Run Silent, Run Deep and The Hunt for Red October: Two Submarine Novels That Made It to the Big Screen

By Zach Smyers
HRNM Educator

Captain Edward L. Beach Jr. wrote his first book, Submarine! in 1952. Three years later he wrote his second book, Run Silent, Run Deep. Beach graduated from the U.S. Naval Academy in 1939. He served aboard three submarines during World War Two, participating in twelve combat patrols, and received the Navy Cross for his actions. His first book was a collection of war patrols based on his own experiences as well as those of other US submarines that had served during the war. The book received high praise from Time magazine, and Beach’s first attempt as a published author was indeed a success. His second book, Run Silent, Run Deep is considered to be a classic regarding submarine warfare.

Commander Edward Beach, 1960 (Wikimedia Commons)

Run Silent, Run Deep became a bestseller shortly after it was released, and was included on the list of the 250 outstanding books of the year for 1955. The plot of the story revolves around the fictional submarine U.S.S. Walrus and its crew taking on Japanese naval forces in the Pacific Theater during World War Two. The popularity of the book eventually led to a feature film, which began production in 1957. The film version of Run Silent, Run Deep starred Clark Gable, Burt Lancaster (also one of the producers of the film), and was the film debut of comedian Don Rickles. 

The book cover for Run Silent, Run Deep

Released on March 27, 1958, the film was praised by critics for its action and realism regarding undersea warfare. The producers used cutting-edge special effects, as well as consulting active-duty submariners to train the cast. Set designers created realistic sets depicting the working and living conditions aboard a submarine. The director of photography utilized tight shots of the actors portraying the crew, visually demonstrating to the viewing audience the close quarters nature of submarine service. The producers also had access to USS Redfish (SS 395) to film exterior shots, and used authentic submarine equipment in the interior sets.

Run Silent, Run Deep movie poster, 1958 (Wikimedia Commons)

Probably the most noticeable inaccuracy in the film is the age of the characters played by Clark Gable and Burt Lancaster. At 56 years old, Gable played Commander Edward Richardson, who was based on Edward Beach. In reality, Gable’s character would have been in his 20s during the war. The same could be said for Lancaster, 44 years old during filming, who played the part of Executive Officer Jim Bledsoe.

Fast forward to 1984 and an insurance agent-turned-author by the name of Tom Clancy created another bestselling submarine novel. Like Beach’s Run Silent Run Deep, Clancy’s debut novel, The Hunt for Red October, is primarily about submarines. At the center of the story is a brand new Russian submarine, the Red October, capable of carrying intercontinental ballistic missiles. This submarine’s commanding officer decides to defect to the United States during the height of the Cold War. The book was noted for its authenticity and technical detail in terms of both US and Russian submarines. It might surprise readers to learn that Clancy never served in the Navy. Due to poor eyesight, Clancy was unable to join any branch of the armed services of the United States. He sold his book to the Naval Institute Press of Annapolis, Maryland, for $5,000. The book would go on to sell over 45,000 copies. It became a national bestseller, and even President Ronald Reagan could be counted as a fan of the work.

Tom Clancy (New York Daily News)

In 1990, Clancy’s book became a feature film. Distributed by Paramount Pictures with a production budget of $30 million, the filmmakers also had support and cooperation from the US Navy. The Navy loaned ships, submarines, and a helicopter for filming purposes. This support added additional authenticity to the look and feel of the film, and the benefit of over thirty years of improvement in movie special effects.

Book cover, The Hunt for Red October

The cast of the film included a young Alec Baldwin playing Clancy’s hero, CIA analyst Jack Ryan, as well as the man who brought James Bond to life on the big screen, Sean Connery. Connery played the veteran Russian submarine captain and would-be defector, Marko Ramius. The film stayed fairly true to the book, and the Navy’s mindset at the time was that perhaps this movie could generate interest in serving in the submarine force much like what Top Gun did for naval aviation. Released on March 2, 1990, The Hunt for Red October was well received by movie goers and critics with a final worldwide gross of over $200 million.

The Hunt for Red October movie poster (Greatbigcanvas.com)

Run Silent, Run Deep and The Hunt for Red October gave readers and moviegoers a glimpse into the world of submarine warfare. Although Hollywood is never “perfect” regarding military films, the strength of these two stories helped provide audiences with some insight to the challenges Sailors faced while serving on submarines during World War Two and the Cold War.

Sean Connery and Alex Baldwin on the set for The Hunt for Red October (stumptownblogger.typeset.com)

100 Years Later: The Ostfriesland Test and the Rising Popularity of Air Power

By Laura Orr
HRNM Director of Education

General William "Billy" Mitchell (U.S. Army)

At the turn of the twentieth century, many U.S. admirals believed that planes could never sink a ship. To them, the very idea of devoting a portion of the Navy’s budget to airpower seemed laughably unsound. However, in 1921, U.S. Army General William “Billy” Mitchell taught the Navy’s naysayers that airpower forged the future of human warfare. From June 21 to July 21, Mitchell led a team of pilots from the U.S. Army Air Service in a bombing test against five target ships: USS Iowa, an old U.S. battleship converted to a radio-controlled target ship; G-102, a captured German destroyer; a German light cruiser, Frankfurt; a submarine, U-117; and the German battleship Ostfriesland. The results of the “Ostfriesland tests” stood the world on its head. Mitchell and his fliers sank all of the German vessels, including the Ostfriesland.

For years, high-ranking American admirals argued that airplanes would never revolutionize combat. Battleships, they said, would always be the Navy’s future. Chief of Naval Operations Admiral William Benson commented, “I cannot conceive of any use that the fleet will ever have for aircraft. . . . The Navy doesn’t need airplanes. Aviation is just a lot of noise.” Secretary of the Navy Josephus Daniels agreed. He also derided Mitchell’s plan, saying, “I would be glad to stand bareheaded on the deck or at the wheel of any battleship while Mitchell tried to take a crack at me from the air. If he ever tries to aim bombs on the decks of naval vessels, he will be blown to atoms long before he gets close enough to drop salt on the tail of the Navy.”

Mitchell aimed to prove the battleship establishment wrong publicly. His testimony before the House Appropriations Committee in January 1921 led to two Congressional resolutions forcing the Navy to provide the targets for Mitchell’s weapons tests. The admirals did not want to conduct the tests, but they also did not want to appear obstructionist to the wishes of Congress. Confident that even a decrepit battleship could withstand a few hits, the admirals believed the tests could be used to observe the type of damage bombs might cause.

The Navy greatly restricted the manner in which the Air Service pilots could conduct their attacks. The pilots could not use aerial torpedoes or score more than two hits with their heaviest 2,000-pound bombs. This latter restriction did not matter to Mitchell, however. He intended his pilots to avoid direct hits, in favor of near misses, because when the bombs exploded underwater, they would inflict maximum damage on a ship’s hull.

Sailors and dignitaries aboard USS Henderson (AP 1) watch the tests (Naval History and Heritage Command)

Mitchell’s bomb tests would take place in the Atlantic Ocean, fifty miles from the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay. The dignitaries observing the test didn’t believe that Mitchell’s fliers stood a chance. The German ship Ostfriesland had taken eighteen hits at the Battle of Jutland in 1916, hit a mine on the way back to Germany, and returned to action two months later. In addition to having a four-layer steel hull to protect it from mines and torpedoes, Ostfriesland was divided into separate watertight compartments so it couldn’t be sunk by any single hull breach. As the New York Times reported before the tests, “Naval officers are insisting that the fliers will never sink the Ostfriesland at all.”

Starting on June 21, bombing tests took place against the smaller ships. The German vessels were sunk quickly. The naval officers did not exhibit much concern at these proceedings, as their focus was on the Ostfriesland. The main event took place on July 21, 1921, when six Martin MB-2 biplanes and a Handley-Page O/400 attacked Ostfriesland. Over 300 disbelieving observers watched six bombs strike the water right next to the big ship. At 12:40 P.M., twenty-two minutes after the first bomb fell, Ostfriesland sank. Some of the naval officers had tears in their eyes as Ostfriesland and their devotion to battleships sank beneath the waves. In an instant, the U.S. Navy looked weak and helpless.

Ostfriesland hit during the bombing tests, July 21, 1921 (Wikipedia)

Even so, not everyone was convinced by the result. General John Pershing commented, “These tests against obsolete battleships will not, I hope, be considered as conclusive evidence that similar bombs would sink modern types of battleships.” The Joint Army-Navy Board’s report on the tests noted that the ships were unable to maneuver, employ antiaircraft fire, or conduct damage control. Of course, Mitchell pointed out that his forces suffered the most restrictions. They could not use all the ordnance at their disposal, and they could not inflict more than two direct hits. Moreover, under battle conditions, a loaded battleship would suffer secondary explosions. The Ostfriesland went under through the success of the main attack alone.

A cartoon from the Chicago Tribune showing the differing opinions about the Ostfriesland tests (Chicago Tribune)

Mitchell testified to Congress that the test “demonstrated beyond a doubt that, given sufficient bombing planes—in short an adequate air force—aircraft constitute a positive defense of our country against hostile invasion.” In the following years, Mitchell continued to criticize Army and Navy leaders for their dismissal of airpower. Because of this, in 1925, Mitchell was court martialed for conduct prejudicial to good order and discipline. Upon receiving the guilty verdict, he resigned his commission.

But while the Navy and Army were not strongly convinced, both Congress and the general public took Mitchell’s point seriously: aircraft could sink battleships. In the Ostfriesland test’s aftermath, Congress created the Bureau of Aeronautics to manage all aspects of naval aviation. Aircraft would be the future of the U.S. military, as the Second World War confirmed just twenty years later.

VJ Day Artifact Series (Part 4): Journal from a USS Bennington (CV 20) Sailor

 To commemorate the 75th anniversary of the end of World War II, we asked our colleagues at our sister museums for some interesting artifacts that highlight unique aspects of the Navy during the war. To close out this series, we have an artifact from our sister museum, the National Museum of the American Sailor in Great Lakes, Illinois. 

USS Bennington (CV 20), with camouflage paint, preparing to go to war. (Naval History and Heritage Command)

By Jennifer Steinhardt and Samantha Belles
Archivist and Collection Manager at National Museum of the American Sailor

It is difficult to select only one item from an artifact collection that captures so many important historical stories about the Navy’s enlisted Sailor. One such item from the National Museum of the American Sailor’s collection is Fireman 1/c (EM) Nicholas Saroukos’ journal. Born in Wilmington, Delaware in 1920, Saroukos enlisted into the United States Navy in 1942. As the Navy forbade American service members to keep personal journals during World War II, Saroukos’ account as an electrician aboard the aircraft carrier USS Bennington (CV 20) from January-April 1945 provides a rare contemporaneous firsthand account of what it was like to be a Navy Sailor during World War II.

A page from Saroukos' journal. Of note is the reference to President Franklin D. Roosevelt's death, as well as to kamikaze attacks (off of Okinawa). (National Museum of the American Sailor)

A sailor keeps an eye on a control board below deck aboard USS Bennington in 1945. (Naval History and Heritage Command)

In his journal, Saroukos first recounts the USS Bennington (CV 20) tying up to the USS Utah (BB 31) “Had my first glimpse of the historic port of Pearl Harbor. We tied up to the______ of the U.S.S. Utah which is lying on the bottom of the harbor.” Throughout his journal, he continues to detail his life aboard the ship. One notable part of the journal is when Saroukos discusses the disadvantages of having a below deck battle-station. He states, “that nothing can be done when a plane is diving at us but lie on the deck face down…”

The wreck of USS Utah (BB 31) at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii in 1944 during salvage operations. The battleship was one of those sunk during the Japanese attack on December 7, 1941. (Naval History and Heritage Command)

This personal and important story is one of many in our collection. By keeping a journal, Nicholas Saroukos provides a glimpse into the daily life of enlisted sailors, something the National Museum of the American Sailor strives to preserve and make available to everyone each and every day.

VJ Day Artifact Series (Part 3): USS Missouri (BB 63) Telephone

 To commemorate the 75th anniversary of the end of World War II, we asked our colleagues at our sister museums for some interesting artifacts that highlight unique aspects of the Navy during the war. This week we have an artifact on display at our sister museum, the National Museum of the United States Navy in Washington, D.C. 

Japanese Surrender Ceremony aboard USS Missouri, September 2, 1945. (Naval History and Heritage Command)

By Wesley Schwenk
Collections Manager, National Museum of the United States Navy

After being commissioned in 1944, USS Missouri (BB 63) joined the fleet outfitted with all of the regulation bells and whistles, including the telephone pictured here. The entirety of Missouri's service saw the use of this telephone. This Type D telephone, produced by the Automatic Electric Company, was built in its Chicago, Illinois plant. Not just the Type D, but many other phones made by this company were staples of United States Navy shipboard communication equipment. The phone gave the user the capability to speak with or take calls from various parts of the ship allowing for speedy responses and efficient decision making.

Type D telephone from USS Missouri (on loan to NMUSN from Curator Branch, Naval History and Heritage Command)

Crewmen use a telephone in the radio room aboard sister ship USS New Jersey (BB 62) in 1944. (Naval History and Heritage Command)

This object is an interesting one in and of itself because of the missions and objectives that were communicated through it. That includes the vessel being attached to Task Force 58 in the Asiatic-Pacific Theater, launching air strikes against enemy targets, and firing 16-inch gun bombardment support prior and during the Iwo Jima and Okinawa landings. This telephone also assisted in communications for the striking of the Japanese mainland in 1945 and cemented Missouri's place among the Pacific fleet. 

USS Missouri's mighty 16-inch guns roar in 1944. Six projectiles can be seen in flight to the right. (Naval History and Heritage Command)

Finally, this object remained on board and in use for the formal Japanese surrender ceremony on September 2, 1945. This artifact allowed USS Missouri (BB 63) to succeed during World War II and eventually proved to be one small but important part of her 48 years of naval service.

The Japanese delegation arrive for the surrender ceremony on September 2, 1945. (Naval History and Heritage Command) 

Seventy-Five Years Ago: The Secret Capture

Captain Daniel V. Gallery poses in triumph aboard the former Kriegsmarine U-505 somewhere between the Cape Verde islands and Bermuda in June 1944.  His insistence upon hounding the U-boats night and day without a break resulted in its capture, but a fearless band of enlisted Sailors and their leader delivered the submarine into his hands. (Naval History and Heritage Command image) 

By Zachary Smyers
HRNM Educator

The same week that the world’s attention would became transfixed upon over 150,000 Soldiers and Sailors pouring over and dropping behind the beachheads of Normandy in early 1944, nine United States Navy Sailors captured a German submarine on the high seas, although they would be forbidden to tell of their astounding feat for nearly a year.  Their leader would also never live to receive the nation's highest award for the operation.

Crew members of USS Pillsbury (DE-133), who made up the the first party to board U-505 after she had been abandoned by her German crew. They are (from left to right): Gunner's Mate 1st Class Chester A. Mocarski; Electrician's Mate 2nd Class William Riendeau; Chief Motor Machinist's Mate George Jacobson; Motor Machinist Mate 1st Class Zenon Lukosivs; Signalman 2nd Class Gordon Hohne; Boatswain's Mate 2nd Class Wayne M. Pickels, Jr.; Radioman 3rd Class Stanley E. Wdowiak; and Torpedoman 2nd Class Arthur W. Knispel. Lt.j.g Albert L. David, who led the boarding party, does not appear in the photograph, which has been heavily retouched to remove an errant chief petty officer who originally stood at Hohne's left, replaced by Pickels, who appears abnormally large (as do Hohne's hands).  The original photograph as well as the story of its editing can be found at the Museum of Science and Industry's article about U-505 and its capture. (Naval History and Heritage Command image)

Daniel V. Gallery as a rear admiral (upper half) (USNI archives) 

The man who came up with the plan to capture a German U-boat was Captain Daniel V. Gallery.  Gallery, a naval aviator by trade, was assigned to Reykjavik, Iceland in 1942 as commanding officer of the U.S. Navy Fleet Air Base.  Working with the Royal Air Force, Captain Gallery utilized a squadron of PBY Catalina aircraft to escort convoys bound for England.  During this time, the Catalinas conducted 70 attacks against U-boats.  Capt. Gallery became very proficient during this assignment at hunting U-boats, which was a skill set that would prove to be very valuable during his next command.  

USS Guadalcanal (CVE 60) photographed from a ZP-24 blimp while steaming off Hampton Roads, Virginia on September 28, 1944. Planes parked on her flight deck include twelve TBM/TBF Avenger torpedo bombers and nine FM/F4F Wildcat fighters. Guadalcanal is painted in what appears to be a modified version of Camouflage Measure 32, Design 4A. (Naval History and Heritage Command image)

In 1944, Capt. Gallery was in command of Task Group 22.3 which was a “Hunter-Killer” group consisting of the escort carrier USS Guadalcanal (CVE 60), and five destroyer escorts, the USS Pillsbury (DE 133), USS Pope (DE 134), USS Flaherty (DE 135), USS Chatelain (DE 149), and the USS Jenks (DE 665). The assembled task group departed Norfolk, Virginia on May 15, 1944 specifically tasked with seeking out German U-boats. While at sea with Task Group 22.3, Gallery pioneered the idea of conducting flight operations 24 hours a day. This would impact the U-boat’s typical tactic of hiding by day and surfacing at night to recharge its batteries.

U-505 leaves Lorient, Brittany, in July 1943. Notice that the buildings in the background have been gutted from Allied bombing.  (USNI archives)   

While steaming off the coast of Africa, Task Group 22.3 discovered U-505, a Type IX-C submarine on its way back from a luckless twelfth war patrol, during which it had sunk nothing. “We had had so many air alarms at night in recent weeks that the batteries were in bad shape because of the abbreviated charging periods,” recalled Hans Joachim Decker, a machinist aboard U-505. “We simply could not stay under water for any length of time.” U-505's captain, Oberleutnant Harald Lange, decided to pass Cape Verde off the coast of West Africa to shorten the trip back to its homeport of Lorient, France, taking them right into the path of Task Group 22.3.  

On June 4, 1944, the first boat from USS Pillsbury (DE 133) approaches U-505, which is still underway, though abandoned by her crew. Pillsbury's boarding party faced the risk that the submarine might blow up at any moment, in accordance with the usual German abandonment tactics. (Naval History and Heritage Command image) 

Utilizing F4F Wildcat fighters from the Guadalcanal, sonar, and depth charges from the destroyer escorts, the submarine was forced to surface.  Once on the surface, the U-505 was hit with heavy gunfire from .50 caliber machine guns, anti-aircraft batteries, and strafing runs by the F4F Wildcats.  The fire from the destroyers wounded Lange and killed a radioman named Fischer.  Lange gave the order to scuttle the submarine, and the majority of the crew went into the water.  

Members of the salvage party from USS Guadalcanal (CVE 60) use a small handy-billy pump to dewater the partially scuttled U-505. The submarine's freeboard was extremely low at this time, with only some of her fairwater (conning tower) above the surface. Note the twin 20mm anti-aircraft machine guns, and the seashell insignia on the fairwater's side. (Naval History and Heritage Command image) 

A nine-man boarding party from Pillsbury made its way to the U-505, led by Lieutenant Junior Grade Albert David, who along with two other men entered the sub’s conning tower hatch and made their way to the control room. David and his men gathered up secret codebooks as well as U-505’s Enigma cryptographic machines. Further exploration inside the submarine led to the discovery of 13 demolition charges. These were disarmed by David and his men, and an additional boarding party of ten men from the Guadalcanal were able to prevent the submarine from flooding. Men from the Guadalcanal attached a cable to the U-505 and began to tow her to the nearest friendly port.

A Boarding party from USS Pillsbury (DE 133) works to secure a tow line to U-505's bow. (Naval History and Heritage Command image)   

U-505 was the first foreign man-of-war captured by American forces since the War of 1812. Fifty-nine German sailors out of a crew of 60 spent the rest of the war as POWs. Despite the tremendous success of the capture, Capt. Gallery was threatened with court-martial and his entire task group was ordered not to mention a word about the U-505. The Navy did not want the Germans to know that the U-boat had been captured along with all the secret codes. The American public would not learn about the U-505 and its capture until after the war.

Captain Daniel V. Gallery, Jr., and Lieutenant Junior Grade Albert L. David. Photographed on board USS Guadalcanal (CVE 60) in June 1944. Lieutenant Junior Grade David led the boarding party that took control of the German submarine U-505 after it was forced to surface by Guadalcanal's task force on June 4. This capture of an enemy warship on the high seas was the first by the U.S. Navy since 1815. Lt. j.g. David joined the Navy in 1919 and spent two decades as an enlisted Sailor before being recalled to active duty and earning his commission.  David was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor for his leadership and bravery during this action. (Naval History and Heritage Command image) 

After having kept the secret of the capture safe, Task Group 22.3 was awarded the Presidential Unit Citation, and Capt. Gallery received the Distinguished Service Medal. For leading the daring capture of U-505, which at any point could have ended with his death and those of his men, Lt. Albert David from the Pillsbury was selected to receive the Medal of Honor; the only one awarded in the Atlantic Fleet during World War II. Sadly, he did not live long enough to receive the nation’s highest honor. David died in Norfolk after suffering a heart attack on September 17, 1945, and his widow, Lynda Mae David, received the medal from President Harry S. Truman during a ceremony at the White House on October 5.

Gallery Hall Fleet ASW Training Center San Diego (faswombudsman.com) 

Captain Gallery eventually made admiral and retired from the Navy in 1960 after 43 years of service.  The tactics that he developed for hunting submarines in Iceland as well as with Task Group 22.3, proved instrumental in anti-submarine warfare.  The combined efforts of aircraft working in conjunction with surface ships such as destroyers are still taught by the Navy at commands like the Fleet ASW Training Center located in San Diego, California.   

U-505 as it appears today at the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago. (MOSI Chicago)

Today, people may visit the U-505 at the Museum of Science and Industry, in Chicago, Illinois.  it arrived in 1954, and it moved indoors, into the building that surrounds it, in 2004.  This ensures that many future generations will be able to see the U-505 and get a firsthand glimpse into what living conditions were like for a German U-boat sailor during World War II.  

Seventy-Five Years Ago: Torpex Strikes Again, Part 2

Was It Sabotage? The G-Men Weigh In

(Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)

By Gordon Calhoun
Museum Operations Division Historian, Naval History and Heritage Command

On the fifth day of the official inquiry into the explosion at Naval Mine Depot Yorktown, Captain James G. Ware of the Navy’s Bureau of Ordnance (BuOrd) closed the proceedings to the public to discuss the new hypothesis that the incident might not have been an accident. Five officers from the Fifth Naval District’s intelligence office arrived and were briefed. Later in the day, Special Agents John Kissner and Fred Coote of the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s Norfolk field office arrived and were also briefed. The court then formally requested that the FBI investigate Remie as a possible Nazi agent. The FBI's Norfolk office was one of the Bureau’s newest. Stood up in 1940, agents were specifically tasked with assisting Hampton Roads base commanders with internal security and counter-sabotage operations.

The area at Naval Mine Depot Yorktown's Plant No. 2 area where the near-simultaneous explosions took place on November 16, 1943. Note that two distinct craters can be seen; one made by the initial explosion of Torpex within the Finishing or "cooling" Building, and the other by an adjoining TNT storage area that exploded as a result of the Torpex explosion. Although it was also surrounded by a high earthen berm, the building where the Torpex was originally mixed and added to the mines (middle of photograph) before they were transferred to the Finishing Building was heavily damaged.  (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file) 

The FBI agents discovered that Remie was a child born out of wedlock, had dropped out of high school, then entered the U.S. Army during World War I, later receiving an honorable discharge as a second lieutenant. After the war, he worked in his native Tennessee as a phone operator at a soldier’s home, before moving to Virginia to work at Newport News Shipbuilding and then at the Mine Depot.

The agents discovered that Remie was a real life Stanley Kowalski. He was a loner. He had a temper and liked to argue and lecture others about what was wrong with the world. He also liked to brag about his latest business scheme that would make him rich. At one point in his life, he expressed interest in joining the Industrial Workers of the World, a Socialist political front whose members had been accused of sabotage in World War I. He liked to read, particularly works on political theory and practice.

While working at Newport News, someone from Berlin sent him the book The Case for Germany by Arthur P. Laurie. Published in 1939, this book attempted to show that Nazi Germany was a peaceful, modern state, ready to take its place in the civilized world and not the war mongering, hate-filled empire that it had been made out to be.

An unidentified informant told the FBI that he saw Remie in possession of $3,000 in cash and showed it off to people. Considering that Remie only made $1.10 an hour, this was an enormous amount of money. All local banks from Williamsburg to Hampton were alerted to be on the lookout for a large deposit of money. But over and over again, witnesses in both Tennessee and Virginia told the agents that while Remie liked to fuss about what was wrong with the world, he never expressed any sympathy or love for the Nazis or any other extremist organization. They believed Remie to be a completely loyal, hardworking citizen who excessively exercised his First Amendment rights.

In their final report, Agents Kissner and Coote concluded the same. In their opinion, there was no reason to believe that Remie was a Nazi agent or was ever a threat to national security. They also believed that Remie was truly dead. There was no reason to believe that he had somehow miraculously escaped the mammoth explosion.

The Court’s Findings

After seven days of testimony and investigation, the court closed the hearing. It concluded that the Depot’s command staff had taken all necessary safety and security measures. The workforce had been properly trained and there were a sufficient number of Marines keeping a close watch over the Depot’s activities. It concluded that all brush fires were caused by the explosion and not intentionally set.

Mark 19 torpedo warheads are moved from a storage warehouse using flat rail cars on Naval Mine Depot Yorktown's extensive line of railroad tracks. (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)

 The court did make several points about the ordnance itself. A series of radiographic images of mine cases showed that the mine cases had serious cracks in the welds. Also, rail flat cars loaded with ordnance and parked next to P-2, should not have been left there.

As for Torpex, the court highly recommended further study. It noted that no chemical analysis were made of the Torpex produced at the Depot, neither did the Bureau of Ordnance mandate tests. It concluded that “no clue as to the cause of the explosion has been brought out by this investigation” and “no offenses were committed and that no blame is attached to any personnel.”

Despite the investigation’s admitted shortcomings, and despite the FBI’s report, the investigators still managed to conclude, “It is the opinion of this court that due to the United States being in a state of war, the potential presence of enemy saboteurs is indicated and the possibly of sabotage being the cause of the explosion cannot be overlooked. The absence of an explanation for the explosion based upon spontaneous combustion or chemical disintegration, accentuates the possibility of sabotage being the cause of the explosion.” In other words, despite all the evidence, the court went with the sabotage hypothesis put forward by the judge advocate and Kirkpatrick’s lawyer.

The Court is Overruled

Workers at the site of the explosion at Naval Mine Depot Yorktown remove debris from the site where the equivalent of 150,000 pounds of TNT detonated within a building at the Plant No.2 facility where torpedo warheads, aerial depth bombs and mines were stored to cool down and stabilize after having molten Torpex explosive added to them. (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)

When the findings reached the Bureau of Ordnance offices in Washington, D.C., the Bureau came to a much different conclusion. About seven months after the explosion, BuOrd investigators believed it was an accident after all. Chief of the Bureau of Ordnance Vice Admiral George Hussey wrote a secret memo to Fleet Admiral Ernest King concluding, “…this explosion resulted from an aircraft mine or similar explosive container being accidentally dropped or bumped against a hard and fairly sharp surface during handling.”

The memo stated that Torpex’s sensitivity was not necessarily to blame. Similar accidents occurred with bombs made only with TNT. The deciding factor in all these accidents was the fact that the bomb hit the ground at a very sharp angle, causing the explosive to detonate.

The memo confirmed that despite its inherent danger, naval ordnance depots and arsenals were too integral to the fleet’s success to slow down.

Editor's Note: According to a 1992 Department of Defense Explosives Safety Board report, three of the eight most deadly ordnance plant incidents of World War II, of which the explosion at Yorktown was not destructive enough to be on, involved Torpex and happened after both of the Torpex incidents that took place in Hampton Roads.  These included incidents in April and September 1944 at Naval Ammunition Depot Hastings, Nebraska, which killed a combined total of 18 and injured 63, as well as an incident in December 1944 at Naval Ammunition Depot McAlester, Oklahoma, which killed 11 workers.  "Due to a number of explosions of this nature," wrote its author, Edward P. Moran, "the U.S. Navy no longer uses Torpex."

This article originally appeared in Volume 14, Issue 3 (2010) of The Daybook, the journal of the Hampton Roads Naval Museum. Special thanks to Mr. Doug Johnson, former Naval Weapons Station Yorktown Industrial Engineering head, for clarifying some details about Plant No. 2. Gordon Calhoun was editor of The Daybook from 1995 to 2014.