Sixty-Nine Years Ago: Operation Fortune Cookie

April 1951 was a bloody, seemingly intractable month on the Korean Peninsula.  The brilliant landings at Inchon the previous September, led by General Douglas MacArthur, had seemingly put victory within reach of the reinvigorated Americans and other military forces fighting under the banner of the United Nations.  By late March Seoul was back in their hands, but the entry of the Chinese into the war in October 1950 once again put the question of victory into doubt.  By April 11, President Harry Truman would recall Gen. MacArthur and dismiss him from his command.

Hampton Roads Naval Museum docent Hunt Lewis recently found evidence of a bold Navy-led plan that was hatched during these uncertain times.  He then composed an exhibit panel designed to shed light on what was unquestionably one of the strangest psychological warfare initiatives of the entire war.  Unfortunately, the museum is currently closed due to protective measures being taken in response to the COVID-19 outbreak sweeping over the nation, so his panel is being shown to the public here on our blog for the first time, exactly 69 years after the secret operation began.

The proposed museum panel. (Courtesy of J. Huntington Lewis)

Let's take a closer look at the message to the Chinese that, if properly translated, might have changed the course of the Korean War:

  

As HRNM Turns Forty, A Docent Remembers 25 Years of Service

Docent/ˈdōsənt/ noun 1. A college or university lecturer or teacher. 2. A person who leads guided tours especially through a museum or art gallery. Source: Merriam-Webster

J. Huntington "Hunt" Lewis as Lieutenant Commander Thomas O. Selfridge in the HRNM gallery. (Courtesy of Hunt Lewis)

By J. Huntington Lewis
HRNM Docent & Contributing Writer

I think I can speak best to the pleasures that I have enjoyed as a docent with the Hampton Roads Naval Museum over the past 25 years.

Friends.

When I began training as a docent, the museum was in the process of moving from the Pennsylvania House on Naval Station Norfolk to Nauticus, which had yet to be open. Our class of docents numbered around twenty. From March through April of 1994, we trained two days a week. One day was spent in formalized training; the other spent visiting other museums in the area. These were pre-[Battleship]Wisconsin days, and we developed a real comradeship, and we spent many years together.

Giving tours to visitors.

During our training period, we had no museum filled with artifacts for us to give practice tours, but we did have a diagram of where the artifacts would be located in the relocated museum at Nauticus together with a “script” listing the text contents of the new label plates. I knew that once the museum reopened, visitors might ask me questions to which I didn’t have ready answers. So from the “script” and the Dictionary of American Fighting Ships, I developed a pocket notebook that I refer to for on-the-spot answers. That development was the geneses of my knowledge of naval history and my confidence as a docent.

When asked during training what our preferences as a docent would be, I indicated a preference to work with the library or newspaper because I had always been more at ease with the technical aspects or things than interacting with people. But when the museum had its “soft opening” on May 1, 1994, a month before the official opening of Nauticus on June 1st, the museum was packed with visitors and every docent had to be out on the floor, and I found I enjoyed giving tours. When I am not on the floor, I’m still not much of a people person and not given to small talk, but on the floor I’ve become an outgoing person, to the extent that I’ve participated in the museum’s Speaker’s Bureau and do costumed interpretation, even hamming the latter up a bit.

Working with kids.

There were the third grade "Life at Sea" and fifth grade "Blacks in Blue" programs. For the third grade program, the Norfolk City School system sent all their third graders to Nauticus. Each day the students were divided into four groups, which rotated through Nauticus and the museum. So each morning, we had four "Life at Sea" presentations to give. Usually there were enough docents that a single docent would not have to do more than two presentations, but sometimes I had to do three and even all four.

The reactions of the kids were the fun part. When I talked about discipline and the "cat-o-nine tales", I would tell the class that a young man was caught washing his hands in the scuttlebutt, which was their drinking water. I would ask the children, “How many lashes do you think he deserves?” Some would say five or ten or maybe fifty, but then a youngster would pipe up and say a thousand. My response would be "You don't like him very well, do you?”

Then when talking about recreation–checkers, music, mending clothes–we would mention smoking, a very bad habit that you should never do, and then I would pass around a plug of tobacco saying “It smells like dirty armpit, doesn't it? “ Occasionally a kid wouldn't touch it or throw it away.

The fifth grade program for the Norfolk City School System was similarly organized. The museum presented the participation of blacks in the US Navy by highlighting noted characters followed by a “fun” exercise in which the students acted as a anti-aircraft gun crew. They were shown silhouettes of enemy and U.S. aircraft and told they needed to memorize those silhouettes because they might see one or more might be attacking their ship. Then a docent would “fly in” two larger silhouettes constructed in three dimensions one following the other. One of the silhouettes would be enemy, the other American. The class would then be asked “Which one would you shoot down?” The class usually identified the enemy, but I had to tell one teacher she shot down the American aircraft.

Research and being able to help visitors with their questions.

During my early years at the museum, one of my greatest joys was talking to World War II vets and pulling their ship’s histories for them. Again time tells and that opportunity has become rarer. One vet that I remember was a merchant mariner that had three ships torpedoed out from under him. He remembered being sheltered at one of the downtown Norfolk hotels, but remembered little about the hotel. Fortunately, he has written his name and address in Raleigh in our guest book which I retrieved after he and his wife had departed. I was able to dig up information on that hotel, and since my wife and I were shortly going to Raleigh to visit her family, I took the information with me and gave it to the vet in his retirement home. Other research has given me friends as far away as Germany and Australia. Friendships that I still maintain via the internet.

A chance to be creative.

Back in 1999, the museum director asked me if I could prepare a small entry for the Navy newspaper The Flagship. The entry would be the size of a small advertisement and would be sponsored by the Museum and The Flagship. This led to a 16-year effort of preparing weekly “Moments in Naval History.” These entries were historical (commemoration of battles), little known facts about the Navy, and if all possible I would give them a humorous twist. This obviously required a lot of research and gave me a chance to be creative at the same time.

In summary, I can only say that these years with the museum have been the most satisfying and enjoyable years of my life.

Historic Figure: Jim Reid

By Laura Orr
Deputy Education Director, Hampton Roads Naval Museum



LT Jim Reid walks off the tarmac at NAS Oceana in 1963. (Courtesy of Jim Reid)

Jim Reid is one of those people who always has a story to tell—and he always tells that story in such an interesting way that time will fly by without anyone realizing it.  Jim has volunteered at the Hampton Roads Naval Museum (HRNM) for almost twenty years, beginning back in 1997.  Jim is a docent for the museum, sharing his knowledge of and experience with naval history with all of our visitors.

Jim’s favorite part of the museum is the Civil War gallery, where he will inevitably share his love for William B. Cushing—the less famous of the Cushing brothers, since Alonzo fought at Gettysburg (and recently received the Medal of Honor for his actions).  Jim’s opinion is that William’s actions were just as important as Alonzo’s, and he is just as worthy of a Medal of Honor.  He makes a good case for William B. Cushing’s worthiness, too, for he was the mastermind behind the plan that sank the dreaded ironclad CSS Albemarle, as well as a participant in the Battles of Hampton Roads and Fort Fisher.

When you talk to Jim about his Navy experiences, he will share story after story. There are times when I’ve stopped him and said, “And you didn’t get kicked out of the Navy for this?”  Jim grew up around the world as a Navy brat.  In 1947, when he was in sixth grade, Jim’s family moved to Guam.  He remembers this time clearly, as the Second World War had been over for less than two years.  The Marines on Guam still occasionally tracked Japanese soldiers on the island who refused to surrender.  Jim reminisced, “These poor guys did not believe that their country had lost the war, so they chose to evade capture by living the life of a scavenger.  They were really not anxious to be seen by anyone, so they were not a threat to us.  They avoided even us kids.  We didn’t know this, so we imagined that there might be a Japanese warrior hidden behind every bush.”  Jim also remembered playing with hand grenades that failed to explode during the war.  Luckily, they didn’t explode when Jim was playing with them, either. Thus, it was at an early age that he began to tempt death.

Jim Reid contemplates his next move in the museum's Life at Sea room. (Photograph by M.C. Farrington)

Jim attended the Naval Academy, graduating in 1957.  He became a naval aviator who saw action during Vietnam.  Prior to Vietnam, in the early 1960s, Jim was a member of VA-85, an A-1H Skyraider/”Spad” ground attack squadron assigned to the carrier USS Forrestal (CV-59).  One of his well-told stories was about Sandblower training, which was designed to help pilots fly below enemy radar en route to a nuclear target.  Jim’s plane took off with seven others from USS Forrestal in the pitch black at 0400 in the morning for this training, with Jim wearing his exposure suit and carrying his chart, knee-board, maneuvering board, a boxed lunch, and his helmet.  Jim took off in the dark, using more fuel during the ten-hour flight than anticipated because he tried to catch up when he checked in late at one of his checkpoints.  Exhausted and hurting after sitting in the exact same position for ten hours, Jim still had to land his plane on the ship.  When the cut came from the Landing Signal Officer (LSO), he was still too high.  He put both hands on the stick and pushed, in so much pain from sitting that he didn’t care if he crashed.  At the last second, Jim pulled back from the dive and came down like a brick, hitting the deck hard.  He was so stiff that he needed three plane captains to help extricate himself from the cockpit—and, when he reached the ready room, he expected to lose his wings for such a terrible landing.  When he got there, though, the LSO said, “Okay, three.” Jim remembered, “I was astonished. ‘How could that be? It was the worst pass I ever made.’ The LSO smiled at him and said, ‘You should have seen the other seven.’”

This story is typical of Jim’s time in the Navy.  He shares his wit, wisdom, and experiences with the staff of HRNM and with our visitors who come into the museum. The museum is a much better place because of what people like Jim add when they’re here.  Jim’s favorite part of volunteering is, of course, being able to tell his stories to willing audiences, and being able to have historical discussions with our visitors.

Jim Reid discusses the circumstances surrounding the Battle of Hampton Roads with museum visitors Matthew, Ed, and Stephanie Simpson, from Charles Town, West Virginia. (Photograph by M.C. Farrington)

In Memoriam: Welland T. "Doc" Shoop

By Joseph Miechle
Hampton Roads Naval Museum Educator



Editor's Note: The following post was to have been released as a personality feature about Welland T. "Doc" Shoop, who was to receive an award for 12,000 hours of volunteer service, more than any in the Hampton Roads Naval Museum's history, during the HRNM Volunteer Appreciation Dinner on April 14.  Sadly, he became ill on March 30 as he was preparing for his normal volunteer duties aboard USS Wisconsin and passed away the following day.  

The Hampton Roads Naval Museum is fortunate to have a dedicated team of docents who enthusiastically represent the museum.  One of the most dedicated was the venerated Welland T. Shoop, or “Doc,” as he was most often called. He had always wanted to join the Navy and spoke to a recruiter in December, 1941.  The recruiter advised him to come back after Christmas because it would be a long time before he would be able to spend another with his family.  Doc took his advice and enlisted on December 26, 1941, beginning what would become a naval career spanning 33 years.

As a Pharmacist's Mate 1st Class temporarily assigned to USS Wisconsin (BB-64) in 1947, Welland "Doc" Shoop would have expanded and converted one of the battleship's wardroom tables into an operating table during an attack or after an accident.  Thankfully he never had to during an actual emergency, but Shoop showed that until the end, he and his equipment were still ready if need be.  Sadly, he passed away on April 1. (Photograph taken in March 2016 by M.C. Farrington)

Volunteer service for Doc began in 2002 with the battleship Wisconsin here in Norfolk, VA.  Doc was initially unaware that the ship had been berthed next to the Nauticus National Maritime Center (also home to the Hampton Roads Naval Museum) and when he found out, came down for a visit.  He found out from the museum's volunteer coordinator, Tom Dandes, about the many opportunities for docents aboard the ship and once again volunteered for naval service aboard USS Wisconsin. 

It was in fact not his first tour aboard the storied ship.  Doc Shoop first sailed aboard USS Wisconsin as a reservist on a “summer cruise” in 1947 when the ship left New Jersey for the Caribbean.  He learned some important lessons very quickly on that cruise. He was the senior person left in charge of the sick bay one night when the medical doctors went ashore for liberty. The shore patrol brought aboard a Sailor who had been injured ashore while on liberty and required stitches to close a wound.  Doc administered anesthesia and proceeded to sew up the wound with the help of another petty officer and knowledge he had gained from his studies.  Nobody involved spoke of the incident for the remainder of the cruise.

USS Ault (DD-698) photographed during the mid-1950s.  Shoop picked up his moniker "Doc" as an independent duty corpsman aboard the destroyer from May 1953 to September 1955. (Naval History and Heritage Command Image)

Doc Shoop also saw service aboard a wooden hulled minesweeper in the Great Lakes and aboard the destroyer USS Ault as a chief petty officer when he made an “around the world” cruise. He was aboard the latter ship when it collided with the destroyer USS Haynsworth off the coast of Japan during training maneuvers. 

Welland "Doc" Shoop's personal decorations from World War II as well as the wars in Korea and Vietnam include an Air Medal earned during his service at Naval Support Activity DaNang, Republic of Vietnam, where he led aerial spraying missions to mitigate the numbers of mosquitoes plaguing troops on the ground.   

Doc also saw service in Vietnam when he was assigned there and took over the job of mosquito abatement. This underrated job saw that the sailors and soldiers operating in the jungles of Vietnam would not be effected by diseases such as malaria carried by these insects.

Doc was then assigned as the administrative officer at Preventive Maintenance Unit 2 in Norfolk Virginia and later was assigned to the Naval Supply Center and identified some deficiencies which he quickly rectified.  He was approaching his 30 year mark and the Admiral in charge of him encouraged him to stay Navy for another five years.  Doc declined as he disliked Adm. Elmo Zumwalt and his new leadership style.  He retired from active duty in 1974.  He retired a second time from the City of Portsmouth at the age of 65 after working in public safety.

The jobs aboard USS Wisconsin changed a bit for Doc over the years.  His vision was not what it used to be and this made it a bit more difficult for him to maneuver in his old ship, but he still happily assisted the Nauticus staff members with tours inside and stood watches when asked.  In April of 2016 Welland “Doc” Shoop was to be presented with an award for more than 12,000 hours of dedicated service to the museum.  This is more than any other docent or volunteer.  He has also been awarded a Lifetime Achievement Award for the President's Call to Service program.  When asked about this impressive accomplishment, always humble, he replied, “All in a day's work."  

Addendum:

The majority of information in the above article was gained from an interview conducted with Doc on March 23, 2016.  On March 30 as Doc faithfully prepared to report for duty aboard Wisconsin, he fell ill and subsequently passed away on April 1. The museum has lost one of its most valuable and irreplaceable assets in the death of Doc Shoop, as well as a dear friend. He will be missed by all who knew him.

Petty Officer 1^st Class Joshua Stanley salutes as the casket of retired Navy Chief Warrant Officer Welland “Doc” Shoop, the Hampton Roads Naval Museum’s longest-serving docent in terms of hours served, is removed from a hearse by members of the Commander, Navy Region Mid-Atlantic (CNRMA) Honor Guard at Woodlawn Memorial Gardens in Norfolk, VA, on April 6, 2016.  Shoop was almost a daily fixture aboard the museum ship USS Wisconsin in downtown Norfolk since he began volunteering at the museum in 2002.  Shoop, who was 94, first experienced the life of a battleship Sailor aboard Wisconsin in 1947.  He was to receive an award on April 14 for the 12,000 hours of service he has contributed since becoming a docent at the museum in 2002, the most by any docent in the museum’s history.  (Photograph by M.C. Farrington)

From HRNM Director Becky Poulliot:

Two years ago, Doc reached the pinnacle of HRNM Volunteer Success--the 10,000 Hour Award.  He was honored during the annual volunteer dinner with a shadowbox containing mementos of his service to the museum and to the battleship.  In typical fashion, Doc was humble about his accomplishments, yet truly touched and grateful for the acknowledgements and the present.  

Doc was a happy man.  He could do many things to promote the cause of naval history, and do them well.  He was the type of person that you wanted to be around-you could learn from him, and it was fun.  Doc set a high bar for himself--when he suffered a stroke some years back, most thought he would never recover.  But not only did he recover, he continued to thrive!  He returned triumphantly to the next volunteer dinner, wheeled in by his son, to the sound of applause.  Doc promised that he would be out of that wheelchair and return back to his museum watch.  He kept that promise.

Members of the Commander, Navy Region Mid-Atlantic (CNRMA) Honor Guard carry Welland “Doc” Shoop to his final resting place at Woodlawn Memorial Gardens in Norfolk, VA, on Wednesday, April 6, 2016, followed by family and friends.  The World War II and Vietnam War veteran and retired navy chief warrant officer was the Hampton Roads Naval Museum’s longest-serving docent by number of hours served. He was to receive an award on April 14 for the 12,000 hours of service he has contributed since becoming a docent at the museum in 2002.  All told, Shoop accrued over 12,200 hours during his time as a docent, the most by any volunteer in the museum’s history, mainly aboard the battleship Wisconsin in downtown Norfolk where he first served as a Navy Pharmacist’s Mate in 1947. (Photograph by M.C. Farrington) 

At this year's volunteer dinner, there will be an empty seat--but knowing that Doc lives on in memories and in the instruction he gave each of us, makes his legacy the ultimate triumph.  Fair winds and following seas, shipmate.

Construction Electrician 2nd Class Gabriel James, Yeoman 2nd Class David Baxter, and Aviation Machinist's Mate Airman Christopher Torres fire a salute during the memorial service for retired CWO4 Welland "Doc" Shoop at Woodlawn Memorial Gardens in Norfolk, VA, as Boatswain's Mate Seaman Cardell Mason looks on. (Photograph by M.C. Farrington) 

Electrician's Mate 1^st Class Joshua Stanley of the Commander, Navy Region Mid-Atlantic (CNRMA) Honor Guard presents the flag that draped the casket of Welland “Doc” shoop to his son David T. Shoop as other assembled family members and friends look on as military honors are rendered on April 6, 2016 at Woodlawn Memorial Gardens in Norfolk, VA. Shoop, a retired Navy warrant officer and veteran of both World War II and the Vietnam War, was to receive an award on April 14 for the 12,000 hours of service he has contributed since becoming a docent at the Hampton Roads Naval Museum in 2002.  All told, Shoop accrued over 12,200 hours during his time as a docent, mainly aboard the battleship Wisconsin in downtown Norfolk, where he first served as a Navy Pharmacist’s Mate in 1947.  (Photograph by M.C. Farrington)