Found: The First Japanese Battleship Sunk by the United States Navy

Although older than the American battleship Arizona (BB 39), the Japanese battlecruiser (later fast battleship) Hiei, seen here in October 1941, was longer, heavier, and much faster.  Despite heavy damage inflicted at point-blank range by destroyers and cruisers early on the morning of November 13, 1942, Hiei then endured over 70 sorties by American bombers and torpedo aircraft, suffering an entire day of almost continuous bombardment, before finally sinking. (Zuruck/ Albumwar2.com)  

Portholes line the rear section of the fast battleship Hiei, which was found upside down earlier this month in nearly 3,000 feet of water off Savo Island in the Solomon Islands near Guadalcanal by the exploration team financed by the late Microsoft co-founder Paul Allen.  (Navigea Ltd/ RV Petrel)

By Zachary Smyers
HRNM Educator

February 6, 2019, was a day of discovery when the Japanese fast battleship HIJMS Hiei was located in the Pacific Ocean. Explorers aboard the research vessel RV Petrel discovered the Hiei northwest of Savo Island in the Solomon Islands chain. The Hiei is now lying upside down over 3,000 feet beneath the waves. Despite being sunk 77 years ago, the images captured by the RV Petrel show that the ship is in relatively decent shape. The glass port holes are still intact along with the 5-inch gun mounts, and the shaft and blades of its propellers.

Construction of the Hiei began on November 4, 1911. Part of the Kongo class of battlecruisers, the Hiei was actually designed by British naval architect George Thurston. The Hiei was 728 feet long, had a beam of 101 feet, and a draft of 31 feet. It weighed in at 36,600 long tons and was propelled by steam turbines with four shafts capable of producing a speed of 30 knots.

The battlecruiser Hiei departing Yokosuka Naval Arsenal, Japan, in 1914. (Wikimedia Commons) 

The Hiei had a crew of 1,360 men and had a range of 10,000 nautical miles. Primary armament consisted of eight 14-inch guns in four twin turrets. The 14-inch guns had a range of 19 miles and could fire at a rate of two rounds per minute. The Kongo class of ships were actually the first in the world to be equipped with 14-inch guns. This made the Hiei a very formidable weapon on the high seas.

Probably made during the 1920s, this print is labeled with the names of both Hiei and sister ship Kirishima.  Of the same class and almost identical, both battleships would be lost within days of each other after unsuccessful bombardment missions against Henderson Field, Guadalcanal. (Naval History and Heritage Command image)

The Hiei first saw service in World War I deploying from Sasebo, Japan in October of 1914. The Hiei was tasked with supporting Japanese troops during the siege of Tsingtao, China, but was recalled on October 17. In 1916, she was dispatched to patrol the coast of China along with her sister ships Kirishima and Haruna. The Hiei fulfilled this assignment until the end of the war.

In this photograph taken during the 1930s that found its way into the files of the Office of Naval Intelligence (ONI), we see Hiei during its service as a training ship.  Its aft gun turret and one of the original three funnels has been removed under the terms of the Washington Naval Treaty.  (Naval History and Heritage Command image)

Another photograph from the ONI series shows the plethora of portholes on the aft quarter of the battleship, a part of the vessel that would prove to be its Achilles heel.  (Naval History and Heritage Command image)

This halftone illustration from the Department of Naval Intelligence files shows the general design of the Kongo-class battleships.. (Library of Congress via Naval History and Heritage Command)

The Hiei saw extensive combat during World War II. On November 26, 1941, it departed Hitokappu Bay, Kurile Islands, and was part of the strike group that attacked Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. Hiei's final year was spent supporting operations against Rabaul, New Britain in January 1942, followed by supporting Japanese bases in the Gilbert and Marshall Islands. In June, it was part of Admiral Nobutake Kondo’s invasion force of Midway, which was recalled after the loss of four Japanese carriers.

Although its quality isn't that good, we can see that by July 11, 1942, when this photo was taken in Tokyo Bay, Hiei has been extensively outfitted for combat and is a much more formidable ship that even before its training ship days. Its stern has been lengthened, its aft twin 14-inch turret is back, more armor has been added to its decks and belt, while the battleship's "pagoda" superstructure has been broadened. (Donation of Kazutoshi Hando/ Naval History and Heritage Command image)  

Following the Battle of Midway, the Hiei participated in the Battle of the Eastern Solomons, the Battle of Santa Cruz in August, and the First Naval Battle of Guadalcanal. That battle, known by the Japanese as the Third Battle of the Solomon Sea, which took place in the first hours of November 13, 1942, would be its last. Fighting at night and engaging American ships at point blank range, the Hiei crippled the USS Atlanta (CL 51), and disabled two American destroyers (one of which was the USS Laffey, which eventually sunk). Due to the close range, the Hiei received multiple hits from American 5-inch guns which injured the Hiei’s commanding officer as well as killed the chief of staff.

Each force being unaware of the others' exact location, the lead destroyers of both the Imperial Japanese Navy's Battleship Division 11 and the American task force (TG 67.4) hurtled towards one another in the dark morning of November 13 at a combined speed of over 40 knots, and in the words of  Director of Naval History Sam Cox, the Americans' line-ahead formation "pierced into the center of the dispersed Japanese formation like a javelin before blunting on the hard rock that was the battleship Hiei."  (Wikimedia Commons)

In this Navy Art Collection painting we see the destroyer Laffey (DD 459) just after she has crossed under the Japanese battleship Hiei’s bow, engaging the battleship with 5-inch and 20-mm guns—and even small arms—at near-point-blank range in the early hours of November 13, 1942 off Guadalcanal. Although numerous torpedoes were fired at Hiei from several American warships during the unrestrained melee, gunfire from the destroyers Laffey, Cushing (DD 376) Stearett (DD 407) and O'Bannon (DD 450) as well as the cruiser San Francisco (CA 38) have been largely credited with hastening its demise. (Naval History and Heritage Command image) 

Eventually the Hiei’s port quarter was punctured by shells from the USS San Francisco (CA 38), eventually flooding its aft steering compartment. This in turn left the Hiei crippled and the ship could only turn to starboard. The next day the Hiei was repeatedly attacked by Navy as well as Army bombers. Since the ship was now only capable of making five knots and could only turn to starboard, it became an easy target for the attacking aircraft. After receiving multiple torpedo and bomb hits, the crew was eventually ordered to abandon ship.

The battleship Hiei can be seen northwest of Savo Island in this photograph probably taken on November 13, 1942, by a member of the U.S. Army Air Corps' 11th Bombardment Group as it unsuccessfully attempts to dodge 500-pound bombs being lobbed by B-17s flying overhead. (Wikimedia Commons)

“Despite an order from the Combined Fleet directing the Kirishima to take the Hiei in tow,” wrote Rear Admiral Raizo Tanaka, commander of the famed “Tokyo Express,” destroyer squadron tasked with resupplying Japanese forces on Guadalcanal, “this effort was not made, and instead the flaming battleship was intentionally sunk.”

Although most of its crew was rescued, the Hiei finally disappeared beneath the waves on November 14, 1942, taking 188 men from the crew to the bottom, where their resting place would remain undiscovered for more than three quarters of a century.

The Hiei was the first Japanese battleship sunk by US forces during the fighting in the Pacific. The discovery of the Hiei by the RV Petrel is significant, because modern technologies in both sonar and deep submergence vehicles make it possible to see first-hand the effects of time on a vessel lost at sea. Also, this discovery perhaps provides some closure for those who had family members serving on the Hiei as well as illustrates the ferocity of combat in the Pacific during World War II.

USS Nashville (PG 7) and the Building of the Panama Canal

Five weeks before USS Maine (ACR-1) exploded in Havana Harbor, USS Nashville (PG-7) is seen in her peacetime color scheme at the Norfolk Navy Yard in Portsmouth, Virginia.  (Naval History and Heritage Command image)

By Elijah Palmer 

Hampton Roads Naval Museum Educator

A small model of USS Nashville (PG-7) resides in the museum's Steel Navy exhibit.  Sharp eyed visitors might pick out some of the ship's crew on deck, as well as the ship's mascots.  However, many might not know about the important role it played in the building of the Panama Canal.

The desire to build a canal in Central America was not new by 1903, but by that year the United States viewed the need as urgent. An example of the convenience and military advantage that might be had with a canal was evident in the high speed run of USS Oregon (BB-3) from California to Cuba (14,000 nautical miles) in 66 days during the Spanish-American War.  A canal would have significantly shortened that trip, and others like it. 

USS Nashville (PG 7) painted in gray, somewhere on the Great Lakes between the Spanish-American War and its supporting role in the Panamanian "revolt," as American ships of this era were typically painted white during peacetime. (Chuk Munson Collection via NavSource Online)

The United States had guaranteed joint sovereignty over any canal going through Central America in treaties with both Columbia and Great Britain regarding potential canals in Panama (controlled by Columbia) and Nicaragua respectively. The treaty with Columbia originated in 1846, evincing that this concept was not a new one. As one of the terms of this treaty, the United States had helped Columbia put down the numerous revolts and revolutions that occurred nearly yearly in Panama during the latter half of the 19th century. 

A French company had first undertaken a canal project in Panama during the 1880s, but it failed due to the high costs, both monetarily and in lives, particularly deaths from yellow fever.  Once Theodore Roosevelt (a huge proponent of naval seapower) became president, the United States he bought the French property and pushed heavily for a treaty allowing for construction, offering to pay a large down payment as well as annual fees.  Columbia, however, wanted more money from the United States as well as from the French, and refused. 

Quickly following these discussions, Panama seized the moment and revolted again.  Unlike previous times, the United States supported their revolution.  USS Nashville was sent to block Colombian troops at Colon, Panama, arriving on November 2, 1903.  At stake was preventing troops on either side from utilizing the Panama Railroad, but as largely there were not many armed Panamanian rebels yet, keeping the railroad neutral was really meant to keep the Colombian soldiers at bay.  On November 4, 1903 the Colombian commander demanded use of a train or Americans would be killed.  The Americans were heavily outnumbered, but were fortified in a stone shed as well as being supported by the guns of the shallow-draft Nashville, which was able to come very close to shore.  After several tense hours, the Colombians backed down and decided to negotiate. 

Nashville's shallow draft is visible from these plans. The ship was ideally suited for traversing rivers and shallow bays on gunboat duty (Transactions of the Society of Naval Architects and Marine Engineers, Vol. 2, 1894 via NavSource Online)

Within the next two days, the American naval presence was increased with the arrival of the Newport News-built auxiliary cruiser USS Dixie and the protected cruiser USS Atlanta (of ABCD fame), both of which brought hundreds of Marines.  Colombia quickly came to realize that the United States was serious about their support for the newly formed Republic of Panama as the American government recognized the country on November 6, 1903.  The rights to the canal zone were quickly ceded to the United States, in exchange for American support of Panamanian independence from Colombia. 

Nashville played a key role in this instance of "gunboat diplomacy" which gave the U.S. Navy a central role in international affairs for years to come.  .

130 Years Ago: The "New Navy" of 1885

USS Dolphin, commissioned on December 8, 1885, photographed during the 1890s (Naval History and Heritage Command image via Flickr) 

Nearly 130 years ago, the first in a line of new all-steel ships for the US Navy was commissioned, with three more either under construction or fitting out at a Pennsylvania shipyard or at the New York Navy Yard.  It was a long, difficult process which began 132 years ago.  These four ships were the first four steel ships approved by Congress.  There were a lot of hurdles and delays that had to be overcome to produce what later became known as the “ABCD Ships.”

On July 19, 1886, the protected cruiser Atlanta became the second of the "ABCD Ships" to be commissioned.  She appears here in a port bow view by the Detroit Publishing Company at the Brooklyn Navy Yard between 1884 and 1901. (Naval History and Heritage Command image via Flickr)

The A, B, C, and D came from the names of the four ships: USS Atlanta, USS Boston, USS Chicago, and USS Dolphin. These ships also became the central elements of what would come to be called the “Squadron of Evolution” as new ships of an experimental nature were added.  As with all endeavors into new territory, there are lots of questions to be answered before beginning, and many new things to learn along the journey.

A port-side view of the third "ABCD Ship" to be commissioned, USS Boston.  This port view of the protected cruiser, commissioned on May 2, 1887, was photographed by the Detroit Publishing Company between 1890 and 1901 (Naval History and Heritage Command image via Flickr).

The first question asked was, “Do we need this?”



William H. Hunt (Wikimedia Commons)

Answering the question was Secretary of the Navy William Henry Hunt who, starting in 1881, used the Naval Advisory Board to ask Congress for $30 million to build 21 new ships.  Pointing out the poor shape of our old wooden and iron-hulled Navy, it was not hard to convince Congress that we needed new ships.  Building 21 of them, costing 30 million dollars (remember, this is 1881 and not 2015), was too much for Congress.  The idea to buy a few steel hulled ships from Britain, like many other countries did, was proposed.  National pride and self-reliance, however, led to this idea being shot down.  So too was the idea of purchasing ship plans from another country for an American shipyard to build.  

This brought on the next question: “Can we do this?”



This image from the archives of the Johnstown Corporation General Office, Johnstown, Pennsylvania,

 shows a typical machine used for steel manufacturing in the late-19th Century, a rail bending machine

(Library of Congress).

This question was not as easy to answer. Building a naval ship out of steel was an endeavor not yet attempted by American industry.  New designs and construction techniques had to be developed for a material that had thus far been used almost entirely to traverse America’s mountains and plains instead of the world’s oceans.   For example, the Pennsylvania Steel Company, the first of its kind in the country, had been producing steel for American railroads for nearly two decades.  The quantity of steel needed to construct a modern warship out of the material, however, was in question.  It would take 13 months of study, investigation, and debate before Congress passed the Naval Appropriations Act of 1884 on March 3, 1883, authorizing $1.3 million for initial construction of the four steel-hulled ships.  


The crew of USS Atlanta mans the yards and boat booms in Boston during the

reunion of the Grand Army of the Republic in 1890. 

The steam engines of the day were not trusted by the Navy or its Sailors for anything more than river and coastal service.  This, along with the amount of coal the engines used and the limited locations to get it, resulted in the new ships having sails for normal cruising, using the engines for maneuvering and additional speed.The Navy did not have shipyards big enough to build these ships, so a contract was awarded to a civilian contractor, John Roach and Sons of Chester, Pennsylvania.  Difficulties in construction, and politics, resulted in delays producing the first of the ships, USS Dolphin.

Secretary of the Navy Joseph Daniels (second from right) and his wife Adelaide

disembark from USS Dolphin in 1913. Dolphin served as a special dispatch ship

for President Woodrow Wilson and other important officials and diplomats
(Library of Congress via Navsource.org).

Dolphin was a dispatch vessel, meant for delivering messages before the age of radio, and for acting as a gunboat.  Being the smallest of the four new ships, she would be the stepping stone to building the larger ones.  Dolphin served the US Navy until the end of 1921 and was sold to Mexico shortly after her decommissioning.  During her active service, she was used to transport many important government officials and was even designated as the presidential yacht for President Chester Arthur.  Difficulties in producing USS Dolphin, and political maneuvering, resulted in the Navy voiding the contract with the civilian contractor and taking over production of the remaining three ships itself.

USS Chicago (seen here in 1893 with USS Vesuvius on her port side) was the last of the "ABCD Ships" to be commissioned, April 17, 1889 (Naval History and Heritage Command image via Flickr).

The three remaining ships were all classified as protected cruisers, meaning that steel armor protected the vital mechanical parts of the ship.  No belt of armor protected their waterlines, however, which would have made them armored cruisers.  The three cruisers; USS Atlanta, USS Boston, and USS Chicago, all served the Navy for many years.  They were decommissioned and re-commissioned several times, used in war as cruisers and in peacetime as everything from training ships, experimental ships, and even receiving ships.


The model of the Protected Cruiser Chicago as she appears today at the Hampton Roads Naval Museum (Photo by Jerome Kirkland)

All four ships had their engines updated several times.  As engine technology improved, the sails on these ships became less important, until eventually they were removed.  New breach-loading guns were initially the best the US Navy had, but these too would be replaced several times as they became outdated.  In fact, all four ships were considered outdated by the time they were launched.  They nevertheless were invaluable as stepping stones for the US Navy, and their descendants a generation later would become the Great White Fleet that would circumnavigate the globe from 1907 to 1909.
 

Receiving Ship Boston in 1936 (U.S. Navy Photo via Navsource.org).

USS Atlanta was finally decommissioned in 1912 and sold for scrap.  USS Boston was converted to a freighter during World War I.  She then served as a receiving ship from 1918 to 1940.  After that, Boston was then renamed USS Despatch (IX-2) and served as a radio school until the end of 1945, before being towed out to sea and sunk in 1946.  USS Chicago was the biggest of the four ships, took the longest to build, went through the most refits, and served as the flagship for the “Squadron of Evolution” and several other squadrons until 1908.  She was assigned afterward to the Naval Academy until 1910.  Being reduced to the status of “commissioned in reserve”, from 1910 to 1917, Chicago was used by the Massachusetts and Pennsylvania Naval Militias.  She went on to serve as a receiving ship, being renamed USS Alton (IX-5) in 1928, before being sold in 1936.

These four steel-hulled ships may have been outdated by the time they were launched, but they paved the way for the United States Navy of the future.




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

Sesquicentennial of a Sinking

A contemporary illustration shows a whaleboat from USS Atlanta (foreground) returning to the ironclad at about daybreak, November 28, 1864, following the unsuccessful effort to save the prize steamer Florida.  Although the broken mizzen mast is shown correctly, the former Confederate commerce raider actually had two funnels, and her jib boom had been lost during a collision on November 19.   

One-hundred-and-fifty years ago, anyone gazing over the James River from Newport News Point looking for the recently captured prize cruiser Florida would have seen only its fore and main masts jutting out of the water.  To the men who had spent years scouring the seas looking for the elusive Confederate commerce raiders, there must have been something satisfying about seeing her consigned to the river bottom.  To her former crew who by this time had either arrived back in England from Brazil or were prisoners near Boston, the image of the wreck in the northern press might have appeared tragic.  The northern press, however, treated the sight as both emblematic of the Confederacy’s folly and the Union’s supremacy.  

Symbolism aside, Florida had been a captured enemy warship, and even if international opinion at the time favored her return to the Brazilian port from whence she was taken, she should have remained in place, well-guarded and maintained, as negotiations continued.

By order of Rear Admiral David D. Porter, commander of the North Atlantic Blockading Squadron, Florida had been well-guarded, placed 1,200 yards away from the former Confederate ironclad USS Atlanta on November 24, 1864, with the instruction to "always have steam up, make sure deck pumps are working in case of failure of steam."  There was also a signaling plan in place in case things went awry.  But after things did go awry, starting with a sudden increase of water within Florida's engine compartment late on the evening of November 27, she was settling on the bottom of the James by 7:30 the following morning.   

Had the sinking actually been the accidental outcome of a well-intentioned yet insufficient effort?  Or, rather, had things gone exactly according to plan?

Surviving documents from the period show both the former and the latter.  

Let’s look at the first one.  Within the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Navies in the War of the Rebellion, Acting Master Jonathan Baker, who had been put in charge of Florida on November 18, described the circumstances of the sinking in an initial report to Rear Adm. Porter: 

This morning at 1:30 the engineer in charge reported that he could not keep her clear; that the water was gaining constantly.  I called all hands and rigged the deck pumps and commenced bailing, and signalized to the U.S.S. Atlanta for assistance.  Her commander with two boats came to me, and did all in his power to keep her afloat, but in spite of all our efforts the water kept gaining on us, till, finding that our utmost endeavors were unraveling, I gave orders that all the property belonging to the crew should be put into the boats and sent to the Atlanta.
At 7:15 I got a tugboat alongside for the purpose of towing her into shoal water, but she was settling so rapidly that I considered it dangerous to make fast, and at 7:30 she went down in 9 fathoms water.

The papers of John N. Maffitt, who had captained CSS Florida through her first and most successful cruise, offer an alternative explanation for the sinking; one that does not appear on any official government record, investigative document or piece of diplomatic correspondence.  But if true, the account of what really happened, supposedly given to Maffitt after the Civil War by none other than Porter himself, stands as a fascinating example of the deficiencies official records pose to those seeking the truth.

Maffitt wrote:

Admiral Porter placed an engineer in charge of the stolen steamer, his imperative instructions being, “Before midnight open the sea cock, and do not leave that engine-room until the water is up to your chin.  At sunrise that rebel craft must be a thing of the past, resting on the bottom of the sea.”

Class Picture Day, James River, 1864

When the U.S. Navy made its way up the James River toward City Point, Virginia, as part of the Bermuda Hundred Campaign, several members of the Northern press accompanied the ships to document what they thought would be the final days of the Confederacy (it was not to be). Many ship's companies, particularly the wardroom, took advantage of the photographers present to get their pictures taken. The result is a disproportionate number of Civil War Navy photographs labeled "James River, 1864."

Naval historians are fortunate to have these images available. While the images do not tell us much about the campaign, they do give us a better understanding of shipboard life. In particular, one will notice the casual dress of the officers on the smaller ships commanded by volunteer officers, such as USS Hunchback. Compare this to officers aboard ships like the captured Confederate ironclad USS Atlanta, which were typically commanded by Naval Academy-trained officers.

An obviously staged action shot aboard USS Hunchback. Of more than 600 ships that served
in the U.S.  Navy during the Civil War, Hunchback is one of the most photographed.

An up-close shot of Hunchback's wardroom and some of the enlisted sailors.

Another image of Hunchback and one of the ship's 12-pounder Dahlgren boat howitzers.  Note the straw hats
and open coats of the officers, suggesting a more relaxed routine aboard ship. 

In contrast to Hunchback, the wardroom of the monitor USS Saugus is wearing
their formal uniforms.  This could be due to the weather (note the lack of leaves on the
trees, suggesting the picture was taken in Fall or Winter).

The wardroom of the ironclad USS Atlanta is also very formal in their
group picture, wearing full-length, buttoned coats.  However, like Saugus, this also
could be due to the time of year.

This is the ship's company of the double-ender gunboat USS Mendota. 
Uniform historians take note: the enlisted sailors are wearing white covered hats. 

The monitor USS Lehigh provides us with a happy medium.
The wardroom is far more relaxed; however, the uniform is still more formal
than that worn aboard the wooden gunboats.

Lehigh also gives us an image of the ship's company of engineers and enlisted sailors. The engineers are the men with open jackets on the sides. Note that they are not included with the officers. This type of image
is valued by historians because it shows the makeup of the company in terms of age and ethnicity.