Army Transport Service (ATS) troopships held crews of considerable size, any large ship with more than a dozen folks was bound to have its share of interpersonal dynamics that might eventually come to blows. And for that, the ATS had a Master-at-arms and an assistant Master-at-arms stationed mostly aboard their troop and hospital ships. The responsibility of these individuals involved ship’s security and crew policing duties; and, unlike members of a Shore Patrol, their positions were permanent.
ATS uniform regulations plate, 1943.
The position is one of the oldest within the ATS, with its distinctive insignia of a five-pointed star appearing in ATS uniform regulations in 1899. The insignia for the Master-at-arms and the assistant Master-at-arms during this period comprised of an embroidered cap badge in gold bullion – it was a wreath with a center device of a star. ATS Masters-at-arms (MAA) had Chief Petty Officer (CPO) rank, with their uniform mirroring that of their U.S. Navy counterparts: double-breasted coat with a roll collar and blue or white trousers. Unlike their counterparts, however, ATS CPOs wore double rows of five and not four buttons, and wore no rank insignia on their sleeves. In 1930, the insignia on the cap changed to that of crossed batons.
What may be construed as a departure from nautical uniforming during the period – the wear of trade specialty on a cap badge – reflects more of the military nature of the ATS. The ATS was run by the U.S. Army Quartermaster Corps and fell along the lines of a logistic enterprise. The U.S. Army, beginning with uniform regulations in 1877, stipulated that a soldier’s corps – which might be considered a trade – be worn on their caps; and these devices were surrounded by a wreath of gold bullion laurel leaves. Given that the civilian seaman had specific trades onboard, it followed they too would wear insignia representing their specialty on their caps. The U.S. Army, unlike the U.S. Navy, did not wear trade badges on their sleeves, thus this is why they are absent from the uniforms of their contract seamen. However ATS insignia, especially that of their MAAs was initially influenced that the insignia of the U.S. Navy MAAs.
1866, U.S. Navy Master-at-arms
1886, U.S. Navy Master-at-arms First Class
The ATS Master-at-arms insignia of a star came directly from the enlisted rating badge of the same position in the U.S. Navy. The first U.S. Navy Master-at-arms rating badge appeared in 1866 and comprised of a star surmounting an anchor; this badge was worn on the forearm; the second rating badge was from 1885 and was reserved for petty officers and this took the form of three arcs over three chevrons with a star inside the arc and an eagle perched on the arc – do note: in 1893, this badge was re-used for chief petty officers, and the rating badge for first, second, third petty officers comprised of three, two, and one chevron with a star and eagle above, respecticely. Interestingly, there was a rate called ship’s corporal and it had the two chevrons of a petty officer, second class with the star; this position was in existence between 1885 and 1893 – in 1893 the position was abolished and absorbed into Master-at-arms rate. The original MAA rating badge (on left, above) had a star with one ray pointing up; with the redesign of insignia in the late 1800s (on right, above), followed the new style where all U.S. Navy star devices had a single ray pointing downward.
The star on the MAA rating badge is one of the more abstract trade symbols to decode – whereas other trade badges may have a symbol for a tool; e.g. carpenter’s square for carpenters, or gun turret for gunners – since Masters-at-arms wore no police badge (which some old salts attest the star must represent). The U.S. Navy, being a wholly Federal body used U.S. national symbols as part of its identity; in 1862, commissioned officers began wearing what came to be known as the “executive star” on their cuffs. The star, in this context, was a symbol of authority passed to them from the President of the United States. In this light, the star as a specialty mark for Masters-at-arms indicated that these petty officers were charged with keeping order onboard through the authority of the captain. In the ATS case, the star was adopted without this heavily laden symbology and was handed to ATS MAAs as a recognized trade symbol. Nevertheless, by 1930, the ATS Master-at-arms star became replaced by a shoreside symbol of authority – crossed batons for no apparent reason. Although the MAA insignia is that of a traditional baton, they allude strongly to the clubs used by shoreside police; similar to those they carried while on duty.
ATS MAA 1899-1930
ATS MAA 1946
The ATS of the 1940s was relatively unregulated in terms of what ship’s officers and crew wore for their uniforms insignia. The U.S. Army did publish uniform manuals, but these were taken more as a suggestion since a seaman’s job was to work and not stand for daily inspection. Wardroom officers took a more serious view toward their uniforms and insignia, but mainly when they were shoreside. Despite crossed batons being the official insignia for ATS MAAs, the star device re-appeared during the Second World War in two formats: bullion embroidered cap badges, and an ersatz metal star combined with a U.S. Maritime Service officer’s cap badge wreath. The former was worn through 1943, and the latter mid-war until the end up until the formation of the Military Sea Transportation Service (USMS). Crossed batons remained the official insignia and became enforced with the publication of USMS uniform regulations in 1952.
ATS MAA 1942
ATS MAA 1942
Ersatz ATS MAA 1943
Ersatz ATS MAA 1943
For seamen aboard ATS ships, due to star on the ATS Master-at-arms cap badge, MAAs were called “ship’s sheriffs.” As for the ubiquitous presence of the star device, it may be due to supply and demand issues: suppliers may have continued producing the old design or quartermasters did not issue the cap badges with the crossed batons until the old stock wore or ran out. There are two curious examples of the cap badge: above, the “ATS MAA 1946” cap badge – it was stamped brass and only seen after the war; and a bit more curious is the example in the photograph below – there are well-documented examples of ATS seamen wearing USMS cap badges with the eagle removed to denote a deck petty officer, but the metal star shows a bit of ingenuity. The stars for the former were originally manufactured for U.S. Navy commissioned officer shoulder boards to take the place of the embroidered stars – it was far more expedient to use a stamped-metal star than a woven one; however, these shoulder boards were not worn for long as they were unpopular in the officer community. Seeing the re-use for the ship’s sheriff is quite interesting. All N.S. Meyer hallmarked examples of the latter were produced for the collecting community after line drawings by Herbert Booker in Rudy Basurto Insignia of America’s Little Known Seafarers.
Photograph courtesy of Debbie Fleming via Joe Davis. See ship’s sheriff on right.
United States Maritime Commission Cadet Corps Training Cadre/Cadet Officer cap badge. Single piece construction. Woven in silver and bullion. Circa 1939-1940.
In the past, I’ve been asked if I’ve ever come across any examples of the United States Maritime Service (USMS) officer cap badge with eagles facing their left (viewer’s right). For researchers of U.S. Navy uniforms, the way the eagle faces has always been a good rule of thumb to date whether or not a naval cap or uniform is either pre-1941 or post-1941; U.S. Navy eagles began facing their own right (viewer’s left) from May 1941, onward. In this light, the question is valid, especially given that a naval badge awarded to merchant seamen – the U.S.N.R. badge – obeyed this stylistic maxim. But, in regard to USMS cap eagles, my answer has always been: I’m not sure. However, after examining early United States Maritime Commission Cadet Corps (USMC-CC) photographs, I can say with some certainty that there never was a USMC-CC/USMS cap eagle that faced their left.
I mention the USMC-CC and not USMS, since prior to the United States’ entry into the Second World War, the United States Maritime Commission had two training activities with two different missions with its own distinct set of uniforms and insignia. The USMC-CC was involved in training maritime cadets: that is young men out of high school or college who wished to become ship’s officers; and, the USMS was concerned with upgrade courses for merchant seamen to become licensed ships officers and basic seamanship training for entry-level positions in the merchant fleet. In no way did the insignia of these two organizations overlap; the USMS had a distinct U.S. Coast Guard feel to it since the Coast Guard was charged with administering training mission; whereas the Cadet Corps’ commandants and instructors were either drawn from the US Navy or officers in the Merchant Marine and enrolled in the U.S. Navy’s Merchant Marine Reserve, thus informing USMC-CC’s uniforming. With USMC’s training activity reorganization in July 1942, the USMS took training from the U.S. Coast Guard and assumed the administration of the USMC-CC. training.
U.S. Maritime Commission – U.S. Maritime Service, Captain. circa 1938-1941.
U.S. Maritime Commission – Cadet Corps, Training Cadre, circa 1939-1943.
The familiar USMS cap badge of eagle and shield with anchor was adopted by both USMC-CC training cadre and cadet officers in 1939. Sharing of the insignia by training cadre and students is curious; however, I posit this is not completely out of line with USMC-CC’s training mission. Cadet officers were in a liminal space – they were graduates of nautical schools, yet were unable to find employment – and they decided to avail themselves of additional training provided by USMC-CC instead of waiting it out on the beach. After enrollment in USMC-CC, they went to a processing station and shipped out. Between ships and while on the shore, they took on training roles at any of the USMC-CC training establishments; in this capacity, they were junior instructors. They donned USMC-CC training cadre cap badges while in their instructor role; on ship, if so prescribed, they wore uniforms and insignia of the steamship company. USMC-CC cadets proper wore a cap badge derived from the cadre cap badge – the anchor from the shield. I have not seen evidence that USMC-CC cadet officers continued to wear the cap badge after separation from the program at their new places of employment.
Detail of Cadet Officer cap badge figure in Uniform Regulations of United States Maritime Commission Cadet Corps (1942). Col.: AMMM.
USMS appropriated the cap badge from USMC-CC training cadre and cadet officers in 1942/1943. There is no literature stating why. If I am to offer an educated guess, in terms of the overall design, the eagle and shield device lends itself better to mass production than the then-existing USMS cap badge. At the time, insignia houses scaled-down production of embroidered cap badges across the board and began offering stamped metal badges en masse. And, the USMC-CC cap badge is more naval and perhaps a bit more handsome. It is worth mentioning that when USMS reconfigured its insignia, it did not simply adopt all USMC-CC insignia, it came out with shoulder boards, buttons, and cuff devices with completely new designs.
U.S. Maritime Commission – U.S. Maritime Service, training cadre/officer cap badge. circa 1938-1942.
U.S. Maritime Service, officer cap badge. circa 1942-1945.
The cap badge on the left is far too busy to be rendered into a metal version like the example on the right. Do note: the anchors to the right are not fouled; as any good sailor would point out: fouled anchors are useless, but a classic naval symbol, nonetheless.
Back to the initial discussion point, in taking a look at the early U.S. Maritime Commission Cadet Corps, I came across a group photo of all training cadres present at Fort Schuyler from 1940/1941. At the time, this photograph represented a quarter of USMC-CC training cadre; the other staff would be district cadet training officers at various ports, administration staff in Washington D.C., and training cadre at the other two training stations: Algiers Navy Yard, San Francisco, California, and Bayou St. John, Louisiana. The photograph also illustrated how all training cadre wore embroidered cap badges with eagles facing right (viewer’s left); incidentally, the U.S.N.R. badges show their eagles facing left (viewer’s right). The U.S. Navy officer is wearing a cap badge in the pre-May 1941 style.
USMC-CC Atlantic Coast School at Fort Schuyler: Commander John F. Wilson, Commanding Officer & Lieutenant Commander Harry H. Crow, Naval Science Instructor.
The cap badge at the top of this post is a 1939-1940 example from the estate of an ex-U.S. Maritime Commission Cadet Corps officer cadet. Embroidered cap badges continued to be made throughout the war and even during the period when manufacturers made stamped metal badges. Thus, unlike U.S. navy cap badges, where the time period of the cap badge may be determined by which direction the eagle faces, embroidered USMS badges may be dated by style and construction and the quality of the weave. Early USMC-CC cap badges have sharp, tapering wings with a thin, oval body, and are on a tombstone-style pad; the eagle’s head points up at an angle. Embroidery is with fine thread. Like U.S. Navy embroidered cap badges, the eagle is embroidered directly to the cap band and is not on an affixed badge. Stylistically, this eagle looks as though it is poised for flight. From 1942 onward, later eagles have bowing wings, a trapezoidal body, and a beak on a horizontal axis. Embroidery for these badges is often not so fine. The pad for the later eagles (often manufactured by Gemsco) is usually half-oval. This eagle appears at rest, replete with a hooked beak. Joe Tonelli has an excellent representation of most varieties of USMS embroidered cap badges, here.
U.S. Maritime Commission Cadet Corps, cadet officer circa 1939-1942
U.S. Maritime Service, officer/cadet officer cap badge. circa 1942-1945.
Note: the pad for the badge on the right started to be used in 1943/1944; cap badges with the design on the right, but the pad on the left are from 1942-1943.
This chunk of text was originally posted to Facebook and is swirling around the net.
A uniform says a lot. When Kings Point was in the process of construction, the U.S. Coast Guard (who was overseeing mariner training) was of the mind that the Academy and all the Maritime Service training stations were “for the duration.” When the role of training cadets was handed over to the War Shipping Administration/Maritime Service, the consensus under the new administration became the Academy was to be permanent. In 1943 there was a Dedication and re-styling of uniforms at Kings Point. Before 1943, cadet-midshipmen wore uniforms like those current in the industry – reefers and working khakis (and whites like banana boat officers). In July-September 1943, cadets began wearing dress uniforms just like the midshipmen at the U.S. Naval Academy at Annapolis and U.S. Coast Guard Academy in New London. Of particular importance is the fact the Merchant Marine Academy uniformed its cadets like those at Annapolis – the administration was very pointedly stating these cadets were at par with those of the other service academies.
Cadet-midshipmen with all possible ribbons on his chest (in order of precedence).
Below is a super neat booklet that is at the American Merchant Marine Museum – it shows cadet-midshipman in a dress uniform and all the medals and ribbons available to merchant mariners in early to mid-1944 (note: both the Meritorious Service medal and Gallant Ship ribbon were not yet created, they were instituted in August 1944).
The booklet also shows awards potentially awardable to Kings Pointers – showing these students served in war zones and could be (and were) decorated for bravery and service. During World War II there were two styles of ribbons: the thin U.S. Army sort and the taller U.S. Navy sorts. The ribbons depicted are in U.S. Navy format – showing the awardees are members of a sea service.
This post originated as a note for engravers interested in the faithful representation of United States Merchant Mariners of the Second World War – and the later years, in particular, when there was a surge in individuals joining the fleet.
1. Note on officer caps and cap badges
Liberty ship masters (captains) and licensed officers – more often than not – wore the insignia of the United States Maritime Service (USMS). The USMS was a voluntary organization that prescribed uniforms and caps of the same cut and design as those of the U.S. Navy (and U.S. Coast Guard), except they had different insignia. The insignia of the USMS underwent a change in mid-1943 – I would suggest consulting photographs post-1943 for insignia as this period’s is the most recognized and remains the insignia of the USMS today.
1.1 1941 – mid-1943
This note concerns Liberty ship officer headwear, in specific: the representation of caps and accouterments.
The central individual is Captain Hugh Mulzac at the delivery of the SS Booker T. Washington. The cap he wears is of the 1941 through mid-1943 vintage; the device on the cap is generally unknown today. Although not visible, the visor is black patent leather without ornamentation.
1.2 Mid-1943 – postwar
When the United States Maritime Service changed its uniform regulations in 1943, it visually aligned itself with the U.S. Navy. An innovation in 1943 was senior ranking USMS members could wear caps with “scrambled eggs” on the visor; these were embroidered oak leaf and acorn clusters. Officers in the U.S. Navy with the rank of Commander and higher – e.g., those who commanded a larger warship – wore caps with these sorts of visors. Merchant Mariners who also commanded a merchant ship wore visors with the same. All other officers wore visors without ornamentation.
Using the diagram above: (1) Chin straps were of importance. When a chin strap is shown “smooth” in an illustration, it is indicative of a black patent leather strap. Officers aboard Liberty ships wore chin straps made of gold lace with a leather backing; the lace pattern is similar to the braid worn on their service coat cuffs. You will notice two parallel ridges or bands on the strap; period illustrators went through great pains to correctly illustrate the chin strap. The (circled) chin strap slides were made of the same lace and were about the same width as the strap itself. Often, the slides’ leading-edge aligned with the outside edge of the eyebrow. Chin straps came in one length; the shorter the strap, the greater the cap’s circumference.
There was a black mohair band that ran around the bottom of the cap. The pad on which the cap badge was affixed was sewn behind the cap band – it is also known as the cap badge’s backing. Embroidered cap badges were sewn directly on the cap band and pad construction; the stamped metal badge was affixed in the center of the construction by bolts. (2) You may notice stitches to either side of the cap badge – these were to strengthen the pad. (3) The pad also had parallel lines with an arching top. As the pool of manufacturers of Maritime Service expanded, there was a variation in pad configuration; some made in 1944-1945 had a half-oval shape to them – see the examples below. Pads never had a U.S. Navy configuration.
1.4 Cap badges
There were two types of Maritime Service Eagles worn on the cap: embroidered and stamped metal. Stamped metal badges were initially supposed to be facsimiles of the embroidered. As the war wore on, masters were the only ones who wore embroidered devices, making them something of a prestige item. Below find examples of each:
Embroidered cap badge worn by a master; visor has “scrambled eggs.”
Above are two of the most common variations of the stamped metal badge – note the laurels do not extend beyond the wings’ tips. The wreath has six leaves on each side. The badge to the right is from 1945 – note the quality control on the pad is lacking; however, the wreath is closer to the embroidered cap badge’s design. The loop at the bottom of the badge is a stylized continuation of the cable (rope) fouling (wrapping around) the anchor. Note the shape of the pad – the left is a Vanguard-manufactured device, it is on a pad with horizontal edges; the right is a Gemsco-manufactured device, it is on an oval-shaped pad.
2. Note on unlicensed personnel hats
A merchant ship comprised various groups, each with different modes of dress depending upon their trade and position aboard the ship.
Unionism, coupled with the American Merchant Mariner’s fierce independence, contributed to a culture that eschewed the wear of a uniform among the unlicensed crew. The United States Maritime Service was responsible for the training of unlicensed Merchant Mariners – many of who make up today’s veterans. The USMS tried to regiment their trainees and, as such, dressed them in uniforms. All except the more practical uniform items made it into a mariner’s seabag when they left the training station. Those items that were quickly discarded were the white or dark blue U.S. Navy-style enlisted man’s cap (depending upon the season when the trainee enrolled). The blue hats appeared in 1943 because the U.S. Navy did not like Merchant Mariners looking too much like U.S. Navy sailors. However, some Merchant Mariners kept their hats and wore them when not on ship. In terms of appropriateness, depicting a Merchant Mariner in this hat style is not advised.
Here is an example of a hat in question:
3. Note on officer uniforms
Officers aboard ships had two types of dress: a six-button blue coat (also called a reefer) and white shirt with a tie and a three-button khaki coat and a khaki shirt with a black tie. The khaki uniform was predominantly a working uniform – the blue coat was often reserved for onshore use. The khaki shirt had devices on each collar tip – these were most commonly rank devices, which were the same as the U.S. Navy and a USMS officer wreath device. Some officers wore them; others did not. The khaki coat also had shoulder boards – the same type a U.S. Navy officer wore, only with different devices (USMS or anchors) above the stripes.
To represent an officer at work, the best way to indicate they were in a khaki coat is to put rank devices on their collar tips. The USMS officer wreath device was on the wearer’s left, while the rank device was to the left.
In the middle of January 1991 – on Wednesday the 16th, to be exact – my family flicked on the Zenith, and we sat and watched the evening news in silence. Dan Rather spoke in a droning monotone and then the screen went dark. We saw a collage of hulking forms outlined in an eerie green. At first, I could not make out what I was seeing, and then it dawned on me what was happening – in a moment, there was an exploding building, and then another. We were watching American jets launch missiles in a precision bombing raid over Baghdad. My stomach sank as I watched the attack, but the stage was set for months: Iraq invaded Kuwait the summer before, and its people called for liberation. Diplomacy and regional pressure did not dissuade Iraq’s leader Saddam Hussein (dubbed “So Damned Insane” by late-night comedians) to relinquish what he claimed was a lost province. The United Nations gave him an ultimatum to leave by January 15. He did not budge. We knew the war would come, and it came fully televised. Exactly a week later, my stepfather’s ship left for war. And thus began the United States’ actions against Iraq.
I grew up in a Navy family. For almost as long as I can remember, grey funnels, oily reprocessed air, and the clanging of ship’s bells people my memories. Unlike other Navy kids, I visited my stepfather’s place of work often. Weekends meant I got to hang around his R division shop; and as he advanced from chief to mustang, his wardroom. I paid close attention to fleet minutiae, shipboard politics, and even read all the manuals strewn about from an early age. By the time I was in First Grade, I knew our allies’ names and understood the Soviet Union as the greatest of evils (the Germans and Japanese confused me – we were enemies in the Big One, but we’re now friends). I also vividly remember the Shah of Iran’s overthrow and the hostage crisis; I cheered when the American embassy workers stepped off the plane. I learned to hate Hezbollah, Castro, and a host of foreign adversaries, including domestic turncoats like Lee Harvey Oswald (calling someone “a Lee Harvey” was the worst of insults). It was a dangerous world, and the Navy was ready at a moment’s notice to leave its role as a force of deterrence for one of war. No sailor wants war, my stepfather told me, but we must be ready.
Most of my classmates had a father or a mother part of the U.S. Navy Atlantic fleet. Any one of them was on a cruise at any point of the year – these were dress exercises of the ships in combat or to show the American flag in Europe, Africa, or the Persian Gulf. The implicit understanding that any of our parents could be deployed for war at any moment did not make the steaming of their ships to the Middle East after the attack on Iraq easy. All of us were on edge that our loved ones would die. Iraq’s army was the fourth largest globally, battle-hardened after a decade-long conflict with Iran, and versed in desert fighting. We knew about the Iraqi use of nerve agents on civilians – these same weapons would inevitably be unleashed on our forces by a rain of SCUD missiles we reckoned. Since mine was a military town, my high school held a gathering in the auditorium to calm the student body and to avail us counselors. My stepfather had gone on cruises before, so I knew my place was to stay the course: do well in school, take care of all the house, mind my mother, and take care of my siblings. Going to war was different from a jaunt to Gitmo. I did not allow myself to be scared. I put on a strong face and tried not to think of the worst, but the fear gnawed inside. More than once, I felt myself on the verge of tears and told myself to push through and “get on with it.”
I do not remember saying goodbye to my stepfather. I do remember the overpowering feeling of helplessness, and my resignation that he was going to die. I had no illusions of American might; I knew his ship would be helpless against a barrage of low flying anti-ship Silkworm missiles; these weapons honed in on radar – the eyes of a naval vessel.
☆
In ten days, my stepfather’s ship, the USS Guadalcanal, reached the Mediterranean. She was an amphibious assault helicopter carrier, meaning she held Marine helicopters, about 2,000 Marines, and allied support facilities. The thought when she left Norfolk was she was heading straight for the Gulf to be part of a beach strike-force. In fact, while the ship trained in Sicily to take part in Operation Desert, Saddam Hussein’s forces were in disarray, and her aircraft were not needed in the Gulf. The air assault on Baghdad I saw on January 16 was a precursor to over a month of the relentless bombing; every day, we learned of the decimation of cities, towns, and garrisons by Coalition aircraft – the euphemism for this activity was “softening the enemy.” The ground war began on February 24 and lasted 100 hours, with the Coalition Forces sweeping from Saudi Arabia into the Iraqi desert and liberating Kuwait. For the USS Guadalcanal, there was no amphibious assault. In March, she moored off Iskenderun, Turkey and took part in Operation Provide Comfort – this was a humanitarian effort to airlift food and cargo to starving Iraqis and Kurds whose settlements and infrastructure were destroyed by either the Coalition or the retreating Iraqi military. The newspapers told us desperate populations are often worse than the military when an occupying force comes in, and this was the reason for America’s munificence.
I followed the war, ceasefire, and the problems that wracked the region. I read as much as I could about current events and the history behind the strife the United States inserted itself into – it was not as simple as protecting oil. I learned of the problems in Cyprus between Greece and Turkey; the sectarian violence in Lebanon; how Britain and France dismembered the old Ottoman Empire and carved out countries with no regard to the people in them; and the Israeli occupation of Egyptian, Jordanian, and Lebanese territory and how this was anathema to peace in the region. I learned of the good work the United States was doing: in keeping the peace on Sinai as it had for a decade. I celebrated the United Nations’ work and its observer force keeping the peace and defusing the Iraqi machine. For a time, I wished to study at the American University in Cairo to learn Arabic and understand the problems and help with solutions in the Middle East. I was encouraged as I followed my stepfather’s travels in the region and as small packages drifted back to us stateside.
Just before the school year began, my stepfather’s ship returned. As a means for the sailors’ children to understand what their parents did aboard ship, we were invited for a “tiger cruise.” It is one of my fondest memories as a Navy kid. We embarked at Morehead City for a trip to Norfolk. For a couple of days, we slept and ate as sailors ate; we came to know the deprivations of military life, but we also saw the crew at work and play. I was able to see helicopters come and go, and weapons practice up close. After a ceremony in the cavernous hangar deck where the Captain gave out Surface Warfare Officer pins to junior officers, my stepfather and a few crew members hauled a drum-kit, amplifiers, and electric guitars from places unknown and rocked-out playing classic rock songs like Johnny B. Good before the entire ship – my stepfather was on lead guitar. With a few dollars earned from mowing lawns, I went to the slop chest. We kids could buy souvenir matchbooks and ribbons if we wanted. I decided to buy a newly created medal for award to service members who participated in the Gulf War and various operations around it, the Southwest Asia Service Medal, and the gedunk medal for merely being in the service at the time, National Defense Medal. Back in his stateroom, my stepfather gave me a Navy Good Conduct Medal for “holding down the fort” in his absence (the latter was loaned to his brother for a job interview, and I never saw it again).
My mother’s parents sent me some more memorabilia for Christmas – a Saddam Hussein banknote and some leaflets dropped on Iraqi soldiers before and during the Coalition’s invasion. These were given to my grandfather by a co-worker who was contracting in the region. These were the closest tangible things to the Gulf War I had, and I loved them. I kept them on my dresser in a small display case along with the medals I had gotten on the USS Guadalcanal and some Iraqi coins sent to me from my father – he incidentally worked in the region in the oil business and I followed his travels with rapt attention growing up, too. These became my prized souvenirs and bookended the Gulf War for me.
As the months went by, the peace in the region was uneasy and life in my Navy town returned to its mundane torpor. All faded and was soon forgotten as ships and cruises went on as before. I still held on to my collection, although it ended up in a cigar box as I went on the college and grad school. I have looked at the collection from time to time, but never really paid it much attention until now, thirty years later.
☆
This small collection has been in my possession for the greater part of thirty years – as long as the United States’ adventures in the Middle East. It has very little monetary value; I reflect on the objects since they are touchstones of another time.
National Defense Service Medal
The National Defense Service Medal (NDSM) is a service award of the United States Armed Forces established by President Dwight D. Eisenhower in 1953 for award during periods of armed conflict national emergency; it was akin to a blanket campaign medal and appeared with no guiding rationale. Prior to the first Gulf War, it was awarded to services members during the Korean War, and for enlistment during the Vietnam War. Prior to the ground offensive, the NDSM was again authorized by a memorandum, dated 20 February 1991, from Secretary of Defense Richard Cheney for active service on or after 2 August 1990 with no termination date established; although the term was later defined as to November 30, 1995. For sailors who served in Vietnam some seventeen years prior, they could place a bronze star on the medal’s ribbon. When I saw my stepfather’s ribbon rack, the first thing I noticed was the addition of a bronze star. It is called a gedunk medal: one that is less than a participation trophy and only serves to provides a splash to the fruit salad on one’s chest.
On the medal’s obverse is the eagle, the National emblem of the United States, and the reverse has a stylized shield of the Coat of Arms of the United States; together they signify the defense of the United States. The combination of oak and palm leaves signifies strength and preparedness. The ribbon has no particular significance, although the U.S. Marines had a colorful ditty about what the colors represented when the medals were handed out in boot camp:
Red is for the blood I didn’t shed, white is for the skies I’ve never flown, blue is for the seas I’ve never sailed, and yellow is the reason why.
Southwest Asia Service Medal
Growing up, I was attuned to ribbons on everyone’s uniform -they were colorful professional résumés. My stepfathers’ were a bit jarring – he was a junior officer in his thirties, and had an enlisted Good Conduct ribbon with three bronze stars; each star represented four years past the orignial award. He was a mustang – an officer with an enlisted ethic; or more precisely – a Limited Duty Officer. On the Tiger Cruise I noticed a new ribbon I’d never seen before, one with red, white, and blue bands with sand-colored swatches surrounding a central black band. This, I soon learned, was the newly-created Southwest Asia Service Medal or SWASM for short.
In October 1990, the Deputy Director of Personnel and Administrative Services, Office of the Secretary of Defense (OSD), requested that The Institute of Heraldry provide proposed designs of a service medal for Southwest Asia. Proposed medal designs were forwarded to OSD on 30 October 1990. A proposed Executive Order to authorize the service medal was staffed to the Services, by OSD, on 11 February 1991. President Bush established the Southwest Asia Service Medal by Executive Order 12754, dated 12 March 1991.
As early as October 1990, several months before the Coalition’s offensive, the Office of the Secretary of Defense requested the Army’s The Institute of Heraldry (TIOH) design a medal. The medal selected was designed by Miss Nadine Russell, a supervisor at TIOH. Its design was reminiscent of Second World War campaign medals: vehicles of war and depictions of theaters of battle; it depicts a tank, armored personnel, carrier, helicopter, ship, and an aircraft with a desert and seascape. The reverse design symbolizes “military might and preparedness in defense of peace.” The sand colored ribbon with red, white, blue, green and black stripes represent the national colors of the United States and the coalition members.
It was awarded for three campaigns: “Defense of Saudi Arabia” or “Operation Desert Shield” for the period 2 August 1990 through 16 January 1991; “Liberation and Defense of Kuwait” or “Operation Desert Storm” for the period 17 January 1991 through 11 April 1991; and “Southwest Asian Cease-Fire” for the period 12 April 1991 through 30 November 1995. If a service member participated in two campaigns, they would receive one bronze stare; two for three. Since the USS Guadalcanal was called up for service and had its helicopter crews operate in Northern Iraq after the cease-fire, the sailors and marines received no stars.
Safe Passage Leaflet & 25 Dinar Banknote
Fatalities were prevented by the mass-surrender of many Iraqi military units. The United States dropped leaflets over the enemy stating they were planning on bombing their positions the following day along with safe-passage leaflets such as this one.
The translation reads:
If you want to save yourself comply with the following: . Remove the magazine from your weapon. . Carry the weapon upon your left shoulder, pointing the muzzle downward. . When approaching our location, do so slowly, any person ahead of the group raises this leaflet above his head. . This will affirm your desire for safety. . You will be transferred into the hands of your Arab brothers as soon as possible. Hello and Welcome.
After the invasion, the once prosperous Iraq was propelled into an economic free-fall. Saddam notes were popular bring-backs and commanded a premium for a short period after the war. PsyOps groups dropped forged notes with messages of despair and warning on the reverse.
☆
As the years went by, I added a couple of medals to the collection as markers of the conflict and its aftermath:
Humanitarian medal
The USS Guadalcanal was atwitter on the Tiger Cruise about the skipper applying for the medal given the ship’s part it played in Operation Provide Comfort. The DoD denied the application for the ship, instead, it went to the Marine helicopter squadrons stationed on the ship at the time; one – the Black Knights (HMM-264) – flew over 1,000 hours and delivered 90,000 pounds of relief supplies. For the sailors, however, this is the medal not awarded.
Kuwait Liberation Medal (Saudi Arabia) & Kuwait Liberation Medal (Kuwait)
Along with the gedunk medal and various service ribbons for being deployed overseas, service members found themselves often more decorated in the six weeks of Operation Desert Storm than draftees in the Vietnam War. Among their chest fruit salad, they received Kuwait Liberation Medals in 1995 or thereabouts.
United Nations Iraq/Kuwait Observer Mission (UNIKOM) Medal
After the cessation of hostilities, the UN set up a cordon sanitaire for mine removal; later, the group monitored the cease-fire. UNIKOM spanned April 1991 through 1993.
Multinational Force and Observers Beret, Beret badge, and Medal
The Multinational Force and Observers (MFO) was formed by the United States to enforce the Egypt-Israel peace treaty of 1979 at the invitation of both Egypt and Israel. They are presently stationed in the Sinai Peninsula (hence the S of the olive branch and stylized dove). They came to be despite a failed United Nations resolution to monitor the peace – the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics vetoed the motion at the behest of Syria. So the troops donned a terra-cotta red beret to distinguish themselves from the blue berets of the United Nations Peacekeeping Force. Despite the normalization of relations between Egypt and Israel over the decades, theirs has been an uneasy peace, and the MFO remains at the request of both parties. When I learned about them at the time of the Gulf War, I was impressed with how nations worked together to keep the peace in such a volatile place. I still find it interesting and fascinating legacy of the Carter administration.
As for the symbolism on the medal, the olive branches and dove relate to the Multinational Force and Observers’ peaceful mission and the hope of peace throughout the world. The S-shaped configuration refers to the Sinai Peninsula as the place of service. The ribbon colors have no significance; the colors of the orange and green bands are reversed for civilian awardees.
There is very little documentation regarding the form and function of the United States Maritime Service Maritime Shore Patrol (MSP); nor even a standard naming convention. Literature refers to the organization as:
Maritime Shore Patrol Maritime Service Patrol Maritime Service Shore Patrol
Administratively, the United States Maritime Service (USMS) Inspection Office oversaw MSP’s activities. In practical terms, MSP members manned the gates at United States Maritime Service facilities and training stations, and stood watch at the Officer of the Day office. By 1944, MSP comprised of fifteen units.
For a brief moment, MSP captured the public’s attention in January-May 1944 by participating in an investigation initiated by the USMS Inspection Office: it patrolled the waterfront and determined if individuals were wearing USMS uniforms they were rated to wear; please see article here.
For a visual identity, there are scant few photographs. I am basing my analysis on photographs from the following:
United States Maritime Service Officers’ Handbook, published 1944 The Los Angeles Herald Examiner, published in May 1944 The Mast Magazine, published in August 1944 Fort Trumbell USMS Officers School annual, published 1945
The Los Angeles Herald Examiner, May 1944. MSP members are inspecting seized insignia from unauthorized personnel. Of interest is the USMS cap badge without an eagle.The Mast Magazine, August 1944. MSP Chief Petty Officer is undoubtedly questioning a mariner to determine if he is wearing the correct uniform insignia.
1944 regulations show MSP members wearing a brassard in Navy-blue with the letters MSP in red. Photographs show brassard wear on the left arm (or the sleeve which lacked a rating badge). Despite US Navy protestations that USMS personnel, in general, to not wear headwear that may confuse them with US Navy seamen, USMS MSP enlisted men wore white caps with undress blues and black silk rolled neckerchiefs. MSP chief petty officers wore USMS CPO uniforms with the same brassard. All were provided with batons and a white web cartridge belt – albeit without ammunition pouches and no gun holster. The batons were not standardized; note the difference in style between the Herald Examiner photograph and that in the gate photograph from Fort Trumbell. MSP enlisted men did wear canvas gaiters. MSP members wore both identification breast badges and breast shields at Fort Trumbell although, the jury is out for the other training stations regarding whether or not they wore badges of any sort. MSP Chief Petty Officers wore the standard cross-anchors cap badge through the war and into the late 1940s. There is no indication that MSP personnel wore helmets like the US Navy Shore Patrol.
Fort Trumbell USMS Officers School annual, 1945Fort Trumbell USMS Officers School annual, 1945Fort Trumbell USMS Officers School annual, 1945. Note photo identification badge. Fort Trumbell USMS Officers School annual, 1945
At training stations, there were only a few members of MSP. For example, Fort Trumbell placed MSP within the Disclipinary Department and had eight at any given point in time, including a leading Chief Petty Officer who had the rate of CPY – Chief Paymaster’s Yeoman. Since the USMS probably followed in the tradition of the U. S. Navy, where members of the Shore Patrol were most often temporarily assigned personnel except for Chief, there was no dedicated rate for those who served in MSP. The Herald Examiner photograph shows a member wearing a rate with crossed anchors; this rate is not among those enumerated within USMS Enlisted Specialty Marks of the period – but, the caption does give the rate as “seaman.”
MSP Collection
All of the items in the collection detailed below came from the estate of someone who once worked for the USMS. In analyzing the collection, the old owner’s progression of ranks goes from Yeoman Petty Officer 3rd Class to Yeoman Petty Officer 1st Class, ending with Boatswain’s Mate Chief Petty Officer (Crossed Anchors is rate symbol for either Seaman or Boatswain’s Mate). The rating badges without USMS were old-style patches and were used from 1941-1943; all others are from 1943 onward. If we are to go by patch manufacture year, the owner was a Yeoman Petty Officer 2nd Class as late 1943 and advanced quickly through the end of the war.
War Shipping Administration, U.S. Maritime Service training cadre CPO/trainee. 1942-1947.
The breast shield indicates it was used on station in some capacity – the abbreviation USMSTS stands for United States Maritime Service Training Station.
There is a curious aiguillette; although its scarlet color corresponds to US Army Coast Artillery Corps, the owner most probably wore it in a ceremonial role as a member of the MSP and it was not a memento of previous military service – it was most likely at a wreath-laying, on parade, or for a Maritime Day function.
The quintessential MSP brassard. This example is constructed of thick felt with sewn-on felt letters. There are no manufacturer tags of any sort.
Second World War U.S. Merchant Marine ribbons and two medals.
USMM Victory Medal.
Norway War Medal.
USMM Combat Bar.
USMM Defense Bar.
USMM Atlantic War Zone Bar.
Late Second World War and Postwar era.
Uniformed members of the U.S. Armed Services wear an array of ribbons on their chests. The small strips of cloth denote personal decorations, commendation ribbons for units, campaign medals, and foreign awards. Each ribbon has a specific place depending upon precedence and may have devices for additional awards or added significance. Not surprisingly, these ribbon racks speak to the career of the wearer as an ersatz professional résumé. However, it was not always this way.
At the outset of the Second World War, the military establishment had a paucity of awards it granted to its service members. As the war progressed, the War and Navy Departments redefined and reordered the “pyramid of honor”, and behind Executive Orders or Acts of Congress, struck medals and badges, and awarded a small array of ribbons for members of the armed services for service in a total war with no end in sight.
One of the more curious developments in building the pyramid was awarding campaign ribbons before the cessation of hostilities. Unlike the Victory Medal’s suspension ribbon from the Great War that held campaign bars, or inter-war medals themselves for expeditions both domestic and overseas, the Second World War saw ribbons granted for participation or presence in various regional theaters of war media res. Only after the end of the Second World War did the government strike distribute medal-replacements for the ribbons in the late 1940s.
During the waning years of the Second World War, U.S. Merchant Marine seamen were also honored by the federal government by a handful of awards. They were not founded concurrently as those of the armed services, rather came as an afterthought. Some decorations awarded to merchant seamen found an analog in the armed services, such as medals for distinguished and meritorious services, and the Mariner’s Medal for war wounds. There were also emergency service and theater ribbons – the latter called bars. Unlike the military’s strict order of precedence, seamen wore Merchant Marine campaign ribbons in the order of award – or region sailed. The U.S. Merchant Marine had two unique awards: the Combat Bar and Gallant Ship Citation Bar. The former was granted if the mariner was present on a ship under attack and a silver star was affixed if the seaman was forced to abandoned ship. The latter was a unit award for a ship that stood out among all others in a time of crisis. There was no provision for merchant seamen to wear foreign decorations. Only in 1992 were the campaign bars converted into medals – some forty-seven years after the armistice, and only then several years after Congressional approval.
However, the U.S. Merchant Marine was not a uniformed service and ribbons, and medals were not trotted out unless the mariner happened to be an officer on shore or perhaps in the rare ceremonial function.
The ribbon rack and a pair of medals illustrated in this post, although at first glance tells not so an uncommon story of a merchant seaman, further analysis brings quite a surprise.
The left-most ribbon is for combat action, and the star signifies the enemy hit the seaman’s vessel and he was forced to abandon ship. The middle ribbon bar is for “Merchant Marine Defense.” It was awarded to individuals who sailed during Roosevelt’s declaration of a state of national emergency up to the formal entry of the U.S. into the war. The last ribbon is for sailing in the Atlantic for more than thirty days during the war.
The story the ribbons tell is that the seaman was a career Able Seaman and worked through the Depression or perhaps signed up just as the war in Europe became hot. He was probably in an Atlantic convoy, and his ship was attacked either on convoy or steaming along the East Coast during when U-Boat commanders called “The Happy Time.”
The medals give us more insight. On the left is a Merchant Marine Victory Medal. It was awarded for participation in the war and was issued a year after the end of hostilities. This means the Mariner remained in the industry on and did not immediately go to a shoreside profession. On the right is a medal that vexed me for over seven years. I always thought it was one of those tokens a serviceman might pick up overseas. Usually, war-tokens brought back after those of the enemy – perhaps an Iron Cross or a patch. This medal is unusual because it was not from an Axis power – rather an Ally. In this case, Norway.
When I first received the lot, I asked if the seller had any information regarding provenance. There were no photo albums, military, or personally identifying items that came with it. The seller said no, it came from a storage unit clean-out. I followed up and asked if the seaman was from Norway. The answer came back with a cagey no, it belonged to an uncle who sailed in the War. I put the items in my collection with a shrug. I was happy to have a ribbon with the star and wondered what stories the mariner could tell if he were still alive and willing – most seamen did not talk about their wartime experiences, and for good reason.
In the years that followed, I began looking closer at Atlantic convoys. Recently, I came across an interview with a radioman who was on the SS Henry Bacon and how he was awarded a medal by the King of Norway for rescuing nineteen Norwegian refugees of the Island of Sørøya in 1945. I saw an image of his medal, and it looked familiar. I thought this can not be. I dug through various online and print sources and saw that the medal clasp was period Spink’s and not a postwar production. I couldn’t believe it.
Although I do not have ironclad proof the group is from a survivor, the only other possible way examples of the medal could find itself into an American Merchant Marine collection would be if it were awarded to a Norwegian Merchant seaman who first served on a Norwegian ship and then a U.S. vessel – it did happen. This wasn’t the case.
A retired merchant mariner describes the events of February 23, 1945 surrounding the award of the medal far better than I am able:*
[…] I went to another Liberty Ship [SS Henry Bacon in 1944]. The first trip, we went to England, Italy, France, Belgium and Holland. Then we came back to the states – Boston – and loaded up ammunition and locomotives for Murmansk, Russia. We went from Boston to Halifax, joined the convoy, went to England, then we headed north up around Norway and to the Russian winter port at Murmansk.
In Murmansk while they were unloading, everyday just like clockwork Germans would come and strafe the harbor. Before we left they put 20 Norwegian civilians on our ship. They were being sent to England. As soon as we left the harbor, the Germans started sinking the ships. They sank three of them before we even got out.
We ran into one of the most severe storms ever recorded in the area. It was so strong that the barometer’s chart paper didn’t go low enough to track the pressure. Winds of over 130 miles an hour; 45 to 60 degrees below zero. We lost the convoy. The rough seas sheared the steel pins holding the main springs on the steering mechanism. We had no steering capacity. We put the pins back in, and every time the ship would try to make a turn, we’d hammer on the pins to keep the springs in place. Our Captain thought we were ahead of the convoy, so he turned around and doubled back for 60 miles. He couldn’t find the convoy, so he turned and decided to go back again on the same route. That was when they hit us – on February 23, about 1500 hours, with twin-engine torpedo bombers – JU-88s.
They were looking for the main convoy. They couldn’t find it because the storm was so bad. Twenty-three of them hit us. We shot down several of their aircraft. They dropped torpedoes and the gunners where able to shoot them in the water before they hit the ship. But one got by and it hit between the steering engine and number five hatch – that’s where the rear explosive hatch is. We sank in less than an hour.
I was one of the first ones in the water. I was told I’m in the British Naval medical journals as the longest survivor during World War II in the Artic water – over two hours in 45 below zero weather.
My Chief Engineer had ordered me to cut loose one of the lifeboats with a fire axe because the cables were frozen. But the sea hit me, and took me and the life boat right over the side. I came up under the life boat. It had hit me on the back of the neck and knocked me out. I had to kick off my sea boots in the tangle of lines in the water, and somehow I rolled the life boat upright. How I did it, I don’t know. Witnesses who saw me do it couldn’t say how I did it by myself. I don’t know to this day.
I found a life ring floating by and grabbed that. Another of our crew held on to it too, and we caught an unconscious Navy armed guard, put him between us, and locked him in with our feet. He survived. The crew at the time was 48 people, not counting the armed guard. We lost, I think, 27 of our crew. We saved the 20 Norwegians without a loss; that’s why we were cited by the King of Norway. They were all civilians – women and children, mostly.
The three of us had stayed in the life ring. We were rescued by the Zambezi – a British destroyer. They had come back to pick up bodies for burial. A young English Sub-Lieutenant tied a heaving line around his waist, jumped into the water and tied a rope around us. They thought we were dead. But when they dropped us on the deck, my eyes opened.
Our clothes were frozen to our bodies. They laid us on the mess hall tables and cut our clothes off. Then they covered us with sheets and packed us in sea ice. They let the sea ice melt to room temperature as our bodies thawed out with it. It was all they could do. They had no medications left. All they had was Pusser’s Royal Navy Rum. They had barrels of it. The doctor on the ship was actually a veterinary doctor in England before he joined the Navy. He told us: The only medication I have is rum; if you have no objections, I’ll keep you supplied. And that’s what he did. He kept us in a mellow glow for approximately four days until we got to Reykjavik, Iceland.
The doctors checked us out in Iceland and said we would survive. We went from there to Scapa Flow (Editor: Royal Navy base in Scotland). From Scapa Flow we went to a place in Ireland — Northern Ireland. To this day I still don’t know where. They didn’t tell us. They took us in to this castle and interrogated us. What they thought was that we were German plants, because they thought nobody could have survived for over two hours in Artic water – normally it was ten minute survival rate. They couldn’t believe it. So, they interrogated us, and after interrogation, they gave us a card saying we had been cleared by the FBI, Naval Intelligence, British Naval Intelligence and Coast Guard Intelligence. From there they took us to Glasgow, Scotland, then to Liverpool, where they put us on the USS Wakefield and brought us home.
The Norwegians awarded us the Norwegian War Medal. After that, I continued sailing through the end of the war. I stayed in the Merchant Marine until 1950.
* Ed. note: 19 Norwegians were part of the ship’s complement. 21 crew members survived, less than half of the 47. This text is from “Veterans Health Administration ‘My Life My Story’” program. The Master of the vessel, Capt. Alfred Carini went down with the ship, and is one of two Americans awarded Norway’s highest honor for military gallantry, the Krigskorset med Sverd (War Cross with Sword).
One of the more touching aspects of the group is the patina on the Norwegian War Medal. Although the entire medal has turned a deep chocolate, the high relief of the King’s portrait is rubbed and bright. I imagine the mariner thumbing the medal recalling the convoy attack, the shipmates he lost, and remembering the sheer fear he had for his life in the frigid dark of the Arctic Ocean followed by the relief of his rescue. And after all that, told we has a hero by a foreign king. References
The medal is a decoration of the United States Merchant Marine established by an Act of Congress on August 8, 1946, and was awarded to officers and men of the U.S. Merchant Marine who served aboard American-flagged merchant ships for at least 30 days between December 7, 1941, and September 3, 1945.
John R. Sinnock – known for his design of the Roosevelt dime and Purple Heart Medal – designed the Merchant Marine Victory Medal. The obverse of the medal depicts Liberation, facing the wind, astride the bow of a U-Boat and a sand dune. She holds a trident in her right hand and an olive branch in her left hand. The trident is evocative of the same held by Britannia, Mistress of the Seas.To the left of Liberation is the word “WORLD” and to the right of her is “WAR II”. The reverse shows a Herreshoff anchor inside a rope circle, around which is wound a ribbon with the slogan: “FIRMITAS ADVERSARIA SUPERAT” (Latin for “Steadfastly overcoming the enemy”). In a circle around the edge of the reverse, the words “UNITED STATES MERCHANT MARINE 1941-1945” form a motto.
The medal was awarded to ~32,000 individuals.
Krigsmedaljen (Norway War Medal), 1945
The medal was established by Royal Decree on November 13, 1942, by King Haakon VII of Norway. It was awarded to Norwegian and foreign military and civilians who participated in a meritorious way toward the efforts to achieve Norwegian liberation from the Germans. It was for the period from May 23, 1941, through the end of the Second World War.
Krigsmedaljen utdeles til norske eller utenlandske militære som på en fortjenstfull måte har deltatt i krig for Norge og til norske og utenlandske sivile som under krig har ydet Norges forsvar tjenester.
The War Medal is awarded to Norwegians or to foreign military who have served in a meritorious manner in war on behalf of Norway, and to Norwegians and to foreign civilians who, during war, have aided in Norway’s defense.
For the duration of the war, the medal was granted by the Norwegian Government-in-exile and later in Norway proper with the evacuation of the German occupying forces. The medal was not a blanket participation medal – its award was determined after a petition to the King’s Council-in-Exile or the Norwegian Ministry of Defense.
The medal is a 33mm bronze disc with King Haakon VII’s portrait, name, and motto “Alt for Norge” (All For Norway) on the obverse, and a wreath and the text “Krigsmedalje” (War Medal) on the reverse. In the middle along the edges of the reverse is the King’s cipher.
If a recipient met the requirements for receiving it again, they received a star each time they did so (to be pinned to the suspension ribbon), although the same individual can not be awarded more than three stars.
In the period from 1942 to 1956, about 18,000 decorations were awarded. A breakdown of the classes of awardees is as follows:
6,500: Merchant Navy
3,800: Navy
1,500: Civilian (Home Guard)
800: Air Force
700: Army (includes foreigners fighting in Norgwegian units)
8: Coastal Artillery
300: Partisans
Posthumous:
2,350 Merchant Navy
800: Navy
750: Army
400: Home Guard
300: Air Force
110: Secret services
In doing my research, I came across a mention of the SS Henry Bacon and a posthumous award of the medal to a seaman that was killed by the attack – Donald Peter Schiesher.
“Donny was serving in the Merchant Marine in World War II […] He gave his life to save 19 Norwegian civilians.” Of interest are the communications from the U.S. Government and medal citation.
Donald Schiesher Lost in Action With Crew of Henry Bacon
In an unforgettable epic of the sea, seven officers and eight men of the American Liberty ship Henry Bacon, boldly met death in an icy Artic gale to save the lives of 19 Norwegian islanders. One of these eight men was Seaman Donald Schiesher, son of Mr. and Mrs. Frank Schiesher.
The Henry Bacon was starting home in convoy after carrying freight to Russia and carried as passengers the Norwegians who were among several hundred being evacuated to England. She encountered heavy weather, lost touch with the convoy and was singled out by the Germans. An aerial torpedo plunged into the hold and the vessel went down with her guns firing.
Two lifeboats were successfully launched, one with the refugees and a few crewman and the other with 15 crewman and seven gunners. In the bad gale the Henry Bacon had engine trouble but in accordance with a hard and fast rule the convoy continued and it was later that the Bacon was sighted by the enemy. Five German planes were shot down by the ship’s ack-ack, but it suffered heavy damage and the life boats, with the exception of two, were ruined.
Knowing that his ship was going to sink, Capt. Alfred Carini, ordered the three men among his passengers to put their women and children in a life boat.
Five officers and 21 ratings of the Henry Bacon’s crew survived and are enroute home. Captain Carini went down with his ship.
Two Illinoians were among the heroes who gave their lives. They were Donald of Hampshire, and Edgar B. Snyder, first assistant engineer. Donald entered the Merchant Marine service on Nov. 3, 1942 and received his training at Sheepshead Bay. He was then sent to San Francisco where he was assigned to a ship and sent into the Pacific. He served there 18 months. Last August he enjoyed a furlough at home and was then assigned to service in the Atlantic. His last letter home was from Scotland on December 23.
Donald was 22 years old, was born in Hampshire, and had lived here all his life. He graduated from the local high school with the class of 1940. A brother Robert, is serving with Patton’s 3rd. Army in Germany.
Memorial Service April 19
According to present plans the memorial service for Donald will be held at the Hampshire Catholic church on April 19th.
via: A newspaper clipping of the Hampshire Township Historical Society – publisher/date not noted.
A hundred yards from a gravel road, near the Finnmark coast in northern Norway is a small memorial to one of Donald’s shipmates, a Navy Armed Guard. The front and back faces of the memorial stone read:
Bare 20 år fra USA. Mason Burr helten på “Henry Bacn” 1945
Dette ernoen av dramaer m/ evakueringen av Finnmark 1944
Only twenty years old from the USA.,
Mason Burr, hero of the “Henry Bacn” 1945
These are some of the dramas
of the evacuation of Finnmark 1944
Burr’s death was a selfless one: he remained at his post after all his shipmates and the group of refugees put to lifeboat. He was determined to man a gun to fend off the boat’s strafing by the Luftwaffe. After the lifeboat detached from the sinking ship, he was hit by shrapnel and died instantly. His body was found a year and a half later in October 1949, washed ashore near Klubbukt, Finnmark entombed in ice. The memorial has flowers every year in remembrance of him and the crew of the SS Henry Bacon.
Military uniforms tell a story. The bit and bobs that are scattered across them offer clues to their context and sometimes even political battles fought far from the crew compartment or barracks. American Merchant Marine uniforms in the inter-war period were work clothes.
I was bothered by a statement by a General Dalton of the United States Shipping Board’s testimony to U. S. Congress in December 1926:
He claimed more than 50% of officers aboard United States Lines (USL) ships were reservists in the U. S. Naval Reserve Force (USNRF) – in fact just about all. The reason I was bothered has to do with the fact that pretty much all officers aboard USL ships wore a cap badge with an eagle – older collectors of Merchant Marine insignia told me, the reason for the eagle is because the officers were WWI veterans, and to give them a nod, United States Shipping Board (USSB) gave them caps with eagles on them. The eagles were reminiscent of the eagle found on a U.S. Naval officer’s cap – a cap forbidden for reservists to wear while not in uniform. As assumptions go, this is a fair one to consider. Across the Atlantic, P&O did this to attract ex-Royal Navy officers and they said they did too. And, it follows fellows who joined USNRF invariably stayed in USNRF after the war and they wished to wear their caps or something similar – to mark themselves apart. That makes sense – sort of.
So, I decided to locate and consult primary documents to corroborate the General’s statement. I found he was grossly incorrect or misinformed or just plain conflating the truth. Using these documents, I created a spreadsheet of the officers on SS Leviathan‘s maiden cruise and cross-referenced them with USNRF lists to determine:
Who had a commission in 1929 (if they were lieutenants in 1929, it would be safe to assume they were ensigns in 1923… they had two ranks to jump).
Nationality.
Why the SS Leviathan? She was the flagship of the USL fleet – at the time she was the largest, most modern ship in the US merchant fleet (but, she was built by the Germans and captured when the US joined WWI) and she had the cream of the industry aboard. The licensed officers didn’t change too much on the SS Leviathan – many of whom were there on the maiden voyage mostly stuck around through the line’s acquisition by Paul W. Chapman in 1929 and on through Roosevelt/IMM acquisition in 1931/2. Nationality is important to consider since foreigners could not join USNRF; the complaint for many was that the American Merchant Marine was crowded with foreigners. In counting the foreigners, I could determine the true number of seamen who were eligible for enrollment in USNRF.
I discovered there were 78 people who might nominally be considered officers on the SS Leviathan‘s maiden voyage (per a news item lauding them). Of those 78; only 5 of them were not U.S. citizens. And, of the remaining 73, 9 held commissions in the USNRF in 1929. The number of reservists made up 12% of the officers.
In looking at USL passenger lists from other ships, USL did denote an officer’s enrollment in USNRF correctly – except potentially in one instance, Giles Steadman; the USNRF rolls from 1926 are unavailable. On those lists, invariably only the master of the ship held a commission in the USNRF/USNR during the decade spanning 1924-1934; among those listed on the lists, that would be 20% of merchant seamen were members of USNRF during the period cited by the General.
Beyond the inaccuracy of the General’s statement, it would also be safe to assume that there is no connection between the actual numbers of USNRF officers and the cap badges worn by officers aboard USSB-owned lines; the eagle on the cap badge may very well just be an indicator of nationality as does the corona navalis for the British Mercantile Navy of the same period.
The nuance of uniforms in the American Merchant Marine is different than that found in the military. Although they share the same clothes as sailors, merchant seaman did not relish in wearing badges and patches to show how they transited through shipboard hierarchy. These hierarchies were not hard and fast. So, using a cap mark oneself is counterintuitive in a merchant marine setting.
Numbers of merchant seamen in the MMR was relatively static; these numbers are from 1934. It is of note that no men – that is non-officers enrolled.
The General would not be correct even if he said all USL ships flew the Merchant Marine Naval Reserve Flag – during this period – the flag could be flown if the commanding officer of a vessel held a commission in USNRF and 50% of the officers aboard held commissions, or if the U. S. Navy felt the ship was worthy as a naval auxiliary. Membership in the USNRF was originally one to not be handed a white feather during the First World War, it later had a mixture of patriotism, a little cash, and subsidized courses. As for the officers in the USNRF, many did not pay much attention to Naval Regulations. If they had the U.S. Naval officer cap in their wardrobe, they wore it in the course of their daily work routine. Uniform standards were set by the master of the vessel – the demand may be that officers show up in a jacket in the saloon or there may have been a devil may care attitude altogether aboard. On USL ships, only crew members who faced passengers kept up appearances on passenger liners; otherwise, those in engine spaces would wear work clothes and caps without grommets. The later could not be bothered with buttons and badges – they had real work to do.
Merchant Marine Naval Reserve Flag awardees, 1930. Ships were reviewed each year for award qualification.Merchant Marine Naval Reserve Flag awardees, 1931
This is not to say Merchant seamen threw anything they wanted together on. On steamship lines that carried passengers, there was an assumption that the crew would have a smart appearance as one might find in a hotel – but they would be decked out in nautical uniforms. There is no bureaucratic fight on Merchant Marine uniforms of the 1920s and 1930s, and by 1929, only two USL ships ever earned the right to fly the Naval Reserve Flag by the end of 1920s by virtue of personnel count (the flag was given to ships with 50% of officers aboard holding USNRF commissions).
References
United States Congress, Senate, Committee on Commerce. “Proposed Sale of Certain Ships by the United States Shipping Board Hearing Before a Subcommittee of the Committee on Commerce, United States Senate, Sixty-Ninth Congress, Second Session, Pursuant to S.Res. 294, Requesting the Shipping Board to Postpone Consummation of the Sale Or Charter of the ‘Leviathan’ and Certain Other Vessels Operated by the Board: December 13, 1926.” Washington, D. C. : GPO, 1936.
United States Congress, House, Committee on Appropriations. “Navy Department Appropriation Bill for 1936: Hearing Before the Subcommittee of the Committee on Appropriations, House of Representatives, in Charge of Navy Department Appropriation Bill for 1936. Seventy-fourth Congress, First Session.” Washington, D.C. : G.P.O., 1935, p. 208.
United States Navy. Register of commissioned officers, cadets, midshipmen, and warrant officers of the United States Naval Reserve: January 1, 1929. Washington, D. C. : GPO, 1929.
United States Navy. Register of commissioned officers, cadets, midshipmen, and warrant officers of the United States Naval Reserve: January 1, 1930. Washington, D. C. : GPO, 1930, pp. 121-122.
United States Navy. Register of commissioned officers, cadets, midshipmen, and warrant officers of the United States Naval Reserve: January 1, 1931. Washington, D. C. : GPO, 1931, pp. 201-202.
United States National Archives and Records Administration. “Passenger and crew lists of vessels arriving at New York, 1897-1942” v. 7626-7628 Jul 20-23 1923 (NARA Series T715, Roll 3334).
The following collection of insignia details an interesting career arc of a licensed engineer in the American Merchant Marine. It also illustrates a transformative period of the American Merchant Marine from its zenith in the 1940s through its struggle for relevance in the Cold War.
[T]he person that owned this collection graduated from the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy at Kings Point as an engineering officer. Then worked for United Fruit Company and the American Export Lines. Both companies used the B.M.O. (Brotherhood of Marine Officers) – this union represented both Deck and Engine Officers and it was easy for officers of United Fruit to change to American Export Lines.
Mr. Chet Robbins of N.S. Savannah Association, personal communication.
As an officer in the employ of latter, the owner ended up on the NS Savannah as a nuclear engineer with American Export-Isbrandtsen Lines, F.A.S.T. (First Atomic Ship Transport); after a sea-going career that began during the Second World War, there is evidence of work with General Dynamics and support for the creation of the American Merchant Marine Museum. Unfortunately, I do not know the full provenance – perhaps someone may know the contours of the career and individual.
NS Savannah significance
As part of the “Atoms for Peace” program as promoted by the Eisenhower Administration at the height of the Cold War, NS Savannah was a demonstration vessel to illustrate the technical feasibility of nuclear propulsion for merchant ships. She was not expected to be commercially competitive, rather was designed to be a set-piece: she was to be visually impressive with a look more akin to a luxury yacht than a bulk cargo vessel. Her design called for thirty air-conditioned staterooms (each with an individual bathroom), a dining facility for one hundred passengers, a lounge that could double as a movie theater, a veranda, a swimming pool, and a library. Even the often utilitarian cargo handling equipment was designed along the lines of the era’s Atomic Age aesthetics. As a demonstration vessel, by many accounts, the ship was a success. She performed well at sea, her safety record was impressive, and since a nuclear reactor powered her, her gleaming white paint was never smudged by oil or diesel exhaust smoke.
Yet, no amount of positive design could paper-over NS Savannah‘s impracticalities. Her cargo space was limited to 8,500 tons of freight in 652,000 cubic feet – which was a fraction of the space her competitors could accommodate. And, despite her modern appearance, she was still a creature of her times – cargo-handling was done by longshoremen. Her streamlined hull made loading the forward holds laborious, which became a significant disadvantage as ports embraced automation. Her crew was a third larger than comparable oil-fired ships and received special training in addition to that required for conventional maritime licenses. Although she was initially chartered by States Marine in 1963, from 1965 to 1971, the Maritime Administration leased NS Savannah to American Export Isbrandtsen Lines for revenue cargo service. This change was due to a labor dispute which erupted over pay scales. NS Savannah‘s engineering officers had been allotted extra pay in compensation for their extensive additional nuclear training. The deck officers, however, cited the tradition where they received higher pay than engineering officers. A labor arbitrator ruled in favor of the higher pay for the deck officers, in keeping with the traditional pay scale, despite the lower training requirements of the deck officers. The pay issue continued plagued States Maritime’s crew, resulting in it dismissal and the Maritime Administration canceling its contract with States Marine Lines and selecting American Export-Isbrandtsen Lines as the new ship operator. The resulting need to train a new crew interrupted NS Savannah‘s demonstration schedule for nearly a year.
Although the change in operators alleviated the immediate labor problem, the failure to resolve this dispute would forever cloud the feasibility of nuclear merchant ships. Many feared that abandoning the
Masters, Mates, and pilots (M.M.& P.) and the Marine Engineers Beneficial Association (MEBA) trade unions merely deferred the necessary resolution of this conflict. After all, these two unions represented deck and engineering officers on a majority of all other U.S.-flag operated ships.
As a result of her design handicaps, training requirements, and additional crew members, NS Savannah cost approximately US$2 million a year more in operating subsidies than a similarly sized Mariner-class ship with a conventional oil-fired steam plant. The Maritime Administration decommissioned her in 1971 to save costs, a decision that made sense when fuel oil cost US$20 per ton. In a note of historical parallel, the ship’s ill-augered namesake, the SS Savannah, which in 1819 became the first steam-powered ship to cross the Atlantic Ocean, was also a commercial failure despite it being an innovation in marine propulsion technology.
Note: above text is spindled from a Chatham County Georgia Historical handout on NS Savannah.
Below are the items in chronological order. All may be seen viewed together on the Collection page: NS Savannah ex-crew.
Nuclear Reactor Control Room mock-up at Kings Point. Note the flag.
1940s Kings Point
The collection begins with a Kings Point “4.” These items were worn on athletic uniforms; the USNR badge is circa 1942-1945; finely woven and pin cushion style badges replaced these generally flat woven examples immediately following the close of the Second World War.
Kings Point “4”
USNR badge
1940s United Fruit
The two following cap badges show a progression of responsibility within the United Fruit fleet. Senior officer wore cap badges with anchors and small flags above; this innovation was an innovation begun in the United States Merchant fleet by United States Lines under the management of Internation Merchantile Marine; hierarchical badges were largely abandoned by the end of the 1940s in favor of command positions being denoted by felt-covered visors with embroidered oak leaf clusters.
United Fruit, Officer
United Fruit, Senior Officer
The insignia from United Fruit also shows a steady progression of responsibility. The shoulder boards illustrate promotion from 3rd to 2nd Engineer, and the insigne (for further details please see the collection page) shows the wearer as belonging to the Engineering department. United Fruit insignia is a bit confusing as at first glance it appears to look like United States Merchant Marine cadet-midshipman insignia as USMMA insignia has program identifiers ringed in bullion rope; this insignia lasted at least through the 1950s as it was current during the Korean War.
United Fruit Co. engineer insigne
United Fruit Co. 2rd Engineer
United Fruit Co. 1st Engineer
1960s American Export Lines
American Export Lines cap badge features the outline of the globe. This cap badge was worn for a short duration since American Export Lines did a corporate livery change in 1962 and was later absorbed by Isbrantsen Lines in 1964. It was in this last year when it was probably briefly worn while the NSS Savannah was under Isbrantsen’s ownership of the ship and F.A.S.T. lacked shipboard insignia of its own.
American Export Lines cap badge
1960s First Atomic Ship Transport
Rounding out the collection are items from when the original owner worked aboard the NS Savannah as a junior engineer. These would have come with American Export-Isbrantsen award of the contract to operate the NS Savannah in May 1963 through the subsidiary First Atomic Ship Transport (F.A.S.T.); this contract lasted until 1971, at the end of which the ship was taken out of service. By 1972, the ship was mothballed.
Of particular note are the cap badge and the shoulder boards. The construction of the cap badge points to manufacture or fitting in the United Kingdom or an English-influenced tailor since the stitching pattern of the band has band seams fore as opposed to American aft. This cap badge is that of F.A.S.T. and was worn from at least 1964 onward (see images below). Although the American Merchant Marine industry closely followed United States Navy insignia patterns after the Second World War, the US Navy had no specialized identification for nuclear engineers despite a great many reactor operators in the fleet; thus the shoulder boards are unique to the NS Savannah. There is evidence that the deck officers first wore shoulder boards with an atomic orbital model superimposed over anchors beginning with the maiden voyage of the NS Savannah in January 1962 while she was under contract with States Marine Lines.
NS Savannah ship organization, 1962-1965
As of this writing, I do not know the significance of the blazer badge’s Latin motto nor what the tie tack represents. “Arduus Ad Altatus” (lit.: “Striving to Dance”) could be an allusion to getting atoms to dance in the reactor; and the tie tack could be styling representation of the ship’s reactor.
F.A.S.T. cap badge
F.A.S.T. Junior Engineer
F.A.S.T. blazer badge
F.A.S.T tie-tack
Captain Gaston H. DeGroote, January 1962.
Captain David B. McMichael, port demonstration in Dublin, Ireland, July 1964.
Captain David B. McMichael, port demonstration in Dublin, Ireland, July 1964.
Note above the shoulder boards worn by Captain DeGroote with his States Marine Lines cap badge, and the F.A.S.T cap badge worn by Captain McMichael along with the specialized deck shoulder boards. Images of Captain McMichael are from the Port Agent of Dublin, Irish Shipping Ltd. newsletter Signal; the article on the port demonstration is here.
Many thanks are due to Mr. Chet Robbins of N.S. Savannah Association for offering a synopsis of the original owner’s possible career and identification of the F.A.S.T. items.
The summer before I went to college, I was not so worried about leaving home for the first time, I was concerned I did not have what it took to be a good Naval Officer. My doubts came when I received a letter about O-week. This was an orientation, I learned, about life as a Naval ROTC midshipman. I figured it would be a nice way to get to school early and get my bearings. The doubts came when I heard that it was some sort of boot camp where upperclassmen attempted to break-in lubbers. I thought I had it over all of them, since I lived in the Navy for my entire life.
I grew up in the shadow of my Grandfather who was a warrant officer and then LDO, and my step-father who was a chief and LDO in the Navy. Both of them came to the Navy from two different generations. The Navy of my Grandfather was a collegial place – he was in the submarine community. My stepfather’s Navy was bogged down in seemingly petty politics – of who said what at the wardroom table or “college boys” looking down on my stepfather because he did not have the formal education they had. From my perspective, a Naval Officer had dignity about them, were detail-oriented, and honorable to a fault. I felt as though I was a good fit for the role.
One of the first things we did at O-week was to get our photographs taken for ID cards. Name placards were made and we were handed a pile of clothes. My first evening at college was spent polishing my shoes. I taught others around me how to do it since I had been polishing shoes for years. We were also shown how to iron our khakis. I too had this down from years of practice.
The PT in the morning was annoying but bearable. The marching up and down sidewalks in tight formation felt silly. In the classroom, we were constantly being yelled at for the smallest of mistakes. One of my fellow inductees was reamed out for not knowing the NATO alphabet having only been told it once. I did lots of pushups because I called a fellow with a name plaque that read Moran, “moron.” He didn’t like that. I was forced to remove my name plaque and replace it with one emblazoned with the name “Abercrombie.” I had to spell it at a moment’s notice in the NATO alphabet. I never stumbled spelling ALPHA BRAVO ECHO ROMEO CHARLIE ROMEO OSCAR MIKE BRAVO INDIA ECHO – my childhood was spent staring at signal flags and studying the military.
I understood what they were attempting to do: to break me. Despite what might be called hazing, I was motivated to excel. They could not break me.
One evening, though, I realized I didn’t want to be part of the Navy, not this Navy. This realization came when I was sitting in my room and I overheard upperclassmen saying how they couldn’t wait to have a taste of fresh meat. As their conversation continued, I realized they were talking about a group of young women in our group and they went into lurid detail about how they planned on getting them drunk and showing them a “real man.” My head burned with anger. I knew I would not be able to bear being around other students referring to incoming first-year women as fresh meat. The next day, I gathered up the courage and told the unit’s CO I just didn’t have what it took and wished to separate from the unit. Later that afternoon, I gave the Yeoman all my uniforms and called my parents. I felt like a complete failure.
I was given a pair of boards by the Yeoman in parting. He thought I was a good kid. They were apparently antique.
In retrospect, I should not have left on some made-up excuse, in that I didn’t feel I was cut out for the Navy. I should have told the CO I was disgusted with my classmates and I found their comments abhorrent. I should have been an ally to the young women who were participating in O-week. However, I wasn’t mentally prepared to say what I needed to say. What I heard instead were shades of my stepfather’s comments toward women and this was a culture not for me.
A couple of years after I left NROTC I bumped into a fellow midshipman. We chatted a bit, he was planning on becoming an aviator, and I was just accepted to grad school. When I told him a regretted dropping out, he told me I would never have made it anyway – my problem was that I was too sensitive and I needed to toughen up. The Navy had no place for an officer like me. I asked him about the young women in the program – in a low voice he told me one of them was sexually assaulted, but it was all hush-hush.
