BB-64 @ 75: Wisconsin at War, Part 3

Editor’s Note: As we observe the 75th anniversary of USS Wisconsin's commissioning this month, we remember the generations of former crew members who brought this iconic Norfolk landmark to life and sailed into harm's way through three different wars. In this post we begin with the reminiscences of those who fought during the Korean War aboard Wisconsin to writer Susan Dorsey Boland and former HRNM historian Gordon Calhoun.

A photograph taken by Wisconsin photographer Dom Menta during the 1950s shows Wisconsin's aft AN/SPS-8A search and height-finding radar overlooking the battleship's Number 3 16-inch turret. As a part of his duties, Radarman 1st Class John Cummisk (inset, right) would have monitored the radar system for approaching enemy "bogies." The Radarman rating symbol (top) adopted in the 1950s became the Operations Specialist (OS) rating badge in the 1970s.  (Dom Menta collection/ Courtesy of John Cummisk/ Martha Walker-Nauticus)

By John Cummisk
former Radarman 1st Class aboard USS Wisconsin (BB 64)
as told to Susan Dorsey Boland 
and Gordon Calhoun

John Cummisk was born in Willimantic, Connecticut on April 23, 1925. On July 30, 1943, after his graduation from high school, he was drafted into the Navy, but on the day he reported to the draft, he was written in as a volunteer. John had wanted to serve in the Navy as his father had served one year during World War I at Naval Air Station Bayshore, Long Island.

The Cavalier Hotel, seen here on June 21, 1931, was the place to be among rich and famous luminaries of the 1920s such as F. Scott Fitzgerald, but, like other prominent hotels in Hampton Roads, served a defense-related function during World War II. (Virginian-Pilot Collection/ The Sargeant Memorial Collection, Norfolk Public Library)

John first reported to boot camp in Newport, Rhode Island and then proceeded to the Cavalier Hotel in Virginia Beach, which at that time was being used as a Radarman School. The top of this graceful old hotel was rigged with numerous radar antennae. There were 100 men in John’s class, and the course took a total of three weeks.

A colorized view of one of USS Franklin's 5-inch batteries aflame after a devastating Kamikaze attack while conducting operations against Kyushu and Honshu, Japan, March 19, 1945. (Naval History and Heritage Command photograph)

John was on USS Franklin (CV 13) while she was in a task group invading the Philippines. On October 30, 1944, a kamikaze hit the Franklin, killing 54 men. After repairs in Bremerton, Washington. the Franklin returned to the Pacific. John recalls that two days into it, on March 19, 1945, while off Kyushu, the Japanese dropped two bombs on her, killing 724 of the 3,200 men onboard. John was in the water for two hours before USS Hunt (DD 674) picked him up out of the water.

 View of the flight deck of the USS Franklin (CV-13) looking forward, while the carrier was in New York Harbor around April 28, 1945. She had just returned from the Pacific for repair of battle damage received off Japan on March 19, 1945. Note damage to her flight deck, large U.S. ensign flying from her island, and the Manhattan skyline in the background. (National Archives and Records Administration via Naval History and Heritage Command)

He reenlisted in 1946 and was eventually ordered aboard Wisconsin in 1951. He had heard that battleships were different from other ships; there were a lot of inspections, uniforms had to be perfect, and a lot of “mickey mouse nitpicking” on board the dreadnought. But he has only fond memories of his days as a battleship sailor.

USS Wisconsin (BB-64) traverses the Panama Canal. (Photographer's Mate 3rd Class Dom Menta/ Courtesy of Nauticus)

He vividly remembers watching the smoke come out of the bumpers as she made her way – or rather squeezed her way – through the Panama Canal. With a twinkle in his eye, John will tell you about the time he was the radar air search and he spotted a bogey at 100 miles east and 270 degrees west. It was a real big bogey. He called it up to “the powers that be” only to be told “that bogey is Formosa.”

The Combat Information Center (CIC) aboard USS Wisconsin (BB 64) during the 1950s. (Photographer's Mate 3rd Class Dom Menta/ Courtesy of Nauticus)

The CIC aboard USS Wisconsin (BB 64) today. (M.C. Farrington)

He also remembers serving as the Royal Imp on the Neptune Court. For this role, he was entitled to carry a trident. However, the end of his trident had been rigged to give an electric shock. John struck his outfitted trident on about 20 pollywogs before someone spotted what he was doing, and his trident was taken away from him.

King Neptune oversees his minions as they torment pollywogs (Sailors who have never crossed the equator before) as they run the gauntlet during a line crossing ceremony aboard USS Wisconsin (BB 64).  (Photographer's Mate 3rd Class Dom Menta/ Courtesy of Nauticus)

John will tell you he is a natural traveler, and he loved it when he would receive liberty in the foreign ports. He avoided the crowded spots, and tried to see a bit more of the places his ship had taken him. For the most part, in his travels in Japan, Hong Kong, or Guam, he came across only friendly and courteous people. But one day as he rode his bike along a deserted road in Japan, a Japanese soldier came towards him, over onto his side of the road, and forced John into a ditch. The solider apologized profusely after the event, but John was certain it had been intentional. He now shrugs his shoulders at the mention of the incident, without any bad feelings at all.

A shopping district somewhere in Japan during the 1950s. (Photographer's Mate 3rd Class Dom Menta/ Courtesy of Nauticus)

John was also on board Wisconsin on the only day crew members were injured in combat. The ship was off the coast of North Korea when shore artillery hit the starboard side of the ship. Three men were wounded. The captain was outraged-not only about his men, but also on the damage done to his ship. The captain ordered all nine 16-inch guns to be fired in broadside at the perpetrators. They were obliterated. The injured Wisconsin crewmen, however, recovered from their wounds.

USS Wisconsin (BB 64) fires a 16-inch volley from its number three turret against a target in North Korea. (Photographer's Mate 3rd Class Dom Menta/ Courtesy of Nauticus)   

Seventy-Five Years Ago: The World's Greatest Industrial Power Hits its Stride

On December 7, 1941, the Imperial Japanese Navy had eight carriers, one more than the United States Navy. They used six of them in a coordinated operation against Pearl Harbor, one of the most devastating tactical victories of all time. Despite the fact that the Japanese added two carriers (converted from ocean liners) to their fleet during the year that followed, they lost a total of six, four during the Battle of Midway alone. On the American side, losses and urgent repairs had whittled down the number of battle-ready carriers in the Pacific to just one, the Newport News-built Enterprise (CV 6). Rather than having the Japanese on the run as the end of 1942 approached, it would seem that the two mighty fleets had battered each other down to parity, but it would prove to be short-lived.

USS Essex (CV 9) shortly after her launch at Newport News Shipbuilding on July 31, 1942. The James River Bridge can be seen in the background.  (Naval History and Heritage Command Photo)

USS Essex (CV 9) begins trials on the James River just after her commissioning on December 31, 1942. (Hampton Roads Naval Museum File Photo)

On the last day of 1942, one of the most amazing comebacks in naval history was well underway, produced by what had become the world's greatest economic powerhouse, epitomized by the commissioning of a new class of fleet carrier. They would not only be the largest American carriers commissioned during the war, but they would emerge in such numbers that task forces consisting of as many as 16 fleet (CV) and light (Independence-class CVL) carriers would become possible within the following two years. Thousands of shipyard workers, making manifest the plans of designers and naval architects, most of whom were working in Hampton Roads, made it all possible.

From its first proposal through initial construction, the design of the Essex-class carrier went through more than six major transformations and ended up nearly 30 percent larger. (Naval History and Heritage Command Image)

As has been reported previously, the nation, the Hampton Roads area in particular, had been girding itself for war far in advance of the Pearl Harbor attack. On that day, there were already five of this new class of carrier under construction, three of them at Newport News Shipbuilding and Dry Dock Company. A year and three weeks later, December 31, 1942, the industrial might of the region, and the nation, hit its stride with the commissioning of USS Essex (CV 9), the first of ten of its class that would be constructed by the massive shipyard on the James River. Between the Essex in 1942 and Boxer (CV 21) in 1945, a carrier of the Essex class was delivered from Newport News shipbuilding to the Navy every 90 days.  Two weeks after Essex was commissioned, the keel for USS Shangri-La (CV 38), was laid at Norfolk Naval Shipyard, the first of three Essex-class carriers that would be produced at the government-owned facility on the Elizabeth River.

Two Essex-class carriers, probably Hornet (CV 12) and Franklin (CV 13), are nearing completion at Newport News Shipbuilding in October 1943. Although Franklin was heavily damaged by kamikaze aircraft in March 1945 and was mothballed after the war, Hornet would undergo extensive modifications over the years, serving long enough to serve as the recovery carrier for the Apollo 11 mission in 1969.  (Hampton Roads Naval Museum File Photo) 

Freed from the constraints imposed by the 1922 Washington Naval Treaty, designers could incorporate innovations that would not only give the carrier class more range and the ability to carry greater numbers of more powerful aircraft, but their triple-bottomed hulls, enhanced compartmentalization and extensive damage control features greatly enhanced their survivability. Few would dispute that if the carrier Franklin (CV 13), which had had begun construction at Newport News Shipbuilding three weeks before Essex’s commissioning, had been of an earlier design, she would have been destroyed off Japan in March 1945. Although 724 men were killed and 265 wounded in the inferno that ensued after the carrier sustained two direct 500-pound bomb hits, Franklin ultimately made it back to Pearl Harbor. 

After some gun and radar installations, USS Franklin (CV 13) passes the downtown Norfolk waterfront after leaving Norfolk Naval Shipyard in February 1944. (Hampton Roads Naval Museum File Photo)

While the 36,000-ton Franklin, also built in Newport News, took 25 months to complete, a comparable Japanese carrier, the 37,000-ton Taiho, took 32. Although a leap forward in design, incorporating an armored flight deck and belt armor earlier Japanese carriers lacked, Taiho could only carry 72 aircraft versus the Franklin’s 90. While Franklin survived the war, Taiho only lasted three months after her commissioning, sunk by a single American torpedo. 

It would seem that the dictum expressed by naval theorist Rear Adm. Alfred Thayer Mahan was placed above this model of USS Essex (CV 9) at the Hampton Roads Naval Museum to give a sense of irony.  Before the Second World War, his adherents relegated aircraft carriers to the role of supporting battleships, which were considered the "backbone and real power" of the Navy.  But the Essex in particular exemplified the capital ship that not only could deliver overwhelming firepower, but take some "hard knocks"in return.  Long before the Essex class emerged, the striking power of the carrier had long since eclipsed that of the battleship, but the Essex class closed the "backbone" gap so thoroughly that battleships were not even that important as guards for the carriers during the latter part of the war, and were themselves largely relegated to supporting amphibious landings. (M.C. Farrington) 

Between December 31, 1942 and the end of the war, one Essex-class carrier was delivered to the Navy roughly every 90 days from Newport News Shipbuilding.  The last of the class built in Newport News, USS Leyte (CV-32), was delivered in April 1946. Of the 24 that were ultimately completed at five different shipyards, Leyte, her sister ship Boxer (CV 21), along with the carriers Valley Forge (CV 45) and Philippine Sea (CV 47) remained in active service following the war and were among the first to attack Kim Il Sung's forces during the Korean War.  Despite being decommissioned and placed into reserve status, most of the others, including Essex, would go on to enjoy careers lasting into the 1970s.   

At 70 to 78 million dollars apiece, it took a unified Congress, buoyed by a galvanized electorate, to authorize the expenditures for the Essex-class carriers and the hundreds of other vessels that won the war. It took shipyards willing to work ahead of schedule and under budget. It took Sailors willing to use these vessels bring the fight to the enemy’s home waters, braving the real possibility of death in the process. With this willingness to pay any price and bear any burden they, in service to the American people, utterly defeated a radical enemy, winning the Second World War, not only with their hearts, but with their hands and wallets.

Despite the difference in the economic situation for America with respect to its geopolitical rivals today, what was true 75 years ago is thankfully still true: The two major shipyards of Hampton Roads, Newport News Shipbuilding and Norfolk Naval Shipyard, are still open for business, and their services will be needed for the foreseeable future. 

Receiving Ships Franklin and Richmond at NNSY

Shown here is a post card image of Norfolk Navy Yard's two "receiving ships," the steam frigate ex-USS Franklin and the historic steam sloop ex-USS Richmond. The Souvenir Postcard Company of New York produced and mass marketed the card in 1904.

Before the creation of training stations, transit personnel units, and recruitment districts, receiving ships served the Navy as all the above. It was a place for the Navy to train new sailors and to house veteran sailors in between ships. Usually receiving ships were ship-of-the-lines built in the 1820's and 30's. These monster ships were all too often laid up in a decommission status due to their enormous expense to operate them. As those ships rotted away, the Navy used Civil War-era vessels in the later part of the 19th century and early twentieth century. With much of their equipment removed and roof built over the upper decks, ships like Franklin and Richmond were common sights at the various Navy Yards. They came complete with electricity, galleys, training areas, and living quarters. Franklin had been in Hampton Roads as a receiving ship since 1877, with Richmond arriving in 1903. Both ships were berthed across the Elizabeth River opposite from the Navy Yard.

However, by the turn of the twentieth century, it was becoming apparent to senior Naval leadership that if the Navy was going to expand into a large modern fleet, the receiving ship system would have to go. If for no other reason, the Navy's medical community reported that these ships were less than ideal places to berth sailors. In 1904, for example, the ships' senior medical officer reported to the surgeon general that there were "100 cases" of measles in the Spring and a few cases of the mumps. The medical officer also had both ships' engineering spaces completely gutted, as unsused boilers had become havens for swarms of mosquitoes. The wooden hulls and floors of the ships did not stand up well in the humid summers of Hampton Roads, causing further concern for medical officers. Not helping the sanitary conditions was the large influx of new recruits. Each ship could safely house about 300 sailors and both frequently exceeded that limit. The two ships in 1904 had over 5,000 sailors coming and going.

The Navy had begun to build barracks on land at St. Helena, just south of the Navy Yard, both to provide relief of overcrowding and enforcement of basic sanitary standards. An outbreak of diphteria accelerated the construction of land based barracks, as medical officers placed both ships under quarantine and made other sailors sleep in tents. The creation of a tent camp was less than ideal as sailors still contracted various tropical diseases.

Franklin stayed at Norfolk Navy Yard until 1915, when the Navy struck her from the list of ships. She was sold to a salvager, who took her to Easport, Maine to be set on fire to recover her metal material. The Navy struck Richmond from the list in 1919. The removal of these two ships and others around the country marked the end of the receiving ship system.

USS Franklin (CV-13) Going to War, 1944

Shown here is the Essex-class aircraft carrier USS Franklin (CV-13) on May 4, 1944 in the Elizabeth River. Steaming upstream towards downtown Norfolk and Portsmouth, the warship had just completed her final check up at Norfolk Naval Shipyard.  She then headed to the Panama Canal and the Pacific Theater. 

Leaving Norfolk Naval Shipyard, February 21, 1944

Launched at Newport News Shipbuilding on October 14, 1943, the Navy commissioned the carrier on January 4, 1944. Franklin spent the next four months conducting shakedown cruises off the Virgina coast and in the West Indies.  After each of these cruises,  the carrier returned to Norfolk Naval Shipyard to fix any flaws discovered during the operation. 

Franklin's combat operations in the Pacific theatre are among the most legendary war cruises in U.S. Naval history.  After she arrived in the Pacific, the carrier participated in several strikes against Japanese-held islands including Guam, Formosa, and the Philippines throughout 1944.   She sustained four major hits from Japanese aircraft during these operations.  It was only on the fourth strike that the carrier returned to a shipyard for repairs. Returned to action on March 3, 1945, Franklin participated in strikes against the Japanese home islands. 

Another view of Franklin in the Elizabeth River on February 21,
1944.  This time the ship is passing downtown Norfolk.

Here she suffered her fifth hit.  According to the ship veteran's website, "On 19 March 1945, off Shikoku, the Franklin was struck by two bombs which passed through the flight deck and detonated in the hangar.  A terrific conflagration fed by gasoline in aircraft fuel tanks, together with detonations of a large number of heavy bombs and rockets loaded on aircraft, demolished a major part of the flight deck and wrecked the hangar and gallery deck spaces.  Flooding from fire-fighting water caused a heavy list.  All machinery spaces were evacuated because of smoke and heat and all power failed.  This is the worst damage which any United States warship has survived."

Franklin's official damage report can be read at our parent command's web site here.

In large part to due her ship's company's company's heroic damage control, Franklin not only made it back to the United States, but made it all the way to New York City for repairs. 

USS Louisiana in the Vera Cruz Expedition, 1914-1915

The Hampton Roads Naval Museum recently received several dozen photographs of the U.S. Navy's 1914 occupation of Vera Cruz, Mexico.  Printed on postcard stock paper, the photographs show several different scenes of the expedition, principally from the viewpoint of the locally-based battleship USS Louisiana (BB-19).

While the battleship was picking up new recruits, someone from the ship took the above picture of the former wooden steam frigate Franklin.  The wooden ship served as the Navy's barracks, receiving, and recruiting depot for Norfolk and Portsmouth.

En route to Vera Cruz, Louisiana's Marine detachment conducts battle drills on the fantail.

Officially, the original plan for the operation called for U.S. Navy sailors to simply occupy Vera Cruz's custom house and port facilities in order to enforce an American arms embargo on the Mexican forces fighting each other in the Mexican Revolution.  Louisiana's sailors were not part of this first landing as the ship was still en route to Mexico.

In fact, the cruise south was very easy for Louisiana's sailors.  Here are members of the ship's 7th division with two ship mascots, a goat named Billy and what looks like a turkey.  The ship also had a bull terrier as a mascot.   

The ship's baseball team even took time out to get into their uniforms and take a team picture. 

But when Louisiana arrived along with several other warships from the U.S. Atlantic Fleet, American forces found themselves engaged in street fighting with local militiamen and naval cadets loyal to Mexican president General Victoriano Huerta.  Here, Louisiana's sailors are deployed in the streets with Krag rifles and Colt automatics. 

Louisiana returned to Hampton Roads in August 1914, but the Navy ordered her back to Mexico in early 1915.  At left, the battleship's company hand-fills bags of coal from a barge.   The ship's coal bunker could hold over 2,000 tons of coal.  After the 1915 deployment to Mexico, she returned home and the Navy placed her in reserve status.