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.
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).
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.
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.
Mersey Docks Harbourmaster/Pilot hat badge Wool backing and wreath of silver thread. Central device, stamped white metal. Circa Second World War era.
A fact often overlooked by those interested in convoy history is that each ship that entered or left a port area was piloted by an individual versed in the particulars of the waters surrounding the port; when a ship was straffed by airplane fire, those on the bridge were targeted first with many a casualty being the pilot.
To this day, pilots are still employed and are organized in associations and pilotage authorities much as they have been for the past hundred years. A major pilotage house, such as the Virginia Pilot Association, has about 40 active pilots, who steer a yearly 2000 or more vessels in and out of Hampton Roads. These days, they are fortunate that their launches are motorized, as in years past, the vessels were predominantly powered by sail and oars. Following in the Anglo-American tradition, apprentice pilots live on station, work some seven days a week around the clock, and are subject to U.S. Coast Guard examinations, tests and practical demonstrations. Moreover, to prove their knowledge of the sea about them, apprentices must re-create mariner’s charts of Hampton Roads from memory. All of these skills are needed for a knowledgeable and professional group of pilots – all ready at a moment’s notice to bring an oil tanker or yacht to port, the former’s stopping distance measured in miles. These individual work hard, and without whose dedication to knowing their waterways shipping depends, precious cargoes would remain offshore. In interesting article about pilots on the C&D canal may be found here, View from the Bridge.
Much like Hampton Roads, Liverpool was a major embarkation port and convoy terminal during the Second World War; the city’s port and train facilies were key links in the Allied war effort’s supply chain, and as such the Germans considered it a major strategic target. Despite the constant barrage of aerial bombings, on average a convoy either entered or left Merseyside each day for the duration of the War. Interestingly enough, the last house destroyed by Luftwaffe bombing was Hitler’s half-brother Alois’ previous residence at 102 Upper Stanhope Street in Toxteth.
Presented is Mersey Docks and Harbour Board offical’s hat badge. This device was worn by both Harbourmasters and pilots in the Liverpool Pilot Service. In the United Kingdom, a Harbourmaster is an appointed position once held exclusively by Navy Officers, they issue local safety information, oversee the maintenance and provision of navigational aids within port areas, co-ordinate maritime emergency response, do vessel inspections and oversee pilotage services. In a large port, such as Liverpool’s Merseyside, there is a head Harbormaster assisted by a small staff of assisting officers – during the Second World War, about 20; a priviledge of office is a white-bordered Union Flag with a white central disc bearing the initials “QHM” (or “KHM”) beneath the crown, which is flown from the gaff or yardarm either afloat or on land.
The Liverpool Pilot Service has historically been an independent cooperative association, and is now operated and licensed by the Mersey Docks & Harbour Board (MD&HB) the Port of Liverpool authority. Its stations are located at Point Lynas on the North coast of Anglesey and at the Mersey Bar. At its inception up until the 1960s, the Liverpool Pilot Service covered the approaches to all ports around the Eastern Irish Sea from Holyhead in the South, to Barrow in the North, and the East coast of the Isle of Man; now, pilots are employed to guide ships to the River Mersey ports, which include the Liverpool and Birkenhead Docks, the Manchester Ship Canal and Garston. It is worth mentioning that at latter, vessels are handed-over to a once fierce rival: the Manchester Ship Canal Company Pilots.
Mersey Docks, Hat badge, obverse. Metal and silver wire on wool backing. Metal central device. Circa Second World War. In terms of harbor agencies and government boards, this hat badge follows the British standard design of large laurels leaves with a municipal central device. More often than not, the leaves for other agencies are gold bullion – the Mersey Docks wreath is unusual in that respect, but still within “symbolic bounds.” The central device is quite interesting being that it is Athena in a throne over Posideon; this hearkens to Liverpool’s claim to being the “Athens of the North.” Interestingly this same device is not found anywhere in Mersey Docks and Harbour Board Offices building except on the uniform buttons of the Harbourmasters and pilots.
Mersey Docks, Hat badge, obverse. Metal and silver wire on wool backing. Metal central device. Circa Second World War.
Mersey Docks, Hat badge, obverse, detail. Metal and silver wire on wool backing. Metal central device. Circa Second World War.
Mersey Docks & Harbour Company, Reefer
In 1970, MD&HB – after being relinquished by the government – became a public company and was rebranded “Mersey Docks and Harbour Company” (MDHC). Its functionaries wore a reefer such as the one detailed below.
By the end of the 1960s, the Mersey Docks and Harbour Board was sinking fast. The government finally released the money-losing body, selling it to the private sector in 1970—one of the first of Britain’s nationalized businesses to be privatized—while listing the Mersey Docks and Harbour Company on the London stock exchange. The new company entered business without its debts—as the government forgave it more than £100 million. The British government, meantime, kept a 20 percent share of the company.
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.
U.S. Merchant Marine Cadet Corps (pre-1942)
Yellow-goldenrod thread.
Embroidered anchor on wool backing and mohair band.
Pre-to-early Second World War era; 1939-1942.
From the period following the First World War through the Depression, the U.S. Merchant Shipping industry was in a shambles: once profitable companies faltered and fell, ocean-going trade evaporated and even intercoastal shipping dried up. As a result, companies went bankrupt, very few ships were built and crews manning the ships dwindled to a very few. It is also during this period that U.S. maritime unions started operating in full swing, and involved themselves in vicious internecine fighting and bitter struggles with steamship carriers. Of those seamen that survived the wreckage, their efficiency and morale was at an all time low. With the passing of the Merchant Marine Act of 1936, Congress abolished the ineffective U.S. Shipping Board and ushered in a new age for the U.S. Merchant Marine. The formerly under-regulated industry came under federal control and found itself subject to an array of programs and regulations. A few of salient features of the Act were the formulating and subsidizing the construction of U.S.-flag ships, as well as the formal training of men to man the ships.
With the passage of the Merchant Marine Act, the U.S. Maritime Commission came into being. The organization was ostensibly “to further the development and maintenance of an adequate and well balanced American merchant marine, to promote the commerce of the United States, and to aid in the national defense.” It too, became embroiled in the old system of unions and steamship carrier falterings. To prop up the maritime industry, the USMC eventually bought out insolvent carriers thereby ringing whole shipping lines under federal control. With the storm clouds of war looming on the horizon, the Merchant Marine Act defined the entirety of the U.S. Merchant Marine as a military auxiliary in the event of war; furthermore, officers and crew of U.S.-flag ships could be pressed into the service of the U.S. Navy.
One of the most sweeping changes made by the act was that the Merchant Marine be “manned with a trained and efficient citizen personnel.” The Act did not offer any specifics for the USMC; but soon after, the Bland Amendment of June 1938 created the United States Maritime Service for “training of licensed and unlicensed merchant marine personnel.” Shortly thereafter, Congress enacted the Naval Reserve Act bringing all officers of U.S. public vessels into the U.S. Navy reserve as well as cadets (now cadet-midshipmen) at Federally-funded state maritime and the soon-to-be-created Federal system. It is worth mentioning that the U.S. Maritime Commission’s first report to Congress in January 1939 suggested the establishment of a federal cadet system augmenting the pool of graduates from state and private schools – moreover along with traditional sea-handling, the system should emphasize naval science. Congress acted quickly and a series of Maritime Service cadet schools opened in the Pacific, Gulf and Atlantic coasts. Navy, Coast Guard and USMS personnel trained the cadets, with licensure remaining in the hands of the Coast Guard. With the declaration of war, the training of the Merchant Marine Cadet Corps was transferred to the Coast Guard in February 1942 and then to the War Shipping Administration in Fall of the same year.
The presented hat badge dates from the period between the founding the the Federal Merchant Marine Corps just prior to the Second World War and the institution of the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy in 1942 through the creation of the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy Cadet Corps Regiment on Dedication Day, November1943. By early 1944, midshipman-cadets began wearing midshipman hat badges mirroring their colleagues at the U.S. Navy Academy in Anapolis. This hat badge is an embroidered anchor on a wool backing and mohair band; this specific example was removed from a hat and stored over the period of several years. Bands, such as this were an integral part of the hat to which it was affixed, and did not slide off easily as is the case with removable covers and bands of the present-day; hats were spot cleaned or taken to the cleaners. With the United States’ formal entry into the war, the U.S. insignia industry servicing maritime and Naval concerns changed its means and modes of production. The older, elegant hat devices made of woven bullion and metallic thread were replaced by metal hat badges and other removable devices; although, those who had means and money continued to purchase and wear embroidered insignia. For cadets, who were rapidly moved through the federal training system, it was more expedient and cost-effective to use stamped metal devices and removable bands. This badge is the last of an era; from this point forward, stamped devices were and continue to be employed.
U.S. Merchant Marine Cadet Corps hat badge (pre-1942), obverse.
Period photographic evidence points to the fact that leading up to the Second World War and in the initial year of the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy’s operation, cadet-midshipmen wore embroidered hat badges, rather supplanted by the more common stamped metal (brass, gold plated or gold fill). The presented item may be a custom piece – as the majority of cap devices of the period were comprised of metal thread (bullion) on wool backings – as opposed to silk or composite thread. It is important to remember that the USMMCC was quite small in the period leading up to the institution of the USMM school system and uniforms were not always that – uniform – young men on the Gulf coast did not always wear the same kit as their colleagues on the West or even the East coast.
U.S. Merchant Marine Cadet Corps hat badge (pre-1942), obverse detail.
U.S. Merchant Marine Cadet Corps cadet-midshipman, SUNY Maritime period (1939-1941).
U.S. Merchant Marine Cadet Corps cadet-midshipmen, SUNY Maritime period (1939-1941).
The cadet-midshipmen are shown photographed in working khaki manning a monomy in Long Island Sound. Note that the young gentlemen are not wearing garrison hats, pointing to the fact that this photograph is pre-Regiment. The make of their combination hats is consistent with late-1930s and early Second World War construction. Their uniform shirts lack insignia of any sort, underscoring the same.
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.
Panama Railroad Steamship Company hat badge. 30cm x 30cm
White enamel swallowtail house pennant (flag), black enamel P and gold fill.
No hallmark, but definitely Gemsco. The rear screw and flag style dates to it to the 1940s-50s (see below). This could either have been mounted on a wool-backing in the center of a wire and thread wreath or applied to Maritime Service-style eagle (although the shank is too short for the latter).
Panama Railroad Steamship Company (also known as Panama Steamship Company and Panama Line) was incorporated in New York in 1862 (or 1889) and operated to 1981. There are differing accounts of how and when this line was established: it could have been in 1862 to funnel passengers and freight to the newly constructed Panama Railroad; or it was established in 1889 by the French Isthmian Canal Company to support its construction efforts. After Panama became independent of Colombia with U.S. support, the United States government took over the canal-building effort and purchased the assets of the already bankrupt French company, including the shipping line. The line’s heyday was during the construction period; once the canal was finished in 1914 the line settled down to a more mundane level of business supporting the maintenance and operation of the canal and its supporting infrastructure, including the railroad. During the Second World War, the U.S. War Shipping Administration militarized the ships and crew, since cargoes traveling through the canal were of critical national importance; some graduates of the Maritime Service schools in Tampa, Florida and Pass Christian, Mississippi manned the company’s ships. After the war, it was the target of constant attacks by privately owned shipping firms who disliked having to compete with a government-owned line, but the Panama Line was so efficiently run that it managed to stave off calls for privatization until Panama took over responsibility for maintaining the canal and railroad in 1981.
The Panama Line used two different house flags:
A white swallowtail with a black P. 1912-1950s. P. Sources: Lloyds (1912), Wedge (1926), National Geographic (1934).
A blue over red swallowtail with a white triangle in the hoist extending to the fork, and a blue P on the white triangle. late 1950s-1981 (conjecture). Source: US Navy H.O. (1961).
Gemsco hallmark on flag. Eagle and shield sterling; wreath brass/gold-plate. House flag, enamel with gold fill. Second World War era.
badge: 60mm x 65mm
flag: 25mm x 22mm
American President Lines was formed by the U.S. Maritime Commission in 1938 to stave off the impending bankruptcy of the Dollar Line, the leading carrier between the U.S. west coast and Asia. It is estimated that the company’s total liability in 1930s dollars was $17 million, with assets around $11 million and debt interest at $80,000 per month. Along with the government bail-out came a corporate restructuring, with allied changes in logos and insignia. The flag, as designed by the U.S. Maritime Commission, is red with a white eagle and a white star in each corner, recalling the Dollar Line’s red and white colors while evoking the U.S. Presidential flag – which at the time was blue with an eagle and four white stars.
During the Second Word War, American President Lines acted as an agent for the U.S. War Shipping Administration, overseeing vessel manning, equipping, overhaul and repair, handling of cargo and passengers, and fueling. Ships’ officers and crew insignia changed to match that of the U.S. Maritime Service; officers’ hat badges, such as the above example, changed from the usual shipping company house flag on wool-backing with wire and thread wreath to that of the house flag on Maritime Service eagle – this was a precedent followed by many U.S. shipping companies at the time.
The company’s fleet was used for the war effort alongside hundreds of Liberty and Victory ships. Later in the war, the U.S. War Shipping Administration began to use containers to ship vital supplies more quickly and efficiently than traditional break-bulk methods. As such, the U.S. government built 16 additional specially-fitted ships for American President Lines.
By the end of the war, the American President Lines’ assets were estimated at $40 million. R. Stanley Dollar, the heir of the Dollar Lines company, initiated the “Dollar Case” in order to force the government to return the company to his family. The case continued for the next seven years with Dollar eventually prevailing. By 1947, American President Lines returned to peacetime activities, once again providing passenger service on routes like the company’s celebrated round-the-world service. Insignia changes followed suite; with officers licensed by the U.S. Maritime Service wearing U.S. Maritime Service hat badges with their company uniforms – if so desired. In 1988, American President Lines officially changed its name to APL, Inc.; the company is now a subsidiary of NOL (formerly Neptune Orient Lines) of Singapore.
House flags of American President Lines:
Red with a white eagle and a white star in each corner. 1938-1955
White with a red eagle and “American President Lines” in white over span of eagle. 1955-1980
White with a red eagle and “American President Lines” in blue beneath eagle. 1980-1988
White with a red eagle and “APL” in blue beneath eagle. 1988-present
References:
A reference I found useful for tracking house flags is Lloyd’s House Flags and Funnels. A facsimile of the out-of-print 1912 edition available here:
