THE LATE

CAPTAINCHARLES A. (BLACKBART)

BARTHOLOMEW, USN, a graduate of the U.S. Naval

Academy and the Navy Deep Sea Diving School, was

an engineer who made the Navy—and salvage—his

career. He served on board the heavy repair ship USS

Hector during combat support operations in Southeast

Asia, as Commanding Officer of the Navy Experimental Diving Unit, and in staff positions with the

Commander in Chief, U.S. Pacific Fleet and Long

Beach Naval Shipyard. In 1985 Captain Bartholomew

became Director of Ocean Engineering and Supervisor

of Salvage and Diving. During his twenty-two years as

a Navy diver and salvor, he participated in the 

salvage of sixteen ships, numerous aircraft, and the

space shuttle Challenger. COMMANDER WILLIAM I. MILWEE, J

R., USN (RET.), is a

graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy, Webb Institute

of Naval Architecture, and the Navy Deep Sea Diving

School. He served in diving and salvage billets in 

Harbor Clearance Unit One, in the Navy Experimental

Diving Unit, and in the offices of the Supervisor of

Diving and the Supervisor of Salvage, and as Fleet

Salvage Officer for Commander in Chief, U.S. Pacific

Fleet. Following retirement from the Navy in 1979, he

worked in the offshore oil industry and founded a firm

that provides marine salvage consulting services.

Commander Milwee participated in more than 160

salvage operations and worked on all seven continents

and numerous Pacific islands. He is the author of

Modern Marine Salvage, a comprehensive text on 

salvage operations, and has written more than thirty

journal articles and conference papers.

MUD,MUSCLE, AND

MIRACLES

Second Edition

More than 200 illustrations, photographs, diagrams, and

maps.

In the days when wooden sailing ships made up

the fleets of the world, a ship that ran ashore could

sometimes be freed by the judicious use of ground

tackle and muscle. Most of the time, however, there

was little to do other than rescue the crew and save

the cargo. 

The rules of the sea began to change, however, in

the mid-1800s. With the advent of steam power and a

growing understanding of how human beings can

work underwater, it became increasingly possible to

refloat wrecked vessels, clear harbors, and locate and

raise sunken ships, their cargoes, and other objects

lost at sea.

By the start of the twentieth century, the U.S.

Navy had developed a fledgling salvage capability.

Today, under the aegis of the Supervisor of Salvage,

the Navy routinely handles assignments around the

world, guarding U.S. naval and maritime interests and

responding to requests for assistance from our allies.

Mud, Muscle, and Miracles takes its reader on a

gripping journey through the evolution of salvage—

from the construction of a cofferdam to reveal the battleship Maine at the bottom of Havana harbor to the

use of side-scan sonar and remotely operated 

vehicles to recover aircraft debris and complete 

vessels from the depths. The story is one of masterful

seamanship, incomparable engineering, and absolute

ingenuity and courage. It is also the history of one of

our nation’s longest lasting public-private partnerships—that of the commercial salvage industry and

the U.S. Navy.

Along the way there emerges more than a 

century’s worth of strong, colorful, and supremely

competent personalities, most of whom gained their

understanding of salvage on the muddy sea bottom or

on a slippery deck with winches groaning and wire

ropes singing. Until the publication of these comprehensive editions on naval salvage, they were among

the last of our nation’s unsung heroes.

This second edition updates U.S. Navy salvage

history through the beginning of the twenty-first 

century and chronicles eighteen additional, precedent-setting marine salvage and deep-ocean recovery

operations. 

MUD,MUSCLE,

A N DMI R A C L E S

Marine Salvage in the United States Navy

Second Edition

Captain Charles A. Bartholomew, USN

Commander William I. Milwee, Jr., USN (Ret.)

“A unique compendium of the great 

stories of Navy salvage and diving professionals who, through innovation and 

perseverance, so often make the impossible

look easy. The contribution of Navy 

salvage forces to Navy, DOD, and national

missions cannot be overstated. Everyone

working in the salvage business should

read this work and refer to it throughout

their careers.”

—VADM Kevin McCoy, USN 

Commander, Naval Sea Systems Command

Above: Destroyer Monssen (DD 798) high

and dry on a New Jersey beach, March

1962. 

Right: Capsized battleship Oklahoma, with

attached purchases and winches for righting during Pearl Harbor salvage operations. 

Below: Lift craft raising the dredge Jamaica

Bay at Dong Tam, Vietnam, January 1967.

(Authors’ Files).

Front cover: A Navy diver from rescue

and salvage ship USS Grasp (ARS 51),

searching the crash site of TWA Flight

800 in the Atlantic Ocean near Long

Island, NY, 13 August 1996 (U.S. Navy

photo). Insets, left to right: Lafayette

capsized in her ice-filled berth in New

York harbor, December 1941 (Authors’

Files); rescue and salvage ship USS

Safeguard (ARS 50) (U.S. Navy photo);

and USS Cole (DDG 67) on board

heavy lift ship Blue Marlin for the return

to the States following a suicide bombing

on 12 October 2000 (U.S. Navy photo).

Bartholomew

Milwee

Naval History

& Heritage 

Command

_______________

Naval 

Sea Systems

Command

Second Edition MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES
MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

Second Edition

The Early Days

i
ii

BITTS AND ROUND TURNS
MUD, MUSCLE,

A N D MI R AC L E S

Marine Salvage in the United States Navy

Second Edition

Captain Charles A. Bartholomew, USN

Commander William I. Milwee, Jr., USN (Ret.)

Naval History & Heritage Command

Naval Sea Systems Command

Department of the Navy

Washington, D.C.

2009
iv

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Bartholomew, C. A., 1940–1990

Mud, muscle, and miracles : marine salvage in the United States Navy /

Charles A. Bartholomew, William I. Milwee, Jr.—2nd ed.

p. cm.

Includes bibliographical references and index.

ISBN 978-0-945274-60-5 (hbk. : alk. paper) 

1. Salvage—United States—History. 2. United States. Navy—History. 3. United

States. Navy—Search and rescue operations—History. 4. United States—History,

Naval. 5. Salvage—Technological innovations—United States—History. 

6. Shipwrecks—History. I. Milwee, William I., 1937– II. Title.

VK1491.B37 2009

359.4'6—dc22

2009014668

The paper used in this publication meets the requirements for permanence established by the

American National Standard for Information Sciences “Permanence of Paper for Printed Library

Materials” (ANSI Z39.48–1984).

For sale by the Superintendent of Documents, U.S. Government Printing Office

Internet: Bookstore.gpo.gov; Phone; toll free (866) 512-1800; DC area (202) 512-1800

Fax: (202) 512-2104; Mail: Stop IDCC, Washington, DC 20401–0001

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

➇

U.S. GOVERNMENT OFFICIAL EDITION NOTICE

Use of ISBN

This is the Official U.S. Government edition of this publication and

is herein identified to certify its authenticity. Use of this publication’s

ISBN 978-0-945274-60-5 is for U.S. Government Printing Office

Official Editions only. The Superintendent of Documents of the U.S.

Government Printing Office requests that any reprinted edition be labeled clearly as a copy

of this authentic work with a new ISBN.
The Early Days

v

MARINE SALVAGE—A science of vague assumptions 

based on debatable figures taken from inconclusive experiments

and performed with instruments of problematic accuracy by

persons of doubtful reliability and questionable mentality.
MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

vi
Contents

Preface to the Second Edition xvii

Foreword to the First Edition xix

Preface to the First Edition xxv

1. THE EARLY DAYS 1

Early Navy Salvage 6

The First Deep Salvage (F–4) 10

A Different Kind of Submarine Salvage (H–3) 14

World War I 17

2. BETWEEN THE WARS 19

A New Navy-Industry Relationship 20

DeLong: A Joint Salvage Effort 21

Submarine Salvage 23

Prelude to World War II 44

3. WORLD WAR II BEGINS 51

Preparation for War 51

Wartime Salvage Requirements 55

The Pearl Harbor Fleet Salvage 57

The Navy Salvage Service 69

Navy Salvage Training 83

Salvage Doctrine, Organization, and Management 90

4. FLEET OPERATIONS IN WORLD WAR II:

THE EUROPEAN THEATER 97

First Blood 97

Operation Torch—The North African Campaign 101

Operation Husky—Sicily 122

Other Mediterranean Salvage 126

The Italian Campaign 127

Operation Overlord—Normandy 136

The Invasion of Southern France 142

vii
LeHavre 144

The Western Atlantic 145

The War in Europe Ends 146

5. FLEET OPERATIONS IN WORLD WAR II:

THE PACIFIC THEATER 151

The First Days 154

The Drive Across the Central Pacific 161

Salvage in the Rear Areas 164

The Philippine Campaign 170

The Attack on Japan 179

The War Winds Down 186

The Wartime Role of Salvage 192

6. NAVY SALVAGE AFTER WORLD WAR II 195

The Navy Salvage Service 197

Postwar Navy Salvage Operations 199

The Salvage Law 203

“Mighty Mo” Hits the Beach 204

War in Korea 209

Peacetime Salvage 222

The Navy’s Salvage Posture 236

RPS Rajah Soliman—A New Tool 241

7. THE VIETNAM ERA 247

Pacific Fleet Salvage Posture 250

Knox on the Rocks 253

The Floodgates Open 258

Harbor Clearance Unit One 262

Around the Pacific 280

In the Atlantic 286

Submarine Salvage 295

Navy Contract Salvage 299

The Summer of ’72 305

Salvage Posture After Vietnam 313

8. MOVING TOWARD THE NINETIES 317

The Elements of Salvage 318

Salvage Operations 325

9. NAVY SALVAGE IN THE DEEP OCEAN 365

Divers and Diving 366

Thresher 374

Contents

viii
The Deep Submergence Review Group 377

Major Search and Recovery jobs 378

The Deep-Diving Technological Explosion 387

A Variety of Work 396

The Large Object Salvage System 398

A Very Long Piece of Pipe 401

Fouled Submersibles 402

Monitor 407

Aircraft Salvage 416

Challenger—The Biggest Challenge 426

10. INTO THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY 433

Recoveries—Deep and Not So Deep 433

Surface Ship, Submarine, Space Shuttle 455

Pollution—Response and Prevention 468

Combat and Operational Casualties 483

Maritime Disaster Response 505

11. IN RETROSPECT 513

APPENDIXES

A. Supervisors of Salvage, U.S. Navy 523

B. Federal Laws and Regulations Affecting

Navy Salvage 524

C. Salvage Ships of the U.S. Navy 526

BIBLIOGRAPHY 553

INDEX 573

TABLES

U.S. Navy Noncombat Submarine Sinkings Prior to

World War II 27

Summary of Work by Salvage and Rescue Group, Luzon

Attack Force 174

ILLUSTRATIONS

Bitts And Round Turns Frontispiece

Working Diver Facing xxviii

Squalus Facing 18

Pearl Harbor Facing 50

Harbor Clearance Facing 96

Contents

ix
Under Tow Facing 150

Typhoon Fury Facing 194

Mekong Delta Facing 246

Close Call Facing 316

Challenger Facing 364

Ehime Maru Facing 432

Safeguard Facing 512

PHOTOGRAPHS

Salvage of Maine in Havana harbor 8

Presentation of the Medal of Honor to Chief Petty Officer

Frank Crilley 11

The final lift of submarine F–4 12

Submarine H–3 aground at Samoa Beach, California 14

Milwaukee aground during H–3 salvage operation 15

H–3 moving overland 16

Divers from submarine S–51 salvage operations 37

Salvors of submarine S–4 39

Medal of Honor winners on the Squalus salvage 45

Righting operation on Plunger at Pearl Harbor 60

Oglala salvage at Pearl Harbor 62

Salvage of Oklahoma 63

Captain Whittaker and Rear Admiral Furlong at the

Oklahoma salvage site 65

Salvage ships alongside Arizona at Pearl Harbor 66

Rescuer and Turksib wrecked at Seal Cape, Alaska 71

Lafayette capsized in her bert 78

Captain John Tooker, salvage master on Lafayette 80

Captain Manseau with Rear Admirals Cochrane and Broshek at the Lafayette salvage site 82

Commander Carl Holm and Lieutenant Monroe Hart at the

Lafayette salvage site 84

First officer class of the Navy Salvage School at Pier 88 85

Captain Ellsberg at Mesewa 99

Officers’ quarters at Casablanca 110

Task Force 84 headquaters at Dellys 115

Ferryville harbor and docks 118

Redwing sinking 121

Captain Alec Doust, RNVR 128

Naples harbor 134

Captain E.J. Moran 139

Contents

x
Lift ships 141

Salvage of a tug at Le Havre 145

Commodore W.A. Sullivan 148

Seize aground at Clipperton Island 167

Commander Genereaux directing salvage operations on Seize 167

May 1944 explosion in West Loch, Pearl Harbor 169

Fire fighting during the Philippine Campaign 175

A formal luncheon, salvage style 177

Living conditions in Manila 178

Lebbeus Curtis V and VI, the father-son salvage team 181

Zuni aground at Iwo Jima 182

Zaniah diving gang 186

Harbor clearance at Naha, Okinawa 187

Salvage officers at Okinawa 188

Pumping wreck number 67 during the Naha harbor

clearance 189

Pumping Pennsylvania through the guns 190

Pulling Missouri, 20 January 1950 208

Navy salvors off North Korea 211

South Korean LST M–370 aground 214

Salvors on the South Korean LST M–370 214

Salvage conference during the San Mateo Victory refloating

operation 217

SS Quartette when first aground and after some time

aground 219

Windlass and Baldwin off Montauk Point 225

Monssen aground in New Jersey 230

Lifting a patrol craft at Guam 235

Mucking out Rajah Soliman 243

Rajah Soliman ready to be towed out after refloating 243

Pumping USNS Card in Saigon 249

Pulling on Frank Knox 257

HCU-One salvors 265

Salvors at work on a lift craft during the Paul Bert salvage 269

Salvage officers during the Paul Bert salvage 269

Baton Rouge Victory salvage in progress 270

Jamaica Bay with four lift craft and other Harbor Clearance

Unit One craft alongside 275

Pumping Jamaica Bay 277

Salvage officers during the Jamaica Bay operation 277

Crilley and Crandall lifting Sandpumper 278

Regulus wrecked in Hong Kong 285

Salvors on Ocean Eagle 289

Contents

xi
Salvage ships towing out the Ocean Eagle bow 289

Tucumcari aground off Puerto Rico 295

AFDM–2 partially righted in the Mississippi 301

Oriental Warrior burned out and sunk at Jacksonville’s

container port 306

Sidney E. Smith capsized and sunk in the St. Clair River 309

Removal of Mecca in the Suez 327

Lift ships lift a small tug in the Suez 328

Salvage officers in the Suez 330

Caribia when first aground on Glass Breakwater, Guam 334

Reclaimer and Beaufort pull on Anangel Liberty 339

Cappy Bisso lifts Blackthorn 342

Mackenzie is lifted onto a barge 345

Sections of Mackenzie after having been lifted out 345

Lieutenant Commander James C. Bladh, USN (Ret.), in the

Azores 352

Spruance on the broken Litton Launch Platform 354

Salvors working in Guam following Typhoon Pamela 356

Chauvanet aground on Dauisan Reef 361

CURV coming aboard Petrel 381

Nuclear weapon lost off Palomares, before and after recovery 382

Rigging Aluminaut for the recovery of Alvin 386

SeaLab I and the men who operated it 388

A SeaLab diver on the bottom 390

Senior officers at the SeaLab II site 391

Diving officers with the ADS–IV diving system 392

Salvors during the Pisces III recovery 405

USS Monitor’s iconoclastic gun turret 414

A typical aircraft recovery by an ATS 417

The Alcoa Seaprobe recovery system 419

An F–14 recovery in the North Sea 423

Ships at close quarters during the search for the wreckage of

KAL flight 007 425

Challenger orbiter component being recovered by Preserver 428

Section of Challenger’s right solid rocket booster 429

ORION side-scan sonar system 436

United Airlines Flight 811 cargo door on board M/V Laney

Chouest 439

Supervisor of Salvage Captain Raymond S. (Chip) McCord 

greets President Bill Clinton 441

Navy diver searches the TWA Flight 800 debris field 443

Tom Salmon, Lieutenant Commander Jeff Stettler, and

Commander Phil Beierl 446

Contents

xii
Lee Wolford inspects ROV Deep Drone 447

EgyptAir salvage team with cockpit voice recorder 448

Recovered F–14 nose landing gear cylinder 454

Recovered F–14 fuselage 454

M/V Rockwater 2 458

Navy diver on board F/V Ehime Maru 460

Russian Priz-class submarine rescue vehicle 463

Space Shuttle Columbia breaking up during re-entry 464

Toledo Bend final search area and target chart 466

Exxon Valdez aground on Bligh Reef 469

Oil leaking from Mississinewa’s hull 478

Navy divers hot tapping Mississinewa’s tanks 481

Mine damage on Tripoli’s starboard side 490

LST LaMoure County hard aground off Chile 492

The port-side damage to guided missile frigate Cole 498

Navy diver about to enter Cole’s flooded engine room 498

Cole rests dock-wise on board heavy lift ship Blue Marlin 500

Empire, Louisiana, after Katrina 507

Navy diver enters the Industrial Seaway in Gulfport 509

Grapple recovers sunken aids to navigation in Mobile Bay 509

“Hell, yes, we can do it” 512

Warbler (ARS 11) 527

Brant (ARS 32) 528

Anchor (ARS 13) 529

Clamp (ARS 33) 531

MV Rescue, ex-Diver (ARS 5) 531

Reclaimer (ARS 42) 533

Hoist (ARS 40) 533

Harjurand (ARS 31) 534

Grapple (ARS 53) 534

Salvager (ARS(D) 3) 536

Palmyra (ARS(T) 3) 537

Falcon (ASR 2) 538

Chanticleer (ASR 7) 540

Skylark (ASR 20) 540

Pigeon (ASR 21) 542

Mahopac (ATA 196) 544

ATA–216 544

Luiseno (ATF 156) 546

Tatnuck (AT 27) 548

ATR–21 550

Navajo (T-ATF 169) 551

Beaufort (ATS 2) 552

Contents

xiii
Contents

DIAGRAMS

Pulling arrangement for refloating submarine S–19 25

Salvage of submarine R–6, first pumping arrangement 31

Pontoon arrangements for lifting Squalus 42

Typical beach gear leg 47

Salvage Group organization 93

The pulling arrangement that freed Missouri 208

Pulling arrangements that freed Monssen 230

Pulling on Frank Knox 257

Pulling arrangements on the Minot Victory 261

Harbor Clearance Unit One organization 263

Dredge Atlantic salvage 292

Rigging to keep Oriental Warrior upright 306

Lifting arrangements for Cuyahoga 340

Lifting arrangements for Blackthorn 342

Concept of the Large Object Salvage System 400

MAPS

Mesewa harbor 98

Naval operations in the North African and Mediterranean

theaters 102

Casablanca harbor 108

Oran harbor 109

Bizerte channel entrance 116

Ferryville harbor and docks 118

Palermo harbor 124

Naples harbor 134

The dual drive across the Pacific 152

The Aleutian theater 158

Kerama-retto 184

Harbor clearance at Naha, Okinawa 187

Apra harbor, Guam, following typhoon Karen 232

Location of the Frank Knox grounding 252

Location of Triton Island 260

Dredge Atlantic salvage 292

xiv
xv

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

Captain Charles A. (Black Bart) Bartholomew, USN, was an engineer

who made the Navy—and salvage—his career. A graduate of the United

States Naval Academy and the Navy Deep Sea Diving School at the

Washington Navy Yard, he served in a number of engineering billets before

assignment in 1970 to the heavy repair ship USS Hector during a period of

significant battle-damage repair and combat-support operations in

Southeast Asia. From there he was ordered to the Naval Sea Systems

Command (NAVSEA) in Washington, D.C., where he served in several

offices, including that of the Supervisor of Salvage. From 1977 to 1985 he

was Commanding Officer of the Navy Experimental Diving Unit, served on

the Commander in Chief, U.S. Pacific Fleet staff, and was Repair Officer

and then Production Officer at the Long Beach, California Naval Shipyard.

In 1985 Captain Bartholomew was transferred back to the nation’s capital

and NAVSEA to serve as Director of Ocean Engineering and Supervisor of

Salvage and Diving. During his twenty-two years as a Navy diver and

salvor, Captain Bartholomew participated in the salvage of sixteen ships,

numerous aircraft, and the space shuttle Challenger. The “Bart” in his nickname derived in part from his surname and in part from the acronym for

“Bitts And Round Turns,” a common term used in seamanship. Captain

Bartholomew passed away in a tragic diving accident in 1990, shortly after

the publishing of the original edition of Mud, Muscle, and Miracles.

Commander William I. Milwee, Jr., USN (Ret.), is a graduate of the

United States Naval Academy, Webb Institute of Naval Architecture, and

the Navy Deep Sea Diving School. He served in diving and salvage billets

in Harbor Clearance Unit One and the Navy Experimental Diving Unit,

in the offices of the Supervisor of Diving and the Supervisor of Salvage,

and on the staff of the Commander in Chief, U.S. Pacific Fleet as Fleet

Salvage Officer. Following his voluntary retirement from the Navy in

1979, he worked in the offshore oil industry as an executive with a West

Coast salvage company and in 1983 founded Milwee Associates, Inc., a

firm providing consulting services for the salvage, diving, towing, and

ocean engineering industries and support services for litigation. During his

career he has participated in more than 160 salvage operations and has

worked on all seven continents and numerous Pacific islands. He is an

Incident Commander in the Incident Command System, a designated salvage consultant to the Australian Maritime Safety Agency, a preferred

consultant in salvage to the world’s largest maritime liability insurer, and

in 1999 was one of two Americans designated a Special Casualty

Representative by the Committee of Lloyds. In addition to his participation in the writing of Mud, Muscle, and Miracles, he has written Modern

Marine Salvage, a comprehensive text on salvage operations, and more

than thirty journal articles and conference papers.
This fine record of our Navy’s exploits in rescue, salvage, and emergency repair drives home the point, in page after page, of just how unforgiving the sea can be. Written in plain language and derived in great

measure from accounts by the men who have done the deeds themselves,

it is moreover a story of exceptional determination and professionalism.

How heartening for both mariners and the public-at-large to know, even

if only in the back of their minds, that such talent is standing by, ready to

help, when trouble is at hand and whether this nation is at peace or at

war. (And it has been my experience that trouble is seldom far away.)

Indeed, this candid record of both the successes and failures of U.S.

Navy salvage at sea reinforces the time-honored mariner’s axiom that

constant vigilance is the price of safe navigation.

—ADMIRAL WILLIAM J. CROWE, JR., USN (RETIRED)

Former Chairman, Joint Chiefs of Staff
Preface to the Second Edition

“Experience is the toughest teacher—she gives the exam first and

the lesson later.” I first heard this aphorism in the context of

salvage operations, and it rings true on the waterfront every

day, for salvage operations are like ship designs—each is based on its

predecessor. The prudent salvage officer will use these chronicles of salvage operations to gain as much knowledge as possible prior to his or her

next waterfront challenge.

So although I’m not sure of all that the late Captain Charles “Black

Bart” Bartholomew had in mind for the purpose of the original edition of

Mud, Muscle and Miracles, I am certain he envisioned more than just an

engaging history of the intrepid exploits of Navy salvors. That it certainly

is—but in a very real sense it is also an indispensably practical operational

textbook of what worked and what didn’t. It belongs in the professional

library of every Navy salvor, and it deserves to be read and reread to ensure

its lessons don’t remain only between its covers.

This edition extends Bart’s original into twenty-first century salvage,

including updated procedures and technology. It covers eighteen representative salvage operations spanning the breadth and the depth (literally) of

recent experience such as record-setting deep-ocean recovery operations,

submersible rescue, undersea oil reclamation, and expeditionary combat

salvage.

I would like to acknowledge three special folks instrumental in

pulling this revision together. The first is Captain Richard Fiske, USN

(Ret.), former Supervisor of Salvage, who initially compiled much of the

historical record for many of the newly included salvage exploits. The

second is Ms. Sandy Doyle, senior editor of the Naval History and

Heritage Command, without whose literary insights, keen eye, and endless patience and endurance neither of these editions of Mud, Muscle, and

Miracles would exist. And the third is Bart’s ghostwriter for the first edition, and the acknowledged author for this second edition—Commander

William I. Milwee, USN (Retired), a salvor of great renown both during

his active duty service and in the private sector. Without his passion for

this profession and this project, the second edition would not exist. Many

xvii
thanks also go to Morgan Wilbur of the Naval History and Heritage

Command for the jacket’s attractive design and to John Grier whose layout for the second edition made possible its production.

This book is dedicated to four of my personal heroes. The first is

Lieutenant Commander Jim Bladh, USN (Ret.), whose name appears

countless times throughout this record and who, unbelievably, was a personal participant in operations from World War II through the end of the

twentieth century—over fifty-nine years of Navy diving and salvage experience. Mr. Lloyd Saner, an unheralded but extraordinary behind-thescenes character logged an unbelievable success record of Navy salvage

during the past twenty years. If ever a rabbit can be pulled from a hat at

just the right time, Lloyd and his team at the Emergency Ship Salvage

Material office of the Supervisor of Salvage can and will do it, without

fail, every time. Captain Willard Searle, USN (Ret.), was the most visionary and passionate salvage officer in the long line of Navy Supervisors of

Salvage. His leadership and panache in the 1960s created the U.S. Navy

team recognized around the world for salvage and ocean engineering

excellence, and he personally led its growth from a small logistics office

to a world-class international operation. And finally, Mr. Richard Asher

for over twenty-five years (most of them as Deputy Supervisor of Salvage)

was the heart and soul and inspiration of the family of men and women

who were privileged to work with him and for him. His technical excellence and, more important, his personal and professional integrity are

now intractably intertwined into the DNA of the Office of the Supervisor

of Salvage and Diving.

Jim Wilkins

Captain, USN (Ret.)

Preface to the Second Edition

xviii
xix

Foreword to the First Edition

ADMIRAL I.C. KIDD, JR., USN (RETIRED)

The history of salvage in general, and of divers in particular, probably goes back to well before Noah’s voyage in his ark. For those

early times, of course, the records are less than complete. Nevertheless, the need for appropriate methods of salvage, diving, recovery, and

repair was manifest even then. In fact we hear much talk today about the

lessons learned from salvage history. But have we really learned? Has

remedial action been taken? Are we adequately postured? Unfortunately,

in most instances, the answer is a resounding, No.

Noah’s shipmates and the salvors of the time established quite well

that when the wreck is big enough and too far from saltwater to even

consider refloating, we should leave it right where it is, build over it on

occasion, and strip and scavenge as needed. (Robinson Crusoe used this

option to advantage.) Where beautification is a factor, we can cut away

and haul off what is unsightly, leaving to the sea the final task of shielding

from inquisitive eyes the evidence of human failure to tame the awesome

might of the oceans.

Until recently the salvor’s environment was unparalleled in danger.

Then space exploration captured our curiosity and imagination. It has

been fascinating to watch space engineers and astronauts turn to salvors

for counsel on how to cope with disaster in the vast expanses of the

unknown. For although the speeds are somewhat higher, the distances a

bit greater, and tolerance for reaction times much reduced in the new

ocean of space, the basics of physics, the pressures, and the dependence

on the ingenuity of the “man on the scene” remain unchanged. Space

explorers have even borrowed the suits of salvors as models. Thus it will

be no surprise at all to have the follow-on volumes of this book, which

chronicles the human reach into uncharted regions, include the efforts

and exploits of our salvors in space.

And why shouldn’t the Navy take the lead and vigorously assist the

National Aeronautics and Space Administration as it tailors its require -

ments for the years ahead? From their experiences over the centuries,
salvors may well envy the weightlessness enjoyed by these new “space

divers.” But with it all there is still the penalty of inertia. One salvage oldtimer, for example, recently cautioned NASA to fight to save the space

tug that was part of its plan to build a space station. And while they were

about it, he warned, it would be best to add another and buy two. Salvors

have certainly learned the hard way on far too many occasions that only

one tug is often useless.

Salvors have always been a small community of specialists, elite in

their competence but often dependent on commercial augmentation. Only

recently has the burden of fast reaction gradually shifted from commercial

talents to purely naval assets and personnel. This transition, of course,

has been due largely to the phenomenal growth in international naval

dependence on surface ships and submarines of ever-increasing complexity and combat potential. It is not surprising that as more and more lives

are placed at ever-increasing levels of risk in peacetime operations, we

have seen a parallel increase worldwide in national demands for appropriate attention to the safety and well-being of salvors. I believe dependence

on Navy salvors will continue to grow inexorably due to, among other factors, such increasing public demand for prompt information and the everpresent interest and curiosity tied to the welfare of survivors.

Where did an accident or casualty occur? Why did it happen? Am I

in danger? To what extent is the environment endangered? Indeed, such

international public pressures promise to drive a growth in the numbers,

competence, and education of both salvors and divers to a far greater

degree than did such purely national and professional motivators of the

past as saving lives and learning how to avoid repetition of disasters.

Writing off a job such as the 1923 Honda Point disaster as “too hard’ or

simply letting wrecks sit as monuments to inadequacies, are cavalier attitudes no longer available to any nation.

In an attempt to get this message across to decisionmakers, we beat

our individual and collective heads against the bulkheads of budget

restrictions. But it is often to little or no avail, for no one likes bad news.

It is very easy with a wave of the hand to declaim: “This could never happen to us, to one of our ships, or to our Navy. And besides, it’s too expensive to maintain a capability we will probably never need. We will gamble,

save the money, and hope it doesn’t come to pass on our watch.” This is

a mind-set I have found in the four corners of the world. In fact it is quite

normal and predictable. We all face the same dilemma each time an

insurance premium stares us in the face. The insurance industry has compiled a sobering record of the numbers of people who have dropped

expensive premiums, only to find the coverage needed ten days later. But

by then, it is too late. We can expect to see the same thought processes

relative to salvage.

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Foreword to the First Edition
When the mess to be cleared away is large enough, we have long

relied upon international efforts and cooperation. This situation is likely

to continue, with organizations such as the United Nations playing ever

larger roles. Every day the risk of international disaster grows. Too many

parallels for comfort can be drawn from the furor generated by

Chernobyl. The plugging of Panama, Suez, Kiel, and the St. Lawrence

come to mind as possibilities, not to mention the specter of a nuclear

accident, however small, in some congested harbor. It is a foregone conclusion that our U.S. Navy salvors and divers will be among the first

called. Our Supervisor of Salvage has his work cut out for him in terms of

developing plans that are monumental in scope and unimaginable to

minds unaware of the staggering complexities of salvage work.

As a small group of experts in a large Navy, salvors have depended—

too often without realizing it—on attention, interest, and support from

unlikely quarters of the compass. Often this has been in the person of an

individual who, frequently by pure chance, has adopted the salvage com -

munity and undertaken to block for it in budget battles, ship and equip -

ment acquisitions, promotion opportunities, and other arenas. When

S–51 was lost off Block Island in 1925, we acquired such a supporter in

the person of then-Captain Ernest J. King who commanded the

Submarine Base at New London. As on-scene commander, he met and

came to admire men like Commander Edward Ellsberg and Chief Edward

Eddy. He never lost sight of the breed, and in later years would ask, “How

goes it with the divers?” It hurt Navy salvage not one bit to have this

great gladiator move up to become Commander-in-Chief of the U.S.

Navy. That interest alone kept alive an awareness of the importance of

salvors throughout the entire Navy. Just how many tinkerers or budgetcutters King kept in line by making it clear he had his eye on them, we

shall never know.

Admiral Ben Morrell, who founded the SeaBees, and Admiral

Chester Nimitz after him, took a similar personal interest that generated

the same atmosphere of awareness and respect. In the early sixties divers

again enjoyed a steadying hand from the Chief of Naval Operations himself, Admiral David L. McDonald. Like a bolt out of the blue, he stepped

into a particularly tough budget battle with the Secretary of Defense on

the subject of heavy lift ships. The day had been long; to help pay for the

Vietnam War, the OSD-directed cuts had been savage. The CNO sat

quietly and with the great dignity that was his style. During a momentary lull, he said, “And I have an addition to add at this point—two

heavy lift ships to be bought from Britain—originally acquired from

Germany.”

The looks around the room were what you might expect: incredulous.

Any addition at this point in the budget cycle was unheard of. Yet this

Foreword to the First Edition

xxi
great man had the professional wisdom, vision, and knowledge of the

needs of salvors to step in at a critical juncture. The two lift ships had

just become available and would otherwise be scrapped. Instead,

McDonald put them in our national salvage savings account! The rest is

history.

Such unexpected support has often been our salvation, but it is spotty and too frequently a matter of chance. Navy salvage needs to institutionalize support at the top for the small but critical group of dedicated

men and women whose importance is generally lost sight of until they are

urgently needed. Thresher always comes to mind as a classic example of

the frantic flaps surrounding disasters. In that instance, when Thresher

was lost in 1963, the Trieste was available, but she was on the wrong coast.

We had not thought through how to move her quickly. The salvage effort

was stymied by the limiting overhead heights of both railroad tunnels and

highway overpasses—handicaps not routinely uppermost in salvors’ minds.

The conclusion here is that instead of relying on chance, the salvage

community needs to recruit on a continuing basis the interest and support of senior people. Although perhaps not experienced salvors and

divers themselves, these people, like Admiral King, may have been ex -

posed at close range to the near miracles that can be accomplished when

the Navy’s and nation’s reputations are on the line. The Navy salvage

organization might consider carefully selecting and adopting such “sea

daddys” and keeping them aware of how much they are needed. To me,

this need seems far too important to be left to chance.

In the area of career opportunities and development, there is also

much work to be done. I do not believe we have yet hoisted aboard the

drastic changes that science has cranked into the salvor equation. Avail -

able depths and available devices have created a need for much more

education for salvors and divers.

A roster of the academic credentials held by today’s heroes in general

is sobering. Where is the Navy’s parallel program of early, graduate edu -

cation for selected salvors and divers in all aspects of the sea?

And how hard are we looking for recruits? There appears to be no bar

to having the salvage community recruit from the Naval Postgraduate

School and throughout academia. Likely candidates are those who have

selected a related field of graduate education, but who may have

absolutely no idea how they are going to use such an education. Why not

inspire them with a desire to be part of a historically elite group whose

accomplishments are written every day. In my view we sorely need a long

line of those waiting to join the club. Many who would do well, enlisted

personnel and officers alike, simply do not know what awaits them.

Unsung and often inadequately rewarded, the salvor and diver have

always been to me the absolute epitome of all that is fine among mariners.

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Foreword to the First Edition
This was also the view of my father, himself a diver. “From them,’’ he said,

“you can count upon the unvarnished truth. There is no margin for error

in their profession. Mutual dependence is a total commitment. Seek them

out. Listen carefully. Take their advice. It will always be the very best

available. I know of no other body of men whose priorities are in such perfect order.” Pretty strong words for a youngster of but a few years. But

today I can report without reservation that my father’s words were the

best pieces of advice ever passed along to a son.

Some forty-five years later the Navy faced one of its more mortifying

moments when a major design problem was impacting an entire class of

naval combatants. A complex technical decision had to be made and

made quickly. In my position as Chief of Naval Materiel, I turned by

choice and force of professional habit to Admiral Monroe Hart, the

Navy’s senior diver, and made him chairman of the investigating board.

Although the inquiry was not in his specialty, “Roe” Hart fell back on his

diver’s instincts of improvisation and determination, along with his gift of

inspirational leadership. The decision was correct and prompt. Once

again a Navy diver had “salvaged” the Navy and its reputation from the

brink of grave difficulty.

I have a long list of such heroes. Names like Bill Searle, Gene

Mitchell, Huntly Boyd, and Colin Jones are but the more recent of those

whose selfless professionalism have made our Navy look so well and have

added pages of lustre to our great nation. Here again, then-Lieutenant

Commander Bart Bartholomew saved both Navy and nation from the

trauma of losing our newest and best of a brand-new-class Spruance as it

rested precariously on a listing, broken, and sinking floating drydock off

Pascagoula, Mississippi. Not an inspirational sight.

Indeed, reading between the lines and looking at the photographs

that accompany Mud, Muscle, and Miracles, even the uninitiated can

envision the terror of unknown dangers, the frustration of repeated fail -

ures, and the tears of satisfaction as tremors of movement are felt for the

first time or a particularly reluctant prize breaks the water’s surface. As

for the professionals who have been there and done it themselves, the

book makes those stark records come alive even more. The heroes and

heroics that fill every page are a muster of a special breed.

Everyone even remotely connected to Navy salvage owes Captain

Bart Bartholomew, a hero of mine for many years and the current

Supervisor of Salvage, a special debt of gratitude for parenting this splendid effort to get the essential details down on paper before any more years

slip by. The pages read like a quartermaster’s notebook kept by a seasoned

professional, from whose crisp unadorned sentences might later flow an

embellished version of a particular period or incident.

Foreword to the First Edition

xxiii
From the days of harbor clearance at Casablanca in 1942 to the

refloating of the battleship Pennsylvania after she was hit by a kamikaze in

Buckner Bay at the bitter end of the war, through another thirty-five

years of active duty, this antique has remained grateful for the inspiration

that salvors and divers have given me when I most needed it. I am deeply

honored to have known them and to have shared a cup of coffee with

them in their mess.

xxiv

Foreword to the First Edition
xxv

Preface to the First Edition

Webster defines salvage as “the act of rescuing a ship and its

cargo” This definition, which connotes the saving of property,

is the basis of the commercial marine salvage industry. For the

naval salvor, however, the definition is much broader. It includes not only

the rescue of ships and their cargoes but also the location of objects lost

in the sea and the clearance of sunken vessels and other obstacles from

navigable waterways and marine installations in the general pursuit of

policy and objectives.

This chronicle traces the evolution of U.S. Navy salvage forces and

of salvage operations within the Navy. Salvage operations, and indeed

Navy salvage as a whole, cannot be looked at as a series of independent,

random incidents. Like the Navy itself, salvage operations are part of a

constantly changing continuum affected by changes in technology,

national policy, budgets, and other influences inside and outside the

Navy. Only by viewing salvage operations in this way can we understand

the evolution of salvage within the Navy, the value of Navy salvage to

the nation, and the place of salvage operations in the maritime activity

of the world.

Salvage is not for everyone. It is hard work—dirty, dangerous, and

demanding. The jobs look easier than they are. The risks are high, the

problems severe and unique, and the line between success and failure

thin.

Salvage is also tremendously exciting and satisfying. The thrill of a

salvor when a stranded ship refloats or a sunken wreck rises has few parallels. On the other hand, the defeats are devastating. Because salvage is

the kind of work it is, it attracts people who invariably have tremendous

abilities and confidence, with egos to match. It also requires mature individuals willing to take extraordinary risks but with the judgment not to

take unnecessary ones, and who are able to submerge their egos so they

can function as members of a team.

The United States Navy has developed and maintains a salvage capability because salvage has military purposes. It is cheaper and quicker

to recover and repair a battle-damaged ship than it is to build a new one
and train a new crew. When cleared of obstructions, ports and harbors

whose facilities have been systematically blocked and destroyed by a

retreating enemy can be used for logistic support of friendly forces.

Objects recovered from the ocean depths may be returned to service or

analyzed to determine why they failed so the cause of failure may be

corrected.

Mud, Muscle, and Miracles is neither a technical history nor a

detailed account of the salvage work undertaken by the U.S. Navy.

Rather, it is intended to add to the general knowledge of the sea and to

document one portion of the history of the U.S. Navy. It explains how

salvage and the Navy salvage organization have developed and contributed to the overall objectives of the Navy and the nation. The specific salvage opera tions described illustrate unique aspects of naval salvage,

particular problems or techniques, and trends or progress. The omission

of a particular salvage operation in no way denigrates the importance of

that operation. There is simply not enough room here to review all Navy

salvage operations.

Just as no major salvage job is accomplished by one person, this book

is also the work of many people working together to record the toil of a

small but important part of the U.S. Navy. Three are foremost:

Commander Bill Milwee, USN (Retired), Lieutenant Commander Jim

Bladh, USN (Retired), and Vice Admiral Dave Johnson, USN (Retired).

These three provided much of the detailed research, helped structure the

book, advised on its direction, and kept it moving toward completion.

Special mention must also fall to Mr. Alex Rynecki and Ms. Helen

Sliteri who, in response to tasking from my predecessors, compiled a preliminary salvage history that served as a starting point for this document.

Throughout this project, the staff of the Naval Historical Center gave

valuable assistance in planning, reviewing, editing, and printing the history. I especially thank Dr. Dean C. Allard, Director of Naval History; Dr.

Ronald H. Spector, the former Director of Naval History; and Ms. Sandra

Doyle, Contemporary History Editor. Their professional help fine-tuned

this publication and helped bring the project to fruition.

Many others, in and outside the Navy, helped by reviewing draft

chapters, providing supplemental information, contributing family

photographs and records, and making other important contributions.

The assistance of those listed below, as well as others not named, is gratefully acknowledged.

Lieutenant Commander John W. Ackerman, USN (Retired)

Master Chief Petty Officer W.F. Aichele, USN (Retired)

Mrs. Nan C. Alpaugh

xxvi

Preface to the First Edition
Commander Bruce C. Banks, USN (Retired)

Mr. Peter S. Barracca

Ms. Helen Bebout

Captain J. Huntly Boyd, USN (Retired)

Captain James J. Coleman, USN (Retired)

Lieutenant Commander Lebbeus Curtis VII, USN

Commander Billie L. Delanoy, USN (Retired)

Judge Rosemary Denson

Commander Anton Drabik, USNR (Retired)

Mr. David W. Genereaux

Captain James W. Greely, USNR (Retired)

Captain David Hancox

Rear Admiral C. Monroe Hart, USN (Retired)

Mr. Robert R. Helen

Captain Colin M. Jones, USN (Retired)

Captain William N. Klorig, USN (Retired)

Lieutenant Commander Robert E. Kutzleb, USN (Retired)

Captain Charles S. Maclin, USN (Retired)

Commander Joseph F. Madeo, USN (Retired)

Captain Walter L. Marshall, USN (Retired)

Captain Bruce B. McCloskey, USNR (Retired)

Ms. Wanda L. Milwee

Captain Eugene B. Mitchell, USN (Retired)

Captain Robert B. Moss, USNR (Retired)

Lieutenant Commander John C. Naquin, USN (Retired)

Captain John B. Orem, USN (Retired)

Mr. Harold Price

Mr. Neil R. Price

Captain Willard F. Searle, Jr., USN (Retired)

Commander Robert K. Thurman, USN (Retired)

Mr. Jerry D. Totten

Captain John Ulrich, USN (Retired)

Mr. Peter Williams

The team that produced this chronicle has an interest in the technical and academic aspects of salvage that long predates their qualifying as

Navy salvage officers. That interest led to their reading everything they

could find on the subject and collecting small, specialized libraries. Thus

Preface to the First Edition

xxvii
xxviii

Preface to the First Edition

when this history was being planned, it seemed logical to go to the

sources well known to all active in the field, and to supplement these

readings with the thousands of salvage reports that the Navy had stowed

away in some room.

How grossly we underestimated the task! The modest body of wellknown literature does not begin to cover the broad scope of Navy salvage.

More significantly, it focuses on the “how” of individual salvage jobs, not

on the “why” of the development of salvage in the Navy. Furthermore,

the room we had envisioned as filled with salvage reports does not exist.

Over the years the Navy’s occasional, well-intentioned purges of files and

attempts to reduce paper have resulted in the destruction of many, many

salvage reports.

In retrospect, however, one of the biggest boons to this book was the

inadequacy of existing literature and the nonexistence of that room. Had

those simple sources filled the bill, much information may never have surfaced. Fortunately, salvors are pack rats, and many of the reports on their

way to the scrap heaps have wound up in the hands of salvors who

thought the documents might be of some future value. Through the generosity of many of these salvors and their families, these records, personal

recollections, and photographs were made available to us and proved

invaluable in putting together this history and ensuring its accu racy. (Few

records and no personal recollections were accepted without independent

corroboration.)

Photographs used throughout the text come from the excellent collections at the Naval Historical Center, National Archives, U.S. Naval

Institute, the large but generally uncataloged collection of the Supervisor

of Salvage, and the private collections of salvors. Many of the more

unusual photographs and most of those depicting the salvors came from

the private collections.

The tenacity, ingenuity, and vision of Navy salvors past and present

has provided the sum and substance of information on these pages. To

these courageous men I humbly dedicate this volume.
The Early Days

a

WORKING DIVER
MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

b
The Early Days

1

CHAPTER ONE

The Early Days

Marine salvage, as old as seagoing, is a unique part of the mari -

time world. Around it has grown a specialized technology, a

tough-minded international industry, a broadly based naval

community, and a unique body of law. Naval salvage is similar in technology to its commercial counterpart, but it is undertaken for far different

reasons than is the business of saving property for financial gain. The

Navy has a salvage organization and conducts salvage operations because

they advance the objectives of the Navy and the nation.

Retrieval of things lost in or threatened by the sea serves many purposes: the return of ships to service, the recovery of valuable property,

the collection of data for analysis of failures, and the removal of threats

to the environment. Returning ships to service and recovering cargoes

take on special significance in wartime, when conservation of resources

is of utmost importance.

In peacetime, salvage operations not only recover ships and material

but also contribute to the Navy’s mission of showing the flag, both at

home and abroad. Domestically, the operations are excellent opportunities to show the public the Navy at work solving real problems and contributing to the public good. Internationally, and consistent with the

Navy’s function as an instrument of public policy, salvage operations can

be undertaken for political gain. Politically beneficial salvage operations

include removal of a stranded naval vessel from the coast of another

country, removal of a wreck in a foreign harbor, clearance of an international waterway, or operations on a foreign-flag merchant ship when no

other salvors are available.

Naval salvage operations fall into four general categories: (1) afloat

and stranding salvage, (2) harbor clearance, (3) submarine salvage, and

(4) deep-ocean operations. The problems and techniques of each category

are unique, but all combine seamanship and engineering—complementary

disciplines that must be balanced in the proportions required by the

particular task.
In the first three types of salvage, people—with their skill, imagina -

tion, ingenuity, perseverance, and plain guts—are the dominant and con -

trolling factor. In deep-ocean operations, technology dominates, but the

same human qualities are required in equally large measure.

Afloat salvage is assistance provided to ships that are afire, flooding,

battle damaged, or victims of other misfortunes at sea. This kind of salvage can be conducted by any type of ship, but serious cases usually

require the services of specially configured salvage ships or rescue tugs

with trained personnel. In wartime, when naval operations in the combat

zone are intense and damage to ships frequent, afloat salvage is constant.

Many jobs are small and warrant no more than a line or two in a ship’s

log. However, the cumulative effect of such jobs mounts.

Stranding salvage is the refloating of grounded ships to restrict damage

to the ship or the environment, return a valuable ship to service, or save

cargo. Ships aground on beaches and reefs are in a dangerous situation.

In conditions they were not designed to withstand, they are exposed to

structural loadings that can cause their destruction. Wind and sea combine to make the position of the ship progressively more dangerous and

the salvage harder. Stranding salvage is always difficult, dangerous, and

urgent. It requires unusual seamanship of a high standard, imaginative

engineering, and salvage ships or tugs with heavy, specialized ground

tackle to pull the grounded ship into deep water. Close relatives, afloat

and stranding salvage are primarily the province of the seaman, but the

application of engineering principles is mandatory and the services of a

salvage engineer invaluable. When they occur in a harbor, afloat and

stranding salvage may be called harbor salvage.

Harbor clearance, the removal of sunken ships or other obstacles from

harbors or navigable waterways to restore the waterway to use, is a varied

and challenging segment of naval salvage. The tools and equipment, as

well as the variety of conditions and problems faced by the salvor in harbor clearance, are quite different from afloat and stranding salvage, and

almost infinite. The greatest difference lies in the reason for the work.

Military action, accident, or natural disaster may block a waterway.

Harbor clearance is undertaken to remove the wrecks; returning them to

service is of lower priority. Harbor clearance is primarily an engineering

effort. The engineer is dominant, though the seaman has a vital role as

well.

The peculiarly naval task of submarine salvage places special requirements on both seamen and engineers. The problem of submarine salvage

was of great concern when submarines were in their infancy and losses

were relatively frequent at depths where salvage was practical with simple

resources. Because of the techniques used and the organizations developed, the salvage of some of these submarines forms an important part of

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

2
the story of Navy salvage. More recently, deep-diving nuclear subma rines

lost at great depths have made salvage of entire hulls impractical.

Complex search operations have been staged to locate these hulls and

discover the cause of their loss. Submarine losses attract such widespread

international attention that the military and political benefits of a salvage

or search operation may outweigh the costs of developing and implementing complex and expensive technology. As long as submarines are operated,

the Navy must remain alert to the possibility that these complex warships

may have to be salvaged from the ordinary hazards of the sea or from the

sea bottom at great depths.

In deep-ocean operations, objects are located, investigated, and recovered from the ocean floor, sometimes at great depths. It is in these operations that the relative roles of engineers and seamen are most nearly

balanced. This kind of work in the deep ocean requires engineering at

least as sophisticated as that involved in going into space. The application of ocean technology demands outstanding knowledge of the sea and

its environmental conditions, and the ability to use this knowledge. Thus,

in deep-ocean operations, as in all branches of salvage, the seaman and

the engineer must work together; neither can do the job alone.

A salvage job is the sum of the abilities and strengths of a coordinated

team in which each member supports the others. A salvor must be able to

function both independently and as a team member. Success in salvage,

whether a small operation or a large-scale national effort, results from a

proper balance of four elements: (1) trained and experienced individuals,

(2) well-designed and soundly built ships, (3) the right equipment, and (4)

an umbrella of operational concepts and doctrine for employment of the

first three elements. While the balance will shift with the type of work,

none can stand without the others. Similarly, the resources of the nation,

the Navy, and industry must work together to provide the United States

with salvage services that will adequately protect its coasts and resources in

peacetime and expand to meet national objectives in an emergency.

From a technical viewpoint, naval and commercial salvors do the

same things. The similarity has influenced the development of both naval

operations and the commercial salvage industry. Indeed, before worldwide operations required a large naval logistics force with a specialized

salvage organization, naval salvage was often done by contract.

Until World War I there was no permanent salvage organization in

the U.S. Navy. Teams were assembled by the Navy for specific jobs and

disbanded when the work was complete. Even in World War I, when

Navy salvage units were first established, the bulk of the salvage work was

done by commercial salvors hired to supplement the naval effort and to

provide salvage services outside the combat zone. Again in World War II,

the marine salvage industry, designated as the Navy Salvage Service,

The Early Days

3
formed a vital part of the total salvage organization and made it possible

for uniformed naval salvors to be employed in direct support of combat

forces.

The value of the marine salvage industry and of the naval salvage

contractor, in particular, to the Navy and U.S. maritime operations was

recognized by the passage of enabling legislation that became known as

the Salvage Facilities Act (Public Law 80–513). In 1948 Congress authorized the Secretary of the Navy, inter alia, to “provide salvage services by

contract or otherwise for public and private vessels upon such terms as he

determines to be in the best interests of the United States.”1 Reflecting

the lessons of the war, the act laid the legislative foundation for the long

and valuable relationship between the Navy and the marine salvage

industry that continues to benefit both. Contractors provide an important augmentation of naval salvage forces and give the Navy a greater

capability than would be economical to maintain in peacetime. American

salvage companies extend the salvage capability of the Navy and provide

an option for accomplishing work when fleet units cannot or should not

be used. Overseas contractors give the Navy the means to respond to salvage emergencies in areas where fleet forces may not be available. Navy

contracts, in turn, provide a de facto subsidy to the American salvage

industry, thus ensuring that a strong industry is available upon which

mobilization can be based.

In the Navy there are three distinct levels of salvage activity. The first

level is the management of salvage—the administration, training, budgeting,

development, acquisition, and, most important, planning that makes possible an organization capable of conducting operations. This management

of the salvage organization and the planning for the future, rather than the

more glamorous operations themselves, properly occupies most of the time

of senior salvors. Without continuous, intense management effort before

and during a specific operation, there would be no successful salvage. The

senior salvors engaged in this management must have a thorough grounding in the nuts, bolts, and sweat of salvage operations.

At the second level are the so-called routine salvage operations. These

minor salvage operations, each posing its own unique challenge, may mean

only a few hours underway for a salvage ship or a few days of diving and rigging for a small team. In wartime, this activity is continuous; in peacetime,

nearly so. These small salvage operations, each important and with the

value of the whole being greater than the sum of its parts, make up the bulk

of the work of salvors. It is from these routine operations that most lessons

are learned and most technical development takes place.

110 USC 7361(a).

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

4
The final level of activity occurs when there are major operations.

Major operations in peace and war may be likened to the huge freak

waves that appear irregularly at sea, dramatically change the pattern of

activity, and are gone. Their effect is greater than their frequency war -

rants. A salvage organization must be prepared for the tremendous

changes that major operations bring. The managerial difficulty lies in

being prepared for the challenges of these events without maintaining an

organization that is too large and overequipped to carry on its day-to-day

business economically. The Navy has addressed this problem in a number

of ways. The occasional major salvage operation, for example, receives

much attention at all levels and may help to accelerate changes in doctrines, procedures, and acquisition plans.

Except in the U.S. Navy, salvage has been taught exclusively in the

dear school of experience. The system developed in the Navy for training

salvage officers and salvage mechanics has no equivalent. Navy salvors

are thoroughly trained in the theory and practice of salvage before they

ever participate in a salvage operation. The training is academically and

physically tough, for it is far better to weed out those who are unsuitable

at the training stage than during a critical operation.

Formal technical and operational training in salvage provides basic

understanding and skills in a few weeks rather than through a long

apprenticeship. As World War II and Vietnam proved, rapid training is

especially useful in times of national emergency when many salvors are

needed quickly. In peacetime, this training supplies the Naval Reserve

officers and others who complement salvage units and who augment the

cadre of regulars. These trained and experienced reservists, after they

complete their short active service, are building blocks for emergencies.

Because naval and commercial salvage use similar technology and techniques, many Navy salvors move easily into commercial salvage, thus further improving cooperation between the U.S. Navy and the American

salvage industry.

In the days when wooden sailing ships formed the naval fleets of the

world, warships could be kept at sea with no support as long as their crews

could stand it. They never ran out of fuel because they used none. Repairs

could be undertaken by the crews in any sheltered bay. Paradoxically, the

application of technology, metal construction, and steam pro pulsion to

warships in the nineteenth century limited warships’ range and mobility.

They became dependent on supplies of fuel and on repair bases capable of

keeping the hulls sound and the machinery turning. Logistics took on a

new meaning for navies. In the U.S. Navy it led to forces that grew from

the Fleet Train of the Spanish-American War to the Base Force that followed World War I, the huge Service Forces of World War II, and the

Mobile Logistic Support Force of the 1970s and 1980s.

The Early Days

5
The same technology that limited the range and mobility of warships

and led to the development of logistics forces made organized salvage

possible. When a wooden ship ran ashore, the crew could sometimes free

it by judicious use of ground tackle and muscle, but often there was little

to be done other than rescue the crew and save the cargo, a situation that

gave rise to the cottage industry known as “wrecking” practiced by

coastal inhabitants. The ship that sank was usually lost as there were seldom the means to raise it. With the application of steam power to tugs, it

became practical to provide assistance to ships stranded on a lee shore.

Powered tugs were able to maneuver in the face of the wind and sea

rather than be driven by them. During these early years of stranding salvage, the basic techniques—laying heavy ground tackle to seaward and

pulling against it with purchases to move the grounded ship into deep

water—were developed. The contemporaneous development of power

machinery, compressors, pumps, and the like combined with the growing

human ability to work underwater to make it possible to refloat wrecked

vessels that could previously only be left to the sea.

In the mid-nineteenth century the United States had a prosperous and

growing shipping industry, but there was a dark side to it. In 1860, for

example, thirty-five American ships with a value of $1.5 million were wrecked

each month with an annual loss of life estimated at 1,500. Professional salvors

who understood and could apply the seamanship and engineering skills of salvage were few; the field was dominated by self- appointed amateurs who often

did more harm than good. The situation was intolerable for the insurance

underwriters because losses caused pre-miums to escalate. On 11 May 1860

the Board of Marine Underwriters of New York City met in special session and

called upon Captain Israel J. Merritt of Long Island, New York, to put marine

salvage on a businesslike basis. Captain Merritt, with a Gloucester mackerel

schooner and $8,000 worth of salvage equipment, formed the Coast Wrecking

Company. The foundation was laid for the American salvage industry that the

Navy was to use so effectively in the future.

Early Navy Salvage

Salvage capability in the Navy developed, as did the modern Navy,

in the last quarter of the nineteenth century. There were no formal salvage forces; the Navy relied on temporarily formed organizations. The

divers, whose primary jobs were ship maintenance and torpedo recovery,

were trained at a school set up in Newport, Rhode Island, in 1882 under

the direction of Chief Gunner’s Mate Jacob Anderson. Salvage, which

often required underwater work, was a natural extension for these

divers.

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

6
The records of the Bureau of Construction and Repair for the early

years of the twentieth century show numerous Navy salvage operations.

These included the pumping, patching, and raising of the 204-foot

Machias (Gunboat No. 5), sunk during a storm at Pensacola, Florida, in

1907; and the salvage of three Spanish gunboats, Isla de Luzon, Isla de

Cuba, and Don Juan d’Austria. The latter were salvaged after being sunk

or scuttled at the Battle of Manila Bay and later served in the U.S. Navy

under their original names. No doubt many jobs went unrecorded or

records have been lost.

One of the most interesting early salvage cases involved a famous ship

of the U.S. Navy and deserves a place in the history of Navy salvage,

although the work was not done by the Navy.

On 15 February 1898, as a precursor to the Spanish-American War,

the 6,682-ton, 319-foot, second-class battleship Maine experienced a

major explosion and sank in the Havana harbor. The wreck was inspected by divers but lay essentially undisturbed until 1909, when increased

traffic in the harbor made its removal or dispersal desirable. Although

cutting the ship by using explosives and subsequently removing the pieces

would have been the simplest solution, the desire to examine the wreck

to determine the cause of the explosion provided a sound reason to

expose the hull without imposing further damage.

The Navy had no central organization for salvage, and the work was a

heavy engineering effort. It was quite logically assigned to the Army Corps

of Engineers, who had the means to accomplish it as well as a responsibility for maintaining navigable waterways. This job marked the beginning of

a long and harmonious relationship between the Navy and the Corps of

Engineers in the field of wreck removal in inland waters. How this relationship changed as Navy salvage developed will be discussed later.

The damage to the hull of Maine was so extensive that underwater

repairs to allow dewatering and refloating the hull intact were not practicable. To permit examination of the wreck as it lay, the salvage plan called

for construction of a watertight cofferdam around the entire ship. Then

experts could examine it and determine the best method of clearing it. The

construction of the cofferdam was a major engineering effort, beginning in

1911 and lasting almost a year. Interlocking sheet pile cylinders, each 54

feet in diameter, were driven into the dense, blue-clay harbor bottom

and filled with similar clay from other parts of the harbor. When the cofferdam was watertight, the water was pumped out of the basin, leaving

the hull dry and available for examination on the harbor bottom. These

examinations showed the damage to the hull to be so extensive that repairing it “in the dry” and refloating the ship were not possible. The hull was

cut into two sections; each was subsequently made watertight, refloated,

and sunk in deep water.

The Early Days

7
The operation had accomplished all its goals. The hull had been

examined; the harbor was clear. Based on examination of the wreckage,

the finding of a previous investigation of the cause of the accident was

confirmed. However, the cause of the loss remained controversial, and

the findings of the investigation were later refuted in a carefully documented 1976 study made by Admiral Hyman G. Rickover.2 The original

investi gation, and the one undertaken when the hull was examined,

concluded that the ship had been destroyed by an external explosion,

probably a Spanish mine. The Rickover analysis demonstrated that an

internal ex plosion caused the loss of the ship.

Inevitably, a few Navy ships required salvage, some in remote regions

where facilities were limited. With no salvage organization in the Navy,

operations were undertaken by those on the scene with the resources they

could muster. Two incidents in the Pacific, the salvage of the floating drydock Dewey at Subic Bay, Philippines, and the salvage of Princeton

(Gunboat No. 13) at Pago Pago, Samoa, illustrate salvage operations carried

out by such ad hoc organizations.

2H.G. Rickover, How the Battleship Maine Was Destroyed (Washington: Naval History

Division, 1976).

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

8

Earth-filled cofferdams 54 feet in diameter provide access to the wreck of the battleship

Maine on the bottom of Havana harbor.
In May 1909, when the 500-foot floating drydock Dewey sank in

Subic Bay, a salvage team was assembled from divers assigned to ships in

port. Two unsuccessful attempts to raise the dock by two different methods were made; a third attempt using yet another method was successful.

In the first attempt, compressed air was blown into the 100-foot-high

wing walls to force water out. Because of defects in the Dewey’s workmanship and deterioration of structure and piping, air leaked from compartment to compartment into the high side of the dock. The low side was left

without buoyancy. In the second attempt the drydock’s pumps, because of

their arrangement, would take water from the high side only. For the final

attempt, cofferdams were built on the drydock’s hatches. With steam for

the dock’s machinery provided by a ship alongside, Dewey was pumped

out and successfully raised after five weeks of work. In retrospect, the

effort was notable in that it was a conventional salvage operation done

without experienced salvors. (One suspects that experienced salvors

would have recognized the inherent problems of the first two refloating

attempts and avoided them.)

Princeton, returning to the naval station at Pago Pago on the evening

of 11 July 1914, struck an uncharted pinnacle and holed herself. With no

suitable place for an intentional beaching to prevent sinking, the vessel

was brought into the naval station and placed alongside the pier, where

she promptly sank. As soon as the ship was alongside the pier, anchors

were put out and lines run ashore to trees and deadmen (buried logs or

other objects) to prevent her from sliding down the reef, and a pump suction was run to the nearby powerhouse. When pumping started, the ship

rolled to starboard, uncovering the hull damage.

More deadmen, consisting of cast iron and concrete pedestals intended for the steel dock, were buried, and lines with purchases were run

to the mastheads. Divers lightened the ship. Anyone who has done salvage work in the islands of the Pacific can testify to the shortage of the

most basic materials for salvage. To salvage Princeton it was necessary to

order pumps, hoses, plate, lumber, and patching materials from the

United States.

While waiting for the material, salvors closed all openings in the

ship’s hull. When these had been secured, the damage covered by a wooden patch, and the pumps placed, pumping and heaving on the masthead

tackles started. Pumping was slowed by the need to patch undiscovered

openings and to replace failed patches. While pumping was in progress,

divers opened doors to assure the continuous flow of water to the pumps.

The ship was raised without further incident. Princeton salvors were fortunate. We shall see later how the free longitudinal flow of water hindered the salvage of one of the ships sunk in the 1941 Pearl Harbor

attack.

The Early Days

9
The First Deep Salvage (F–4)

Less than a year after Princeton’s salvage, a very different salvage

operation, also in the Pacific and also undertaken solely by naval forces,

set precedents for similar operations. The operation was so unusual that

the lack of experienced salvage people and conventional salvage gear was

no handicap. What was needed was sound engineering backed by sound

seamanship and common sense.

On 15 March 1915, F–4 (Submarine No. 23), ex-Skate, was lost in

approximately 51 fathoms of water while making a short submerged run

off the island of Oahu, Hawaii.3 The submarine was 142 feet, 9 inches

long, with a submerged displacement of 400 tons and a designed depth of

200 feet. An oil slick and air bubbles about two miles from the harbor

entrance led to dragging operations that positively located the boat; there

were no apparent signs of life. The submarine lay far deeper than divers

had yet descended with existing equipment and methods. In an effort to

reach the boat on the day of the loss, Chief Gunner’s Mates Evans and

Agraz dived to a depth of 190 feet and Chief Agraz later dived to 215 feet;

they neither reached nor sighted the vessel.

The only possible chance of saving any survivors was to drag the boat

into shallow water because no lifting gear could be made and rigged in the

time available. Dragging would work only if the boat was not completely

flooded. Sweeps were made by the tugs Navajo and Intrepid to pass a wirerope sling around the hulk and drag it into shallow water. The sling was

passed on the day following the accident, but even with two additional

tugs the boat could not be moved. Rescuing the crew appeared hopeless,

but one more attempt was warranted. A dredge was brought to the scene;

a wire was swept under the submarine, its ends taken to heavy purchase

rigged for heaving. If a portion of the submarine remained unflooded and

buoyant, there was a possibility of moving the boat into shallow water by

heaving with the dredge and towing with tugs. No progress could be

made. One of the wires parted at its maximum load. There was no question that F–4 was filled with water. The rescue attempt was necessarily,

but regretfully, concluded.

Because F–4 was the Navy’s first submarine loss, there was an intense desire within the Navy to determine the cause of the casualty. In

addition, there was public interest in the recovery of the bodies of the

crew. Naval Constructor (Lieutenant Commander) Julius A. Furer, who

was in Hawaii for construction of the new naval station at Pearl Harbor,

3Early U.S. Navy submarines were given both names and numbers that designated their class

and their order in the class. Names were later discontinued, and the names previously given were

taken away. No names were given to submarines through the S class of World War I; they were known

only by a letter and number designation. Each boat also had an identification, or hull number, such

as Submarine No. 23 above. After 1 July 1920, these identifications were simplified, or in the case of

the F–4, its hull number became SS 23.

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

10
was placed in charge of the technical side of salvage. Eventually, total

responsibility for the work was Furer’s. After evaluating the situation,

Furer determined that multiple short lifts and tows were the only feasible

way of raising the boat.

Faced with a lack of specialized equipment for the job and an industrially unsophisticated base in Hawaii, Furer demonstrated one of the

essential characteristics of a salvor—the ability to improvise with the

materials and vessels at hand. Two sturdily constructed 104-by-36-foot

mud scows belonging to a local dredging company had the strength to

carry the suspended weight of the submarine. A lifting system was built

from these scows using I-beams planned for a coal storage facility, sugar

mill shafts for windlasses, and miscellaneous machinery that was either

available or made for the job.

Knowing that the position of the lift slings was critical to the salvage

and that their positions could be verified only visually, Furer requested

the best divers available. Gunner George D. Stillson, the Navy’s expert on

diving, was ordered to the scene from the New York Navy Yard, where

The Early Days

11

On 15 February 1929, President Calvin Coolidge presented the Medal of Honor to Chief

Petty Officer Frank W. Crilley for his heroism in the rescue of Chief Petty Officer William

F. Loughman during salvage operations on the submarine F–4. Left to right: President

Coolidge, Chief Crilley, now-Ensign Loughman, Secretary of the Navy Curtis P. Wilbur,

and Chief of Naval Operations Charles F. Hughes.
he had been assigned to test and review all existing diving apparatus and

techniques for the Bureau of Construction and Repair. Gunner Stillson

brought with him his team of four divers—Frank Crilley, Stephen

Drellishak, Frederick Nilson, and William Loughman—along with diving

physician Dr. George R.W. French, their diving gear, and recompression

chamber. The team arrived in Hawaii on 14 April on board Maryland

(Armored Cruiser No. 8) and set to work immediately.

Chief Crilley made the first dive just two days after arrival. He

reached F–4, more than 300 feet down, and reported that the boat was

upright but that the slings would have to be moved. The first dive demonstrated that divers would be invaluable. Because of the depth of the

water, dives were short and diving work limited to observation, but observation of the position of the lift slings and the condition of the wreck was

critical to the success of the operation. The futility of attempting work at

the lower depths was illustrated when a diver remained on the bottom for

thirty minutes trying to pass a small reeving line. He was not aware of

fatigue on the bottom but collapsed from exhaustion on the surface and

did not regain his strength for several days. Except for one incident in

which Chief Loughman became entangled and was rescued by Chief

Crilley, the divers, working with long decompressions on rudimentary

schedules, reached record open-sea depths and suffered only mild occurrences of decompression sickness.

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

12

The final lift of the submarine F–4 was made using these submarine salvage pontoons

designed by Naval Constructor Julius A. Furer.
A dredge with its boom and bucket gear removed was selected as the

central salvage unit because it had a winch with six independently operated drums. After lifting wires were swept under the submarine, they were

taken to the dredge for hauling, then passed to the windlasses on the mud

scows. When the wires had been passed, a series of lifts and moves were

made. Because the wire-rope slings chafed on the submarine’s hull during

the early lifts, a portion of the Maryland’s anchor cable was used to make

composite chain and wire-rope slings. After nine lifts of between 8 and 55

feet in an operation dogged by bad weather, the boat was moved into 48

feet of water on 25 May.

A diving inspection of the hull showed severe hull damage and the

likelihood of fracture if the same lifting method was continued. If the

hull fractured and the boat was lost, the channel into Honolulu could be

blocked and the opportunity to determine the cause of the casualty

would be lost. The problem now was to lift the submarine in one step

from its depth to a draft of not more than 25 feet, the maximum for the

Honolulu drydock.

To accomplish this, Furer developed what became known as the Sub -

marine Pontoon Salvage Method. In this method, chains are worked

under the wreck and secured to flooded pontoons alongside the sunken

submarine. The pontoons are blown with compressed air, and the wreck,

supported by the cradle of chains, rises. Furer designed six 32-foot-long,

cylindrical, wood-sheathed pontoons, with a total lifting capacity of 420

tons, and supervised their construction at Mare Island Navy Yard in

California. The wooden sheathing was one of the most important features

of the pontoons’ design because it allowed their use in situations where

heavy and frequent impact could puncture an unsheathed steel hull.

When Furer returned to Hawaii with the pontoons, Chief Gunner’s

Mates Agraz, Evans, O’Brien, and McMillian from the Submarine

Division began the heavy work of rigging the pontoons. This task

required many hours of heavy underwater work that could not have been

performed in deeper water. On Sunday morning, 29 August, the pontoons were blown dry from air flasks installed on a coal barge, and the

submarine was raised and towed into the harbor. It was placed in drydock the following day. A minute examination of the hull revealed the

cause of the accident to be leakage through rivet holes where the rivets

had been eaten away by battery acid. The holes were not accessible for

inspection. Determination of the cause of the loss of F–4 resulted in

design changes to U.S. Navy submarines.

The Navy had responded to its first submarine disaster by diving to

unprecedented depths, developing the basic design of its submarine salvage pontoons, and employing a system of lifting with pontoons that

would serve well in future submarine salvage operations.

The Early Days

13
A Different Kind of Submarine Salvage (H–3)

The submarine H–3 (Submarine No. 30), ex-Garfish, figured in

another classic but very different type of Navy salvage operation.

In the early morning fog of 14 December 1916, H–3 grounded on

Samoa Beach near Eureka, California. The crew was taken off in a dramatic and heroic rescue operation by the U.S. Coast Guard. An unsuccessful salvage attempt was made by Cheyenne (Monitor No. 10) and the

tug Iroquois. Shortly after Christmas, following standard practice, the

commandant of Mare Island Navy Yard, who had responsibility for the

salvage, called for bids to refloat the stranded submarine. Six bids ranging from $18,000 to $72,000 were received. Most were considered too

high. The $18,000 bid from Mercer Fraser Company, a Eureka construction company, was worrisomely low; it was so much lower than the others

that the government was skeptical that the contractor could do the work.

Accordingly, the Navy decided to undertake the salvage itself.

Now supplemented by the 9,700-ton flagship of the Coast Torpedo

Force, Milwaukee (Cruiser No. 21) with 21,000 indicated horsepower,

Iroquois and Cheyenne were brought to Samoa Beach to pull the stranded

submarine free. Two 2-inch-diameter wire ropes 4,000 feet long were

attached to the submarine and to the stern of Milwaukee. A ship not

designed for towing, with a heavily loaded tow wire made up near her

stern, can easily find herself “in irons”—unable to maneuver. To prevent

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

14

The grounding of the submarine H–3 at Samoa Beach in northern California resulted in

a spectacular salvage. Note the cruiser Milwaukee in the background.
this, Iroquois and Cheyenne were made up on Milwaukee’s bow with long

towlines. In dense fog the night of 13 January 1917, after pulling two days,

Iroquois’s towline parted. Before another towline could be rigged, the

cruiser, unable to maneuver and at the mercy of a strong current, was

forced ashore. She grounded hard and later broke up, a total loss.4

As ships stranded on sandy beaches will do, H–3 had worked her way

300 feet north and buried herself 6 feet deeper in the sand, still some 250

feet below the high-water mark. The naval units were removed from the

salvage work, and a contract was negotiated with Mercer Fraser5 for their

original bid price of $18,000.

The imaginative salvage plan called for moving the submarine overland more than a mile and launching her into Humboldt Bay. In the first

of two phases, pilings were driven around the ship to support jacks used

in conjunction with a timber crib and lifting slings to raise the submarine

and lower it onto rollers. Once she was on the rollers, a short move was

4Milwaukee was later stripped by building a pier to the ship from the beach and removing salvaged equipment across the beach. Among the items removed was the parted towline, which was

dragged ashore in a great bight to overcome the friction encountered when dragging a wire lengthwise through sand. 5Mercer Fraser remains in business at this writing as a general construction contractor in

Eureka, California.

The Early Days

15

The greatest cost of the H–3 salvage operation was the loss of the cruiser Milwaukee,

which found herself in irons and was forced ashore while pulling on H–3.
made to above the high-water mark. There, work to prepare for the move

to Humboldt Bay could be done without concern for the tide.

In the second phase, the wooden cribbing necessary to the jacking

was removed and pine logs 80 feet long and 40 inches in diameter were

placed on each side of the ship. Heavy wire ropes were wrapped around

these logs and timber bobbers—bolted balks of four 14-by-14-inch timbers

each 20 feet long and shod with hard wood—were placed under them. All

the weight coming on the bobbers was carried at the center, permitting

them to equalize when the grade changed. Rollers of California laurel 4 feet

long and 8 inches in diameter were placed 4 inches apart under the bobbers. The submarine was hauled along a pine track by a winch working

through two fivefold purchases. H–3 moved along at an average rate of

550 feet per day and was launched into Humboldt Bay on 20 April 1917.

A submarine had been salvaged by a skilled and imaginative effort,

but the cost—the loss of Milwaukee—was high. The difficulties of the salvage problem presented by H–3 were not fully appreciated by the naval

officers involved because they lacked experience in salvage seamanship

and took action that, however well intentioned, proved costly.

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

16

H–3 is moved overland on wooden tracks for launching in the calm waters of Humboldt

Bay.
World War I

The entry of the United States into World War I found the Navy

with some broad experience in salvage, but with no permanent organization for salvage operations. The economics of the salvage business in the

early twentieth century had left the United States with three major salvage companies—Merritt and Chapman of New York, Yankee Salvor of

Boston, and T.A. Scott of New London. Each maintained ships and facilities along the Atlantic Coast. With the entry of the United States into

the war, a salvage corps was founded under the direction of the Chief

Constructor, the head of the Navy’s Construction Corps (CC). The

diving school in Newport was disbanded so that its men, along with civilian salvage masters who had been enrolled in the Construction Corps,

could be sent to France to assist with salvage operations there. These

forces joined British, French, and Italian salvors to form an Allied salvage

force.

Because World War I was primarily a land war on the European continent, the requirement to clear numerous harbors blocked by a retreating

enemy or by heavy air attacks, common in World War II, did not exist.

But cases of salvage from maritime accidents had to be handled, and a few

cases of intentional blockage had to be cleared. Huge quantities of shipping flowed into European ports to transport the American Expeditionary

Force and give it logistic support. This sea transport, operating with

U-boat opposition, required that shipping lanes and ports be kept open

and that salvage forces be available and ready.

In 1917 the British, with the full support of Vice Admiral William S.

Sims, petitioned the United States to provide ships to help refloat merchant ships grounded on the French coast. The British ships engaged in

this work were privately owned and had civilian crews, but their work was

assigned and coordinated by a newly created Admiralty Salvage Section

led by the renowned salvor, Sir Frederick Young, under the Director of

Naval Equipment.

The U.S. Navy had no salvage ships of its own, so the British request

was passed by the Chief Constructor to the three American salvage companies. None of the three believed that the financial risk was justified.

Resolution of the problem fell to the Assistant Secretary of the Navy, the

official who traditionally dealt with civilian labor and contracting for the

Navy. The Navy was fortunate to have the vigorous and imaginative

Franklin D. Roosevelt as its assistant secretary.

Roosevelt called one ship each from T.A. Scott and Merritt and

Chapman into government service and rented equipment for overseas

service from them. The two ships were manned by naval reservists with

salvage experience. They sailed for Europe under the direction of two

The Early Days

17
Naval Reserve commanders—Walter N. Davis, manager of the offshore

division of Merritt and Chapman, and Harold Witherspoon, an owner of

Yankee Salvor. A third Reserve officer, T.A. Scott, remained in the

United States as Assistant for Salvage Affairs to Roosevelt. The ships

arrived on the French coast in time to join the British in numerous salvage efforts, which saved significant amounts of money and cargo.

Unfortunately, complete records of these operations were not kept or

have been lost.

Meanwhile, in American waters, the winter of 1917–18 in the North

Atlantic was particularly cold. With the commercial salvage ships overseas, salvage responsibilities along the northeastern coast of the United

States fell to a hastily recruited minesweeper squadron made up of

trawlers and menhaden fishing boats. These boats gave salvage assistance to both naval and commercial vessels. With the extreme weather

there was no shortage of work. Among the vessels assisted were Texas

(Battleship No. 35) when she grounded off Clay Head on Block Island

and the gunboat Don Juan d’Austria, which grounded entering Woods

Hole when she miscalculated the set of the current.

One of the largest salvage operations of the war years was carried out

by the Merritt organization in New York harbor when the steamer St. Paul

capsized between Piers 60 and 61 in the North River on 25 April 1918.6

The vessel was refloated in a pulling and pumping operation that provided an interesting preview of a much larger operation, the salvage of

Lafayette, that would take place nearby in a much larger war some

twenty-three years later. The St. Paul salvage operation, as well as the

operations off New England the preceding winter, emphasized that during periods of mobilization all resources cannot be sent overseas; some

personnel, ships, and equipment must be retained for salvage in home

waters.

Although few records remain of the Navy’s salvage operations in

World War I, its effort surely contributed to victory by saving ships and

cargoes that would otherwise have been lost. Though vital at the time,

the total salvage activities were too restricted in quantity and geographic area to have significant value in future planning. When the war

was over and demobilization was complete, the Navy maintained no

permanent salvage organization.

6 St. Paul had been requisitioned from the International Navigation Company for service as an

armed merchant cruiser in the Spanish-American War. In this capacity she drove off the Spanish

destroyer Terror at San Juan. She later served as a transport. Restored to her owners in the fall of

1898, she returned to trade. She gained some notoriety in 1908 when she collided with and sank the

British cruiser Gladiator in The Solent off south England. Gladiator subsequently became the object

of a noted salvage operation conducted by Captain Frederick Young of the Liverpool Salvage

Association. St. Paul was again in government service as a transport when she capsized.

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

18
The Early Days

CH2a

SQUALUS
MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

CH2b
CHAPTER TWO

Between the Wars

After World War I, when the Navy attempted to return the salvage

ships to their owners, trouble developed quickly. The owners

claimed that such severe damage had occurred during the

Atlantic crossings that major reconstruction was necessary; the Navy felt

the ships were beyond economic repair and that their condition stemmed

from age and prior service. Merritt and Chapman and Yankee Salvor also

believed that T.A. Scott, acting in his capacity as Assistant for Salvage

Affairs, had looted their warehouses, sending good equipment to his own

New London warehouse and replacing it with worn and damaged equipment returned from overseas. It appeared that the claims would have to

be settled by the courts.

Acting with considerable foresight, Assistant Secretary of the Navy

Franklin Roosevelt again intervened. He invited Ralph Chapman and

Scott to meet him in his suite at New York’s Powhatan Hotel to have an

after-dinner drink and discuss the future of the salvage industry and the

best interests of the United States. Seeing the long-term value of an

industry that could be called into service to support the Navy and realizing that it was not in the Navy’s current interest to acquire large stores

of expensive and seldom-used salvage equipment, Roosevelt was seeking

a way to provide salvage protection to the Navy while preserving the

industry.

Business planning for the salvage industry has always been difficult,

for there is no method of predicting when and where casualties will occur.

Roosevelt felt that the general business climate was not propitious for

salvors. The three salvage companies had not been making adequate

profits in recent years, and prospects for the future were not good; in fact,

Yankee Salvor went into bankruptcy shortly after demobilization.

Casualties were expected to decrease because ships were better built and

more efficient than before, crews were better trained, and navigation aids

were better and more numerous. A decrease in casualties is good for shipping, but not for those who make their living from salvage. Seeing too little

Between the Wars

19
work to justify a number of companies, Roosevelt proposed that the

salvors devise a plan for consolidating their resources. He believed that

one company with a virtual monopoly on salvage in American waters

could operate profitably and still provide a base for wartime expansion.

From a business viewpoint the proposal made sense. When the pot

was sweetened, it became inevitable. Roosevelt suggested that, given its

interest in the viability of the American salvage industry, the Navy would

pursue a policy of contracting for everything but submarine salvage

through the Bureau of Construction and Repair. Business would be conducted on the no-cure, no-pay basis traditional for salvage (the salvor

could refuse if the risk was too great), and the newly formed company

would agree to send help immediately to any distressed Navy ship in

American coastal waters.

The Navy had on hand a surplus of Bird-class minesweepers. These

180-foot, 950-ton, single-screw, steam-propelled combined tug/minesweepers had been built in a wartime shipbuilding program that had

enjoyed a higher priority than the destroyer building program. They were

excellent candidates for conversion to salvage ships. Some of the ships

were in commission and some were not yet completed; a number were

scheduled to be cut up for scrap. Roosevelt proposed that some of the

uncompleted ships be sold to the salvors for what they were worth to the

Navy, that is, their scrap value less the cost of cutting them up.

The meeting lasted through the night. Scott and Chapman, seeing

the worth of Roosevelt’s proposals, left the assistant secretary’s suite for

an early breakfast and made their plans. Thus the Merritt-Chapman and

Scott Salvage Corporation was born. The new company purchased four

Bird-class minesweepers and fitted them out as salvage ships. Combined

with those they already owned, these ships gave the salvors sufficient

resources to base four ships along the Atlantic Coast and a fifth on the

Pacific Coast. Salvage stations with reserve equipment and repair ships

were set up at New London; Staten Island; Key West; Kingston, Jamaica;

and San Pedro, California.

A New Navy-Industry Relationship

A series of contracts, designated NOd–210, existed between the

Bureau of Construction and Repair and Merritt-Chapman and Scott in

the years between the two world wars. These contracts carried no annual

fee but provided that, upon the orders of a naval district commandant, the

company would undertake the salvage of a naval ship on a no-cure, nopay basis with provisions that the salvor had the right to refuse work if the

risk appeared too great. If the work was successful, a board composed

of one member from each organization involved would determine the

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

20
salvor’s compensation based on the value of the ship and cargo and the

risks taken by the salvor. The final payment was subject to the approval

of the Secretary of the Navy.

The Bureau of Construction and Repair, the forerunner of the Bureau

of Ships and today’s Naval Sea Systems Command, was the Navy’s technical agency responsible for the design, construction, and maintenance of

warships. It was staffed largely by officers of the Construction Corps,

known as naval constructors, who, because of their technical training and

expertise, were also active in salvage. The bureau had no direct military

responsibilities for undertaking salvage operations, but it could arrange

for salvage work by contractors and could provide technical assistance for

salvage work by naval forces. With the designation of the Bureau of

Construction and Repair as the contracting agency for salvage and for the

regular letting of salvage contracts, the seeds were sown for a permanent

Navy organization devoted to salvage.

Policy that would affect Navy salvage for the next eighteen years was

set. The arrangement was totally satisfactory for all parties. The new

company had a close working relationship with the Navy that enhanced

its business; the Navy was relieved of the responsibility for maintaining

expensive salvage stores for infrequent operations; and, because of wartime cooperation between the two, the nation had the basis for a military

salvage capability.

Other than administration of the salvage contract by the Bureau of

Construction and Repair, there was little active Navy involvement in salvage management or routine minor salvage operations immediately following World War I. When the Navy did become involved in salvage

between the two world wars, however, there was a sharp, intense peak of

activity.

DeLong: A Joint Salvage Effort

The salvage of the destroyer DeLong (DD 129) in 1921 was one of

the first examples of a salvage conducted jointly by the Navy and its salvage contractor, demonstrating the effectiveness of the combination.

Running in a fog at 10 knots en route from San Diego to San

Francisco, the ship grounded in Half Moon Bay, California, in the early

morning of 1 December 1921. Under the impetus of the surf, DeLong

moved inshore until her bow was at the low-water mark, well within the

rock strata that lie at an angle to the beach in the bay. She moved so far

inland that it was not possible to get alongside in a shallow draft vessel,

making it necessary to work from the beach. In accordance with

Murphy’s Law, this would not be easy because the ship was grounded near

the base of a 50-foot-high bluff.

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21
A major factor in the successful salvage of DeLong was the prompt arrival

at the site of experienced salvors who could evaluate the situation and take

the initial action often critical in stranding salvage. One of the most important early actions was weighing the ship down by flooding enough compartments so that she would not be driven further inshore. This work was done

by the ship’s crew, with some of the flooding done by bucket line, a slow and

laborious process. To prevent broaching, anchors were laid to seaward and led

to deck purchases. A salvage tug laid 5,000-pound anchors, and messenger

lines were passed by a Coast Guard launch firing shot lines.

Meanwhile, salvage equipment had been trucked in and sheer legs

rigged on the bluff for putting pumps, hauling purchases, and other

equipment on board. Trucks connected to purchases hauled the gear on

board and later hauled the deck purchases. There were some problems

connected with the trucks: One was arrested for being overloaded,

another smashed a bridge that had to be rebuilt, and several had to be

towed over poor sections of road. Because of the slack in the rigging, the

face of the bluff had to be modified for some of the heavier loads. Black

powder charges were tried, but when reasonably sized charges failed to do

the job, sailors with picks and shovels took over and did it.

The calculations of the salvage engineer, Lieutenant William Nelson

(CC), showed that both stability and pumping capacity were adequate.

As is usual in salvage operations, not all the information needed for precise calculations was available and Lieutenant Nelson had to rely on

soundly based assumptions.

Weather along the California coast can be unpleasant in winter.

Heavy seas washed over the ship, breaking lines, making it necessary to

build houses over pumps to protect the magnetos, and delaying operations on several occasions. The ground swell and heavy breakers offshore

presented a hazard to the pulling operation and delayed it. When everything was ready, one pulling attempt was aborted with some damage.

On 15 December, two weeks after the grounding, the sea was moderate

and all equipment was set for a pull. The pumps were started, the purchases hauled, and a Navy tug and a commercial salvage tug began to

pull. But as the pumps lowered the water level in the ship, she started to

heel to starboard, reaching 19 degrees before suction was lost. The

refloating effort was stopped and the pumps rerigged. By 17 December

everything was again ready. The sea was smooth. Three hours before high

water, the pumps were started, purchases hauled, and the tugs began to

work up their pull. DeLong moved off her strand and swung clear of the

rocks, afloat again.

DeLong was towed to the Mare Island Navy Yard, where she was

docked for thorough inspection. The damage to her hull was found to be

both extensive and severe. She was not repaired but was stricken in 1922. 

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

22
Removal of DeLong from her strand in Half Moon Bay was a noteworthy salvage operation because of the need to operate from ashore

and the measures that had to be taken to get equipment aboard. The

most significant thing about the operation was the thoroughly professional response of the commercial and naval salvors, who took exactly

the correct action in time to limit the damage and make the salvage

possible. We shall see later that prompt correct action is always important

in stranding salvage, particularly on the West Coast of the United

States, where environmental conditions cause rapid deterioration of

casualties.

Submarine Salvage

During the period between the two world wars, submarine salvage

provided many peaks of Navy salvage activity. Just as submarines are

unique to navies, so is most submarine salvage knowledge. Because they

navigate beneath the surface of the sea, submarines are different from

surface ships not only in their construction, but also in the kinds of accidents that threaten them, and in the motivation and means for their

salvage. In addition to the hazards of subsea navigation, submarines are

exposed to all the hazards of ships navigating on the surface. We have

seen earlier how the submarine H–3 became the subject of a successful

major salvage operation following an accident that occurred while she

was navigating on the surface. In 1920 another submarine, H–1

(Submarine No. 28), grounded on the coast of Colombia during a storm

and was lost when she sank during the salvage operation.

Submarines, however, have unique design features that may make

their salvage easier. Neither the H–3 nor the F–4 salvages took advantage

of these features. H–3 was moved overland cleverly, but any object of the

same size might be moved in the same manner. Naval Constructor Furer

lifted F–4 from the bottom by a pure dead lift and the application of

external buoyancy, techniques suited to lifting any object off the ocean

floor. The choice of salvage method and the practicality of using the

design features of submarines are functions of the nature of the casualty,

the depth of the water, the equipment that can be brought to bear, and

the background and experience of the officers directing the salvage. The

cases that follow illustrate how features not found in surface ships can

enhance the salvage of submarines.

Stranded Submarines (S–19 and S–48)

A grounding on 13 January 1925 vividly demonstrates the value of

perseverance when success seems elusive in salvage operations. On that

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23
date the submarine S–19 (SS 124) ran ashore on Nauset Beach near

Orleans, Massachusetts, on the eastern shore of Cape Cod. Shortly after

S–19 ran aground, the Coast Guard cutters Acushnet and Tampa left

Woods Hole and Boston, respectively, to stand by the stranded submarine. Commander R.B. Hilliard (CC), and Tug Master B.F. Kemp left

Boston Navy Yard in Wandank (AT 26) with orders to do whatever was

necessary to salvage the submarine. Finding the submarine secure but

hard aground, Wandank anchored close in and attempted to pass a wire

rope to S–19. The attempt failed.

By now help was on the way from Merritt-Chapman and Scott. The

work was undertaken on a per diem basis rather than the no-cure, nopay basis envisioned by Roosevelt. There was some question that the

government could legally contract on such a basis.

The tug Resolute, with Salvage Master Foster on board, arrived. A

10-inch manila line was passed and Resolute pulled for an hour with no

result other than to heel the submarine 13 degrees. The crew was taken

off the submarine, and Resolute and Wandank pulled in tandem, parting

an 8-inch line. A second Merritt-Chapman and Scott tug, Merritt,

arrived and joined the operation, taking Wandank’s place in the tandem

pull when the latter parted a towline. The submarine still had not been

moved but now heeled about 40 degrees—a condition dangerous for a

surface ship but acceptable because of the submarine’s shape and the

tightness of her hull. About 40 tons of liquid load was removed from the

submarine to reduce the pulling force required. Merritt continued on

almost every high tide to pull with her engines and two purchases1

rigged to a heavy anchor, without any effect other than to shift the

S–19’s head two or three points. Near the end of January the manila

lines carried away in heavy weather, and the submarine moved 150 feet

inshore, nearly 70 percent of her length. It was obvious the pulling

arrangements had to be modified.

The submarine now rested inside a sandbar with her bow to seaward

buried about 8 feet in the sand. She would have to be moved about 600

feet to seaward to refloat. A shore tackle, consisting of a large buoy

moored with four anchors, was rigged to assist in the pulling. A wire-rope

line was led from the submarine through a block on the buoy to a purchase ashore. The purchase was hauled with a winch that, in turn, was

secured to a deadman sunk in a trench. Tension was kept on this line

constantly, slack being taken in whenever it appeared.

1The purchase used for pulling S–19 was typical of salvage pulling arrangements of the day. Four

hundred fathoms of 15-inch-circumference manila was secured to a pulling point on the submarine;

the other end was made up on Merritt’s aft bitts. Merritt was moored with her anchors and a 200-fathom length of 15-inch manila carried to a 7,000-pound salvage anchor. This line was taken to a sevenpart purchase on Merritt’s deck. The purchase was rove with 51

⁄2-inch manila with the bitter end carried to a windlass.

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

24
Merritt remained rigged as before, and Wandank was moored with her

own and two additional anchors. She pulled with her engines and towing

engine. S–19 began to move slowly, heeling at up to 90 degrees—an

impossible list for a surface ship—during the pulls. She gave ground hard,

coming free on the evening of 18 March 1925 after many short moves.

Merritt took S–19 into Provincetown on 20 March. Perseverance and

patience in making many pulls and in constantly seeking ways to maxi -

mize the available pull had paid off, as did the toughness that permitted

the submarine to survive being inclined to extreme angles.

Barely two weeks after S–19 grounded, on the evening of 29 January

1925, the submarine S–48 (SS 159) grounded on the rocks a few hundred

yards off Jaffrey Point while entering the harbor at Portsmouth, New

Hampshire. The submarine lay across the sea in a sort of basin with rocks

outboard on the seaward side. She was apparently hung up on a single

rock under the port side. During the night, before high tide, the boat

came free of the rock and drifted stern-first around the breakwater into

Little Harbor, where it grounded firmly in sand with a list of 34 degrees.

The submarine’s hull had taken a beating during the grounding and was

leaking in a number of places. Commander Harold E. Saunders (CC),

took charge of the salvage. Saunders had available to him the resources

of the Portsmouth Navy Yard.

Navy yards are unsurpassed as bases for salvage operations and, as will

be seen, have figured prominently in a number of them. In addition

to industrial shops that can make almost anything required by salvors,

navy yards have a variety of floating equipment, tugs, cranes, and barges.

Between the Wars

25

Pulling arrangement for refloating submarine S–19.
Equally important, they have people experienced in the trades useful for

salvage.

Working in wet, freezing weather, the salvors laid an anchor to hold

the submarine and began to pump out the hull. It quickly became apparent that pumping would not be practical because of the number and location

of leaks. While high-pressure air flasks were installed on the tug Penacook,

salvage crews made the upper portions of the S–48’s hull and ballast tanks

tight. Penacook shuttled from the sister submarines S–49 (SS 160) and

S–51 (SS 162) at the Portsmouth Navy Yard, where air flasks were filled,

to S–48, where the air was blown into the grounded submarine. By blowing

air into the hull and ballast tanks, Saunders was able to control the list of

the boat and refloat her. With Penacook alongside controlling the list,

trim, and buoyancy of the submarine with air, S–48 was towed stern-first

to the navy yard.

Saunders used the facilities of the navy yard to salvage S–48. He also

took advantage of the basic design philosophy of submarines, namely,

that the total buoyancy of the hull can be controlled by air. In doing so,

he accomplished an unusually economical salvage. The cost of the entire

operation was only $3,400.

Sunken Submarines

As soon as submarines began to go to sea, the navies of the world

realized that they were more vulnerable to accidental sinking than were

surface ships. Because of their relatively closed atmospheres and limited

reserve buoyancy, explosions and flooding presented special hazards. Subsequent experience showed that flooding by breaching the hull or

through an improperly positioned hull opening was by far the greatest

hazard to the undersea boats. Accidental, noncombat sinking of submarines generated some of the most difficult and technically interesting

salvage operations undertaken between the world wars.

Just as the operation of submarines in those days was uniquely naval,

so too was raising them when they sank. Techniques and the means of

applying them were developed in the U.S. Navy by Navy people. Thus

the Navy’s special interest in and expert knowledge of submarines were

recognized from the outset in the arrangements between the Navy and

Merritt-Chapman and Scott.

Submarine salvage operations are motivated not only by the traditional purposes of saving property or returning a ship to service but also

by two other purposes. The first is determining the cause of the accident

to prevent reoccurrences. This was the primary motivation for the salvage

of F–4 and has continued to be a driving motivation in submarine and

deep-ocean salvage. The second purpose is rescue by salvage of the

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

26
crew trapped within the hull or the recovery of the remains of those who

perished in the accident.

Early submarine salvage was conceived primarily as a rescue effort to

be accomplished by lifting the ship. In some foreign navies, vessels

designed to lift entire submarine hulls were commissioned for the joint

purposes of testing the submarine hulls, rescuing survivors of a casualty,

and salvaging the hulls. The first of these vessels was Vulkan of the

Imperial German Navy. Vulkan salvaged U–3 at Kiel in 1911. A variety of

other schemes for raising submarines were tried; few had much success.

As shown in the table, noncombat submarine sinkings between the

two world wars were not rare and had various causes. Most resulted from

inadvertent flooding; some were in port, some in the deep ocean; some

did not result in the salvage of the ship. When salvage operations were

mounted, they were usually major operations and, without exception,

were done with organizations and equipment assembled and tailored to

the particular job. Following each operation, the organization was disbanded and the equipment stowed. Maintaining a specialized permanent

organization in a high state of readiness for an event that—though not

U.S. Navy Noncombat Submarine Sinkings

Prior to World War II

Date Ship Type of Accident Salvaged

1915 F–4 Flooding, hull failure Yes

1917 D–2 Flooding, in port Yes

1917 F–1 Flooding, collision No

1919 G–2 Flooding, leaky hatch No

1920 H–1 Grounded, sank during salvage No

1920 S–5 Flooding, open main induction No

1921 R–6 Flooding, open torpedo tube Yes

1921 S–48 Flooding, manhole cover Yes

1923 S–38 Flooding, motor room Yes

1923 O–5 Flooding, collision Yes

1925 S–51 Flooding, collision Yes

1927 S–4 Flooding, collision Yes

1939 Squalus Flooding, open main induction Yes

1941 O–9 Flooding, exceeded test depth No

Between the Wars

27
rare—occurred as infrequently as noncombat submarine accidents simply

was not an effective use of people and material.

Four U.S. noncombat submarines sank between the loss of F–4 in

1915 and the S–5 (SS 110) accident in 1920. One of these, D–2, was in

port and simply required pumping out. Two were deep-water losses, F–1

from collision, O–2 from a leaky hatch. The fourth, H–1, was lost during

a salvage attempt following a grounding.

A N I M P O RTA N T FA I LU R E (S–5)

Sometimes a failed effort can teach more than a successful one. Such

was the case with the salvage of S–5. The S–5 sank during the afternoon

of 1 September 1920, 32 miles off the Delaware capes, because she submerged with her main induction and hull valves open. The torpedo room

was filled, and some flooding occurred in the control and engine rooms,

but by pumping out ballast, fuel, and some floodwater, the crew was able

to bring the stern to the surface. With the assistance of two passing ships,

Atlantis and George W. Goethals, the crew was rescued by cutting a hole in

the exposed stern.

S–5 was an excellent candidate for salvage; she was a new submarine

of the latest type, and hull damage was limited to the hole cut for the rescue of the crew. Interior bulkheads were reported secure; the hole in the

stern was in a small compartment that was still above the surface.

Because the submarine was light, dragging it into shallow water was

the first choice of the salvors, just as it had been in the case of F–4. The

predreadnought battleship Ohio (BB 12) was selected as the towing ship.

A towing connection was made by taking nine wraps around the stern of

S–5 with one-inch wire rope and shackling it to a 2-inch wire-rope towing hawser. The hole in the stern was not closed. Ohio towed for three

hours, moving some 31

⁄2 miles into 144 feet of water. The error of taking

a shortcut in salvage was again made clear. The stern pulled under; S–5

flooded through the unsecured access hole and sank.

Merritt-Chapman and Scott was called in to provide technical assistance in raising the submarine. Its opinion was that submarine salvage

pontoons, like those that Furer built for F–4, were impractical in the open

sea and that the only practical means of salvage was to blow the hull and

ballast tanks with compressed air.

The salvage plan then became making the top of the ship watertight,

providing spill pipes or spill holes in the bottom, and blowing the ship dry.

Work began immediately from the Bird-class minesweeper Mallard (AM

44). Little progress was made during 1920, and the operation was closed

down for the winter in November.

The salvors returned in the spring of 1921 with another Bird-class

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

28
boat, Falcon (AM 28), that had been fitted out for salvage during the winter. Explosives cut off hatches and blew holes in the bottom of the ship.

Initially, hatches were fitted with wooden plugs that contained blow and

spill pipes and were covered over with concrete. These were not successful and were discarded in favor of steel hatches. Difficulty in making the

hull airtight occurred at every stage; the job was going far slower than had

been predicted. By late August it was apparent that work would not be

complete by the end of good weather and that damage during the salvage

attempt had left the boat in far worse condition than had the original accident. On 29 August 1921 the Secretary of the Navy ordered that work be

discontinued and S–5 be stricken from the Navy list.

As with every failed salvage job, there were lessons to be learned from

S–5. Its condition and location favored salvage, but the use of pontoons,

and apparently of any other type of external lift, was excluded from the

outset. That was a mistake. External lift would have provided the margin

that could have made the difference between success and failure.

Explosives, effective for opening the hull and removing hatches, were

used inexpertly. The resulting damage multiplied the work necessary to

make the hull tight and rendered the salvage impracticable.

The lack of a salvage air system on the boat made the fitting of air

supply and water spill connections on the hatches necessary. The experience gained on S–5 and other sunken submarines led to the installation

of salvage air systems in later submarines.

The attempted salvage of S–5 shared one characteristic with the salvage of F–4: The work of the divers was exceptional. A total of 479 dives

were made with only 10 percent resulting in decompression sickness, a

remarkably low percentage for the diving conditions.

Immediately following the successful rescue of the crew of S–5,

Commander Submarine Flotilla recommended that one Bird-class

minesweeper on each coast be fitted out and kept available for submarine

rescue. This recommendation was unheeded; some years later in 1929,

when more practical and dependable means of submarine rescue were

available, the first six submarine rescue ships, all Bird-class minesweepers, were commis sioned. Two of them were veterans of the S–5 salvage,

Mallard and Falcon (redesignated ASR 4 and ASR 2).

A ‘ T Y P I CA L’ S U C C E S S (R–6)

On the evening of 26 September 1921, less than a month after the

attempted salvage of S–5, R–6 (SS 83) sank at her moorings alongside her

tender Camden (AS 6) at San Pedro, California; a torpedoman had

opened a torpedo tube inner door while the outer door was still open. R–6

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29
provides an excellent example of a straightforward submarine salvage

undertaken by an ad hoc organization with no outside assistance.

The conditions favored salvage. R–6 lay on an even keel and trim in

32 feet of water inside San Pedro harbor breakwater; all hatches were

open except for the torpedo loading hatch. The main induction and inner

and outer lower starboard torpedo tube doors were also open. The crew

was available for salvage work. Among them were three divers, including

one chief petty officer. Camden was available for assistance with material,

ships, additional divers, a diving boat, and pumps. Other submarines in

the division were available to furnish compressed air.

Three methods for salvage were available:

1. Sinking two pontoons alongside the ship, forming a cradle with

the chains, and pumping out the pontoons. This method was held in

reserve because it would require considerable outside assistance and

equipment.

2. Sealing all the openings and putting air on the boat through the

salvage lines. This method was rejected because of the large amount of

diving work that would be required both inside and outside the boat to

make it tight and the difficulty in providing exits for the water and keeping them clear.

3. Sealing the vessel and conducting a pumping operation by plugging

hatch openings with plugs through which pump suctions and compartment vents would pass, then pumping with air-driven pumps placed on

the submerged deck.

In selecting a salvage method, time is given considerable weight; the

sooner the work is completed, the less the damage from submergence. By

choosing the simpler pumping method, the R–6 salvors planned to complete the work in ten days.

Salvage work began the morning following the sinking. Divers

entered the boat and secured as many openings as possible. The tender

Camden manufactured wooden plugs for the torpedo and engine room

hatches. The plugs had a vent pipe to the surface and two suction lines

for each pump. The plugs were first carefully fit on a sister submarine.

When the plugs were in place, sea pressure would help hold them in, and

they would swell to ensure a good seal. Reciprocating steam pumps were

set up on the deck of R–6, secured in place, connected with air lines, and

tested. Air to operate the pumps was provided by R–10 moored alongside.

Under the direction of the salvage officer, Lieutenant Frederick C.

Sherman, pumping began about six days after the sinking. Apparently the

leakage continued at a rate that the pumps could not overcome, for the

water level in the vents did not drop. Because leaks could not be found,

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

30
an attempt was made to seal the vents and blow air into the boat while

pumping. This was not successful.

To increase the pumping capacity enough to overcome the leakage, a

cofferdam was built on the repair ship Vestal (AR 4) and fitted to the conning tower hatch. The suction line from a 6-inch salvage pump borrowed

from the tug Sonoma (AT 12) was led through this hatch, as were the discharge hoses and leads for two electric submersible pumps borrowed from

Arizona (BB 39).

With the pumping power significantly increased, pumping started

and progressed well. Then a problem arose that has plagued every salvor

who has ever used an electric submersible pump. The pump motors

flooded out. The pumps were repaired on Vestal and water was pumped

down to the door sills.

With main ballast tanks flooded to keep the boat securely on the bottom, divers entered the hull, secured more leaks, and blew the auxil iary

ballast tanks. Main ballast was then blown and the boat began to rise,

hard down by the stern. The extreme trim caused all the water to run aft,

leaving the pump suctions dry. An attempt to drag the submarine into

shallower water failed because the boat was too heavy for the tender

Kingfisher (AM 25) to move.

In a heroic effort, salvors entered the sunken hull to blow the fuel

tanks, close off the engine, check the pumps, and seal all air outlets so the

engine room could be blown. Pumping and blowing caused an almost

imperceptible rise in the hull. To prevent sinking in the event of another

pump failure, the tender Alert (AS 4)and the tug Cardinal (AM 6) were

brought alongside and rigged for lifting with their anchor chains. By blowBetween the Wars

31

Salvage of submarine R–6; first pumping arrangement.
ing, pumping, and lifting, the R–6 was floated on the afternoon of 13

October 1921, seventeen days after her sinking.

The salvage of R–6 could almost be called a typical salvage operation.

Diving conditions were miserable; conditions arising during the operation caused changes in the salvage plan; many techniques were tried;

many things went wrong. Frustration levels were surely high, but no higher than the euphoria brought about by final success. The initial rise of the

submarine demonstrated the necessity of maintaining strict control of

buoyancy and trim. The problem of inadvertent or uncontrolled rising of

a sunken submarine was to plague other salvors as well.

The R–6 salvage is notable for its use of advance planning and testing that helped ensure the success of the operation. Because of the hard

diving conditions on R–6, the divers received special training. They were

taken into other submarines first to learn their way around blind folded

and to practice their tasks. In the quality of work, safety, and the time

saved, these methods proved valuable not only on R–6, but also on many

subsequent salvage operations. Equipment to be fitted to R–6, for example, was prefitted on other submarines, a sound practice that continues to

avoid many on-the-scene problems.

M I N O R S U B M A R I N E S A LVA G E (S–48, S–38, and O–5)

Not all submarine sinkings required major salvage operations. On 7

December 1921, S–48 sank during a trial run. As the bow was above the

surface, the crew was easily rescued. The ship was subsequently refloated and returned to service.

The year 1923 saw two such minor submarine salvage operations. On

17 July, S–38 (SS 143) sank alongside her tender Ortolan (AM 45) at

Anchorage, Alaska. There was no loss of life, and the ship was raised

without difficulty.

On 28 October, O–5 (SS 66) sank in the Panama Canal after colliding with a merchantman and provided an unusual example of rescue by

salvage. Fortunately, the Panama Canal Company owned what were, at

the time, the world’s largest floating cranes, US Ajax and US Hercules.

Midgets by today’s standards, these cranes were capable of lifting 250

tons each. Thanks to a superhuman diving effort by Canal Company

Dockmaster and Foreman Shipwright Sheppart Shreaves to rig the lifting

gear and the compressed air to lighten the boat, the bow of O–5 was lifted clear of the water and the two crew members trapped inside the hull

were saved. The submarine was subsequently cofferdammed, refloated,

and scrapped. The concept of rescue-by-salvage had proven viable in this

case only because of the immediate presence of extraordinary lifting

equipment and extraordinary people.

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

32
M A J O R O P E N - S E A S A LVA G E (S–51)

Three submarines were salvaged following noncombat sinking in the

open sea in 1925, 1927, and 1939. All were salvaged with pontoons, the

method pioneered by Furer in 1915. These three submarine salvage operations were the largest and most complex salvages undertaken by the

Navy prior to World War II. Each was an example of seamanship and

engineering excellence that demonstrated the value of careful and complete engineering and planning for ocean operations. Each salvage effort

also demonstrated the tremendous effect that weather has on operations

at sea and emphasized that despite the best-laid plans, Murphy makes the

laws of salvage operations. There will always be a need for the salvage

officer to react to the unexpected.

The operation to save S–51 illustrates all the challenges of open-sea salvage. S–51 sank in 132 feet of water following a collision with the Ocean

Steamship Company’s City of Rome on the night of 25 September 1925, 14

miles east of Block Island off the coast of Rhode Island. Of the six officers

and thirty-one men aboard, there were three survivors. An immediate effort

was made to rescue other men who may have been trapped in the hull. A collection of vessels from both the Navy and Merritt-Chapman and Scott,

including the heavy lift derricks Monarch and Century (combined lift about

270 tons), assembled at the scene. Dives were made on the submarine by the

Navy and Merritt-Chapman and Scott divers. Slings for the derricks were

rigged and, as soon as weather permitted, an attempt was made to lift the

stern. It failed. No air escaped when small holes were burned in hatches. The

entire boat was flooded; rescue attempts were abandoned.

The decision was made to salvage the submarine. Whether it was a

wise decision can be argued in retrospect. There were strong reasons not

to try salvage. No sunken submarine had been raised from the open ocean.

The damage to S–51 was likely to be so great that the hull would be of little, if any, future value; there was no need to determine the cause of the

loss, as there had been with F–4. At the time, however, the decision to go

ahead was influenced by heightened public and congressional atten tion to

Navy casualties brought on by a series of recent naval aviation accidents.

As difficult as was the question of whether to salvage, deciding who

would do the salvage was equally taxing. Though Merritt-Chapman and

Scott was the Navy’s salvage contractor and the nation’s leading salvor, it

had no special expertise in submarine salvage, which was not included in

its contract. The Navy had little salvage expertise either, but was long on

resources and engineering talent. A contract was proposed whereby

Merritt-Chapman and Scott would provide a salvage master, divers, and one

tug. The remainder of the personnel and equipment would be provided

by the Navy.

Between the Wars

33
Because of the uncertainty of the operation, no-cure, no-pay was not

deemed appropriate; a daily-hire-plus-bonus contract was anticipated. A

Navy faction led by Rear Admiral Charles P. Plunkett, Commandant

Third Naval District, argued that the proposed contract was too generous and that the Navy should be able to salvage the submarine itself. This

faction was successful, and on 10 October, the work was assigned to the

Third Naval District. Preliminary funds were allotted, and orders for

ships, materials, and equipment were issued. Captain Ernest J. King, commanding officer of the submarine base at New London, was assigned as

officer-in-charge and Lieutenant Commander Edward Ellsberg (CC) of

the New York Navy Yard was assigned as salvage officer.

A considerable fleet was assembled consisting of the repair ship Vestal

(Captain Tomb); the minesweeper-cum-diving-ship Falcon (Lieutenant

Henry Hartley); seagoing tugs Iuka (AT 37), Sagamore (AT 10), and

Bagaduce (AT 21); the district tug Penobscot (YT 42); and the submarine

S–50 (Lieutenant Commander Lenney). The role of each ship was clearly

defined.

• Vestal was to act as a supply vessel and mother ship.

• Falcon, equipped with a recompression chamber and air banks, was

to be the principal player as she supported the diving operations.

• Iuka was to attend Falcon.

• Sagamore and Bagaduce were to bring out pontoons and assist with

the moorings.

• Penobscot was to make daily runs to New London to maintain

communication with the submarine base.

• S–50 was to be available as a model and rehearsal platform for

divers.

S–51 lay on a northwesterly heading with a port list of about 12

degrees on a bottom of friable clay mixed with sand and gravel. The boat

was imbedded about 5 feet into the bottom. There was considerable damage to the hull from the collision and from impact with the bottom. The

salvage plan called for placing pontoons for external buoyancy, coupled

with restoring internal buoyancy. A total of 1,000 tons of lift was planned,

650 from pontoons and 350 from internal buoyancy. The 1,000-ton total

gave a margin of 25 percent over the calculated value of 800 tons

required to raise the hull, a margin needed to cover unknown quantities

and to overcome the probable suction force of the bottom.

Collision damage precluded restoration of buoyancy in the forward

part of the hull, but the three aft compartments could be isolated by

securing external hatches, internal doors, and ventilation and piping

systems.

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

34
How to obtain buoyancy was a major problem. Study of the submarine’s systems showed the hull was not well suited to holding internal air

pressure. The access hatches were not designed to remain seated under

internal pressure and could not be effectively secured with strongbacks.

Available pumps had insufficient lift. A method using both air and pumps

was planned but proved impractical, so a means of blowing the compartments was developed. Sealing of accesses and piping systems required

many hours of underwater work to remove interference and piping, and

to seal systems with cement.

Two of the 60-ton pontoons and two of the 80-ton pontoons from the

F–4 job were available in the Norfolk Navy Yard. These pontoons, which

had been built for a depth of 45 feet, required strengthening for use on

S–51 at 132 feet. Six new 80-ton pontoons were also built at the New

York Navy Yard. The new pontoons were equipped with relief valves that

kept the internal pressure 5 to 10 pounds above ambient, obviating the

need for heavy structure.

Diving from the Falcon was to be the key to the operation. A special

mooring consisting of six (later seven) buoys with chain attached to

4,000–8,000-pound anchors was laid in a 1,000-foot-diameter circle, centered on S–51. It was mandatory that Falcon remain accurately positioned

so that divers would not be dragged away from their work. Tugs were

often needed to help hold Falcon in position. Anchoring ships, including

Vestal, to windward to help form a lee for Falcon had limited success.

Work commenced on 15 October and continued until 7 December

when winter weather and water temperatures prevented any further

work. During this period weather was bad enough to prevent diving about

half the time; this was reduced to half again following a gale on 13

November. On 30 November divers experienced freezing and blockage of

their air lines. Study showed that this could be prevented only by extensive modifications to Falcon’s air system. Weather had won. Work was suspended until the following April.

The time on-site had been well spent—both in terms of work accomplished and lessons learned. Divers had cleared away interference and,

working inside and outside the sunken submarine, had sealed the aft section of the boat. Attempts to pass lines for pontoons under the hull had

been frustrated by the bottom soil and the reaction generated when trying to tunnel with a high-pressure water jet and a conventional nozzle.

No pontoons had been placed, but much had been learned about how to

handle them; even more had been learned about how not to handle them.

Problems with tools and equipment, especially the underwater cutting

torch, had also been identified.

No sailor likes to walk away in the middle of a job, but a break forced

by weather or other uncontrollable causes offers the opportunity to reBetween the Wars

35
think the salvage plan, hone necessary skills, and make and mend both

tools and salvors. In the winter of 1925–1926 the S–51 salvage crew

increased the cutting rate of the underwater cutting torch, improved

underwater lights, developed the nonreactive nozzle for tunneling—a

tool known in the Navy as the “Falcon nozzle”—and trained new divers

specifically for the S–51 operation.

Operations were resumed in April 1926 with essentially the same salvage plan. The most important task was to place the pontoons. Several

arrangements for pontoon placement were considered; the simplest was

chosen. Eight pontoons were placed in pairs along the length of the submarine. Because the forward section of the submarine was still flooded,

three pairs of pontoons were placed forward. A method of accurately

placing the pontoons on the bottom was worked out empirically in

Narragansett Bay. The method consisted of flooding each pontoon until

it had about 10 tons of negative buoyancy and controlling its descent and

final position by lines tended from the surface and under the submarine.

Each pair of pontoons was troublesome, as only an inanimate object

resisting human endeavor can be.

When all the pontoons were in place, preparations were made to

raise S–51. The attempt was scheduled for 22 June 1926. That morning

the weather had so deteriorated that the only course open was to boost

the pontoons to keep them slightly buoyant and lie clear until the weather

moderated. Some of the pontoons had been boosted when huge bubbles

began to break the surface and the bow of S–51 and the two forward sets

of pontoons appeared on the surface. A loss of control and buoyancy had

occurred, causing the worst possible situation. With the bow up sharply,

the aft compartments could not be dewatered and the chains tended to

ride forward, exacerbating a bad situation.

With the bow up and the sea rising, Captain King and Lieutenant

Commander Ellsberg had a tiger by the tail. There was no choice but to

blow the stern pontoons and the three stern compartments to bring the

stern up. What happened has been described by Captain King.

In about three quarters of an hour, ebullition over the stern of the wreck

began and presently the stern pontoons appeared, and floated off with the

wind and sea, as the pontoon chains (21⁄2 inch) had parted, probably in succession. While blowing on the three compartments was continued some time

longer, it was obvious that the stern could not be raised at that time.

The wind and sea were still rising and the four bow pontoons were

crashing and booming and battering each other badly. Consideration was

given to attempting to drag the wreck but this was seen to be useless.2

2Captain Ernest J. King, USN, “Salvaging U.S.S. S–51,” U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings

(February 1927): 146.

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

36
The pontoons were flooded and the wreck put back on the bottom.

The pontoons and rigging forward were such a mess that they were

raised to the surface. The derrick barge United States was brought to the

scene as a platform for repairing and making ready the pontoons.

The second attempt used a simplified method of pontoon placement.

The chains were passed under the hull, centered and laid out with oneinch wires shackled to each end. The wires were passed up through the

pontoon hawses and the pontoon placed as the mate pontoons had been

previously.

On 5 July, with everything ready, S–51 was raised as per plan and lay

in a chain cradle supported by pontoons. Tow toward the New York Navy

Yard began, but was interrupted when S–51 struck Man-of-War Rock and

broke her tow. The tow and pontoons that had broken loose were rerigged

and S–51 was delivered into the New York Navy Yard at 11:30 p.m. on 7

July 1926. The salvage was complete. While the boat was on dock, the

remains of the crew were recovered, but no repairs were undertaken; the

hull damage was too severe for economic repair.

Salvage of S–51 depended on diving. More than 500 dives were made

on S–51 in a depth—132 feet—that was considered quite deep. Much of

the work required the divers to enter the sunken submarine. Tasks inside

the submarine were practiced in full diving dress in S–50, just as diving

tasks had been rehearsed in a sister ship during the R–6 salvage. At the

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37

Divers Smith and Frazier display the induction valve that they removed from the submarine

S–51 after 41

⁄2 hours work on the bottom.
time of the S–51 salvage, diving physiology was poorly understood and

decompression schedules were rudimentary; in fact, decompression

schedules were very different and much shorter than those in use today.

Decompression sickness, the bends, was a major cause for concern,

although only one serious case occurred during the operation.

Extraordinary measures to care for the divers were taken. A physician

experienced in hyperbaric medicine was on-site, and a device developed

at the Bureau of Mines to permit breathing of helium-oxygen mixtures for

the treatment of decompression sickness was used on board Falcon.

Salvage of S–51 was the most complex and difficult salvage undertaken

by the Navy to date and was comparable in difficulty to any salvage ever

undertaken. Why did it succeed when the S–5 salvage—quite similar in

depth of water, submarine type, availability of divers, suitable support

ships, and salvage equipment—did not? The S–51 salvage succeeded for

four reasons:

1. A well-conceived plan had been laid.

2. Leadership was strong and technical competence great; problems

with both equipment and techniques were diagnosed and solved when

they occurred.

3. The salvage plan was adjusted as the job proceeded and as difficulties were encountered, but the basic salvage plan and the operational goal

was never altered.

4. The salvage crews had competence, courage, skill, gumption, perseverance, and serendipity. They worked hard.

After the salvage of S–51, a thorough technical report was prepared

by Lieutenant Commander Ellsberg that analyzed both what went right

and what went wrong in the operation. This meticulously detailed report

was of great use to other salvors in future operations.

B E N E F I T S O F E X P E R I E N C E (S–4)

In an accident strongly reminiscent of S–51, S–4 (SS 109) sank after

collision with USCGC Paulding (CG 17) on 17 December 1927, off Prov -

incetown, Massachusetts. The submarine sank in 102 feet of water on a

soft mud bottom. The tragedy of S–4 was that six survivors were trapped

in the sunken hull but could not be rescued even though salvage forces

were on-scene just above.

This salvage effort was again under the direction of Captain Ernest

King, but Commander Harold E. Saunders of the Portsmouth Navy Yard

was assigned as salvage officer. Commander Saunders had been salvor of

S–48 when that boat grounded in Portsmouth harbor. He was an unusuMUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

38
ally skilled naval architect and a meticulous planner. The salvage operation was headquartered on Falcon.

The decision was made to proceed with the salvage immediately,

although it was winter and weather delays would be frequent. The salvors

were blessed with a somewhat sheltered position and, although it could

not have been known when the decision to go ahead was made, an

unusually mild winter. Undoubtedly influenced by King’s experience with

S–51 and Ellsberg’s excellent technical report on the use of pontoons,

the salvors decided to raise S–4 much like S–51. Many elements were

alike in both efforts.

• The task force organization was virtually the same. Falcon, the only

ship in both operations, was again the primary work platform.

• A similar mooring plan was used for Falcon.

• The salvage plan was similar in the use of pontoons and internal

buoyancy to raise the submarine. The six pontoons built for the S–51

operation would raise S–4.

• The method of placing the pontoons was the same as the second

method used in the S–51 salvage.

Between the Wars

39

The salvors of submarine S–4 include (front, left to right) Commander Harold E. Saunders,

Captain Ernest J. King, and Lieutenant Henry Hartley.
• A rehearsal model, in this case S–6, was available for all diving

operations.

The lessons of S–51 had been learned well. The careful attention to

detail in planning and use of techniques and procedures proven on S–51

ensured a smooth operation. The ship was raised and towed into Boston

just three months after her sinking.

The loss of all hands on S–4, however, especially those surviving the

accident only to be lost because there was no way to rescue them, gave

impetus to the development of submarine escape and rescue techniques.

This development, as well as confirmation of the value of thorough plan ning

and detailed study of similar operations, were the legacies of the S–4 salvage.

Unlike S–51, which was scrapped after its salvage, S–4 was returned

to service and served until 1936 as an experimental submarine for the

development of rescue and salvage procedures.

D E E P- S E A S A LVA G E ( S Q UA L U S )

The best known of the U.S. Navy’s submarine salvage operations was

conducted on Squalus (SS 192) in 1939. Like S–51 and S–4, Squalus was

salvaged by lifting with pontoons, but there are some significant differences that make the Squalus operation noteworthy. The boat was sunk in

240 feet of water, significantly deeper than any previous submarine salvage. Better equipment was available in the form of the McCann

Submarine Rescue Chamber, which was used to rescue crew members,

and helium-oxygen diving equipment that allowed divers to work more

effectively in the greater water depths.

The salvage was planned and conducted in three distinct stages.

Unlike previous pontoon salvage operations, control pontoons limited

the distance the ship was lifted in any single lift, and no water was

removed from the hull in deep water.

A new submarine, Squalus (Lieutenant Oliver F. Naquin) submerged

with the main engine air induction valve open and flooded the aft compartments on the morning of 23 May 1939 off Portsmouth, New

Hampshire. Falcon (ASR 2) (Lieutenant Grant A. Sharp) was on-site

within twenty-four hours. On 24 May 1939, in the first and only use of the

McCann Submarine Rescue Chamber, thirty-three men were rescued from

the forward compartments in four trips. Although there was no reason to

believe anyone was alive in the aft part of the ship, a fifth run was made

to the aft torpedo room hatch on 25 May. This run confirmed the flooding of the entire aft portion of the ship.

The decision to salvage Squalus was made immediately. Rear Admiral

Cyrus W. Cole of the Portsmouth Navy Yard was designated commander

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

40
of the salvage unit and Lieutenant Floyd A. Tusler (CC) was named salvage officer. A task unit similar in composition to those of the S–51 and

S–4 salvages was organized, again with Falcon as the primary work platform. Sculpin (SS 191) was the practice submarine.

Because of the Navy’s experience in submarine salvage and the availability of sufficient equipment, the salvage plan called for raising the

Squalus with pontoons and her internal buoyancy, basically the same

method used with S–51 and S–4. The depth of Squalus complicated the

salvage problem. When pontoons and the vessel’s own buoyancy are used,

the exact locations of the centers of gravity and buoyancy cannot be

determined; thus one end always rises first. If the rise of the upper end is

not constrained, a sharp angle will result and air will spill from open-bottom

ballast tanks. To prevent a sharp angle, Squalus would be lifted a short

distance, towed submerged to shallow water, and lifted again.

To limit the distance the submarine was raised on each lift, the

pontoons were arranged at different levels between the surface and the

submarine. When the uppermost pontoons reached the surface, their lift

would be lost and Squalus would hang in midwater, supported by her

internal buoyancy and that of the submerged pontoons. The upper

pontoons were known as the control pontoons because they controlled

the height of the lift. The pontoons were to be arranged athwartships at

the bow and stern, with the greatest number supporting the flooded stern.

Pontoon placement was handled by methods similar to those used previously, guided down wires that had been passed to chain slings passed

under the hull.

The initial depth of Squalus sharply limited the amount of work that

could be done by divers. The early days of the operation showed that air

diving at this depth was not effective because of inert gas narcosis. The

Navy Experimental Diving Unit had done a great deal of research work

and some field work with helium-oxygen breathing mixtures. Navy

Experimental Diving Unit divers, led by Commander Charles B. Momsen

and Dr. Albert R. Behnke, came to the scene with helium-oxygen diving

equipment. As with any new or experimental technique, there were problems with the equipment, but they were solved and almost all diving was

done with helium-oxygen equipment. A total of 648 dives were made

during the Squalus salvage operation; there were only two cases of decom -

pression sickness.

Even with the helium-oxygen equipment, diving time and the diving

work was limited. The decision to lift with pontoons and ballast tank

buoyancy only, and not to restore the buoyancy of the aft compartments,

was based on limiting the diving work. A tunneling lance was developed

for reeving the lifting slings under the hull, eliminating much of the hard

diving work of tunneling. The lance, outfitted with a Falcon nozzle and

Between the Wars

41
MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

42

Pontoon arrangements for lifting Squalus: first lift, 13 July 1939.

Second lift, 13 August 1939.
its pipe sections curved to fit the hull, was guided by a diver on the deck

of Squalus into the hole its water jet dug. Experience showed that the

threaded connections between pipe sections tended to loosen, causing

the tunnel to head off in directions unknown. This was solved by toggling the sections together. When the lance was completely around the

hull, a wire snake ran through the lance and carried the reeving lines

around.

All was ready for the first lift. Commander Momsen described what

happened:

At the end of fifty days work, connecting hoses, rigging pontoons, attaching bow and stern towing cables, the first lift was attempted. We raised the

stern successfully then the bow. The bow came up like a mad tornado, out

of control. Pontoons were smashed, hoses cut and I might add hearts were

broken. It was the 13th of the month, July. Another 20 days of mopping up

was required before we could again rig for another try. The second try was

successful.3

3Commander Charles B. Momsen, USN, “Rescue and Salvage of USS Squalus” (Lecture to the

Harvard Engineering Society, Cambridge, 6 October 1939).

Between the Wars

43

Third lift, 17 August 1939.
Pontoons were rerigged for the second lift so that more positive con -

trol over the bow was maintained. Squalus was raised 70 feet and towed

toward Portsmouth until she grounded. The pontoons were rerigged for

lifting in the shallower water, and Squalus was lifted successfully and

towed to the final grounding site in 92 feet of water.

At this location all chafed hoses were renewed and two pontoons

were rigged fore and aft at the stern. When the submarine was raised bow

first, she was found to be transversely unstable. She listed heavily to port,

dumped air from her ballast tanks, and sank. An attempt to lift the stern

first failed because free water ran forward, making the bow too heavy.

Two additional pontoons were rigged at the bow. Squalus was lifted and

towed to Portsmouth where she was drydocked. Recommissioned as

Sailfish, she served in the Pacific throughout World War II.4

Squalus was the last submarine salvage operation undertaken by the

Navy before World War II. Among the many submarine salvage efforts up

to this time, the deep-ocean raisings of F–4, S–51, S–4, and Squalus were

truly remarkable operations that demonstrated expertise in seamanship,

engineering, and diving. They were all independent events with no real

thread connecting them. There was no permanent organization for

marine salvage, particularly the salvage of submarines. The organizations

put together for each operation were disbanded after the operation.

There was no central office to analyze the work and formulate a program

to ensure mistakes were not repeated or to advance salvage technology

and readiness.

The greatest legacy of this work between the wars was the almost

accidental establishment of a tradition of conducting complex salvage

operations totally within the Navy and producing excellent technical

reports. The latter allowed those who were interested to study the operations and to learn what did work and what did not. The experience

gained in submarine salvage also provided background in the organizational and logistical requirements of salvage operations that would prove

invaluable in developing World War II salvage forces.

Prelude to World War II

The number of technical articles published in professional journals

gives evidence that the officers of the Construction Corps had considerable interest in salvage; however, the Navy continued to rely heavily on

its contractor for salvage services. This situation appeared suitable be4Because of her origins, Sailfish was known among submariners as “Squailfish.” Ironically and

tragically, crew members of the sunken Sculpin, the submarine that had stood by Squalus, were aboard

a Japanese transport sunk by Sailfish.

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

44
Between the Wars

45

Four divers won the Medal of Honor for their heroism during the rescue and salvage

operations on the submarine Squalus. Clockwise, from top left: Chief Petty Officers John

Mihalowski, James H. McDonald, William F. Badders, and Orson L. Crandall.
cause, until just before World War II, the Navy was primarily a home fleet

that, with a few notable exceptions, operated close to the United States.

There was no apparent need for an extensive system of overseas bases, a

complete Mobile Logistic Support Force, or integral salvage forces.

With the clarity of hindsight, it is now apparent that there was a

costly drawback to the arrangement. With no integral salvage forces and

only a limited towing capability (in 1925 there were only eight fleet tugs),

the Navy did not develop a doctrine for supporting combat forces with

salvage forces. As we shall see, without the doctrine and its own forces to

implement it, the Navy lost too many ships early in World War II.

Omaha: Navy-Contractor Success

There were some successes for the system. The grounding of a cruiser in tropical waters illustrates how the Navy worked with its contractor

during the pre-World War II years.

On 19 July 1937 the cruiser Omaha (CL 4), making 15 knots, grounded on a coral formation called Castle Island in the Bahamas, 389 miles

from Miami. The Omaha salvage was a classic in the techniques used and

in the cooperation among marine organizations. Omaha was in a hurricane area during hurricane season. The tide range was small and the tide

difficult to predict. Omaha grounded on a typical reef, one made of a soft,

porous material with no binding power that dropped sharply a few hun -

dred yards offshore. The vessel was firmly aground, bearing on the reef

along half her length with very little hull damage. She lay upright with a

calculated 2,453 of her 8,993 tons supported by the reef. Although she

had grounded at high tide, it did not make much difference.

Technical Salvage Officer Commander Melville W. Powers (CC) calculated that if 1,500 tons could be removed, the ship could be refloated by

pulling. The forces began to gather. There were soon on the scene the

Navy ships Texas (BB 35), Salinas (AC 19), Patriot (a 98-foot tug), several

destroyers, two Bird-class minesweepers, the seaplane tender Lapwing

(AVP 1), and the submarine rescue ship Mallard; five Coast Guard ships;

and two Merritt-Chapman and Scott salvage ships, Killerig and Warbler.

The salvage plan had three parts: (1) The ship would be stripped of

all nonessential weight; (2) Mallard, Warbler, Killerig, the Coast Guard

ship Tampa, and eight legs of beach gear would pull the ship; and (3) the

destroyers would make high speed runs to generate waves that would

cause Omaha to roll, both breaking the friction with the bottom and

causing her to crush the coral, settle deeper, and gain buoyancy.

Beach gear is a standard tool for stranding salvage. One shot (15

fathoms) of heavy chain is bent onto a heavy anchor such as an Eells

anchor, a special salvage anchor. The chain, in turn, is bent onto several

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

46
hundred fathoms of 15

⁄8-inch-diameter wire rope. The anchor is laid in the

direction toward which the grounded vessel is to be pulled, and the wire

rope is taken aboard the grounded vessel or the salvage ship, where it is

held on board by a wire-rope stopper. Near this stopper a second stopper

is passed on the wire. The second stopper is bent onto the moving block

of a fourfold purchase rove with 5/8-inch wire rope. The purchase is firmly secured and hauled. When the purchase is hauled, the wire rope pulls

up to 50 tons on the anchor.

The three-part salvage plan worked exactly as anticipated. All movable weight was removed from Omaha and taken on board Salinas. The

destroyers found the optimum course and speed for wavemaking, and the

salvage ships laid their beach gear and hooked up to pull. When all was

ready on high water late on Tuesday, 27 July, the beach gear was set up

tight and a pull was made while the destroyer Mahan (DD 364) steamed

by rapidly as a wavemaker. Omaha’s head changed and the ship moved

slightly.

The following day, with the destroyer squadron that had arrived in

the early morning and the Mahan making waves, another pull was made.

The vessel moved again, then stopped as the slight tide ebbed. Pulls on

high water, each with some slight movement, were continued until the

morning high water on 29 July, when Omaha floated free. The combined

efforts of the Navy, Coast Guard, and a commercial salvor had been

Between the Wars

47

Typical beach gear leg.
successful. Omaha got underway for Hampton Roads, Virginia, under

escort of Texas and Mallard.

Of the four significant stranding salvages described above, three were

difficult: DeLong, S–19, and Omaha. The fourth, the 1925 stranding of

S–48 was relatively easy. For all, the Navy had provided engineering

expertise in the persons of Commanders Hilliard, Saunders, and Powers,

and Lieutenant Nelson, as well as much of the logistics support for the

work. In the more complex jobs, a vital element in the equation for success—the specialized knowledge of salvage techniques and seamanship—

was not resident in the Navy but was provided by a contractor with whom

the Navy had a long and close relationship.

Toward a Permanent Navy Salvage Organization

Shortly after the refloating of Omaha, but completely unrelated to it,

Merritt-Chapman and Scott made a business decision that would have

far-reaching implications for the Navy. The Pacific Coast of the United

States had always been hostile country for salvors. Geographic and sea

conditions—the long, sloping beaches, treacherous bars, rocky coasts,

heavy ground swell, offshore surf, and long-period seas—cause ships that

go ashore to break up quickly. To be effective on the Pacific Coast, salvage assistance must arrive quickly and free the casualty without delay.

For instance, when seven destroyers ran aground off Honda Point,

California, on 9 September 1923, no attempt at salvage was made; no

help could be provided in time. In 1938 Merritt-Chapman and Scott,

after operating a salvage station at San Pedro for twenty years,

announced to the Bureau of Construction and Repair that it was forced

to close that station. T.A. Scott, then chairman of the company,

explained that the company had lost money on the Pacific Coast for years

and could no longer afford to maintain the ship and station there. The

salvage ship stationed at San Pedro would be moved to the more lucrative Atlantic Coast to replace a ship recently lost at sea.

For the Navy, the implications of this move were grave. In 1938 the

bulk of the U.S. Fleet was concentrated in the Battle Force and the

Scouting Force homeported in San Pedro and San Diego. The closing of

the Merritt-Chapman and Scott salvage station at San Pedro and relocation of its salvage ship to the Atlantic Coast would mean that the bulk of

the fleet would be without protection; no other company on the Pacific

Coast was in a position to take up the slack.

The responsibility for negotiating with the salvors to remain on the

Pacific Coast fell to Captain Henry Williams, Assistant Chief of the Bureau

of Construction and Repair. Captain Williams had the assistance of nowCaptain Julius Furer, who had raised F–4, and Captain Lewis McBride.

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

48
Captain Furer had become friends with Scott while both were on duty in

Washington during the war. Despite direct negotiations between Scott

and Furer and the offer of subsidies, Merritt-Chapman and Scott refused

to reconsider its decision to withdraw from the Pacific. If the Navy was

to have a salvage capability on the Pacific Coast, it would have to develop

it internally. Scott himself supported this move and offered to assist the

Navy in becoming familiar with the equipment and techniques of commercial salvage.

The development of a naval salvage organization requiring the commitment of personnel, equipment, and funds was beyond the authority of

the Bureau of Construction and Repair. The participation of the Chief of

Naval Operations and the Secretary of the Navy was required if salvage

ships and naval personnel were to be provided. The advice of the Bureau

of Construction and Repair was needed to answer the myriad of technical questions that would accompany establishment of a salvage force. The

Navy purchased Merritt-Chapman and Scott’s Pacific Coast salvage

equipment and established the Navy Salvage Base, San Diego. The con -

cept was that when the equipment was required, it would be loaded onto

available tugs and minesweepers, while salvage personnel would be drawn

from various commands. The base was established at the Naval Fueling

Station at LaPlaya, where there were good pier and storage facilities and

easy access to the sea. At the suggestion of Captain Furer, Lieutenant

Commander William A. Sullivan was assigned as commanding officer of

the new salvage base. He was an experienced naval engineer with some

salvage experience, much of it obtained while he was assigned as

Superintending Constructor, Shanghai. To assist him, and to form the

basis of his salvage team, Sullivan had three men trained as divers.

Despite a long record in salvage, the operation of a full-time salvage

organization was a new Navy venture with many new problems. MerrittChapman and Scott had been handling the Navy’s requirements for

offshore salvage so well that the Bureau of Construction and Repair had

little technical information on the subject. Starting from scratch, Sullivan

studied salvage problems on the Pacific Coast and proposed methods for

dealing with them. He developed an inventory of existing equipment

along the coast suitable for salvage and the means for transporting it to

salvage sites. Personnel to staff and operate the salvage system, however,

were a problem. The rolls of the Naval Reserve were searched for qualified salvage officers. There were none. Recalling salvage officers on active

duty in World War I was considered, but they were not only too few, but

also believed to be too old for the rigors of salvage. If the Navy was to

have salvors, it would have to grow its own. Meanwhile the clouds of war

were darkening both the eastern and western skies and would soon place

unprecedented demands for salvage on the Navy.

Between the Wars

49

The Early Days

PEARL HARBOR
MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

50
World War II Begins

51

CHAPTER THREE

World War II Begins

During World War II the United States built the most powerful

land and naval force the world had ever seen. As part of the

logistic support, the salvage forces were likewise the largest and

most effective ever assembled. The sea was the means for moving men

and material, its routes contested by powerful and determined enemies.

Throughout the war thousands of salvage operations were undertaken,

some huge and spectacular, some so small they scarcely rated a note in

the ship’s log, but all were important and all contributed to victory.

The United States projected its military and industrial power overseas

into Africa and Europe and throughout the Pacific. As a result, ships were

damaged, and they, their cargoes, and crews had to be saved. Naval forces

engaged the enemy and were hit; fires had to be put out, damage controlled,

and damaged ships taken to repair bases. Troops were put ashore in huge

amphibious assaults, and the transporting ships and craft sustained damage and required salvage service. Landing craft and ships required an

entirely new kind of salvage. Retreating enemies left systematically

blocked harbors that had to be cleared so material could move to Allied

armies. Coastal shipping in the Americas needed salvage protection

against normal seagoing hazards as well as the U-boat. Harbors and

waterways in the United States had to be kept open so that the flow of

material was not impeded.

Preparation for War

Since its early days as a modern naval force, the U.S. Navy had

depended heavily on contractors for all but submarine salvage. During

the mobilization for World War I, there was no coordinated and lasting

development of naval salvage forces. Nor was there developed a doctrine

for using salvage forces to support the fleet, tow damaged units to ports

of refuge, and free blocked harbors. In the years before World War II,

although some naval officers had salvage experience, when a casualty
occurred there was no expert to call. Those on the scene handled it as

best they could.

When war is imminent, salvage of ships becomes a matter of vital

national interest and thus a responsibility of the Navy. In full mobilization, a maximum effort is required by the naval and merchant services.

This effort cannot be made with the ships on hand for peacetime operations. A massive effort must be undertaken to put reserve ships in commission, build new hulls, and scrape the back channels for every floating

object that can be used. The dramatic increase in shipping during

wartime brings a concomitant increase in casualties from navigation

accidents and especially from hostile action. The function of the ship salvage

forces is to reduce the effect of these casualties by preventing the loss of

the ships, their cargoes, and trained crews. It is far cheaper and quicker

to refurbish damaged ships and return them to service than it is to build

new ones. Through salvage, thousands of tons of cargo may be saved for

the war effort rather than lost to the sea. Through rescue, trained, seasoned seamen may be saved to carry the fight to the enemy.

The experience of the British early in World War II illustrated the

value of salvage. The Royal Navy salvage operation started with few

experienced people and so little equipment that pumps were rushed by

escorted truck convoys from one casualty to another. There was strong

opposition to salvage efforts from those who saw direct action against

the enemy as the only worthwhile activity. Fortunately, the value of

salvage was appreciated by those who knew that logistics is the key to

sustaining a modern war. By the end of 1941 the British salvage force

had saved more than twice the tonnage delivered in the same period by

a fit and well-supported British shipbuilding industry. The lesson

learned by an ally in the hardest school was there for the United States

to see.

In addition to illustrating the value of ship salvage to waging a maritime war, the British experience also demonstrated the opposition put

forward by those who understand neither the value nor the mechanics of

salvage. Ship salvage services required in wartime are similar to the services salvage companies render in peacetime. There are, however, two

important differences: (1) the wartime scale is much greater, and (2) the

motivation is far different. In peacetime, the motivation for a salvage

company is purely economic, and economic incentive governs the

resources on hand, the areas of operation, and the jobs undertaken. For a

nation at war, the motivation for salvage is the saving of ships, cargoes,

and crews—the economics of salvage be damned! Maritime operators and

government officials, uneasy dealing with ship salvage in peacetime, have

even more difficulty dealing with the overnight change in motivation and

the new urgency for wartime ship salvage.

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52
The scale of operations and the need to save ships and cargoes

spurred the U.S. Navy’s development of a salvage organization and its

undertaking of salvage operations in World War II. The Navy involvement

began shortly after German forces moved into Poland on 1 September

1939. Beginning on 2 October the Neutrality Patrol was initiated in a line

roughly 300 miles off the coasts of the Americas. It grew in geographical

extent and activity until the United States officially entered the war more

than two years later. U.S. Navy ships, on a war footing, were placed in a

combat zone with the task of preventing combat past an arbitrarily drawn

line in international waters. These ships were truly in harm’s way.

When the war in Europe started, the U.S. Navy had no salvage forces

other than the hastily organized group that manned the San Diego Navy

Salvage Base. In the international waters of the Atlantic, the core of what

would later become the Navy Salvage Service—Merritt-Chapman and

Scott—was insulated from the wartime increase in salvage activity.

Enforcement of the Neutrality Act prevented combat operations and

combat casualties in the primary area of operations, American waters,

and contiguous international waters.

Those concerned with Navy salvage were not idle. Commander

Sullivan and his group in San Diego, in cooperation with the Bureau of

Construction and Repair, had drawn up specifications for virtually all

important pieces of salvage equipment. Sullivan gave these specifications

to the British who, in turn, placed large orders in the United States.

Because of these orders, U.S. manufacturers were tooled up and producing salvage equipment before the United States entered the war. As will

be seen later in this chapter, industry was further stimulated in the summer

of 1941 when Merritt-Chapman and Scott, acting under the authority of a

Navy contract, placed large orders for salvage equipment.

The Bird-class minesweepers Warbler and Willet, operated by MerrittChapman and Scott as salvage ships since 1920, were reclassified and

designated as salvage ships (ARSs 11 and 12) by the Navy. Three other

Bird-class ships were recalled from the U.S. Coast and Geodetic Survey

and converted to salvage ships in anticipation of the yet unformed Navy

Salvage Service. Two Navy-manned ships also entered salvage service:

Redwing was recalled from the Coast Guard, designated ARS 4, and dispatched to Iceland; Brant went to Argentia, Newfoundland, for salvage

service, forgoing formal conversion and redesignation to ARS 32 until

after the start of hostilities. The groundwork was also laid for the shipbuilding programs that would build wooden- and steel-hulled salvage

ships and several classes of seagoing tugs. Not the least important of the

construction programs was the one that would produce salvage ships and

tugs for the British under the Lend-Lease Act through Maritime

Administration contracts.

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The fleet’s logistic forces had had seagoing tugs for years. They were

tugs of various designs and modified or converted Bird-class mine -

sweepers, not a homogeneous class of ships operated according to a specific doctrine. In the 1930s it had become apparent that to fight a war in

the Pacific, the area where the threat was thought to be the greatest, the

U.S. Navy needed capable seagoing tugs to provide salvage services and

undertake ocean tows that would be part of the logistics effort. It was

with considerable foresight that the design of the Navajo (ATF 64) class

of fleet tugs was undertaken.1 The expertise of naval officers and the

Bureau of Construction and Repair’s naval architects was applied, and

design recommendations were actively sought from industry. The result

was a 3,000-shaft-horsepower, diesel-electric ship with an automatic tensioning towing engine—a large and powerful oceangoing tug that would

serve the Navy well for many years. Three of these ships were authorized

for the 1939 shipbuilding program. Almost seventy were built before the

end of the war. They saw service in every theater. World War II was just

the beginning for these ships; some remained in service until the early

1990s, nearly fifty years after Navajo slid down the ways.

As the Navajo-class oceangoing tug was under design and construction,

the Chief of Naval Operations took another step toward providing the salvage

forces the Navy would need for the war. He directed the Chief of the Bureau

of Ships (recently formed from the Bureau of Construction and Repair and the

Bureau of Engineering) to do what was necessary to provide sufficient salvage

services on the coasts of the United States and in the Atlantic and Caribbean.

Commander Sullivan, who had established the salvage station on the Pacific

Coast, was ordered to England in 1940 to survey the salvage situation and

report how the British were coping with the salvage problems of the war. In

what was expected to be Sullivan’s temporary absence, Mr. Lebbeus Curtis, an

experienced salvor who had recently completed building the harbor in Port

Hueneme, was hired under a special contract to relieve Sullivan at the San

Diego salvage base. While in Britain, Sullivan made an exhaustive investigation of the Admiralty salvage organization and its facilities, ships, personnel,

equipment, techniques, and industry arrangements.

The results of the investigation were a clear warning to the United

States. The Admiralty lacked sufficient salvage ships, salvage equipment, and trained crews to deal with the casualties caused by having

more ships at sea and by the U-boat war. Only those operations that

could be accomplished promptly with high expectations of success were

undertaken. Complicated or high-risk jobs were left undone despite the high

cost of writing off the ships and cargoes. The greatest problems lay in

1This class of ship was originally designated as AT. The designation was changed to ATF on 15

May 1944 and has been ATF since that date. For simplicity, ATF is used throughout this book.

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

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people and ranged from a shortage of trained salvors to a lack of understanding of salvage by shipowners and government officials.

Prior to the war, the Royal Navy, like the U.S. Navy, had relied on

commercial salvors to do most of its salvage work. As in the United

States, the salvage industry in Britain was small. When war broke out, the

Royal Navy found it necessary to take control of civilian salvage firms but

allowed them to operate much as they had before the war. (A similar

arrangement in the United States would later also solve a portion of the

wartime salvage problem.)

A comprehensive survey of salvage capability in the United States in

1941 showed that only one firm, Merritt-Chapman and Scott, was

equipped to do offshore salvage on ships of any size. The company now

operated five salvage ships and maintained five salvage stations, all on

the Atlantic Coast. It was to the Navy’s advantage to control these facilities. Thus a contract was required to allow the Navy to have its contractor conduct salvage operations on all ships under the control of the

Department of the Navy, whether they were naval ships, public ships of

the United States, or American or foreign merchant vessels. This would

be a great expansion over previous contracts, which had covered only

naval ships, but the Navy was without authority to make such a contract.

Enabling legislation was rushed through Congress and signed by President

Roosevelt on 24 October 1941. This legislation allowed the Secretary of

the Navy during war or national emergency to “provide, by contract or

otherwise, necessary salvage facilities for both public and private vessels

upon such terms as he may, in his discretion, determine to be in the best

interests of the United States.”2

The way was now clear to negotiate a contract for a Naval Salvage

Service. But the storm of war broke upon the nation before the service

could be established.

Wartime Salvage Requirements

Before examining the salvage work that the Navy carried out during

World War II, it is well to look at the numerous conflicts that made up

that war and the particular demands they made upon salvage forces. The

wars in the Atlantic and Pacific were quite different, and these differences dictated the type and composition of salvage forces needed. In both

areas the United States was projecting its power over long distances with

complex logistics systems. Raw materials had to be taken to the places

where they could be turned into the manufactured goods that would be

transported to forward areas for direct support of combat operations. The sea

2Public Law 280, 77 Cong. 1st sess., 1941, Chap. 458, 55 Stat. 745.

World War II Begins

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was the only practical means of providing the logistic support. Except for

a few attacks on shipping on the West Coast of the United States and on

merchantmen that presented targets of opportunity, the Japanese directed their submarines against warships and made little effort to disrupt

logistic efforts in the Pacific.

In the Atlantic, however, the Germans made a concerted effort to

interdict and disrupt this support with their U-boats. Operation

Paukenschlag, the German campaign against shipping on the American

coast, began in January 1942. It was particularly effective in April, May,

and June 1942 when U-boats in their “Happy Time” sank 120 ships, a fact

not made public but generally known along the East Coast. Opposition of

logistic shipping by an effective and determined German submarine force

kept salvors busy with casualties. The U-boat campaign and the need to

salvage casualties on the North Atlantic convoy routes resulted in the

establishment and operation of salvage bases in Iceland and in Argentia,

Newfoundland, and the development of the rescue tug as a distinct ship

type.

The war in Europe was primarily a land war supported in traditional

ways by naval forces. While Italian naval surface forces were effective

early in the war, after the Battle of Cape Matapan in March 1941 they

refused engagement and were essentially no threat. The potentially

dangerous German surface navy was, in general, ineffective and well contained by the Royal Navy. The result was that the gun, torpedo, and air

actions between warships that occurred throughout the war in the Pacific

were not a salient feature of the naval war in the Atlantic. Salvage needs

also differed. Ships were lost early in the war in the Pacific because salvage forces were limited and the understanding of how to use them to

support combat operations was virtually nonexistent. The need for salvage forces to directly support combat surface naval forces and their

supporting air forces led to the development of doctrine in the Pacific

that simply was not required in the Atlantic.

In both theaters, however, large-scale amphibious invasions were carried out. With the exception of the initial landings in North Africa, the

invasions in the Atlantic and the Mediterranean were supported from

reasonably close shore bases. In the Pacific, distances from shore bases

were much longer, requiring more mobile support, including salvage and

emergency repair forces. Support of amphibious assaults in all theaters

required salvage services for supporting ships and for the amphibious

assault ships. A type of salvage that was new but common to both

theaters was the salvage of landing ships and craft for the purposes of

returning them to service and keeping the beaches clear for subsequent

traffic. Because concentrations of ships were high and landings usually

fiercely opposed, fire fighting was a common requirement during amphibiMUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

56
ous assaults and led to development of special fire-fighting teams. In

amphibious operations, perhaps more than in any other type of operations, salvage was an extension of damage control beyond the ability of

ships’ crews.

Following amphibious assaults, great quantities of materials must be

moved inland to support the assault forces. In the island campaigns of the

Central and South Pacific, material could move inland across the beach.

In North Africa and Europe the ancient and well-developed port system

could be used for logistic support of assault forces. Retreating armies systematically blocked ports to deny their facilities to the advancing Allies.

Early in the war, it was realized that harbor clearance would be a major

activity of the salvage forces in direct support of combat. The organization and methods of harbor clearance, developed and honed in the

European theater, were employed later in the war at Manila and Naha,

where the Japanese were even more efficient at blocking harbors than the

Germans.

One of the war’s largest and most important harbor clearance operations was at Pearl Harbor, where casualties of the 7 December 1941 attack

were salvaged for return to service or removed to clear valuable harbor

space. Like the Lafayette salvage discussed later, the Pearl Harbor fleet

salvage stands as a unique salvage operation not directly tied to the

development of salvage doctrine. The importance of the Pearl Harbor

clearance lies not only in the value of the ships salvaged and the base

cleared of wrecks but also in the salvage experience gained by the U.S.

Navy early in the war.

The Pearl Harbor Fleet Salvage

The Japanese air attack on Pearl Harbor left the U.S. Navy with a

huge salvage problem. The sinking of or serious damage to the majority of

the battleships present, as well as numerous other combatants, left the

United States vulnerable to further attack and unable to take offensive

action against the powerful Imperial Japanese Navy. Priority at Pearl

Harbor was given to salvage of ships that could be returned to the fleet

quickly.

Despite the disheartening sight of a harbor filled with sunken,

beached, burned, and damaged ships, there were some positive aspects to

salvage work at Pearl Harbor.

• The shops and facilities of the navy yard were virtually undamaged.

• The naval staff that supported the operation for its duration was

intact and functioning.

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• Senior engineering officers and adequate junior engineering officers

were available to give technical support to complex salvage operations.

• A major heavy-engineering contractor with special expertise in the

underwater use of concrete, Pacific Bridge Company, was working for the

Navy in Hawaii.

• Excellent local industrial support was available from Mr.

Dillingham of Honolulu, who had hoisting barges and other waterfront

equipment.

• Salvage equipment purchased by Merritt-Chapman and Scott

under contract NOd–2263 was available for shipment to Pearl Harbor.

To these assets was added a fortunate coincidence. One of the few

experienced salvage officers in naval uniform, Lieutenant Commander

Lebbeus Curtis, USNR, who as a civilian had earlier been hired to run the

San Diego salvage base in Commander Sullivan’s absence, had arrived in

Hawaii on 6 December en route to the Middle East for salvage work.

Awakened by the bombing, Curtis dressed in his whites and hurried to

Pearl Harbor; he was still working three days later in the same now-notso-whites. His travel was discontinued and he remained in Pearl Harbor

for several months until he was assigned theaterwide responsibilities as

salvage officer on the Service Force commander’s staff.

The Pearl Harbor salvage efforts, under Rear Admiral William L.

Calhoun, the Base Force commander, began with fire fighting and pumping during the attack. The formal salvage organization was put into effect

on 14 December under Commander James M. Steele. The salvage organization continued to be part of the Base Force until 9 January 1942, when

Captain Homer N. Wallin, who was to remain in charge until completion

of the salvage work, relieved Commander Steele, and the Salvage

Division became part of the navy yard.

Rear Admiral William R. Furlong, who was made commandant of the

navy yard, took a great interest in and supported the salvage operations.

The Salvage Division was given working space on the waterfront in the

navy yard. Project officers were put in charge of each ship; specialists

were put in charge of functions such as diving, ammunition handling, ordnance material removal, and administration. A staff of general assis tants

was formed.

The thrust of the effort immediately after the Pearl Harbor attack was

to repair the slightly damaged ships and return them to service. This

effort was undertaken by the Salvage Division, the navy yard, ships’

forces, and the crews of the repair ships. By the middle of February the

battleships Pennsylvania (BB 38), Maryland (BB 46), and Tennessee (BB 43);

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the cruisers Honolulu (CL 48), Helena (CL 50), and Raleigh (CL 7);

destroyer Helm (DD 388); seaplane tender Curtiss (AV 4); and repair ship

Vestal (AR 4) were salvaged and in service or on their way to the West

Coast for permanent repair. While the lightly damaged ships were being

taken care of, work had begun on some of the more complex salvage problems. The same basic doctrine, namely, that ships that could be returned

to service would be salvaged first, applied throughout the salvage work.

Each ship was studied by the Salvage Division, which laid out the job,

determined its requirements, allocated resources, and established priorities.

Because the planning was thorough and all interested parties participated,

there was little difference of opinion and friction as the work was accomplished.

The salvage problem as a whole in Pearl Harbor was complex because

most of the ships were large warships, minutely compartmented and filled

with a variety of materials, many of which were inherently dangerous. As

with most complex problems, the solution lay in a series of straightforward steps.

The destroyer Shaw (DD 373), for example, in Floating Drydock

Number Two, which sank beneath her, remained afloat with her bow

blown off by a magazine explosion. Salvage required only cutting the

bow away and pumping to control flooding through leaking bulkheads

before drydocking. A false bow was fitted and Shaw sailed for Mare

Island on 9 February 1942.

Floating Drydock Number Two had been sunk to protect her during the

attack and suffered bomb-fragment and fire damage. She was patched,

pumped, and returned to service by 25 January 1942. Full operation was

achieved 15 May 1942.

The battleship Nevada (BB 36) was beached and flooded throughout

after taking bomb, torpedo, and fire damage. Weight was removed and

the hull was patched and pumped. Nevada sailed for Puget Sound under

her own power on 1 May 1942.

The hulls of the destroyers Cassin (DD 372) and Downes (DD 375)

were so badly damaged in the drydock where they lay that they were

scrapped. Machinery and equipment were salvaged from the ships, sent to

the Mare Island Navy Yard, and used in new ships with the same names

and hull numbers.

California (BB 44) was partially cofferdammed, weight was removed,

and the hull pumped out. She entered drydock on 9 April 1942 and sailed

for Puget Sound on 10 October 1942. West Virginia (BB 48) was also partially cofferdammed by extending the shell and was extensively patched

with concrete. Weight was removed and the ship floated with compressed

air and pumping. West Virginia was drydocked for temporary repairs on 6

September 1942.

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The sunken harbor tug Sotoyomo was raised and returned to service

by late summer 1942.

The submarine Plunger (SS 179), which was not present during the

attack, fell off the blocks in the marine railway as the result of an industrial accident. She was hauled back into the water after removal of

weight.

As the first major salvage operations at Pearl Harbor, California and

West Virginia were important. They provided needed experience for the

salvors and helped establish effective working relationships between the

Navy and Pacific Bridge.

Two operations are particularly noteworthy: the salvage of Oglala

(CM 4) and the righting and refloating of Oklahoma (BB 37). Oglala, flagship of the Mine Force commander at the time of the attack, had a most

colorful history. Launched in 1907, she had started life as the Fall River

Line steamer Massachusetts; called into service during World War I, she

became the minelayer Shawmut. In this role she participated in the North

Sea Mine Barrage. After the war she was converted to a seaplane tender.

In 1928 she was reconverted to a minelayer and given her final name,

Oglala.

When Plunger fell off marine-railway blocks in an industrial accident, she presented a difficult problem for Pearl Harbor salvors. Photo courtesy David W. Genereaux.
During the attack on Pearl Harbor, Oglala gradually flooded from

concussion damage when a torpedo passed under her and exploded

against the cruiser Helena moored inboard of her. The Oglala capsized to

port with her masts and top-hamper resting on Ten-Ten dock—some say

the old lady sank from fright.

Oglala was considered a total loss and plans were made for her disposal.

Three were rejected. Dewatering and floating the ship on its side with

compressed air was rejected because the hull would not hold the air pressure required. Cutting her up using explosives was rejected because too

few divers skilled in explosive cutting were available, crane services were

better employed elsewhere, and there was danger from side effects of the

explosives. Lifting with four barges was rejected because personnel and

materials would have to be diverted to make the barges suitable for use as

lifting vessels. The most practical scheme was to right Oglala and float

her. Oglala’s behavior during the salvage showed she was no dignified elderly lady, but a cantankerous old harridan.

For the righting operation, ten 80-ton submarine salvage pontoons

were sunk inboard; chains from the pontoons were passed under the hull

and attached above water on the starboard side. Compressed air at 3

pounds per square inch was pumped into the hull and jacks positioned

between the dock and the deck edge. Oglala’s cantankerous nature exerted

itself on the first righting attempt. In full view of a number of distinguished observers, including Fleet Commander Admiral Chester W.

Nimitz, chain connections to the hull failed, and several of the pontoons

rose to the surface when they were blown. The pontoons were rigged

more securely and a second try made. This try was successful and Oglala

was rotated to a position from which she was righted to a list of about 7

degrees. (The method used to refloat Oglala was essentially the same as

that used on California and West Virginia.)

The shell was extended upward with a deck edge cofferdam. Unlike

the partial cofferdams on the battleships, that on the old minelayer

extended around the entire deck edge. The timber fence was extensively

shored from the inside by divers. Pumps were placed, and pumping began.

The water level was being reduced satisfactorily when a butt joint in the

cofferdam failed because the construction crew had not followed the

design specifications. The cofferdam was repaired and the ship floated.

The salvors expected that both longitudinal and transverse stability

would be critical when the ship was afloat. Although steps were taken to

improve stability, little could be done. Two days after the ship was raised,

a pump stopped in the middle of the night; inflow exceeded outflow. The

ship went down by the bow, water rushed forward, debris blocked other

pump suctions, and Oglala settled to the bottom again. Shores were tightened,

leaks patched, and the ship floated, only to have another field deviation

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MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

62

from design specifications cause the cofferdam to fail once more. The

damage was repaired and the ship refloated a third time.3

Oglala had one more trick up her sleeve. A fire broke out when fuel

for a gasoline-driven pump splashed on a hot exhaust line during refueling. The fire quickly spread to the oil-soaked cofferdam timbers and was

extinguished only by efficient fire fighting. After this final mishap, Ogala

was drydocked in Pearl Harbor for temporary repairs. She later sailed to

the West Coast under her own power, where she was converted to a diesel

engine repair ship.

If the salvage of Oglala was the most unpredictable operation, the

salvage of the battleship Oklahoma was certainly the largest and most

complicated salvage job undertaken at Pearl Harbor and possibly anywhere during World War II. Unlike the majority of ships sunk in the

3Because of her ups and downs, the salvors had begun to call Oglala “Otis” after the famous

elevators.

The minelayer Oglala proved one of the most difficult salvages at Pearl Harbor.
World War II Begins

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attack, Oklahoma was not intended to return to service. During the

attack the ship had capsized to port after taking several torpedo hits and

had come to rest 151 degrees 30 minutes from upright in about 40 feet of

water with the starboard bilge above water and the upper port side

embedded 20 to 25 feet in the mud. The aft two-thirds of the ship lay on

firm soil; the forward one-third floated in soft mud.

The decision to salvage was based on the need to clear the berth and

to use material from the ship. As with Oglala, the only feasible method of

removal was to right and refloat the vessel. To do this, the work was

divided between the Navy and the heavy-engineering contractor, Pacific

Bridge Company, with the Navy retaining overall responsibility. The contractual arrangements allowed Pacific Bridge to get suitable priorities on

material and hire the right people for the job. The work was carefully

planned before starting. Models were used extensively during planning

and throughout the salvage both to simulate the behavior of the ship and

to plan internal work.

The primary force for righting was to be applied by twenty-one

electric winches anchored on concrete foundations on Ford Island and

hauling on thirty-four part purchases. The purchases pulled 3-inch

wire ropes that were led over headframes about 40 feet high. The wire was

The capsized battleship Oklahoma was righted by building headframes on her side and

pulling with purchases and winches mounted ashore on Ford Island.
then divided into four one-inch “cat tails” and secured to strong points

on the hull. The function of the headframes was to increase the righting

arm during the initial part of the righting operation. Martin-Decker strain

gauges on the hauling part of the righting tackles determined the pull

being exerted and allowed the pull on the twenty-one purchases to be balanced. Placing pontoons on the outboard side to increase the righting

moment was considered but rejected because the advantage gained did

not justify the work necessary to rig the pontoons.

Calculations and model tests had shown that it would be necessary to

reduce the weight and provide buoyancy with its accompanying righting

moments during the righting operations. Fuel was removed. The hull was

divided into seven zones, each of which was secured by divers entering

through the bottom. Because of the extreme difficulty of diving in the

interior of an inverted ship, dives were carefully planned, with routes and

tasks worked out on models. Air locks were fitted over the access openings in each section; hull openings were made tight; and water was forced

lower by compressed air. Salvors could then enter the hull and do additional securing work that was not practical for divers. The air locks were

removed, and fittings and manifolds for control of air pressure in the hull

were installed before righting. The air bubble in the hull would be effec -

tive until the ship had reached an inclination of 108 degrees.

To reduce the possibility that the hull might slip sideways rather than

rotate, 2,200 tons of coral soil was deposited near the bow section to stabilize the soft mud. When all systems and their controls and monitoring

devices were in place, righting began on the morning of 3 March 1943.

The righting of Oklahoma by parbuckling was a controlled, orderly

process that proceeded with care and deliberation. During the pulling

process, stops were necessary for repairs, clearing of wire from the winch

drums, and airlifting soil from the inboard side. When the hull had

reached an inclination of 68 degrees, the wires were clear of the headframes; the headframes were removed and floated clear. At about 40

degrees, wire terminations were rerigged from the hull strong points to

multiple straps around heavy shipboard structures.

As the ship approached the upright position, divers jetted away soil

under the starboard side and salvors topside began to remove weight and

prepare for pumping. On 6 June, with the ship inclined at 2 degrees 10

minutes, the righting effort was declared complete and the refloating

phase of the work began.

This stage of work resembled that required for California and West

Virginia. A battleship with extensive torpedo damage was essentially upright resting on the bottom; the problem was to restore buoyancy and

float the ship. Patching included large steel and wood open-topped cofferdam patches with the bottom sealed with concrete, as well as more

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conventional types of patches. To assist in establishing transverse stability during refloating, a wooden-shell extension cofferdam, which had been

effective on other battleships and on Oglala, was built around a portion

of the main deck. The hull was pumped and came afloat on 3 November

1943. Excluding the drydocking that followed, the salvage of Oklahoma

took eighteen months. That this mammoth job was a success is a testimonial to the men who carried it out with care, deliberation, and confidence, particularly Captain Wallin, Salvage Officer; Captain Francis H.

Whitaker, Salvage Superintendent; Lieutenant Commander James W.

Greely, Ship Superintendent; and Lieutenant Commander H.E. (Pappy)

Haynes, Diving Officer.

Only two victims of the Pearl Harbor attack remained unsalvaged:

Arizona (BB 39), whose forward magazine had exploded during the attack,

and Utah (AG 16).4 The latter had capsized and presented about the same

4Formerly BB 31.

Rear Admiral Furlong (left) and Captain Francis H. Whittaker inspect the purchases used

to haul Oklahoma upright.
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66

salvage problems as Oklahoma. There was no thought of raising Arizona

because her military value was now slight, but a large amount of material including ordnance material and stores were removed. She remains in

Pearl Harbor as a memorial to the men who lost their lives in the attack.

Utah was scheduled for salvage following Oklahoma, and usable materials were removed. The wreck was partially righted with the same parbuckling system as employed on Oklahoma when reevaluation of the work

showed that the gain was insufficient to justify the work. Salvage was

abandoned and Utah left where she lay. In 1956, when a new carrier berth

was needed, consideration was given to removing Utah. However, the

heavy funding requirement and lack of material, proper personnel, and

time required militated against the work and nothing was done. Utah also

remains in Pearl Harbor.

The contribution to the war effort made by the ships salvaged at Pearl

Harbor, well documented in many publications, is the best known and

most important result of the huge salvage effort there. Other benefits,

equally important in the narrower context of naval salvage, and perhaps

more subtle, came from the work. An unusual feature was the concentration from the outset on removal of ordnance material. There was little or

no air defense in Pearl Harbor on 7 December, and the attack vividly

The new fleet tug Navajo and the older tug Tern fight fires on the doomed battleship

Arizona two days after the attack on Pearl Harbor. Navajo and her sister Seminole provided salvage services around Pearl Harbor early in the war.
demonstrated the potential of air attacks. The removal of antiaircraft batteries and ammunition from the sunken ships for installation around the

island was a necessary step in building an air defense system for the

island. In addition to putting the salvaged antiaircraft batteries to immediate use, directors, ordnance instruments, small arms, and the like were

removed from the casualties and preserved.

Because all the ships salvaged, with the exception of Oklahoma, were to

see war service, care was taken in cleaning the interior of the hulls. A caustic solution was found effective in washing down compartments and removing the fuel oil coating the interior of the reclaimed ships. Particular care

was given to preserving and restoring electrical equipment, especially the

electric drive on a number of the battleships. A great deal of experience

was gained quickly in methods of preserving such equipment.

A number of problems encountered in the Pearl Harbor salvage

occurred because the ships were warships, outfitted and provisioned for

war and sunk in combat.

• Fuel escaped in great quantity, either burning and causing extensive

damage or coating the interior of spaces, thus presenting a fire hazard and

requiring removal.

• Volatile liquids, including gasoline fuel for boats and airplanes, was

another problem. As is too often the case, the lesson was learned the hard

way with a vapor explosion on board California.

• Other fire hazards existed among the ships’ normal stores and the

materials that sailors, pack-ratting anything potentially useful, had on board.

• The ships all contained ammunition, some of major caliber, that

had to be removed; fortunately, because of long experience and extraordinary care, no mishaps in handling ammunition occurred.

• Unexploded Japanese ordnance, particularly bombs converted from

armor-piercing shells, were on board and in the vicinity of the salvage

work, and had to be dealt with.

• A particularly unpleasant aspect of the salvage was the presence of

human remains, which were located and removed throughout the work.

Methods were devised for the removal of remains with as little disruption

of work as possible.

During the salvage of Nevada, two men were lost to toxic gases generated by the decay of organic matter. After this incident, steps were

taken to warn of the presence of toxic gases, particularly hydrogen sulfide, and to protect workers from them. Steps were also taken to guard

personnel from exposure to hypoxic atmospheres in the interiors of ships.

The toxic gas lessons learned in Nevada were widely disseminated, and

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measures were taken in salvage operations around the world wherever the

situation recurred.

The sunken ships at Pearl Harbor became a testing ground for salvage

equipment and techniques. Deep-well pumps proved to be very useful in

the battleship salvage, particularly because the battleships were fitted

with trunks into which the pumps could be lowered. It was brought home

clearly that the watertight subdivisions in older ships and in ships that

have experienced heavy shocks cannot be depended on. Many long hours

were spent chasing down leaks. The hazard that large undivided spaces

present to longitudinal and transverse stability was shown in Oglala, especially on the ship’s open mine deck. The uncontrolled movement of a

large mass of water contributed to one of that ship’s resinkings.

Fortunately, the battleships were finely divided and free surface could be

controlled with some precision.

The salvor’s maxim that safety precautions are written in blood has

been proved many times over. It is nowhere more true than in salvage

operations where safety margins are smaller than in ordinary heavy-engineering work. The necessity for field personnel to follow all design and

safety specifications exactly was graphically demonstrated when deviations from design specifications caused Oglala to sink twice and when

varying from safety specifications resulted in an explosion with loss of life

in Oklahoma.

Primarily due to the insistence on safety of Lieutenant Commander

“Pappy” Haynes, almost 20,000 hours spent underwater by Navy and

contractor divers during Pearl Harbor salvage operations resulted in no

serious Navy casualties and only one contractor casualty.

Because Hawaii is basically a nonindustrial island group more than

2,000 miles from the mainland and the naval base at Pearl Harbor was

comparatively new, there was a general shortage of materials throughout

the salvage operation. Shortages of proper pumps at the outset, and lumber

and fastenings throughout were particularly acute. Civilian engineers and

mechanics were in short supply in Honolulu and at the navy yard. The

shortage of personnel was most strongly felt in the welding and carpentry

trades. Had all the needed people and materials been readily available,

the salvage work would have been much easier, just as the salvage of F–4

in these same waters would have been enhanced by a well-developed

industrial base. Few salvors, however, have found themselves with all the

resources required to do a job without some improvisation. The ability to

make do and exercise imagination achieved the desired result for those

who completed the salvage work at Pearl Harbor.

The numerous lessons of the Pearl Harbor salvage were universally

applied throughout the war and undoubtedly prevented the costly experience of relearning them in later operations. Fortunately, this extensive

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68
and complicated work came at the beginning of the war and the Navy’s

salvage forces were organized so that dissemination of information was

rapid.

The Navy Salvage Service

While Pearl Harbor was still reeling from the 7 December attack and

the huge salvage operation was getting started, events were in progress

that would bring about establishment of the Navy Salvage Service and

profoundly influence the structure and development of the American salvage forces during World War II.

On 11 December 1941 contract NObs–36 establishing the Navy

Salvage Service was signed between the Bureau of Ships and MerrittChap man and Scott. This contract provided that:

• The contractor’s ships would be chartered to the Navy.

• The contractor’s salvage equipment and salvage stations, other

than the Staten Island station, would be leased to the Navy.

• The facilities of the Staten Island station would be available to the

Navy.

• The contractor would operate the chartered ships and equipment

and any other ships and equipment it was assigned.

• The contractor would train salvage personnel.

• The contractor could conduct its customary harbor clearance and

inland salvage operations independent of this contract. However, if the

Navy felt such an operation was in the interest of national defense, it

could be conducted under this contract.

• All salvage operations would be carried out on a no-cure, no-pay

basis unless specifically directed otherwise. A fixed price would be paid

for the charter of the ships and lease of the equipment, management and

consulting services, and the use of the Staten Island station.

• The contract would be managed by a naval officer reporting to the

Chief of the Bureau of Ships. This officer, to be known as the Supervisor

of Salvage, would be colocated with the contractor and would have the

right to attend meetings of the contractor’s board of directors and to convene meetings of the contractor’s executives and technical employees.

With the contract in place, Commander Sullivan was designated

Supervisor of Salvage on 13 December 1941, and an office established

adjacent to the contractor at 17 Battery Place, New York City.5 In Novem5 Ironically, these were the former German consular offices.

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ber 1942 now-Captain Sullivan was temporarily ordered overseas to take

charge of harbor clearance operations in North Africa. Commander

Bernard E. Manseau was appointed to act in his absence. Two years later,

as a captain, Manseau became the Supervisor of Salvage and held the

position until it was reclaimed by Commodore Sullivan in early 1946.

Range of Operations

The basic operating policy of Navy salvage had three primary parts.

The Navy Salvage Service was responsible for offshore salvage operations

along the Atlantic and Pacific coasts, in the Caribbean, and off Panama

and Alaska. The naval districts were responsible for salvage operations in

inland waters. The fleets were responsible for overseas operations.

To utilize all available resources most effectively, the Navy Salvage

Service, basically an operator of fully equipped and specialized salvage

ships, worked primarily in offshore salvage. Its salvage ships did no harbor

or inland salvage and towed no disabled ships into port unless other facilities were unavailable or inadequate. The important function of towing

into port ships damaged or distressed at sea was initially performed by

tugs attached to the naval districts.

The distribution of tugs under this system made it impossible to bring

the correct quality and quantity of resources to bear on the large groups

of casualties that sometimes resulted from submarine attack. In addition,

the wrong type of tug was frequently put on a job. To correct the problems, which were inherent in this type of organization and had caused the

loss of ships and cargoes, all available tugs were organized into the Navy

Rescue Towing Service. The service, operating only on the Atlantic

Coast, was under the direction of Mr. Edmond Moran of New York’s

Moran Towing, an experienced towing industry executive who had been

enrolled in the Naval Reserve for this purpose. The service functioned

under the command of Commander Eastern Sea Frontier. With the centralized control of rescue tugs under an officer who knew tugs and their

capabilities, conditions rapidly improved and successes grew.

Fighting the major fires at sea that accompany salvage in wartime was

not the responsibility of the Navy Salvage Service. When fires were

beyond the capacity of the salvage ships to control, firefighters were provided from centralized groups available at short notice from fire-fighting

schools. Joint wartime naval and civilian fire-fighting efforts are described

later in this chapter.

During the war the Navy Salvage Service operated twelve salvage

ships. Three of these—Relief, Resolute, and Killerig—were owned by MerrittChapman and Scott. Five others were converted Bird-class minesweepers. Warbler (ARS 11) and Willet (ARS 12) had been on bare boat

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charter by Merritt-Chapman and Scott for some time; upon execution of

NObs–36, they were transferred to the Navy and placed in the custody of

the contractor. Viking (ARS 1), Crusader (ARS 2), and Discoverer (ARS 3)

had been operating with the U.S. Coast and Geodetic Survey before the

war. Accelerate (ARS 30), Harjurand (ARS 31), and Rescuer (ARS 18)

were privately owned ships requisitioned by the War Shipping

Administration. All were in constant service throughout the war except

Rescuer, which was wrecked near Seal Cape, Alaska, during salvage operations on the Russian ship Turksib in December 1942.

When Viking went into service early in 1942, Merritt-Chapman and

Scott again found itself with a West Coast salvage station. Viking operated from San Diego and San Pedro throughout the war. Additional West

Coast stations operated at Port Angeles, Washington, with Discoverer, and

at Kodiak, Alaska, until the loss of Rescuer.

The Navy Salvage Service handled over 700 assignments, including

498 major salvage operations. The bulk of this work was conducted during

the height of the German U-boat campaign in old and slow ships carrying

little or no armament. The jobs involved such diverse types of salvage and

encompassed such diversity that no job was typical. Several operations

illustrate the magnitude and complexity of the work.

In the morning fog on 28 June 1942, SS Stephen R. Jones (4,387 gross

registered tons, 354.2 feet), en route to a convoy assembly point with a

The Navy Salvage Service salvage ship Rescuer was wrecked during salvage operations on

the Soviet ship Turksib at Seal Cape, Alaska.
cargo of coal, struck riprap on the bank of the Cape Cod Canal. The vessel swung across the canal, capsized, and sank. The canal was effectively

blocked, and shipping was forced to make the trip through U-boat infested waters outside the cape.

The following day the Navy Salvage Service undertook the clearance

at the request of the Army Corps of Engineers. Commander Sullivan and

Captain W.N. Davis of Merritt-Chapman and Scott flew to the scene.

What they found was disheartening. The swift currents in the canal made

diving impossible except for very short periods at slack water. To cut up

the wreck and remove it conventionally would take at least eight months,

an unacceptably long time. An alternative method was to flatten the

wreck with explosives and pound it into the bottom to below the project

depth. This method would be fast, but it threatened the nearby Bourne

Bridge. Nevertheless, divers placed charges at slack water from dawn to

dusk. The first charge was fired on 4 July. Bourne Bridge was carefully

monitored, and charges were gradually increased from the initial 350

pounds to 1,450 pounds.

By 11 July there was 28 feet of water over the wreck and about half

of the canal could be navigated by small vessels. While work continued

during July, 722 vessels made transits of the canal. The job was declared

completed on 31 July; the entire wreck was blown down to 32 feet. The

rapid removal of Stephen R. Jones as an obstruction was commendable, but

proving the utility and efficiency of explosives for such work was an even

more important result. The technique pioneered would soon prove itself

in harbor clearance overseas.

An operation in New York harbor found the Navy Salvage Service

employing more conventional techniques. SS El Estero with 1,400 tons of

explosives on board caught fire on 24 April 1943 and was scuttled by the

Coast Guard in Upper New York Bay near Robbins Reef Lighthouse. The

Navy Salvage Service entered the picture the following day. They found

the wreck with only her superstructure above water, across the tide and

listing 18 degrees.

The salvage plan called for a cofferdam completely around the deck

of the vessel and removal of all masts, sampson posts, houses, and

obstructions to a height of 71

⁄2 feet above the main deck. Only as much

cargo as was necessary to place the pump suctions in the holds would be

removed. Work on removals and cofferdam fabrication at the Staten

Island station began on 3 May. By 7 September removals were complete

and the cofferdam was installed. In the early morning of 10 September

pumping began with six 10-inch pumps suspended from gallows frames.

As the ship became buoyant and righted herself, she was pulled toward

the shore with two legs of beach gear. Difficulties with stability, which

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72
occur when a ship with its deck completely immersed refloats, were

avoided by keeping the ship in contact with the bottom. At the end of the

day El Estero rested securely on a shoal with more than 6 feet of freeboard. The cofferdam was removed, the pumps relocated, and the ship

floated and delivered to the War Shipping Administration on 17

September.

This job could be accomplished quickly with the optimum salvage

plan because the work was located close to a major industrial center

where all sorts of materials were available and facilities existed for building and handling the cofferdam sections. If the job had been in a remote

location, a different approach, probably one that had a lower chance of

success and was more time consuming, would have been required. The

work on Stephen R. Jones and El Estero was in relatively protected waters.

That was not the case with most of the wartime salvage work.

Fully one-third of the operations of the Navy Salvage Service

involved tankers. Typical was the operation on the SS Oklahoma. The

Texas Company tanker Oklahoma was almost new when she was attacked

with torpedoes and gunfire by a submarine on the night of 9–10 April

1942. The 9,624-gross-tonnage, 510-foot ship carried a mixed cargo of

petroleum products—low- and high-octane gasoline, kerosene, fuel oil,

and diesel oil. She was left stern down and bow afire five miles from St.

Simons Island, Georgia. When the salvage ship Willet arrived on 11 April,

the salvors found the forecastle still burning and the stern resting on the

bottom in 66 feet of water. She was listing 38 degrees to starboard. Salvors

boarded on 13 April, put out the fires, and began to rig portable air compressors. The salvage plan was straightforward: hold the wreck with

beach gear; patch the holes; cofferdam pumproom doors; and tap into the

cargo piping to blow air into enough tanks to raise her for towing into

sheltered waters.

The salvage plan worked as expected and the vessel was delivered to

her owners on 25 April, even though the salvors had taken two days away

from the Oklahoma to assist another tanker. During the salvage a particular effort was made to save the scarce cargo of refined petroleum products; some had to be jettisoned but the majority was saved by blowing it

into tanks that were still intact.

The increase in wartime shipping meant that more ships were at sea,

and larger numbers of ships required more trained and experienced seamen than were available. Many farm boys were at sea. The large number

of ships with low levels of crew experience led to larger numbers of noncombat salvage cases. Typical of these was the new Liberty ship Gaspar

De Portola on the last leg of her voyage from India to New York. Portola

grounded on Quena Suene Bank in the Caribbean. After jettisoning

1,500 tons of ore and discharging 1,600 tons of jute, burlap, and hides

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to another vessel, she was freed by the tug Arsiz and the Navy Salvage

Service ship Killerig.

Throughout the war the Navy Salvage Service performed every kind

of salvage service with every possible technique. The service also performed two additional functions. The first of these was the removal of

menaces to navigation along the Atlantic and Gulf coasts. This work was

normally the responsibility of the Army Corps of Engineers, but the large

number of shipping losses exceeded the capacity of the corps.

Arrangements were made for the Navy Salvage Service to handle the

problem. Salvage of the wrecks and obstructions was not required; they

were to be demolished. So that salvage ships would not be diverted from

their normal duties, the Chief of Naval Operations assigned a number of

small craft to the Salvage Service. A total of sixty-four assignments were

completed, resulting in the elimination of the most serious menaces to

navigation.

For its second additional function the Navy Salvage Service kept several experienced salvage men standing by in New York City. When vessels

were in distress in remote places where assistance could not easily be provided, or when information was so sketchy that critical decisions could

not be made, one of these troubleshooters was dispatched to the scene.

They ranged from Brazil to Newfoundland and from England to Tokyo

Bay, often taking charge at the scene and doing the job with the resources

at hand. Typical of their work was the case of SS Warren Delano. This ship

grounded near Buoy 8 in the Houston Ship Channel carrying a cargo of

ammunition. Salvage operations by the War Shipping Admin istration

succeeded in moving the ship 100 yards but left her hard aground. The

Supervisor of Salvage dispatched a Navy Salvage Service troubleshooter.

Upon arrival the salvor began to assemble from local sources the heavy

ground tackle needed to float the ship. Using this improvised beach gear

and scouring with the tug Sands Point, he had Warren Delano afloat a little more than two days after his arrival.

A few months before the establishment of the Navy Salvage Service,

contract NObs–2263 was let to enable Merritt-Chapman and Scott to

purchase with Navy funds the additional equipment that would be needed. This method of procurement took advantage of the contractor’s

experi ence, business contacts, and sources of supply. From the material

and purchases made under contract NObs–2263, two carloads of salvage

equipment were drawn for delivery to Pearl Harbor in December 1941

and January 1942. Salvage equipment was provided by the same means

for outfitting the first four commissioned naval salvage vessels: the fleet

tugs Cherokee (ATF 66) and Menominee (ATF 73) and the salvage ship

conversions Redwing (ARS 4) and Brant (ARS 32). As the war continued,

the demands for salvage equipment became too great for the contractor’s

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

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sources of supply. The Bureau of Ships, therefore, undertook the acquisition of specially designed salvage equipment, while the contractor contin -

ued to acquire commercially available items. The Supervisor of Salvage

then supplied materials on request to the contractor.

Organizational Problems

In general, personal relations between the contractor and Navy people were harmonious and fruitful to both. Each side made an effort to

understand and accommodate the other. However, there were some problems in operating a large-scale contractor effort in support of a huge

naval endeavor.

On only one occasion did the conduct of the contractor’s people

require disciplinary action. Rescuer was wrecked following a party on

board while the ship was engaged in salvage operations in Alaskan waters.

Although the Bureau of Marine Inspection investigated the incident and

saw fit to take no action, the master and salvage officers were nonetheless discharged. Following this incident, the Navy Salvage Service was

withdrawn from Alaskan waters, and work there was carried out by Navy

vessels.

Problems with communications were also encountered. The contractor’s communications procedures and private coding were not compatible

with naval practice. There was some contention over the responsibility

for sending Navy Salvage Service messages, and in certain areas local

commanders forbade the salvage vessels from breaking radio silence

under any circumstances. The problems, which were largely in the nature

of growing pains, disappeared when the Chief of Naval Operations directed the Navy Salvage Service to use the wartime communications procedures that had been standardized for merchant ships.

The no-cure, no-pay system, intended as the primary means of compensating the contractor, didn’t work. The War Shipping Administration

underwrote most of the wartime risk insurance on American hulls, while

commercial insurers carried marine risks on hull and cargo and some

cargo war risk. In November 1942 an agreement was reached that all

Navy claims against the War Shipping Administration would be waived.

American commercial underwriters then refused to negotiate claims

because of the lack of information about War Shipping Administration

interest in various shipping ventures. Further, the underwriters took the

position that, because salvage was being undertaken as part of the war

effort, the elements of risk by the salvor and encouragement to continue—traditional in determining salvage awards—ought not be considered.

Underwriters also reasoned that the government’s need for the cargoes

outweighed the value of the cargoes themselves; thus costly attempts at

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salvage were warranted, although they were not in the interest of private

owners. There was even an argument that, because the Navy had an

overriding interest in all maritime matters, there should be no charge for

Navy services. The Navy could not assent to this for two reasons: (1)

underwriters, whose premiums already took into account contractor pay -

ments for salvage, would be unduly enriched if all claims were waived;

and (2) the Navy had no legal authority to waive claims.

On 9 January 1943 the Supervisor of Salvage was directed to institute

a new system that allowed claims to be settled according to standard per

diem rates. Underwriters formally accepted the procedure in June and

established the Special Salvage Committee to deal with the claims of the

Navy Salvage Service.

The Navy Salvage Service quickly provided a professional salvage

organization for home waters. It made a definite contribution to the war

effort by salvaging ships and cargoes under terms fair to the government and

to industry. It operated in a constantly expanding role because it was managed with flexibility and a desire to get on with the job. The Navy Salvage

Service, the Navy Rescue Towing Service, and the use of firefighters to combat fires at sea—all dispatched from a single headquarters—demonstrated

the effectiveness of centralized control of limited resources to assure that

assets appropriate in both size and ability were assigned to a task.

The Salvage of Lafayette

Undoubtedly the largest, best known, and arguably most important

single-ship job undertaken by the Navy Salvage Service was the salvage

of Lafayette at Pier 88 in New York City.

The French liner Normandie (1,029 feet overall, 65,000 displacement

tons) had been requisitioned by the United States on 16 December 1941.

Later that month she was transferred to the Navy Department and

renamed Lafayette. While work was underway to convert her to a troop

transport, she caught fire on 9 February 1942. The New York Fire De -

partment was competent at fighting both land and shipboard fires, but

there was serious concern that the fire would spread to the city. Captain

Simmers, the naval engineer on the Third Naval District staff, and

Captain W.N. Davis of Merritt-Chapman and Scott made a plea that the

fire be allowed to burn itself out and that the New York Fire Department

stop pouring water into her. Fire Commissioner Walsh understood the

problem, but declined to take action without the concurrence of Mayor

La Guardia. The mayor, in turn, wanted to hear from the naval district

commandant, Rear Admiral Adolphus Andrews. Admiral Andrews could

not personally state that the ship would capsize and declined to take

responsibility for the decision to stop fighting the fire.

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Captain Simmers and Fire Commissioner Walsh made another strong

plea to the mayor, who now became convinced that the ship might well

capsize. La Guardia went to the telephone and called President

Roosevelt. After hearing the story, the President replied hotly that he

couldn’t make the decision from Washington. That did it. The mayor

said, “The Navy won’t take responsibility for the possible spread of the

fire. The President won’t take any responsibility. Put the fire out.” The

Fire Department did.6 The ship capsized during the fire-fighting efforts,

coming to rest that evening on her port side at an angle of just under 80

degrees. The 400-foot-wide slip in which the ship lay was between two

1,100-foot piers. The bow lay 180 feet north of Pier 88, and the rudder

was slightly under the pier, having broken some pilings during the capsizing.

The forward third of the ship rested on a rock ledge; the aft two-thirds

was in mud of various densities. She was flooded up to her waterline. The

wreck was in a position where it inspired considerable comment from the

press and the public, and made two of the longest berths in New York harbor useless. Expert testimony given in subsequent litigation and based on

close examination of the ship during salvage indicates that had the fire

been left alone, damage would have been limited to portions of the upper

three decks.

On 24 February 1942 jurisdiction over the wreck was assumed by the

Bureau of Ships and immediately assigned to the Supervisor of Salvage,

who began to investigate the feasibility of salvage. Captain John Tooker,

a salvage master with long experience with capsized ships, was assigned as

salvage officer by Merritt-Chapman and Scott.

Because of the public interest in the wreck, its potential contribution

to the war, and the critical position in which it lay, the Secretary of the

Navy appointed a special nine-member commission to make recommendations concerning the disposition of the wreck of Lafayette. The commission

was requested to answer two questions:

Should this vessel be raised or should it be disposed of as scrap in her present condition, and, if the latter, what method is considered most practi cal?

If it is determined to raise the vessel, when she is afloat should she be

scrapped or should the consideration of her disposition after raising be left

for study until she is afloat?7

6Shortly after the call to the President, Captain W.N. Davis, head of Merritt-Chapman and

Scott’s Salvage Division, not knowing what had gone before, found the mayor and demanded they

stop pouring water into the ship. La Guardia, in no mood to listen, refused to respond. Davis, a crusty

seaman and man of action, grabbed La Guardia by the lapels and lifted him off the ground. This was

a mistake. The mayor had a policeman lock Davis in a nearby cold storage room, where he was forgotten until after dark. When he was released, Davis walked off the pier and returned to his office.

He refused to have anything to do with the Lafayette, its salvage plan, or refloating. 7Bureau of Ships, Salvage of Lafayette, NAVSHIPS 250-880-21 (Washington: Navy Department,

31 October 1946), appendix C, 7.

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The commission received thousands of suggestions on how the vessel

should be raised. The letters were reviewed by engineers who found that

many of the ideas were good, but that most recommendations were made

either without complete knowledge of the conditions or required a temporary repeal of the laws of physics. Salvors have found it wise not to

count on such suggestions.

Many bona fide experts in salvage, construction, and related fields

were asked to explore all possibilities to arrive at the soundest solution. A

number were discarded as impractical. It was determined that the vessel

could be raised, and that the cheapest, fastest, and most certain method

to do so was to right and refloat her in one operation by pumping. It was

estimated that the operation could be completed in less than two years

for about $5 million. On 1 May 1942 the commission reported:

The vessel should be raised.

Considering the uncertain future needs of the war effort, the committee

feels that a decision as to whether the ship should be reconditioned and for

what purpose should not be made at this time. Such a decision should await

the development of future war conditions and needs as the salvage of the

ship grows nearer. Since there is a possibility that the war emergency may

make the reconditioning of the ship desirable, every reasonable effort should

be made to expedite the salvage.8

8 Ibid.

Lafayette, formerly the French liner Normandie, lies capsized in her ice-filled berth at Pier

88, New York City.
The Supervisor of Salvage was directed to begin work on the salvage

of the Lafayette on 17 May 1942. Since the capsizing, work on the ship

had been restricted to removing the superstructure, installing scaffolding,

removing fire hazards, and defining unknown conditions. The size of the

job dictated that special measures be taken to prevent overloading the

resources of the Navy Salvage Service and detracting from its mission of

offshore salvage. The job was performed under contract NObs–36, but an

independent organization was set up using as few of the Merritt-Chapman

and Scott staff as possible and actively involving the Supervisor of

Salvage in the management of the job.

Two factors were critical to the salvage plan. The first was the bearing strength of the soil under the vessel. Bearing pressures had to be kept

low enough during the operation, especially during the righting, to prevent the ship from settling deeper into the mud. Comprehensive analysis

of soil samples under Professor Karl Terzaghi at Harvard University

showed that the ship rested on sufficiently strong material to prevent anything other than minor settlement. The second critical factor was the

ability to divide the ship into compartments and to make them sufficiently watertight for pumping. Hundreds of open ports on the port side had to

be closed from inside the ship because the fluidity of the mud made closure from the outside impossible. Only after four months of removing

mud by airlifts did the soil become firm enough so that a hole dug under

a port would last long enough for the port to be patched.

Chemical and biological hazards were of particular concern.

Asphyxiating and toxic gases generated by decaying organic matter have

often been a problem in ship salvage; a large amount of such material was

left in Lafayette when she capsized. In addition, city sanitary sewers discharged into the river near the location of the ship, but shutting the sewers down would be impractical and prohibitively expensive. The chemical

firm of Bull and Roberts was hired to monitor bacterial pollution and

assess the danger of infection to divers. Based on the experience with

gases gained in the ships being salvaged at Pearl Harbor, the salvage team

established a program to ventilate, monitor, and clean compartments.

The precautions were extremely effective. Because of the experience at

Pearl Harbor and with Lafayette, the Bureau of Ships contracted with

Arthur D. Little, Inc., to produce a Safety Manual for Ship Salvage

Operations that found wide application in training and in the field.

The plan for righting and refloating Lafayette by pumping had thirteen general operations.

1. Removing the superstructure and the promenade deck.

2. Trimming the promenade deck in preparation for patching.

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3. Removing all joiner work bulkheads, movable equipment, woodwork, and inflammable material inside the ship.

4. Closing, concreting, and bracing 16 cargo ports and 356 air ports.

5. Removing approximately 10,000 yards of mud.

6. Cleaning out all machinery spaces.

7. Ascertaining the strength of all decks and bulkheads.

8. Installing timber and concrete bulkheads.

9. Shoring decks.

Captain John Tooker, a veteran salvage master with Merritt-Chapman and Scott, was

assigned responsibility for the salvage of Lafayette. Captain Tooker’s folding patch, developed on this job for the many ports in Lafayette, is known to generations of Navy divers.
10. Making the intermediate deck tight.

11. Removing part of the pier and driving fender piles.

12. Making detailed strength and stability calculations.

13. Installing and arranging ninety-eight pumps.

During the righting operations it was necessary to control the relative

positions and movements of the ship’s centers of gravity (including

entrained water) and buoyancy. It was also necessary to control trim, safeguard transverse and longitudinal stability, and limit bearing pressure.

This task required fine control of the pumping. It was accomplished by

constructing bulkheads to divide the ship into fourteen watertight compartments, making the hull as tight as possible, and removing all loose

material. Closing the hull required hundreds of patches, ranging from the

folding Tooker patches, developed especially for the Lafayette’s ports by

veteran salvage master John Tooker, to some of the largest patches ever

used in salvage. Throughout the operation, care was taken to reduce

infectious and toxic pollution in the ship caused by nearby dumping of

sewage and the decay of organic material in the ship. A tremendous

amount of construction, patching, and shoring work by divers was

required under conditions that were hazardous and generally undesirable.

To secure absolute control of the longitudinal movement of the ship,

special moorings were installed. In these moorings, 5-ton, 2-drum winches hauled standard beach gear purchases to pull 40 tons on each of the

twelve mooring lines. The mooring lines did not help in righting the vessel, but controlled and positioned her during refloating.

As compartments were made watertight, they were pumped slightly to

determine the extent of leaks. Despite the careful preparation, long hours

of searching out and stopping leaks were required in almost every compartment. Most of the troublesome leakage developed through scupper

and plumbing drains. The last stages of making the compartments watertight merged into the final pumping operation.

Compartment testing continued through July 1943, and on 2 August

an overall pumping test was made. On 4 August the final pumping began.

There was no urgency to rush the operation, so pumping proceeded deliberately with constant checks and repairs, some of them major. The ship

was afloat by 15 September. Thereafter, pumping continued to remove as

much water as possible from the ship, to control massive leakage that had

developed in one compartment, and to prepare the ship for delivery to

the naval district commandant.

Following her delivery, the decision was made not to refurbish Lafayette

for use as a transport, and the ship was eventually scrapped. One of

the factors that influenced the decision was the size of the ship. Many

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believed it unwise to transport an entire infantry division in a single ship

as the Cunard liners Queen Elizabeth and Queen Mary were doing because

the potential for loss if the ship was attacked was too great.

The salvage of Lafayette was a huge job, skillfully done with a minimum of interference with other work and at a reasonable cost. But the

most important product of the salvage was its contribution to the development of skilled Navy and civilian salvage officers and divers.

The projected manning of a large force of commissioned U.S. Navy

salvage ships and harbor clearance units required a large number of

trained Navy salvors. The salvage of Lafayette also required large amounts

of manpower. A logical solution to the problem was to establish schools

for training both Navy and civilian salvors at Pier 88, where classroom

and administrative facilities existed in the pier buildings, and to use

Lafayette as a training aid. Trainees could supply some of the job’s manpower while they gained practical experience. These salvors ultimately

played leading roles throughout the war in clearing harbors, salvaging

warships and merchant vessels, and carrying out emergency repairs in forward areas. 

Captain Bernard E. Manseau (left) shows Rear Admiral Edward L. Cochrane (center),

Chief of the Bureau of Ships, and Rear Admiral Joseph J. Broshek (right), Chief of the

Maintenance Division, around the Lafayette salvage site during the first stages of the righting operation.
Navy Salvage Training

Through its contract (NOd–2263) with Merritt-Chapman and Scott,

the Navy had already acquired one of the four elements its salvage force

needed for a worldwide naval war—equipment. The most important ele -

ment, human resources, was not so easily come by. The conventional wisdom of the day argued against any attempt to train salvors in a brief period.

The only way to train salvors, the thinking went, was in the school of

experience, with about twenty years required to produce a salvage officer.

But the luxury of time was not available to the Navy; extraordinary steps

to produce salvors were necessary.

Although the Navy had trained salvors for many years and was a

world leader in diving technology, there was no formal salvage training.

The small group that established the San Diego salvage base in 1938 had

collected a quantity of salvage information from various sources, classified it, and prepared a series of lectures on salvage and underwater work.

There was, as yet, no forum for its use.

In 1939 the Navy had decided to establish a salvage school to train

experienced engineering graduates from the Naval Reserve and artificers

in salvage. Equipment was assembled and candidates selected. Pearl

Harbor was chosen as the site for the school, but its establishment was

delayed by concern that support of the facility would tax the capabilities

of the relatively small naval base on the island. On 7 December 1941

sixty prospective salvors in San Francisco were awaiting a decision on

where their training was to take place. Forgoing formal training, these

officers and men were immediately shipped to Pearl Harbor to begin work

on the casualties of the attack. In addition, officers with the requisite

technical background were assembled from other stations and shipped to

Pearl Harbor in early January.

The need for large numbers of trained salvors was now urgent. Taking

advantage of the opportunity presented by the Lafayette salvage, schools

for both civilian and Navy salvors were established at Pier 88 in New York

City. Initially, one civilian salvage master was called back from offshore

work, and two officers were brought in from the Pearl Harbor clearance

tc form the nucleus of the faculty. Commander Sullivan assisted by giving

lectures at the school. With the demand for salvors developing rapidly,

the school was soon operating twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

Training was sometimes terminated abruptly and a class ordered into the

field in response to an immediate need; at other times students awaiting

assignments participated in ongoing diving and salvage work, and on a

number of occasions assisted the Navy Salvage Service with removal of

menaces to navigation.

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MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

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The students were given a combination of classroom and practical

training in basic naval architecture, blueprint reading, ship construction,

salvage seamanship, salvage techniques, demolition, diving physics and

physiology, and underwater work methods. All were trained as divers and

made qualifying dives to at least 150 feet. The curriculum was constantly

updated by reports from the field, since lessons learned in salvage operations were passed on immediately.

Initially, officer trainees were engineering graduates with several years’

field experience and a Naval Reserve background. No significant problems

were encountered in training these officers. Later, when the demand for

Commander Carl Holm (left) discusses the Lafayette salvage with

Lieutenant Clarence M. Hart, a member of the first graduating class at Pier

88. Photo courtesy Rear Admiral C.M. Hart.
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salvage officers required the training of less technically oriented or lessexperienced people, the curriculum was modified. Two of the problems in

training enlisted personnel are worthy of note. The Bureau of Medicine

and Surgery first set age 28 as the maximum age for entering salvage

training. This proved unrealistically low, both in terms of the availability

of qualified candidates and the untapped ability of older candidates to

handle the physical demands of diving. The limit was subsequently raised

to age 35.

The other problem had no easy solution. Candidates for salvage training were taken from deck and artificer ratings, and continued to hold

these ratings after receiving salvage training. Enlisted salvors were

assigned and advanced mostly through their rating rather than by their

knowledge and skills in salvage, their actual primary job. Attempts to

establish a salvage mechanic rating were not successful until after the

war. An emergency service rating of Salvage Mechanic was established,

but was suspended a short while later. Debate on whether or not to establish a diver rating continued through the turn of the twenty-first century.

During World War II the Naval Training School (Salvage) at Pier 88

trained more than twenty-five hundred officer and enlisted salvors at a

cost of about $320,000. Most of the graduates were Navy men, but there

were some Army and Coast Guard personnel, and officers and men from

Allied navies. The Bureau of Ships kept a record of the training and

experience of the graduates so that when particular skills were needed,

Officers of the first class of the Navy Salvage School at Pier 88 gather before scattering to

all theaters of the war. Photo courtesy Rear Admiral C.M. Hart.
the most qualified men could be nominated. These salvors participated in

operations in every war theater and made an immeasurable contribution

to the Allied victory.

Fire Fighting

Fighting fires caused by battle damage was another task that required

direct attention. Early operations showed that fire, especially fires resulting from battle damage, would be a major problem. In the first days of the

war, the New York Fire Department interested Rear Admiral Edward L.

Cochrane, Chief of the Bureau of Ships, in a new fire-fighting development—a nozzle that atomized the water stream into a fine spray or fog

and cooled the fire more efficiently than a solid stream. This nozzle was a

weapon of great effect against shipboard fires.

In addition to providing the Navy with the most modern fire-fighting

technology, the New York and Boston Fire Departments formed cadres to

establish fire-fighting schools at naval bases in the United States and

overseas, much as Merritt-Chapman and Scott had provided the cadre for

establishing the salvage school at Pier 88. The schools trained firefighters

to professional standards for the fire-fighting teams on the salvage ships,

and also trained sailors who served on the damage-control parties of

every ship in the fleet. The civilian fire departments worked with the

Bureau of Ships to develop portable fire-fighting equipment and chemicals for carrying on ships and to fit out the various classes of salvage ships

and tugs with off-ship fire-fighting tools. The program was remarkably

successful. In the latter part of the war, ships survived after much more

damage than those lost in the early months.

Salvage Ships

A third element the salvage force needed was ships designed and

outfitted for salvage. Salvage ships and their characteristics had been

discussed by Commander Thomas B. Richey (CC) in his 1925 monograph, Ship Salvage; 9 however, the Navy had not developed a program for

salvage ship construction. A survey made shortly before the war among

flag officers to determine their ideas on salvage ships revealed there was

no consensus. The need to develop and construct the different types of

ships required for various tasks led to the initiation of a major design and

shipbuilding program. An important feature of the program that constructed salvage ships was the close cooperation and sharing of designs

and construction priorities between the British and Americans.

9Commander Thomas B. Richey, “Ship Salvage,” Technical Bulletin No. 2–25 (Washington:

Bureau of Construction and Repair, 1925).

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Eight main types of salvage ships were built during World War II. The

first step toward the development of a salvage fleet had actually been

taken with the authorization of the initial group of the Navajo-class fleet

tugs (ATFs) for the 1939 shipbuilding program. These ships were all-purpose, long-range, seaworthy, powerful, diesel-electric tugs well suited for

operations with combat forces.10 Their automatic tensioning towing

winch made them particularly suitable for taking in tow ships that had

been disabled at sea. They were also good for long-distance towing of all

types of ships and craft. For fire-fighting and combat operations, they

were generally provided with additional salvage equipment and crew.

These fleet tugs were built in two classes: twenty-eight Navajos and

forty-one near-sisters —the Abnakis. The two classes were distinguishable

primarily by their outer appearance, the Abnakis being stackless. These

ships proved to be an outstanding design. Because they were available

throughout the war, they were the primary salvage ships in all theaters.

The only criticism leveled at these ships was that they were too good.

Some felt that because their specifications approximated those of warships, the tugs were unnecessarily large and powerful and their equipment

of too high a standard, making them more expensive than necessary. If

cheaper ships had been designed, it was argued, it would have been possible to build more and alleviate the tug shortage in all theaters. To this

day the question of proper specifications for Navy salvage ships remains

open as nonsalvage-experienced engineers and operators continue to

drive the operational-requirements process.

Auxiliary tugs (ATAs) were steel-hulled, single-screw, diesel tugs with

approximately half the horsepower of the fleet tugs.11 They were designed

for major towing operations and had a large radius of action and considerable endurance. These ships were fitted with the minimum facilities for

fire fighting or salvage expected of a seagoing tug, and were best suited for

use in reserve areas or just outside a combat zone. In this service, they

could relieve fleet tugs towing disabled vessels to a repair base, thus

enabling the more salvage-capable ship to return to the combat zone.

Similar in size to the auxiliary tugs, rescue tugs (ATRs) were woodenhulled, single-screw, steam tugs originally designed to assist vessels disabled at sea and in submarine-infested coastal waters. These ships were

extremely well fitted for fire fighting, with moderate salvage facilities and

extra accommodation for rescued crews. They were excellent sea boats

10When the Navajo class of fleet tugs was designed, the use of diesel propulsion for tugs was in

its infancy; tugs had previously been steam powered. The Dutch firm L. Smit commissioned four tugs,

including the then world’s largest tug, Zwarte Zee, that demonstrated diesel-powered tugs were superior in power, endurance, and economy. 11Auxiliary tugs (ATAs) were originally built as ATs in the same numerical series as the fleet

tugs (ATF). They were designated ATA on 15 May 1944. Except for two ships, auxiliary tugs were

not given names during the war.

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with good towing power but were sharply limited in their radius of action.

These rescue tugs were well employed in supplementing fleet tugs in combat areas where fire was a major hazard and cruising endurance was of

secondary importance. Fifteen were transferred to the Royal Navy.

Perhaps the most important wartime salvage ship program was that

which developed the ARS type of salvage vessel. Converted Bird-class

minesweepers and other suitable hulls acquired from various sources

comprised one group of these ships. Most were operated by the Navy

Salvage Service because they lacked sufficient accommodations for naval

manning. They were fitted out for the specialized work of ship salvage in

coastal waters and were not especially suitable for towing. Two ships,

Redwing and Brant, had Navy crews. For salvage operations using these

two ships, it was necessary to put additional salvage crew on board and

provide sleeping accommodations on deck or wherever else possible.

Nine salvage ships of the Anchor class (ARSs 13 through 17, 28, 29,

35, and 36) were 183-foot, twin-screw, diesel-electric, 1,200-horsepower, wooden-hulled ships. The first wooden salvage ship, Anchor (ARS

13), was commissioned in March 1943; the last, Vent (ARS 29), was

commissioned just thirteen months later. They were built as salvage

ships for service in distant waters and carried a full salvage crew and

allowance of salvage equipment. They were somewhat limited by a small

cruising radius and wooden hulls, but served in all theaters. Several

wooden-hulled salvage ships were built for Britain as BARSs; two of

these, Weight (ARS 35) and Swivel (ARS 36), were commissioned in the

U.S. Navy.

The steel-hulled salvage ships, the Diver (ARS 5) and the Bolster

(ARS 38) classes, were built in the United States to both American and

British specifications. They were 213-foot, 3,000-horsepower, twin-screw,

diesel-electric ships with a long cruising radius, quite different from the

contemporaneous British King Salvor class. They were designed as salvage

ships with adequate storage for salvage machinery and equipment.

Initially, they were equipped with a powered wire reel for towing, but

when it was found that the ships could be used interchangeably with fleet

tugs for all towing, automatic towing winches were diverted from the auxiliary tug (ATA) program and installed on the steel-hulled salvage ships.

In addition to features for offshore salvage, these ships were fitted

with rollers and tackle for lifting over the bow, making them useful in

harbor clearance. The steel-hulled salvage ships were considered so

valuable that operational doctrine developed during the war called for

stationing them outside the combat zone where they would not be

exposed to unnecessary hazard but would be available for any major salvage situation. Twenty-two of these ships saw service in the U.S. Navy.

Fourteen were of Diver class and six of the slightly wider Bolster class.

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The latter, with a greater beam, was more stable, had a larger lifting

capacity, and had more room for stowage of salvage equipment. Two of

four ships built for the British12 were retained and commissioned in the

U.S. Navy as Clamp (ARS 33) and Gear (ARS 34). After the first steelhulled ARS, Clamp, was commissioned in August 1943, the ships saw

service in the Mediterranean, Atlantic, and Pacific theaters. Like the

fleet tugs, the steel-hulled salvage ships were an extremely successful

design, remaining in active service well into the late 1980s.

Although not constructed expressly for salvage, the various classes of

net tenders found considerable utility in salvage operations. These vessels, which were wooden or steel hulled, with some British designs among

them, were intended to lay and tend submarine nets protecting harbors

and anchorages. They were never fitted out with salvage equipment but

operated extensively placing moorings and making lifts over their horns

in harbor clearance operations.

Four ships were converted from landing ship, medium (LSM) hulls to

salvage lifting ships (ARS(D)), especially suited for harbor clearance

operations. They were given full suits of salvage equipment and fitted

with horns and purchases for lifting up to 365 tons in harbor clearance

work. Additionally, the bow doors were welded shut, and salvage shops

were laid out on the former vehicle deck. The salvage lifting ships were

intended for harbor clearance operations expected to follow the invasion

of Japan. They were not completed in time for war service.

Three ships were converted from LST hulls to salvage base ships

(ARS(T)) designed to function as mobile salvage bases. These ships,

which mounted 25-ton cranes and carried over 300 tons of salvage equipment, were assigned to combat salvage and harbor clearance units.

Additionally, ex-W.R. Chamberlain, later Tackle (ARS 37), was briefly

desig nated ARS(T) 4 in 1945.

Submarine rescue ships had first been commissioned in the Navy when

six Bird-class minesweepers were fitted for submarine rescue service in

1929. The rapid expansion of the submarine force and the development of

more complex technology for submarine rescue led to the design of a class

of submarine rescue ship in the 1930s. Five ships of the Chanticleer (ASR

7) class were ordered in 1940 and six additional ships were ordered in

1944. These eleven ships were the largest tug-type vessels operated by

the Navy; not all were completed before the war ended. Because of the

12Two ships, Caledonian Salvor (BARS 1) and Cambrian Salvor (BARS 2), were transferred to

Great Britain under Lend-Lease and assigned to Australia. The names of the ships reflected the

Scottish and Welsh backgrounds of Judge Thomas Clyne and Captain Sir John P. Williams, who were

leaders of the Australian salvage effort. Both ships had long careers in commercial salvage in other

parts of the world after the war.

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demand, three ATF hulls were also completed as submarine rescue ships.

The principal value of these ships in salvage lay in their ability to support

deep diving with helium-oxygen breathing mixtures. During the war they

primarily supported submarine operations.

With amphibious assault, one of the prime characteristics of World

War II, the salvage of landing craft became important—either to repair

and return the landing craft to service or to remove them from the beaches so they did not block across-the-beach movement of men and material. No ships or craft were developed specifically for landing craft salvage;

however, several 157-foot oceangoing ships—landing craft, infantry

(large) (LCI(L))—were modified for fire fighting and salvage work. In the

Atlantic, these were dual-purpose vessels that sometimes delivered

assault forces and then turned to salvage work. In the Pacific they carried

so much salvage gear that the dual role was impractical; they were strictly salvage craft. Larger landing craft were also fitted out for salvage.

Landing craft, tanks (LCTs) were fitted with shear legs to assist in lifting

or righting landing craft and one landing craft, mechanized (LCM) in

each group carried patching and pumping material and a salvage crew.

Salvage Doctrine, Organization, and Management

By the time the United States entered the war, the development of

three of the four necessary elements of salvage—ships, men, and equipment—was well underway. A varied and successful program to meet these

needs would continue throughout the conflict. The shipbuilding program

had begun building and converting ships, and would adapt them as lessons were learned in the hard school of combat salvage. The practical salvage experience and training at Pearl Harbor and New York’s Pier 88 were

producing the critical nucleus of men. The Bureau of Ships and MerrittChapman and Scott, working closely with industry, were developing and

procuring needed equipment. For the salvage forces to be fully effective,

however, much new ground had to be plowed. The expectations for this

new component of the fleet, the doctrine for its operation, its organization, and its management procedures had yet to be determined.

In the days immediately preceding the war, salvage responsibility was

concentrated in the Bureau of Ships. In the spring of 1941 Admiral

Samuel M. Robinson, Chief of the Bureau, and Rear Admiral Joseph J.

Broshek, Chief of Maintenance, assigned Commander Sullivan as head

of the Navy salvage effort with the title Chief of Navy Salvage. In his

new capacity, Sullivan set out to organize the Navy salvage effort and to

incorporate engineering as an integral part. Sullivan later took on additional duty as Supervisor of Salvage and managed the Navy Salvage

Service. Thus Sullivan wore both the technical- and operational-manageMUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

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ment hats. As a natural outgrowth of this arrangement and of Sullivan’s

later personal involvement in salvage operations primarily in Europe, a

close relationship developed between the Bureau of Ships and operational salvage forces in the European theater.

The same close relationship did not exist between the Bureau of Ships

and salvage forces in the Pacific. As soon as he could be spared from Pearl

Harbor salvage work, Commander Lebbeus Curtis was designated Mobile

Salvage Engineer on the staff of Rear Admiral William L. Calhoun,

Commander Service Force. There was no corresponding posi tion in the

Atlantic Fleet. From the time the commands of Commander in Chief,

U.S. Pacific Fleet, and Commander Service Force, U.S. Pacific Fleet, were

established in nearby buildings at Makalapa overlooking Pearl Harbor,

many officers, including the salvage officer, occupied positions on both

staffs. This symbiotic relationship between the staffs continued until the

newly established Naval Surface Force absorbed the Service Force in

1975.

In both theaters the principle of centralized control of salvage was

established. This approach made the most effective and economical use

of men and equipment because it permitted:

• Coverage of an extremely large geographic area by a relatively small

organization.

• Rapid delivery of men and equipment to handle short-duration

jobs.

• Assignment of the best-qualified men and most suitable equipment

to specific jobs.

• Development of a corps of trained and dedicated salvors by providing a workload sufficient to hone skills through experience and to prevent

diversion to other activities.13

• Allocation of resources commensurate with changes in location and

intensity of activity.

Each salvage job presents its own unique problems requiring specialized equipment and skilled personnel. Experience during the war showed

that distribution of skilled personnel and equipment was not likely to be

uniform. For instance, an abundance of personnel skilled with explosives

might be needed to clear one port while another port might require those

skilled in heavy rigging. Highly specialized equipment is needed only for

particular conditions. Centralized control and assignment of assets during

13During the war, if specialized manpower was not kept fully employed in its specialty, it would

be diverted or shanghaied to other uses. Salvage organizations were known to engage in this practice.

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the war allowed a small inventory of such equipment to be maintained and

transported where it was required. Similarly, while all salvage people

received general training in the basic techniques and principles of salvage,

many became highly specialized as their skills, interests, and experience

grew; careful and continuous tracking of key people and their assignments

meant the best available human assets from a relatively small pool could

be assigned to the right job. Thus efficiency in handling men and resources

assured that salvors’ skills were maintained and that the salvage organization did not use manpower in one place that could be employed more

effectively elsewhere. The salient advantage was extreme mobility.

As the war progressed it became apparent that amphibious assault

would be a major naval emphasis in both major theaters.14 Salvage

forces supported amphibious assaults in four principal ways. First, salvage

ships assisted assault-group vessels damaged by attacks en route to invasion sites. Second, during and after an assault, salvage forces assisted

ships damaged by the opposing forces. Third, salvage forces recovered

landing craft from invasion beaches both for repair and to clear the

beaches for across-the-beach movement of supplies for invasion forces.

Fourth, salvage forces cleared captured harbors of obstructions so that

supplies could flow through for the land campaigns that followed.

As the requirements for salvage were learned through experience in

the field, salvage organization took on a definite structure. The precise

composition of a specific salvage force depended on many factors: geography, distance, the type of action expected, and the needs of the particular assault. However, all operations followed a general pattern.

Salvage forces were most effective when they were nearly autonomous

and the only directions they received for doing their work were the location and priority of vessels and craft to be salvaged. This practice

decreased the confusion that naturally attends combat and reduced work

interruptions because the salvors, the experts in the work, made the decisions rather than commanders who had many other concerns.

In the best possible situation, the salvage commander worked from a

ship that had complete communications facilities and served as his headquarters. This ship, usually a salvage vessel, would act primarily as a command ship, becoming a salvage ship only to support other forces or when

all forces were engaged.

When they were available, each assault group had three tugs—either

fleet tugs (ATF) or rescue tugs (ATR). They were equipped with fire14Following the disastrous Gailipoli assault in World War I, amphibious assault against a prepared position was deemed infeasible by military thinkers. In World War II, the United States had no

other option. Its tactical expertise evolved to the point where, late in the war, the Japanese refused

battle on the assault beaches and waited in selected and prepared positions inland.

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fighting and salvage gear and manned with a combat salvage team of one

officer and ten men and a fire-fighting team of one officer and eight firefighters. These ships accompanied the assault group from the departure

point and were prepared to undertake salvage and fire-fighting work on

the ships of the group. The three fleet or rescue tugs were supported by

four to six seagoing tugs, preferably auxiliary tugs (ATA), who could tow

ships damaged by enemy action clear of the combat area. The auxiliary

tugs were also ready to relieve the fleet tugs as soon as emergency firefighting or salvage work was completed.

Two fully equipped salvage ships (ARS) were stationed in a nearby

reserve area where they would not be exposed to attack but would be

available to deal with operations beyond the ability of the tugs, primarily

ships towed out of the combat zone or beached for further salvage.

Like the fleet tugs, specially equipped landing craft attached to the

amphibious ships provided immediate salvage assistance to stricken craft

and passed on jobs beyond their capacity to salvage forces with greater

capability. Landing-craft salvage required a great deal of attention during

each assault. Experience early in the war showed that prompt action in

landing-craft salvage was necessary if the work was to be effective. Craft

left on landing beaches deteriorated quickly in salvageability and value.

The landing-craft salvage officer, working directly for the Salvage Force

commander, supervised their salvage.

The policy and practice was to salvage landing craft from seaward.

Net tenders laid heavy moorings on the first day of the assault so heavy

This basic salvage group organization was tailored to the work being undertaken.
pulls could be made directly from these moorings. When it was necessary

to salvage from the beach, the beach battalion made personnel and equipment available to the landing-craft salvage officer so work could be performed under his supervision.

The dedicated landing-craft salvage forces consisted of about four

LCIs fitted for fire fighting and salvage. In some assaults these craft went

in as assault craft in the initial landing, then reported to the landing-craft

salvage officer for fighting fires inshore, scouring around stranded vessels,

and removing sandbars. As the salvage outfits of these ships became more

extensive and took up more space aboard, their role was limited strictly

to salvage, especially in the Pacific.

Two smaller types of landing craft supported the LCIs. LCMs were fitted with welding machines and carried tools, patches, pumps, and other

materials for patching and pumping landing craft. The larger LCTs were

fitted for fire fighting and diving. They were also equipped with extra generators, capstans, cordage for heavy pulling, and shear legs for lifting

small landing craft off the beach or out of the water, raising the outboard

side of beached craft for pumping, and raising pontoon causeways.

Organization, communications, and rapid response were the major

requirements for landing-craft salvage. Experience had shown that the

work accomplished in the first five hours determined the scope of the

work for the first five days.

Always in Europe and sometimes in the Pacific, the initial assault was

followed by a harbor clearance operation to clear blocked channels and

berths for shipping. It soon became routine practice for harbor clearance

units of about ten officers and one hundred men to be held in readiness

for movement into ports as soon as practicable. These units were selfsupporting and were composed of men who had not taken part in other

portions of the salvage operation. Harbor clearance constituted some of

the most important and concentrated salvage work during the war. It

required men who were fresh and not recently exposed to the wearing

work of combat salvage.

The salvage base provided administration and specialized logistic support for the salvage group. The base not only took care of the everyday

needs of the men in the units, it also served as a store to replace material damaged in operations and included repair facilities for damaged

machinery and equipment.

The overall organization described above was tailored to each operation’s specific requirements and reflected the lessons learned in previous

campaigns. The guiding principles for salvage organization were centralization of control, flexibility, and responsiveness to the needs of the forces

being served. Their application resulted in effective salvage operations

during the war in both the Atlantic and Pacific theaters.

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This chapter has explained the World War II genesis of ships, men,

and equipment, and how the fourth element of salvage, doctrine, would

evolve as the war progressed. Now it was time for Navy salvage forces to

roll up their sleeves and go to work around the world!

World War II Begins

95

The Early Days

CH4a CH4a

HARBOR CLEARANCE
MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

CH4b
CHAPTER FOUR

Fleet Operations in World War II:

The European Theater

When the United States entered World War II, the Navy had in

the Atlantic only two fleet-manned salvage ships, Redwing and

Brant, and the new fleet tug, Cherokee (ATF 66). Both salvage

ships supported the Neutrality Patrol, while Cherokee provided towing

services to the fleet. Although the foundations for the worldwide U.S.

Navy salvage force had been put in place, it would take time for it to

become fully operational and effective. As salvage forces were being

assembled to support the projection of U.S. power overseas, the Navy

Salvage Service held the line in American waters, especially during the

dark days of the U-boat campaigns and shipping shortages of 1942.

Salvage is most important to the side whose production and transportation is under attack, for ships and cargoes that are salvaged do not

have to be replaced. They can further the war effort by allowing production facilities to turn out more guns and shells rather than replace ships

and cargoes at the bottom of the sea. Salvage, therefore, assisted materially in the effective use of the nation’s huge industrial potential.

The requirements and urgency for salvage in the Atlantic and Pacific

were quite different. Other than the unique problem at Pearl Harbor, no

immediate need existed in the Pacific for salvage forces of the size

required in the Atlantic. The decision to hold the line in the Pacific theater and concentrate on the defeat of Germany amplified the necessity for

rapid development and deployment of salvage forces in the Atlantic.

First Blood

When the British took Mesewa in Italian Eritrea1 early in the war,

they found that eighteen major wrecks had been sunk, bow to stern, by

1Eritea gained independence from Ethiopia in 1993.

The Early Days

97
MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

98

Mesewa harbor.
the Italian defenders, who wanted to block the harbor entrances to the

British. The primary importance of this Red Sea port lay in its potential

as a repair base for the Royal Navy operating in the Mediterranean.2

Because British salvage facilities were already stretched thin, the United

States agreed to provide one salvage officer under the provisions of the

Lend-Lease Act. He would oversee a contractor effort to clear the harbor

and get the repair facilities back in service. Lieutenant Commander

Lebbeus Curtis had been on his way to the Middle East when he was

detained in Pearl Harbor. With the United States fully in the war and

Curtis occupied in the Pacific, no one was available to oversee the work

in Mesewa. Then, Commander Edward Ellsberg, USNR, who had left

active duty following the S–51 salvage but remained in the Naval

Reserve, volunteered his services to his old boss, Admiral E.J. King, and

returned to active duty.

2The only other ship repair base in the eastern Mediterranean available to the Royal Navy was

at Alexandria. The Mesewa operation was designed as a backup to these facilities should the

Germans break through the British lines in Egypt. The German forces never made a breakthrough,

but the frequency of air attack when the Afrika Corps had penetrated as far as El Alemain was sufficient to close the port of Alexandria.

Fleet Operations: European Theater

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Captain Edward Ellsberg surveys the blocked harbor of Mesewa from atop a wreck. Photo

courtesy Edward (Ted) Ellsberg Pollard.
Some suggested that Ellsberg join Sullivan in the Navy Department.

This team would have been powerful indeed, but the combination was

not in the cards. The organization of Navy salvage for the war required

the particular vision and genius of William Sullivan in the Navy

Department position. Ellsberg was needed elsewhere.

Ellsberg went to the Red Sea as Officer in Charge, U.S. Naval Oper -

ating and Repair Base, Mesewa. His work in Mesewa showed tremendous

ingenuity. He had virtually no salvage equipment available and only a

handful of capable divers. Workers in the port were limited to malnourished Eritrean laborers and some Chinese deckhands. Nevertheless, the

harbor entrances were cleared, the harbor opened, and the shops and

much of the floating industrial equipment returned to service in a short

time. This success came largely through the personal efforts of Ellsberg

and Lieutenant Byron S. Huie, Jr., who joined him near the end of the

operation and remained after Ellsberg’s departure. One of the more

notable efforts during Ellsberg’s stay in Mesewa was the emergency repair

of the severely battle-damaged cruiser HMS Dido in a salvaged drydock.

In the first year of the war the Navy’s meager Atlantic salvage forces

found ample employment along the convoy routes to the North. Brant

(ARS 32), operating out of Argentia, Newfoundland, and Redwing (ARS 4),

working from the salvage base in Iceland, provided towing and salvage

assistance to casualties in the North Atlantic. Some of the jobs were

unusual. In January 1942, for example, a fuel barge belonging to Polling

Brothers of New York broke loose and drifted 2,400 miles before it

grounded near Reykjavik and was salvaged by Redwing and Commander

Kaplan, the Iceland salvage officer. The majority of the jobs, however,

involved the arduous, dangerous, and important work of assisting and

towing to safety ships stricken at sea. Unfortunately, few diaries, reports,

or logs survive from this phase of the war. Thus the details of the salvage

work undertaken early in the war are largely lost, and the heroes remain

unsung.

The year 1942 was one of intense training and procurement for the

United States. The war in the Atlantic was primarily a logistics war, with

the Allies producing and transporting war materials and the Germans

attacking sealift facilities. Salvage operations were not limited to dedicated salvage forces. Ships of many types took part in salvage operations. An

incident in May 1942 illustrates the effectiveness of salvage-forces-ofopportunity and helped cement U.S. relationships with our soon-to-be

ally, Brazil. A U-boat torpedoed the Brazilian steamer Commandante Lyra

near Cape São Roque. Brazil was still neutral. The cruiser-destroyer team

of Milwaukee (CL 5) and Moffett (DD 362) responded to the SOS at high

speed. They reported the location of the burning steamer and set off to

find survivors.

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Meanwhile, another team, Omaha (CL 4) and McDougal (DD 358),

arrived at the scene, put a salvage party on board, and started fighting the

fires and securing the ship. A tow was needed. It did not make sense to

tow with a cruiser where submarines were known to be operating. Thrush

(AVP 3), originally one of the ubiquitous Bird-class minesweepers and

now a small seaplane tender, sailed from the nearby Brazilian port Natal

as a towing ship. Thrush, guarded first by one cruiser-destroyer combination and then the other, started the voyage north towards Fortaleza. The

Brazilian tug Heitor Perdigao soon joined the group. Upon successful completion of the salvage, the Brazilian government presented a letter of

thanks to the American ambassador, and the ship’s owners donated

$50,000 to the Navy Relief Society.

Operation Torch—The North African Campaign

Navy salvage forces began to take the form and function they would

have throughout the war starting with the campaign in North Africa, the

first movement of U.S. combat troops across the Atlantic. The main

object of the North African invasion, Operation Torch, was to put

American and British armies ashore along the Atlantic coast in French

Morocco and along the Mediterranean in Algeria. The Atlantic coast

invasion was to be a purely American show; the Mediterranean landing

was to be a joint operation, with the British providing much of the naval

support and having overall naval command. The U.S. Navy had three

missions: to provide for the sea defense of the forces ashore, to operate

naval bases and harbors, and to provide logistic support for all U.S. forces.

Salvage had a role in each mission.

Neither the planning for Operation Torch nor the composition of the

naval logistics forces showed much understanding of the importance of

salvage forces in amphibious assaults. Only one American salvage ship,

the fleet tug Cherokee, accompanied the invasion fleet to the coast of

French Morocco. The salvage ships Redwing and Brant sailed from the

United States two days before the initial assaults, far too late to provide

salvage support to transports and combatants either during the transit

from the staging areas or during the invasion itself. Their primary mission

was intended to be harbor clearance. Fortunately, the opposition to the

landings was relatively light at all sites. Gunfire from shore batteries or

French naval vessels damaged only six ships during the Casablanca at -

tack.3 None of the damage provided much work for Cherokee.

3Battleship Massachusetts (BB 59), two cruisers, Brooklyn (CL 40) and Wichita (CA 45), destroyers Murphy (DD 603) and Ludlow (DD 438), and high-speed minesweeper Palmer (DMS 5).

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MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

102

Naval operations in the North African and Mediterranean theaters.
The situation differed somewhat in the Algerian invasion. The British

destroyer Cowdray took a bomb hit in the fireroom, the transport

Leedstown (AP 73) was torpedoed, and SS Exceller developed leaks from

a near miss. The Transport Division commander requested a British tow

for the badly damaged Leedstown, but the transport was torpedoed again

and sank before effective salvage assistance could be provided.

One transport bound for Algeria, Thomas Stone (APA 29), was disabled

in the Mediterranean by a mine or torpedo explosion near her stern. In a

saga of seamanship and improvisation, 741 of the 1,400 soldiers were

embarked in the ship’s landing craft and sailed 160 miles to Algiers under

escort of the British corvette Spey. Stone was towed in by two British

destroyers, Velox and Wishart, and the small tug St. Day. The incident

demonstrated great bravery and tenacity. But it should not have happened. The drama-filled adventure would have been a minor incident

had adequate salvage forces accompanied the invasion fleet. It certainly

does not reflect well on the planners of the transit, who neglected to

provide salvage protection for amphibious assault forces in a combat

zone. Because salvage forces were new in fleet operations, only the most

elementary doctrine had been developed.

If the landings and transits of the North African invasion had been

more vigorously opposed, it is likely that the losses would have been

much greater, perhaps even unacceptable. Nevertheless, the losses in

transports alone were greater than in any other campaign.4 Based on the

results of later landings, it is fair to assume that some of these losses could

have been prevented if salvage ships had been an integral part of the

invasion forces and could have given immediate assistance to casualties.

However, the lesson had been learned: Naval forces of all kinds in combat areas must be supported by effective salvage forces to prevent

unnecessary losses. Future transits had salvage protection.

Landing Craft Salvage

Experience taught another lesson on the North African beaches.

Huge numbers of beached, broached, and damaged landing craft hampered over-the-beach movement of men and equipment. This situation

came about from insufficient attention to landing-craft salvage and the

absence of dedicated, trained, and equipped salvage teams.

4 In addition to the Leedstown, the transports Joseph Hewes (AP 50), Tasker H. Bliss (AP 42),

Hugh L. Scott (AP 43), and Edward Rutledge (AP 52) were sunk by torpedo attack within four days of

the initial landings. Their cargoes were mostly lost, and over 100 men were killed outright or died of

wounds.

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In both Algeria and Morocco the initial landings were made on a day

when the surf was reportedly the calmest in many years. Only two boats

of the Northern Assault Group in Morocco were unable to retract themselves from the beach on the first morning of the landings. The surf began

to rise on all beaches, and the number of boats returning from the beaches for more loads began to decrease. The growing scarcity of landing craft

hampered the movement of men and material ashore. Captain Allan P.

Mullinnix, Chief Staff Officer to Commander Center Attack Group,

described what he saw:

As I walked along the beach [on November 9] I counted 169 wrecked boats,

and as I went along the aspect got progressively worse, and toward the end

I found myself counting engines instead of hulls. The landings had cut our

boats in half—we had 330 originally, now half of these were on the beach.5

The same situation existed on all the landing beaches. Salvage

groups, organized hastily at the scene with whatever men and equipment

could be found, were unable to cope with the problem. A large number of

landing craft were lost. Most could have been salvaged if work by competent and properly equipped salvors had begun in time. The size of the loss

not only hampered the ship-to-shore movement of men and material but

created a demand for replacements. Building and transporting the

replacement craft took up production and transportation capacity that

could have been better used. Another lesson was learned the hard way:

landing-craft salvage must be an important part of amphibious and logistic doctrine.

Harbor Clearance

The eighteen wrecks sunk systematically by the Italians to block the

Eritrean port of Mesewa gave notice to the Allies that the same tactic

would be employed in other harbors. To minimize the effect, planning for

the capture of the Algerian city of Oran and its subsequent use as a

major logistics port included a British operation to prevent the harbor

from being blocked by retreating forces. The operation was carried out

despite objections of Rear Admiral Andrew C. Bennett, who had responsibility for the development of the harbor for Allied use. The Royal Navy

ships Hartland and Walney, formerly the U.S. Coast Guard cutters

Pontchartrain and Sebago, with antisabotage parties embarked, entered Oran

5Rear Admiral Worral Reed Carter, USN, and Rear Admiral Elmer Ellsworth Duvall, USNR,

Ships, Salvage, and the Sinews of War (Washington: Department of the Navy, 1954), 170.

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two hours before the initial landings. Their mission was to gain control of

the waterfront and prevent blockage of the harbor by sunken ships. The

ill-conceived operation ended in disaster. It contributed two more wrecks

to the harbor, resulted in heavy casualties, and did not prevent systematic

destruction in the harbor. Needless to say, no similar operations were

undertaken.

At Port Lyautey, on 12 November, four days after the initial landings,

the first clearance operations got underway when Lieutenant

Commander Domenech and a party from the battleship Texas went ashore

to salvage scuttled ships blocking the Wadi Sebou River and the port. In

contrast to the ill-fated British effort at Oran, this group did their work

well. Before they had to be recalled to Texas on the fifteenth, they salvaged

and returned to service the steamer Export and had three other small

ships well on their way to being ready for service.

This operation taught two lessons. The first was that providing salvage units would eliminate the need to take men away from combatant

ships where they are needed. The second, more subtle lesson affected the

nature of harbor clearance work throughout the war. In peacetime, salvage

of a ship implies that it will be returned to service. Following this philosophy at Mesewa and again in the first days at Port Lyautey, ships that

could be put back in service received priority attention. However, those

in touch with the broad picture saw that the military task of harbor clearance differs from standard harbor salvage. The wartime clearing of a

blocked harbor changes normal salvage priorities, and the primary goal

becomes making the harbor usable.

With an important exception, the fate of ships and craft blocking the

harbor is unimportant; they are simply unwanted obstructions that must

be removed as quickly as possible. The exceptions are craft such as drydocks, tugs, and floating cranes that can be used in the clearance operations or in the operation of the port. Many times during harbor clearance

operations in the war, ships that could have been returned to service were

demolished because salvage would have impeded clearance. This change

in priorities brought a new dimension to the clearance operations. In a

process not unlike medical triage, each casualty had to be examined to

determine its priority and disposition. There is not a great deal of finesse

in harbor clearance. Many operations, for example, used three or four

times the normal number of pumps or compressors and allowed ships with

considerable leakage to be raised without spending endless hours looking

for and sealing leaks.

The thorough blockage of ports on both the Atlantic and Mediterranean coasts of North Africa called for immediate salvage action. It was

taken. On the morning of 16 November 1942, Captain Sullivan, accompanied by six salvage officers, six salvage divers, and a diving doctor,

Fleet Operations: European Theater

105
boarded a plane in New York bound for Casablanca on the Atlantic.6

Salvage gear was shipped separately.

Shortly thereafter, in an action he neglected to coordinate with the

American naval authorities, Admiral Sir Andrew Brown Cunningham,

GCB, RN, commanding the Allied naval forces in the Mediterranean,

summoned Captain Edward Ellsberg from Mesewa. Impressed by the work

that Ellsberg had done in Eritrea, Cunningham wanted him as the principal salvage officer in the Mediterranean. At Cunningham’s request

General Eisenhower appointed Ellsberg to that position.

C L E A R I N G T H E AT L A N T I C P O RT S

The harbor clearances in the Atlantic ports of North Africa provided

valuable lessons for the Americans who were to be instrumental in clearing many other blocked harbors as the war continued. Nowhere was a

greater variety of technical problems encountered than at Casablanca.

Casablanca

When Sullivan and his team arrived in Casablanca, they found

Cherokee, Redwing, and Brant in the harbor. Their first job was to make a

quick survey of the port and determine the need for additional people and

equipment. They found that all but one of the berths in the harbor were

blocked, and that the salvage gear shipped over had either been lost in a

torpedoed ship or landed by the other ship at Safi and lost in the Army

supply dumps. It is probably just as well the equipment was lost.

Experience had shown that the particular equipment and special skills

required in a port could only be determined after an initial survey.

A salvage group of about 125 men was assembled from the first class

of the salvage school at Pier 88, survivors of ships sunk in the landings,

and the brig. As the salvage ships could do little in the clearance work,7

Sullivan stripped them of equipment not needed for emergency work offshore and set about clearing wrecked vessels from blocked berths.

6The thirteen were all students at the Pier 88 salvage school. They left on less than twenty-four

hours notice in a hastily converted Pan American flying boat. Because routing via the Azores was

infeasible in the bad weather, they flew to Gibraltar via Trinidad; Natal, Brazil; and Bathhurst, Union

of South Africa. The trip took four days. 7Although planners had envisioned the use of the salvage ships for harbor clearance, ships like

the fleet tugs and the converted Bird-class minesweepers were of little use in these operations. They

occupied valuable harbor space and had such congested holds and storerooms that it was impractical to use them as floating bases. Salvage ships were designed for dealing with a single moderate-sized

ship offshore; they did not carry sufficient equipment to support harbor clearance operations. Fleet

tugs and Bird-class minesweepers had no heavy lift capability. This was corrected in the British King

Salvor class, which was designed for belly lifts, and in the American steel-hulled ARS, which was

designed for heavy bow lifts. When these ships became available, they were used in this manner. One

salvage ship was generally kept available in the harbor for fire fighting.

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Four major jobs in Casablanca are of particular interest. The first was

salvage of a floating drydock needed for docking a badly battle-damaged

destroyer. The raising of this dock is an example of salvaged craft being

used in port operations. Salvage had begun under the supervision of an

expatriate Danish salvage officer before Sullivan arrived in Casablanca,

but Sullivan, noting no progress after a few days, inspected the operation.

He found that the salvage pumps had been connected to the drydock’s

main drain, and the main drain was open to the sea. The salvors were, in

effect, pumping the sea through the drydock. Further investigation

showed that there had been no presalvage survey and no attempt to

determine what had sunk the dock. The salvage officer, an elderly man

whose abilities had been affected by privations suffered before the

Americans arrived, was relieved of his assignment.

A survey revealed that the dock had been holed by hundreds of fragments. These holes could be plugged with wooden plugs, but with pumps

on the side wall—about a foot above water at low water—the pontoon

deck of the dock could not be brought above the surface. The suction lift

was too great for the pumps. To solve the problem, pumps were placed on

floating platforms, and pump suctions were led to the bottom of the pontoon through manholes. This work required divers to remove the access

plates, place the suction pipe inside the drydock pontoon, replace the

covers—now cut to accommodate the pipe—and weld up the joints. The

dock was floated in one operation. More than 200 additional holes were

found when the dock was afloat, along with an unexploded 16-inch shell

from the battleship Massachusetts.8

The two largest jobs in the harbor at Casablanca were the French

passenger liners Lipari and Savoia. Both ships had been badly holed when

8- and 16-inch shells passed completely through them, penetrating the

rock bottom of the harbor before exploding. The explosions blew numerous rock fragments through the hulls. Large quantities of decomposing

organic matter on board generated noxious gases. These gases caused

frequent interruptions of the salvage work in order to aerate the water in

the holds. The release of gases generally cleared the piers, much to the

chagrin of the Army trying to move supplies across them.

Lipari had broken in two except for some badly burned bottom and

tank top plating. Savoia, not quite so badly damaged, lay directly astern of

Lipari. The work on both ships was exasperating. Each time all the known

holes in a compartment were plugged, a pumping test was made.

Sometimes it showed more holes; sometimes the flow caused by the

8This shell had apparently struck the forward barbette on the French battleship Jean Bart. The

glancing blow destroyed the shell’s fuse but the shell rebounded, coming to rest on the dock floor.

Fleet Operations: European Theater

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pumping broke down the clay domes that plugged some of the holes.

Some compartments required as many as a dozen pumping tests.

The poor condition of the ships presented a problem. The water level

could be taken down only 8 or 10 feet in pumping tests because of the

deteriorated bulkheads. This same deterioration made it necessary to

pump several adjacent compartments simultaneously, presenting stability

problems from the large free surface. Water levels in adjacent compartments on Savoia could be stepped no more than 5 or 6 feet so that the

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

108

Casablanca harbor.
hydrostatic head would not collapse the bulkheads. She was finally raised

by carefully controlled pumping.

The problem of raising the nearly broken Lipari in one piece required

an innovative approach. To reduce the total weight, the superstructure

was cut down and removed piecemeal. The gaps in the deck and shell

plating were first bridged with six heavy girders. This didn’t work because,

as soon as one end lifted, the weakened structure at the other end failed.

Next, anchor chain was run along both sides of the ship and secured

wherever evidence of strength remained. This arrangement provided

good tensile strength across the break, but did not ensure that the main

deck would remain in tension. Finally, to provide compressive strength,

wooden shores were wedged in the gap where feasible. This approach was

successful, and the ship was refloated with the ends hanging together.

One of the most technically interesting jobs at Casablanca had practically no military value. A lift craft had been built early in the century to

salvage sunken submarines; it had not been a success, and the French

Navy had relegated it to an out-of-the-way mooring, where it sank. The

structure resembled a drydock, and the salvors were under constant pressure from visiting firefighters to raise it to add to the docking facilities in

the port. The salvors knew the badly deteriorated lift craft was useless.

Technical problems abounded. The craft could not be pumped because

water pressure would crush the deteriorated sides of the craft. Shoring the

sides would require too much timber.

Fleet Operations: European Theater

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Oran harbor.
The lift craft, however, did seem to be an appropriate training project

for a new program just getting underway to restore French salvage forces

so they could be of service to the Allies. The hull, therefore, was tightly

sealed, water pumped out, and air simultaneously pumped in to keep the

differential pressure at a level the sides could tolerate. The salvage

method worked, but when the vessel floated, no practical use for it could

be found. Thus the operation served only for training and to stop pressure

from the port authorities for raising it.

The Casablanca harbor clearance removed or salvaged thirteen

wrecked ships, including five large cargo or passenger ships, the French

battleship Jean Bart, a French destroyer, and two floating drydocks. Along

with the technical expertise gained, some very important lessons were

learned about the mechanics of running harbor clearance operations. It

became obvious, for example, that harbor clearance units must be selfsufficient. The work required shifts starting at all hours of the day and

night. To accommodate these shifts, berthing with a round-the-clock

messing near the waterfront was a necessity.

Normal rations, moreover, were inadequate for divers and salvors

doing 12 to 16 hours of heavy labor. The choice was simple: better rations

or less work. But appeals through the proper chain-of-command inevitaMUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

110

Hard quarters and dead tired: a condition every salvor knows. In the rudimentary officers’

quarters at the first salvage base in Casablanca, Dr. George Schlessinger sits on his cot as

Lt. Commander Wiley Wroten looks for an empty cot. Another officer lies collapsed in

welcome sleep. Photo courtesy Vice Admiral Bernard E. Manseau.
bly generated the response that what was good enough for fighting men

was good enough for divers. Furthermore, cooks and bakers assigned to

the salvage unit were often shanghaied into other units. The handling of

this problem turned what could have been a hardship into a true gain for

the salvors. They simply hired excellent and very capable local cooks with

the wherewithal to satisfy the salvors’ appetites.

The heavy demand for patching and cofferdamming material, including lumber, steel, cement, and corrugated sheet metal, posed additional

problems and stimulated further creative solutions. Guards had to be

stationed to prevent the material finding its way into some informal barracks-improvement program. Good scrounges, an invaluable asset for any

salvage effort, were an integral part of the Casablanca operation, and

salvors near the waterfront laid first claim on dunnage lumber from

arriving ships, material quite suitable for patching and cofferdamming.

Port Lyautey

Lieutenant Robert Helen (one of the officers who had flown over

with Sullivan), ten men, and Redwing were sent to Port Lyautey 9 to deal

with the eighteen wrecks that were still there. The French had tried to

block the harbor with interned ships, mostly vessels of Scandinavian

and Belgian registry. The strong river currents gave them fits when they

tried to position the ships, resulting in a scattered mess of ships. The

clearance plan included opening the port, which lies eight miles up the

Wadi Sebou River, to marine traffic; making the river safe for antisubmarine seaplane operations from the old French seaplane base downriver from the main port; and returning as many ships as possible to war

service.10

The crews of the sunken ships were also interned, housed in prison

camps not far from the port. Helen arranged for these men to augment

the harbor clearance workforce. The first wreck, Nihorn, a diesel-electric

ship with no major hull damage, was raised quickly and towed to the

United States for refurbishment. Lieutenant Helen faced some difficult

stability problems in some of the other wrecks. Several were four-hatch,

two-hold coasters of a type that, unless sunk in very shallow water, would

become buoyant enough when pumped to float before becoming stable

enough to stay upright. Stability was maintained by controlled pumping

and warping the ships to the river bank, keeping them on the bottom

while beach gear and tractors prevented listing. When a ship had been 

9Now called Kersitra.

10Returning ships to service early in the war was always of concern. It was practical at Port

Lyautey because most of the ships were steam propelled. Their machinery could easily be put back in

service after being thoroughly cleaned. The Wadi Sebou carried so much silt that cleaning the ships

was nonetheless a major job.

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moved to shallow water, one end was pumped while the other end

remained on the bottom until the ship became sufficiently stable to raise it. 

One wreck was a large yacht belonging to Madame Cory, at that time

one of the most famous ladies of the fashion world. Hanging on a projection from a pier at a list of about 40 degrees toward the channel, the ship

would have blocked the channel had it capsized. With extreme care to

prevent capsizing, the yacht was refloated.

The most difficult wreck in Port Lyautey was sunk in the middle of

the river with a list of 15 degrees. At low water, half the main deck was

exposed. The salvors built a timber cofferdam on the low side of the ship,

removed mud, and patched holes in preparation for pumping. Beach gear

and tractors dragged the ship toward the bank as she became light. She

gradually righted, rotating on her keel, and refloated.

Lieutenant Helen, ably assisted by Lieutenants Whitmyre, McCaffrey,

and Sibitsky, the latter commanding the Redwing, had done fine work

clearing the wrecks in Port Lyautey.

C L E A R I N G T H E M E D I T E R R A N E A N P O RT S

As the Casablanca operation shows, the lessons of wartime salvage

are not all technical, and the lessons of salvage do not apply only in war.

Through the Strait of Gibraltar into the Mediterranean ports of North

Africa, harbor clearance operations took place that reinforced and ex -

panded these lessons.

Though the abortive adventure of Walney and Hartland at Oran

showed that the Allies knew there would be attempts to block North

African ports, little was done to provide forces and equipment to clear

these ports efficiently. In fairness to the operational planners, it must be

understood that salvage equipment was still in short supply in late 1942.

Despite the efforts of a small Navy cadre who understood salvage and its

requirements, it is doubtful that enough equipment could have been provided simultaneously to cover the requirements of the Atlantic submarine

war and a major harbor clearance.

One salvage officer, Lieutenant George Ankers, USNR, a veteran of

the Pearl Harbor salvage work, and ten divers were made available to Rear

Admiral Bennett’s force in the Mediterranean. The force also included the

British salvage ship King Salvor and a small contingent of poorly equipped

French divers. They set to work as soon as practicable, but efforts were not

well coordinated until Captain Ellsberg arrived in Oran on 29 November.

As he described it, Ellsberg found a mammoth clearance problem:

There were twenty-seven French wrecks littering the harbor. Masts and

stacks at crazy angles broke the surface . . . wherever one’s eyes lighted—in

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112
most cases, the hulls, whether right side up, upside down, or on their sides,

were wholly submerged and invisible. A string of masts and smokestacks lay

across the entrance to the inner harbor. There six ships, anchored in two

lines nearly bow to stern, had been scuttled to block the port. Inside there

were sunken destroyers, sunken submarines, sunken freighters, sunken passenger ships, sunken drydocks. Everything in the port had been scuttled

before the surrender—across the entrance, in the fairways, alongside the

quays—wherever in the opinion of the French commandant at Oran they

would cause us the most trouble in reopening the port.11

The outer port of Oran, the Avant Port, had not been blocked and

could be put into service immediately. Six blockships sunk across the

entrance impeded access to the main port. Just as ships being raised do

not always behave in accordance with the wishes of the salvors, blockships also show an independence and often fail to go where they are

wanted. This had happened at Oran, and the six blockships at the

entrance to the main port were badly placed. HMSV King Salvor had pivoted one of these blockships, Boudjmel, on its stern, thus clearing a channel deep enough for partially laden Liberty ships12 to pass.

While the overall problem was formidable, many of the wrecks could

be left alone while those of higher priority were cleared. Ellsberg attacked

the wrecks at Oran like a man eating an elephant. His first bite coordinated the activities of the three salvage groups so that all were working

toward a common goal. His second bite widened the harbor entrance. To

do this, he patched the Spahi, a freighter laden with hogsheads of wine,

lightened her with compressed air, and pivoted the stern, more than doubling the width of the channel.

As at Casablanca, a large floating drydock that had been sunk was

urgently needed for battle-damaged ships. By the time Ellsburg turned his

attention to the dock, he had a salvage master and a group of divers from

Mesewa. These men quickly had the dock afloat in Oran by patching and

pumping. The opening of the entrance and the salvage of the drydock

completed the urgent clearance work. The remainder of the wrecks were

attacked systematically, and the port continued to develop as the primary

logistics port in North Africa.

In both the Atlantic ports and in Oran, harbor clearances had been

carried out by small, hastily organized, but well-led ad hoc groups of

11Edward Ellsberg, No Banners, No Bugles (New York: Dodd, Mead and Son, 1949), 49. 12The Liberty ships, Maritime Commission hull-type EC2-S-C1, were the dominant Allied merchant-ship type during World War II. The 1879 British design was chosen for the emergency shipbuilding program because of its simplicity and adaptability to mass production. Between September

1941 and October 1945, 2,742 of these ships were built. They were 414 feet long, and had an extreme

beam of 57 feet and a maximum draft of 27 feet 9 inches; their deadweight tonnage was 10,920. The

ships became the standard in planning berthing and passage facilities in harbor clearance. Because of

the dominance of the Liberty type, the term “Liberty” was often used to mean any merchant ship.

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salvors. It was now apparent that salvage and harbor clearance were to be

major factors in the logistics of the war.

Although Ellsberg was appointed Principal Salvage Officer for the

Mediterranean, Admiral Cunningham and General Eisenhower had not

been kept advised of the Navy’s overall salvage plans. Although he had

gotten out of the mainstream of the American salvage effort while in

Mesewa, Ellsberg did some excellent work in the Mediterranean and in

the Oran harbor in the winter of 1942–43. But as Principal Salvage

Officer in the Mediterranean, he fit neither the plans of the Navy nor the

desires of Admiral King. Ellsberg, whose health had suffered under the

Red Sea sun, was ordered back to the United States early in 1943 and

participated no further in Navy salvage.13

Edward Ellsberg’s contribution to Navy salvage was significant. An

extremely competent engineer himself, Ellsberg saw salvage as primarily an

engineering task. Not the first to apply engineering principles to solving

salvage problems, he nevertheless raised the standards of that art. He also

wrote well, and his detailed technical report of the S–51 salvage enabled

Harold Saunders to salvage the S–4 without having to repeat the hard lessons of the earlier job. Ellsberg’s technical writing set a high standard for

reporting of salvage work that has continued to the present. In an entirely different vein, Ellsberg’s popular accounts of salvage work, books that

today seem curiously simplistic and quaint, captured the public imagination and served as excellent publicity for the Navy and its salvors.

As a hands-on engineer Ellsberg was often too close to his work to see

it as part of a larger pattern. However, he clearly recognized the need for

continuity in a Navy salvage organization for both peace and wartime

readiness. His attempts to communicate this ongoing need to higher

authorities, though largely futile, were perhaps Edward Ellsberg’s greatest

contribution to Navy salvage. He saw and had the courage to put forward

a truth too often forgotten—that salvage and preparation for salvage pays

large dividends on a small investment.

In February 1943 Captain William Sullivan reported to Algiers. There

Admiral Cunningham informed him that he would command a combined

salvage force for the Mediterranean with the titles Commander Task

Force 84 and Principal Salvage Officer.14 The original intention was that

13Ellsberg’s excellent engineering talent, however, was used by the Navy throughout the war,

first as an inspector of shipyards in the Third Naval District and later in the European theater, where

he was instrumental in the success of the artificial harbors in Normandy. He retired as rear admiral,

USNR. 14 In a letter dated 5 May 1943, Rear Admiral H. Kent Hewitt, Commander Western Naval Task

Force, assigned Captain Sullivan as Commander Task Force 84, the U.S. naval salvage force in North

African waters. Sullivan was directed to organize U.S. salvage vessels, forces, and depots and to keep

them in a constant state of readiness, as well as to cooperate closely with forces under the

Commander in Chief, Mediterranean.

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114
British salvage ships would take care of all offshore salvage while the

United States would organize and equip shore-based and mobile harbor

clearance units. Sullivan asked that the British salvage officer, Captain

W.A. (Alec) Doust, RNVR, with whom he had become friends in London,

join him. The request was at first denied, and Sullivan worked with a

series of other British officers until the Admiralty relented. Alec Doust

joined his friend in North Africa in June 1943 as his principal assistant.

Initially the salvage force had an office in Algiers set up by Lieutenant

W.A. Reitzel, USNR, and staffed by the lieutenant and a member of the

Women’s Army Corps (WAC) who had survived a torpedoing and was

later highjacked to the salvage office. In short order Reitzel found a more

suitable headquarters at Dellys, a pleasant little town with a miniature

harbor some 60 miles east of Algiers. The French made Dellys available,

and the Americans set up a salvage base there. The salvage force based at

Dellys initially numbered about 350 officers and men, had a large amount

of equipment, and could expect more coming in each day. The base had

berthing, messing, and recreational facilities, as well as repair shops and

warehouses. Dr. George Schlessinger, the unit’s medical officer, fitted out

a small hospital. Lieutenant H.M. Andersen, the commanding officer of

Brant, came in as commanding officer of the base.

The original clear division of offshore salvage responsibility to the

British and harbor clearance to the Americans did not last long. American ships began to appear in the Mediterranean, and British salvage units

Fleet Operations: European Theater

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Lieutenant W.A. Reitzel found the harbor at Dellys and the yacht club at right an ideal

headquarters for Task Force 84 in North Africa. The small harbor could accommodate two

salvage ships.
cleared the ports of Philippeville, Bone, and Bougie as the Allied advance

moved eastward.

Bizerte, the principal port of Tunisia, was the last large harbor clearance in North Africa. Even before Bizerte was captured by the Allies the

decision had been made to use the Lake of Bizerte as a staging area for

the next major invasion, Sicily. Some had expressed concern that the

channel to the lake and the French naval base at Ferryville would be

blocked. Intelligence sources, however, revealed that there were tidal currents up to 6 knots in the channel and that at least 40 feet of fine sand

lay under the channel bottom. These conditions made it suitable to use

explosives to lower and flatten the wrecks as had been done with the

wreck of Stephen R. Jones in the Cape Cod Canal the previous year.

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

116

Bizerte channel entrance.
Sullivan sent Lieutenant Commander Walker to Port Lyautey, where

conditions simulated those in the Bizerte channel, to practice explosive demolition on two old wrecks. Unfortunately, while Sullivan was in the United

States and before any tests were made, the Army became worried about

Walker’s being in Port Lyautey and ordered him back closer to the action.

Following Sullivan’s return to North Africa, Walker was wounded during an

air raid. George Ankers took command of the salvage caravan, which was

part of the invasion force advancing toward Bizerte.

Ankers’s caravan became separated from the main column during the

advance, and he and his men entered Bizerte ahead of the assault troops.15

They found that twenty-eight blockships sunk by the Germans blocked

the channel into the Lake of Bizerte. These wrecks were arranged more

or less in four rows across the channel, but the current had twisted them

around and piled them together so that in some places they were three

deep. There had been concern that the Germans would fill the ships with

concrete or a mixture of cement and sand that would set up and make

their clearance much more difficult. Fortunately, all the ships were empty.

To clear the channel, the ships were cut into sections with high-grade

explosives, then pounded below the channel bottom with low-grade

explosives. Shots were made in periods of maximum current so that the

material loosened by the explosive shock would be carried away. The

scheme worked well. The wreck sections were lowered 3 to 5 feet with

each shot. Three factors hindered the work: the short periods of slack

water for diving, German air attacks, and sightseers. After Tunisia fell, the

Army had little to do until ships could enter the Lake of Bizerte and

preparations for the invasion of Sicily could begin. There were many senior officers hanging around watching the operation and offering free

advice—much of it similar in quality to some of the suggestions for raising the Lafayette.

Within a week a channel had been cleared for the first ships. It had

taken more than 100 tons of explosives. Passage of LSTs, then Libertys

moving supplies into the staging area began as soon as there was sufficient

clearance. These passages slowed down the operations on the wrecks, but

quite correctly had priority.

15Salvors are resourceful people capable of looking out for themselves. The story is told that an

Army colonel entered Bizerte with the first troops and was instructed by his general to find a suitable

building for his headquarters. While his troops were clearing snipers, street by street, the colonel

found a fine, undamaged building near the waterfront. There was a sign on the front door:

US NAVY SHIP SALVAGE

George Ankers, LCDR, USNR

O-in-C

Bizerte Group

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Ferryville harbor and docks.
Clearance of the channel into the Lake of Bizerte provided access to

the modern French naval base and dockyard at Ferryville with its excel -

lent potential as a landing-craft and general-repair base. Before the facilities could be used, however, wrecks blocking them had to be cleared.

Three small wrecks and the caissons for six graving docks were removed

immediately to give access to the yard.16

There was only one difficult job at Ferryville. An Italian ammunition

ship, converted from an old French ship, had been blown up during an

American air raid. Ammunition had filled the forward three holds, and

no trace of this portion of the ship remained. The stern section had been

blown across the harbor, blocking access to the drydocks. This section

could be pumped out and floated clear only after a considerable amount

of work by divers who patched the holes in the shell plating and bulkheads. The number six hold of the ship contained a cargo of medical

brandy. Through some fluke the bottles had remained intact. The ship

was immediately lightened by removal of this cargo, which the salvors

undoubtedly used for its proper purpose. The remainder of the work in

Ferryville was not urgent and was accomplished on a long-term basis.

In preparation for the invasion of Sicily, American forces also cleared

the port of La Goulette and the channel across the Lake of Tunis leading

from La Goulette to Tunis.

The North African campaign taught the Allies a number of things

about harbor clearance. Harbor clearance would be a major factor in the

projection of power onto the European continent. The huge logistic effort

to support modern warfare required that harbors be at least partially

cleared before they could be used as supply ports. Organization for harbor

clearance went quickly from infancy through adolescence in North

Africa; it matured further when the Allies invaded Sicily.

Offshore Salvage

Even before the establishment of Task Force 84, neither Sullivan nor

Ellsberg had been allowed the luxury of concentrating entirely on harbor

clearance; both had to give time to offshore casualties as they occurred.

These casualities in the North African campaign taught some valuable

lessons about offshore salvage that would affect the Allied approach to

this subject during the remainder of the war.

A major offshore casualty occurred when the Navy cargo ship Electra

(AK 21)17 was torpedoed by U–173 about 17 miles from the Moroccan

16Of the six drydocks at Ferryville, only one had damage to the stone sill. This damage rendered

the dock inoperative for eighteen months while repairs were made. This was the only damaged drydock sill encountered in the European war and may have resulted from bomb damage rather than

from intentional destruction. 17Later AKA 4.

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city of Fedhala. Effective damage control measures stabilized the ship and

allowed her to be brought into Casablanca, where salvors began getting

her ready to sail to a repair yard in the United States. Electra had a 48-

by-21-foot hole in the port side of number four hold; that hold and the

main machinery space were flooded. Cherokee came alongside to furnish

power, and construction was started on a large steel patch. Structural

steel was in short supply in Casablanca, so the ship’s steel hatch covers,

stiffened by girders of material cut from wrecks in the harbor, served as

construction materials. Because simultaneous pumping of the machinery

space and hold would have generated a large, stability-destroying free surface, the bulkhead between the two spaces had to be made tight enough

to allow the spaces to be pumped independently. This entailed removal of

wreckage by divers to give access to the bulkhead, then plugging or

patching the holes that were found.

As soon as the bulkhead held, the machinery space was pumped dry

and attention turned to overhauling the machinery. With the hold dry,

salvors replaced the steel salvage patch with a reinforced concrete patch

extending from tank top to ‘tween deck. Electra went home under her

own power with an absolutely tight patch.

SS Lancaster, a World War I Hog Island ship18 with an unusually

valuable cargo—teletypes, howitzers, motor vehicles, radar equipment,

airplanes, food, and ammunition—ran aground on the rocks off El Hank

Light on New Year’s Eve 1942. Seventeen of the crew were lost when the

ship was abandoned. The ship lay broadside to the reef and inside the

breakers except at low water. Salvage of the old, now badly damaged hull,

did not seem feasible, but the cargo was too valuable to be written off.

Captain Sullivan and Lieutenant Andersen surveyed the ship at various stages of the tide and found they could work three LCTs between the

ship and the shore at low water and keep them there in the lee during the

full tide cycle. The salvors tried to load air compressors for running the

ship’s steam winches on the boat deck, but seas breaking over the ship

carried them away. The compressors were then placed in the LCTs;

Lancaster’s boilers became air reservoirs. Army stevedores began discharging the cargo into the LCTs under Andersen’s supervision. All of the

deck and ‘tween-deck cargo and some of the hold cargo had been discharged before the ship’s winches and parts of the deck houses were lost

to heavy seas. The last of the discharging was done with portable, airdriven winches strapped to the booms. Several booms broken by the sea

were replaced by booms salvaged from wrecks in the harbor.

The results of the cargo salvage justified the effort. Cargo was dried

18A 380-foot dry cargo ship built at Hog Island, Philadelphia, in a World War I construction

program.

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120
and preserved at a station ashore. The airplanes were further salvaged for

spare parts; most of the vehicles, all the artillery, communications and

electronics gear, and much of the food and ammunition proved usable.

Though the ship was lost, the cargo—far more valuable at the time—was

not.

The casualties around Casablanca continued. A high wind one night

roused the entire salvage force to secure several Libertys that had broken

loose from their moorings and were in danger of grounding. Another

night, tankers grounded and were refloated the following day. One of

those appeared to belong to the fleet of ghosts that sometimes haunt

salvors. Sullivan had already salvaged the same ship twice the week

before at Port Lyautey.

Sullivan and Lieutenant Wiley Wroten had traveled by jeep to Port

Lyautey after receiving a late-night telephone call that a ship had stranded on a shoal off the mouth of the river at Port Lyautey. With two tugs

and a dredge they refloated the ship and returned to Casablanca in the

afternoon. After dinner the phone rang. The tanker was stranded again—

this time on rocks at the other side of the river—and there was danger of

its breaking up. Because of dense fog, the 135-mile drive to Port Lyautey

took all night. The ship was refloated in the afternoon.

Similar casualties with both American and British ships also occupied

Ellsberg and George Ankers at Oran. Among the most notable were HMS

Porcupine, a destroyer that was successfully salvaged, and the British

troopship Strathallan, torpedoed and lost after a long struggle.

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Redwing, now ARS 4, sinks by the bow after hitting a mine off Tunisia in June 1943. The

former Bird-class minesweeper was the first salvage ship lost in the Atlantic theater.
The salvage ships were kept busy assisting battle-damaged ships and

marine casualties. When not attending casualties they engaged in towing

operations, moving supplies and equipment as needed. The forces were

augmented by new fleet tugs that began arriving in the spring of 1943 and

were assigned mostly to the Mediterranean ports. The Army ship

W.R. Chamberlain, requisitioned from her owners by the War Shipping

Administration, was turned over to the Navy. She became Tackle (ARS

37) and served as a base ship for the harbor clearance units.19

On 27 June Redwing departed Algiers for Bizerte with four harbor tugs

(YT) in tow. About 10 miles short of her destination, she struck a mine

that blew a large hole just below the bridge. She began to take on water

and list heavily. The order to abandon ship was given. The towed vessels

became the towing vessels as Redwing’s towing hawser was cut and the

small tugs took her in tow. Near the channel entrance a British destroyer

passed close aboard. The destroyer’s wake capsized Redwing and she sank

in 27 fathoms—the first combat loss of a U.S. Navy salvage ship in the

Atlantic theater.

Operation Husky—Sicily

The planners of Operation Husky, the invasion of Sicily, had a much

better appreciation of potential salvage needs than they had in North

Africa. They also had better resources for both offshore salvage and harbor clearance. Fleet tugs were available, harbor clearance units had been

formed and were in a high state of readiness, and fire-fighting units and

Task Force 84 were organized.

The original plan called for the fleet tug Hopi (ATF 71) and the salvage ship Redwing to accompany the DIME Attack Force at Gela. This

plan had to be modified when Redwing sank. Brant replaced Redwing, joining the force on 9 July. Narragansett (ATF 88) and Nauset (ATF 89) were

with the CENT Attack Force at Scoglitti, and Moreno (ATF 87) with the

JOSS Attack Force at Licata. In addition, two 275-ton harbor tugs, Intent

and Resolute, and several 65-ton harbor tugs were assigned to the task

force commander for salvage and fire fighting.

Salvage During the Invasion

Unlike the landings in North Africa where opposition, primarily from

the French, had been relatively unenthusiastic, the landings in Sicily

were strongly opposed by the Germans and led to intense offshore salvage

activity.

19Later ARS(T) 4.

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122
Early on the morning of 11 July, a German air attack damaged

Barnett (APA 5), anchored off Gela. Bombs exploding close aboard

caused flood ing and started fires in the ship. Within twenty-five minutes

Hopi, which had started the day by pulling LST–312 off the beach and

already had a party ashore salvaging landing craft, came alongside to

port with her hoses, and a fire-fighting party led by Lieutenants Burns

and McConnell boarded Barnett. The fire was brought under control.

Hopi shoved off within the hour to continue her day by refloating

LCI–220 and a number of landing craft, steaming to assist a Liberty ship,

and finishing up by refloating another dozen landing craft. The small job

on Barnett, an emergency response to battle damage, was typical of the services rendered by afloat salvage forces in support of amphibious attacks

throughout the war.

In the early evening of 15 July, while clearing a channel and engaging

enemy shore batteries, the fleet minesweeper Staff struck a mine. The

ship listed to starboard, fires broke out throughout the vessel, and she

went down by the bow. YMS–63 provided immediate assistance, put out

the fires, and removed the casualties. Staff’s sister ship Skill (AM 115)

took her in tow, then passed the tow to Moreno. Moreno took Staff to the

harbor at Licata, where Brant fabricated a patch for her side, installed the

patch, and pumped the engine room. Like the large majority of patches,

this patch leaked and pumping had to continue.

Hopi took Staff in tow for North Africa. During the tow the leakage

increased, and the submersible and light gasoline-driven pumps failed.

Hopi put a 6-inch salvage pump aboard and completed the tow. Another

ship had been saved by prompt, thorough salvage action. These and other

offshore salvage operations during the Sicilian invasion gave a preview of

the intensity of work to come.

The landing-craft salvage problem, on the other hand, was not nearly so severe during the landings in Sicily as in North Africa. In part, this

was because the planners for the Sicilian invasion were aware of potential

problems and planned accordingly. Each transport, for example, had one

LCM designated as a salvage boat, though its equipment left much to be

desired. LCI(L)s pressed into service as tugs for removing landing craft

were so successful that, after the assault, a recommendation was made to

equip them as salvage boats.

The tugs under the direction of now-Lieutenant Commander

Andersen, the senior salvage officer in the Gela area, did excellent work

in the salvage of landing craft. Andersen took charge of landing-craft salvage on the afternoon of D-Day. The salvage crews of the tugs were landed and both fleet tugs and harbor tugs engaged in landing-craft salvage.

The results were spectacular. Almost 200 landing craft were salvaged and

returned to service; fewer than 100 were left on the beach as unsalvageable.

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MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

124

Palermo harbor.
Engines and other parts from wrecked craft were salvaged as well. Cen -

tralized control and attention to the lessons of earlier operations

enhanced the effectiveness of the work.

The Palermo Harbor Clearance

The original preparations for the campaign in Sicily envisioned giving

priority to clearance of the harbor at Trapani. However, the damage there

turned out to be much greater than anticipated. Thus, when Palermo was

captured, the harbor clearance units were concentrated there and

Trapani was abandoned.

The harbor entrance at Palermo was not blocked, but numerous ships

sunk by bombers lay alongside piers. Most of these ships were so badly

damaged that salvage would have been a major effort. It was more expedient and effective to simply cut the top-hamper away and extend the

decks of the piers over the wrecks.

Opening the repair facilities at the Sicilian port presented a particular challenge. The caisson of the graving dock had been split by a bomb,

allowing a great inrush of water. The water knocked over the spare caisson and carried it forward, then lifted a destroyer from the blocks and

capsized it on the spare caisson. The destroyer could not be cut up with

either torches or explosives because ammunition remained on board.

Lieutenant Commander Bob Helen dived on the wreckage for a personal

survey and devised the salvage plan. The blocks were cut away so the

caisson could be dragged clear of the destroyer. The spare caisson was

seated in the sill, the destroyer was patched, pumped, and removed, and

the dock was restored to service.

A small Italian steel schooner was, literally, the catalyst for another

series of problems at Palermo. The schooner lay across the slip between

Pontile St. Lucia and Pontile Piave. Because the completely submerged

wreck had too much damage to be removed intact, it was cut into sections with explosives. The job proceeded routinely with charges of no

more than 100 pounds.

One of these shots produced an enormous explosion that shook the

town, dumped a section of a damaged pier into the water, tore a Liberty

ship loose, caused Philadelphia (CL 41) to roll violently, and blew the

admiral’s aide off the pier into the harbor. The schooner disappeared,

leaving a hole about 50 feet deep where it had been.

This violent chain reaction could be traced back to three ammunition

ships that had exploded in Palermo harbor prior to the American occupation. When ammunition ships explode, large amounts of munitions are

not detonated but are flung about intact. Some of these explosives,

particularly land mines and cased explosives, are nearly neutrally buoyFleet Operations: European Theater

125
ant and tend to be washed about the harbor bottom by currents until they

eventually pile up in banks. One of these banks apparently had formed

near the schooner and was detonated by the small demolition charge. A

more complete survey of the harbor bottom showed it to be literally covered with unexploded ordnance which was then methodically disposed of

or detonated.

Salvage operations and the salvage organization had continued to

grow and mature during the Sicily campaign and in related operations in

the Mediterranean. They would be further tested on the Italian peninsula at Salerno.

Other Mediterranean Salvage

In wartime, as in peacetime, three levels of salvage activity are main -

tained: planning and preparation, routine operations, and high points of

major jobs. The high points were provided by amphibious assaults and

other contact with the enemy when casualties were heavy. There was no

shortage of routine jobs, and many ships at sea were doing the myriad

tasks and hauling the huge quantities of goods needed for modern war.

Many of these ships were manned by crews with limited experience. All

the ships in the Mediterranean were subject to U-boat and aerial attack

as well as the normal hazards of the sea. The routine work and the casualties that inevitably came day after day and week after week kept the salvage ships busy.

The exploits of Nauset for eight days in August are typical of the

work of the salvage ships in the Mediterranean. On 21 August 1943,

Nauset got underway from Licata with two pontoon causeways in tow.

After delivering the causeways, she was in Palermo on the morning of 23

August when a German air attack damaged two subchasers and set fire

to the British cargo vessel Speedfast. While her sister ship Narragansett

assisted the submarine chasers, Nauset put a fire and rescue party aboard

Speedfast. With the fire extinguished, Nauset got underway for Bizerte in

the afternoon of the same day. En route, SS Pierre Soule hit a mine and

had to be taken in tow.

The day following her arrival at Bizerte with Pierre Soule, Nauset,

along with Moreno, tried to haul the tanker Empire Fay off a shoal near

the channel entrance. Both ships pulled until their tow wires parted.

Nauset subsequently made two attempts to free the Liberty ship Jeremiah

Black grounded on a shoal. The end of this busy but typical eight days saw

her tow Pierre Soule to the outer harbor. Such constant and varied work,

some of it in vain, all of it hard, occupied most of the salvage ships in the

Mediterranean during 1943.

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126
One of the Mediterranean salvage jobs that perhaps received more

than its share of publicity was that of the destroyer Mayrant (DD 402).

The ship took a near-miss that flooded two main machinery compartments

and caused leakage in other spaces. She received first aid in the form of

pumps and a tow into Palermo harbor, where topside weight was removed

for a tow to Malta. The damage attracted much attention and brought

many distinguished visitors to the ship, including Generals Patton and

Montgomery. The attraction may have been Mayrant’s executive officer,

rather than the damage. He was Franklin Delano Roosevelt, Jr.

Salvage forces continued to increase in the latter half of 1943 as the

first of the wooden-hulled salvage ships began to arrive from the United

States and additional King Salvor-class ships came in from the United

Kingdom. A setback occurred on 10 August when, because of faulty

recognition signals, Allied naval forces fired on Brant and damaged her.

She was repaired and back on the line in short order.

The Italian Campaign

The need for salvage forces in support of amphibious assault had been

established during Operation Torch in North Africa; their efficacy had

been proven in the Sicilian invasion. They were now an established part

of the Allied assault forces. The landings at Salerno would show even

more signs of their maturation.

Salerno

For the invasion of the Italian mainland at the Bay of Salerno by the

mixed Western Naval Task Force under Vice Admiral H. Kent Hewitt,

Hopi and Moreno accompanied Rear Admiral Harry W. Hill’s Southern

Attack Force. Nauset and Narragansett accompanied Commodore

Oliver’s Northern Attack Force. The British salvage ships were to be held

in Sicily. Brant, repaired after being shot up, had since collided with a

wreck and was not in good condition. Captains Sullivan and Doust felt

that combat salvage work could be done with the personnel and gear

aboard aided by fleet tugs, auxiliary tugs, and rescue tugs. They decided

that the American salvage ships and the British King Salvor-class ships

should not be exposed in the primary combat zone. An additional eight

British tugs had been fitted with fire-fighting pumps for emergencies.

These tugs would take damaged vessels handed off by the fleet tugs and

tow them to the salvage ships while the fleet tugs returned to the fray.20

20The operations officer felt that Sullivan and Doust were building too big an empire and that

so many tugs were not necessary. The two captains appealed to Admiral Cunningham, who approved

the plan. In this and in other matters throughout the war, Admiral Cunningham showed an extraordinary grasp of the requirements and details of salvage.

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During the assault Sullivan ran salvage operations in the American

(southern) sector from Admiral Hewitt’s flagship, Ancon (AGC 4), while

Doust joined Commodore Oliver in HMS Hilary. The salvage ships had

plenty of work and proved their worth frequently in the hotly contested

landing. From Algiers, Captain Donor and Commander Andersen had

been working on plans for landing-craft salvage. A number of LCIs had

been fitted for inshore fire fighting and salvage and some LCMs were also

equipped for salvage.

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Captain Alec Doust, a leader of the British salvage effort during World War

II, worked closely with his American colleague and friend Commodore

Sullivan throughout the Mediterranean. Captain Doust’s autobiography,

Ocean on a Plank, is dedicated to “Sully.”
The preparation for harbor clearance was more thorough than in the

past. A major clearance operation was anticipated at one of the major

objectives of the Salerno landings, the harbor at Naples. For the first time

clearance would be done by fresh men, held in reserve in Sicily until

needed, rather than by men worn down by salvage work during the

assault. The Navy harbor-clearance forces and the Army Corps of

Engineers planned to cooperate more closely than they had in the past.

Commander Wroten and Colonel Martin of the 1061st Engineers set up

a joint office in Palermo to plan the harbor clearance and rehabilitation

and to establish joint priorities. Because definitive plans could not be

made until the situation had been assessed, the planning was only rough

and preliminary, but it assured the elimination of conflicts between the

harbor clearance units clearing the port and the Corps of Engineers rehabilitating and putting it in service.

The cooperation was not limited to planning. Tackle had been sent to

Algiers to load up with salvage material and bring more people forward.

The entire reserve filled up Tackle. The loss of the ship with that much specialized equipment would be grave. In an excellent example of interservice

cooperation, half of Tackle’s load went in two LSTs allocated to the Army

engineers, and Tackle carried a half-load of Army engineer equipment.

Because the Army hoped to achieve tactical surprise with the attack,

they chose to forgo the usual preinvasion bombardment, believing it

would alert the Germans unnecessarily and cause them to move more

troops into the area. In addition, the announcement of the armistice with

Italy two days before the invasion created a relaxed attitude among the

Allied troops not warranted by the situation. The invasion at Salerno

turned out to be one of the most fiercely opposed of the war.

In the early morning light of D-Day, Narragansett saw heavy gunfire

and flares from the beaches. She steamed toward a burning ship to render

assistance, soon recognizing it as her sister ship, Nauset. Nauset had gone

in earlier with a special assault craft; while she was waiting for the craft

to return from its mission and rearm, a stick of bombs scored several hits

and near misses. Fires enveloped the ship. Power lost, she took on water.

While the harbor tug Intent fought the fires and attempted to beach the

grievously wounded ship, Nauset struck a mine. She broke in half and

sank within 10 seconds. Narragansett picked up wounded and steamed

away. Before transferring the casualties to LST–351, Narragansett

engaged enemy aircraft and claimed one hit.

On D+2 the British hospital ship Newfoundland was torpedoed. Fortunately there were no wounded on board, but casualties among the staff

were high. Fire spread over the entire midship portion of the ship and she

listed heavily. The destroyers Mayo (DD 422) and Plunkett (DD 431)

went alongside and began fighting the fire, but met with little success.

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Moreno arrived and took the destroyers’ place, fighting the fire with fog

and pumping out water from the low side.

Moreno’s crew battled the fire down to one location, cut away debris

topside, patched the hull, and pumped out flooded spaces. The one

remaining fire burned in a coal bunker that had been installed for the galley when Newfoundland was fitted out as a hospital ship. The coal bunker

lay atop a fuel oil tank. The deck of the bunker threatened to carry away,

dumping the fire into the partially filled oil tank. Salvors poured water

into the bunker. The additional water increased the list, presenting

another problem.

Preparations were being made to take the ship in tow when the order

came to sink her. Sullivan, feeling she should be saved, sent a message

recommending that she be left until a tug could be spared to get her. No

answer came after two hours, so the destroyer commander sank the ship.

It was later learned that both Admiral Hewitt and Admiral Cunningham

had approved Sullivan’s recommendation. Neither message was received.

Action was equally intense in the Southern Attack Force’s area. On

D-Day the British monitor21 Abercrombie struck a mine and asked Moreno

to stand by. The ships steamed to the southern edge of the transport area

and lay to. Moreno’s salvage officer went aboard Abercrombie for a survey.

There he found the starboard blister ruptured and flooded. Abercrombie

had taken a 6-inch shell hit in Sicily. There had been no drydock available for proper repair, so a patch had been installed with a velocity impact

tool.22 The patch leaked considerably so that when the ship was hit at

Salerno, the forward void tanks were already flooded. The new hit blew

away a sizable portion of the starboard blister. A salvage party from

Moreno cut away loose plating and secured the remainder with lashings

and turnbuckles. The ship could have been made more seaworthy for the

trip home if lost buoyancy had been restored. However, casualties were

happening rapidly and the demands for immediate salvage assistance

were frequent. Rather than tie up salvage ships in the forward area,

Abercrombie was headed toward Palermo in marginal condition; there the

Brant crew performed additional repairs before she went on to Malta.

The following morning Moreno went to the assistance of the Dutch

gunboat Flores, towed her to a safe anchorage, and assisted with repairs

21The monitor type, introduced by the U.S. Navy during the War Between the States, persisted

in the Royal Navy long after being abandoned by the U.S. Navy. Abercrombie was the last monitor

built, completed in the Vickers-Armstrong yard at Tyne on 5 May 1943. She was armed with two 15 -

inch guns, eight 4-inch ones, and antiaircraft weapons. The ship had a 17-foot-wide blister on each

side for torpedo protection. The blister was a sandwich of one water-filled compartment between two

air-filled voids intended to defeat a torpedo with a 1,000-pound warhead. 22The velocity impact tool in use during World War II was the British-made Cox submerged bolt

driving and punching gun. This gun drives a threaded bolt into steel plate by means of an explosive

charge. The bolt is driven in such a way that it is gripped firmly in the plate and the threaded portion left protruding ready to take the patch and nut.

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that allowed her to get underway under her own power. Moreno suffered

a heavy casualty while the Dutch captain was bargaining with Captain

Kyllberg of the Moreno for two valuable crates of potatoes. A German air

raid abruptly interrupted the negotiations.

The Germans introduced a new weapon at Salerno, a glide bomb that

could be guided to its target by a high-flying aircraft. One of these bombs

struck the cruiser Savannah (CL 42) on her number three turret, just forward of the bridge, causing considerable damage. Sullivan and

Commander Burns, who were nearby in Ancon, went aboard immediately

and took charge of fire-fighting efforts. German aircraft had been attack -

ing the cruiser all morning, and Commanding Officer Robert Carey wanted to keep the ship underway to make her a more difficult target. Initial

efforts were devoted to fire fighting, containing the flooding, and shoring

bulkheads to prevent their collapse. With the ship still underway, men

went into compartments below the forecastle to plug sprung doors and

hatches with mattresses, pillows, and life jackets.

After some time the ship anchored. Hopi and Moreno came alongside;

they put crews, pumps, and pump suctions aboard and were able to help

stabilize the cruiser. Savannah planned to leave as soon as possible for

Malta at whatever speed would not put the forecastle under. This speed

turned out to be a rather respectable 18 knots. Apparently at that speed

the damage on the bottom caused the water to be sucked out, allowing

men to enter and further secure compartments.

The rapid assistance provided to Abercrombie and Savannah and their

immediate dispatch out of the combat zone were prime examples of the

salvage operations conducted by fleet tugs supporting the landings. The

planned operation suffered, however, because the tugs designated to take

damaged ships from the fleet tugs didn’t show up. Doust and Sullivan, out

of contact for some days following the landings, each thought the other

had captured the escort tugs all for himself. Neither was right; the tugs

had been mistakenly held at Bizerte.23 Lacking them, Doust ordered the

salvage ships forward, leaving only Brant at Palermo to take care of the

returning casualties.

The absence of tugs presented a major problem when the British

battleship Warspite was hit in an aerial attack. The hit flooded five of

her six firerooms. Six minutes after the attack Hopi headed to Warspite

and soon had the battleship in tow. Moreno joined them, and the two

tugs began towing the battleship in tandem. The commanding officer of Warspite, Captain H.A. Packer, RN, wanted the two fleet tugs to take him all

23SuIlivan was quite perturbed by the failure of the tugs to show up at Palermo. He notified

Algiers that he intended to resign as Principal Salvage Officer unless the matter was thoroughly

investigated. Almost all the staff concerned were transferred after the fighting at Salerno ended, and

the messages that kept the tugs at Bizerte were never found.

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the way to Malta. Devoting these two tugs to the damaged battleship

would denude the American sector of salvage ships. Had the escort tugs

not been held in Bizerte by mistake, they would have been available for

the Warspite tow.

But Warspite was an important unit and deserved special consideration. The 300-mile trip to Malta began with Hopi and Moreno towing in

tandem with an escort of British cruisers and destroyers. British tugs were

to come out and pick up the tow halfway. In the first watch on the first

evening of the tow, the cruiser Delhi passed between Warspite and Hopi;

Warspite slipped the tow and Hopi slipped Moreno’s wire. The tow was

made up again—a laborious process—and the trip set off again.

At the beginning of the midwatch, Hopi’s wire parted at the shackle,

and the tow had to be made up once more. In the morning two British

tugs, W123 and W117, joined. Even with all four tugs towing and the sea

smooth, Warspite was difficult to tow. She tended to take charge and sheer

wildly. The Strait of Messina with its strong currents lay ahead. The cruiser HMS Euryalus, in a beautiful demonstration of seamanship, held station on the bow of Moreno and guided the tow into the Strait. Not long

after entering the strait in the dark of the midwatch, one of the British

tugs fell off her course, crossed Hopi’s tow wire, and parted it. This was

the third break; all had come in the middle of the night. Making up the

tows again and again was back breaking, dangerous, and frustrating.24 No

doubt the Strait of Messina heard some basic Anglo-Saxon language.

Narragansett, which had taken the damaged cruiser HMS Uganda to

Malta, came out and took Hopi’s place while the latter, all her tow wires

broken, made up alongside. The difficult and trying tow was completed

without further incident.

Once the Allies established control of the air over the Salerno beachhead, the German air raids ended. The number of casualties and the

tempo of salvage operations declined drastically. Allied troops began to

move north toward Naples, where one of the largest harbor clearances of

the war would soon take place.

The Naples Harbor Clearance

Before the Allies entered Naples, a series of conferences was held on

Capri to make plans to clear and rehabilitate the harbor. The work that

had been done by Colonel Martin and Commander Wroten in Sicily paid

off. They had much knowledge of the harbor and the construction of the

waterfront facilities. A committee consisting of Commodore Sullivan,

24Warspite never was a ship to tow docilely. En route to the breaker’s yard in April 1947, she

broke her tow and grounded at Prussia Cove, Cornwall. She was scrapped in place.

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Colonel Martin of the Army Corps of Engineers, and Colonel Clarkson of

the Army Transportation Corps was established to meet daily and decide

what work would be done and what priority it would have.25 Admiral Marne

and General Pence agreed to run interference for the committee and give it

sole responsibility for the success of the operation. This system worked so

well in Naples that it became the standard for other operations.

Naples harbor was a mess. The combination of Allied bombing and

systematic destruction by the retreating Germans had left over eighty

major pieces of wreckage in the harbor. All harbor installations were completely wrecked; all berths, save one, capable of taking a ship the size of

a Liberty, were blocked. The wreckage consisted of cranes and dockside

installations that had been blown into the harbor, barges, fishing boats,

small craft, merchant ships, and warships. Most were so heavily damaged

that they could not be quickly cleared by refloating; and conditions were

not good for blasting. Lifting the wreckage or dragging it clear had to be

the primary techniques employed at Naples. These jobs called for exten -

sive diving and heavy-rigging skills.

Eight berths were clear and ready in fourteen days. British boom

defense vessels, similar to the U.S. Navy’s net tenders specially rigged for

lifting over the bow, accomplished much of the work in the early days.

Later these ships were supplemented by British wreck dispersal vessels,

which had a larger lift capacity; a variety of pontoons and derricks; and the

first new construction salvage ships to arrive in European waters—the

wooden-hulled Extricate (ARS 16) and her sister Weight (ARS 35).26 Within

three weeks, twelve berths were available. Within two and a half months,

thirty berths, more than existed before the war, were operating. Although

most of the berths were cleared by lifting out the wreckage, many were

improvised by bridging over wrecks as had been done at Palermo.

There were several reasons the harbor clearance worked particularly

well at Naples.

• Relationships with the customers, the Army people who would use

the harbors, were established beforehand and systems for establishing

mutually agreeable priorities worked out.

25On 28 May 1943 Sullivan was designated Chief of Navy Salvage, Office of Chief of Naval

Operations, Navy Department, with the rank of commodore. 26Extricate and Weight were brought to Naples when the value of salvage lifting had been

demon strated by the British ships. Bow-lifting equipment was not used by American commercial

salvors prior to World War II and was included in salvage ship design only after Sullivan saw its usefulness in Britain before the United States entered the war. When the two salvage ships arrived from

Bizerte on 29 November, Sullivan found that one of the pair of heavy lift chocks had been removed

on the recommendation of an American civilian salvage authority. The ships were useless for lifting

but proved valuable for fire fighting. The wooden-hulled salvage ships were better for fire fighting

than steel-hulled ships because they could remain alongside the burning ship without their interiors

becom ing hot. A hose on deck kept the wooden deck and hull from catching afire.

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Naples harbor.
• The operation was controlled by a single directorate concentrating

command, control, and responsibility.

• The salvors, as they must, gave their imaginations free rein and

were willing to try innovative techniques.

• The salvage force was a self-sufficient organization with its own

berthing, messing, medical, and support facilities, all located near the

work.

• The men engaged in harbor clearance were fresh, not worn down

by working in salvage operations during the assault.

• The close personal relationship between Sullivan and Doust affected the entire organization and ensured harmonious relationships between

the British and Americans.

During the harbor clearance, air raids continued and fires on Libertys

were frequent. The salvage ships were instrumental in fire fighting. An

incident during one of the fires illustrates a problem that has often

plagued salvors. A Liberty’s cargo of 5-gallon gasoline cans was afire. The

crew, except for two men, abandoned the ship. Extricate and Weight came

out to fight the fire and fire-fighting crews went aboard. Finally Brant cut

the anchor chain, towed the ship out of the harbor, and beached it so that

its holds could be filled with water. It looked like another salvage job well

done, but when Commodore Sullivan returned from the ship he found

that the master had filed a complaint accusing the salvors of looting.

Although the items reported stolen were later found on the ship, which

the Liberty crew had boarded after abandoning their own, and the master was prosecuted, the story circulated widely. After this experience, it

became the policy for Navy salvage crews boarding merchant ships to call

Military Police to act as ship’s police.

To ensure that all underwater obstacles had been removed in Naples

and nearby harbors, a Royal Navy lieutenant and hydrographer,

Lieutenant Hutchinson, with a group of enlisted specialists was assigned

to the salvage group. Using a DUKW, a specially fitted Army amphibious

vehicle, Hutchinson became the busiest man in the area, surveying and

charting harbors up and down the coast. He was an important part of the

salvage team.

At this stage of the Italian campaign, the salvage organization had

reached full maturity and was ready for the tasks ahead.

Anzio

The Anzio landing, the last in Italy, met opposition from competent

and determined German forces. The offshore salvage situation was much

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135
as it had been at Salerno. British tugs and Edenshaw, a large American

harbor tug, made up the salvage forces that accompanied the invasion

fleet. Hopi and ATR–1 joined after the assault. The work was similar to

that of previous assaults: freeing grounded landing craft, responding to

ships hit by gunfire and aerial attack, fire fighting, taking care of the casualties that occurred when large numbers of ships had to operate in a 

confined area under confused circumstances. The jobs were numerous

and they followed one another rapidly. There were some successes, some

failures, a great deal of sweat, some blood, some heroics, and more heroism. Although the salvage work at Anzio did not differ in nature from

work at the other landings, it was unique in its duration. The siege-like

character of the combat that developed at Anzio kept the Allied troops

contained in a beachhead where support from the sea was an integral part

of the operation for a long time. With sea forces closely involved in support of the troops on the beach, there were ship casualties from enemy

action far longer than in prior operations.

Very shallow water made landing-craft salvage at Anzio difficult. To

facilitate these salvage efforts Doust and Sullivan had an idea for shear

legs for an LCT. The two men sat down one night and designed a set.

With scrounged materials they built one that lifted over 20 tons. Using

the direct line of communication that existed with the Bureau of Ships,

Sullivan sent Captain Manseau the sketch and asked that a standard

design be worked up. Craft fitted with the improved standard model

could lift 40 tons. These craft would do excellent work later in the

Pacific—another spin-off from the salvors’ combat experience.

Operation Overlord—Normandy

The Allied landing in Normandy, one of the most complex military

operations ever undertaken, involved an assault on a hostile shore and

the transportation of huge numbers of troops and their supplies by sea.

Commodore Sullivan reported to London in April 1944 to participate in

planning the invasion. He left Captian Doust in the Mediterranean commanding the Allied salvage force, with Commander Andersen as

Commander Task Force 84. Commander Helen was in Algiers working

with the Army on plans for the clearance of Marseilles harbor. Lieutenant

Commander Whitmyre was in charge of the group still working at Naples.

Planning and Preparation

Despite the overwhelming need for salvage forces in amphibious landings that had been demonstrated during the North African, Sicilian, and

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Italian invasions, as late as two months before Operation Overlord there

was no salvage and fire-fighting plan. A study of the conditions and probabilities for the invasion of Normandy led to the conclusion that the 

salvage requirements would be much like those for the Mediterranean

invasions. A nucleus of experienced officers and men could be brought in

from the Mediterranean and augmented by graduates of the salvage

school at Pier 88.

The salvage people who arrived in Britain for Overlord were concentrated at Base II on the Roseneath peninsula on the northern side of the

Firth of Clyde in Scotland. All their salvage gear was also there, along

with a lot of other equipment turned over to the salvage group by various

military and naval units. In fact the salvors had far more equipment than

they needed.

Firefighters were mostly at Base II also, although some had been scattered around the isles at fire-fighting schools. Their equipment had been

liberally distributed to ships so that an inadequate amount remained for

the invasion.

Most alarming to the U.S. Navy, the American salvage ships (which,

unlike the British salvage ships, were equipped for towing), as well as the

American tugs, had been requisitioned for the Allied tug pool and would

not be available for salvage until sixty days after the assault. The British

salvage ships were to be dedicated to the clearance of Le Havre, while the

Normandy landings were to be supported by Dutch tugs. The Dutch ships

were fine towing ships but were not well equipped for fire fighting or for

assisting sinking ships. Another disturbing factor was the possibility that

the Dutch crews might not understand or be able to make themselves

understood in English. Clear, concise communication between the casualty and salvage crews is of utmost importance in combat salvage, where

mistakes or inaction caused by language problems can be disastrous.

Commodore Thomas McKenzie, CB, CBE, RNR, had been assigned

as Principal Salvage Officer on the staff of Admiral Sir Bertram Ramsay,

RN. He had been the manager of Metal Industries, Ltd., a salvage firm,

before the war and had supervised much of the salvage work on the

German fleet at Scapa Flow. Commodore Sullivan was concerned that

McKenzie did not have sufficient experience with the salvage requirements of a large, opposed amphibious operation or with wartime harbor

clearance. On his arrival in Britain as deputy to McKenzie, Sullivan

strongly supported the idea of an Allied salvage and fire-fighting force,

the concept that had worked well in the Mediterranean. He soon

reversed this position because he found conditions and arrangements that

he believed were unsatisfactory. He may have thought that, given his

recent experience in the Mediterranean, he should have been the

Principal Salvage Officer.

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After an acrimonious exchange between Sullivan and McKenzie,

American salvage ships and tugs were returned to the salvage force.

Captain Edmond J. Moran, USNR, an executive of an American towing

company who had solved the early problems of the Navy Rescue Towing

Service and made it effective, was brought over to organize and manage

the American towing forces in the Normandy invasion.

Despite preinvasion wrangles over authority and organization, the

American and British salvors worked together as a joint force once the

action started. Commander Huie commanded the salvage forces at

Omaha Beach and Commander McClung covered Utah Beach. The fleet

tugs Pinto (ATF 90), Kiowa (ATF 72), Bannock (ATF 81), and Ankara

(ATF 98) and rescue tugs ATR–2 and ATR–3 accompanied the invasion

force. In addition to their normal crews, each tug carried two salvage officers, a fire-fighting officer, twelve salvage mechanics, and eight firefighters. Salvage ships Diver (ARS 5), Swivel (ARS 36),27 and Brant were to

stand by in Falmouth to protect the Channel. One of the salvage ships

was fitted out for blasting through the entrance of the breakwater at

Cherbourg should the Germans block it. All the tugs and salvage ships

were equipped with large amounts of material for landing-craft salvage.

Half of the equipment and the personnel from the Roseneath Base were

gradually trucked to the south coast of England where they would be

close to the invasion area and could quickly augment the forces there.

The American salvage forces were to have responsibility for clearance

of the harbor at Cherbourg with Commander Wroten in charge.

Commodore Sullivan gave a series of lectures to the Army engineers in

Wales stressing the necessity for close cooperation between the engineers

and the Navy in harbor clearance and rehabilitation. As a result a plan

was drawn up almost identical with that which had worked so well at

Naples. Colonel Sibley, the port commander and an Army Transportation

Corps representative; Colonel Cross, the engineer for the port; and

Commodore Sullivan formed a committee to survey the port and make a

joint priority list for the work.

The Normandy Landing

The salvage problems experienced off the beaches of Normandy were

quite different from those in Sicily and Italy. The Allies had almost complete control of the air in Normandy, German air attacks were nonexistent during daylight, and night attacks were generally limited to

bombing. Bombs sank only one ship in the American sector. The absence

of bombing attacks meant an absence of fires, the only serious fire in the

27Diver was the first of the steel-hulled ARSs to arrive in European waters. Swivel was a woodenhulled sister to Weight (ARS 35) and, like that ship, was a former BARS.

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American area occurring when a ship struck a mine and started to sink.

The mine damage at Normandy, however, was greater than in all the

other invasions. Each of the many ships mined had serious damage,

though only four were lost.

The storms that struck after the invasion, combined with the German

opposition and the heavy traffic, made the general salvage workload off

Omaha and Utah beaches heavier than in other invasions. To handle the

huge workload, the salvage ships were called over from their reserve

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Captain Edmond J. Moran, seen here in the uniform of rear admiral, was

prominent in the towing industry before and after World War II. During the

war he organized and oversaw the Navy Rescue Towing Service and the towing operations that supported the invasion of Normandy.
location at Falmouth. But none of the jobs required outstanding efforts or

were of great technical interest.

Landing-craft salvage made up much of the work for the salvage

forces. The amphibious forces had been organized to conduct their own

landing-craft salvage without any assistance from the salvage forces and

refused help when it was offered in the planning stages. The salvors

attached to the amphibious forces were a well-trained, hard-working lot,

but in salvaging landing craft they made the mistake of doing too thorough a job. Time-consuming permanent repairs were made when all that

was needed was a temporary repair so that the craft could be moved to

permit more material to come ashore through its berth. After a short time

the amphibious force personnel were augmented by firefighters and

salvors from the salvage force, who showed them how well the techniques

used in previous invasions worked.

The Cherbourg Harbor Clearance

Harbor clearance units were brought into Cherbourg shortly after the

port was captured. Clearance work in the badly blocked harbor was relatively straightforward. Commodore McKenzie had made a number of the

British lifting ships available to the American salvors because it looked as

if Cherbourg, like Naples, would require numerous lifts. Thus even the

largest ship sunk in the harbor, a 17,000-ton whale factory, presented no

particular problems. A number of concrete barges did give some trouble

because they tended to break up when lifted. The harbor had been

thoroughly mined, and removal of the mines delayed the clearance work.

The first wreck was not removed until a month after the capture of the

harbor.

Shortly after the Americans arrived, an engineer poking around a

German office found a large detailed, colored chart showing all the demolition in the harbor. The work had been completely executed, but the

plan was flawed because the wrecks were not located where they would

be most effective in blocking the harbor.

While most of the clearance work at Cherbourg was routine, a few

jobs had some novel aspects. One barge, for example, carried a cargo of

all types of naval mines: acoustic, magnetic, contact, and snag. The mines

had spilled and piled up as the barge capsized. An operation that promised to be long and dangerous was started. A Canadian lieutenant commander qualified in explosive ordnance disposal dived in the muddy water

where, working in zero visibility, he began removing the individual detonators. It was slow work. Then someone noticed that the detonators were in the

retracted position, and the mines could be lifted without removing them.

The detonator might explode when the mine came clear of the water,

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140
but the mine would not explode. There was considerable trepidation

when the first armed mine came clear of the water, and an equal amount

of relief when the barge was finally dragged out to sea.28

Another unusual problem was posed by an old coaster sunk before the

war. Lifting augmented by compressed air seemed to be the only practical

way to raise the ship. The coaster’s plating was so badly deteriorated that

the hull could not be made airtight, and the air leaked out through thousands of tiny pinholes and one large hole. The large hole was patched easily enough with concrete, but the small holes were a problem requiring

special logistics effort. They were plugged with toothpicks, a luxury item

in short supply in the war-ravaged port. The hull finally became tight

enough to build up an air bubble, and three lifting ships dragged it away.

A third interesting wreck at Cherbourg was reminiscent of

Casablanca. A double-hulled craft for lifting sunken submarines had been

built by the Germans early in the century and given to the French as

28When the first mine was being lowered onto the dock, the detonator did explode. The mine

did not. The theory was proven.

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Two types of lifting ships at Cherbourg: Lift ships such as these proved invaluable in the

harbor clearances of the European war. The boom defense vessel on the right, a self-propelled ship, makes lifts over the bow horns. LC–21 on the left, a dumb barge, makes either

belly lifts or bow lifts. Four sister craft of LC–21 were later leased from the Royal Navy for

use in Vietnam. Photo courtesy Vice Admiral Bernard E. Manseau.
part of the World War I reparations. The French took it to Cherbourg but

found it of no value. As they had done with their own early submarine lift

vessel in Casablanca, they put it in a back channel with no maintenance.

Before the invasion, the Germans brought it out and sank it in the

entrance to the outer port. The sinking of the vessel tore the structure so

badly that the only way to clear it was to cut it up with torches and lift

out the pieces. The cutters worked while the mines were being removed

from the harbor. Bit by bit, the old lifting ship was dragged out of the way

and disposed of, opening the entrance to the harbor. If the Germans had

piled ten or twelve ships atop one another where the lifting ship had been

sunk, the harbor would have been closed for a long time indeed.

The Invasion of Southern France

The second chapter of the Battle for France opened on 15 August

1944, when a force of almost 900 ships struck on the Mediterranean

coast. Included in this force were salvage forces under the command of

Commander Andersen. The task group had learned much in the almost

two years of constant salvage operations in the Mediterranean, and its

organization and equipment reflected those lessons.

Salvage forces for this invasion were divided into four categories: (1)

shallow water salvage and fire-fighting units, (2) deep water salvage and

fire-fighting units, (3) reserve units, and (4) harbor clearance units. They

saw little action. As in Normandy, there were no daylight air attacks and

few at night. The Germans no longer had the capability to resist the invasion with the force they had applied at Salerno and Anzio.

During the months preceding the invasion, fire-fighting schools were

held in North African and Sicilian ports, and three experienced firefighting officers were ordered to the Eighth Fleet specifically to advise

task force commanders. A number of LCI(L)s in each group were designated for fire-fighting and salvage duties. They were fitted out with 

fire-fighting equipment, heavy bitts, stern chocks, stern anchors, heavy

wire ropes, and other miscellaneous gear and manned with trained salvors

and firefighters. LCTs and LCMs were also fitted out for salvage; some of

the LCTs were fitted with shear legs capable of lifting 30 tons.

The shallow-water units arrived off the assault beaches at first light

on D-Day and turned to salvage work after delivering their loads of

troops and vehicles for the assault. They hauled beached craft back into

the water, cleared craft from underwater obstacles, raised sunken landing

craft, and made emergency repairs. All damaged landing craft were

cleared from the beaches in the first fifteen days.

The deep-water units were two fleet tugs (Moreno and Arikara), an

auxiliary tug, two British rescue tugs, and a boom defense vessel. An

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American fire-fighting officer and men with additional gear were assigned

to the British ships. Unlike other invasions, there were no major fire casualties that called for the services of the deep-water units, but there were

numerous towing jobs and in one area a number of ships were blown

ashore in a storm and had to be hauled off.

The reserve units—three American salvage ships (Extricate, Restorer

(ARS 17), and Weight) and one British salvage ship—were held in

Corsican ports, removed from the assault area, but within easy reach.

Except for a few minor repair jobs, the reserve forces had little to do until

the harbor clearance work started.

The harbor clearance units did not lack work. These units, on the

venerable Tackle and some merchant ships, moved into the ports of

Toulon, Marseilles, and Port du Bouc to make them ready for the shipping

needed to support the Army ashore. The salvage ships were brought forward to assist in the harbor clearance.

Toulon harbor was a shambles. The damage came from a variety of

sources: the scuttling of the French fleet, Allied bombs, and the demoli tion

of piers and ships. Removing a wrecked bridge, lifting three sunken tugs,

moving the 12,000-ton passenger ship Andre Lebon and a damaged caisson,

and shifting the destroyer Vauban made up the high-priority work. Each of

these jobs would provide an unloading berth. Refloating wrecks, demolishing

them with explosives, or bridging them over made portions of six piers usable.

By 15 September, six and a half berths were available; by the end of the

month, two more. The effort demonstrated the need to remain flexible and

adjust priorities to fit existing conditions. For example, when work on the

Vauban looked as though it would take too long, it was stopped and the manpower was applied to clearing Drydock Number One quickly in order to add

another berth.

Meanwhile, a few miles to the west at Marseilles, one of the most

effectively blocked harbors of the war was being cleared. The man who

had carried out this blockage knew his business. The blockships had been

sunk both athwart and parallel to the axis of the channel, and were

jammed tightly together in lines. To complicate matters, harbor mining

had been complete—in the outer channel, past the breakwater, and

between the piers. Quayside demolition was equally thorough; the outer

legs of cranes were blown, causing them to topple into the berths alongside. As many as five cranes had been dumped into a single berth. The

harbor clearance units went to work, and by early September fifteen

berths for oceangoing ships were ready. By the end of the month an additional eighteen full berths, six partial berths, a coaster berth, and two

tanker berths were also ready.

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Further west, in Port du Bouc, small tankers were able to enter the

excellent oil storage facilities two days after the salvage forces began work.

This port had also been heavily mined, but minesweeping operations had

been thorough and the hazard was believed to be eliminated. Tackle—along

with Brant, the hard-luck ship of the salvage forces—was going to the fuel

pier assisted by the tug Provencal when the tug brushed a buoy and detonated a mine attached to it. Provencal sank, and there were also casualties in

Tackle. The ship was first towed to Toulon for emergency repairs, then to

Palermo for permanent repairs. She served out the war and returned to the

States before being declared unfit for further naval service.

Le Havre

The Allies’ schedule called for the port of Le Havre, captured by

Canadians on 12 September 1944, to be cleared by the British without

American involvement. The port had been stubbornly defended by the

Germans, who appreciated its potential as a logistics port and carefully

blocked it when surrender became inevitable.

The port at Le Havre is unusual because it consists of both a tidal port and

also a port composed of basins isolated by locks from the effect of tides. The

tidal harbor is difficult to use in inclement winter weather. Damage in the harbor had effectively destroyed the usefulness of the locked harbor. When the

port was captured, barges had to transfer cargo from the anchorage.

Commodore McKenzie, with limited experience in harbor clearance,

had little to offer for the solution of what seemed an insurmountable problem. Commodore Sullivan, with his unsurpassed experience in getting

badly blocked harbors back into service, took a look. Although faced with

huge problems elsewhere, Sullivan agreed to apply his organization to the

problem. The same experience that led the British to ask for Sullivan in

the first place enabled him to see the deficiencies in the Germans’ work of

blocking the harbor. As soon as he had accepted responsibility, Sullivan

requested that Brant plus two 900-ton lifting craft and a variety of other

salvage equipment be sent to Le Havre immediately.

Colonel W.F. Way, U.S. Army, attached to the Navy salvage forces,

became the senior salvage officer for Le Havre. He arrived three days

after the capture of the city, with a survey party. The tide range in Le

Havre is about 24 feet. This was enough to uncover or at least expose

most of the wrecks at low water, enabling the party to locate the wrecks

they would be dealing with and get a preliminary idea of the problems.

Brant was the first ship into Le Havre. A variety of equipment followed

in short order. Two net tenders managed to remove eighteen wrecks even

before the rest of the salvage equipment arrived. Some of the equipMUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

144
ment, such as floating cranes that had countless uses around the harbor,

had been shanghaied and so were unavailable or only partly available to

the salvors. Lifting craft were sent to Le Havre when their work in

Cherbourg was finished and after a brief overhaul in Britain. Salvage ships

also began to straggle in. HMSV Abigail29 arrived in early November;

Diver, HMSV Help, and several lifting craft arrived shortly thereafter.

The work in Le Havre was not technically difficult, and the salvors

eventually had all the equipment required to deal with it. Through their

efforts, the capacity of the port grew until it became a major supply port

handling a far greater tonnage of cargo than it had before the war.

The Western Atlantic

While the war in Europe raged, the war in the western Atlantic

continued. The Navy Salvage Service had the chief responsibility for

29Abigai1 may seem a strange name for a salvage vessel, and so it is. When Alec Doust was Chief

Technical Officer for Salvage in the Admiralty early in the war and specifications were being drawn

up for salvage ships, he also drew up a list of suitable names for salvage ships. He realized that there

was a strong psychological value in names that suggested power, endurance, and capability. When the

approved names came back from the Admiralty, the first ship—a converted dredging support vessel

that bore the unglamorous name Hopper No. 4—was to be renamed HMSV Abigail. Perhaps it was

named for the handmaiden of King David, perhaps for Mrs. Abigail Smith, the most prized officecleaner in the Admiralty.

Fleet Operations: European Theater

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Supported by pontoons, a submerged tug is towed out of Le Havre under the direction of

Lieutenant Frank N. Oberle. Photo courtesy Vice Admiral Bernard E. Manseau.
salvage in this area, and the Navy Rescue Towing Service bore the

responsibility for ships disabled at sea. As the war dragged on and the

shipbuilding and training programs began to turn out excellent salvage

ships manned by trained salvors, the fleet began to play a larger role in

salvage in the western Atlantic.

As Newfoundland and Iceland were important stations for the North

Atlantic routes, so was Bermuda important to the more southerly sea

lanes between Europe and the United States. Lying almost equidistant

from New York and Norfolk and almost directly astride the sealanes

between those ports and Europe, Bermuda is a natural location for a

salvage station in peace or war. In World War II it became a major base

for support of convoy operations.

Navy Salvage Service ships were frequent callers at Bermuda, sometimes taking up salvage station there. For Navy tugs the island was both

a way station and a salvage station. The ships stationed there, including

Escape (ARS 6) and Chain (ARS 20), did excellent work during the war.

The station was so important that the Navy kept Restorer on salvage

station there for several months following the end of the war.

Salvage ships and tugs operated throughout the western Atlantic and

Caribbean, as far south as the coast of Brazil. The work they did had no glamour, and it did not deliver fire upon the enemy, but it was an important part

of the logistic effort and thus, by definition, an important part of the war.

Notable work in the western Atlantic included Escape’s rescue tow of

Georgeade in the fall of 1944 during a storm; Escape’s tow of three disabled ships into Bermuda; and Choctaw’s (ATF 70) tow over twenty-four

days of the tanker Murfreesboro stern-first to an American port.

The War in Europe Ends

The war in Europe was essentially over for the salvage forces by 1944.

The need to put salvage ships alongside burning and sinking ships diminished greatly following the last amphibious assault. There were still the

casualties that inevitably accompanied an unprecedented volume of shipping, and U-boats still posed threats, though not as deadly as in 1942.

There were no more harbor clearances driven by the terrible need to open

berths so that supplies could be discharged and moved forward to troops

at the front. What remained were large amounts of wreckage in European

waters. Much of this had to be moved before the harbors would be fully

functional. With no urgent military necessity driving salvage operations,

however, local people did the work, with the U.S. Navy providing equipment and technical assistance.

As soon as the ports on the Atlantic coast of France had been

cleared, an effort was begun to clear commercial ports like Bordeaux, La

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Rochelle, St. Nazaire, Brest, and Lorient. Bordeaux, on the Gironde

River, had the highest priority. Commodore Sullivan arranged with

Admiral Kahn of the French Navy for the transfer of salvage equipment

under Lend-Lease. To assist the French, a small crew that included a salvage officer was located in each port. Two salvage officers billeted in Paris

oversaw the work of the field teams and conducted liaison with the

French Navy. The program lasted from December 1944 until September

1945 and produced worthwhile results.

Throughout the war the Navy had responded to its salvage needs in

a typically American way. The leadership had been strong, the technical

ability great, and the ingenuity unsurpassed. Solutions usually fit the

problems exactly. When mobilized, the huge industrial capacity of the

United States produced not only an extraordinary quantity and variety

of materials for war and the bottoms to ship them in, but also the salvage

ships and craft to conserve them when casualties were inflicted by a

determined and skillful enemy. Massive harbor clearances, a new

requirement generated by the techniques and logistics of modern war,

were undertaken successfully. If they had not been so successful, the

ability of the Allies to supply their armies would have been seriously

reduced, and the overall history of the war might have been quite different. However, the job had been done; all who were associated with it

could be proud.

Without doubt the dominant figure in the American salvage effort

during the war in Europe was William A. Sullivan. He developed the necessary organization and led it effectively. He recognized wartime harbor

clearance as vastly different from harbor salvage. He was effective in

working with both Allied and other American services. He seemed to be

the right man in the right place at the right time. Or was he? As Chief of

Navy Salvage, Sullivan’s responsibilities were global. Except for a couple

of brief trips to the United States and one to Australia about the time of

the Anzio invasion, Sullivan was in the Afro-European theater for almost

the duration of the American involvement. Was this the right place for

the Chief of Navy Salvage?

A salvage man is attracted to a wreck like a fly to a honey bucket. By

nature he wants to be involved in the action. But sometimes the senior

salvage officer must stand back and tend to the total, often less glamorous

responsibilities of his job. In retrospect, however, it seems clear that the

Afro-European theater was the appropriate place for the Chief of Navy

Salvage to be for more than two years for a number of reasons:

• The war in Europe was the highest U.S. priority.

• The Navy Salvage Service in American waters and the Bureau of

Ships Salvage Section, both direct responsibilities of the Chief of Navy

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148

Commodore William A. Sullivan, the Navy’s first Supervisor of Salvage, led the salvage

and harbor clearance efforts in the Mediterranean and European theaters and in the

Philippines.
Salvage, were in the hands of Captain Bernie Manseau, a brilliant officer

supported by a capable staff.

• Salvage in the central Pacific was in the hands of Lebbeus Curtis, a

competent salvor, completely able to deal with the situation there.

With other priorities, or, more significantly, without men of the cali -

ber of Manseau, Curtis, and many others to look after particular aspects

of the wartime Navy salvage effort, the lengthy commitment of its chief

to one theater would probably not have been desirable or possible.

While the war in Europe was being fought and won and a salvage

force was being tailored to its requirements, a very different war was being

waged in the Pacific. Determined, imaginative men there were solving

very different problems.

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149

The Early Days

CH5a

UNDER TOW
MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

CH5b
CHAPTER FIVE

Fleet Operations in World War II:

The Pacific Theater

World War II salvage operations in the Pacific differed significantly from those in the Atlantic, as did the war itself.

Combat areas and logistics routes in the Pacific extended

over thousands of miles of ocean with few developed harbors for either

refuge or terminals. In opposing U.S. forces, the Japanese Navy had used

its balanced air-surface-submarine force quite differently from the

German forces in the Atlantic.

Key to the difference was the lack of a concentrated campaign against

strategic lines of communications, despite Japan’s excellent submarine

force. Logistics forces in transit needed less elaborate defensive methods

in the Pacific. U.S. offensive naval operations consisted of either operations to keep unrelenting pressure on the Japanese or amphibious assaults

to move Allied forces nearer the Japanese homeland. Logistics operations, by contrast, became mammoth. The number of noncombat ship

casualties grew almost inconceivably large. Operating only in U.S. waters

in the Pacific, the Navy Salvage Service had slim resources and an area

of operations proportionately much smaller than that in the Atlantic.

The brunt of salvage work for the huge American naval effort in the

Pacific thus fell upon the U.S. Navy.

At the outset salvage forces in the Pacific essentially did not exist, but

building and procurement programs had been started. The salvage work

at Pearl Harbor had tied up whatever forces and equipment could be mustered quickly. Although the two lead ships of the Navajo class of fleet

tugs, Navajo (ATF 64) and Seminole (ATF 65), were operating out of

Pearl Harbor, the U.S. Navy had an acute shortage of tugs throughout the

Pacific. Admiral Thomas C. Hart’s Asiatic Fleet had only one, Whippoorwill (AM 35).1 Hart sent Whippoorwill to Darwin, Australia, with the

1Later ATO 169.

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151
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152

The dual drive across the Pacific.
other auxiliaries in late December 1941, leaving the fleet with no tug support for the actions that followed.

The Asiatic Fleet was not unique. Construction of all types of auxiliary forces had lagged behind the building of combat forces in the fifteen

years before the war. After the Pearl Harbor attack U.S. battleships sailed

from California on their first voyage to the South Pacific with no logistics

support whatsoever. No salvage ships or tugs supported the initial raids by

carrier groups in the Marshall and Gilbert Islands. Combatants in the

Battles of Coral Sea and Midway had no salvage or tug support either, and

few support forces were present during the naval battles off Guadalcanal.

Ships, notably Hornet (CV 8), Porter (DD 356), Atlanta (CL 51), and

Yorktown (CV 5), sank either because tugs and salvage ships were not

available or because the doctrine for salvage in combat support had not

been developed. Fortunately neither situation would continue for long.

The year 1942 saw much regrouping and containing of the Japanese

thrusts into the eastern and southern Pacific and the Aleutian Islands.

The assault on Guadalcanal, the first major American amphibious oper -

ation of the war, was not a part of a planned movement against the

Japanese homeland. Its purpose was to prevent the Japanese from using

the island as a base on the flank of the operations in New Guinea. The

Pacific war was the poor relation; the lion’s share of war production went

to Europe in accord with the Allies’ policy of “Beat Germany First.” Until

the industrial output of the United States could reach a level that would

support both theaters, the Pacific waited for material. The absence of an

intense logistics war like that in the Atlantic was a boon for the salvage

forces because coastal and overseas convoys in the Pacific required neither elaborate warship escorts nor constant salvage protection.2 In fact no

definite U.S. strategy for the Pacific war existed until mid-1943 when

ships, men, and equipment began to be available in great quantity.

General MacArthur, thinking like a soldier, supported a single

advance toward Japan through the land masses that border the southwestern and western Pacific. In such a strategy the Navy would take on

the secondary roles of providing transport, convoy, and security on the

flank of the central drive. Naval leaders, although recognizing these as

traditional fleet missions, saw the potential of carrier air power in gaining

control of the huge areas of the central Pacific. They supported a dual

thrust with seaborne forces pushing through the central Pacific while

2The failure of Japan to use its excellent submarines against logistics shipping can be characterized as a major mistake. Whether it was a strategic blindness to the value of logistics in modern warfare or the Japanese warrior code that prevented a systematic attack on merchant shipping will long

be argued. Whatever the reason, the result was that Japanese submarines were sent after well-protected warships rather than the more vulnerable tankers and cargo vessels upon which the warships

depended.

Fleet Operations: Pacific Theater

153
MacArthur, also seaborne, drove northward in the west. The naval leaders’ views prevailed; the Combined Chiefs of Staff approved the twopronged attack in May 1943.

The delay in determining a strategy for the war allowed American

production to come up to speed, ships to be built, and men to be trained.

When the moves toward Japan began, the Navy had not only salvage

ships and tugs, but experience derived from action in the Mediterranean.

The First Days

The immediate attention of salvors in the Pacific focused on salvaging the ships sunk at Pearl Harbor. The work required the full-time

attention of all the experienced salvage men and of those who had the

background to acquire salvage skills quickly. It soon became apparent,

however, that salvage would not be limited to a single area but would

become a theater-wide activity. Development of a Pacific salvage force

became a priority. Commander Lebbeus Curtis was pulled away from

the Pearl Harbor work and assigned as Mobile Salvage Engineer on the

staff of Rear Admiral William L. Calhoun, Commander Service Force.

Curtis ranged over the Pacific, taking his skills and experience wherever

needed.

In the South Pacific

Navajo and Seminole operated in the central and eastern Pacific until

February 1942, when they embarked salvage teams and attempted to salvage the SS President Taylor at Canton Island. Navajo got underway

shortly thereafter for the South Pacific, where she performed towing and

salvage operations in the Solomons and Fijis. She made the long tow to

Sydney with the Portland (CA 33) after she became crippled at the naval

battle of Guadalcanal.3

Seminole, too, sailed to the South Pacific but did little salvage work.4

Along with YP–284, she was pressed into service as a supply ship in the

frantic effort to move men and material into Guadalcanal, and was

discharging marines, howitzers, and gasoline off Lunga Point on the

morning of 18 October 1942 when three enemy destroyers appeared in

the northwest. The Japanese ships broke contact with two American

3On Portland and other long tows of damaged ships, a salvage officer rode the tow. In the case

of Portland, that salvage officer was Lieutenant W.N. Bjork, a veteran of Pearl Harbor salvage and a

future Supervisor of Salvage. 4Navajo now disappears from this account. She continued to participate in salvage and towing

operations and made one trip to the United States to be overhauled. On 12 September 1943, while

towing YOG–42 from Pago Pago to Espiritu Santo, Navajo was rocked by a heavy explosion, probably a mine or torpedo, and sank quickly, taking seventeen of her crew with her.

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destroyers and pursued Seminole and YP–284, sinking them both with

gunfire.

Much of the salvage work in the first part of the war was done by onthe-scene forces with assistance from the few available trained salvors.

Such joint and innovative efforts were needed for temporary repairs when

the bow of Minneapolis (CA 36) was blown off at the Battle of

Tassafaronga. Captain Homer Wallin sent Commander Floyd Schultz,

who had worked on the Pearl Harbor salvage, to Tulagi to oversee the job.

Ortolan (ASR 5) assisted. Native labor cut coconut logs to build a temporary bulkhead that replaced the bow of the cruiser.5 The Minneapolis

then steamed to Espiritu Santo for additional repairs before heading to

the navy yard facilities in Pearl Harbor.

Menominee (ATF 73) was commissioned on 25 September 1942 and

outfitted with equipment purchased by Merritt-Chapman and Scott

under their prewar procurement contract. It was one of the first of the

wartime construction fleet tugs to reach the South Pacific. She was commanded by Lieutenant Commander Emile C. Genereaux, USNR, a pro -

fessional mariner who had participated in the salvage of Nevada,

California, West Virginia, and Plunger at Pearl Harbor. The new tug arrived

in Suva, Fiji, on 12 December and began a full career of wartime salvage

three days later when she was sent to the grounded British Liberty ship

Thomas A. Edison at Vuata Vatoa, Fiji. Commander Lebbeus Curtis was

on the scene because the cargo included badly needed torpedoes bound

for the submarine base at Brisbane. Grebe (ATO 134) also participated in

the salvage operation. There was no thought of saving the ship, which

was hard aground and broken in two, but over 500 torpedoes were

removed and sent on to their destination before the wreck broke up in a

typhoon. Unfortunately the same storm also put Grebe ashore and

destroyed her.

Immediately afterwards Menominee headed towards Bulagari Passage,

where the destroyer Shaw (DD 373), the Pearl Harbor attack veteran, had

run aground at 25 knots and badly holed herself. Genereaux attacked the

problem with vigor, beach gear, patching materials, and fourteen pumps.

The ship refloated and, with the pumps controlling the constant leakage,

was towed to Noumea, New Caledonia, and drydocked.

While in Noumea Menominee and Genereaux received one of the most

5The natives were hired through the military governor of the island, a New Zealand major, to

cut the logs for three dollars. The natives appeared, a ragtag bunch dressed in cast-off marine clothing—the one wearing sergeant’s stripes worked for the one with corporal’s stripes—and set our to do

their work. The next morning there were no logs in sight. The natives took the naval officers into

the woods where the logs lay and where they would continue to lie because they were too large to

move to the beach. A second deal was struck and more logs near the shore were cut. Coconut is a

very dense wood; it does not float. The tide came in and submerged the logs. The logs were finally

floated to Minneapolis with empty 8-inch powder cases used for buoyancy.

Fleet Operations: Pacific Theater

155
unusual salvage assignments of the war. The small Japanese destroyer

Yayoi had been sunk by air attack on 9 November 1942.6 A scheme was

afoot to raise the ship and use it as a decoy, but first the salvors had to

find the wreck. Analysis of charts of the area around Halava Bay, Tulagi,

where ships would lie at anchor, gave likely places to start the search.

Divers began the tedious business of searching the bottom. Owing primarily to careful work in determining search locations, the wreck was located

quickly. The salvors made a careful survey and developed a salvage plan

using equipment that could be provided reasonably soon. After a few

months and some effort, the necessary equipment was assembled.

During the wait, Genereaux and Menominee did not lie idle. They

attempted the salvage of SS Lipscombe Lykes grounded on Durand Reef.

The effort failed because the ship broke up in the heavily pounding surf.

They refloated Delphinius (AF 24) from South Reef, New Caledonia, SS

Robert Coulton at Noumea, and the Buchanan (DD 484) from a reef near

Lengo Channel.

With equipment finally on hand, the salvors tackled Yayoi. The

Japanese destroyer lay on her starboard side in 12 fathoms of water. The

first part of the salvage plan called for lifting and dragging the wreck to

the beach. A 500-ton lighter was rigged as a lift craft. The lighter was

positioned over the wreck and flooded down some 7 feet. Twelve chains

were rove around Yayoi and the barge then hauled tight. With the chains

tight, the lighter was pumped out to give 500 tons of lift. The lighter

could not lift the ship clear of the bottom, but was able to reduce the

ground reaction while the ship was dragged into shallow water.

Purchases rigged to anchors ashore provided the main pulling force

to move the destroyer and lift barge. Wire ropes from the anchors led to

purchases laid out on the deck of a second barge. The other end of the

purchases were attached by wire ropes to the bow of Yayoi. Winches on

the barge hauled the purchases.

Menominee moved ahead of Yayoi using both of her bow anchors and

long scopes of chain. Additional chain was rigged from the tug around the

stern of the destroyer and back to the deck of the tug, where the bitter

ends were hauled with Menominee’s deck machinery.

Yayoi moved into shallow water until the bow came above water. The

ship was then righted with pontoons. With the ship upright, the pontoons

were shifted to place three on a side to provide additional stability. The

ship was still partially sunk, her stern at least 20 feet under the surface.

6Yayoi (Destroyer No. 23) was a Mutsuki-class destroyer built at Uraga, Tokyo, in 1925. The ship

had a length of 320 feet, a beam of 20 feet, and a full-load draft of 9 feet 9 inches. Standard displacement was 1,315 tons. All twelve of the ships of this class were lost in the war, most from air attacks

in the Solomons.

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

156
With the destroyer still resting on the bottom in shallow water, a

30-by-60-foot torpedo hole had to be patched before the ship could be

floated. A 15-ton steel patch was made up and attached by drilling

holes on one-foot centers around its periphery and securing it to the hull

with toggle bolts.7 With the patch in place and cofferdams built around

deck openings, one barge was positioned to lift the stern of Yayoi. Sixfold

purchases, led around the stern from the barge, were hauled to lift that

section. With the barge lifting and numerous pumps pumping, Yayoi was

brought afloat, dried out, and drydocked. A subsequent survey showed

that the hull was so badly damaged it could not be restored. The project

was abandoned—clearly a tactical victory but a strategic defeat.

Casualties frequently interrupted the effort to salvage Yayoi, as they

did other long salvage operations throughout the war. Japanese air raids

every night for over four months caused damage requiring the attention

of the few available salvage ships. As the quantity of shipping in the

South Pacific increased with the war, so did the casualties. The South

Pacific is not the easiest place to navigate in the best of times because of

the numerous islands and reefs and the lack of navigational aids and good

charts. During the war ships lay offshore, anchored in generally poor

holding ground, exposed to the vagaries of fickle and wicked weather. As

a result they were often driven ashore. Seamanship was in short supply,

further contributing to many of the casualties. The shipyards could and

did turn out thousands of new hulls, but the men to operate them skillfully were not so easily produced. The judgment and experience of years

at sea cannot be replicated in a classroom. Although the men operating

ships during the war did well, the standard of seamanship was not high.

The increasing number of casualties stretched the limited salvage

resources, as did the failure of operational commanders to use their tugs

to best advantage. Many commanders considered all tugs more or less

equal, not recognizing that these small ships are of quite complex designs

and have characteristics that must be matched to the task. The same

operational mistakes in matching tugs to the job made in the early days

of the Navy Rescue Towing Service and in preparation for the Normandy

invasion were also made in the Pacific. The situation improved as the war

went along, particularly after the assignment of Commander Henry Foss,

a West Coast towing company executive, to the Service Force comman7The steel for this patch had been ordered quite a long time before it was required, but it failed

to show up. Tracers put out through the supply system failed to locate the steel. Genereaux was

ashore on Guadalcanal checking on material when an air raid occurred. While sheltered from the

raid in a bunker, Genereaux happened to look up overhead. The following day he made a survey of

other bunkers. Shortly thereafter the plate ended its temporary duty as overhead air-raid shelter

material and reported to its intended assignment as hull-patching material.

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MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

158

The Aleutian theater.
der’s staff. Tug operations in the Pacific, however, never reached the level

of effectiveness they did in the Atlantic.8

In the Aleutians

The Aleutian Islands are a nasty place to fight a war at sea. The

weather changes quickly and can be as violent as any place on earth. Fog

is common and dense; distances are great. Nothing that happened in the

Aleutians in World War II, other than the diversion of men and material

from other theaters, had any influence on the outcome of the war, but the

conflict made heavy demands on the men and equipment operating there.

Shipping in the Aleutians increased dramatically as it did in all war theaters. Soviet ships carrying Lend-Lease goods from the West Coast to

Vladivostok added an unusual twist to the shipping problems in the

Aleutians. The Japanese, carefully avoiding trouble with the Soviet

Union, did not attack these ships, but the ships sometimes became casualties of the difficult sailing in the area.

The resources applied to the Aleutians were even more meager than

in the South Pacific. Tugs were scarce; the few that were there operated

constantly, dividing their time between towing and salvage operations.

The Navy Salvage Service ran salvage stations at Port Angeles, Washing -

ton, and Kodiak, Alaska, for operations in the Aleutians until Rescuer

wrecked at the end of 1942 and Navy Salvage Service ships were withdrawn from Alaskan waters. In late 1942 the commander of the Alaskan

Command requested help from the Chief of Navy Salvage. Commander

Burns D. Wood, who had recently trained at the Pier 88 salvage school,

was sent to the northern Pacific to coordinate and direct salvage

operations.9

The surface ship operations that climaxed in the Battle of the

Komandorskiyes (Commander Islands) had virtually no salvage ship support; only the old tugs Tatnuck (AT 27) and Oriole (AT 136)10 were available until the newly built Ute (ATF 76) arrived in Dutch Harbor early in

1943. Ute went into action soon after arrival when, teaming with Tatnuck,

she freed the grounded transport Arthur Middleton (AP 25). Like her sisters

8To provide guidance for officers concerned with the operation and administration of tugs, the

publication Navy Seagoing Tugs and Related Craft-General Characteristics and Considerations Governing

Use of (COMINCH P–03) was prepared from notes made by Commodore Sullivan and distributed by

the Commander in Chief, U.S. Fleet on 21 June 1944. This pamphlet was a forerunner of the U.S.

Navy Towing Manual. On 15 May 1944 an attempt to clarify the capabilities of tugs was made by

breaking the designation AT—Oceangoing Tug into two groups: ATF—Fleet Ocean Tug, for the new

Navajo-class ships, and ATO—Old Ocean Tug, for the older tugs and converted Bird-class

minesweepers. 9Commander Wood and those who accompanied him and worked with him did a remarkable job

in the northern Pacific. Commander Wood became well known and was requested by name for the

invasion of Guam and Saipan. 10Originally AM 7, later ATO 136.

Fleet Operations: Pacific Theater

159
to the south, Ute found it difficult to complete a long salvage job. She was

called away from the Middleton to salvage the stranded merchantman

Wallace.

As the only salvage unit that accompanied the task force in the invasion of Attu, Ute could do no good in the early stages of the invasion.

Lacking adequate radar equipment, she could not take her proper station

in the foul weather. The day following D-Day she went to the assistance

of Perida, the only Army ship in the operation. Perida had hit a pinnacle

and holed two compartments. Ute beached her to prevent sinking, and

patching, pumping, refloating, and cargo discharge operations were carried out simultaneously. Perida was subsequently towed to Adak and

returned to service.

Ute and the older and smaller tugs participated in numerous salvage

operations on both merchant and naval ships in the area during the next

few months. Ute sailed to Kiska with the invasion force but did no combat

salvage operations because the Japanese had departed. Cree (ATF 84)

joined the Aleutian salvage group and assisted Ute with the salvage of the

Soviet merchantman Valery Chkalov that had broken in half in heavy

seas. Cree took the forward half of the ship in tow and Ute picked up the

stern. When the towline to the Russian ship failed, Ute sailors reconnected

the tow by a novel variation on the traditional line-throwing gun. To

make the initial connection, they lashed a 400-pound anchor to a depth

charge arbor and fired it with a depth charge projector toward the drifting

stern section.

Cree, Ute, Tatnuck, and Oriole continued salvage operations

through out Aleutian waters and accompanied raids against Paramushir as

standby salvage ships. By mid-1944 the tempo of operations in the

Aleutians had slackened to the point where keeping valuable ATFs

there was no longer justifiable. Cree and Ute headed for other areas of

the Pacific. Salvage forces did not abandon Alaska entirely. The newly

built, wooden-hulled Protector (ARS 14) took up salvage station in

Alaska before the departure of Cree and remained there until the spring

of 1945. Protector left in the spring, but Gear (ARS 34) arrived before

the harsh winter weather set in.

The campaign in the Aleutians may have been merely a sideshow of

the total Pacific war, but it was a major effort for the salvage forces there.

Their work was hard, dangerous, valuable, and done under extreme conditions of weather. Although all maritime operations in Aleutian waters

are hard, salvage operations there are particularly difficult. The Navy

salvage forces operating in Alaskan and Aleutian waters did an excellent

job of supporting fleet operations and of providing assistance to the

numerous casualties caused by the high level of Lend-Lease shipping

going to the Soviet Union.

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The Drive Across the Central Pacific

For the drive through the Marshall and Gilbert islands into the

Marianas, the Navy needed the mobility and longevity at sea that fleets

enjoyed in the days of sail. Amphibious assault operations took place

thousands of miles from the nearest permanent base and were made possible only by the mobile base concept. Hundreds of ships supplying all

the logistics needs of the fleet established bases at places such as

Funafuti in the Ellice Islands, Efate, Espirito Santo, and Ulithi. The

mobile bases formed an integral part of the fleet and allowed fighting

ships to remain deployed almost indefinitely without shore-based support. Salvage forces formed an integral part of the mobile base concept.

Not only did they provide salvage support for combat operations, but

they also filled the salvage requirements of the bases and the endless

chain of ships that supplied the bases from the United States.

A harbinger of the series of island invasions that followed strikes

against the Japanese started in the summer and fall of 1943 as new salvage

ships began to join the growing stream of fleet tugs arriving in the Pacific.

Clamp (ARS 33), the first steel-hulled salvage ship to enter service,

arrived in Funafuti on 8 November 1943, in time to support the invasion

of Tarawa. Along with Tawasa (ATF 92), Clamp stayed busy during the

invasion. Under air attack five times on 10 December alone, she earned

her keep during the invasion by hauling LST–34 off the beach and

refloating Hoel (DD 533) at Betio Point.

Salvage operations supporting amphibious assaults in the central

Pacific began to take the same general form they had in Europe. Salvage

ships and fleet tugs, augmented by teams specially trained in salvage or

fire fighting, closely supported amphibious forces and provided assistance

to ships damaged during the assault. LCI(L)s fitted out for towing and fire

fighting, and LCTs with the shear legs derived from Sullivan and Doust’s

late-night design, carried out salvage operations on landing craft and

amphibious vehicles during and immediately after the assault. The relatively short island campaigns generated salvage work to be done after

each island was secure. This work included recovery of landing craft too

badly damaged for immediate salvage, salvage of ships beached to prevent

sinking, and removal work.

The salvage of SS Sea Flyer was a routine after-the-assault operation.

Sea Flyer grounded on the south side of the east channel at Eniwetok11

Atoll at 2:30 in the morning of 21 July 1944. Salvage operations began

immediately under the direction of Captain Worral R. Carter, Commander Service Squadron Ten. Preparations for disembarking troops and

11Sometimes spelled Enewetak at the time.

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161
discharging cargo started. Lieutenant Robert K. (Bulldog) Thurman, the

commanding officer of Tawasa, laid out beach gear. Commander Curtis

flew in to supervise the operation. Tugs initially tried to haul the ship off

before all the beach gear was laid and set—an exercise in futility and a

waste of time. In the end, after 1,900 tons of cargo had been discharged

and the beach gear properly set, Sea Flyer was hauled off and returned to

service.

Salvage forces in the Pacific worked for the Service Force commander throughout the war rather than being organized into their own task

force. As part of the service squadrons, salvage ships reported directly to

the service and salvage group commander in each operation. Salvage

commanders were usually given a great deal of autonomy in their operations and in deciding the details of resource allocation. This is not to

suggest that the confusion of combat did not affect Pacific salvage operations, as it affects all combat efforts. However, centralized salvage control operations helped minimize the confusion because assignment of

priorities and allocation of resources was done by a single commander

rather than fragmented throughout the assault force.

The same salvage pattern continued during the invasions of the

Marianas and the western Carolines. New salvage ships began pouring

into the area. Apache (ATF 67), Yuma (ATF 94), ATR–33, and ATA–123

assisted the grounded Army ship FP–147. Yuma refloated the hospital

ship Samaritan (AH 10), which struck a reef while carrying more than 600

battle casualties. Apache assisted the mined Liberty ship Elihu Thompson

and towed her to Noumea. Grapple (ARS 7) put a fire-fighting and salvage crew aboard the destroyer Wadleigh (DD 689). Quapaw (ATF 110),

the venerable Sonoma (AT 12), and Lipan (ATF 85) hauled landing craft

off the beach at Morotai. Fleet tugs undertook the highest-value tows on

the moves of the mobile bases. Salvage ships acted as retrievers of lost

tows on the same moves.12 The jobs went on and on—most small, none

glamorous, but a huge cumulative benefit.

While the amphibious forces captured island after island and steadily

reduced the size of the Japanese holdings in the Pacific, fast carrier task

forces kept pressure on the Japanese by striking at their bases. Much had

been learned about conducting these strikes since the initial raids in the

Gilberts and Marshall Islands in 1942. One important lesson was that

losses could be prevented by stationing salvage and towing ships along

the anticipated withdrawal route to assist ships damaged by the Japanese.

12Wire rope and heavy manila towing hawsers were in short supply throughout the Pacific, as

were shackles, flounder plates, and other towing hardware. Tow rigging often showed more ingenuity

than technical sophistication. Lost tows were not uncommon. It became a matter of practical necessity to have a ship designated to assist in recovering lost tows.

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Salvage ships and tugs were allocated for this purpose during the drive

across the central Pacific.

Just how valuable these preparations were was proven after the 13

October 1944 torpedoing of the cruiser Canberra (CA 70) 85 miles off

Taiwan.13 Canberra was seriously wounded. She lost propulsion, and both

firerooms and an engine room flooded. There were 4,500 tons of floodwater in her. Wichita (CA 45) took her in tow and headed for a rendezvous with Munsee (ATF 107). Munsee put a salvage crew aboard

Canberra and took over the tow. The salvage crew turned to repairing the

torpedo damage to the cruiser’s hull and preparing to pump her out.

During the repairs Ensign P.S. Criblet, the tug’s salvage officer, died in a

diving accident in the engine room. After almost a week of towing toward

Ulithi Island, the group was joined by the tug Watch Hill, which had been

leased by the War Shipping Administration. Munsee and Watch Hill towed

in tandem for another week until they reached Ulithi and delivered

Canberra alongside the repair ship Ajax (AR 6).

While the damaged Canberra withdrew, the fast carrier task force,

Task Force 38, shifted its movements to protect the damaged cruiser. The

cruiser Houston (CL 81), part of the task force covering the withdrawal,

was hit by an aerial torpedo on 14 October. Having lost all propulsion and

steering power, the ship listed heavily. Excess personnel were removed

and the damage seemed fatal. The cruiser Boston (CA 69) made up a tow

and got underway at 3 knots. The following morning a fire in Houston’s

engine room caused a loss of power in the forward part of the ship, making the anchor windlass inoperable and delaying passing the tow to

Pawnee (ATF 74), which had joined in the early morning hours. The tow

was passed by midmorning. Early afternoon brought warning of an approaching air raid. A persistent and courageous Japanese pilot bored in

on Houston and, despite suffering many hits, dropped his torpedo; it

struck the cruiser in the stern, starting a raging gasoline fire. Pawnee held

on and kept towing while salvage crews and the ship’s force fought to

extinguish the fire and keep the ship afloat.

Pawnee held on for six more days and then passed the tow to Zuni

(ATF 95) and Current (ARS 22) towing in tandem. In another six days

the two tugs brought Houston into the lagoon at Ulithi where she came

alongside the repair ship Hector (AR 7)—1,250 miles from where the

damage had initially occurred.

It was the season for torpedoing and towing cruisers. A week after

Houston arrived in Ulithi, Reno (CL 96), while operating east of the

Philippines, was torpedoed in the port side aft. Zuni arrived the following

day, put a salvage crew on board, and commenced the tow. Both tug and

13Then known as Formosa.

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163
cruiser crews worked with courage, skill, and determination to keep the

badly damaged warship afloat. They succeeded.

The rescue tows of the battle-damaged Canberra, Houston, and Reno

demonstrated the value of tugs supporting far-ranging fast carrier task

forces. Three warships had been saved for repair and return to service.

Support of strike forces by salvage ships stationed along expected withdrawal routes continued as a routine practice through the war.

Salvage in the Rear Areas

The very nature of the Pacific war—with operations over great areas

of ocean and on innumerable islands and huge quantities of material and

numbers of men moving by ship—meant that salvage efforts had to

extend throughout the entire Pacific.

The large wartime shipbuilding program that was needed to support

such extensive operations introduced ship types previously unknown into

the U.S. Navy. Nowhere was this truer than in the Service Force. The

prewar logistics arm of the fleet, the Base Force Train, had 51 ships in

1940; its wartime successor, the Service Force, Pacific Fleet, had 2,930

vessels of all types in July 1945. Many of these ships had missions generated purely by the nature of the war being fought. Of all the ships in the

Service Force, none had more specialized missions or demanding seamanship requirements than the salvage ships and tugs.

As we have seen, salvage experience in the Navy at the beginning of

the war was limited to a small number of officers and a somewhat greater

number of warrant officers and enlisted men. Field experience grew

quickly in the war. The salvage school at Pier 88 proved invaluable for

training men in the fundamentals of salvage. It remained to match the

men and equipment, especially the fine, steel-hulled salvage ships being

built by Basalt Rock Company of Napa, California.

Commander Emile Genereaux who, after being relieved as commanding officer of Menominee had been serving as a staff salvage officer in the

South Pacific, returned to the United States. He was given the job of setting up a salvage training course for the new salvage ships and their

crews. Another experienced salvage officer, Lieutenant Commander Ray

Chance, served as Genereaux’s principal assistant.

An intensive course was set up incorporating salvage training in the

shakedown training of the newly built ships. Initially located in San

Diego, the training soon moved to the Roosevelt Base on Terminal Island.

Particular attention was paid to those salvage skills that had proven most

valuable in wartime operations—laying and retrieving beach gear, patching and pumping, and towing at sea. Eleven ships went through a tough

eleven days of salvage training before being sent on to forward areas. Fire

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164
fighting on damaged vessels, a major function during combat support

operations, was conspicuous by its absence from the salvage training for

two reasons. First, fire-fighting crews aboard salvage ships were not part

of the regular complements of the ships, but were specialists assigned

temporarily to supplement the ships’ crews. Second, the operational concept for salvage forces called for tugs—fleet tugs, auxiliary tugs, and rescue

tugs, augmented by salvage and fire-fighting specialists—to provide

prompt assistance to damaged ships while the salvage ships were held

outside the immediate combat zone. The salvage training instituted at

San Diego as part of the shakedown has provided the basic pattern for the

training of salvage ships and crews ever since.

All was not success and glory, nor even sweat and hard work, for the

new salvage ships. There were some embarrassments. Seize (ARS 26),

fresh from the builder’s yard and on her first salvage assignment, went to

Clipperton Island to refloat LST–563 stranded there. Seize put her towing

hawser aboard and maneuvered to take position for a pull, but wrapped

the wire-rope hawser in her starboard screw. Like the Milwaukee during

the H–3 salvage, Seize found herself in irons, and, like the Milwaukee,

Seize grounded and broached. Tenino (ATF 115), with Commander

Genereaux aboard, sailed from San Diego in company with the Navy

Salvage Service ship Viking (ARS 1).

Clipperton Island is a typical Pacific atoll, about two miles in diameter. It has an average elevation of only 20 feet, sparkling white sand, and

sparse vegetation. Seize was well and truly grounded there, high and dry,

her starboard side to the beach, her bottom holed, and her double bottoms flooded. The hawser was still connected to the LST and still

wrapped around the salvage ship’s wheel. The surf was vicious; the

landing craft with the salvage officer aboard capsized on its way in to the

beach.

Four legs of beach gear were laid out and anchors were set ashore to

hold Seize, pivot her into the sea, and haul her off. To reduce the ground

reaction, all possible weight was discharged onto the island, and air at 3

pounds above sea pressure was blown into the damaged tanks. On the

eleventh day after the arrival of the salvage forces at Clipperton Island,

Seize came off the beach and headed for San Diego, towed by Viking.14

Tenino continued trying to refloat LST–563, but to no avail; the badly

damaged ship would have sunk if refloated. The attempt was abandoned.

14After being hauled off Clipperton Island, Seize was repaired and joined the salvage forces in

the western Pacific, where she had a productive, if undistinguished, career for the remainder of the

war and also in China after the war. Seize was transferred to the Coast Guard in 1946. The grounding did not seem to hurt the ruggedly built ship. Recommissioned as USCGC Yocona (WAT 168, later

WMEC 168), after four years at Eureka, California, she served in Oregon at the mouth of the

Columbia River for more than thirty years.

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Another salvage ship operating in a rear area got into trouble with

not-so-happy results. The channel entrance to Midway Island is treacherous, a hard passage for the most seasoned navigator. When the submarine Flier (SS 250) stranded there in early 1944, the submarine rescue

ship Macaw (ASR 11) came in and refloated her. Submarine rescue ships

are fitted with deep-diving equipment and the specialized rigging that

allows them to lay and go into multiport moors; they are not well

equipped, nor are they well suited for conventional salvage operations.

Macaw found herself hard aground. Clamp came up immediately from

Abemama Atoll to Midway where she arrived in the midst of some particularly foul weather. She laid her beach gear when the seas subsided

and pulled for two days. Macaw didn’t budge. Clamp then hauled off to

regroup and rethink the operation. More attempts were made and, in the

teeth of a howling gale more than three weeks after her arrival, Clamp

hauled Macaw off. The elation was short lived. The badly holed Macaw

sank in the entrance channel, taking much of Clamp’s salvage gear with

her. In the spring of the same year, Shackle (ARS 9) removed much of the

wreckage of Macaw that had made the entrance into Midway even more

treacherous.

As in the other theaters of the war, not all salvage in the rear areas of

the Pacific involved the salvage forces. Some was done on an ad hoc basis

by whatever forces could be mustered. When the new Liberty ship M.H.

DeYoung took a torpedo en route from San Francisco to Australia, no salvage ships were available to assist. The ship was seriously damaged and

without power, but in no immediate danger of sinking. A naval engineer,

Commander Arthur Bushey, went to the scene with instructions to save

the cargo. Fortunately, the cargo contained the material that would be

required for the salvage operation. Commander Bushey evaluated the

remaining strength in the hull and opted not to expend time and manpower in strengthening the ship. He directed effort to the more important

matter of ensuring that no dangerous flooding could occur.

SS Mark Hopkins, en route in ballast back to San Francisco, was

brought alongside. The salvors ran a steam line from Hopkins to provide

steam for DeYoung’s winches. Preparations were made to discharge cargo

into Hopkins. The task became a competition as merchant seamen and

Navy sailors vied to discharge the most tonnage during their shifts.

As the cargo discharge operation began, an incident occurred that

demonstrated the difference between mariners engaged in normal operations and salvors, particularly Navy salvors, who have a different rulebook.15 With hatches open and preparations being made for the first lift,

15The ship had been loaded and would have been unloaded by shore cranes, which have a

greater capacity than ships’ booms.

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Fleet Operations: Pacific Theater

167

The salvage ship Seize lies hard aground on the white sand of Clipperton Island after getting her tow wire in her screw while trying to salvage LST–563. After the successful salvage Seize saw war service in the Pacific and more than forty years’ duty as USCGC

Yocona. Photo courtesy David W. Genereaux.

From the bridge of Tenino, Commander Emile C. Genereaux directs salvage

operations on Seize. Photo courtesy David W. Genereaux.
it was discovered that the first heavy piece of machinery to be lifted

exceeded the capacity of the jumbo boom. The master, forbidden by law

from permitting a lift greater than the boom rating, stopped the operation. The salvage officer gave the master the option of accepting one of

two letters. The first letter would relieve the master of all responsibility

for making the lift and place that responsibility on the salvage officer. The

second letter stated that the ship would be taken over by the Navy.

The master accepted the first letter, thereby resolving a sticky problem. Although the master and the salvage officer responded differently to

the same situation because they operated under different mindsets, a

mutually satisfactory solution was found. The discharge of De Young’s

cargo, passengers, and most of her complement proceeded smoothly.

Mark Hopkins soon left the scene to return to Australia. A War Shipping

Administration contract tug shortly arrived and took De Young in tow for

Espiritu Santo, where she became a hotel ship.

An almost infinite variety of salvage efforts continued throughout the

war in the Pacific. Even the rear areas required harbor clearance. Pearl

Harbor, the site of the largest harbor salvage job of the war, was also the

site of an important harbor clearance operation.

On the morning of 21 May 1944, an accidental explosion in LSTs

loading ammunition in West Loch for the invasion of Guam triggered a

series of explosions and fires that sank five LSTs and blew the deckloaded LCTs off, sinking them and a number of smaller craft. Fortunately,

Valve (ARS 28) and Vent (ARS 29) lay in the harbor at the time. These

ships fought the fires until exploding ammunition forced them to clear

the area. As soon as possible, Valve returned to the scene and extinguished the fire on LST–480.16 When all fires were extinguished and the

situation somewhat under control, Valve began to clean up the mess. She

continued her work, picking up live ammunition, recovering ten LVTs,

removing wreckage, and setting the ships up for explosive cutting until

September 5, leaving the scene only once to refloat LCI(G)–566, grounded

off Wahie Point, Lanai.

The work continued under the overall direction of Commander Henry

Foss at Service Force Headquarters at Makalapa. Lieutenant Commander

Jim Greely, in charge at the scene, had Lieutenants Charles Bisordi,

Charles Koener, and John M. Ephland and Chief Carpenter Thomas to

assist him as salvage officers. The salvage base at Waipio Point, conveniently located at the entrance to West Loch, provided enlisted salvors.

The work included hauling one LST onto the beach with beach gear and

lifting out an LCT with a battery-operated, 200-ton crane of World War

I vintage. An unusual aspect of the operation was an attempt to cut up

16Vent sailed 23 July on a previously scheduled, high-priority deployment to Funafuti.

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

168
an LST with shaped charges, the first time this technique had been used

in the Navy. It produced mixed results then, just as attempts to use

shaped charges to cut ships do today.

In the Pacific war the delineation between forward and rear areas was

not always clear. The advanced base at Ulithi came under enemy attack

at irregular intervals. Some of these attacks resulted in damage to the

Fleet Operations: Pacific Theater

169

LSTs burn in West Loch, Pearl Harbor, after the explosion on 21 May 1944. A salvage

ship, center, goes to fight the fire.
ships there and, consequently, work for the salvage forces. Fortunately,

because Ulithi was a major advanced base, the harbor usually sheltered

salvage ships. When a midget submarine attack badly damaged

Mississinewa (AO 59) and set her afire on 20 November 1944, Munsee,

Menominee, Extractor (ARS 15), and ATR–51 did excellent fire-fighting

work, going alongside the ship with its burning cargo, mainly of aviation gasoline. That work was to no avail, however, and Mississinewa

sank.

There was success, however, at Ulithi on 11 March 1945 when a suicide plane struck the carrier Randolph (CV 15), doing substantial dam age

and setting the ship on fire. Current went alongside to port and Chickasaw

(ATF 83) to starboard, both fighting the fire effectively. When the heat

became too intense for Current, Munsee and the large harbor tug

YTB–384 replaced her, pouring six streams on the fire. Apache, Molala

(ATF 106), Grapple, and several harbor tugs also moved in to assist. The

salvage ships and Randolph’s crew, working through the night, extinguished the fire.

The vastness of the Pacific war often called for salvage ships to be

everywhere at once. Jobs were not limited to combat areas but, as the few

examples above indicate, were spread all over the ocean. Nor was the

Pacific simply a mare nostrum for U.S. Navy salvors. Australia’s Commonwealth Marine Salvage Board operated two BARSs, three BATs,17 and

various leased tugs on salvage operations, mostly in the waters around

Australia and New Guinea. They did excellent work, and many of the

ships they assisted flew the U.S. flag.

The Philippine Campaign

The two thrusts of the Pacific war, one across the central Pacific and

the other through the southwest Pacific, joined for the first time in the

Philippine campaign. This campaign had many other firsts, including

some notable ones for the salvage forces. The Allied forces operating offshore saw the introduction of a new weapon-suicide aircraft, or

kamikazes, that caused much ship damage and provided much work for

salvors. The large, well-developed harbor at Manila—no stranger to

naval action—was to be the first major harbor recaptured and the location of the first major clearance of a harbor blocked by the enemy in the

Pacific theater.

17The BARSs (steel-hulled ARSs) and BATs (oceangoing tugs) were both intended for Britain.

The three Australian tugs—Reserve, Sprightly, and Tancred—were ATA-type ships. These five ships

were responsible for the salvage of more than 600,000 tons of shipping during the war.

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The Japanese heavily opposed the approach to the Philippines with

frequent air attacks. During one of these attacks, Grasp (ARS 24) shot

down an enemy aircraft, and Grasp and Chowanoc (ATF 100) assisted in

downing several others. On 20 October a bomb struck Preserver (ARS 8)

while she was bound from Seeadler Harbor to the Philippines, penetrating

her hull and causing the engine room to flood. The hit essentially put the

ship out of the war; battle-damage repairs took until the following July.

The kamikaze was extremely effective. A successful kamikaze attack

on a ship almost always resulted in serious fire and extensive damage. The

presence of salvage ships, capable of providing specially trained firefighters

and salvage people and of towing the stricken ship away from the danger

area, became a major factor in the fleet’s ability to deal with the

kamikaze.

Combat Salvage

The numbers of salvage ships and tugs had grown significantly prior

to the Philippine campaign, but there were never enough. The ships

present were constantly active. The level of activity is apparent in the

following excerpts from the report of the Salvage and Rescue Group18 at

the MIKE ONE operation in Luzon for a ten-day period:

8 January 1945—Just before dusk on 8 January, CVE–71 (Kitkun

Bay) . . . was hit by an enemy suicide plane. Chowanoc took the CVE in tow. . . .

9 January 1945— . . . All units of the group reported to the Group

Commander and initially took positions deployed at regular intervals in the

sectors of the objective area occupied by the attack forces. . . . At 1300 the

Mississippi (BB 41) was seen to be burning on the main deck and superstructure amidships on the port side, apparently as a result of aerial enemy attack.

Grasp, Quapaw, and ATR–61 immediately closed on the Mississippi but were

informed no assistance was needed. . . . At 1400 Grasp began a tour of

inspection of all beaches running as close to shore as her draft would permit. . . . LCT–1028, badly damaged by an underwater explosion, was beached

by Rail (ATO 139) and her after compartments flooded to prevent broaching. LCI–865, damaged by enemy action, was taken over by Hidatsa (ATF

102) and emergency repairs started.

10 January 1945—A heavy swell developed during the night and conditions became bad on the beaches. . . . LSTs 925 and 1028 were severely damaged below their water lines during the night by enemy action. Salvage

teams went aboard to inspect the damage and both craft were assisted to the

beach. . . . Chowanoc retracted LST–567 hard aground and in danger of

broaching. Apache placed pumps aboard APD 10. . . . LCI–690 retrieved a

broached barge. . . . War Hawk (AP 168) was severely damaged during the

18Commander Task Group 77.8, Commander Byron S. Huie, Jr., USNR.

Fleet Operations: Pacific Theater

171
night by a small enemy craft apparently carrying a torpedo. Grasp closed on

War Hawk immediately and placed pumps aboard. . . . With the water under

control, Grasp was replaced by Chickasaw who completed repairs sufficient

to enable War Hawk to be towed to port for major repairs.

11 January 1945— . . . Salvage units were concentrated in the trouble

areas in order to assist wherever possible and without specific orders. . . . The

communication burden increased to such an extent that the limited facilities

of Grasp were inadequate successfully to cope with it. In the confusion, considerable difficulty was experienced in obtaining the location of craft reported needing assistance. . . .

The account of assistance to landing and beaching craft of all types

goes on, and larger ships were assisted as well. The report continues:

13 January 1945— . . . At 2230 Grasp closed on the Liberty Otis Skinner

which had received severe damage above the water line on the starboard

side forward of the bridge from an enemy suicide plane and was burning. firefighters were immediately placed aboard and the fire was brought under control. Chickasaw closed on the Skinner soon after to assist Grasp. . . .

14 January 1945—The fire on the Skinner smoldered during the night,

but by daybreak was completely extinguished by Grasp. Chickasaw took over,

placing repair parties on board, and Grasp resumed her normal function. Fire

fighting teams sent by Grasp to combat the fire on the Skinner displayed outstanding courage and skill. In order to reach the flames, it was necessary for

the firefighters to use masks and to enter the hole made by the enemy aircraft in the side of the ship. Gasoline was stored beneath the hold where the

fire was burning and the magazine was situated nearby. . . . The Liberty Kile

V. Johnson entered the harbor severely damaged and in a critical condition as

a result of being hit by an enemy suicide plane in number three hold. Cable

proceeded to her assistance and placed pumps and a repair party on

board. . . .

The report goes on to describe a high tempo of activity by the group

through 17 January,19 concluding with this recommendation:

Any tug or salvage vessel designated as a flagship of a salvage group such as

that employed in MIKE ONE, should be furnished an experienced and competent communications officer with additional radio and visual equip ment

and sufficient radiomen and signalmen to stand constant watches. In the

case of MIKE ONE, the flagship Grasp could have operated much more

efficiently had it been provided a Staff Communications Officer, six radio19The report includes a brief description of the salvage of a small enemy submarine containing

cargo and documents of intelligence value. Rail and Grasp participated in the salvage. The submarine was not a midget, but was probably one of the Yul-class transport submarines designed, built, and

operated by the Japanese Army. Twelve of these 130-foot units were built; the fate of ten is unknown.

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

172
men and six signalmen.20 Highly efficient communications are absolutely

essential to successful salvage operations. Without such efficiency, immediate response cannot be made to emergency calls; and, in the great majority

of instances, time is of the essence. If the salvage vessel arrives on the scene

promptly, a major salvage operation, or even a complete loss of a vessel, is

likely to be prevented.21

The table on the next page summarizes the work of the Luzon Salvage

and Rescue Group in the ten-day period covered by the report.

The action described above was neither isolated nor unusual, but

rather typical of what salvage ships all over the Pacific did during

amphibious operations. The U.S. Navy had come a long way in developing a large and proficient salvage force that was making a significant contribution to the war. However there were still lessons to be learned, as

there always are in salvage and in war. And there were still many hard

knocks ahead.

Three salvage ships became casualties during the campaign in the

Philippines. One was the elderly tug Sonoma, built in 1912 and a veteran

of numerous peacetime and wartime salvage operations. A flaming

Japanese bomber crashed into her, two explosions followed, and she

began taking water. Chickasaw and LCI–72 put the fires out, but the damage was fatal. Sonoma sank on the afternoon of 24 October 1944. A second casualty occurred when Guardfish (SS 217) mistakenly torpedoed

Extractor (ARS 15) on New Year’s Day 1945 in the Philippine Sea.

Finally, on 17 February, while returning from the landing on Corregidor,

Hidatsa (ATF 102) struck a mine in Mariveles harbor that left several

dead and wounded; she was towed to Subic Bay for repairs. The damage

was serious enough to put the tug out of the war but she returned to the

Philippines for postwar salvage operations.22

The Manila Harbor Clearance

Manila Bay in west-central Luzon is the best natural harbor in the

Philippines. Manila has a well-developed port facility, and for many years

before the war most of the foreign trade of the Philippines passed through

20The recommendation that thirteen men be added to the staff may have been tongue in cheek.

Accommodating this many men aboard a salvage ship would have been difficult. 21Ltr, Task Group 77.8 to Commander Task Force 77, 17 January 1945, “Activities of Task Group

77.8 during MIKE ONE Operation, Report of.” 22One of those wounded was an officer on Commander Huie’s staff, Walter L. (Scotty) Marshall.

Marshall was to have a long and distinguished career in salvage, becoming Seventh Fleet Salvage

Officer, Pacific Fleet Salvage Officer, and Supervisor of Salvage. Following his retirement from the

naval service, he became vice president of a major American salvage company. Captain Marshall

wrote numerous articles on salvage, many of which served as references for this history.

Fleet Operations: Pacific Theater

173
Summary of Work

By Salvage and Rescue Group,

Luzon Attack Force

Stranded or broached craft refloated

LST 23

LSM 6

LCI 2

LCT 4

Pontoon barge 23

Major repair jobs

AP 1

AK 2

APD 2

LST 5

LCI 4

PC 1

Towing

CVE 2

APD 1

LCI 3

PC 1

Minor repair jobs

LSM 2

LCT 1

LCI 5

Craft sunk as a menace to navigation

LCI 1

Craft raised

Submarine 1

LCT 1

NOTE: LCVPs and other small craft were retrieved from various beaches during other operations, but

no account was kept of their number.

SOURCE: Report dated 17 January 1945 submitted by Commander Task Group 77.8 to Commander

Task Force 77.

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

174
the port. When the Japanese left Manila, they did a thoroughly professional job of blocking the harbor and rendering the port useless.

In preparation for the invasion, General MacArthur insisted that

Commodore Sullivan come to the Pacific to discuss clearance of Manila

harbor. Sullivan flew to Australia from the Mediterranean for the initial

conferences about the time of the Anzio landings. He did not look forward to working with MacArthur, whom many in the Navy considered to

be a prima donna, but he came away impressed with the general’s effectiveness and the small size of his staff.

The clearance of Manila harbor was to be quite unrelated to the other

salvage work in the Pacific. Salvors from the Atlantic and recent graduates of the salvage school entirely manned the salvage group that worked

there. When Sullivan returned to the Pacific for the Manila harbor clearance, he brought some of the most experienced salvors from the

European theater, along with Captain Manseau and others from the

United States.23

The number of ships sunk at Manila far exceeded that in any other

harbor cleared during the war. At first it seemed that there were probably

not more than about 200 wrecks. But as the work went on, the salvors

23When the work in Manila harbor necessary for resuming military operations was complete, a

large number of wrecks remained. These were removed commercially after the war. After the war

Huie returned to Manila and joined the staff of Luzon Stevedoring Company, a participant in this

work.

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Chickasaw and LCI–72 assist the venerable tug Sonoma after a Japanese aircraft crashed

into her.
kept finding more, until an estimated 750 ships, barges, and assorted craft

had been removed from Manila Bay.

Harbor clearance units in Europe had proven their skill at moving in

and going to work immediately behind combat forces. In Manila something new was encountered. All Japanese had not been driven away by

the assault forces—suicide squads hid in the wrecks until the salvors

came aboard, then attacked them with machine guns and hand grenades.

Before salvage work or even survey work could begin, the remaining

Japanese had to be cleared out. Army troops with flame throwers, supported by PT boats and light aircraft, began sweeping the wrecks to clear

them of suicide squads. The sweeps had to be repeated, often several

times, for as soon as soldiers cleared the wrecks more Japanese would

swim out and form new suicide squads.

When the suicide squads had finally been cleaned out and salvage

work began in earnest, salvors found that the entrance to the harbor had

been successfully blocked with four ships.24 These ships, all between 700

and 900 tons displacement, were sunk in exactly the right positions. An

unusual procedure in sinking the wrecks reportedly achieved this precision. In most cases when blockships are sunk, time fuses on the explosives

allow crews to leave before the charges detonate. Small charges, just large

enough to ensure sinking, are used and there is some time for currents

and other environmental forces to act on the ship before she hits the bottom. In compliance with Murphy’s Law, ships usually move away from the

planned positions. The Japanese did not follow this procedure. They blew

up the ship’s magazines with the crews still on board. The ships sank

immediately, positioned precisely.

These blockships presented a tough salvage problem for three reasons:

1. There was 12 to 15 feet of water over the decks, and the hulls were

too badly holed to allow the use of compressed air to restore buoyancy.

2. Rough seas at the harbor entrance made it impossible to keep cofferdams in place.

3. Lift craft such as the British had used so well in Europe were not

available in this part of the world.

A complete survey of the ships showed that the deck of one had been

relatively lightly damaged. Patches were prepared and fit. Air was then

blown into the hull. This procedure lightened the ship enough so that it

could be dragged away by a salvage ship with beach gear. Removing the

24Two Filipino coasters, a 210-foot Japanese tanker, and the ex-U.S. Navy gunboat Luzon (PR 7)

that had been captured at Corregidor in May 1942.

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

176
others required pure brute force. This force was provided by lifting the

ships with all the pontoons and cranes in the harbor, then dragging them

out of the way with the salvage ships. Cable (ARS 19) and Grasp assisted

with the harbor clearance work for long periods. The salvage ships’ mobility, heavy purchases, and bow-lifting arrangements made them valuable

assets. However, the variety of lifting craft available in Europe was sorely

missed. An attempt to convert two tankers to lifting craft was unsuccessful because men and time for their conversion could not be spared. The

work had to proceed without the benefit of lifting craft other than the salvage ships and net tenders.

The variety of ships and salvage scenarios at Manila called upon most

of the known salvage techniques—patching, pumping, blowing, piecemealing. Japanese wooden cargo ships known as “Sugar Charlies” made

up almost a hundred of the wrecks. Many were sunk empty and presented no particular problem. But some carried a variety of cargoes including

ammunition. These cargoes caused major problems that had to be dealt

with on a ship-by-ship basis. Coastal freighters scattered throughout the

harbor could not readily be salvaged by conventional means because of

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177

Commander Byron Huie (without shirt) and Captain Bernard Manseau (with can) enjoy

a formal luncheon, salvage style, during the Manila harbor clearance. Photo courtesy Vice

Admiral Bernard E. Manseau.
their construction. A method similar to that developed during the salvage

of the German High Seas Fleet at Scapa Flow was used. The masts and

deckhouses were blown off, the ships were capsized, and then they were

floated to a disposal site upside down on a bubble of air.

As had been the case during the clearance of Port Lyautey, a number

of the coastal trading vessels that had to be removed had poor stability

and were subject to capsizing during refloating. An unusual device solved

the problem. It was a salvor’s delight, innovative and workable, and must

have added spice to the operations. Most of the coasters had a heavy list.

A large tank, partially filled with water, secured to heavy girders on the

high side could be positioned athwartships by hauling with heavy purchases. By moving the tank, the list could be kept between 5 and 15

degrees away from the tank. The process worked and provided a number

of thrills for the salvors. As a recommended process, rise of the tank is

nearly in the same category as the reported Japanese method of positioning blockships accurately.

Considering the number of wrecks, the port at Manila was opened

reasonably quickly. The work, of course, continued until after the war,

both at Manila and, to a lesser extent, northward at Subic Bay. The work

was difficult, the conditions not good. However, invaluable experience

gained in Europe expedited the clearance. Lift craft would have helped,

but the ingenuity of the salvors—now reinforced by experience—along

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178

Accommodations for those clearing Manila harbor were far from grand. This Quonset hut

served as Commodore Sullivan’s quarters. Photo courtesy Vice Admiral Bernard E.

Manseau.
with the new salvage ships and tugs allowed the salvors to overcome the

absence of this tool.

The Attack on Japan

By the time final preparations began for the attack on Japan, the

U.S. Navy had reached its full fighting potential and had proven itself

capable of sustaining operations with a flexible mobile logistics system.

Without this level of expertise, the complex two-pronged operation involving Iwo Jima and Okinawa could not have been considered. Strong and

effective salvage forces made up part of the logistics system. Possession of

Iwo Jima in the Bonins was crucial to the establishment of bomber bases

for effective raids on the Japanese home islands. Originally scheduled for

January, the attack was delayed until 19 February by operations in the

Philippines and the December typhoon. The Okinawa invasion was to

follow six weeks later. By that time the kamikaze aircraft had established

itself as a forceful weapon, one that would take two carriers out of action

at Iwo Jima25 and have a profound effect on the operations of the salvage

forces in both the Iwo Jima and Okinawa campaigns.

Iwo Jima and Okinawa

The salvage forces for the invasion of Iwo Jima consisted of three salvage ships, two fleet tugs, and two rescue tugs, along with several LCIs

and LCTs configured for salvage. Captain Lebbeus Curtis, who flew his

pennant in Clamp, the salvage ship commanded by his son, led this group.

The salvage forces on the scene had support from backup forces in the

Marshalls and Marianas under the command of Service Squadrons Ten

and Twelve. The existence of backup forces must have seemed a luxury to

Captain Curtis and the others who had lived through the early days of the

war when salvage forces were minimal or nonexistent.

The salvage forces found plenty of work at Iwo Jima, but few jobs of

particular note. Ute, the Aleutian veteran, headed for Bismarck Sea when

that escort carrier was struck by kamikazes, but knew only the frustration

of arriving too late. Sioux (ATF 75) and Molala towed the destroyers

Ringgold (DD 500) and Yarnall (DD 541) to Ulithi following a collision at

sea. All of the salvage ships refloated landing craft and ships broached

and swamped on the beach. Soft volcanic sand, not passable by amphibious tracked vehicles, created an unusually large amount of this work at

25 Saratoga (CV 3) was hit by three kamikazes and several bombs. She was saved by the damage

control and fire-fighting abilities of her crew but returned to the United States for repairs. Bismarck

Sea (CVE 95) rolled over and sank after two kamikazes ignited ammunition that blew off her stern.

Fleet Operations: Pacific Theater

179
Iwo Jima. Vehicles bogged down in the first waves blocked the beaches,

so that the following waves of beaching vessels could neither beach

securely nor anchor effectively in the poor holding ground.

The fate of Zuni at Iwo Jima illustrates how salvage ships working in

shallow water routinely stand into danger. Zuni, operating aggressively,

had deliberately grounded herself to assist an LST in landing ammunition. That grounding caused no damage, but a few days later on 23 March

1945, while attempting to haul LST–727 off the beach, Zuni parted her

tow line. The broken wire fouled her screw and anchor. She grounded

again, breaking her keel and holing herself seriously. She was refloated

and towed to Saipan, out of the war, a casualty of the hard, inherently

dangerous work of salvage.26

The Okinawa campaign, the last of the war, was to be described by

Winston Churchill as one of the most intense and famous in military history. No coup de grace delivered to a dying enemy, it was a hard-fought

battle against a fanatic and courageous opponent. The capture of

Okinawa cost the U.S. Navy thirty-four naval ships and craft sunk and

more than three hundred and fifty damaged—many by kamikaze, some by

a variation called the “baka bomb.”27 Naval action around Okinawa continued until the Japanese surrender.

The Okinawa campaign saw an imaginative logistics concept. The

group of islands known as Kerama-retto lie about 15 miles west of southern Okinawa. The concept called for the capture of these islands as an

advanced base and anchorage for fueling and ammunition replenishment.

As conceived, the secondary use would be for salvage and repair work. In

practice, as Japanese air attacks increased and a large number of damaged

ships had to be dealt with, the priorities became reversed.

The islands were captured six days before the main assault on

Okinawa in an operation that would have been regarded as a major

amphibious assault in 1942. Finding only light Japanese resistance, the

Americans secured the islands before the invasion of Okinawa.28 The

anchorage saw no security from either conventional or kamikaze attack,

and some casualties occurred there.

On 27 March, four days before the invasion of Okinawa, the first

salvage and repair unit set up in the anchorage with the arrival of Clamp

26Zuni was out of the war but by no means done for. She transferred to the Coast Guard in 1946

where she was renamed Tamaroa and redesignated WAT 166. She was redesignated WMEC 166 on

1 May 1966 and was decommissioned in 1994. 27The baka bomb was a piloted glider with rocket boosters and a warhead of 2,645 pounds of

high explosive. The weapon was carried slung under a conventional bomber and released near the

target. It was guided to the target by the suicide pilot, who used the rocket boosters to maneuver and

to achieve speeds in excess of 500 knots. 28The capture of Kerama-retto was costly to the Japanese defense plans. Several hundred small

suicidal motorboats capable of carrying torpedoes or explosives were found hidden in caves and

destroyed.

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180
(still wearing the broad command pennant of Captain Curtis), the fleet

tugs Yuma and Tekesta (ATF 94), the landing-craft repair ship Egeria

(ARL 8), and a number of LCIs and LCTs fitted for salvage. The ships

went to work immediately on the Kimberly (DD 521), which had been

struck by a kamikaze the day before. After that the work came fast and

furious, as did the arrival of more salvage ships. Gear arrived before the

invasion, Molala and Jicarilla (ATF 104) soon after.

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181

Two generations of an American family with a long maritime history,

Commander Lebbeus Curtis V and his son, Lieutenant Commander Lebbeus

Curtis VI, served together in salvage during the Pacific war. Photo courtesy

Lieutenant Commander Lebbeus Curtis VII.
Rear Admiral Carter, then Commodore Carter, commanding Service

Squadron Ten, describes the action:

The large salvage pumps on the Clamp and Gear proved valuable in keeping

damaged ships afloat until temporary underwater patching was effected. The

busy tugs were alerted for service at all times and brought battle-damaged

destroyers and other vessels in from picket and screening stations. By night

the salvage craft were strategically located throughout the anchorage to aid

ships in case of fire or of damage by suicide planes. During the period of severe

enemy activity, twice as many of these ships could have been utilized had they been

available. [italics added]29

Providing services to ships on the line was only part of the salvage

group’s work. They also pulled landing ships and craft off landing and

supply beaches, and patched and dewatered ships at Kerama-retto to

reduce their draft enough to allow them to enter the floating docks.

Additional ships, including Shackle, Deliver (ARS 23), Lipan, Menominee,

Munsee, Tawakoni (ATF 114), Vestal (AR 4), and Zaniah (AG 70),30

joined the group; more came later.

29Rear Admiral Worral Reed Carter, USN (Ret.), Beans, Bullets and Black Oil (Washington:

Department of the Navy, 1952), 339. 30Zaniah, classified as a miscellaneous auxiliary, AG, at Okinawa and formerly AK 120, was fitted out as a limited-repair ship. As such she carried a diving crew and could do patching and underwater repair. After the island was secure she was the flagship of the third salvage group commander,

Lieutenant Commander J.W. Greely.

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182

The fleet tug Zuni lies hard aground on the black-sand beaches of Iwo Jima. She was

refloated to enjoy a long career as USCGC Tamaroa.
The level of activity peaked during the month of April, with the salvage force towing battle-damaged ships into Kerama-retto faster than

they could be repaired. The majority of casualties were destroyers from

the picket line. The salvage ships lay outside the smoke masking the fleet

and often served as decoys to draw in the kamikazes. They were in the

thick of it.

• Pakana (ATF 108) picked up survivors of Canada Victory, had

three of her crew wounded in a strafing attack the following day, and

went to the assistance of New Mexico (BB 40) when a kamikaze struck the

battleship.

• Jicarilla and Valve aided John A. Rawlins when an aerial torpedo

started a roaring fire in the barrels of asphalt and camouflage material in

number three hold of the Liberty ship. The crew put the ship aground to

prevent her from sinking. Salvors pulled her off the beach, removed the

beer cargo from number one hold, and flooded her to put out the fire. The

flooding put the ship so far down by the head that the salvage officer

cooled his weary feet by dangling them in the water from the bow.

• Jicarilla later towed the damaged Idaho (BB 42) to Ulithi.

• Clamp refloated Tolman (DM 28), put out fires on LST–559, and

made emergency repairs to Laffey (DD 724) after five kamikazes hit that

destroyer.

• Lipan picked up Barry (APD 29) and headed for Kerama-retto

among a flurry of kamikaze attacks that sank both her escort, LSM–59,

and her tow.

• Shackle performed emergency repairs on twenty-one ships during

the month of May alone.

• Tekesta (ATF 93) hauled in a number of destroyer-type ships from

the picket line, among them Newcomb (DD 582), Harding (DMS 28), and

Oberrender (DE 344).

• Yuma brought in the attack transport Hinsdale (APA 120), as well

as Tenino and Marathon (APA 200).

• Gear made battle-damage repairs to Wichita, England (DD 635),

and Ingraham (DD 694), and to Aaron Ward (DD 483), which was barely afloat with three main machinery spaces flooded.

• Ute pulled landing craft and ships off the beach. When the William

B. Allison was hit, she assisted her, interrupting that salvage to take Braine

(DD 630) to Kerama-retto. She also towed in Butler (DMS 29), Haggard

(DD 555), and J. William Ditter (DM 31).

• Pakana and Ute each shot down two Japanese planes. Tekesta got an

assist on another.

Fleet Operations: Pacific Theater

183
MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

184

Kerama-retto.
Both Captain Curtis and Commander Carl Holm, his successor as

salvage group commander, stressed the need for better communication.

All too often information transmitted about damage resulted in the

wrong assistance. Often salvage units badly needed elsewhere were sent

to deal with minor problems because of a bad or poorly understood

description.

Fire-fighting teams and techniques had improved greatly during the

war, but at Okinawa the salvage forces were faced with three major stumbling blocks. Smoke and chemical fog masking the anchorage area made

maneuvering difficult for the salvage ships. Crowded anchorages resulted

in increased maneuvering times for large salvage units. Water depths in a

number of areas were insufficient for fleet and rescue tugs. Landing craft,

such as LCMs, fitted for fire fighting would have been invaluable.

Unfortunately, there were no such craft.

Small craft suitable for passing lines to ships needing assistance at sea

or on the beach were in short supply, and several ships suffered additional damage because of the lack of such boats or amphibious vehicles.

Naha Harbor

With Okinawa almost secure, Japanese activity had slacked off, and

the backlog of battle-damaged ships at Kerama-retto had been reduced.

The salvors’ attention turned to the harbor at Naha. Planners anticipated that Naha would be a major staging and supply base for the invasion

of Japan, and the harbor there had to be cleared. The job was formidable

because almost 200 wrecks of all sizes littered the harbor.

Harbor clearance and rehabilitation was done under the Commander

Naval Forces Ryukyus with assistance from Service Squadrons Ten and

Twelve. The salvage group doing the clearance work had participated in

the assault operations. Several other units assisted,31 including Army

engineers and an underwater demolition team that did the initial survey.32 Despite the relative lack of experience in harbor clearance in the

Pacific, after only seven days, ten LCT and fifteen barge berths had been

cleared. A report issued on 11 September shows that in June, forty wrecks

were removed; in July, thirty-two; and in August, sixty-seven. Another

forty were cleared in the first eleven days of September.

31The assistance of a wide variety of units from all services was common in salvage operations.

Particularly notable for their contribution were Army engineers, Navy construction battalions

(Seabees), beachmaster units, and underwater demolition teams. 32The salvage group during the clearance of Naha harbor was under the command of Lieutenant

Commander J.W. Greely, a veteran of the Pearl Harbor salvage and the West Loch clearance. In the

harbor rehabilitation group that worked closely with the salvors was another Lieutenant Commander

Greely, an experienced dredge man and the salvage officer’s father. Much to the amusement of the

elder Greely, the son was senior in rank.

Fleet Operations: Pacific Theater

185
The wooden-hulled salvage ship Valve, which had performed well

during the clearance of West Loch at Pearl Harbor, proved equally effective at Naha. Like Grasp in Manila, Valve in Naha continued clearance

operations long after the heavy concentration of initial effort ended and

long after the war was over. Anchor (ARS 13) also did yeoman service

during the harbor clearance and around Okinawa for some months after

the war ended. Anchor’s commanding officer, Lieutenant J.L. (Jack) Hill,

had an especially valuable skill. He knew explosives and could use them

effectively. Explosives assisted in removing some of the more difficult

obstacles and in sinking refloated hulks at sea. Jack Hill did first-class

work as the chief powder man.

During the Naha harbor clearance salvors designed and built on-site

a useful craft—a 50-ton shear leg mounted on a barge. This shear leg

proved to be a fine supplement to the LCTs fitted with the 20-ton shear

legs and to the few floating cranes. The combination made up the principal means of lifting for the Naha clearance and compensated in some

degree for the lack of specialized lifting craft.

The War Winds Down

Although it was not apparent to anyone at home or in the field, the

war began to wind down after the Okinawa campaign. Logistics operations on Okinawa were building toward the invasion of the Japanese

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

186

The diving gang from Zaniah exemplify the men who worked at salvage and emergency

repair during the Okinawa campaign. Photo courtesy Captain James W. Greely.
Fleet Operations: Pacific Theater

187

Harbor clearance at Naha, Okinawa.
home islands. The primary logistics base had moved from Kerama-retto to

Buckner Bay33 on the eastern side of Okinawa. Salvage forces around the

island kept busy cleaning up the aftermath of the battle and taking care

of the casualties that resulted from the heavy traffic of logistics operations, from mines, and from the occasional air attacks that continued

until the end of the war.

During the carrier air strikes against Japan, salvage units moved forward along the task force’s retirement routes, but seldom practiced their

trade. Doctrine called for two tugs for battleships and carrier casualties,

one tug for other types of ships. Exceptions occurred. When the carrier

Franklin (CV 13) was seriously damaged by bombs southeast of Kyushu,

four fleet tugs, Cree, Munsee, Sioux, and Ute, headed toward her. Franklin,

taken in tow by the cruiser Pittsburgh (CA 72), regained her propulsion

power before the tugs arrived.

Just as the first salvage work of the Pacific war—the Pearl Harbor

salvage—had involved battleships, so did one of the final salvage opera33Previously known as Nakagusku-wan.

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

188

Lieutenant Commander James W. Greely (center) and two other salvage officers during

the Naha harbor clearance.
tions. Off Okinawa on 12 August 1945, a single Japanese aircraft eluded

the warning system, dropped one torpedo, and flew away. The torpedo

struck the starboard outboard shaft of the elder sister of the ill-fated

Arizona. Pennsylvania (BB 38) had been virtually undamaged during the

Pearl Harbor attack, but now the resulting noncontact explosion blew a

32-by-50-foot hole in the stern, abaft the torpedo protection system.34

More than 3,400 tons of water poured into the after portion of the ship

and reduced her freeboard aft to inches.

Pennsylvania had an unusual shaft arrangement. It was not continuous from the machinery space to the stern tube, but stepped through a gear

located just aft of the after magazine spaces. Oddly enough a nonwater34While Pennsylvania was being designed, empirical tests were conducted on a specially built

caisson to develop her torpedo protection system. When commissioned, her protection was considered to be superior to that of foreign contemporaries. The shape and overall design did not permit

carrying the protection system to the ship’s ends. Pennsylvania’s sister Arizona had been sunk by a

Japanese weapon that also defeated her protection system, but in a way completely different from the

Pennsylvania casualty. It is generally believed that Arizona’s loss was caused by a bomb, probably one

of the stabilized, large caliber, armor-piercing shells the Japanese dropped as bombs, that pen trated

into a black powder magazine in the forward part of the ship.

Fleet Operations: Pacific Theater

189

Salvors pump wreck number 67 during the Naha harbor clearance. Photo courtesy

Captain James W. Greely.
tight door gave access to the gear room. The torpedo damage left the gear

space open to the sea. The magazine spaces flooded through this door and

through the ventilation systems. To complicate the situation, the damage

could be reached only through very limited access. A recom mended

trunked access between watertight bulkheads had not been installed. The

ship’s force began to attack the flooding immediately, dropping submersible pumps down through number four turret with the hoses leading

out through the gun barrels, and resulting in the unusual picture of

Pennsylvania’s 14-inch guns shooting hoses. Salvage forces, including

Shackle and the Atlantic war veteran Extricate, and trained salvage crews

quickly came to Pennsylvania’s assistance, placed high capacity salvage

pumps on board, and began to dewater the battleship.

When watertight integrity and freeboard had been restored, Serrano

(ATF 112) and Tenino towed the badly damaged battleship to Guam for

emergency repairs. Lieutenant Bill Horn, a salvage officer, rode the ship

during the tow. The rapid response of salvage forces had been instrumen -

tal in saving the ship.

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When Pennsylvania was torpedoed at Okinawa, hoses for pumps were run through her 14-

inch guns to reach the magazines. The battleship is not shooting hoses. Photo courtesy

Captain James W. Greely.
When hostilities finally ended on 15 August 1945, the work of the

salvage forces did not. There remained considerable cleanup in Okinawa

and the Philippines. The harbors of Japan had to be made serviceable. As

in Europe, local people did much of this work with American equipment,

technical assistance, and supervision. This policy achieved several worthwhile purposes. It opened the harbors for the rebuilding process that followed the war. It provided badly needed jobs for local citizens in war-torn

nations, while at the same time taking advantage of a large labor pool

that was much cheaper than American military labor. It permitted repatriation of the bulk of the American naval salvage personnel, many of

whom had been out of the United States for years.

Typhoons had disrupted operations around Okinawa before the end

of the war, causing a number of sorties from the anchorages and storm

damage to a large number of ships including at least one fleet tug, Jicarilla.

The storms did not stop with the end of the war. Buckner Bay had been

chosen with the knowledge that it lay particularly exposed to typhoons;

however, operational considerations dictated acceptance of the risk.

Typhoons struck the area on 16 and 28 September, and again on 9

October. The October storm was fierce, causing extensive damage and

loss of ships. During the typhoon of 16 September, the seasoned woodenhulled ARS Extricate had lost power and both anchors while assisting

another ship. She continued salvage operations during that typhoon and

the next, but the 9 October storm drove her ashore and badly damaged

her. She had to be abandoned and subsequently destroyed with explosives. The same storm drove Wateree (ATF 117) ashore and battered her

starboard side out against a reef. She too was abandoned. The typhoon

also drove Tenino hard aground, but Bannock (ATF 81) and Menominee

refloated her. She was repaired on-site and joined the salvage operations.

During the October storm Valve twice fouled SS Richard S. Oglesby

and collided with LST–826, but survived. After the storm she removed

the wreck of Wateree and salvaged Sacadanga (AOG 40), two LSTs, and

Vandalia (IX 191). Meanwhile her sister, Vent, refloated a number of small

craft and several floating drydocks.

Extricate and Wateree were not the only ships to suffer in the aftermath of combat. On 16 October two mines exploded close alongside

Ute while she steamed up the Yangtze with a tow of barges. The explosions opened her fuel tanks, dislocated shaft bearings, and caused damage throughout the ship. Seize, also operating in the area, towed Ute to

Shanghai, where she went alongside Dixie (AD 14) for repairs.

Apparently some people in China hadn’t gotten the word about the end

of the war, because less than a week later Seize came under machine gun

fire from a Chinese village. She returned the fire with her 40-mm guns

with little apparent damage on either side.

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191
The Wartime Role of Salvage

The U.S. Navy had entered World War II with practically no salvage

forces and little expertise in this highly specialized marine field. By the

end of the war it had built a large, varied, and effective force. The salvage

requirements of the war had ranged from fire fighting aboard battledamaged ships; dealing with severe hull damage caused by air, surface,

and submarine attack and by mines; and clearing harbors blocked inten -

tionally or by combat, to dealing with large numbers of routine marine

casualties. Every type of marine casualty had been faced and overcome by

Navy salvors. The salvage forces had been in the thick of it, and losses of

oceangoing tugs and salvage ships during World War II ranked fourth

after those of destroyers, submarines, and mine warfare ships.35

The United States was able to build and operate its salvage forces

successfully during the war for a number of reasons:

• It had the industrial capacity to produce the specialized ships,

machinery, and equipment needed as well as the materials and equipment

used in combat. This industrial capacity was able to grow because, unlike

that of our enemies, it was not attacked.

• The U.S. Navy had in its ranks a corps of men of the caliber of

William Sullivan, Bernard Manseau, Edward Ellsberg, and Lebbeus Curtis

with the foresight to predict requirements accurately, the imagination to

conceive solutions, and the fortitude and leadership to take a difficult

course and hold steady on it.

•Technology and expertise in salvage and towing resided in the

United States. It was mobilized and applied to solving wartime salvage

and rescue problems. Maritime professionals like Edmund Moran, Henry

Foss, Emile Genereaux, and the Curtises were in uniform throughout the

war, using their civilian-developed expertise to benefit the Navy and their

nation.

• The single, strong marine salvage operator in the country had been

mobilized immediately to provide salvage services until the Navy could

build up adequate forces. When Navy salvage forces took the load in the

combat area, the Navy Salvage Service did the lion’s share of the work in

American waters.

• The United States had as an ally the most experienced and professional maritime nation in the world, Great Britain. When the United

States entered the war, the British already had more than two years’

experience and many lessons already learned. The United States took

35This total includes losses of four ATOs, four ATFs, four ARSs, and two ASRs from all causes.

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advantage of both this experience and Britain’s general experience in

organizing and building its own salvage forces.

• An effective organization for salvage existed throughout the war.

The somewhat free-wheeling organization adapted to the different situations in the various theaters. The specialized business of salvage did not

get caught up in the vastness of the U.S. Navy, but maintained its own

unique character, methods, and people.

• A centralized system communicated the technical and operational

lessons learned in the field to other theaters of war and incorporated

them in training programs.

How valuable were salvage forces to the U.S. Navy and to victory in

World War II? The question is not easily answered. A purely dollars and

cents analysis—the businessman’s concern of return on investment—

does not provide a comprehensive answer. An accurate dollar value of

vessels and cargoes cannot be provided; undoubtedly, it amounted to

hundreds of millions of dollars. This figure compares favorably with the

total cost of approximately $80 million for salvage ships, equipment, personnel, and training.

Although this differential alone made the effort worthwhile, the matter is far more complex. The United States had won a war. The value of

the salvage force to naval operations had been convincingly demonstrated by the number of ships and cargoes saved for future service and the

operations that were expedited. No dollar amount can be assigned to this

service. Thus by any standard of evaluation, the return on the investment

the Navy had made in salvage was very high.

The salvage forces of the U.S. Navy in World War II had been built to

solve specific problems and respond to specific lessons of the war.

However, because of the basic nature of the work they were designed for,

their widespread application did not end with the hostilities. Not only

had forces and equipment been built almost from scratch but, just as

important, doctrines had been developed, implemented, modified, and

documented as the war progressed.

With the end of the war and the general demobilization that

inevitably followed, requirements and emphases changed drastically

throughout the Navy. Salvors were faced with a new set of questions:

• What role would salvage forces have in the postwar Navy?

• What should happen to the large numbers of salvage ships and the

specialized salvage equipment in Navy hands?

• How should demobilization of the Navy Salvage Service be

handled?

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193
• What role would salvage have in the commercial maritime community of the United States?

• How could the Navy ensure adequate salvage resources in the

United States for future mobilizations?

Immediately following the war the attention of senior salvage officers

turned from intensive combat operations to finding the answers to these

questions.

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The Early Days

CH6a

TYPHOON FURY
MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

CH6b
CHAPTER SIX

Navy Salvage After World War II

From combat to harbor clearance operations, World War II repeatedly

validated the role of naval salvage forces. The value of that role is

not so apparent in peacetime because of the relative infrequency of

salvage demands, the cost of maintaining a capability that is only occasionally productive, and the Navy’s widespread lack of familiarity with or

empathy for salvage. After the war, therefore, most senior salvors felt justifiable concern that without strong and effective measures, the lessons

learned from almost four years of combat would be lost and salvage in the

United States would revert to its prewar state, or worse.

The demobilization that was proceeding rapidly in all services

included trained salvage people. It also included a shift of authority within the Navy salvage organization. The Chief of Naval Operations phased

out the Chief of Navy Salvage, and salvage authority was concentrated in

the office of the Supervisor of Salvage within the Bureau of Ships. On his

return to the United States, Commodore Sullivan relieved Captain

Manseau in this position. Salvage ships were being laid up or sold. Many

thought the salvage business would no longer be attractive and that no

new operators would set up. Some believed that even Merritt-Chapman

and Scott might not continue in the business for long.

Government action to ensure the continuation of salvage services in

the United States seemed appropriate, but just what specific action

should be taken was not immediately apparent. A number of government

agencies had an interest in salvage. The Department of the Navy’s interests

were obvious. The Department of War was involved in salvage because of

the Army Corps of Engineers’ responsibility to maintain navigable waterways and the Transportation Corps’ duty to move material by water. The

Coast Guard, in the Department of the Treasury, had responsibilities in

the closely related fields of maritime search and rescue; and the Maritime

Commission, an agency of the Department of Commerce, had charge of

the activities of the merchant marine.

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An Interdepartmental Committee on Salvage made up of senior

members of these agencies was formed under the chairmanship of Rear

Admiral Howard H. Good. The committee’s charter required it to look

into all aspects of salvage in the United States and to make recommendations for government action. In its report on 5 March 1946 there were

four conclusions and recommendations.

The first three statements were broad in scope, but the fourth specifically addressed the Navy’s salvage role.

1. Because salvage is of vital interest to the United States, the government should assume responsibility for providing salvage protection for

ships in peacetime as well as wartime, and as a matter of policy should

encourage other maritime nations to provide salvage protection for

American shipping in their waters.

2. Because salvage has questionable commercial viability, the government should encourage and aid reliable and experienced salvage companies to maintain facilities manned by qualified personnel.

3. Legislation should be passed to permit the U.S. Navy to represent

the government in salvage matters.

4. When given responsibility for salvage, the Navy should:

Encourage reliable companies to operate salvage facilities.

Provide salvage facilities with Navy resources where adequate commercial resources are not available.

Continue the prewar practice of contracting for the salvage of government ships.

Offer the services of the Navy salvage organization to other government agencies for settlement of salvage claims.

Retain enough surplus salvage ships and equipment to provide to

reliable and experienced salvage companies.

Maintain a salvage branch in the Navy to keep abreast of marine

salvage at home and abroad and to advise all government agencies

on salvage matters.

Use appropriate channels to encourage other governments to

maintain salvage facilities in their waters.

Continue to maintain facilities for salvage training and studying

salvage methods and make these facilities available to government

departments and private enterprise.

In sum, the committee recommended that the U.S. government take

an abiding interest in salvage and that the U.S. Navy be the government’s

executive agent for salvage.

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The Navy Salvage Service

The Navy Salvage Service presented an immediate postwar problem.

The contract (NObs–36)1 that established the Navy Salvage Service saw

its primary mission to be mitigation of the effects of combat-related casualties along the coasts of the United States. If this had in fact been the

case, the service would have outlived its usefulness more than a year

before the war ended. By then, the danger of attack in American waters

had become almost nonexistent.

Despite the virtual elimination of danger of attack, however, casualties along the coasts persisted because of the large number of ships at sea,

restricted channels, blackouts, shutdown navigational aids, and inexperienced crews. The service more than earned its keep until the war’s end

and beyond. But other than allowing navigation lights to be turned on,

the end of hostilities had little immediate effect on shipping. There was

every expectation that the contract would run its full course of six

months after the end of the national emergency.

By mutual agreement the government and Merritt-Chapman and

Scott formulated a system for facilitating the eventual disestablishment of

the Service. Under this system the contractor would periodically return

excess items, including government-owned ships, to government custody.

Handling the return of the material on a long-term basis saved a great

deal of confusion and inefficiency.

The report of the interdepartmental committee confirmed the opinion held by Commodore Sullivan that it was in the national interest to

continue the service in some form. What the most practical form was

became the next question.

On 3 September 1946 the Chief of the Bureau of Ships recommended discontinuing the service of Discoverer (ARS 3), which was stationed

in Port Angeles, Washington, to protect shipping in Puget Sound and in

northwestern waters. Merritt-Chapman and Scott delivered Discoverer to

Puget Sound Naval Shipyard in November and the salvage station at Port

Angeles closed, leaving Viking in San Pedro as the only Navy Salvage

Service operation on the West Coast. Planning for the future was underway in the offices of Merritt-Chapman and Scott. Its management saw

that the government intended to help them stay in the salvage business.

They also saw that the majority of ships they operated had grown old in

hard service—“rode hard and put away wet.” Updating and upgrading

their fleet was a matter of high priority.

The Maritime Commission had built a number of excellent tugs during the war. Negotiations began for the purchase of two of these tugs, to

1Contract NObs–36 between the Bureau of Ships and Merritt-Chapman and Scott had established the Navy Salvage Service and was the foundation for its operation throughout World War II.

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be named T.A. Scott and W.N. Davis, at a reasonable price. In return for

favorable purchase terms Merritt-Chapman and Scott would agree to

remain in the salvage business for ten years. It appeared that the negotiations would take some time and that the ships would require conversion

to make them suitable for commercial salvage service. Until these two

ships could enter commercial service, therefore, two others would be

chartered by Merritt-Chapman and Scott: Willet (chartered since 1920,

returned to the government just before the war, then operated by the

Navy Salvage Service) and the new salvage ship Curb (ARS 21).

Before negotiations could be completed, however, one of the two

ships proposed for sale by the Maritime Commission sank following a collision; the other was found to be unsuitable for salvage service. Since no

other Maritime Commission tugs were immediately available, other permanent arrangements would have to be made if the company was to

update its fleet. In the meantime the government went ahead with the

charter of Curb and Willet, though within six months the aging Willet was

replaced by Cable (ARS 19), a sister of Curb. Both Curb and Cable were

on indefinite charter to the contractor. Two years later Merritt-Chapman

and Scott purchased Diver (ARS 5) from the government and operated

her for many years on salvage service as MV Rescue. For much of that

time Rescue was under the Panamanian flag and maintained her salvage

station in Kingston, Jamaica.

By early 1947 Merritt-Chapman and Scott was anxious to end its fulltime commitment to the government and return to commercial operations. Accordingly, negotiations began to terminate contract NObs–36

and establish new contracts to furnish salvage services to the Navy in the

Atlantic and Caribbean. These new contracts would be similar to those

that existed before World War II. The first one went into effect at midnight on 10 May 1947. It was supplemented by an agreement to manage

and operate the salvage ship Viking on the Pacific Coast. Gear (ARS 34)

replaced Viking in 1953. Merritt-Chapman and Scott returned Viking to

Navy custody on 17 March 1953, and she was sold for scrap soon afterwards. Gear remained on salvage station in San Pedro until the early

1970s.

Meanwhile another contract was being let by the Navy for salvage

services in another part of the world. There were strong American ties

and economic interests in the Philippines. Many in government felt a

responsibility to help the newly independent nation develop its industry

and economy. The management of Luzon Stevedoring Company of

Manila had expressed an interest in making the salvage business a part of

their diversified marine operations. Many in the Navy saw the advantages

of having a capable salvage contractor in the western Pacific, and a

contract almost identical to that with Merritt-Chapman and Scott was

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let to Luzon Stevedoring. No ships were provided; instead the Bureau of

Ships established an Emergency Ship Salvage Material (ESSM) pool

under the company’s custody in Manila. This varied collection of salvage

equipment was to be husbanded by the company for the Navy and used

on commercial as well as Navy jobs. Thus the company was in effect being

subsidized by the Navy to compete in the salvage business.

The coexistence of Navy salvage forces and Navy salvage contractors

gave the Navy greater flexibility than it had had prior to World War II.

However, it now became necessary to divide the available salvage work

between active-duty salvage forces and contractors and to decide which

work could best be assigned to each. Navy forces had to do enough salvage work to maintain their proficiency; nothing decreases salvage skills

as rapidly as inactivity. Contractors had to get enough work to ensure the

effectiveness of the de facto subsidy. Overall, maintaining a balance of

fleet and contractor work would contribute to a close working relation -

ship between the Supervisor of Salvage and fleet salvage officers.

Postwar Navy Salvage Operations

While senior salvors in Washington looked to the future, active duty

salvors stayed busy in the field. In both Asia and Europe the Navy was

providing technical assistance, supervision, and equipment to local

groups cleaning up the detritus of war.

Nuclear weapons had been introduced to the world at Hiroshima and

Nagasaki. Prior to their wartime use only one test explosion had been

conducted. No information about the effects of nuclear weapons on naval

vessels existed. Development of standards for future ship designs and for

defensive measures required definition of these effects. The most practical way to do this was by full-scale empirical testing. And the time for

such tests would never be better. The fleet had large numbers of excess

ships of varying designs, as well as captured units from defeated navies

that could become target vessels.

Admiral William H.P. Blandy, as Commander Joint Task Force One,

commanded the testing operation called Operation Crossroads. The

plans called for two tests. The first was to be a detonation above the

ships—an airburst such as had occurred in Japan. The second was to be

an underwater burst. Remote Bikini Atoll in the northern part of the

Marshall Islands would be the test site.

A salvage unit of eighteen ships, formed especially for the operation

under the command of Captain Manseau in Palmyra (ARS(T) 3), would

have a major role. The nature of the operation called for the salvage unit

to be structured differently from those in the wartime amphibious assaults. A major pretest task was the installation of moorings for the target

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199
ships. Salvage ships with their two booms and bow-lift capability were far

better suited for this work than fleet tugs. Therefore the salvage unit had

a higher proportion of salvage ships than the wartime assault units had

had. The salvage lifting ships Gypsy (ARS(D) 1) and Mender (ARS(D) 2),

both converted from LSM hulls intended for harbor clearances after the

invasion of Japan, had been commissioned too late for World War II but

were available and suitable for Operation Crossroads.

The salvage unit began preparations for the tests several months

before the scheduled detonations. Operations commenced with underwater surveys, obstruction removal, and clearance of evacuation channels.

When site preparations had been completed, moors were laid and the

ships positioned in the test array. Special subsurface moorings were developed for target submarines. All phases of the operation were carefully

rehearsed.

Following the first detonation—the airburst designated “Able”—the

salvage unit, led by Clamp, entered the lagoon to extinguish the fires and

control the damage on the target ships. As many ships as possible were

saved for the underwater shot—the “Baker” shot—scheduled for about a

month later.

Salvage unit preparations for the Baker shot consisted of making

more surveys, gathering and replacing instruments, clearing more channels, laying more moorings, and remooring targets. The work following

the second detonation generally resembled the first. Salvage ships

entered the lagoon and took the same kind of salvage action they would

have taken in dealing with any large number of combat casualties, with

one important exception: They had to deal with high levels of radiation

in seemingly random hot spots. These hot spots presented a hazard to the

salvage crews and divers, but allowed testing of various methods of

decontamination. Salvors tried a number of methods of washing away the

radiation—high-pressure water, chemical foam, special solutions—with

mixed results. Divers photographed the underwater hulls of the target

ships to document the effects of the blast.

After the tests were completed and the data gathered, the scientists

could go home and begin the analysis that would complete the test program. Not so the salvage unit. They towed radioactive targets that were

still afloat to Kwajalein to await ultimate disposal and took less dangerous

material to other ports. Moors were recovered and ships and equipment

thoroughly decontaminated. Not until all the tools were back in the toolbox

and the shop cleaned was the work of the salvage unit complete. The success

and importance of this work is indicated by the award of the Legion of

Merit to Captain Manseau.

With their work at Bikini and subsequent overhauls completed, the

two salvage lifting ships Gypsy and Mender, commanded by Lieutenant

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Commanders Clyde Homer and “Bulldog” Thurman, were available for

salvage work in Guam.

The island of Guam, the principal island in the Marianas, lies like

Okinawa in the path of many typhoons. Guam had become a major naval

base during the war. Because of the large number of ships and craft in

Apra Harbor, the typhoon that passed through Guam near the end of the

war was particularly destructive. Most of the wrecks that required urgent

salvage had been cleared immediately. However, several remained to be

cleared before the harbor could be fully developed, such as the bow of the

cruiser Pittsburgh (CA 72),2 numerous pontoon barges and landing craft,

and a civilian-manned Army FS, a small freighter that sank after an

explosion.

The cruiser was the first of the wrecks attacked. Because Pittsburgh’s

stern section remained almost intact, a replacement for the engine room

skylight was fitted in order to pump out the engine room and restore the

buoyancy of the aft portion of the ship. Beach gear, rigged to deadmen on

the beach, helped roll the wreck upright, and a floating crane3 lifted the

bow. Lifts were made slowly. As soon as the main deck came awash,

pumps went aboard to pump the forward hold. The ship floated and went

to sea for the last time—to be sunk. She did not sink quietly. The towing

ships fired at her to hasten the sinking, and gasoline fumes exploded. It

was quite a show.

The cruiser’s bow presented a more difficult problem. The bow, previously sealed for tow to Pearl Harbor, broke her mooring and sank, partially capsizing during the typhoon. The diving survey showed that a large

portion of the section’s buoyancy could be restored. The most feasible

plan seemed to be to blow air into the bow itself, rig pontoons, and blow

the water from both the bow and the pontoons. While Gypsy worked on

Pittsburgh’s bow, Mender cleared pontoons from the beaches, selected suitable ones for lifting, and fitted them with blow and vent plumbing. As

extra margin, Gypsy rigged for a bow lift. When all was ready, the bow

section was lifted and allowed to stabilize, then lowered until it would just

clear the harbor bottom during the tow out of the harbor.

2Pittsburgh’s bow was torn off during a typhoon near Okinawa on 5 June 1945. Munsee sailed in

search of the bow section, found it, and took it in tow. With Pakana assisting in the final stages of the

tow, the unwieldly tow was taken to Guam. 3Commander J.W. Greely, the Pacific Fleet Salvage Officer was in Guam for these operations.

The floating crane, rated at 100 short tons at the required radius, had recently arrived in Guam. The

commanding officer of the facility that owned the crane was very protective and would permit only

a 50-ton lift—not enough for the job. However, he had gone on a trip before the raising operation.

A 100-ton lift was made successfully and Commander Greely left the island before the commanding

officer returned.

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The entrance to Apra Harbor is not easy. There are strong tidal currents that vary with depth, great surges at the harbor entrance, and heavy

offshore ground swells just outside the entrance. Mender towed on the

hawser while Gypsy came astern, keeping a lift on the bow section and

stabilizing the tow. When the tow reached deep water clear of the harbor,

the bow section would be lowered away. Harbor tugs were available to

assist in the tow. Even with such tug assistance, the tow often lay across

her intended course while maneuvering in the harbor. Outside the harbor

the ground swell was so heavy that Gypsy executed the contingency plan:

She lowered the heavy lift blocks and released the special, quick-release

links. Mender kept towing. Other lines and air hoses from Gypsy tore

away. Finally, Mender’s fathometer showed over 400 fathoms. Thurman

stopped Mender, cut her tow wire, then executed the maneuver known as

“getting the hell out.” It was well he did; one of the pontoons broke loose

and surfaced spectacularly.

Both at Bikini and Guam, Gypsy and Mender established the usefulness of salvage lifting ships. On the East Coast their sisters Salvager

(ARS(D) 3) and Windlass (ARS(D) 4) were likewise proving themselves.

These ships worked together in a series of operations that demonstrate

the demands of routine peacetime salvage work.

• They lifted the sunken tug Lone Wolf (YTB 179) in Narragansett

Bay from 130 feet of water.

• At Vera Cruz, Mexico, they raised a couple of sunken barges in a

two-week operation.

• Going back north, they located and dispersed the wreck of YP–387

off Hereford, New Jersey.

• Aided by a blimp, they swept wires under the wreck of YTB–274 off

Charleston, South Carolina. After going into three-point moors they lifted the wreck to recover a body, then blew the wreck up to prevent its

becoming a navigational hazard.

These varied efforts not only proved the worth of salvage lifting ships

in major and minor operations, but also demonstrated something much

more important: Salvage forces had a definite place in the much expanded,

two-ocean Navy that the United States supported following World War II.

The demobilization following World War II reduced Navy salvage

forces to the level needed for peacetime operations. The harbor clearance

units were disestablished and numerous ships were taken out of commission and disposed of. Whole classes of ships, notably the wooden-hulled

Anchor-class salvage ships and the steam-powered rescue tugs, were

decommissioned. A number of ships were sold and placed in commercial

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service in the United States and abroad. Some vessels were transferred to

foreign navies; some were transferred to other U.S. government agencies

such as the Coast Guard and the Bureau of Mines. The number of salvage

ships and tugs retained was a small fraction of those in commission at the

end of the war. These ships were kept busy with the routine salvage operations and tows that are the bread and butter of peacetime salvage forces.

Sufficient quantities of such work are what keeps salvage forces in a high

state of readiness. Unlike structural fleet exercises, there is no simulation

for salvage work. Each operation is the real thing with a full ration of hazards and of chances for success or failure.

Besides providing direct support for fleet operations along both coasts

and overseas, salvage ships were regularly deployed to Alaskan and

Caribbean waters. For several years a salvage ship, first Recovery (ARS 43)

and then Paiute (ATF 159), was homeported at Balboa, Canal Zone, to

provide standby salvage services in the Caribbean and to operate a diving

school at Rodman. Similarly, Opportune (ARS 41) and later Escape

(ARS 6) were homeported in San Juan for many years.

The Salvage Law

Implementing the recommendations of the Interdepartmental Committee on Salvage occupied a large portion of the time of Commodore

Sullivan and his staff. Drafting the legislation that would authorize the

Navy to carry out the committee’s recommendations formed an important part of the work. On 8 August 1948 Secretary of the Navy John L.

Sullivan wrote the Honorable Joseph W. Martin, Speaker of the House of

Representatives, a letter forwarding the proposed legislation and describing what the legislation would allow.

• It would authorize the Secretary of the Navy to provide salvage

facilities for public and private vessels, by contract or otherwise.

• It would allow the Secretary to acquire ships and equipment for

transfer to salvage companies.

• It would permit funds to be advanced to private companies for

financing salvage operations.

• It would allow the Secretary of the Navy to settle and adjust claims

for Navy-operated salvage facilities.

The letter went on to point out that, for several reasons, the Navy

was the logical agency within the government to carry out U.S. responsibilities for salvage. The Navy already had a salvage organization with a

full understanding of salvage problems. This organization must continue

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its involvement in peacetime in order to be prepared for war. In addition,

the Navy had sufficient salvage vessels to provide services in U.S. waters

where no commercial salvage services operated. Finally, the Navy operated, and intended to continue operating, a school for divers, salvage

mechanics, and salvage officers.4

The proposed legislation was short, sweet, and simple. There is no

need to dig into the dustbins of legislative history to determine what was

in the minds of the drafters of the legislation or of Congress.

Western marine operators who feared the Navy would compete with

them for salvage business raised some objections to the bill. To protect the

interests of those already in the salvage business, amendments required that

contracts could be let only if existing commercial facilities were inadequate

for national defense, and that public notice of contracts must be given to

ensure competition. Another requirement called for anyone receiving vessels or equipment from the Navy to remain in the salvage business for a

specified number of years. The bill passed and was signed into law in 1948

as the Salvage Facilities Act, Public Law 513 of the Eightieth Congress.5

The Salvage Act immediately became, and remains, the charter and

cornerstone of the Navy salvage organization, giving basic national salvage policy the force of law. It allows the Secretary of the Navy great

flexibility in supporting the nation’s salvage posture, but it does not

require him to do anything. In other words it is permissive rather than

commanding; it says may, not must. The Navy has consistently taken the

position that this statutory authority does not obligate it to maintain

salvage facilities in excess of its own needs or to render salvage assistance on all occasions. Accordingly, while the Navy maintains close

contact with the commercial shipping and international salvage worlds,

it does not consider the needs of commercial shipping when deploying its

salvage forces and does not inform underwriters and other commercial

interests when it changes employment schedules or practices.

At the same time that the Navy’s overall role in a national salvage

policy was being legally defined, Navy salvors continued to carry out their

individual roles in actual operations. The most celebrated of these was

the salvage of the “Mighty Mo.”

“Mighty Mo” Hits the Beach

In January 1950 Missouri (BB 63)—the “Mighty Mo”—was the only

commissioned battleship remaining in the U.S. Navy. A proud ship and

4The Navy Salvage School, founded at Pier 88 in New York City, gave up that expensive real

estate in 1947 and moved to Bayonne, New Jersey. 5The Salvage Facilities Act, originally codified at 46 U.S.C. 733–735, was transferred in 1956

to Title 10 “Armed Forces” as 10 U.S.C. 7361–7367, and now appears (as amended) as 10 U.S.C.

7361–7364.

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the last of the great Iowa class,6 she had seen the Japanese surrender

signed on her decks. In the public mind the name Missouri had become

synonymous with seapower.

About 8:25 on the morning of 17 January 1950, Missouri grounded

near Old Point Comfort. The battleship had just run the degaussing range

while standing out to sea from the Naval Operating Base at Norfolk,

Virginia. Mighty Mo hit the beach hard. Fully loaded and running at 12

knots, she crossed about 2,500 feet of shoal water before coming to rest

on the hard sand bottom nearly at high tide. The Navy faced a major salvage operation that would tax the ingenuity, patience, and skill of all

involved. An attempt was made to refloat her on the evening tide with

resources that could be hastily assembled. It was fruitless, as such

attempts often are. Rear Admiral Allan E. Smith, Commander Cruiser

Force, U.S. Atlantic Fleet, moved aboard Missouri and settled down for a

long job.

Even a cursory look at the grounding showed many favorable aspects.

Missouri was in no danger of loss or extensive further damage. She lay in

protected waters and was not exposed to environmental forces that could

damage her or drive her further ashore. The hard sand bottom supported

her entire length, preventing the development of high hull-bending

stresses or unusual stress distribution patterns. Thus decisions could be

made without pressure caused by the potential loss of the ship.

Salvors could take the time to work in a way that would not damage

the ship rather than choosing damage from salvage as preferable to damage from the sea. The grounding site was near the Navy’s greatest concentration of men, equipment, and floating and shore resources. Special

equipment or people could easily be brought in from elsewhere. There

was probably no more convenient place for a ship of the U.S. Navy to go

aground. Missouri carried almost a full load of consumable materials that

could be discharged to reduce total weight. No stability problem existed

either as the ship lay or in any condition she would pass through during

the salvage. The hull had sustained only slight damage. Only three of

more than four hundred and fifty double-bottom compartments were

open to the sea. On the other hand, the battleship had grounded at high

tide, and so she would not benefit from additional buoyancy on the rising

tide. The general salvage plan was straightforward. It consisted of increasing the ship’s buoyancy and decreasing her displacement, dredging an exit

channel, and pulling her off.

6Missouri was commissioned on 11 June 1944. The first officer reporting aboard on the precommissioning crew was Lt. (j.g.) A.A. Bartholomew, the author’s father. Wisconsin (BB 64) was commissioned on 16 April 1944. The two other ships in the class, Iowa (BB 61) and New Jersey (BB 62), were

commissioned in 1943.

After World War II

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The first part of the plan called for removing fluids, ammunition,

stores, and other weights from the ship. However, removal of these weights

would leave her trimmed by the stern, a condition that would complicate

refloating. To further decrease the ground reaction and to reduce the trim,

pontoons would be placed at the stern. Some dredging and tunnel ing of

the bottom material, which divers said had been compacted to the consistency of a poor grade of concrete, would allow the hull to settle.

A large number of fleet tugs, salvage ships, submarine rescue ships,

and harbor tugs were present in Norfolk, as were the salvage lifting ships

Windlass and Salvager. Many of these ships carried several legs of beach

gear. The plan called for rigging beach gear to the battleship and using

various ships for pulling and wrenching both alongside and on the hawser.

The salvage lifting ships could be rigged for heavy pulls as well as

heavy lifts; they would be in harness. The salvage ships laid beach gear

and took it to the battleship for hauling. The large, clear deck areas, adequate deck machinery, and ample places to secure portable salvage

winches made the battleship an excellent beach gear platform. The submarine rescue ships’ value lay in their ability to provide large quantities

of air to blow pontoons and to support the extensive diving operations

necessary to observe bottom conditions, tunnel, and pass pontoon messenger lines. Fleet tugs nested together and rigged in tandem, salvage lifting ships in harness, and nine legs of beach gear would pull from astern.

The submarine rescue ships and the Hoist (ARS 40), all alongside, would

work up to full power, and a unit composed first of four harbor tugs (later

of Opportune, Recovery, and Nipmuc (ATF 157)), would twist Missouri’s

head. Harbor tugs would hold all the pulling units in position.

To create trenches parallel to the keel and at a depth well below it,

dredging was started alongside almost as soon as the ship grounded. The

material on the side of the trench would gradually slough off into the

trench allowing the ship to settle deeper. The Army dredge Comber did

most of the work, but could not approach the battleship closely. To get

close to the hull and work under the counter, the dredge Washington was

hired. Comber dredged the escape channel astern of Missouri. This channel was 150 feet wide and 40 feet deep. It ran from the stern of the

grounded ship to the main channel.

Public relations took on particular importance in this salvage case

because of the fame of the ship and its highly visible location. The press

understood neither salvage nor the physical forces at work, but that seldom inhibited its members from comment and judgment. Unfavorable

press coverage began to appear and gave indications of increasing. There

was heavy pressure on the Navy for a public statement regarding a target

date for refloating. With the large number of variable factors in salvage,

of course, accurate schedules can seldom be laid down. After study of the

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

206
situation and the work to be done, 2 February was chosen by Rear

Admiral Smith and published as the target date for refloating. If Missouri

was not afloat by this date, some more drastic action would be forced.

Rear Admiral Smith held a staff conference each morning. Here the

day’s operations were laid out in detail and problems of coordination

addressed. Space alongside the grounded battleship was allocated each

day because of potential interference from different operations.

Measurements made during the operation were extensive. Because

Missouri had run the degaussing range immediately before grounding, salvors

knew her precise before-grounding drafts. Gages were built to measure vertical motion, and gunner’s quadrants were set up to measure changes in

declivity. Other full-scale empirical experiments established the coefficient

of friction of the bottom soil. Underwater explosions were tried as a method

of squeezing sand into the dredged troughs, but were too inefficient.

Throughout the preparations additional beach gear, inflatable pontoons, a

barge to lift the stern, and wavemaking destroyers were held in reserve.

An unusually high tide expected on 20 January gave the incentive for

a pulling attempt on that date. The premature pull failed; the predicted

high tide did not materialize; and everything else was not ready. The failure emphasized the futility of attempting to refloat a stranded ship when

preparations are not complete. Hope and luck don’t refloat ships; thorough preparation, good engineering, and seamanship do.

The next attempt was a full dress rehearsal on 31 January. Operations

began before sunrise and in heavy fog. Beach gear was hauled taut and

the ships began to work up to full power. By 6:00 a.m. all ships were

pulling full, and the beach gear wires were singing with tension. Then

things began to go wrong. One of the harbor tugs fouled Windlass, forcing

her to slack off. The twisting unit of four harbor tugs was not effective.

The towing hawser of Mosopelea (ATF 158), one of the fleet tugs pulling

ahead, parted. Missouri did not move. The attempt was terminated.

To increase the probability of success on the next pull scheduled for

the following day, salvors removed the battleship’s anchors and chains,

emptied the forward peak tank, rigged two additional pairs of pontoons,

and called in the big guns, Opportune, Recovery, and Nipmuc, to form the

bow unit.

At 5:30 on the morning of 1 February, the salvors were ready. So was

Missouri. The weather was cooperating. The tide, scheduled to peak

around 7:30, looked as if it had been influenced by the northeast winds

that had blown through the night. It would be higher than predicted.

The bow unit began hauling to starboard; the port quarter beach gear

was set taut. The ship swung slowly right. The twist was reversed; the

ship swung back to port and moved astern. By 7:09 the great battleship

was again afloat.

After World War II

207
MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

208

Tugs churn the water, vainly trying to pull the grounded battleship Missouri

on 20 January 1950.

This pulling arrangement finally freed Missouri.
The Navy’s largest single peacetime stranding salvage was accom -

plished using only Navy forces. The response was fast and thorough. The

operation was completed without a single personnel casualty. The value

of Navy training schools in providing well-trained salvage mechanics and

officers, the value of salvage forces ready and able to meet emergencies

and adapt to the conditions they find, and the value of salvage equipment

located close to the probable point of need and in ready-for-issue condition were all demonstrated in the salvage of Mighty Mo. These assets

would soon be needed in another war.

War in Korea

Shortly after North Korean forces crossed the 38th parallel on 25

June 1950, the U.S. Navy found itself at war again after less than five

years. For salvage forces the Korean War would be very different from

World War II. The 1,500-mile-long Korean coastline offered many places

for concealment, but few sites for amphibious assaults. Its east coast had

few harbors; the west coast was protected by vast mud flats and great tide

ranges. The enemy lacked an effective, diverse naval force.

The general pattern of the naval war in Korea established itself quickly as focusing on interdiction of enemy supply routes by air attack and

bombardment, and transportation of equipment and supplies to the

peninsula. Exceptions to the basic pattern would be the great amphibious

landing at Inchon, the much less notable one at Wonsan, and the evacuation from Hungnam. Salvage forces supported all these operations.7

In a noteworthy difference from World War II practice, ships went to

war in Korea on a series of scheduled deployments rather than on indefi -

nite assignments. The World War II practice of holding salvage ships in

reserve while committing fleet tugs to the most forward area was discontinued; the two types of ships became virtually interchangeable. Used in

this manner, as they had been in some areas of the Pacific during World

War II, the ships complemented each other well. The salvage ship with its

shallower draft and twin screws could approach a stranding more closely

than the fleet tug. The fleet tug enjoyed a speed advantage and could

reach a casualty more quickly; it could initiate operations and hold the

fort until the salvage ship arrived.

7The amphibious landing at Wonsan was planned as a combat assault by the First Marine

Division. It turned out to be something different. The situation ashore was so fluid that events outdistanced plans. Wonsan was captured from the rear by Republic of Korea forces before the Marines

came ashore. Effective mining of the harbor also delayed the landing. Minesweeping required fifteen

days rather than the planned five. When the Marines finally went ashore, they found that not only

was the First Marine Aircraft Wing already there, but that they had already been entertained by Bob

Hope’s USO troupe.

After World War II

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Even with the two types of ships serving interchangeably, the need for

salvage vessels was so much greater than in peacetime that ships decommissioned after World War II were reactivated.

Throughout the war a salvage ship or fleet tug accompanied each task

group of combatant ships to give the same kind of salvage assistance that

had supported fast carrier task force operations in World War II. With the

combatants engaging primarily in bombardment operations and meeting

little resistance, however, there was not much for the salvage ships to do

other than recover downed aircraft.

Using the lessons learned in World War II, salvage ships were assigned

to accompany the assault forces at Inchon. Because the fortresses of

Wolmi-do and Sowolmi-do were taken out prior to the main assault, and

because the United Nations’ forces had complete control of the air, the

numbers and types of casualties that had occurred in the Pacific compaigns were not repeated. Salvage ships found their primary work here to

be in retracting landing ships left high and dry by the falling tides.

Combat operations and the high traffic density of wartime logistic

operations typically occupied the salvage ships in Japanese and Korean

waters. For example:

• Current and Ute refloated LST–578 at Cheju-do.

• Grasp and Reclaimer salvaged Muhlenberg Victory near Sasebo.

• Mender hauled Park Benjamin off the beach at Pusan,

• Safeguard (ARS 25) extinguished a fire on Firecrest (AM 10) off

Sasebo; refloated the Army’s concrete hotel barge BH–3067 at

Sokchodo; assisted the battle-damaged Lewis (DE 535) at Wonsan; towed

the disabled Electron (AKS 27), and raised the sunken LST–176 at

Sokchori; and in company with Takelma, the Army tug LT–1535, and

USNS ATA–240, refloated Park Benjamin when she grounded at Pohang,

her second grounding in Korea.

• Reclaimer towed the burning Plymouth Victory to Sasebo, escorted

the mine-damaged Walke (DD 723) to port, pulled the Japanese LST

Q–081 off her strand, and towed in the foundering Gulf Haven.

• Conserver, Safeguard, and Current refloated USNS LST–623, hard

aground at Sokcho-do.

• Moctobi refloated the Korean Navy’s PF–62 from Abru Somu Island

in North Korean waters.

Salvage ships performed a variety of missions in addition to salvage

and towing during the Korean War. These included:

• Laying buoys for marking swept channels, for navigation, and for

moorings.

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210
• Serving as a floating medical laboratory at Ulong-do for doctors

fighting a typhoid outbreak.

• Carrying out resupply operations to remote outposts in North

Korean waters.

• Patrolling to interdict coastal junk shipping and to prevent mining

operations.

• Providing fuel, repairs, and other services to Korean Navy ships.

Occasionally, these missions included the unlikely work of shore bombardment. During one such operation, Ute earned the nickname Good

Shoot Ute when her 3-inch shells started fires that burned all one night

near Wonsan. The antimining, antijunk patrols—flycatcher patrols—

were especially dangerous for the salvage ships. During one of these

patrols on 8 August 1952, Grapple took a hit below the waterline from a

shore battery, but effective damage control kept the ship on the line. She

suffered more serious damage and two of her crew were killed just three

days later when Chief (AM 315) opened fire on her because of a mistake

After World War II

211

Navy salvors pose aboard the wrecked Thai frigate Prasae off the coast of North Korea.

Left to right: Chief Petty Officer E.P. Wacham, Lieutenant (j.g.) D. Taylor, Petty Officer

C.K. Harvard of the salvage ship Bolster, and a Korean colleague.
in recognition signals. A little over two months later, on 27 October, Sarsi

(ATF 111), conducting a night flycatcher patrol between Wonsan and

Hungnam, struck a drifting mine. The damage defeated the damage-control measures and the tug sank in twenty minutes. Four men were lost;

the others spent the night on rafts and the ship’s motor whaleboat awaiting the rescue that came the following morning.

There were some significant operations. In January 1951 the Thai

frigate HMTS Prasae, one of the many foreign warships supporting the

United Nations operations in Korea, ran aground in North Korean territory. Bolster, with the task group, approached and anchored about a mile

off the beach. True salvage weather was blowing. It was bitter cold, and

the seas were about 6 feet. The frigate had broached and buried herself

more than 7 feet into the sand. Salvors managed to get a line on board,

but could do little else because the ship had no power and no mechanical

assistance for getting lines and equipment to her. A major salvage operation in enemy territory seemed unwise. Prasae was abandoned and

destroyed by covering warships.

A classic operation followed the stranding of the Republic of Korea’s

LST M–370 on the rocky island of Taechong-do on Memorial Day 1951.

The U.S. Navy agreed to undertake the salvage; Grasp, Moctobi, and

Commander J.W. Greely, the salvage officer of Service Squadron Three,

headed for the scene.8

LST M–370 lay broached at the base of a rock cliff, cradled in rock

with much of the double bottom open to the sea. Both ends of the ship

were damaged beyond the salvors’ on-site ability to repair. Because the

ship lay starboard side to the cliff, equipment could be loaded aboard only

by the port boat davit, a difficult and time-consuming operation. The wisdom of salvaging so severely damaged an LST had to be carefully

addressed. After thorough evaluation it was decided to go ahead with the

salvage, but not to give it priority over other salvage needs. The basic salvage plan called for making double-bottom tanks tight and restoring

buoyancy by either pumping them or blowing air into them. Explosives

would remove some rock at the bow and stern. A temporary bulkhead

would be built in the tank deck about one-third of the distance from the

bow, abaft ruptures in the deck, in order to gain about a thousand tons of

buoyancy.

8From shortly after World War II until the 1975 organization of the Naval Surface Forces, the

salvage officer for Service Squadron Three, homeported in the western Pacific, was also the salvage

officer for Seventh Fleet. Similarly, the salvage officer assigned to the Service Force commander’s

staff was double-hatted as the fleet salvage officer. With appropriate organizational changes this basic

arrangement continued after the 1975 reorganization.

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

212
Foul weather canceled work on some days and on others forced the

salvage party to abandon the LST over the starboard side and walk to a

nearby village where they could be picked up for return to their ships.

Plain, hard work continued all during the operation: building the temporary bulkhead, sealing the bottom, plugging vents, making compartments

watertight, securing pumps and compressors on board, installing air fittings, and preparing a towing connection. The salvors chose a target

refloating date of 21 June to coincide with the month’s highest tide.

Pumping tests showed that the engine room could not be pumped nor

could the compartment be sealed for blowing with air because the structure around various openings was badly deteriorated. The salvors crossed

the compartment off the list of those to be made buoyant. Three days

before the target refloating date, Moctobi was detached from the LST salvage for a higher priority operation. Grasp began an all-hands, round-theclock operation.

At midnight on 21 June visibility was only 500 yards. The decision

was to go ahead with the salvage operation despite the weather. The

salvors felt that if every opportunity to make progress was not taken, the

probability was quite high that worse weather would set in and the ship

would be lost. By the time the ship was ready for pulling, a light wind had

blown the fog to seaward. Grasp’s log (with the spelling unrevised) tells

the story of that morning.

0440—Ship ready for pulling, commenced taking in on tow wire and paying

out on anchor chains to get maximum holding power.

0500—Anchors secured with 90 and 60 fathoms of chain, tow wire taught at

1250 feet, waiting for word from salvage officer that the LST was starting to

gain buoyancy.

0600—LST starting to roll with the sea, commenced working engines up to

maximum speed. Set off four demolition charges on rocks near bow and stern

of LST.

0628—Stern of LST commenced moving, anchor chains slacking, com -

menced heaving in on both anchor chains.

0637—Fog setting in, visibility decreased to 1000 yards.

0639—Salvage officer reported LST stern had swung to port and clear of

rocks.

0640—Underway, attempting to swing ship to starboard about 40°.

0700—Fog set in, visibility zero.

After World War II

213
MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

214

The Korean LST M–370 lies hard aground on and against rocks—a difficult salvage case.

Salvors from the salvage ship Grasp, assisted by a Korean boy, study a recalcitrant air compressor used to blow air into the tanks of the South Korean LST M–370.
0716—Let go one anchor to hold ship in its present position. Visibility

cleared to 1000 yards, heaved up anchor and took in tow wire to 1000 feet,

engines slowed to 100 RPMs. Current taking ship to starboard, fog setting in

to zero visibility.

0726—Tow wire let out to 1250 feet, let go starboard anchor to hold ship in

present position until visibility increases.

0730—LST reported swinging stern to port, commenced taking in on tow

wire and maintaining 100 RPM’s with engines. The ships position had to be

determined before maximum power could be used.

0750—Visibility increased to 1000 yards and showed the ship as being about

200 yards from the beach and in safe water, however, it was unsafe to

attempt picking up the anchor and swing away as the current was setting

toward the beach. Port anchor was dropped, all engines stopped, Tow wire

was again taken in and chain paid out to the anchors to 45 and 60 fathoms.

0810—With both anchors holding and tow wire taught commenced building

engines up to maximum power.

0920—Secured from pulling as tide was then ebbing and gone down until

the bow of the LST was resting on the rocks. The stern had been pulled 90°

to port and in good water.9

The first pull had been made in the worst kind of conditions. LST

M–370 had been turned and was now aground only by the bow. On the

following day the LST came afloat but the tension was only slightly

relieved. The badly damaged ship began taking on water, and the auxiliary engine room bulkhead gave way, allowing flooding that grounded out

the switchboard and caused power loss all through the ship. The ship

took on a list and was in danger of capsizing. All available pumps were put

into the engine room, and air was pumped into the starboard side tanks.

The ship righted slowly and stayed afloat. LST M–370 was secured for

tow and taken to Pusan, where she was returned to the Korean Navy with

a recommendation to get her into drydock—quickly.

Throughout the Korean War there was concern at senior military and

political levels that the Soviet Union might intervene and greatly escalate the war. Those who understood the Sino-Soviet Mutual Defense Pact

of 1950 and its ramifications were doubly uncertain after the Chinese

entered the war. The Soviets had then, as they do now, a large submarine

fleet that would be a worthy adversary at sea, capable of adding a new

9Ltr, Commanding Officer Grasp (ARS 24) serial 014, 16 July 1951.

After World War II

215
dimension to United Nations naval operations. In the summer of 1951 an

object believed to be a Soviet submarine had been located in about 50

fathoms of water off the Korean coast. A proposed investigation of this

object had pulled Moctobi away from the salvage of LST M–370.

The submarine rescue ship Coucal (ASR 8) joined the operation to

provide a mixed-gas diving capability. Working together, the two ships

snagged the object and laid a four-point mooring over it. Mixed-gas divers

went down for a look. The object turned out to be not a Soviet submarine but a Japanese merchantman, apparently sunk during World War II.

As an intelligence coup the operation was a disappointment, but as a confirmation of the Navy’s ability to work in the ocean it was a success. The

object had been pinpointed and positively identified at a depth in which

few marine organizations could work at the time.

The heavy logistics traffic into Pusan generated some casualties.

Cornhusker Mariner, one of the new postwar 535-foot, Mariner-class,

break-bulk cargo ships, grounded hard on a rocky pinnacle just outside

Pusan on 7 July 1953. The ship was refloated under the direction of the

Seventh Fleet Salvage Officer, Commander Albert W. Mott, in a long and

difficult operation that was not completed until October.

San Mateo Victory provided additional work for salvors when she ran

aground on a rock bottom on Cheju-do near Pusan while making her best

speed of 17 knots in a light condition. She was refloated by Safeguard,

Grasp, and Takelma under Commander Mott’s direction after rock had

been blown away with explosives and chipped away with pneumatic

hammers.

While Korea placed some heavy demands on salvage forces, other salvage units employed elsewhere in the Pacific and in the Atlantic on

bread-and-butter operations conclusively demonstrated that such forces

should be a part of a peacetime Navy with worldwide responsibilities.

Two casualties occurring in the mid-Pacific near the end of 1952 introduced the Navy to some of the harsher realities of commercial salvage

and affirmed some important legal principles that affected the Navy’s

position.

The first of these casualties was the break-bulk carrier Andrea Luken -

bach. The ship was on a voyage from the West Coast of the United States

to the Far East with a government-owned cargo mainly of foodstuffs and

heavy machinery, when the master became ill. The ship diverted to

Honolulu, where the master went ashore and the second mate became

master. The ship left Honolulu on a course that took her a bit too close

to the island of Kauai—especially given the set and drift in those waters.

She touched bottom, holed herself, and grounded hard by her stern.

The Navy was asked to assist, but was not placed in charge of the

operation. Commander C. Monroe Hart, the fleet salvage officer, left

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

216
Pearl Harbor with a salvage crew10 and Cocopa started toward the distressed vessel. The underwriter’s agent at the scene had little salvage

experience and, despite sound advice from Commander Hart to the contrary, tried to refloat the ship before a complete survey had been made

and the ship properly secured.

Deliver had also been assigned to the job but was still some days away,

so a commercial tug was hired to lay beach gear. The tug skipper had

never been on a salvage job before and had never laid beach gear. Men

who operate tugs tend to think they can do anything; often they are

right, but not this time. Instead of putting the bitter end aboard the

wreck, steaming out to stretch out the wire and then dropping the anchor,

10When Commander Hart and the salvage crew arrived, they found the cargo in number four

hold to be heavy machinery tightly packed throughout the hold except in the square of the hatch,

where Scotch whisky was loaded. The hold was secure, with the metal hatch boards welded down.

Having no delusions about what could happen, Commander Hart realized that removal of the whisky

was a matter of highest priority. A Coast Guard buoy tender was present, so Hart asked its commanding officer to place an armed guard on the hatch, trusting the tightly packed heavy machinery to

block access from inside.

Commander Hart then went ashore to make some arrangements. When he returned, the Navy

salvage crew was very drunk. Hart was furious. The chief warrant officer in charge of the crew would

have to be court-martialed. When the man had sobered up, Hart dressed him down royally and

asked, “How did you get to the booze?” The warrant officer explained that, because the hatch was

welded shut and guarded, they went in from another hold. When asked about the heavy machinery,

he explained it had been a problem but had been solved by disassembling three bulldozers and removing them piece by piece. Any thoughts of court-martial were forgotten. These men had the ingenuity and drive of good salvors; the Navy could not afford to lose them.

After World War II

217

A salvage conference aboard San Mateo Victory includes (left to right) Lieutenant

Commander Franklin W. Rogers, Lieutenant Commander J.C. Hale, Commander Warren

Mott (Seventh Fleet Salvage Officer), Lieutenant J.D. O’Kane, Lieutenant Commander

W.M. Brobston, and Captain E.A. McMichael.
the tug skipper dropped the anchor first and, hauling the wire, steamed

toward the ship. The seas were rough. Working close to the wreck in

heavy seas with a long wire to the anchor was not to the skipper’s liking.

He dropped the wire and steamed away. The wire was eventually recovered and brought on board.11

Deliver arrived and some cargo was removed. Walter Martignoni, an

experienced salvage engineer representing the owners and underwriters,

also arrived and took overall charge of the operation. Hart was called

away on another emergency. All preparations for refloating were made,

and calculations showed that the ship would float free when all flooded

holds and the machinery space were pumped. However it now became

apparent to the owners and underwriters that the hull damage, the

numerous broken pipes and valves, the fractured reduction gear casing,

and other damage would require long and expensive repairs. When added

to the cost of the salvage, these repairs did not make economic sense. The

owners abandoned the ship.12

The uncompleted salvage of Andrea Lukenbach involved a mixture of

naval and commercial assets in a commercial salvage operation. It was a

revelation to the Navy salvors who took part. In naval salvage the primary consideration always is getting the job done, often without any

regard for cost. In commercial salvage, however, cost and the economics

of an operation are important factors that often dominate the decisions.

Frequently, a hull is not salvaged even though it is technically feasible to

do so because the cost of salvage and repair are greater than the insured

value of the ship. As is often true in commercial salvage cases, lengthy litigation followed the loss of Andrea Lukenbach. The point of contention

was the general average13 claim of the ship’s owners and underwriters

against the government as the owner of the cargo.

A short while later SS Quartette, laden with a cargo of Army-owned

grain, grounded on Pearl and Hermes Reef near Midway Island. At the

time there was no commercial organization in the Pacific that could

provide salvage services at the reef. Knowing that salvage time is always

of the essence in stranding, Commander Hart dispatched Current to the

11The wire was brought on board in an unusual manner. A few days before, a local man named

Bill Pye had showed up at the site and asked the underwriter’s surveyor for a job. Pye said he was a

diver but needed no equipment because he would breath-hold dive. He was not hired. Several days

later he showed up on a small tender with a piece of line and a large shackle. Ignoring the salvors trying to wave him off, he jumped into the water. The people topside were quite anxious when Pye had

been down more than a minute and a half, but he surfaced with the bitter end of the line and passed

it to the ship. The wire was hauled aboard. Bill Pye was hired. 12Andrea Lukenbach was later sold as-is, where-is to an adventuresome Honolulu businessman

who failed to realize a positive return on his investment. He lost his shirt. 13“General average” is a legal principle unique to maritime law wherein cargo owners share with

ship owners the risks of the voyage and are liable for a proportionate share of costs if the ship

becomes a casualty.

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SS Quartette when first aground and after some time aground. The fate of Quartette vividly

demonstrates the dangers of even the simplest grounding. Quartette was scarcely damaged

in her initial grounding, but after some days’ exposure to the force of the sea in conditions

her designers never anticipated, she began to break up.
scene without waiting for a request for salvage from the owner or his

agent. That request was not forthcoming; what came forth was a court

order prohibiting the Navy from touching the ship. Current was recalled,

while Hart went to see the fleet judge advocate to find out what could be

done to get on with the job. The judge advocate took the position that

under the law the Navy could salvage the ship to mitigate damages. The

salvage officer and judge advocate went to Admiral Arthur W. Radford,

the Pacific Fleet commander, who agreed. Current sailed again.

By this time a storm had come through. Quartette no longer lay

perpendicular to the beach, an easy salvage job; she had now broached

and torn her bottom out. It would be a long hard job to patch the hull

damage, discharge the cargo, and rig beach gear. The salvage and legal

battles went along simultaneously. When the government-owned cargo

had been saved, all the beach gear had been laid, and everything was

ready for a pull, Hart received a message to stop, pick up the gear, and

go home. He couldn’t believe it and requested confirmation in a whatthe-hell message. He got his confirmation. He was to pick up and go

home.

Quartette’s owners and underwriters did not want the ship salvaged

and had obtained another court order to stop the Navy. As all the salvageable government-owned cargo had been removed, there was no further reason for the Navy work to continue. Hart did as he was di rected.

The government’s right to salvage and to act to mitigate damages had

been confirmed, but so had the right of the ship’s owner and underwriter

to determine the fate of their vessel on purely economic grounds.14

Pacific Fleet salvage forces worked all over the Pacific during the Korean

War. Along with their regular turn in Korea, ships also undertook salvage at

Iwo Jima, Kwajelein, Majuro, Subic Bay, and many other places. Atlantic

Fleet units did not deploy to Korea but were kept occupied in responding to

casualties in the Atlantic, clearing navigation hazards, cleaning up Navy

ports in Operation Chin, installing and maintaining moorings, escorting

resupply convoys into the Arctic, and supporting research and development

projects. In both fleets, the recovery of aircraft for both the Navy and the Air

Force was taking on greater importance.

A particularly significant job started one clear and unseasonably cool

night in the summer of 1953, when two ships did not pass in the night as

they should have. SS Pan-Massachusetts, a tanker fully laden with gasoline

and inbound up the Delaware River for Marcus Hook, collided with her

empty sister SS Phoenix. The explosions could be heard for 20 miles, and

fires lit the night. Local firefighters were not able to do much against the

14Though there was reason to suspect barratry in the grounding of Quartette, the matter was not

pursued, and all legal action was dropped.

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raging gasoline fires. The owners called the Navy for assistance, primarily because they knew the excellent reputation of the Navy Damage

Control Training Center at Philadelphia. Lieutenant Commander Louis

O. Lindemann, Jr., the officer in charge of the Firefighting School and a

former lieutenant in the Baltimore Fire Department, grabbed a tug and

went to have a look.

Lindemann assessed the situation and returned to Philadelphia. The

next morning he was back with the tug Toka (YTB 149), a fire-fighting

crew, and a full load of mechanical and chemical foam. Toka began making passes up and down both sides pouring water on the flaming tanker.

After several passes, the firefighters broke out the foam lines and began

pouring foam on the fire. The foam was effective, but Toka drifted away

on the tide and the fire reclaimed the territory the foam had taken.

There was a brouhaha on the bridge of Toka. Lindemann wanted the

tug secured alongside the flaming tanker, but the pilot was reluctant to do

that. Thus when the tug moved in, the firefighters gained ground; when

the tug drifted back, the firefighters lost their gains. Gradually, the pilot

began to gain confidence and soon was holding the tug alongside. Within

two hours Lindemann judged the ship safe to board, and fire fighters went

aboard. The decks were so hot that the men stood first on one foot and

then on the other. They worked slowly aft, blanketing the tanks with

foam and cooling the deck with water. Four hours were lost when the tug

left to get more foam. When the firefighters returned, they found that

Pan-Massachusetts had swung over against Phoenix and many of the fires

had rekindled. The crew renewed the battle. In three hours the fires were

out and the firefighters were on their way home. Merritt- Chapman and

Scott then moved in and completed the salvage of the two tankers as a

commercial salvage operation.

In this case, the system had worked as it was supposed to. A danger -

ous and expensive ship fire had been put out by Navy firefighters when

no one else could do the job. The Navy’s fire-fighting technology and

training system was coupled with the expertise of a commercial salvage

operator to handle a major marine casualty.

Expertise that the Navy had acquired by assembling the best firefighting technology and experience and by analyzing combat fires during

World War II had paid off in a casualty that could have had much more

serious results. The combat in Korea (and later in Vietnam) did not produce a large number of shipboard fires. Subsequent British experience in

the Falklands and American experience in the Persian Gulf, however,

have shown the need for sophisticated fire-fighting technology and welltrained firefighters in modern combat salvage forces.

The Korean War and concurrent salvage operations throughout the

world demonstrated the value of having Navy salvage forces available for

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simultaneous peacetime and combat scenarios. The combat situation

itself was very different from any in the major theaters of World War II,

and salvage operations reflected this difference. The salvage organization

for the Korean War remained a part of the service forces supporting combat forces as they had in the Pacific war, but there were no nearly

autonomous salvage units as there had been in the earlier and larger war.

Not only were fleet tugs and salvage ships used almost interchangeably,

but there were no special fire-fighting or harbor clearance units in Korea;

they were simply not needed. With a smaller number of salvage ships, a

different threat, and worldwide demands for salvage services, the postWorld War II salvage strategy proved totally suitable. During the Korean

War Navy salvage forces successfully met the simultaneous challenges of

supporting a modern limited war, supporting global naval operations, and

maintaining the Navy’s newly established position as the national agency

for salvage.

Peacetime Salvage

With the end of combat in Korea the Navy settled into a peacetime

routine. But it was not the routine of the days before World War II. The

U.S. Navy now had a constant worldwide presence. The Sixth Fleet in the

Mediterranean and the Seventh Fleet in Far East waters were permanent

organizations, manned by ships on regular deployments from their home

ports in the United States. Salvage ships, like other vessels, made regular

deployments. The staffs of Service Squadrons Six in the Mediter ranean

and Three in the Far East were permanently assigned to the deployed

fleets. Each of these two staffs had a salvage officer who performed regular ship maintenance duties until a casualty occurred. He then grabbed

his bag and headed for the casualty to take charge or to provide technical direction for the salvage operation. Service Force salvage officers in

Pearl Harbor and Norfolk operated in a similar manner.

For the salvage establishment in the Navy it was a relatively quiet

time. The major portion of the task of salvage management, planning,

budgeting, and administration fell on the Supervisor of Salvage, along

with the job of managing the Navy’s salvage contracts. Despite the experience of World War II and Korea and the relatively constant use of salvage forces in peacetime, the Supervisor of Salvage found that many in

the Navy remained unconvinced that salvage should have a permanent

role or that money to support salvage was being well spent. Ever since the

elimination after World War II of the position of Chief of Navy Salvage

on the Chief of Naval Operations staff, the Supervisor of Salvage had

been hard pressed to argue the case for strong salvage forces. Navy salvage lacked an effective advocate in the corridors of power.

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Despite some skepticism about their usefulness, the training of Navy

salvors continued.15 Service Force salvage ships and Submarine Force rescue ships were kept in a reasonably high state of readiness by a combination of scheduled training, many small jobs, and regular deployments to

the Sixth and Seventh Fleets. Occasional major operations brought

together the entire range of salvage resources.

During this period the Navy acquired little salvage equipment and no

salvage ships. Ships built during World War II were in their relative youth

and large stockpiles of salvage equipment and machinery were also available from the World War II acquisitions.

Increased interest in working in the ocean produced new jobs for

Navy salvage ships. The vessels proved to be good, stable platforms with

a variety of installed systems for lifting and handling lines. They were

crewed with energetic, resourceful, imaginative, capable, and welltrained people. They participated in a variety of ocean research projects,

backed the fusion bomb tests at Eniwetok, bolstered several cable-laying

operations, participated in the at-sea recoveries of the nation’s space

vehicles, and recovered aircraft for the Navy and Air Force. Most important, they continued in their traditional roles of supporting the Navy’s

needs in ship salvage and in filling the gaps in U.S. commercial salvage.

There was plenty of traditional salvage work for them to do:

• Salvager cleared the wreckage of YFN–6 in Delaware Bay and

worked over the wreckage of the battleship Texas, which had been a navigation hazard in Chesapeake Bay southeast of Tangier Island since

1911.16

• On 5 January 1956 the destroyer Basilone (DDE 824) grounded off

Fort Storey, Virginia. The grounding was on the Officers’ Club beach,

where observers could gather and hoot in well-oiled comfort.

Headquarters for the salvage operation was set up in the Officers’ Club

game room. Salvage was undertaken under the auspices of the Service

Force commander; the Supervisor of Salvage provided technical assistance. Hoist, Seneca (ATF 91), and Windlass were on scene in short order.

The weather was foul and the seas rough. Seneca was driven ashore; wires

parted aboard Hoist; and Windlass dragged dangerously near the de15The Navy Salvage School moved from Bayonne, New Jersey, to the Washington Navy Yard in

1957, where it was combined with the Deep Sea Divers School. In 1970 the name was changed to

Naval School, Diving and Salvage to reflect its function more accurately. The school continued

under this name until 1980, when it moved to a new facility in Panama City, Florida, as the Naval

Diving and Salvage Training Center. 16Texas, completed in 1895, had her name changed to San Marcos prior to being sunk as a target

by New Hampshire (Battleship No. 25) in March 1911. Over the years her upperworks were shot away,

and she settled into the mud. As a menace to navigation she cost the government over $100,000 until

all the structure above the mud line was removed. This wreck was not the Texas (Battleship No. 35)

mentioned several times previously; that ship is now a memorial at San Jacinto, Texas.

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stroyer and the beach, but managed to break loose and steer clear. The

salvage ships took shelter, their rigging and decks covered with ice. When

the weather moderated, the salvors returned with Salvager. Windlass

pulled Seneca free; Salvager refloated Basilone. When the job was done,

the salvors picked up fourteen anchors.

• Reclaimer refloated a stranded LST at Kauai, Hawaii.

• Escape (ARS 6) freed the new destroyer Jonas Ingram (DD 938)

from her strand on Culebra Island, Puerto Rico.

• In the bitter-cold winter of 1961, reminiscent of the winter of

1917–18, Recovery assisted Coast Guard ships in clearing heavy ice congestion and freeing stranded merchantmen in Hampton Roads, Virginia.

• Luiseno (ATF 156), Recovery, Salvager, and Windlass combined to

haul the Reserve Fleet destroyer Baldwin (DD 624) off Montauk Point,

Long Island. One man was killed and another injured aboard Windlass in

the ever-dangerous work of salvage. In an ironic twist to the operation,

the salvage ships took the badly damaged destroyer to sea and sank her

with gunfire.

• Shakori (ATF 162) towed the collision-damaged Norwegian ship

Tarrantel into Hampton Roads, Virginia, and grounded her to prevent

sinking while Opportune stood by.17

• Hoist, Seneca, and Windlass teamed again to free the grounded

USNS Bluejacket (T-AF 51), saving a cargo of frozen stores.

• With eight legs of beach gear laid across a pier and hauled by a

D-8 Caterpillar tractor, Opportune refloated Duell (APA 160) after

Hurricane Carol blew the transport ashore at Davisville, Rhode Island.

Two Strandings

The spring of 1962 saw two major and interesting salvage operations

one in each ocean; one concerned a U.S. destroyer, the other a

Panamanian-flag freighter.

On 5 March 1962, Monssen (DD 798), a Reserve Fleet destroyer, was

being towed from the Bayonne Group of the Atlantic Reserve Fleet to the

Philadelphia Group by Penobscot (ATA 188).18 Late in the evening, with

17Despite pressure from the State Department and the Supervisor of Salvage to use fleet assets

to complete the salvage of Tarrantel, Commander Service Force Rear Admiral Dennis Knoll maintained that this was a case for commercial salvors because Tarrantel, unlike Quartette, had no government cargo on board. Service Squadron Eight ships provided health and comfort assistance until

Cable arrived from Key West. The wait left Navy salvors extremely frustrated as they watched the

new ship deteriorate. 18ATAs were not named when commissioned. The ATAs that were retained in commission following World War II were given names in 1948. Like ATFs, they carried the names of Indian tribes.

Many of the names had been previously carried by Navy tugs.

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seas building to 15 feet and winds steady at 30 knots and gusting to 50,

the tow wire parted. Monssen grounded six hours later just south of Beach

Haven, New Jersey. The storm continued to cast the destroyer up the

beach.

Response was immediate. The assistant force salvage officer,

Lieutenant (j.g.) Lewis W. Berke, and Master Diver Jack Kennedy, headed for the scene by land to make an initial survey. Hoist, Windlass, and

Salvager loaded out in Norfolk and got underway for Beach Haven. Papago

(ATF 160) followed them with the Service Force salvage barge YFNB–17

in tow. Captain Norman C. Nash, who was to command the task unit,

and Lieutenant Commander Joseph F. Madeo, the force salvage officer,

were embarked in Hoist. Luiseno was held in Newport, Rhode Island, on

two hours’ steaming notice. It was not an easy trip for anyone; the storm

continued with heavy winds, rains, and high seas. The storm also continued to drive Monssen ashore until she was embedded in sand above the

high-water mark. It was going to be a major job.

The initial, detailed survey showed that Monssen had moved across

the sandbar and lay broached above the high-water mark, 7 feet deep in

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The salvage lifting ship Windlass prepares for a pull on the stranded Reserve Fleet destroyer Baldwin off Montauk Point, Long Island.
soft sand with a 5 degree list; she had little flooding or structural damage.

The 132,000 gallons of fuel oil on board in two grades, Navy Special Fuel

Oil (NSFO) and the heavier Bunker C, could be easily removed to eliminate the hazards of pollution and fire and to lighten the ship. A full set

of ship’s plans was available, so precise calculations would be feasible.

Perhaps most important, there were extensive salvage assets available to

support the effort.

The salvors’ basic plan called for holding what they had, getting as

much buoyancy as possible, rotating Monssen until she was perpendicular

to the beach line, and then hauling her off little by little. The large number and variety of Navy resources that could be brought to bear on the

Monssen meant that several of the salvage tasks could begin and work

simultaneously.

It is a firm rule in salvage that to prevent a stranded ship from being

driven ashore or broaching, anchors should be planted to seaward. This

strategy hardly seemed necessary in the case of Monssen since the ship

was high and dry and already broached, but the rules of salvage are written by harsh experience. Luiseno, which had joined the task group by this

time, and Papago laid Eells anchors astern of Monssen and secured wirerope anchor cables on board with carpenter’s stoppers.

With the destroyer secured, lightening could begin. Salvors turned to

removing what they could, but major weight and fuel removal had to

wait until a road of pierced-steel planking was laid to the highway and

trucks and cranes could be brought to the ship. Immediate efforts were

made to remove the fuel by taking a suction through the tank manholes

with 6-inch and 3-inch salvage pumps. This did not work because the oil

was too viscous and cold. While this attempt was in progress, another

crew was rigging the ship’s fuel-oil transfer pump so it would run on compressed air and hooking up a 3-inch salvage pump to act as a booster.

This system worked for the NSFO in the forward tanks, but not for the

heavier Bunker C or the NSFO in the aft tanks. Activating the aft fueloil transfer pump took care of the problem of the NSFO aft. To reduce

the viscosity of the Bunker C, steam from a portable boiler was injected

directly into the tanks.

Some tank boundaries had ruptured. The forward bilge pump and

portable air-driven pumps removed all the oil. To ensure that there would

be no pollution during refloating, all tanks and contaminated spaces were

cleaned with an emulsifier and detergent. A few minor spills on the beach

were cleaned up so that no trace of oil would remain on completion of the

operation.

Weight removal proceeded systematically with small items and pilferable material being removed first. The propellers, rudder, shafting, and

struts were removed by cutting with shaped charges and electric-arc and

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oxyacetylene torches. These removals served the dual purpose of prevent -

ing the appendages from digging in and of removing weight from the hull.

To facilitate the removal of major topside weights, such as the 5-inch gun

mounts and torpedo tubes, sand ramps were built to give cranes and

trucks better access to the ship. Over 265 tons was removed from the

destroyer, significantly reducing the weight to be dragged back into the

water.

The nature of the sea bottom complicated the operation. Never has

the term “shifting sands” better described a bottom. Bars, shallows, and

pools moved constantly in the offshore area. Each ship’s commanding

officer kept a constant survey of the bottom in the area where he operated. Inordinately long hauling wires were required between the pulling

ships and the destroyer because of the shallow beach approaches. Hauling

the heavy, 2-inch-diameter wire rope ashore was hard and dangerous

work. On 23 March a nylon line hauling one of the wires through the surf

parted and struck Lieutenant (j.g.) Thomas E. O’Malley. O’Malley was

immediately treated by a medical officer, who accompanied him on the

helicopter to the Naval Hospital at Philadelphia. The injuries were too

grave; O’Malley died en route.

The sand on the beach, by contrast, did not shift easily. To rotate the

hull so that the destroyer could be pulled directly seaward, large amounts

of sand had to be removed near the hull. The sand removal area initially

extended from just abaft the stem on the starboard side, around the bow

and down the port side to the after stack, and from the starboard quarter

to the forward stack. Bulldozers and draglines removed the sand, but the

tide really controlled the sand removal operation. During any given tide

cycle, the inboard (port) removal area maintained about 70 percent of its

depth, the outboard side only about half as much. Jetting pumps and

small gasoline-powered pumps kept the sand close to the hull fluid, and

eventually the moat grew until it encircled the ship, 20 feet wide and 10

feet deep. In the last stages of the operation, LCMs scoured. They were

very effective.

The bar separating the Monssen from deep water was attacked with

explosives. A channel was cut by over 4,000 pounds of explosive hose

charges. In the shifting sands the channel did not remain, but the sand

had become loosened and less stable than the normal bottom, and so it

offered less resistance to the passage of the destroyer.

Weight removal, bottom grooming, and rotation were needed but

were complementary to the main tool—the beach gear. The ship came

free in a number of small moves, with the beach-gear hard work.

Attachment points for the beach gear were a matter of major concern.

Destroyers are lightly constructed ships; unless carefully engineered, pulls

on the structure of one can cause extensive damage. The strongest points

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possible, the gun mount foundations, were chosen as attachment points

for the beach gear. Because the ship was high and dry, it was possible to

attach Salvager to the skeg.

Initially, wire ropes from the anchors laid by Papago and Luiseno were

led through the stern chock up both sides of the main deck to purchases

hauled by portable winches. Two additional legs, with their purchases and

winches on the beach, were led over the shore side to add stability and

some rotational force. Salvager and Windlass were in harness astern and

slightly to starboard; Hoist lay 90 degrees off the bow, also in harness. A

pull was made with this arrangement on 26 March. Monssen did not

move, but the beach gear anchors did. The fluid sand made poor holding

ground. Hoist was taken off the bow and put astern between the two. Still

Monssen didn’t move; still the anchors dragged. Papago and Luiseno were

sent to Bayonne to draw more anchors from the Emergency Ship Salvage

Material pool there. Preserver joined, laid her beach gear, and went into

harness with the others. Preserver and Hoist had two anchors in each leg,

Windlass and Salvager had four. Luiseno and Papago helped hold the salvage ships so that their doubled anchors would not drag. Pulls didn’t

move the destroyer; tow wires parted; heavy weather disrupted work; discouragement and frustration grew; the work went on.

On 7 April Monssen moved 15 degrees to port and 15 feet aft. The

ship trembled during high water—a movement that indicated the ship

was ready to come off her strand. She continued to move slowly. Gear was

rerigged to get the best pull as she came around and moved aft. The work

was heavy; the weather was lousy; lines parted; pins bent; Monssen crept

toward the sea.

Gale-force winds blew on 13 April. Preserver was driven against a bar;

Hoist pulled her clear. The anchors laid to seaward early in the operation

held; Monssen was not driven further ashore—in fact, she moved aft a few

more feet. When the strong winds abated, the slow movement seaward

continued, until on 19 April Monssen slipped slowly across what was left

of the bar and floated. Luiseno took Monssen in tow for Philadelphia with

Preserver escorting. The rest picked up anchor and cleaned up the beach.

The Monssen salvage operation was complete. It had involved a relatively large force of Navy salvage assets, a great deal of planning, careful

coordination, and more than a full ration of hard work. Fortunately, as

with the Missouri, the operation took place in an area where there was

easy access to a variety of industrial services and the huge range of services available in the Navy. In so complex a salvage operation, ready access

to such industrial services can spell the difference between success and

failure. The Navy brought to the operation more resources and a wider

variety of state-of-the-art salvage than any other organization in the

world could have done at the time.

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The salvage of Monssen was an excellent example of how the Navy

continually adapts a variety of units and techniques to maximize the onthe-job training available from actual salvage operations. For example,

the salvage ships had been designed primarily as lifting ships. In the

Missouri and Baldwin salvages, however, they had proved their ability as

pulling ships; in the Monssen operation they confirmed it. During the

Monssen operation, helicopters transported both people and equipment—an early application of what would later become an indispensable

salvage tool.

Eight days after Monssen crept off her strand, and half a world away,

the Panamanian-flag freighter Dona Ouriana grounded on Pocklington

Reef 200 miles south of Guadalcanal. Dona Ouriana was a 12,000-ton

grain carrier sailing empty except for 1,900 tons of ballast. After several

attempts to back off, the crew abandoned the ship. As there were no commercial salvage facilities in the area, assistance was requested from the

U.S. Navy. Bolster drew the job. She got underway from Yokosuka, Japan,

bound for Pocklington Reef by way of Guam, where she picked up the

Seventh Fleet Salvage Officer, Commander Thomas N. Blockwick, and,

with foresight, a large load of explosives. Bolster arrived off Pocklington

Reef on 15 May 1962. Only an Australian surveyor, representing the

British owner, and his diver were aboard the stranded ship.

The first 180 of the ship’s 483 feet lay on the ground. The ground

reaction was 2,000 tons, the center of pressure was just forward of

number three hold, and the hull was working heavily. The forepeak and

the double bottom under number one hold were open to the sea. There

was no question of moving the ship in this condition. The most promising solution seemed to be to remove some of the coral under the ship

and even that didn’t look too good. The forward part of the ship was

hard aground, the reef dropped to great depths, and there was deformation of the ship’s structure at the edge of the reef. The tide range

was only one foot on a 24-hour cycle. The water was too deep for beach

gear.

Divers placed explosives in coral caves and began to blow the coral

away from under the ship. The point of action of the ground reaction

moved forward. Some of the original crew returned to the ship and put

her machinery into operation. Bolster hooked up her tow wire. The shots

continued. As the point of action of the ground reaction moved forward

and the ground reaction lessened, Bolster wrenched the hull while Dona

Ouriana backed full. She gradually moved off the reef and followed Bolster

under her own power to Brisbane.

Using explosives to cut away the coral to refloat Dona Ouriana

demonstrated a quality always required in salvage—the ability to select

the tool, technique, and technology that best fits the situation at hand.

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230

The destroyer Monssen lies high and dry on a New Jersey beach.

These pulling arrangements freed Monssen.
Typhoons Karen and Olive

As Typhoon Karen approached Guam in November 1962, senior commanders watched it carefully and prepared to assist the island after the

storm passed. Karen struck Guam with fury. The eye of the storm passed

just 10 miles south of the island. Sustained winds of 150 knots with gusts

to 180 struck the island. Damage was extensive. Eleven wrecks littered

the harbor.

The storm provided the Navy with its most extensive harbor salvage

operation since the end of World War II. The wrecks were primarily service craft, small tugs, and warships being modernized for foreign navies

under military assistance programs. The wrecks were small, but the principles involved in their salvage were the same as for larger ships. Many a

salvor has learned the hard way that small ships can be more difficult

than big ones; they are not so forgiving or tolerant of error.

In addition to retaining the values in the wrecked vessels, there was

another motivation to salvage the wrecks with Navy resources. In the salvage to be done lay an unparalleled opportunity for training, developing

new salvage techniques, and field testing new equipment.

The Pacific Fleet Salvage Officer, Commander Willard F. Searle, Jr.,

recognized this opportunity and made the most of it. Immediately after the

storm, the Ship Repair Facility at Guam had the primary responsibility for

salvage. The assets available there included Lieutenant Commander J.

Huntly Boyd, an Emergency Ship Salvage Material pool, and industrial

capacity. The work could have been done with these assets alone, but to

ensure that it was done as quickly as possible while maximizing training,

Commander Blockwick, the Seventh Fleet Salvage Officer, and the two

Seventh Fleet salvage ships Bolster and Reclaimer were ordered to Guam.

Besides providing the maximum fleet support for the salvage operation, Commander Searle arranged with the Supervisor of Salvage,

Commander Theodore F. Bacheler, for a report and analysis of the operation

to be published and distributed by the Bureau of Ships. Understanding

the importance of politics and semantics in the peacetime Navy,

Commander Searle referred to the operations in Guam as “harbor clearance

operations” whereas they were in fact “harbor salvage” since all the craft

salvaged were intended for return to service. The importance of the term

“harbor clearance” and the value of the implicit tie to the great successes

of World War II, will become obvious as the story of Navy salvage develops.

The first step at Guam, as in any major harbor salvage or clearance,

was to establish a priority for dealing with the wrecks. As noted earlier,

the process is analogous to the medical task of triage. Each casualty must

be analyzed to determine not only how, but when it should be dealt with

and what its importance is relative to other casualties. In Guam those

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wrecks that could be salvaged and used in the subsequent operations were

given priority. Starting with only meager floating resources, the salvors

could, in effect, build their own salvage fleet by reclaiming the most useful wrecks first, as Ellsberg had done at Mesewa.

For this reason first priority went to the floating crane YD–120,

aground, starboard side to, at the end of wharf V. The salvage plan called

for hauling off the wreck with beach gear from the Emergency Ship

Salvage Material pool and the locally based Wandank (ATA 204), which

had returned after evading the typhoon at sea. Because the work ing area

was limited, the beach gear legs were modified for heaving from the crane

pontoon, and Wandank was secured to the wharf across from the grounded crane where she could pull most advantageously with her towing

winch.

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Apra Harbor, Guam, after visits from Typhoon Karen and Typhoon Olive.
The crane floated on the third attempt and went immediately into

service. Before the arrival of the Seventh Fleet salvage ships, two barges,

YSR–11 and YC–1419, were also refloated by Wandank and the Ship

Repair Facility crew using YD–120.

Commander Blockwick arrived in Guam on 15 November, Bolster

three days later, and Reclaimer three days after that. Deliver (ARS 23)

sailed from Pearl Harbor on 20 November laden with additional salvage

and diving equipment. Five divers from units based in Pearl Harbor flew

in on 30 November. When Deliver arrived in Guam on 2 December, the

cast was complete.

Raising the two patrol craft, ROKS Han Ra San (PC 705) and RPS

Negros Oriental (C 26), and the Trust Territories’ dredge John S. Campbell

had first priority. These three wrecks blocked almost half the industrial

waterfront of the Ship Repair Facility. They all were light enough to

make lifting to the surface and dewatering practicable. The alternative

methods of raising by air or cofferdamming and pumping were likely to

be time consuming, dangerous, and impractical because of their depth,

about 35 feet. The plan for all three wrecks called for lifting one end

with YD–120 while lifting the other end with one or more salvage ships.

The arrangement of the wrecks and the geography of the wharves dictated the order of the work: the dredge first, then Negros Oriental, and

finally Han Ra San.

The dredge was light enough to be lifted by the crane and one salvage

ship, but because of the arrangement of the bow rollers on the salvage ship,

the dredge would come up under the salvage ship’s forefoot. To correct this

situation, a set of auxiliary blocks were designed and installed at the

extreme bow on either side of the warping posts. With standard beach gear

rigging, about 100 tons could now be lifted to the surface under the rake of

the bow. Auxiliary rollers were installed on both Bolster and Reclaimer.

The crane and the salvage ships successfully lifted all three vessels. A

variety of gasoline, diesel, electric submersible, and Power-Pack-powered

pumps were used to draw the water out. (Power Packs were diesel engines

to which a variety of driven ends—pumps, compressors, and generators—

could be fitted.) Pumps were located aboard the wreck or alongside on

the pier as appropriate. The dredge returned to service, but the two patrol

craft had suffered too much structural damage for further service; they

became hulks for salvage training.19

19An innovative and unusual salvage operation involving the use of a drydock as a lifting pontoon resulted the first time Han Ra San was used for salvage training. The hulk had been inadvertently sunk in water too deep for conventional salvage. YD–120, then under overhaul, could not be used

for lifting. Some urgency existed because a harbor dredging-and-improvement project included the

area where the hulk rested. The recently activated floating drydock AFDL–21 was positioned over the

wreck in the fully raised position. Lifting slings were rigged, the dock flooded down, the slings tightened, and the wreck lifted some 3 feet. The lift allowed moving the wreck clear of the dredged area.

It was subsequently lifted and removed, as it had been before, by YD–120 and two ARSs.

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Two harbor tugs, YTM–521 and YTM–417, lying together at the

extreme southern end of the harbor presented a tough salvage problem.

YTM–521 lay almost perpendicular to the beach with a 25-degree starboard list. Her bulwark at the forward part of the house lay under the

counter of YTM–417, which lay with her port side on the beach and a

starboard list of just over 18 degrees. YTM–521 had some flooding through

topside openings. Stability and interference with YTM–417 were major

concerns. Prevention of capsizing during refloating required physical re -

straint as the tug was pumped and retracted. The recently salvaged barge

YC–1419, with a crawler crane, generator, and pumps aboard, was brought

in to starboard of the tug, YD–120 was placed on the port quarter, and

Reclaimer was positioned to pull with her main tow wire. With the crane

lifting, the hull was pumped out and the entire nest of craft pulled slowly

off the beach. With the tug safely afloat, the nest was broken up and the

salvaged vessel was moved to a waiting drydock. The second tug was floated by patching her hull and lifting with YD–120 while Deliver pulled.

With the bulk of the salvage work done by mid-December, the salvage

ships departed. The salvors were still telling stories of the aftermath of

Typhoon Karen when Olive, an out-of-season typhoon, struck in April

1963. Less severe than Karen, this storm left five wrecks at Guam, two of

which had already been salvaged after the previous typhoon.

To assist Lieutenant Commander Boyd and the local salvors,

Safeguard was ordered to Guam. These forces salvaged the new wrecks

hand ily. The most interesting job lay nearby in Tanapag, Saipan, where

the Trust Territories’ 182-foot tanker Y–101 had been driven ashore. In

response to a request from the U.S. Department of the Interior, Safeguard

went to Saipan to salvage Y–101 after she had finished work at Guam.

Y–101 lay with her bow on the beach, on a coral bottom between

sunken pontoon barges inboard of the island’s only pier. The salvage plan

called for the following actions:

• Laying beach gear across the pier to pull the grounded tanker

straight astern.

• Removing as much weight as practicable.

• Blasting the coral bottom to make a removal channel.

• Excavating the bottom along the ship’s sides.

• Augmenting the beach gear with a bulldozer fitted with heavy tires

to prevent penetrating the hull.

The first refloating attempt started just after midnight on 15 June. As

the wreck moved 3 inches aft, the towing bitts gave way. The attachment

was made again and a strain taken on the beach gear. While both sets of

beach gear were singing with strain and a bulldozer was pushing at full

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

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throttle, a charge was set off to clear more bottom. Nothing happened.

Then one beach gear wire parted; another followed quickly. This refloating attempt was over. It had been a long and discouraging evening.

For the next attempt a third leg of beach gear was rigged, and 24 previously undiscovered tons of water were removed from the wreck. This

attempt started in the wee hours of the morning of 16 June. The ship

moved, the bulldozer started to push, and an explosive charge was set off.

The tanker moved aft in a series of jerky movements as the beach gear,

working with no catenary, alternately relaxed and picked up strain and

After World War II

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The main deck of patrol craft Han Ra San (PC 705) is about to break the surface, lifted by Bolster, Reclaimer, and the crane YD–120.
the bulldozer backed off and charged into the ship.20 The ship moved

astern until it was afloat. It was turned, secured for sea, and towed to the

Ship Repair Facility at Guam for repair.

Far more resources were used than were necessary to do the harbor

salvage work at Guam. But the principal purpose was not to accomplish

the task with the minimum force. Rather, it was to train as many people

as possible in salvage under the most realistic conditions and to demonstrate the responsiveness and value of the Navy’s salvage forces. This purpose was accomplished. The long-term value of the Guam harbor salvage

was the excellent report that followed the operation. This report not only

discusses the work comprehensively, but also details the reasoning behind

it, analyzes the mistakes made, includes a detailed appendix of salvage

calculations, and spells out the important lessons learned or relearned. It

is the most important legacy of the salvage work that fol lowed the

Typhoons Karen and Olive.21

The Navy’s Salvage Posture

Salvage posture is an intangible but real factor. By the late 1950s

those most able to judge the Navy’s salvage posture began to have concern that it was not as good as it should be and was, in fact, declining.

At the end of World War II the U.S. Navy had trained salvors, new

state-of-the-art salvage ships and tugs, mountains of machinery and

equipment, an organization and doctrine that had evolved in combat, and

commanders who appreciated the value of salvage forces. Although the

demobilization following World War II laid waste the Navy’s salvage

force as it did all the Armed Services, measures had been taken to ensure

that the salvage capability of the Navy did not disappear. Most important

was passage of legislation that gave the Navy’s role in salvage the force of

law, ensuring its existence as a national rather than solely a Navy

resource. Other important decisions included the retention of the most

capable types of salvage ships in the active fleets (ARSs, ATFs, and

ATAs) and the establishment of Emergency Ship Salvage Material pools

ashore throughout the world so that salvage machinery would be husbanded and ready to use where it was likely to be needed. But two serious

mistakes had also been made: (1) No Naval Reserve program had been

formed to keep salvage units together so they could be mobilized quickly 

20The Saipanese bulldozer operator was certain that he was moving the ship alone. After all,

every time he pushed the ship moved. No one had the heart to tell him otherwise. 21 “Harbor Clearance Operations in Guam Following Typhoons Karen and Olive; November

1962–July 1963,” NAVSHIPS 250–638–5 (Washington: Bureau of Ships), 1964.

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

236
and so their hard-gained expertise would not fade, and (2) all salvage billets were eliminated in the office of the Chief of Naval Operations.

In the post-World War II years, Navy salvage forces responded to

some major salvage cases with huge expenditures of resources and

effort—perhaps more than were required to do the job. Problems seemed

to be solved more often by throwing money and resources at them and by

pure doggedness and perseverance rather than by finesse and skillful salvage. A perception began to develop that the Navy’s salvage capability

was less real in the field than its paper strength would indicate. This view

began to appear in the late 1950s in the correspondence of the Pacific

Fleet Salvage Officer, Commander Walter L. (Scotty) Marshall, and his

successor, Commander Frank W. Laessle. It worked its way up through the

chain of command, culminating in a joint letter from the Service Force

Commanders to the Chief of Naval Operations that addressed a number

of problems in the Navy’s salvage posture. A salient feature of the letter

was the recommendation that a billet be established in the Office of the

Chief of Naval Operations with “overall responsibility for maintaining

salvage know-how within the fleet and for formulating and assisting in

the execution of long-range salvage plans.”22

The recommendation was favorably endorsed by the fleet commanders. The billet would have filled a void that had existed since the position

of Chief of Navy Salvage had been eliminated, and would have helped

ensure that salvage was not omitted in budgeting and long-range planning—vital functions in the peacetime military. The Chief of Naval

Operations, however, while supporting a strong salvage capability in the

Navy, felt that ship salvage programs were reasonably focused in his office

and declined to provide this billet.23 Salvage in the Navy would continue

to be in the hands of a few individuals in key billets in the fleets and in

technical bureaus. Progress—or preservation of existing capability—

would depend on their initiative and imagination and the interest and

support of their commanders.

By the early 1960s salvors who had stayed on active duty, especially

those who had been in policy and decision-making positions during the

war, were beginning to complete their service. People who had entered

the service following the war had the advantage of training at the world’s

only school devoted to salvage, but lacked the depth of experience of the

wartime salvors. The difficulty in obtaining and keeping officers qualified

in this unique field of maritime endeavor was recognized in the Service

Force commanders’ joint letter. Fleet commanders and those responsible

22 Joint ltr, COMSERVPAC FF4–15 9940 serial 70.4–9806, 4 November 1959 and COMSERVLANT FF4–16/9940 44: (rhp) serial 40/8912, 19 October 1959. 23Ltr, Chief of Naval Operations serial 102P09B1E, 27 May 1960.

After World War II

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for training made recommendations for innovative solutions to the problem.24 Most of the recommendations would have required policies inconsistent with the larger needs of the Navy, which could not be implemented.

Getting and keeping qualified personnel for salvage was to remain a matter

of concern to senior salvors.

Realizing the importance of engineering in ship salvage, the Bureau

of Ships periodically sent officers from the naval architecture graduate

programs at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and Webb

Institute of Naval Architecture to salvage school. These officers were

subsequently assigned to shipyards in which there was a naval district

salvage officer billet. It was from this pool of officers who showed unusual interest or ability in salvage that much of the post-World War II salvage leadership emerged. These officers with their superb technical

training teamed up with limited duty officers experienced in the art of

salvage to create a powerful team that combined the requisites of both

engineering and seamanship.

Providing experience for salvors on real salvage jobs rather than in

canned exercises under controlled conditions was, as it continues to be, a

major problem. Maximum advantage had to be taken of every opportunity to train on real salvage jobs, yet in the peacetime Navy responding to

opportunities, which came irregularly and did not fit fleet deployment

and operating schedules, was difficult. The disruption caused by assigning

ships to jobs as they came up could be serious and had to be balanced

against the value to be gained by salvage training. The way the balance

was weighted depended on the viewpoint of the people doing the balancing. Fleet commands often were forced by a myriad of considerations to

refuse salvage work, particularly if it might tie up forces for long periods.

Training opportunities were lost and work that might have been done by

fleet units was done by Navy contractors or not at all.

The years following World War II saw an exponentially increasing

technology. For many of these years, however, salvage technology did not

change. Salvage equipment had been purchased in large quantities to

specifications prepared early in World War II. It was essentially 1930s

technology. Because this equipment served its purpose adequately, for a

considerable period there was neither evolutionary development nor

piecemeal replacement of salvage equipment.

24One of the more innovative ideas was to assign Navy salvage officers to commercial salvage

operators for a limited period to see how commercial salvors worked. This assignment would have

been supplemented by an orientation with the Supervisor of Salvage’s admiralty attorney to provide

the salvage officer with a better understanding of the specialized legal environment of salvage and

how the Navy works within it.

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The equipment in the Emergency Ship Salvage Material pools was

husbanded by local commands with competing priorities. The condition

of the equipment became a function of the level of interest of the local

commander and varied widely. Because maintaining such equipment drew

on the command’s resources and seldom made much contribution to its

mission, little attention was generally devoted to it. The result was

inevitable. Equipment failures on jobs and equipment that did not work

at all or was missing critical components were common, spare parts were

difficult to obtain, and repairs were excessively expensive.

Much of the portable equipment purchased during the war was later

fitted with gasoline engines. The rationale for this action suited the times.

There were no suitable lightweight diesel engines, and gasoline was more

likely than diesel fuel to be available for harbor clearance operations.25

Under salvage conditions, however, it is difficult to protect the fuel and

electrical systems of gasoline engines from moisture and to prevent corrosion

of vital components.

Diesel engines were the obvious choice for the next generation of

salvage machinery, and around 1960 the Pacific Fleet got two diesel-powered units for evaluation: a 6-inch pump and a rotary compressor. These

units were kept aboard the salvage ships deployed to the Seventh Fleet

and used whenever practicable. The two pieces of equipment hardly filled

the need for new equipment. More important, they were not part of a

planned and structured modernization program. The equipment put into

the fleet in this manner did little to solve the long-term problem.

A more effective step was taken when Power Pack equipment was

introduced into the Pacific Fleet. The concept was basically good, but

there were some drawbacks, notably the difficulty encountered in aligning the driving and driven ends. Power Packs turned out to be only a

passing curiosity in the conversion of Navy salvage equipment to diesel

power. This conversion process was fairly lengthy; completion had to

wait until the early days of the Vietnam War brought money for improving readiness.

Just as there had been no development in salvage equipment for many

years after World War II, neither had there been any evolutionary development of salvage ships or program of salvage ship replacement. The

existing salvage ships and fleet tugs were fine ships made to extremely

rugged designs, but in 1960 these ships were aging. There were no ships

in the merchant fleet, other than the government-owned ships and the 

25The latter reason had validity, since all U.S. military vehicles during World War II, including

tanks, were driven by gasoline engines.

After World War II

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MV Rescue26 operated by Merritt-Chapman and Scott, and Salvage

Chief, operated by Fred Devine Diving and Salvage, that could be

mobilized as salvage ships. Salvage Chief had been converted from an

LSM to a pulling vessel following World War II. Her salvage station was

at Astoria, Oregon, near the treacherous Columbia River Bar. She had

a number of features that particularly suited her for operation there

and along the West Coast. Salvage Chief remains in operation at this

writing.

No salvage ships or tugs appeared in ship construction programs,

although some designs, notably a new salvage lifting ship, had been carried out. Suggestions for specific alterations to improve the capability of

existing salvage ships originated in the fleets and were integrated into a

modernization program. The alterations addressed a variety of areas that

took advantage of emerging technology and lessons that had been

learned in the commercial salvage community since the end of World

War II. One of the most significant parts of the modernization program

was replacement of the salvage ships’ propulsion engines with Caterpillar

engines to significantly improve reliability and maintenance of the

propulsion system.

Alteration of existing ships did a great deal to improve them and

increase their usefulness, but it was not the total answer for an aging salvage fleet. A new construction program was required. Unfortunately,

such new programs have never enjoyed high priority. Combatant ships

must come first. Although salvage ships are relatively inexpensive, they

are often the victim when the budget axe cuts a predetermined number

of ships from shipbuilding programs. To increase the probability of salvage

ships being retained in the building programs, the characteristics of the

fleet tug and salvage ship were incorporated in a single ship, first called

AST, then ATS. The Bureau of Ships and its successors sought the advice

of the fleets and of experienced salvage officers on the characteristics and

outfitting of the new ships. Eventually, designs for new salvage ships

found their way into building programs.

The correspondence that originated in the Pacific Fleet in the late

1950s and early 1960s brought attention to the specific areas of declining

Navy salvage capability: lack of focused attention within the office of the

Chief of Naval Operations, marginally qualified salvors, obsolete equipment, and aging salvage ships. The problems would require some time to

solve. While solutions were being sought and implemented, a major and

influential operation was conducted in the Pacific.

26Formerly Diver (ARS 5).

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

240
RPS Rajah Soliman—A New Tool

An opportunity to make the Navy’s salvage forces more responsive to

future needs came in June 1964, when Typhoon Winnie battered and

sank the RPS Rajah Soliman (RPS 66)27 at the Bataan National Shipyard

near Mariveles, Philippines. The vessel lay alongside the pier in 24 feet of

water and 8 feet of mud at an angle of about 150 degrees to starboard.

Philippine Navy salvors commenced operations and brought the ship up

about 10 degrees with large makeshift pontoons. What the next step

should be was less obvious. Without doubt, the wreck had to be cleared

because it blocked an important industrial berth. But there was uncertainty about whether the Philippine Navy could complete the salvage and

whether the salvage was worthwhile because of the extensive repairs

required.

The Pacific Fleet Salvage Officer, Commander Eugene B. Mitchell,

immediately saw the salvage training opportunity presented by the

wreck. While Commander Mitchell stirred up interest and support from

the fleet and Service Force commanders, Lieutenant Commander

Huntly Boyd lobbied the Commander Service Squadron Three and

Commander Seventh Fleet. To get the U.S. Navy involved, they reminded the Philippine Navy that the terms of the Military Assistance

Program required the ship to be returned to the United States when the

need for it had expired.28 The Philippine Navy needed little prompting

to tell the U.S. Navy to “come get your ship.” It was agreed that after salvage the Navy would sell the hulk for scrap to finance the salvage and

obviate the argument that the salvage would require a large unbudgeted

expenditure. However, the sale-for-scrap requirement complicated the

salvage operation. The simplest method of salvage would have been to

invert the ship, float it with air, and tow it to sea for sinking. But because

the ship was to be scrapped, it had to be floated right side up.

The relative complexity of the operation opened another door for the

Navy. After being relieved by Commander Mitchell, Commander Searle

had become the Supervisor of Salvage. Well aware of the necessity for a

salvage force buildup for Vietnam, he had begun to lay the groundwork

while still in the Pacific. Now in Washington, he was in a position to build

on the foundations he had laid.

Searle and Mitchell both saw the need for a unit of highly qualified

salvors that could keep open the rivers of Vietnam. The key was proper

equipment. The tidal range in Vietnam’s river deltas makes craft that use 

27Originally Bowers (DE 637), reclassified later as APD 40. 28The purpose of these terms was to prevent the transfer of the former U.S. Navy warship to a

third nation.

After World War II

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tidal lift very attractive. There were no such craft in the Navy’s inventory.

The salvage lifting ships came the closest, but they were in poor condition,

had all but disappeared from the Pacific Fleet, and were scheduled to be

retired from the Atlantic. New lifting ships were not in the cards. There

were, however, two 750-ton lift craft of World War II construction kept

by the Royal Navy in Singapore. If these ships could be shown to be useful lift salvage tools, the groundwork would be laid for leasing the craft to

the U.S. Navy. Arguing that they were needed for the Rajah Solimari

salvage was stretching the point. Strictly speaking, the craft were not

necessary; the ship could have been raised without them, but a longerterm need was at stake.

Commander Mitchell, Lieutenant Commander Boyd, and Chief

Warrant Officer W.D. Thomas from Ship Repair Facility, Subic, went to

Singapore to inspect the lift craft. The officers deemed the craft suitable

and negotiations began. The final agreement called for the services of a

salvage officer, lift master, and salvage engineer familiar with these craft.

The Philippines released Rajah Soliman on 9 December 1964.29

Shortly afterward preparations for the salvage began. Two salvage ships,

Bolster and Grasp, headed for the scene; Takelma (ATF 113) sailed for

Singapore to pick up the lift craft; a 100-ton floating crane, YD–127,

came in from Sangley Point, Philippines.

Work began on 16 January 1965. The first step of the salvage operation called for Rajah Soliman to be parbuckled into an upright position.

For the first parbuckling attempt, made before the arrival of the lift craft,

the two salvage ships each laid two legs of beach gear and led their tow

wires to parbuckling chains that encircled the wreck. The YD–127 was

positioned at the bow and a 60-ton shore crane at the stern. Wires to

prevent sliding and uncontrolled rolling were rigged ashore. To achieve

maximum buoyancy and increase the rolling moment, air was blown into

the hull, beginning at 4 a.m. on 26 January. The ships began to pull, the

cranes lifted, the wreck rolled. By midafternoon the beach gear anchors

were dragging in the soft volcanic sand of the bottom, and the rolling

stopped. Wires were slacked. Rajah Soliman had rolled 35 degrees but

settled back to near her original position. With parbuckling in progress,

Takelma steamed into the harbor with the leased lift craft.

29Upon his arrival at Manila International Airport to take charge of the operation, Lieutenant

Commander Boyd was met on the tarmac by a delegation of Filipino naval officers who asked him to

sign a document accepting return of the ship from the Philippines and assuming responsibility.

Commander Boyd asked in whose name he was accepting the ship. “In the name of the United

States,” he was told. He took the document and spelled aloud as he signed it; “L-Y-N-D-O-N B. J-O

H-N-S-O-N.” The Filipinos were apoplectic until they looked at the papers and saw that Boyd had

signed his own name.

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

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After World War II

243

It’s a dirty job! A salvor with a fire hose washes mud out of the Rajah Soliman

to lighten the ship.

Bolster, assisted by a harbor tug, prepares to tow the hulk of Rajah Soliman out of Mariveles

after the destroyer escort was refloated.
For the second parbuckling attempt two anchors were put into each

leg of beach gear and washed into the bottom or blown into it with explosives. One lift craft was rigged with beach gear between the two salvage

ships. The other was placed at the stern in position to make a bow lift,

augmented by the 60-ton shore crane. The YD–127 lifted the bow.

On 29 January air was cut in to the wreck and all slack taken up. The

lift craft at the stern could not be used because the deck edge did not

clear the bottom of the lift craft. The lift wire on the 60-ton crane parted. The lift craft picked up the load, but as the load plumbed, the stern

slid under the bow of the lift craft. Grasp’s anchors dragged. The attempt

ended.

The third attempt kept the ships and craft in the same position,

except that the lift craft at the stern was rerigged to allow it to lift and

stay clear. Rajah Soliman rolled and the bow moved to seaward. Grasp’s

anchors dragged again; her engines were going full ahead for maximum

pull. The bow lift craft’s wire parted on the deck edge. The attempt

stopped.

For the fourth attempt, one lift craft lifted at each end of the Rajah

Soliman, and the YD–127 lifted from outboard amidships. This attempt

failed only because the chain on the bow lifting parted. The lift was

rerigged. Salvors’ spirits were high because all were convinced that only

an old crack in the chain had prevented the wreck from being righted. All

other gear had held. The salvors were right; with much creaking and

groaning the wreck rolled upright. The salvage ships slipped their beach

gear and moored alongside the pier.

A combination of belly-lifting with two lift craft, cofferdamming, and

pumping had brought the wreck to the surface. Cofferdams fabricated

from 55-gallon drums were fitted throughout the ship. The YD–127 provided lateral control by lifting the stern.

The belly lift with heavy lift craft was new to the U.S. Navy. The

process goes as follows:

• One craft, with her ballast tanks empty, is located along each side

of the wreck.

• A wire rope, in this case of 9-inch circumference,30 is passed down

the inboard side of the first lift craft, under the wreck and the second lift

craft, and up the outboard side of the second lift craft. A second wire is 

30U.S. practice is to designate wire-rope size by the diameter of the rope, but European wire

rope is designated by circumference. The wire rope provided with the lift craft was of European origin and, therefore, correctly designated as 9-inch. In U.S. Navy practice, it quickly became known

as 3 -inch wire.

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

244
passed alongside the first the opposite way, starting down the inboard side

of the second craft.

• The lift craft are ballasted down.

• The slack is hauled out of the wires and they are clamped together

with a Bullivant clamp filled with unlaid manila line to absorb grease and

prevent slippage.

• The craft are deballasted. The buoyancy of the craft and the rising

tide lift the wreck.

After the lifting and pumping operation brought Rajah Soliman afloat,

she was taken alongside the pier for discharge of ammunition, removal of

silt, and preparation for tow. When ready, she left for Subic Bay and

disposal.

Not only had Rajah Soliman been successfully salvaged, but all the

objectives of the salvage operation had been accomplished. Probably the

most important was the demonstration of the usefulness of specialized lift

craft in clearance operations. The value of these craft as salvage tools

would be proved on other kinds of jobs in the not-too-distant future. The

U.S. Navy’s involvement in Vietnam was growing. The instincts of those

who were planning the expansion of the Navy’s salvage capabilities

turned out to be dead on target.

After World War II

245

The Early Days

1

MEKONG DELTA
MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

2
CHAPTER SEVEN

The Vietnam Era

For Navy salvors the Vietnam era from 1965 to 1973 was a time of

intense activity and great change. Unlike the Korean War mobilization, salvage ships and tugs were not commissioned for the war in

Vietnam and reserves were not called up. Indeed, Naval Reserve salvage

units had never been formed, and most World War II salvors and many

Korean War salvors had completed their service. Salvage ships and tugs

were all at least twenty years old; most had seen hard service.

The combat in Vietnam required a considerable amount of direct salvage support both offshore and in that country’s harbors, rivers, and

canals. Logistic support required operating close to shore, landing

through the surf, and steaming through the reefs of the South China Sea.

The increased shipping meant more casualties than normal throughout

the Pacific, especially since many older ships, subject to frequent breakdown, had been mobilized from the National Defense Reserve Fleet.

Operations within Vietnam were subject to casualties from direct combat

and from sabotage and sapper operations. Responsibility for the salvage

work fell primarily upon the Pacific Fleet.

On 1 May 1964 USNS Card (T-AKV 40)1 arrived in Saigon with a

load of helicopters and other materials and berthed in the commercial

port district. All cargo had been discharged and some helicopters scheduled for return to the United States had been loaded when, in the early

morning of 2 May, explosions on the starboard side rocked the ship. She

began to take water, and power failed throughout the vessel. An immediate response by the ship’s force and local military and civilian agencies

stopped the progressive flooding and stabilized the ship. Further assis -

tance from a number of sources came rapidly:

• Commander U.S. Naval Forces, Philippines, dispatched his salvage

1Originally Card (CVE 11), a conversion from a C3–S–A 1 merchant ship hull.

The Vietnam Era

247
officer, Lieutenant W.H. Smith2 and four divers to Saigon.

• The Seventh Fleet Salvage Officer, Lieutenant Commander

Huntly Boyd, got underway from Sasebo, Japan, for Saigon.

• Commander Military Sealift Command sent his Salvage Officer,

Commander R.E. Wurlitzer, and John Giberman, a naval architect, to the

scene.

• Reclaimer, bound for Subic Bay, Philippines, from Hong Kong,

changed course and headed to Saigon at her best speed.

• Captain Scotty Marshall, a former Pacific Fleet Salvage Officer and

Supervisor of Salvage, now commanding officer of the Ship Repair

Facility, Guam, was ordered in.

• Tawakoni (ATF 114) in Subic Bay was placed on standby, then

ordered to get underway for Saigon.

• Equipment from the Emergency Ship Salvage Material pool in

Subic was air shipped to Saigon.

Lieutenant Smith’s divers, the first on the scene, found a rupture in

Card’s hull 12 feet long and 3 feet high amidships on the starboard side.

After thorough examination of the damage, orders were placed with the

Vietnamese Naval Shipyard in Saigon for fabrication of a large cofferdam.

Diving conditions in the Saigon River are terrible. There is no visibility and the current limits diving to brief periods of slack water. These

poor conditions prevented inspecting the damage from outside the ship;

dislodged storage bins and shelves blocked access from inside. Diving

conditions had made accurate surveys and measurement for the cofferdam

difficult, and so on first fitting it did not cover a previously undiscovered

dished section of the hull. The cofferdam was sent back to the shipyard

for modification.

Initially, Card’s stability was thought to be critical. A complete analysis showed that no stability problem existed and that pumping could begin

without undue concern. The obvious plan was to pump the ship as quickly as possible and get her out of Vietnam.

Reinstallation of the modified cofferdam was completed about noon

on 7 May. Divers located additional indented plating that complicated

making the cofferdam watertight. To expedite the operation, pumping

began in the after end of the ship with leaks stopped as they were located.

2Lieutenant Smith, a capable salvor known to his shipmates as “Horrible,” was one of many larger-than-life men who have blessed Navy salvage. “Horrible” Smith stories have become legends.

Folklore says that the name originated when Smith was a young sailor. He was said to fill his tray to

overflowing in the mess line, wolf his food down, then throw his utensils onto his empty tray and

declare in stentorian tones, “Horrible, horrible, just . . . horrible!”

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Considerable progress was made. Free surface caused the list to increase

to as much as 7 degrees, but pumping out pockets of loose water reduced

it. The two 10-inch gasoline-driven pumps in way of the cofferdam failed

from vapor lock despite efforts to cool them with portable blowers and

fans. Both the gasoline-driven 10-inch pumps and 6-inch electrical submersible pumps were failing in the miserable working conditions. More

pumps were flown in; more pumps failed.

Installation of a heavy J-bolt between the cofferdam and hull succeeded in holding the cofferdam tightly enough to reduce flooding significantly. As the internal water level dropped, the pressure differential

caused the cofferdam to seal more tightly, and pumping became more

effective. With the interior of the ship reasonably dry, preparations for the

ocean tow were made by strengthening the damaged area and placing

concrete in way of hull ruptures.

Pumping was now easily able to control the remaining leakage. Six 6-

inch submersible pumps, enough to provide a large margin of capacity,

were put on board for this purpose. The priority was to get the ship out

of Vietnam rather than to seal every leak. Discharging locked-in ballast

and oil from the aft-bunker, tanks lightened the ship for the tow down

the Saigon River. Arrangements were made for a riding crew of salvors

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Water pours over the side as 6-inch submersible pumps discharge from USNS Card in

Saigon.
and a load of generators and other emergency equipment to be put on

board.

On 20 May, Card, towed by Tawakoni with Reclaimer as a drogue,

started down the twisting, shallow Saigon River. On one right-angle bend

Card ran aground, fortunately on a rising tide. The tugs had her underway again in less than two hours. Increased leakage as the hull worked in

the seaway and continuing failure of the pumps marked the tow from

Vung Tau to Subic. Pumps failed on an average of one per day, the last

failing just six hours before Card entered Subic Bay.

The salvage of the USNS Card, a major patching and pumping job,

had been successfully completed, but the operation raised two red flags

for salvors. The first was the miserable performance of pumps from the

salvage ships and from the Emergency Ship Salvage Material pools. The

pumps were hard to get running, harder still to keep running. If the salvage capability of the Navy was to be maintained, both the gasoline-driven pumps and the 6-inch electric submersible pumps would have to be

replaced. Conversion of the Navy’s salvage machinery to diesel drive was

clearly indicated, and Card provided the impetus to get it going. The poor

performance of the electric pumps was unexpected. A depot rehabilitation for these pumps was started and a search begun for better

machines.

The second red flag raised by the Card involved strategic thinking

about the Vietnam War. U.S. strategists believed that the Vietcong would

not attempt to block approaches to Saigon and its port facilities because

most of their own supplies also arrived through this port. The attack on

Card showed this thinking to be fallacious. Saigon and its approaches in

the Saigon River were vulnerable. The Navy’s salvage organization had

responded effectively, but if Saigon was to be kept open there would have

to be an organization capable of immediate response with appropriate

clearance equipment. Senior salvors set to work on the problem.

Pacific Fleet Salvage Posture

The heavy salvage requirements in the Pacific affected the Navy as a

whole. Salvage in support of combat operations placed formidable

demands on personnel and equipment resources. The Atlantic Fleet,

although faced with its normal salvage demands, necessarily had lower

priority; its resources were stretched to the limit. Because of the salvage

workload in the fleet and an aggressive attitude on the part of the

Supervisor of Salvage toward fulfilling the Navy’s reponsibilities under

the Salvage Act, contractor salvage became more significant during the

Vietnam era. Work that could have been accomplished by fleet units in

peacetime passed to Navy salvage contractors.

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Eight salvage ships (ARS) and eighteen fleet tugs (ATF)—all ships of

World War II construction—formed the primary Pacific Fleet salvage

resources. Several auxiliary tugs (ATA) with very limited salvage capability were also in commission. The salvage ships had been modified considerably since their World War II days. Highly reliable Caterpillar diesel

engines had been added, and the ships now carried eight legs of beach

gear. The new diesel-powered, Power Pack salvage machinery had begun

replacing the World War II vintage, gasoline-driven machinery. The

ships’ diving capability had been upgraded and each ship carried a complement of eighteen divers. Mustangs—officers who had come up

through the ranks—commanded about half the ships; hard-charging

young officers, well qualified for their jobs, commanded the remainder.

Officers and crew had a high level of experience and equally high levels

of training and enthusiasm for their work.

Stockpiles of equipment in Emergency Ship Salvage Material pools

and bases directly supported the salvage ships. Five pools, each containing the equivalent of two ships’ allowance of salvage equipment, and

seven smaller bases were located throughout the Pacific. Submarine salvage equipment was positioned in Pearl Harbor and San Diego. The

Supervisor of Salvage in the Bureau of Ships controlled the Emergency

Ship Salvage Material system.

The Supervisor of Salvage had contracts with Merritt-Chapman and

Scott and Luzon Stevedoring. The former operated Gear from her home

port in San Pedro; the latter operated a fleet of tugs from its Manila base.

The fleet had asked the Supervisor of Salvage to explore the possibility of

obtaining additional agreements with commercial salvors to back up the

fleet.

The equipment problem had not been totally solved, but a number of

efforts were in the works to get better salvage equipment into the hands

of the men who needed it.

• Diesel-driven machinery was being ordered to replace both the

Power Pack machinery, which had proved less than totally successful, and

the elderly gasoline machinery.

• The useful and reliable high-capacity, high-head, 6-inch electric

submersible pumps were being completely refurbished by their manufacturer.

• A 4-inch electric submersible pump with the same capacity as the

6-inch was being evaluated.

• Divers’ tools, workboats, and communications equipment were

being improved and delivered to fleet salvage units.

• The design of the first new class of salvage ships since World War II

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252

Location of the Frank Knox grounding.
was well advanced. These ships, the Edenton (ATS 1) class, would be

built in the fiscal year 1966 and 1967 shipbuilding programs.3

The Supervisor of Salvage was now Commander Willard Searle, Jr. As

Pacific Fleet Salvage Officer he had become familiar with the situation in

the area and had been deeply involved in salvage planning for the coming hostilities. Searle had been relieved in the Pacific by Commander

Eugene B. Mitchell. He and Mitchell made a powerful team. Both men

were capable officers with global viewpoints. They differed markedly in

their styles of operation, but both styles worked well. Just as Rear Admiral

Sullivan, when a commander, had foreseen and made preparations for salvage in World War II, these two commanders anticipated the salvage

needs in Vietnam and took action to meet them.

One important capability was missing from the Pacific salvage fleet.

There was no mobile salvage unit that could provide rapid salvage assistance in the rivers, harbors, and canals of Vietnam. Mitchell and Searle

worked together to solve this problem. A new unit would be formed and

specially outfitted for this purpose. Formulating the requirement and

obtaining authorization for such a unit would demand close coordination

and skillful maneuvering both in Pearl Harbor and in Washington. But its

formation and operating method turned out to be the most significant salvage event in the U.S. Navy since World War II.

Knox on the Rocks

While planning and preparation for salvage in and around Vietnam

dominated the thinking of senior Navy salvors during 1965, a major warship casualty that summer demanded their immediate attention and

hands-on experience. At 2:35 a.m. on 18 July 1965, Frank Knox (DDR

742) steaming at 16 knots in the South China Sea grounded on Pratas

Reef. Within an hour and a half Grapple, Munsee, and Cocopa changed

course for Knox, and the Seventh Fleet Salvage Officer, Lieutenant Commander J. Huntly Boyd, left Sasebo, Japan, for Pratas Reef. An immediate

survey by Nationalist Chinese Underwater Demolition Team (UDT)

divers showed the ship to be aground for about half her length, with some

hull and propeller damage. The situation was serious and could easily

3The three ships of this class would be too late for the war in Vietnam. Edenton, the class leader,

was commissioned 23 January 1971 and assigned to the Atlantic Fleet. Beaufort (ATS 2) and

Brunswick (ATS 3) were commissioned in January and December 1972, respectively, and assigned to

the Pacific. All three were built by Brooke Marine, Lowestoft, England. ATS 4 and ATS 5 were

authorized for the fiscal year 1972 and 1973 shipbuilding programs. Their construction was deferred

in 1973, then canceled. ATS originally indicated “salvage tug”; on 16 February 1971, just after the

commissioning of the first ship, the designation was changed to “salvage and rescue ship.”

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worsen. The ship lay hard aground in an exposed position in typhoon season. Operations would be hampered by a strong lateral current and poor

holding ground at the reef. Because of the ship’s location, politics also

entered the picture. The vessel was near the coast of the People’s

Republic of China, with whom the United States did not enjoy good

relations. Leaving a warship hulk in this position was less than desirable.

Taking weight off, getting beach gear out, and pulling were the most

urgent needs. The first task was to rig a beach gear leg aboard Frank Knox

to prevent broaching. Then one of the Army barges that Grapple had had

in tow when ordered to the scene was put alongside to receive ammunition from the stranded destroyer. Grapple prepared to lay and pull two legs

of beach gear; Munsee would lay one leg if she had time, otherwise she

would simply pull with her engines. Frank Knox pumped fuel aft to lighten the ship forward.

Munsee’s crew rigged the hauling part of one leg of beach gear on

board Knox. Grapple laid the ground leg for this set, but had difficulty

with her own gear. When the tide was right for the pull at midday on 20

July, only the leg to Knox and one leg to Grapple were ready. The pull was

made anyway, though it was nowhere near the 168 tons required. After

three hours Knox had moved about 12 feet. Success seemed close. More

beach gear would be ready for another refloating try at high water the following day. What happened next illustrates how critical time is in stranding salvage and how quickly a situation can deteriorate.

Typhoon Gilda, still well to the south, had been a concern on the first

day of the operation, but was reported to have dissipated in passing over

the island of Luzon. Gilda was stubborn and regenerated as she cleared

land and moved into the South China Sea. Just after the first pulling

effort, the winds, which had been westerly all day, shifted to southeast. As

winds and seas built rapidly, Frank Knox took a beating. She began to roll

and work; her head swung to starboard. Grapple hauled her beach gear

and went ahead full to prevent the destroyer from broaching, but the

beach gear anchor dragged. The weather continued to build. Grapple

slipped her beach gear and cleared the area. It looked as though Frank

Knox would have to be abandoned, but high seas made boating impossible. Commander Seventh Fleet ordered the carrier Midway (CVA 41)

and an amphibious task force that included Iwo Jima (LPH 2) to the scene

so that helicopters could assist with the abandonment.

By midnight the worst of the storm had passed. Knox would not have

to be abandoned, but a simple stranding had turned into a major salvage

operation in a few hours. The destroyer had moved laterally about 75 feet

and was entrenched in the coral with the forward machinery spaces now

flooded.

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The basic salvage plan now called for increasing the pulling force and

dewatering the flooded machinery spaces. Two salvage ships, each pulling

two legs of beach gear, would be positioned astern of the destroyer with a

fleet tug between them. Conserver (ARS 39), Sioux (ATF 75), and Greenlet

(ASR 10) were ordered to the scene to provide maximum power for the

high tides of 29 and 30 July, Additional 6-inch salvage pumps were flown

in from the Emergency Ship Material base at Subic Bay. Captain Scotty

Marshall, Captain William A. Walker, Commander Service Squadron Five,

the home unit for the salvage ships, and Lieutenant Commander Charles

K. (Boom-Boom) Nayler, commanding officer of Explosive Ordnance

Disposal Unit One and an expert in explosives, were ordered to the scene.

While beach gear was being laid and the salvage ships were getting into

harness, other ships with various capabilities arrived and departed.

Frank Knox continued to work up on her strand and to develop

numerous leaks in the bottom. Patching attempts led only to frustration.

Fuel oil tanks were sealed off and prepared for blowing. Pumps and compressors were brought on board. In the early morning hours of 25 July,

another retraction attempt was made. Blowing of fuel tanks started late.

The ancient, gasoline-driven 10-inch pumps gave the salvors fits.

Conserver’s beach gear dragged. Frank Knox gave one shudder but did not

move; the attempt was terminated.

Typhoon Harriet was approaching and seemed likely to pass close

aboard within twenty-four hours. Orders were received to remove all

hands from Knox and evade the typhoon if the destroyer was not refloated

on 26 July. More pumps were brought aboard, tank and compartment

blowing systems and procedures reviewed and improved, patching efforts

continued, and more beach gear laid for Cocopa to pull from directly

astern of Frank Knox.

The pull was made on rising seas. First Grapple’s tow wire, then Cocopa’s

towing winch failed. With Conserver heaving and Frank Knox backing

hard, the destroyer was swinging, but in the wrong direction; she was

starting to broach. The pull terminated. The ship had moved about 30

feet but remained hard aground.

Although the wind and seas were building, the barometer held steady.

Permission was received to stay with the ship. The salvors and destroyer

crew had a rough ride, but held on until the storm had passed.

The summer looked endless for the salvors on Pratas Reef. Frank Knox

clung hard to the reef. Only a series of pulls, each moving her a little,

seemed likely to get her off. The damage in the machinery spaces was

such that nothing but a long, slow program of sealing the leaks with

cement from the inside seemed likely to work. The South China Sea in

typhoon season is not a place where such a long-drawn-out salvage operation has a high probability of success.

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Salvors, however are a bullheaded lot. There was no thought of quitting. More beach gear had been requested from the Emergency Ship

Salvage Material pool in Subic Bay. A pulling plan was laid out to maximize the pull. Most legs of beach gear would have two anchors. Plans

were made to dewater the engine room with air, although a very real possibility existed that the structure could not tolerate the air pressure.4

Collision mats were fabricated for hogging under the midships section.

Chief Warrant Officer W.D. Thomas, salvage officer for Commander

Naval Forces Philippines, arrived, bringing with him Chief Petty Officers

R.M. McKenzie, R.J. Smeller, and T.J. (Doc) Bennett.5

Back in Washington, steps were being taken to try some new technology in this difficult salvage job. In 1964 Murphy-Pacific Corporation

of Emeryville, California, had raised the barge Lumberjack in Humboldt

Bay with cast-in-place polyurethane foam. The low-density, solid foam,

formed with a mixing gun, displaced the water in a compartment and

restored much of its buoyancy. The Supervisor of Salvage had become

interested in the material and was sponsoring its development for deep

depths. The foam might be the answer to the problem of the flooded

machinery spaces on Knox. Preparations were made to bring foam chemicals, equipment, and technicians to Pratas Reef.

The next pulling attempt was made on 31 July. Knox had been

aground for two weeks. Grapple, Conserver, and Sioux and Greenlet in tandem with Cocopa pulled with engines. Beach gear anchors dragged. Knox

swung to port and moved 6 feet astern. Another attempt on 2 August had

similar results. Again, beach gear anchors dragged; the destroyer moved

4 feet. The salvors began to suspect the ship was impaled on the coral

bottom. Another new salvage plan was developed. The majority of the

beach gear would be rerigged to be pulled directly from Frank Knox. The

damage to the hull had become so severe by this time that there was a

danger of it breaking in half. Steel was brought aboard to reinforce the

hull; helicopters lowered welding machines; stiffeners were welded to the

main deck.

The foaming materials and technicians arrived on 3 August, and the

first foam was produced on 6 August. There was not enough material for

the forward machinery spaces and all the other spaces that needed it;

more was ordered. Foam went into the forward machinery spaces and

into tankage and compartments forward; it drove out the water and

4Air pressure to exceed the hydrostatic head and drive the floodwater out of the bottom of the

ship would also exceed the design limits of the destroyer’s main deck structure and bulkheads.

However, the question became academic when salvors were unable to seal the engine room tightly

enough to contain more than 1

⁄4 psi of air pressure. 5After retirement Chief Warrant Officer Thomas and Chief Petty Officer McKenzie joined a

major American salvage company. McKenzie was killed during a salvage operation on the California

coast in 1982.

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The Vietnam Era

257

This pulling arrangement freed the Frank Knox.
restored buoyancy. The foam also made a contribution to the residual

strength of the ship’s hull girder.

Explosive charges set in holes drilled in the coral had some success in

shattering coral and reducing the effect of the ground on the ship.

Unfortunately, hose charges6 laid in a trench to break down the coral

trench wall did an unfortunate amount of damage to the ship. Additional

foaming was necessary.

With the sea bottom broken by explosives, foam in the ship, six sets

of beach gear ready, and as much weight as practical removed, another

attempt to refloat the destroyer was made on 11 August. It was the same

old story; Frank Knox moved 6 feet but remained hard aground. Efforts

the following two days—Grapple pulling, Mars (AFS 1) making waves,

and hose charges set off 15 feet from the hull—had no success at all.

More foam went in; beach gear was fine tuned; more weight came off;

more charges were shot. But more storms threatened. On 22 August the

time was ripe again; the ship moved another 8 feet aft. Pontoons were

rigged forward and Cogswell (DD 651) came in to make waves as Mahan

had done when Omaha was aground twenty-eight years before. Divers cut

away structure that dragged in the bottom, and compartments aft were

ballasted. The final pull started at 2:30 a.m. on 24 August. Every time one

of Cogswell’s waves hit Frank Knox she moved aft; she was ready to come

off. She floated before breakfast.

Frank Knox and Grapple slipped out of their beach gear and Grapple

towed the destroyer clear. While Conserver made up to tow Frank Knox to

Kaohsiung, Taiwan,7 Grapple and Sioux started picking up beach gear.

The 40-day, offshore salvage job in a remote, stormy area had coupled

the latest in salvage technology with the most basic techniques. Many

things had been tried; some worked, some didn’t. Although the ship had

been saved and would ultimately be returned to service, damage incurred

during the salvage had been extensive. Much had been learned; much

remained to be learned.8 The effort gave Navy salvors a lot to think about.

The Floodgates Open

Constant salvage work began in Vietnam in the summer of 1965 and

continued for several years. Initially, there was no change in the Pacific 

6The hose charges used were 25-foot, flexible line charges filled with 50 pounds of high explosives.

7Frank Knox went to the Chinese Navy’s Fourth Naval Shipyard for emergency repairs. Munsee

then towed her to Ship Repair Facility, Yokosuka, where, after a thorough survey, she was repaired

and returned to service in the fall of 1966. 8A practice first followed in World War II was resurrected in the Frank Knox salvage. At the

instigation of the Supervisor of Salvage, five newly trained salvage officers were ordered to the scene

for training on a real salvage job. The results were excellent. The officers made a real contribution

to the work and learned a lot. The practice has become standard for major salvage operations.

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Fleet salvage organization and operational approach. Salvage operations

in Vietnam were handled on much the same basis as peacetime operations

without special organizations or deployments.

The first operation following Frank Knox involved no salvage forces

but was accomplished by Krishna (ARL 38) and USCGC Point Young

(WPB 82303). The crews of these ships patched and raised two Viet Cong

junks off An Thoi in September 1965. Salvage forces came into the picture in November, when Terrell County (LST 1157) broached at Tuy Hoa.

Molala laid one leg of beach gear and, pulling in tandem with Mahopac

(ATA 196), hauled the LST off the beach. After this the work started

coming fast.

• Hitchiti pulled LCU–1494 from a beach near Danang and salvaged

a Marine Corps LVT at Phu Thuin December 1965.

• On the same day that Hitchiti salvaged the LVT, Safeguard got the

task of recovering special equipment from a crashed reconnaissance aircraft off the coast.

• Reclaimer, Bolster, and a contingent from the newly formed Harbor

Clearance Unit One refloated Sea Raven, a Panamanian-registry T–1

tanker, at Chu Lai.

• Less than a month later, also at Chu Lai, Hitchiti towed Summit

County (LST 1146) off the beach after patching her and pumping out the

engine room. Bolster then took the LST to Sasebo.

• Ankara, facing heavy surf on a lee shore, refloated YFRN–412 just

north of the mouth of the Perfume River.

• Current salvaged a broached LCM–8 at Qui Nhon.

• Greenlet recovered the bodies, personal effects, and weapons from

an AC–141 aircraft that crashed off Camrahn Bay.

• When the British tanker Amastra was mined at Nha Trang, Current,

Greenlet, and Commander John B. Orem, the Seventh Fleet Salvage

Officer, were ordered to the scene. They patched her for tow by a commercial tug.

• Hitchiti picked up the mined Coconino County (LST 603) inside the

mouth of the Cua Viet River and delivered her to Danang.

• Abnaki, assisted by the dredge Davidson, refloated the grounded

transport Geiger (T-AP 197) at Danang.

The Paracel Islands lie almost astride the great circle route between

Danang and Subic Bay. These low-lying coral islands and reefs are almost

awash at high water and nearly invisible to radar at all times. During the

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Vietnam War, they became the site of regular groundings. The first job

presented itself when the U.S. Department of Commerce-owned ship

Excellency grounded on Triton Island in April 1966. Lieutenant

Commander Boyd and Chief Warrant Officer Thomas discharged hundreds of tons of ammunition, then used Bolster, Reclaimer, Ute, Coucal,

and six sets of beach gear to refloat her.

Two years later Minot Victory grounded on North Reef and was

refloated by Current, Mahopac, Mataco, Tawakoni, and Hitchiti under the

direction of Lieutenant Commander James J. Goodwin. Goodwin came

back to Triton Island in September 1969 when Norwich Victory grounded

there. Under his direction, Conserver, Grasp, Grapple, Chowanoc, and a

number of barges and small tugs successfully salvaged the ship. Falcon

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Location of Triton Island.
Lady later fell victim to Triton Island and was refloated by Lieutenant

Commander Billy B. Savage in Reclaimer. When American participation

in the Vietnam War was over and major pieces of equipment were being

returned to the United States, USNS Sgt. Jack J. Pendelton (T-AK 276)

became the last ship to run aground on Triton Island. After a valiant try

at refloating, described later in this chapter, and a series of typhoons that

moved Pendelton across the reef and into the lagoon, she was abandoned.

Triton Island is no longer invisible to radar.

Salvage ships were in great demand during the Vietnam War because

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Pulling arrangements on Minot Victory.
of their varied capabilities. Repair of the single-point moorings for the

transfer of petroleum products became a common task for salvage ships

throughout the western Pacific. These moorings, then in the relatively

early stages of operational service, proved invaluable in moving petroleum products ashore from tankers to storage facilities. The heavily used

moorings were exposed to the ravages of the open-sea locations where the

weather could be particularly foul. The buoy serving the Chang Chung

Quang Air Base9 in Taiwan had a nasty habit of sinking just before a

tanker arrived. Before design faults could be corrected and the mooring

made more reliable, the buoy had become known to the salvors who

repeatedly refloated it as “The Beast of the Taiwan Straits.” Salvage ships

kept this and other buoys afloat and working.

The same salvage ships that had been assigned to flycatcher interdiction operations in Korea also had important nonsalvage tasks off the coast

of Vietnam. Soviet intelligence collection ships stationed close to carrier

task force operations attempted to disrupt flight operations and cause the

carrier to maneuver radically. When not assigned to salvage work, tugs

and salvage ships would act as blocking ships. In this role a salvage vessel

interposed itself between the Soviet ship and the carrier in such a way as

to become the “privileged ship” under the International Rules of the Road

and to cause the Soviet ship to maneuver clear. These operations

required the same cool nerve and high-quality seamanship as salvage

operations.

Harbor Clearance Unit One

Following a series of closely coordinated recommendations and a

great deal of behind-the-scenes maneuvering, the Secretary of the Navy

authorized the establishment of a harbor clearance unit capable of

clearing any waterway or port in Vietnam. Part of the work leading to

this authorization had involved getting widespread recognition for the

term “harbor clearance” and establishing the need for a highly mobile

unit to do the work. The careful groundwork included using the term

“harbor clearance” to describe the harbor salvage work in Guam following Typhoon Karen and the British lift craft effort to salvage the Rajah

Soliman. The term intentionally harkened back to the harbor clearance

units of World War II and the spectacularly successful work they did.

Although the new unit had little in common with its namesakes, its

establishment was aided by pointing out that the new unit would be a

direct heir of the old ones. In reality, the new unit and its operational

concept represented an elemental change in Navy salvage. The new con9This base was important to the Vietnam War because Air Force KC–135 tankers flew from here

to support B–52 bombing raids.

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

262
cept, which matured over the next several years, called for committing a

small and mobile team of well-qualified salvage specialists to a job rather

than relying on salvage ships.

Harbor Clearance Unit One, or HCU-One, was established at Subic

Bay on 1 February 1966 with a hand-picked cadre of five officers and

sixty-five enlisted men. Homeporting the unit in Subic Bay allowed it to

operate not only in Vietnam but throughout the Pacific. In addition,

deployed units in Vietnam on temporary duty did not count as part of the

total number of military personnel assigned there. This shell game with

numbers later proved helpful in circumventing manning restrictions for

the unit.

An unusual command-and-control system was also applied to the

unit. As a western Pacific unit, HCU-One should have come under the

total control of Commander Service Group Three.10 Instead, the Service

Force commander retained operational control of the unit, except for

teams deployed to Vietnam. This method of command and control

insured the flexibility to operate both in Vietnam and throughout the

Pacific. As with any new or unusual system, there were problems and misunderstandings that required tact and wisdom to resolve. All in all,

though, command and control for HCU-One must have been satisfactory 

10Commander Service Group Three had an operational role as Commander Task Force SeventyThree, the logistic arm of the Seventh Fleet.

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The organization of Harbor Clearance Unit One.
because it worked.

Most of the people in the unit were attached to harbor clearance

teams of two officers and about eighteen men. The rest operated and

maintained the various craft. The men who were assembled from

throughout the world for HCU-One were specialists. They were the

Navy’s best and most experienced salvors.11

The unit had its headquarters aboard a barge specially converted to a

salvage tender, YRST–1.

12 A direct descendent of the World War II

ARS(T)s, this barge was outfitted with all the shop facilities, storage, and

accommodation necessary to support a major salvage operation.

Although its original design did not include adequate medical, office, and

armory facilities, HCU-One artificers rectified this situation immediately

after the craft arrived in Subic. YRST–1, when not deployed for major salvage operations, remained in Subic as the unit’s headquarters and maintenance facility.

The main battery of the unit at its formation were four leased 750-ton

British lifting craft of the type that had served well during the European

harbor clearances of World War II and had been used on the Rajah

Soliman. Two of these craft, informally designated YMLC, were deployed

to Vietnam, where they were positioned at Vung Tau to serve as a base for

deployed teams and to stand ready to go to salvage sites. The other two,

held in readiness at Subic, were rotated at intervals with those in

Vietnam. The craft, designed for the temperate European climate,

required some modification to make them suitable for service in the tropics. For instance, the coal-fired galley below the main deck was replaced

by a galley built atop the deckhouse, and showers were installed on the

after-deck.

Because LCTs fitted with shear legs had proven so useful during

World War II, direct descendants were constructed for Vietnam. Five

LCUs were converted into light lift craft (YLLC) at Sasebo by installing

on each a 25-ton shear leg and additional machinery. These craft had permanently assigned crews that could be augmented by harbor clearance

teams.13 The weight of the additional machinery that was placed aft in

the deckhouse and engine room gave the first four boats a severe trim by 

11As might be expected, the officers and men assembled for HCU-One were a colorful and confident lot. Typically, they took on self-deprecating nicknames. Lieutenant Edmond B. Bennett’s

Harbor Clearance Team Five became “Bennett’s Bastards”; Lieutenant John C. (Dirty John) Naquin’s

Harbor Clearance Team One was called “Naquin’s Nitwits.” 12YRST–1 started its service as a covered lighter, YFNB–12. After several conversions, including service as a special projects barge for the Office of Naval Research, it was specifically converted

for HCU-One, and designated a diving tender, YDT–11. Its designation was changed to the more

accurate salvage craft tender (YRST) shortly after its arrival at HCU-One. 13YLLC–5 the last converted, benefited from the earlier conversions and was a more satisfactory craft. This boat was lengthened and carried a heavier shear leg.

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the stern and affected their speed. For this reason it was more efficient to

tow the craft on river transits than to have them proceed on their own

power. Once at the salvage site, however, the YLLC was an excellent salvage platform.

In the late spring of 1967, HCU-One received two heavy lift craft

(YHLC) that had been purchased by the Navy from the West German salvage firm of Bugsier Reederei und Bergungs. These craft could lift 600

tons each with their stern gantries and 2,400 tons each on a side or belly

lift. The craft, Energie and Ausdauer, had been built in the 1930s and had

served throughout World War II and afterwards.14 Following World War

II, they had participated in the salvage of the British submarine Truculent

in the Thames Estuary in 1950 and in the 1956 clearance of the Suez

Canal. They were remarkable craft, unmatched at the time in their

capability. Like the British YMLCs, they were designed for European 

14During World War II the Germans ballasted the two craft down in Hamburg harbor during the

day so that they appeared to be sunk to Allied photoreconnaissance aircraft. An alert photo interpreter noticed that the craft weren’t always “sunk” in the same place. They were targeted for a raid.

Energie was sunk, but was raised after the war and returned to service.

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Harbor Clearance Unit One in the early days of work in Vietnam (left to right):

Lieutenants Moose Kohl and Sam Delanoy; Petty Officers Red Greer, Brady One, Goose

Langdon, and Snipe Landstra. Good salvors, good sailors, good shipmates. Photo courtesy

Commander Billie L. Delanoy.
waters and were scarcely habitable in the tropics. On 15 October 1967

the craft were renamed Crilley (YHLC 1) and Crandall (YHLC 2) in

honor of Medal of Honor recipients Chief Petty Officers Frank Crilley and

Orson Crandall.15 A program to refurbish them to increase their habitability and replace their steam machinery with diesel-electric machinery

was started soon after the ships arrived in Subic. So that maintenance of

the craft did not unduly stretch the limited personnel of HCU-One, a

crew of local civilian mechanics was hired for routine maintenance work.

The most numerous craft in HCU-One were its six combat salvage

boats. These boats had been converted from LCM–6s by adding a 10-ton

shear leg, pneumatic deck machinery, a diving system, compressors, and

accommodation. When delivered to HCU-One in the fall of 1968, the

boats needed more work before they could be sent into a combat zone, for

they were completely without the armor they would need to support

riverine combat operations. As much bar and plate armor as the boats

could carry was added, and the haze-gray shipyard paint job was covered

by the olive drab of the riverine forces. When the boats got to Vietnam,

the more enthusiastic of the petty officer skippers managed to add a variety of armament as well.

HCU-One also had two 65-foot boats originally built to tend distribution boxes in electrically fired minefields. These boats, now called diving

boats (YDB), had been modified by installing diving air systems. They

were versatile craft for light salvage in the river and canals of the Mekong

Delta. Cohoes (ANL 78) was also modified as a harbor and river clearance

craft by improving her bow lift capability, which gave her the ability to

handle beach gear, and by installing a diver’s air system. She served

throughout Vietnam.

In addition to the craft described above, HCU-One operated a variety of work boats, LCMs, and other craft. Toward the end of HCU-One’s

activity in Vietnam, two of the LCM–8s were converted to salvage boats,

LCM(S), by adding a 35-ton A-frame, machinery, armor, and armament.

These boats were converted specifically for logistic operations in the U

Minh Forest area of southwestern Vietnam.

A complement of salvage machinery and equipment was carried

aboard the craft and stockpiled in a dedicated warehouse in Subic.

Because money was readily available for the Vietnam War, a great deal of

equipment, more than HCU-One could ever use, was purchased.16 This

15Chief Petty Officers Crilley and Crandall both won their Medals of Honor for diving work on

salvage jobs. Crilley’s came after the salvage of the submarine F–4, Crandall’s after the Squalus

salvage. 16Excess equipment was later used to dieselize the obsolete gasoline-powered equipment in the

Emergency Ship Salvage Material system.

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266
equipment did not begin to arrive in the Philippines until some months

after HCU-One was formed. In the interim, the unit was outfitted with

what was available—obsolete and well-worn, gasoline-powered World

War II-vintage equipment from the decommissioned salvage lifting ships

and the Emergency Ship Salvage Material system.17

The most unusual item of equipment in HCU-One had nothing to do

with harbor clearance, but it added another dimension to the versatile

unit. It was a commercial deep-diving system called ADS-IV, which was

leased from Ocean Systems, Inc. Harbor Clearance Team Two, led by

Lieutenant Orlin A. (Moose) Kohl and Lieutenant (j.g.) Richard D.

Jones, was designated as the deep-diving team and taken out of the

deployment cycle. Divers throughout the salvage force were trained in

the diving system so they could reinforce the HCU-One team during

extended deep-diving operations. The compact system could take divers

to depths of 450 feet and could be operated from a fleet tug or salvage

ship.

HCU-One grew in men and equipment for the first years of its existence and amassed a record of success. Besides the many decorations

earned by individual members of the unit, the unit itself was awarded two

Navy Unit Commendations, a Meritorious Unit Commendation, and a

Vietnamese Unit Cross of Gallantry covering the entire period of its existence in the Philippines. It was not all roses. There were deaths and

injuries from combat and from the hazards that accompany all salvage

operations. One salvage craft, YLLC–4, was a combat loss. HCU-One was

involved in so many salvage operations that the Navy designed a special

short-form salvage report that could be filled out in the field en route to

the next job. Although there were a number of major jobs, the great value

of the work done by the unit in Vietnam lay in the hundreds of small jobs

undertaken by a hastily deployed crew or a single light lift craft, combat

salvage boat, or diving boat. By removing countless minor obstacles and

salvaging resources on these jobs, salvors enabled the war to go forward.

HCU-One Goes to Work

HCU-One’s first operation came in April 1966 when a fallen bridge

section was removed in Danang. After that, the work came fast and

17 In the initial outfitting of HCU-One, there were some oversights and shortfalls. One of these

was in material-handling equipment, specifically forklift trucks. None were assigned. Normal proce -

dures to get one would take too long, and material needed to be moved. Unusual measures, the

salvors’ specialty, were called for. A sailor was sent to the forklift operator’s school with instructions

that when he learned to drive it, he should drive it home. He did. A quick paint job—and HCU-One

had its first forklift. Other material was acquired by similar unconventional means.

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267
furious. Harbor Clearance Team One and YLLC–118 started the first

deployment cycle later that month. Their introduction to combat salvage

came when they salvaged contraband cargo from a grounded Vietcong

trawler in May.

The first use of the larger lift craft came in late May. A French steamer, Paul Bert, sunk years before, blocked the approach to the new river

patrol boat base at My Tho. The two British lift craft that had been

brought over earlier and moored in the roads at Vung Tau were brought

upriver for the job. Lieutenant Naquin’s Harbor Clearance Team One and

Lieutenant Richard H. Giebner’s Harbor Clearance Team Three did the

work. The operation went well. The wreck was lifted three times and carried across the river, where it was set down well clear of patrol operations.

During the Paul Bert removal, several divers were diverted to search for

limpet mines in the Saigon River. Others in the unit went to Phu Bai to

retrieve weapons and intelligence material from a capsized patrol boat.

Such interruptions of salvage work for higher priority jobs had been common in World War II and would be in Vietnam as well.

There was concern lest the lift craft in the open roadstead of Vung

Tau made far too inviting a target for the Viet Cong. Following the

removal of Paul Bert, the lift craft were towed to Saigon and moored to a

ramshackle pier in a backwater canal. Here, a bitt on the pier carried

away on a falling tide struck Warrant Officer W.R. Savage, killing him.

Shortly thereafter, the lift craft returned to Vung Tau, where they were

based for the remainder of their time in Vietnam.

By late summer the tempo of operations began to increase. On 23

August a Viet Cong sapper who had been waiting in a hideout along the

Long Tau River got his chance. His command-detonated mine blew a

hole in the side of the SS Baton Rouge Victory inbound for Saigon with a

full load of government cargo. The ship continued ahead and grounded

on the riverbank. Baton Rouge Victory provided a major test for HCU-One

and became one of the few jobs that involved almost the entire unit.

Tugs from Saigon sailed to the scene and held the ship against the

bank, pending the arrival of Lieutenant (j.g.) Anthony Greene with

Harbor Clearance Team Four and YLLC–2. Under the direction of Lieutenant Greene, the light lift craft set a mooring to hold the ship in place.

Lieutenant Billie L. (Sam) Delanoy, the executive officer of HCU-One,

and Lieutenant J.J. Goodwin, the salvage engineer, arrived the following

18Harbor Clearance Team One and YLLC–1 had been scheduled to make the first deployment.

When the time to go approached, it became apparent that YLLC–1 would not be ready in time,

though YLLC–2 would. It would never do for the second boat to make the first deployment. A paint

brush solved the problem. With a few strokes of the brush in the vicinity of the hull numbers,

YLLC–2 became YLLC–1, and vice versa—forever.

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Salvors work “head down, backside up” on deck of their British lift craft during the Paul

Bert salvage. The heavy pieces on deck are Bullivant clamps used to clamp the lift wires

together. Unlaid manila line in the clamps absorb grease squeezed from the wire and prevent slippage. The clamps are tightened by large pneumatic wrenches called “windy spanners.” Photo courtesy Commander Billie L. Delanoy.

Lieutenants Dick Giebner (left) and John Naquin (center) stand with Warrant Officer Bill

Savage on the side of the French steamer Paul Bert. Savage was killed in an accident a few

days later. Photo courtesy Commander Billie L. Delanoy.
morning. After their survey of the damaged merchantman, they sent for

the remainder of HCU-One.

The first task was to get the damaged ship out of the river and eliminate the chance that it might sink or capsize and block logistic traffic.

The damage to Baton Rouge Victory was confined to the engine room and

number three hold. Both spaces, nonetheless, were flooded, the double

bottoms open, and the deck and side shell heavily buckled. For any

attempted move of the ship, heavy lift craft would have to be placed

alongside to prevent capsizing and excessive bending of the weakened

hull. All four YMLCs would be needed to do the job right.

While Harbor Clearance Teams One and Two were preparing the lift

craft in Saigon, the situation changed dramatically at the site. On 27

August, after all deck cargo had been removed, Baton Rouge Victory suddenly began moving downstream, taking her moor with her. Tugs took the

ship in hand and brought her under control. Afterwards, only the highest

priority cargo was removed; the two available lift craft were hurriedly

brought down river from Saigon and put in position for rigging.

Baton Rouge Victory had no intention of settling down. Around midnight on 29 August, she got underway again in hard rain and strong

winds. Tugs forced her ashore 1,200 yards upstream on the opposite side

of the river, well clear of the Army’s security perimeter. Anchors were

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270

Tugs, barges, and other craft bustle around Baton Rouge Victory, lying mined and beached

in the Long Tau River.
scattered; the ship was not in a good position. She had to be moved

quickly.

As soon as lift wires had been rove, a river pilot came aboard and the

nest got underway for Vung Tau, where it was put aground by the tug

Patrick. YRST–1 came alongside that evening and the next phase of the

salvage operation began—a patch and pump job to secure the ship for tow

to a repair yard. Pumps were rigged aboard, construction of a large wooden patch began, and reinforcing structure was welded on in way of the

buckled shell.

The weather that had caused the ship to break loose up river contin -

ued to be a problem that occupied the salvors and disrupted the work. By

21 September the patch had been fitted and a test pumping made. The

following day the water level dropped sharply as the pumps were started.

Though their tired World War II pumps began to fail, the salvors were

holding their own—until the patch failed.

Because the patch did not have sufficient strength for repair and

replacement, it was discarded. A long delay followed while Ship Repair

Facility, Subic, built a 62-ton steel patch complete with its own ballast

and blow system. The installation of this new patch and subsequent

pumping of the ship went smoothly. Cargo discharge was completed and

the ship made ready for sea. On 8 December the tug Osceola took Baton

Rouge Victory in tow for the Philippines.

The tow didn’t get far. Baton Rouge Victory, irascible to the end,

bumped the Chinese-flag vessel Ever Fortune and damaged the patchsecuring mechanism. As the tow went to sea, the patch worked loose to

the point that Warrant Officer Donnie E. Gable of HCU-One aboard the

Baton Rouge Victory recommended returning to Vung Tau. The patch was

removed and sent back to Subic Bay, where it became the roof of a Ship

Repair Facility welding shop. Baton Rouge Victory was towed to Singapore

without the patch and without incident. Expediency rather than careful

seamanship had governed both moves of Baton Rouge Victory. Fortunately

the ship was tough enough and other measures thorough enough that the

moves could be made.19

While Baton Rouge Victory was showing herself to be what the British

call “bloody minded,” a sister ship, Clarksburg Victory, was much more

docile and cooperative. On 12 October, Clarksburg Victory, under Military

Sea Transportation Service charter and carrying government-owned

cargo, struck a submerged object and holed herself in the engine room

while entering Vung Tau. Over a five-day period a heavy wooden patch

19The success of the tow is best credited to good fortune, for without the patch the tow was very

risky. A combination of factors—the complexity of the patch, the value of the ship, and other

demands on HCU-One—forced the decision to take the risk.

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271
was placed over the hole, the floodwater pumped down, an internal

cement patch placed, and the ship sent on her way with none of the complications and frustrations of the job going on across the harbor.

HCU-One teams often joined other salvage units on jobs. This was

the case on New Year’s Eve 1966, when Mahnomen County (LST 912)

parted her anchor chain, blew ashore, and broached at Chu Lai. Harbor

clearance unit people, Grapple, Sioux, and the Seventh Fleet Salvage

Officer, Commander Orem, went to the scene. They found the LST had

grounded hard on a rocky shore with seas breaking over her. The northeast monsoon was blowing full; winds were up to 25 knots, the surf to 18

feet. All hands labored to get the ship off, using a variety of salvage techniques. Foam like that used in Frank Knox was brought in and put into the

hull;20 explosives removed rocks on the seaward side. Nothing was

enough. In mid-January, with her tanks open to the sea, Mahnomen

County began to break up. There was no choice but to abandon her.

The mundane marine task of dredging had particular importance in

Vietnam. The Mekong River and the many branches that form its estuary

carry a huge amount of silt; therefore, deposits of silt constantly change

the depth of the rivers and make navigation hazardous. As constant

dredging was necessary to keep traffic moving and to keep open the ports

and bases supplied by the river, dredges were operated in Vietnam by the

United States and many other nations.

Dredges make interesting salvage work. They are poorly subdivided,

existing subdivisions are often ineffective, they have very heavy components, and their structure is relatively light compared to seagoing ships.

During the war, U.S. dredges were considered fair game for attack. Harbor

Clearance Unit One worked on three large dredges, all sunk by enemy

action and all near the Ninth Infantry Division base at Dong Tam in the

My Tho River. Each job involved different problems, approaches, and

solutions.

J A M A I C A B A Y

Viet Cong swimmer-sappers kicked off the first job by placing charges

on the suction-cutter dredge Jamaica Bay on 9 January 1967. The dredge

20The use of chemical foam unfortunately resulted in a casualty. Because toxic fumes and oxygendisplacing gases were present when the foam was being made, salvors wore lightweight diving equipment for breathing and followed diving procedures even when foaming above water. Petty Officer Clyde

Gordon was foaming in Mahnomen County’s shaft alley when his air supply failed. He immediately

removed his mask and headed for the exit. He didn’t make it. His tender, Petty Officer Roy Wells,

entered the compartment and moved Gordon closer to the exit before he too fell unconscious. At this

point Petty Officer Joe Nestor donned the spare mask and rescued both Gordon and Wells. Conscious

and objecting, Gordon and Wells were removed to Sanctuary (AH 17) for observation. Both men developed chemical pneumoconiosis. Wells died; Gordon had a long recovery and eventually returned to diving duty. Petty Officers Roy Wells and Joe Nestor were awarded the Navy-Marine Corps Medal.

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

272
sank in approximately three minutes, coming to rest on her starboard

spud at about a 30-degree list, with the starboard side of her main deck

above water. There were two large holes in her hull.

Jamaica Bay had been engaged in fill operations for the new base at

Dong Tam, the first permanent U.S. thrust into the Mekong Delta. The

dredge hulk, lying as it did, impeded progress in the construction of the

base and blocked the approaches to the LST landing ramp that supplied

the base. Since removal was urgent and would require a major salvage

effort, a special organization was set up for the job. Commander Eugene

Mitchell, the Pacific Fleet Salvage Officer, took charge at the scene.

Lieutenant Delanoy was in charge of HCU-One assets. There was direct

liaison between Mitchell and now-Captain Searle, the Supervisor of Salvage who would coordinate special efforts by contractors and the technical resources of the Naval Ship Systems Command. Searle arranged for

the temporary assignment of three salvage engineers—Lieutenant Commanders John L. Ulrich and Oliver H. Porter, and Lieutenant William I.

Milwee—to augment the salvage forces on the scene.

The dredge was badly holed and had no internal watertight integrity.

Bodily lifting and removal was called for. The weight to be lifted was

about 2,100 tons. Because the two YHLCs had not yet arrived, the only

way this amount of lift could be attained with an adequate margin was by

using all four of the YMLCs. Only once before had four lift craft been

used, and then under far more favorable conditions.21 These four had to

be carefully positioned in order to obtain the maximum lift, let the load

come on the lift wires evenly, and reduce the unsupported length of hull

between lift wires.

As is usual in salvage operations, much margin was inserted in calculations to allow for the many unknown conditions that were sure to be

present. Because of the fixed lifting capacity, additional weight would be

removed from Jamaica Bay, including the pierced steel planking armor,

and the hull would be patched and pumped to decrease the required lift

as much as possible. Plans were also made to bring in foam if additional

buoyancy was needed. To do the job expeditiously, four harbor clearance

teams were assigned to it, and the YRST–1 was brought over as a salvage

base.

The work went forward in a logical sequence:

• Patches were designed.

• A bow-to-bow lift craft arrangement was chosen.

21The previous use of four lift craft was in the removal of the wreck of the French destroyer

Maille Breze at Greenock, Scotland, in 1953.

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• Deballasting sequences were determined.

• Large wooden fenders were constructed and rigged to prevent the

lift craft from moving in and damaging themselves and the dredge.

• Lift wires were passed.

• An analysis of bilge cutting by lift wires was made and reinforcing

bolster plates were designed.22

• Construction of patches and bolster plates began.

• Spuds were shot away with explosives to reduce the list.

• Beach gear to move the lifted wreck was hauled ashore and additional legs were laid in the river by YLLC–2.23

The first lift came on 4 February 1967. An important function of this

lift was to work out procedures and to use and stretch the wires. But most

important, the first lift demonstrated that the lifting scheme worked and

the dredge could be lifted. Lifts continued and the dredge gradually

moved into shallower water. Following the fourth lift, one of the lift craft

hung up on the wreck and sank on the rising tide by flooding through an

open hatch. The lift craft was raised and returned to service in five days.

While the lift craft was being raised, foam was injected into Jamaica

Bay’s two forward wing tanks. With the lift craft back in service, lifts continued. A total of eleven lifts were made in moving the wreck toward the

riverbank and into shallow water. The lifts stopped when the lift craft rested on the river bottom with the gunwales awash during low tide.

With the Jamaica Bay in shallow water, the patches were installed and

pumps placed on board. With no effective subdivision in the hull of the

dredge, a large, stability-destroying free surface existed. To achieve stability during dewatering, two lift craft were held alongside. On the first

pumping attempt, the dredge took an 8-degree list as soon as she came

clear of the bottom; the list immersed one of the main deck doors, and

the dredge went back down. On the next pumping attempt, the list

increased to 21 degrees. To control it, loose gear and mud were removed,

as much water as possible was pumped out, and the lift craft were positioned to maximize the lift on the low side.

22The original analysis of the bilge cutting was made on the scene with less than the most

sophisticated methods. A check calculation made after the operation showed that although the

method was not precise, the results were correct. After the job Lieutenant Commander Ulrich developed and published a more precise method of analysis. 23The Eells anchors for the shore legs of beach gear were buried ashore, well outside the security perimeter established by the Vietnamese Army. When the legs were hauled, the anchors did not

hold in the swampy ground and dragged toward the perimeter, forcing mounds of earth ahead of

them. They resembled nothing so much as giant moles. The Vietnamese troops, suspecting some

insidious Vietcong secret weapon, abandoned their positions with haste.

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274
The original plan had been to take the dredge to Saigon for repair.

Patching and pumping was directed toward making the hull tight and

secure enough for a safe tow there.

The repairs needed, however, were too extensive for the Saigon facilities. Jamaica Bay would have to be towed across the open sea to a shipyard. Because salvage repairs are seldom adequate to prepare a vessel for

open-sea towing, the dredge was to be towed first to Saigon for drydocking and temporary repairs, then towed overseas for final repairs. She

would go down river, across 15 miles of open sea to Vung Tau, then back

up river to Saigon. The large patches were a major problem. Loss of one

of them could cause the dredge to sink. To prevent possible flooding,

salvors filled the stern compartments with foam after stacking as many

55-gallon drums as possible into them.

On 12 March Jamaica Bay floated free with no list, ready for tow, just

over two months after she was attacked. She was picked up by the Alaska

Barge and Transport tugs Patrick and Pacific Mariner. Twenty-seven men

rode the dredge. The voyage would cross the My Tho River entrance bar

at high water in daylight. Any other tide would have required a night

transit or lying to overnight. Neither idea was attractive, for the Viet

Cong controlled both the riverbanks and the night.

At the bar the tow encountered short-crested waves changing to

long sea swells, coupled with afternoon winds increasing in strength. After

some deliberation the transit started. Almost immediately, waves began

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Four lift craft, assisted by YDT–11, YLLC–2, and various other craft, raise the dredge

Jamaica Bay near the Ninth Infantry Division base at Dong Tam, Vietnam.
to break over the dredge; one sailor was washed overboard but was picked

up by Patrick. The gasoline pumps were gradually flooded by the waves

and stopped. Leakage through seams and discharges increased; salvors

stripped off their clothes and stuffed them in the holes. It was a losing

fight. The flooding increased, as did the list. A door cover ripped off;

water poured in. The order to abandon was given. Jamaica Bay rolled over

and sank.24 Patrick and Pacific Mariner picked up the riding crew.

A long, hard salvage job had ended. The object of the salvage had

been lost, but much had been gained and learned:

• A 2,100-ton wreck had been removed from a critical position under

combat conditions.

• Four lift craft had successfully lifted a structurally flimsy hull under

less than optimum conditions.

• Foam was again shown to be a promising salvage tool, but one that

definitely was no panacea and required more development to be truly

practical in the field.

• The gasoline-powered salvage machinery again proved to be obsolete, cantankerous, and deserving of immediate replacement.

S A N D P U M P E R

It was more than two and a half years after the work on Jamaica Bay

that the Navy-owned dredge Sandpumper (YM 24) sucked a mine into

her dredge pump on 22 September 1969. The mine exploded and

Sandpumper sank in seven minutes. The dredge settled in 35 feet of

water; the spuds jammed against the spud gates, holding the stern 6 feet

proud of the bottom.

The salvors looked at their options on this job. For pumping to succeed,

extensive patching and strengthening of the hull would be needed to get

enough buoyancy to float the dredge. This would be a long operation

under difficult conditions. Lifting was an attractive alternative, particularly because the heavy lift craft Crilley and Crandall were available. The

lifting operation would be considerably easier than the four-craft operation on Jamaica Bay.25

24The wreck of Jamaica Bay was marked approximately 9 miles, 230 degrees true from Vung Tau,

formerly Cap St. Jacques. Much of the wreck of the Jamaica Bay was removed by Navy salvage ships

during the next several years. In 1970 a team from HCU-One blew the remaining wreckage below

the surface. 25The YHLCs were considerably easier to work and less labor intensive than the YMLCs. The

primary reason was that the larger craft carried far more deck machinery for handling heavy lift wires

and materials. Also, rather than clamping the two wires of a lift pair together with Bullivant clamps,

as required on the YMLCs, built-in deck-edge clamps were provided on the YHLCs, allowing wires

to be handled individually.

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276
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277

Water pours out of Jamaica Bay, extracted by the recently acquired diesel-powered pumps,

but she will sink while on tow to Saigon.

Salvors take a break during the Jamaica Bay salvage operation. Left to right: Lieutenant

William Milwee, Commander Gene Mitchell, and Lieutenant Billie Delanoy during the

Jamaica Bay salvage operation. Photo courtesy Commander W.I. Milwee, Jr.
Led by their commanding officer, Commander Joseph F. Madeo, and

the salvage engineer, Lieutenant Herbert Tufts, HCU-One salvors laid

out a four-part salvage plan using both the stern lift and side lift capabilities of the YHLCs. Before the lift craft arrived, the wreck would be

secured against further sinking, lift craft moors laid, the dredge ladder disconnected, and messenger wires for the lift wires passed under the

dredge. The first job for the lift craft would be to lift the dredge ladder

clear and set it on a barge. Then the dredge itself would be lifted and

moved to shallow water for patching and pumping, the final step before

refloating.

The first phase of the operation came off without a hitch, but when

the salvors tried to lift the dredge ladder with the stern gantry of Crilley

they had a double portion of problems. Three attempts were made. The

first failed when lifting straps parted and shackles bent. The second

removed the ladder from its trunnion bearings; then the lifting winches

stalled. The third lift removed the ladder but could not raise it high

enough to be placed on the waiting barge. The ladder had to be set on the

bottom and dragged clear by Crandall.

With the ladder out of the way, the lift craft were put alongside

Sandpumper. Previously positioned messengers hauled twenty-four lift wires

under the dredge. The spud gates were blown open with explosives, the

starboard spud removed, and the port spud broken off. Six successful lifts

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278

The heavy lift ships Crilley and Crandall, held apart by large spreader bars, lift the dredge

Sandpumper in the My Tho River, Vietnam.
were made between 12 and 24 November. Sandpumper was grounded in

14 feet of water. Now came the hard part.

The hull and superstructure were patched, but a considerable amount

of damage lay inaccessible in the mud. The salvors first attempted simply

to outpump the flooding, but it didn’t work. In fact, nothing seemed to go

right. Blowing air into the pontoons on the bow caused a list that eventually forced removal of the pumps on the port side. Pumping had created

additional problems arising from the fact that the Mekong River matches

or exceeds Mark Twain’s description of the Mississippi as “too thick to

drink, too thin to plow.” Pumping had drawn more silt-laden water into

the hull, where the silt joined the viscous mud in the wreck, adding weight

and clogging pumps. After a frustrating month of losing ground, salvage

attempts were abandoned on 30 December, over three months after

Sandpumper went down.

N E W J E R S E Y

On 22 November 1969 Viet Cong sappers mined the dredge New Jersey,

which was working just 1,200 yards from the Sandpumper salvage operations. The damage would not have been enough to sink New Jersey if the

integrity of her watertight design had been intact. As it was, she flooded

progressively while tugs pushed her toward the riverbank and finally sank

in 20 feet of water and 4 feet of mud.

As with Sandpumper, the choice was between pumping and lifting.

With the lift craft already present, lifting would have been convenient,

but other considerations swung the decision toward patching and pump -

ing. Lifting would have required two or three weeks of preparation and at

best would have gained 7 feet, leaving the main deck below water.

Once the decision to patch and pump had been made, the work went

forward systematically. Flooding boundaries were established, and a decision was made to isolate and bypass the damaged areas. Test pumping was

carried out and holes sealed when located.

New Jersey showed an unfortunate tendency to take severe lists as she

broke free of the bottom and had to be put back down. A blowdown system for the fuel tanks, isolation of flooded spaces until it was time to

pump them dry, and a larger pumping capacity succeeded in controlling

the free surface that caused the list. New Jersey refloated on 2 December.

Bulldozers hauled her toward the beach for emergency repairs. After

preparation for tow, she departed for repairs in Singapore on 13 December.

The three dredges had been major challenges for HCU-One. Each

was met with different techniques, best suited for the work at hand.

Although two of the dredges were lost, the principal objective of the

work, clearing the wrecks, was accomplished.

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Minding the Store

All three levels of salvage activity were carried out by HCU-One

during the time it operated in Vietnam. At the top were the peaks of

activity—the major jobs described above and others like them. These

jobs involved several teams and a variety of salvage craft. At the second

level were the routine operations, consisting of so-called little jobs that

formed the bulk of the unit’s work. Most of these jobs involved only one

team, or part of a team, or one or two of the light salvage craft. There

were hundreds of such jobs. Sea Raven, Clark County, Robin Hood,

Seatrain Texas, Transcolorado, Green Bay Victory, and many other ships

were aided by the salvors of HCU-One. Aircraft were salvaged, fires

extinguished, weapons and special equipment recovered; a variety of

objects, ranging from railway bridge spans to howitzers and garbage

trucks, were raised, removed, or demolished. The unit was always busy.

The riverine force required regular support. Of all the sites of frequent salvage activity, none was busier or more dangerous than an area

deep in the Mekong Delta that came to be called Solid Anchor or Sea

Float. HCU-One maintained an active salvage station there. Although

attacks occurred almost daily, because the Viet Cong controlled the

banks of the tidal river, continuous salvage operations kept the backlog

down to four or five sunken or stranded craft at any given time.

The third level of HCU-One activity was planning and management.

This was done at the unit’s headquarters in Subic and included:

• Maintaining and rehabilitating equipment and craft coming back

from deployment.

• Resting men back from regular deployments.

• Training new men.

• Training all teams with the unit’s varied equipment.

• Preparing craft and men for deployment.

• Fulfilling the unit’s responsibilities for salvage throughout the

Pacific.

HCU-One was a busy organization, and proud of it. Many of those

who served with the unit in Vietnam consider their tour as the best of

their Navy career.

Around the Pacific

While HCU-One was the principal salvage unit operating in the harbors and rivers of Vietnam, Pacific Fleet salvage forces were busy

throughout the Pacific at all types of salvage operations:

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• On 3 October 1965 Conserver and the small Army LT–43 tug assisted Britain Victory when the merchantman lost power in the South China

Sea.

• Tawakoni took Ekaterina G. in tow26 after the Greek-flag vessel lost

a propeller 600 miles south of Adak, Alaska. During the tow, the ship’s

anchor chain, part of the tow rig, parted during foul weather and the ship

was lost on Great Sitkin Island.

• In a similar incident Mataco picked up the Chinese freighter TaiNam and delivered her to the Canadian salvage ship Sudbury II.

27

• On 13 January 1967 Mataco extinguished a fire on the fishing vessel Mondego off San Diego, and Grasp went to the aid of Guam Bear after

she collided with Esso Victory off Apra Harbor, Guam. Guam Bear was

towed into the harbor and beached alongside Glass Breakwater, where her

cargo was salvaged.

• Rear Admiral Frederick E. Janney, Commander Service Group

Three, and his salvage officer, Lieutenant Commander Huntly Boyd, flew

to Okinawa when USNS General Daniel I. Sultan (T-AP 120) grounded on

Rukon Shoal at the entrance to Naha. With indigenous resources, improvised beach gear, construction equipment, and Army tugs, they freed the

ship.

• Krishna personnel, working under sniper fire, raised the mined

PCF–4 in the Gulf of Siam.

• Harbor tugs at Pearl Harbor refloated the tanker Casstot at the harbor entrance.

• During the summer of 1969 the Navy provided technical assistance

and equipment from the Emergency Ship Salvage Material system to

assist the Mexican Navy in the salvage of the 600-ton pipeline dredge

Mazatlan, sunk in Puerto Vallarta.

• Sunnadin (ATA 197), then Wandank (ATA 204), towed the SS Old

Westbury to Guam after that ship had a boiler casualty 850 miles from

Guam.

• Takelma towed Waddell (DDG 24) to Pearl Harbor after the destroyer touched bottom off Midway and damaged both propellers.

26From shortly after World War II until early in the 1970s, an ATF was regularly deployed to

Adak to be available for rescue towing and salvage service in these waters. The ATFs were withdrawn

toward the end of the Vietnam War when U.S. government shipping interests declined and ATFs

were required for higher priority work. These were much the same reasons that caused the withdrawal of ATFs from Alaskan waters in World War II. 27 Sudbury II was originally Caledonian Salvor (BARS 1). She served throughout the war under

the Australian flag for the Commonwealth Marine Salvage Board. She was transferred to the Royal

Australian Navy in 1948 and subsequently sold to Island Tug and Barge of Victoria, B.C.

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• Grasp refloated the Chinese Navy’s Floating Drydock Number One

in Tsoying Harbor, Taiwan.

• The ever-busy Hitchiti towed the Diodon (SS 349) to Yokosuka after

the submarine suffered a fire and loss of propulsion.

• Chowanoc sailed from the northern Pacific salvage station at Adak

to assist the disabled Sea Flyer. She was damaged while passing the tow

line but towed the disabled merchantman toward Seattle until relieved by

a commercial tug.

In addition to these “routine” salvage operations, there were some of

particular note. The submarine Tiru (SS 416) grounded on Frederick Reef

about 415 miles north of Brisbane, Queensland, Australia, on 19

November 1967. Florikan sailed from Kaohsiung, Taiwan, Conserver from

Subic Bay, and Taussig (DD 746) from Melbourne. HMAS Sydney was first

on the scene and made a comprehensive survey. HMAS Vendetta got

underway from Brisbane with Commander Bruce Meader, a submarine

officer assigned to HMAS Albatross. Vendetta divers carried out an underwater survey in preparation for the arrival of the Australian ocean-going

tug Carlock. When Carlock arrived, she passed a towline and pulled on

the first available tide. Tiru blew all forward ballast and went full astern

when the tug pulled. The submarine floated.28

The wreck of the armored cruiser Rochester (CA 2)29 blocked the

approaches to a fuel buoy in Subic Bay. Tankers approaching the buoy for

discharge needed 55 feet of clearance over the wreck. HCU-One got the

job of flattening the wreck. Because the ship lay on its side, the plan

called for explosives to sever the armor belt and the side at the deck edge

and pound it into the interior. The plan worked well and dropped the

structure, with the exception of two frames, to a clear depth of 65 feet.

Two small charges took care of these frames.30

Explosives were also used in September 1967 after the Standard Oil

tanker R.C. Stoner ran aground while attempting to enter Wake Island to

deliver a load of aviation gasoline. The cargo immediately began leaking

into the harbor. Coast Guard cutter Mallow (WLB 396), Noxubee (AOG

28Because she was not secured on the reef with an anchor astern, concern about Tiru’s broaching led to some experimentation with air-droppable ground tackle with a hauling purchase. Tests of

such a system were carried out in Hawaii in early 1968. The system was never placed in service. 29Originally New York, Rochester was considered the best armored cruiser in the world when

built by William Cramp and Sons of Philadelphia in the early 1890s. The ship was renamed Saratoga

on 16 February 1911 and renamed Rochester on 1 December 1917. She served until 1933, when she

was decommissioned at Cavite and steamed to Subic Bay. In 1938 she was stricken from the Navy list

as an “unclassified hulk.” She was sunk by Japanese air attack early in World War II. 30There was one small problem on the Rochester job. The first shot went as scheduled, but the

salvage officer had forgotton to remind the base commander about the large explosion. The admiral

was somewhat surprised when his windows shook and his lights swayed. Shortly afterwards he asked

Lieutenant Delanoy not to surprise him any more.

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10), and Mataco were diverted to Wake; Conserver and Grapple got

underway from Pearl Harbor; Wandank came from Guam; Harbor

Clearance Team Two flew in from Subic; and Commander Orem, who had

relieved Commander Mitchell as Pacific Fleet Salvage Officer, flew in

from Pearl Harbor. It was of little avail; the surf took its toll and the ship

began breaking up before all the salvage forces could assemble. The pollution problem presented by the leaking cargo was solved when Typhoon

Sarah hit the island with 145-knot winds and dispersed the pollutant.

Following the storm, the wreck was flattened by explosives in an operation complicated by high winds and seas and kibitzing sharks.

On Christmas Eve 1967 the submarine Guardfish (SSN 612) ran

aground at 24 knots entering Pearl Harbor. The shallow gradient of the

reef and the shape of the hull combined to slow the ship gradually so that

she came to rest 8 feet out of her draft and some 500 yards from where

she first took the ground. Current, with Captain T. Grabowski,

Commander Service Squadron Five, and Commander Orem aboard was

underway within half an hour. Current was soon joined by Grapple,

Ankara, and several YTBs. There were two major problems: where to grab

onto the smooth hull of Guardfish, and how to develop enough pull in the

poor holding ground offered by the coral reef.

The first problem was solved by passing beach gear chain down

through the after hatch, through the boat, and out the torpedo loading

hatch, then shackling it back onto itself. Three chains were made up this

way for three pulling lines. To get as strong a hold as possible on the

ground, the pulling ships were rigged in tandem with beach gear anchors

set in the coral with explosives. Little buoyancy could be expected from

the tide; its range was only about 18 inches, but salvors have to take what

they can get. Pulls were made on three consecutive days at high water;

the submarine moved about 100 yards each time. On the third day, she

floated.

On the night of 2 June 1969 the aircraft carrier HMAS Melbourne

collided with the destroyer Frank E. Evans (DD 754), cutting her in two.

The bow section sank in minutes; the stern wallowed in the open sea in

imminent danger of flooding, capsizing, and sinking. The first ship on the

scene was Everett F. Larson (DD 830), which took the stern section alongside and secured it. Tawasa arrived while this initial work was in progress

and put trained salvage men on board. The Tawasa crew worked for sixteen hours and brought the destroyer’s stern section almost to an even

keel with adequate stability and reserve buoyancy.

To get the stern section ready for tow, weight was jettisoned, pumps

and a flooding alarm installed, free water pumped out, and possible

sources of flooding eliminated. Tawasa towed the section, stern first with

a bight of towing wire around her aft 5-inch gun mount. The 825-mile

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tow to Subic Bay was made in six days. Unlike her sister, Frank Knox,

Evans was not rebuilt.

When Typhoon Rose struck Hong Kong in August 1971, twenty-six

ships were driven aground in the harbor, among them Regulus (AF 57),

which had tried to ride out the storm at anchor. Both anchors dragged in

the storm and Regulus was blown onto the hard rock and sand of Kau Yi

Chau Island. Salvage forces began to assemble. Grasp, Safeguard, and

Abnaki were sent to Hong Kong. Rear Admiral Philip P. Cole,

Commander Service Group Three; his salvage officer, Lieutenant

Commander William N. Klorig; and the Pacific Fleet Salvage Officer,

Lieutenant Commander Allan A. Ovrom, flew in.

Regulus was in dire straits. She was port side to the island, buckled

amidships, three holds flooded, apparently impaled on the rock, and

badly holed. The crew was taken off and removal of the salvageable cargo,

material, and equipment began. The possibility that decaying organic

cargo would generate hydrogen sulfide caused particular concern. The

toxic gas was controlled by pumping the holds constantly to keep them

flushed out. The ship was secured against movement, beach gear laid, and

foam made ready for the holds.

Evaluation of the condition of the wreck showed that cutting the ship

in half and removing the two halves separately was the only feasible

method of salvage. In view of the age and condition of the ship, salvage

in this somewhat drastic manner followed by lengthy and expensive

repairs was not deemed sensible. The fleet operation terminated on 10

September and the ship was turned over to the Supervisor of Salvage,

who would oversee the removal of the wreck by a Navy contractor. The

removal is described later in this chapter when Navy contractor operations are discussed.

As previously mentioned, in the early morning of 25 September 1973,

the USNS Jack J. Pendelton (T-AK 276), outbound from Southeast Asia

with a cargo of old ammunition and generators, ran aground on Triton

Island. Beaufort (ATS 2) was ordered to the scene for the first use of the

new salvage ship in a classic stranding operation. It was soon apparent

that the work would require more than one salvage ship. Reclaimer and

Hitchiti were ordered in. Rear Admiral John D. Johnson, Jr., Commander

Service Group Three, and his salvage officer, Lieutenant Commander

Harley Oien, also headed for Triton Island.

Cargo discharge proceeded with painful slowness, hampered by cargo

on the crucial number two hatch that was too heavy for the handling

equipment. Moving liquids trimmed the ship down hard by the stern.

Several retraction attempts were made with the ship trimmed and loads

decreasing as cargo was removed. The chances of success were high when

operations had to be suspended for typhoon evasion. Four typhoons

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passed through the area in a period of fifteen days. Aerial photography

from the carrier Hancock (CVA 19) showed Pendelton gradually being

broached and driven 70 yards farther onto the reef by the storms. When

the typhoons had finished their work, salvage was no longer feasible.

Ships could not get alongside and the ship’s machinery could not be operated. Still, before the ship could be abandoned, a large amount of critical

or dangerous cargo had to be discharged. The foremast was blown off to

accommodate two Marine Corps helicopters and an aerial shuttle was

started to remove ammunition. Attempts to blast a channel in the coral

in order to bring a crane alongside resulted in hull damage and an oil spill

before being called off. Fuel was removed by beaching Tioga County (LST

1158) nearby and pumping fuel to her. After all dangerous materials and

potential pollutants were removed, salvage efforts were terminated on 6

November and Pendelton was abandoned.

The Vietnam era wound down. In 1970 HCU-One began to pull out

of Vietnam and to turn most of its boats and some equipment over to the

Vietnamese. The leased lift craft went back to their British owners;

Crilley and Crandall were laid up in Subic Bay. YRST–1 went back to

Pearl Harbor, where it continued to serve as headquarters for a greatly

reduced HCU-One. Salvage had undergone a fundamental change. The

concept of fly-away salvage—flying a small team of minimally equipped

salvors to the scene to live off the land and to make the most of local

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Regulus lies aground in Hong Kong harbor, showing the break in her hull caused by

Typhoon Rose. Cut apart, her bow and stern were floated to a junkyard and sold.
equipment and ships—was firmly established as a principal way of doing

business.

The World War II-built salvage ships had given good service in the

Vietnam era, but signs of wear were obvious. Although still capable, they

were old and tired. Two of the new salvage and rescue ships (ATS) had

joined the Pacific Fleet, but they were virtually untried.

Salvage forces in the Pacific had made a major contribution to the

war effort by their work in Vietnam, their support of logistic shipping, and

the myriad of other tasks they were called on to perform. At the same

time, they had continued their regular support of fleet operations and

provided salvage services to shipping throughout the Pacific where no

commercial salvors operated.

At the end of the Vietnam War, the salvage capability in the Pacific

Fleet was greater than at any time since the end of World War II. There

had been fundamental changes, some quite subtle, in Navy salvage, but

as at the end of that earlier war, the future was not clear. The effects

would take time to sort out.

In the Atlantic

Combat salvage and the salvage work generated by increased shipping

in the Pacific dominated Navy salvage during the Vietnam era, but salvage forces in the Atlantic were far from idle. Although Atlantic salvors

were active at all three levels of salvage, there were few major operations.

Most of the work focused on day-to-day planning and management and

routine salvage tasks.

The Atlantic and Caribbean generally had been favored operating

areas of commercial salvors, both American and foreign. Cable and Curb,

under charter to Merritt-Chapman and Scott and later to the successor

company, Murphy Pacific, were stationed on the East Coast of the United

States. Merritt-Chapman and Scott’s Rescue, under a Liberian flag, was

on salvage station in Jamaica, and ships of European salvors were often

on station in Caribbean ports. The ready availability of salvage services

to commercial shipping created a far different climate from that in the

Pacific, where U.S. Navy salvors were “the only game in town” over an

area of thousands of square miles. Government-owned and -chartered

ships and privately operated vessels carrying government cargo plied the

Atlantic, and thus became automatic candidates for Navy salvage whether

or not adequate commercial resources were available. Often, however, it

was more cost-effective to use commercial salvage services for these ships

than to salvage them with Navy resources. Yet, although there were few

calls for Navy salvors to assist commercial ships in the Atlantic, a variety of Navy casualties kept them busy.

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Kellar

Storms play a major role in salvage, both by creating work for salvors

and by disrupting their work. When Hurricane Betsy came ashore in the

Gulf of Mexico in September 1965 and struck New Orleans, much work

was created. Among the ships sunk by the storm was the survey ship

USNS Kellar (T-AGS 25). Kellar, which lay awaiting the award of a contract to complete her construction, was struck by one of many drifting

merchantmen, tore loose from her mooring, and sank somewhere in the

Mississippi. A hard-luck ship from the laying of her keel, Keller was found

about 900 yards up river from her berth. She had rolled over about 120

degrees and sunk, her hull awash, in 30 feet of water some 150 feet from

shore between two sewer outlets. The lift craft Windlass and Salvager

undertook the salvage of Kellar, beginning on 27 September 1965.

Salvors made a parbuckling rig by rigging Windlass on the bow,

Salvager on the stern, and eight legs of beach gear ashore. This rig rolled

Kellar upright. Divers then patched the three holes Kellar had suffered

during the storm and made the hull as watertight as feasible. After a 20-

foot-high cofferdam had been built on the forecastle, pumps were placed

throughout the ship and a methodical process of sealing all hull leaks

began. Before the final raising, eductors were rigged to remove the mud

that had collected in the sunken ship. The eductors, with a 3-inch rubber

hose used like a vacuum cleaner, moved mud, water, and catfish effectively. The ship was brought to the surface on 10 November and turned over

to the Eighth Naval District’s industrial manager.

The salvage of Kellar was the last job for the ARS(D)s, the salvage

lifting ships known as “junk boats” to their crews because there was a

consistent shortage of funds for their outfitting and upkeep. Thus they

were highly dependent on disposal sites (junkyards) and the ingenuity of

their crews to keep them operating. Salvors being salvors, the ships generally had both necessities and luxuries, but not always in matched sets.

The two West Coast ARS(D)s, Gypsy and Mender, had been decommissioned ten years before. Salvager and Windlass were decommissioned and

turned over to Merritt-Chapman and Scott on 23 November for husbanding. Most of the salvage equipment and many of the men from these two

ships went to the Pacific as part of the initial outfit and complement of

HCU-One. Less than a year later, on 1 October 1966, Harbor Clearance

Unit Two was formed in Norfolk.

In contrast to its sister unit in the Pacific, HCU-Two was formed

entirely from an existing salvage organization, Service Squadron Eight.

However, its concept of operations did not differ. The unit was headquartered on what had been for many years the Service Force’s salvage barge

YFNB–17 (later redesignated YRST–2). From its founding, Harbor

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Clearance Unit Two demonstrated the value of small teams of salvors outfitted with the proper equipment deployed to a salvage job by air or other

rapid means. In most salvage cases rapid response greatly increases the

probability of successful salvage. The new concept of salvage response

embodied in these harbor clearance units had become a reality in both

fleets.

Bache

A major salvage job reminiscent of Frank Knox seemed to be in the

offing when Bache (DD 470) grounded in high winds and seas 150 yards

outside Rhodes harbor, Greece, on 6 February 1968. The response was

immediate. Hoist and the destroyers Volgelgesang (DD 862) and

Conyngham (DDG 17) were ordered to Rhodes; Franklin D. Roosevelt

(CVA 42) got underway from Souda Bay, Crete. Task Force 65, the special salvage task force, was activated with Rear Admiral Isaac C. Kidd as

task force commander. Commander Huntly Boyd, now Atlantic Fleet

Salvage Officer, boarded a plane in Norfolk and Captain Bill Searle alerted the Murphy-Pacific Marine Salvage Company to stand by with foam.

As sometimes happens in salvage, all the frantic action came to naught.

In a familiar scenario, one of the violent storms of the eastern

Mediterranean winter struck on 18 February. When the storm was over,

the entire bottom of Bache was gone and with it all chance of salvage.

Operations terminated. The wreck of Bache was subsequently removed by

the Greek salvage company N.E. Vernicos Shipping Co., Ltd., of Piraeus

under contract to the Supervisor of Salvage.

Ocean Eagle

In March 1968 the Greek-flag tanker Ocean Eagle, fully laden with

Venezuelan crude oil, lost steerage in the breaker line, then grounded and

broke into two pieces at the entrance to San Juan harbor in Puerto Rico.

A major oil spill seemed imminent. Under a contingency plan that

authorized him to serve the public welfare in an emergency, Rear Admiral

Alfred R. Matter, Commander Caribbean Sea Frontier, placed cleanup

equipment on standby. The Supervisor of Salvage arranged for a contractor salvage master to fly in. Commander Boyd also hopped a plane.

Preserver and two fleet tugs, Paiute (ATF 159) and Utina (ATF 163) participating in a major fleet exercise nearby, were ordered to San Juan.

After breaking free, the tanker’s stern section had drifted so that it

partially blocked the channel. Following futile attempts by the Navy and

local tugs to refloat the two halves of the ship, the owner abandoned the

vessel and its cargo. Removal of the wreck and control of the pollution

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289

Fleet tugs Mosopelea and Utina, along with the salvage ship Preserver, tow the bow section

of Ocean Eagle out of San Juan harbor.

On the sloping deck of Ocean Eagle’s bow section, salvors discuss their work.
became the responsibility of the Army Corps of Engineers, the agency

charged with maintaining navigable waterways in the United States. The

Corps requested the Navy to take charge of the operation. The primary

Navy salvage contractor, now Murphy-Pacific Marine Salvage Company,

was tasked to remove the stern section while Navy forces undertook

removal of the bow.

Before either section could be removed, the pollution problem had to

be controlled. A major spill had already occurred and serious ecological

damage had been done; oil cargo continued to leak from both sections.

Oil removal was accomplished by pumping the oil into barges when the

weather permitted putting them alongside. In this operation the newly

acquired Prosser 4-inch submersible pumps got their first hard use in the

field. While the pumps ran well as designed, it was discovered that they

could be accidently connected to run backwards with terminal results.

Running backwards, they pumped sufficient liquid to mask the improper

hookup, then would inevitably proceed to burn out. This problem, which

could be avoided by reasonable care, was overshadowed by the discovery

that the pumps would pump oil without the expected burnout or explosive problems when properly used.31

When all the oil had been discharged, the bow section was first rotated about 130 degrees and deballasted. Preserver then hauled it off the reef

and took it to deep water, where it was sunk. Murphy-Pacific handled the

stern section similarly.

Navy and Navy-contractor salvage forces had dealt with Ocean Eagle

promptly and professionally, but not before a major oil spill had

occurred. The Ocean Eagle incident raised serious questions about the

effectiveness of oil-spill contingency plans, available equipment, funding, and required legislation.32 The authority and resources available to

the government to control pollution in salvage cases no longer sufficed.

Pollution considerations would be a governing factor in future operations, and both salvors and regulatory bodies had to be prepared to give

the problem the highest priority.

Reuben James

In the spring of 1970 a different kind of salvage job showed the flexibility of Harbor Clearance Unit Two. Because of its mobility, HCU-Two

had developed an informal specialty in aircraft salvage. When Reuben

31Following the Ocean Eagle salvage, and as a direct result of the experience with the pumps,

a program to improve the capability of the pumps for pumping oil was initiated. The program was

highly successful and resulted in special impellers to pump oils of different viscosities. 32History repeated itself over twenty years later with the grounding in March 1989 of the Exxon

Valdez in Prince William Sound, Alaska. All the environmental concerns stemming from the relatively

puny Ocean Eagle oil spill were reopened.

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James (DE 153), a hulk used for explosive ordnance testing, capsized in

the Potomac River off Dahlgren, Virginia, HCU-Two got into the heaviest kind of ship salvage.

Reuben James rested on her starboard side at an angle of 87 degrees on

a mud bottom. She lay about 2,000 feet from the shore, with about half

of her hull out of the water. The commanding officer of Harbor Clearance

Unit Two, Lieutenant Jere W. Woodall, was assigned overall responsibility for the job. Lieutenant Commander Karl Keay, the Service Squadron

Eight salvage officer, supported him as salvage engineer.

Under the salvage plan, the wreck would be parbuckled to an upright

position, then made watertight and pumped. The salvage schedule called

for completing the job in six weeks. To parbuckle the wreck, two deadmen were built 120 feet inland and 140 feet apart; each deadman consisted of two 5,000-pound mushroom anchors buried in a pit 12 feet square

and 8 feet deep. These anchors were connected by chains to stockless

anchors fitted with antiburial baseplates in similar holes closer to the

river. From the stockless anchors, 21

⁄4-inch chain led through a gradually

rising trench to a plate shackle at the bank. These deadmen served as

moorings for two flat-deck barges (YC) upon which parbuckling purchases were rigged.

Two standard beach gear purchases from each barge went to chain

bridles around gun mounts and the pilot house. HCU-Two’s seaplane

wrecking derrick Mary Ann (YSD 53) was anchored on the opposite side

of Reuben James from the barges, with rigging bridles around the mast and

one gun mount to provide restraint control.

Pumps on gimballed platforms were set up on Reuben James, and the

YRST–2 was moored stern to stern with the wreck to help keep it in line;

all was ready to take a strain. The winches took a light strain on the parbuckling purchases while YSD 53 eased off. Pumps pumped. Everything

worked as planned.

Pulling then began in earnest and continued for two days with only

two interruptions. One of these came when a chain on one of the deadmen carried away, the other when pins in a plate shackle bent. With the

wreck uprighted to 24 degrees, additional pumps were put on board and

the holes cut in the starboard hull for drainage were patched. The wreck

of the Reuben James continued to come upright and became more stable

as water and mud were removed. The wreck was ballasted, tested for stability, refloated, and delivered to the commanding officer of the Naval

Weapons Laboratory, Dahlgren, two weeks ahead of schedule.

The early completion of the job reflects the deliberate and thorough

planning that went into the effort as well as excellent on-scene leadership

and coordination. Reuben James was the kind of job salvors dream about—

no weather crises, no time constraints, and few outside pressures.

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The Dredge Atlantic

Prevention of pollution provided the motivation for another type of

salvage by HCU-Two. Throughout the summer of 1972, the dredge

Atlantic lay partially submerged in approximately 30 feet of water in a

cove on the Elizabeth River in Norfolk. The dredge leaked badly enough

to require daily pumping. One evening the pumpman failed to do his job;

Atlantic filled, sank, and immediately began leaking Bunker C fuel oil

into the river.

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292

The dredge Atlantic presented this aspect to salvors.
On 11 August the Commandant of the Fifth Coast Guard District

requested assistance from the Supervisor of Salvage in salvaging the

dredge to prevent further pollution. The Supervisor of Salvage in turn

arranged with the fleet salvage officer, Commander John M. Ringleberg,

for the coordination of the efforts of fleet and contractor salvors.

Upon arrival at the salvage site, salvors found not one, but three

wrecks. The dredge Atlantic was the largest of the three and the closest

to shore; oil was leaking from the wing tanks on either side of the single

center compartment. The tug Marquette, half the length of the dredge,

was next outboard, leaning against the dredge. The tug, in turn, rested on

a fishing boat half its length.

The first order of business was to contain the pollution and remove

the oil from the sunken dredge. Then, the tug would be dragged clear

and, finally, the dredge would be raised for disposal. After oil containment booms had been placed around the nest, a skimmer began picking

up oil. Double diaphragm pumps pumped oil pocketed inside the dredge

and in the tanks to a tank truck onshore. A low-density fibrous sorbent

spread over the water and the dredge collected the oil, which in turn was

loaded into 55-gallon drums for disposal.

Two legs of beach gear rigged from the dredge to concrete block deadmen ashore served as preventers if free surface in the large compartment

caused the dredge to become unstable during pumping. Additional beach

gear dragged the tug and fishing boat clear.

Atlantic proved no more amenable to salvage than the three dredges

in Vietnam. After some patching, the first pumping attempt began with

three 10-inch pumps. The attempt failed when a patch over the spoil-pipe

opening collapsed. A stronger patch was installed, but the next pumping

attempt failed because of leakage through two winch openings and

throughout the entire wooden hull. For the third attempt the winches

were removed, steel plates were placed over the openings, and the entire

hull was wrapped in heavy plastic sheet nailed to the main deck. This

attempt worked. The dredge was finally refloated and delivered to a shipbreaker.

Tucumcari

An unusual grounding in the fall of 1972 provided another opportunity for Navy and contract salvors to work together. The hydrofoil gunboat Tucumcari (PGH 2), while proceeding foilborne during night operations, struck Caballo Blanco Reef off Puerto Rico. She came to rest nose

down in about 3 feet of water and began flooding forward. Salvage officers and divers from HCU-Two were quickly on the scene.

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Survey results were summed up at a meeting on Francis Marion (LPA 249),

as follows:

• Tucumcari lay hard aground in 3 feet of water, down by the bow

approximately 25 degrees, listing 3 degrees to port with the aft end supported by its two stern struts.

• The hull had been punctured by the forward struts.

• There was no structural damage abaft the forward berthing compartment.

• The after struts appeared sound, but the port foil had been torn

away.

• There were several coral heads astern of the gunboat.

After studying the survey results, salvors put together a four-element

salvage plan: blast coral heads, use inflatable pontoons for buoyancy, pull

with beach gear, and use tugs to guide the vessel off the reef.

The nearest salvage ship was Rescue in Kingston, Jamaica. Operated

by Murphy-Pacific Marine Salvage Company, Rescue was dispatched to

the scene under the Navy salvage contract. While she was on her way,

Navy salvors on the scene rigged the attachment and pontoons, and

underwater demolition team personnel blew the channel.

Rescue arrived and laid her beach gear. When the attachment to the

bridle on the gunboat’s struts was attempted, mismatching fittings caused

some delay. A YTB’s 8-inch, fiber towline was secured on Tucumcari’s port

beam, and a YTM was made up to hold Rescue’s head. Initial pulls by the

harbor tugs shifted Tucumcari’s head but did not free her.

In a bold change to the pulling strategy, a CH–53 helicopter was

called in to lift the stern and free the port strut that was embedded in the

coral. The YTM would also be rigged to lift the port strut. While waiting

for the helicopter, Rescue and the YTM continued to pull and moved the

gunboat 6 to 8 feet.

The helicopter arrived and made its connection to the boat’s after lift

pad. Pulling continued. Tucumcari came off the reef spectacularly. She

heeled over hard to starboard, the aft lifting pad came away, and the foil

on the starboard strut broke loose. She had moved some 30 feet aft but

was not yet free. Rescue and the YTM finished the job and delivered her

to Fort Snelling (LSD 30).

Throughout the Vietnam era Atlantic Fleet salvors used a broad spectrum of salvage techniques. Some of the operations continued the productive, close cooperation between fleet and contractor salvors that had

started before World War II. The tasks undertaken by Harbor Clearance

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Unit Two proved the universal value of rapid deployment of small expert

teams of salvors.

Submarine Salvage

There had been no submarine salvage in World War II, and losses

since the war had all been in water too deep for salvage with existing

technology.33 Thus the Navy’s submarine salvage doctrine remained essentially the same as it had been for the spectacularly successful submarine

salvage operations of the 1920s and 1930s. That doctrine had not been

exercised, however, since the 1939 Squalus operation. Although the

submarine salvage pontoons were still around and usable, all the faces

33 In two of the four submarine losses since World War II—Thresher (SSN 593) and Scorpion

(SSN 589)—elaborate deep-ocean operations were carried out to determine the cause of the casualty. In the loss of Cochino (SS 345) and Stickleback (SS 415), no such operations were necessary

because the causes of the losses were known.

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The hydrofoil Tucumcari, while flying on her foils, grounded off Puerto Rico in about 3

feet of water and ripped off her forward strut.
were new. No one in the Navy had any submarine salvage experience.

Clearly, by 1969 it was time for an exercise under controlled conditions,

dubbed Subsalvex ’69, to train salvors in submarine salvage and to assure

the continued viability of the Submarine Pontoon Salvage Method developed by Naval Constructor Furer more than half a century before.

Subsalvex ’69

Hake (SS 256) had been acquired by the Atlantic Fleet Service Force

as a submarine salvage hulk. A two-phase submarine salvage exercise was

planned for the late spring of 1969 in the relatively protected waters of

Chesapeake Bay.

In the first phase, Hake would be raised from about 100 feet with submarine salvage pontoons, rigged fore and aft in pairs. Each pair would

consist of a lift pontoon just above the submarine and a control pontoon

rigged at a depth of 40 feet. In the second-phase lift, an intentionally

more complex operation, two internal compartments as well as ballast

tanks would be flooded. The submarine would be raised by pontoons,

combined with selected blowing of ballast tanks. The exercise would

begin with a simulated rescue operation by Petrel (ASR 14) and her

McCann chamber.

Captain B. Peters took command of the exercise; Lieutenant

Commander Arnold E. Pyatt acted as salvage officer. Hoist and Preserver

were to be the primary salvage ships with Kiowa and Harbor Clearance

Unit Two providing support. Three flat-deck barges (YC) were assigned

to carry air compressors and salvage equipment; YRST–2 would provide

general support.

Norfolk Naval Shipyard carefully prepared Hake; Hoist towed her to

the site and she sank as scheduled. Petrel moved in, laid her four-point

moor, conducted her chamber runs, picked up her moor, and left the submarine to the salvors.

Hoist and Preserver positioned themselves in three-point moors over

Hake and began salvage work. Not surprisingly, the submarine salvage

pontoons proved no easier to handle and rig than they had thirty years

earlier. When the pontoons were in place and blown, nothing happened.

After several hours of blowing with no apparent result, an inspection

revealed the pontoons to be a-cockbill and hoses either fouled or pinched.

Once the hoses were sorted out, the pontoons were blown without further

difficulty. When both control pontoons had surfaced, Preserver towed

Hake to her new grounding site in 74 feet of water and sank her for the

second phase of the exercise. Divers surveyed Hake and found her resting

on an even keel about two feet in the mud. Pontoons were unrigged and

the second phase of the exercise began. Everything went as planned and

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Hake surfaced with all internal compartments dry except the forward torpedo room bilges.

Subsalvex ‘69 had been a carefully planned and structured exercise

using proven techniques under controlled conditions. It reaffirmed that

submarine salvage using pontoons was a feasible method of salvage in

water shallow enough for diving. No new technology or techniques were

developed for this exercise, but valuable training was obtained. Two years

later in a similar exercise, Subsalvex ’71, things would not go so smoothly.

Subsalvex ’71

Subsalvex ’71, conducted in the Plantation Flats of the Chesapeake

Bay, was originally scheduled for April, but was delayed until late summer

so that it would not interfere with the black drum game-fish season.

Some minor changes were made based on the Subsalvex ’69 experience. This time pontoons would be towed to the site to prevent the damage that invariably occurred when pontoons were launched from barges.

Only one salvage ship would work at any time in the moor over Hake,

eliminating interference between ships.

Opportune picked up Hake and towed her to the site. While Hake was

on the way, Preserver surveyed the site and found it unacceptably deep. A

new site nearby was chosen and Hake was sunk. Neither the tow nor the

sinking had gone particularly well; Hake had yawed badly during the tow,

and air hoses kinked during the sinking. These minor problems were harbingers of things to come.

Sunbird (ASR 15) moved in to make simulated rescue runs. The submarine rescue ship could not lay a four-point moor because of shoal water

near the sunken submarine. A two-point moor had to suffice. Chamber

runs started, but the seat on the hatch was fouled and had to be cleared

by divers. With the seat clear, the current set the chamber forward of the

seat. After some time and some skillful seamanship, the chamber runs

were made. During the runs, unplanned flooding in two compartments of

the submarine was discovered. With the McCann cham ber runs complete, Sunbird picked up her moor and departed.

Now salvage work began in earnest. Preserver laid a four-point moor,

Utina brought submarine salvage pontoons out, and HCU-Two’s

LCU–1490, acting as a compressor and air control platform, came to the

scene. Numerous minor difficulties plagued the rigging of the pontoons;

all were overcome. Preparations for the first lift were completed eleven

days after the operation began.

The first lift attempt looked like a replay of the Squalus; the control

pontoon, lift pontoon, and bow broke the surface in a great ebullition.

The bow and control pontoon sank. The lift pontoon floated, wrapped

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in her rigging. An attempt to raise the submarine with the remaining pontoons failed.

Pontoons were rerigged and checked, but before another lift could be

made, Mother Nature—who can’t seem to leave a salvage job alone—

gave a hand. A hurricane blew through. Salvage units buoyed off the submarine and sought shelter.

Mosopelea (ATF 158) was first on the scene after the storm. Her divers

inspected the wreck and found Hake and the pontoons little affected. The

remaining salvage units returned and took up where they had left off.

Opportune and Mosopelea anchored off the bow and stern of Hake to control

her as she rose. Preserver went into a two-point moor parallel to the wreck

with LCU–1490 alongside in the Chinese naval tradition, that is, bow to

stern. Hake and the pontoons were blown. The bow rose but was set back

down. The following day Hake was lifted and moved to shallower water.

This final lift to surface required more buoyancy than could be

obtained with the pontoons and ballast tanks. Preserver picked up twelve,

8.4-ton inflatable pontoons from the Norfolk Emergency Ship Salvage

Material pool for this purpose. These were rigged directly to the submarine salvage pontoons. For the lift Opportune took position on the bow,

and Preserver with LCU–1490 alongside astern. Although some of the

inflatable pontoons failed, the submarine surfaced and Opportune began

towing her to shallow water. The boarding crew found considerable flooding in the submarine, but before pumps could be brought aboard, the current caught LCU–1490. Air hoses parted and the submarine began to

sink. Hatches were quickly made tight and equipment removed. The submarine sank in 35 feet of water. The following day Hake was surfaced

again and this time stayed on the surface. Except for picking up the

pieces, the exercise had been completed.

Although it was a planned exercise, Subsalvex ’71 bore a strong

resemblance to a real salvage operation because of its many surprises and

unexpected elements. The exercise showed, once again, that if salvors are

to cope effectively with the unexpected incidents that are a part of every

salvage operation, they must have as much realistic training at sea as possible. Furthermore, training exercises must be frequent and must include

the full scope of salvage techniques and equipment.

Guittaro

Subsalvexes ’69 and ’71 were planned and scheduled exercises;

Guittaro was not. The nuclear submarine Guittaro (SSN 665), under construction at the Mare Island Division of the San Francisco Bay Shipyard

with all her nuclear equipment except the reactor aboard, sank at her

berth on 15 May 1969.

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298
Response was immediate. The shipyard’s salvage officer, Lieutenant

Commander James J. Coleman, was on the scene; the Pacific Fleet

Salvage Officer, Commander John B. Orem, flew in from Pearl Harbor;

the Supervisor of Salvage, Captain Mitchell, arrived from Washington.

There were many pluses for this salvage. The major one was that

Guittaro had sunk in a naval shipyard—a large industrial facility with a

variety of in-house or immediately accessible resources. On the negative

side, a ship under construction posed some salvage problems. Most

notably, all the hoses, piping, vent ducts, cables, and other things that

passed through the hatches and doors compromised the watertight

integrity of the hull.

The salvage plan was straightforward.

• Equipment would be removed from topside and from all doors and

hatches.

• All internal watertight fittings would be secured.

• All hull openings would be patched or cofferdammed.

• Buoyancy would be restored by pumping and blowing. The two forward compartments would be dewatered first, then the engine room and

the auxiliary machinery room. Main ballast tanks would be blown. The

submarine should then rise to the surface. However, salvors always have

an alternative plan ready. In this case, it called for reballasting, pumping

the reactor room, and blowing ballast again.

• A floating crane would be positioned aft to provide additional stability.

Commander Orem took charge, and operations proceeded in accordance with the plan. Hatches and doors were cleared and closed.

Cofferdams were designed, built, and fit to the reactor compartment and

aft access hatch. With the hull secured and everything ready, blowing

started in the forward compartments. Blowing continued for thirteen

hours, then pumping started and the crane took a stabilizing strain on the

stern. Guittaro surfaced as predicted, with enough buoyancy to permit her

im mediate drydocking. The ready availability of all the industrial

resources that were required, coupled with superb individual performances,

allowed salvage of Guittaro in only three days.

Navy Contract Salvage

There were two basic reasons for increased Navy contract salvage

activity during the Vietnam era. First, fleet forces had their hands full

with the war and were not available to conduct many of the salvage

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operations they would ordinarily undertake in peacetime. Second, the

Supervisors of Salvage during this period, Captains Bill Searle and Gene

Mitchell, took aggressive action to use salvage contractors to perform

work for any government agency that needed it. Thus agencies outside

the Department of the Navy were made aware that Navy contracts

existed and could be effective and economical in satisfying their salvage

requirements.

Such use of the Navy contractors helped to strengthen them and to

provide a firm base for expansion in the event of wartime mobilization.

This had, in fact, been the intent of Congress when the Salvage Facilities

Act was passed in 1948. Furthermore, existing salvage contracts strengthened by the Supervisor of Salvage’s competent oversight were cheaper

than a collection of individual contracts let by the several agencies with

an interest in salvage.

A major change in the Navy’s contract arrangements came about in

1967. Murphy-Pacific Corporation, a West Coast construction firm,

acquired the marine salvage division of Merritt-Chapman and Scott, and

as Murphy-Pacific Marine Salvage Company, became the primary Navy

salvage contractor and the only major international salvor operating in

the United States. Along with the Navy contract, Murphy-Pacific took

over the charter of the salvage ships Curb and Cable and the operation of

Gear on the West Coast.

The Drydock and Ol’ Man River

One of the last large Navy contract operations undertaken by Merritt-Chapman and Scott was one of the most complex and spectacular salvage operations ever carried out in the United States. When Hurricane

Betsy, the storm that sank Kellar, hit New Orleans on 9 September 1965,

the casualties were numerous. The most important to the Navy was the

floating drydock AFDM–2 that had been leased to Todd Shipyards

Corporation for their Algiers yard. When the storm was over, AFDM–2

was found capsized three miles upstream and across the river from her

berth. The Mississippi River is not the ideal place for salvage. Divers have

difficulty working effectively in the strong currents with zero visibility and

large amounts of waterborne debris. On the other hand, New Orleans is

located in a major industrial area where all types of support and material

are readily available.

A survey and study of the results showed salvage to be technically

feasible and economically sound, if a salvage plan could be worked out

that would keep the costs within Todd Shipyards’ insurance coverage.

The alternative to salvage—piecemeal removal—would be an even

longer, more expensive process.

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300
Pending development of the full salvage plan, AFDM–2 had to be

relocated, a most unusual operation. The wreck was moved three times:

first to a site that removed her as a navigational hazard in the busy river,

second to a suitable salvage work site, then a third time to return her to

the work site after a river crest and surge of debris tore her from her

moorings and deposited her across the river. Each time, the dock was

moved by a combination of Curb or Cable and Navy ships Salinan,

Salvager, or Windlass. Beach gear was laid upstream and, with a tug steaming into the current, the dock swung like a pendulum into its new position. Seldom do salvors have the opportunity to put a wreck in the most

convenient place and orientation for salvage.

The salvage plan called for righting AFDM–2 by rolling her 180

degrees toward the levee in twelve carefully controlled steps. Each step

would bring the wreck to a position of equilibrium by combining the

pulling force of sixteen sets of beach gear with the buoyancy of inflatable

pontoons and the judicious use of internal buoyancy and compressed air.

Two former Navy salvage officers, Francis N. Oberle, now vice president

of Merritt-Chapman and Scott, and “Bulldog” Thurmond, the company’s

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The floating drydock AFDM–2 set off a complex salvage job when it capsized and sank in

the Mississippi at New Orleans. Here it is partially righted after 4,000 tons of mud had

been removed.
project manager, had control of the project. Captain Henry A. Gerdes,

industrial manager and supervisor of shipbuilding for the Eighth Naval

District, oversaw the work for the Supervisor of Salvage through two salvage officers, Lieutenants “Horrible” Smith and Bill Klorig.

Careful control of the righting forces was essential throughout the

operation. Tensiometers34 in each beach gear leg helped balance the pull

in the sixteen sets and avoid the possibility of structural damage to the

dock or overstressing of the rigging and sequential failure. Sixty-eight

pontoons were arranged at three levels so that a planned portion of the

lift was lost with the dock’s rotation, a measure further contributing to

precise control.

Before rotation could begin, months of preparation were required to:

• Repair those sections of the hull that would be underwater during

the parbuckling operation.

• Install valves, vents, padeyes, and other fittings that would be used

during the operation.

• Build the deadmen,35 set up the winches ashore, and reeve the purchases.

• Prepare a central control station.

Preparations for rotating the dock were completed in mid-July 1966,

more than ten months after AFDM–2 had sunk. The initial ballasting and

deballasting operation failed to move the wreck as planned because Ol’

Man River had packed mud into the hull. Over 2,000 tons of mud was

removed after high-pressure water jetting turned the mud into a

pumpable slurry. With the mud removed and a pull of more than 550 tons

on the beach gear, the dock moved but failed to reach the predicted position. After another 2,000 tons of mud had been removed, the dock began

to rotate as the calculations indicated she should.

Only one other major problem interfered with the execution of the

salvage plan. The plan called for an essentially level bearing area. Dredging had not been planned, in the belief that the erosive action of the river

current, combined with compaction from the weight of the drydock,

would sufficiently flatten the bottom. This had not happened and, despite

the addition of more ballast, dredging along 360 feet of the drydock’s 614-

34Because no suitable tensiometers were available, they were specially developed by the Navy’s

David Taylor Model Basin. The readouts at the central control station gave the engineer the ability

to stress the beach gear to known levels in sequence, thus providing a greater degree of control than

had previously been possible. 35Each deadman consisted of four 10-foot long, 12-by-l2-inch timbers lashed together with a

wire-rope bridle and laid horizontally parallel to the axis of the dock in a 6-foot-deep trench. The

trench was faced with 6-foot long, 6-by-6-inch timbers buried vertically.

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foot length was required. After dredging, salvage progressed in accordance

with the salvage plan until the drydock floated and could be pumped out

and stabilized.

The salvors returned the refloated dock to the Todd Shipyard on 25

August 1966, eleven and a half months after she had broken free in the

hurricane. A job that had demonstrated the value of careful and complete engineering to a complex salvage operation was finished, and an

important dock would soon return to service.

Alamo Victory

When Betsy’s sister Camille struck the Gulf Coast in the summer of

1969, the Supervisor of Salvage used his contract resources to fulfill a salvage requirement of the Military Sea Transportation Service. Three ships,

Alamo Victory, Hulda, and Silver Hawk, had been driven ashore together

in Gulfport, Mississippi. The operator of Alamo Victory, the Military Sea

Transportation Service, immediately requested the Supervisor of Salvage

to undertake the salvage. The supervisor, in turn, tasked Murphy-Pacific,

and Curb sailed from her salvage station in Key West.

Refloating Alamo Victory was a classic stranding salvage involving

cargo discharge and beach gear, complicated by the need for extensive

dredging and debris removal. Six sets of beach gear, all attached to the

stern of the ship, were used to pivot Alamo Victory around her bow and

haul her off the beach. The operation was completed within a month.

Once again, the value of the Navy contractor for immediate response

when no fleet salvage ships or units were available had been demonstrated.

Regulus

The 1971–72 removal of the Navy stores ship Regulus from Kau Yi

Chau Island in Hong Kong harbor demonstrated an important use of

Navy salvage contractors—releasing fleet resources with heavy commitments from lengthy operations that would stretch them too thin. Initial

fleet response and the ultimate decision to turn the wreck over to the

Supervisor of Salvage was described earlier in this chapter. The subsequent removal of Regulus required many months. The Marine Department

of Hong Kong is responsible for that city’s harbor and has extremely high

standards for salvage operations, and so the conditions for wreck removal

had been made clear in writing at the beginning of the operation.

Initially the Supervisor of Salvage proposed to use his long-standing

contract with Luzon Stevedoring Corporation to remove the Regulus;

however, the seldom-used contract had expired. Because of the administraThe Vietnam Era

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tive time required by the contracting office, a new contract could not be

issued to Luzon Stevedoring in time for the Regulus removal. The

Supervisor of Salvage then tasked Murphy-Pacific, whose contract called

for “worldwide salvage services.” With no resources in the western

Pacific, Murphy-Pacific subcontracted to a Hong Kong marine contractor,

Fuji Marden and Company, to carry out the work under the supervision

of Murphy-Pacific salvage experts. They, in turn, would be under the

technical supervision of a Supervisor of Salvage representative.

Captain Cyrus Alleman, one of Murphy-Pacific’s more experienced

salvage masters and a retired Navy lieutenant, was assigned to Regulus, as

was Lieutenant Commander James C. Bladh from the Supervisor of

Salvage’s office. The plan called for cutting the wreck in half, cutting

down the hull, taking out as much machinery as possible, then floating

the remainder of the stern and bow sections across Hong Kong harbor to

Fuji Marden’s yard at Junk Bay. Fuji Marden agreed to purchase the scrap

and apply the price against the charge for wreck removal.

A pumping system was set up to prevent further sinkage and settling

of the wreck; barges came alongside and removals began with masts and

the stack. A series of major work disruptions began with a fire started by

a cutting torch and continued with other fires, a series of typhoons, and

some unexpected holiday celebrations. By late November, beach gear had

been laid to hold the stern section, but attempts to float it did not succeed because the wreck was not light enough to float clear of impaling

rocks. By mid-December the draft aft had been reduced 3 feet and the

stern had been pulled clear of a major impalement.

Shortly after the new year began, the stern section pivoted around 75

degrees and floated free. Some of the beach gear was shifted to the forward section and lightening continued; by the end of the month, both

sections floated free of the island. In late February, after careful preparation for tow across the busy harbor, the two sections were delivered to

Fuji Marden’s Junk Bay yard and final cleanup at the Kau Yi Chau Island

was completed. No trace of Regulus remained.

The Supervisor of Salvage realized that, as a fallout of the Regulus

operation, the inadvertent expiration of the Luzon Stevedoring contract

had left the Navy without an important resource in the western Pacific.

This loss was particularly significant because of the increased importance

of the naval base at Subic Bay and the fact that Philippine cabotage laws,

modeled on those of the United States, did not allow salvage by foreignflag salvors in their waters. The Supervisor of Salvage took immediate

steps to reestablish the contract with Luzon Stevedoring. Under the terms

of the new contract, diesel-powered machinery replaced the gasoline powered Emergency Ship Salvage Material pool equipment that had been

given to Luzon Stevedoring following World War II and had been well

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maintained. In addition, MV Virginia City, originally Pakana (ATF 108),

which had been transferred to the Bureau of Mines after World War II but

was now unneeded, passed to Luzon Stevedoring on a conditional sale

agreement.36

A short time later and as part of a plan to increase contractor salvage

support, United Salvage Pty., Ltd., of Melbourne, Australia, received a

contract for standby salvage services in the South Pacific, Neither ships

nor equipment were provided to United Salvage under this contract.

The Summer of ’72

The summer of 1972 saw two major harbor clearance jobs in widely

separated parts of the United States. The jobs were conducted concurrently by one Navy contractor, Murphy-Pacific, for one government

agency, the Army Corps of Engineers. During the same summer in the far

reaches of the Pacific, Luzon Stevedoring, operating under its new contract, undertook what was rapidly becoming a major part of any salvage

operation, the removal of oil from a grounded ship.

The Last Days of the Warrior

The first of the two harbor clearance jobs involved Oriental Warrior.

The 535-foot passenger-cargo ship caught fire at sea off Jackson-ville,

Florida, on 27 May 1972. The ship was towed to the Jacksonville Port

Authority container pier at Blount Island on the St. John’s River, where

it sank in 34 feet of water during fire-fighting efforts.

The most immediate problem was to prevent a major spill of Bunker

C oil from Oriental Warrior. After the oil spill problem had been brought

under control, the burned-out hulk had to be removed because it blocked

the container terminal. When the ship sank, the owner had abandoned

it. Pollution control then became the responsibility of the Coast Guard;

removal was the responsibility of the Corps of Engineers. Both agencies

requested assistance from the Supervisor of Salvage, who assumed control

of the operation on 10 June and tasked Murphy-Pacific to assist.

Because of the strong currents in the river and the wakes of passing

ships, a triple boom was placed around the stern of Oriental Warrior to

contain any oil spillage. Two skimmers, pumping directly to a recovery

barge, and sorbents were put to work inside the boom. Vacuum trucks,

pressurizing tanks through sounding tubes, bucket skimming, and hot

36Several years later, Luzon Stevedoring Corporation was effectively nationalized by the

Philippine government. When this happened, the Philippine government unilaterally abrogated the

contract and refused to return either the ship or the salvage equipment.

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tapping recovered the oil that had spread throughout the ship.37 The oil

recovery operation terminated on 15 July and salvage planning began.

Lieutenant Commander Bladh, recently returned from the Regulus

disposal, was designated as Supervisor of Salvage representative. MurphyPacific assigned Captain Robert T. Belsher, a veteran of early HCU-One

operations in Vietnam, as salvage master, and Captain Bruce B. McClosky

as assistant salvage master. Mr. Alex Rynecki, also a former Navy salvage

37Hot tapping is an oil removal method adapted for salvage from an oil industry technique. It

allows removal of oil from submerged and inaccessible tanks without spillage. Hot tapping consists of

four basic steps: (1) a spool piece is attached to the tank boundary using a velocity actuated stud gun;

(2) a gate valve is bolted onto the spool piece; (3) an extendable rotary cutter, fitted to the top of

the gate valve, extends through the valve and spool piece and cuts the tank boundary; (4) when the

cut is completed, the cutter is withdrawn, the valve closed, and the cutter replaced with a suction

hose to discharge the tank. This method was first used in salvage during removal of oil from the

sunken tanker Arrow at Chedabucto Bay, Nova Scotia, in the winter of 1970.

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306

This rigging was used to keep Oriental Warrior upright.

The burned-out hulk of Oriental Warrior sank alongside Jacksonville’s new container port,

blocking two important berths.
officer, was salvage engineer. Diving was subcontracted to Taylor Diving

and Salvage of New Orleans; additional diving was done by Buck Steber

Company.

The salvage operation was basically a patch-and-pump salvage com -

plicated by two factors. First, the fire had severely damaged the structure

of Oriental Warrior, causing, among other problems, buckling of the main

deck. To avoid structural collapse and loss of ability to refloat the ship,

the main deck had to be kept in tension. Second, the partial immersion

of the main deck resulted in a significant loss of transverse stability. The

removal of low weight in the form of bunker fuel carried in the doublebottom tanks and the consumption of an indeterminate amount of cargo

by the fire also contributed to a critical problem of stability.

To refloat the ship, floodwater had to be removed from the engine

room and the contiguous, and now common, number three hold.

However with the weight of this water removed, the ship’s center of gravity would rise, the other liquid weight in the ship would shift, there would

be a large free surface with its consequent loss of stability, and the hull

would be in a sagging condition on the verge of structural collapse. The

addition of solid weight and water ballast at the ends of the ship would

put the ship in a hogging condition and keep the main deck in tension—

the condition where it had some residual strength—as well as keep the

center of gravity low.

Three steps added weight in the needed places:

• Forepeak, after peak, and deep tanks under number one and number five holds were pressed full with water.

• More than 400 cubic yards of concrete was placed in the shaft alley.

The concrete also sealed the shaft alley against flooding.

• One-ton lead pigs on loan from the National Contingency Reserve

in Louisiana were placed in number one and number two holds. Following

refloating the pigs were removed and returned to their normal storage.

To restrain the ship’s rotation and to hold it against the pier, ten sets

of parbuckling wires hauled the ship close to special fender pilings and

restricted upsetting moments. As Oriental Warrior lay starboard side to

with a starboard list, eight parbuckling wires were rove for rotating the

hull to port. These wires attached to the starboard deck edge, ran across

the ship, down the port side, under the ship, and up and over a fairlead

on the pier edge. Two wires for rotating to starboard ran from the deck

edge directly to the pier edge fairleads. From the pier edge fairleads, all

the wires ran either to winch-hauled beach gear purchases or to continuous-pull linear pullers.

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The unstable soil conditions in the area required heavy construction

for the deadmen. At each station three 14-inch steel pilings were driven

and 4-by-4-by-5-foot reinforced concrete caps were placed on top of the

pilings. Winches or pullers were then mounted on the caps.

With the parbuckling system under construction and weight going

into the ship, the diving crew and a crew of carpenters worked to restore

watertight integrity to the hull and to subdivide the ship for pumping.

The divers encountered an unusual problem similar to the one faced on

Regulus. A portion of the cargo in Oriental Warrior consisted of uncured

animal hides. The decay of this organic material generated hydrogen sulfide, forming an acid when dissolved in water and bubbling off in dangerous quantities. The hydrogen sulfide generation could not be controlled,

but its effect could be reduced by flushing water through the holds and

ventilating them to reduce its concentration.

With all preparations complete, pumping finally began on 22

September. Initial pumping operations were plagued by numerous leaks

that had to be chased down and stopped by divers. Once the leaks were

under control and the parbuckling wires tensioned, pumping went forward and the ship refloated. With the ship afloat, as much floodwater as

possible was stripped out, hull openings previously buried in the mud

were patched, and the lead ballast was removed.

Consultation between the Supervisor of Salvage, the Corps of

Engineers, the Coast Guard, the Environmental Protection Agency, and

local groups resulted in the decision to tow Oriental Warrior to sea and

sink her in deep water as quickly as possible. The last days of Warrior had

been full ones; now they were over.

Sidney E. Smith

The second job for the Army Corps of Engineers in the summer of

1972 started near Port Huron, Michigan, in the early hours of 5 June

1972. The 9-knot current of the St. Clair River caught the bow of the

Great Lakes freighter Sidney E. Smith and carried her into the path of

Parker Evans. Following the collision, the 66-year-old Smith rolled on her

starboard side and sank, partially blocking the busy waterway. The current of the St. Clair wasn’t through with the old laker. It scoured the bottom that supported the sunken ship until the bow section broke away and

began sinking into the scoured hole. By 8 June the bow section was completely submerged.

At the time of her sinking, Smith had an estimated 49,000 gallons of

Bunker C oil on board. The danger of a major spill was compelling. The

Coast Guard reacted quickly and effectively, setting up systems to remove

the remaining oil from the ship and to control pollution should a spill

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occur. A cooperative effort using the ADAPTS oil pumping system of the

Coast Guard’s National Strike Force commercial equipment removed the

oil from the ship.38

Immediately after the accident, it appeared that Sidney E. Smith’s

owners, Erie Sand Steamship Company, would take responsibility for the

work. However, this did not occur and the Corps of Engineers requested

the Supervisor of Salvage to remove the wreck. As is typical of financial

arrangements for wreck removal, the Corps of Engineers provided funding to the Supervisor of Salvage on a cost-reimbursable basis. The corps

could then bring suit against the owner to recover the government’s costs.

As with Oriental Warrior, the Supervisor of Salvage immediately

tasked Murphy-Pacific to do the work. A project team was formed with

Commander Robert B. Moss, USNR, as the Supervisor of Salvage representative and Mr. Earl Lawrence, Lieutenant Craig Mullen, and Mr. Jerry

Totten as his principal assistants. The Murphy-Pacific group was led by

38ADAPTS is an acronym for Air Deliverable Anti-Pollution Transfer System. The system con -

sists of a submersible, 10-inch hydraulic pump and associated equipment, including a diesel-driven

hydraulic power source that may be parachuted for pickup on the surface. The system was developed

to Coast Guard specifications to meet that agency’s statutory responsibility in pollution control

operations.

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The Great Lakes ore carrier Sidney E. Smith lies capsized and sunk in the St. Clair River

near Port Huron, Michigan. A bit later, the ship broke in two. Both sections settled into

the bottom as the current, clearly visible here, scoured the bottom sand away.
Salvage Master Robert McKenzie. The district engineer provided a derrick barge with a 60-ton crane and a variety of small craft.

The salvage plan gave priority attention to the stern section because

the bow was completely submerged and going down further each day.

Urethane foam in the cargo holds would lighten the section so it could be

dragged ashore. Foam was chosen over the more conventional pumping

and patching to eliminate the complex underwater work inherent in

patching and to give salvors the flexibility to work around structural

damage.

The strong currents in the river made underwater work outside the

hull impossible and called for unusual methods for divers to gain access

inside the hull. Tubes 60 feet long and 30 inches in diameter were

designed and placed for diver access. Divers would descend inside the

tube, protected from the current, and enter and exit the hull through a

window in the tube. Preparations for foaming the holds would include

removing residual coal cargo and river mud from the holds with airlifts

and fitting hatch covers to contain the foam.

Initial plans called for moving the stern section to the beach on its

starboard side. However, bottom surveys showed a ridge only 23 feet

deep, followed by a depression nearly 90 feet deep between the stern section and its destination. Attempting to drag the hulk over the ridge would

increase the ground reaction to the point that the section could not be

moved. Parbuckling the section upright would allow it to be dragged

across the ridge without developing additional ground reaction.

Attachment points were chosen so that the section could be first parbuckled and then dragged by a pull acting at the same points.

Pulling Sidney E. Smith presented a problem not encountered in either

the AFDM–2 work in New Orleans or the Oriental Warrior job in

Jacksonville. In those jobs the shore was broad enough to lay out beach

gear purchases and to design deadmen without worrying about the space

they occupied. This situation did not exist in Port Huron. A railway line

and an asphalt plant limited the space on the bank and dictated pulling

with continuous-pull linear pullers that did not require long purchases

and an anchoring system that occupied a minimum of space.

The pullers were manufactured for the job by Luker Manufacturing

Company to a standard design. Deadmen were constructed by drilling

into the soil at a 45-degree angle, placing multiple strands of wire rope in

the holes, and pressure grouting the rope in place. The wire rope

anchored concrete blocks to which the linear pullers were attached with

wire-rope bridles. The pullers rested on timber skids, where they could

change their angle as the wreck moved.

Salvage of the stern section went forward with only minor problems;

the most severe was the quality of the foam. Heating the chemicals to

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310
maintain the minimum temperature required for formation of good-qual -

ity foam solved this problem. On 21 July, with all in readiness, a strain was

taken. Nothing happened. Divers found the stern and bow sections still

connected by shell plating and some longitudinal members. Explosives

and oxy-arc torches cut the connections. Before the second pull attempt,

additional foam was added and the pulling arrangement modified to

increase the pull. On the second attempt the stern moved 31 feet toward

the shore. Still more foam went in to ensure that the stern dragged

through the depression easily. Just after midnight on 6 August the final

pull began; by 2:30 a.m. the stern section was secured alongside the bank

and the salvors’ attention turned to the bow.

The salvage plan for the bow, now at a maximum depth of 90 feet,

had the same elements as the stern: foaming and pulling. However the

depth of the bow section complicated its salvage. A mooring to hold the

derrick barge in position over the bow was required; an improved foam

delivery system with in-line heating of chemicals had to be used; and cofferdams reaching from the surface to the bottom of the wreck were needed for diver access.

In addition, uncertainty about the location of the conveyor boom and

the amount of coal and river mud in the ship called for more pulling

power. Two heavy winches with a combined pull of 500 tons were set up

to complement the hydraulic linear pullers. A huge amount of work was

required. The most serious problems came from handling the 100-footlong diver access cofferdams in the current.

By 21 September Smith’s bow section had a negative buoyancy of

between 400 and 600 tons, light enough for a pull. Pulling began at 7

o’clock that night. When rigging failures caused the pulling effort to be

secured, the bow had moved 40 feet closer to the shore but still blocked

the channel. After rigging repairs, pulling began again until the section

moved within 100 feet of the shore, clear of the channel.

Scrapping and refloating of the stern section began while bow foaming and pulling operations were in progress. Weight was removed from the

ship and piled ashore; watertight boundaries were established within the

section and pumped dry. After the stern section was moved clear, the bow

was dragged clear of the channel. With the bow section near the shore,

the conveyor boom and cofferdams were cut off, critical hull openings

sealed, and the section parbuckled to a nearly upright position. More

foam went into the hull and topside structure came off until, on 29

October, the bow was heavy and listing but afloat.

Attempts by the Corps of Engineers to sell the two hull sections at

auction were unsuccessful, and the sections were sunk in a dredged excavation as a dock and erosion bulkhead. Sidney E. Smith had found her

final resting place.

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The Green Sea Turtles of West Fayu

In December 1971 the Liberian-registry, break-bulk cargo vessel Solar

Trader ran aground on a shallow reef at West Fayu Island, an atoll in the

Trust Territories of the Pacific. No salvage attempt was made, and after

some time the ship began slowly leaking oil into the sea. The leakage presented a hazard to the breeding grounds of the green sea turtle, a food staple for the people of neighboring islands. In June 1972 the Coast Guard

requested assistance from the Supervisor of Salvage to remove the oil.

The Supervisor of Salvage tasked Luzon Stevedoring with the work.

A survey made by Luzon Stevedoring on 16 June formed the basis for

the oil removal plan, which was to moor a barge or hold it with a tug off

the Solar Trader, tap into piping systems, and pump oil to the barge with

positive displacement pumps. The remote location of the Solar Trader

required a backup plan and the transport of everything necessary to the

scene. The alternate plan called for installing prefabricated cofferdams

around tank-top manholes and pumping the tanks with submersible

pumps. Oil-containment and clean-up equipment would be on hand.

The tug Stanford with a 1,000-deadweight ton barge left Manila for

West Fayu on 26 June and arrived at the site on 8 July. Mr. Denis E. Irons

of the Supervisor of Salvage’s office and Lieutenant William Key, the salvage officer at the Ship Repair Facility, Guam, were on board. Sea conditions caused by the passage of typhoons made it advisable to moor the

receiving barge inside the lagoon rather than offshore and to run the discharge hose across the reef. The salvors found much of the starboard side

of Solar Trader open to the sea and only a limited amount of oil in the

ship.

Pumping began after sunrise on 14 July and continued until dusk,

when it secured because of the difficulty of detecting oil spill in darkness.

The pumping continued in this dawn-to-dusk manner through 17 July,

when the compartments were washed down and the hose contents were

water-pushed through the hose to purge it. To leave the vessel as secure

as possible against further spillage, salvors opened all tanks, including

those with submerged manholes. This led to the discovery of additional

oil and a small spill, which was cleaned up by a skimmer. The oil in the

double bottoms and all remaining petroleum products were then removed

from the ship. On 23 July Stanford and her barge got underway for Manila.

The green sea turtles of West Fayu were safe from the destructive effects

of the oil.

In the summer of 1972 the Supervisor of Salvage had used commercial contracts to assist the U.S. government in advancing the maritime

interests of the United States in the three important and very different

operations just examined. The value of these contracts in serving the

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nation’s interest under the control of an agency with the technical

expertise to supervise them properly had been demonstrated again.

Salvage Posture After Vietnam

The first new class of salvage ships built since the war, the Edentonclass salvage and rescue ship, had joined the fleet during the Vietnam era.

The capability of these ships seemed great, but had not yet been proven

in the unforgiving venue of actual salvage operations. And there were

only three of these ships, one in the Atlantic and two in the Pacific, certainly not enough to provide a force large enough to replace the aging

World War II-vintage salvage ships and fleet tugs.

In fact, the roles of the salvage ships and fleet tugs were not at all

clear. Difficulty in manning the salvage fleet had caused Navy planners to

look at the possibility of using civilian crews in auxiliary types of ships and

operating them under the auspices of the Military Sealift Command,

much as the Royal Navy has traditionally done with their auxiliaries. One

of the ship types considered for civilian crews was the fleet tug. With

civilian manning, the World War II-vintage fleet tug and her successor,

the T-ATF 166 class, would be essentially point-to-point tugs—a far cry

from the rescue-towing and combat salvage roles for which the older

ships had been built. There was no serious consideration given to civilian

manning of the existing salvage ships at this time, but the ships were

nearing the end of their useful life.

The harbor clearance units and the concept of quick response and flyaway salvage that they represented had added a new dimension to Navy

salvage, one that would dominate the immediate future. The harbor

clearance units formalized and expanded the method of operation

demonstrated early in World War II in the Pacific, when men like Lebbeus

Curtis and Emile Genereaux flew off to salvage jobs to do the work with

whatever resources they could muster. These units and the concepts that

they represented were the most significant changes in Navy salvage since

the passage of the Salvage Act in 1948.

For the first time at the end of a war, steps were taken to develop a

salvage organization in the Naval Reserve. Reserve harbor clearance unit

detachments were organized at ten locations around the United States

and divided so that there were equal numbers with HCU-One and HCUTwo as parent units. These Reserve units were manned by officers and

men who had gained experience in the field while assigned to harbor

clearance units and salvage ships. As salvors they loved their trade and

took advantage of every opportunity to practice it, to keep their hands in,

and to hone skills that would otherwise grow dull through inaction. The

Naval Ship Systems Command strongly supported the units. The Reserve

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313
harbor clearance units and supporting units in the Naval Ship Systems

Command headquarters were established largely through the efforts of

the Deputy Supervisor of Salvage, Commander Robert Moss. A reserve

officer himself, Moss undertook much of the laborious, unexciting, and

vital work of justifying the units; the dividends of his valuable work may

never be fully paid.

Just as William A. Sullivan dominated Navy salvage during World

War II, two leaders among the many of the Vietnam era stand out. They

are the successive Supervisors of Salvage who, between them, occupied

the office for almost nine years, Captains Willard F. Searle and Eugene B.

Mitchell. When Captain Searle became Supervisor of Salvage in the fall

of 1964, the office was only a small technical office in the Bureau of

Ships. But the forthcoming conflict and expanding ocean technology

offered an opportunity for aggressive and imaginative leadership that

would:

• Expand the technical function of the office.

• Broadly interpret the law and responsibilities of the Navy under the

Salvage Facilities Act.

• Develop new sophisticated salvage techniques.

• Improve the equipment that fleet units were using, including

wholesale dieselization of the aged gasoline-driven equipment.

• Institute a broadly based research program in ocean technology

related to salvage and recovery.

• Establish the Navy’s position in newly emerging salvage-related

disciplines such as pollution control and abatement, deep submergence

systems, and deep diving.

• Expand the Navy’s capability by using salvage contractors, thereby

gaining flexibility and ensuring the continued existence of salvage and

salvage-related industrial capability.

When Captain Searle left office in 1969, each of these goals had

begun to be realized, and the office of Supervisor of Salvage was becoming an important player not just in the Navy and the United States, but

in the world salvage community. This growth continued under Captain

Mitchell, who reaffirmed the key role of salvage in the Navy, the Navy’s

position as the government’s agency for salvage, and the Navy’s technical

excellence among salvors of the world.

Two difficulties, however, would not clear quickly. First, despite efforts

in Washington and in the fleets, no office in the Chief of Naval Operations organization had yet been designated as the sponsor for salvage.

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This meant that salvage often lacked the advocacy it required in the

annual budget battles and policy formulation processes.

A second negative factor was the low priority that the fleet staffs gave

to the involvement of fleet forces in salvage operations that were not clearly their responsibility. Heavy demands on salvage units during the

Vietnam war, the particular difficulties affecting the Navy in the early

1970s, the Supervisor of Salvage’s ability and willingness to use contractors—all contributed to this attitude. The inevitable result was that the

experience levels, and then the performance, of fleet units declined.

Thus, although the record established by Navy salvors should have

assured them of a clear place in the sun, this was not the case. The next

few years would be interesting ones.

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The Early Days

CH8A

CLOSE CALL
MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

CH8B
Toward the Nineties

317

CHAPTER EIGHT

Moving Toward the Nineties

The thirteen years from 1974 to 1987 were a time of relative peace

for the United States although, as powerful nations have done

throughout history, the nation found occasion to use its great military force in response to crises around the world. For the Navy’s salvage

forces, however, this period was a time of concern and great, if not always

consistent and planned, change. In seeking a soundly based future for

U.S. Navy salvage, many approaches were tried. Some worked better than

others. All affected each element of the Navy’s salvage ability: people,

ships, equipment, and operational doctrine. During this period, the salvage ships were wearing out and many of the methods that had served

well for years no longer seemed appropriate. By the early 1970s, the fleet’s

salvage capability was perceived by professionals to be declining. The reasons were clear: Although no salvage job goes perfectly, ineptness was

becoming too general, and fundamental mistakes that should not be made

were too common.

The Atlantic and Pacific Fleets and the Supervisor of Salvage worked

hand in glove to identify the causes of the declining capability and to

develop recommendations for the Chief of Naval Operations (CNO). Two

events that took place in Washington were giant steps toward clarifying

and continuing the Navy’s salvage role.

The first event was scarcely noticed outside the capital. It involved

the reassignment of salvage responsibility to the Surface Warfare and

Logistics offices of the CNO staff. For the first time since World War II,

salvage had an advocate that could take its case to the highest levels. The

fight for a fair share of budget dollars, for recognition of need, and even

for continued existence would be far easier from now on. In the early

stages of the shift, the split of sponsorship responsibilities between the

offices of Surface Warfare and Logistics was ill de fined, but would soon be

clarified.

The second important event began with a series of presentations in

which the Supervisor of Salvage, Captain Robert B. Moss, detailed the
Navy’s declining salvage position to his immediate superiors and new

sponsors. Ultimately, on 30 April 1979, Captain Moss gave a highly

refined version of this presentation to the Chief of Naval Operations

Executive Board; it was to become a watershed in the history of Navy

salvage.

There were several results, either direct or indirect. First, a five-ship

building program was authorized to maintain a total Navy force of ten salvage ships. Second, the Emergency Ship Salvage Material funding base

was revitalized. Third, the fragmented sponsorship issue was clarified,

with primary sponsorship of the Navy salvage program assigned to the

Surface Warfare office. With these moves the dragon of civilianization of

the Navy’s salvage program, which had been lurking in the background,

was finally slain. In sum, the Navy had now adopted a structured and sensible salvage policy.

The Elements of Salvage

The new salvage policy eased considerably the struggle for direction

that had affected each element of Navy salvage in the preceding years.

The challenge now became one of building, or rebuilding, all aspects of

the Navy salvage force to meet the demands of the future.

Much of the problem of declining Navy salvage capability lay in its

human resources. Although Navy salvors remained as dedicated and

resourceful as ever, experience levels were dropping in the officer wardrooms, chief petty officer quarters, and crew quarters. This decreasing

experience began at the highest level with the commanding officers of

the salvage ships. The so-called “mustangs” who had traditionally commanded salvage ships and tugs were no longer being assigned to those

jobs. The mustangs had been seasoned officers, skilled in bridge and seamanship evolutions, and familiar with salvage prior to assuming command. They had the experience necessary to evaluate the performance

of their crews and to take advantage of every opportunity to train them

and hone their salvage skills. Instead of the mustangs, front-running

unrestricted line officers were being assigned salvage commands. They

were certainly men of great potential, but their training and experience

lay far afield from salvage. They had neither the specialized seamanship

skills nor the experience to recognize the salvage deficiencies of their

crews.

Other officers were not encouraged to seek successive tours in salvage.

Personnel managers saw concentration in the salvage specialty as detrimental to an officer’s career in surface warfare. As a result, valuable men

left the Navy to remain in salvage work as civilians. Some inappropriate

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assignments were made. In several cases, men who had been quartermas -

ters on nuclear submarines received warrants as boatswain and assignments to salvage ships. They did not have the knowledge of specialized

salvage rigging needed to lead their deck crews. Enlisted experience

dropped as the frequency of salvage jobs diminished following the end of

hostilities in Vietnam, and as the ability of officers to provide technically

sound leadership for their crews declined.

Establishment of the Special Operations Officer designation in 1978

was a major step toward solving the problem of officers’ inexperience.

Officers were now permitted to specialize in salvage, and career patterns

were developed to ensure that commands were held by men well qualified

in the technical aspects of their jobs. The foundation was laid for the

development of a cadre of well-trained senior Regular Navy salvors that

could be expanded in wartime. This core of salvage specialists was supported by salvage-trained engineering duty officers. The combination

gave a breadth and depth of professionalism to Navy salvage that had not

been possible before.

Fortunately, Reserve harbor clearance units had already been formed.

Now, they began to pay off as the numbers of experienced, active-duty

salvors dropped. Within a short time many of the Reserve units had a level

of experience higher than active-duty units. To preserve the salvage skills

of these Reserve units, training programs were set up for their annual twoweek active duty with their parent harbor clearance units. Reserve units

were included in fleet operations whenever possible, and some operations

were specifically assigned to the Reserves. The Reserve units quickly

became proficient in locating work in their home ports for drill weekends.

The Reserve headquarters unit worked with the Supervisor of Salvage’s

office not only to administer the Reserve program, but also to plan for

mobilization and work on various headquarters projects.

To improve communications at all levels within the Reserves and

with their active-duty counterparts, the Supervisor of Salvage sponsored

a program of annual meetings. With strong support from the fleet commanders and the office of the Chief of Naval Reserves, the Reserve units

were accorded high-priority status. The Reserve harbor clearance unit

program succeeded not only in providing a capability that had not previously existed in the Naval Reserve, but also in serving as a model of cooperation between the Regular Navy and the Naval Reserve.

Ships

Ships, or rather the lack of them, also contributed to the decline in

salvage capability after the Vietnam era. By this time, the World War IIbuilt salvage ships and fleet tugs were reaching the end of useful life. Ships

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were being retired and, in the case of the fleet tugs, being turned over to

the Naval Reserve or to the Military Sealift Command, where they operated as point-to-point towing ships without salvage crews. The fleets

expressed growing concern that the number of available ships were

declining to the point where only minor salvage jobs could be supported.

Except for three salvage and rescue ships commissioned in 1972 and

1973, the building program begun in 1975 for Powhatan (T-ATF 166)

class tugs was the first for oceangoing tugs since World War II. Seven of

these ships were built in two groups: the first four in the fiscal year 1975

shipbuilding program and three more in the fiscal 1978 program. These

ships were quite different from their predecessors. A primary difference

stemmed from the economics of both construction and operation, which

dictated that they be manned by civilians and operated by the Military

Sealift Command.

The hull and overall configuration of these ships is similar to commercial, offshore supply boats and anchor-handling tugs. There is a large,

open, low freeboard deck aft, and the superstructure is well forward. The

ships were built with no automatic towing winch. They have no organic

salvage capability other than a quick-reaction, high-holding-power

anchor designed to hold a stranding casualty until a more capable salvage

ship arrives. The ship serves as a platform for salvage equipment; Navy

crews are provided on a case-by-case basis for specific salvage work.1

There is little capability in these ships for the types of combat salvage and

rescue towing that the Navajo-class fleet tugs provided so well in three

wars and in the intervals of peace between them.

Following much official and unofficial discussion of their characteris -

tics, and as a direct result of the Supervisor of Salvage’s presentation to

the CNO Executive Board, the Safeguard (ARS 50) class of salvage ships

began construction in the early 1980s.2 These are true salvage ships, fully

equipped and capable of sustained salvage operations. They are a logical

evolution of the previous salvage ships and have avoided many of the

problems of the salvage and rescue ships (ATS) that resulted from detail

designers not fully understanding and appreciating how salvage ships do

their work. They carry an automatic towing engine that suits them for

rescue towing as well as for stranding salvage and assistance in harbor

clearance. In compliance with Navy policy existing at the time of their

1The ships were built with quarters for Navy salvage crews and facilities to support them and

the equipment they bring aboard. Neither people nor billets were specifically designated for salvage

crews.2The first ship was constructed in the fiscal year 1981 shipbuilding program, two more in the

fiscal 1982 program, and the fourth ship in the fiscal 1983 program. All were constructed by Peterson

Builders at Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin. 

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design and construction, the ships were designed for 25 percent of their

crew to be women. They were so crewed.

With the construction and commission of these ships and the decision to put Navy crews aboard, the concept of an organic salvage capability in the Navy was reaffirmed over the idea of manning the Navy’s

salvage organization with civilians.

Equipment

Unlike the wholesale introduction of diesel-driven equipment in the

Vietnam era, the development of salvage equipment since then has been

evolutionary. Improvements and modifications to existing systems have

been the norm, along with a moderate infusion of improved equipment.

An important initiative has brought about major changes in the

Emergency Ship Salvage Material system.

As discussed earlier, the ESSM bases located at the sites of various

naval activities were not under the direct control of those who would use

or be responsible for the use of the equipment. The stories are legion of

poorly maintained and incomplete equipment being received on salvage

jobs. In 1971 a committee of experienced salvors and administrators

assembled to develop a more satisfactory ESSM system. Sixteen bases

with standard allowances and inventory control systems resulted.

Wherever possible, these bases were located at sites of field activities of

the Naval Ship Systems Command and were supported from two pools,

one on each coast. The allowance of the pools, several times that of a

base, contained material for deep-ocean recovery, oil-pollution control,

submarine salvage, and a variety of ocean engineering work. The system

had been vastly improved.

Within a few years, however, budgetary restraints forced a significant

reduction in the number of salvage material bases. This caused great concern in the fleets, which felt that concentrating all emergency ship salvage

material in two U.S. bases and two overseas bases would significantly

increase response time. Concern was particularly strong in the Pacific,

where distances are great and the existence of an ESSM base on Guam had

recently allowed critical work to move ahead without delay. Fleet planners

foresaw that in the event of a major incident or multiple casualties, other

priorities for air transportation would delay shipment of urgently needed

salvage equipment. Despite these objections, the reduction in bases and

consolidation of the system went forward. Later analysis showed the correctness of the fleets’ position.

Following the Supervisor of Salvage’s 1979 presentation to the CNO

Executive Board, the Emergency Ship Salvage Material funding base was

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increased. This permitted the opening of additional material bases in

Pearl Harbor; Sasebo, Japan; and Aberdeen, Scotland. Another move

placed the management of the ESSM system in the hands of contractors

directly responsible to the Supervisor of Salvage. This resulted in major

improvements in the operation and readiness of the system. The problem

of control of inventory and maintenance of equipment had been solved.

Unlike other aspects of salvage, Emergency Ship Salvage Material

man agement is neither glamorous, nor fun, but it is one of the most important functions of the Supervisor of Salvage’s organization. There are few

things more frustrating and disheartening to a salvor than to have equipment arrive that is inoperable or missing vital pieces. To paraphrase

Benjamin Franklin, for want of a pump fitting, the ship may be lost. The

restructuring of the material maintenance and supply system, along with

the continuing evolution of salvage equipment during the 1970s and

1980s, has contributed significantly to the overall strength of U.S. Navy

salvage forces.

Operational Concepts and Doctrine

Operational concepts and doctrine may be considered the element of

salvage that bonds the other three elements into a single entity. Without

sound common sense and the lessons of experience formalized into operational concepts and doctrine, even the best salvors, ships, and equipment cannot function effectively. Concepts and doctrine must then be

able to change to meet new kinds of casualties, the conditions under

which they can be expected to occur, and the restraints that will govern

possible responses.

If there is a single lesson to be learned from naval history, it is that

operational doctrine must be continuously modified to suit the changing

situation. Nowhere is this truer than in salvage. Salvage doctrine is

extremely sensitive to new technologies, new ship types, new strategic and

tactical concepts, and new weaponry. Salvage history is replete with examples of changing concepts and doctrine. For instance, early concepts in

World War II reflected the expectation that salvage ships would be used

primarily in harbor clearance. This changed at Casablanca, the first harbor to be cleared, when salvage ships proved impractical for the work.

Initially during the war, salvage ships were held out of the immediate combat zone and tugs brought them their work. An appreciation of the ability

of salvage ships to work effectively close in to casualties and the sheer quantity of work changed this practice. Salvage ships were soon in the thick of

it. Salvage ships and tugs were used interchangeably during and after the

Korean War. This doctrine resulted from the relative scarcity of ships. The

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concept of fly-away salvage became reality with the employment of Harbor

Clearance Unit One in widely separated locations in Vietnam. It became

refined in Harbor Clearance Unit Two and was further refined when

Harbor Clearance Unit One returned to Pearl Harbor and maintained

Pacific-wide responsibilities.3

For some time after their formation, naval planners had looked

askance at the harbor clearance units. There had never been a need for

such units to conduct harbor clearances in peacetime. In reality, the

term “harbor clearance unit” fell well short of describing the capabilities

of these versatile organizations. Thus the name that had been instrumental in establishing the units in the first place had served its purpose

and had become a liability. The solution seemed simple—change the

name. After much agonizing, the active units and the Reserve units

they supported became mobile diving and salvage units on 1 February

1982, the sixteenth anniversary of the establishment of Harbor

Clearance Unit One. The new name represented much more accurately

what the units actually did and stressed their responsibilities in the flyaway salvage concept.

Concern for the environment began to have a profound effect on salvage doctrine and operations. Even before World War II, salvors had seen

the undesirable effects of oil spills. With the increased tanker traffic that

followed World War II came the inevitable casualties—Mission San

Francisco, Potomac, Ocean Eagle, Torrey Canyon, Pacific Glory, Amico Cadiz,

Exxon Valdez. More and more, the hazards of pollution from cargo and

even bunkers were coming to the attention of both a public feeling

increasing anxiety about damage to the environment and their legislators.

The Navy accepted the responsibility for its own spills, and the Supervisor

of Salvage took on the major responsibility within the Navy for pollution

control. He began to work with the Long Beach Naval Shipyard and other

organizations within and outside the Navy to develop pollution containment systems and cleanup equipment. At the same time, he formed an

organization to respond to pollution incidents with appropriate equipment and expertise.

The passage of federal water-pollution-control legislation assigned

major pollution control and abatement responsibilities to the Coast Guard.

That agency now had the right and responsibility to assume control of

any operation when it believed insufficient attention was being given to

pollution aspects. Increased capability accompanied this new responsibil3The concept of flying men and material from central pools developed concurrently in commercial salvage. The increasing cost of ship operations that made it impractical to keep ships on salvage

station and the increasingly specialized nature and cost of salvage equipment forced the change.

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ity. The Coast Guard rapidly trained and equipped its National Strike

Force for response to pollution incidents. The Navy took responsibility

for pollution control in all operations involving naval vessels and instal -

lations, but the Coast Guard’s position, authority, and responsibilities had

to be considered and its capabilities used.

In executing his responsibilities for dealing with the pollution aspects

of salvage, the Supervisor of Salvage purchased pollution control and

cleanup equipment and positioned it in the Emergency Ship Salvage

Material system. Open-ocean and incident-to-salvage pollution control

became a major responsibility of the Supervisor of Salvage’s office and

oil-spill response equipment became major items in the inventory and

operation of the ESSM system. These changes signaled an important

shift in operational emphasis. When a ship casualty occurred, the primary consideration had now become protecting the environment; saving

the ship itself took second place.

The contractor situation also changed. During the period beginning

after World War I, when Merritt-Chapman and Scott had been formed,

until the mid-1970s, the Navy had only one American salvage contractor.

This contractor had conducted salvage operations throughout the world.

In the late 1970s, for complex corporate financial reasons, MurphyPacific Corporation, including Murphy-Pacific Marine Salvage, was

forced into bankruptcy. The Supervisor of Salvage recognized that no

other single salvage contractor could provide the same geographic coverage. To make the best of this situation and to encourage participation by

and competition among smaller contractors, the United States was divided

into zones and separate contracts were let for each zone. Eventually there

were three zones: East, West, and Gulf Coasts.

The weakness of using an American-based salvage company throughout the world had come to light during the removal of Regulus in Hong

Kong. Before the removal was complete, the Supervisor of Salvage

renewed his contract with Luzon Stevedoring for salvage services in the

western Pacific and the Indian Ocean. Good business practice and the

nationalization of Luzon Stevedoring prompted competitive procurement

after the initial contract expired. United Salvage of Melbourne,

Australia, received a contract for Australian waters. Discussions with

European salvors regarding contract salvage coverage in European and

Mediterranean waters broke down when agreement on contract terms

could not be reached.4

4European salvors prefer to work on open-form salvage contracts, whereby the financial aspects

of the salvage are settled by arbitration. The Navy prefers predetermined rates for services. Open -

form contracts are difficult for the Navy because commanding officers of ships have no authority to

contract for services or to bind the United States to settlement in foreign courts.

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Salvage Operations

How the changes in salvage elements—salvors, ships, equipment,

and operational concepts—along with pollution considerations and contractual arrangements affected Navy salvage can best be illustrated in

the salvage operations conducted during this period.

In peacetime, as in the past, Navy salvage forces and their contractors

have performed a variety of salvage services not only within the Navy but

also for foreign governments, commercial interests, and a variety of other

government agencies. The diversity of the customers for the Navy’s salvage services clearly demonstrates the broad need for these services and

their value to the maritime world and the nation as a whole.

International Customers

Salvage work for international customers may vary from salvaging a

warship for a friendly nation that cannot do the work itself to major foreign affairs efforts. Salvage for international customers deserves, and

usually gets, attention at the highest levels of government because the

prestige of the United States is obviously on the line.

T H E S U E Z C A N A L C L E A R A N C E

Shortly after the end of the United States’ military involvement in

Vietnam, there came an unusual opportunity for the Navy salvage organization to play a highly visible role in global politics. The Suez Canal had

been blocked since the Six Day War of 1967, but after the Yom Kippur

War of 1973 and the disengagement of forces that followed in 1974, the

possibility of reopening the canal could be considered. With the canal

open, trade routes that had been blocked could be reestablished and

Egypt would have a badly needed source of hard currency income.

The Suez Canal Authority originally intended to undertake the

clearance as a purely commercial venture and had nearly completed

negotiations with a major international salvor.

Murphy-Pacific Marine Salvage Company, fighting hard for the contract, advised the Suez Canal Authority that, as the principal U.S. Navy

salvage contractor, it had access to the heavy lift ships Crilley and Crandall.

The impressed Egyptians, who were familiar with the capabilities of

these ships,5 saw a possibility of the United States’ paying for the clearance work as an adjunct to its involvement in the minesweeping and

5Crilley and Crandall under their original names, Energie and Ausdauer, had participated in the

1956 clearance of the Suez Canal under charter to the British Admiralty.

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ordnance removals in and near the canal. Negotiations began immediately. On 11 June 1974 the United States and the Arab Republic of Egypt

concluded a bilateral agreement for U.S. assistance in the removal of ten

wrecks from the Suez. Under this agreement, the Navy would be the

principal salvage agent and could use contractors other than Egyptian

nationals.

The Navy declined to commit its own salvage forces to such a lengthy

effort and instead used its standing contract with Murphy-Pacific.

Mobilization of Crilley and Crandall, laid up at Subic Bay, began along with

negotiations for the heavy lift cranes Thor and Roland belonging to Bugsier

Reederei und Bergungs of Hamburg, West Germany, the former owners of

Crilley and Crandall.6 Captain J. Huntly Boyd, the Supervisor of Salvage,

became Commander Task Group 65.7, the salvage force.

The salvage work was a part of a large-scale operation to reopen the

canal. The overall effort consisted of French, British, American, and

Egyptian forces working to sweep mines and clear unexploded ordnance,

both ashore and in the water, as well as to clear wreckage from the canal.

These jobs were all preparatory to the dredging necessary before the canal

could be opened.7

Captain Boyd had support primarily from officers and specialists on

his Washington-based staff. These men operated both on-scene and in

Washington to provide the extensive technical, logistical, and management support that the complex operation required. The Murphy-Pacific

project manager was Commander Joseph F. Madeo, Jr., USN (Ret.), a

former commanding officer of Harbor Clearance Unit One. Senior operational and technical people were almost all former Navy salvage men,

many of them harbor clearance unit veterans.

Ten wrecks—a passenger ship, a cargo ship, a tanker, two tugs, four

dredges, and a concrete caisson—in various attitudes and depths blocked

the 101-mile-long waterway. One of the dredges, Dredge 23, had been salvaged during the 1956 clearance and returned to service; she would be

one of the nine wrecks scrapped this time. All nine wrecks were lifted,

either intact or in sections, and transported to one of three designated

dump areas along the canal. Four of the nine wrecks—the tug Mogued,

the dredges Kasser and Dredge 23, and the concrete caisson, were lifted

by Crilley and Crandall. Thor and Roland cleared the passenger ship

6Thor and Roland were heavy-lift, self-propelled shear leg cranes capable of lifting 500 tons 95

feet above water with a 36-foot horizontal clearance on the main hooks. The pontoon was equipped

with two gin tackles that, when used with the hooks, were capable of a total lift of 1,000 tons. Bugsier

built these craft after selling Energie and Ausdauer to the U.S. Navy. 7American forces in Task Force 65 under Rear Admiral Brian McCauley and later Rear Admiral

Kent Carroll were divided into four categories: minesweeping operations (Nimbus Star), land ordnance clearance (Nimbus Moon-Land), underwater ordnance clearance (Nimbus Moon-Water), and

salvage operations (Nimrod Spar).

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The wreck of the passenger ship Mecca lies athwart the Suez Canal. Mecca was the

largest and one of the most formidable obstacles to the 1974 clearance of the canal.
Mecca, the cargo vessel Ismailia, the tanker Magd, the tug Barreh, and

Dredge 22. The tenth wreck, the 30-inch suction cutter dredge 15 September, had been scuttled with very little damage. This wreck was parbuckled

and lifted to the surface by Thor and Roland, pumped out, and delivered

to the Suez Canal Authority for refurbishment. The clearance work

started on 29 May 1974 and ended almost seven months later on 20

December.8

As with other salvage operations of this size, the technical problems

encountered were numerous and varied. Many of them, as is typical of

heavy lift operations, were not predictable but were solved with ingenuity

and hard work.

To facilitate the clearance, trim and rig teams moved ahead of the lift

craft and prepared each wreck so that the expensive lift craft and cranes

would be tied up for the minimum time. This technique proved effective.

Each of the two types of lift craft demonstrated its limitations. Several

times Crilley and Crandall were limited by the absence of gradually shelving water into which to lift the wreckage. The shortage of sufficient

8A detailed account of the operations in the Suez was published by the Supervisor of Salvage

following the operation. That report discusses the operation, the problems encountered on each

wreck, and their solution in detail. Supervisor of Salvage, Suez Canal Salvage Operations in 1974

(Washington: Naval Sea Systems Command, 1975).

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An artist’s conception of Crilley and Crandall lifting the small tug Mogued in the Suez

shows how the lift wires form a cradle to support the wreck.
dredges to create the necessary inclined planes compounded this problem. Thor and Roland were limited in quite different ways—in outreach

and an inability to move sections being lifted without moving the pontoons. These problems are inherent in shear leg cranes and salvors can

usually work around them.

Logistics and support operations during the clearance demanded the

lion’s share of management attention. The cities on the bank of the canal,

along with all their support facilities, had been virtually destroyed by long

years of war. The conditions compared with those encountered by harbor

clearance units in North Africa and Europe in World War II with one

important difference. In the Suez, no huge, well-equipped support force

provided berthing, messing, transportation, communication, medical

services, and the many other kinds of support that a large salvage operation requires. The Suez Canal Authority, Murphy-Pacific, and the Navy

worked together on logistical problems. It was tough going.

The Suez Canal Authority supported the clearance operation to the

limit of its abilities, but the breadth and standard of support required was

greater than it could sustain. The situation became aggravated as the

authority faced competing priorities for its resources during preparations

for the canal’s opening. The lesson was clear: Any operation of this sort

should be as self-contained as possible.

Training of Navy salvage officers and senior enlisted people formed an

important part of the operation. Excess Egyptian currency available to the

project was used effectively by the Supervisor of Salvage to assure that

almost all active-duty salvage officers and many senior enlisted people

were ordered to Egypt to observe and participate in some stage of the

work.

The salvage ship Escape and, later, Opportune, deployed with the

Sixth Fleet in the Mediterranean, carried out additional salvage work up

and down the canal. These ships worked constantly in the canal during

their deployment, using every technique available, doing work of major

importance to help reopen the canal, and providing unsurpassed training

for their crews.

The heavy lift craft Crilley and Crandall, purchased for use in the

Vietnam War but finding only modest employment there, provided their

most important service to the United States in the Suez—though not in

their salvage work, which could have been done by other means. Their

importance lay in the influence they exerted on the Suez Canal Authority

and the government of the Arab Republic of Egypt to choose MurphyPacific and the U.S. Navy to clear the Suez. After the operation, the craft

were refurbished in Greece and returned to lay up in the James River.

These craft provide a useful lesson in salvage management. Just as

the operators of a commercial enterprise must be concerned with their

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return on investment, so too must the planners and executors of naval

salvage efforts. For the commercial operator the definition of return on

investment is simple—money made relative to money spent. For the

naval planner, the definition is not so simple. It includes factors such as

the development of national assets, the pursuit of national interests, and

the accomplishment of military objectives. Cost effectiveness is a consideration; the question, Does the result justify the cumulative expense?

must be answered.

Crilley and Crandall did not provide much return on the investment

required for their purchase and conversion. The lift ships saw little salvage service in Vietnam and were expensive to prepare for Suez and refurbish afterwards. A strong argument could be made that their purchase

was a mistake. However when they were being purchased, technical

developments were changing the face of heavy lifting. Offshore oil and

construction needs were forcing the development of heavier cranes than

had ever been built before. As the work of the shear leg cranes Thor and

Roland, side by side with Crilley and Crandall, in the Suez Canal showed, the

cranes surpassed lift ships in effectiveness. Crilley and Crandall, once outstanding tools, had simply been overtaken by technology.

The importance of the reopening of the Suez Canal and its impact on

world shipping and world affairs are best left to historians knowledgeMUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

330

Captain Huntly Boyd (left), Supervisor of Salvage, and Commander James J. Coleman

confer during the Suez clearance.
able in these fields, as is any discussion of the correctness of the U.S.

involvement. That it was an excellent salvage operation under the most

trying conditions is not open to question. The award of the Distinguished Service Medal to Captain Boyd, one of three awarded to salvors

during and since World War II,9 bears clear testimony to the priorities of

the United States and the Navy at the time.

T W O KO R E A N S H I P S

The Suez clearance demonstrates the role salvage played in a highly

visible political arena. A double grounding some nine years later illustrates the more usual cooperative salvage effort between nations.

On 13 March 1983, following a dress rehearsal for an amphibious landing at Tok Son Ri, Korea, the Korean LST Suyong (LST 677) broached in

suddenly increasing wind and surf. In an incident reminiscent of the

grounding of Seize at Clipperton Island, the Korean salvage ship Gumi

(ARS 26)10 grounded on nearby rocks while attempting to free the landing

ship. The Korean Chief of Naval Operations requested U.S. assistance.

USNS Catawba (T-ATF 168), under the command of Captain Wesley D.

McKenzie, sailed from Pohang, Korea, and Beaufort (ATS 2), under the

command of Commander Frederick B. Fisher, sailed from Sasebo, Japan.

Catawba arrived early on the morning of 14 March. With no salvage gear

or crew aboard, the T-ATF could do little. Beaufort steamed in the following day after having radioed ahead a recommendation to ballast both ships

down until the situation could be defined by a complete survey. Several

amphibious force ships were ordered in to provide logistics support. The

first days of the operation were confused because senior Korean officers at

the scene were anxious about the possible loss of two ships and had priorities that were not exactly the same as the American salvors. After some discussion the decision was made to salvage the salvage ship first despite the

more severe damage and more perilous position of the LST.

Two additional Korean salvage ships arrived, Yong Mon (ATA 31) and

Chang Won (ARS 25). Chang Won laid two legs of beach gear and got into

harness for pulling Gumi. Beaufort laid two legs of beach gear and rigged

for a pull. The first pull terminated after almost three hours when the

attachment point for Beaufort’s tow wire carried away. Weight was

removed from Gumi before the next pull. This pull rotated the ship but

did not move it, confirming suspicions that rocks impaled the ship.

9The two other medals were awarded to Captain Homer Wallin for his salvage work at Pearl

Harbor following the Japanese attack, and to Commodore W.A. Sullivan for his work as Chief of

Navy Salvage during World War II. 10Aficionados of coincidence will recall that the hull number of Seize at the time of her grounding was also 26, apparently an unlucky number for salvage ships.

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Catawba and Yong Mon shifted beach gear for the two salvage ships to

improve the angle of pull, but no pull could be made until enough buoyancy had been gained to raise Gumi clear of impaling rocks. Beaufort

sailors identified compartments that could be blown dry and turned to

making fittings; Yong Mon laid one leg of beach gear and got into harness.

The weather turned miserable with high winds and seas. On the morning

of 25 March, the compartments were blown and tension slowly built up

on the beach gear. Gumi was lively; she came free in the early evening and

was towed away by Chang Won.

Attention now turned to the badly damaged Suyong. Weight had been

removed and numerous holes patched while salvage operations on Gumi

were going on. Chang Won returned to the scene and laid one leg of beach

gear; two small tugs made up alongside. A salvage party from Beaufort

stayed aboard pumping, patching, and plugging. In the early evening of 29

March Suyong came free and was towed to Pohang by Catawba.

In Korean salvage as well as in the Suez clearance—salvage operations that had differed in almost every respect—the Navy had provided

services that assisted friendly nations and brought credit to itself in highly

visible situations.

Commercial Ship Salvage

When the Navy undertakes salvage of commercial ships, the operations are almost as visible as work for other governments. The Navy

enters the world of commercial salvage, a world dominated by professional mariners of other nations and, as the accounts of the Andrea Lukenbach

and Quartette salvages have shown, one filled with legal and financial

considerations not relevant to most Navy salvage.

There has been more Navy involvement in commercial salvage operations in the Pacific than in other areas because of the scarcity of commercial salvage services in that ocean, particularly in the mid-Pacific.

However, the salvage of commercial ships is not always undertaken as a

service to shipping when no other salvage services are available. In fact,

the types of operations, the reasons for them, and the results have been

so varied as to defy easy categorization. The incidents described below are

examples of some of the ways Navy salvors have become involved with

commercial shipping in peacetime.

T H E S A G A O F C A R I B I A

Some ships that normally have great dignity behave badly when they

are in an undignified situation. The British battleship Warspite did so

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during her wartime tow in the Mediterranean and beat the shipbreakers

by going ashore during her final tow to their yard. The liner Caribia11 had

a similarly independent mind.

Caribia had been laid up in New York for some years when she was

sold to breakers in Taiwan and taken in tow by the West German tug

Hamburg in 1974. The tow was uneventful until it reached the coast of

Baja, California, and ran into a Pacific hurricane. Caribia saw her chance.

Hamburg lost the tow in the rough weather, but recovered it some four

days later. As the tow approached Hawaii, Caribia began taking on water

and listing. Hamburg’s agents in Honolulu requested Navy help. Takelma,

with a salvage crew from Harbor Clearance Unit One, was dispatched to

rendezvous with the ship. Salvors boarded the liner at sea and found leakage into the shaft alley. Takelma carried no portable submersible pumps,

so electric pumps and a generator were flown out and put aboard by a

Marine Corps helicopter. The flooding was stopped and repairs made during a stop in Honolulu.

The old lady had been foiled twice, but she wasn’t through. Hamburg

and Caribia approached Guam in foul weather. Harbor tugs asked

Hamburg to approach more closely than planned. Close inshore, Hamburg

lost an engine. In the high wind, the tow took charge and began dragging

the tug toward the rocky shore. Hamburg headed into the sea and slipped

her tow. Caribia appeared to be holding course fair for the entrance to

Apra harbor. Rather than enter the harbor, however, she yawed and

grounded on the end of Glass Breakwater. Her bottom gone, she fell onto

her side and began to slide off the breakwater. Within twenty-four hours

she had sunk completely out of sight.

Caribia had beaten the shipbreakers, but she now posed a serious

problem. Where was she? Did she block the only harbor entrance to ships

bringing food and other supplies to the island? Could the ballistic missile

submarines based at Guam safely make the passage into and out of their

home port? The fleet salvage officer flew in. To define the position of

Caribia and determine what danger she presented, a search team of a

Supervisor of Salvage contractor was ordered in. The situation was so

serious that Rear Admiral John D. Johnson, Commander Service Group

Three, also flew in to Guam. Bolster (Lieutenant Commander John

Siemer) sailed from Subic to augment Grasp (Lieutenant Commander

Robert J. Hillis), which was homeported in Guam and already on the

scene.

The high resolution side-scan sonar needed by the search contractor

made a classic journey to Guam. The sonar had to come from the Gulf

of Mexico, but a piece of Hughes Tool Company equipment bumped it

11Originally the Cunard Line liner Caronia.

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off the airplane in Houston. It couldn’t be found in the Los Angeles air

cargo terminal until technicians entered the holding area, identified it,

and carried it to its flight for San Francisco. In San Francisco someone

phoned in a warning that the air cargo on the Guam-bound flight contained a bomb. All cargo came off the plane, destined to be left in San

Francisco until it could be cleared. Only after a Fleet Ballistic Missile priority had been invoked were FBI sniffer dogs brought in and the sonar

cleared. It arrived in Guam as the only piece of cargo on the flight.

Salvage officers met the aircraft on the runway and, with the cooperation

of U.S. Customs officials, loaded the equipment directly from the aircraft

into a truck.

By the next afternoon, the position of the wreck had been defined,

and precautions for ships passing through the harbor entrance had been

determined. As far as the Navy was concerned, the saga of the Caribia

was done. What had started off in Hawaii as an assist to commercial

interests had become a very different job in Guam, undertaken for very

different reasons. Caribia was abandoned to the Corps of Engineers,

which decided to contract her removal competitively. Nippon Salvage

of Tokyo won the contract and removed the wreck by cutting it up and

removing the pieces with a 1,500-ton shear leg crane. The operation

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334

Stormy seas break over Caribia after the liner, released from her tow, drifted onto the end

of Glass Breakwater at the entrance to Apra harbor, Guam. The ship later broke forward

of the bridge and sank, partially blocking the harbor entrance.
was unprofitable. The location of the ship and unusually bad weather

for prolonged periods raised costs beyond the limits of the fixed-price

contract. Nevertheless Nippon Salvage stayed on the job and completed

the work.

THE LOSS OF LINDENBANK

In late 1975 the fivefold, British-flag freighter Lindenbank grounded

and broached, port side to, on Fanning Island, a small atoll some 1,000

miles south of Honolulu. The owners requested assistance from the Navy

because the nearest commercial salvor was in the Caribbean, some eighteen days away. The fleet salvage officer, Commander Bill Milwee, flew to

the scene in a chartered aircraft along with Captain John Hellendorn, a

Salvage Association surveyor,12 and Captain Alistair McNab, the owner’s

marine superintendent. Brunswick (ATS 3) and later Bolster sailed from

Pearl Harbor.

The salvage plan called for beach gear to be laid to the stranded ship

and to salvage ships in harness in a manner that would rotate the bow to

starboard and take the ship off by her head. Lindenbank would have to be

lightened, which presented a problem. She carried bulk copra, a cargo

that, except at specially equipped ports, can only be discharged by hand

because of its oiliness. Marshallese laborers hired from the island proved

to be less-than-diligent workers. The work, however, was urgent because

the ship lay on a lee shore where the swell, with a fetch that ran virtually unimpeded all the way to New Zealand, built into great mounds that

pounded the ship toward the beach. As soon as the salvage ships arrived,

preparations were made to lay beach gear and Navy crews turned to shoveling the oily, insect-infested cargo into cargo nets and dumping it over

the side. It was slow, nasty going.

Three types of problems plagued the operation. The first factor, the

inexperience of the salvage ships’ commanding officers and crews, played

a major part in this operation. There was an inordinate amount of difficulty with basic salvage seamanship like passing lines and rigging and

laying beach gear, primarily because the crews had seldom laid beach gear

before. Legs were laid in the wrong place or, even worse, in water so deep

they may still be falling. Some of the commanding officers displayed

timidity in ship-handling close alongside and in recovering beach gear—

routine operations for seasoned salvage crews. The position of Lindenbank

12The Salvage Association, Ltd., sometimes called London Salvage, is composed of experienced

salvage surveyors and other maritime professionals. Operating from offices throughout the world,

they represent the interests of Lloyd’s of London underwriters who hold hull insurance on ships. As

was the case with Lindenbank, Salvage Association surveyors are usually present at all casualties

where the hull insurance is written on the London market.

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and her fittings called for compromises in rigging. These compromises

resulted in wire ropes being bent around too short radii and in sharp nips

in them that reduced their capacity to carry loads. The second problem was

caused by some unexpected equipment failures; the most spectacular was a

bitt that split down the middle. Amazingly, despite the large number of rigging failures there were no injuries. The final problem was the ships. Many

of the weaknesses in design that limited the effectiveness of the new

salvage and rescue ship class showed up in the course of the Lindenbank

operation.

• A bow thruster not designed for sustained operation made it hard

to hold position for long periods.

• Salt water evaporators had been designed to use waste heat from

the engines as a heat source, meaning that Brunswick had to break out of

harness and steam offshore at night in order to produce fresh water.

• Very slow anchor windlass speeds made weighing anchor in confined waters a hazardous process.

• Bower anchors did not provide sufficient holding power.

• Engines and generators operated from a common fuel source, making loss of all propulsion and electrical power inevitable from a single

casualty.

After numerous failures, Brunswick returned to Pearl Harbor. Safeguard replaced her.

Operations continued for five weeks, during which more than 6,000

tons of copra were removed by hand. Lindenbank had become very light

and nearly ready to refloat when, on a night of howling winds punctuated by the snapping of the lines holding her to seaward, she was driven farther ashore, beyond salvage. The ship and the operation were abandoned.

The lessons of the operation were clear and steps were taken to remedy

the problems. Salvage training was bolstered to improve the readiness

and salvage skills of the crews. A program of ship alterations began to

eliminate as many as possible of the material deficiencies in the ships.

Some conditions inherent in the design of the ships could not be modified. Salvors would have to learn to live with those limitations.

A N A N G E L L I B E R T Y

In late April 1980 the four-year-old Greek freighter Anangel Liberty

carrying 19,200 tons of bags of kaolin clay13 grounded on French Frigate

13A fine-powdered, nontoxic, refined silica and alumina mix.

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336
Shoals while making 15 knots. French Frigate Shoals in the Hawaiian

archipelago is a national wildlife preserve inhabited by two endangered

aquatic species. What followed, though it involved Navy salvors and a

commercial shipping casualty, was not purely a case of the Navy providing salvage assistance to industry. It illustrates several of the factors that

have entered modern salvage—particularly the importance of pollution

and how far pollution considerations can extend.

Upon receiving news of the stranding, the owner’s Honolulu agent

hired the tug Mana and sailed her for French Frigate Shoals. Mr. Rod

Sambrook of the Salvage Association’s New York office headed to the

scene. The Coast Guard, acting under its Federal Water Pollution Control

Act authority, entered the picture because of the pollution danger from

the ship’s fuel oil and possibly from her cargo. Commander A.D. Utara,

USCG, was appointed federal on-scene coordinator; the Regional

Response Team was activated. An overflight was made by Commander

Utara and Lieutenant Kenneth Harvey of Harbor Clearance Unit One to

inspect the ship and her condition. The Coast Guard quickly determined

that the owner had taken insufficient action to free the vessel and control pollution; it then exercised its legal prerogative and placed the operation under federal control. The Coast Guard asked for and got Navy

assistance. Reclaimer (Lieutenant Commander Bruce Banks) got underway with a detachment from Harbor Clearance Unit One; Beaufort

(Lieutenant Commander Rob Wells) followed. Commander Robert

Bornholdt, Pacific Fleet Salvage Officer, flew in, as did the Coast Guard’s

pollution control specialists, the Pacific Strike Team.14

Technically, Anangel Liberty was a straightforward salvage job. It only

required getting some ground tackle out to prevent the ship from broaching or being driven farther ashore, jettisoning cargo to reduce the weight

of the ship and the ground reaction, laying beach gear, and hauling the

ship off.

That is the way the salvage would have been done at another time

and place, but not at French Frigate Shoals in 1980. Here, the potential

for pollution in jettisoning the cargo became a major factor in the salvage

approach.

The Environmental Protection Agency confirmed that the kaolin clay

was nontoxic and raised no objections to jettisoning the cargo to lighten

the ship. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife people felt differently. They had no

data on what the effects of reasonably large quantities of kaolin dumped

into the area’s fragile ecology would be. Throughout the operation, they

14The Pacific Strike Team, a part of the National Strike Force, is a Coast Guard group specially trained and equipped to deal with pollution and potential pollution incidents of all types.

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continued to exert pressure to unload both the cargo and fuel from the

ship by lighter.

Commander Utara evaluated the position of Anangel Liberty as a seaman and saw the impracticality of lightering the clay cargo as she lay. It

would take several days to bring a lightering craft to French Frigate

Shoals; even then, putting it alongside was simply too dangerous to consider. Leaving Anangel Liberty on her strand ran the risk of exacerbating

the problem already presented by her stranding. As the pressure from outside continued, Commander Utara made the decision to dump the cargo.

Upon arrival, Commander Bornholdt and Reclaimer conducted a

complete survey and laid one leg of beach gear to the freighter to hold

her. Cargo jettisoning began. Reclaimer laid three more legs of beach gear,

one to the ship and two for herself. The tug Mana, Reclaimer, and the four

legs of beach gear pulled. Anangel Liberty didn’t move. More cargo went

over the side. Beaufort arrived and laid two legs of beach gear. With

approximately 2,200 tons of cargo removed, the two salvage ships and the

tug Mana pulling, the legs on Anangel Liberty pulling, and the ship backing full, she floated. Anangel Liberty continued her voyage to Japan after

no measurable environmental damage.

The Anangel Liberty operation demonstrated that possible pollution

hazards in sensitive areas can often be dealt with by a commonsense

approach to the pollution problem and expeditious salvage of a ship to

remove the source of the problem. Comparing this operation with the illfated Lindenbank, one striking difference appears—the effectiveness of

the beach gear operations. One reason for the difference is obvious. In

the Anangel Liberty operation the officers commanding the two salvage

ships were both salvage professionals and special operations officers. Both

had many years of salvage experience, knew what could be done, and

knew how to do it. Their experience made the difference.

Work for Government Agencies

As the government’s principal agent for salvage, the Navy undertakes

work for many federal agencies. Not surprisingly, the Coast Guard and

the Navy work closely in marine casualties and the Coast Guard often

seeks early consultation from the Navy.

A minor case that clarified an important principle involving Navy salvage authority occurred in September 1976 when an ex-Navy rescue tug

of uncertain ownership sank in Duwamish waterway in Seattle. The

Coast Guard became involved because the tug spilled oil into the waterway. Navy assistance was requested. A crew from Harbor Clearance Unit

One led by Lieutenant (j.g.) Timothy B. Stark flew in and, with equipment

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from the Emergency Ship Salvage Material base at Puget Sound Naval

Shipyard, refloated the tug long enough for the Coast Guard’s Pacific

Strike Team to remove the oil. The cost was modest. The ruckus came

after the job when a Navy salvage contractor complained to Commander

Naval Surface Force15 Vice Admiral W.R. St. George that the contractor

should have been called on for the job and that the Navy had competed

unfairly. After consultation with his legal staff and salvage officer,

Admiral St. George took the position that when salvage work became the

responsibility of the government, the government was obligated to do the

work as economically as possible. The Navy had no obligation to use contractors when Navy resources could do the work more cheaply and gain

the extra benefit of training. The matter has not been raised again.

C O A S T G UA R D

When the Coast Guard experiences casualties to its own vessels, it

calls on the Navy because it has no salvage resources of its own. The losses following collisions of the Coast Guard cutters Cuyahoga (WIX 157) in

1978 and Blackthorn (WLB 391) in 1980 illustrate this aspect of interservice cooperation.

15The Cruiser-Destroyer Force, Amphibious Force, and Service Force had been combined in

1975 to form the Naval Surface Force.

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Reclaimer and Beaufort pull on Anangel Liberty, grounded hard on French Frigate Shoal.
Cuyahoga

In October 1978 Cuyahoga at 51 was the oldest cutter in the Coast

Guard as well as one of the smallest. She had, in effect, been put out to

pasture, serving for training cruises. On one such cruise in the

Chesapeake Bay she collided with the merchant ship Santa Cruz II and

sank, taking eleven of her crew down. A Coast Guard search operation

located and buoyed the sunken cutter, and Coast Guard divers determined that no survivors were trapped in the wreck. Harbor Clearance

Unit Two (Lieutenant Commander Rob Wells) was mobilized and a diving team flew to the scene.

Immediate operations centered around recovering the bodies of the

lost crewmen and determining the condition of the vessel so that a salvage plan could be prepared. Body recovery operations continued until all

but one set of remains had been recovered. After careful consideration,

the diving officer concluded that the risk involved in diving operations to

the interior of the ship outweighed the desirability of recovering the final

body—always a hard decision to make.16 Attention turned to salvaging

the cutter.

16The eleventh body was finally recovered about a half mile from the wreck.

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Lifting arrangements for Cuyahoga.
The collision had so badly damaged the hull that the most feasible

plan was to lift the 260-ton ship intact and place her on keel blocks on a

barge. Two harbor tugs, YTB–801 and YTB–824, brought the floating

cranes YD–200 and YD–229 from the naval amphibious base at Norfolk

and placed them in a four-point moor. Diving operations to pass messenger lines beneath the wreck began. Twenty-four hours after the cranes

arrived, rigging had been completed and a strain taken. The initial lift

brought the Cuyahoga upright; weather delayed lifting to the surface until

the following day. When the weather had moderated, the cutter was lifted to the surface, pumped out, and placed on the blocks as planned. The

operation had gone well. The Navy had assisted its sister sea service and

gained valuable diving experience at the same time.

Blackthorn

On a mild, clear, moonlit night in January 1980, in a casualty not

unlike that of Cuyahoga, the tanker Capricorn struck and sank the Coast

Guard buoy tender Blackthorn in Tampa Bay. At the request of the

Commandant of the Coast Guard, divers from Harbor Clearance Unit

Two (Lieutenant Commander Stephen W. Delaplane) and the Explosive

Ordnance Disposal Group Two detachment in Fort Lauderdale

(Lieutenant (j.g.) M.W. Carr) were soon on the way by air, and Preserver

(Lieutenant Commander F. Douglas Meyer) sailed from Norfolk. As at

the Cuyahoga site, the first item of business was to recover remains of the

twenty-three Coast Guardsmen who had died and to survey Blackthorn.

Divers under Lieutenant J.H. Gibson and Master Chief Petty Officer

James Starcher started work. The attitude of the ship on the bottom and

debris blocking access kept divers from entering the wreck and prevented recovery of most of the bodies.

The salvage plan, developed from information provided by the divers,

consisted of the following steps:

• The buoy tender’s mast would be removed.

• She would be parbuckled upright from her position on her port side.

• Three lift platforms would be used—the 650-ton shear leg crane

Cappy Bisso, the 100-ton derrick Little David, and a 150-ton crawler crane

mounted on a barge.17

17Lifting assets were arranged by the Supervisor of Salvage, who was represented at the salvage

site by Commander Charles S. Maclin.

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342

The 650-ton shear leg crane Cappy Bisso lifts the buoy tender Blackthorn from the waters

of Tampa Bay, Florida.

Lifting arrangements for Blackthorn.
• The buoy tender would be moved in the lifting slings until she

cleared the channel.

• The wreck would be dewatered and refloated.

Following a practice that had often proved beneficial, the salvage

team flew to Mobile, Alabama, to inspect another vessel of the same

class, USCGC Salvia (WLB 400). Subsequently, the crane Cappy Bisso

was positioned over the wreck, and wires for parbuckling were rigged on

9 February, when the operation halted for two days to allow divers working on Capricorn to inspect the wreck and survey the bottom nearby.

When their work was completed, salvage operations continued.

Blackthorn rolled upright and settled on her keel with a slight port list. For

the final lift, the buoyancy of two water tanks was recovered by pumping

and blowing. Cappy Bisso set amidships, Kenyon astern, and Little David

forward. With all in readiness, an old story repeated itself—weather set in

and delayed the operation for two more days.

On the morning of 19 February compressors and pumps were started

and a strain taken on the lifting gear. As soon as the deck came awash,

tugs moved the entire nest to shallow water and dewatering began. The

bodies of the missing crewmen were located and removed. Blackthorn was

delivered to drydock the following afternoon.

The Blackthorn-Capricorn collision generated a great deal of controversy, none of it centered about the salvage operation. Navy salvors had

removed the wreck within two days of their original schedule, provided

the Coast Guard Marine Board of Investigation with necessary information, and had removed a blockage of one of the busiest harbors on the

Gulf Coast. But this operation also had demonstrated that it is by no

means enough for a salvage officer to be a capable technician. A salvage

officer must be sensitive to the public interest, the legal ramifications of

the work, and the interests of all involved parties. At Tampa Bay, for

example, the salvors were still working at clean-up when the families of

the recovered crew gathered on the beach and lawyers came in to protect

their interests. The salvage officer therefore has to understand the economic interests involved, and represent the Navy in conferences and

public appearances with tact, dignity, propriety, and technical accuracy.

There is far more to the job of a salvor than refloating ships.

A R M Y C O R P S O F E N G I N E E R S

As the discussion of the Oriental Warrior and Sidney E. Smith salvages

in the previous chapter indicated, the Army Corps of Engineers, responsible for keeping inland waterways clear, is often a customer for Navy

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salvage. As was the case with the removal of Caribia from the harbor in

Guam, the Corps has the right to hire outside contractors when this is

deemed in its best interest. Often, however, there is a definite advantage

in using the facilities and experience of the Navy, especially where expedience is an issue. Such was the case when the corps’ dredge A. Mackenzie

sank in a three-way collision in the Galveston Inner Bar Channel in April

1974.

Dredge A. Mackenzie

In the case of Mackenzie, the decision to use Navy contractors was

made after an independent consultant reviewed the technical and business aspects of the removal. The consultant’s reports were considered by

the District Engineer’s Office in his decision to use Navy resources and to

do a cut-and-pick18 operation. A task force was formed under Mr. J.D.

Bissell, of the District Engineer’s Office; Lieutenant Commander Charles

A. (Black Bart) Bartholomew represented the Supervisor of Salvage, and

Captain Cyrus Alleman, Murphy-Pacific’s salvage master, was supported

by Mr. Alex Rynecki, salvage engineer.

The salvage plan called for removing the top-hamper, offloading the

dredge’s bunker fuel, and cutting the wreck into eight transverse sections,

mostly divided into upper and lower sections. Tidal currents of up to 5

knots ebbing and flooding in the channel complicated the work and limited diving outside the hull to times of slack water. When currents were

running, divers worked inside the wreck, entering through the smokestacks that protruded above water. A large amount of topside gear came

off to lighten the wreck and provide access. Both explosive and oxy-arc

cutting techniques were used. Commercial divers using oxy-arc torches

made most of the cuts because of the difficulty of placing shaped charges

snugly against the hull plating and the unpredictable results from some

types of charges. The cutting system that evolved during the job used

oxy-arc cutting for the majority of the cuts while explosives assured complete separation.

Close liaison was established with federal and state environmental

and wildlife-protection interests before the operation began and was

maintained for the duration of the clearance work. This simple precautionary measure provided a process for settling problems regarding the

use of explosives and a potential oil spill in an amicable manner before

they grew out of proportion.

18 In a cut-and-pick salvage operation, the wreckage is cut in place into bits that can be picked

up and removed by cranes. The size of the bits is determined by the lifting capacity of the cranes. The

term “wrecking-in-place” is often used synonomously.

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Sections of Mackenzie are lined up on a barge after having been lifted out. All of the cutting was performed by divers working underwater in near zero visibility.

A 600-ton whirley crane lifts the stern section of the Corps of Engineers’ dredge

Mackenzie onto a waiting barge. The dredge’s stacks still protrude from the water.
Teledyne Movable No. II, an offshore construction whirley crane with

a 600-ton capacity, did the lifting.19 Lifts were made near the capacity of

the crane in order to improve the efficiency, reduce the amount of underwater cutting, and keep time and cost down.

The plan and its implementation were successful. The dredge wreckage was removed from the channel in three series of lifts at reasonable

cost in less time than was initially estimated. Professional salvors had

done the job under the direct supervision of Navy salvage personnel.

Some major changes had occured since 1911, when it was the Corps of

Engineers that had removed the wreck of the battleship Maine in Havana

harbor for the Navy.

Barges on the Arkansas

On the evening of 4 December 1982 heavy rains had increased the

flow in the Arkansas River almost fourfold. As a result of the rapid rise,

thirty-eight barges broke their moors in a holding area and were carried

downstream. Thirteen of the barges were carried into Dam No. 2, a gated

spillway dam near Dumas, Arkansas, that controls water levels in the

river. The thirteen barges fetched up on chisel-shaped ice-breaking piers

between the spillway gates. The barges were sunk, jammed in the gates,

or impaled on the piers. Obstruction of the gates by the barges could

cause damage that might destroy the dam. It was a mess.

Conferences were held, surveys made, more conferences held, salvage

plans and cost estimates prepared, more conferences held. On 17

December the Corps of Engineers gave the Supervisor of Salvage the goahead to remove the wrecks. The Supervisor of Salvage, in turn, called on

his Gulf Coast salvage contractor, Tracor Marine, to do the work. Mr.

Jerry Totten oversaw the job for the Supervisor of Salvage; Mr. Jim Jacobs

was Tracor’s project manager.

Two heavy lift cranes were brought upriver from New Orleans, and

the tug Mississippi came over from the Corps of Engineers’ Memphis district to serve as the quarters and hotel facility; the Little Rock district

provided the tug Shorty Baird. While waiting for the cranes to come up

river, Tracor built a pulling barge on-site.

Salvage work started just before Christmas. Relatively simple lifts

removed the first seven barges. Removal of the final six was not so easy.

19The existence of heavy lifting equipment designed to support the offshore oil industry has

made radical changes in salvage work requiring heavy lifting. The use of such lifting equipment is

very cost-effective when planned to minimize the waiting time of the expensive cranes. The technique is most useful near offshore oil fields where the equipment is readily available and long transit

times are not necessary.

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Four separate operations, each of them a major salvage job in its own

right, were needed to remove the final six barges. These operations

required coordinated pulling and lifting, precise cutting, and an I-beam

made into a huge chisel to cut wreckage for removal. Some pieces were

cut free and allowed to fall through the gates behind the dam. All did not

go smoothly. A barge got away during a lift and slammed into one of the

cranes, putting it out of action for ten days; wreckage tore away unexpectedly leaving a difficult situation. Other work went beautifully. After

almost sixty days of continuous salvage effort, all the wreckage was free

of the dam and the Corps of Engineers was again able to control water

levels in the river.

Cargo Vessel Eaglescliffe

It seemed almost a case of déjà vu when the Corps of Engineers asked

the Supervisor of Salvage to undertake the removal of the wreck of the

small cargo vessel Eaglescliffe that had sunk off Galveston in early 1983.

Some months after the vessel went down, Hurricane Alicia had broken

the wreck and moved it near the channel. The Corps of Engineers determined removal to be necessary. It contacted the Supervisor of Salvage,

who again called on one of his contractors for the work. Since the A.

MacKenzie job, Murphy-Pacific had been ordered into bankruptcy, and

the Supervisor of Salvage had instituted the contracting practice that

gave him regional contractors. Tracor Marine, the contractor for the Gulf

of Mexico, was mobilized, and Chief Warrant Officer Leon Ryder, USN

(Ret.) became salvage master. Jim Bladh represented the Supervisor of

Salvage.

The location of the operation in the Gulf of Mexico, an area of major

offshore industrial activity, affected all aspects of the job, including the

approach taken and the equipment used. As with the MacKenzie salvage,

a large offshore construction crane, Foster Parker, made the two lifts. In a

first for Navy salvors, a small self-elevating work platform, Walter Reetz,

used in offshore oil fields, became the salvage work platform. The little

jackup was invaluable because it provided a stable and comfortable workspace that made surface tasks easier and faster. The removal of Eaglescliffe

took only fifteen days.

O T H E R A G E N C I E S

While the Coast Guard and the Army Corps of Engineers are the government agencies that most frequently call upon the Navy for salvage

services, other agencies solicit these services at irregular intervals. This

work is often unusual and interesting.

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SS Indiana

The summer of 1975 saw the discovery of the historically significant

wreck of SS Indiana in Lake Superior by Wisconsin SCUBA20 diver John

Steele. This find opened the door for Navy salvors to make a contribution

to the marine heritage of the nation and to work out some operational

procedures.

Indiana, a small screw steamer about the size of a modern oceangoing

tug, was built in Ohio in 1848 and hauled miscellaneous freight throughout the Great Lakes until she sank just above Whitefish Point in 1858.

Interest in the wreck of Indiana centered on her machinery. The steamer

had an early example of screw propulsion and had machinery, little

altered in her ten years of service, that predated by many years any other

remaining examples of early Great Lakes marine propulsion machinery.

Great Lakes marine historian Dr. Richard J. Wright of Bowling Green

State University recognized the importance of the machinery. Dr. Wright

contacted the Smithsonian Institution and started the chain that resulted

in the tasking of Harbor Clearance Unit Two (Lieutenant Commander

Rob Wells) to recover the machinery in the summer of 1979.

The recovery effort was a joint operation between Harbor Clearance

Unit Two, Reserve Harbor Clearance Unit Two, Detachment 813 of

Chicago (Lieutenant Commander Steve Chubb, USNR), and the

Headquarters Group, Naval Sea Systems Command Detachment 1006

(Captain W.A. Cleary, USNR–R).21 The most modern diving equipment

in the Navy’s inventory was brought in for the work. The operation started on 31 July 1979 from a barge and tug lent by the Corps of Engineers.

When the operation was completed nine days later, over one hundred

dives had been made and all important pieces of the machinery were

recovered with virtually no damage.

Navy salvors had aided the academic community in recovering a

valuable marine artifact that increased our knowledge of the history of

technology and provided important artifacts for the Smithsonian

Institution’s National Museum of American History. Of direct importance to the Navy, this job used new equipment in an operational environment and demonstrated the power of the Navy’s combination of

Regulars and Reserves, kept up to speed by operations like this one.

20SCUBA is the acronym for Self-Contained Underwater Breathing Apparatus. By common

usage, a SCUBA diver is a diver using such an apparatus—usually an open-circuit device rather than

the more sophisticated semiclosed- and closed-circuit types used almost exclusively by military

divers.21Captain Cleary, though not mentioned previously, was a maritime professional who was active

in the Naval Reserve for many years and played a key role in the establishment of the Reserve harbor clearance units. Before these units were established, Cleary undertook many projects for the

Supervisor of Salvage and for the training of fleet salvage officers.

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Air Florida Flight 90

Early 1982 saw the Navy performing a tough job for yet another

government agency. It was one of the grim, unpleasant, but totally necessary jobs that salvors are sometimes called on to do. On a cold, snowy

13 January, Air Florida Flight 90 crashed into the Potomac River on

takeoff from Washington’s National Airport. The Metropolitan Police

Depart-ment requested Department of Defense assistance, and by early

the following afternoon a joint services recovery team had been assembled.22

It stayed cold. The river was frozen and a wind chill factor of –20

degrees Fahrenheit prevailed throughout the operation. Initial surveys

showed that the aircraft had been demolished, but the wreckage was concentrated. First priority went to recovering remains. When found, they

were brought to the surface and immediately turned over to the Medical

Examiner’s Office. Flight recorders were of interest to the National

Transportation Safety Board; these units were located quickly, but immediate access was blocked by wreckage.

Army engineers laid out a grid to establish the location of all the

wreckage, and a topography unit scanned the area with high-resolution

sensors in helicopters and boats to develop a detailed picture of the location of the wreckage. Harbor Clearance Unit Two divers, under the direct

supervision of Master Diver Charles D. (Charlie) Wetzel, continued the

miserable work of recovery for twelve days. When the work was completed

on January 25, all bodies and 95 percent of the aircraft—including all

critical wreckage and the flight recorders—had been recovered.

The operation was unique because of the extreme weather, media

pressure, and the high public and official visibility of the operation.

Recently introduced diving equipment made it possible for the divers to

operate effectively in the icy waters. The quality of the men made possible an operation requiring exceptional teamwork and the utmost

profession alism, propriety, and sensitivity.

N AV Y J O B S

Although Navy salvage forces work for a variety of customers, the

majority of their work is carried out within the Department of the Navy.

A 1975 grounding demonstrated the value of a capability that would soon

disappear.

Hermitage (LSD 34) lost steering control and grounded while proceeding into Morehead City, North Carolina. Shakori (ATF 162) left an 

22The joint services team included detachments from Harbor Clearance Unit Two, Naval Explo -

sive Ordnance Disposal School and Technology Center, Coast Guard Atlantic Strike Team, and the

86th and 115th Army Engineering Detachments. Lieutenant Commander Steve Delaplane, commanding officer of Harbor Clearance Unit Two, was designated on-scene commander.

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aircraft recovery operation off Hatteras Inlet and steamed to the grounded ship. Working in concert with two commercial harbor tugs and the

Coast Guard ship Chilula (WMEC 153),23 Shakori freed the grounded ship

in short order. In his endorsement to the salvage report, the Surface Force

Commander noted:

If the salvage extraction had been delayed for a few days, the Hermitage

would have worked into the bottom more, making the salvage task more difficult. The importance of the quick reaction capability of the salvage Navy and

the ATF [emphasis supplied] was demonstrated vividly in this salvage operation. In determining the complements and capabilities of the T-ATF soon

to be constructed, this should be considered. If the ships are all manned with

civilian crews without salvage equipment and crew on board, this quick reaction capability is reduced.24

Indeed, the quick reaction capability has been cut, as the performance of Catawba in dealing with the two stranded Korean Navy ships

showed. The T-ATF 166 class ships, however, are far from useless in salvage situations. Two operations in the early 1980s, one in the Atlantic,

the other in the Pacific, illustrated how these ships can be effective.

The first of these operations followed the grounding of two pontoon

sections of the floating drydock Los Alamos (AFDB 7) at Ponta Delgada,

Azores, in October 1981. The grounding itself resembled the Caribia

grounding at Guam in that the towing ship Recovery (ARS 43),

Lieutenant Commander H.A. Stephan commanding, had turned the tow

over to commercial tugs while she refueled. Severe weather set in during

Recovery’s retrieval and the pontoons went ashore. Salvage response was

immediate.

• Lieutenant Commander Delaplane, commanding officer of Harbor

Clearance Unit Two, accompanied by salvage engineer Lieutenant L.M.

(Bud) Sawyer, and an eight-man diving team left for the Azores by air.

• USNS Powhatan (T-ATF 166), commanded by Captain H. Pouttu,

picked up a load of salvage equipment and a team from Opportune and

sailed for the Azores.

• The Supervisor of Salvage put the 16,000-horsepower Bugsier tug

23Chilula was a former Navy fleet tug (ATF) transferred to the Coast Guard following World

War II. She retained her original name and hull number. Chilula’s ability to act as a salvage ship or

rescue tug was significantly reduced by the removal of salvage equipment and her automatic towing

winch. During the Hermitage salvage, she pulled with an 8-inch circumference nylon hawser borrowed from Shakori rather than a wire-rope hawser. 24Ltr, Commander Naval Surface Force, U.S. Atlantic Fleet, 4740 serial N4A/6l46, 24 July 1975.

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Simpson under contract, and Jim Bladh headed east from Washington,

D.C.

• Lieutenant Commander Gary Tettelbach, an experienced salvage

engineer, traveled to the scene from Pearl Harbor Naval Shipyard.

• Preparations began to bring in a Marine Corps CH–53 helicopter25

to put salvage equipment aboard the pontoons.

• Recovery remained on the scene.

The same basic salvage plan sufficed for both pontoons—compressed

air would force water out through the badly damaged bottom. Work started immediately on the pontoon in the most hazardous position. The

area’s resources were thoroughly scoured for usable materials. Industrial

materials are scarce in the Azores, but the salvors made do with what

they could find. Putting material and equipment aboard the pontoon was

difficult, but ingenuity overcame the difficulties, and by the eighth day

the pontoon was ready for pulling. Because of the poor holding ground for

Recovery’s beach gear, Simpson made the pull with her 16,000 horsepower.

When the tug had made full power for only fifteen minutes, the pontoon

floated free.

As work started on the second pontoon, Powhatan arrived with her

load of salvage equipment and fresh men, and the helicopter was ready to

fly. The helicopter proved effective in putting equipment on board the

pontoon quickly. As the tanks filled with air, the pontoon became lively,

seeming almost eager to be off the rocks. Simpson hooked up, and the

pontoon came afloat after only three days of work.26

In this first participation by a T-ATF in a salvage operation, four

problems were evident:

• Because of the high turnover of the crew, the level of expertise did

not remain constant throughout the operation.

• Because of the ship’s infrequent use for salvage, some items of salvage rigging were found either to be missing or couldn’t be located in the

ship.

• The open, low freeboard deck aft did not provide adequate protec25The helicopter had a lift capacity of 12,500 pounds.

26The pontoons were subsequently loaded aboard submersible barges and towed to the United

States by Powhatan and the Crowley Maritime Corporation’s tug Bulwark. The study accompanying the

salvage report on this operation, “Comparative Study of the Stability of Salvaged AFDB–7 in Three

Towing Methods,” by Lieutenant Commander Tettelbach, is a classic of its type. (Enclosure to the salvage report: Ltr, Commanding Officer, Harbor Clearance Unit Two, serial 268, 24 April 1981.)

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tion for salvage gear stowed there during transit, and some items sus -

tained damage.

• The personal relationship between the master of the T-ATF and the

Navy salvage officer directly affects the operation. With the salvage officer aboard for only infrequent missions, the mutual confidence necessary

in salvage operations often does not have time to develop.

These problems could properly be called growing pains and would be

worked out with time and experience. The next opportunity to do so

came in the Pacific a little over a year later, when Sioux (T-ATF 171),

towing with a synthetic line, lost her tow—the mess-service and support

barge YRBM–26—in the outer Strait of Juan de Fuca. The barge grounded

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Lieutenant Commander James C. Bladh, USN (Ret.), seen here in the Azores,

took an active part in many major salvage operations both as a naval officer

and as a civilian member of the Supervisor of Salvage’s staff.
near Pachena Point on the south end of Vancouver Island. Sixty-five-knot

winds and 20-foot swells drove the barge up the beach close to the tree

line.

Salvors from Mobile Diving and Salvage Unit One, led by the commanding officer, Commander Gary Cassat, headed for the scene to augment Sioux; Reclaimer sailed; and equipment came in from Mobile Diving

and Salvage Unit One and the Emergency Ship Salvage Material pool in

Stockton. Holes were patched, the barge dewatered, a channel blasted by

Canadian Navy divers, and the barge hauled off by Sioux on her second

attempt—before Reclaimer had an opportunity to rig her beach gear.

In this operation the T-ATF had proved excellent in all respects as a

platform for the operation, but the operation itself took sixteen days and

required that men and equipment for the salvage be flown in from relatively great distances. If the T-ATF had had an inherent salvage capability and carried salvage crew, salvage work could have begun immediately

after the stranding, and the barge would not have been exposed in a dangerous position for ten days waiting for salvage to begin.

As is generally the case in peacetime, major salvage work came relatively infrequently. There were fairly frequent small jobs, numerous

aircraft recoveries,27 and the occasional major incident. The work covered

the world and required varied types of responses. With the fly-away salvage concept becoming more firmly established with the passage of time,

a greater variety of responses to salvage situations became available.

The salvage that followed the sinking in 1975 of a special launch platform at the Ingalls Division of Litton Industries in Pascagoula,

Mississippi, demonstrated the Navy’s ability to conduct complex salvage

operations with a minimum of trained and experienced personnel in

supervisory positions.

The launch platform, a structure similar to a floating drydock, had

been specifically built to launch the thirty-five ships of the DD 963 and

LHA 1 classes under construction at the Ingalls yard. During a routine

undocking of the Spruance (DD 963), correct operating procedures were

not followed, and the platform failed structurally amidships and sank in

two pieces. Fortunately Spruance, in danger of actually falling off the

blocks, sustained only minor damage as the platform sank beneath her.

Because only ten of the thirty-five ships had reached the launch stage,

the loss of the dock would be disruptive, if not catastrophic, to the

building program. Technically it was a Litton Industries problem since

27Aircraft recoveries in the Atlantic Fleet became so numerous that some black humor began

to emerge. An enterprising and anonymous sailor made some bumper stickers reading “Fly Navy–Our

Divers Need the Work.” Navy aviators were not amused.

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none of the ships had been delivered to the Navy. However, the Navy had

a strong interest in solving the problem. Admiral Isaac C. Kidd, the Chief

of Naval Material, invited the Supervisor of Salvage, Captain Boyd, and

Lieutenant Commander Bartholomew to go to Pascagoula to assess the

situation with Ingalls management. After looking at the situation, and

with the concurrence of Ingalls management, Admiral Kidd directed

Captain Boyd and Lieutenant Commander Bartholomew to stay on the

scene until the salvage was completed. These two officers provided the

technical direction for the salvage operations.

The quickest means of refloating the platform would be to displace the

floodwater with compressed air. This was tried, but did not succeed

because of the extensive damage that included internal ruptures of boundaries. Pumping, the next choice, wouldn’t work because the differential

pressures across bulkheads would cause additional structural failures.

What made sense and what was ultimately done was to pump sufficient air

pressure in some compartments to keep differential pressures across bulkheads within acceptable limits.

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The newly built destroyer Spruance lies askew in the broken Litton Launch Platform. The

break in the platform appears about halfway along the wing wall.
Twenty-five 4-inch submersible pumps were brought in from the

Emergency Ship Salvage Material bases, and six more from commercial

sources. With this battery of pumps pumping, and air pressure kept up in

selected compartments, the two halves of the platform were independently surfaced. After repairs, the platform was returned to service in the

destroyer-building program. The job had been successful in just fifteen

days because two salvage officers had been present to add their special

knowledge to that of the shipyard work force.

When Typhoon Pamela went through Guam the following year

(1976), leaving the harbor cluttered with wrecks, a minimum number of

salvage officers were again flown in to do the clearance job. The fleet salvage officer, Commander Milwee, and the commanding officer of Harbor

Clearance Unit One, Lieutenant Commander Paul W. Wolfgang, flew to

the devastated island on the second aircraft to arrive after the storm.

Their initial mission was to evaluate the damage and determine salvage

requirements.

The two men found a number of wrecks scattered about the harbor—

some sunk, some hard aground, some barely aground, some slightly damaged, some badly beaten up. The wrecks were quickly put into four categories:

1. Those that were needed immediately for operations.

2. Those that presented a potential pollution hazard.

3. Those that blocked a berth or were a hazard to navigation.

4. Those that fit none of the preceding categories and were not of

immediate concern.

The preferred plan of action would be to fly in men and equipment

from Harbor Clearance Unit One, or bring in salvage ships and get on

with the salvage. In this case, there were several constraints that precluded this approach. First, use of Seventh Fleet assets had to be avoided if

possible, so that they could continue to support fleet operations—a drastic change from typhoon Karen in 1962, when the salvage work in Guam

was recognized as an excellent training opportunity. Second, introduction

of additional people onto the island had to be minimized, because Guam

was in no condition to feed and house them. Finally, only minimal

demands, or preferably none at all, were to be placed on normal and

emergency logistic channels into the island. Disaster relief efforts

required all available sea and air space.

Working within these constraints and with the full cooperation of

local commanding officers ashore and afloat, the two salvage officers

formed a salvage group from divers assigned to Proteus (AS 19), Jason

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356

Salvors working in Guam after Typhoon Pamela undertake a variety of tasks. Top: Pumping

out a sunken torpedo retriever. Center: Using a fire hose to wash away the bottom from

under a stranded barge. Bottom: Rigging beach gear to refloat a grounded tug.
(AR 8), Dixie (AD 14), and the Ship Repair Facility in Guam.28

Lieutenant (j.g.) Carl Albury and Chief Petty Officer Don Mackenzie, the

diving officer and the master diver in Proteus, and Chief Petty Officer

G.R. Cason, diving supervisor in Jason, became the principal assistants to

the salvage officers and were invaluable. The groups were kept together

and a spirited competition soon developed. To obviate the need for valuable aircraft cargo space, the Emergency Ship Salvage Material base

administered by the Ship Repair Facility provided most of the salvage

equipment; only a few urgently needed pieces that were unavailable on

the island were flown in. Some emergency ship salvage material was used

to convert a flat-deck barge into a pulling barge capable of hauling two

legs of beach gear.

Within three weeks of the storm, the nine most critical wrecks had

been salvaged for return to service. Two wrecks previously scheduled for

disposal were left and sold as-is-where-is; two were later salvaged by

Harbor Clearance Unit One; one was abandoned. The fly-away concept

had worked well by supplying experienced leadership. It had not been

fully implemented in the initial phases because of the constraints on facilities and transportation space, but the advantages accruing from the

prepositioned Emergency Ship Salvage Material base and the experience

gained by salvage-trained divers not in salvage units outweighed the variation from doctrine.

There were other Navy salvage jobs throughout the world during

the period from 1974 to 1987.

• Acting in response to a request from the State Department, a team

from Harbor Clearance Unit One conducted a radiological examination

and prepared a salvage plan for the German cruiser Prinz Eugen that sank

at Kwajalein following the Bikini nuclear weapons testing.

• Edenton (ATS 1), assisted by the Italian salvage ship Proteo, hauled

the amphibious assault ship Guadalcanal (LPH 7) off her strand at

Augusta Bay, Sicily.

• In an operation that demonstrated that small ships are often more

difficult salvage jobs than large ones, Harbor Clearance Unit One cut

through the rubble that formed an artificial reef and dragged a Coast

Guard boat shoreward into a lagoon off Honolulu.

• Moctobi assisted her sister Lipan, now operated by the Military

Sealift Command, when a tanker struck her near Port Angeles,

Washington.

28All ships were not present in Guam throughout the entire operation. Divers from the ships

were used when they were in port.

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• A Harbor Clearance Unit One team cleared an LCU that was

blocking a construction project at Tau Island in the Manua Islands near

American Samoa.

• Using Navy hydraulic pullers modeled after those used on the

Sidney Smith for the first time, Edenton, Recovery, Shakori, Paiute, and a

detachment from Harbor Clearance Unit Two rigged ten legs of beach

gear to twist Ozark (MCS 2), now an Air Force target ship, and haul her

off Perdido Key near Pensacola, Florida.

• Deliver and Moctobi refloated the tanker Austin when she grounded

entering Honolulu harbor.

• Harbor Clearance Unit Two, aided by two Reserve units, raised a

fireboat at Naval Weapons Station, Yorktown, Virginia.

• Hoist conducted an extensive video and X-ray survey of the German submarine U–352 and removed material hazardous to sport divers

who wanted to explore the wreck.

• Harbor Clearance Unit Two refloated Detroit (AOE 4) after the fast

combat support ship grounded on Thimble Shoals.

• Mobile Diving and Salvage Unit Two raised the sunken dredge

Leigh in Big Foot Slough, North Carolina, and a barge sunk alongside L.Y.

Spear (AS 36) at Norfolk.

• Many aircraft, anchors, stern gates, and other objects that supply

the routine daily work of salvors in peactime were also recovered.

Some jobs during this period stand out because they were especially

difficult or unique. Among these was the removal in 1976 of the offshore

tower structure called Argus Island, southwest of Bermuda. Since then,

the removal of offshore structures has become relatively routine oil field

work.

The removal of Argus Island, however, was far from routine. The

tower consisted of four major bearing legs driven into the hard coral bottom 192 feet below the surface and braced with horizontal members and

diagonals, and supporting a platform some 65 feet above the surface. The

removal plan called for cutting the legs while simultaneously pulling on

the tower to topple it. Cutting would be done with shaped charges made

especially for the operation by Jet Research, Inc., a company specializing

in such charges and their use. To ensure that the charges, placed by

divers, worked, cleaning charges would be used first to blast marine

growth from the legs.

Escape and Hoist were to pull with two legs of beach gear each. Since

the hard coral bottom militated against conventional beach gear anchors,

Propellent Embedment Anchors developed by the Civil Engineering

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Laboratory in Port Hueneme were used.29 Six anchors were placed, one

for each leg of beach gear and one each to hold the salvage ships in working position next to the tower. Escape set each anchor separately. A precursor of future underwater operations was on the scene in the form of

Deep Drone, a tethered, remotely operated underwater vehicle developed

for the Supervisor of Salvage. Deep Drone, fitted with television cameras,

still cameras, and search sonars would act as an inspection vehicle

throughout the operation.

The work kicked off on 13 May 1976 and, except for the usual weather

delays, went smoothly—until the first toppling attempt. With Escape and

Hoist pulling, the cutting charges were fired. Nothing happened. Deep

Drone and divers found three charges had produced partial cuts, and one

had not fired. More charges were placed and another attempt was made.

Again nothing happened. Satchel charges30 were lowered inside one of

the hollow legs and fired. That did it. The tower toppled and sank

beneath the waves, as its platform broke away and settled upright on the

bottom. To ensure adequate clearance over the structure, Deep Drone

made a survey, and divers cut away high projections with explosives.

The operation was a total success. Explosive cutting worked reasonably well, the Propellent Embedment Anchors worked almost perfectly,

and the remotely operated vehicle in conjunction with divers heralded an

era of new methods in underwater work. Diving to 192 feet, deeper than

normal for air diving, succeeded because the prototype of the recently

developed Fly Away Diving System was set up on Hoist and because the

operation was carefully and competently supervised by Master Diver

“Oakie” Sothers.

An equally successful but far different salvage operation took place

six years later on the other side of the world. In mid-1982, USNS

Chauvenet (T-AGS 29) grounded on Dauisan Reef in the Sulu Sea.

Brunswick, Commander John Drucker commanding, immediately got

underway from Subic Bay; Seventh Fleet Salvage Officer Lieutenant

Commander Kirk Boyd, and the Ship Repair Facility docking officer,

Lieutenant Commander Mike Steading, went with them.

Upon arrival, they found Chauvenet hard aground at the bow, with

the hull badly ripped, flooded, and in a condition of critical stability on

the verge of deep water. As in the case of Dona Ouriana, beach gear

would be useless because the water was too deep. Divers began patching

29Propellent Embedment Anchors develop their hold by using an explosive charge to drive the

fluke into the sea bottom like a projectile. Flukes are tailored to the type of bottom into which the

anchor is driven. A wire-rope pendant toggled to the shank extends above the bottom for connection to the ground leg. 30These are haversacks filled with explosives, in this case the military plastic explosive C–4.

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the hull, while two Eells anchors to hold the ship were floated ashore supported by Brunswick’s mooring buoys. With the ship secured and patched,

pumps were brought aboard and pumping started. The ship became

more unstable as the tide fell and as the floodwater, weight low in the

ship, was pumped out. As Chauvenet listed erratically to starboard, all but

a skeleton crew of four officers left the ship. She seemed ready to capsize,

but finally settled with a starboard list of nearly 30 degrees. More damage

had occurred. A complete lack of internal watertight integrity, resulting

from damaged transverse bulkheads as well as a shifting liquid load, had

caused the unexpected behavior. This was no routine stranding.

Captain “Black Bart” Bartholomew came in from Commander in

Chief, U.S. Pacific Fleet, Headquarters on short notice31 to provide technical assistance. A detailed salvage plan, in which stability was a major

consideration at every step, was laid out. The critical elements were

• Removing selected topside weight—ship’s anchors and chain—and

counterflooding to reduce ground reaction.

• Using selective pumping.

• Pressing up flooded spaces to prevent the development of free surface and concomitant loss of stabliity.

• Pulling with full power.

The plan was followed exactly. Brunswick wrenched the bow by varying the angle of her pull relative to Chauvenet and rotated the stranded

ship’s head through an angle of 10 degrees. In the early afternoon,

Chauvenet started to move astern and came afloat. Brunswick towed her

to Subic Bay by the stern.

Brunswick had performed competently as a salvage ship. She had

operated in a difficult salvage operation in a remote location, laid a deepwater moor, rigged heavy ground tackle over a reef, manufactured and

installed underwater patches, provided diving services, positioned and

used salvage machinery and equipment, and generated sufficient bollard

pull to retract a seriously stranded ship. Chauvenet was patched in Subic

Bay, repaired in Sasebo, Japan, and returned to service.

The additional versatility of the salvage and rescue ship Brunswick

was demonstrated in the salvage of the submarine Bluegill (SS 242) near

31When word of the near capsizing reached the Fleet Headquarters, Rear Admiral Bill Wyatt

sent for Captain Bartholomew, who could not be found immediately because he was fifty miles away

diving for lobster off the island of Molokai. But admirals as well as salvors are tenacious. When the

captain surfaced from his first dive of the day, he found a Marine Corps helicopter overhead.

Moments later he was plucked from the water. Twenty-three hours later another helicopter deposited him on Chauvenet.

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Lahaina Harbor, Maui, in late 1983. In the fall of 1970, Bluegill had been

placed on the bottom for training divers and submarine rescue chamber

operators, with the understanding that the ship would be removed when

it was no longer needed.32 By 1983 the need for the submarine for training had passed, and the submarine presented a danger to sport divers;

they had discovered that it made an interesting place to dive and were

entering the hull—a dangerous practice. No definite provision had been

made for future salvage when the submarine had been sunk, though a

mooring had been provided as security against the current.

Since time was not critical to the operation, careful planning and

engineering could be done. Commander Archibald G. Campbell, Commander Service Squadron Five, was in charge of the operation. The initial plan called for dewatering the submarine and lifting by the bow lift

gear of Beaufort (Lieutenant Commander Alan M. Nibbs) and Brunswick

(Lieutenant Commander John Paul Speer). Lieutenant Commander

James M. Evans, commanding officer of Reclaimer, would act as salvage

master, and an engineering team led by Commander Gary Tettelbach and

composed of Lieutenant Commander J.W. Bloomer and Lieutenants

J.R. Wilkins and N.E. Hansen would support the operation. The engi32A submarine salvage exercise involving Bluegill was planned for 1974. On the first day of loading for the operation, it was canceled on the order of the fleet commander due to a higher-priority

operation.

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Chauvanet lies hard aground on Dauisan Reef.
neering team would develop lift plans and modify them using real-time

input, with a microcomputer installed on Brunswick. Four master divers

W.H. Loudermilk, J.A. Ortiz, Scott Bradbury, and Donald H. MacKenzie—all of them master chief petty officers—would supervise the

diving and deck operations.

In early October equipment was staged on board the barge YC–1485,

and moors were laid for the barge and the two salvage ships. It quickly

became apparent to both seamen and engineers that the normal swell at

the salvage site would cause unacceptably high dynamic stresses in the

bow lift rigging. Rubber salvage pontoons from the Emergency Ship

Salvage Material base would augment the buoyancy of the submarine.

Using the microcomputer system, the engineering team prepared a

detailed revised salvage plan that included predictions of the submarine’s

behavior throughout the dewatering sequence.

Even as the engineers revised the salvage plans, divers were busy on

the bottom, sealing the submarine, rigging hoses, and fitting for the blow.

After thirty days of around-the-clock work, over seven hundred dives,

and the rigging of more than two miles of hose, all was ready for the lift.

The pressure hull was dewatered and vented, and the pontoons and ballast tanks were blown. Bluegill didn’t move. Blowing sequences were varied. Still nothing happened. Bluegill was flooding through unpatched

openings more quickly than the air could blow the water out. Divers

spent two more days locating and patching leaks. Engineers worked out a

less conservative blowing sequence.

At midafternoon on 3 November blowing began again; by nightfall

the computer indicated that the hull should be positively buoyant. As if

on cue, the depth gauge needle began to flicker, then moved upward.

Bluegill was on her way up. When the submarine surfaced, Brunswick took

her to shallow water to be prepared for sinking in deep water. During the

tow, a valve in the main ballast system blew and Bluegill began to settle.

A salvage crew boarded and patched the valve, but it took compressors

pumping constantly to keep the submarine afloat. Brunswick hooked up

her tow and put to sea. All went well until the weather began to kick up.

Just short of the designated sinking site, Lieutenant Commander Nibbs

ordered an emergency breakaway. Air hoses were quickly disconnected

and the tow broken. Bluegill went down by the stern. It was the end of a

major salvage job. It would also be the last peak of Navy salvage activity

for some time.

The operation had involved a lot of hard work but had gone smoothly.

Two things had paid off: careful and complete planning, and use of a

computer to develop, monitor, and modify the lift plan in real time. The

computer had become a powerful tool for the salvage engineer, now

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allowing the engineer to examine more options and modify calculations

and recommendations to suit what is actually happening.

Navy salvage, moving toward the 1990s, had performed well in a wide

arena and demonstrated the value of trained and experienced salvors

both to the Navy and to the nation. However, the years from 1974 to

1987 had not been smooth sailing. Well-intentioned mistakes had been

made but were ultimately corrected. The end result in the late 1980s was

a Navy salvage organization that was small, professional, well managed,

and well equipped.

Of the four elements of salvage—people, ships, equipment, and operational concepts and doctrine—people have always dominated. Navy

salvors have imagination, ingenuity, perseverance, technical competence,

and, most of all, guts. They revel in a challenge and in hard work. In the

modern era, technology governs a part of this hard work—the part done

underwater and in the deep ocean. The next chapter focuses on this

aspect of salvage.

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363

The Early Days

CH9A

CHALLENGER
MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

CH9B
Deep-Ocean Salvage

365

CHAPTER NINE

Navy Salvage in the Deep Ocean

The salvage work described in previous chapters was carried out on

or near the surface of the sea. In this type of salvage the human

element dominates; the work goes forward or fails primarily on the

skills and abilities of the salvors. As the work moves further beneath the

ocean’s surface, however, difficulty increases and the importance of technology grows.

There is no more hostile environment than the deep ocean. It is dark,

cold, treacherous, and unpredictable. Pressures are enormous. It is

axiomatic that any two lines in the deep ocean will tangle, that things are

never where they are supposed to be. Deep-ocean work has become possible only with the development of supporting technology and the

determination and ability to turn that technology into action. Even so,

recovering objects from the deep ocean is a challenge that few attempt.

The U.S. Navy has done some remarkable things in the deep ocean

and has led the way in pushing the technology forward. Navy salvors in

particular have spurred the development of the Navy’s ability to work in

the deep ocean; working there is natural for them. Ever since Naval

Constructor Julius Furer recovered the submarine F–4, Navy salvors have

faced the challenges of the depths with increasing frequency.

Because technology dominates deep-ocean operations, the contribution of the engineer almost exactly balances that of the seaman. Three of

the most important roles of the engineer—selecting the tools for the work

at hand, planning the operation in detail, and considering every contin -

gency no matter how illogical—are played out long before going to sea.

Planning and work-system selection are critical, for if they are done well,

the difficulty of execution is eased; conversely, if they are poorly done, the

operation will probably fail. Once at sea, the engineer is supported by the

seaman who translates the planning into operational reality.

Most deep-ocean operations, and particularly deep-ocean salvage op -

erations, consist of two phases. The first is the search phase. Objects
below the surface of the ocean are very effectively hidden. No matter how

large the object, it is minute in the huge volume of the sea. Obviously the

object must be located and marked so that it may be found again if the

operation is interrupted for any reason—such as the old bugaboo of ocean

operations, weather. Integral to the search operation is positive identification and classification of the object. The survey to identify and gain information about the object may be a more extensive operation than the

search itself, and requires quite a different set of tools. Even with the best

of tools, however, searching for an object in the ocean is a tedious and

frustrating process. With poor tools it is next to impossible.

Once the object has been located and identified, the second phase of

the operation—recovery—can take place. Recovery techniques are totally

dependent on the characteristics of the object to be recovered and the

available tools. There never has been and, in all probability, never will be a

cookbook for deep-ocean salvage. This will always be the province of

human beings who can plan thoroughly, think on their feet, and maintain

their flexibility and good humor when everything goes wrong at once.

There are three basic means for working underwater: divers, manned

submersibles, and remotely operated vehicles (ROVs). Each has its

advantages and disadvantages; each is well suited for certain types of

work. All three have been used in Navy deep-ocean salvage operations,

often in combination to take advantage of the strong points of each.

Divers and Diving

Over the years, the definition of the deep ocean has changed. When

divers were the only means of working under the ocean’s surface, deepocean salvage was defined by the limits of their abilities. For this reason

the changes in divers’ abilities and the evolution of diving technology have

been an important part of deep-ocean salvage. Even with the advent of

other technologies, there have been few salvage jobs where divers have

not played a part, and the art and science of diving is so closely related to

salvage that almost all Navy salvors have been trained as divers.

The origins of diving in the U.S. Navy are dim. Generally, diving as

a naval endeavor developed throughout the world in the nineteenth

century. The ongoing development of human ability to work underwater,

to build diving equipment that is both effective and efficient, and to discover and overcome the physiological limitations inherent in diving has

been international. Although no one nation can claim dominance, the

U.S. Navy has done notable work in developing diving technology.

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366
ners to a broadly based naval effort. In fact, a complete history of diving

and the closely related disciplines of men underwater in the U.S. Navy

would easily fill a companion volume. This chronicle, therefore, can only

touch upon the high points of that history and the specific relationship

that diving bears to deep-ocean salvage.

Early Development

Torpedoes, a weapon that revolutionized naval warfare, were also

responsible for the formal organization of diving activity in the U.S. Navy.

In 1882 the Navy established a school under retired Chief Gunner’s Mate

Jacob Anderson. Based at Newport, Rhode Island, the school trained divers

to descend to 60 feet to recover exercise torpedoes. Training in simple diving had been part of the course at the Gunnery School for some time

because gunner’s mates were assigned as ships’ divers, but Chief Anderson’s

two-week course was the first designed solely to train divers.

Diving is not an end in itself but a means of doing work. A good diver

is much more than a “horse” underwater or someone who can descend

to great depth. He or she must be able to work effectively and to act as the

eyes of the nondiving technical people topside. One of the limitations of

early generations of Navy divers became apparent when Maine sank in

Havana harbor in 1898. Navy divers examining the wreck soon after the

sinking had little knowledge of ship construction and were unable to

report meaningfully what they saw. Thus their work did little or nothing

to assist the Board of Inquiry in determining the causes of the sinking.

This failure on the part of men who were undoubtedly fine mechanics

illustrates one of the most important attributes of good divers—an ability to understand the work they are doing and an ability to report what

they find in such a way that the information will be meaningful.

To customers of diving services, diving technology is of little interest.

They do not care what kind of equipment the divers wear or what gas is

breathed; they simply want the diver to do the job well. To the diver, however, technology is paramount for, if equipment and work are well

matched, the diver can get the job done. If the match is wrong or restrictive, no diver can succeed.

The Navy’s first Diving Manual, published in 1905, reflected the state

of the art but lacked sophistication. Soon after, diving technology began to

evolve rapidly. That same year the British Admiralty appointed a committee under Captain F.T. Hamilton, RN, to consider proposals made by

Professor John Scott Haldane to permit diving in depths up to 30 fathoms. Haldane’s work focused on the effects of carbon dioxide and stage

decompression rather than on the continuous-ascent decompression

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367
developed by the French physiologist Paul Bert that was generally used

around the world.1 Haldane’s results were verified in experimental dives

and published. The work of the Admiralty committee had a great effect

on the development of diving in the U.S. Navy.

One American who read the Admiralty report was Warrant Gunner

George D. Stillson, who, because of his knowledge and experience, had

become the Navy’s expert on diving. In December 1912 he wrote the

Chief of the Bureau of Construction and Repair and described the methods

of diving used in the Navy as obsolete. As a result of his well-founded

criticism, Gunner Stillson was ordered to the New York Navy Yard where

he, Assistant Surgeon George French, and four divers were given a free

hand to improve diving techniques and equipment in the U.S. Navy.

They reviewed technical material on diving from around the world, studied

and tried all available diving apparatus, and conducted dives—first

under controlled conditions, then in the open sea from the destroyer

Walke (DD 34). As a result of their work and their December 1914

report, diving in the Navy took some major steps forward.

As described in chapter 2, when the submarine F–4 sank off Honolulu in March 1915, Stillson, French, and the four divers were sent to the

scene and performed excellent work, diving to depths over 300 feet while

breathing compressed air. The operation, although successful, plainly

showed the limitations of divers who worked under such conditions. The

divers were limited to observation only and did little physical work; all

suffered from decompression sickness during the operation and Chief

Loughman was permanently crippled by “the bends.” Inert gas narcosis, a

completely unknown phenomenon at the time, also seriously affected the

divers. Given the equipment and techniques available and the imperfectly

understood human physiology, the eight dives made to 304 feet were a

magnificent achievement. Furthermore, the deployment of Gunner Stillson and his crew to the F–4 salvage established an important precedent—

sending a small specialized crew of deep divers to augment fleet divers for

unusual diving operations. The practice continues today.

New Air and Better Training

The closing of the Diving School at Newport in order to send students and staff to Europe in World War I brought diving development

and training to a near standstill. The school was not reestablished immediately after the war, but interest in diving and in improving the

1One of the early jobs of Harbor Clearance Unit One in Vietnam was the removal of a steamer

named in honor of this hyperbaric physiologist. The coincidence was not lost on the divers on that

salvage job. Their work is described in chapter 7.

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abilities of divers remained alive within a small community. The relative

ineffectiveness of divers on the F–4 operation received much study. While

the physiology that created the limitations remained unclear, many correctly believed that ordinary air was the wrong breathing gas for deep

diving. The eminent American physicist and chemist Elihu Thompson

suggested that the incidence of decompression sickness could be drastically reduced and decompression schedules could be shortened by breathing

a mixture composed primarily of a very light inert gas. Helium seemed a

logical choice. In 1924 the Navy joined with the Bureau of Mines in the

latter’s Experimental Station in Pittsburgh to conduct the first experimental hyperbaric tests with helium-oxygen breathing mixtures. As is

customary in such testing, experiments were made first on animals and

verified on human subjects. The test results were promising, but not

totally in accordance with expectations.

Decompression times were shortened somewhat with the new mixtures, but the incidence of decompression sickness did not seem to be

greatly reduced. The unexpected benefit was the elimination of the notyet-understood inert gas narcosis caused by the nitrogen in regular air.

Divers diving deep on air had been reported to exhibit behavior ranging

from over-cheerfulness through stupidity to complete loss of memory and

judgment. These symptoms were attributed to increased oxygen pressures

or high concentrations of carbon dioxide. Using helium as the inert

constituent of the new breathing mixture eliminated these symptoms.2

Along with its significant advantages, helium also presented some

drawbacks. Problems with storage, mixing, and supplying the gas required

the development of a recirculating helmet that would remove carbon

dioxide from the expired gas and permit rebreathing by replacing metabolically consumed oxygen. Helium’s high thermal conductivity also

required that additional heat be provided to avoid hypothermia in the

diver. Finally, the gas made the diver’s speech difficult to understand.

With all of these problems, helium-oxygen diving was a long way from

becoming a practical reality.

In 1928 the Navy Experimental Diving Unit was established at the

Washington Navy Yard to develop equipment and procedures for deep

diving with helium-oxygen mixtures. The unit was taking on double duty

experimental work and diving. In addition to helium-oxygen experimentation, its mission included both the development of air-diving procedures and tools for divers, and the deployment of deep-diving teams to

special jobs.

2 In 1935 Dr. Albert Behnke, a Navy medical officer, advanced the correct theory that the mental disturbances in deep dives on air were caused by the increased pressure exerted by nitrogen, a gas

that is more soluble in fatty organs than in water.

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Meanwhile fleet diving capability had actually diminished. With no

diving school other than limited training aboard Widgeon (AM 22),3 and

little attention devoted to deep diving, attrition took its inevitable toll,

reducing the overall number of Navy divers. When the submarine S–51

sank in 1925 in 132 feet of water, only twenty Navy divers were qualified

to dive below 90 feet. During the salvage of S–51 and the other submarine salvage operations of the 1920s, a major deficiency in the training of

divers came to light. A surprisingly small number of divers could actually

perform specific tasks. About half of those available could only assist the

diver actually doing the work. The problem had a simple origin—training

had been devoted totally to the mechanics of diving; student divers never

had to perform tasks that required using tools underwater.

When the Diving School was reestablished at the Washington Navy

Yard in 1927, the curriculum specifically included training with hand and

power tools, including underwater burning with oxygen-hydrogen and

oxygen-arc torches.4 Divers became rated as first class or second class

depending on their demonstrated proficiency with tools. The qualifying

depth became 150 feet, and students were exposed to pressures of 300

feet in hyperbaric chambers.

No officers were trained as divers until World War II.5 Until then the

only officers with empathy for and understanding of diving that comes

from personal experience were those who had spent time as enlisted

divers and those such as Edward Ellsberg, who had become a diver in the

winter between salvage efforts on S–51. The lack of senior divers and diving advocates militated against rapid technical development and the

budgeting required to support a growing technology.

The dedicated group at the Navy Experimental Diving Unit in its

wooden building on the Anacostia River in Washington, D.C., continued

the work of making helium-oxygen diving a reality. A recirculating helmet

had been developed from the standard spun-copper diving helmet. Electrically heated underwear alleviated the diver’s heavy heat loss in the

helium atmosphere. This underwear, although badly needed in cold-water

diving, never became popular with divers who feared electricity in sea3Later ASR 1.

4The first officer in charge of the new school was Lieutenant Henry Hartley, who had received

his diving training in the old Newport school as a young seaman early in the century. Hartley had

been warranted as boatswain in 1915 and commissioned during World War I. In 1925 as commanding officer of Falcon, Hartley participated in the S–51 salvage and shortly afterwards in the S–4 salvage. In recognition of his work on these jobs he was awarded the Navy Cross and the Distinguished

Service Medal. During the rescue of the Squalus survivors, then-Commander Hartley acted as technical advisor to Rear Admiral Cyrus Cole in his old ship, Falcon. This pioneer of Navy diving spent

forty-seven years in the Navy, retiring in 1947 as rear admiral. 5The first officer formally trained as a diver in the U.S. Navy was Lieutenant (later Rear

Admiral) C. Monroe Hart. Admiral Hart’s work in Navy salvage is described in earlier chapters.

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water and in high-oxygen atmospheres. New means of storing and distrib uting helium-oxygen mixtures were developed. Decompression schedules

were calculated and tested. Successful dives were made to depths of 500

feet in hyperbaric chambers,6 and, in the summer of 1938, to 400 feet in

the open sea from Falcon. By the late 1930s the Navy Experimental Diving

Unit had developed the hardware and procedures required for operational

helium-oxygen diving.

The physical problems of decompression continued to exist. Although

proper schedules had been worked out, the diver on a line or stage fully

dressed in his diving dress was not in the ideal decompression environment. In Britain the Royal Navy had developed the Davis Submerged

Decompression Chamber. As its name implies, this was a submerged

chamber that the diver could enter at his first decompression stop and in

which he could remove his helmet and decompress in the relative comfort of a dry chamber under the watchful eye of a tender. A similar chamber, built and tested at the Navy Experimental Diving Unit around 1938,

was never adopted by the U.S. Navy. When the deep-diving team from

the Navy Experimental Diving Unit deployed on its first operational helium-oxygen diving job, the chamber did not go with them. U.S. Navy

divers would make their decompression stops on a stage.

The first operational, open-sea, helium-oxygen dives took place during the salvage of Squalus.7 Twelve divers from the Navy Experimental

Diving Unit were deployed to the accident site as soon as word of the disaster came in. Initial dives on the Squalus, including that of Petty Officer

Martin C. Sibitsky who connected the downhaul wire for the rescue

chamber, were made on air because the officer in charge of the rescue

operation felt the job was too important to include the element of risk

represented by a relatively untried diving technique.

Air diving at 240 feet proved remarkably inefficient. Air divers

accom plished little work, and Petty Officer F.E. Smith and Master Diver

Orson Crandall passed out on the bottom. The desirability of shifting to

helium-oxygen mixtures became clearer with each dive.

On 27 May 1939, after Coxswain F.H. O’Keefe and Petty Officer R.M.

Metzger made shallow dives to check out the system, Chief Petty Officer

William F. Badders,8 a master diver, made the U.S. Navy’s first operational

6The diver making the 500-foot dive was not told his depth; when asked to estimate it, he

replied that it “felt like a hundred feet.” During decompression he was switched to air at 300 feet and

immediately suffered from inert gas narcosis. 7Described in chapter 2.

8 Just two days before, Chief Badders had participated in the most dangerous operation of the

rescue and salvage work. Though it was virtually certain all survivors had been rescued from the forward part of the submarine, it would take a check of the after torpedo room to confirm that no 

living soul remained on board. The conditions in the room were unknown. The pressure in the

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helium-oxygen dive. It was the first of 210 such dives made during the

Squalus salvage operation. The efficiency of divers breathing helium-oxygen mixtures at these depths proved greater than that of air divers. As

could be expected, the system had teething troubles in its first operation

and field modifications were necessary. Because of the success of the diving

on the Squalus salvage, however, the U.S. Navy subsequently adopted

helium-oxygen techniques for deep diving and the first submarine rescue

ships, the Chanticleer (ASR 7) class, were built with helium-oxygen diving

systems. These ships, like the fleet tugs and salvage ships of the same vintage, were to be long lived.

There was a negative side to the Squalus success. Because they had

worked so well, the procedures used during the Squalus operation became

locked in as the correct way to do things without a thorough analysis to

see why they worked or how they could be improved. Thus the evolution

of diving procedures did not advance as rapidly as it might have if the

Squalus operation had been less successful and if World War II had not

come along to distract the attention of everyone, including divers.

Diving During World War II

During World War II a great deal of diving took place. Divers made

invaluable contributions to hundreds of salvage and harbor clearance

jobs. More divers were trained than ever before, but the state of the art

remained almost stagnant. There simply were few resources to devote

to the agonizingly slow development of decompression schedules, diving techniques, and diving equipment. All divers were in the field

working on salvage, battle-damage repair, and a host of other activities

needed to support a rapidly growing Navy at war. For the duration of

the hostilities there was no choice but to use available resources, make

do with equip ment and procedures on hand, and adopt hastily modified

apparatus.

Amid the constant everyday work performed by Navy divers in support of the war effort, a few operations stand out. One unusual tasking

of divers even became routine: Divers were used to obtain intelligence

information—codebooks and the like—from sunken Japanese ships. Subchamber had to be brought up to bottom pressure because, if the room was flooded or partially

flooded, water would be blown into the bell. The danger of breathing compressed air at a depth of

nearly 200 feet had been demonstrated when Crandall and Smith passed out on the bottom

Badders and the other bell operator, Petty Officer John Mihalowski, blew the bell down and slowly opened the hatch. The after room was filled with water; there were no survivors. Badders and

Mihalowski vented the chamber and returned to the surface, their dangerous job done. It was time

to get back to the routine work of what would be the first helium-oxygen diving operation. Badders

and Mihalowski were awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for their “hell run” to the after

torpedo room.

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marine rescue ships were often employed in this work because of their

deep diving capability, and because their formally assigned mission did

not include combat salvage.

One of the most unusual diving operations of the war took place in

the Philippines where American prisoners of war, working under the

supervision of their Japanese captors, recovered a portion of the Philippine Treasury that had been dumped into Manila Bay. In this operation

the American divers demonstrated a marked inefficiency—or perhaps

efficiency—in denying the silver to the Japanese. After the enemy had

been driven out of Manila, however, other Navy divers worked much

more efficiently from the net tenders Teak (AN 35) and Elder (AN 20) to

recover the Philippine silver.

Most of the diving done during the war lacked this glamor. It was simply the backbreaking, cold, dirty, exhausting work of salvage diving.

By the end of World War II, the position of divers in the Navy had

changed. Now there were diving officers who were not only trained but

also experienced in the supervision of diving operations. As was the case

with overall salvage operations, no single office on the staff of the Chief

of Naval Operations represented divers and their interests. As the senior

employer of divers in the Bureau of Ships, the Supervisor of Salvage

inherited the technical responsibility for diving. However, for several

years following World War II, naval diving existed and progressed mainly

because of the interest and initiative of a small number of people who

understood its value and perhaps foresaw the explosion of technology and

capability that still lay over the horizon.

New Diving Technologies

The introduction of SCUBA was a precursor of the technological

explosion. A free diver carrying his own breathing gas supply obviously

had great value for many diving missions and had been the subject of

inventive thought for many years. The bits and pieces for the technology had been around for some time, but it remained for a French naval

officer, Captain Jacques Yves Cousteau, and an engineer, Emile Gagnan,

to put all the pieces together. Working in a Mediterranean village under

the difficult and restrictive conditions of the German occupation to

build a workable open-circuit air SCUBA, they developed and tested the

equipment, dubbed “Aqua-Lung’’ to the point where it became a commercial success following the war. The U.S. Navy quickly acquired the

technology.

Interest in deep diving continued. Experiments focused on deeper

diving with helium-oxygen, deep-sea equipment. The deepest open-sea

dive reached with this equipment came in 1950 when Petty Officer Peter

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373
Pritchett reached 500 feet off the Galapagos Islands. These extreme depths

remained in the realm of experimental work. The helium-oxygen decompression tables published in the Diving Manual, the bible for working

divers, extended only to 410 feet; in 1956 it retreated to 380 feet. But

new factors that would have profound effects on deep diving were coming

into play.

In conventional diving, decompression is the greatest consumer of

time and generally the part of the dive when trouble is most likely to

develop. For instance, a diver working for an hour at 200 feet requires

more than two hours of nonproductive but necessary decompression to

reach the surface. There is no way to avoid decompression, but there is a

length of stay at any particular depth at which body tissues become saturated with gas and the duration of decompression becomes independent

of the duration of the dive. With theory as their jumping-off place, three

men—the U.S. Navy’s Captain George F. Bond (MC), Jacques Cousteau,

and Edwin A. Link, the builder of the famous Link Trainer aviation simulator—worked independently to turn saturation-diving theory into practice. The implications of saturation diving are tremendous. Theoretically,

a diver provided with satisfactory living conditions at bottom pressure

could live there indefinitely until completing his work, then slowly return

to surface pressure, paying his decompression debt in one lump sum.

Saturation diving held great potential for extending the depths at which

operational diving could be undertaken practically.

Bond, Commander Robert D. Workman (MC), and Commander

Walter E. Mazzone (MSC) began the initial animal tests in 1961 and, after

sorting out problems caused by the density and high oxygen content of

air, moved to human tests. The human tests, designated Genesis I and II,

were conducted on Navy divers at the Submarine Medical Research

Laboratory in New London, Connecticut. These tests culminated in a 

12-day exposure to a simulated depth of 200 feet. Before the work of the

Genesis projects could be put to the test in the deep ocean, however, a

tragedy triggered a major deep-ocean effort and provided the impetus for

a wave of new developments.

Thresher

The nuclear attack submarine Thresher sank in 8,400 feet of water off

the New England coast during trials following her postshakedown availability on 10 April 1963. At the time she went down, the Navy had no

organization, no search techniques, and no specific procedures for mounting a deep-ocean search and identification operation. The response to the

casualty, however, was immediate. Within a few hours, a full-scale search

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effort with thirteen ships had been laid on to seek any signs of life from

Thresher. After some twenty hours, all hope of finding survivors had

passed. The operation changed from a search and rescue operation to an

ad hoc oceanographic effort under Captain Frank A. Andrews to locate

the wreck of the submarine. The Navy had an intense interest in deter -

mining the cause of the loss for the same reasons it had had in the loss of

F–4 nearly fifty years before. If the cause of the disaster could be identified, it could be eliminated in other submarines.

As with all deep-ocean operations, the first step was to find the lost

object. Designated as the search area was a square, 10 miles on a side and

centered on the position of Thresher’s escort, Skylark (ASR 20), when

contact had been lost. The search team consisted of three elements.

The first part of the team was the sea element, designated Task Force

89.7. This element constantly changed in the number and types of ships

depending on the specific task in progress. Captain Andrews commanded

the sea element.

The second element was an eleven-man, shore-based brain trust, the

CNO Technical Advisory Group, that provided technical guidance and a

myriad of other services to support the at-sea effort. Dr. Arthur Maxwell,

senior oceanographer from the Office of Naval Research, and Captain

Charles B. Bishop chaired this group.

The third element was the Thresher Advisory Group set up at Woods

Hole Oceanographic Institution under Mr. Arthur Molloy of the Navy’s

Oceanographic Office in Suitland, Maryland. This group analyzed all

data obtained at sea and prepared search charts. It also performed the

necessary work of briefing senior naval officers and the officers of ships

joining the search operation.

Just three days after the loss of the submarine, the initial plan for

locating Thresher was formulated in a conference aboard the Woods Hole

oceanographic research ship Atlantis II. This conference included a lengthy

radio telephone conversation with Dr. Brackett Hersey, chief physical

oceanographer at Woods Hole, who confirmed the basic plan’s consis -

tency with the thinking prevalent in the oceanographic community.

There were four phases to the plan. First, sonic depth-finding sweeps

would cover the entire 100-square-mile area in sweeps 300 yards wide.

Second, all contacts classified as “possible” would be investigated with

deep-towed Geiger counters, side-scan sonars, or magnetometers. Third,

all contacts remaining after the first two phases would be photographed

with either a deep-sea television camera or a still camera. Finally, photographed wreckage would be examined visually from the bathyscaph

Trieste.

This imaginative overall plan had a high degree of logic, but there

were a few problems. No one knew for sure if the hull of Thresher would

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return an echo from the search fathometer. Some thought the hull would

be buried; others suggested it had broken up. Nor did anyone know if navigation of the disaster area could be carried out accurately enough to ensure

complete coverage. No one had any real experience at towing the various

search sensors near the bottom at great depth or in placing a camera for

precise deep photography. It looked like a tough job. It would be.

The search started in accordance with the plan. However, it soon

became apparent that because of unpredictable surface currents that

forced relatively imprecise navigation, the search would be coarse.

Overcoming the problems called for the cluster technique. With this

technique, all echoes reported by survey ships are plotted; then a second,

third, and even a fourth ship goes into the same area and their echoes are

plotted. When a cluster of contacts develop in a small area, it is considered worthy of further investigation.

Twelve positions were defined in this way. As the operation continued,

search techniques were refined by better navigation. Unfortunately, with

the improvements the twelve positions grew to ninety, many suspected to

be bottom topography. Side-scan sonars, cameras, and magnetometers

produced no beneficial results, because the towing surface ship had no

idea of the position of the sensor on its 9,000-foot towline.

The break that made the difference came on 14 May. Atlantis II,

working around a high-probability contact designated “Delta,” obtained

photographs of some very suspicious debris-paper, wire, and twisted

metal. The search concentrated on a 2-by-2-mile square—one twentyfifth of the original search area—centered on Delta. By 15 June debris

that obviously came from Thresher had been identified. It was time to call

in Trieste.

With Fort Snelling (LSD 30) as a support base and Preserver as an

assist vessel, Trieste made ten dives under the command of Lieutenant

Commander Don Keach with Lieutenant John B. (Brad) Mooney, Jr., as

copilot. On 6 September the bathyscaph found a large portion of

Thresher’s wreckage and a debris field that Keach characterized as a huge

junkyard. Thresher had broken up; hope of determining the specific cause

of the accident diminished sharply; the search was over.

Although debris recovered from Thresher underwent careful examination, the exact cause of her loss could not be determined. Evidence pointed to rapid flooding resulting from a hull piping failure. Steps were taken

to ensure the integrity of hull piping and other submarine systems. In this

case the lessons learned by those working in the deep ocean were as

important as the modifications that made submarines safer. Locating the

wreck of Thresher had been a marvelous achievement, but severe problems in search-and-navigation systems, organization, and doctrine

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remained to be solved. In time, they would be. The solutions would be

evolutionary, for each new operation pushed the state of deep-ocean

work forward.

The Deep Submergence Review Group

Ten days after the Thresher’s loss, Secretary of the Navy Fred H. Korth

established a Deep Submergence Review Group chaired by Rear Admiral

Edward C. Stephan, then the Oceanographer of the Navy. The dual mission of the Deep Submergence Review Group was to assess the Navy’s

capabilities in search, rescue, and recovery of objects and to evaluate the

concept represented by saturation diving.

The Deep Submergence Review Group’s charter called for the group

to outline programs for immediate development, draft a five-year program

to achieve the ultimate capability the Navy and the nation needed, and

recommend an organization to carry out the program. The 2,000-page

report of the group affirmed that the Navy lacked the means of operating

successfully on rescue and recovery missions in the deep ocean.

Most of the recommendations of the Deep Submergence Review

Group, as well as their implementation, are beyond the scope of this

chronicle, which is devoted to salvage and the technologies that directly

support it. However, some of the recommendations did affect salvors.

Among these were the group’s recommendations to develop the capability to recover both large and small objects from the deep ocean, develop a

more modern submarine rescue system and a surface platform to support

it, and pursue an operational saturation-diving capability.

The pre-World War II submarine salvages that extended from F–4 to

Squalus were remarkable deep-ocean operations for their time but, with

the exception of helium-oxygen diving on Squalus, did little to advance

the state of the art. In fact, deep-ocean technology did not progress significantly until well after World War II.

In the late 1950s and early 1960s commercial and research activity in

the oceans surged, motivated by the exploration for offshore oil and the

Navy’s desire to work more effectively in the ocean depths. New tools

were required for the development of geophysical and oceanographic

information. Commercial submersibles began to appear and to proliferate. Meanwhile the Navy’s mine warfare community had developed a

series of prototype remotely operated vehicles called MERMUT9 that

could swim to underwater ordnance and work on it. The Naval Ordnance

9MERMUT is the acronym for Mobile Electronics Robot Manipulator and Underwater

Television system.

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377
Test Station at its Pasadena Annex in California, while working on the

launch system for the Polaris missiles, borrowed MERMUT. In the course

of this program MERMUT became CURV10 and an ancestor to the successful series of remotely operated vehicles11 of the CURV family.

Despite all the activity in industry and in the research community

within the Navy, there had been relatively little change in real ability to

work deep in the ocean until the loss of Thresher in 1963 and the impetus

given by the recommendations of the Deep Submergence Review Group.

A major move forward came on 28 May 1964 when Secretary of the Navy

Paul H. Nitze announced the assignment of deep submergence responsibilities to the Chief of Naval Material and the formation of the Deep

Submergence Systems Project within the Naval Material Command. At

the same time, funding was made available for the necessary applied

research and hardware development. Applications for deep-ocean technology could not and would not wait for the scientists and engineers to

complete their work.

Major Search and Recovery Jobs

As if to reinforce the urgency of implementing the Deep Submergence

Review Group’s recommendations, several deep-ocean casualties occurred

in the mid-to-late sixties. In each case the U.S. Navy was called on to

undertake a major deep-ocean search and recovery operation. Each job

challenged the skill and imagination of the Navy’s salvage organization.

The valuable lessons learned, in terms of both the management of such

operations and the effective use of appropriate technologies, pushed for -

ward the state of the art of deep-ocean salvage.

Palomares

A major incident with potentially serious international complications

began on 17 January 1966 when two Air Force planes, a B–52 bomber 

and a KC–135 tanker, collided during a refueling operation 30,500 feet

over Spain. The B–52 carried four unarmed nuclear weapons. Three of

these were located within twenty-four hours in and about the coastal village of Palomares. The distribution of debris, the location of survivors,

and the report of the master of a fishing vessel, Sr. Francisco Simo-Orts,12

10CURV is the acronym for Cable-Controlled Underwater Recovery Vehicle.

11A remotely operated vehicle is generally known by the acronym ROV.

12The report of Sr. Simo-Orts garnered high credibility because of his ability to return without

navigational aids to the spot where he was fishing on the day of the accident.

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suggested a high probability that the fourth weapon had fallen into the

water, a situation that made the Navy responsible for its recovery.13

The Deep Submergence Review Group had identified object location

and small-object recovery as one of the technical areas requiring develop -

ment. A program to develop capabilities in the field had been initiated by

the Deep Submergence Systems Project working under Technical Development Plan 46–16, but this had not resulted in any interim capability for

deep-ocean search and recovery.14 From start to finish, the entire

Palomares search and recovery operation would have to be improvised

and synthesized from diverse elements. It would be a mammoth operation.

In fact, the search for the nuclear weapon off Palomares would exceed the

Thresher search in numbers of persons involved, problems, and logistic

requirements.

Even though no specific organization or procedures existed within the

Navy for deep-ocean search and recovery operations, much had been

learned from the Thresher search and the emphasis given to deep submergence in the years immediately preceding the weapon loss at Palomares.

When the Air Force requested Navy assistance on 22 January, two steps

were taken. First, Commander Sixth Fleet ordered the formation of Task

Force 65 under the command of Rear Admiral William S. Guest to conduct the surface and subsurface operations off Palomares. Guest reported

to Major General Delmar E. Wilson, USAF, the Commander of the 16th

Air Force and the overall commander of the recovery. Second, as in the

case of Thresher, the Chief of Naval Operations formed a Technical

Advisory Group in Washington, this time under Rear Admiral Leroy V.

Swanson, to act for him and to provide equipment and technical people.

The time between the request for Navy assistance and the recovery of

the weapon fell into three distinct periods. The first phase, 22 January

through 17 February, was devoted to mobilization—designating, readying,

and transporting the equipment—and, insofar as possible, identifying the

problems. The search phase lasted from 17 February until 15 March, and

the recovery phase extended from 15 March to 7 April.

During the build-up phase, Explosive Ordnance Disposal and Underwater Demolition Team divers searched the bottom from the high-water

mark to a depth of 80 feet. Their work recovered a great deal of aircraft

wreckage and provided assurance that the weapon did not lie in this inshore area. Simultaneously, sonar searches were made with the Ocean

Bottom Search Sonar and mine-hunting sonars. The mine-hunting sonar

13Department of Defense policy, implemented by a Chief of Naval Operations directive, gave

the Navy the responsibility for disposing the explosive ordnance of all services when it lay to seaward

of the high-water mark. 14Congressional testimony following the operation resulted in appropriation of a $2.5 million

add- on to the fiscal year 1967 budget for deep-ocean search and recovery.

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contacts were investigated by the small Perry submersible “Cubmarine”

(PC 8) or by divers.

By 17 February two deep-diving submersibles—Alvin, operated by

Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution for the Office of Naval Research,

and Aluminaut, owned and operated by Reynolds Aluminum—were ready to

operate. Guest designated two high-priority search areas: Alfa I, a circular area of one-mile radius around the position reported by fisherman

Simo-Orts, and Alfa II, an inshore area where most of the debris had

been found. Alvin and Aluminaut were assigned to Alfa I because the

rugged bottom topography made acoustic search virtually useless.

The submersibles conducted an effective visual search in Alfa I,

although detection ranges rarely exceeded 15 feet. The weapon was ultimately found by a modified random search enhanced by good luck that

balanced limited vision. Alvin’s pilots, Valentine Wilson and Marvin

McCamas, elected to search along the contours of the steep bottom

slopes, reasoning correctly that the weapon may have slid down a slope

leaving a discernible track.

On 1 March during her tenth dive, Alvin sighted a bottom furrow but

lost it while tracking it down the slope. On 15 March Alvin relocated the

furrow. In an outstanding feat of seamanship, she backed down the slope,

keeping the furrow in view through her bow ports until, at a depth of

2,550 feet, she was dramatically rewarded by the sight of a parachute

enshrouding a cylindrical object of the right size and shape. Aluminaut

immediately rendezvoused with Alvin and baby-sat the object for twentytwo hours while Alvin replenished and prepared to return. The oceanographic research ship USNS Mizar (T-AGOR 11), a veteran of the

Thresher search, fixed the position so the submersibles could return without delay.

Wedged in a “vee” on a 70-degree slope, the object presented a difficult recovery problem. The first attempt on 24 March failed when the

hoisting line parted, and the object, still enshrouded in the parachute, fell

back to the bottom. The search began all over again. On 2 April Alvin

again located the weapon, now 120 yards from its original position and

300 feet deeper. Again Aluminaut stood watch while Alvin surfaced to

recharge, then marked the position.

When the first lift attempt failed, the Technical Advisory Group

ordered CURV to be modified for operation at 3,000 feet and flown to the

scene. Petrel (ASR 14) loaded CURV in Cartagena and took it to the site.

On 5 April CURV, guided to the weapon by Alvin’s copilot Wilson,

attached a line to the apex of the parachute. The following day she

attached a line to a bundle of parachute shrouds. On 7 April, while

attempting to attach a final line, CURV became entangled and could not

be freed. Rear Admiral Guest made the decision to hoist the bundle with

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water tracking the weapon during the lift. An hour later the weapon

came aboard Petrel.

The recovery of the nuclear weapon off Palomares was the first time

all three types of underwater work systems—divers, submersibles, and

remote-operated vehicles—complemented one another in a single operation. Each was properly employed and demonstrated its place in deepocean work.

The operation had been totally ad hoc in nature, assembling its

resources from a wide variety of sources within the Navy and from industry. Navy elements were generally overstaffed in numbers but lacking in

the required experience. Industry elements were the opposite—understaffed but expert in their capabilities. After the operation, the entire task

force was disbanded, leaving only the residual expertise of individuals, an

outcome inherent in task force operations. Edward Ellsberg had vociferously decried this practice following the submarine salvage operations of

the 1920s, and the CNO Technical Advisory Group decried it following

Palomares. Along with the President’s Panel on Oceanography, the

Technical Advisory Group saw a national need for small-object recovery

from the deep ocean and deemed it the responsibility of the Navy to

develop and maintain this capability.

A major factor driving the development of a ready-to-go, deep-ocean

recovery capability was the degree of interest of other nations or commercial firms in gaining access to lost objects and their ability to do so. It

behooved the United States as a major world power and a major user of

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The early remotely operated vehicle CURV is hoisted aboard Petrel during the search for

the nuclear weapon lost off Spain in 1966.
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382

The nuclear weapon lost off Palomares, before and after recovery.
the world’s oceans and airways to have an object-recovery capability that

could be mobilized quickly anywhere in the world.

Both technology and economics militate against developing and maintaining an all-encompassing standby capability for deep-ocean recovery.

The capability must be constantly updated—as must the hardware—or it

will become obsolete sitting in a warehouse between jobs. And because

work in the deep ocean is tremendously expensive—the Navy sent the

Air Force a bill for more than $5 million for the Palomares bomb recovery—it is not economically feasible to maintain a seldom-used, deep-water

contingency capability.

Although the Navy has developed the ability to recover a wide variety

of objects at various depths, major and complex recoveries still require an

ad hoc force assembled from both within and outside the Navy, wherever

the best technology and experience exist.

Two Searches

By the late 1960s submersibles and remotely operated vehicles were

working in the Navy’s laboratories and test ranges recovering weapons

and other objects from the bottom. Appropriately, these vehicles found

their employment in the same type of work—recovering modern weaponry—

that had formalized diving in the Navy in the preceding century. Within

a short time after the recovery of the nuclear weapon at Palomares, nine

experimental torpedoes were recovered from a depth of 3,000 feet off St.

Croix, and a classified test shape was picked up near Vieques in Puerto

Rico. As it had so many times before, improvisation played a major role

in both cases. Making the best of the resources available, and changing

plans to meet changing conditions, has always been the hallmark of the

salvor, and especially in deep-ocean recovery operations, it will always be

necessary.

A major search operation in response to an emergency occurred

when the Liberty ship Robert Louis Stevenson, loaded with 2,000 tons of

explosives, was intentionally scuttled off the Aleutians. The ship, part of

a program to dispose of deteriorated or defective ammunition and

to assist the Advanced Research Project Agency’s nuclear explosion

detection program, failed to sink as planned. Libertys had always been

tough; Stevenson proved no exception. She drifted for sixteen hours, hid

in a fog bank, and finally sank in water too shallow to activate the water

pressure detonators designed for 4,000 feet. A unique emergency resulted;

it was feared that the pressure signature of a ship passing over the

sunken hulk would be enough to explode Stevenson’s cargo.

To eliminate the danger, the Navy Oceanographic Office sent the

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USNS Silas Bent (T-AGS 26) to locate the sunken ship, positively identify

it, and either detonate the cargo or provide a high level of assurance that

the cargo could not be detonated. Rear Admiral Donald M. White,

Commander Alaskan Sea Frontier, in his role as Commander Task Force

93, had overall responsibility for eliminating the emergency; Captain

Alfred F. Betzel, Commander Service Squadron Seven, was on-scene com -

mander as was Commander John Orem, the Pacific Fleet Salvage Officer.

Attempts to detonate Stevenson by dropping aircraft bombs on the best

available datums proved unsuccessful. After a long delay for refurbishing

equipment idle since the Thresher search, a deep-towed magnetometer

search started on 5 September. On 11 September a contact with the expected

characteristics was detected and confirmed, first by narrow beam echo

sounder and then by additional runs with both sensors. Following location

of the wreck the towed camera took photographs that supplied positive

identification of the ship. Accurate bombing runs with explosions within the

desired range failed to detonate the cargo. Robert Louis Stevenson could be

declared not hazardous to shipping. The operation ended. A complex search

operation had again been carried out by an ad hoc organization with equipment available off the shelf. The only significant delays were in putting

together the people and equipment to do the job.

Another effective ad hoc organization reacted to an emergency more

in the manner of the Palomares bomb recovery when the search was on

for the submarine Scorpion (SSN 589). In May 1968 Scorpion disappeared

crossing the Atlantic en route to her home port of Norfolk, Virginia. A

mammoth search along her projected route, including intensive searches

of numerous seamounts, failed to turn up any trace of the submarine. A

prolonged search by Mizar’s deep-towed camera system finally located

Scorpion’s hull some 400 miles southwest of the Azores in more than

10,000 feet of water. The winter season in the North Atlantic allowed no

more than extensive photography of the hull, and so the Navy’s Court of

Inquiry had little information on which to base a determination of the

possible cause of the loss.

Two means of investigating the hull were seriously considered. The

first, simpler and less costly, would also provide less information about the

cause of the casualty. It involved inspection of the wreck as she lay by

submarine technical experts in the bathyscaph Trieste. The second

approach, much more complex, involved a more detailed exterior survey,

entry into the hull, and recovery of selected items. A paper study of the

engineering and operational requirements for the second option and

designs for some special tools for entering the hull showed the work at

this depth would be horrendously expensive and would probably produce

few significant results.

The first option was chosen. Captain Harry Jackson, a submarine

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design expert, inspected the hull from Trieste the following spring. The

inspection was not conclusive, and the specific cause of the Scorpion’s loss

remains unknown.

An accident to a small submersible a few months after the loss of

Scorpion had a happier ending.

The Recovery of Alvin

On 16 October 1968, Alvin, the star of the Palomares weapon recovery and arguably the most successful small submersible ever built, was

preparing for a routine dive to inspect some oceanographic buoy moorings 90 miles south southeast of Cape Cod. The dive turned out to be far

from routine. Lifting lines aboard Alvin’s tender Lulu parted, and Alvin

plunged 5,051 feet to the bottom with her hatch open.

Although no object of Alvin’s size and weight had ever been recovered from such a depth, an immediate operation to raise Alvin began

under the sponsorship of the Supervisor of Salvage. Unfortunately time

did not permit the careful planning and selection of work systems that

can spell the difference between success and failure in deep-ocean operations. In the initial recovery operation, the submersible DOWB15

attempted to place a lift device in Alvin’s open hatch; the submersible

would then be lifted by a long line suspended from the Wood’s Hole

research ship, Chain.16 Casualties and handling difficulties with DOWB

plagued the operation, but the storms that swept the area were even more

disruptive. It was obvious that the North Atlantic winter would be no

more hospitable to the Alvin recovery than it had been to the recent

Scorpion search. The operation terminated without success on 23

November 1968.

Alvin remained on the bottom throughout the winter, a powerful

challenge to salvors and ocean engineers alike. In June 1969 Mizar photographed Alvin lying intact on the sea bottom, the only apparent damage

being a broken tail shroud and propeller. Salvage planning now began in

earnest. The Supervisor of Salvage, Captain Gene Mitchell, would be in

overall charge; Lieutenant Commander Milwee of his office was assigned

as on-scene commander, with Mr. Earl F. (Curly) Lawrence as his principal assistant. The work would be planned and executed as an ordinary

salvage job rather than a complex ocean-engineering operation; there

would be no Technical Advisory Group in Washington providing expertise. This would be the first major deep-ocean operation conducted in this

manner.

15DOWB is the acronym for Deep Ocean Work Boat.

16Formerly Chain (ARS 20).

The basic salvage plan followed the pattern of the previous

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autumn’s operation. A submersible would insert a lift device in Alvin’s

hatch, and a surface craft would make the lift. Three factors dominated

the planning: the submersible, the platform to make the lift, and the

weather. There weren’t many options to choose from—only a few submersibles could operate below 5,000 feet, suitable lift platforms were

limited, and suitable weather could be expected only in late summer.

Aluminaut, Alvin’s old friend from Palomares, had the best qualities for

the submerged operations. Mizar, in addition to being a sophisticated

oceanographic platform, had the stability and space needed for a lift

ship. Adequate room existed on her deck to install the traction winch

for hauling the recovery line. The lift could be made through the ship’s

center well, eliminating many sources of excitation of the lift line, a

major consideration in a lift line that was almost a mile long.

Salvage forces gathered in Boston for preparations and sailed for the

lift site on 12 August. While Aluminaut rehearsed in Provincetown harbor, Mizar went to sea. Once she had located and marked the sunken submersible, the recovery operation began.

On her third dive Aluminaut approached Alvin and climbed her side,

tearing away the fiberglass sail to reach the hatch more easily. After several trips pilot Bob Canary, a former Navy submariner, placed the lift bar

in Alvin’s open hatch, tripped the toggle, and set it with a pull. The bitMUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

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Aluminaut crew and support people work to rig the line reel on the submersible’s bow early

in the operation that recovered Alvin.
ter end of the toggle line was hooked into the lift line and Aluminaut surfaced after a dive of almost eighteen hours.

Aluminaut surfaced in moderating seas and cleared the area while the

lift line was transferred to Mizar and rigged to the traction winch.

Hauling started. Tension in the line climbed to 9,000 pounds—near the

in-water weight of Alvin—and held steady. When Alvin reached 90 feet,

divers attached her regular lifting sling and secured all the loose equipment. At 30 feet they wrapped the submersible in a nylon net and transferred the load to three inflatable salvage pontoons that would support

Alvin during the 96-mile tow to shallow water.

On 1 September 1969, Labor Day morning, a crane lifted Alvin from

the waters of Menemsha Bight and set her aboard a barge; preservation

and restoration began immediately. Another deep-ocean operation had

ended successfully. The outstanding record of Alvin in subsequent

oceanographic research and ocean-engineering operations testifies to the

value of the recovery.

The recovery operation itself showed the value of simple, highly

detailed, and flexible plans with carefully thought-out alternatives.

Rehearsal time was well spent and led directly to time-saving changes.

The most significant lesson of the Alvin recovery was that deep-ocean

operations can be conducted on a routine basis using Navy and industry resources. Meanwhile, as such operations were being carried out

with increasing frequency, a portion of the ocean community was devoting its attention to developing the technology of diving. The results were

spectacular.

The Deep-Diving Technological Explosion

Well before the Deep Submergence Review Group completed its

study and made its recommendations, the Chief of Naval Research brought

together experts from a number of laboratories to build on the foundations laid during the Genesis saturation-diving project. The next step,

SeaLab I, was a bottom habitat, saturation-diving experiment at a depth

of 195 feet on the Plantagenet Bank off Bermuda. The purpose of the

experiment was to evaluate human ability to work under the water at

moderate depths for prolonged periods. Although the operation had to be

curtailed ten days early because of an approaching storm, it achieved all

its goals and, most importantly, it conclusively demonstrated the feasibility of open-sea saturation diving. The technological explosion that would

last more than a decade was well underway.

SeaLab I had not been planned as an isolated trial but as the first in

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a series of bottom habitat experiments in a program of physiological

research, scientific investigations, and work tests. With the establishment

of the Deep Submergence Systems Project, responsibility for the SeaLab

series moved to that organization under the auspices of the Man-in-theSea Program, and their technical office in San Diego did the field work.

In late 1965 the second SeaLab experiment was carried out in 205 feet

of water 65 miles off La Jolla, California. An ambitious ocean-floor program occupied SeaLab II divers on the bottom. It consisted of scientific

construction and salvage tasks; some went well, some not so well, some

didn’t go at all. Much, however, was learned about working in the ocean,

and contributions were made to a number of undersea science and engineering disciplines. SeaLab II represented another significant step forward

in enabling human beings to live and work in a hostile environment.

Immediately after, SeaLab II planning began for the next experiment.

SeaLab III would be a quantum leap downward, with habitat placement

initially planned for 450 feet, then finalized at 600 feet. Highly specialized

surface support technology would be needed to support life at the greater

depth. This required a complex and capable diving system in which divers

could live or decompress in pressurized chambers on deck and travel

between the SeaLab and the support ship in a pressurized personnel

transfer capsule. To fulfill this requirement, the prototype of the Mark II

Deep Dive System that would be installed in the newly constructed ASR 21

class, catamaran-hulled, submarine rescue ships was built and installed in

Elk River (IX 501). Elk River, LSMR–501 before conversion to a surfacesupport ship for SeaLab II, would have a long career as the home of this

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SeaLab I and the men who operated it.
diving system.

The order-of-magnitude increase in complexity when going from 205

to 600 feet caused delays while hardware was developed, tested, improved,

and retested. When the habitat was put in place in February 1969,

numerous helium leaks developed. During an attempt to repair the leakage and open the habitat for occupancy, one of the divers, Barry Cannon,

an engineer from the Mine Defense Laboratory, died. The SeaLab series

died with him. Shortly after, the program was cancelled and never taken

up again. With the termination of the SeaLab Project, the need for the

operational diving organization at the Deep Submergence Systems Project

Technical Office in San Diego no longer existed. The organization and all

its people and assets were transferred intact to the recently formed

Submarine Development Group One, where they became the Navy’s

largest and most varied operational diving group.

In the sixties, under the impetus of offshore oil development, commercial operators were diving deeper than the Navy and had built a number of deep-dive systems. New helmets and suits seemed to spring forth

daily. The first commercial saturation dive took place in 1966. But the

Navy had not been idle, nor were all the Navy’s diving eggs in the SeaLab

basket. There was considerable interest in deep diving for salvage.

The Navy Experimental Diving Unit, for some time a joint command

with the Deep Sea Divers School, separated into its own command with

an engineering duty officer in charge.17 The name of the diving school

was changed to Naval School, Diving and Salvage, to emphasize the salvage portion of its mission. Just as salvage training in World War II had

benefited from the lessons learned in the field, training at the renamed

school included the lessons being learned in Vietnam.

Divers at the Navy Experimental Diving Unit had been working

toward greater depths, but their accomplishments had not yet been translated into operational capability. In fact, as a result of an accident in

which two divers diving from Skylark were killed, surface-supplied diving

had been limited to a maximum depth of 300 feet. Two aircraft crashes off

Vietnam in the mid-1960s drew attention to the need for modernizing the

Navy’s deep-diving capability. The crashes required salvage work at

depths that commercial divers could reach but that were too deep for

Navy divers.

Captain Bill Searle, now Supervisor of Salvage, looked to industry as

a means of providing a quick solution to the Navy’s deep-diving problem.

17Commander Eugene B. Mitchell was the first engineering duty officer in charge of the Navy

Experimental Diving Unit.

The capabilities of the ADS–IV diving system—operated by Ocean

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390

Petty Officer P.A. Wells applies salvage foam to a sunken aircraft during SeaLab II.
Systems, Inc., in oil field service—seemed just what the doctor ordered.

The system increased diving depth, improved safety, and added flexibility to diving operations.

Ocean Systems divers, including ex-Navy Master Diver Del Thomason,

demonstrated the system and then, when leasing arrangements had been

completed, trained an initial team from Harbor Clearance Unit One off

Santa Barbara. The Navy and Ocean Systems team moved to Subic Bay

via Hawaii. Commander Paul G. Linaweaver (MC), an experienced diving

medical officer, had been specially assigned to Harbor Clearance Unit One to

provide medical coverage for the ADS–IV. While in Hawaii the master

diver assigned to the system, Chief Petty Officer Richard C. (Blackie)

Villasenor, made a demonstration dive with this ADS–IV system to 450

feet for Commander Service Force Rear Admiral Edwin B. Hooper. The

system then became a part of Harbor Clearance Unit One. The ADS–IV

was regularly installed on salvage ships and tugs passing through Subic,

and divers assigned to those ships as well as all divers assigned to HCUOne were trained in the system.

The system’s first operation came in October 1967 when an A3B airDeep-Ocean Salvage

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Senior officers at the SeaLab II site. Left to right: Captain George Bond (MC), Captain

Bill Searle, the Supervisor of Salvage, and Commander Tom Blockwick. Photo courtesy

Captain Willard F. Searle, Jr.
craft crashed in Subic Bay. After the wreckage had been located in 144

feet of water, Safeguard loaded the ADS–IV aboard and began recovery.

Although the wreck did not lie particularly deep, the flexibility offered by

the ADS–IV allowed the work to go quickly. Recovery of the aircraft was

completed in only four days. A black incident in U.S. naval history, the

capture of Pueblo (AGER 2), provided the opportunity to demonstrate

the system’s portability. The ADS–IV flew to Japan to stand by for operations at the capture site; it departed Subic Bay less than twenty-four

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Personnel transfer capsule of the ADS–IV diving system backs up three

diving officers. Left to right: Lieutenant (j.g.) Rick Jones, Lieutenant Art

Erwin, and Commander Paul Linaweaver (MC).
hours after the word to go came in.

Nevertheless, in terms of its usefulness in Navy operations, the system

had its ups and downs. For most of its service the ADS–IV was in a training and standby status, giving many Navy divers their first experience

with deep-diving systems. However, one unfortunate incident during an

actual operation dampened the Navy’s enthusiasm. A diver was killed

while diving from the system during an aircraft recovery operation off the

Korean coast. The investigation that followed ruled out mechanical malfunction or system failure, but the system had little use for some time

afterwards. The ADS–IV was later purchased by the Navy and, after a

period of inactivity and refurbishment, returned to Harbor Clearance

Unit One redesignated as the SDS–450. It never returned to full opera -

tion, however, and was eventually cannibalized to build a fly-away, sur -

face-supplied, mixed-gas diving system.

Despite its limited operational use, the ADS–IV was a necessary step

in the evolution of deep diving in the U.S. Navy, serving as a direct

ancestor of the Navy’s first deep-diving system built for that purpose, the

Mark I.

The designers and planners of the new ATS-type salvage and rescue

ships realized that, to keep the size of the ship within reason, some of the

equipment must be carried aboard only when needed. This applied particularly to larger, seldom-used items. Deep-diving equipment fell within

this category. The ship had space and gas storage for an 850-foot diving

system capability. Thus whenever the mission included deep diving, the

new Mark I Deep Dive System would be loaded into a salvage hold below

the after deck. The system bore a family resemblance to the ADS–IV but

had greater capability and thus greater size and complexity.

The Mark I system was completed before the first of the new ships.

For its initial checkout in 1970 it went to Port Hueneme, California,

where it was loaded aboard Gear.18 Ocean Systems divers, and then Navy

divers, operated the system. The Navy’s crew consisted of carefully

selected ADS–IV and Navy Experimental Diving Unit veterans led

by Lieutenant Lawrence T. Bussey, Chief Warrant Officer Russell

McEntire, and Master Diver Joe Bates. The initial checkout included a

saturation dive to 850 feet by Chief Petty Officers Tyrone Goacher and

Joseph E. (Goose) Langdon, and Petty Officers John T. Brady and Charlie

Wetzel. Immediately afterward a full-fledged operational evaluation of

the system, heavily supported by Submarine Development Group One’s

18Gear was operated by the Navy’s principal salvage contractor, Murphy-Pacific Marine Salvage,

on behalf of the Navy.

Diving Division, took place off Gear with additional open-sea dives to

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850 feet.

Experience with the system showed that to ensure reliability, the

complex mechanism must be exercised regularly. If the salvage and rescue

ship were the only platform available for it, the system could not be exercised frequently enough to ensure its operability.19 A covered lighter,

YFNB–43, was redesignated YDT–16 and modified to receive the system.

After installation and checkout of the barge-diving system, it joined

Harbor Clearance Unit Two at Norfolk in late 1971, giving the Atlantic

Fleet a first-class deep-diving capability.

The Mark I Deep Dive System operated in the Chesapeake Bay and

off Panama City, Florida. Among the dives conducted were a dive to 500

feet in January 1974, a dive to 1,000 feet less than a month later, a dive

to 1,148 feet by a combined team of U.S. Navy and Royal Navy divers,

and a dive to 300 meters by a Royal Navy dive team.20

The future of the Mark I seemed bright, but electrical problems and

high maintenance and operating costs plagued the system. It appeared

that the Mark I represented an important deep-diving capability for

which there was little demand. As a result of a management decision that

weighed the costs of operation and maintenance against utility and competing priorities, the system went out of service in 1976. A civilian organization, the Institute of Diving, obtained custody of the Mark I Deep Dive

System and put it on display at its museum in Panama City. The fate of

the Mark I is representative of the problem of maintaining capabilities

that are specialized but infrequently used—a problem faced by Navy salvage and diving planners from the beginning.

Another Navy deep-dive system met with considerably more success.

Although contemporaneous with the development of the Mark I, the

Mark II Deep Dive System was quite different. It was part of the submergence equipment slated for the new catamaran submarine rescue ships

Pigeon (ASR 21) and Ortolan (ASR 22). The construction of these ships

resulted directly from the recommendations of the Deep Submergence

Review Group. As previously noted, the Mark II prototype, the Mark II

Mod 0, had been installed in Elk River to support the SeaLab III operation. That operation occupied the system only briefly but continued in

service as the heart of the Navy’s saturation-diving school. The Mark II

19Experience on Gear showed that the system could be loaded aboard, and operated from, a narrow-hull ARS; however, modifications to the ship’s boom, a special over-the-side handling system

and additional generators and gas storage space would be required that were not truly practical for

Fleet operations. The ARSs could not be considered a satisfactory platform of opportunity for the

Mark I. 20One Royal Navy officer and one chief petty officer were assigned to the Mark I Deep Dive

System in exchange billets.

Mod I systems, built for the submarine rescue ships, benefited from the

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elimination of many of the Mod 0 bugs identified during the SeaLab and

subsequent operations.

The Mark II system proved a valuable tool in a variety of jobs, ranging from the salvage of a Coast Guard boat off the mouth of the Columbia

River to assisting scientific studies at great depth and providing standby

capability for saturation-diver training. Perhaps most important, the system was available in a high state of readiness for dives to storage depths

of 850 feet whenever and wherever they were required.

The Deep Dive Systems are the largest and most obvious manifestations

of the deep-diving work done by the Navy, but many peripheral developments have been of equal importance. Deep diving pushed forward every

aspect of diving technology. There were major advances in communications,

materials, respiratory technology, use of electricity underwater, gas storage

and mixing, decompression, excursions above and below saturation depths,

chamber design, underwater tools, fire safety, and instrumentation for monitoring divers’ physiological responses. With these advances came a new

appreciation for the difference between practicality and pie-in-the-sky.

Many paths were tried; many had dead ends. The deep ocean proved a very

difficult environment that can be conquered only with painstaking care and

engineering.

The complexity of deep diving changed the image of the diver. The

stereotype of a diver as a sailor with a size 54 jumper and a size 3 hat,

though never true, was now thoroughly outdated. The modern diver

required not only a full measure of fitness, courage, and determination,

but also had to be a skilled technician with a comprehensive understanding of life-support technology far more sophisticated than that used in

space life support.

Besides providing general advances in technology and a deep-diving

capability within the Navy, the deep-diving program of the 1960s and

1970s had another advantage for the nation. The Navy had the

resources—both money and facilities—to do research far beyond the

capability of industry. By carrying out expensive and lengthy diving

research and making the results available to the public, the Navy originated and disseminated technology that gave American diving companies

a competitive position in the international market of oil field diving. A

combination of basic research by the government and the practical acumen of American business for translating technology into practice led to

Ameri can dominance of commercial deep diving for many years. And the

street ran both ways. Commercial field experience was fed back to Navy

programs.

Overall management of diving within the Navy had not fared well

during the period of rapid technological development. Although management had been improved as a result of the recommendations of the Deep

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Submergence Review Group, it remained fragmented and without a sponsor in the office of the Chief of Naval Operations. This situation changed

on 26 May 1969 when the office of the Supervisor of Diving was established in the Naval Ship Systems Command with resources available in

the Supervisor of Salvage’s office and the Navy Experimental Diving

Unit. Despite the fact that most people in it now wore two or even three

hats, Navy diving began to take on form and structure.

Not long afterward, the structure became significantly sturdier. On 31

October 1969 the Chief of Naval Operations announced the establishment of a Deep Submergence Systems Project under the direction of Rear

Admiral Maurice H. Rindskopf as Deep Submergence Systems

Coordinator.21 The office had specific responsibility for helium-oxygen

and saturation-diving systems. It determined requirements, selected

work, and appraised the value and military worth of work in progress for

these systems.

The paperwork that formed the foundation of any modern program in

the Navy—general and specific operational requirements—was written,

rewritten, staffed, and approved for all types of diving. Diving continued

to acquire the legitimacy and direction necessary to obtain and hold on

to a budget for development and acquisition. While Navy diving was benefiting from both the explosion of technology and more effective management, actual operations in the deep ocean, many well beyond diving

depths, continued.

A Variety of Work

As the Navy’s ability to undertake recovery under the oceans

increased, so did the calls for this work. By the early 1970s it was obvious that subsea search and recovery operations would form a major part

of the work of Navy salvors. Because industry and advanced technology

organizations like naval laboratories can keep abreast of rapidly changing

technology better than the uniformed services, it also became apparent

that contractor- and laboratory-supported operations would be the most

efficient and cost-effective approach for deep-ocean work.

The Supervisor of Salvage undertook the design and construction of

the remotely operated vehicle Deep Drone to support his work in deep

recoveries. This vehicle would be husbanded by a contractor, with its

work at sea supervised by the Supervisor of Salvage. In addition to the

customary contracts for salvage services, the Supervisor of Salvage now

maintained a contract for search and recovery services with a company

21Originally OP–03U, later OP–23.

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specializing in this technology. Search and recovery contractors would

work with the fleet to provide expertise and technology just as salvage

contractors had for many years. The variety of the work that would be

undertaken was fantastic.

All of this had just begun to happen when Alvin surfaced again in

September 1969. A deeper job that lacked the sophistication of the Alvin

recovery occurred almost immediately.

A Job for the AEC

The Atomic Energy Commission placed an acoustical beacon, known

as SNAP–7E, on the ocean floor off Bermuda in 1964. After several years

of perfect behavior, the beacon suddenly stopped functioning. The commission wanted it back to determine the cause of the failure. Recovery

would not be easy; the beacon lay 16,000 feet down. A submerged riser

buoy held SNAP–7E proud of the bottom, while a mooring of two LWT

anchors, one 6,000 pounds, the other 2,000 pounds, kept it in place. Each

anchor was connected to the buoy by a short piece of chain and about

four miles of grapnel line.

Grappling, the process of dragging a grapnel along the bottom until it

snags the object being sought, is perhaps the oldest and simplest means of

underwater search. Many sailors can recall long days of grappling for aircraft and other wreckage before the side-scan sonar brought science to

underwater search. Grappling is still an effective technique when the

object being sought is long and slender—like four miles of line—and

when runs with the grapnel can be made perpendicular to the object.

Cable-laying ships often grapple to locate and retrieve submerged cables

for repair. The unsophisticated but often effective technique of grappling

was the obvious choice for grabbing the SNAP–7E mooring line.

The concept of the recovery called for the cable-laying ship Aeolus

(ARC 3) to make grappling runs perpendicular to the mooring legs in an

attempt to pick up the leg attached to the 2,000-pound anchor. Runs

would start near the anchor and move progressively closer to the beacon.

The first run started in the small hours of 23 November 1969, following six hours of paying out three miles of grappling line. When this run

failed, Aeolus made a second run one mile closer to the beacon. This too

failed. The grappling line was hauled up and the rig overhauled. Aeolus

then moved to within one-half mile of SNAP–7E and steamed ahead at

one knot. This run succeeded; tension rose in the line and lifting began,

slowly at first, then more rapidly when it was ascertained that the grapnel

had engaged firmly.

Unlike the Alvin operation where the weather favored the salvors, the

weather for the SNAP–7E recovery was more normal for winter in the

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North Atlantic. Playing the line tension as though they were fighting a

fish in the rising seas and skillfully controlling the lift with the cable-laying machinery in Aeolus, the salvors brought the beacon to the surface,

checked it for radiation leakage, and swung it on board. Another deeprecovery operation had bee completed.

No Mere Snapshots

Work kept coming. On 7 March 1970 the National Aeronautics and

Space Administration had launched a rocket carrying a Naval Research

Laboratory camera package for photographing a solar eclipse. Following

the eclipse the instrumentation package fell into 6,000 feet of water some

75 miles east of Norfolk, apparently lost. The film had tremendous importance to the scientific community, and NASA and the Naval Research

Laboratory asked the Supervisor of Salvage to undertake its recovery.

In a format that would become routine, the operation combined naval

operating forces, naval laboratories, and industry in a single coordinated

effort to complete a deep-water recovery. Arrangements were made with

Service Squadron Eight for the salvage ship Opportune to be the base for

the remotely operated vehicle CURV and to be also the command and

control ship for the operation. The vehicle was flown to Norfolk from the

West Coast, installed in Opportune, and taken to sea.

One advantage of remotely operated vehicles is that they are tireless.

Unlike a diver or a manned submersible, a remotely operated vehicle can

remain on the bottom doing its job while topside people rotate in a workrest cycle. When Opportune arrived at the position of the film package,

CURV made the 5,800-foot dive and began to search near two possible

impact points some two miles apart. It was like looking for a piece of

buckshot on a football field at night with a flashlight.

CURV’s first dive came late on the night of 17 March. After sixteen

hours on the bottom, electrical problems forced the vehicle to surface.

Opportune returned to port, where repairs were quickly made. Selecting

the other impact point, CURV dived again in the late afternoon of 21

March. Early in the first watch on 22 March, just eight hours after starting to search, the vehicle found the package, grasped it with its manipulator, and started for the surface a mile above. Surfacing proceeded slowly.

More than twenty-one hours since the dive began, Opportune hoisted

CURV aboard, the valuable film package safe.

The Large Object Salvage System

Among the recommendations of the Deep Submergence Review

Group that became part of the charter of the Deep Submergence Systems

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

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Project, was the development of a capability to lift objects as heavy as

3,000 tons from continental shelf depths. Specific Operational Requirements 46–17 described what was needed and became the foundation for

the Large Object Salvage System (LOSS) program.

Initial study presented a number of development concepts. The one

selected was a direct descendent of the submarine pontoon salvage method

that had been so successful before World War II. Steel pontoons, each

with a lift capacity of a hundred tons, would be positioned by a specially

constructed, remotely operated vehicle on the object to be lifted. Development efforts under the Deep Submergence Systems Project concentrated

on individual components of the LOSS. When management of the work

shifted to the Supervisor of Salvage in 1969, component development

had progressed to the point where integration of the components into a

system and preparation for trials at sea could begin.

A series of tests, first in model, then in full scale off Panama City,

Florida, proved both the concept and the individual pieces of hardware,

including attachment, gas generation, and positioning methods. The testing was methodical, with complete and careful documentation. Each

component was tested individually, and management decisions were

based on analyses of the tests. Complete specifications were prepared and

two pontoons were built.

By the fall of 1976 the system was ready for a technical evaluation

with the participation of the Operational Test and Evaluation Force and

fleet units. That year, with Recovery as the primary platform and with

divers from Harbor Clearance Unit Two participating, the pontoons were

positioned by their special pontoon implantment vehicle on a 150-ton

test object in 125 feet of water. One pontoon and its liquid nitrogen

deballasting system performed flawlessly. The second pontoon had some

problems. Before they could be solved, the weather degenerated and the

operation terminated. Even though incomplete, the test was successful

enough to give rise to the decision to conduct an operational demonstration the following summer using commercial salvors.

On 14 June 1977 the pontoons were towed to the test site by commercial tugs. Currents prevented placing the pontoons for two days, but

by 17 June both had been placed by the pontoon implantment vehicle,

and the object was ready for lifting. The lift operation began around 3:30

p.m.; less than three hours later the pontoons were on the surface, the

object hanging beneath them. In another five hours the pontoons and

object were ready for tow. Unfortunately, the test object fell free of the

pontoons while under tow. Despite this loss, the demonstration of the

Large Object Salvage System had been a success. The Navy had in hand

the technology and methods for recovering large objects from the continental shelf.

Deep-Ocean Salvage

399
The decision to be made at this point reached beyond project management into salvage policy and posture. Should additional hardware be

built and the system tested to its full depth capability, then stored ready

to respond at the first need? Or should the technology be considered

proven and placed on the shelf to serve as a basic building block when

needed?

The fate of the old submarine salvage pontoons provided a useful

precedent. These pontoons, not used on an actual submarine salvage

since Squalus in 1939, had sat in their storage yards for years. Despite

periodic refurbishments they had gradually deteriorated until they were

no longer useful. They were disposed of in the late 1970s. The Navy

decided it would not encumber itself with an on-the-shelf capability for

submarine salvage that would be infrequently, if ever, used. Instead, now

that the technology was proven, the hardware would be placed in storage

and the documentation placed in the custody of the Supervisor of Salvage.

Should the requirement to salvage a large object from the ocean floor

come up, additional components would be built and the system tailored

to the job. This important salvage policy was formalized, then institutionalized by a Chief of Naval Operations directive. From now on, highly

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

400

Concept of the Large Object Salvage System.
specialized and infrequently used systems, including submarine-salvage

systems, would not be stockpiled and maintained.

A Very Long Piece of Pipe

Late in 1982 the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration

(NOAA) requested Navy assistance for another far-from-routine operation.

The Department of Energy had sponsored an Ocean Thermal Energy

Conversion (OTEC) project off the island of Hawaii. In this project, cold

water from the ocean floor came to the surface, where the difference in

temperature between the cold bottom water and the surface water produced electrical energy. The project was quite successful but had been

abandoned following budget cuts. When the project was terminated, the

suction pipe had been left in place. The pipe consisted of a bundle of

three 4-foot diameter pipes 2,250 feet long, moored below the surface in

4,000 feet of water with the lower end of the pipe bundle on the bottom.

NOAA asked the Navy for aid in retrieving the pipe because it was a

potential navigation hazard and the state of Hawaii wanted the milliondollar pipe for an operational power plant.

The salvage plan called for the manned submersible Turtle (DSV 3)22

(Lieutenant Commander Don Norris) to cut the anchor chain and

release the pipe bundle so it could float to the surface. There it would be

picked up by Conserver (Lieutenant Commander Robert J. Ventgen) and

towed to port. YC–1525 from Mobile Diving and Salvage Unit (MDSU)

One was converted to a lift barge to pick up the weighted end of the pipe.

The first task of any salvage job, the survey, turned out to be more

difficult than expected. Turtle couldn’t find the pipe bundle and was

damaged during recovery in rough weather following its first dive. With

the submersible laid up for repairs, Conserver hooked with a grapnel a 16-

inch-circumference nylon line attached to a subsurface buoy and attached

a surface buoy. Working from the buoy as a starting point, the repaired

Turtle found and photographed the pipe bundle. The survey provided a

firm basis for revising the salvage plans.

Turtle placed remotely fired cutters on the mooring and moved clear.

The cutters were fired. Conserver, towing the lift barge YC–1525, grappled

for the nylon line so the pipe could be pulled to the surface. Pull as she

might, nothing came. Turtle went back down. The anchor chain had been

partially cut and had become fouled on a seamount. The cables holding

the pipe to the chain were severed. With the nylon line taken to the barge

22Turtle (DSV 3) and Sea Cliff (DSV 4) are Navy-owned and -operated deep-research submersibles

based on the Alvin design. Turtle has an operating depth of 10,000 feet, Sea Cliff can work to 20,000

feet. Under the command of Lieutenant Commander Rick Williams, Sea Cliff dived to its maximum

depth for the first time in the Middle America Trench off Central America on 10 March 1985.

Deep-Ocean Salvage

401
lift wire, Conserver began to tow and the pipe bundle broke the surface.

The tow was passed from the barge to Conserver and the ship began towing slowly to shallow water. She anchored in 40 feet of water with the

deep end of the pipe bundle in 90 feet of water. Divers shackled the

barge’s lift wire into the deep end and the pipe surfaced. Conserver delivered the half-mile-long tow in Kawaihae harbor. Once again the Navy

had completed an unusual deep-ocean job for another government

agency.

The Navy’s ability to work in the deep ocean had come a long way

since the Thresher search. Like many advances in salvage this progress

was a direct result of the recommendations that came from that disaster

and from the work of the Deep Submergence Review Group. With access

to the pool of talent and expertise of the naval laboratories, Submarine

Development Group One, the Supervisor of Salvage staff, and industry,

the Navy had an unparalleled capability to work in the deep ocean. A

well-developed organization enhanced this capability. From the time the

position was established, the Deep Submergence Coordinator on the

Chief of Naval Operations staff had overseen deep submergence operations and used his influence to ensure that the tools best suited for the

job were employed.

Fouled Submersibles

One of the great dangers to any work system in the ocean is fouling or

entanglement with the lines in the water. When divers become fouled,

standby divers are available to help free them. This is not the case with

towed fish,23 remotely operated vehicles, or manned submersibles. If the

first two become fouled, they can be cut free. An expensive loss may

result, but there is no danger to people. Submersibles are another story

altogether. If a manned submersible is fouled while submerged, the highest

priority is rescue of the crew. Because of the depths at which it operates,

and the lack of any standardized rescue systems or fittings, rescue of a

fouled submersible can best be accomplished by recovering the entire

vehicle or freeing it so that it can surface on its own.

Off San Diego on 7 October 1969 the Lockheed submersible Deep

Quest, diving to 432 feet to check out its newly built Large Object Recovery Module, tangled a polypropylene line in its port maneuvering screw.

The submersible became fouled at three o’clock in the afternoon. At four

o’clock Lockheed management asked the Navy for help. Responsibility

for directing the Navy’s assistance effort fell upon Captain Robert Gau23 In the jargon of the deep ocean, sensors or other objects towed beneath the surface are

referred to as “fish.”

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thier, Commander Submarine Development Group One. Response was

immediate and broadly based. General Oceanics’ submersible Nekton,

available and ready to dive, started down by truck from Port Hueneme.

Gear, with the Mark I Deep Dive System, sailed from Port Hueneme.

North American’s submersible Beaver, at sea aboard ship, sailed toward

the site. International Hydrodynamic’s submersible Pisces in Vancouver

and CURV in Pasadena were placed on standby.

Nekton arrived first and dived shortly after midnight. On the bottom

she operated just the way a standby diver works to free a fouled diver. She

examined the line fouling Deep Quest, asked the fouled submersible to

take up the slack, and, holding a knife in her manipulator, cut the line

away. Free from the line, Deep Quest surfaced, none the worse for wear fifteen hours after starting her dive.

The rescue had been quick and efficient; the Navy’s response to the

emergency was impressive. The presence of a large number of deep-ocean

assets nearby made the rapid response and its efficiency possible. This

rapid and effective response to a commercial submersible working on a

company project is particularly noteworthy because the Navy has no mission that includes such rescues.

Although the response to the next fouled submersible also came rapidly, the outcome was not so happy. On 17 June 1973 the Smithsonian

Institution’s Johnson-Sea-Link24 became fouled while making a dive to 360

feet for ichthyological studies off Key West near the hulk of the scuttled

World War II destoyer Fred T. Berry (DD 858). Four men occupied the

two-compartment submersible, two in the pilot’s compartment and two in

the diver lock-out compartment.25 An hour and a half into the dive,

Johnson-Sea-Link was caught. An immediate request for Navy assistance

went out. Rapid freeing of the submersible was vital. Her life-support

capacity was severely reduced. The pilot had secured the carbon dioxide

scrubbers because of a smell in the boat; low water temperatures, causing

low internal ambient temperatures, further lowered the effectiveness of

the scrubbing material.

Navy assets began to move. Tringa (ASR 16) recalled her crew and got

underway from Key West; a diving team from Submarine Development

Group in San Diego loaded their equipment and flew to Key West; Perry’s

submersible “Cubmarine” was trucked in from Riveria Beach; the deeprecovery ship Alcoa Seaprobe, then at sea, turned toward Key West; and

the Tracor/MAS ship A.B. Wood II sailed from Fort Lauderdale. The

24 Johnson-Sea-Link had been presented to the Smithsonian by its builders, Edwin A. Link and

J. Seward Johnson, at its commissioning on 29 January 1971. Its purpose was to pursue scientific

investigation of the continental shelf. 25On this dive no diving gear was carried by the men in the lock-out compartment.

Deep-Ocean Salvage

403
latter was rigged to handle bottom installations over the bow. All the

commercial assets were responding to Navy tasking.

Tringa arrived at the site, went into a moor and put hard-hat divers

into the water. The depth of the dive, 360 feet, required a variation from

standard procedures that normally limited Navy surface-supplied divers

to 300 feet. With the lives of four men in danger, there was no choice.

Two sets of two divers reached Johnson-Sea-Link, the first near midnight,

the second at about 2:30 a.m. Neither could work in the clutter and

three-knot current. The atmosphere in the submersible was becoming

foul with carbon dioxide; the men in the lock-out compartment were

hypothermic. Voice contact between the two compartments ended about

2:24 a.m.

By sunrise Sunday morning the diving team from San Diego had come

aboard and prepared to dive. They had no more success than the hardhat divers. In the early afternoon the Perry “Cubmarine” arrived at the

scene, deck-loaded on Amberjack (SS 522). The boat dived, but a sonar

casualty left it blind and forced it to surface. Though the Johnson-Sea-Link

had been down only a little more than twenty-eight hours, the situation

had become desperate.

A.B. Wood II, a very slow ship that had made only 6.5 knots en route

to the scene, arrived early Monday afternoon. She first looked over the

situation with her underwater television, then began to grapple for the

trapped submersible. At 3:00 p.m. she pulled it clear. Her tender, Sea

Diver, took Johnson-Sea-Link aboard. The pilot and ichthyologist were

saved; the two men in the lock-out compartment had died of carbon

dioxide poisoning and hypothermia. A great many resources had been

brought to bear in a brief period of total improvization. There were no

resources anywhere in the world specifically designed to free a trapped

submersible. There are none today, a cause for concern as tourist submersibles continue to proliferate.

In the discussions that followed the incident, it became apparent that

no government had or should have the responsibility for maintaining a

rescue system for commercial submersible operations. Furthermore, commercial operators and their underwriters had no interest in bearing the

tremendous cost of a standby rescue capability. In the harsh, real world

the most practical move seemed to be to minimize potential hazards by

designing submersibles with few places where they could snag, and by

providing them with sufficient life-support capacity, duration, and

redundancy to allow rescue assets adequate time to assemble if needed.

An accident to Pisces III just two months later demonstrated the value

of this approach.

On Wednesday, 29 August 1973, Pisces III, a two-compartment manned

submersible owned and operated by Vickers Oceanics, Ltd., a British

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

404
firm, operating in approximately 1,600 feet of water off the coast of

Ireland, had surfaced from a five-hour dive. While Vickers Voyager towed

Pisces III on a light line preparatory to picking her out of the water, a line

fouled the hatch to the after compartment and jerked it open. The compartment flooded with seawater. Pisces III sank to the end of the line,

hesitated there twelve minutes until the line broke, then plunged to the

bottom.

The situation was serious but not critical. The two pilots on board

were uninjured, the boat had suffered little impact damage, and the onboard life-support system had a duration of seventy-two hours. Vickers

Oceanics moved quickly and professionally, taking the belt-and-suspenders approach that has so often proven successful in salvage

operations. Two sister submersibles, Pisces II and Pisces V, were flown to

Ireland and loaded aboard Voyager. Assistance from the U.S. Navy was

requested. The request passed to the Supervisor of Salvage, who immediately began prepar ing CURV III and dispatched Commander Bob Moss

and Curly Lawrence to the scene.26

26CURV III, completed in 1971, was the latest and most capable vehicle in the family of remotely operated vehicles that began with CURV (later called CURV I). Two CURV II vehicles were built

in the late 1960s to support recoveries in weapon test ranges.

Deep-Ocean Salvage

405

Sweating out the recovery of Pisces III: Commander Bob Moss (left), Earl (Curly)

Lawrence (center), and another salvor.
The salvage plan bore a great resemblance to the one that had

worked so well for Alvin. Toggles with lift lines would be inserted into

the open hatch and the boat lifted on these lines. Pisces II dived first,

but damaged her manipulator and had to be hauled out for repair. Then

Pisces V dived. Interference from trawlers in the area hampered tracking

and underwater communications. Pisces V had a hard time finding Pisces

III, but when she did she attached a light line by a snap hook to her

sunken sister.27 By this time, Pisces V’s battery was too low to complete

the work. She surfaced.

Meanwhile CURV III—air-shipped from San Diego to Cork, Ireland,

and loaded on board the Canadian Coast Guard ship John Cabot—arrived

on the scene. CURV III made ready to dive, but a series of problems

requiring repair arose. The situation could have been brighter: Pisces II

and CURV III were down with mandatory repairs, Pisces V’s battery

required a complete charge, and the life-support duration of Pisces III was

being eaten up by passing time.28 Finally, Pisces II and CURV III were

ready to dive.

Pisces II went down first, inserted a toggle in the open hatch, and

released a buoy allowing 2,000 feet of line to float to the surface. The line

was too light for the primary lift line in the heavy weather that blew.

CURV III went down and put another toggle in the hatch. At 10:50 on

Saturday morning, when both lift lines had been taken aboard John Cabot,

lifting began. Two and a half hours later, after more than eighty-one hours

submerged, almost seventy-six of them stranded, Pisces III surfaced. The

pilots were soon on board Voyager, where they were declared fit.

The rescue of Pisces III was, like other civilian submersible rescue

efforts, a strictly ad hoc operation. Appropriate action by the commercial

operator and the good design of the submersible made the rescue-cumsalvage operation possible. The Navy’s response with its specialized

deep-ocean equipment and expertise provided the margin that ensured

success. It also provided an excellent example of the Navy salvage and

deep-ocean communities working together in the international workplace of the ocean.

In another interesting job, in the spring of 1976, the CURV III vehicle conducted a video survey of the ore carrier Edmond Fitzgerald that sank

in a storm in Lake Superior.29 This ship was found broken in two, with the

stern section upside down. Analysis of the wreckage permitted the Coast

Guard to make a positive determination of the cause of the sinking.

27As part of the belt-and-suspenders approach to this job, a lifting line would slide down the

light line and shackle into the main lifting point. 28The Pisces II crew took measures to increase the duration of their life support system by

decreasing pressure slightly to reduce oxygen consumption, sleeping as much as possible, and allowing carbon dioxide to build to higher levels than would be normally acceptable. 29This is the same Edmond Fitzgerald made infamous by the popular ballad of Mr. Gordon

Lightfoot.

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

406
Monitor

Another very different series of operations pointed up the breadth of

the deep-ocean community and the cooperation that exists within it.

Monitor is one of the most famous ships ever to serve in the U.S. Navy.

Every schoolchild knows how Monitor engaged the CSS Virginia during

the War Between the States.30 On New Year’s Eve 1862, just nine months

after the engagement with Virginia, Monitor was under tow by the paddlewheel steamer Rhode Island, bound for a new blockade station off

Wilmington, North Carolina. She foundered during a heavy southeasterly gale. The ship that had been a milestone in the history of the U.S. Navy

and of naval engineering and construction was lost forever, or so it

seemed for more than a century.

In 1974 the Navy’s interest in Monitor was rekindled. A historical

research project by midshipmen at the Naval Academy had identified a

10-square-mile rectangle, an area one-tenth the size of the initial Thresher

search area, as the probable location of Monitor. The midshipmen sought

the advice of the Naval Ship Research and Development Center at Annapolis. The center, impressed with the depth and quality of the work,

arranged an airborne magnetometer search. The search turned up eleven

contacts judged to be wrecks. The large number of wrecks in such a small

area was not surprising. The search area lay just south of Cape Hatteras,

a location astride a major shipping lane that had been a favorite hunting

ground for U-boats during World War II. The position of one of the

wrecks coincided with that of a contact explored the previous summer by

a group headed by Mr. John O. Newton of Duke University and Dr.

Harold E. Egerton of Massachusetts Institute of Technology. That expedition had produced some well-resolved sonar pictures and closed-circuit

television showing a capsized hull with Monitor’s unusual characteristics.

During a planning and coordinating conference at the Naval

Research Laboratory, the Supervisor of Salvage undertook to provide the

services of Alcoa Seaprobe, a unique, dynamically positioned, ocean-engineering ship that used a drill string to position sensing and recovery

devices. The supervisor’s motives were not totally altruistic; exploration

of the probable Monitor wreck site would provide a needed opportunity to

test Seaprobe’s capabilities. The combination of the need to test and a

suitable test subject were right; although the test operation would be

expensive, finding the wreck of Monitor would be a worthwhile return on

the investment.

Alcoa Seaprobe, en route from her home port of Fort Lauderdale to

Europe, called into Morehead City, North Carolina, where she embarked

the Monitor expedition members—experts, scientists, and technicians from 

30Virginia was the former U.S. Navy steam frigate Merrimack, taken at the Norfolk Navy Yard

early in the war.

Deep-Ocean Salvage

407
the Navy, Duke University, the state of North Carolina, and the National

Geographic Society. On 31 March she got underway to investigate the

wreck sites in a priority based on the likelihood of one of them being the

Monitor wreck. Commander Colin M. Jones represented the Supervisor of

Salvage at the site.

By breakfast time on April Fools’ Day, Alcoa Seaprobe was over the

first site and had begun the tedious and time-consuming work of a concentrated, side-scan sonar search. Results came quickly. A promising target was detected in early afternoon. Seaprobe lowered her special drill

string with a television camera. Monitor appeared. She lay capsized on the

bottom with a portion of her turret projecting beyond the armor belt.

With the position established and Monitor identified, Seaprobe’s television

guided a photographic survey.

Following the at-sea phase, the Naval Intelligence Support Activity

assembled a complete photomosaic of the hull and turret of Monitor.

Analysis of the photomosaic and comparison with specifications and original engineering drawings further confirmed the identity of the wreck.

Navy salvage forces had made a valuable contribution to preserving the

naval history and maritime heritage of the United States. The U.S.

Congress made a more important contribution by declaring the Monitor

wreck a marine sanctuary and passing legislation giving the National

Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration responsibility for protecting

and preserving the wreck.

Interest in Monitor continued with periodic expeditions to investigate

the wreck. In 1987 a survey to gather data that would enable scientists and

engineers to ascertain the condition of Monitor used technology that was

very different from the 1974 expedition. The Supervisor of Salvage’s

remotely operated vehicle Deep Drone, operating from Apache (T-ATF

172), showed with its variety of sensors just how well remotely operated

vehicles could do survey work.

Apache loaded Deep Drone at Little Creek, Virginia, and sailed for the

Monitor National Marine Sanctuary on 25 May 1987. Upon arrival she

rendezvoused with Hoist (ARS 40), which carried additional precision

navigational gear to assist with Apache’s multipoint mooring and provide

manpower.

The survey had five distinct phases. During all phases a high frequency,

long-baseline, underwater acoustic navigation system established a coordinate system for exact positioning of Deep Drone. A team from the Naval

Civil Engineering Laboratory gathered data on hull corrosion with a specially designed corrosion probe mounted on Deep Drone. When their data

were complete, the corrosion probe came off and video and 70mm still

cameras went on for a variety of photographs that would be combined

into a photomosaic of the entire hull. The whole operation with its stateMUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

408
of-the-art technology was completed on 10 June, two and a half weeks

after its start. A wealth of information about this important national relic

had been produced. 

Raising Monitor

The interest in Monitor did not end with the photographic survey of

1987. Data collection and checking the hull’s condition continued until

1995, when scientists reported that the hull was deteriorating so rapidly

it could disintegrate within a few years. NOAA’s Marine Sanctuaries

Division immediately prepared a comprehensive preservation plan with a

combined strategy for stabilizing the hull and recovering key components. 

In 1998 and 1999, NOAA, with assistance from the Navy, the

National Undersea Research Center at the University of North Carolina

at Wilmington, the Cambrian Foundation, the Mariners’ Museum, and

others, made engineering and archeological surveys emphasizing the

unstable stern. In 1998, while performing the first operational test of the

Navy’s recently introduced Fly Away Mixed Gas System, MDSU-Two

divers teamed with NOAA to conduct an in-depth photographic and

measurement survey of the aft section of Monitor. It was during these

dives that Commander Chris Murray, commanding MDSU-Two, convinced Dr. John Broadwater, director of the Monitor Sanctuary, that the

propeller could be recovered. During this early phase of the recovery,

MDSU-Two divers led by Chief Warrant Officer Chuck Hulsizer and

Master Diver Donnie Dennis developed procedures for diving into the

constantly changing and high-speed currents of the Gulf Stream that

sometimes exceeded three knots. In water depths as great as 240 feet,

oxygen toxicity during in-water decompression also became a problem for

the divers. By the time of the 2000 operation, however, the Navy’s diving research community had solved the problem.31 The 1998 effort recovered Monitor’s propeller and eleven feet of shaft as well as many deck

plates and other artifacts. After these initial recoveries, Commander

Murray and Dr. Broadwater visited several Senate Armed Services

Committee staff on Capitol Hill where they proposed a course of action

to preserve Monitor. Their visits resulted in a congressional endorsement

for a three-year program, beginning in 2000, for selective recovery of

major artifacts at a proposed budget of $12 million.

Meanwhile, during summer 1999, divers from Grasp (ARS 51) surveyed the hull to gather additional information used to stabilize the stern

section and recovery the ship’s major components. With this planning

work complete, the stage was set for a series of recovery operations.

31The solution called for replacing the pure oxygen normally used in decompression with a

50/50 helium oxygen mix to reduce the oxygen partial pressure.

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P R E PA R AT I O N ( 2 0 0 0 )

Commander Phil Beierl, the new commanding officer of MDSU-Two,

led the work that focused on attaching an Engine Recovery Structure

(ERS) to prepare for the 2001 lift of the 30-ton Ericsson VL side-lever,

double-trunk steam engine32 from its place in Monitor’s engine room. The

three components of the ERS weighed 90 tons: 

• A 70'-by-30'-by-35' Bridge Frame that spanned Monitor to support

the engine without crushing the hull.

• The Trolley, a 40-foot-long movable frame that sat above the bridge

frame.

• The Engine Lifting Frame (ELF), which connected to the Trolley by

hydraulic rams to raise and lower the ELF as it supported and lifted the

30-ton engine.

The operation mobilized in Little Creek, Virginia, with the 350-ton

derrick barge Weeks 256 as the principal work platform. As with any operation at sea, weather was the controlling factor in job-sequencing and

execution. Rough seas and swells, common off Cape Hatteras, limited

both the diving and lifting operations. Currents on the bottom and in the

water column required modifying diving procedures and techniques using

experimental decompression tables.

The tables were first used at sea in Monitor under the watchful eye of

Captain Ed Flynn, USN, MC (Ret.), one of the Navy’s most experienced

undersea medical officers. Because there were no previous dives using

these tables, depth, time, and data for all dives were recorded electronically, and each diver was monitored closely. 

Placing the ERS required careful preparation. With Weeks 256 in an

eight-point moor at the site, work began. First, divers placed visible targets on the hull for precise positioning of the ERS. Underwater cameras

fixed to the ERS structure would help guide the unwieldy system to the

targets and avoid damage to the fragile structure. Once the engine

cleared the hull, a topside crane could lift the ELF and engine out of the

water and set it on a barge. Directed by Chief Warrant Officer Roger

Riendeau and Master Divers Scott Heineman and Fred Orns, the divers

then set bags under the raised portion of the port armor belt and filled

them with grout pumped from the surface to support the seriously deteriorated hull. This work could go forward when the weather was not good

enough to install the bridge frame.

With the grout in place, full attention could be turned to installing

the rest of the ERS. When diving was possible but lifting was not, divers

32Built by Delmater Ironworks in New York City. 

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

410
kept working to recover more shafting, some supporting framing, and

Monitor’s skeg.

T H E E N G I N E ( 2 0 0 1 )

The 2001 operation was quite different from the previous year.

Recognizing the amount of work to be done and the time required to do

it, planners knew they needed the efficiency of saturation diving to get

enough diver working-time in the short season. Saturation divers working

simultaneously with surface-supplied divers could nearly triple the daily

working time.

The Navy no longer had any saturation diving systems, but it did

have trained, qualified, and experienced saturation divers. Industry had

saturation diving systems, but none was certified by the Navy. Master

Diver Chuck Young and recently promoted Captain Murray set out to

find a way to combine a commercial saturation system with Navy divers.

Their goal was to find a saturation system that was suitable, available,

affordable, and with a high probability of passing a stringent U.S. Navy

material certification. They selected Global Industries 1504.

The second step had three parts: 

• Develop an evaluation system to assure the system was in full compliance with its commercial certification.

• Identify the differences between its commercial certification standards and Navy certification requirements.

• Analyze the differences and their relation to overall safety using a

comprehensive hazard analysis. Mr. Rob Warren, the Navy’s system certification authority, would prove instrumental in seeing this difficult part to

its end.

The final step was to recommend to the Chief of Naval Operations

that his staff grant conditional certification for use on Monitor operations. 

The work was done well; the waiver was granted.

In April 2001 divers from Grapple (ARS 53) inspected the ELF installation, removed the hydraulic rams for valve replacement, and installed

some of the lifting chains. In June, at Houma, Louisiana, the diving system and all the equipment for the operation were installed on the

Manson Pacific 500-ton-capacity derrick barge Wotan. This effort was led

by the on-scene commander, Captain Murray, and the third commanding

officer of MDSU-Two to participate in Monitor’s recovery, Commander

Barbara (Bobbie) Scholley, along with Chief Warrant Officer Frank

Perna. The tug Arapaho Eagle hooked up and towed Wotan toward the

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411
site, diverting to Morehead City, North Carolina, for storm evasion and

loading the remaining diving crew. The barge arrived at the Monitor site

on 17 June, moored, and began diving operations by reinstalling the rams,

replacing the remaining chains, and lowering the ELF into position.

The salvage concept was simple: Remove bottom sediment and the

concretion from around the engine, which had formed by the coal in the

engine room reacting with the iron of the hull, and attach the bed frame

to the ELF at six points.

The two diving teams, surface-supplied and saturation, had different

missions. The surface-supplied divers tried to remove the condenser

beneath the engine, but the task proved more formidable than expected.

After spending almost three weeks working on it, divers decided to recover the engine with the condenser attached. Meanwhile, the saturation

team was removing plates to get access to the engine and making connections to the ELF.

The first four attachments were made after five days of chiseling

away coal, but the concretion on the aft part of the engine was literally

too hard. The situation was resolved by welding padeyes to a piece of Ibeam, then placing the I-beam under the A-frame and connecting it to

the ELF. The concretion continued to be a problem. After discussion

with Mr. Tom Bailey, the Phoenix International contractor’s technical

representative, it became apparent that a high-pressure hydroblaster,

which could deliver approximately 20,000 psi of water pressure, was

needed. Within 28 hours the equipment was delivered at sea on the 4th

of July and in 8-foot seas. The hydroblaster worked miracles, blowing

through concretion and coal as hard as concrete. When all was ready,

the salvors lifted the engine clear of the hull and brought it to the surface where the salvors then carefully set it aboard a flat barge. Monitor’s

engine arrived at the Mariners’ Museum on 7 August where it went into

a desalination tank for a 10-year stay.

For the remainder of the 2001 mission, Commander Scholley took

over as on-scene commander while Captain Murray went into saturation.

The plan now was to tunnel in three locations under the turret to investigate possible obstacles to the turret recovery, scheduled for the next

year, and to make a cut through the armor belt. Captain Murray and

Chief “Nellie” Nelson cut through the five one-inch pieces of armor-plate

belt using composite rod. Two other saturation divers, Master Diver

Chuck Young and Senior Chief Vern Geyman, cut through the internal 36

inches of the armor belt of oak and pine. 

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412
T H E T U R R E T ( 2 0 0 2 )

With the engine safely tucked away in its desalinization tank at the

Mariners’ Museum, attention turned to the gun turret.33 The 2002 operation closely followed the pattern of the 2001 operation; with

Commander Scholley as the on-scene commander, both saturation and

surface-supplied dive teams deployed from Manson-Pacific’s derrick

barge Wotan, which again served as the principal work platform.

Wotan’s first anchor splashed in calm seas off Cape Hatteras at 0330

on 26 June 2002. The first set of surface-supplied divers splashed exactly

six hours later. Surface-supplied divers led by Chief Warrant Officer Rick

Cavey and saturation divers led by Master Divers Chuck Young and Brian

Van Horn worked two shifts, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. To preserve

the integrity of the wreck site and artifacts, salvors modified normal salvage techniques to include procedures required by historians, archeologists, and scientists. Divers thoroughly searched disturbed areas for small

artifacts and mapped their location with videos and measurements.

Discharge from eductors and air lifts removed over 100 tons of sediment and coal, all of which were discharged into salvage baskets with 1/8-

inch mesh to ensure that small artifacts, coins, buttons, and the like were

recovered.

33The Monitor turret is of particular historical interest because it was the first turret to go to sea

and the first used in combat. Students of history, particularly technological history, note that ideas

and developments often occur in different places at nearly the same time. So it was with the turret

or “cupola” as it was known in its early days. Considerable energy has been devoted to discussing

whether John Ericsson or Captain Cowper Coles, RN, “invented” the turret ship. Both developed turrets about the same time. Ericsson’s first went onto Monitor, others of the same basic design into her

successors. Coles filed for his first patent in 1859, and the Board of Admiralty financed an experimental turret in 1859. The first Royal Navy turret ship, Monarch, was not laid down until 1866, but

unlike the United States in the 1860s, Britain had no urgent requirement to develop new weapons.

The prolific and brilliant American engineer James B. Eads also developed a turret more sophisticated than either Ericsson’s or Coles’. The Eads design was used only on the Milwaukee-class monitors,

all of which were built in Eads’ yard. These vessels had two turrets, an Ericsson design forward and

an Eads design aft.

The Ericsson and Coles turrets were quite different. The Ericsson turret was supported and

revolved about a central spindle turned by steam training gear. Normally the turret rested on deck

and was raised by rack and pinion. The Coles turret passed through the deck and revolved on a roller

path on a large central cylinder. It was rotated by hand power only. The gun carriage ran on slides

rather than trucks as in the Ericsson turret. Many of the principal features of the Coles turret survived throughout the history of guns in warships.

Monitor herself gave her name to a class of coast defense-ships that evolved into relatively

small, large gun surface ships. The last monitor in the U.S. Navy was Cheyenne (BM 10) (exWyoming), laid down in 1899, decommissioned in 1926, and finally sold in 1939. The last two monitors built were the Royal Navy ships Roberts and Abercrombie built during World War II. They joined

World War I veterans Erebus and Terror as shore bombardment ships in the European theater. All four

ships were broken up after the war. Fittingly, the last known existing monitor was the Swedish Navy’s

Ericsson monitor John Ericsson launched in 1865, stricken in 1918, and known to exist as a cement

barge in 1984.

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MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

414

After 140 years submerged in the Graveyard of the Atlantic, USS Monitor’s iconoclastic gun turret emerges from the depths.
Deep-Ocean Salvage

415

Side-by-side, saturation and surface-supplied divers worked to clear

the deck and armor belt from atop the turret. With a variety of tools,

divers cut, sawed, pried, and hydroblasted decks and armor plate, hoisting sections of up to 70 tons until the turret was exposed and could be

seen for the first time in 140 years. Sediment filled the turret. 

Saturation divers worked on removing the sediment inside, surfacesupplied divers worked on the outside. With a favorable weather forecast,

the 25-ton “spider,” designed to hold and lift the turret in its eight legs,

was put in place. Divers working around the outside of the turret worked

to sink the spider’s claws below the perimeter of the turret. But work

went slowly as sand, soil, coal, stanchions and plate were cleared. The

outlook was good because work was ahead of schedule, and there was

slack for bad weather. Then, an unpleasant surprise, divers found human

remains in the turret. Plans had been made for this almost inevitable

eventuality, and divers removed the sailors’ remains for identification and

burial.

With the remains secured and both 11-inch Dalgren guns that made

up Monitor’s main armament strapped to the spider, it was time to lift.

The weather turned; the forecast was poor. Bottom currents were too

high for safe diving and seas were too high for the crane to lift. 

Commander Scholley made a crucial decision. She ordered the barge

to pick up all eight anchors and reposition itself with bows into the forecast seas. As expected, the head seas reduced the barge’s motion and

allowed the crane to operate. Working in a moderate current, saturation

diver Chief Nelson untangled the slings and attached the spider. The

salvors then picked the spider up with the turret, carefully placing it on

top of a platform positioned near the hull and designed to support the historic turret as it returned to the surface from the ocean floor. The spider,

platform, and Monitor’s turret were thus lifted and set aboard the barge

for transport to the Mariners’ Museum. “The Graveyard of the Atlantic”

reluctantly gave up a ghost. 

After a lengthy preservation process, Monitor’s recovered materials,

along with a full-size replica of the ship,34 are on display in the Monitor

Center of the Mariners’ Museum, Newport News, Virginia. 

The Navy as a whole and particularly those men and women who participated in the recoveries from Monitor can take great pride in their part

in preserving their nation’s heritage.

34Monitor’s full-size replica was built by the Northrup Grumman Newport News Apprentice

School out of excess steel donated by the Navy’s CVN 21 Program Office.
Aircraft Salvage

The technology of remotely operated vehicles and other deep-ocean

technology has brought a new dimension to one of the most common salvage tasks, aircraft salvage. Ever since aircraft have been flying, there

have been crashes into water. The recovery of these wrecks has become

one of the most common salvage tasks undertaken by the Navy and one

most affected by technology. Recoveries are undertaken for three reasons:

• To recover the aircraft itself or flight-recording instruments to assist

in determining the cause of the accident. Recovery of aircraft parts for

accident investigations is particularly important in the case of new aircraft or a rash of unexplained crashes.

• To recover important or classified material from the aircraft.

• To recover the remains of the occupants.

The Navy itself is the prime customer for Navy aircraft salvage services, but as in the case of ships, the Navy does aircraft salvage for the

other military services and for other government agencies. Every modern

Navy salvage ship has salvaged aircraft, Harbor Clearance Unit One

salvaged many aircraft, recovered the bodies of many aviators, and recovered

weapons and classified equipment from numerous crashed aircraft in

Vietnam. Harbor Clearance Unit Two made a specialty of aircraft recovery

ranging up and down the East Coast with special tools and equipment

they developed for the task.

Aircraft salvage operations fall into the same pattern as deep-ocean

operations: a search followed by a recovery operation. There is no record

of the first aircraft recovery, but the techniques did not change for many

years. Searches were made with grapnels, wire drags, and trawls, or by

divers. The work was hard and slow, the probability of success low. The

development of sonars for mine location and shadowgraph sonars for

object classification proved a boon to searches for downed aircraft. For

this task, minesweepers were often called into searches. They did good

work, but the development that made aircraft wreckage searches almost

routine was the side-scan sonar.

Supported by a precision navigation system, side-scan sonar was a

major leap forward, but operation of the sonar, particularly the interpretation of sonar traces, remained a black art requiring an experienced eye.

Because of the experience and constant practice required, the operation

of this technology remained with commercial firms, which made it available to the Navy when needed.

As previously described, the Supervisor of Salvage recognized that the

rapidly developing search technology was the key to successful aircraft

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

416
recovery operations. This recognition had led to Navy contracts with

commercial firms for search and recovery similar in scope and intent to

existing contracts for ship salvage. With these contracts the best available

search technology and expertise could be brought to bear on any Navy

aircraft salvage operation. Using the contracts became quite routine; the

Supervisor of Salvage provided and maintained technical supervision of

the services, and the agency or department that wanted an aircraft recovered paid the prices established in the contract. In time it became obvious

that it was an advantage to the Navy for the Supervisor of Salvage to

buy certain sophisticated hardware and place it in a contractor’s hands for

husbanding and operation.

Even with the most sophisticated search hardware, however, there is

no guarantee a lost aircraft will be found. The probability of locating it is

infinitely better than the old means of grappling and dragging, but much

depends on the accuracy of the initial positioning. If this is off, the wreckage may not be located or expensive search time may exhaust the funds

available for both the search and recovery, and the operation may be cut

short.

Aircraft, particularly high-performance military aircraft, tend to

break up when they hit the water at high speed. The resulting debris field

has characteristic patterns that are identifiable to searchers, but the

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An ATS recovers a U.S. Navy aircraft.
breakup is a problem for salvors trying to recover the aircraft. In the past

the practice of recovering as much of the aircraft as possible prevailed.

Small pieces were placed in baskets, larger pieces were recovered by surface lines, and very large pieces were lifted by specially devised lifting

systems. When the pieces reached the surface, they were turned over to

aircraft accident investigators to be sorted out. With the advent of

underwater television systems, accident investigators have been able to 

determine whether or not specific pieces should be recovered while they

are still undisturbed on the bottom. This simplifies recovery, and investigators get only the pieces in which they are interested.

Like all salvage operations, aircraft recovery requires a full ration of

imagination and ingenuity to overcome the problems presented in the

particular circumstances. Some operations are hallmarks.

One such operation in late 1970 was unusual in several aspects. The

aircraft was a Cessna U–206 operated by the National Park Service. It

was flying low over Lake Mead, Nevada, when a sudden downdraft forced

it into the lake. As luck would have it, the plane crashed near the deepest part of the lake in almost 400 feet of water. Commissioner Theos J.

Thompson of the Atomic Energy Commission was one of the occupants

of the airplane. The AEC wanted to recover the commissioner’s body;

accordingly, Navy assistance was requested. The Supervisor of Salvage

tasked his search contractor, Ocean Systems, Inc., with the job. The

Ocean Systems operations manager, Mr. Robert E. Kutzleb, a retired Navy

lieutenant commander and a world-renowned search and recovery

expert, took charge at the scene.

It would be a tough job; the water’s depth required bringing in one of

the company’s ADS–IV diving systems and constructing a work platform.

The topography of the bottom would hide the wreckage, and the steep

sides of the canyon would reflect the sonar impulses. Conventional sonar

towing techniques weren’t going to work, and observation dives with the

ADS–IV were useless in the poor underwater visibility.

Although towed sonar results were extremely poor, they did indicate

an area of high probability. To refine the search, sonar transducers were

strapped to the ADS–IV bell, and the bell was lowered. It was a tedious

and time-consuming way to search. To move the bell, the support barge

had to be repositioned in its moor. As tedious as it was, it worked. The

barge gradually moved to within eleven feet of the wreckage. A diver

locked out of the bell and attached a line. Additional lines were

attached and the intact aircraft was lifted toward the surface. The bodies

of Dr. Thompson and his aide were removed. Ingenuity and a thorough

knowledge of the equipment and how to use it had made a difficult

recovery possible.

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418
Across the country some two and a half years later, the loss of a Navy

patrol aircraft off Brunswick, Maine, set off another unique recovery. On

15 March 1973 a P3B aircraft, Bureau No. 152749, disappeared during a

routine training flight. Within an hour, a sister aircraft spotted wreckage,

providing a reasonable search datum. Nineteen of these aircraft had been

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419

The Alcoa Seaprobe recovery system.
lost, ten of them from unknown causes. It was important to determine the

reason for this crash. The Commander Naval Air Force, U.S. Atlantic

Fleet, asked for assistance from the Supervisor of Salvage. A search team

went to the scene and began search operations on 20 March. Early the

following morning a solid contact was registered. Subsequent runs confirmed that the debris pattern centered almost exactly on the initially

reported position in 573 feet of water.

The depth and the scatter of the wreckage required a recovery vessel

that could move freely in the debris area and also remain fixed in one

position. The dynamically positioned Alcoa Seaprobe seemed ideal for this

operation. After a weather delay, and accompanied by Edenton, Seaprobe

sailed from Portsmouth Naval Shipyard on 6 April. Round-the-clock

operations began upon arrival at the work site. Seaprobe first moved

through the debris field, photographing and plotting the wreckage.

Recovery started, first with a grapnel, then with a mechanical

grabber. The first material came aboard Seaprobe, but when handling

through the confined center well became too difficult, Edenton divers

rigged lifting straps to the recovered material below the hull. The grab

was then released, and the material was lifted aboard Edenton. In nine

days, the aircraft wreckage had been identified, and all the pieces needed

by the accident investigators had been recovered. The success of this mission, like so many others in the deep ocean, can be attributed to the

expert application of the right technology.

The same techniques that work in the very deep ocean are often

equally applicable in shallower waters. Searching in shallow water is not

different in principle and only slightly less difficult from deep-ocean search.

From the operators’ viewpoint the major difference is the length of the

cable between the ship on the surface and the sensors or vehicles on the

bottom. With shorter cables in shallower depths, search rates are faster

because the ships do not have to launch and recover long lengths of cable

and are not impeded in their maneuvering by their long tails. A shallowwater job that occurred off the coast of Danang, Vietnam, in 1973

combined the sophistication of ocean search with the plain hard work of

salvage.

With the end of American combat operations in Vietnam and the

return of prisoners of war, the problem arose of establishing the fate of

those listed as missing in action. A Joint Casualty Resolution Center was

established at Nakhon Phanom, Thailand. Because a number of the missing were lost in aircraft accidents off Danang, that area became the focus

of an intensive at-sea operation to recover remains for identification. The

Supervisor of Salvage coordinated the at-sea operations because of his

expertise and the resources available to him through his contracts with

industry. Jim Bladh represented the Supervisor of Salvage at the scene.

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A U.S.-flag, offshore supply vessel, chartered in Singapore for the

operation, arrived in Danang on 8 July and began loading the search team

and equipment. The search employed what had become standard search

techniques. The ship navigated with a shore-based precision navigation

system, accurate to plus or minus 5 feet in the operating area, and carried

a side-scan sonar to search the bottom with more than 100 percent coverage and a correspondingly high search effectiveness. Because the bottom off Danang is shallow, all promising contacts were investigated by

divers.

Search operations began on 10 July and, with only minor interruptions, continued around the clock for the next eighty-two days, accomplishing little of real value. A great deal of wreckage was located and

identified, most of little interest to the joint Casualty Resolution Center,

which knew the fate of the crews. Two aircraft reported to have crashed

inland more than 15 miles away were identified as having actually

crashed offshore. The recovery of human remains moved only two names

from the missing-in-action to the killed-in-action list.

The search operation had been made more difficult by the variety of

man-made and natural obstacles on the bottom, the imprecision of crashsite data, and the age of many of the crashes. Searching for human

remains, many of which exist only as bone fragments, is always a grisly

and unpleasant business. Although the results had been meager, Navy

salvage had made a contribution to the important and emotional work of

resolving the fate of at least two more servicemen.

A few months later the waters off the coast of Vietnam were the site

of another important search and recovery operation conducted for a very

different purpose. As the Air Force C–5A transport #68218 flew outbound

from Vietnam on 4 April 1975 with a load of refugees, mostly children, it

suffered a rapid and complete decompression that carried away the after

pressure door and a major portion of the after cargo ramp. The aircraft

returned safely to Tan Son Nhut airport; the door and ramp fell into the

South China Sea from 23,400 feet. Because passenger-carrying formed a

major part of the mission of the C–5A transport, the Air Force wanted

the door and ramp back to determine the cause of the failure.

Seventh Fleet ships Deliver, Abnaki, and Quapaw, under the overall

command of Commander Task Force 73, Rear Admiral John D. Johnson,

proceeded to the scene at their best speed while the Supervisor of Salvage

mobilized a contractor search team. The Air Force Accident

Investigation Board undertook the task of determining the probable

impact point from the inertial navigation position of the aircraft and a

ballistic trajectory analogy.

Lieutenant Commander J.A. Mack, the Seventh Fleet Salvage Officer,

was assigned to coordinate the overall operation, while Lieutenant

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421
Commander Gerald L. Anderson, commanding officer of Deliver, commanded the salvage force at the scene. While waiting for the search team

to arrive from the United States, 230 dives were made to search the high

probability impact area visually. Some pieces of debris located by the

divers helped to refine the search areas.

The operation took on unusual urgency because North Vietnamese

and Viet Cong forces were very close to delivering the coup de grace to the

Republic of Vietnam. By the time the search team arrived, the Army of

the Republic of Vietnam could not guarantee the security of shore-based

precision navigation stations. Inability to place the navigation stations

ashore resulted in an innovation. Deliver and Abnaki moored and became

floating bases for the precision navigation equipment while Quapaw

carried the side-scan sonar and navigation system receivers. The concept

worked well.

Forty-eight hours of searching produced no contacts. Diving opera -

tions and refinement of the search position continued. Increasing pressure

ashore began to affect the operation during the weekend of 26–27 April.

Activity in the mountains north of Vung Tau increased and refugee boats

began to appear in the search area. Round-the-clock search operations

continued. On Sunday morning two substantial contacts were made and

marked. Divers identified the cargo ramp and a major portion of the cargo

door a few hundred yards away. Quapaw recovered the ramp first, then

just at dark, the door. A search for the remaining section of the door

began as soon as the first segment had been secured on board. By 10:30

on the night of Sunday, 27 April, only a few hours after the ramp and

door segment had been recovered, Commander Seventh Fleet or dered

the operation terminated and the area cleared. The situation ashore had

deteriorated too much to continue.

Enough debris had been recovered to permit analysis of the failure.35

The Navy’s ability to recover objects from the ocean had taken on a new

dimension with the recovery of free-falling debris from an altitude of

several miles. Finding a needle in a haystack was easy compared to this

kind of search. This operation and many similar ones were now demonstrating that objects lost in the ocean under almost any conditions could

be located by combining the proper technology with the patience and

determination to work thoroughly and methodically.

Another example of the challenging and vital role played by salvage

teams in aircraft recovery was described in detail in chapter 8. The arduous recovery of the wreckage and human remains from Air Florida Flight

35The C–5A aircraft was proscribed from carrying passengers for some time after the accident.

Permission had to be obtained from an Air Force general in Washington for two salvage officers en

route to Guam after Typhoon Pamela in 1976 (chapter 8) to travel in a C–5A, the only available

transportation. The officers literally waited by the aircraft door while permission was sought.

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

422
90, which crashed into the Potomac River in the winter of 1982, pointed

out the importance of teamwork, appropriate equipment, and sheer

determination for a successful operation.

While unique aircraft recovery operations provided highlights, several

more routine recoveries each year continued using side-scan search techniques and plain old mud-diving to dig the wreckage out of the bottom in

relatively shallow water. By the mid-1970s submersibles and remotely

operated vehicles also began to play a broader role in the salvage of aircraft. These vehicles made recoveries possible at depths far lower than

divers could reach. This technology was particularly worthwhile when the

value of the aircraft was very high.

One of the most significant of these operations took place in the fall

of 1976 when an F–14 aircraft rolled off the flight deck of John F.

Kennedy (CV 67) and sank in more than 1,890 feet of water in the

North Sea. Recovery operations were initiated because of concern

that the Soviet Union, smarting under the defection of a pilot with

his MiG–25, would attempt a recovery of the relatively intact F–14.

The recovery combined the fleet units Shakori, Sunbird, and the

nuclear research submarine NR–1; remotely operated vehicle CURV

III; several British and West German civilian offshore work ships; and

the expertise of Commander W. N. Klorig, Lieutenant Bill Bacon, and

Mr. Tom Salmon from the Supervisor of Salvage’s office. The North Sea

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423

Remarkably intact, an F–14 from the carrier John F Kennedy is hoisted aboard the support

ship after being recovered from a depth of more than 1,800 feet in the North Sea.
is seldom benign and certainly never so in the fall. The work went

forward despite the foul weather and several failures of the lift line.

The submarine NR–1 was effective in attaching lift lines to the limit

of its capability. Less than two months after the aircraft was lost, the

wreckage was lifted aboard the support ship and the operation was

complete.

A number of other operations that involved submersibles and remotely

operated vehicles in recovering aircraft were conducted between 1976

and 1980.

• Sea Cliff (DSV 4), her support ship Maxine D., USNS De Steiguer

(T–AGOR 12), and Grapple located and photographed an F–14 aircraft

that had crashed into more than 500 fathoms of water off Ensenada,

Mexico, in the summer of 1976, and recovered key pieces of the wreckage.

• Chowanoc (ATF 100); Dolphin (AGSS 555), a deep-diving research

submarine; and Sea Cliff located, inspected, and photographed the wreckage of an F–14 aircraft in 6,000 feet of water off the coast of southern

California in the summer of 1977.

• Deep Drone, operating from USCGC Clover (WMEC 292), located

a component critical to the investigation of a helicopter crash in the rock

ledges and canyons near Jamestown Bay north of Sitka, Alaska, in May

1978.

• In the summer of 1980 an SH3G helicopter crashed in 3,000 feet of

water off St. Croix in the Virgin Islands. Deep Drone got the job.

Operating from Powhatan, Deep Drone made thirty dives, first documenting the debris, then recovering the vital pieces of the wreckage.

Two aircraft salvage operations, both on foreign civilian aircraft in the

first half of the 1980s, are worthy of note. Although they had very different results, these two operations confirmed the Navy’s position as one of

the world’s eminent operators in the deep ocean.

In an effort to help an ally, Deep Drone and sophisticated search

equipment were deployed to the probable impact area when Korean

Airlines Flight 007, a Boeing 747 passenger flight, was shot down by the

Soviets over the Sea of Japan in the fall of 1983. Along with the equipment went the best the Navy had to offer in expertise: Captain Charles

S. Maclin, the Supervisor of Salvage; Commander Harley Oien, a former

Seventh Fleet Salvage Officer; Commander Bill Clifford, the Pacific Fleet

Salvage Officer; and Mr. Tom Salmon, a highly experienced specialist in

remotely operated vehicles. The search, operating from USNS

Narragansett (T-ATF 167), USCGC Munro, and Conserver, went on for

almost two months. Weather was difficult, but that is the norm for any

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

424
kind of salvage operation. Soviet ships in the area constantly harassed the

search group, forcing them to maneuver and disrupt their search runs,

attempting to snag lines and cables to sensor fish, picking up bottomplanted equipment, and interfering with the operation in any way they

were able. Tiny Moneron Island, Soviet territory, limited the operations.

Search forces were proscribed from entering the island’s territorial waters,

the area of highest probability. Soviet vessels made certain there were no

violations of their territorial waters and strove to keep the searchers in

international waters clear of high-probability areas.

Despite all the difficulties, numerous contacts were made; Deep Drone

was often launched to investigate them. All were topography or junk;

none were the aircraft. When the search ended on 8 November, over 250

square miles had been thoroughly searched with no positive result, primarily because the searchers were prevented from entering the area around

Moneron Island.

A very different situation existed in 1985 when Air India Flight 182,

another Boeing 747, disappeared from the screens of the tracking radar at

Shannon, Ireland, on 23 June; the aircraft had crashed into the sea. The

political situation in India, coupled with the sudden disappearance of the

aircraft, gave rise to the suspicion that it might have been deliberately

Deep-Ocean Salvage

425425

A Soviet harasser crosses the bow of Conserver, disrupting search operations for the

wreckage of KAL Flight 007.
destroyed. Thus identification of the cause of the accident became a

paramount consideration.

A number of nations were involved: India as the owner of the aircraft,

Canada as the country of origin of the flight, the United States as the

country where the aircraft was built, and Britain and Ireland because they

had been first to provide a search and rescue effort. The U.S. and French

governments aided in the recovery work at the request of Canada and

India. The operation had two distinct phases, both involving the

Supervisor of Salvage. The first phase, conducted immediately after the

crash, consisted of locating and mapping the debris field with side-scan

sonar and recovering the cockpit voice and flight data recorders with the

deep-diving ROV Scarab. Diving to almost 7,000 feet, Scarab also photographed wreckage on the bottom so that selected pieces could be recovered if the recorders did not give sufficient information about the cause

of the crash.

Because the information from the recorders was not conclusive, Navy

assistance in recovering wreckage was requested by the Canadian Aviation

Safety Board. The offshore supply vessel Kreuzturm was hired as a support

platform. The plan for the second phase of the operation called for Scarab,

operating from the Canadian government-leased ship John Cabot, to attach

lift lines to selected wreckage. The lift lines would be transferred to

Kreuzturm and the wreckage brought to the surface. The operation, with

Commander James R. Buckingham representing the Supervisor of Salvage

on board Kreuzturm, went as planned, with only minor difficulties in handling lines and making attachments. Even the weather held. When the

operation terminated in early November, almost 5,000 pounds of selected

wreckage had been recovered. The operation was a complete success.

Investigators were able to determine that an explosion had destroyed the

aircraft. Most important, the ability of the Navy to work in the depths of

the ocean had taken another step forward.

With high technology systems to probe into and work in the deep

ocean, and with a combination of high technology, hard work, and mud

diving, aircraft salvage will continue to be a part of the Navy’s salvage

work. Undoubtedly, there will be successes, failures, and borderline cases.

As in the past, success will lie in the appropriate choice of tools, the will

to see the job through, and a measure of luck.

Challenger—The Biggest Challenge

At 11:30 a.m. Eastern Standard Time on 28 January 1986 a magnificent aircraft, the space shuttle Challenger, lifted off Launch Pad 39B at

the John F. Kennedy Space Center. Seventy-three seconds later the spaceMUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

426
craft exploded over the Atlantic. The loss of Challenger set off the largest

search and salvage operation the Navy has ever conducted. Several thousand people, sixteen surface ships, the nuclear-powered research submarine NR–1, and a host of manned submersibles and remotely operated

vehicles participated. For nearly seven months Navy salvors systematically inspected and mapped almost 500 square miles of the ocean floor in

depths ranging from 10 to more than 1,200 feet. Seven hundred and

eleven sonar contacts were visually classified, 187 were confirmed as part

of the spacecraft, 167 recovered.

Inevitably, the environment affected how salvage was conducted.

Surface currents from the Gulf Stream ran as strong as 5 knots. Frequent

fronts passed through the area bringing high winds and rough seas. Other

factors also influenced the operation’s structure and conduct:

• All the detritus found in a heavily used sealane had mixed with the

debris of the spacecraft.

• The recovery organization, composed of several government

departments and agencies, along with numerous contractors and subcontractors, was extremely complex.

• The level of interest of the public and the media remained high

throughout the operation. Ensuring a flow of accurate information and

controlling access to work sites required special attention.

• To satisfy the requirements of the National Aeronautics and Space

Administration and the Presidential commission investigating the accident, pressure was high from the outset to locate and recover critical

components of the solid rocket booster and of the orbiter and its payload.

Undertaking a major search and recovery operation was very different when Challenger exploded from what it was when Thresher went down

or the bomb was lost off Palomares. Command and control organizations

and procedures that had worked well in numerous other operations were

not substantially altered, however. The search and recovery capability

within the Navy or immediately available to it through existing contracts

provided the way to bring all the needed resources and talent to bear. The

experience and ability of the Supervisor of Salvage and his staff provided

the means to manage and effectively employ these resources.

Navy salvage forces were in the picture almost from the time the

spacecraft exploded. The Kennedy Space Center contacted the National

Military Command Center within two minutes, and the Supervisor of

Salvage was quickly brought in. Dr. Dale Uhler, the Deputy Supervisor of

Salvage, outlined the Navy’s preliminary plan at Cape Canaveral. Tasking

followed. The Chief of Naval Operations directed the Commander Naval

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427
Sea Systems Command to carry out the search and recovery operation

and the Commander in Chief, U.S. Atlantic Fleet, to provide whatever

support was needed.

The search would use side-scan sonar search techniques with central

evaluation and classification of contacts. Promising contacts would be

investigated by divers, submersibles, or remotely operated vehicles, as the

specific condition dictated. After contacts had been identified, recovery

would be handled in conformance with a priority established by NASA.

The job got underway as men and equipment poured in from every

corner of the nation. Navy and chartered commercial ships sailed for

Cape Canaveral. A command post ashore was established. Captain

“Black Bart” Bartholomew, now Supervisor of Salvage, took charge at the

scene. Air Force Colonel Ed O’Connor was assigned by NASA to head

the overall accident reconstruction effort.

The search operation, with the NASA support ships Freedom Star and

Liberty Star and the Supervisor of Salvage contract ships Paul Langevin III

and G. W. Pierce, started on 8 February. The initial search area was 10 by

25 miles with depths of from 70 to 1,200 feet. It lay well within the Gulf

Stream, where strong currents slowed operations. The search area gradually expanded as data became more refined and contacts were classified.

The nuclear-powered research submarine NR–1 (Lieutenant Commander

James Holloway), a ship with excellent search capabilities, entered the

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428

A component of the earth-orbiter Challenger is hoisted aboard the venerable salvage ship

Preserver.
operation along with her escort ship Sunbird. The submarine conducted

three search missions that provided invaluable intelligence. In all the

search would last sixty days.

Search results went every day to the command post for analysis and

evaluation. A sophisticated computer system with high-speed graphic

printers had been set up to manage the burgeoning data base of contact

information and to print up-to-date and meaningful geographic information. Each contact was assigned a priority number based on the strength

of the return, the size of the contact, and its position in the search area.

From this evaluation decisions on further investigation and recovery

could be made.

The primary object of the operation was to recover the section of the

right solid rocket booster, which was thought to have failed. Debris from

this booster had scattered widely and mixed with debris from the left

rocket booster. The mixing was not suspected until the operation was well

underway and initial results had been analyzed. Due to the mixing, a huge

number of contacts had to be visually classified. The task was especially

difficult because, even though the water in portions of the area where the

solid rocket booster debris had landed was not deep, neither divers nor

Deep Drone could work in the surface current. Thus visual classification

of solid rocket booster components fell almost exclusively to the Harbor

Branch Foundation submersibles Johnson-Sea-Link I and II. The two subDeep-Ocean Salvage

429

What it’s all about: Recovery of this section of Challenger’s right solid rocket booster with

the burn hole allowed investigators to pin down the cause of the disaster.
mersibles could classify about five contacts each day. When the backlog

of contacts to be classified began to govern the schedule, NR–1 returned

and in two weeks classified 282 con tacts. The backlog was eliminated.

As debris from the solid rocket boosters was classified and identified,

the nitty-gritty recovery work began in earnest. The contract vessel Stena

Workhorse, a heavy offshore work vessel, became the primary recovery

ship for this debris. Stena Workhorse had the ROV Gemini, capable of

working in the strong currents, installed amidships. Following a practice

that has proved invaluable since the earliest days of salvage, recovery and

attachment procedures were rehearsed in shallow water before work

began on the actual pieces. The very strong and hard materials of the

solid rocket boosters made attachment difficult. Developing attachment

procedures required a combination of engineering and seamanship, both

seasoned with imagination. The procedure that devel oped called for one

of the Sea-Link submersibles to attach a shackle or choker connecting a

wire pendant to the piece of debris. Then the ROV Gemini would attach

a weighted lift line, plumbed from Stena Workhorse, to the previously

attached pendant. The work vessel would then haul the wreckage aboard.

Stena Workhorse didn’t do it all; Sunbird and Kittiwake (ASR 13) also

recovered pieces of the solid rocket booster.

When the solid rocket booster operation wrapped up on 29 April,

more than 50 percent of the two solid rocket boosters had been recovered

from water depths ranging from 168 to 1,295 feet. Two of the pieces

recovered allowed positive determination of the cause of the accident by

disclosing a 30-inch circular burn hole in the right solid rocket booster

casing.

While the solid rocket booster recovery featured sophisticated application of deep-ocean technology, recovery of the orbiter and its payload

employed old-fashioned mud-diving. Radar and optical data from the

launch indicated that the orbiter wreckage lay in the western part of the

search area in nominal depths of 80 to 100 feet. The venerable and once

battle-damaged veteran of World War II, Preserver (Lieutenant Com -

mander John Devlin), arrived on-site two days before the recovery opera -

tion started. When the operation kicked off, Preserver, along with an Air

Force operated LCU (C115–1925), went to work in the orbiter impact

area with divers searching for and recovering debris.

Almost a month into the operation, on 7 March, divers operating

from the LCU classified a contact as the crew compartment debris.

Preserver divers confirmed the classification the next day and increased

the tempo of the recovery operation. As happens so often at critical

points in salvage operations, the weather kicked up. Currents stirred the

bottom silt, and variable eddy currents made working on the bottom

nearly impossible. Recovery operations kept going when weather

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430
allowed. By 4 April all astronaut remains and visible crew compartment

debris had been recovered. But the orbiter recovery operation was far

from complete.

Recovery operations involving Opportune, divers from Mobile Diving

and Salvage Unit Two, Explosive Ordnance Group Two, the Coast Guard

Atlantic Strike Team, and the remotely operated vehicles Deep Drone,

Scorpio, and ASD 620 continued until the end of August. When the operation was completed, parts from almost every Challenger system, subsystem, and payload had been recovered for analysis.

The Challenger salvage operation had been a success. The Navy’s ability to

synthesize a response to a unique and nationally important assignment in

the ocean had once again been effective. A variety of technologies mobilized from military and industrial sources had been well employed. As

important as the operation’s success and the effectiveness of its management was its economics. The total Navy effort in the search and recovery

cost approximately $13 million,36 a paltry sum when weighed against the

value of the lessons learned by NASA from analysis of the wreckage and

the emotional benefit to the nation from recovery of the astronauts’

remains. It was the largest and most complex and sophisti cated salvage

operation undertaken to date.

36Ironically, during the operation Sunbird recovered a floating duffle bag containing a quantity

of cocaine. The street value of the drug was estimated to be $13 million, just enough to cover the

cost of the Navy effort.

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431

EHIME MARU

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433

CHAPTER TEN

Into the Twenty-first Century

The years immediately before and just after the turn of the century

brought further changes to the Navy’s approach to salvage operations. The factors causing these changes were diverse: rapid

technological advancement, public concern about pollution from

maritime sources, change in the structure of the Navy, and political instabilities resulting in both limited and major naval combat action. Improved

navigational systems, combined with higher competence levels for all

mariners, decreased accidental groundings, collisions, and similar traditional marine casualties. Technological advances in warships and

weaponry and the effectiveness of modern weapons made a rapid, tailored

casualty response a normal occurrence. Development of other sophisticated technology, such as deep-ocean sensors and imaging systems,

undersea robotics, and motion compensated lift systems, dramatically

improved salvors’ ability to work deeper and to recover materials

unreachable just a few years earlier. Concurrently shallow-water work

became more precise and more productive.

Salvage work in the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries

falls into four categories: (1) deep-ocean and shallow-water recoveries,

(2) pollution response and prevention operations, (3) combat and operational casualty responses, and (4) maritime disaster response.

Recoveries—Deep and Not So Deep 

The previous chapter introduced deep-ocean recovery and the

sophisticated technologies that make it possible. With time, the Navy—

an early world leader in deep recoveries and their technologies—has progressed to a new level of competence, working at deeper depths and

working with the latest in sophisticated methods and equipment.

Competence is developed by practice, and the best practice is field experience. In December 1997 Captain Raymond S. (Chip) McCord, then
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434

Supervisor of Salvage, testified before the National Transportation Safety

Board (NTSB): 

The Navy has a great deal of experience. . . . On average we recover one military aircraft from the ocean every three weeks. Currently . . . we are working

on three airplanes at two separate crash sites in the world.1

Eight operations between 1989 and 2003—some deep, some not so

deep—demonstrate that recovery operations are by far the most technically complex mission of Navy salvors. They also demonstrate that the

techniques employed in deep recovery are many and varied, just as are

those for all other salvage operations. More important, they show that

techniques most closely fitting the requirements and constraints of a particular job work best. There is no one-size-fits-all in salvage.

Ever since the Navy began doing deep-ocean recovery operations, it

has had a wide variety of government agencies on its customer list—not

only military services but also civil agencies with reasons to recover hardware or information. Of the recovery operations described in this chapter,

four directly support naval forces and four support other federal agencies.

Together, they document that the Navy’s deep-ocean search and recovery capabilities are a true national asset. 

Three Commercial Aircraft

U N I T E D A I R L I N E S F L I G H T 8 1 1 C A R G O D O O R , 1 9 8 9

Late on the evening of 24 February 1989, United Airlines Flight 811,

a Boeing 747–122, took off from Honolulu International Airport bound

for Auckland, New Zealand, and Sydney, Australia. As the aircraft

climbed through 22,000 feet some 110 miles south of Hawaii, a starboard

fuselage section blew out. Of the 337 passengers on board, nine died

when their seats were ripped out by the resulting explosive decompression

of the pressurized cabin. In a magnificent feat of airmanship, the flight

crew brought the aircraft back to a safe landing in Honolulu.2 Almost as

spectacular was the demonstration of the Navy’s deep-recovery capability. The physical evidence recovered by Navy salvors led examiners to the

cause of the aircraft’s structural failure.

Inspection quickly established that the forward starboard cargo door

had opened. The door, hinged at the passenger compartment floor line,

opened into the slipstream and tore off, taking with it portions of the

1 Captain R.S. McCord, USN, NTSB Public Hearing, 8 December 1997. Captain McCord testified after the TWA Flight 800 recovery. 2 The crew received the Secretary of Transportation Award for Heroism for their work in bringing the aircraft and passengers home safely.
Into the Twenty-first Century

435

fuselage and the cabin deck (with seats attached). An unexplained cargodoor opening had occurred on a Pan American Airways flight in 1987, so

the National Transportation Safety Board was interested in establishing

the causes of the two similar accidents. In both cases the central question

was, why did the door open? The answer remained elusive for two years.

Was it an improperly secured door, design defect, maintenance fault, or

something unsuspected? The answer required finding a relatively miniscule object that blew off an aircraft traveling several hundred miles per

hour, fell more than four miles to hit the ocean’s surface, and continued

to fall almost three more miles until it landed on the ocean floor more

than 2,000 fathoms deep. Many a man would have said: “Good luck to

you, mate. I’m going to have another beer.” 

Salvors know that in a complex deep recovery like this, success comes

from exacting preparation and attention to detail. They also know success

is never assured. In this case, the National Transportation Safety Board

pursued two courses. The first was to analyze the accident without examining the door. At best, this inspection would leave many questions unanswered because the hardware involved could not be examined. The second,

to search for and recover the cargo door and its latching mechanism for

examination, had a better—but not 100 percent—likelihood to lead to the

cause. In April 1990, more than a year after the incident, the NTSB issued

a report based on available evidence, noting that recovery of the door was

unlikely. In a parallel effort, the board formed a consortium with the

Federal Aviation Administration (FAA), Boeing Aircraft Company, and

United Airlines to fund the Navy’s effort to recover the door and latching

mechanism. The Office of the Supervisor of Salvage, the U.S. government’s

lead agency in deep-ocean recovery, took charge of the effort.

Dr. Robert C. (Bob) Whaley was assigned to the job as project officer

and began the long, tedious preparation for the operation. His team of

investigators reconstructed the accident. They defined the aircraft’s position at time of failure and then plotted the debris’ probable trajectory

through the air and the water. This reconstruction developed a datum—

the debris’ probable position—around which the search could be structured. Good datum development greatly accelerates a search. A shorter

search is a cheaper search, with a lower probability of equipment failure

or weather shutdown.

Improved radar technology gave a more accurate method of establishing the datum than was available during a similar search and recovery

operation for the C–5 cargo door off Vietnam in 1975.3 Both the FAA and

the Navy had radar tapes of the Flight 811 incident taken from highly

sophisticated radar systems in Hawaii. The FAA calculated a possible

impact position from the Navy’s radar tape. Bob Whaley thought he could

3 See chapter 9, pages 421–422.
refine this information through a method well known to deep-ocean

search specialists, namely, talking to people with first-hand knowledge of

the incident—the Navy radar operators. Familiar with their system and

its capabilities and knowing the type of information Whaley wanted, the

radar operators modified the display parameters when they replayed the

tapes. Debris streaming from the aircraft as it turned toward Honolulu

became visible. A large, bright object stood out, varying in intensity and

slowing as it fell toward the radar horizon. The technicians plotted a trajectory of the bright spot from the point where it left the aircraft to the

radar horizon. They then extrapolated it to the surface, factoring in the

effect of the wind and changes in wind-effect caused by the target’s tumbling. Earlier calculations by Whaley (confirmed by the University of

Johannesburg) relative to the crash of South African Airways Flight 295

in a similar ocean depth4 provided information about the descent of the

debris from the water surface to the seafloor. 

Analysis showed that this last portion of the descent should take

about an hour and a half, with the object now almost directly below the

point where it entered the sea—subject to some influence from current.

Datum for the debris field search area was an oval segment some two

miles wide and three-and-a-half miles long.

ORION, the Navy’s deepest diving search system,5 is a dual-frequency,

side-scan sonar inside a torpedo-shaped body towed slowly near the

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ORION side-scan sonar system.

4In November 1987 South African Airways Flight 295, a 747-244B, crashed in the Indian

Ocean. 5As of 2008, ORION remains the Navy’s deepest diving search system.
ocean floor. The two frequencies search together—a low frequency

searches and a high frequency provides fine details. Four 500-watt lights

illuminate the undersea scene for a low-light video camera. Acoustic

pingers can be deployed to mark a target for relocation. Data and sensor

control systems are multiplexed, converted to digital signals, then transmitted along the 36,000-foot, fiber-optic tow-cable to the surface where

they are converted to digital and analog presentations. The system has a

20,000-foot depth capability.

Narragansett (T-ATF 167) took ORION aboard and got underway for

the search site in late July 1990. Upon arrival, the search team laid a

transponder field as a navigation and wreckage mapping reference.

ORION was launched and the tedious search-process began. In a

search operation, each run through the search area is followed by a long

turn to the next search track line. Turns in the deep ocean are time-consuming and wearisome because they require several steps. When the run

through the area completes:

• The ship moves far enough out of the search area to bring the towfish6 clear of the search area;

• The ship speeds up and hauls in enough tow-cable to ensure that

the towfish does not hit the seafloor when it slows during maneuvering;

• The ship moves far enough clear of the area to ensure that the towfish has enough time to settle onto a steady course in the search ship’s

wake before the ship returns to the search area;

• The ship slowly turns onto the new course and positions herself for

the next line; and

• Finally, before the ship enters the search area, the cable length and

ship’s speed are adjusted to make certain that the towfish is the proper

distance above the bottom.

The deeper the towfish, the more time the turning maneuvers take.

With the sonar nearly 14,000 feet deep, a turn can take six to eight hours,

making possible only two passes through the search area each day.

The intention at the outset was to identify visually significant artifacts by towing ORION over the site while photographing and videotaping debris. With a 36,000-foot cable and ORION 30 feet above the

seafloor, maneuvering the towfish precisely enough to get quality photographs or video of an object the size and shape of the cargo door proved

too difficult. However, the debris field was located relatively easily, and

Into the Twenty-first Century

437

6The hydrodynamically shaped towfish is a stabilized body housing the electronics of a towed

search or other device.
several targets with the hard, sharp edges characteristic of recently

deposited manufactured material were marked for further investigation.

The team was confident they had found the debris field. Now they had to

identify the pieces to recover and bring them to the surface.

The recovery vehicle selected for this job was the three-man submersible Sea Cliff (DSV 4), a Navy-owned vehicle originally built with

one of the 6-foot diameter, HY–100 steel spheres fabricated for Alvin.

Replacement of this sphere in 1983 with a titanium sphere made Sea Cliff

capable of 20,000-foot operations. Sea Cliff, supported by her tender, M/V

Laney Chouest, was then operating near Hawaii. The submersible had

television and still cameras, short-range sonar, external lights, three

11-centimeter view ports, and two 7-function hydraulic manipulators.

Sea Cliff’s primary advantage, and also her primary disadvantage, was that

she put humans on the recovery site. People could analyze what they saw

and adapt plans to fit site conditions. However, their limited endurance

and inability to maintain a consistent performance level without rest

slowed their work. Allowing for charging time for the vehicle and crew

rest, Sea Cliff could make at most a 15-hour dive in a day. 

Requirements for manned-submersible system certification further

complicated matters. Maintaining systems certification in Navy undersea

work when people are exposed in the deep ocean requires working with

certified tools only. Tools may not be made or modified in an ad-hoc manner

for specific jobs.

The cargo door was not heavy, but it was cumbersome. Accordingly,

the Supervisor of Salvage mobilized the newly developed ship motioncompensation system—Fly Away Deep Ocean Salvage System

(FADOSS)—to reduce surge loading on the lift and smooth the recovery

of debris through the 8- to 12-foot seas at the air-sea interface. 

Sea Cliff’s first five dives, in a 10-day period, confirmed she was in a

half-mile-long debris field along the flight path. All the debris seen by

the crew and sensors was lightweight stuff—luggage, cushions, clothing,

aircraft skin, baggage container pieces, and the like. Sea Cliff’s crew

videotaped the material so the FAA, NTSB, and Boeing representatives

on board Laney Chouest could analyze the visual records of the debris.

Analysts concluded that lighter debris had been driven into position by

the current running between the surface and the seafloor, and that heavier

debris would lie up-current. 

On the sixth dive Sea Cliff’s operators followed the debris field upcurrent; they found the lower part of the cargo door stuck in the seabed.

Sea Cliff recovered the door section on this same dive with her manipulators. As the submersible neared the surface, divers inspected the door

and found that it was being held by only one manipulator. They transferred the door to a lift line and lifted it aboard Laney Chouest; FADOSS

compensated for ship motions.

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On her seventh dive Sea Cliff located the fuselage section above the

cargo door. As she neared the surface, wave action forced the large, awkward section from her manipulators. It fell to the seafloor. Sea Cliff, previously committed to a higher priority operation elsewhere, had time for

only one more dive.

On 1 October 1990, on its eighth and final dive, Sea Cliff recovered

the upper cargo-door section. Learning from the experience on the seventh dive, operators used Sea Cliff’s manipulators to attach a line to the

door. The other end of the line was shackled to Sea Cliff’s frame. The

belt-and-suspenders approach paid off. Surface wave action again tore

the upper section from the manipulators; this time, suspended from the

shackled line, it dangled under Sea Cliff. With the two sections now on

board Laney Chouest, investigators decided they had enough material for

their purpose; the fuselage piece was superfluous. The operation was

secured.

Before the door recovery the NTSB thought that either the doorlocking mechanism had been damaged in such a way that the door could

be closed and appear locked when it was not fully latched, or that the

door had not been properly closed and secured by the ground crew before

takeoff. Evidence from the recovered door sections now showed that a

faulty switch or wiring had caused the latch cams to move from a closed

position into a nearly open position. As a result, the NTSB superseded

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439

United Airlines Flight 811 cargo door on board M/V Laney Chouest.
their initial 1990 report with one reflecting the findings from the recovered door examination. No one was more gratified than the ground crew

loader who had properly closed and latched that door in Honolulu on 24

February 1989.

T WA F L I G H T 8 0 0 , 1 9 9 6 

More than seven years after the United Airlines Flight 811 door

recovery, another aircraft loss necessitating a very different type of recovery brought the Navy’s underwater work capabilities into the public eye

once again.

At about 2000 on Wednesday, 17 July 1996, Trans World Airlines

Flight 800 took off from New York’s John F. Kennedy International

Airport. It headed for Charles de Gaulle International Airport in Paris

with 4 flight crew, 14 flight attendants, and 212 passengers on board.

Twelve minutes later the 747–131 crashed into the Atlantic Ocean off

East Moriches, New York. No one on board survived.

Immediately after the crash, the U.S. Coast Guard led a massive

search and recovery effort using Coast Guard assets, other government

resources, and civilian craft. The night of the crash the NOAA ship Rude

got underway from Newport, Rhode Island, to assist in recovery of victims

and wreckage on the surface. Rude carried a small side-scan sonar that

proved useful in the operation.

The Navy entered the response on the following day when Captain

Chip McCord, Supervisor of Salvage, offered assistance to the National

Transportation Safety Board and left Washington, D.C., for Long Island with

Mr. Tom Salmon, Director of Salvage Operations, to meet NTSB officials at

the site. McCord also alerted the Navy’s undersea operations contractor,

Oceaneering International, to mobilize a search vessel in New Jersey and

send it to the site with Navy-owned equipment—a towed pinger locator,

side-scan sonar, and one small remotely operated vehicle. The Oceaneeringcontracted vessel, M/V Pirouette, was on station loaded with the ROV

MR–2, ready to begin searching by Friday night, two days after the crash.

Pirouette and Rude began the undersea search and recovery phase of the

operation that started while the rescue operation was still in progress.

Normally, the first goal in aircraft recovery is to locate and map the

debris field and to recover the flight data recorder and the cockpit voice

recorder—the much-storied “black boxes.” The TWA Flight 800 recovery, however, followed a different pattern. The high visibility of this crash,

with 230 dead just off the coast near New York City, coupled with rumors

that a missile or bomb may have destroyed the aircraft, fueled media,

political, and public interest.

The NTSB established recovery of the victims’ remains as the first

priority. Speculation that the crash may have been caused by a criminal

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440
act prompted the FBI to join the investigation immediately. Both the FBI

and the NTSB insisted on recovering as much of the aircraft as possible

to conclusively establish the cause of the crash and prove or disprove

criminal action. As it was necessary to raise pieces of the wreckage from

the seafloor to conduct the search for human remains, recovering the

wreckage at the same time made sense.

The black boxes were recovered on 23 July—the seventh day after

the crash; by the time the recorders were brought ashore, victim-recovery

and debris-identification had been underway for three days.

The two NTSB priorities greatly affected the structure of the operations. The search and recovery of TWA 800 did not follow the customary

pattern—search planning, search, target mapping, target prioritization,

target investigation, and recovery, usually in that order.

Essentially the Flight TWA 800 work became three overlapping,

almost concurrent, operations:

• Location and identification of remains and wreckage with side-scan

sonar, and a laser line-scanning system. This work continued until 13

October 1996.

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441

Supervisor of Salvage Captain Raymond S. (Chip) McCord greets President Bill Clinton. 
• Recovery of victim remains by divers, ROVs, and salvage ships.

This work continued until November 1996 when remains of all 230 victims had been identified.

• Recovery of wreckage by divers, ROVs, salvage ships, and chartered

scallop trawlers.7 This work continued until 18 May 1997, when 98 percent of the aircraft had been recovered, and the NTSB declared the

search and recovery effort complete.

The water was relatively shallow, about 120 feet, so the recovery work

was fairly straightforward. Debris-field mapping and wreckage recovery

was ongoing throughout the operation. However, seven major seasonal

storms, hurricanes or nor’easters, disrupted the operation and caused

much work to be repeated. 

Captain McCord established a command post at Coast Guard Station

Group Moriches. On 21 July, after learning of the operation’s scope and

intensity, he asked for help from the fleet to get the tools and manpower

needed to do the job efficiently. The Commander in Chief, U.S. Atlantic

Fleet formed Task Group 40.5 commanded by Rear Admiral Edward K.

Kristensen with his flag in Oak Hill (LSD 51). Grasp (ARS 51) and later

Grapple (ARS 53) were integral parts of the task group.

Formation of a task group utilizing numerous assets and large crews,

although not unknown, is rare in search and recovery operations. A typical

operation is technically intensive with a small crew looking for specific

items. The Flight 800 operation was also labor intensive. A large crew, primarily divers, rotated into the operation. The relatively shallow water

allowed divers to work with a greater variety of tools than are available for

deep searches. Deep or shallow, operational flexibility—the ability to modify and adjust plans and equipment to suit the evolving situation—remains

the common factor in salvage and recovery operations.8

Before diving began, Pirouette started searching with the side-scan

sonar. The research vessel Diane G. was brought in to work with the laser

line-scan—a blue-green laser that gives a narrow but detailed field of

view. These search tools complemented one another well. When they

identified an item of interest, an ROV dived to investigate the site and

identify the target. If the ROV found remains, divers recovered them. 

Within ten days of the crash, two debris fields were identified, and

Grapple, carrying the ROV Deep Drone, had joined Grasp in the operation.

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442

7Scallop trawlers drag cage-like dredges across the bottom to pick up clams and scallops. The

same dredges can capture small pieces of wreckage. 8How poorly this principle is understood by the general public and those who should know better is illustrated by Captain McCord’s experience. The day after a briefing to congressional leaders,

in which he assured them he had the assets he needed, changing circumstances led him to ask for an

equipment change. One congressman promptly accused him of lying about the Navy’s readiness.
The two ARSs were placed in moors—one in each debris field.9 There

were now three ROVs on the job. Additional divers arrived to augment

those already assigned to the salvage ships. The Navy salvage divers were

surface-supplied, while Navy EOD divers, civilian divers from several local

police departments, and the FBI worked in SCUBA (self-contained underwater breathing apparatus). Surface-supplied operations continued

around the clock; SCUBA operations were limited to daylight hours for

safety reasons. Each morning, divers were briefed by a Supervisor of

Salvage representative on sonar targets to be investigated and recovered

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A Navy diver searches the TWA Flight 800 debris field.

9This system worked so well that Grasp was able to remain in her moor for 36 consecutive days

and to dive around the clock for 33 of those days. Grapple stayed in her moor for 21 days until all

remains and wreckage had been cleared from her area.
that day. The divers were provided with a GPS (Global Positioning

System) location, sonar record, and instructions for each target identified

during the search and logged in a computerized database. This process

ensured that all identified targets were investigated and recovered.

The size of the crew on the job and the round-the-clock work created unusual logistics situations. The salvage ships were the most logical

choice for housing and feeding the dive crews, but the noise of the 24-

hour diving operations prevented effective rest in these ships. Plentiful

small-boat transportation moved personnel around and wreckage ashore.

Oak Hill and her successor Trenton (LPD 13), both large amphibious

ships, provided an excellent solution to the crew-support problem; each

had generous berthing, messing, medical, and dental facilities as well as

helicopters and boats to ferry people and wreckage. These ships also provided command-and-control platforms for Admiral Kristensen and his

staff.

Divers recovered large pieces of wreckage by rigging and lifting them

aboard a surface ship. Smaller pieces were hand-loaded into baskets or

canvas bags. The largest piece of wreckage recovered was a section of the

starboard wing, some 83 feet by 30 feet; the smallest pieces were smaller

than a ball-point pen. Evidence-handling and chain-of-custody procedures were followed when the recovered material was on board.

Upon recovery of the great majority of the wreckage, an old technique seldom used in modern recovery operations came into play. Five

scallop trawlers were chartered by the Office of the Supervisor of Salvage

from New Jersey and Massachusetts ports. Their job was to trawl through

the area, each with two 15-foot nets to recover debris, and to keep trawling until they recovered no more debris. Some areas were trawled as many

as thirty times. Finally quality-control operations were conducted at

eigthy-five sites to be sure no wreckage was left behind. For the quality

control work, an ROV inspected a circle about 100 yards in diameter with

sonar and cameras. These operations found and recovered only one small

piece of wreckage. The recovery work had been very thorough.

The overall result was that remains of all of the victims of TWA

Flight 800 crash were recovered, along with about 98 percent of the aircraft. The effort required 4,344 individual dives, 2,679 hours of ROV

time, and over 19,000 miles of trawling, closely coordinated by the

Supervisor of Salvage with the NTSB, FBI, and state and local agencies.

Because of the comprehensive recovery effort, the NTSB was able to

thoroughly study the aircraft and determine that an explosion in the center wing tank, probably initiated by an electrical short circuit, caused the

crash.

The results were significant for the Navy. The ability to man a largescale recovery operation and to combine several types of search and

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444
recovery technology and techniques from a variety of sources effectively

was proven in the field where it counts. Amphibious force ships in

command-and-control and logistics support roles demonstrated their

inherent flexibility. Most important was the integration of Navy and

other federal, state, and local agencies, and a number of industrial entities

into a cohesive and productive team.

E G Y P TA I R F L I G H T 9 9 0 , 1 9 9 9 

The NTSB investigation of TWA Flight 800 was still ongoing when

another aircraft crashed on departure from New York under equally mysterious circumstances. At about 0150 EST on the morning of 31 October

1999, EgyptAir Flight 990, a Boeing 767–366ER on a scheduled international flight from New York to Cairo, Egypt, crashed into the Atlantic

about 60 miles south of Nantucket Island. On board were 4 flight crew,

10 cabin crew, and 203 passengers from seven countries. The Coast

Guard immediately launched a large-scale search and rescue mission but

found no survivors. Anticipating the need for Navy assets for the recovery operation, Navy commands mobilized Grapple, USNS Mohawk

(T-ATF 170), and the Supervisor of Salvage’s search and recovery systems for the operation sure to follow. 

Under the International Civil Aviation Organization Treaty, the

investigation of an airplane crash in international waters falls to the aircraft’s country of registry. The Egyptian government requested that the

NTSB take the lead in this case. The NTSB requested assistance from the

Navy.

The crash bore similarities to the TWA 800 crash, but major differences between the two incidents drove the EgyptAir operation plan in a

different direction.

Weather dictated the choice of recovery techniques during the

EgyptAir operation. The TWA aircraft had crashed in high summer, but

the EgyptAir plane went down in late fall and lay in twice the depth of

the TWA aircraft wreckage. A difference of a little over 100 feet, insignificant in the deep ocean, becomes significant near the surface. At 240 feet,

surface-supplied mixed-gas diving is needed. The complications inherent

in this diving method combined with the early-winter weather decreased

diving effectiveness below a reasonable level. Other recovery techniques

were chosen as more effective.

The EgyptAir flight struck the water almost vertically at high speed,

about MACH 1.0, piling debris six feet and higher in a relatively small

area. The TWA aircraft had disintegrated in mid-air spreading debris

over two large-area debris fields.

EgyptAir recovery operations followed the usual priorities, finding

cockpit voice recorders and flight data recorders before recovering

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remains and wreckage. The highest priority in the TWA crash was recovery and identification of human remains followed by recovering as much

of the aircraft as possible.

In both cases, because the FBI and the NTSB were involved, all

recovered material was treated and handled as evidence; however, based

on previous experience with the TWA crash, the FBI ultimately took the

lead in the EgyptAir recovery.

In response to the NTSB request for Navy assistance, Supervisor of

Salvage Captain Bert Marsh, Lieutenant Commander Jeff Stettler, and

Tom Salmon went to the scene and began developing a search plan for

the cockpit voice recorder and the flight data recorder, while the

Supervisor of Salvage’s search systems contractor Oceaneering

International began mobilizing towed pinger-locator systems, the

SWISS10 search system, and the ROVs Deep Drone and MR–2.

11

To expedite the operation, the Coast Guard flew an Oceaneering

search technician from Andrews Air Force Base (AFB) in Maryland to a

Coast Guard cutter at the site. The technician, working from a rigid-hull

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446

Left to right, Tom Salmon, Lieutenant Commander Jeff Stettler, and Commander Phil

Beierl discuss salvage operations.

10SWISS is an acronym for Shallow Water Intermediate Search System—a towed, dual-frequency

search system for depths down to 7,000 feet of seawater (fsw). 11Deep Drone is a 4,100-pound remotely operated vehicle capable of operating various mission

specific equipment to a maximum depth of 8,000 fsw. MR–2 is a mini ROV with cameras and the ability to accommodate small tools to depths of 1,000 fsw.
inflatable boat, quickly located two 37.5 kHz sources.12 The pinger location became the search datum, the center of a 6-square-mile search area.

First the pinger location was confirmed with the towed pinger locator,

and then with the SWISS. Mohawk began searching in conjunction with

the NOAA ship Whiting and Whiting’s side-scan sonar. Initial passes over

the pinger location showed two distinct debris fields about 1,200 feet

apart, center-to-center. The eastern field measured 203 by 223 feet and

contained pieces associated with the left engine and miscellaneous

wreckage; the western field measured 272-by-239 feet and contained the

bulk of the fuselage right engine, main landing gear, and flight recorders.

Weather forced Whiting and Mohawk to return to Newport where

Grapple, with ROV Deep Drone and the MDSU Fly Away Mixed Gas

System on board, joined them. Consistent with the TWA 800 experience,

the Atlantic Fleet commander stood up a task group under the direction

of Rear Admiral William G. Sutton, Commander Amphibious Group Two,

and sent Austin (LPD 4) to provide on-scene berthing and messing, logistics, boats, and helicopters. On 5 November, the day Austin arrived, the

task group returned to the crash area to complete the search and recover the recorders. The weather was still too poor to put divers in the water.

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447

Lee Wolford inspects ROV Deep Drone.

12Aircraft making over-water flights carry saltwater activated pingers about the size of two Dcell batteries, attached to the recorders. When the pingers are submerged, they begin transmitting on

a standard 37.5 kHz frequency.
On 7 November the dynamically positioned M/V Carolyn Chouest13

arrived at the scene with the ROV Magnum14 on board. The pingers’ usefulness as locating devices was dwindling with their battery power. The

impact of the crash had separated the pingers from the recorders, complicating recorder recovery. An ROV search with the pingers as datum

before the pinger batteries died was necessary to find the recorders among

the concentrated debris. ROV Magnum went to work for the first

attempt. 

Deploying Magnum from Carolyn Chouest was a better choice for the

sea conditions than deploying Deep Drone from Grapple because

Magnum’s cage protected the ROV, and the dynamically positioned

Carolyn Chouest could hold station better in the rough seas than Grapple.

After receiving the flight data recorder, Magnum was damaged in the

debris field, and Deep Drone took up and completed the search and recovery of the cockpit voice recorder in an operation that required both skill

and persistence.

After reviewing the data in the recorders, the NTSB and FBI decided

that examination of additional aircraft wreckage was needed for their work.

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448

EgyptAir salvage team with recovered cockpit voice recorder protected in a cooler filled

with seawater.

13M/V Carolyn Chouest is based in New London, Connecticut, as the support ship for the Navy’s

nuclear-powered NR-1 deep submergence craft. 14Magnum is a 3,500-pound caged-type ROV designed for use in high currents and capable of

working to depths of 8,000 fsw.
Because of the pattern of wreckage and the onset of winter, a recovery technique that included a primary recovery platform capable of maintaining position and working in foul weather was required. Such platforms exist among the large, dynamically positioned vessels that support

the offshore construction industry. Many of these ships are equipped with

heave-compensated heavy cranes that lift through a well. The Supervisor

of Salvage developed a plan that employed one of these vessels—Smit

Pioneer. He, along with the directors of the NTSB and the FBI, briefed the

White House staff. The plan was accepted; fleet units left the area on 18

November, and the Supervisor of Salvage took over the operation.

Recovery was not just a matter of picking up debris from the seafloor.

Location of each load picked up had to be determined before it was

recovered. The debris was lifted aboard Smit Pioneer where it was cleaned

of mud and sand, then sorted for potential evidence, and finally preserved

or stored. The most effective way to do this proved to be the following:

• Determining the location of each recovered item by mounting a

GPS antenna on the crane’s head and recording the location when the

item left the bottom.

• Landing the item on deck.

• Hose-washing the debris to remove mud and sand.

• Sorting through the debris,15 (1) identifying and properly preserving human remains, (2) placing personal effects in a separate container,

(3) separating potential evidence and establishing a chain of custody,

then (4) scooping up the remaining debris with a front-end loader and

loading it into a container.

• Moving the ship to its next recovery location.

Recovery work continued around the clock from 13 through 20

December, when Smit Pioneer returned to port to discharge the recovered

debris for evaluation. Weights of discharged material showed that the

operation had recovered over 67 percent of the aircraft.

The deep submergence craft NR–1 was called in to inspect the debris

remaining on the seafloor. Her sonar, video, visual, and photographic surveys showed only scattered debris. The recovery operation was demobilized, to stand up again in March when the NTSB asked the Navy to

return to the field and recover the left engine and parts of the right

engine. Carolyn Chouest, with Magnum and Lieutenant Commander

Stettler on board, conducted the operation with a clamshell bucket from

a crane on board a large dynamically positioned ship. This operation

highlighted the utility of matching tools to a particular job.

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449

15Three NTSB agents and thirty-four FBI agents were on board Smit Pioneer to sort the recovered

material.
From the materials now recovered, the FBI ruled out fire or explosion,

and the NTSB determined the cause of the crash to be flight-control

inputs by a crewmember. The Egyptian government did not accept the

NTSB report. 

Two Military Aircraft

The commercial aircraft recoveries show the Navy’s deep-ocean work

capabilities to be an asset of the nation, but the capabilities exist principally to respond to military aircraft that crash into the sea. Recovery of

these aircraft and the follow-up investigation to identify the cause of the

loss and identify corrective action are vital parts of military aviation safety, operational readiness, and economic-loss prevention. For obvious reasons, the Navy is its own biggest customer for ocean recovery operations,

but the service also recovers other U.S. military aircraft that crash into

the sea.

The operations are expensive in time and resources; they are never

undertaken lightly, but only after careful consideration of the probability

of success and the value of the recovery. Two military aircraft recoveries—far apart geographically—are described below.

U H – 4 6 H E L I C O P T E R AT WA K E I S L A N D, 1 9 9 1

During underway replenishment operations about 130 miles east of

Wake Island on 15 August 1991, a Navy UH–46 helicopter16 deployed

with the Nimitz battle group experienced mechanical failure and crashed

into the ocean. The crew of four was lost. Because of a number of similar

UH–46 failures in a relatively short time, the Chief of Naval Operations

tasked the Supervisor of Salvage to find and recover the helicopter for

failure analysis. Recovery would be a complex operation; the water at the

crash site was over 17,000 feet deep.

Lieutenant Commander Rich Hooper led the search team made up

of people from the office of the Supervisor of Salvage and its search-systems contractor Oceaneering International. The search team and the

ship’s crew loaded the ORION search system on board Conserver in Pearl

Harbor. The ship sailed for the crash site, arriving there on 18

September.

The first search efforts were made with the towed pinger locator

mounted on the ORION towfish. The numbers did not add up well—the

maximum depth for the towed pinger locator was 10,000 feet, and the

pinger range was about 7,500 feet. With the towfish no deeper than

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450

16The UH–46 is a workhorse helicopter with a long operating range and excellent cargo capacity. It is primarily used to ferry supplies, maintenance parts, and personnel.
10,000 feet and the pinger on the seafloor at 17,251 feet, the system was

at its extreme range. Probability of detection was small. The search

method was worth trying for a quick location, but was soon abandoned.

After a differential global positioning system (DGPS)17 shore station

had been established on Wake Island, and a four-transponder field laid on

the bottom for precision navigation, a grid search with ORION began.

Although the search area was relatively small, the 17,000-plus-foot depth

made running the search pattern exceptionally challenging. The depth of

water coupled with the requirements for precise navigation and timeconsuming turns allowed no more than two search lines per day. A highly probable contact was located on the seventh run and confirmed on

subsequent runs with a video camera mounted on ORION. The search

team marked the location by dropping two pingers to the ocean floor and

returned to Pearl Harbor to begin recovery planning.

The Navy’s CURV III, which was just completing a major upgrade to

give it a 20,000-foot depth capability, at the time a world-record that put

90 percent of the ocean floor within its reach, was available and the

obvious choice for the recovery. Also critical to the recovery operation

was the FADOSS heave-compensation system and a spooler system to

eliminate the entanglement problem that routinely occurs when two

long, parallel lines are close to one another in the water. Salvor (ARS

52), commanded by Lieutenant Commander Jeff Pauls, was the ship

assigned this recovery. Her deck was soon crowded with task-specific

equipment that goes along with any deep recovery job. Mr. Keith Cooper

served as project officer for the Supervisor of Salvage.18

Good practice is to have all equipment checked out and operating

prior to going to sea. The reason showed up on this operation. During

mobilization and equipment check-out in Hawaii, technicians found circuit boards loose from jostling in transit. When the electronics bottles

were opened, all the light-emitting diodes (LEDs) that guide troubleshooting were dark. Technicians were scratching their heads in

bewilderment when a local kahuna, in full regalia, appeared and began

chanting and dancing to bless the system. As he chanted and laid leaves

on the system, the LEDs began blinking. There is more than technology

to deep-ocean work. There is technical expertise, imagination, daring,

perseverance, and, in the mid-Pacific, perhaps a little magic.

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17Differential GPS increases the accuracy of GPS. DGPS requires a receiver set up at in a base

station at a known location. The base station calculates its position based on satellite signals and

applies the differential to signals received from the roving GPS unit. 18At the time, the integration of CURV and FADOSS had been successfully used only one other

time—to recover an S-3B tail section in 10,340 feet off the Virginia Capes during 1990 from Salvor’s

sister ship Grasp. Keith Cooper was project officer during this recovery as well and brought in

Commander Mike Herb (Grasp’s commanding officer) and Master Diver Paul Schadow to support

planning, training, and work-up phases with Salvor.
With the system working, Salvor went to sea for operational testing

and crew workout in 3,000 feet of water. After successful CURV III seatrials, Salvor sailed for the crash site.

Upon arrival she queried the pingers that Conserver had left but

received no response. Again a transponder field was laid. GPS was used

to locate the ship, and an acoustic beacon mounted on CURV allowed

the transponders to track the vehicle. CURV located the helicopter on 31

January and took a close look at the job.

As seems inevitable, the weather came up and gear broke down, but

when the weather settled and the gear fixed, the spooler and lift line were

set on the bottom and detached with an acoustic release. CURV then

rigged the spooler lift line to the forward part of the helicopter and began

to lift the spooler, but the kahuna had not banished all the evil spirits: the

lift line failed to pay out. CURV, spooler, and the helicopter came up

together until they were at 300 feet. The evil spirit laughed; the spooler

paid out line, lowering the forward section of the helicopter back to the

seafloor. The lift line was taken to power and the forward section again

lifted to 300 feet when the lift line parted. The evil spirit was working

overtime! Another line was attached and the forward section finally lifted aboard, to the great relief of all hands.

The next step was recovery of the after section of the helicopter.

Another lift line failed because it chafed on the carbon-fiber rotor blades.

The answer was a classic salvage solution: get a bigger line. After twentyfour hours of rigging the bigger line, the after section was lifted and with

it the engines.

The world-record-breaking deep aircraft recovery from 17,251 feet

was complete. Was it new technology, planning, hard work, and perseverance? Or was it the kahuna? It doesn’t matter. The aviators had their helicopter and could set about making those like it better and safer. The

recovery team learned a great deal and set a new depth record for deep

recoveries.19

F – 1 4 N O S E W H E E L , 2 0 0 2

On 2 March 2002 in the Mediterranean Sea south of Crete, an F–14

Tomcat staggered on takeoff from the John F. Kennedy (CV 67) and fell

into the sea. Both crew ejected; one died of injuries. Eyewitness reports

and the flight-deck video indicated that the nosewheel structure had

failed. The event sounded throughout the senior leadership of the naval

aviation community because a nosewheel strut had caused an F–14 to

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452

19There is another side to dropping material during deep recoveries. It provides two opportunities for salvors. The first occurs at the time. Losing the material gives them the opportunity to turn

the air blue with their language. The second occurs later in the bar where, with carefully chosen language, three 17,000-foot recoveries become a 51,000-foot recovery. 
crash several years before. Perhaps the fix after that crash fell short of perfection. This second crash had implications for all F–14 aircraft as well as

for the safety and combat-readiness of naval aviation. These implications

provided a sound reason to spend the money, time, and resources to

recover the aircraft from 9,840 feet of water. As many Navy aircraft do,

this F–14 was carrying a seawater activated pinger. A series of passes with

a towed pinger locator through the crash area could localize the aircraft

wreckage.

By happenstance, the Supervisor of Salvage’s undersea operations

contractor Phoenix International was conducting commercial operations

in the Mediterranean and had with it equipment that could be used for a

towed pinger-locator search. Loaded with equipment, the 137-foot tug

supply vessel EDT Argonaut got underway from Limassol, Cyprus, in late

March. Lieutenant Commander Phil Pall, the Sixth Fleet Salvage Officer,

was on board overseeing the job. The weather in the search area was bad,

but they located the pinger on the second pass. EDT Argonaut made thirteen runs in thirty-six hours to localize the pinger.

Meanwhile in Limassol, EDT Ares, a 246-foot dynamically positioned

multipurpose work vessel, loaded FADOSS aboard. Phoenix’s 10,000-

foot ROV, Remora II, was serendipitously on board EDT Ares and proved

a godsend because the Navy’s Magnum vehicle, rated at only 8,000 feet

depth capability, could not have reached the aircraft, and the 20,000-foot

capable CURV III was not available. Remora II’s availability saved both

time and mobilization costs.

EDT Ares arrived at the site on 1 June and, with information developed during Argonaut’s search, began a grid search with Remora II. Within

eighteen hours, the Remora II located and immediately recovered the

nose landing gear. After inspecting the recovered material, the aviation

technical representative uttered words well known to all salvors, “while

we’re here, could we just. . . .” From there a situation can go anywhere. In

this case, the aircraft technical representative was asking for recovery of

the nosewheel strut and the pilot’s ejection seat. The latter would determine why the pilot was fatally injured.

The easiest and surest way to recover a relatively small piece usually

is to retrieve the whole structure. Wreckage sometimes breaks up during

lift from the deep ocean. In this case, it was easier and smarter to retrieve

the entire aircraft in order to recover the nose gear strut. The cost of

extra rigging in both time and money is a small price to pay for ensuring

the piece is brought to the surface in the best possible condition. The

ROV made three dives to rig wire-rope chokers around the wings and the

broken section of the aircraft housing the nose landing gear strut. Clamps

were put onto two of the weapon rails and a web sling attached to the

strut as a preventer. If the aircraft broke apart while being lifted almost

two miles, the strut could still be recovered.

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454

Recovered F–14 nose landing gear cylinder.

Recovered F–14 fuselage.
The lift through the water went according to plan: slowly and successfully. The lift took six hours of rigging to FADOSS and another five

hours before the wreckage was on deck.

Was it worth the effort and the expenditure of time and resources?

The answer is an unequivocal yes. The recovery of this aircraft enabled

technical personnel to locate a problem that affected every aircraft of this

particular model. The aircraft were grounded until corrective actions

were taken. Money and, more important, lives were saved.20

Surface Ship, Submarine, Space Shuttle

A Ship Sunk Deep—Ehime Maru, 2001

It was nearly midnight on Thursday, 9 February 2001, and the

Japanese-flag Ehime Prefectural Uwajima Fishery High School training

vessel, Ehime Maru, was sailing in Hawaiian waters about nine miles

south of Diamond Head with thirty-five crew and students on board. The

U.S. Navy submarine Greeneville (SSN 772), practicing emergency main

ballast blow procedures, struck and sank Ehime Maru in 2,000 feet of

water. Within minutes the Coast Guard began a search and recovery

operation at the scene, rescuing twenty-six of those on board. A threeday effort, including sonar searches of the debris field and ROV’s examination of the ship’s exterior and the surrounding seafloor found no trace

of the others.

The Japanese government requested recovery of Ehime Maru

crewmembers, their personal effects, and some material that uniquely

characterized the ship. The U.S. government committed to do so, if it was

technically feasible. This commitment launched one of the most challenging and technically complex salvage operations in history. Proven

technology to raise this vessel from 2,000 feet of water did not exist, or

had not been used in this environment. Ehime Maru could only be raised

by adapting technology and methods to do work at greater depths than

was previously done by human muscle and simpler mechanisms in much

shallower waters. 

A complex job like the Ehime Maru salvage cannot be undertaken

lightly. The first step is to establish an effective command and control

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455

20Shortly after the successful completion of the F–14 recovery operation, Commander Naval Air

Systems Command wrote a letter to the Chief of Naval Operations explaining that before the aircraft

recovery, a mandatory inspection of the active F–14 fleet downed no aircraft. But a few weeks later,

upon failure examination of the actual mishap strut recovered from 10,000 feet beneath the surface,

an unanticipated corrosion failure mechanism was identified as the root cause. Immediate re-inspection resulted in downing approximately 20 percent of the F–14 aircraft in the fleet because of corrosion like that of the mishap aircraft strut. In a personal note, Commander Naval Air Systems

Command wrote to the Chief of Naval Operations, “This finding underlines the importance of A/C

salvage when we suffer an ‘unknown’ loss.” 
organization. Concurrently, technical and operational experts develop

the salvage concept. Imagination and “thinking outside the box” are

major factors in this step. When the concept is in hand, its feasibility is

determined by taking a close, realistic look at hardware and operational

conditions and goals. The result either sends the planners back to revise the

concept or forward with detailed planning. 

Ehime Maru, because of its technical complexity and widespread public attention in the United States and abroad, called for a heavyweight

command and control organization. The overall responsibility for the

operation rested with Admiral Thomas B. Fargo, Commander in Chief,

U.S. Pacific Fleet. He assigned Rear Admiral Bill Klemm as Recovery

Operational Commander and Incident Commander. These flag officers

had broad powers for calling on the resources of the Navy. Central to the

operation was the Supervisor of Salvage, Captain Bert Marsh, whose salvage contractors Smit International and Crowley Marine, along with fleet

units, notably Salvor, Mobile Diving and Salvage Unit One, and

Submarine Development Squadron Five, would do the work.

A sequential lift was proposed. The salvage concept was to move

Ehime Maru in stages to a depth where divers could work. This approach

required passing lift straps under the hull 2,000 feet below the surface.

Similar sequential lift work had been done often, but in much shallower

waters, including these same Hawaiian waters eighty-six years earlier during the 1915 salvage of the F–class submarine Skate, or F–4 (SS 23),

described in chapter 1. The questions were not what to do, but how to do

it in deep water and if it was technically possible.

Captain Marsh, assisted by Richard Asher and Tom Salmon from the

Office of the Supervisor of Salvage, assembled a feasibility study team.

The wreck lay too deep for diving, and other entry methods provided a

very low probability of success. Therefore the feasibility team looked at an

old salvage solution: If you cannot work on it where it is, move it to where

you can. Success depends on the wreck being structurally sound enough

to prevent it from crumpling into a shapeless mass during the move.

Determining structural adequacy for the deep-ocean lift was not a simple

task. There was little visible damage upon which to base residual strength

estimates. After comprehensive structural studies with a variety of different assumptions about possible and probable damage, both the Navy

group and Smit engineers, working independently, concluded that the

operation had about an 80 percent chance of success. This was good

enough. The decision: Go for it!

The salvage plan sounded simple enough; it called for the following

actions:

• Passing lift straps under the ship. 

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456
• Lifting Ehime Maru 60 feet off the seafloor with the lift ship.

• Carrying her, lifting as they went, to water shallow enough for

manned diving. 

• Setting her back on the seafloor.

• Searching her with surface-supplied divers and recovering all material of interest.

• Removing pollutants, also with divers.

• Sinking Ehime Maru in water with a minimum depth of 8,500 feet.

The operation could not go ahead without a careful look at the possible environmental effects and potential harm should some of the

entrapped petroleum products leak into the sea. The National

Environmental Protection Act required a formal process, an environmental assessment. Work on the environmental assessment under the direction of Mr. William Walker from the Supervisor of Salvage’s office went

ahead four bells and a jingle and was completed in only thirteen weeks.

The necessary Finding of No Significant Impact resulted. Work could

proceed to move Ehime Maru from where she lay in 2,000 fsw to a site

about a mile off the Honolulu airport in 110 fsw.

With the environmental assessment complete and a plan in hand,

mobilization began worldwide. Specialized equipment came to Hawaii

from Singapore, Europe, the Philippines, Texas, Louisiana, and

California. Much of the equipment usually supported the offshore oil and

related industries.

A Halliburton oil-field drilling and support vessel, the dynamically

positioned Rockwater 2, was chartered as a general work platform.

Rockwater 2, operating in East Asia, outfitted for the operation and

loaded some of the lifting equipment before sailing to Hawaii from

Singapore. When Rockwater 2 arrived, she completed outfitting with

equipment for the deep lift. Meanwhile the Smit/Oceaneering cable-laying and multipurpose work vessel Ocean Hercules arrived to remove Ehime

Maru’s center mast, an obstruction to the lift. A crew from Halliburton’s

Jet Research Center attempted to cut the mast with explosives, a partially successful effort that required an ROV with a grinder to finish the job.

Ocean Hercules turned to dredging a path for lift-strap placement and set

a constellation of ROV navigational transponders around Ehime Maru.

As soon as she was ready, Rockwater 2 moved to the salvage site, calibrated the transponders, and set to work passing the lift straps. This

work was reminiscent of passing the straps under Squalus in 1939, but for

Ehime Maru it was not done by divers in bronze helmets with hoses and

Falcon nozzles. This was technology at work. The first attempt was made

with coiled-tube drilling technology, an oil-field technique that has broad

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457
application. It had never been tried under 2,000 feet of water and had

never been operated by ROVs. Results were mixed—a euphemism for

“not good enough.” The system was successful in tunneling; it was not

successful in passing the wire.

It was back to the drawing board for old salvage techniques with new

methods of application. A new proposal to lift the stern and pull a lift

strap under the hull was approved. The first attempt failed when the temporary lift strap slipped onto and around the rudder post and parted. A

reinforced strap solved this problem. ROV pilots pulled a messenger wire

under the hull. One end of the messenger was taken to Rockwater 2’s

heave-compensated crane; the aft lift strap was successfully pulled

through.

Two attempts to pass the forward messenger failed. Sometimes when

the mountain won’t come to you, you have to go to the mountain. The

process was reversed. The forward messenger was laid out and a temporary lift wire rigged through the hawse so the bow could be lifted and

moved over onto the messenger. But when the stern had lifted, the bow

dug deeper into the seafloor. It was stuck. Dredging freed the bow and the

operation again moved forward.

Next, ROVs attached the lifting wires to the lower lifting frame—a

submerged buoyant structure that held the lift straps in place against the

ship. With the lower frame secure, the upper frame could be lowered and

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458

M/V Rockwater 2.
the two connected. When this was done, everything was ready for the lift

except the weather.

When seas dropped to six feet and the weather forecast was favorable, the linear winches on the deck of Rockwater 2 raised Ehime Maru

about 25 feet above the sea floor. Nearly 2,000 feet below Rockwater 2,

ROVs maneuvered around the 800-ton Ehime Maru, inspecting the newly

accessible hull areas for previously unknown damage. Because the ship’s

structure remained well within the strength required by analysis, the relocation was on.

Rockwater 2 and the support-vessel armada began the slow voyage to

the shallow water site ten miles distant. The dynamically propelled

Rockwater 2 easily held the initial speed of 0.2 to 0.3 knots. As confidence

increased, so did speed, but it remained less than one knot to reduce

dynamic loads on the lift system and to allow raising Ehime Maru incrementally to keep her clear of the seafloor as the water became shallower.

At the destination position, Rockwater 2 gently lowered Ehime Maru to

110 feet, and the second operational phase began.

Divers from Mobile Diving and Salvage Unit One under the leadership of Commander Rob Fink, along with a team of Japanese divers from

the Ship Repair Facility, Yokosuka, Japan, entered the wreck and

searched the training ship for human remains, personal effects, and ship

memorabilia for the victims’ families. They worked in surface-supplied

gear from a Crowley Marine Services 400-foot accommodation and

work barge. Knuckle cranes lowered divers on stages to the ship where

they climbed down a ladder to go inside and search each compartment.

When the divers completed the recovery of remains, they removed pollutants as required by the EPA agreement in preparation for final sinking. After 29 days and 534 dives, Navy divers recovered remains of eight

of the nine missing crewmembers, hundreds of significant personal

effects, and special material that family members requested through the

Japanese government.

The operation entered its third phase: placing Ehime Maru in her

final resting place. The barge was ballasted to a 20-foot stern draft. Four

chains from the barge were connected to the lift assembly. The barge ballasted then de-ballasted to lift and move Ehime Maru a final time. At the

selected position, the lift straps were explosively cut, and the wreck was

deposited on the seafloor in 8,500 feet of water. It was Saturday, 25

November 2001, nine and a half months after the sinking. 

The Ehime Maru operation was remarkable for its depth, technical

sophistication, and logistics. The Navy assembled a highly qualified team

to conceive of the operation, plan it, and bring together the team and

equipment from around the world to fulfill the environmental requirements and conduct the operations in less than ten months. The operation

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was also notable as an act of human compassion, kindness, and diplomacy

by a powerful nation toward those who share the sea.

Submarine Rescue of a Rescue Submarine

Many techniques of the Navy’s diving and salvage capabilities were

developed in support of or as a result of early submarine rescue work.

Rescue operations are distinguished from salvage operations by their principal focus: rescue of human life. Salvage operations start when rescue

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Navy diver on board F/V Ehime Maru.
operations are complete, either because of success or failure. Salvage

tools, techniques, and procedures, however, can and do contribute to rescuing human beings trapped under the sea.

In August 2000 the Russian nuclear guided missile submarine

(SSGN) Kursk sank in approximately 100 meters of water beneath the

Barents Sea, carrying all of the crew with her. During the frantic days

immediately after the loss of Kursk, a Russian rescue submarine of the

Priz-class reportedly attempted rescue operations to no avail. The

crewmembers who survived the initial sinking died before commencement of salvage operations that recovered the Kursk hull.

Five years later, on 4 August 2005, the Russian Navy reported that

the Priz-class rescue submarine AS–28 was entrapped in fishing nets in

612 feet of water off Petropavlovsk on the Kamchatka Peninsula. Seven

Russian submariners were aboard this 44-foot-long submersible. Russian

attempts to rescue AS –28 had failed, and the Russian government issued

an international emergency request for assistance. The first notification

to the U.S. Navy came in the early morning of 5 August. Immediately the

submarine rescue program sprang to life, and along with it the U.S. Navy

salvage program. Direction to Commander Naval Sea Systems Command

from the Chief of Naval Operations was, “Whatever we have, send it.

Pull out all the stops.” NAVSEA headquarters personnel, including

Captain Thomas Eccles of the Deep Submergence Program Office, established a command cell. Captain Jim Wilkins, Supervisor of Salvage,

immediately mobilized the Navy’s deep-ocean search and recovery assets

for submarine rescue operations.

The Supervisor of Salvage’s remotely operated vehicle Deep Drone,

capable of heavy work at depths to 8,000 feet of seawater, was being disassembled at the Phoenix International’s workshop and undergoing

extensive overhaul. The overhaul stopped, and reassembly commenced

immediately, followed by a wet-tank test dive to confirm all Deep Drone

systems were fully functioning. Deep Drone, support vans, and operators

and Lieutenant Commander Joshua Price representing the Supervisor of

Salvage headed to Andrews Air Force Base to await the arrival of the Air

Force transport aircraft—also mobilized under four-star direction—for

the trip to Petropavlovsk.

Simultaneous with the mobilization of Deep Drone, Phoenix

International told the Supervisor of Salvage that two of their oneatmosphere Newt Suits, capable of manned diving operations to 1,200-

foot depths, were fully operational and ready to go. A second Air Force

transport was sent to Mississippi to get the Newt Suits, support vans,

and operators and take them to the Kamatchka Peninsula to meet

Lieutenant Commander Keith Lehnhardt from the Navy’s Deep

Submergence Unit (DSU).

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Specialty loading equipment expedites loading and unloading of military aircraft. The equipment often does not accompany the aircraft to its

destination. Unless specialty equipment is available, rapid unloading of

military transport aircraft is next to impossible. Experience led Supervisor

of Salvage operations specialist Keith Cooper to recommend that the Air

Force stage aircraft unloading equipment at the airstrip in Kamchatka.

Because they could not communicate effectively with Russian logistics

personnel at Petropavlovsk, the Air Force saw the wisdom of Cooper’s

recommendation. They immediately dispatched a C–5 aircraft filled with

loading equipment to Kamchatka from Yokota Air Force Base in Japan. 

The U.S. Navy’s principal submarine rescue organization, Deep

Submergence Unit, commanded by Commander Kent Van Horn, was

mobilizing from its location immediately adjacent to North Island Naval

Air Station in San Diego. Although the Russian AS –28 was not compatible with either the U.S. Navy’s Deep Submergence Rescue Vehicle

(DSRV) or the venerable McCann Submarine Rescue Chamber (SRC),21

DSU’s two Scorpio ROVs, along with support vans and operators, were

dispatched to Kamchatka by Air Force flights just before SUPSALV’s

Deep Drone and the Newt Suits.

In Great Britain, the Royal Navy’s submarine rescue capability was

fortuitously fully mobilized and loaded in a C–17 transport aircraft for a

submarine rescue exercise. Commander Ian Riches, RN, and his team

deployed their Submarine Rescue Service’s Scorpio ROV and support

equipment to Petropavlovsk and were first to arrive on-scene—approximately four hours ahead of the U.S. Navy equipment. 

To their chagrin, the Royal Navy team found the Russian logistics in

Petropavlovsk not suited to rapidly unload their equipment. Thankfully,

the Yokota-based U.S. Air Force C–5 specifically deployed with aircraft

unloading equipment had arrived just before Commander Riches and his

team. The U.S. equipment unloaded the British submarine rescue equipment from its C–17 for the transport to the rescue site.

Over the next few hours, a thoroughly professional effort by the

British rescue team succeeded in deploying their Scorpio ROV to the

entangled AS–28 and making most of the cuts needed to free the trapped

rescue sub. While Scorpio was on the surface for repairs to its cutting

mechanism, AS–28 executed an emergency ballast blow. The additional

buoyant lift generated was enough to break the submarine free to the

surface. All seven Russian submariners were recovered amid general

jubilation.

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21Sometimes old technology proves the most reliable. Readers may recall the first and only other

successful rescue (other than by emergency escape into the surrounding water) of trapped submariners occurred in 1939 when 33 submariners were rescued by four sequential trips of the SRC to

Squalus stranded on the bottom in 240 feet of water (see p. 42). SRCs remain a critical tool of the

Navy’s submarine rescue inventory. 
U. S. Navy Master Diver Tom Perkins assisted in the final small-boat

recovery of the submariners, each of whom was examined medically by

Lieutenant Commander Gerald DeMers, USN, MC—a Navy diving medical officer.

Communications in any operation are critical to success, especially

rescue operations driven by depleting life-support systems. Two years

prior to the AS–28 rescue, an international military collaboration of submarine rescue professionals established the International Submarine

Escape and Rescue Liaison Organization (ISMERLO) to plan and execute

submarine rescue operations worldwide. ISMERLO proved its value in

the rescue of the AS–28 through international communications links providing status and verifiable information flow throughout the operation.

Navy salvage equipment, though normally deployed after urgent rescue

efforts are abandoned, was available and capable had it been required for

rescue. With no advance notice, Deep Drone and one-atmosphere diving

suits, along with operators and support systems, were taken to the opposite

side of the world and were ready for operations less than thirty-six hours

after tasking. The system worked just like it was supposed to.

As divers and submariners gather in Russia, the United Kingdom, and

the United States, and old sea-stories are told and retold, few tales will

be as remarkable and worthy as this tale of international cooperation to

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463

Russian Priz-class submarine rescue vehicle (sister to AS–28).
save the lives of seven brothers-in-arms who know and have faced the

perils of the deep.

Not Deep, But Scattered Far and Wide—Space Shuttle

Columbia, 2003

On Saturday, 1 February 2003, strong men wept in the United States,

Israel, and wherever people respect the adventurous. That morning the

space shuttle Columbia had disintegrated over Texas at MACH 18 speed

and 207,135 feet altitude—just sixteen minutes from touchdown in Cape

Kennedy, Florida. Her crew was six Americans and Colonel Ilan Ronan of

the Israeli Air Force. Wreckage was strewn over hundreds of square miles

of East Texas and in the rivers and lakes that abound there. Federal and

Texas agencies led by the National Aeronautics and Space

Administration, EPA, and later the Federal Emergency Management

Agency (FEMA) mobilized to collect the remnants of Columbia and find

the elusive clues to what happened and why.

On 9 February, after all the agencies agreed that the Navy’s search

and recovery assets were required, a team led by Captain Jim Wilkins,

Supervisor of Salvage, and comprised of Captain Chris Murray, Mr. Tom

Salmon, and Mr. Ridge Albaugh from Phoenix International met with

NASA, EPA, and FEMA officials and toured the search area. The senior

federal agency officials quickly accepted Captain Wilkins’s proposal to

provide both command and control of the underwater search and recovery effort, and as many teams of Navy divers as could be provided to conduct the search.

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Space shuttle Columbia breaking up during re-entry.
Searching in inland Texas was very different from searching in the

deep ocean. The prime search area had many lakes and streams, including the 289-square-mile Toledo Bend Reservoir, the largest man-made

lake in the South. The reservoir and the smaller Lake Nacogdoches (only

3.4 square miles) were the focuses of the Navy’s search. When Toledo

Bend Reservoir dam was built in 1966, the expectations were that three

years would be needed to fill the enormous Sabine Forest basin surrounding the Toledo Bend River. Three years would allow enough time to harvest forests, demolish buildings, and clear the reservoir bottom, but a

series of hundred-year storms in 1967 filled the reservoir in three months

and completely flooded the entire Sabine Forest and its towns and farms.

Virtually no harvesting of the forest took place. The reservoir had depths

greater than 110 feet with almost the entire reservoir bottom filled with

East Texas forest. It was a poor search field but a prime bass fishing location. Throughout the reservoir, dead trees over 70 feet tall stood proud

above the surface in 50- to 60-foot depths, their dense branches still

intertwined below the surface. It could not have been a tougher or more

technically challenging workplace for divers or towfish. The small shuttle

debris would be hard to find in this flooded forest. 

During the first briefing to NASA, EPA, and FEMA leadership, the

Supervisor of Salvage’s team explained the difficulties. In conditions of

this nature, there was no guarantee that space shuttle debris could be

located in Toledo Bend Reservoir. What they could guarantee was to

apply all possible search technology and techniques.

The first weeks of searching included exploring and testing all feasible search-sensor technology. Side-scan sonars of various frequencies and

beam angles had limited success. Unfortunately towing them high enough

to avoid submerged standing trees and branches made it virtually impossible to locate small debris. Autonomous underwater vehicles (AUVs)

with side-scan sonar from MDSU-Two were used below branch level in

the hope that lower clutter-density at tree-trunk depths would permit

better side-scan beam geometries. These AUVs proved to have some usefulness, but only in limited areas.22 Multibeam bathymeters23 were also

tried. Multibeam sensors with energy paths that principally look downward were useful in areas where towed side-scan sonars and AUV sensors

were not.

Using a combination of technologies, the search team developed a

remarkable ability to identify and discriminate between manufactured

objects and the myriad natural sonar contacts in the undersea forest.

With GPS navigation and sector-scanning sonar on each dive boat, dive

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22In fact, the AUVs routinely ended up stuck in branches or near-vertical mud banks from the

original riverbed as they navigated the deeper parts of the reservoir. In those cases, divers were

deployed to search for and recover the AUVs. 23A type of hull-mounted sonar that electronically scans the beam across the bottom.
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Toledo Bend final search area and target chart.
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467

teams routinely reacquired high-interest search contacts for identification and possible recovery. Diving in these waters was hard because visibility was often no more than one to two feet, and divers often had to

swim vertically down through trees and branches to reach the contacts.

Dozens of manufactured items recovered by divers were either immediately or later identified as not being shuttle debris.

To confirm that shuttle debris could be identified in the conditions,

previously found Columbia debris was placed underwater for test searches. During the test, an accidental cutting of a line between a witness buoy

and a test piece of debris caused an extensive search to find the debris—

even in a known location. Serious head-scratching and what-iffing took

place at the scene. To ensure that every feasible search technology and

technique was being exploited, a two-day assembly of experts was called

on-site. Attendees came from Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution,

Scripps Institution of Oceanography, Office of Naval Research, and

Naval Surface Warfare Center, Panama City. After two days of consulting

and participating in the searches, the panel concluded the team was

doing everything possible.

Throughout this effort Captain Murray and Chief Warrant Officer

Roger Riendeau coordinated diving efforts and assembled an effective

diving organization from nine different dive teams, including five activeduty and Naval Reserve detachments of MDSU-Two, and agency dive

teams from the EPA, the FBI, and several police agencies. Each morning

the dive teams received their target packages with charts, target identification and location, target details, and side-scan sonar images.

Most targets proved to be pre-flooding artifacts, not shuttle debris.

Possible shuttle material was categorized and turned over to NASA.

Because the Toledo Bend Reservoir was at the tag end of the debris field,

well east of the area of maximum debris, NASA realized in mid-March

that the water search was not likely to yield debris critical to the investigation. The Navy search team developed and executed a strategy to

search remaining priority areas and pushed for search completion by 15

April. The final search was conducted on 11 April and the last dive made

the following day. In slightly over two months the team had searched 23

square nautical miles of reservoir bottom and made over 3,100 dives with

no accidents.

Unlike the space shuttle Challenger search seventeen years earlier, the

Navy effort did not find the key to the Columbia tragedy. However, the

professional search in an extraordinarily difficult environment convinced

NASA investigators that no significant large pieces of shuttle debris were

in either Lake Nacogdoches or Toledo Bend Reservoir. Equally important,

the effort highlighted the agility of search and recovery capability of Navy

diving and salvage. 
NASA Administrator and former Secretary of the Navy Sean O’Keefe

toured the Toledo Bend Reservoir search and diving operation in its final

days. Surveying the enormity of the challenge and the resolve of the

divers, he shook the hand of a diver just leaving the muddy waters

through the submerged tree branches of the reservoir and said, “We owe

you a great debt of thanks for your heroic efforts.”

Pollution—Response and Prevention

In the latter half of the twentieth century, public interest in reducing

pollution and environmental damage from industrial activity began to

grow. Carriage of oil by sea attracted considerable attention as a major

source of pollution. A series of marine casualties involving tankers began

on 18 March 1967 when Torrey Canyon struck Seven Stones Reef on the

south coast of England. Pollution fouled the beaches of southern England,

the Channel Islands, and Brittany. Notable among the casualties that followed were Pacific Glory off the Isle of Wight (1970); the Atlantic Empress

and Aegean Captain collision, fires, and explosions off Tobago (1974);

Argo Merchant’s grounding and break-up off Georges Bank and Amoco

Cadiz’s breakdown, grounding, break up, and massive spill off the French

coast (1978); Burmah Agate off Galveston (1979); and Castillo de Bellever

off Cape Town (1983). The common thread in all these accidents is that

massive oil spills caused immense environmental damage, economic loss,

and public outrage.

In response lawmakers made laws and regulators regulated the oilshipping industry to prevent spills and pollution during the handling, use,

and transportation of oil. The legislation spawned a new industry made

up of those who respond to and clean up spills, develop and build

response equipment, and conduct scientific research on the cleanup techniques and environmental effects of oil-spill pollution.

Oil-spill response operations lack the glamour and clear reward of salvage and deep recovery. There is no rush of adrenalin as there is when a

stranded ship refloats or the key part of an aircraft resurfaces. Most spill

response workers perform hard, sometimes dreadfully dull work, usually

with no clearly defined end. Their satisfaction comes from doing a necessary job well and contributing to the environment in ways that cannot be

measured. 

In the early 1970s the Supervisor of Salvage responded to rapidly

escalating environmental awareness by beginning to design and procure

oil-spill equipment and keep it in a ready-for-issue condition for fly-away

salvage response to Navy oil spills anywhere in the world. As part of the

Emergency Ship Salvage Material, or ESSM, system, the equipment is

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available to support federal agencies under the National Oil and

Hazardous Substances Pollution Contingency Plan.24

There are essentially two types of pollution operations: response and

prevention. Response operations, arguably the most common type, occur

after pollutants have spilled; their purpose is to minimize the effects on

the environment. Prevention operations remove contained pollutants

before they spill. The Navy has responded to several operations of each

type. One of each is described below as examples of the Navy’s capabilities in response and prevention.

Exxon Valdez, Valdez, Alaska, 1989.

Just after midnight on 24 March 1989, the very large crude carrier

T/V Exxon Valdez departed Alyeska Terminal at Valdez, Alaska, laden

with 213,775 tons of North Slope crude. The ship ran hard aground on

Prince William Sound’s Bligh Reef.25 The grounding opened eight of the

tanker’s eleven cargo tanks. Within eight hours, 10.3 million gallons, about

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Exxon Valdez aground on Bligh Reef.

2440 CFR citation: 300.920.

25Bligh Reef and nearby Bligh Island were named for Vice Admiral of the Blue William Bligh,

RN, the man best known for being captain of HMS Bounty during her infamous mutiny in April 1789.

Bligh’s return to England included one of the most famous small boat voyages of all time. Bligh was

only 7 years old when he first went to sea but had quickly risen in rank and responsibility. By age 22,

Bligh became sailing master of Resolution, Captain James Cook’s ship, which made its third voyage to

Alaska in 1778. In 1805, Bligh was appointed Governor of New South Wales, Australia, where he was

involved in yet another mutiny. 
20 percent of the cargo, had been spilled, becoming the largest oil spill in

U.S. history.

Normally, the spill would have been the sole responsibility of the

Exxon Valdez‘s owner, but the size of the spill and the environmental sensitivity of Prince William Sound focused national and international attention on the casualty and, more significantly, on the cleanup operation.

The result was a joint government-industry partnership funded by Exxon.

While the Navy’s oil pollution equipment exists primarily to support

Navy’s missions, it may also be called upon for work of national importance. So it was in the case of the Exxon Valdez oil spill. The Navy’s

response to the casualty was immediate. The day following the grounding,

the Federal On-Scene Coordinator (FOSC) and Captain of the Port of

Valdez,26 Commander Steven A. McCall, USCG,27 requested an expert

team composed of Mr. Eric Glaubitz from the office of the Supervisor of

Salvage, an operational crew from Global Phillips Cartner, and two Navy

vessel skimmer systems to join the cleanup in Alaska. By the end of the

third week, twenty-two Navy skimmer systems had reported on-site at

Prince William Sound. Military Airlift Command flew more than 715

tons of Navy pollution response equipment—ten C–5 loads and four

C–141 loads—to Elmendorf Air Force Base near Anchorage and then

trucked them 310 miles to Valdez. The first skimmers went to work on 29

March, just five days after the spill.

Accounts of salvage cases, deep-ocean recoveries, oil-spill responses,

and similar events tend to focus on operations as the single most visible

and important factor that determines success or failure. However, a wellorganized effort involves three symbiotic elements: operations, logistics,

and command and control. Not one of these elements can be missing or

weak because a two-legged stool does not stand. To rank one element

above the other is pointless.

O P E R AT I O N S — S K I M M I N G A N D B O O M I N G

Navy skimming operations in the Exxon Valdez cleanup removed the

oil floating on the water and delivered it to a disposal site. The task sounds

simple, but three factors made the operation particularly difficult. Wind

and current spread oil more than 600 miles beyond Prince William Sound

southwest along the Kenai and Alaska Peninsula and past Kodiak Island.

The work area was huge. The fierce Alaskan weather not only prevented

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26The FOSC is the federal official in charge at any casualty or disaster operation. Normally this

is a senior Coast Guard officer for a marine casualty. The legislation covering response at the time of

the casualty was the Federal Water Pollution Control Act (as amended in 1972), now commonly

referred to as the Clean Water Act following subsequent amendments in 1977. 27Because of growing awareness of the spill’s magnitude and public concern, Rear Admiral

Edward Nelson, Jr., USCG, Commandant 17th Coast Guard District, was designated FOSC on 6

April. On 19 April, Vice Admiral Clyde E. Robbins, USCG, assumed the role.
operations at sea from moving forward or made them difficult and dangerous, but also emulsified the oil, making it more viscous when it mixed with

water and when the oil’s more volatile components evaporated. The

weathered oil tended to sink, slowing skimming and discharging from the

skimmers. To cap it off, the oil adhered to floating kelp and forest debris,

which workers in the skimming operation collected for disposal.

At Prince William Sound, the core of the Navy’s skimming fleet were

the 36-foot aluminum, self-propelled boats purpose-built to recover oil

floating on the sea’s surface. The recovery mechanism on these boats is a

rotating, inclined, sorbent belt assembly. As the skimmer moves through

the water the belt assembly intercepts floating oil. Aided by an induction

pump mounted in the hull, water drops through a filter belt, falls away

from the oil, and is discharged over the side. The oil adheres to the rotating belt until it is squeezed and scraped off the belt into a sump.28 The

skimmer either is self-propelled with aluminum sweeping plates to herd

oil into the belt, or is towed by boom-handling boats to herd oil to the

skimmer. The skimmer, in turn, may tow an oil storage bladder to receive

recovered oil. The skimmer normally carries a crew of two. In Prince

William Sound where copious, heavy, oil-soaked forest debris and kelp

were floating in oil, a third crew member removed debris from the belt.

Typically, one towboat deploys with each skimmer, and a second is

hired locally at the scene to augment the system. This method increases

operational efficiency because the local operators are familiar with the

local waters. Many chartered boats assisted with towing and provided a

temporary home for skimmer crews. One fishing boat and one boom-handling boat or two fishing boats towed the skimmers during the Exxon

Valdez oil removal.

Two Vessel of Opportunity Skimming Systems (VOSS) augmented

the 36-foot skimmer force. VOSS is a self-supporting system with two

unmanned skimmers and a V-boom towed from outriggers. It can be

deployed on any suitable host vessel—a fishing boat, offshore supply vessel, or whatever is available. On the host vessel a portable unit produces

power for the VOSS, and portable tanks receive oil. The host vessel provides accommodation, messing, sanitary facilities, communications, and

mechanical support. The primary operational limitation for VOSS is the

host vessel’s tank capacity for skimmed oil. On a host vessel big enough

for crew and equipment, and with available tankage and suitable towing

power, VOSS is an excellent tool for operations in remote areas and open

waters.

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28Most skimmer sumps hold 1,800 gallons, but twelve of the ESSM skimmers are modularized to

facilitate road transportation. The modular construction reduces sump capacity from 1,800 to 1,344

gallons. 
Early on, skimming operations were tried both day and night. Night

operations were much less efficient. Spotter aircraft, wonderfully useful in

daylight, could not direct the skimmers to the oil in darkness when oil on

the surface and water were virtually indistinguishable. Soon established,

a skim by day, maintain by night routine, with a few night’s skimming,

went on through the summer and into the early fall.

Oil booms designed for particular purposes are often used in major oil

spills for herding oil to skimmers or other places for containment or

removal, corralling oil to keep it from spreading, and protecting natural

resources and important infrastructure from contamination. Booms did

all these things at the Exxon Valdez spill. The Navy used booms, principally with the skimmers, to protect important environmental and commercial areas like the large fish hatcheries at Sawmill Bay, Lake Bay, and

Perry Island. The cleanup was another example of Navy–industry partnership and interagency cooperation. Navy-contractor crews working

from a Coast Guard buoy tender deployed protective booms with help

from fishing vessels and offshore supply boats.

The massive earthquake that shook Alaska in 1964 disrupted the

seafloor and created significant differences between charted and actual

depths. The lack of accurate seafloor information caused some unpleasant surprises when boom moorings were laid in waters where depths far

exceeded both charted depths and the mooring design depth of 200 feet.

Great tidal ranges, strong tidal flow, and the short scope of the ground

legs led to anchor-dragging and ineffective moorings. Operators solved

the problem by retrieving the dragging moorings and replacing the ground

legs and anchoring systems with field expedients that worked in the

depths at each site.

Out-of-date charts and typical Alaskan weather hindered operations,

but one natural phenomenon moved the job quickly toward completion: the massive oil spill happened in late March when daylight lasted

almost thirteen hours. The days grew longer, peaking in June at almost

twenty hours. Until late September daylight was never less than twelve

hours. Long days and short nights let skimmers work for sixteen to

eighteen hours a day, seven days a week. The skimmers performed with

almost perfect reliability, losing only 14 of almost 3,000 operating skimmer-days.29

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29The skimmers had been maintained well, exercised regularly, upgraded, and mobilized.. The

skimmer systems were considerably better at the time of the Exxon Valdez incident than when they

were acquired.
L O G I S T I C S

The bigger the job, the more important the logistics. The Exxon

Valdez cleanup was a major effort by any reckoning, and most of its logistics difficulties were exacerbated by the sheer size of the operation, its

location, the degree of development of the surrounding country, and the

facilities for the large numbers of people to be housed, fed, and otherwise

supported.

Transportation

The U.S. Air Force has the strategic airlift mission in the Department

of Defense. When it needs emergency airlift, the Navy asks the Air Force

for it. The method is fast, effective, and expensive. For the Exxon Valdez

oil spill, the first two outweighed the third.

Transportation of Navy response equipment to Valdez did not always

go smoothly. The airstrip in Valdez was too short and did not have specialized unloading equipment for the large C–5A and C–141 aircraft

deployed to transport the skimming equipment. The skimmers were

unloaded and trucked over snowy mountain roads 310 miles to Valdez.

Complicating matters, the volume of equipment and material arriving in

Elmendorf overwhelmed the transshipment facilities and systems. Exxon

took over receiving, handling, and dispersing equipment to holding areas

throughout the Anchorage area. One unexpected result was that equipment—including Navy pollution response equipment—got lost.

Managers spent days tracking it down and moving it east to Valdez. In the

end, all equipment and managers were accounted for—none were lost to

the great Alaskan bush.

Care and Feeding

Living conditions are often poor during field operations. The sudden

influx of people required not only for the cleanup but also for technical

and scientific support and command and control overwhelmed the

accommodations and eating facilities in Valdez and the surrounding area.

Berthing and messing were at a premium, never luxurious but the best

available. The fishing boats towing the skimmers hosted the skimmer

crews even though the accommodations on board were designed for boat

crews only. Some workers considered the accommodations marginal or

worse, but made do. Offshore supply vessels had better facilities and that

ultimate luxury—hot showers.

In the early days small boats working for Exxon distributed food to

vessels without the facilities to feed crews and pollution-workers. Reports

of “popcorn for dinner last night” were common. The situation improved

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greatly when Exxon began purchasing large quantities of food and distributing it to the fleet of mother ships. Neither accommodations nor messing was luxurious; they were the best available.

Alaskan weather is harsh, particularly in and on open waters where it

can change frequently and dramatically. In the beginning, response crews

tried many combinations of protective clothing and quickly determined

that Alaskan fishermen knew the right combination to keep out the wet

and the cold. Soon every worker wore jeans and a wool shirt under a

Carhartt insulated coverall, at least two pairs of heavy socks under steeltoed, Xtra-Tuff rubber boots, and wool liners under waterproof gloves.

Workers in the skimmers wore a Tyvek suit over the Carhartt coveralls

and topped it all with a life jacket.

Communications

Radio communications in Alaska—particularly line-of-sight VHF

and UHF communications—are difficult because of the size of the operating areas, mountainous topography, and relative scarcity of repeaters.

Satellite radios without tracking antennas were useless in such high

latitudes because the mountains block transmissions to low-altitude

satellites. However, satellite systems with tracking antennas worked well

enough that, backed by VHF, they became the primary means of communications for Navy skimming operations during the cleanup. Many times

skimmers were out of sight and control of their mother vessel because of

hardware or management breakdowns, with their whereabouts unknown

for several hours. “Missing” boats produce the kind of situation that

turns operations managers’ hair gray. The most effective means of on-site

operational management communication was VHF radio between spotter

aircraft and operating skimmers.

Repair and Maintenance

In any long, intensive operation with watercraft, regular maintenance

and repair are essential. During the Exxon Valdez operation, five-man

maintenance crews worked on equipment at every opportunity—usually

at night so that skimmers could operate during the day. Three offshore

supply vessels gave yeoman service as mobile maintenance and repair

bases near the skimmers’ operating area. Two offshore supply vessels had

cranes large enough to lift skimmers on deck for underwater hull repairs.

Oil-Handling and Disposal

The Navy operation towed Dracone barges—26,000-gallon tubular

storage bladders—behind the skimmers to receive oil pumped from the

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474
skimmers’ pumps. Before the Exxon Valdez cleanup, these bladders had

rarely been used in actual operations; their use in Alaska was not a roaring success. The viscous, emulsified oil and copious debris made the bladders difficult to empty. The bladders were eventually placed in a floating

drydock, which was on-site for equipment and vessel decontamination,

and pumped “in the dry,” with gravity assistance. Following this response,

the operators in the field developed a technique of lifting the forward end

of the bladders to get sufficient height for a gravity head to feed a positive-displacement, auger pump secured to the bladders’ aft end. Trash

pumps with their open impellers that pass reasonably large objects have

since proven satisfactory for pumping Dracones with considerable debris.

D E M O B I L I Z AT I O N

Demobilization was considerably less frantic than mobilization. The

order to demobilize came in mid-May when the primary emphasis shifted

from open-water skimming to beach cleanup. Equipment coming off the

work sites required thorough cleaning before returning to their base.

Skimmers were lifted and cleaned aboard a 40-by-120-foot barge moored

in Outside Bay. Later a cleaning station was set up with two small floating drydocks and facilities for lifting the skimmers out of the water for

cleaning.

Principally because of the cost, there would be no strategic airlift

home for the veteran skimmers returning from Valdez. Seventeen went to

West Coast ports as cargo on amphibious ships. Two were trucked to

Anchorage and sent on to Seattle by barge.30 The remaining two skimmers were driven by truck from Valdez to their base in Williamsburg,

Virginia.31

C O M M A N D A N D C O N T R O L

Command and control is usually clearly defined for both military and

commercial salvage operations. In operations involving several military

and civil government agencies allied with commercial operators, command and control can become confused and fuzzy. At the beginning the

Exxon Valdez response fit this description. Fortunately, organization and

procedures were shortly put in place to define and clarify command and

control.

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30Barges carry a substantial part of the cargo that moves between Alaska and the Lower 48.

31The difference between the mobilization and demobilization of the skimmers is similar to the

difference between the treatment of soldiers in war “when the trooper’s on the tide” and in peace

when it’s “Tommy, wait outside” (Rudyard Kipling, “Tommy,” 1889). 
On 7 April, about two weeks after the casualty, President George

H.W. Bush declared the Exxon Valdez oil spill a national emergency and

directed the Department of Defense to provide all facilities, equipment,

and personnel necessary for the cleanup. The Secretary of the Army

became responsible for managing all military support. Activation of the

Director of Military Support (DOMS),32 commanded by an Army general officer and staffed by all military services, provided an action agent.

Commander Alaskan Air Command, who served concurrently as

Commander Joint Task Force–Alaska Oil Spill, provided Department of

Defense command in Alaska from his headquarters at Elmendorf AFB.

The Navy’s interagency agreement with the Coast Guard for assistance during major pollution incidents and the Navy’s arrangement with

the Air Force to transport Emergency Ship Salvage Material equipment

allow the Navy to move its equipment and expertise to the scene. Once

DOMS is activated, Navy shipments of all sorts are subject to the DOMS

systems and integrated with the overall priorities for transporting available resources.

Although DOMS was activated for the Exxon Valdez cleanup, the

Supervisor of Salvage supported the Coast Guard, then part of the

Department of Transportation; it did not interface with DOD operations.

Captain Charles Bartholomew, Supervisor of Salvage, contacted the Joint

Task Force commander for approval to separate Navy skimming and pollution control operations from DOMS and the Alaska Joint Task Force

administrative and logistics procedures. This practical step saved hours of

administrative work and reporting. The Navy’s skimming operations

worked only with the Coast Guard and Exxon. The Coast Guard

approved changes that involved manning levels or logistic support, and

Exxon directed operations.

A representative from the Supervisor of Salvage headed the Navy’s

cleanup operations at all times. Eric Glaubitz started out in this position,

but other operational requirements and short-term personnel rotations

occurred. Mr. Eric Lindberg replaced Glaubitz on 7 April, and Mr. Jim

Bladh replaced Lindberg on 14 April. On 25 May Lieutenant Commander

Bill Poole, who had been assigned to oversee crew relief operations,

relieved Bladh. Finally, Captain Ed Murphree, a Naval Reserve officer

who volunteered for the assignment, arrived in mid-May, relieved

Commander Poole, and remained until demobilization in September.

The Navy’s skimming operations in Valdez were headquartered in a

room near the Coast Guard office. As the operation grew in complexity

and magnitude, a command complex of two 20-foot vans and a 40-foot

trailer replaced the small office on Coast Guard property. The huge operMUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

476

32In May 2003 DOMS transferred from the Army to the Joint Chiefs of Staff and renamed Joint

Director of Militray Support (JDOMS).
ations area—350 to 400 miles along a northeast-southwest axis—called

for subordinate naval command centers on Exxon command barges in the

north and south areas of Prince William Sound and at the Exxon command centers in the Homer/Seward area and Kodiak Island.

N O T T H E L A S T W O R D

Many people tried and failed to calculate the exact amount of oil

recovered from the Exxon Valdez spill.33 The best guess was that a little

more than one million gallons (10 percent of the 10.5 million gallons) of

spilled oil were skimmed off the water, the Navy recovering half of it at a

cost of $17.5 million.

The Exxon Valdez casualty and spill focused public and congressional

attention on the problem of spills incident to the carriage of oil at sea.

Shortly after the Exxon Valdez spill, Congress passed the Oil Pollution Act

of 1990, a comprehensive law that addresses prevention and response to

oil pollution in United States waters. Although not perfect, this law and

its enforcement have significantly reduced oil pollution from ships.

The Navy uses, handles, and transports large quantities of petroleum

products worldwide. For that reason, the Navy must be a responsible

operator and have the equipment, trained personnel, and mind-set needed to prevent and clean up spills. True environmental responsibility

demands no less. The Navy’s capability and readiness give the United

States a powerful means to supplement industry’s spill response and serve

the national interest.34

Mississinewa Oil Removal

In recent decades concern has grown worldwide about the environmental dangers of oil leakage from sunken ships left in the sea after a

marine casualty or combat loss. Removal of bunker and cargo oil to prevent environmental contamination has become common in salvage operations, and removal of oil from wrecks both old and new has grown in

importance and frequency. 

On 20 January 1944 two Japanese submarines, each carrying four,

one-man kaiten suicide torpedoes, attacked the American forward base at

Ulithi Atoll, about 360 miles southwest of Guam in the Trust Territories

of the Pacific Islands and now part of Yap State, Federated States of

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33For a multitude of reasons, accurate figures were not available. In the long run it mattered little; the effort was huge. 34During the final stages of the Exxon Valdez oil spill recovery effort, Admiral Paul Yost,

Commandant of the Coast Guard, stated during an interview that SUPSALV and the Navy equipment were one of the bright spots in the entire operation.
Micronesia. One kaiten35 struck the fleet oiler Mississinewa (AO 59) fully

laden with 3.57 million gallons of fuel oil, 378,000 gallons of diesel oil,

and 405,000 gallons of aviation gasoline.36 The resulting fire was spectacular. Mississinewa broke in two and sank.37 The smaller bow section rested on its side about 50 feet forward of the inverted stern in 130 feet of

water, where she lay undisturbed for fifty-seven years—a war grave for

three officers and sixty men. In 2001 sport divers Chip and Pam Lambert

from the San Francisco Bay area located the wreck of Mississinewa, beginning a new chapter in her story.

Four months after the hull was located, oil found leaking after a storm

was reported to be polluting part of a 183 square-mile lagoon, an important subsistence fishery for Micronesia and an attraction for a budding

tourist industry. Yap State government investigators found the source to

be Mississinewa. A state of emergency was declared at the spill site, and

the U.S. Coast Guard and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric

Administration sent teams to investigate. The Chief of Naval Operations

directed the Supervisor of Salvage to find and stop the leakage.

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

478

Oil leaking from Mississinewa’s hull.

35The Mississinewa sinking was the first and the last successful use of a kaiten. 36Rear Admiral Worral Reed Carter, USN (Ret), Beans, Bullets and Black Oil (Washington:

Department of the Navy, 1951), 261. 37When Mississinewa was burning at Ulithi, Lieutenant Commander James C. Bladh, USN (Ret)

(whose name appears often in these pages), was that day an 18-year-old sailor watching from his ship,

the heavy cruiser San Francisco (CA 38). He retired from the Supervisor of Salvage’s office with more

than 59 years of service to our country and our Navy. Thanks, Jim.
R O U N D O N E

A project team led by Mr. Jim (Doc) Ruth of the office of the

Supervisor of Salvage with members from Global Phillips Cartner (GPC),

the pollution-response contractor mobilized to Ulithi—a remote area by

anyone’s definition. Working in a remote area is never easy; surprise and

frustration abound in the simplest tasks. The difficulties of the job were

not expected to be great; NOAA had reported the leak was having only

a slight environmental impact. The task called for pumping the oil from

a pocket under a deck overhang and patching a deteriorated bell mouth

strainer that was allowing the oil to escape. 

After positively identifying the leaking wreck as Mississinewa, divers

set about removing about 1,300 gallons of oil that had collected under

the deck overhang. The big question was what to do with the oil.

Fortunately, the oil company that delivered oil to the Ulithi power plant

floated its oil ashore in steel drums, creating a large stockpile of empty

drums on the island. The Supervisor of Salvage’s representative negotiated a fair price38 for the empty drums with Ulithi people. The team

pumped the oil and placed concrete around the leaking strainer. The next

day more oil accumulated under the overhang; a leaking 4-inch valve was

the villain this time. Divers injected epoxy into the valve and placed concrete around the valve and adjoining piping. When the vessel was free of

leakage for forty-eight hours, the divers surveyed the entire wreck and

departed.

R O U N D T W O

Old wrecks have no mercy and can never be trusted. In late

December 2001 Mississinewa was leaking again. The ship’s condition was

such that additional small leaks were probable and a catastrophic release

was possible. In early 2002 the Navy mounted a second operation with

Lieutenant Commander Gregg Baumann from the office of the Supervisor

of Salvage leading a team of divers from Mobile Diving and Salvage Unit

One and contractors from GPC. GPC mobilized Smit Pioneer from

Singapore as the support vessel. During this three-week operation a third

leak was stopped. Tank surveys and sampling revealed that as much as 2.8

million gallons of fuel from the original cargo of 4.353 million gallons

could remain in the old tanks.

Two options existed: repair small leaks as they occurred, or remove as

much oil as possible, minimizing the probability of both additional small

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38The native people, who had paid $25.00 each for these drums, offered them to the Navy at

the same price—a seller’s market. Jim Ruth thought the price was too high and began protracted

negotiations. The negotiations went better after he, with superb cultural sensitivity, adopted native

dress, a thu’us, a form of loin cloth. The local people got their price—$10.00 a drum from the Navy,

$15.00 from the Micronesian government, and a promise from Mr. Ruth to put his trousers back on.
leaks and a large release. The latter was the only sensible choice. In the

fall of 2002 the Governor of Yap State formally asked the United States

to remove the oil remaining in Mississinewa, and the game was afoot.

R O U N D T H R E E

The Chief of Naval Operations once again tasked the Supervisor of

Salvage with the operation and the Commander Pacific Fleet with providing divers and a diving support ship. A fifth phase—an environmental

assessment—as required by law joined the four classic salvage planning

phases: planning, mobilization, on-site operations, and demobilization.

As with the Ehime Maru operation two years earlier, the environmental

work was to determine the operation’s potential impacts and develop

ways to minimize them. The operation went forward after a Finding of No

Significant Impact.

GPC planned detailed hot-tap39 and oil-removal operations, assembled equipment from the ESSM system, provided support vessels, and

assigned support personnel. Experience in two previous operations let

them develop a reasonably detailed operation plan that called for the

following:

• A team with surface-supplied divers from Mobile Diving and

Salvage Unit One in Pearl Harbor and Explosive Ordnance Disposal

Mobile Unit (EODMU) Five in Guam.

• Underwater hot tapping to access the oil.

• Submersible pumps pumping the oil to a receiving vessel—a tank

barge.

• Salvor and a support barge in a six-point moor over the wreck.

• Three double-drum winches to work the moor to position the floating plant.

Both the environmental assessment and subsequent briefings with the

Governor of Yap State and his staff made it clear that even in the most

successful operation some oil would cling to pipes and tanks, and oil in

inaccessible places would remain on board. The removal operation could

not guarantee no more oil leaks from the wreck, but it would reduce the

probability of a significant release to nearly zero.

In mid-January 2003 mobilization began with the Navy designating

Lieutenant Commander John Carter, the commanding officer of Salvor, as

On-Scene Commander. Salvor sailed from Hawaii with ESSM equipment

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39The hot tap is a device developed in the oil industry for cutting into and inserting a valve into

a pressurized line through which fluid is flowing. It is used in salvage for a number of purposes associated with oil removal.
and MDSU-One diving equipment. The ship called into Guam to pick up

EODMU-Five divers and equipment. 

The Operation

GPC chartered two barges in Singapore, Fels 20 and Fels 21, and two

anchor-handling tug supply vessels (AHTS), Seacor Rover and Jaya

Marlin. The vessels were outfitted with ESSM hot-tap and oil-removal

equipment from Williamsburg, Virginia, and Singapore, locally leased

equipment, and other specialized equipment, including a pair of portable

marine sanitation devices to process sanitary waste water from Salvor and

work barge berthing modules moored in the pristine waters of Ulithi

Lagoon. The AHTSs sailed for Ulithi with the barges under tow and the

Supervisor of Salvage representative, Mr. Bill Walker, and the GPC crew

under the direction of Mr. Ron Worthington on board.

The group rendezvoused at Ulithi on 1 February 2003 and began

preparing for the operation. Less than three days later the moor was laid

and the vessels were positioned and ready to work. The divers hit the

water that same day, surveying the wreck and laying a navigational grid

and a network of wires and magnets to help them position the hot taps

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481

Navy divers hot tapping Mississinewa’s tanks.
precisely. They also secured a pumping manifold to the wreck’s bilge keel

and rigged a 4-inch hydraulic submersible pump on the suction side of the

manifold. Hot tapping and pumping began following a predetermined

sequence of tanks.

The careful, thorough planning paid off. Each tank was tapped,

pumped off, and capped. The crew monitored pump discharges continuously as the tanks were discharged into Fels 21. When a significant percentage of discharge from a hot-tapped tank became water, divers secured

the pumping from that tank and prepared the next tank for pumping.

This procedure allowed any oil remaining in the recently pumped tank to

migrate through the tank’s structure to the tank top and gave the water

time to settle out from the water and oil mixture inevitably caused when

the pumping agitates the tank’s contents. The pumping process for each

tank was repeated as many times as necessary until all accessible oil was

removed. When each tank was as empty as possible, pumping fittings

were removed and holes and accesses capped to keep the curious out.

T H E R E S U LT

The operation ended successfully and well ahead of schedule. The

crew picked up their tools and went home. Seacor Rover towed the fully

laden oil barge Fels 21 back to Singapore where the 1.95 million gallons

of recovered fuel oil were sold to a petroleum processor.40 Nearly two million gallons of potentially dangerous and damaging petroleum products

were removed from an old wreck in an environmentally sensitive area.

The local population and the governments of Yap State and the

Federated States of Micronesia were satisfied that a potentially serious

pollution risk had been abated.

What value did removal of Mississinewa’s oil provide to the Navy?

The lessons that always accompany a new type of operation were incorporated into other complex oil-removal operations. The techniques used

on Mississinewa were time-consuming and expensive but were part of the

learning process. Once an oil-laden ship deteriorates to the point of leaking oil, the most operational and cost-effective action is to remove as

much oil as possible as soon as practicable.

The Navy once again showed it can undertake a non-emergency operation in a situation that threatened serious environmental damage. They

also showed an ability to work with sensitivity and respect for a culture

markedly different from their own. Perhaps most important, the Navy highlighted its ability to lead a diverse organization of uniformed naval personMUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

482

40The recovered fuel oil sold for approximately $0.50 per gallon. The revenue (approximately

$1M) defrayed operational costs. Many expressed surprise that this “old” oil had any residual value

until they realize how old all oil really is.
nel, naval civilian employees, and American and foreign nationals in a

remote area with resources from diverse sources to successfully conclude a

complex operation. The Mississinewa oil-removal operation exemplified the

power and effectiveness of the Navy-industry partnership in accomplishing

complex tasks.

Combat and Operational Casualties

Despite improvements in navigational systems and the corresponding

development of skills to use them, operational ship casualties still happen. Naval vessels are particularly susceptible when conducting operations close inshore and in waters where they seldom navigate. In the last

quarter of the twentieth century U.S. Navy ships carrying out U.S. policy

in waters where armed conflicts were in progress were in danger of intentional or accidental attack and mining. The Arabian Gulf became a very

dangerous place in 1984 when both combatants in the Iran-Iraq War

began targeting tankers carrying oil from oil ports in the Gulf to ports

throughout the world. The attacks soon spread to all tankers without

regard for their neutrality or loading port. 

The U.S. Navy maintained a presence in the area throughout the socalled Tanker War, Operation Desert Storm and its aftermath, and

Operation Iraqi Freedom. The guided missile frigate Stark (FFG 31) was

the first American combat casualty on 17 March 1987 when an Iraqi

Mirage aircraft fired two Exocet AM39 air-to-surface missiles that struck

her. The pilot claimed he had mistaken the warship for a tanker. Though

damage was severe, Stark made port with afloat fire-fighting assistance

from commercial salvors at the scene and later continued to the United

States for permanent repair. More casualties in the Gulf followed.

Samuel B. Roberts—Brave Man, Brave Ships, 1988

On 28 September 1942 at Guadalcanal, 21-year-old Coxswain

Samuel B. Roberts, Jr., USN, was killed in action while deliberately drawing fire away from trapped Marines. Coxswain Roberts received the Navy

Cross. On 25 October 1944, in the action off Samar and less than six

months after her commissioning, Samuel B. Roberts (DE 413), part of Task

Unit Taffy Three, turned toward Vice Admiral Takeo Kurita’s force of battleships and heavy cruisers. 

The Sammy B put one of her three torpedoes into the cruiser Chokai.

She also put an 8-inch turret on the cruiser Chikuma out of action with

gunfire before being sunk by 8-inch gun salvoes from the heavy cruisers

and 14-inch gun hits from the battleship Kongo. Taffy Three was awarded

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the Presidential Unit Citation. On 18 April 1988, with Coxswain

Roberts’s Navy Cross displayed in her wardroom, the third ship41 of the

name, guided missile frigate Samuel B. Roberts (FFG 58), exploded an

Iranian MO-8 mine in an undetected Iranian minefield that may have

been laid expressly for her. The spirits of Coxswain Roberts and DE 413

lived in FFG 58.

H E R O I C E F F O RT S K E E P R O B E RT S A F L O AT 

The damage to Roberts was grievous; both main engines were knocked

off their foundations, a 15-by-20-foot hole was torn in the hull, one of the

three service-generators was knocked out and a second had reduced output, and serious fires were started. There were sixty-seven personnel

casualties, six of whom were medically evacuated immediately.

Damage-control efforts centered about Auxiliary Machinery Room

(AMR) 2 where two of the three remaining fire pumps were located. If

these pumps were lost, the water for fire fighting and the eductors that

controlled flooding would be lost, too. In all probability the ship would

sink. Commander Paul X. Rinn, the commanding officer, entered AMR2 and sloshed through the knee-deep water until he came to two naked

sailors. The sailors pointed to a bulkhead where they had been patching

two holes and shoring up the fractured bulkhead. One hole was plugged

with a tool box and clothing. Commander Rinn stressed the importance

of saving the space with its critical pumps. The sailors said, “No sweat,

Captain, we got it,” giving him the look that says, “Get out of here; we

got work to do—Sir.”

The ship continued to burn and to settle deeper in the water.

Commander Rinn realized that fire-fighting water was contributing to

the sinking problem so he ordered fire fighting to stop while dewatering

continued. Relieved of the additional water inflow, the ship began to

recover her buoyancy. The fire remained contained and was eventually

extinguished. Roberts cleared the minefield using her auxiliary power

units42 and was taken under tow toward Dubai, United Arab Emirates, for

an emergency docking.43

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484

41The second ship of the name, DD 823, a Gearing-class destroyer, was commissioned 22

December 1946 and served continuously until 2 November 1970. 42The Auxiliary Power Unit (APU) is a small electrically powered, retractable propeller mounted forward on the single-screw FFGs for just such emergencies. 43Commander Rinn received the Legion of Merit for his leadership in directing Roberts’ heroic

crew in damage control and recovery efforts. On 15 January 2004 the Surface Navy Association

inducted Master Chief Petty Officer Kevin Ford, USN, into the United States’ Surface Warfare Hall

of Fame for his action as a damage control team leader on board Samuel B. Roberts. Ford was also

awarded the Navy Commendation Medal for his action.
R O B E RT S ’ H U L L D A M A G E I S A P P R A I S E D

Captain Bartholomew, Supervisor of Salvage, requested that

Lieutenant Commander Jim Wilkins, the Seventh Fleet Salvage Officer

from Subic Bay, Philippines, go to Dubai to conduct underwater damage

assessment and provide salvage assistance during Roberts’ drydocking.

Upon arrival, shipyard officials and Navy representatives determined that

Roberts’ emergency docking would occur in a graving dock some 500

meters long and 100 meters wide; at the time it was the largest drydock

in the world. Wilkins had conducted underwater damage assessment and

drydocking of damaged vessels before, but never with as much damage as

he found on Roberts. He would need all of his background and education

as an engineer and docking officer as well as the imagination and ingenuity of a salvage officer. He was ably assisted by Mr. Peter Czapiewski, a

Naval Sea Systems Command naval architect sent to Dubai to undertake

structural assessment of Roberts’ damaged condition.

Preparing for drydocking followed the same general steps as preparation of a salvage plan:

• Define the condition.

• Define the problems.

• Define the solution to each problem.

• Examine the interfaces.

• Choose the most feasible solutions.

Although an Explosive Ordnance Disposal detachment made a cursory underwater hull-assessment while Roberts was still at sea, only general damage information was provided. Lieutenant Commander Joel

Steadley and a Mobile Diving and Salvage Unit Two detachment arrived

with diving equipment, and Wilkins made an initial underwater hull damage assessment, followed by detailed assessments recorded by the MDSUTwo team. The initial survey revealed such extensive and severe hull

damage that a detailed survey was needed in order to template the hull

and build docking blocks that matched the shape of the damaged hull.

Detailed surveys showed the extent of the bottom-holing and hull-girder

deflection. The hull plating was cracked or holed from sheer strake to

sheer strake; the superstructure was cracked on both sides. Roberts had

lost virtually all of her longitudinal strength. A plastic hinge formed in

the main deck, holding the fore and after parts together—just barely.

D I F F I C U LT D RY D O C K I N G O F A N U N S TA B L E S H I P

The problems broke down into two categories: structural integrity

and stability. The structural problem was twofold: how to land the ship on

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485
the blocks without breaking her in half, and how to restore enough structure to allow her return to the United States. Alongside the pier the ship

was trimmed by the stern by 6 feet 4 inches, with an estimated mid-ships

vertical keel deflection of approximately two feet from the force of the

explosion. Any attempt to significantly recover the severe trim by shifting of weights before docking would change the magnitude of shear force

and bending moment in the damaged hull, with the potential for causing

unpredictable and possibly catastrophic hull failure. Stability problems

arose because a ship normally lands on the aftermost keel blocks first,

with the landing points moving forward as the water level decreases. The

side blocks add lateral stability well before the water in the dock drops to

the point that the ship is unstable. With the severe trim, however, Roberts

would land on keel blocks but not on the side blocks in time to prevent

rolling over as water was pumped from the dock. 

The instability problem proved rather simple to handle. The solution

completely divorced the stability and structural problems from one

another, allowing each to be solved independently. Yokohama fenders44

chained to pad-eyes on the hull effectively made the fenders a part of the

hull, thereby increasing the effective beam and the ship’s stability sufficiently for safe drydocking.45

Solving the structural problem included allowing the ship to recover

as much as possible of a straight keel condition during dewatering of the

drydock. Specially designed blocks were positioned along the keel much

farther aft than her normal docking plan required. These blocks supported the ship’s cantilevered stern, reducing the load on the broken keel

amid-ships. The ship’s weight took out some of the hog46 that the mine

explosion had put into the hull. As the ship landed on the blocks, the drydock pumps were slowed to remove water from the dock over the course

of twenty-six hours to maintain a balance between taking out the trim

and causing additional damage. As a result, the ship settled slowly and

safely on the blocks with the creaks and groans of working metal as she

straightened.47

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

486

44Large, inflatable, cylindrical rubber fenders designed for berthing ships alongside one another

or alongside piers or sea islands. Often used by tankers doing ship-to-ship transfers and in salvage

operations for discharging cargo offshore. 45This clever, though straightforward solution was suggested by the Dubai shipyard engineers,

but only after they were openly challenged during the Drydocking Conference to prove by engineering calculations their contention that Roberts would be stable throughout the docking procedure

without any assistance. Two hours later, after completing their own calculations, they confirmed the

Navy salvage officer’s prior conclusion that without special stability augmentation, Roberts could not

be safely drydocked. A revised docking strategy was developed quickly. 46Hog refers to upward deflection of the middle of the hull girder. Sag refers to downward

deflection. 47It is noteworthy that the structural and stability analyses of the Roberts were done on-scene

without specialized computer programs.
Under Navy direction, the shipyard removed much of the equipment

and piping in the damaged section and shipped it to the United States for

refurbishment. Much was ultimately reinstalled in the ship. Damaged hull

structure was removed and junked. A complete replacement section of

the ship in the area of damage from main deck to keel was fabricated and

installed. Sandbags were used to ballast the ship and to replace the weight

of equipment.48

It was time for Roberts to go back to the States, but the need for innovation was not over. Roberts would not return on the end of a tow line,

but via an innovative method that would transport her home more quickly and more securely. The oil industry had pioneered the use of heavy lift

ships to transport drill rigs across the open ocean. These ships now carried all types of plants, container cranes, relatively small ships, and the

like that could be most economically assembled at the point of origin and

delivered intact. Bob Wasalaski, a Naval Sea Systems Command naval

architect and Reserve Engineering Duty Officer, asked the right question:

“Why not bring Roberts back on a heavy lift ship?” “Why not indeed! It’s

your project, Bob, make it happen.” He did.

The 558-foot heavy lift ship Mighty Servant 2 was placed under contract. With a cargo deck of 425 by 130 feet, it was snug for Roberts, but

with some minor modifications it could do the job. Pits in the cargo deck

accommodated Roberts’ sonar dome and the running gear while her bow

overhung the stern of Mighty Servant 2. In this fashion the third brave

ship, namesake of a brave man, returned to her home port of Newport,

Rhode Island, entering Narragansett Bay early on a sunny morning bringing home the Navy Cross awarded to Coxswain Roberts.

Operation Desert Storm—Tripoli (LPH 10) and 

Princeton (CG 59), 1991

In the interval between wars hard-learned lessons are sometimes forgotten or relegated to the ash heap of “old ways”; so it was with salvage

before Operation Desert Storm. Navy salvage forces had changed drastically since the end of the Vietnam War fifteen years earlier. Many dedicated salvage ships and salvage-capable tugs had been decommissioned

without replacement. A limited number of capable salvage ships had been

built. They were supported by the air mobility of the mobile diving and

salvage units that had evolved from the harbor clearance units of the

Vietnam era and special resources that could be brought in from industry. 

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48The sand in the sandbags was imported from Qatar because of a shortage in Dubai.
N O T M I S S E D U N T I L N E E D E D

It may well be that the new generation of operational commanders

did not understand salvage forces. Or perhaps that, despite the experience at Okinawa and Kerama Retto and hard evidence of quick responses saving both Stark and Samuel B. Roberts from sinking, they did not

appreciate the value of salvage forces being on-scene promptly after combatants are damaged. The reason is unimportant. What is important is

that the 1990 operations orders for deployment of forces during

Operation Desert Shield in preparation for war, omitted salvage forces. By

the time the omission became apparent, a request for additional forces

that originated in theater was necessary.

To fill the vacuum, Captain Richard Fiske, Supervisor of Salvage,

began working with the Dutch salvage firm Smit International through

the Navy’s Western Pacific salvage contract to provide the services of the

22,000-horsepower salvage tug Smit New York to support United States

naval forces. The Dutch government agreed to pay for the services of Smit

New York as part of their contribution to Desert Storm. 

The arrangement had one drawback, a serious one. Smit New York, a

valuable asset of one of the world’s largest salvage companies, could not

enter a minefield or hostile fire area without permission from corporate

headquarters in Rotterdam. Navy salvage assets had no such restriction,

but because of a major operational blind-spot in naval war planning, they

had not been directed in-theater to provide immediate combat salvage

rescue and response. Only at the twelfth-hour was Beaufort (ATS 2),

commanded by Lieutenant Commander Kemp Skudin, ultimately directed

to the Arabian Gulf from Japan. In the interim, using the philosophy that

half a loaf is better than no bread at all, the Supervisor of Salvage

arranged for Smit’s capable and professional commercial salvage

response, albeit with significant operational restrictions. At the least, the

necessity for salvage assets had been established, the best situation practicable had been set up, and urgency had finally been established for

getting Navy salvage assets into the Arabian Gulf.

Part of the solution was in place; more combat salvage response needed to be fitted. The Sixth Fleet Ship Repair Unit Detachment in Bahrain

became the designated Force Salvage Coordinator, but the organization

did not have the salvage expertise to lead an effective effort. The

Seventh Fleet Salvage Officer, the logical choice for an Arabian Gulf

incident, was based 4,500 miles away in the Philippines, too distant to

respond well to a major casualty. The only solution was to have an experienced salvage officer in the Gulf ready to bring immediate technical

expertise to any casualty. Another important but missing element of

combat salvage response was having sufficient equipment in the area for

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

488
mobile diving and salvage units or other salvors to respond to multiple

casualties. The solution was establishing an Emergency Ship Salvage

Material presence in the Arabian Gulf to support potential major salvage

and harbor clearance operations. The means of doing this lay with someone who appears many times in these pages: Jim Bladh. Captain Fiske

launched Bladh to the Middle East with the task of finding a suitable site

for a forward ESSM base and doing whatever else possible to ensure salvage support to future naval operations. Wise people never asked Bladh

how he did something. It was better not to know. Because of Bladh’s ability, persistence, and total inability to accept an answer he did not like,

both ESSM equipment and Lieutenant Commander Bert Marsh, from

the Supervisor of Salvage office, were in Bahrain49 in early 1991 before

they were needed. Fortuitously, Beaufort had also arrived.

T R I P O L I A N D P R I N C E T O N, L O S S AV E RT E D 

On 17 February 1991 a mine countermeasure force made up of

Princeton, Tripoli, Avenger (MCM 1), Leader (MSO 490), Impervious

(MSO 499), and Adroit (MSO 509)50 was sweeping toward Faylaka Island

when fire control radars for Silkworm antiship missiles targeted the force.

The ships sailed out of missile range until coalition forces destroyed the

site, then returned to the sweeping area at 0240 on the 18th. At

0345Tripoli detonated a mine. The mine blew a 16-by-25-foot hole in the

starboard side and caused flooding that affected her aviation fuel tanks.

Tripoli’s damage-control forces responded immediately and well; Avenger

and Leader attempted to assist. Captain Patrick Shepard, the commanding officer of the Ship Repair Unit Detachment in Bahrain, sent

Lieutenant Commander Marsh and a 12-man Battle Damage Assessment

Team from Jason (AR 8) by helicopter to help.

As damage control teams worked on Tripoli, minesweepers Impervious,

Leader, and Avenger searched for more mines. Adroit had gone to lead

Beaufort through the minefield to the scene. At 0715 the situation

became more serious when Princeton, unknowingly steaming along a line

of Manta bottom-influence mines, detonated one. The first explosion

caused a sympathetic detonation three seconds later of a second mine

350 yards on Princeton’s starboard quarter.

Meanwhile, Tripoli’s situation was already under control when

Lieutenant Commander Marsh landed aboard at 1115. He determined

that no immediate stability or hull-strength problem existed and discussed future action with the engineering officer. He then advised the

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49The ESSM equipment was initially sent to Sharjah, then moved to Bahrain at the beginning

of hostilities. 50The MSOs came to the Persian Gulf the same way Samuel B. Roberts went home, on the deck

of a heavy lift ship.
commanding officer that the ship was stable, but that another mine detonation could have serious consequences.

Tripoli remained on station for several days continuing her mission

until relieved by La Salle (AGF 3) and New Orleans (LPH 11); she then

steamed to Bahrain under her own power for drydocking and repair. Prior

to Tripoli’s steaming south, however, Beaufort divers cut crack-arrestor

holes in the damaged hull plate to prevent propagation of further damage

that was being induced as Tripoli’s bow worked in the sea while at anchor.

As radio traffic had established that the damage to Princeton was serious, Lieutenant Commander Marsh offered his assistance and that of the

Battle Damage Assessment Team to Captain Edward B. (Ted) Hontz of

Princeton. Hontz needed only the salvage engineer as damage had been

contained by the ship’s force, but he thought that Princeton had structural and stability problems. The major issue for Hontz and the countermeasure task unit was Princeton’s ability to continue as Anti-Air Warfare

Coordinator until another Aegis cruiser arrived.

Marsh flew to Princeton taking advantage of the ride to get a good

look from the air at Princeton’s apparent damage and attitude in the water.

It was clear that the part most affected by whipping of the hull was the

juncture of the main deck aft with the long raised forward weather deck.

The whipping effect was exacerbated by the strength of the ship’s hull in

way of the after 5-inch gun and vertical missile launch system. The spectacular tears in the ship’s superstructure were of minor concern because

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

490

Mine damage on Tripoli’s starboard side.
the superstructure contributes little or nothing to a ship’s strength.

Damage–control parties had handled minor flooding, and stability was of

little concern. However, aft at Frame 471, buckling stretched completely

across the deck, and damage—including tearing—to the sheer strakes on

both sides of the vessel was of serious concern. Divers from Beaufort

found damaged plating on the underwater body.

Marsh took two significant actions: (1) at two-hour intervals, he

inspected the damaged structure looking carefully for changes and reported them and their implications to the commanding officer; and (2) he

created a computer model of the damaged section using the Program of

Ship Salvage Engineering (POSSE) being developed by the office of the

Supervisor of Salvage. The POSSE software needed further development,

but Marsh had brought with him structural information for classes of

ships in the Gulf. He computed the strength at the damaged section with

a high degree of accuracy by combining the program’s information with

that obtained from the ship’s drawings, as well as his own observations

and measurements of the ship. The result was not cheering. In 6-to-8-foot

seas the ship could break at the point of damage.

The structural situation on Princeton was critical, and the running

gear damage limited her mobility. Captain Hontz wisely decided that towing was his best option. Beaufort was made up to Princeton. Adroit led,

marking mine contacts with flares until they ran out and then with chemical lights on floats. In a magnificent display of seamanship, Beaufort51

snaked Princeton through the minefield in Adroit’s wake.

At the edge of the hostile fire area—27 degrees, 30 minutes north latitude—Beaufort turned the tow over to Smit New York with Commander

James Cosper, commanding officer of Mobile Diving and Salvage Unit Two

on board as liaison, and prepared for the next casualty. Princeton remained

in the area for about thirty hours acting as Anti-Air Warfare Coordinator

until relieved by Valley Forge.

52 Princeton then turned her head south to

Dubai. Lieutenant Commander Marsh remained on board to monitor the

hull. When the weather began to pick up, he recommended they head for

nearby Bahrain. Captain Hontz took this recommendation.

The Tripoli and Princeton incidents revealed several things: the

inherent toughness of United States warships, the skill of damage conInto the Twenty-first Century

491

51Lieutenant Commander Kemp Skudin, Beaufort’s commanding officer, was awarded the

Bronze Star for intrepid action during emergency salvage response and towing of Princeton through

the surrounding minefield during this operation. 52The names Princeton and Valley Forge are linked not only by geographical proximity but by

naval coincidence. The ship in this account was the sixth ship of the U.S. Navy to bear the name

Princeton for the Revolutionary War battle. The fourth Princeton was the light carrier (CVL 23) sunk

during the Battle of Leyte Gulf. The name was given to CV 37, an Essex-class carrier then under construction. That ship was to have been named Valley Forge. The name Valley Forge was later given to

CV 45, later to CG 50.
trol personnel and the effectiveness of their procedures, the usefulness of

on-scene salvage forces, and the value at the scene of a salvage officer

with both the technical training and the tools to analyze damage in real

time. 

Grounding of the LaMoure County (LST 1194), 2000

LSTs are designed to go aground to deliver vehicles and troops directly

onto beaches. They are not designed to ground offshore on rocky coasts.

Before dawn on the morning of 12 September 2000 during the annual

UNITAS exercise with South American navies, LaMoure County, one of

the last two Newport-class LSTs in the U.S. Navy,53 approached the

rugged coast of northern Chile in darkness and fog off Calerta, Cifuncho

Bay. Her mission was to put eight amphibious assault vehicles and 240

Marines ashore. Instead, she drove ashore on the rocky coastline at about

10 knots.

LaMoure County refloated quickly with the assistance of the Chilean

Fleet tug Galvarino (ATF 66),

54 but with serious damage to the keel, shell

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

492

LST LaMoure County hard aground off Chile.

53The other remaining U.S. Navy LST was Frederick (LST 1184), which also participated in the

exercise. 54The investigation that followed the grounding found that LaMoure County was navigating on

GPS alone and plotting the positions on a Chilean chart that had a different datum. Good navigation practice requires at least two different systems that may be checked one against the other.
plating, and double bottoms, including numerous holes. One hole was

almost 40 feet long and extended athwartships from the port bilge keel to

the starboard bilge keel. Four major tanks flooded and bulkheads between

the tanks buckled. All four engines were off their mounts, shafts were

bent, and propeller blades were ripped off. Damage control crews

attacked the mammoth damage while the Marines and critical equipment

were removed. Immediate concerns were structural integrity, stability,

and oil pollution. After refloating, damage control efforts continued,

while salvors, operators, and administrative commands began planning

for emergency repairs in Cifuncho Bay to make the ship seaworthy

enough for the 700-mile tow south to the Chilean naval ship yard at

Talcahuano.

S A LVA G E T E A M S A N D E Q U I P M E N T A R R I V E

The Atlantic Fleet Salvage Officer, Lieutenant Commander Jess

Riggle, arrived on-scene and began assessing damage and residual

strength using the POSSE salvage engineering program. A major effort

would be required to restore enough hull strength for the open-ocean

tow. Flooding had lowered LaMoure County’s bow six feet. This flooding

combined with bottom damage to create hogging stresses approaching the

maximum allowable in the main deck. The amphibious assault vehicles

loaded amidships were left in place to prevent an increase of hogging

stresses.

A team of Supervisor of Salvage personnel, under direction of Mr.

Michael Dean, arrived and began to develop the logistics plans for work

at this remote location. Early in the operation a local man, a former diver

who knew his way around the mining country of northern Chile, was

hired to assist with local logistics and arrangements. He was worth his

weight in fine diamonds. He knew where everything was, how to get it,

and how much to pay for it.

One of the first orders of business was getting diving, salvage, and

oil-pollution equipment into the area—the first equipment to leave the

United States was carried in a Navy C–130 that picked up the people

of Supervisor of Salvage’s diving services contractor, Phoenix

International, and underwater welding equipment in Louisiana before

the long flight to Antofagasta, the airfield nearest the casualty. From

Antofagasta it was some 120 miles on a rough road that little resembled

the freeway to the hamlet of Chifuncho, the closest settlement to the

casualty. 

Eight days after the grounding Chief Warrant Officer Tom Ross

brought in a 19-man dive team from Mobile Diving and Salvage Unit

Two. Captain Phil Beierl, their commanding officer, soon joined them.

MDSU-Two personnel, along with ESSM pollution equipment, flew in a

Into the Twenty-first Century

493
C–5 packed so full that the K-loaders for unloading the aircraft came in

an accompanying C–17.55 Once the equipment was on the ground it was

unloaded from trucks, staged on the beach, then loaded onto barges by

a mobile crane or sheer leg, and taken to the casualty for one more

transfer.

There were two major problems to be solved: restoring buoyancy in

the forward part of the casualty and restoring enough hull strength to

allow towing in the open sea.

Priority early in the operation was given to the ship’s buoyancy.56

Salvors first removed fuel from the forward tanks to bring the bow up,

reduce hull stress, and eliminate a pollution source, then patched the hull

to make the tanks watertight. Almost all the fuel tanks were open on the

bottom with oil pressed up against the tank top and into the sounding

tubes and vent line. Sea water lay at the bottom of the tank near the fuel

oil piping suctions. To complicate matters, the now-broken and damaged

fuel oil transfer piping ran through the area of greatest hull damage, and

even if the piping was intact, there was limited tankage available aft to

receive transferred oil.

The plan was to hot tap the tank tops to access the oil,57 then to

pump the oil through fire hoses to the receiving tanks. Because the

receiving tanks were small, the oil would have to be moved from these

tanks and taken away from the ship to make room for the additional oil

coming from the forward tanks. Discharge of oil from the after tanks on

the casualty to a Chilean Navy tug provided a partial solution to the

space problem, but not a long-term solution. That solution came when

some Dracone barges arrived from the States via surface ship. The same

ship then stood by to load Marines and their AAVs when they both were

unloaded safely from LaMoure County. The oil was then pumped from

LaMoure County to the large tubular storage bladders where it was held

until it could be transferred to a chartered coastal tanker.

Meanwhile, MDSU-Two dive teams, under the direction of Master

Diver Scott Heineman, and Chilean Navy divers proceeded to patch the

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

494

55The flight of the C–17 proved something many naval personnel found difficult to believe: that

the Air Force, too, could learn from experience. In early 1989, a C–5 filled with Navy pollutionresponse equipment was flown to Punta Arenas, Chile. The equipment was part of the Navy response

to a National Science Foundation request for assistance with the casualty to the Argentine Antarctic

research vessel Bahia Paraiso, which had capsized and spilled oil at Palmer Station, Antarctica. When

the C–5 arrived—you guessed it—no K-loaders; no way to unload. This hard-learned lesson appears

to have been forgotten during the frenzy associated with the 2005 rescue of the Russian submarine

AS–28, had it not been for SUPSALV operations specialist Mr. Keith Cooper. 56While most of the salvage crew was accommodated on board, some of the ESSM contract crew

thought they would be safer ashore because of the likelihood of the casualty sinking. They built themselves comfortable nests in CONEX boxes and stocked their temporary abodes with fine Chilean

wines. One wonders if their concern was safety, but does not doubt the wisdom of their move. 57As discussed earlier regarding Mississinewa oil removal in Ulithi, a hot tap is a device developed in the oil field for tapping into and inserting a valve into a pressurized line through which fluid

is flowing. It is used in salvage for a number of purposes associated with oil removal.
hull. The Chileans were enthusiastic about their work, sometimes having

as many as twenty divers working under LaMoure County. That many

divers under the ship in open-circuit diving equipment produced clouds

of breathing exhaust bubbles that inevitably found their way into the fuel

tanks where they rose through the oil to form a layer of gas just below the

tank tops. Some concern arose that the residual oxygen in the expired

breathing air would raise the air-fuel mixture in the tank into the explosive range58 where heat generated during friction stud welding for the

hot-tap machine could detonate the mixture. When field tests of the

plates revealed no problems, the work went forward.

Tanks were patched with cast-in-place reinforced concrete patches.

Lesser holes were plugged. When the tanks were patched, they were

pumped dry and all openings were secured. In six weeks U.S. and Chilean

Navy divers installed 22 patches, plugged more than 50 holes, poured 27

tons of concrete (all of which was carried in bags from the main deck and

mixed by hand by the MDSU divers), and restored 700 hundred tons of

buoyancy to the ship.

S TA B I L I Z I N G T H E H U L L

Restoration of buoyancy was not the whole job. Hull strength was

severely compromised by the massive damage—shell plating had been

destroyed over a substantial area and the majority of longitudinals below

the first deck were torn out or buckled. Damage control crews did a

Herculean job of shoring the tank tops, but the ship was so structurally

unstable that restoration of buoyancy had induced cracking, mostly in the

superstructure. Adding steel on the bottom to restore hull strength was

absolutely necessary.

Three box girders were built in the Chilean naval shipyard at

Talcahuano and trucked to the salvage site. The girders, 72 feet long by 3

feet wide and deep, weighed 16 tons each. The girders were trucked in

36-foot-long sections that fit the longest trucks available and were the

longest length suitable for the roads.

To prepare for the girders, divers trimmed large pieces of plate hanging under the hull in way of the installation and the path of the girder

under the ship. The girders were transferred to barges, welded together,

and taken alongside LaMoure County where divers trimmed them to

match the template of the installation area. The damage was so severe

that the forward and after sections of the ship moved relative to one

another. The movement was a problem for the welders laying root passes

Into the Twenty-first Century

495

58Air-fuel mixtures are explosive only when certain percentages of air and fuel are present.

These mixtures are known as the “explosive range.” Mixtures that contain too low a percentage of

fuel or too high a percentage of air to explode are known as “too lean.” Mixtures that are the opposite with too low a percentage of air or too high a percentage of fuel are known as “too rich.” 
for the box girder. With some effort the movement was controlled and the

box girders were secured with over one mile of weld bead applied underwater. Large towing-padeyes were welded on and LaMoure County was

ready for tow.

On 28 October, five weeks after running aground, LaMoure County

got underway under tow by the Chilean icebreaker Oscar Viel Toro. She

arrived at Talcahuano on 31 October. This was her last port, as repair of

hull and machinery was found to be uneconomical. On 10 July 2001, exLaMoure County was sunk as a target during the annual UNITAS exercise. She absorbed gunfire and several missile hits before being finished

off by submarine-launched torpedoes.

The LaMoure County operations presented classic aspects of salvage

of a heavily damaged ship—restoration of buoyancy and watertight

integrity and restoration of structural strength.59 Laptop computers and a

specialty salvage engineering program (POSSE) allowed rapid completion

of analyses and quick examination of the effects of a variety of scenarios.

Removal of fuel and other pollutants from casualties is a relatively new

but ubiquitous requirement in salvage operations. The field use of the hot

tap in close quarters demonstrated both its effectiveness and the difficulties with the relatively large equipment. Experience with the hot tap in

the field led directly to the development of the smaller, diver-friendly

equipment described earlier for the Mississinewa oil removal operation at

Ulithi in 2003. Central to the operation was the logistics necessary to

move the required people and equipment to the remote location, keep

them there, and use them effectively.

Terrorist Attack—Cole (DDG 67) in Yemen, 2000

On 12 October 2000, exactly one month after LaMoure County

grounded in Chile, a small boat pulled alongside a haze gray hull at the

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

496

59The LaMoure County operation was a typical grounding casualty with techniques that are general to salvage operations. It bears comparison with how a commercial salvage operation would be

handled in a similar situation. Commercial salvage is heavily dependant upon insurance. As the Navy

is effectively self-insured, the operation goes forward seamlessly with the decision about the casualty’s fate being made at the end of the operation. Commercial vessels are insured by two very different types of insurance, hull or property insurance and P&I, or liability insurance. Hull underwriters

pay for salvage operations to return the ship to service, but only pay for services when the value of

the ship exceeds the cost of the salvage operations and cost of repair. Otherwise the ship is declared

a Constructive Total Loss, or CTL, and the hull underwriter pays the owner for the loss of the ship.

To reach this decision a surveyor skilled in such matters attends at the scene and makes a recommendation to the insurer. Upon declaration of a CTL the casualty becomes a “wreck.” The responsibility for pollution and wreck removal lies with the liability insurer. The liability insurer hires a contractor to remove the wreck, if that is required, or takes whatever action is necessary to satisfy the local

authorities. Pollution considerations have caused some blurring of the clear line with some work in

oil removal being done during the salvage operation. Traditional salvage contracts can now be modified to accommodate pollution response during active salvage operations and to provide for special

compensation being paid to the salvor for pollution prevention.
fueling dolphin in Aden, Republic of Yemen. The first suicide attack on a

U.S. Navy ship since the last kamikaze in 1945 was underway. The two

occupants of the boat stood, faced one another, saluted, and detonated

their explosive device. Seventeen sailors were killed, thirty-nine injured,

and Cole suffered serious damage.

The Navy immediately responded by sending seven ships of various

types, including USNS Catawba (T-ATF 168), to Aden to provide medical facilities, force protection, technical assistance, and logistical assistance to Cole.

60 Commander Fifth Fleet personally dispatched

Commander Pat Keenan and Lieutenant Commander Matthew Long, his

Fifth Fleet Salvage Officer, to Aden to lead salvage operations on Cole.

Both Keenan and Long were engineering duty officers with diving and

salvage subspecialties. The two officers immediately made a damage

effects analysis with POSSE and sent their results to the Supervisor of

Salvage for confirmation. Mobile Diving and Salvage Unit Two,

Detachment Alfa, led by Chief Warrant Officer Frank Perna, was on a

routine deployment to U.S. Sixth Fleet and was immediately flown to

Yemen with both SCUBA and surface-supplied diving equipment.

Commander Barbara Scholley, prospective commanding officer61 of

MDSU-Two, also went to the scene, as did a team of shipfitters, riggers,

welders, and structural and gas-free engineers from Norfolk Naval

Shipyard who provided a heavy industrial capability. Decisions regarding

where and when to conduct repairs included considerations of ability to

do repair work in Aden, and if return to the States under tow or on board

a heavy lift vessel was preferable. Meanwhile, work to stabilize the ship

and to recover the remains moved ahead.

Working closely with Commander Keenan and Lieutenant

Commander Long, and using the extensive underwater ship husbandry

experience of CWO Perna, the MDSU-Two team set up surface-supplied

diving operations on the portside main deck, directly over the bomb blast.

Divers first entered the open area of the forward main engine room

through the blast hole to search for victims’ remains. They then had to

use innovative entry and tending methods through an exhaust trunk to

reach the flooded engine room’s lower level to find and recover all the

victims.

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60In addition to Catawba, ships ordered to Aden to assist Cole were Donald Cook (DDG 75),

Hawes (FF 53), Camden (AOE 2), Anchorage (LSD36), Duluth (LPD6), and Tarawa (LHA 1). 61Immediately prior to the attack on Cole, Commander Phil Beierl, Commanding Officer

MDSU-Two, was deployed with other elements of the unit to Cifuncho Bay, Chile, in support of salvage of LaMoure County (LST 1194). Commander Scholley, identified as the next commanding officer of MDSU-Two went to Yemen to assist in recovery of Cole.
MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

498

A Navy diver is about to enter Cole’s lower-level, flooded engine room through the

upper-level gas turbine inlet trunk.

The port-side damage to guided missile destroyer Cole after a suicide bombing.
By 19 October diving, salvage, and shipyard crews had recovered the

remains of all seventeen victims, shored bulkheads forming flooding

boundaries, and completed underwater and topside surveys and sent the

results to the Naval Sea Systems Command so repair planning could

begin.

With initial battle damage assessment and response complete, and

repair planning underway, the primary debate focused on which means,

towing or afloat heavy lift, was best for returning Cole to the United

States.

Aden was not the best place in the world to patch a U.S. Navy warship for towing. Cole remained under threat of attack as did supporting

U.S. forces. No industrial facilities in Aden could build the patch. If local

repairs for towing were to be undertaken, one of the more industrialized

locations in the Gulf would build the patch, which would then be taken

to Aden for installation. The team from Norfolk Naval Shipyard would

require augmentation to fit and install the patch. At Cole’s location at the

fueling dolphin, boats would move all people and equipment, and floating cranes would handle the equipment. People and equipment coming in

from other countries would probably not move quickly from the airport to

Cole. It all added up to time. The best estimate for installation of the

patch—three weeks.

On the other hand, the heavy lift ship Blue Marlin had just delivered

two of the U.S. Navy’s coastal minehunters, Cardinal (MHC 60) and

Raven (MHC 61), to Bahrain and was still in the Gulf. The Norwegianowned Blue Marlin was capable of lifting Cole. Blue Marlin’s transit time

to Aden was five days, which could be used to build blocks and sea fastenings for Cole. The heavy lift choice eliminated the logistical and operational problems of working in Aden. There were no downsides to using

a heavy lift ship. Blue Marlin’s owners, Offshore Heavy Transport of Oslo,

Norway, were willing. The Military Sealift Command62 chartered Blue

Marlin. Captain Bob Wasalaski once again led a heavy lift planning team

from the Naval Sea Systems Command and flew to Oslo to conduct planning and engineering in advance of boarding Blue Marlin in Dubai. All

equipment and materials required for the heavy lift of the severely damaged warship had to be carried on board Blue Marlin to the loading site.

Cole would be docked bow-to-stern on Blue Marlin at an angle of 17.5

degrees to the lift ship’s centerline. This position was necessary because

Cole’s sonar dome would not clear Blue Marlin’s pontoon deck even at full

submergence. A keel block height of 0.4 meters was chosen for stability

and load distribution. This height required cutting holes in the deck to

accommodate Cole’s propellers that extend well below the baseline.

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62The Military Sealift Command (MSC) is the agency that normally charters commercial vessels for the Navy.
Lastly, the guide towers integral to Blue Marlin were repositioned to aid

in alignment during loading and to provide lateral support for the ship.

Because of the angle of Cole relative to Blue Marlin’s deck, and the low

blocking, three divers had to be in the water during loading, one on each

side to observe the fit on the blocking, and one at the stern to observe the

propellers entering the holes in the deck.

In Aden, preparations for the lift were made on board Cole, and the

salvage force looked for a suitable loading spot. They found one near

enough to perfect in Bandar Imran Bay 25 miles west of Aden where the

depth was 23 meters and the location was protected from prevailing

winds and seas. Optimally, Cole would arrive at the site with Blue Marlin

ballasted down and awaiting immediate loading.

On 29 October, the day after LaMoure County left Cifuncho Bay

under tow, four tugs assisted Cole out of Aden. When clear of the harbor,

they passed the tow to Catawba, which headed for the load site with two

escort tugs retained to handle Cole during loading. Loading began on

arrival as planned; by late evening Cole was fully landed and ready for sea

fastening—the work to keep her secure in any seas that might be encountered during the transit. On 5 November, with sea fastening completed,

Blue Marlin and Cole got underway for Pascagoula, Mississippi, where the

destroyer was built.

Blue Marlin, carrying the severely damaged Cole, arrived on 13

December. A 60-foot-square steel patch was welded to Cole’s hull. On the

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USS Cole rests dock-wise on board heavy lift ship Blue Marlin.
evening of 24 December she was unloaded from Blue Marlin at Ingalls

Shipyard. On 19 April 2002 she returned to the fleet rebuilt, upgraded

and more dangerous to her enemies than before. A passageway on the

serving line in her mess decks bears seventeen white stars embedded in

blue tile memorializing the men and women who died in her.

Preparation for Iraqi Freedom, 2003

Preparation for Iraqi Freedom differed from that for Desert Storm.

Salvage was not omitted from operations orders, and salvage assets were

available at the outset of the war. Task Force 56, established in the Gulf

and commanded by Captain Mike Tillotson, Commander Explosive

Ordnance Disposal Group One, contained detachments from EOD

Groups One and Two and from Mobile Diving and Salvage Units One

and Two. Commander Bill Robertson, Commanding Officer MDSU-Two,

was assigned as Commander Task Group 56.1—Salvage and Diving

Operations and Marine Environmental Recovery Operations.

MDSU-One and MDSU-Two each provided a detachment of salvors

led by Chief Warrant Officers Eric MacDonald and Richard Cavey,

respectively. Grapple and Catawba were in the area as was USCGC Walnut

(WLB 205), a buoy tender converted to support oil-skimming operations.

In advance of action, command and control decisions were made to link

U.S. and coalition salvage forces—principally from the British Ministry of

Defense’s Salvage and Mooring Office led by Morgyn Davies. The linking

maximized theater-wide salvage and diving effectiveness—a lesson

learned in World War II.

As in Desert Storm, the Dutch government offered the U.S. Navy the

services of commercial salvage ships through Smit International. The

Smit Labuan and the Smit Lumut responded to U.S. Navy and coalition

tasking throughout the conflict and provided assistance in and around

the ports of Umm Qasr and Az Zubayr.

The war in Iraq was far different from the Navy’s last major war in

Vietnam. Much of the difference came from geography. Vietnam with its

3,444-kilometer coastline and elaborate river systems and deltas, particularly the Mekong and Red River deltas, presented a tablet upon which a

complex naval warfare story—including salvage—could be and was written.

Iraq was no such tablet. It is basically a desert with but 58 kilometers of

coastline and a limited number of rivers, not all of which are navigable.

Nevertheless, salvage support was needed in this war because wherever

there is water something will get into it that has to come out. So it was

with Iraq. Navy salvage forces were there. The following pages describe

several jobs and list others that were typical and made salvors’ days in

Iraq interesting. 

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501
Seabee divers under the command of Underwater Construction Team

(UCT) One operated in support of U.S. Marine Corps expeditionary

operations and helped the MDSU-One team as soon as the team arrived

in Umm Qasr. Several sunken Iraqi Coast Guard patrol boats provided

the initial salvage work that called the MDSU team and the UCT from

Kuwait to Umm Qasr, Iraq. The vessels appeared to be old Coast Guard

assets, but in truth were cleverly disguised mine-laying craft. Sunk at the

southernmost tip of Iraqi waters with mines on board, they effectively

blocked access to the Khawr Az Zubayr waterway and the ports of Umm

Qasr and Az Zubayr. A steel awning on the stern covered the mine

deployment racks and mines. Most of the boats were sunk pier side or in

the mud flat and were easy to beach using old crane wire and the winch

on the UCT’s 7-ton tactical trucks (MTVRs). However, one patrol boat

sank in the channel alongside the dredge cut, with four LUGM mines—

each with 1,200 pounds of high explosives. This boat prevented coalition

shipping from entering Umm Qasr and, more important, prevented the

British humanitarian relief ship, Sir Galahad, from delivering aid promised publicly. 

The salvage work was challenging. In the classic mold of wartime

clearance operations all the wire rope and tackle was scrounged throughout the port. Each day in the morning and after work, the combined

teams traveled in convoy from the coalition forward operating base in the

port out into the town and then through neighborhoods to get to the old

port and Iraqi Coast Guard Station. With people out begging, looting, and

blocking intersections, the drive was never routine. The UCT divers took

the lead on convoys and security for the first few days and then trained

the MDSU detachment in tactical expeditionary matters, including

securing and maintaining defensive perimeters. After several days UCT

and MDSU detachments combined security, diving, and salvage watch

bills.

R E T R I E V I N G I R A Q I PAT R O L B O AT S

The boat that sunk with mines on board provided the toughest challenge. First attempts to rig a large snatch block borrowed from a crane to

a fairlead from a nearby pier and to pull the boat to shallow water resulted in parting several wire ropes; lifting from the cohesive mud was

required. Greatly complicating the lift were the mines stowed on the stern

racks. 

The plan was to first beach the boat and then remove the mines.

Wisely, salvors found shelter before taking the wire to power with the

MTVR—all except the MTVR driver! Removing the mines became the

priority when the plan changed to lifting the boat. Unfortunately, the

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502
steel awning above the stern racks prevented direct removal of the mines,

and the current associated with rapid tidal movement of 6 to 12 feet

every six hours allowed only one hour of safe diving per day. 

Tide and time wait for no man, especially salvors in a war zone.

Pressure was mounting to get the port of Umm Qasr opened, so the divers

decided to cut the steel awning and raise, tow, and beach each mine individually. It was not an easy task in zero-visibility water and high currents

with limited diving time. Several futile days passed trying to cut the pipe

racks with hydraulic grinders. The divers ultimately concluded there had

to be a smarter way to remove the racks than leaning up against a mine

with a grinder in the current and working by feel. Fortunately, the salvors

found a big pipe cutter in a local warehouse, and they cut the remaining

pipe free and lifted the awning off the boat. With free access to the surface, Australian EOD technicians safely removed the mines.

The remainder of the job was more conventional: Raise the boat

and beach it. After salvage calculations were made on an MRE napkin,

two Yokohama fenders were rigged to the sunken boat and to a small

pusher boat to make a tidal lift. By successive lifts, the wreck was lifted and removed from the channel, permitting humanitarian shipments

to proceed.

A H E L I C O P T E R , A TA N K

The UCTs also operated independently from the MDSU teams.

Elements of UCT-Two traveled north to Babylon to assist in recovering a

downed Marine CH–46 helicopter from the Babylon River. Marines provided perimeter security. The Army Corps of Engineers lowered the river

level by closing floodgates on a local dam, but the currents remained

treacherously swift. UCT divers, deployed from an inflatable boat

anchored securely upstream of the estimated underwater crash location,

and tended SCUBA divers swept back and forth across the river until the

downed CH–46 was located. Divers recovered bodies from the helicopter

and then weapons and ammunition before rigging the airframe for lift.

Approximately three days into the war the Marines lost an M1A1

Abrams battle tank in the Euphrates River. It had plummeted more than

50 feet off a bridge into the river, landing upside-down and submerged in

water and mud. UCT-Two was in the area and immediately responded

with surface-supplied diving assistance. Because an intense battle continued in nearby an-Nasiriyah, Marines provided security around the dive

site with HUMVEES armed with TOW missiles and automatic weapons

and augmented by several M1A1 Abrams tanks. After locating the tank,

UCT-Two divers used the M-88 Tank Retriever’s main winch to commence extraction, which required parbuckling of the inverted tank and

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503
adding a second M-88 Tank Retriever and a bulldozer to pull it from the

mud of the Euphrates.

P O L L U T I O N R E S P O N S E 

Pollution-response resources, including Walnut, were in the Gulf

because the Iraqis had intentionally released oil into the Gulf during Desert

Storm. Repeating the tactic could disrupt coalition tactical and logistical

operations, put desalinization plants out of service, create the possibility of

large fires on the water’s surface, and cause an environmental disaster

throughout the region. The Supervisor of Salvage’s pollution response team

led by Jim Ruth responded with five Marco-class open-water skimmers with

seven miles of 35-inch inflatable offshore oil-containment boom, vans, and

workboats. A total of 550 short tons of equipment was prepositioned in the

theater of operations via nine C–5A air transports. The 18-man ESSM contractor team, led by Mr. James (Jimmy-John) Johnson, was supported by a

deck barge for diving, several support craft, and a 4.2-million-gallon

capacity tanker that could be used as a holding tank for recovered oil. The

Supervisor of Salvage team63 worked in conjunction with an element of the

USCG Strike Force.

The most likely points of origin for such spills were two large offshore

terminals: the Mina al-Bakr Offshore Oil Terminal and the Khawar alAmaya Offshore Oil Terminal. Mina al-Bakr was actively loading tankers

as part of the United Nation’s Oil for Food program. Khawar al-Amaya

had been disabled during the Iran-Iraq War but was believed to still have

up to 25 million gallons standing in her supply and feeder pipelines,

which could be gravity discharged into the Gulf. If they were pumping

under pressure, the two terminals could potentially discharge ten times

that amount—over a quarter of a billion gallons—each day.

In the original concept, pollution equipment would protect the

desalinization plants that ring the Gulf from intentional, combat-produced, or accidental spills that could foul plants. Before hostilities, an

offensive concept was adopted to allow for mobile deployment of boom

and skimmers around the oil terminals so as to limit the size of the areas

affected by intentional releases from the terminals. The revised plan

required greatly increased mobility of both the oil response team and the

enormous volume of specialized equipment. Comstock (LSD 45) was well

suited for that operation with her well deck, stern gate, and capacious

berthing. The entire team and equipment embarked Comstock in readiness for immediate response.

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63The Navy contractor team members were all volunteers who entered the war zone and could

have been called upon to support operational forces as required.
When hostilities began, special operations forces secured both the oil

terminal and the onshore manifolds, eliminating the possibility of intentional release of oil into the Northern Arabian Gulf.

Coalition diving and salvage forces continued performing the myriad

jobs of modern wars, for example:

• Inspecting damage when coalition ships “touched bottom.”

• Removing fin stabilizers from a special warfare craft to allow it to

operate in shallow water.

• Recovering helicopters that had collided over the Gulf.

• Recovering a downed AV–8B.

• Supporting countless other unsung operations ultimately critical to

mission success.

Thus, as they have throughout the history recorded in this volume,

Navy salvage forces met a constantly changing situation head on and

solved its problems with technology, a disciplined approach, sound thinking, imagination, and well-chosen and well-placed equipment.

Maritime Disaster Response

Salvage operations and maritime disaster-response have a long history of close association. For centuries, as natural disasters occurred along

populated coastlines, salvors—either ad hoc or professional—assisted in

recovery operations. But in the aftermath of the attacks of 11 September

2001 against the United States, another maritime disaster threat–terrorism–entered the picture. 

9/11: Disaster Preparedness Comes of Age 

In late 2002 Captain Jim Wilkins, Supervisor of Salvage, concerned

about potential terrorist threats to U.S. commercial ports, asked members

of the Marine Board of the National Academy of Sciences to address the

impact on the nation of such an event. The hypothetical scenario that

they posed was of several simultaneous attacks by terrorists on commercial ports similar to the three air attacks of 9/11. Concerns included:

• The consequences of strangling the main shipping arteries of the

world’s largest economic engine. 

• Whether or not existing U.S. commercial salvage firms could

respond with adequate capability and capacity for heavy salvage in multiple ports simultaneously.

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• Adequacy of command and control and related policy issues of

coordinating salvage response across the many local, state, and federal

stakeholder agencies and regions.

The Marine Board immediately recognized the criticality of the threat

and convened a formal workshop with representatives of industry, government, and academia on the salvage response to a terrorist threat.

Their report, Marine Salvage Capabilities: Responding to Terrorist Attacks in

US Ports—Actions to Improve Readiness, included a fictional scenario of

multiple, simultaneous terrorist attacks on the ports of New Orleans,

Baton Rouge, South Louisiana, and Houston. Their recommendations,

like those of so many reports, for national-level policy changes and realistic multi-agency exercises went largely unheeded.

Standing Up to Katrina and Rita

Wreaking widespread destruction is not the sole domain of terrorists.

On 18 August 2005, after years of warning, the city of New Orleans and

the entire Gulf Coast region of Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama were

decimated by Hurricane Katrina. Reeling from near-complete destruction

by Katrina’s 25-foot storm surge at center of landfall on the Mississippi

coast, most of the surrounding Gulf Coast was incapacitated by this 400-

nautical-mile-wide natural weapon of mass destruction.

Anticipating Katrina’s disaster potential forty-eight hours in advance

of landfall, Captain Frank Paskewich, USCG, Captain of the Port of New

Orleans, evacuated his command to an alternate Incident Command

Center in Alexandria, Louisiana, and asked for representatives from the

American Salvage Association to join his command team. The morning

after the storm, imagery from over-flight surveys staggered the assembled

salvage representatives. Although few deep-draft vessels were affected,

thousands of barges and smaller commercial vessels littered the shorelines

and banks of the lower Mississippi River and all of its interconnecting

waterways.

Due to the enormity and expanse of the coastal disaster, the

Department of Defense was authorized to stand up Joint Task Force

Katrina to provide an emergency disaster and humanitarian assistance

response. JTF Katrina forces included Mobile Diving and Salvage Unit

Two, Grapple, Naval Coastal Survey Team (NCST) One, and an international team of French and Canadian military divers. 

As reports of the scope of storm damage reached Washington, D.C.,

the Supervisor of Salvage, with the energetic endorsement of his boss,

Vice Admiral Paul Sullivan, proposed through the senior staff of the

Chief of Naval Operations to take a small team to provide regional comMUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

506
mand and control of military and commercial salvage response along the

affected Gulf Coast states. The CNO immediately endorsed the plan and

proposed to the Secretary of the Navy and the Office of the Secretary of

Defense to offer the Navy’s services to assist the Department of

Homeland Security. The Acting Deputy Secretary of Defense64 called the

Deputy Secretary of Homeland Security to formally extend the offer; it

was accepted immediately. Anticipating approval, Captain Wilkins and a

small team of four others (Captain Mike Herb, USN(Ret.), Lieutenant

Commander Carl Parks, Mr. Rick Thiel, and Mr. Geoff White) had

already gone to USCG Sector New Orleans Incident Command Center in

Alexandria, Louisiana. A broad variety of Emergency Ship Salvage

Material equipment was mobilized to the Gulf Coast. The Office of the

Oceanographer of the Navy deployed Lieutenant Commander Sean

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507

Empire, Louisina, after Katrina.

64Mr. Gordon England, Secretary of the Navy, was serving his second tour. He had previously

served as deputy secretary of the newly established Department of Homeland Security (DHS)

between his two SECNAV appointments. Coincidentally and fortuitously, England had also recently

been nominated by the President to serve as Deputy Secretary of Defense and was simultaneously

serving as SECNAV and Acting Deputy Secretary of Defense while awaiting final Senate confirmation for the number two DOD position. This unusual but key assignment to both positions (SECNAV

and Deputy SECDEF) and his former appointment to the number two position in DHS made for near

record-setting streamlining of the decision-making process to assign the Supervisor of Salvage under

DHS to coordinate a regional salvage response to Hurricane Katrina.
Memmen as an expert hydrographer to help coordinate underwater channel and offshore surveys. The Supervisor of Salvage mission read:

Under the direction of FEMA, provide coordinated strategic direction of

national assets for KATRINA-related hydrographic survey and marine salvage response in selected offshore areas, channels, waterways, ports and harbors, with an ultimate goal of critical maritime reconstitution consistent

with FEMA priorities. National assets include the major capabilities of

industry, DoD and other Federal agencies for hydrographic survey, marine

salvage, and oil pollution abatement.

As CWO3 Rick Cavey directed an advance MDSU-Two team already

in the area, Grapple, commanded by Lieutenant Commander Kevin

Brand, got underway from Little Creek, Virginia, with Joint Task Force

Katrina. CWO4 Jeff Zagurski coordinated task-force diving and salvage

assets on board the JTF flagship. Several days into the operation,

Commander Glenn Allen, Commanding Officer MDSU-Two, arrived and

took command of all JTF military diving and salvage forces as

Commander Task Group 20.1.7.3, including NCST-One and the international diving teams. Collectively this task group responded magnificently

to local emergency underwater survey and channel and harbor clearance

throughout the region, assisting local authorities in opening Pascagoula,

Mississippi; Harrison County, Mississippi; and Mobile, Alabama—more

than 165 nautical miles of waterway survey and clearance.

While CTG 20.1.7.3 provided local emergency-response services, the

Supervisor of Salvage provided coordination of commercial salvage services

to the Coast Guard and Army Corps of Engineers65 for a broad variety of

taskings. Federal response to Hurricane Katrina was guided by the inaugural use of the National Response Plan (NRP) developed after the terrorist

attacks of 11 September 2001. In spite of earlier efforts by the Supervisor

of Salvage and the Marine Board of the National Academies of Sciences

to include consideration of terrorist-related, catastrophic marine emergencies in federal policy, the NRP made no mention of maritime salvage

response. As a result, the coordination of federal, state, and local agencies

in clearing and cleaning up the Gulf Coast waterways remained largely an

on-scene, ad hoc effort driven by the combined leadership of the

Supervisor of Salvage and the Coast Guard on the waterfront.

Ultimately work-arounds were developed, and in Louisiana agreement was reached between FEMA, the Coast Guard, and the Army Corps

of Engineers to task the Supervisor of Salvage for all federal vesselMUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

508

64The Army Corps of Engineers has authority to remove wrecks in federally maintained channels and waterways. The Coast Guard has authority to remove stranded or sunken vessels (and/or

their cargoes), including wrecks, as necessary to properly respond to actual or threatened pollution

of the navigable waters of the United States.
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509

A Navy diver in a contaminated-water suit enters the Industrial Seaway in Gulfport,

Mississippi, for clearance operations.

The rescue and salvage ship Grapple recovers sunken aids to navigtion in Mobile Bay,

Alabama, after Hurricane Katrina.
removal operations incident to Hurricane Katrina. The office exercised

their Atlantic/Gulf Coast salvage-region contract with DONJON Marine

to perform the job. Specific to the tasking was direction to DONJON to

make maximum efficient use of the assembled capabilities of U.S. commercial salvors, plus a particular effort to identify capable local contractors to engage in local clearance operations.

With tasking for Louisiana in place, the Supervisor of Salvage met

with Alabama and Mississippi officials responsible for Hurricane Katrina

recovery to explain the Louisiana operations.66 En route back to

Louisiana from meeting with Alabama officials, he received a call from

the Coast Guard District Eight staff: “Whatever you’re doing to support

us in Hurricane Katrina, we want you to do for Hurricane Rita as well.”

Hurricane Rita was barreling due west across the middle of the Gulf of

Mexico, her sights set on the Texas ports of Galveston and Houston67; at

that point in her journey, Rita was the largest and most severe storm ever

recorded in the Gulf. Three weeks after the historic disaster by Katrina,

it seemed that it was going to happen all over again, but this time in

Texas.

Fortunately Hurricane Rita decreased in severity and, to the relief of

Galveston and Houston, took a decided turn to the northwest, largely

missing both cities. But in tragic irony, Rita slammed into Louisiana—the

second major hurricane to do so in three weeks—as well as the East Texas

coastline. Hurricane Rita devastated areas in the immediate vicinity of

landfall between Port Arthur, Texas, and Lake Charles, Louisiana, similar

to damage left further to the east three weeks earlier by her storm-sister,

Katrina.

Military and commercial salvors alike emerged from local bayous and

inland waterways where they had taken refuge from Rita’s fury and continued survey and recovery operations in areas of Hurricane Katrina

damage. At the same time they initiated survey and recovery operations

in Hurricane Rita damage areas. After four nonstop weeks of emergency

response, Joint Task Force Katrina was recalled; the longer-term maritime recovery continued through FEMA, the Coast Guard, and Army

Corps of Engineers employing the Supervisor of Salvage to direct federal salvage operations. On 31 January 2006, six months after Hurricane

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

510

66FEMA responders were deployed to each affected state—Louisiana, Mississippi, and

Alabama—individually. Accordingly, policies governing operations and funding were largely orchestrated differently by each state’s organization and agencies. Recognizing this dilemma, the Supervisor

of Salvage’s mission to “coordinate strategic direction of national assets” mandated individual coordination with each state. Ultimately, and for differing reasons, Mississippi and Alabama officials

undertook salvage operations separately. 67Ironically, the projected Hurricane Rita landfall ports of Houston and Galveston, coupled with

the existing damage to the ports of New Orleans, Southern Louisiana, and to a much lesser extent

Baton Rouge, were staggeringly reminiscent of the four-port scenario developed for the Marine Board

multiple, simultaneous terrorist attack workshop in 2003.
Katrina’s landfall, the Supervisor of Salvage demobilized major afloat

assets and turned over remaining land-based vessel-recovery to the

Coast Guard. 

Great credit is due the U.S. domestic commercial salvage operators.

The storm sank or stranded more than 3,000 vessels. Owners recovered

most of these vessels through commercially contracted salvage services.

Many of the major salvage firms, separately engaged in contracts with

owners of casualty vessels, also made their resources available to help

meet the federal agency requirements, ensuring close to optimal application of resources against priorities. To a great extent professional industry

alliances—such as the American Salvage Association, American

Waterways Operators, and Gulf Intracoastal Canal Association—offered

services that best integrated their collective capabilities into the federally directed waterway recovery. Although not perfect by any means, the

success of the joint federal and industry maritime-salvage operations is

proof of industry’s collective and professional recognition of the value of

national coordination of salvage resources in an emergency. 

The actual salvage operations associated with the two hurricanes

were not technically complex. Yet the scope of these operations as measured in the number of vessels recovered under federal contract,68 the geographic dispersion of recovery requirements across the coastlines of four

contiguous states, and the complexity of federal, state, and local agency

coordination was unprecedented. After Hurricanes Katrina and Rita, the

Office of the Supervisor of Salvage worked alongside other federal agencies to improve federal policy for maritime casualty response.

The Naval-Industrial Partnership Comes into Its Own

An incremental but distinct change had occurred. In the years following World War II salvage operations were conducted by fleets with

fleet resources; other salvage operations were conducted by the

Supervisor of Salvage with contract resources. Gradually, the situation

changed as each party recognized that the other brought something to

the party that it could not. Rivalry had turned into teamwork. 

Recognition came on 30 November 1999 when the Office of the

Supervisor of Salvage received designation equivalent to major command, giving it status and recognition richly deserved for its sixty years of

operation. 

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511

68More than 475 individual vessels were recovered by SUPSALV and industry partners during

September 2005–January 2006. With major afloat heavy lift salvage completed, SUPSALV requested

and received USCG permission to demobilize. USCG continued supporting FEMA, the Army Corps

of Engineers, and local authorities’ requests for (principally) land-based recovery of vessels and

marine debris well into the summer of 2006. 
In 2005 the Chief of Naval Operations made a policy decision to

remove the Safeguard-class ARSs from the military-manned fleet and man

them with Military Sealift Command crews. The decision reflects the success of the MSC-manned T-ATF 166 class as well as the ARSs manned by

the Navy Salvage Service during World War II. Diving and salvage operations aboard the reclassified T-ARSs will be conducted by one or more

mobile diving and salvage detachments from either of the two mobile diving and salvage units—a continuing sea-duty extension of the MDSUs’

newly established “expeditionary salvage” missions. Some people will see

this move as a loss, but the ships and their capability will remain in active

service, available to support the needs of the Navy and the nation. Future

chronicles of Navy salvage will record their exploits.

Salvage forces and salvage-response scenarios have always responded

to changing times. A quick grasp of changes in maritime technology and

willingness to apply innovative solutions in new ways continue to be the

defining characteristic of salvors. In the early years of the twenty-first

century, Navy salvors still look at tough jobs with the attitude they have

always had: “Hell, yes, we can do it. Get out of our way.”

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512

“Hell, yes,

we can do it.

Get out of

our way.”
The Early Days

CH11A

SAFEGUARD
MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

CH11B
CHAPTER ELEVEN

In Retrospect

Eight events stand out as watersheds in the history of Navy salvage.

These events gave form and structure to Navy salvage by providing

policy direction and the basis for operational and technical development. These events were paralleled by two evolutionary processes. The

watershed events and the evolutionary processes both responded to and

drove the other.

The first significant event was the meeting shortly after World War I

between the Assistant Secretary of the Navy Franklin D. Roosevelt and

principals of the major American salvage companies. There were four

results of that meeting: the importance of salvage to the nation was recognized both as an element of the maritime industry and as a logistic and

support service to naval forces; the course of the post-World War I Navy

salvage strategy was set; the formation of a major marine salvage firm was

initiated; and a strong, effective relationship between the Navy and the

spectrum of industries that support salvage was begun. The fourth result

was also the first of the evolutionary processes; all four results had longterm effects on Navy salvage, the commercial salvage industry in the

United States, and the relationship between the two.

The most important result of the Roosevelt meeting was recognition

that the U.S. government had an interest in maintaining an American

marine salvage industry and that it could do this best with a contract that

made the services of the major American salvage company available to the

Navy. The succession of Navy contracts provided a de facto subsidy to contractors by giving them a business base that kept them operating longer

than their commercial operations would have permitted. It has been argued

that these contracts actually hastened the demise of the American salvors

by artificially supporting them. As the argument goes, American salvage

firms were not forced to be lean and innovative enough to compete in the

international marketplace. The general decline of the entire U.S. maritime

industry following World War II, however, makes this argument pale.

Marine salvage, never a tremendously lucrative business for American

In Retrospect

513
operators, became less so following World War II until competition in the

international marketplace was no longer economically feasible. Studies

done on the marine salvage posture of the United States conducted in 1994

by the Marine Board of the National Academy of Sciences found a decline

in both capability and capacity of the commercial salvage industry. The situation began to change in the late twentieth century with the growth of

international shipping and some imaginative entrepreneurial effort, and the

industry began to blossom again. The United States began the twenty-first

century with a salvage posture that was strong and growing stronger. An

American salvage executive has held the presidency of the International

Salvage Union, an international organization whose leadership had heretofore been primarily European. American salvors have founded their own

American Salvage Association to bring the industry together to address

matters of mutual interest and to bring the industry’s importance to the

attention of the public.

From their initiation, the salvage contracts proved extremely valuable

to the Navy. They ensured that salvage services were available to the

Navy, provided an effective basis for World War II mobilization, saw that

shipping on U.S. coasts was protected by professional salvors, and established a precedent for Navy-industry cooperation in a highly specialized

field. American salvors now operate in the same way as the vast majority

of international salvors. They provide expertise and equipment on the

open market and hire floating equipment from the vast array that supports the offshore oil industry and the offshore construction industry.

This method of operation is suited to support the Navy’s current needs.

It does not provide a base for mobilization.

World War II was the second significant event in the history of Navy

salvage. In that worldwide cataclysm the importance of salvage to broadly

based naval operations was recognized. A permanent organization for salvage was established within the Navy, the first training program to make

salvors out of farm boys was set up, and a construction program for some

of the most successful tugs and salvage ships ever built was carried out. All

these accomplishments had their roots in the necessities of the war.

In preparing for war and in mobilizing the American salvage industry,

the Navy’s foresight was particularly noteworthy. Two tragic events, the

capsizing of Lafayette in New York harbor and the warship damage at

Pearl Harbor, provided the impetus to get a major salvage organization

functioning quickly. The early work in North Africa supporting

amphibious operations and harbor clearance showed the breadth

required of salvage forces. By the end of the war, salvage was firmly

established as an integral and vital part of the fleet’s logistic forces. The

Navy’s salvage organization had attained the basic form it would keep

for several decades.

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

514
Unfortunately, during demobilization the billet for the Chief of Navy

Salvage was deleted from the Chief of Naval Operations staff. For many

years Navy salvage not only lacked an advocate at this level but also

existed almost hand-to-mouth, surviving only because of merit and

efforts of dedicated men. The Supervisor of Salvage in the Bureau of

Ships and the systems commands that followed it remained and became

the focus of salvage in the Navy. This organization gained stature and

responsibilities with the passage of time and with the increasing importance of technology in salvage.

The lessons of World War II were still quite clear when the third

watershed event, the 1948 passage of the Salvage Facilities Act, occurred.

The legislation gave the Navy specific responsibilities for marine salvage

in the United States and provided the legal authority to carry out these

responsibilities. The statutory requirements ensured the continuation of

a salvage organization in the Navy. Most important, forward-thinking and

imaginative men with the guts to make things happen now had a foundation upon which to build future Navy salvage programs.

The loss of the submarine Thresher in 1963 and the recommendation

of the Deep Submergence Review Group that followed constitute the

fourth major event in Navy salvage history. This multifaceted event led

Navy salvage into the deep ocean and opened the door for salvors to participate in the development of the technology that deep-ocean work

requires. Salvors took readily to the deep oceans with the same imagination and can-do attitude that had brought success to many conventional

salvage operations. Navy salvage has played an increasingly important

role in the nation’s ability to work in the deep ocean and apply deepocean technology. The United States is stronger for it.

The fifth watershed event had neither the stature of an Act of

Congress nor the drama of a deep-ocean search. Nonetheless, it represented a major change of course for Navy salvage. The idea of a highly

mobile salvage force that could respond quickly with skills and a minimum of equipment did not spring up overnight. It originated in the

Atlantic Fleet’s salvage barge and developed as a practical procedure as

air transport became a major means of moving men and equipment. Flyaway salvage as a distinct policy with a means of implementation became

a reality with the founding of Harbor Clearance Unit One on 1 February

1966. Since that date dependence on salvage ships has decreased, and

Navy salvors have responded by air to casualties around the world.

Driven by some of the same motivations and by some very different ones,

commercial salvage companies have also adopted rapid response by air. A

factor that makes this possible is the proliferation of large, extremely

capable derrick barges, work barges, large tugs, and anchor handling tug

supply (AHTS) vessels that serve the offshore oil and construction indusIn Retrospect

515
tries. These vessels may be chartered for a particular job to complement

salvors’ assets and then taken off charter when the work is complete.

They are available when salvors—naval or commercial—need them, but

do not carry the burden of large capital investment and ongoing costs.

For all its virtues, fly-away salvage is no panacea. It is one more

important tool in the salvor’s bag. Capable salvage ships and a broad

spectrum of specialized and general-purpose equipment also have a place

in that bag. British operations in the Falklands, commercial experience

during the Tanker War, and American experience in the Arabian Gulf

have shown clearly that in modern warfare salvage platforms in proximity to combatants augment and facilitate fly-away capability.

The sixth watershed event occurred in 1979 with a salvage presentation to the Chief of Naval Operations Executive Board. This presentation

resulted in ensuring the construction of the Safeguard (ARS 50) class,

establishing a solid funding base for the Emergency Ship Salvage Material

system and, more important, formal sponsorship for salvage on the Chief

of Naval Operations staff. With the assignment of salvage responsibilities

to officers in the surface warfare and later the logistics directorates, salvage acquired the advocacy and, to some degree, the organizational legitimacy it had lacked for more than thirty years.

The seventh event occurred on 30 November 1999 when the

Supervisor of Salvage, after fifty-eight years of existence, was designated

as a Major Shore Command equivalency reporting directly to the

Commander Naval Sea Systems Command. Like so many of the other

watershed events, this did not change operational conditions or procedures, but it recognized the scope and importance of the Supervisor of

Salvage to the Navy and gave that office the status needed to function

more effectively in the arena of the Navy. The designation reflects the

increasing importance of the Supervisor of Salvage as the driving force

behind and leader of the naval-industrial team in salvage operations.

The eighth occurred early in 2005 when the decision was made to

transfer the four ARS-50-class ships to the Military Sealift Command.

The completion of the transfer marked the end of more than sixty years

of manning various designs of wooden and steel, steam and diesel salvage

ships by naval crews. It did not change the Navy’s salvage capability.

Professional seamen proved themselves on the Navy Salvage Service

ships Viking, Crusader, Discoverer, Warbler, Willet, Rescuer, Accelerate, and

Harjurand during World War II and on the seven Powhatan-class T-ATFs

built for Military Sealift Command manning. The change is logical and

appropriate.

Watershed events are difficult to predict, but a ninth may be in the

making. At roughly the same time the decision was made to transfer the

ARS-50-class vessels to Military Sealift Command, the realization of a

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

516
100-year-old discussion within the Navy diving community to establish

an enlisted “Navy Diver” rating occurred. Originally, Navy divers were all

“gunner’s mates,” but during the middle and latter half of the twentieth

century, Navy divers were trained from as many as eighteen different

technical rating skills, including hull technicians, enginemen, torpedomen, boatswain’s mates, electrician’s mates, to accommodate the many

technical disciplines required for successful diving and salvage missions.

In 2005 the Chief of Naval Operations approved a proposal from the senior enlisted and officer leadership of the diving community to consolidate

all the diving and salvage-related technical rating skills through establishment of a new Navy Diver rating and training curriculum. Although

concerns exist that much of the legendary technical breadth and adaptability of the military diving and salvage community will be lost by this

consolidation, it is more likely that an even higher level of professional

Navy diver/salvor will emerge. Only time and the next edition of this salvage chronicle will tell.

It is particularly noteworthy that the history of salvage has turned not

as much on specific salvage operations as on the policy and organizational decisions that have made these operations possible. None of the decisions was spontaneous. They were the result of careful and deliberate

action by men and women who fully understood the potential of a strong

salvage organization and the means of building it. They had the advantage of unusual foresight and the ability to translate that foresight into

action. With few exceptions, Franklin Roosevelt being the most notable,

they were leaders who had gained their understanding of salvage on wet,

slippery decks where winches were groaning and wire ropes singing.

The two evolutionary processes that mark the history of Navy salvage

are not as clearly delineated as the eight watershed events. These

processes are the development of the naval-industrial partnership and the

application of technology to salvage.

The longest lived of the two processes is the naval-industrial partnership in salvage that began with the incorporation of industrial resources

into some of the early salvage operations and was formalized in Franklin

Roosevelt’s office shortly after World War I. Some of the effects of the

early salvage contracts have been discussed in the initial pages of this

chapter. Their most lasting effect is that they established the basis for a

naval-industrial partnership that grew and expanded to serve the Navy in

an era of rapidly evolving needs and technologies to fill these needs.

Two people were responsible for initiating the early contracts to make

services available to the Navy: Franklin Roosevelt and Rear Admiral

William Sullivan. Roosevelt initiated the contracts under which MerrittChapman and Scott served the Navy between the world wars. Sullivan’s

position as Supervisor of Salvage was created to oversee contract NObsIn Retrospect

517
36, which established and served as the operating instrument for the

Navy Salvage Service. Following World War II, Sullivan again serving as

Supervisor of Salvage was instrumental in ending Merritt-Chapman and

Scott’s full-time commitment to the government and returning to a contractual arrangement like the one that existed before the war. Similar

contracts would continue for many years with a variety of firms providing

the services in areas where they operated. These contracts followed the

same form for many years and were written and intended for conventional marine salvage services—tows and responses to groundings, collisions,

sinkings, and the like.

In these same years relatively large fleets of salvage ships and tugs

were part of the fleet organizations and were responsible to the fleet commander. Salvage operations were often fleet jobs or Supervisor of Salvage

jobs from outset to completion with little participation by the other

party. The large store of Emergency Ship Salvage Material—almost all

acquired during World War II—was in the direct care of naval shipyards

and repair facilities with little or no money provided for its upkeep and

maintenance. Inevitably the condition and readiness of the material

deteriorated.

The situation began to change during the Vietnam War when the

Supervisor of Salvage and the fleets began working more cooperatively

in field operations, in modernization of salvage ships, and in procurement of new diesel and electrically powered machinery to replace the

aging gasoline-powered machinery. During this period it became apparent that contracts were needed for a wider range of specialized services

that first centered on the then-black arts (hidden specialty skills and

operations known only to a few practitioners) of underwater search and

recovery. Such contracts were instituted and led to others. A principal

advantage of contracts in a period of rapidly developing technology is

that the Navy gains access to new technology as soon as it becomes

available instead of waiting through the lengthy government procurement

process. With contracts the Navy can respond with the latest technology

and equipment tailored to the specific job. The Navy can also put in

place a capability to respond more rapidly to new requirements as is done

for pollution operations.

When the Emergency Ship Salvage Material system was centralized

under the Supervisor of Salvage and its operation contracted, a very

worthwhile process began. Piles of equipment in scattered warehouses

evolved into ready-for-issue equipment organized by an effective system

for maintaining it and getting it to the salvage site rapidly accompanied

by technicians who know the equipment and how to use it

The contracts’ greatest advantage is that a full spectrum of salvage,

ocean engineering, and deep-ocean operations services; equipment; and

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

518
personnel can be mixed with active-duty assets to execute the work the

nation needs in a way that is both efficient and cost-effective. There are

no better examples of the naval-industrial team working in salvage than

the Ehime Maru and Monitor operations.

The second evolutionary process is the application of technology to

salvage. The best technology of the day has been applied to salvage since

the earliest days. For much of the period covered by this volume the technology applied was in the mechanical field: more powerful winches, higher

capacity pumps, stronger, more flexible tension members. In the 1960s the

Supervisors of Salvage began to look to Navy laboratories and engineering

think tanks such as Battelle Columbus Laboratories and Woods Hole

Oceanographic Institution known for innovation and solving difficult

problems. The practice paid off as knowledge led to more knowledge and

innovation led to more innovation. It is because of the willingness to bring

in knowledge and resources from far-flung and disparate sources that the

Navy has been able to put together teams to do remarkable recoveries

from the deep oceans. Because of the widespread use and varied technology

in salvage, the image of the salvor today is not only that of a dirty sailor in

dirtier work clothes surrounded by heavy rigging, but one that includes

saturation divers using complex life-support systems, engineers with computers making better salvage analyses than ever before, and technicians

controlling ROVs thousands of feet below them.

Navy salvage consists of three pillars: people, platforms, and equipment bound into a cohesive whole by operational doctrine. All are necessary for the whole to stand. As it enters the twenty-first century, the

Navy is in a sound position with each of the pillars as strong as they need

to be for the challenges the Navy faces. Attention and foresight will be

required to keep all of them structured to meet changing needs. 

In his classic political satire Animal Farm, George Orwell pronounced,

“All animals are equal, but some are more equal than others.” The same

might be said for the pillars of salvage. Of the three pillars, only the

people are blessed with intelligence and the ability to use it. No work can

go forward without them. Salvors always have been and always will be

determined, courageous, imaginative and even tougher than the work

they do. Navy salvage has been graced with strong and colorful personalities.

Personal relationships have not always been smooth, but the controversies

and differences have invigorated the organization and have ensured that

the best overall course was taken.

Navy salvage has served the interests of the Navy and the nation well.

In great measure Navy salvage’s contribution is due to those who gave

their sweat, blood, and intelligence to the work, enjoyed the successes,

learned from the defeats, and taken on the burdensome tasks that moved

the art and science of salvage forward. Navy salvage has been, is, and will

In Retrospect

519
be many things, but always the most important is the salvors who have

toiled in the mud and strained their muscles and brains to accomplish the

miracles of Navy salvage.

A Final Few Words

Throughout its history the United States has been a land of frontiers.

America’s first frontier was not the West; it was the sea. Her first frontiersmen were those who explored it. After more than two centuries it

remains so. None deserve the name of frontiersmen more than those who

delve into the sea to reclaim what the sea tries to claim. The character

and strength of those who sailed into the unknown in the early days of

America is continued in the character of those who, with their brains,

sweat, and determination, salvage from the ocean both on its edges and

in its depths. May our nation always produce people like these noble

salvors. May they set the standard for our nation and form a part of our

national character. It has been a privilege to know them, to serve with

them, and to tell their story. 

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

520
The Early Days

521

APPENDIXES
MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

521
Appendix B

523

A. Supervisors of Salvage, U.S. Navy

Commander W.A. Sullivan December 1941–November 1942

Captain B.E. Manseau November 1942–March 1946

Commodore W.A. Sullivan March 1946–April 1948

Captain John Zabilsky April 1948–August 1950

Captain J.E. Flynn August 1950–January 1952

Commander W.M. Bjork January 1952–July 1954

Commander J.W. Greely July 1954–May 1957

Commander J.P. Lehan May 1957–September 1959

Commander W.L. Marshall September 1959–May 1961

Commander T.F. Bacheler May 1961–October 1964

Captain W.F. Searle, Jr. October 1964–May 1969

Captain E.B. Mitchell May 1969–September 1973

Captain J.H. Boyd, Jr. September 1973–May 1976

Captain R.B. Moss May 1976–June 1979

Commander W.N. Klorig June 1979–September 1979

Captain C.M. Jones September 1979–April 1982

Captain C.S. Maclin April 1982–August 1985

Captain C.A. Bartholomew August 1985–November 1990

Captain R.P. Fiske November 1990–December 1994

Captain R.S. McCord December 1994–December 1998

Captain Bert Marsh December 1998–August 2002

Captain J.R. Wilkins III August 2002–September 2006

Captain R.W. Hooper September 2006–September 2008

Captain P.J. Keenan September 2008–Present
B. Federal Laws and Regulations

Affecting Navy Salvage

10 U.S. Code, Sections 7361–7364: The Salvage Facilities Act (as amended),

which provides broad discretionary authority for the Navy to provide, by contract or otherwise, necessary salvage facilities for public and private vessels. Also

authorizes the Navy to assert financial claims for salvage services provided in

specific cases. 

See also SECNAVINST 4740.1B, “Provision of Salvage Facilities by

Contract, Lease or Otherwise,” dated Dec. 23, 2005: Contains a broad delegation of authority under the Salvage Facilities Act directly to the Navy’s

Supervisor of Salvage & Diving (SUPSALV).

10 U.S. Code, Section 2307(g)(2): Provides authority for the Navy to advance

funds to private salvage companies, as necessary, to provide for the immediate

financing of salvage operations.

46 U.S. Code, Section 55102 (formerly cited as 46 U.S. Code Appendix,

Section 883): A portion of the “Jones Act” that is potentially implicated anytime

domestic salvage activities might be classified as “transportation of merchandise

by water . . . between points in the U.S. to which the coastwise laws apply . . .”

(e.g., lightering cargo/bunkers from a vessel stranded in U.S. coastwise waters to

a U.S. port). 

46 U.S. Code, Section 80104 (formerly cited as 46 U.S. Code Appendix,

Section 316(d)) along with its implementing regulation found at 19 Code of

Federal Regulations, Section 4.97: Prohibits the use of foreign-flagged salvage

vessels in U.S. coastwise waters.

46 U.S. Code, Section 501 (formerly cited as Public Law 891, 81st Cong., 2nd

Sess., Dec. 27, 1950 (64 Stat. 1120)): Provides for the possible waiver of any U.S.

navigation and shipping laws, including coastwise laws (i.e., the Jones Act, etc.),

if such action is deemed “in the interest of national defense.” 

46 U.S. Code, Section 53901 et seq.: The basic authority for MARAD to provide war risk insurance under Title XII of the Merchant Marine Act of 1936 (as

amended) for vessels and their personnel when such insurance cannot be

obtained on reasonable terms and conditions from commercial companies.

Specifically, 46 U.S.C. § 53905 (formerly cited as 46 U.S. Code Appendix,

Section 1285) allows MARAD to issue “no premium” insurance to vessels at the

request of the Secretary of Defense. This authority provides a significant measure of flexibility and potential cost savings when the Navy must use commercial

vessels to conduct salvage operations in a war zone.

524
33 U.S. Code, Section 1472: Part of the Intervention on the High Seas Act,

this law recognizes the U.S. Government’s right, as a coastal state, to take necessary measures to prevent, mitigate, or eliminate a grave and imminent danger

of pollution posed by a vessel on the high seas. This authority is exercised by the

Coast Guard, sometimes with the assistance of the Navy’s salvage program.

33 U.S. Code, Sections 414 & 415: These provisions, part of what is commonly known as the Wreck Act, give the U.S. Government the right to remove any

sunken or grounded vessel or similar obstruction to navigation. This authority is

exercised by the Army Corps of Engineers, sometimes with the assistance of the

Navy’s salvage program. 

33 U.S. Code Section 1321(c): As part of the Federal Water Pollution Control

Act, these provisions establish the authority of the U.S. Government to take necessary removal, mitigation or prevention actions in the event of discharge or substantial threat of a discharge of oil/hazardous substances into navigable waters of

the U.S. This authority is typically exercised by the Coast Guard, sometimes with

the assistance of the Navy’s salvage program.

33 Code of Federal Regulations, Part 155, Subpart I (Salvage & Marine

Firefighting): These regulations, published by the U.S. Coast Guard on Dec. 31,

2008, under the authority of the Oil Pollution Act (OPA), 33 U.S.C. § 2701 et

seq., articulate for the first time federally recognized standards as to what constitutes a professional salvage entity/organization in terms of: experience, staffing,

training, certification, skill sets, available services and equipment, adequate capitalization, logistical capability, and response times. 

Appendix B

525
C. Salvage Ships of the U.S. Navy

The Navy has operated tugs since before the beginning of the twentieth century and designated its first submarine rescue ships in 1926. Salvage ships as a

distinct type have been in the fleet since the beginning of World War II. Salvage

ships and tugs have traditionally fallen under the Service Force Commanders or,

since 1975, the Naval Surface Force Commanders. The Submarine Force

Commander has operated the submarine rescue ships. Submarine rescue ships

have customarily been commanded by an officer qualified in submarines. This

brief appendix describes most of the major types of salvage-related ships that

have served in the Navy.

Basic Salvage Ships—ARS

Salvage ships (ARS) have been continuously active since World War II. Five

general types served in that war: conversions from Bird-class minesweepers (seven

ships); wooden-hulled, 183-foot, purpose-built ships (nine ships): two classes of

steel-hulled, 213-foot, purpose-built ships; the Divers (sixteen ships) and slightly

beamier Bolsters (six ships); and four miscellaneous ships that were acquired for

the war. Five of the ex-Bird-class and three of the miscellaneous ships were operated by the Navy Salvage Service in American waters; all the other ships were

operated by the Navy worldwide. No new ARS type ships were acquired until the

Safeguard (ARS 50) class of four ships was built in the early 1980s.

Bird-Class Minesweepers

Forty-nine, steel-hulled, steam-powered ships were built as minesweepers

during and immediately after World War I in a high-priority shipbuilding program. The ships proved sound, rugged, and suited to a variety of tasks. Seven

became salvage ships.

Two ships (Warbler and Willet) were acquired by Merritt-Chapman and Scott

shortly after World War I and operated by the company as commercial salvage

vessels between the wars. They were returned to the Navy immediately before

World War II, designated ARS 11 and ARS 12, then given back to MerrittChapman and Scott for operation by the Navy Salvage Service.

Another three ships (Viking, Crusader, and Discoverer) were operated by the

U.S. Coast and Geodetic Survey (USC&GS) as survey vessels between the wars.

Returned to the Navy and designated ARS 1, ARS 2, and ARS 3, all three were

operated by the Navy Salvage Service during World War II.

The remaining two ships (Redwing and Brant) were designated ARS 4 and

ARS 32 early in World War II and operated by naval crews in the Atlantic and

Mediter-ranean. They were not totally satisfactory in this role because space limitations precluded adequate accommodation for salvage crews. Redwing sank after

striking a mine in the Mediterranean on 28 June 1943. Brant was damaged by

friendly gunfire.

MUD, MUSCLE, AND MIRACLES

526
Characteristics

Principal dimensions: 187'10" x 35'5" x 8'10"

Displacement: Standard 1,190 tons; original displacement was increased 300–

400 tons during conversion to salvage ships

Propulsion: Steam, reciprocating, single screw

Horsepower: 1,400

Speed: 14.0 knots

Complement: 72

Years built: 1917–1919

Builders: New Jersey Drydock and Transportation, Elizabethport, NJ (1)

Gas Engine and Power Co., Morris Heights, NY (2)

Todd Shipyard, New York (3)

Baltimore Drydock and Shipbuilding Co., Baltimore, MD (4)

Philadelphia Navy Yard, Philadelphia, PA (11, 12)

Sun Shipbuilding and Drydock Co., Chester, PA (32)

Ships in the Class

Viking (ARS 1) Ex-Flamingo (AM 32), ex-USC&GS Guide; Navy Salvage

Service

Crusader (ARS 2) Ex-Osprey (AM 29), ex-USC&GS Pioneer; Navy Salvage Service

Discoverer (ARS 3) Ex-Auk (AM 38); Navy Salvage Service

Redwing (ARS 4) Ex-AM 48; served with U.S. Coast Guard 1924–1941; war loss

Warbler (ARS 11) Ex-AM 53; Navy Salvage Service

Willet (ARS 12) Ex-AM 54; Navy Salvage Service

Brant (ARS 32) Ex-AM 24, ex-AT 132

Appendix C

527

Warbler (ARS 11) was a Bird-class minesweeper operated as a salvage ship by MerrittChapman and Scott between the world wars and by the Navy Salvage Service during

World War II.
Anchor Class

Nine wooden-hulled salvage ships of World War II wartime construction

served in the Atlantic and the Pacific. Two ships, Swivel (ARS 36) and Weight

(ARS 35), were built as BARS under Lend-Lease for Great Britain but were

retained in the U.S. Navy. Two ships were lost: Extractor (ARS 15) was torpedoed

by a U.S. submarine in the Marianas on New Year’s Day 1945, and Extricate

(ARS 16) was lost at Okinawa in a typhoon on 9 October 1945. All ships were

operated by Navy crews and were disposed of following World War II. An additional four ships were built as BARS and transferred to Great Britain.

Characteristics

Principal dimensions: 183'3" x 37' x 14'8"

Displacement: 1,089 tons

Propulsion: Diesel-electric, twin screws

Horsepower: 1,200

Speed: 12 knots

Complement: 65

Years built: 1942–1944

Builders: Colberg Boat Works, Stockton, CA (13, 14, 15)

Snow Shipyards, Inc., Rockland, ME (16, 17)

Bellingham Marine Railway, Bellingham, WA (28, 29)

American Car and Foundry, Wilmington, DE (35, 36)

Appendix C

528

Brant (ARS 32) enters Argentia harbor early in World War II still wearing her AT hull

number. She was one of two Bird-class minesweepers redesignated ARS and manned with

Navy crews.
Ships in the Class

Anchor (ARS 13) Decommissioned in 1947

Protector (ARS 14) Later Pakistan Protector

Extractor (ARS 15) War loss

Extricate (ARS 16) Lost in service

Restorer (ARS 17) Later Vitus Bering Naval Vessel No. 6 (Denmark)

Valve (ARS 28) Decommissioned in 1948

Vent (ARS 29) Later Western Pioneer

Weight (ARS 35) Ex-Plymouth Salvor (BARS 7)

Swivel (ARS 36) Ex-York Salvor (BARS 8)

American Salvor Lincoln Salvor (BARS 9)

(BARS 5)

Boston Salvor (BARS 6) Southhampton Salvor (BARS 10)

Diver Class

These steel-hulled, purpose-built, salvage ships of World War II construction

served in the Atlantic and Pacific during World War II and with both fleets since

then. Some of these extremely durable ships remained in commission in the late

1980s. The ships were originally planned without an automatic towing winch,

and so winches were diverted from oceangoing tugs for them. None have been

lost. Two ships, Clamp (ARS 33) and Gear (ARS 34), were retained BARS. Two

additional ships built as BARS were transferred to Australia and operated under

the auspices of the Commonwealth Marine Salvage Board.

Appendix C

529

Anchor (ARS 13) was the class leader of a class of nine wooden-hulled salvage ships built

during World War II. Note the absence of rollers for bow lifting.
The BARS differ in detail from the standard Diver class, with the most obvious difference in the masts and weight-handling installation.

Characteristics

Principal dimensions: 213'6" x 39' x 13'

Displacement: 1,530 tons standard; 1,970 tons full load

Propulsion: Diesel-electric, four engines, twin screw. Cooper-Bessemer engines replaced in surviving ships by Caterpillars in 1960s and

1970s

Horsepower: 3,000

Speed: 14.8 knots

Complement: 69

Years built: 1942–1945

Builder: Basalt Rock Co., Napa, CA (all ships)

Ships in the Class

Diver (ARS 5) Sold after World War II to Merritt-Chapman and Scott and

renamed Rescue

Escape (ARS 6) Transferred on loan to U.S. Coast Guard as WMEC 6 in 1980

Grapple (ARS 7) Transferred to Republic of China in 1977

Preserver (ARS 8) Seriously damaged in Japanese air attack but served through the

1980s

Shackle (ARS 9) Transferred to U.S. Coast Guard and renamed Acushnet (WMEC

167) after World War II

Cable (ARS 19) Bare boat charter to Merritt-Chapman and Scott following

World War II; sunk as target (SINKEX)

Chain (ARS 20) Converted to oceanographic research ship (AGOR 17); operated

by Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution

Curb (ARS 21) Bare boat charter to Merritt-Chapman and Scott following

World War II; sunk as target (SINKEX)

Current (ARS 22) Decommissioned in 1972

Deliver (ARS 23) Transferred to Republic of China in 1979

Grasp (ARS 24) Transferred to South Korea in 1978

Safeguard (ARS 25) Earned a Presidential Unit Citation during Korean War

Seize (ARS 26) Grounded and refloated at Clipperton Island during World War

II; transferred to U.S. Coast Guard and renamed Yocona

(WMEC 168) after World War II

Snatch (ARS 27) Converted to oceanographic research ship and renamed Argo

(AGOR 18); operated by Scripps Institution

Clamp (ARS 33) Ex-Atlantic Salvor (BARS 3); first steel-hulled salvage ship commissioned in the Navy

Gear (ARS 34) Ex-Pacific Salvor (BARS 4); later operated under charter by

Merritt-Chapman and Scott as USNS Gear; sunk as target

(SINKEX)

Caledonian Salvor Later Sudbury II (Canada). Transferred to Australia

(BARS 1)

Cambrian Salvor Transferred to Australia

(BARS 2)

Appendix C

530
Appendix C

531

Diver (ARS 5), the class leader of the steel-hulled salvage ships, served for many years after

World War II as the commercial salvage ship Rescue.

Signs of the sea show plainly on Clamp (ARS 33), the first steel-hulled salvage ship commissioned in the U.S. Navy. The twin kingpost aft is characteristic of ships that were

originally BARS.
Appendix C

532

Bolster (ARS 38) Class

Near sisters of the Divers, the major difference is the slightly greater beam

that gives better stability characteristics, more internal room, and a greater fullload displacement. Twelve ships were originally ordered, but six were canceled

near the end of World War II. Evenly divided between the Atlantic and Pacific

fleets, all remained on active Navy service until decommissioning in the early

1990s.

Characteristics

Principal dimensions: 213'6" x 43' x 13'

Displacement: 1,530 tons standard; 2,045 tons full load

Propulsion: Diesel-electric, four engines, twin screw. Cooper-Bessemer engines replaced by Caterpillars in 1960s and 1970s

Horsepower: 3,000

Speed: 16 knots

Complement: 69

Years built: 1944–1946

Builder: Basalt Rock Co., Napa, CA (all ships)

Ships in the Class

Bolster (ARS 38) Decommissioned in 1994

Conserver (ARS 39) Decommissioned in 1994

Hoist (ARS 40) Decommissioned in 1994

Opportune (ARS 41) Decommissioned in 1993

Reclaimer (ARS 42) Decommissioned in 1994

Recovery (ARS 43) Decommissioned in 1994

Retriever (ARS 44) Canceled

Skillful (ARS 45) Canceled

Support (ARS 46) Canceled

Toiler (ARS 47) Canceled

Urgent (ARS 48) Canceled

Willing (ARS 49) Canceled

Miscellaneous Acquisitions

Four ships of varied backgrounds were acquired and designated ARS during

World War II. Three were operated by the Navy Salvage Service; the fourth,

Tackle (ARS 37), was used by naval forces in the Mediterranean. A fifth ship was

not acquired. Rescuer (ARS 18) was lost; Tackle was seriously damaged by a mine

in Marseilles harbor.

Characteristics

Varied.
Appendix C

533

Over a long life the configuration of a salvage ship changes considerably. Reclaimer (ARS

42) is shown here as she appeared during the Vietnam War.

Hoist (ARS 40) is shown here in the configuration common during the Korean War.
Appendix C

534

Harjurand (ARS 31) was requisitioned by the War Shipping Administration and placed

in service as a Navy Salvage Service salvage ship.

Grapple (ARS 53).
Ships in the Class

Medric (ARS 10) Not acquired

Rescuer (ARS 18) Ex-Caspar; Navy Salvage Service. Wrecked during salvage operations at Seal Cape, Alaska

Accelerate (ARS 30) Ex-Toteco, ex-Walling; Navy Salvage Service

Harjurand (ARS 31) Built in Spain; sailed under the Spanish, Estonian, British,

United States, and Panamanian flags. Ex-Olesa, ex-Per Skogland, ex-Camberway, ex-Tento, ex-Margot, later Dodecanese.

Navy Salvage Service

Tackle (ARS 37) Ex-W.R. Chamberlain, Jr., later ARS(T) 4, IX 2l7

Safeguard (ARS 50) Class

These four ships were constructed in the shipbuilding programs of fiscal years

1981 through 1983. They were the first ARS-type salvage ships built since the

end of World War II. All four were transferred to the Military Sealift Command

in the mid-1990s.

Characteristics

Principal dimensions: 254'11" x 51' x 15'5"

Displacement: 2,300 tons standard; 2,880 tons full load

Propulsion: Geared diesel, four Caterpillar diesels, controllable pitch propellers in shrouds, 500 horsepower bow thruster

Horsepower: 4,200

Speed: 13.5 knots

Complement: 90 (25% women)

Years built: 1982–1986

Builder: Peterson Builders, Sturgeon Bay, WI

Ships in the Class

Safeguard (ARS 50) Later T-ARS 50

Grasp (ARS 51) Later T-ARS 51

Salvor (ARS 52) Later T-ARS 52

Grapple (ARS 53) Later T-ARS 53

Other Salvage Ships

Salvage Ships—ARS(D)

The four, self-propelled, salvage lifting ships (ARS(D)) were unique in the

Navy. They were converted from LSM hulls in anticipation of the harbor clearance work following the invasion of Japan. The bow doors and ramps were

removed, and the vehicle deck was converted to a salvage hold. Their construcAppendix C

535
tion was influenced by the usefulness of the British lift ships in the European

harbor clearances. They were capable of lifting 300 tons by the bow, using sixfold

purchases.

Characteristics (ex-LSMs)

Principal dimensions: 244'9" x 34'11" x 8'

Displacement: 816 tons

Propulsion: Diesel-electric, two shafts

Horsepower: 2,800

Speed: 13 knots

Complement: 65

Years built: 1945–1946

Builder: Brown Shipbuilding Company, Houston, TX (all ships)

Ships in the Class

Gypsy (ARS(D) 1) Ex-LSM–549

Mender (ARS(D) 2) Ex-LSM–550

Salvager (ARS(D) 3) Ex-LSM–551

Windlass (ARS(D) 4) Ex-LSM–552

Salvage Base Ships—ARS(T)

Three ships were LSTs converted to support the major harbor clearance

operations that were expected to follow the invasion of Japan. Bow doors and

Appendix C

536

Salvager (ARS(D) 3) was one of four salvage lifting ships built near the end of World War

II. These ships were to be used in the harbor clearances that would follow the planned

invasion of Japan.
ramps were retained, bridge and controls were moved forward, and a 25-ton

crane was installed amidships. These ships were designed to carry 330 tons of salvage equipment and a salvage crew of 120 in addition to ship’s company. The

ships were commissioned too late for World War II. All were decommissioned in

1947. Laysan Island and Palmyra were retained in the Reserve Fleet until the

early 1970s. Okala was sold to the Columbia River Packer’s Association. Palmyra

was reported acting in her design role during the clearance work in Bangladesh

in the 1970s.

The ex-W.R. Chamberlain, Jr. as Tackle was briefly designated ARS(T) 4. She

served in the European theater.

Characteristics (ex-LSTs)

Principal dimensions: 379' x 50'1" x 11'1"

Displacement: 4,500 tons

Propulsion: Diesel, twin screw

Horsepower: 1,800

Speed: 10 knots

Complement: 168

Years built: 1944–1945

Builder: Jeffersonville Boat &. Machine Co., Jeffersonville, IN

Appendix C

537

Palmyra (ARS(T) 3) was one of three LST hulls converted to salvage base ships in anticipation of large harbor clearance operations in Japan.
Ships in the Class

Laysan Island Ex-LST–1098

(ARS(T) 1)

Okala (ARS(T) 2) Ex-LST–1099

Palmyra (ARS(T) 3) Ex-LST–1100

Tackle (ARS(T) 4) Ex-W.R. Chamberlain, Jr., ex-ARS 37, later IX 217

Submarine Rescue Ships—ASR

Bird-Class Minesweepers

As a result of the submarine disasters and salvages of the 1920s, six Bird-class

minesweepers were fitted out with diving systems and recompression chambers

and designated as submarine rescue ships in 1925. The ships were stationed in

submarine operating areas. One ship, Pigeon, was a World War II loss.

Characteristics

Same as the Bird-class minesweepers converted to salvage ships (ARS).

Builders: Sun Shipbuilding and Drydock Co., Chester, PA (1)

Gas Engine and Power Co., Morris Heights, NY (2)

Todd Shipyard, New York (3)

Staten Island Shipbuilding, Staten Island, NY (4, 5)

Baltimore Drydock and Shipbuilding, Baltimore, MD (6)

Appendix C

538

Falcon (ASR 2) was one of six Bird-class minesweepers designated as submarine rescue

ships.
Ships in the Class

Widgeon (ASR 1) Ex-AM 22 

Falcon (ASR 2) Ex-AM 28

Chewink (ASR 3) Ex-AM 39

Mallard (ASR 4) Ex-AM 44

Ortolan (ASR 5) Ex-AM 45

Pigeon (ASR 6) Ex-AM 47; war loss

Chanticleer (ASR 7) Class

Eleven ships were originally ordered for this class, but two were canceled.

Three additional ships were conversions from fleet tug hulls, but were smaller

and more crowded. Large tug-type ships of wartime construction, these ships

were designed specifically for submarine rescue with the McCann Submarine

Rescue Chamber. All ships had an installed helium-oxygen diving system and

four-point moor capability. Some ships remained in Navy service into the mid

1990s, others were transferred to foreign navies. One ship, Macaw, was wrecked

during World War II.

Characteristics (except ATF conversions)

Principal dimensions: 251'4" x 42' x 14'10"

Displacement: 1,670 tons standard; 2,015 tons full load

Propulsion: Diesel-electric, four engines

Horsepower: 3,000

Speed: 15 knots

Complement: 103

Years built: 1942–1947

Builders: Moore Shipbuilding, Oakland, CA (7–11)

Savannah Machine and Foundry, Savannah, GA (13–18)

Ships in the Class

Chanticleer (ASR 7) Scrapped in 1974

Coucal (ASR 8) SINKEX in 1991

Florikan (ASR 9) Decommissioned in 1991

Greenlet (ASR 10) Later TNS Akin (Turkey)

Macaw (ASR 11) Wrecked at Midway during World War II

Penguin (ASR 12) Ex-Chetco (ATF 99)

Kittiwake (ASR 13) Decommissioned in 1994

Petrel (ASR 14) Decommissioned in 1991

Sunbird (ASR 15) Decommissioned in 1993, later scrapped

Tringa (ASR 16) SINKEX in early 1980s

Verdin (ASR 17) Canceled

Windhover (ASR 18) Canceled

Bluebird (ASR 19) Ex-Yurok (ATF 164)

Skylark (ASR 20) Ex-Yustaga (ATF 165); transferred to Brazil in 1973

Appendix C

539
Appendix C

540

The Chanticleer class were the first purpose-built submarine rescue ships. Chanticleer

(ASR 7) appears here as she looked in the early 1960s.

Skylark (ASR 20) was one of three fleet tugs converted to submarine rescue ships. These

ships were somewhat smaller and less capable than the Chanticleers.
Pigeon (ASR 21) Class

These were catamaran ships built primarily to serve as platforms for the Deep

Submergence Rescue Vehicle (DSRV) and to support deep saturation diving operations with the Mark II Deep Dive System. The ships also carried the McCann

Submarine Rescue Chamber. A precision, three-dimensional tracking system was

provided for DSRV operations. Ten ships were planned originally as replacements

for the remaining Chanticleer-class ships. All but two were canceled.

Characteristics

Principal dimensions: 251' x 86' (each hull 26' with 34' separation) x 25'6"

Displacement: 3,411 tons standard; 4,570 tons full load

Propulsion: Geared diesel, four engines, two screws, one bow thruster in

each hull

Horsepower: 6,000

Speed: 15 knots

Complement: 195 plus 14 salvage staff and 24-person DSRV team

Years built: 1968–1973

Builder: Alabama Drydock and Shipbuilding Co., Mobile, AL

Ships in the Class

Pigeon (ASR 21) Decommissioned in 1992

Ortolan (ASR 22) Decommissioned in 1995

Tugs—AT

The AT designation for oceangoing tugs existed from the early part of the

twentieth century until 15 May 1944, when the designation was broken down to

eliminate the confusion caused by ships with widely varying characteristics and

capabilities having the same general mission. There were three new designations:

1. ATA: auxiliary tugs—small, steel-hulled, diesel oceangoing tugs. The

series contained five ships started as net tenders, ANs. Fifty ships built as ATRs

were redesignated ATA.

2. ATF: fleet tugs—large tugs of the Navajo class.

3. ATO: old tugs—a miscellany of seagoing tugs built for the Navy, a few

ships acquired from private sources, and seventeen Bird-class minesweepers.

Auxiliary Tugs—ATA

These tugs were built in large numbers in the same numerical series as the

large Navajo-class fleet tugs during World War II. They were equipped with constant-tension towing winches, but had very limited salvage or fire-fighting capability. They were designated ATR until 15 May 1944. One ship, ATA–171,

ex-ATR–98, was a war loss. A number of ships were sold and worked in commerAppendix C

541
cial service or with foreign navies following World War II. Only two ships originally had names, Chetco (ATA 166) and Chatot (ATA 167). Those remaining in

the Navy were given the names of retired ATs in 1948. Some ships served

through the Vietnam era.

Characteristics

Principal dimensions: 143' x 33' x 15'

Displacement: 600 tons standard; 835 tons full load

Propulsion: Diesel-electric, single screw

Horsepower: 1,500

Speed: 12.5 knots

Complement: 45

Years built: 1943–1946

Builders: Various, with most in Gulf of Mexico

Ships in the Class

ATAs 121 through 125, 146, 166, 167, and 170 through 213 were formerly ATRs.

ATAs 214 through 218, originally ordered as wooden-hulled net tenders, were reordered

as steel-hulled tugs; they retained the rounded AN stern. Other ships built as ATAs were

ATAs 219 through 240.

Appendix C

542

Pigeon (ASR 21).
Navajo- and Abnaki-Class Fleet Tugs—ATF

Large, powerful tugs, the first three ships were constructed as part of the

1938 shipbuilding program, the remainder during World War II. With their

diesel-electric propulsion and constant-tension towing winches, the ships were

considered innovative. All were extremely capable towing vessels and suitable

for salvage. Some, especially fitted for salvage, carried nearly as much salvage

equipment as the ARS. Three ships were lost during World War II, one immediately afterward, and a fifth in Korea. Some ships served into the early 1990s.

Characteristics

Principal dimensions: 205' x 38'6" x 15'4"

Displacement: 1,240 tons standard; 1,589 tons full load

Propulsion: Diesel-electric, four engines, single screw

Horsepower: 3,000

Speed: 16.5 knots

Complement: 85

Years built: 1938–1946

Builders: Bethlehem Shipbuilding, Staten Island, NY (64, 65, 66)

Charleston Shipbuilding and Drydock, Charleston, SC (67

through 72, 81 and 82, 96 through 105, 148 through 165)

United Engineering Co., Alameda, CA (83 through 86, 106

through 118)

Cramp Shipbuilding Co., Philadelphia, PA (87 through 91)

Commercial Iron Works, Portland, OR (92 through 95)

Ships in the Class

Navajo (ATF 64) War loss

Seminole (ATF 65) War loss

Cherokee (ATF 66) Transferred to Coast Guard following World War II

Apache (ATF 67) Ex-Catawba; transferred to Republic of China in 1974

Arapaho (ATF 68)

Chippewa (ATF 69)

Choctaw (ATF 70) Transferred to Colombia in 1978

Hopi (ATF 71)

Kiowa (ATF 72) Scrapped in 1994

Menominee (ATF 73)

Fawnee (ATF 74)

Sioux (ATF 75) Transferred to Turkey in 1973

Ute (ATF 76) SINKEX in 1991

Bannock (ATF 81) Transferred to Italy in 1979

Carib (ATF 82) Transferred to Colombia in 1979

Chickasaw (ATF 83) Transferred to Repiblic of China in 1976

Cree (ATF 84) SINKEX in 1978

Lipan (ATF 85) SINKEX in 1990

Appendix C

543
Appendix C

544

Mahopac (ATA 196).

ATA–216, started as a steel-hulled net tender, was completed as a tug. She retains the

rounded stern of the ATA.
Mataco (ATF 86) Scrapped in 1979

Moreno (ATF 87)

Narragansett (ATF 88)

Nauset (ATF 89) War loss

Pinto (ATF 90) Transferred to Peru in 1974

Seneca (ATF 91) SINKEX in 2003

Tawasa (ATF 92) Scrapped in 1976

Tekesta (ATF 93) Transferred to Chile in 1992

Yuma (ATF 94)

Zuni (ATF 95) Grounded hard during Iwo Jima campaign; refloated and transferred to Coast Guard; renamed Tamora (WMEC 166)

Abnaki (ATF 96) Transferred to Mexico in 1978

Alsea (ATF 97)

Ankara (ATF 98) Transferred to Chile in 1992

Chetco (ATF 99) Converted to Penguin (ASR 12) while building

Chowanoc (ATF 100) Transferred to Ecuador in 1977

Cocopa (ATF 101) Transferred to Mexico in 1978

Hidatsa (ATF 102)

Hitchiti (ATF 103)

Jicarilla (ATF 104)

Moctobi (ATF 105)

Molala (ATF 106)

Munsee (ATF 107)

Pakana (ATF 108) Transferred to Bureau of Mines; renamed Virginia City

Potowatomi (ATF 109)

Quapaw (ATF 110)

Sarsi (ATF 111) War loss (Korea)

Serrano (ATF 112)

Takelma (ATF 113)

Tawakoni (ATF 114)

Tenino (ATF 115)

Tolowa (ATF 116)

Wateree (ATF 117) Wrecked following World War II

Wematchee (ATF 118)

Achomawi (ATF 148)

Atakapa (ATF 149)

Avoyel (ATF 150)

Chawasa (ATF 151)

Cahuilla (ATF 152)

Chilulu (ATF 193) Transferred to Coast Guard following World War II

Chimaniko (ATF 154)

Cusabo (ATF 155)

Luiseno (ATF 156)

Nipmuc (ATF 157)

Mosopelea (ATF 158)

Paiute (ATF 159)

Papago (ATF 160)

Salman (ATF 161)

Shiikoni (ATF 162)

Utina (ATF 163)

Yurok (ATF 164) Converted to Bluebird (ASR 19) during building

Yustaga (ATF 169) Converted to Skylark (ASR 20) during building

Appendix C

545
Old Tugs—ATO

Ships designated ATO were a mixed bag of former ATs. Including tugs built

before the turn of the century, a number were stricken between the world wars.

Some of the oldest were small tugs that had been designated YT, then YTM or

YTB, depending on their power, after May 1944. Of the old tugs only the

Bagaduce class of World War I construction, seventeen Bird-class minesweepers,

and seven of the older tugs received the ATO designation. Numbers 40 through

45, 78 through 80, and 128 through 130 were not acquired. Numbers 126 and

127 became ATRs 48 and 49.

OLDER TUGS

There was a large group of tugs of varying sizes and characteristics that

served from the Spanish-American War until World War II. Many were redesignated YT, then in 1944 either YTM or YTB depending on their power. Seven

ships—Sonoma, Ontario, Allegheny, Sagamore, Undaunted, Acushnet, and Esselen

were designated ATO with the same hull numbers. Sonoma was lost during World

War II.

Characteristics

Varied.

Appendix C

546

Luiseno (ATF 156).
Ships in the Class

Wahneta (AT 1) Later YT 1; stricken 1922 

Iwana (AT 2) Later YT 2, later YTM 2

Narkeeta (AT 3) Later YT 3; stricken 1923 

Unadilla (AT 4) Later YT 4, later YTM 4

Samoset (AT 5) Later YT 5, later YTM 5

Penacook (AT 6) Later YT 6, later YTM 6 

Pawtucket (AT 7) Later YT 7, later YTM 7

Pentucket (AT 8) Later YT 8; stricken 1937

Sotoyomo (AT 9) Later YT 9, later YTM 9 

Patapsco (AT 10) Stricken 1936

Patuxent (AT 11) Stricken 1925 

Sonoma (AT 12) War loss, 1944

Ontario (AT 13)

Arapaho (AT 14) Stricken 1937

Mohave (AT 15) Stricken 1936

Tillamook (AT 16) Later YT 122, later YTM 122

Wando (AT 17) Later YT 123, later YTB 123

Chemung (AT 18) Later YT l24; stricken 1937

Allegheny (AT 19)

Sagamore (AT 20)

Iroquois (AT 46) Acquired 1896; stricken 1927

Osceola (AT 47) Acquired 1898; stricken 1922 

Peoria (AT 48) Ex-YT 109; stricken 1922

Piscataqua (AT 49) Acquired 1898; stricken 1930

Potomac (AT 50) Acquired 1898; stricken 1930

Uncas (AT 51) Ex-YT 110; stricken 1922

Navajo (AT 52) Acquired 1907; stricken 1937

Delaware (AT 53) Acquired 1917, later YT 111

Conestoga (AT 54) Acquired 1917; stricken 1921 

Genesee (AT 55) Acquired 1917; scuttled at Corregidor

Lykens (AT 56) Acquired 1917; stricken 1933 

Sea Rover (AT 57) Acquired 1917; stricken 1922 

Undaunted (AT 58) Ex-YT 125

Challenge (AT 59) Acquired 1918, later YT 126, YTM 126 

Bay Spring (AT 60) Acquired 1921, later YNG 19

Cahokia (AT 61) Later YT 135, YTB 135 

Tamaroa (AT 62) Later YT 135, YTB 136

Acushnet (AT 63) Acquired from U.S. Coast Guard

Tuscarora (AT 77) Later YT 341, YTB 341

BAGADUCE CLASS

Nineteen ships of this class were built as seagoing tugs by the Navy during

and immediately after World War I. They were primarily towing ships and had a

minimum of salvage facilities. Three ships were stricken between the wars; one,

Napa, was scuttled at Bataan. All surviving ships were designated ATO in 1944.

They retained their original hull numbers.

Appendix C

547
Characteristics

Principal dimensions: 156'8" x 30' x 147"

Displacement: 1,000 tons

Propulsion: Steam, reciprocating

Horsepower: 1,000

Speed: 13 knots

Complement: 44

Years built: 1917–1919

Builders: Various

Ships in the Class

Bagaduce (AT 21)

Tadousac (AT 22) Stricken 1938

Kalmia (AT 23)

Keywadin (AT 24)

Umpqua (AT 25)

Wandank (AT 26)

Tatnuck (AT 27)

Sunnadin (AT 28)

Mahopac (AT 29)

Sciota (AT 30)

Koka (AT 31) Stricken 1938

Napa (AT 32) Scuttled at Bataan in 1942

Pinola (AT 33)

Algorma (AT 34)

Carrabasset (AT 35) To Coast Guard

Contocook (AT 36) Stricken 1933

Iuka (AT 37)

Keosanqua (AT 38)

Montcalm (AT 39)

Appendix C

548

Tatnuck (AT 27), later ATO 27, seen here in Kodiak, was one of two units in the

Aleutians before the arrival of new construction tugs and salvage ships.
CONVERTED BIRD-CLASS MINESWEEPERS

Seventeen Bird-class minesweeper ships were converted to tugs and designated ATs. Two were war losses. In 1944 all surviving ships—except Brant, which

was already ARS 32—were designated ATO with their same hull numbers.

Characteristics

Same as the ships of the class converted to ARS except that the displacement was

not increased.

Builders: Baltimore Drydock and Shipbuilding, Baltimore, MD (131, 168)

Todd Shipyard, New York (133, 137, 140, 169)

Staten Island Shipbuilding, Staten Island, NY (134, 136)

Sun Shipbuilding and Drydock Co., Chester, PA (132)

Puget Sound Naval Shipyard, Bremerton, WA (135, 139)

Chester Shipbuilding, Chester, PA (138, 143, 145)

Chas. L. Seaburg with Gas Engine and Power, Morris Heights,

NY (141, 142)

Philadelphia Navy Yard, Philadelphia, PA (144)

Ships in the Class

Bobolink (AT 131) Ex-AM 20

Brant (AT 132) Ex-AM 24, later ARS 32

Cormorant (AT 133) Ex-AM 40

Grebe (AT 134) Ex-AM 43; war loss

Kingfisher (AT 135) Ex-AM 25

Oriole (AT 136) Ex-AM 7

Owl (AT 137) Ex-AM 2

Partridge (AT 138) Ex-AM 16; war loss

Rail (AT 139) Ex-AM 26

Robin (AT 140) Ex-AM 3

Seagull (AT 141) Ex-AM 30

Tern (AT 142) Ex-AM 31

Turkey (AT 143) Ex-AM 17

Vireo (AT 144) Ex-AM 52

Woodcock (AT 145) Ex-AM 14

Lark (AT 168) Ex-AM 21

Whippoorwill (AT 169) Ex-AM 35

Rescue Tugs—ATR

Originally wooden-hulled, steam-propelled tugs of World War II construction

designed for support of convoys, these ships were well fitted for fire fighting and

had reasonably good salvage facilities as well as accommodation for survivors.

They were fitted with towing reels rather than constant-tension towing winches.

Fifty steel-hulled, diesel-driven ships were redesignated ATA in 1944. Fifteen ships

Appendix C

549
were transferred under Lend-Lease as BATRs. One ship, ATR 15, was a war loss.

The ships were not named.

Characteristics

Principal dimensions: 165' x 33'4" x 17'

Displacement: 852 tons

Propulsion: Steam, reciprocating

Horsepower: 1,600

Speed: 12.5 knots

Complement: 35

Years built: 1942–1945

Builders: Various

Ships in the Class

ATRs 1 through 16

ATRs 22 through 40

ATRs 50 through 89

ATR 90 Ex-AT 146, later ATA 146

ATRs 43 through 47 Ex-ATs 121 through 125, later ATAs 121 through 125

ATRs 97 through 140 Later ATAs 170 through 213

ATRs 17 through 21 Transferred to Great Britain as BATRs

ATRs 41 and 42 Transferred to Great Britain as BATRs

ATRs 48 and 49 Transferred to Great Britain as BATRs

ATRs 91 through 96 Transferred to Great Britain as BATRs

Powhatan-class Fleet Tugs—T-ATF 166

Seven tugs were built for Military Sealift Command manning with accommodations for transient salvage crews. The ships resembled offshore supply boats/tugs

Appendix C

550

ATR 21.
with the superstructure well forward and an open deck aft for mission-loaded

equipment and workspace.

Characteristics

Principal dimensions: 240'6" x 42' x 15'

Displacement: 2,000 tons standard; 2,260 tons full load

Propulsion: Geared diesels, twin screws, 300-horsepower bow thruster

Horsepower: 7,200

Speed: 15 knots

Complement: 17 civilians, 4 Navy communications specialists, 20 salvage crew

Years built: 1977–1981

Builder: Marinette Marine, Marinette, WI (all ships)

Ships in the Class

Powhatan (T-ATF 166) Transferred to Turkey in 2008 and renamed TCG Inebolu

Narragansett (T-ATF 167) Stricken in 2002

Catawba (T-ATF 168)

Navajo (T-ATF 169)

Mohawk (T-ATF 170) Transferred to Inactive Reserve in 2005

Sioux (T-ATF 171)

Apache (T-ATF 172)

Appendix C

551

Navajo (T-ATF 169).
Salvage and Rescue Ships—ATS

These were the first salvage ships built for the Navy following World War II.

The three large ships were constructed in a British shipyard. They had hydraulic

cranes, bow thrusters, four-point moor capability, and mixed-gas diving systems.

Two follow-on ships scheduled for procurement in the 1972 and 1973 shipbuilding programs were canceled. The ships were named for cities in the United States

that had been named for cities in England.

Characteristics

Principal dimensions: 282'8" x 50' x 15'2"

Displacement: 2,650 tons standard; 3,200 tons full load

Propulsion: Geared diesels, four engines, two controllable pitch propellers,

300-horsepower bow thruster

Horsepower: 6,000

Speed: 16 knots

Complement: 115

Years built: 1967–1972

Builder: Brooke Marine, Lowestoft, England (all ships)

Ships in the Class

Edenton (ATS 1) Transferred to Coast Guard in 1997

Beaufort (ATS 2) Transferred to Korea in 1996

Brunswick (ATS 3) Transferred to Korea in 1996

Appendix C

552

Beaufort (ATS 2).
Bibliography

The detailed bibliography that follows delineates several hundred references

used in the development of Mud, Muscle, and Miracles. Of greatest value were the

articles in contemporary periodicals, a broad range of official publications, and

unpublished manuscripts. The relative contribution of the three resources varied

according to the period being chronicled.

Except for the brief period of World War I, for example, there was neither a

formal Navy salvage organization nor full-time Navy salvors in the early days of

salvage—and thus no body of official records and correspondence. Surprisingly,

however, salvage work during that time was well documented in periodicals. Of

particular value in reconstructing the events of this era were articles appearing

in the U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings and the Journal of the American Society of

Naval Engineers (later the Naval Engineers Journal).

The dramatic and spectacularly successful major submarine salvages that the

Navy undertook between the two world wars are well documented in official

reports and in the writing of the participants. Notable among the latter are the

popular works of Edward Ellsberg, which help balance the dryness of the official

reports and capture the flavor and spirit of the operations. World War II itself

produced enough documentation to occupy historians and researchers for at

least a millennium. Unfortunately, little of it addresses salvage. Major and definitive naval histories of the war, such as those by Samuel Eliot Morison’s, focus on

strategic and tactical history and devote little space to logistics and even less to

salvage. On the other hand, Worral Reed Carter’s two excellent accounts of

World War II naval logistics, Beans, Bullets, and Black Oil and Ships, Salvage, and

the Sinews of War, help place salvage and harbor clearance in perspective.

In addition to being an outstanding salvor and organizer, William A.

Sullivan was a prolific and analytical writer. His paper, “Marine Salvage,” presented to the Society of Naval Architects and Marine Engineers (SNAME) in

1948 remains a classic. Of even more use to our chronicle were the numerous

speeches, lectures, and presentations made by Sullivan after the war. These

works are analytical and are generally directed to a professional audience. One

regrets that Sullivan died before completing his autobiography. It would have

been a fascinating read and no doubt would have provided many details that now

can only be deduced from slim evidence.

Ellsberg’s World War II trilogy, Under the Red Sea Sun, No Banners, No

Bugles, and The Far Shore, are interesting on a different level. Ellsberg’s accounts

are highly personal; he shows a penchant for hyperbole. An experienced salvor

reading between the lines finds much of value in Ellsberg’s descriptions of the

work in Mesewa and early work on the Mediterranean coast of Africa. There is

little else extant on the salvage work in these areas.

The intensity of World War II and the necessity for getting on with the work

often precluded preparation of detailed technical reports. The NAVSHIPS report

on the salvage of Lafayette is excellent, but virtually unique, and C. Monroe

Hart’s notes and recollections add color and depth to the official technical

The Early Days

553
report. Homer N. Wallin’s Pearl Harbor: Why, How, Fleet Salvage and Final

Appraisal is a definitive description of the work at Pearl Harbor early in the war;

F.H. Whitaker’s 1944 article on the salvage of Oklahoma is a valuable supplement. The official history of the Navy Salvage Service, A Short History of the

Navy Salvage Service, published by the Bureau of Ships, contains most of the

available information on that service. There is no parallel document for the Navy

Rescue Towing Service, but the videotape on “Salvage Posture of the United

States” with E.J. Moran provides solid background on the towing service’s organization and operation.

In general the salvors of the Pacific wrote less than those of the Atlantic. A

search failed to turn up a reported book of war experiences by Lebbeus Curtis V.

Emile C. Genereaux’s autobiography, The Captain Loved the Sea, published serially by the tiny Humboldt County (California) Maritime Museum, contributes

much of the fact and flavor of salvage in the Pacific. Genereaux’s account, like

Ellsberg’s, is personal. He is matter-of-fact and makes no attempt to set salvage

in a strategic context. The official reports of the Pacific war that did survive were

useful in filling in the blanks left by personal accounts.

With the decrease in the intensity of salvage operations following World War

II, technical and operational reporting improved. The Navy had a permanent salvage organization to produce the correspondence, messages, and myriad other

records that accompany a military organization. Thus Mud, Muscle, and Miracles

relies heavily upon official records for the period from the end of World War II

to the present. The correspondence that flowed between the fleets, the

Supervisor of Salvage, and the Chief of Naval Operations addressing policies,

desires, and requirements proved especially useful in tracing the evolution of

Navy salvage policy and posture.

Official records concerning salvage for the Korean War period are skimpy. We

relied heavily on the records in the hands of individuals and their recollections of

the period. Salvage reports following World War II generally fall into two distinct

categories. The first, and far the most numerous, are the reports from the fleet forces

that conducted the operations. Following a prescribed format that evolved with

time, they provide a complete record of the operations they describe. Unfortunately

it is these reports that have suffered the most from paperwork purges. Many, including a number from the Vietnam War, survive only in the files of the participants.

The second group of reports are those prepared for or sponsored by the Supervisor

of Salvage on large operations such as the Missouri, Frank Knox, and clearance of

Guam following Typhoons Karen and Olive, and work done by contractors or by a

combination of contractor and fleet resources. Covering a range of salvage activities, from Lafayette to Challenger, they are a resource that reflects the growth of

technology and sophistication in salvage and deep-ocean operations.

One group of publications deserves special mention. These are the annual

summaries of salvage operations (SALVOPS) published by the Naval Sea Systems

Command from 1969 to 1974 and again from 2006 to the present. These volumes

provide brief reports of major operations conducted during the title year. They

are not in themselves detailed salvage reports. Their value lies in reflecting the

types of operations in progress and in directing the researcher toward specific

salvage jobs.

Bibliography

554
The number of articles on salvage operations in the general professional

press decreased following World War II. Occasional articles from a small number

of writers appear in the U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings, the Naval Engineers

Journal, and similar periodicals. Just as in the pre-World War II press, these later

articles are by officers who headed major operations. One periodical was particularly useful. From 1970 until the early 1980s the Supervisor of Salvage published a quarterly magazine, Faceplate. Thanks to the persistence of Jim Bladh,

Faceplate resumed publication in 1995 and continues today. It provides a forum

where many salvors can describe and discuss operations in which they participated. Virtually every salvage job conducted by the Navy or under Navy auspices

during the period of the Faceplate’s existence is described.

Films and videotapes and unpublished primary sources and manuscripts

cited in this bibliography are housed in the Operational Archives, Naval History

and Heritage Command. The library of the Supervisor of Salvage holds the published summaries of salvage operations as well as copies of Faceplate. Other periodicals and all books are in the Navy Department Library.

Primary Sources

Published Documents

Bureau of Ships. Harbor Clearance Operations in Guam Following Typhoons Karen and Olive.

NAVSHIPS 250–638–5. Washington: Department of the Navy, January 1964.

––——. Refloating of the USS Missouri (BB–63). NAVSHIPS 250–694–3. Washington:

Department of the Navy, 1 June 1950.

––——. Safety Manual for Ship Salvage Operations. Prepared by Arthur D. Little, Inc.

NAVSHIPS 250–880–2. Washington: Navy Department, December 1942.

––——. Salvage of the USS Lafayette. NAVSHIPS 0994–001–3010. Washington: Navy

De-partment, 1946.

––——. Ship Salvage. Washington: Navy Department, 1 August 1944.

––——. Ship Salvage Operations, Miscellaneous Techniques. BUSHIPS 0283–261–0000.

Wash ington: Navy Department, February 1946.

––——. A Short History of the Navy Salvage Service. NAVSHIPS 250–694–1. Washington,

Navy Department, 1948.

Chief of Naval Operations. Ocean Towing and Salvage Study. Report prepared by Presearch,

Inc. Washington, 30 April 1980.

Chief of Naval Operations Technical Advisory Group. Aircraft Salvage Operations

Mediterranean, Lessons and Implications for the Navy. Washington: Department of the

Navy, 7 April 1967.

Bibliography

555
Commander Squalus Salvage Unit. Salvage Report USS Squalus (SS 192). Report to the

Chief of Naval Operations. 1939.

Director of Ocean Engineering. USS Regulus Salvage and Disposal Operations. Washington:

Naval Sea Systems Command, 1972.

Headquarters, Commander in Chief, U.S. Fleet. Navy Seagoing Tugs and Related Craft,

General Characteristics and Considerations Governing Use Of. COMINCH P–03.

Washington, 21 June 1944.

Naval Oceanographic Office. Chase VI Search Operations. Special Publication SP–120.

Washington, February 1968.

Naval Ship Research and Development Center. Salvage of the Dredge Jamaica Bay, January

to March 1967, My Tho, Vietnam. NAVSHIPS 0994–002–0810. Washington: Department of the Navy, January 1968.

Navy Department. Salvage Report of USS Squalus (SS–192). Washington, 1940.

Richey, Commander Thomas B. Ship Salvage. Technical Bulletin No. 2–25. Washington:

Bureau of Construction and Repair, May 1925.

Supervisor of Salvage. A. Mackenzie Salvage Operation. NAVSHIPS 0994–016–7010.

Washington: Naval Sea Systems Command, 1975.

–——. Arrow. NAVSHIPS 0994–008–1010. Washington: Naval Sea Systems Command,

1970.

–——. Commercial Aircraft Salvage Operations, U.S. Navy Salvage Report. TDMIS S0300-

BJ-RPT-010/SUPSALV. Washington: Naval Sea Systems Command, 1 April 1992.

–——. EXXON VALDEZ Oil Spill Response, U.S. Navy Salvage Report. TDMIS T0800-

AD-RPT-010/SUPSALV. Washington: Naval Sea Systems Command, 31 December

1990.

–——. F/V Ehime Maru, U.S. Navy Salvage Report. TDMIS S9597-AE-RPT-010.

Washington: Naval Sea Systems Command, 31 October 2006.

–——. Harbor Clearance Operations. U.S. Navy Ship Salvage Manual, Vol. 2. NAVSHIPS

0994–000–3030. Washington, Naval Sea Systems Command, 1973.

–——. Hurricanes Katrina and Rita, U.S. Navy Salvage Report. TDMIS S0800-AC-RPT010. Washington: Naval Sea Systems Command, January 2007.

–——. Monitor Survey May–June 1987. Final Report. Washington: Naval Sea Systems

Command, January 1988.

–——. M.V Oriental Warrior Salvage, Jacksonville, Florida, 1972. Washington: Naval Sea

Systems Command, 1973.

–——. Operations Desert Shield/Desert Storm Vol. 1, U.S. Navy Salvage Report. TDMIS

T0800-AE-RPT-010/SUPSALV. Washington: Naval Sea Systems Command, July

1992.

–——. Recovery of Deep Research Vehicle ALVIN. NAVSHIPS 0994–004–5010.

Washington: Naval Sea Systems Command, December 1969.

–——. The Salvage of the Litton Launching Platform. NAVSEA 0994–LP–017–5010.

Washington: Naval Sea Systems Command, 1975.

–——. SALVOPS 69. NAVSHIPS 0994–012–6010. Washington: Naval Sea Systems

Command, 1969.

Bibliography

556
–——. SALVOPS 70. NAVSHIPS 0994–012–6020. Washington: Naval Sea Systems

Command, 1970.

–——. SALVOPS 71. NAVSHIPS 0994–012–6030. Washington: Naval Sea Systems

Command, 1971.

–——. SALVOPS 72. NAVSHIPS 0994–012–6040. Washington: Naval Sea Systems

Command, 1972.

–——. SALVOPS 73. NAVSHIPS 0994–012–6050. Washington: Naval Sea Systems

Command, 1973.

–——. SALVOPS 74. NAVSHIPS 0994–012–6060. Washington: Naval Sea Systems

Command, 1974.

–——. Space Shuttle Challenger, U.S. Navy Salvage Report. TDMIS T9597-AA-RPT010/SUPSALV. Washington: Naval Sea Systems Command, 29 April 1988.

–——. Space Shuttle Columbia, U.S. Navy Salvage Report. TDMIS S0300-B5-RPT-010.

Washington: Naval Sea Systems Command, September 2003.

–——. S.S. Sidney E. Smith, Jr. Salvage Operation. NAVSHIPS 0994–LP–017–4010.

Wash ington: Naval Sea Systems Command, 1972.

–——. Submarine Salvage. U.S. Navy Ship Salvage Manual, Vol. 2. NAVSHIPS 0994–000 -

3020. Washington: Naval Sea Systems Command, 1970.

–——. Suez Canal Salvage Operations in 1974. Washington: Naval Sea Systems Command,

1975.

–——. Summary Report on Salvage Survey of Prinz Eugen. SUPSALV Report No. 6–74.

Washington: Naval Sea Systems Command, June 1974.

–——. Technical Report on Salvaging of AFDM–2. NAVSHIPS 0994–001–4010.

Washington: Naval Sea Systems Command, 1967.

–——. TWA Flight 800, U.S. Navy Salvage Report. TDMIS S0300-BZ-RPT-010.

Washington: Naval Sea Systems Command, May 1998.

–——. U.S. Navy Diving Manual. NAVSEA 0994–LP–001–9010. Washington: Naval Sea

Systems Command, 1985.

–——. USNS Chauvenet (T-AGS 29) Stranding Salvage Operations. 82–01 SUPSALV

Report. Washington: Naval Sea Systems Command, 1982.

–——. USS Frank Knox (DDR 742) Stranding Salvage. NAVSHIPS 0994–002–6010.

Washington: Naval Sea Systems Command, 1968.

–——. USS MISSISSINEWA Oil Removal Operations, U.S. Navy Salvage Report. TDMIS

S0300-B6-RPT-010. Washington: Naval Sea Systems Command, May 2004.

Unpublished Documents

Assistant Supervisor of Salvage. “Legislative History of Salvage Related Statutes?’

Memorandum serial OOC–L– 177 to Supervisor of Salvage, 1 August 1980.

Badders, Chief Machinist’s Mate William C. USN, (Ret.). Interview by John T. Mason, Jr.,

U.S. Naval Institute, Oral History Collection. Annapolis, 14 September 1971.

Bibliography

557
Chief, Bureau of Ships. “Expansion of Navy Salvage Service in Time of War or National

Emergency; BUDOCKS part in.” Memorandum, serial 694–56 to Chief, Bureau of

Yards and Docks. 5 March 1951.

–——. “Salvage and Firefighting–Use of LCI(L) and LCT for.” Letter, C–LCI(L)/S93(688–

880), C–LCT/S93 to Commander Amphibious Training Command, Pacific Fleet.

Washington, 12 August 1944.

–——. “Ship Salvage, U.S. Navy–Expenditures and Returns (War Period).” BUSHIPS

memorandum, Code 882 CMH/mck. Washington, 19 December 1945.

–——. “Ship Salvage Equipment.” Letter, to Chief of Naval Operations 9940 serial 638C–

1250. 21 October 1960.

–——. “The Use of Lifting Devices in Harbor Clearance Operations.” BUSHIPS Memo -

randum, code 880. Washington, 17 July 1945.

Chief of Naval Operations. “Deep Diving and Salvage Operations Mediterranean, Les -

sons and Implications for the Navy.” Washington: Department of the Navy, 7 April

1967.

–——. “Diving and Salvage and/or Recovery Services for Non-DOD Purposes.” Message

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–——. “Ship Salvage.” Letter, OP–O9H1E/dag serial 1O2PO9BIE to Commanders in

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–——. “Ship Salvage.” Letter, Op341C/pas serial 0142P34 to Commander in Chief, U.S.

Pacific Fleet. 2 November 1960.

–——. “Ship Salvage Equipment.” Letter, serial 3537P41 to Chief, Bureau of Ships. 8

September 1960.

Commander in Chief, U.S. Pacific Fleet. “Diving, Salvage, Aircraft and Object Recovery.”

Letter, FF4–5/kd 4740 serial N44–7812 to a distribution list of Pacific Fleet Com -

mands. 7 September 1978.

–——. “Ship Salvage Operations, Pacific.” CINCPACFLT Instruction 4740.1. 6 April

1953.

–——. “Ship Salvage.” Letter, FF1 4740 serial 73/OM37 to Chief of Naval Operations. 3

October 1960.

Commander Naval Surface Force, U.S. Atlantic Fleet. “Recommended Command Assign -

ment Policies for ARSi’ATS/ATF to Offset Declining Pacific/Atlantic Fleet Salvage

Capability.” Letter, 5000 serial N63/6909 to Chief of Naval Personnel. 3 June 1976.

–——. “Salvage Operation to Refloat USS Hermitage (LSD 34); report of.” Letter, 4740

serial N4/6146 to Chief of Naval Operations. 24 July 1975.

Commander Naval Surface Force, U.S. Pacific Fleet, and Commander Naval Surface

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Commander Salvage Force, Northwest African Waters. “Action Report of Amphibious

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Letter to Commander in Chief, United States Fleet. 1 October 1944.

Commander Salvage Group, Northwest African Waters. “Resume of Salvage and Fire -

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Commander Service Force, U.S. Atlantic Fleet. “Salvage of USS Monssen (DD 798),

March-April 1962.” Letter, FF4–16(741:gt) 4740 serial 70/5679 to Distribution List.

16 July 1962.

–——. “Search, Recovery, and Rescue Operations.” Message 031821Z to Commander in

Chief, U.S. Atlantic Fleet. July 1973.

Commander Service Force, U.S. Pacific Fleet. “Fleet Salvage Organization and Ship

Salvage Organization.” COMSERVPAC Instruction 4740.2. 6 April 1953.

–——. Joint Letter, COMSERVPAC FF4–15 9940 serial 70.4–9806 of 4 November 1959

and COMSERVLANT FF4–16/9940:(rnp) serial 40/8912 of 19 October 1959, with

endorsements of Commander in Chief, U.S. Pacific Fleet, and Commander in Chief,

U.S. Atlantic Fleet.

–——. “Ship Salvage Capability; status of.” Letter, serial 70.44 7447 to distribution 4740.

2 September 1960.

Commander Service Squadron Five. “Fleet Requirements in Diving, Salvage and Ocean

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–——. “Recommended Command Assignment Policies for ARS/ATS/ATF to Offset

Declining Pacific Fleet Salvage Capability.” Letter, FC:00:wlm 5000 serial 133 to

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Commander Service Squadron Eight. “Bow Section of S/T Ocean Eagle Salvage Opera -

tion; report of.” Letter, N–UI 4740 serial 709 to Commander Naval Ship Systems

Command. 18 June 1968.

–——. “Salvage of USCGC Cuyahoga; report of.” Letter, N41 4740 serial 65 to

Commander Naval Sea Systems Command. 19 January 1979.

–——. “Salvage of USNS Bluejacket.” Letter, N2 4740 serial 495 to Commander Service

Force, U.S. Atlantic Fleet. 4 May 1965.

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Commanding Officer, Harbor Clearance Unit One. “Ex-USS Rochester, Salvage Opera -

tions Report, submission of.” Letter, HCU–1/BLD/cly 4740 serial 345 to Commander

in Chief, U.S. Pacific Fleet. 6 September 1967.

–——. “MSB–54 Salvage Operation; Report of.” Letter, HCU–1/bld/glh 4740 serial 250

to Commander in Chief, U.S. Pacific Fleet. 7 July 1967.

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–——. “Post Salvage Report on Dredge New Jersey; submission of.” Letter, HCU–1/HWT/

ldf 4740 serial 147 to Commander Naval Ship Systems Command. 19 March 1970.

–——. “Radiological and Potential Salvage Survey of ex-German Cruiser Prinz Eugen (IX

300).” Letter, HCU–1/TFS/hl 4740 serial C–3–74 to Commander Naval Ship

Systems Command. 2 June 1974.

–——. “SS Baton Rouge Victory Salvage Operation; Report of.” Letter, HCU–1/BLD/gth

4740 serial 182 to Commander in Chief, U.S. Pacific Fleet. 29 May 1967.

–——. “SS Clarksburg Victory Salvage Report.” Letter, HCU–1/BLD/gth 4740 serial 235 to

Commander in Chief, U.S. Pacific Fleet. 26 June 1967.

Commanding Officer, Harbor Clearance Unit Two. “AFDB–7 Pontoon Salvage Opera tions

in Ponta Delgada, Azores; report of.” Letter, HCU–2/00 4740 serial 268 to

Commander Naval Sea Systems Command. 24 April 1981.

–——. “Fleet Requirements in Diving, Salvage and Ocean Engineering.” Letter, HCU–2/

20:gpa 4740 serial 214 to Chief of Naval Operations. 7 July 1973.

Commanding Officer, Mobile Diving and Salvage Unit One. “Salvage Operation YRBM -

26; report of.” Letter, MDSU1/DS:bd 4700 serial 155 to Commander Naval Sea

Systems Command. 18 February 1982.

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serial 335 to Commander Naval Sea Systems Command. 10 May 1982.

Commanding Officer, USS Beaufort (ATS 2). “Post Salvage Report, ROKN ARS–26 Gumi

and ROKN LST–677 Suyong, Tok Sok Ri, ROK; submission of.” Letter,

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June 1983.

Commanding Officer, USS Bolster (ARS 38). “Rajah Soliman (RPS–66), Republic of the

Philippines; salvage report of.” Letter, ARS38:01:RJS/pk 4740 serial 018 to Com -

mander in Chief, U.S. Pacific Fleet. 15 March 1965.

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Command. 2 April 1984.

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–——. “USNS Card Salvage Operations; report of.” Draft letter ARS 42:WEE:jn 4740.

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1970.

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Index

Allen, Glenn, 508

Aluminaut, 380, 386–387 

Alvin, 380, 381, 385–387, 397, 406 

Amastra, 259 

Amberjack (SS 522), 404

American Salvage Association, 511, 514

American Waterways Operators, 511

Ammunition, see Ordnance

Amoco Cadiz, 468

Amphibious invasions 

lack of salvage support, 103–104 

Korean War, 209 

World War 11, 56–57, 92, 93, 101, 103, 127,

161, 172–173 

Anangel Liberty, 336–339

Anchor (ARS 13), 88, 186; class, 88, 528

Anchorage, 473, 475

Ancon (AGC 4), 128, 131

Andersen, H.M., 115, 120, 123, 128, 136, 142

Anderson, Gerald L., 422

Anderson, Jacob, 6, 367

Andre Lebon, 143

Andrea Lukenhach, 216–218, 332

Andrews, Adolphus, 76

Andrews, Frank A., 375

Ankers, George, 112, 117, 121

An-Nasiriyah, 503

Anzio, 135–136

Apache

(ATF 67), 162, 170, 171 

(APD 10), 171

(T-ATF 172), 408 

Antofagasta, Chile, 493

Arabian Gulf, 483, 488–501, 504–506, 516

Araphao Eagle, 411

Argentia, Newfoundland, salvage station, 56,

100, 146

Argo Merchant, 468

Argus Island tower structure, 358–359

Arikara (ATF 98), 138, 142–143, 259, 283

Arizona (BB 39), 31, 65–66

Arkansas River dam obstruction, 346–347

Army Corps of Engineers 

cooperation in Navy harbor clearances, 129,

138, 305, 308 

Navy salvage operations for, 343–347 

pollution control responsibilities, 288, 290 

salvage responsibilities, 7, 195, 343,

524–525

Army Transportation Corps, 195

ARS 50 class, 516

Arsiz, 74

Arthur Middleton (AP 25), 159, 160

Artifact recovery, 348

AS–28, 461–463

Asher, Richard, 456

ATA–123, 162

The Early Days

573

A. Mackenzie, 344–346, 347 

Aaron Ward (DD 483), 183 

A.B. Wood II, 403, 404 

Abercrombie, 130, 131 

Abnaki (ATF 96), 259, 284, 421-422; class, 543,

545

Accelerate (ARS 30), 71, 516 

Acushnet, 24 

ADAPTS oil pumping system, 309

Aden, Republic of Yemen, 497, 499, 500

Adroit (MSO 509), 489, 491

ADS–TV system, 267, 391–393, 418

Aegean, 468

Aeolus (ARC 3), 397, 398 

AFDM–2, 300–302 

Afloat salvage, 2; see also Stranding salvage 

Agraz, Chief Gunner’s Mate, 10, 13 

Aircraft salvage 

A3B in Subic Bay, 392 

Air Florida Flight 90, 349, 422–423

Air India Flight 182, 425–426 

Atlantic Fleet operations, 353n27 

C–5A transport #68218 door and ramp,

421–422 

EgyptAir Flight 990, 445–450

F–14 

Ensenada, Mexico, 424 

nosewheel, Mediterranean Sea, 452–455

North Sea, 423–424 

southern California, 424 

helicopter, 424, 503 

impact point determinations, 421

Korean Airlines 007 search, 424–425 

National Park Service Cessna U–206, 418 

P3B, Brunswick, Maine, 419 

purpose of, 416

search techniques, 416–419, 421, 423, 425

SH3G helicopter, St. Croix, 424

South African Airways Flight 295, 436, 

Space Shuttle Challenger, 426–431 

Space Shuttle Columbia, 464

TWA Flight 800, 440–445

UH-46 Helicopter, Wake Island, 450–452

United Airlines Flight 811, 434–440

Vietnam, 259, 420–421 

Ajax (AR 6), 32, 163

Alabama, 506, 510

Alamo Victory, 303

Alaska, 474–476

Albaugh, Ridge, 464

Albury, Carl, 357

Alcoa Seaprobe, 403, 407, 408, 420

Alert, 31

Aleutians, 158–160

Alexandria, Louisiana, 506

Algerian invasion, 103, 104 

Alleman, Cyrus, 304, 344
ATA–240, 210

Atlanta (CL 51), 153

Atlantic, 292–293

Atlantic Express, 468

Atlantic Fleet, 250, 286–295, 515

Atlantic operations 

harbor clearances, 106–112 

during Korean War, 220–221 

Vietnam era salvage operations, 286–295 

western, salvage operations in, 145–146 

see also North Atlantic

Atlantic Strike Team, 431

Atlantis, 28

Atlantis II, 375, 376

ATR–1, 136

ATR–2, 138

ATR–3, 138

ATR–33, 162

ATR–51, 170

ATR–61, 171

Augusta (CA 31), 101n3

Ausdauer, 265, 325n5

Austin, 358

Austin (LPD 4), 447

Australian Commonwealth Marine Salvage

Board, 170

Avenger (MSO 490), 489

Az Zubayr, Iraq, 501, 502

Babylon, Iraq, 503

Babylon River, 503

Bache (DD 470), 288 

Bacheler, Theodore F., 231

Bacon, Bill, 417

Badders, William, 45, 371–372

Bagaduce (AT 21), 34; class, 547–548

Bahrain, 491

Bailey, Tom, 412

Baldwin (DD 624), 224, 229

Banks, Bruce, 337

Bannock (ATF 81), 138, 191

Barge salvage

Arkansas River dam obstruction, 346–347

conversion to pull beach gear, 357 

foam raising, 256 

four-lift-craft salvage operation, 273–276 

fuel, North Atlantic grounding, 100 

Vancouver Island stranding, 352–353 

Barnett (APA 5), 123

Barreh, 328

Barry (APD 29), 183

Bartholomew, A.A., 205

Bartholomew, Charles A. (Black Bart), 344,

354, 360, 428, 476, 485 

Basalt Rock Company, 164

Base Force Train, 164

Basilone (DDE 824), 223

Bataan, 241–245

Bates, Joe, 393

Baton Rouge, Louisiana, 506

Battelle Columbus Laboratories, 519

Baumann, Gregg, 479

Beaufort (ATS 2), 284, 331–332, 337, 339, 361,

488–491

Beaver, 403

Beierl, Phil, 410, 493

Belsher, Robert T., 306

Benhke, Albert R., 41, 369n2

Bennett, Andrew C., 104, 112

Bennett, Edmond B., 264n11

Bennett, T.J. (Doc), 256

Berke, Lewis W., 225

Bermuda, 146

Bert, Paul, 368

Betzel, Alfred F, 384

BH–3067 (hotel barge), 210

Bird-class minesweepers 

conversion to salvage ships, 20, 54, 70, 88,

526–527, 538 

conversions to tugs, 54, 548–549

Bishop, Charles B., 375

Bismarck Sea, 179

Bisordi, Charles, 168

Bissell, J.D., 344

Bizerte, 116, 117–118

Bjork, W.N., 154

Blackthorn (WLB 391), 339, 341–343

Bladh, James C., 304, 306, 347, 351, 352, 420,

476, 489

Blandy, William H.P., 199

Blockwick, Thomas N., 229, 231, 233, 391

Bloomer, J.W., 361

Blue Marlin, 499–501

Bluegill (SS 242), 360–362

Bluejacket (T-AF 51), 224

Bolster (ARS 38), 211, 212, 229, 231, 233, 235,

242, 243, 259, 260, 333, 335; class, 88–89,

532

Bond, George F., 374, 391

Bone, 116

Bornholdt, Robert, 337, 338

Boston (CA 69), 163

Boston Navy Yard, 24

Boudjmel, 113

Bougie, 116

Boyd, J. Huntly, 231, 234, 241, 242, 248, 253,

260, 281, 288, 326, 330, 331, 354

Boyd, Kirk, 359

Bradbury, Scott, 362

Brady, John T., 393

Braine (DD 630), 183

Brand, Kevin, 508

Brant (ARS 32), 53, 74, 88, 97, 100, 101, 106,

115, 122, 123, 127, 130, 135, 144

Brazil, U.S. salvage effort for, 100–101

Britain Victory, 281

British Royal Navy, 17, 18, 52, 55, 88, 99, 104,

115–116, 127–132, 136, 140, 192–193

Broadwater, John, 409

Brobston, W.M., 217

Brooklyn (CA 40), 101n3

Broshek, Joseph J., 82, 90

Brunswick (ATS 3), 335–336, 359–362

Brunswick, Maine, P3B salvage, 419–420

Index

574
Buchanan (DD 484), 156

Buckingham, James R., 426

Bugsier Reederei und Bergungs, 265, 326

Bull and Roberts, 79

Bullivant clamps, 269, 276n25

Bureau of Construction and Repair 

contracting for salvage through, 20 

responsibilities of, 21 

role during World War II, 53, 54

Bureau of Ships, 21, 54, 69, 75, 82, 90, 195,

196, 240

Burmah Agate, 468

Burns, Lieutenant, 123

Burns, Commander, 131

Bush, George H.W., 476

Bushey, Arthur, 166

Bussey, Lawrence T., 393

Butler (DMS 29), 183

Cable (ARS 19), 177, 198, 286, 301 

Calhoun, William L., 58, 91, 154

California (BB 44), 59, 60, 64, 67, 155

Cambrian Foundation, 409

Camden (AS 6), 29, 30

Campbell, Archibald U., 361

Canada Victory, 183

Canary, Bob, 386

Canberra (CA 70), 163, 164

Cannon, Barry, 389

Cape Cod Canal, 72

Cape Hatteras, North Carolina, 410

Cape Matapan, 56

Cappy Bisso, 341–343

Capricorn, 341

Card (T-AKV 40), 247–250

Cardinal, 31

Cardinal (MHC 60), 499

Carey, Robert, 131

Cargo salvage

add-on requirements, 453

from aircraft, 259

Atomic Energy Commission placed,

397–398

black boxes, 440

competition with merchant seamen, 166

copra, 335, 336

long pipe bundle, 401–402

munitions, 66–67, 155, 260, 284–285

Naval Research Laboratory camera package,

398

petroleum products, 73, 226, 285, 290

secondary unauthorized, 217n10

from World War I Hog Island ship, 120–121

United Airlines Flight 811 cargo door,

434–440

See also Aircraft salvage; and Deep-ocean

salvage

Caribbean salvage base, 203

Caribia, 332–335, 344, 350

Carolyn Chouest, 448, 449

Carlock, 282

Carr, M.W., 341

Carroll, Kent, 326

Carter, John, 480

Carter, Worral R., 161–162, 182

Casablanca, 106–111, 121, 322

Cason, G.R., 357

Cassat, Gary, 353

Cassin (DD 372), 59

Castillo de Bellever, 468

Catawba (T-ATF 168), 331–332, 350, 497, 500,

501

Caterpillar engines, in salvage ships, 240, 251

Cavey, Richard, 413, 501, 508

Casstot, 281

Central Pacific, 161–164

Century, 33

Chain (ARS 20), 146, 385

Chance, Ray, 164

Chang Won (ARS 25), 331

Chanticleer (ARS 7) class, 89, 372, 539–540

Chauvenet (T-AGS 29), 359–360

Cherbourg, 138, 140–142

Cherokee (ATF 66), 74, 97, 101, 106, 120

Chemical and biological hazards, 67–68, 79

Cheyenne (Monitor No. 10), 14–15

Chickasaw (ATF 83), 170, 173, 175

Chief (AM 315), 211–212

Chief of Naval Operations Executive Board,

516

Chikuma, 483

Chile, 496

Chilula (WMEC 153), 350

Choctaw (ATF 70), 146

Chokai, 483

Chowanoc (ATF 100), 171, 260, 282, 417

Chubb, Steve, 348

Cifuncho Bay, Chile, 493, 500

City of Rome, 33

Clump (ARS 33), 89, 161, 166, 179, 180–183,

200

Clark County, 280

Clarksburg Victory, 271–272

Clarkson, Colonel, 133

Cleary, W.A., 348

Clifford, Bill, 424

Clover (WMEC 292), 417

CNO Technical Advisory Group, 380–381

Coast Guard 

Atlantic Strike Team, 431

Captain of the Port of New Orleans

(Hurricane Katrina), 506

Coast Guard Station Group Moriches, 442

Commandant of the Coast Guard, 477

Commandant 17th Coast Guard District,

470

Honolulu (Ehime Maru) search and recovery, 455

Mississinewa oil spill investigation, 478

Navy salvage for, 338–343 

Pacific Strike Team, 337–339 

pollution control responsibilities, 323–324,

337 

salvage interests, 195

Index

575
support to FEMA, 511

TWA Flight 800 search and recovery, 440

USCGC Walnut, 501

Coast Torpedo Force, 14

Coast Wrecking Company, 6

Cochrane, E.L., 82, 86

Coconino County (LST 603), 259

Cocopa, 217, 253, 255, 256

Cofferdam construction

55-gallon drums, 244 

around conning tower hatch, 31 

around Maine, 7–8 

deck edge, 62–63, 65, 72 

diver access, 100–foot, 311 

earth-filled, 7–8 

of floating drydock hatches, 9

forecastle, 287 

J-bolts, 249 

patches, 64–65 

on Pearl Harbor

battleships, 59 

in Saigon River, 248 

timber, 112 

shell extension, 59, 61, 65

Cogswell (DD 651), 258

Cohoes (ANL 78), 266

Cole (DDG 67), 496–500 

Cole, Cyrus W., 40–41, 370n4

Cole, Philip P., 284

Coleman, James J., 299, 330

Comber, 206

Commandante Lyra, 100

Commercial salvors and salvage 

economic considerations, 6, 218, 286 

Navy relationship with, 3–4, 19–23, 26,

33–34, 45–48, 51, 60, 75, 216–218,

289–290, 293–295, 352, 399, 513–514 

post-World War II operations, 196, 198–199 

similarities between naval salvors and, 3

Vietnam era operations, 299–305 

See also Salvage industry; and specific companies

Comstock (LSD 45), 504

Conserver (ARS 39), 210, 255, 258, 260,

281–283, 401, 402, 424, 425, 450

Contracts 

aircraft salvage, 410 

daily-hire-plus-bonus, 34 

deep-ocean search and recovery, 396–397 

federal salvage laws, 524–525 

fixed price, 69 

impact on commercial salvage industry,

513–514, 517 

Lend-Lease, 53, 99, 147 

NObs–36, 69, 71, 79, 197, 198 

no-cure, no-pay, 20, 69, 75 

NOd–2l0, 20 

NOd–2263, 58, 74, 83 

per diem basis, 24, 76 

post-Vietnam era, 324 

post-World War II, 198, 204 

Vietnam era, 250, 251, 299–305, 518

World War II, 55, 69

see also Emergency Ship Salvage Material

Coolidge, Calvin, 11

Cooper, Keith, 451, 462

Cornhusker Mariner, 216

Conyngham (DDG 17), 288

Cosper, James, 491

Coucal (ARS 8), 216, 260

Cousteau, Jacques Yves, 373, 374

Cowdray, 103

Crandall (YHLC 2), 266, 276, 278, 285,

325–326, 328–330

Crandall, Orson L., 45, 266, 371–372

Cranes

barge-mounted crawler, 341 

container, 487

floating, 341, 499 

heavy, 474

heavy-compensated, heavy-lift, through a

well, 449

heavy-lift, self-propelled shear-leg, 326n6 

knuckle 459

whirley, 345–346

Cree (ATF 84), 160, 188

Crew rescues 

by salvage, 32 

development of procedures for, 40, 372, 377,

463, 488–489

during foaming operation, 272 n.20 

entrapped Russian AS–28, 460–463

failures, 38, 461 

from H–3 grounding, 14

from submersibles, 402–406 

from sunken submarines, 26–29, 32–33, 40,

296–297, 368, 370–371 

training for, 296, 297

Criblet, P.S., 163

Crilley (YHLC 1), 266, 276, 278, 285, 325–326,

328–330

Crilley, Frank W., 11, 12, 266

Crusader (ARS 2), 71, 516

Cunningham, Andrew Brown, 106, 114,

127n20, 130

Curb (ARS 21), 198, 286, 301, 303

Current (ARS 22), 163, 170, 210, 220, 259,

260, 283

Curtis, Lebbeus, 54, 58, 91, 99, 149, 154, 155,

179, 180–181, 185, 192, 313

Curtiss (AV 4), 59

CURV (Cable–controlled Underwater Recovery

Vehicle), 37, 378, 380–381, 398, 403, 405,

406, 423

Cuyahoga (WIX 157), 339–341

Czapiewski, Peter, 485

D–2, 27, 28

Dauisan Reef, 359, 361

David Taylor Model Basin, 302n34

Davidson, 259

Davis Submerged Decompression Chamber, 371

Davies, Morgyn, 501

Davis, Walter N., 18, 72, 76, 77n6

Index

576
Dean, Michael, 493

De Steiguer (T-AGOR 12), 417 

Deep Drone, 359, 396, 408, 409, 417–418, 423,

424, 446

Deep-ocean salvage

AEC SNAP–7E acoustical Beacon, 397–398 

Alvin, recovery of, 385–387

of aircraft, 416–426 

ammunition ship search, 383–384

camera towing, 384

Challenger, 426–431

classified test item recovery, Vieques, Puerto

Rico, 383

CURV (Cable-controlled Underwater

Recovery Vehicle), 380, 398, 403, 405,

406, 423

with Deep Ocean Work Boat (DOWB), 385 

Deep Submergence Systems Project, 379,

388, 396, 398–399 

definition of, and requirements for, 3 

engineer’s role in, 365 

first, 10–13 

floating bases for, 422

grappling, 397 

Large Object Salvage System, 398–401, 402

magnetometer search, 384, 407 

Monitor, 407–415

motivation for, 26–27

Ocean Thermal Energy Conversion pipes,

401–402

Palomares nuclear weapons recovery,

378–383, 427

recovery phase, 366 

rehearsal, 387, 423 

with remotely operated underwater vehicles,

359, 366, 377–378, 396, 398, 418 

rocket instrumentation package, 398 

search phase, 216, 365–366, 374–376 

sonar technology for, 379–380, 408 

during southern France invasion, 142–143 

submarine salvage, 10–13, 374–377, 379,

384–385 

of submersibles, 385–387, 402–406 

with submersibles, 380, 384–386, 401 

Thresher, 374–377

torpedo recovery, St. Croix, 383 

see also Aircraft salvage; Divers and diving 

Deep Ocean Work Boat (DOWB), 385 

Deep Quest, 402

Deep Sea Divers School, 389

Deep Submergence Review Group, 377–379,

387, 394, 396, 398–399, 402, 515

Deep Submergence Systems Project, 379, 388,

396, 398–399

Delanoy, Billie L. (Sam), 265, 268, 273, 277

Delaplane, Stephen W., 341, 350

Delhi, 132

Deliver (ARS 23), 182, 217, 218, 233, 234, 358,

421–422

Dellys salvage station, 115

DeLong (DD 129), 21–23, 48

DeMers, Gerald, 463

Discoverer, 516

Delphinius (AF 24), 156

Dennis, Donnie, 409

Detroit (AOE 4), 358

Devlin, John, 430

Dewey, 8–9

Diane G., 442

Dillingham, Mr., 58

Diodon (SS 349), 282

Discoverer (ARS 3), 71, 197, 516

Distinguished Service Medal, 331, 370n4

Diver (ARS 5), 88, 138, 145, 198; class,

529–531

Divers and diving, 366–367

ADS–IV system, 267, 391–393, 418–419,

418

breath-hold, 218n11

complex life-support systems, 519

contractors, 307

Davis Submerged Decompression Chamber,

371

deaths of, 163, 389, 393

decompression schedules, 371, 374

decompression sickness, 29, 38, 41, 368, 369

deep-diving technological explosion,

387–396

deep-sea operations, 12, 216 

developed procedures for, 409

divers from Beaufort, 491

divers from Grapple, 411

early development, 367–368 

electrically heated underwear, 370–371

Fly-Away Diving System, 359 

helium-oxygen, 40, 90, 216, 369, 370–372,

373–374, 377, 396 

in icy waters, 349 

inert gas narcosis, 368, 369 

infection from Bacterial pollution, 79, 81 

in inverted ship, 64 

management within Navy, 395–396

Mark I Deep Dive System, 393, 394, 401 

Mark II Deep Dive System, 388, 394–395 

Medal of Honor winners, 45

Navy Diver rating, 517

new diving technologies, 373–377 

Newt Suits, 461

origins in U.S. Navy, 366–367 

ratings, 85 

recirculating helmet, 369, 370 

rehearsals by, 37–38, 41, 64 

rescue of, 12 

safety precautions, 68, 79, 81 

in Saigon River, 248 

salvaging mines in Umm Qasr, 503

saturation diving, 374, 387, 393, 396 

saturation system, 411

SCUBA, 373 

SeaLab experiments, 387–391, 394 

surface supplied and saturation, 412, 497

Supervisor of Diving, 396 

support ships, 90, 266, 388, 393, 394, 395 

technology, 387–396 

Index

577
training of, 6, 32, 37–38, 84, 203, 368, 370,

389 

tube access to sunken ships, 310 

value in salvage operations, 12, 37–38 

World War II, 372–373 

Dixie (AD 14), 191 

Doctrine and operational concepts, 4, 5, 51, 59,

90–95, 100, 162, 212n8, 236, 322–324, 519,

520

Dolphin (AGSS 555), 424

Domenech, Lieutenant Commander, 105 

Don Juan d’Austria, 7, 18 

DONJON Marine, 510

Dona Ouriana, 229, 231, 359 

Doust, W.A., 115, 127–128, 131, 135, 136,

145n29, 161 

Downes (DD 375), 59 

Dredge salvage

cut-and-pick operation, 344–346 

pollution prevention, 292–293 

in Suez Canal Clearance, 326, 328 

in Vietnam, 272–279 

Drellishak, Stephen, 12 

Drucker, John, 359

DSV Rockwater 2, 457–459

Dubai, United Arab Emirates, 484, 485, 491,

499

Duell (APA 160), 224

DUKW, 135

Eaglescliffe, 347

Eccles, Tom, 461

Economic considerations in salvage, 329–330

Edenshaw, 136

Edenton (ATS 1), 357, 358, 420; class, 253, 313,

552

Edmond Fitzgerald, 406

EDT Ares, 453

EDT Argonaut, 453

Edward Rutledge (AP 52), 103n4

Eells anchor, 46, 274n23, 360

Egeria (ARL 8), 181

Egerton, Harold E., 407

EgyptAir Flight 990, 445–450

Ehime Maru, 455–459, 480, 519

Eisenhower, Dwight, 114

Ekaterina G., 281

Elder (AN 20), 373

Electra (AK 21/AKA 4), 119–120

Electron (AKS 27), 210

Elemdorf, 473, 476

Elihu Thompson, 162

Elk River (LSMR–501/IX 501), 388–389, 394

Ellsberg, Edward, 34, 36, 38, 99, 106, 112, 114,

119, 121, 192, 370, 381

Emergency Ship Salvage Material, 199, 237,

239, 248, 250, 251, 255, 256, 267, 281, 298,

304, 318, 321–322, 339, 353, 355, 357, 362,

468–469, 476, 489n48, 507, 516–518 

Empire Fay, 126 

Energie, 265, 325n5 

England, Gordon, 507n63

England (DB 635), 183

Ensenada, Mexico, 424

Ephland, John M, 168 

Equipment innovations 

ADS–IV deep-diving system, 267, 391–393,

418

automatic tensioning towing winch, 87, 88

barge-mounted shear leg, 186

beach gear, 46–47, 74, 201, 227–228, 233,

251, 310

Bullivant clamps, 269, 276n25

Cole on heavy lift ship Blue Marlin, 499 –501

combine a commercial saturations system,

411

computer modeling, 362, 422

continuous-pull linear pullers, 310

corrosion probe, 408 

CURV (Cable-controlled Underwater

Recovery Vehicle), 37, 380, 398, 403, 405, 

406, 409, 423

deep-diving technological explosion,

387–396

deep-ocean search equipment, 375,

379–380

DGPS, differential global positioning system,

451

drydock as a lifting pontoon, 234n19

drydocking of an unstable platform,

485–487

dynamically positioned, 407

early development, 367–368

Eells anchor, 46, 274n23, 360 

evolutionary process, 519

Falcon nozzle, 36, 41–42 

fire-fighting nozzle, 86 

Fly-Away Diving System, 359 

headframe for righting operation, 63–64

helium-oxygen diving equipment, 40

high-pressure hydroblaster, 412

high-resolution scanning by helicopter, 349 

hot tap and oil-removal systems, 480

I–beam chisel, 347 

inflatable pontoons, 298

ingenuity and a thorough knowledge of, 418 

innovative entry and tending methods, 497

Large Object Salvage System, 398–402 

line-throwing gun, 160 

Martin-Decker strain gauges, 64 

McCann Submarine Rescue Chamber, 40,

296 

MERMUT, 377–378 

modified normal salvage technique, 413

mooring for diving support ship, 35

new diving technologies, 373–374

patch with ballast and blow system, 271

polyurethane foam, 256 

Program of Ship Salvage Engineering

(POSSE), 491

Propellant Embedment Anchors, 358–359

protective clothing, 474

radar technology, 435

rapid technological advancement, 433

Index

578
recovery vehicles, 438

remotely fired cutters, 401

remotely operated underwater vehicles, 359,

377–378, 436, 438

Roberts back on a heavy lift ship, 487

search technology, 416–417

shear legs, 90, 136, 142, 161, 264 

side-scan sonar, 333–334, 375, 416,

421–422, 426, 428

submarine salvage pontoons, 12, 33, 35,

295–296, 362, 399, 400 

submersible pumps, 251–252, 290

SWISS search system, 446 

tensiometers, 302

Tooker patch, 80 

tunneling lance, 41–42 

underwater cutting torch, 35–36 

underwater lights, 35 

velocity impact tool, 130 

windy spanners, 269 

work platform, self-elevating, 347 

see also Deep-ocean salvage; Divers and diving; Emergency Ship Salvage Material

(ESSM); Salvage equipment

Erie Sand Steamship Company, 309 

Erwin, Art, 392 

Escape (ARS 6), 146, 203, 224, 329, 358–359 

Esso Victory, 281

Euphrates River, 503, 504

European Theater 

Italian Campaign, 127–136 

Mesewa, 97–98

Normandy, 136–142 

North African Campaign, 101–122 

Sicily, 122–127 

southern France invasion, 142–145 

Evans, Chief Gunner’s Mate, 10, 13 

Evans, James M., 361 

Ever Fortune, 271 

Everett F. Larson (DD 830), 283 

Excellency, 260 

Explosive Ordnance Disposal and Underwater

Demolition Team, 379 

Export, 105 

Extractor (ARS 15), 170, 173 

Extricate (ARS 16), 133, 143, 190, 191

Exxon, 473–477

Exxon Valdez, 290n3, 469–477 

F–1, 27, 28

F–4 (SS 23), ex-Skate, 10–13, 23, 26–29, 44, 48,

68, 266n15, 365, 368, 369, 377, 456

Falcon 

(AM 28), 28–29

(ASR 2), 34, 35, 38–41, 370n4

F–14 nose wheel, 452

Falcon Lady, 260–261

Falklands, 516

Fargo, Thomas B., 456

Faylaka Island, 489

Federal Emergency Management Agency

(FEMA), 464, 508, 510

Federated States of Micronesia, 478, 482

Fels 20, 481

Fels 21, 481, 482

Ferryville salvage station, 119

Fink, Rob, 459

Fire fighting 

at Pearl Harbor, 58, 66 

centralized control of, during peacetime, 76 

during amphibious invasions, 56–57

during salvage operations, 62, 70 

during towing operations, 163 

equipment innovations, 86 

gasoline cargo, 170, 220–221, 478

heroism during, 172 

ship modification for, 90, 133n26, 142

Stark, assistance with, 483

Roberts, assistance with, 484 

training for, 86, 137, 142, 164–165, 221

with rescue tugs, 87–88 

Firecrest (AM 10), 210 

Fisher, Frederick B., 331

Fisk, Richard, 488, 489

Fleet Train, 5 

Flier (SS 250), 166 

Floating Drydock Number Two, 59 

Floating drydocks 

as a lifting pontoon, 234 

salvage of, 8–9, 59, 107, 113, 282, 300–303,

350–351 

Flores, 130–131 

Florikan, 282 

Fly-Away Diving System, 359

Fly Away Mixed Gas System, 409, 447

Flynn, Ed, 410

Fort Snelling (LSD 30), 376 

Foss, Henry, 157, 168, 192 

Foster Parker, 347 

Foster, Salvage Master, 24 

FP–147, 162

France, southern, 142–144 

Francis Marion (LPA 249), 294 

Frank E. Evans (DD 754), 283–284 

Frank Knox (DDR 742), 253–258 

Franklin (CV 13), 188 

Franklin D. Roosevelt (CVA 42), 288 

Fred T. Berry (DD 858), 403 

Freedom Star, 422 

French, George R.W., 12, 368 

Fuel spills 

Bunker C fuel oil, 292–293

containment booms, 293, 305

contingency plans for, 290 

Exxon Valdez, 290n32, 469–477

fibrous sorbent, 293, 305 

hot tapping, 305–306, 480–482, 494–496 

intentional release of, 504–505

Mississinewa oil removal, 477–483

prevention of, 305–306, 308–309, 468–469

San Juan Harbor, 288–290 

skimmers, 305, 312, 470–475, 477, 504 

typhoon dispersal of, 283 

West Fayu Island, 312 

Index

579
Fuji Marden and Company, 304 

Furer, Julius A., 10–13, 23, 28, 33, 48, 49 

Furlong, William R., 58, 65

G–2, 27, 28 

Gable, Donnie E., 271 

Gagnan, Emile, 373

Galvarino (ATF 66), 492

Galveston, Texas, 510

Garfish, see H–3

Gaspar De Portola, 73–74 

Gauthier, Robert, 402–403 

Gear (ARS 34), 89, 160, 181, 182, 198, 251,

393, 394, 403

Geiger (T-AP 197), 259

Gemini, 430

General Daniel 1. Sultan (T-AP 120), 281 

Genereaux, Emile C., 155, 156, 164, 165, 167,

192, 313 

Georgeade, 146 

George W. Goethals, 28 

Gerdes, Henry A., 302

Geyman, Vern, 412

Giberman, John, 248 

Gibson, J.H., 341 

Giebner, Richard H., 268, 269 

Gladiator, 18n6

Glaubitz, Eric, 470, 476

Global Industries 1504 saturation diving system,

411

Global Phillips Cartner, 479–481

Goacher, Tyrone, 393 

Goodwin, James J., 260, 268

Gordon, Clyde, 272 

Government agencies, naval salvage operations

for, 338–349, 397–398, 401–402, 408–409,

426-431, 434–444, 445–450, 459, 464-465,

467-468, 476, 507; see also specific agencies

Grabowski, T., 283 

Grapple

(ARS 7), 162, 170, 211, 253–254, 256, 258,

260, 272, 283, 417

(ARS 53), 411, 424, 442, 445, 447, 448,

501, 506, 508

Grasp

(ARS 24), 171–172, 177, 210, 212–216,

242, 260, 281, 282, 284

(ARS 51), 333, 409, 442

Grebe (ATO 134), 155 

Greely, James W., 65, 168, 182, 185n32, 188,

201n3, 212 

Green Bay Victory, 280

Greene, Anthony, 268

Greenlet (ARS 10), 255, 256, 259

Greenville (SSN 772), 455

Greer, Red, 265

Guadalcanal, 153, 154

Guadalcanal (LPH 7), 357

Guam, 201, 231–236, 262, 333, 355–357, 477,

481

Guam Bear, 281

Guardfish (SS 217), 173; (SSN 612), 283

Guest, William S., 379, 380

Guittaro (SSN 665), 298–299

Gulf Haven, 210

Gulf Intercoastal Canal Association, 511

Gulf of Mexico, 508

Gumi (ARS 26), 331–332

G.W. Pierce, 422

Gypsy (ARS(D) 1), 200–202, 287

H–1(Submarine No. 28), 23, 27, 28 

H–3 (Submarine No. 30), ex-Garfish, 14–15, 23,

165 

Haggard (DD 555), 183 

Hake (SS 256), 296–298 

Haldane, John Scott, 367–368 

Hale, J.C., 217 

Hamburg, 333 

Hamilton, F.T., 367 

Han Ra San (PC 705), 233 

Hancock (CVA 19), 285 

Hansen, N.E., 361 

Harbor blockage, 104–105, 176 

Harbor clearance 

air raids during, 135 

Arabian Gulf, 489, 502

in Atlantic ports, 106–112

Bizerte, 116, 117–118

Bone, 116

Bougie, 116

bridging over wrecks, 133, 143

Casablanca, 106–111, 121, 322

Cherbourg, 138, 140–142 

definition of, and requirements for, 2, 105,

110–111 

development of, 57, 110, 119, 487, 514 

with explosives, 72, 116, 125, 168–169, 186,

282 

Guam, 201, 333, 355–357 

Jacksonville, Florida, 305–308 

Katrina, 508–509

La Goulette, 119 

Le Havre, 144–145 

Lyautey, 105, 111–112, 117, 121, 178 

Manila, 170–171, 173–179 

Marseilles, 136, 143 

in Mediterranean ports, 112–118, 125–127 

Mesewa, 97–100, 104, 106 

mine removal, 140, 143, 144, 268, 502–503

mobile base units, 122 

Naha, 185–189 

Naples, 132–135 

New York Bay, 72–73 

in North African campaign, 70, 104–119,

514

Oran, 104–105, 109, 112–113, 114, 121

Palermo, 125–126 

peacetime operations, 323 

Pearl Harbor, 57–69, 168 

Philippeville, 116 

Port du Bouc, 143–144 

Port Huron, Michigan, 308–311 

prisoner workforce, 11 

Index

580
ship design for, 88, 89 

suicide squads in wrecks, 176 

Toulon, 143 

underwater surveys, 135

World War II, 372

Harbor Clearance Unit One 

ADS–IV, 391–393

aircraft salvage, 416 

demobilization, 285–286 

diver training, 391–392 

founding of, 515

organization and operational concept,

263–264, 280, 391, 515 

Pacific wartime operations, 280–286 

peacetime operations, 323, 333, 337, 338,

355, 357, 358 

salvage operations, 267–280 

ships and equipment, 264–267, 391–393 

Vietnam era operations, 259, 262–286, 368,

392, 416 

Harbor Clearance Unit Two 

aircraft salvage, 409, 416 

deep diving capability, 394 

LOSS system testing, 399 

organization of, 287–288 

peacetime operations, 340, 341, 348–350,

358 

submarine salvage training, 296, 297

Vietnam era operations, 290–295 

Harbor salvage 

Arabian Gulf, 489

definition of, 2 

Guam, 201, 231–236, 262 

priorities in, 232–233

Harding (DMS 28), 183 

Harjurand (ARS 31), 71, 516

Harrison County, Mississippi, 508

Hart, G.M., 84, 85, 216–218, 220, 370 

Hart, Thomas C., 151 

Hartland, 104, 112 

Hartley, Henry, 34, 39, 370 

Harvard, C.K., 211 

Harvey, Kenneth, 337 

Haynes, H.E. (Pappy), 65, 68 

Hector (AR 7), 163

Heineman, Scott, 410, 494

Heitor Perdigao, 101 

Helen, Robert, 111, 112, 125, 136 

Helena (CL 50), 59, 61 

Hellendorn, John, 335 

Helm (DD 388), 59 

Hercules, 32 

Hermitage (LSD 34), 349–350 

Hersey, Brackett, 375 

Hewitt, H. Kent, 114, 127–128, 130 

Hidatsa (ATF 102), 171, 173 

Hill, Harry W., 127

Hill, J.L., 186 

Hilliard, R.B., 24, 48 

Hillis, Bob, 333 

Hinsdale (APA 120), 183 

Hitchiri, 259, 260, 282, 284

HMAS Albatross, 282

HMAS Melbourne, 283

HMAS Sydney, 282

HMAS Vendetta, 282

HMS Dido, 100

HMS Euysalus, 132

HMS Hilary, 128

HMS Porcupine, 121

HMS Uganda, 132

HMSV Abigail, 145

HMSV Help, 145

HMSV King Salvor, 112, 113

HMTS Prasae, 211, 212

Hoel (DD 533), 161

Hoist (ARS 40), 206, 223–225, 228, 288, 296,

358–359, 408

Holloway, James, 422

Holm, Carl, 84, 185

Homer, Alaska, 477

Hong Kong, 284–285

Honolulu (CL 48), 59

Honolulu International Airport, 434, 436, 440,

457

Hontz, Edward B., 490

Hooper, Edwin B., 391

Hooper, Rich, 450

Hopi (ATF 71), 122, 123, 127, 131–132, 136

Horn, Bill, 190

Homer, Clyde, 201

Hornet (CV 8), 153

Hospital ships, salvage of, 129–130, 162

Houston, Texas, 506, 510

Houston (CL 81), 163, 164

Hugh L. Scott (AP 34), 103n4

Hughes, Charles E, 11

Huie, Bradford, 177

Huie, Byron, 100, 138, 173n22, 175n23

Hulda, 303

Hulsizer, Chuck, 409

Hungnam, 209

Hurricanes

Alicia, 347

Betsy, 287, 300

Camille, 303

Katrina, 506, 508, 510, 511

Rita, 506, 510, 511

Hutchinson, Lieutenant, 135

Iceland, 56, 100, 146 

Idaho (BB 42), 183

Impervious (MSO 499), 489

Inchon, 209, 210 

Isla de Cuba, 7 

Isla de Luzon, 7 

Ingalls yard launch platform, 353–355 

Ingraham (DD 694), 183 

Intent, 122, 129 

Interdepartmental Committee of Salvage,

195–196 International Salvage Union, 514

Intrepid, salvage operations, 10

Iran, 483, 504

Iraq, 483, 501, 502, 504 

Index

581
Italian Campaign, 127–136 

Iwo Jima, 179–185 

Iwo Jima (LPH 2), 254 

Irons, Denis E., 312 

Iroquois, 14–15 

Ismailia, 328 

Italian campaign 

Anzio, 135–136 

Naples harbor clearance, 132–135

Salerno, 127–132 

Iuka (AT 37), 34

J. William Ditter (DM 31), 183

Jack J. Pendelton (T-AK 276), 261, 284–285

Jackson, Harry, 384–385

Jacksonville, Florida, 305–308

Jacobs, Jim, 346

Jamaica Bay, 272–277

Janney, Frederick E., 281

Japan, 488

Iwo Jima and Okinawa, 179–185

Naha Harbor, 185–189

Japanese destroyer, salvage of, 156–157

Jason (AR 8), 355, 357, 489

Jaya Marlin, 481

Jean Bart, 110

Jeremiah Black, 126

Jicarilla (ATF 104), 181, 183, 191

John A. Rawlins, 183

John Cabot, 406, 419

John F. Kennedy (CV 67), 423, 452

John S. Campbell, 233

Johnson, James, 504

Johnson, John D., 284, 333, 421

Johnson, J. Seward, 403n24

Johnson-Sea-Link, 403–404

Jonas Ingram (DD 938), 224

Jones, Colin M., 408

Jones, Richard D., 267, 392

Joseph Hewes (AP 50), 103n4

Kamchatka Peninsula, 461

Kaplan, Commander, 100 

Keach, Don, 376 

Keay, Karl, 291

Keenan, Patrick, 497

Kellar (T-AGS 25), 287 

Kemp, B.F., 24 

Kennedy, Jack, 225 

Kerama-retto, 180–185, 488

Khawar al-Amaya Offshore Oil Terminal, 504

Khawr Az Zubayr waterway, Iraq, 502

Kidd, Isaac C., 288, 354 

Kile V. Johnson, 172 

Killerig, 46, 70, 74 

Kimberly (DD 521), 181 

King, Ernest J., 34, 36, 38–39, 99, 114 

King Salvor class, 88, 106n7, 127 

Kingfisher (AM 25), 31 

Kiowa (ATF 72), 138, 296 

Kitkun Bay (CVE 71), 171 

Kittiwake (ASR 13), 423

Klemm, Bill, 456

Klorig, William N., 284, 302, 423 

Knoll, Dennis, 224n17

Kodiak Island, 477

Koener, Charles, 168 

Kohl, Orlin A. (Moose), 265, 267

Kongo, 483

Korean ships, U.S. naval salvage of, 331–332,

350 

Korean War 

Atlantic operations during, 220–221 

flycatcher patrols, 211–212 

Hungnam evacuation, 209 

Inchon assault, 209, 210 

M–370 salvage, 212–215, 216 

nonsalvage missions by salvage ships, 210 

typical salvage operations, 210–211 

Wonsan, 209, 210 

Korth, Fred H., 377 

Kreuzturm, 419

Kristensen, Edward K., 442, 444

Kurita, Takeo, 483

Kursk, 461

Kutzleh, Robert E., 411

Kuwait, 502

L. Smit, 87 n. 10 

La Goulette, 119 

Laessle, Frank W., 237 

Lafayette, 18, 57, 76–83, 117, 514

Laffey (DD 724), 183

Lake Charles, Louisiana, 510

Lambert, Chip and Pam, 478

LaMoure County (LST 1194), 492–496, 500

Laney Chouest, 438, 439

Landing craft salvage 

fire fighting in, 56–57, 94, 136 

in French invasion, 142

by Luzon Salvage and Rescue Group, 172 

in Mediterranean, 123, 357 

Normandy invasion, 140 

in North African Campaign, 103–104, 426 

policy and practice, 93–94, 123–124, 140 

in shallow water, 136, 142, 180 

ship modification for, 90, 123, 128 

Landstra, Snipe, 265 

Langdon, Joseph E. (Goose), 265, 393 

Lapwing (AVP 1), 46 

Large Object Salvage System, 398–402

LaSalle (AGF 3), 490

Lawrence, Earl, 309, 385, 405 

LC–21, 141 

LCI–72, 173, 175 

LCI–220, 123 

LCI–690, 171 

LCI–865, 171 

LCI(G)–566, 168 

LCM–8, 259 

LCT–1028, 171 

LCU–1490, 297–298 

LCU–1494, 259 

Le Havre, 144–145

Index

582
Leader (MSO 490), 489

Leedstown (AP 73), 103 

Legal issues, 135, 219–220, 224n17, 331

Lehnhardt, Keith, 461

Leigh, 358 

Lend-Lease, 53, 99, 147, 160 

Lewis (DE 535), 210 

Liberty ships, 73–74, 113n12, 383–384 

Liberty Star, 422 

Lift craft 

500–ton lighter, 156 

Blue Marlin, 499–501

CURV, 380–381

CURV III, 404–406, 451–453

DOWB, 385–386

design of, 88, 89, 106n7, 133, 141 

Mizar, 386–387

Mighty Servant 2, 487

Rockwater 2, 457–459

salvage of, 109–110, 141–142 

Lifting systems and operations 

with anchor chains, 31, 401–402

barge-mounted shear leg, 186

belly-lifting, 244–245

blimp-aided, 202

bow control in, 44

Bullivant clamps, 269, 276n25

computer modeling of ship behavior, 362,

486, 491, 493, 496, 497

Ehime Maru sequential lifts, 456–459

fixed wing aircraft, 423–426, 430, 444, 449,

451–455

for deep-ocean small object retrieval,

380–381, 397–398, 419, 438, 453–454 

for deep-ocean submarine salvage, 11–13,

23, 27, 33, 40–44 

design of, 141, 269 

developing attachment procedures, 430

drydock as a lifting pontoon, 234n19 

Engine Recovery Structure and Lifting

Frame, 410–412, 415

exceeding boom capacity, 166, 168 

floating cranes, 32, 186 

Fly Away Deep Ocean Salvage System

(FADOSS), 438–440, 451–452

four-lift-craft operation, 273–276

heavy lift derricks, 33, 410–411, 413–415,

515 

heavy lift ship, 487, 489, 497–501

helicopter, 294, 450–452, 503–504 

Iraqi patrol boats sequential lifts, 503

Large Object Salvage System (LOSS),

398–401

skimmers, 474–475

small pieces, 418

submarine pontoon salvage method, 12–13,

28, 30, 33–37, 39, 40–44 

for submersible salvage, 385–386, 404-406 

whirley cranes, 345–346 

see also Cranes; Refloating operations

Linaweaver, Paul G., 391–392

Lindberg, Eric, 476

Lindenbank, loss of, 335–336 

Lindermann, Louis O., Jr., 221 

Link, Edwin A., 374, 403n24 

Lipan (ATF 85), 162, 182, 183, 357 

Lipari, 107, 109 

Little David, 341, 343 

Liverpool Salvage Association, 18 

Lone Wolf (YTB 179), 202

Long, Matt, 497

Los Alamos (AFDB 7), 350 

LOSS system testing, 399 

Loudermilk, W.H., 362 

Loughman, William F, 11, 12

Louisiana, 493, 506, 510

LSM–59, 183 

LST–34, 161 

LST–176, 210 

LST–312, 123 

LST–351, 129 

LST–480, 168 

LST–559, 183 

LST–563, 165, 167 

LST–567, 171 

LST–578, 210 

LST–623, 210 

LST–727, 180 

LST–826, 191 

LST–925, 171 

LST–1028, 171 

LST Q–081, 210 

LT–1535, 210 

Ludlow (DD 438), 101n3 

Luiseno (ATF 156), 224–226, 228 

Lulu, 385 

Lumberjack, 256 

Luzon Salvage and Rescue Group, 171–174

Luzon Stevedoring Company, 175n23, 198–199,

251, 303–305, 312, 324 

L.Y. Spear (AS 36), 358 

Lyautey, 105, 111–112, 117, 121, 178

MacArthur, Douglas, 153–154, 175

Macaw (ASR 11), 166

Macchais (PG 5), 7

MacDonald, Eric, 501

Mack, J.A., 415

MacKenzie, Don, 357, 362

Maclin, Charles S., 424

Madeo, Joseph F, Jr., 225, 278, 326

Magd, 328

Mahan (DD 364), 47, 258

Mahnomen County (LST 912), 272

Mahopac (ATA 196), 259, 260

Maine, 7–8, 346, 367

Mallard (AM 44/ASR–4), 28, 29, 46, 48

Mallow (WLB 396), 282

Mana, 337, 338 

Manila Bay, 7 

Manila, 170–171, 173–179 

Man-in-the-Sea Program, 388 

Manseau, Bernard E., 70, 82, 136, 149, 175,

177, 192, 195, 199, 200

Index

583
Manson Pacific, 411

Marathon (APA 200), 183 

Mare Island Navy Yard, 13, 14, 22, 59

Marine Board of the National Academy of

Sciences, 505, 514

Marine Sanctuaries Division (NOAA), 409

Mariners’ Museum, 409, 412, 413, 415

Maritime Commission, 195, 197–198 

Maritime law, 218n13 

Mark I Deep Dive System, 393, 394, 401

Mark II Deep Dive System, 388, 394–395

Marne, Admiral, 133 

Marquette, 293 

Mars (AFS 1), 258 

Marseilles, 136, 143

Marsh, Bert, 446, 456, 489–491

Marshall, Walter L. (Scotty), 173, 237, 248, 255

Martignoni, Walter, 218 

Martin, Colonel, 129, 132, 133 

Martin, Joseph W., 203 

Martin-Decker strain gauges, 64 

Mary Ann (YSD 53), 291 

Maryland (Armored Cruiser No. 8), 12, 13 

Maryland (BB 46), 58 

Massachusetts (steamer), 60 

Massachusetts (BB 59), 101n3, 107 

Mataco, 260, 281, 283 

Matter, Alfred R., 288 

Maxine D., 417 

Maxwell, Arthur, 375 

Mayo (SS 422), 129 

Mayrant (DD 402), 127 

Mazatlan, 281 

Mazzone, Walter F., 374 

McBride, Lewis, 48–49 

McCaffrey, Lieutenant, 112

McCall, Steven, 470

McCamas, Marvin, 380 

McCann Submarine Rescue Chamber, 40, 296,

462 

McCauley, Brian, 326 

McClosky, Bruce B., 306 

McClung, Commander, 138 

McConnell, Lieutenant, 123

McCord, Raymond S. (Chip), 433, 440–442

McDonald, James H., 45 

McDougal (DD 358), 101

McEntire, Russell, 393 

McKenzie, R.M., 256 

McKenzie, Thomas, 137, 140, 144 

McKenzie, Wesley D., 331 

McMichael, E.A., 217 

McMillian, Chief Gunner’s Mate, 13 

McNab, Alistair, 335 

Meader, Bruce, 282 

Mecca, 327, 328 

Medal of Honor, 11, 45, 266, 372n8

Mediterranean operations

Cape Matapan, 56 

harbor clearance, 112–119, 125–126 

landing craft salvage, 123, 357 

offshore salvage, 119–122

Sicily, 122–126 

typical, 102, 126–127

Mekong, 501

Memmen, Sean, 507

Mender (ARS(D) 2), 200, 201, 210, 287

Menominee (ATF 73), 74, 155–156, 164, 170,

182, 191 

Mercer-Fraser Company, 14, 15 

Merchant marine, 195 

MERMUT, 377–378 

Merritt, 24–25 

Merritt, Israel J., 6 

Merritt and Chapman, 17, 18, 19

Merritt-Chapman and Scott Salvage

Corporation, 20, 24, 26, 28, 33, 46, 48, 53, 55,

58, 69, 70, 72, 76, 77n6, 79, 83, 90, 155, 195,

197, 198, 221, 240, 251, 286, 287, 300, 301,

324, 517, 518

Mesewa, 97–100, 104, 106 

Metal Industries, Ltd., 137 

Metzger, R.M., 371 

Meyer, F. Douglas, 341 

M.H. Deyoung, 166, 168 

Midway (CVA 41), 254

Mighty Servant 2, 487

Mihalowski, John, 45, 372

Military Assistance Program, 241 

Military Sealift Command, 320, 357, 516 

Military Sea Transportation Service, 303 

Milwaukee

(Cruiser No. 21), 14–15 

(CL 5), 100, 165 

Milwee, William I., 273, 277, 335, 355, 385

Mina al–Bakr Offshore Oil Terminal, 504

Minneapolis (CA 36), 155 

Minot Victory, 260–261

Mississinewa (AO 59), 170, 477–483, 496

Mississippi, 506, 510

Mississippi (BB 41), 171

Mississippi River, 506 

Missouri (BB 63), 204–209, 227, 229 

Mitchell, Eugene B., 241, 242, 253, 273, 277,

283, 299, 300, 314, 385

Mizar (T-AGOR 11), 380, 384, 385, 387

Mobile, Alabama, 508

Mobile Diving and Salvage Units 

establishment of, 323, 487

MDSU divers, 495

Mobile Diving and Salvage Unit One,

401,456, 49, 479–482, 501–503, 506

Mobile Diving and Salvage Unit Two,

409–410, 411–412, 431, 465–468, 485,

493–495, 497–499, 501–503, 506,

508–509

MDSU Fly Away Mixed Gas, 447

MDSU Team, 502

salvage activities of, 353, 358, 401, 431

Mobile Logistic Support Force, 5, 46 

Moctobi (ATF 105), 210, 212–213, 216, 357, 358 

Moffett (DD 362), 100 

Mogued, 326, 328

Mohawk (T-ATF 170), 445

Index

584
Molala (ATF 106), 170, 179, 181, 259 

Momsen, Charles B., 41, 43 

Monarch, 33 

Mondego, 281 

Monitor, 407–412, 415, 519

Monssen (DD 798), 224–230 

Mooney, John B. (Brad), 376 

Moran, Edmond J., 70, 138, 139, 192 

Moran Towing, 70 

Moreno (ATF 87), 122, 123, 126, 130–131,

142–143 

Morocco, 104 

Mosopelea (ATF 158), 207, 289, 298 

Moss, Robert B., 309, 314, 317, 405 

Mott, Albert W., 216, 217 

Muhlenberg Victory, 210 

Mullen, Craig, 309 

Mullinnix, Allan P., 104 

Munro, 418

Munsee (ATF 107), 163, 170, 182, 188, 201n2,

253–254

Murphree, Ed, 476

Murphreesboro, 146

Murphy (DD 603), 101n3

Murphy-Pacific Marine Salvage Company, 256,

286, 288, 290, 294, 303–306, 309–310,

324–326, 344, 347

Murray, Chris, 409–412, 464, 467 

MV Rescue, 198, 240, 286, 294

MV Virginia City, 305

Naha, 185–189 

Naples, 132–135 

Naquin, John C. (Dirty John), 264, 268, 269 

Naquin, Oliver F., 40

Narragansett (ATF 88), 122, 126, 127, 129, 132

Narragansett (T-ATF 167), USNS, 424, 437, 551

Nash, Norman C., 225 

National Defense Reserve Fleet, 247

National Oil and Hazardous Substances

Pollution Contingency Plan, 469 

National Oceanic Atmospheric Administration,

401–402, 408–409, 440, 447, 478–479

National Undersea Research Center, 409

Nauset (ATF 89), 122, 126, 127, 129 

Navaho (ATF 64), 10, 54, 66, 151, 154; class,

54, 543–545 

Naval Reserve Harbor Clearance Unit detachments, 313–314, 319, 348n21, 358 

recruitment of salvors, 70, 84, 429 

role in World War I salvage, 17–18, 49 

training in salvage, 5, 83, 319 

Naval Sea Systems Command, 21, 461, 485,

487, 499 

Naval Ship Systems Command, 313, 321 

Navy Cross, 370 

Navy Experimental Diving Unit, 369, 370, 389,

393, 396 

Navy Rescue Towing Service, 70, 76, 138, 139,

146, 157 

Navy Salvage School, 85, 204n4, 223n15; see

also Training of salvors 

Navy Salvage Service 

establishment of, 48–49, 53, 69–70, 426 

factors contributing to success of, 192–193

Lafayette, 76–83 

management of, 91–92 

number of assignments and major operations, 71 

organization of, 75–76, 90–93 

Pacific force development, 154 

post-World War II status, 197–199, 426 

range of operations, 70–75, 145–146 

value during World War II, 3–4 

Nayler, Charles K. (Boom Boom), 255 

N.E. Vernicos Shipping Co., Ltd., 288 

Negros Oriental (C–26), 233 

Nekton, 403

Nelson, Nellie, 412, 415

Nelson, William, 22, 48 

Nestor, Joe, 272n20 

Neutrality Act, 53 

Neutrality Patrol, 53, 97 

Nevada (BB 36), salvage of, 59, 67–68, 155 

New Jersey, 279 

New Mexico (BB 40), 183

New Orleans, Louisiana, 506

New Orleans (LPH 11), 490

New York Bay, 72–73 

New York City Pier 88

Lafayette salvage, 18, 57, 76–83, 117, 514

ship fire, 76 

school for salvors, 82, 83, 85–86, 90, 106,

137

New York Harbor, 514

New York Navy Yard, 34, 37 

Newcomb (DD 582), 183 

Newfoundland hospital ship, 129–130

Newport, Rhode Island, 6, 487 

Newton, John O., 407 

Nibbs, Alan M., 361, 362 

Nilson, Frederick, 12 

Nimitz, Chester W., 61 

Nipmuc (ATF 157), 206, 207 

Nippon Salvage, 334–335 

Nitze, Paul H., 378 

Norfolk Navy Yard, 35 

Normandie, 76; see also Lafayette

Normandy

Cherbourg, 140–142 

landing, 138–139 

landing Craft salvage, 140 

planning and preparation, 136–138 

Norris, Don, 401

North Africa, 514

North African Campaign 

Algerian invasion, 103, 104 

harbor clearance, 70, 104–119, 514 

landing craft salvage, 103–104, 514

Moroccan invasion, 104 

offshore salvage, 119–122 

North Atlantic 

fuel barge salvage, 100 

World War I salvage operations, 18 

Index

585
World War II salvage operations, 56 

North Sea, 423–424 

North Sea Mine Barrage, 60 

Norwich Victory, 260 

Noxubee (AOG 10), 282–283 

NR–1, 423–424, 427–430, 448n13, 449

Nuclear weapons 

Palomares, 378–383, 427

testing site salvage operations, 199–200,

223, 357, 405n26

O–5 (SS 66), 27, 32

O–9, 27

Oak Hill (LSD 51), 442, 444

Oberle, Francis N., 145, 301

Oberrender (DE 344), 183

O’Brien, Chief Gunner’s Mate, 13

Ocean Eagle, 288–290

Ocean Hercules, 457

Ocean Steamship Company, 33

Ocean Systems, Inc., 391, 418

Ocean Thermal Energy Conversion pipes,

401–402

Oceaneering International, 446

O’Connor, Ed, 422

Offshore Heavy Transport, 499

Oglala (CM 4), 60, 61–62, 65, 66, 68

Ohio (BB 12), 28

Oien, Harley, 284, 424 

Oil spills, see Fuel spills

Offshore structures, removal of, 358

O’Kane, J.D., 217

O’Keefe, E.H., 371

O’Keefe, Sean, 468

Okinawa, 488

Okinawa invasion, 179–185 

Oklahoma (BB 37), 60, 62–67 

Oliver, Commodore, 127, 128 

Omaha (CL 4), 46–48, 258, 101 

O’Malley, Thomas E., 227 

One, Brady, 265 

Operations 

Crossroads, 199–200

Desert Storm, 483, 487, 488, 501, 504

Husky, 122–127

Iraqi Freedom, 483, 501

Overlord, 136–142 

Paukenschlag, 56 

Torch, 101–122, 127 

Opportune (ARS 41), 203, 206, 207, 224, 297,

298, 329, 350, 398, 431 

Oran, 104–105, 109, 112–113, 114, 121

Ordnance 

explosions on ships, 168 

hazards on sunken ships, 125–126, 177–178

nuclear weapons, 378–383, 427

Robert Louis Stevenson, 383–384 

salvage of, 66–67, 260, 284–285, 503 

Orem, John B., 259, 272, 283, 299, 384 

Oriental Warrior, 305–308, 343 

Oriole (AT 136), 159, 160

Orns, Fred, 410

Ortiz, J.A., 362 

Ortolan

(AM 45), 32

(ASR 5), 155

(ASR 22), 394

Orwell, George, 519

Oscar Viel Toro, 496

Osceola, 271

Oslo, Norway, 499

Otis Skinner, 172 

Ovrom, Allan A., 284 

Ozark (MCS 2), 358

Pacific Bridge Company, 58, 60, 63 

Pacific Fleet 

salvage posture in Vietnam era, 250–253

Service Force, 164 

World War II operations, 151–194

Pacific Glory, 468

Pacific Mariner, 275, 276 

Pacific Strike Team, 337, 339 

Pacific theater 

attack on Japan, 179–186 

Aleutians, 158–160

Central Pacific drive, 161–164

early days, 154–160 

Guadalcanal, 153, 154 

Harbor Clearance Unit One operations,

280–286 

Luzon Salvage and Rescue Group, 171–174

Pearl Harbor fleet salvage, 57–69, 79, 112,

151, 154, 155, 185n32, 426 

Philippine campaign, 170–179 

rear area salvage, 164–170 

salvage force development, 151, 153, 154 

South Pacific, 154–157, 159 

Packer, H.A., 131–132 

Paiute (ATF 159), 203, 288, 358 

Pakana (ATF 108), 183, 201n2, 305 

Palermo, 125–126

Pall, Phil, 453

Palmyra (ARS(T) 3), 199 

Palomares nuclear weapons recovery, 378–383,

427

Panama Canal Company, 32 

Papago (ATF 160), 225–226, 228 

Paracel Islands, 259–262 

Park Benjamin, 210 

Parker Evans, 308

Parks, Carl, 507

Pascagoula, Mississippi, 500, 508

Paskewich, Frank, 506

Patrick, 271, 275, 276 

Patriot, 46 

Paul Bert, 268–269, 368

Paul Langevin III, 422

Pauls, Jeff, 451

Paulding (DD 22), 38 

Pawnee (ATF 74), 163 

PC–705, 235 

Peacetime salvage

billets, post-World War II, 237, 426

Index

586
budgeting and long-range planning, 237

commercial ship salvage by U.S. Navy,

332–338 

demands and costs, 195 

deployments, 222–223 

domestic operations for other agencies,

338–349, 397–398, 401–402, 408–409; see

also specific agencies

focus of, 1, 52 

Interdepartmental Committee of Salvage 

international customers, 325–332 

mooring installation for target ships,

199–200

Monitor salvage, 407–412, 415, 519

Navy-industry relationship, 4, 20–21 

operations in late 1990s, 433–452

organization, 195–196 

policy, 196, 318 

political benefits of, 1 

post-Korean War, 222–236 

post-Vietnam capabilities, 313–315,

317–322, 351–352 

post-World War II, 195–209 

posture by late 1950s, 236–240

posture study in 1994, 514

recommendations, 195–196 

routine operations, 4, 349–363 

training, 5, 223–224

twenty-first century, 455–468 

Pearl Harbor

attack on, 514

cofferdam construction on battleships, 59 

fleet salvage, 57–69, 79, 112, 151, 154, 155,

185n32, 426 

salvage training school, 83, 90 

Vietnam era salvage, 281, 283 

West Loch clearance, 168–169, 185n32, 186

Penacook, 26 

Pence, General, 133 

Pennsylvania (BB 38), 58, 189, 190 

Penobscot (ATA 188), 34, 224 

Perida, 160

Perkins, Tom, 463

Pern, Frank, 411, 497

Perry “Cubmarine” (PC 8), 380, 403, 404

Peters, B., 296 

Petrel (ASR 14), 296, 380, 381 

Philadelphia (CL 41), 125 

Philippeville, 116 

Philippines

Bataan National Shipyard salvage, 241–245

cabotage laws, 304

Combat salvage, 171–173 

Manila harbor Clearance, 173–179 

post-World War II salvage, 198–199

silver recovery from Manila Bay, 373 

Phoenix International, 412, 493

Pigeon (ASR 21), 394; class, 394, 541 

Pinto (ATF 90), 138

Piroutte, 440, 442

Pisces submersibles, 403, 404–406 

Pittsburgh (CA 72), 188, 201 

Plunger (SS 179), 60, 155

Plunkett, Charles P., 34 

Plunkett (DD 431), 129 

Plymouth Victory, 210 

Point Young (WPB 82303), 259 

Political considerations, 254 

Pollution control 

ADAPTS oil pumping system, 309

cargo removal, 290, 305–306

commonsense approach, 338, 344 

dredge salvage, 292–293 

fuel oil blowing, 255 

kaolin clay cargo, 336–338 

Navy responsibility for, 323, 324 

response and prevention, 468–483

salvage law affecting, 435 

see also Exxon Valdez, fuel spills 

Pontchartrain, 104

Poole, Bill, 476

Port Arthur, Texas, 510

Port du Bouc, 143–144 

Port Huron, Michigan, 308–311 

Porter, Oliver H., 273 

Porter (DD 356), 153 

Portland (CA 33), 154 

Port Lyautey, 105, 111–112, 117, 121 

Portsmouth Navy Yard, 25–26, 40–41, 44

POSSE, 491, 493, 496, 497 

Pouttu, H., 350 

Power Pack equipment, 233, 239, 251 

Powers, Melville W., 46, 48

Powhatan (T-ATF 166), 320, 350, 351, 424;

class, 350, 351–353, 516

Preserver (ARS 8), 171, 228, 288–290, 296, 297,

341, 376, 428, 430 

President’s Panel on Oceanography, 381

Price, Joshua, 461

Prince William Sound, 469

Princeton (PG 13), 8–9

Princeton (CG 59), 487, 489–491 

Prinz Eugen, 357 

Pritchett, Peter, 373–374

Program of Ship Salvage Engineering, see

POSSE

Propellant Embedment Anchors, 358–359 

Protector (ARS 14), 160 

Proteo, 357 

Proteus (AS 19), 355, 357 

Provencal, 144 

Public relations, 206–207 

Pueblo (AGER 2), 392–393 

Puget Sound Naval Yard, 59, 239 

Pulling and towing operations 

24-day, 146 

anchor-rigged purchases, 156 

attachment points for, 228

beach gear for, 46–47, 74, 201, 227–228,

233, 251, 310

burning ship, 210 

fire fighting during, 163

by fleet tugs, 87 

headframe structure for, 63–64 

Index

587
heavy-pull rigging, 206 

in heavy seas, 22, 217–218, 228, 255 

helicopter-assisted, 294

hydraulic pullers, 310, 358 

LaMoure County, 494, 496

for oil spill response, 471, 473

overland, 15–16, 23 

Princeton, 491

problems in, 37, 132, 227 

purchases used for, 24n1, 63–64 

radioactive targets, 200 

recovery of lost tows, 160, 162 

for righting operation, 63–64 

ship losses during, 15 

with shore tackle, 24–25 

stability problems during, 22, 24, 72–73, 360 

tandem, 24, 131–132 

towing connections, 28 

tug design for, 54 

Pumping operations 

through 14-inch guns, 190 

oil cargo, 290, 475, 479–480, 482 

patch with ballast and blow system, 271 

through plugged hatch openings, 30–31 

pumps suspended from gallows frames, 72 

silt-laden water, 279 

and stability problems, 9, 108, 120 

toothpick plugs, 141

watertight compartmentalization, 79 

see also Refloating operations 

Pyatt, Arnold F., 296 

Pye, Bill, 218n11

Quapaw (ATF 110), 162, 171, 421, 422

Queen Elizabeth, 82

Queen Mary 82

R–6 (SS 83), 27, 29–32 

Radford, Arthur W., 220 

Radiation 

decontamination, 200 

examination, 357 

Rail (ATO 139), 171 

Rajah Soliman (RPS 66), 241–245, 262, 264

Raleigh (CL 7), 59 

Ramsay, Bertram, 137 

Randolph (CV 15), 170

Raven (MHC 61), 499

R.C. Stoner, 282 

Reclaimer (ARS 42), 210, 224, 231, 233–235,

248, 250, 259–261, 284, 337, 338, 339, 361

Recovery (ARS 43), 203, 206, 207, 224, 350,

351, 358, 399

Red River, 501

Redwing (ARS 4), 53, 74, 88, 97, 100, 101, 106,

111, 112, 121, 122 

Refloating operations 

air injection through salvage lines, 30

by blowing compartments, 35

cofferdam construction for, 64–65, 73

compartment testing, 81, 108 

with compressed-air injection, 28, 61

controlled pumping, 107–108, 111 

difficulties in, 9, 36 

fuel tank blowdown, 279 

general operations, 79–81 

with high-pressure air flasks, 26

LaMoure County, 493

for launch platform, 354–355

moorings for, 81 

on oil tanker, 73 

parbuckling rig, 63–64, 66, 242, 244, 287,

291, 301–302, 307–308, 310 

plastic-wrapped hull, 293 

with polyurethane foam, 257, 259, 272, 274,

276, 310–311 

with pontoons, 12–13, 28, 30, 33–37, 39,

40–44, 61, 64, 156–157 

prevention of sinking during, 31, 234

right-side-up, 241–242 

simulation models for, 63, 64 

soil bearing considerations, 79, 81 

stability problems in, 26, 31, 32, 36–37, 41,

61, 68, 81, 111, 178, 242, 274, 307 

water-filled tank for, 178 

see also Lifting systems and operations 

Regulus (AF 57), 284–285, 303–306 

Reitzel, W.A., 115 

Relief, 70 

Reno (CL 96), 163–164

Rescuer (ARS 18), 71, 75, 159, 516

Resolute, 24, 70, 122 

Restorer (ARS 17), 143, 146 

Reuben James (DE 153), 290–291

Richey, Thomas B., 86 

Rickover, Hyman O., 8

Riches, Ian, 462

Riendeau, Roger, 410, 467

Riggle, Jess, 493

Rindskopf, Maurice H., 396 

Ringgold (DD 500), 179 

Ringleberg, John M., 293

Rinn, Paul X., 484

Robert Louis Stevenson, 383–384

Roberts, Samuel B., 483, 484, 487

Robertson, Bill, 501

Robin Hood, 280 

Robinson, Samuel M., 90

Rochester (CA 2), 282 

Rogers, Franklin W., 217 

Roland, 326, 328–330 

Roosevelt, Franklin D., 17–19, 55, 77, 513, 517

Roosevelt, Franklin D., Jr., 127

Ross, Tom, 493

Rotterdam, 488

Rude, 440

Ruth, Jim, 479, 504

Ryder, Leon, 347 

Rynecki, Alex, 306–307, 344

S–4 (SS 109), 27, 38–39, 44, 114

S–5 (SS 110), 27, 28–29

S–19 (SS 124), 23–25, 48

S–38 (SS 143), 27, 32

Index

588
S–48 (SS 159), 25–27, 32, 38, 48

S–49 (SS 160), 26

S–50 (SS 161), 34

S–51 (SS 162), 26, 27, 33–40, 44, 99, 114, 370

Sacadanga (AOG 40), 191

Safeguard

(ARS 25), 210, 216, 234, 259, 284

(ARS 50), 336, 392, 512, 516; class,

320–321, 427, 535

Safety Manual for Ship Salvage Operations, 79

Sagamore (AT 10), 34

Saigon River, 248–250

Sailfish, 44

Salerno, 127–132

Salinas (AO 19), 46, 47

Salinan, 301

Salmon, Tom, 423, 424, 440, 446, 456, 464

Salvage Facilities Act (Public Law 80–513), 4,

203–204, 236–237, 300, 515, 524–525

Salvage Chief, 240

Salvage equipment and materials 

acquisition during World War II, 74–75 

deep-well pumps, 68 

diesel engines, 239, 250, 266, 304–305 

funding for, 321–322, 516

post-Vietnam era, 321–322 

Power Packs, 233, 239, 251 

problems with, 35, 239, 249, 250, 276, 336 

production during World War II, 53 

scrounging for, 111, 157n7 

shortages of, 9, 68, 111 

see also Emergency Ship Salvage Material,

Equipment innovations

Salvage ships 

Anchor (ARS 13) class, 88, 528

ARS, 251, 320–321, 526–535 

ARS(D)s (junk boats), 287, 535–536 

ARS(T)s, 450–452 

ATS salvage and rescue, 240, 320, 335

BARSs, 88, 529–531

Bird-class minesweeper conversions to, 20,

54, 70, 88, 89, 526–527, 538 

as blocking ships, 262

Bolster (ARS 38) class, 88–89, 532446

boom defense vessels, 133, 141

British wreck dispersal vessels, 133

Caterpillar engines, 240, 251

Chanticleer (ARS 7) class, 89, 372, 539–540

combat participation, 171, 183, 211–212

combat salvage boats, 266

commercial, 501

decommissioning after Vietnam, 487

decommissioning after World War II,

202–203 

design weaknesses, 336, 351–352 

Diver (ARS 5) class, 529–531 

diving boats, 266 

DUKW, 135 

Edenton (ATS 1) class, 231, 253, 313, 552 

fleet development, 86–90, 518

heavy-pull rigging, 206 

as kamikaze decoys, 183 

King Salvor class, 88, 106n7, 127 

landing craft, 90, 93, 94, 120, 123, 128, 136,

161 

landing ship conversions, 89, 90, 200 

LCM(S), 266 

lifting craft, 88, 89, 106 n.7, 133, 141, 142,

161, 240, 245, 264–265 

losses of, 71, 75, 122, 144, 154–155, 165,

173, 175, 180, 182, 192, 211, 212, 267 

mobile salvage bases, 89, 122 

mooring repair, 262 

net tenders, 89, 93, 133 

Pigeon (ASR 21) class, 394, 455 

post-Korean War fleet, 240 

post-Vietnam era, 319–321

risk insurance on, 75–76

Safeguard (ARS 50) class, 320–321, 516,

535 

steel-hulled, 88–89, 106n7, 161, 164, 429 

submarine rescue ships, 89–90, 166, 206,

372, 388, 393–395, 538–541 

used to house and feed dive crews, 444

women crews, 321

wooden-hulled ARS, 88, 127, 133, 160, 191 

YHLCs, 265, 276n25, 278 

YLLCs, 264–265 

YMLCs, 264, 276n25 

see also Ship design innovations; Tugs; and

specific ships and classes of ships 

Salvage stations 

Argentia, Newfoundland, 56, 100, 146

Bermuda, 146

Caribbean, 203 

Dellys, 115 

Ferryville, 119 

Iceland, 56, 100, 146 

navy yards as, 25–26; see also specific navy

yards

Solid Anchor/Sea Float, 280 

post-World War I, 19 

Waipio Point, 168 

West Coast, 49, 53, 58, 71, 157, 159, 197,

240 

Salvager (ARS(D) 3), 202, 206, 224–225, 228,

287, 301

Salvor (ARS 52), 451, 452, 456, 480, 481, 494

Samaritan (AH 10), 162 

Sambrook, Rod, 337

Samuel B. Roberts (FFG 58), 483–488

San Diego Naval Salvage Base, 49, 53, 58

San Juan, 288–290 

San Mateo Victory, 216, 217 

Sandpumper (YM 24), 276–279 

Sands Point, 74 

Santa Cruz, 11, 340 

Sarsi (ATF 111), 212 

Saunders, Harold E., 25, 38–39, 48, 114 

Savage, Billy B., 261

Savage, W.R., 268, 269 

Savannah (CL 42), 131 

Savoia, salvage of, 107–109 

Sawyer, L.M. (Bud), 350 

Index

589
Scarab, 418–419 

Schlessinger, George, 110, 115

Scholley, Barbara (Bobbie), 411, 412, 415, 497

Schultz, Floyd, 155 

Scorpio ROV, 462

Scorpion (SSN 582), 384

Scott, T.A., 18–20, 48 

SCUBA, 373 

Sculpin (SS 191), 41, 44n4 

Sea Cliff (DSV 4), 401n22, 424, 438, 439 

Sea Diver, 404 

Sea Flyer, 282 

Sea Raven, 259, 280

Seacor Rover, 481, 482

SeaLab, 387–391, 394 

Searle, Willard F., 231, 241, 242, 253, 273, 288,

300, 314, 389, 391 

Seatrain Texas, 280

Seattle, Washington, 475

Sebago, 104 

Seize (ARS 26), 165, 167, 191 

Seminole (ATF 65), 66, 151, 154–155

Seneca (ATF 91), 223, 224 

Serrano (ATF 112), 190

Seward, Alaska, 477

Shackle (ARS 9), 166, 182, 183, 190 

Shakori (ATF 162), 224, 350, 358, 423 

Sharp, Grant A., 40 

Shaw (DD 373), 59, 155 

Shawmut, 60

Shepard, Patrick, 489

Sherman, Frederick C., 30 

Shipbuilding programs, 53, 86–88, 90, 251, 253,

318, 514

Ship design innovations 

fleet tugs, 54 

rescue tug, 56 

shear legs for LCTs, 136 

steam-powered tugs, 6 

see also Submarines 

Shreaves, Sheppart, 32 

Sibitsky, Martin C., 112, 371 

Sicily invasion 

Palermo harbor clearance, 125–126 

salvage during, 122–125 

Sidney E. Smith, 308–311, 343 

Siemer, John, 333 

Silas Bent (T-AGS 26), 384 

Silver Hawk, 303 

Simmers, Captain, 76 

Simpson, 350–351 

Sims, William S., 17

Singapore, 479, 481, 482

Sino-Soviet Mutual Defense Pact of 1950,

215–216 

Sioux

(ATF 75), 179, 188, 255, 256, 258, 272

(T-ATF 171), 352, 353 

Sir Galahad, 502

Sitka, Alaska, helicopter salvage, 424 

Skate, see F–4

Skill (AM 115), 123

Skudin, Kemp, 488

Skylark (ASR 20), 375, 389 

Smeller, R.J., 256 

Smit International, 488, 501

Smit Labuan, 501

Smit Lumut, 501

Smit New York, 488, 491

Smit Pioneer, 449, 479

Smith, Allan E., 205, 207 

Smith, F.E., 371–372 

Smith, W.H. (Horrible), 248, 302 

Solar Trader, 312 

Solid Anchor/Sea Float station, 280 

Sonoma (AT 12), 31, 162, 173, 175 

Sothers, Oakie, 359 

Sotoyoma, 60 

South African Airways Flight 295, 436 

South China Sea, 253–258 

South Pacific, 154–157, 159 

Southern California, 424

Southern France, 142–144 

Space Shuttle Challenger, 420–424

Space Shuttle Columbia, 464

Spahi, 113 

Special Operations Officer, 319 

Speedfast, 126 

Speer, John Paul, 361 

Spey, 103 

Spruance (DD 963), 353–354 

Squalus (SS 192), 27, 40–45, 266n15, 295, 297,

370n4, 371, 372, 377, 400 

SS Baton Rouge Victory, 268–271 

SS El Estero, 72–73

SS Excelles, 103 

SS Indiana, 348 

SS Lancaster, 120 

SS Lipscombe Lykes, 156 

SS Mark Hopkins, 166, 168 

SS Oklahoma, 73 

SS Old Westbury, 281 

SS Pan-Massachusetts, 220–221 

SS Phoenix, 220 

SS Pierre Soule, 126 

SS President Taylor, 154 

SS Quartette, 218–220, 332 

SS Richard S. Oglesby, 191 

SS Robert Coulton, 156 

SS Sea Flyer, 161–162 

SS Stephen R. Jones, 71–73, 116 

SS Warren Delano, 74 

St. Croix, 383, 417 

St. Day, 103 

St. George, W.R., 339 

St. Paul, 18 

Staff, 123 

Stanford, 312 

Starcher, James, 341 

Stark, Timothy B., 338–339

Stark (FFG 31), 483, 488

Steading, Mike, 359

Steadley, Joel, 485

Steele, James M., 58 

Index

590
Steele, John, 348 

Stephan, Edward C., 377 

Stefan, H.A., 350 

Stena Workhorse, 430

Stettler, Jeff, 446

Stillson, George, 11–12, 368 

Stranding salvage 

beached and broached destroyer, 224–230

bottom grooming, 228, 229, 231, 234–235,

258, 294

cut and removal, 284, 304, 334, 344–346 

definition of, and requirements for, 2 

dredging and debris removal, 302, 303, 356 

helicopter assistance, 254 

largest peacetime operation, 204–209 

freighter, 229, 231 

inexperience of salvors, 335–336, 351 

of LaMoure County (LST 1194), 492–496,

500

operation from ashore, 21–23 

prevention of broaching, 254 

on sandy beaches, 15 

of submarines, 14–16, 23–26 

techniques during early years, 6, 22

by weight removal, 73–74, 226–227, 234

by weight removal and wavemaking, 46–47,

258 

West Coast problems, 23, 48 

during World War I, 18

see also Landing craft salvage; Pulling operations; and specific ships

Strathallan, 121

Subic Bay, Philippines, 485, 488

Submarine Development Group One, 389,

393–394

Submarine Medical Research Laboratory, 374 

Submarines 

noncombat sinkings prior to World War II,

26–27 

nuclear research, see NR-1

salvage air systems in, 29 

vulnerability of, 26 

Submarine salvage

benefits of experience in, 38–40

buoyancy and trim control, 31–32

costs, 15, 26

crew rescue during, 26–27, 28, 29, 32, 33,

40

computer-modeled lift operation, 362 

in deep ocean, 3, 40–45, 295n33, 374–377 

Deep Submergence Review Group, 377

definition of, and requirements for, 2–3 

design changes resulting from, 13, 29 

doctrine, 295 

failed efforts, 28–29 

lift craft, 109 

minor operations, 32 

motivation for, 26–27, 33, 360 

of nuclear submarines, 3, 374–377 

open-sea, 33–38 

refloating methods, 30–31, 33–37, 40–44,

400 

search operations, 374–377 

ship design for, 89–90, 166, 372, 538–541 

stranded submarines, 14–16, 23–26, 166 

success elements in, 38 

sunken submarines, 26–45, 358 

training for, 296–298, 361, 370 

of training hulk, 359–361 

typical successes, 29–32 

video and x-ray survey for, 358 

Vietnam era, 282, 283, 295–299 

see also specific submarines 

Sudbury II, 281 

Suez Canal, 325–331 

Sullivan, John L., 203

Sullivan, William A., 49, 53, 54, 69–70, 72, 83,

90, 100, 105–106, 111, 114, 117, 119–121,

127128, 131–133, 135–138, 147–148, 161,

175, 192, 195, 197, 203, 314, 331n9, 517–518 

Summit County (LST 1146), 259 

Sunbird (ASR 15), 297, 423, 429, 430, 431n36.

Sunnadin (ATA 197), 281 

Supervisor of Diving, 396 

Supervisor of Salvage 

goals following Vietnam War, 314 

list of, 523; see also specific supervisors

responsibilities of, 69, 32, 323, 324, 373,

396, 399, 400–401, 416–417, 518

Surface Warfare and Logistics, 317, 318

Sutton, William G., 447

Suyong (LST 677), 331–332 

Swanson, Leroy V., 379 

Swivel (ARS 36), 88, 138

T.A. Scott, 198 

T.A. Scott salvage company, 17, 19

Tackle (ARS 37), 89, 122, 129, 143, 144

Tai-Nam, 281 

Takelma (ATF 113), 210, 216, 242, 281, 333

Talcahuano, Chile, 493, 496

Tampa, 24, 46

Tanker salvage 

Suez Canal, 328 

Vietnam era, 282–283, 288–290 

World War II, 73

Tanker War, 483, 516

Tarrantel, 224 

Tasker H. Bliss (AP 42), 103n4 

Tatnuck (AT 27), 159, 160 

Taussig (DD 746), 282 

Tawakoni (ATE 114), 182, 248, 250, 260, 281

Tawasa (ATE 92), 161, 162, 283–284 

Taylor, D., 211 

Teak (AN 35), 373 

Tekesta (ATF 94), 181, 183 

Tenino (ATE 115), 165, 167, 183, 190, 191 

Tennessee (BB 43), salvage of, 58 

Tern, 66 

Terrell County (LST 1157), 259 

Terror, 18n6 

Terzaghi, Karl, 79 

Tettelbach, Gary, 351, 361

Texas, 510

Index

591
Texas (BB 35), 18, 46, 48, 105, 223n16

Texas (San Marcos), 223

Thiel, Rick, 507

Thomas A. Edison, 155

Thomas, Chief Carpenter, 168 

Thomas Stone (APA 29), 103 

Thomas, W.D., 242, 256, 260 

Thomason, Del, 391 

Thompson, Elihu, 369 

Thompson, Theos J., 418

Thor, 326, 328–330 

Thresher (SSN 593), 295n33, 374–378, 384,

407, 427, 515 

Thrush (AVP 3), 101 

Thurman, Robert K. (Bulldog), 162, 201, 301

Tillotson, Mike, 501

Tioga County (LST 1158), 285 

Tiru (SS 416), 282 

Toka (YTB 149), 221 

Tolman (DM 28), 183 

Tomb, Captain, 34 

Tooker, John, 77, 80–81 

Tooker patch, 80

Torrey Canyon, 468

Totten, Jerry, 309, 346 

Toulon, 143 

Towing, see Pulling and towing operations 

Toxic gases, 67–68, 79, 81, 107, 272n20, 284,

308 

Tracor Marine, 346, 347 

Training of salvors 

in Bataan National Shipyard, 241–245

curriculum, 83–84, 238, 370

establishment of, 83–86, 426 

fire fighting, 86 

Lafayette as a training aid, 82 

naval system for, 5, 83–86 

Naval School, Diving and Salvage, 389

Newport, Rhode Island, diving school, 6 

on-the-job, 258n8 

Pearl Harbor school, 83, 90 

peacetime, 223, 231, 236, 329 

Pier 88 school, 82, 83, 85–86, 90, 106, 137,

164

problems in, 85, 238 

qualification of candidates, 84–85

in preparation for World War II, 514

ratings, 85 

rehearsal models, 32, 34, 40, 41, 343 

Reserve unit programs, 5, 83, 319 

for submarine salvage, 32, 34, 40, 296–299 

in Suez Canal clearance, 329 

on sunken lift craft, 110 

Transcolorado, 280

Trenton (LPD 13), 444

Trieste, 375–376, 384, 385 

Tringa (ASR 16), 403–404

Tripoli (LPH 10), 487, 489, 490, 491, 

Triton Island strandings, 260–261, 284 

Truculent, 265 

Tucumcari (PGH 2), 293–295

Trust Territories of the Pacific Islands, 477, 478

Tufts, Herbert, 278 

Tugs 

auxiliary (ATA), 87, 93, 251, 541–542

Bagaduce (AT 21) class, 547–548

Bird-class minesweeper conversions to, 54,

548–549

centralized control of, 70 

design of, 54, 87 

diesel–powered, 87n10 fleet (ATF), 54, 87,

92–93, 131, 159n8, 209, 320, 543–546 

guidance for operation of, 159n8 

landing support by, 131 

Maritime Commission, 197–198 

misrouting or misassignment of, 131, 157 

naming of, 145n29, 159n8, 224n18 

old (ATO), 546–547 

Powhatan (T-ATF 166) class, 320, 350,

351–353, 417, 424, 512, 516, 550–552 

rescue, 56, 87, 92–93, 549–550, 552 

steam-powered, 6 

See also Salvage ships; and specific ships and

classes of ships.

Turksib, 71 

Turtle (DSC 3), 401 

Tusler, Floyd A., 41

TWA Flight 800, 434, 440–445

Typhoons 

dispersal of fuel spill, 283 

Gilda, 254 

Guam harbor damage, 201, 231–236, 262

Harriet, 255

Hong Kong harbor damage, 284–285 

Karen, 231–236, 262, 355 

Olive, 234–236 

Pamela, 355–356, 422n35 

Rose, 284–285 

salvage operations during, 191 

Sarah, 283 

ship damage during, 201, 231–236, 261

U–3, salvage of, 27 

U-boat campaigns, 51, 54, 56, 71, 72, 97, 100,

119, 407

UH–46 helicopter at Wake Island, 450

Uhler, Dale, 421 

Ulithi Atoll, 477, 479, 481

Ulrich, John L., 273

Umm Qasr, Iraq, 501, 502

UNITAS, 492, 496, 502

United Airlines Flight 811, 434

United Salvage of Melbourne, 324 

United Salvage Pty., Ltd., 305 

United States, 37

University of North Carolina at Wilmington,

409

Utah (AG 16) (formerly BB 31), 65–66

Utara, A.D., 337–338

Ute (ATF 76), 159–160, 179, 183, 188, 191,

210, 211–212, 260

Utina (ATF 163), 288, 289, 297

Valery Chkalov, 160

Index

592
Valley Forge (CG 50), 491

Valve (ARS 28), 168, 183, 186, 191

Van Horn, Brian, 413

Van Horn, Kent, 462

Vancouver Island, 352–353

Vandalia (IX 191), 191

Vauban, 143

Velox, 103

Vent (ARS 29), 88, 168, 191

Ventgen, Robert J., 401

Vestal (AR 4), 34, 35, 59, 182

Vickers Oceanics, Ltd., 404–405

Vickers Voyager, 405

Vieques, Puerto Rico, classified test item recovery, 383 

Vietnam War era 

aircraft salvage, 259, 420–421 

Atlantic Fleet, 250, 286–295

“Beast of the Taiwan Straits,” 262

contract salvage, 250, 251, 299–305, 518 

dredge salvage, 272–279 

harbor clearance during, 487

Harbor Clearance Unit One, 259, 262–286 

Harbor Clearance Unit Two, 290–295 

harbor clearances in U.S., 305–311 

lifting ships used in, 141, 242 

Pacific Fleet salvage posture, 250–253 

peak operations in Vietnam, 258–262 

Pearl Harbor salvage operations, 281, 283

routine operations, 280 

Saigon River operations, 248–250 

salvage during, 501

salvage force buildup for, 241–242 

salvage support requirements, 247 

Solid Anchor/Sea Float station, 280 

South China Sea salvage, 253–258 

submarine salvage, 282, 283, 295–299 

tanker salvage, 282, 283, 295–299 

training of salvors during, 3

Viking (ARS 1), 71, 165, 198, 516 

Villasenor, Richard C. (Blackie), 391 

Volgelgesang (DD 862), 288 

Vulkan, salvage operations, 27

W117, 132

W123, 132

Wacham, E.P., 211

Waddell (DDG 24), 281

Wadleigh (DD 689), 162

Waipio Point salvage station, 168

Walke (DD 34), 368

Walker, Lieutenant Commander, 117

Walker, Captain William A., 255

Walker, William, 457, 481 

Wallace, 160

Wallin, Homer N., 58, 65, 155, 331n9

Walney, 104, 112

Walnut (WLB 205), 501, 504

Walter Reetz, 347

Wandank (AT 26), 24–25; (ATA 204), 232,

281, 283 

War Hawk (AP 168), 171–172 

War Shipping Administration, 71, 73, 75

Warbler (ARS 11), 46, 53, 70–71, 516

Warren, Rob, 411

Warspite, 131–132, 332–333 

Wartime salvage

communications problems, 172–173, 185 

deployment of salvage ships, 209 

focus of, 1, 2, 52, 192–194, 105 

hazardous substances encountered during,

67, 74 

importance of, 97, 164 

requirements for, 52, 55–57, 126, 164, 192 

routine operations, 4 

training of salvors during, 5, 164 

value of, 193 

see also specific wars and campaigns

Wasalaski, Bob, 487, 499

Watch Hill, 163 

Wateree (ATF 117), 191 

Way, W.F., 144

Weeks 256, 410

Weight (ARS 35), 88, 133, 135, 143

Wells, P.A., 390 

Wells, Roy, 272n20 

Wells, Rob, 337, 340, 348 

West Coast 

post-World War II operations, 198 

problems in standing salvage, 23, 48 

salvage stations, 49, 53, 58, 71, 157, 197,

240 

shipping attacks during World War II, 56 

West Fayu Island, 312 

West Loch, 168–169, 185n32, 186 

West Virginia (BB 48), 59, 60, 64, 155 

Western Atlantic, 145–146 

Wetzel, Charles D. (Charlie), 349, 393 

Whale factory salvage, 140

Whaley, Robert C., 435

Whippoorwill (AM 35), 151 

Whitaker, Francis H., 65 

White, Donald M., 384

White, Geoff, 507

Whiting, 447

Whitmyre, Lieutenant Commander, 112, 136 

Wichita (CA 45), 163, 183 

Widgeon (AM 22), 370 

Wilbur, Curtis P., 11 

Wile (DD 723), 210

Wilkins, Captain Jim, 361, 461, 464, 485, 505,

507

Willet (ARS 12), 53, 70–71, 73, 198, 516

William B. Allison, 183 

Williams, Henry, 48 

Williams, Rick, 401n22 

Williamsburg, Virginia, 475, 481

Wilson, Delmar E., 379 

Wilson, Valentine, 380 

Windlass (ARS(D) 4), 202, 206, 207, 223–225,

228, 287, 301 

Wishart, 103 

Witherspoon, Harold, 18 

W.N. Davis, 198 

Index

593
Wolfgang, Paul W., 355 

Wonsan, 209, 210 

Wood, Burns D., 159 

Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution, 375,

380, 519

Woodall, Jere W., 291

Workman, Robert D., 374

World War I

Base Force, 5

contract salvage during, 517

Navy salvage operations during, 3, 17–18,

51

North Sea Mine Barrage, 60

salvage after, 513, 

World War II

Aleutians, 159–160

attack on Japan, 179–191

British Royal Navy salvage operations, 52,

55, 88, 99, 104, 115–116, 127–132, 136,

140

Central Pacific drive, 161–164

diving operations, 372–373

effect on history of Navy salvage, 513–516

establishment of Navy Salvage Service during, 69–82, 426

European Theater fleet operations, 97–149

Operation Husky, 122–127

Operation Overlord, 136–142

Operation Paukenschlag, 56

Operation Torch, 101–122, 127

Pacific Theater fleet operations, 151–194

Pearl Harbor fleet salvage, 57–69, 79, 112,

151, 154, 155, 185n32

Philippine campaign, 170–179

postwar cleanup, 146–148

preparation for salvage operations, 51–55,

197, 122

requirements for salvage operations during,

55–57

salvage doctrine, organization, and management during, 46, 88, 90–95, 153,188, 193,

428

salvage material acquired during, 518

Service Forces, 5

South Pacific, 154–157, 159

tanker salvage, 73

training of salvors during, 83–90

value of commercial salvors during, 3–4

western Atlantic, 145–146

see also European Theater salvage; Pacific

Theater salvage

Worthington, Ron, 481

Wotan, 411, 413

W.R. Chamberlain, 89, 122

Wrecking, 6, 344n18

Wright, Richard J., 348

Wroten, Wiley, 110, 121, 129, 132, 138

Wurlitzer, R.E., 248

Y–101, 234

Yarnall (DD 541), 179

Yap State, 477, 480, 482

Yayoi (DD 23), 156–157

YC–1419, 233, 234

YC–1485, 362

YC–1525, 401

YD–120, 232–235

YD–127, 242, 244

YD–200, 341

YD–229, 341

YDT–16, 394

Yemen, 496, 497

YFN–6, 223

YFNB–17, 287

YFNB–43, 394

YFRN–412, 259

YLLC–1, 268

YLLC–2, 268

YLLC–4, 267

YM–563, 123

YOG–42, 154n4

Yong Mon (ATA 31), 331–332

Yorktown (CV 5), 153

Young, Chuck, 411–413

Young, Frederick, 17, 18n6

YP–284, 154–155

YP–387, 202

YRBM–26, 352–353

YRST–1, 264, 285

YRST–2, 287, 291, 296

YSR–11, 233

YTB–384, 170

YTB–801, 341

YTB–824, 341

YTM–417, 234

YTM–521, 234

Yuma (ATF 94), 162, 181, 183

Zagurski, Jeff, 508

Zaniah (AG 70), 182, 186

Zuni (ATF 95), 163, 180

Index

594