ammm – Ian Watts

October 6, 2018October 26, 2022

Uniforming United States Lines unlicensed crew

The United States Lines Archive at the American Merchant Marine Museum on the campus of the United States Merchant Marine Academy holds a trove of United States Lines official photographs from the 1930s and 1940s. Among them is a small collection illustrating the uniforms worn by the company’s unlicensed crew. This essay will describe the uniforms and the context for their wear, along with a discussion of their U.S. Navy analogues. In analyzing them, I will show how the uniforms have similarities with and differ from those worn in the U.S. Navy, and shed light on the ever-elusive subject of period merchant seamen uniforms.

During its heyday in the 1930s and up until the eve of the Second World War, United States Lines attempted to control the image of its seamen through the wear of standard uniforms. This move followed the lead of its European steamship company rivals where they placed their employees in uniforms similar to those of their national navies. Not surprising for the period, the garb United States Lines chose was not too dissimilar from that of the U.S. Navy. This move not only promoted a professional appearance among the ranks but also acted as a potent semaphore for ship passengers; wearing U.S. Navy-like uniforms with their relatively familiar visual cues enabled the passenger to quickly evaluate a crewmember’s place within the ship’s hierarchy. And, whereas welcome aboard booklets detailed the reefer and uniform insignia lexicon of licensed personnel, the intricacies of unlicensed crew – Ordinary and Able Bodied Seamen – uniforms remained unstated. The company assumed the passenger could understand the latter through memetics.

Sleeve Stripes, SS President Roosevelt, 1939. Col.: AMMM

At the turn of the last century, the U.S. Navy moved from a model of wooden ships and iron men to one of mechanized warfare. In turn, naval warfare became less an art than a process. Within this rubric, U.S. Navy leadership preserved the underpinnings of its rigid caste system and elaborated upon it the minute codification of an enlisted sailors’ place within the organization and their roles. This system reached its zenith in the pre-war Navy wherein the U.S. Navy organized the various trades of its sailors into specialty ratings – occupational categories with discrete tasks in which a sailor is proficient – and rate – seniority by virtue of knowledge mastery often gained by time in service. In 1905, the number of ratings numbered sixteen, and almost thirty by 1941. The rating and rate of an enlisted sailor found its way to their uniform sleeve through a series of patches. These patches had idiosyncratic, yet nautical symbols for the trade – such as a “closed clew iron” for Sailmaker’s mate or a “screw” for Boilermaker – and chevron hashes for rate. Chevrons were additive – the greater the number of chevrons marked a sailor with greater proficiency at their trade and responsibility than those without. For a fledgling sailor who did not rate a specialty, their occupation branch was specified by a colored strip on the sleeve seam of their dress and undress uniforms: white or blue (on winter or summer uniforms, respectively) for seamen, and red for fireman. Evocative names were colloquially given for a sailor’s place of work: a seaman aloft in the tops or with work centered on the fo’c’stle and quarterdeck, was “Of the Line”; artificers crafting parts in the ship’s workshop were “Below Decks”; and firemen stoking the boilers in the engine compartment were members of the “Black Gang.” The colors further reinforced the place of work: white for sails, and red for coal fires. That said, the U.S. Navy modified ratings and their identification over time. From 1833 to 1866, the rating badge was worn on the left or right sleeve as determined by tradition. Captain-of-the-Hold, Quartermaster, Quarter Gunner, Sailmaker’s Mate, and Ship’s Corporal had their rating badge on the left sleeve, whereas Boatswain’s Mate, Captain-of-the-Tops, Cook, and Gunner’s Mates wore their badges on the right. In 1866, only Petty Officers “Of the Line” or Deck ratings wore their badges on the right sleeve – e.g. Boatswain’s Mate, Captain-of-the-Tops and Fo’c’stle, Coxswain, Gunnersmates, Master-At-Arms, and Quartermasters – and all others including the relatively newly-created engine room ratings placed their badges on the left. Ships were divided into two watch sections, Port and Starboard; and these were divided into quarters. Throughout the 1800s, sailors wore short, gradated lengths of white or blue tape denoting their watch sections; tape on the left sleeve denoted Port watch and right for Starboard. With fleet mechanization in 1886, the watch tapes were abolished and regulations stated the rating badge worn on the sleeve now corresponded to the watch section of the wearer; thus sailors in the Port watch section wore their badge on the left sleeve, while the Starboard section wore their badges on the right regardless of rating. In 1913, this system was revised and Petty Officers “Of The Line” wore their badges on their right sleeve while all others wore their badges on their left sleeve. This system continued for the duration of the Second World War. By 1949, all rating badges went to the left sleeve. Thus altogether, patches, stripes, and chevrons acted as a sailor’s visual resúmé. By contrast, unlicensed merchant seamen – the ratings of the civil marine – were not so meticulously marked by seniority or overtly uniformed by trade.

USN Coxswain, 3rd Class patch (obv), 1940. Col.: IW.

USN Coxswain, 3rd Class patch (rev), 1940. Col.: IW.

Merchant ship crews did not have same caste strictures as their counterparts in the U.S. Navy; rather, they operated within a system bound by stratified roles. Seniority in shipboard position, license-status, and union affiliation divided seamen, not regulations. These factors, coupled with personal taste and tradition, influenced what a seaman would wear, but did not dictate a formal uniform as was the case for sailors in the U.S. Navy. When a seaman wore a uniform, it was at the mandate of the company that employed them or that of their union. During the interwar years, the military and civil maritime professions held a complementary relationship with each other in terms of uniforms. Both U.S. Navy officers and merchant marine licensed officers visited the same tailors and wore the same cut of uniform; the main difference between the two was what buttons and cap badges they chose from a tailor’s card. The same craft industry also manufactured articles of wear for both enlisted sailors and unlicensed seamen; dungarees and chambray shirts came from the same source.

In the years leading up to and during the Second World War, maritime workers unionized en masse and came to dictate the terms of their employment. Concurrent with the ascendency of maritime unions, uniforming of unlicensed seamen became a contentious topic. Militant unions resisted its members wearing a uniform, while others actively promoted its members to wear one. On one extreme, the National Maritime Union not only pushed for legislation against unlicensed crew to wear anything remotely looking like a uniform save a union pin; whereas the Masters, Mates, and Pilots Union went as far as to design and promote insignia evoking those of the U.S. Navy. Despite eschewing regimentation, members of the Sailors Union of the Pacific cultivated an image evocative of a uniform: black Frisco jeans, white derby hats, and Hickory shirts. The argument promoted by the Congress of Industrial Organizations’ and the National Maritime Union (NMU) was if a merchant seaman wore a uniform, the enemy might mistake them for a member of the military. The concern was if a seaman found themselves captured by a hostile force, the enemy would treat them like a combatant; as an aside, this was a pointless argument, since merchant seamen were captured just the same, placed in prisoner-of-war camps, and sometimes executed – regardless of union status, or uniform or not. However, it was the company and the master of the ship who had the final say in what a crewmember did or did not wear. Often, in the name of preserving shipboard harmony, a master would only prescribe uniforms for licensed members of the crew to instill a sense of authority over the unlicensed.

In the case of United States Lines, in the years before the Second World War, the company mandated uniforms. It is no surprise that unlicensed members of the ship’s crew looked quite similar to their enlisted U.S. Navy counterparts; the marked difference being a lack of rank and rate insignia. Similar uniforms were an economic measure where the company did not need to contract custom work to ship chandlers since U.S Navy uniform stock was always readily available among suppliers. The lack of distinctive insignia patches precluded the invention of an evolving array of ship-wide rates – which most unions shunned and were pointless in a civilian setting. The company limited formal insignia to licensed officers and members of the steward’s department. Hence, having no rating patch was marker enough of one’s status aboard.

1930s

The 1930s were the heyday of the United States maritime fashion. Both civilian and military mariners wore an array of non-interchangeable uniforms depending up the season and context of work. In an enlisted sailor’s seabag there were winter dress, undress, and work uniforms; these were mirrored where practical in summer, often with the uniform colors in negative. As headwear went, there was the flat hat, the “white cotton domed hat” or simply “white hat” (also known at the time as the “Bob Evans hat”), and knit wool caps. For heavier wear, there was the pea coat, wool jersey, or denim coat, and for rain, the oilskin slicker. The United States Lines unlicensed seaman, to some extent, wore virtually the same.

USL Winter Dress Uniform, 1930s

The U.S. Navy Service Dress Blue was a woolen uniform prescribed for Enlisted sailors under the rank of Chief Petty Officer for dress wear in temperate climates and during fall and winter. It was comprised of a flat hat, silk neckerchief, jumper, and trousers. All components were dark-blue except for the cap tally and the neckerchief both being black. The jumper’s cuffs had white tape as well as a back flap that had the same white piping along its border. The trousers had a 13-button broadfall front opening, a lace-up back to adjust for size, and flared trouser leg bottoms. On occasion, a white hat was worn in less formal settings.

The U.S. Navy uniform was adorned with insignia indicating a sailor’s rating, rate, and department. White tape stripes on the sleeve cuffs denoted the pay grade for rated and un-rated sailors holding rank below Petty Officer. A sailor would be considered un-rated before attendance and graduation from specialty schools. No stripe would denote a trainee, one stripe an Apprentice Seaman and Seaman Third Class at Pay Grade 7, two stripes a Seaman Second Class at Pay Grade 6, and three stripes for a Seaman First Class at Pay Grade 5. Stripes around the sleeve opening would be worn prior to specialization. All seamen wore a distinguishing branch or department mark on the seam of the jumper – white for seamen “Of the Line” of the deck department and red for firemen of the engineering department.

At first glance, the United States Lines unlicensed seamen’s dress uniform appears as a facsimile of the U.S. Navy enlisted uniform. A closer look contradicts this impression. For United States Lines unlicensed seamen, there was no flat hat like their U.S. Navy counterparts; instead, they wore a white hat. They did wear the same square-knotted black silk neckerchief; however, this is the only actual similarity in dress uniforms. United States Lines unlicensed seamen had a distinct lack of tape on the cuffs and no distinguishing branch stripe. Moreover, the United States Lines unlicensed seamen wore the button-fly trousers; whereas U.S. Navy sailors wore 13-button broadfall trousers the lace-up backs. Concerning broadfall trousers, civilian mariners did not wear them; in fact, in the complement of wartime U.S. Maritime Service Training Organization-issued uniforms, button-fly trousers (and later zipper-fly trousers) were the rule. The use of U.S. Navy dress blouses for undress was not uncommon among other maritime organizations before the Second World War – cadets wore the same unadorned blouses at the various state-run nautical schools.

USL Winter Work Uniform, 1930s

Undress denoted a general duty working uniform made of wool for the enlisted sailor worn in temperate weather conditions. The “undress” designation indicated the uniform was not meant for dress wear rather for work above deck or in an office or classroom setting. Undress uniforms were worn with or without the neckerchief depending on the sailor’s job designation and the task at hand. An undress jumper was simplified in construction, not adorned with white piping, and had flared sleeve openings instead of buttoned cuffs. The trousers remained broadfall. The hat was the sailor’s white hat or black-dyed wool watch cap. In cold weather, the sailor was prescribed to wear a heavy, worsted-wool pea coat with a rating and rate badge on the sleeve; the buttons on the coat were adorned with an anchor and thirteen stars.

The U.S. Navy and United States Lines shared a basic configuration of work uniforms for use in the Winter: both had their enlisted sailors and unlicensed seamen in undress uniforms, pea coats, and black-dyed wool watch caps. Unlike the U.S. Navy, United States Lines unlicensed seamen did not wear white hats in the winter; and, United States Lines used the same jumper in both a dress and work setting, suggesting unlicensed crew in a work setting kept to a high standard of personal appearance or the company desired a light seaman’s seabag.

Some companies went as far as to change the buttons on crew uniforms with company livery; United States Lines did not follow this current for their unlicensed crew – their buttons were of plain hardened rubber or gutta-percha sap. Unlike the U.S. Navy pea coat, United States Lines buttons lacked the motif of stars ringing an anchor; this precedent was followed in later years by the War Shipping Administration when it uniformed trainees during the Second World War.

The 1930s United States Lines pea coat was of the same cut as that adopted by the War Shipping Administration, Training Organization during the Second World War.

Pea Coat. War Shipping Administration, Training Organization, 1940s. Col. IW.

USL Summer dress uniform, 1930s

Before the Second World War, U.S. Navy sailors wore a white uniform in the summer months and tropics. Instead of wearing the blue flat hat, they wore the white hat, and their dress jumpers were white except for the flap and cuffs – both remaining blue. The flap was detachable. The trousers were flared and were button fly without a lace-up back. Undress whites had an integral white flap and open cuffs. The undress white also had the sailor’s last name stenciled below the jumper’s neck opening.

The United States Lines Summer Dress uniform is same as the U.S. Navy Undress whites, except for the addition of a black silk neckerchief and lack of stencil.

Summer Work uniforms in United States Lines is exactly the same as the United States Lines Winter Dress uniform with the exception of the uniform lacking a neckerchief. This representation of a work uniform may be for a seaman in passenger spaces, and not doing deck work. These uniforms are a complete departure from U.S. Navy tradition and custom. I suspect this is captioned incorrectly and the actual above-decks work uniforms follow the U.S. model: whites without neckerchief.

USL Dungarees, 1930s

USL sailors securing deck awning at sea, 1930s. Col. AMMM. In.: *USL The Log*, Spring/Summer 1938

The U.S. Navy enlisted sailor wore dungarees below decks, out of the public eye or above decks doing particularly dirty work. In the mechanized Navy, sailors engaged in chipping, painting, shining, and scrubbing compartments all day, every day while in port or out at sea; thus dungarees were part and parcel of a sailor’s everyday rig. Less commonly Officers and on occasion Chief Petty Officers also wore dungarees if the work they were engaged in might soil their dress. During the 1930s, these uniforms were without insignia and the headwear for the enlisted sailor varied depending upon season: white hat for summer and fall, and knit wool cap for winter. Chief Petty Officers and officers wore their combination-style caps with dungarees if out of doors. Candid images from Archives and Ocean Ferry allude to the same with United States Lines seamen following the same; Able Seamen having the relative status to that of U.S. Navy Chief Petty Officers.

USL sailors painting stack, 1936. Col. AMMM.

In winter and fall, sailors wore work coats made of blue denim with two lower patch pockets and matching, flared trousers. These trousers were made of denim and had a white lace-up in the seat. Sailors could wear navy blue sweaters in cold weather. In warmer weather, a cotton blue chambray work shirt would be worn under the work coat. The United States Lines seaman deviated from the U.S. Navy model in terms of trousers. The trousers – although dungaree – were non-standard and of cut and style at the seaman’s prerogative. All shirts during the period were blue chambray with apparently thin metal buttons – matching those of period U.S. Navy shirts.

1940s

The U.S. Navy carried the same standards of uniform dress from the 1930s into the 1940s. Work clothes and dress uniforms remained the same, except the U.S. Navy began experimenting with rank insignia worn on collars and khaki uniforms. The United States Lines maintained its uniforms, although it appears it took cues in work clothes from the U.S. Navy. Among the unlicensed crew, there was still a lack of distinguishing insignia. The photographs in this section detail uniforms found on the SS America; this ship was in the United States Lines fleet relatively briefly – from 1939-1941 before requisition by the U.S. Navy and commissioned as the USS Wakefield.

USL Winter Work Uniform, 1940s

One of the most marked changes noted in United States Lines Winter Work Uniforms is the denim trousers. Instead of straight-legged trousers rolled at the cuff, the merchant seaman in the photograph is wearing flared-leg trousers with patch pockets. He is wearing a self-purchased leather belt; in terms of wear, he is not observing the how U.S. Navy sailors would wear the belt – buckle in line with the shirt and trouser openings – rather it is centered with the trouser pocket in a side-hitch. This was a practical measure; the buckle was not smooth like a U.S. Navy buckle and could become caught on rigging or other hazards on deck, or had the potential to damage white work. In the first photograph he wears a chambray shirt and knit wool cap, as would his contemporaries in the U.S. Navy.

In the second photograph, the dark blue or navy work shirt cut mirrored, period U.S. Navy-period worsted wool work shirts with 25 ligne black anchor-embossed buttons. This shirt’s use in the U.S. Navy has a convoluted use and is a marker for period uniforms. It was first written into regulation in 1917 as a pullover shirt with a rolled collar with three black buttons; it was redesigned in 1922 as a pullover shirt with a pointed collar, three black anchor rubber buttons, and without pockets. Uniform Regulations United States Navy, Change 5 – which was approved between 1924 and 1929 – not only changed the shirt to a button-up design as worn by the United States Lines seaman but also called for two patch pockets with flaps. At this time, Chief Petty Officers and Officers exclusively wore the shirt; it was, in effect an undress uniform shirt when a jacket and shirt and tie were impractical. This shirt “of conventional design” remained in stasis until May 1941 until new regulations dictated the removal of the right chest pocket and prescribed a four-in-hand tie to be worn with the shirt. Postwar, both pockets returned per regulations published in 1951; regulations in 1947 did not specific the existence or not have “patch pockets.” Wear of the shirt fell out of favor and was replaced with khaki shirts of various weights until it was revived in the Fleet in the 1970s. Despite the coming and going of the shirt outside of Vickery Gate, it remained a fixture at the United States Merchant Marine Academy with two patch pockets with flaps up until the 1980s; postwar, Kings Pointers wore with it a distinctive gray four-in-hand tie. There is no stated rationale for the omission of the pocket.

USN Black Anchor Button (gutta-percha), 1930s. Col.: IW.

Summer Work Uniform, 1940s

The United States Lines seaman deviates completely from the dress of a U.S. Navy enlisted sailor in his Summer Work Uniform. In the above photograph, the merchant seaman is wearing the second model of the blue flannel shirt except it is constructed of bleached duck cloth; it has three black unadorned buttons and a deep collar placket. The trousers are of lighter material. The seaman is wearing a white sailor hat, which his contemporaries in the U.S. Navy would wear.

USL Dungaree Uniform, 1940s

USL SS America Work Uniform, 1940s. Col.: AMMM.

The U.S. Navy adopted the familiar blue chambray shirt and dungaree trousers in the 1930s. It was based on the common industrial wear of the time; with the noted exception of the trousers, being flared for easy use to roll up when swabbing deck or coming ashore from a launch. It was an all-season uniform that was prohibited to be worn off-ship or off-station. It was worn with a white hat when topside. When the shirt was first introduced, it was not worn with any insignia, patch or pin of any sort. This remained the case throughout the wars up until the 1950s. The United States Lines unlicensed seaman wears the same – having abandoned lace-up back dungaree trousers.

The white hat worn by the merchant seaman deserves some mention. In the war years, the U.S. Navy issued hats with the same design as the white hats, only made of dungaree-material, and War Shipping Administration trainees started to wear navy blue hats in 1943. The navy blue hats were exclusive to the Merchant Marine, and sailors in the submarine force often wore dungaree hats. This rule of thumb is useful in sailor versus seaman identification – especially when considering photos such as the one above.

It is easy to confuse uniforms worn by individuals in the U.S. Merchant Marine and U.S. Navy especially from the decade before the Second World War since the two groups dressed similarly. Just as the chambray shirt and dungaree trousers are found in both communities, so is the white hat and jumper with a flap – thus, errors in identification are partially due to benign misunderstandings arising from those in the maritime trades sharing similar clothing items. Not discussed in this essay is the further misunderstanding that the merchant seaman was a de jure member of the armed services. In reviewing photographs from the United State Lines Archive, I hopefully shed light on some of the subtle differences the untrained eye might pass over.

Many thanks are due to the following individuals for giving me access to materials at the United States Lines Archive and for giving me important hints on period garb:
Dr. Joshua Smith of the American Merchant Marine Museum, Mr. Robert Sturm, Curator at the United States Lines Archive, and Mr. Justin Broderick of uniform-reference.net

November 27, 2017January 7, 2020

Becoming a Kings Pointer

Midshipman cap badge.
U.S. Merchant Marine Academy at Kings Point, NY.
Single piece construction.
Hallmark, V-21-N (Vanguard Industries).
Circa 2006.

This is the first in a series of articles where I explore the culture of the U. S. Merchant Marine Academy Regiment of Midshipmen. This first post focuses on the process of a Midshipman Candidate becoming a Plebe Midshipmen, and finally a Fourth Class Midshipman.

A U.S. Merchant Marine Academy alumnus intimated to me there are no fraternities permitted at Kings Point but that midshipmen are all one fraternity. Yet within the ranks, there are subtle differences; the most telling comes in a midshipman’s final year. There are the “Gung Ho,” active duty commission-bound, and the industry-leaning ”Merchie bum.” who have decided, with a shrug and a hint of self-effacement, to “Go Merch.” A measure of pride among some was the assumption of an aloof status within Regiment as a Zombo. Over the next weeks, I spoke with the same alumnus and a current midshipman, and after my conversations with them, I reflected on the pride underpinning both statements and how the Regiment maintains itself with such seeming contradictory messages. I propose this dichotomy of signals within the ranks of the Regiment allows an escape valve of sorts for the academic and military rigors experienced by midshipmen from Day Zero to the moment they leap into Eldridge Pool for their final act as midshipmen in the class Change of Command ceremony.

Although government-run academies are repositories of the past, Kings Point does not operate in a vacuum. That being said, the administration and student body are insulated by the fact the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy is a closed institution supporting a discrete function, outside factors often shake its timbers, yet it perseveres.

In the decade following the Second World War, demobilization brought with it the rapid Federal dismantling the workshops of war. In the maritime field, the U.S. allocated ships to its allies, scaled-back and canceled construction projects in shipyards, and cut training programs. Despite calls to the contrary, the newly ascendant Merchant Marine was not immune. The U.S. Maritime Administration Annual Report of 1954 notes closure of the last of the U.S. Maritime Service training facilities with the exception of Kings Point. Under Executive Order, the U.S. Maritime Administration actively purged its institutional memory of its wartime activities keeping only the essentials: 27,297 cubic feet of records were transferred to General Services Records Management Center, in Washington, D. C., 3,887 cubic feet were salvaged, and 5 cubic feet transferred to National Archives. The next year brought 12,524 cubic feet of records to General Services Records Management Center, New York, NY; 47,216 cubic feet were “salvaged.” In effect the Government department largely responsible for U.S. gain during the war deleted itself.

Cognizant of potential future difficulties, in the waning days of the Second World War, the Academy administration lobbied Congress to place the Academy on the same footing as the other Service Academies. Academy efforts met with success; thus, as the Eisenhower administration demobilized and the U.S. Maritime Administration found its resources legislated out-of-existence, Kings Point gained recognition as both a permanent federal fixture and a degree-granting institution. The Academy weathered the upheavals of the Vietnam era – following the Regiment marching off-campus in protest to administrative procedures – which resulted in the abolition of the strict battalion system of Regimental governance. Equal rights reached Kings Point with the matriculation of female midshipmen – it was the first Service Academy to do so; the present day finds the Academy reflecting on sexual assault and protection of individuals as the Academy acts in the role of in loco parentis.

The course of study has gradually changed from a purely vocational one to granting B.S. and M.S. degrees. This change represents a need for the Academy to honor its responsibility to provide students with opportunities for meaningful employment after graduation. Following industry trends, Kings Point innovated in maintaining relevance for its graduates. In the past, it provided training for students in nuclear physics to prepare them for a career in a nuclear-powered merchant fleet (an idea which floundered with the widely unsuccessful experiment in the form of the NS Savanna). The 1980s saw a dwindling U.S. merchant fleet with a smaller pool of available positions; to counter this, the Academy offered a dual certification program where a midshipman could study and sit for exams for either a Deck or Engineering license. At present, the Academy gives its students the opportunity to sail on a variety of ships and engage in industry internships to experience the multitude of positions potentially open to them upon graduation. Of course, the Merchant Marine being an auxiliary to the Department of Defense in a time of military conflict, enables Kings Pointers to join all branches of uniformed services. However, the rites and rituals of the Regiment remain relatively unchanged.

The Regiment has its origins in the United States Maritime Commission Corps of Cadets established by the U.S. Merchant Marine Act of 1936. The Corps of Cadets was instituted immediately after the creation of United States Maritime Commission with the express mission of educating maritime professionals on 15 March 1938. To fulfill this mission, The U.S. Maritime Commission established Cadet schools on the East, West, and Gulf Coasts. The USMCCC on the East Coast peregrinated along the Long Island Sound before finding a permanent home at Kings Point, New York in 1942. The primary purpose during this period was to supply trained junior Deck or Engineering officers to a rapidly expanding U.S. Merchant Marine fleet. As the Second World War progressed, ships slipped off their ways sometimes as quickly as three weeks of construction. A reported 2,700 vessels were launched, with some 1,554 sunk. With crews numbered at an average of 42, an estimated 120,000 people were needed – government records count 243,000 served all together. By war’s end, around 3,000 cadet-midshipmen found themselves at sea in one capacity or another.

The education midshipmen receive today at the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy teaches them how to become both maritime professionals – be it shoreside or at sea – and auxiliaries of the U.S. Defense establishment. No longer a “fink factory” for junior officers, as labor unions once derided the Academy during the war, Kings Point prepares midshipmen for a rewarding career as maritime leaders. This education is grueling with the expectation of a midshipman to concurrently master technical certifications and mediate military regimentation. These two components are considered separate dominions, but the very nature of their military education in the form of the Regiment permeates every aspect of their tenure at the Academy: from how to live in their Spartan rooms to personal interactions as defined by a codified set of numbered regulations. For a non-uniformed visitor to the Academy, Sir or Ma’am is an unconscious honorific given by all midshipmen to those in their midst; it is a military courtesy extended by the Regiment to all within the confines of Kings Point.

The Regiment’s command structure acts as a leadership laboratory in which every upperclass midshipman is given the opportunity to lead in some capacity. This experience gives them a practical taste of running or participating in a rigid atmosphere as is common aboard merchant and military ships – the latter more rigid than the former. The stated goal of the Regiment’s leadership is to encourage a midshipman’s rise within the command structure with the eventuality of becoming a Regimental officer – the logical conclusion is to hold an appointment as the Regimental Commander or as a member of their staff. The noted exception is the jocular “Zombo” – a first classman who rates respect of their juniors, yet eschews both the status and opportunity for a leadership position within the Regiment. The Zombo takes their status outside the anointed Regimental spheres of power quite seriously and does the very least to keep their rank and rate, breezing through their last year beyond the reach of Regimental politics and responsibilities. The foil of the Zombo is the proverbial “Regcock.”

The U.S. Merchant Marine Academy was born in the crucible of national emergency and came of age in a time of war. Its history speaks to how the Regiment’s structure is an evolving reflection of shipboard life seventy-five years ago. Unlike the U.S. Naval Academy, where teamwork is drilled into midshipmen to suppress individuality using close-order drill and sports, Kings Point cultivates the psychology of self-sufficiency and independent thinking. The culture that permeates the Academy is of community tempered with a can-do attitude. The ultimate test of an individual’s grit is through “Sea Year.” “Sea Year” is a bifurcated program where midshipmen third class and second class – or those in their second and third years of study, respectively – learn the ropes of the sea-borne maritime industry for two sailing periods of four months and eight months on commercial or government marine vessels. This singular experience, although ostensibly an apprenticeship – tests and congeals a midshipmen’s independence of spirit, and both ingrains and cultivates a strong sense of self. Upon their return from their first sailing, midshipmen are no longer the prima materia of their Plebe year and are notably changed and matured. Having experienced the isolation and beauty of maritime trade first hand, they understand the importance of bootstrapping common to the function of work aboard ships often underway for months at a time. In a word, they internalize their ultimate goals within the Regiment and proceed to become a Zombo or a Regcock. However, to earn the privilege of experiencing “Sea Year,” a midshipman must undergo the gauntlet of Indoctrination and Plebe year.

The Academy’s combined mission has created a unique culture within the Regiment where midshipmen function as a group and close ranks when challenged. This fraternity coalesces during the trials of a midshipman’s first year as a Plebe. Like members of other military academies, midshipmen undergo a period of indoctrination where they are molded into members of the Regiment and proceed along a track where every year brings them new responsibilities and opportunities. Simply put, the Regiment is a class-based system. Unlike other military schools, Kings Point midshipmen embrace the irregular, the ersatz, and the ironic. There may be a ribbon for “company cheer,” but on the other hand, the company that does the worst job keeps an oral tradition of being the worst; some companies revel in their unstated labels.

The first day of a Plebe Candidate – also known as a Candidate– at the Academy is called Processing Day. Upperclassmen succinctly refer to this day as “Day Zero” – a day on which a Candidate begins their figurative journey on the Regimental calendar as nothing. After signing in, and gathering their name plaques and blue backpacks, there is a mandatory head shaving for male Candidates (women do not undergo this humiliation) – symbolizing their status as a tabula rasa on which upperclass midshipmen will mold to fit into the Academy hierarchy. Lining up in the quadrangle outside Delano Hall, they officially enter a month known as Indoctrination. During this period, they no longer have a first name, and thus no individual identity. With the close of each day, a Candidate garners respect for their superiors and cultivates a keen desire to earn badges of Regimental identity. They also learn to recognize the gold crows and ladder bars on the upperclass trainers’ uniforms as signs of prestige and respect.

Despite the non-uniformed nature of the current U.S. Merchant Marine, Kings Point continues the tradition of uniforms as instituted in nautical schools of the past century. A uniform visual appearance is a crucial concept for Candidates to negotiate on Day Zero. After the Ships Store gives them a quick sizing up, they issue the Candidates a stack of uniform items. From this moment forward, Candidates no longer rate wearing civilian clothes. Beyond their khaki uniforms, the only clothes the Candidates wear are their exercise gear. The number of companies that comprise of the Battalion has ebbed and flowed over the course of the Academy’s history – seven at the height of the Second World War shrunk to five in 2016. As of this writing, the number is six. At Indoc, a Candidate’s shirt color specifies one of the five companies to which they are assigned. They are:

1st: Dark Green
2nd: Light Blue
3rd: Dark Blue
4th: Maroon/Red
5th: Neon Green
Band: Yellow (before the 2017 academic year, Band wore black shirts)

Over the next month, they are drilled, PTed, and subject to the recollection of the contents of a section called “Plebe Knowledge” from a volume titled Bearings upon command. This slim volume acts as an orientation and reference for Candidates regarding the Regiment and their home for the next four years. Bearings first appeared immediately after the Second World War when Kings Point attempted to model itself on the precedent set by other U.S. Service academies; this type of indoctrination was pioneered by the U.S. Naval Academy in the 1930s as a means for reorienting and molding future naval officers. Beyond the recitation of facts from Bearings, Candidates and later Plebes, being subject to “personal correction” from the moment they wake at 5:00 am to lights out at 10:00 pm (0500-2200) was also a U.S. Naval Academy innovation.

The dropout rate is minimal during Indoc. A candidate understands the month is temporary and a necessary phase in their military education, despite the psychological shock of abandoning an often-comfortable middle-class life. They are taught the rigors of memorization, the hierarchy of Kings Point, and the overriding discipline of time management and importance of group cohesion. Often, an individual’s infractions or remedial performance is met with punishment for the entire group. It is in the group’s best interest to buoy its members for success – be it a clean head (lavatory) or for military appearance. To reinforce the dynamic of the group, Candidates eat, sleep, and perform ablutions together.

After a month as Plebe Candidates, the Candidates don khaki uniforms and attend a ceremony called Acceptance Day. On this day, they swear an oath and enter the ranks as Midshipmen USNR – or the more formal, midshipmen, Merchant Marine Reserve, United States Naval Reserve with the simultaneous status as Enlisted Reserve per Federal Code Title 46, Chapter II (10-1-16 Edition), Subchapter H, § 310.6b.3; the latter status is the mechanism by which the government ensures a service obligation from midshipmen who drop out of the program. At this moment they become Plebes at Kings Point. As noted, reaching this day was not without its challenges. During the dog days of summer, they reported to Kings Point in August. With them, they brought the barest of necessities: undergarments, exercise shoes, toilette articles, and a computer, all undergirded with a desire to succeed. This last point cannot be belabored more: this past summer a Candidate collapsed from heat exhaustion, having pushed themselves to the limit.

The Regiment builds itself around visuals. When a Plebe Candidate is sworn into the USNR, they are given analogs to the pins once known as USNR pins, now called Merchant Marine Midshipmen Identification pin. They also don the shoulder boards of a Plebe: a shoulder board with no ornamentation other than a Merchant Marine snap button – gold with an anchor flanked by a single star to the left and right. They are permitted to wear garrison covers and combination caps. The former without any insignia, and the latter with an anchor of the same design as that worn by midshipmen at the U.S. Naval Academy at Annapolis.

In essence, the insignia worn by the Plebes indicate they enjoy a status where they could be called to active service with the U.S. Navy at a time of conflict. It also points out they are indeed at the lowest position within the Regiment’s hierarchy, ready to archive personal and group awards, and hold rank – if they so choose. Upperclassmen teach them that with each stripe comes privilege. The lack of insignia also points out they have no status as members of the Kings Point community – this is something they must achieve as a group.

As Plebes, midshipmen continue some of the rigors of Indoc and work toward Recognition. Recognition Day is when Plebes transition to the status of Midshipmen Fourth Class. It is an event organized by the Regiment’s training staff – those upperclassmen responsible for Plebe training – and only occurs when the Regiment as a whole considers the Plebe class as having satisfactorily exercised the spirit of being a Kings Pointer. This is evaluated by intangibles such as genuine enthusiasm during athletic events (of which all Plebes must attend), dormitory decoration, and demeanor. Recognition may happen as early as October or as late as March or April depending on their performance.

At the end of their first trimester in October, Plebes declare their course of interest and take on the moniker of either Deckie or Engineer by going “deck” or “engine”; the former is for midshipmen enrolled in a Deck course and the latter for future members of the black gang. Only on Recognition Day, they are given insignia denoting either: a fouled anchor for Deck or a three-bladed propeller for Engineering. They also trade-in their blank shoulder boards at Recognition specifying the same: anchor in a rope circle for Deck, and a propeller for Engineering. In the past, there was a Dual certification program where a midshipman could earn a certification as a Deck officer and an Engineering officer; its insignia was an anchor superimposed by a propeller. These insignias are not worn until Recognition; in the 1990s and early 2000s, the status of a Plebe having declared a major – regardless of Engineer or Deck – was denoted by shoulder boards they would wear for about a trimester – U.S.N.-style Fourth Class boards with a Maritime school snap button.

On Recognition Day comes new insignia for a Midshipman’s cover and collar. After the ceremony, Plebes become full members of the Regiment as Midshipmen Fourth Class and rate the opportunity wear both their class and course of study insignia. The insignia of a Midshipman Fourth Class is a fouled anchor – it has the same form as a miniature U.S.N. midshipman anchor – and it is pinned on both collars of their khaki shirt and left blouse of their garrison cover. Their course of study insignia goes on the right blouse of their garrison cover. The day after Recognition the new Midshipmen Fourth Class are issued their Kings Point cap badge for their combination cap – the badge is similar to the Plebe cap badge with the exception that in the cable’s lower loop, it has the seal of the U.S. Merchant Marine in miniature.

All the minute permutations in Candidate, Plebe, and finally Midshipman Fourth Class’ uniform appearance underscore their place within the hierarchy within the Kings Point Battalion. The ribbons on their chest denote group or individual awards, the anchor or prop reminds others as to their course of study, and the Merchant Marine Midshipmen Identification pin speaks to their community. After the experience of the ardors of their first year, midshipmen forge close friendships in the crucible of experience.

Special thanks are owed to Dr. Joshua Smith of the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy at Kings Point and Interim Director of the American Merchant Marine Museum. He introduced me to B. Sturm and W. Kelley, two Kings Pointers who showed me the ropes and contributed greatly to this post; without their input, this post would never have happened.

For more images of Kings Point insignia over the years as well as an old copy of Bearings, please see images I have on the companion site to this:
insignia of the regiment of midshipmen

Midshipman cap badge. Stay-Brite. This is worn by Midshipmen after Recognition Day.

Midshipman cap badge, circa 1940s. This is a holder image until I photograph the current cap badge in Stay-Brite. It is from the U.S. Naval Academy and is worn by U.S.N. Midshipmen and U.S.M.M.A. Midshipmen. The design has remained unchanged for the past 75 years. This is worn on a Plebe’s combination cap prior to Recognition Day.

Name plaque, circa 1980s. Like those worn by U.S. Navy chief petty, warrant, and commissioned officer, Kings Point issues name plaques with the unit’s seal. ZIGGY is an affectionate term given to a member of the football team who is able to weave with finesse through defensive lines.

Midshipman Fourth Class insignia, circa 1980s.

Deck program course of study pin, circa 2007.

Plebe hard shoulder boards, circa 2017.

Plebe hard shoulder boards denoting a course of study has been decided, circa late 1990s-early 2000s. Unlike U.S.N.A. and N.R.O.T.C. Fourth Class should boards, the position of the anchor is off-center and the snap-button is of the Maritime School-type. This particular button was introduced in the mid-1940s as a catch-all for civilian mariners. to wear on their caps and coats if they were not members of or did not wish to wear the insignia of the U.S. Maritime Service. These same buttons were also worn by mariners whose companies did not have a defined button in the catalog of corporate livery.

Midshipman Fourth Class, Deck Program hard shoulder boards, circa 1990s.

November 8, 2017April 26, 2019

Cenotaphs and Cemeteries

Maquette, American Merchant Mariners’ Memorial
Clay and painted wood.
Artist: Marisol (Marisol Escobar)
Located at: American Merchant Marine Museum.

“The men of our merchant marine form the essential link between the home front and the millions of men in the armed forces overseas. These men, although relatively few in number – around 180,000 – performed an heroic task in delivering the goods. I am informed that since their first casualties, three months before Pearl Harbor, more than 5,800 have died, are missing, or have become prisoners of war while carrying out their assigned duties. … [T]hese men may feel that they are the forgotten men of war. They are not. They deserve and receive from all of us thanks for the job they’ve done.”

FDR’s Christmas greeting to the U.S. Merchant Marine, 1944.

I visited Gold Beach near the commune of Arromanches in Normandy on a chilly spring morning. The beach was deserted and serene in its stone silence. A brisk breeze kept all except the bravest of seagulls away. The sun, the wisps of clouds, and the shadowy remnants of an artificial harbor demanded reflection. Beyond the stalwart concrete caissons lie the bones of a group of sixty ships known as the Derelict Convoy who acted as the breakwaters that made the Normandy landings possible. Without the fearless devotion of their skeleton merchant crews, the landings would have failed.

Turning around, I crouched low on the sand and looked to the bluffs overhead, thinking of all those who lost their lives on the same beach almost seven decades prior. I imagined for many a young man this same gentle beach was their last sight: grains of sand in front, blue sky above, and churning seas behind – all colored by adrenaline static as fear spiked their guts. And many of them died, an estimated 1,100, on this beach in a single day. Local legend claims faint red leeches into the channel, markedly visible after a storm. I climbed aboard a Land Rover and toured the broken and twisted remnants of the concrete emplacements tasked with sentinel duty over the seaside. They stood perched on their cliffs as gaping sockets naked to the elements. Later that same day, I walked among a field of white grave makers and was lost among the names of so many taken too soon. I was moved by the silence of the place and of the sea. It was harrowing.

Across the ocean, at the tip of Manhattan Island, rests a cenotaph and sculpture in memory of the sailors and mariners who perished in the Atlantic during the Second World War. It is the East Coast Memorial. Unlike the Normandy American Cemetery, the solemnity of the memorial seemed lost on those around me. Summer was coming, and vendors were out with hot dogs and frozen treats. Everyone was rushing to queue up for the ferry to take them to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island. Purists among us may call for hushed silence upon seeing such a memorial. However, the ultimate sacrifice of the few was so that we may live and go about our concerns without fear. And there, the names of the dead persist in direct view, in the background, stalwart and barely reflected upon by those who pass by.

President Kennedy debuted the memorial eighteen years after the close of the Second World War. The pylons of the memorial, acting as a cenotaph, are comprised of several slabs flanking two sides of a black eagle. The eagle is poised for flight above a wave and grasps a wreath of olive branches. Names and ranks of the dead are carved deep into the stone in orderly rows. Absent from the memorial are the names of the many merchant seamen who perished in the wartime Atlantic. As almost an afterthought, a tablet, placed on the eagle’s pedestal is engraved with the following:

1941 * * * * 1945
ADDITION TO THE 4,597 AMERICAN SERVICEMEN HONORED HERE / WHO LOST THEIR LIVES IN HER SERVICE AND / WHO SLEEP IN THE AMERICAN COASTAL WATERS OF THE ATLANTIC OCEAN / THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA / HONORS THE 6,185 SEAMEN OF THE UNITED STATES MERCHANT MARINE / AND THE 529 SEAMEN OF THE UNITED STATES ARMY TRANSPORT SERVICE / WHO LOST THEIR LIVES DURING WORLD WAR II

A stone’s throw from the imposing and sterile war monument, another, more visceral and emotional monument faces the City. It honors the Merchant Mariner. The president of AFL-CIO, Joseph Lane Kirkland – himself a Kings Pointer – conceived of an idea to commission a monument that would pay homage to the generations of Merchant Mariners who were pressed into the service of the nation. He gained the support of a fellow classmate, then superintendent of the Merchant Marine Academy, Rear Admiral Thomas A. King. He had a similar idea and wished to create a national monument. Combined, their ideas coalesced and became the national American Merchant Mariners’ Memorial. After holding a nation-wide competition, a maquette submitted by Marisol moved the jury. Instead of creating a work in an impersonal, heroic Greco Deco style, she chose a personal, almost accusatory rendition of four merchant seamen alone on a floundering lifeboat.

Unlike somber pride represented by the East Coast Memorial, this work evokes the terror and gnawing helplessness felt by many of those who were torpedoed, abandoned ship, and whose fate was left to the capricious sea. Twice a day the body of one of the figures is swallowed by the harbor and is frozen in desperation, just beyond the grasp of his struggling comrade; one shouts out to the viewer, calling for an act of compassion to deliver his shipmates from a certain death; while another is on his knees, impassive and staring toward those who abandoned him. Kirkland spoke at the monument’s installation in 1991, saying it is: “a fitting remembrance dedicated to those merchant seamen who gave their lives in defense of the love of democracy that Americans share with the citizens of other free nations around the world.”

It is the most visceral of statues I have ever encountered and is all the more powerful since it was based on the plight of the survivors of the SS Muskogee. Standard practice among U-Boat crews was to wait for identifying debris from their victims or query any survivors after a torpedoing to mark their score in their reports; in this case, the commander of the U-Boat who sank SS Muskogee took a series of snapshots for propaganda purposes of the ship and the remanants of her crew. The snapshots surfaced decades after the war and reached the eyes of the son of one of those who was aboard the ship; in them he saw the last image of his father alive. He later tracked down the commander to learn the story of his father’s death; afterward, he distributed the image, hoping to identify the others on the life raft in an effort to provide closure for their families. The image made it into the hands of Marisol at the time of the competition for the design of American Merchant Mariners’ Memorial; she never rendered a sculpture like it prior or since.

Naval warfare in the Atlantic and Mediterranean theatres of war, as cruel as it was, was still prosecuted by professionals and governed by tradition. As heartless as the abandonment of the survivors of the SS Muskogee may seem, the German commander told the son that he did come alongside and gave the survivors water, rations, and smokes – a final act of gentlemanly courtesy to tide them over until their rescue. He further explained he was unable to take survivors since his already cramped boat had no room. In the Pacific, survivors often met capture, torture, or death by machine-gun, as the record shows.

Captain Arthur R. Moore writes in the opening of his exhaustive study of American ship losses, A Careless Word – a Needless Sinking, he could not describe the emotions of the survivors who sat in lifeboats watching potential rescue ships pass them by in plain sight. Marisol did this flawlessly. For those merchant seamen who returned, young in years but made old through the horrors of war, Vice Admiral Emery Scott Land addressed them on Maritime Day, May 23, 1945:

“Very few people in this country realize the hardships men of the Maritime Service have withstood so far in this war. Many of you have been torpedoed and been thrown into the water of the North Atlantic, in the middle of the winter. Many have seen their shipmates killed by explosions, collisions at sea, taken prisoners by submarine and in many instances have seen practically entire convoys wiped out by enemy action. Some of you have probably been afloat on a life-raft in the tropics and practically burned to a crisp and almost passed out because of thirst. Some of you have been aboard ships which cracked and fell apart, and most of you know how it feels to return from Europe via the North Atlantic in the winter, with only ballast in the lower holds. For my money the men of the Maritime Service deserve a lot more credit for the job they have done, than the credit they have received.”

Official reports state war conditions resulted in the loss of 1,586 United States-flag merchant ships and marine casualties during the Second World War. Postwar researchers tabulate the number as 1,768. Nevertheless, U.S. Maritime Commission estimates cover the period spanning from the sinking of the SS City of Rayville after striking a mine on November 8, 1940, to May 8, 1945 – V-E Day. The bulk of the tonnage was accounted for by 570 ships lost from direct war causes; a balance of 984 was lost in marine casualties resulting from convoy operations, reduced aids to navigation, and blackouts; other losses include 32 U. S. flag vessels that were not sunk in combat, but scuttled by their own crews to form the artificial harbors for the Allied invasion of Normandy.

The destruction of ships by the enemy resulted in a heavy loss of life. “Merchant Marine Casualty List No. 30,” from October 1945 – and the last of the Second World War – brought the United States Merchant Marine casualties reported to next of kin during the period from September 27, 1941, to June 30, 1945, to a total of 6,059 individuals, which breaks down as follows: Dead 4,830; missing, 794; prisoners of war, 435.

American merchant seamen, although they did not share the uniforms of military combatants, were killed, imprisoned, and imperiled just the same. The War Manpower Commission steadfastly maintained the Federal mandate that the U.S. Merchant Marine functioned “as an auxiliary to the armed forces and [bore] the heavy responsibility for deploying troops […], for moving supplies […], for bringing American troops home and for providing the food and machinery required in the rehabilitation of Europe.” The Roosevelt administration understood the militarized nature of the work American merchant seamen did, and as recognition of being erstwhile agents of the Federal government, the War Shipping Administration provided them with small tokens of appreciation throughout the final years of the Second World War in the form of ribbons and medals. The final thank you was a Victory Medal. After the Merchant Marine’s institution of a pyramid of honor by the War Shipping Administration, this medal was the bookend to wartime awards.

To this day, the last surviving Merchant Marine veterans are fighting for recognition from Congress for their sacrifices and to be placed on a similar footing with others who fought and sacrificed their lives for the greater good. As they slowly die of old age, the American merchant seaman’s role continues unrewarded and mostly unrecognized. Despite government praise at the time of the war, the unspoken compact between the Federal government and all those who volunteered at the government’s behest were abandoned. Unlike their uniformed peers, who were granted education benefits, medical treatment, and low-interest loans, irrespective of whether they faced the enemy or not, merchant seamen who survived the war received nothing except for a mealy-mouthed citation and few bits of colored cloth. These tokens did not provide them with a living, only a hollow thanks. The greatest award was intangible – they survived.

Special thanks are owed to Dr. Joshua Smith of the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy at Kings Point and Interim Director of the American Merchant Marine Museum. He opened the Museum’s collections to me and there I discovered Marisol’s maquette which in turn formed the genesis of this post.

The Normandy photos are from a trip to France I went on with my family. One evening my Grandfather Willard told me he had a Z-Card. This post is for him.

References

Division of Public Relations, U.S. Maritime Commission. “Derelict Convoy.” Victory Fleet, Vol III no. 17 Oct 23, 1944, pp 1-

Division of Public Relations, U.S. Maritime Commission. “Gallant Ghosts.” Victory Fleet, Vol III no. 19 Nov 6, 1944, pp 1-3

Roosevelt, Franklin. “Christmas Greeting.” The Master, Mate, and Pilot, Vol. 8, No. 1 Jan 1945.

The Master, Mate, and Pilot, Vol. 8, no. 7 July 1945, p 9.

“Merchant Marine Casualty List No. 30.” The Master, Mate, and Pilot, Vol. 8, no. 10, Oct 1945, p. 8.

Moore, Arthur R. A Careless Word – a Needless Sinking: A History of the Staggering Losses Suffered by the U.S. Merchant Marine, both in Ships and Personnel, during World War II. American Merchant Marine Museum, U.S. Merchant Marine Academy, Kings Point, NY, 1998.