From Commodore Perry's Black Ships to the Battle of Okinawa

A zoomed in portion of Wilhelm Heine's lithograph "Exercises of Troops in Temple Grounds, Simodo, Japan" on June 8, 1854, showing sailors firing two brass boat howitzers. (Brown University Library)

By Elijah Palmer
HRNM Deputy Director of Education

Blink and you'll miss it. Buried in the grainy footage of 6th Marine Division's fighting on Okinawa in 1945 is a short clip of Brigadier General William Clement, assistant division commander of the 6th Marine Division, placing a bouquet on the grave of a U.S. Navy Sailor. This might not have been too unusual if this footage was taken at the cemeteries that were hastily established on Okinawa that year, with rows of white crosses marking part of the horrendous loss of life from that last great battle of World War II. But in this case, the buried sailor had been dead for nearly a century! 

(National Archives and Records Administration, 428-NPC-13055)

There are three graves visible in the clip, all from sailors who sailed with Commodore Matthew Perry's expedition to Japan. Perry left Hampton Roads in November 1852 and arrived in the Ryukyu Islands by May 26, 1853, coming ashore at Naha, Okinawa. At the time, Okinawa (then called "Loo Choo") was a vassal state to Japan. Perry's fleet (called the "Black Ships" by the Japanese) sailed to Japan shortly after his visit to Okinawa, but would return several times through the protracted events that led to the Kanagawa Treaty on March 31, 1854 that opened Japan's ports. 

A Japanese painting of Perry's fleet (MIT Visualizing Cultures Project)

Some who died during the Perry Expedition were buried in Japan, most famously a Marine Private Williams. But several were interred in Naha, Okinawa at a foreigner cemetery near Tomari Port that had been established sometime in the early 1800s. In fact, part of Perry's treaty with the people of Okinawa mentioned the cemetery specifically. 

A Japanese depiction of the funeral of Pvt. Williams, USMC. Williams' headstone was also drawn on some of Japanese scrolls in the collection of the Naval War College Museum. (MIT Visualizing Cultures Project)

In the video clip above, the first grave that is zoomed in on is of John Barnes, who was a seaman on USS Vandalia. He died on December 31, 1853 at the age of 23. The next tombstone seen in the footage is Hugh Ellis, who was a landsman. That was the lowest rank for a sailor, and meant that he had little to no experience. Ellis was stationed aboard USS Mississippi, and passed away on July 24, 1853, just as the American fleet returned to Okinawa after the first visit to Japan.  A 1905 book titled Loochoo Islands by Charles Leavenworth references the cemetery and the author claims that he has gravestone rubbings of some of the inscriptions. The book also states that Ellis was from Syracuse, New York. The last grave shown in the video is Jesse L. Carter, a sailor aboard USS Macedonian. He died on January 10, 1854. Leavenworth's Loochoo Islands states that Carter was from Rhode Island. 

There were a few other Americans buried in the Tomari International Cemetery from this time era, including Eli Crosby, 2nd assistant engineer aboard USS Susquehanna, who died on January 24, 1854. Two sailors from a separate surveying expedition in late 1854, John Miller and John Williams, both off of USS Vincennes, are also buried there.  Another Navy sailor, noted only as William Board, died in 1854. 

The Marines in 1945 were not the first American military personnel to honor their predecessors, as both Loochoo Islands and the 1903 "Army and Navy Register" reference Sailors from USS Vicksburg (Gunboat No. 11) paying respects and repairing tombstones in an April 1903 visit to Naha. 

A colorized picture of the "Graves of American Sailors" near Naha, from the 1908 book In Togo's Country by Henry Schwartz (University of the Ryukyus Library)

As can be seen in the later part of the video clip, the cemetery suffered heavy damage from the bombardment and bombing of Naha both prior to the invasion as well as during the fighting there in May 1945. As American forces pressed the Japanese defenders in costly fighting, they reached the northern outskirts of Naha by mid-May 1945, and had secured the entire city by the end of May. 

Marines of the 22nd Regiment, 6th Marine Division firing a water-cooled .30-caliber machine gun on the outskirts of Naha, overlooking the Asato Gawa river looking south, on May 12, 1945. Below their position is a large cluster of traditional Okinawan tombs, but they are likely set up near some at the higher elevation as well. They are on the high ground above the Tomari Foreign Cemetery, firing in a south/southeast direction. (U.S. Marine Corps Archives)

This 1945 map (based on a captured Japanese 62nd Infantry map) shows the area of the Tomari cemetery, with the orange arrow pointing to that area. The green arrow points to the the Okinawan tomb area (see picture above) which still exists today, and is visible off the Tomari Port bridge as you drive north. The blue circles indicate minefields. (Map detail courtesy of MacArthur Memorial)

The vast majority of Naha was razed during the fighting at the end of World War II. In 1955, the cemetery was restored and can be visited today. 

The Tomari International Cemetery today (Naha City Tourism Database)

Recent Reads: From Hampton Roads to Tokyo Bay in the 1850s

A Review of To My Dearest Wife, Lide: Letters from George B. Gideon Jr. during Commodore Perry's Expedition to Japan, 1853-1855

M. Patrick Sauer & David A. Ranzan, Eds., Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press, 2019

Commodore Matthew C. Perry, USN, landing at Yokohama, Japan on March 8, 1854, with 500 men, amid pomp and ceremony to receive the answer to President Millard Fillmore's letter which he has personally delivered earlier. (Artist: W. Peters. Lithograph by Sarony & Co., New York. Naval History and Heritage Command image)

By A.J. Orlikoff
Hampton Roads Naval Museum Educator

Historians, scholars, and interested individuals owe a great debt to authors who toil to bring to life previously inaccessible or obscure primary sources. Patrick M. Sauer and David A. Ranzan are two such individuals who accomplish just that through their work in To My Dearest Wife, Lide: Letters from George B. Gideon Jr. during Commodore Perry's Expedition to Japan, 1853-1855. Sauer and Ranzan’s editorialization of the correspondence of Second Assistant Engineer George B. Gideon Jr. to his wife Eliza (Lide) Ward that occurred during Commodore Matthew C. Perry’s auspicious expedition to Japan stand as an example of important, relevant, and superlative historical scholarship.

Gideon, through recently uncovered correspondence, provides a rare first-person account of Perry’s Expedition to Japan, which normalized trade relations between the isolated island nation and the United States. Perry’s Expedition stands as an important chapter in the Opening of Japan, during which the Japanese ended their relative seclusion from the international world and began their rapid transformation from an insular island nation to a world power that threatened to dominate the Pacific 75 years later.  As such, Sauer and Ranzan add texture and enrich the historical knowledge base on this important event through their work in To My Dearest Wife, Lide.

Gideon witnessed a remarkable amount of notable world events during his nearly three-year voyage aboard the USS Powhatan, a sidewheel steam-powered frigate, which left Hampton Roads bound for Japan on February 13, 1853.  Gideon comes through as relatively pensive through his correspondences to Lide and he choose to include accounts and ruminations on occurrences both mundane and momentous such as the Taiping Rebellion in China, steam engineering, the quality of food, the leadership abilities of officers, the Crimean War, and life at sea. Of particular interest to many scholars will likely be Gideon’s account of the signing of the Convention of Kanegawa and his interactions with the Japanese people.

Gideon witnessed remarkable events such as the first burial of an American in Japanese soil, a ceremonial sumo wrestling match, and the aftermath of a devastating tsunami. Of equal interest to many individuals will be the insight into the Victorian world provided by Gideon’s letters as they reveal much about the social nature of the Antebellum American Navy and the gender dynamics of Victorian marriages.  Interestingly, Gideon, despite witnessing sights not seen by any American, was often far more preoccupied with declaring his love and affection for Lide or offering commentary on a particular shipmate or officer.  All in all, the information included in To My Dearest Wife, Lide is a wealth of knowledge on a variety of topics.

The scholarship and methodology employed by Sauer and Ranzan is appropriate and logically sound. The authors endeavored to transcribe as much of Gideon’s original wording and phrasing as possible and only editorializing where necessary. Many of their changes do little to alter the original text such as changing Gideon’s quotation marks for ship names to italics or providing a correct date in brackets where Gideon errs. In addition, the authors dutifully include a multitude of endnote citations that provide convenient and welcome clarifications on events, individuals, ships, and occurrences that Gideon mentions in his letters. However, the authors notably omit an unknown number of passages which the editors deem “…do not contribute to the overall story.” While space concerns are important, especially with a writer as prolific as Gideon, the voice of Gideon is somewhat muted by the necessary editing of his letters. To be fair, this is no fault of the editors and is merely a product of the realities of print scholarship. For the vast majority of readers, the text included in To My Dearest Wife, Lide is more than an adequate portrait of Gideon’s voyage.

Overall, To My Dearest Wife, Lide is an excellent primary source relating to Perry’s Expedition. Sauer and Ranzan provide a window into a Victorian Era world of discovery, intrigue, violence, innovation, and romance. Scholars and anyone interested in a primary source relating to Perry’s Expedition, Victorian era social dynamics, naval engineering, gender, and the Antebellum Navy will find To My Dearest Wife, Lide a stimulating, useful, and fascinating read. Sauer and Ranzan should be credited as exemplars of editing and publishing a primary source account for their astute methodology and attention to capturing the original voice of the author.

Forty Years Ago: "Emily," the Last of Her Kind, Returns to Japan

(Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)

On April 23, 1979, a huge aircraft that had resided in obscurity at Naval Air Station Norfolk for 32 years was feted at a modest turnover ceremony marking her departure for home. 

Code-named "Emily" by the allies during the war, the heavily armed flying boat first entered service in 1941, but the first operational mission occurred when two HK8s from Yokohama Air Group attempted to bomb Pearl Harbor on March 4, 1942. Although unsuccessful, it was the longest aerial bombing mission ever attempted up to that point.

Made both in maritime patrol and transport variants, the rugged, versatile aircraft were ultimately no match for the incessant waves of carrier-borne American fighters that swarmed over the Pacific as the war went on, and they were hunted down one by one.   

U.S. Marines examine the remains of a four-motored Japanese seaplane, possibly a Kawanishi H8K “Emily," one of several enemy aircraft caught on the ground by American airmen at Tanapag Harbor, Saipan, in the Marianas Islands of the Central Pacific. The size of the wing gives a sense of the Emily's immense size, with a wingspan of 124 feet, 8 inches. (Official U.S. Marine Corps Photograph, Office of War Information collection, National Archives and Records Administration via Naval History and Heritage Command)

 

Japanese Kawanishi H8K “Emily” aircraft under attack by a slightly smaller American PB2Y Coronado of Heavy Patrol Squadron 116, and finally sunk. The Japanese aircraft is shown with one engine on fire. Photograph received November 12, 1944. (National Archives and Records Administration via Naval History and Heritage Command)

When it was discovered in Yokohama in 1945 after the Japanese surrender, the Kawanishi H8K2, serial number 426, was the last intact example of the Japanese military's largest operational wartime aircraft.  The Emily was also arguably the best heavy seaplane of the war.  Although much larger than its American counterparts, she was faster than any American flying boat. This made the Emily a high priority target for Technical Air Intelligence Center teams sent to Japan after the surrender to bring back prime examples of their best aircraft.

The Emily was crated up and brought from Yokohama to NAS Whidbey Island, Washington, where it was determined that she was not airworthy, so she was sent via the Panama Canal all the way to NAS Norfolk (today part of Naval Station Norfolk).  The Overhaul and Repair Facility (O&R, later the Naval Air Rework Facilty/ Naval Aviation Depot) at NAS Norfolk took up the challenge of returning the 38,000-pound behemoth to flyable shape, completely restoring the airframe, controls, hydraulic and electrical systems, as well as her four 1,850 horsepower "Kasei" 22 engines, all without the benefit of blueprints, maintenance manuals, or spare parts. 

A flight test beaching crew secures the H8K “Emily” at the Eastern Seaplane basin parking area of NAS Patuxent River, Maryland, after her arrival from NAS Norfolk in 1946.  (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)

On May 23, 1946, O&R had completely refurbished the Emily and she was ready for her first stateside flight. Commander Thomas F. Connolly and Lieutenant Commander Jack Shrefer from Naval Air Test Center Patuxent River took the controls for a test flight from Hampton Roads up to Naval Air Station Patuxent River less than 100 miles away.  

Although this photograph was taken of the Emily's cockpit long after tests were completed, each indicator and control on the instrument panel still shows its re-labeling in English, a testament not only to the daunting task of bringing the aircraft back to flying condition, but flying it.  (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)  

The navigation and communication sections of the Emily, located immediately aft of the flight deck. A reporter present for the turnover for the flying boat's turnover ceremony in 1979 observed, "The drawers on the navigation desk were littered with yellowing forms...used by American pilots in Maryland to evaluate the plane's performance during tests."  (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)  

Another undated photograph of the Emily's interior, probably looking aft.  (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)  

Although two of the engines quit along the way, and a third stalled out shortly after landing, neither of the two aviators or the two chief aviation machinist mates aboard were injured.  Commander J.A. Ferguson, the project pilot, accumulated roughly 15,000 total airframe hours in the Emily, mainly taxiing out on the Patuxent River, but she would never take to the American skies again.

This photograph of Kawanishi H8K2 Type 2 flying boat, serial number 426, was probably taken during its only flight while in American hands in May 1946 after being restored to airworthy shape by NAS Norfolk's Overhaul and Repair Facility.  Note that Japanese unit markings have been removed, yet the distinctive "meatball" roundel remains. (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)  

After the series of hydrodynamic tests were concluded, she was disassembled, wrapped in a protective covering, crated back up and shipped back to NAS Norfolk.  Her service fulfilled, some were of a mind simply to cast the Emily into the Chesapeake like other enemy implements tested after World War I.    

The Kawanishi flying boat rests on beaching gear at Chambers Field at NAS Norfolk on December 11, 1948. (Emil Tkachick Photograph Collection/ Smithsonian Institution/ National Air and Space Museum Archive)

The Kawanishi H8K2 undergoing conservation at NAS Patuxent River, Maryland. (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)  

Although it was wrapped in a heavy protective cocoon that, in the words of one reporter, made it look "like a three-story toy carved from gray wood," the heat and humidity of Tidewater Virginia took its toll over the decades. Hurricane Donna dealt the heaviest blows to Emily in September 1960, when the flying boat was torn loose from its moorings and tipped over onto its starboard side, breaking loose engine number four. 

Although this photo is undated, it probably shows recovery efforts made after the Kawanishi H8K2 fuselage was toppled by hurricane Donna at NAS Norfolk. Note the American roundel that had been pasted over the original Japanese "meatball." (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file) 

A number of individuals and institutions offered to take the Emily off the Navy's hands over the years, yet regulations governing such transfers either disqualified or dissuaded them all until 1976 when an offer came in from the Museum of Maritime Science in Tokyo. The two-year-old museum was a nonprofit, meeting the first requirement, and it had the financial wherewithal to bring the Emily back to Japan, satisfying the second.  

Rear Admiral Richard E. Nicholson, Commander, Fifth Naval District, speaks at the official transfer ceremony of the Kawanishi H8K2 Emily to the Museum of Maritime Science on April 23, 1979, as Chaplain (Lt. Cmdr.) Robert P Reidy, Vice Adm. Forrest S. Peterson, Commander, Naval Air Systems Command, and Ryoichi Sasakawa, chairman of the Japanese Foundation for the Promotion of Maritime Science, look on.  With Mr. Sasakawa is an interpreter who was not identified.  (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)

The transfer was subsequently approved by Congress, and after the ceremony on April 23, 1979, the Naval Air Rework Facility was relieved of responsibility for the huge seaplane after three decades. During his remarks, which included an impassioned call for world peace, Ryoichi Sasakawa, president of the museum, said of the last Emily, "This is for us a Christmas and a birthday present."

Ryoichi Sasakawa, chairman of the Japanese Foundation for the Promotion of Maritime Science and President of the Museum of Maritime Science in Tokyo shakes hands with Rear Adm. Richard E. Nicholson, Commander, Fifth Naval District, during the official transfer ceremony. (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)

On May 31, the Emily was craned onto a barge for the trip back to Japan and Mr. Sasakawa reported the Emily's arrival at the Museum of Maritime Science on July 13, 1979, writing in a note repeated in a naval message that "she will survive as long as the Japanese people remember her."  After nearly a quarter-century in Tokyo, the last Emily flying boat was moved in 2004 to the Kanoya Air Base Museum in Kagoshima Prefecture on the island of Kyushu, where she remains today. 

Kawanishi H8K2 Type 2 flying boat, serial number 426, the last of 167 made, on display at Kanoya Museum near Kagoshima, Japan.  The flying boat spent over three decades in Hampton Roads after World War II and was officially turned over to the Museum of Maritime Science in Tokyo on April 23, 1979, where the "Emily" was displayed until 2004. (Photograph by Max Smith via Wikimedia Commons)