.

The following is a selection of detachable post cards from a booklet that could once be found in souvenir shops and hotels in the area a century ago. In his book Greetings from Hampton Roads, Virginia (2008), postcard and paper collectables expert James Tigner Jr. pointed out that the height of postcard popularity in America spanned the years between 1906 and 1915.  More postcards were being produced around the times these postcards were made than ever before, yet they were being mailed more often than ever before as well, making these unused postcards something of a rarity today.

The Great Arch, one of the few structures left over from the 1907 Jamestown Exposition to be used by the Navy after the property was purchased in 1917, is toppped by a lookout station, framing a seaplane returning to the air station boat basin. The arch bridged the former exposition "Government Piers" which now hosted new seaplane hangars at each end.  The arch was finally removed during the Second World War. (Hampton Roads Naval Museum Collection)

The administration building was centrally located near the foot of the Government Piers, where only year before some of the first tent hangars stood.  The new dirigible hangar can be seen in the background to the southeast. (Hampton Roads Naval Museum Collection)

Two Curtiss H-12 flying boats await their daily antisubmarine patrols at the ramp leading into the boat basin.  Although no H-12s were lost to enemy action during the war, the flying boat on the right (770) was lost on its way back from a naval regatta in Baltimore when it crashed into a building on nearby Willoughby Spit on December 13, 1918, killing two crewmen. (Hampton Roads Naval Museum Collection)

 Curtiss HS-2L patrol seaplanes, each carrying a crew of three, were used both for regular antisubmarine patrols and for training new pilots.  (Hampton Roads Naval Museum Collection)

For the duration of World War I, at least three patrol missions would be launched daily from NAS Hampton Roads.  Before dawn, two single-engine HS-2 seaplanes each would depart north to Chincoteague and south to Morehead City, replenish, and return.  At about 1000, two larger two-engine H-12s would depart on long-range patrols, arriving back to the air station by mid-afternoon.  Daylight permitting, two additional HS-2s would depart for further patrols off the coast.  (Hampton Roads Naval Museum Collection)

A Curtiss HS-2 heads out in patrol.  Note the tricolor roundels on the wings.  (Hampton Roads Naval Museum Collection)

Kite balloons were a constant sight above the air station during World War I.  Note the Administration Building to the center right and the Pennsylvania House (which at the time served as an officer candidate school) in the far background to the left.  It is the only landmark that still exists today. (Hampton Roads Naval Museum Collection)

The first barracks complex specifically for the use of aviation personnel was constructed in the fall of 1917 and was once situated directly behind (south of) the North Carolina, Connecticut, and Rhode Island state houses left over from the Jamestown Exposition, which by then served as residences for senior officers.  The complex would be heavily damaged on September 17, 1943, when a trailer load of aerial depth bombs detonated nearby. (Hampton Roads Naval Museum Collection)

The North Carolina, Connecticut, and Rhode Island state houses left over from the Jamestown Exposition served as senior officers quarters at the time NAS Hampton Roads was established.  While the houses once looked north out over Willoughby Bay, the water was filled in to create an airfield and the houses were moved east near the other historic state houses to make way for more ramps and taxiways.  Unfortunately, both the North Carolina and Rhode Island houses were heavily damaged by fire some years later, but their remains were connected and rebuilt together as a bachelor officers' quarters that remains in operation on Dillingham Boulevard to this day. (Hampton Roads Naval Museum Collection)

The back of the postcard booklet shows the last patrol of the day, probably photographed from the Grand Arch.  Since the camera is looking south-southeast, the sunset (or moonrise?) has probably been added for asthetic effect. In any case, no aerial patrols were conducted at night. (Hampton Roads Naval Museum Collection)  

Ninety Years Ago: Lucky Lindy's Forgotten Navy Flight and the Lost American Legion

Before being put on temporary display at Potomac Park in Washington DC, a Sailor touches up the lettering on the Spirit of St. Louis while another inspects the other side of the aircraft on June 12, 1927, the day after it was uncrated from USS Memphis (CL 13) at Washington Navy Yard. The object protruding from the upper left corner of a window on the aircraft's port side is the periscope that pilot Charles Lindbergh used to see ahead of him while flying. (Naval History and Heritage Command image)  

Seated in a wicker chair behind a giant fuel tank and looking at the world before him through a periscope mounted on the port side of his plane's fuselage, 25 year-old Charles Augustus Lindbergh took off alone from Long Island at 7:52 am on May 20, 1927, bound for Paris. Traveling at 108 miles per hour for 33 hours and 39 minutes, sometimes through impenetrable fog or just above Atlantic wave tops he could not see, Lindbergh flew without a radio and with only two compasses to guide him.  The following evening at 10:22 pm, he landed an airfield northeast of Paris, 3,610 miles away.

Charles A. Lindbergh, pictured at NAS San Diego (now known as NAS North Island) before taking off for St. Louis on May 10, 1927, on the first leg of what would become his history-making transatlantic trip.  "Lindbergh would come back to the West a hero," wrote Naval Air Rework Facility North Island historian Elretta Sudsbury, "but in the early days of May, 1927, he was just another hopeful."  (Naval History and Heritage Command image)   

Although Lindbergh was a captain in the Army Air Service Reserve Corps and the Missouri National Guard before his solo flight, he had been a civilian airmail pilot for the Robertson Aircraft Company in St. Louis.  Besides earning worldwide fame, he also nabbed the Raymond Orteig Prize, a $25,000 award (about $365,000 today) for the first person to fly non-stop from New York to Paris, not to mention the first Distinguished Flying Cross ever awarded, plus a promotion to colonel in the Army Reserve from President Calvin Coolidge himself. 

The eight St. Louis businessmen who underwrote Lindbergh's quest gave his specially modified Ryan M-2 its name, yet his journey across the Atlantic had actually begun at Naval Air Station San Diego (now known as NAS North Island) on May 9, not far from where the aircraft had been constructed by Ryan Airlines.  There were many other Navy connections to Lindbergh's journey, not the least of which is that he and the Spirit of St. Louis returned to America aboard the Omaha-class light cruiser USS Memphis (CL 13), which left Southampton, England, on June 3.  

Crates containing the Spirit of St. Louis are loaded aboard the light cruiser USS Memphis (CL 13) at Southampton, England, aboard which they and pilot Charles A. Lindbergh will depart on June 3, 1927 for Washington Navy Yard. (Naval History and Heritage Command image)

Although commemorations of his feat center around his daring solo flight across the Atlantic and his exultant welcome in Paris, lesser remembered is the central role the U.S. Navy played in bringing the American hero home to his first stateside welcome.  Although professional press photographers captured his departure from Europe and his heroes' welcome at the Washington Navy Yard on June 11, it took the camera of a member of the Memphis crew, machinist's mate Irvin Blair Clarke, to capture these never-before-published images of Lindbergh coming aboard and mingling with the crew.  

Charles Lindbergh is piped aboard the Omaha-class light cruiser Memphis (CL 13) before his journey back to America in June, 1927. (Clarke Photograph Collection, Hampton Roads Naval Museum)

Charles Lindbergh (center right) poses with crew members of USS Memphis while the aviator and his history-making aircraft, the Spirit of St. Louis, were returning to America aboard the cruiser in June, 1927. (Clarke Photograph Collection, Hampton Roads Naval Museum)

Charles Lindbergh meets a group of Sailors aboard USS Memphis (CL 13) shortly after boarding with his aircraft, the Spirit of St. Louis, which is in a crate just behind the Sailors. The starboard wing float of one of the cruiser's two Vought UO-1 aircraft can be seen just above the group.  Lindbergh would take a flight aboard one of the seaplanes during the voyage he took back to America.  (Clarke Photograph Collection, Hampton Roads Naval Museum)

"There was nothing like the deluge of news which has followed Lindbergh at every step and flooded the country," wrote a commentator in New York World in an article published the day he returned. The thirst for news about anything that he did seemed insatiable, and that included his transit aboard Memphis.

The World's correspondent continued:

Lindbergh eats dinner with the crew--Lindbergh climbs to the crow's nest--Lindbergh is trapped on the bow of the Memphis and a wave breaks over him. A conquering hero is returning home.  The news keeps pace with him at every step.  And it is apparent that the welcome which lies just ahead will outdo anything by way of welcomes that this country has seen for many years.  in fact, it is doubtful whether we have ever had anything just like this before.

And, of course, what else would you expect the world's most famous pilot do on his voyage other than fly? 

Charles Lindbergh, seated forward on one of two Vought UO-1 planes aboard USS Memphis, prepares to be catapulted into the air during his return trip to the United States from Europe in June 1927. (Clarke Photograph Collection, Hampton Roads Naval Museum)

Charles Lindbergh is catapulted into the air in a Vought UO-1 from the light cruiser USS Memphis (CL-13) during his return trip to the United States from Europe in June 1927. (Clarke Photograph Collection, Hampton Roads Naval Museum)

After Lindbergh's triumphant return to America at the Washington Navy Yard, where an estimated 300,000 had converged upon the city to see him, the Spirit of St. Louis was unpacked and reassembled by local Sailors and put on temporary display upon a barge on the Potomac River (to deter the types of souvenir-taking that threatened to disintegrate the plane in Paris).  It is estimated that one-third of the nation saw him during the nationwide tour that commenced afterward.

And he lived happily ever after (sort of).

Surrounded by adoring throngs, Charles Lindbergh (highlighted) departs the pier at Washington Navy Yard in a limousine bound for Potomac Park after returning from Europe on Saturday, June 11, 1927, leaving behind the light cruiser USS Memphis, which had brought him and his aircraft, the Sprit of St. Louis, back across the Atlantic. (Harris & Ewing Photographers/ Naval History and Heritage Command image) 

If not for the fact that Charles Lindbergh was a man with a long and complicated public and private life, perhaps he would have simply lived happily ever after.  The ups and downs of his later life are well-documented, yet it should never be forgotten that, amongst Lindbergh's many competitors that spring in 1927, two young naval aviators were also striving for the Orteig Prize.  Not long before Lindbergh's attempt ended in triumph at Le Bourget Field, theirs ended in tragedy at Langley Field near Hampton Roads, before it even really began.

The Lost American Legion

Source: Langley Field: The Early Years (Langley AFB, Office of History, 4500th Base Wing, 1977), 78. 

On April 26, 1927, Lieutenants Noel Davis and Stanton Wooster were killed during a test flight of their Keystone Pathfinder, which stalled and crashed in the Back River, which borders the airfield now known as Langley Air Force Base.  Although the aircraft was not completely destroyed, both pilots were trapped in the cockpit when their American Legion nosed into the river, and they drowned. They became two of six men who died either preparing to cross the Atlantic or while making the attempt.

We will never know how history might have been different had they lived, and possibly claimed the prize and the world's adulation for themselves.  In any case, once it was proven that a single aircraft could cross the Atlantic nonstop, the aviation industry received a tremendous boost in public profile, not to mention investor confidence, and the world would never be the same.

Introducing the Rau Collection

By Sarah Linden-Brooks
HRNM Curatorial Intern

This image only shows a small sample of the Rau Collection's 75 volumes. (Photograph by Sarah Linden-Brooks)   

In 2013 an extensive collection of memorabilia was donated to the museum. The William M. Rau Collection is impressive in its scope and sheer size—over 75 volumes! Destroyers are often overlooked in the narrative of the United States Navy, pushed aside for stories relating to impressive flagships, dwarfed by aircraft carriers, and not as spicy as submarines.  The William M. Rau Collection does not succumb to this common practice of overlooking the “Tin Can” Navy.  In fact, there are seven volumes filled to the brim with photographs, cancellation stamps and articles which detail the evolution of the humble destroyers of the United States Navy. 

The collection chronicles the transition of destroyers from the modest “Torpedo Boat” designs circa the Spanish-American War through DD-997, the final ship classified as a Destroyer (DD) before the transition to Guided Missile Destroyers (DDGs) during the 1970s. 

One of the color 8X10-inch photographs that has been scanned from the Rau Collection is of USS Spruance (DD-963), which was in active service from 1975 to 2005.

Highlights from the collection include an early postcard, circa 1900, which shows USS Decatur (DD-5). In spite of her hull number, the Decatur was the first destroyer to be commissioned by the United States. Travelling forward through time the Rau collection contains cancellation stamps from several destroyers in the 1930s. One in particular is worth singling out—USS Dewey (DD-349). The cancellation stamp is dated October 17, 1934, just days after Dewey  was commissioned. 

Like destroyers themselves, the cancellation stamp is not flashy; the ship, however, is worth pause. The crew of USS Dewey witnessed significant events throughout World War II. She was stationed at Pearl Harbor during the Japanese attack in December of 1941, witnessed the Battle of Midway, and participated in the invasion of Guadalcanal and Battle of Guam. In December 1944, as World War II raged on, Dewey found herself off the coast of the Philippines. It was the last day of Hanukkah and just a week away from Christmas when Dewey (and much of Admiral Halsey’s Third Fleet) found herself in the middle of a raging typhoon. The Farragut-class destroyer certainly proved her seaworthiness during this storm.  She lost all power, had her number one smokestack torn off, and was rolling wildly side-to-side, reporting rolls of more than 75 degrees!  The men of Dewey could count their blessings following the storm: while hit with severe seasickness, the ship survived.  That same storm, known as Typhoon Cobra, caused two of her sister ships, USS Hull and USS Monaghan, to founder and sink. 

It is stories like this that William M. Rau’s Collection brings to the forefront of history.  One quickly sees that rather unassuming images and artifacts reveal interesting narratives that might otherwise be overlooked. The collection was donated to the Hampton Roads Naval Museum in 2013 by his children: William Rau III, Richard Rau, and Katherine Ellis. 

As part of a grant-funded project, the Hampton Roads Naval Museum is involved in an ongoing effort to assess the Rau Collection and add a portion of it to the eMediaVA platform, a statewide digital media distribution system free to Virginia's teachers and students.  It is backed by the generous support of Virginia Public Media Stations such as WHRO in Norfolk, as well as the Public Broadcasting Service.