A TALE OF TWO NAVIES

Reading of the sinking of the Russian missle cruiser “Moskva” set me thinking about warships and fires at sea.

When I was a young sailor stationed in San Francisco, I once took the Geary Avenue bus out to Land’s End, where I went to see the bridge structure of the cruiser “San Francisco,” which is there in Land’s End Park. I went there because I knew the story. Back then, the bridge was largely forgotten, just sitting there, a large metal structure, with no fence around it. It looked like swiss cheese as I stood there and looked at it from the outside. I climbed up inside and stood on the deck of the navigating bridge and looked around. I thought about what had happened there, and wondered how I would have reacted had I been there.

I looked out the holes made by the 14-inch shells from the Japanese battleship Hiei that went through the steel structure like it was tissue paper the night of November 12, 1942, when the only group of American warships in the Solomons - four cruisers and seven destroyers - went up against a Japanese fleet of 18 ships that included two battleships, which were intent on finishing off the Marines on Guadalcanal. The orders given to Admiral Callaghan that night were: stop the enemy at all costs.

It was the dark of the moon, with rain squalls and thundershowers in all quarters, lit by lightning flashes through the driving rain. The two fleets surprised each other, coming out of separate squalls. There was no time for organization, there was only time to open fire in a battle where the opposing ships hadn’t been so close to each other since the Age of Sail.

“San Francisco” was the U.S. flagship, in the lead of the line of cruisers. In moments, she was hit multiple times. The admiral in command, the ship’s captain, and all the bridge crew except one man were killed in the shellfire that shredded the bridge. The story is well-told in the citations for the three Medals of Honor awarded to the men who did save her.

In moments, the line of command went down from Captain Cassin Young to Lt. Commander Herb Schonland, the ship’s damage control officer. At the time he was informed he was now the captain, he was in waist-deep water in a compartment lit only by battle lanterns, as he directed men to shore up the holes in the hull. His citation reads:

“For extreme heroism and courage above and beyond the call of duty as damage control officer of the U.S.S. San Francisco in action against greatly superior enemy forces in the battle off Savo Island, 12-13 November 1942. In the same violent night engagement in which all of his superior officers were killed or wounded, Lt. Comdr. Schonland was fighting valiantly to free the San Francisco of large quantities of water flooding the second deck compartments through numerous shell holes caused by enemy fire. Upon being informed that he was commanding officer, he ascertained that the conning of the ship was being efficiently handled, then directed the officer who had taken over that task to continue while he himself resumed the vitally important work of maintaining the stability of the ship. In water waist deep, he carried on his efforts in darkness illuminated only by hand lanterns until water in flooded compartments had been drained or pumped off and watertight integrity had again been restored to the San Francisco. His great personal valor and gallant devotion to duty at great peril to his own life were instrumental in bringing his ship back to port under her own power, saved to fight again in the service of her country.”

Wounded Marine Gunnery Sergeant Tom MacGuire was able to climb down from his battle station on the signal bridge where he was the only survivor and enter the navigating bridge. He recalled the scene of devastation in an interview I did 50 years later: “There was blood everywhere, the bulkheads looked like swiss cheese. The Admiral died as I touched him. Then I saw someone stir, and I went to him.” It was Lt. Commander Bruce McCandless, the Communications Officer, who had been knocked unconscious when he was thrown against a bulkhead by an explosion. McCandless recovered and sent MacGuire to ascertain the situation, since all internal communications were knocked out.

McCandless’ citation reads:

“For conspicuous gallantry and exceptionally distinguished service above and beyond the call of duty as communication officer of the U.S.S. San Francisco in combat with enemy Japanese forces in the battle off Savo Island, 12/13 November 1942. In the midst of a violent night engagement, the fire of a determined and desperate enemy seriously wounded Lt. Comdr. McCandless and rendered him unconscious, killed or wounded the admiral in command, his staff, the captain of the ship, the navigator, and all other personnel on the navigating and signal bridges. Faced with the lack of superior command upon his recovery, and displaying superb initiative, he promptly assumed command of the ship and ordered her course and gunfire against an overwhelmingly powerful force. With his superiors in other vessels unaware of the loss of their admiral, and challenged by his great responsibility, Lt. Comdr. McCandless boldly continued to engage the enemy and to lead our column of following vessels to a great victory. Largely through his brilliant seamanship and great courage, the San Francisco was brought back to port, saved to fight again in the service of her country.”

While San Francisco continued her out-of-control death ride through the enemy fleet, Boatswain’s Mate 1st Class Reinhardt Keppler, who had led the fight to put out the fire caused by the crash of the Japanese bomber on the ship earlier that day, continued his heroic actions, as detailed in the citation for his posthumous medal:

“For extraordinary heroism and distinguished courage above and beyond the call of duty while serving aboard the U.S.S. San Francisco during action against enemy Japanese forces in the Solomon Islands, 12/13 November 1942. When a hostile torpedo plane, during a daylight air raid, crashed on the after machine-gun platform, Keppler promptly assisted in removal of the dead and, by his capable supervision of the wounded, undoubtedly helped save the lives of several shipmates who otherwise might have perished. That night, when the ship's hangar was set afire during the great battle off Savo Island, he bravely led a hose into the starboard side of the stricken area and there, without assistance and despite frequent hits from terrific enemy bombardment, eventually brought the fire under control. Later, although mortally wounded, he labored valiantly in the midst of bursting shells, persistently directing fire-fighting operations and administering to wounded personnel until he finally collapsed from loss of blood. His great personal valor, maintained with utter disregard of personal safety, was in keeping with the highest traditions of the U.S. Naval Service. He gallantly gave his life for his country.”

Writing after the event, correspondent Ira Wolfert described the scene: “The action was illuminated in brief, blinding flashes by searchlights which were shot out as soon as they were turned on, by muzzle flashes from big guns, by fantastic streams of tracers, and by huge orange-colored explosions as two enemy destroyers and one of our destroyers blew up. From the beach it resembled a door to hell opening and closing, over and over.” An officer who survived described the battle as “a barroom brawl after the lights are shot out.”

Months after my visit, I got my orders to sea, to a ship in the Far East. Like every other sailor going to sea duty, I first got orders to a week of FFT - Fire Fighting Training. The first day of school, the instructor, a Chief Petty Officer, told us the story of the saving of USS Franklin, the ship in which he was then an 18-year old seaman, back in 1945. An enemy plane popped out of the clouds and dropped two small bombs. They wouldn’t have done anything to the aircraft carrier, except she was minutes from launching a strike and had a deck full of airplanes full of fuel and ammunition and loaded with bombs. The two bombs fell among the aircraft, and in a moment the ship was an inferno. It took 14 hours of desperate effort to save her. Franklin was the worst-damaged US carrier to survive. She even steamed from Okinawa back through the Panama Canal and up to New York City where she was put on display so the American people could see what their sailors were experiencing.

Let me tell you that firefighting training is scary. No, strike that; it’s terrifying. Being number one on the hose as you descend a steep ladder into a steel compartment that is a sea of flames, your only hope of survival is the three guys behind you, who are playing water on you and each of them. And the rest of the crew who are pulling the hose. If anyone breaks and runs, everyone dies a horrible death. You do that for three days after you’ve had two days of instruction; everybody gets to be Number One On The Hose and The Three Guys Following several times. You never get used to it. It’s scary each time they light the fire down in the training structure.

But you do it. And by the time you’re done, you know you can depend on those guys behind you when you’re number one on the hose. And when you report aboard, you know everyone there has been through the same training.

From the carriers Franklin and Bunker Hill off Okinawa to the carriers Forrestal and Oriskany off Vietnam, to the destroyer USS Cole in Aden Harbor, the US Navy has saved its ships because of their crews. They stand and fight, and nobody runs away. Everyone’s terrified, but they do what has to be done.

According to reports, when the Russian flagship “Moskva” was hit by a single missile that set her on fire, but didn’t sink her, her crew immediately began abandoning ship.

That’s why the Russian Navy has never won a battle on over 200 years.

It’s why the Russian armed forces aren’t going to win in Ukraine. They only won in World War II because behind every advancing unit was a special group of NKVD troops with orders to shoot anyone who didn’t advance.

The difference is a thing called “esprit de corps.” That’s a belief in your unit, yourself, and those you serve with. That you can depend on each other.

The Ukrainians I know would have no trouble understanding the story of the San Francisco.

The most recent report is that in Mariupol, the Russians have yet to take the city because none of the defenders are surrendering.

They stop fighting when they’re dead.

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