Watch: 2nd battalion the Royal Anglian Regiment prepares for its involvement in Nato’s Exercise Steadfast Defender
A massive convoy of Foxhounds, Jackals and Land Rovers has surprised villagers in the East Midlands.
The troops from 2nd Battalion the Royal Anglian Regiment were practising their immediate response to a Nato Very High Readiness Joint Task Force call-out.
The 500 soldiers and their 162 vehicles are preparing to take part in Exercise Steadfast Defender, Nato’s largest exercise since the Cold War.
The light mechanised infantry battalion, known as “the Poachers”, operated under the spearhead force Nato’s Very High Readiness Joint Task Force.
The soldiers will begin with Exercise Polish Dragon – one of the 11 exercises that are taking place in Poland.
Ex Steadfast Defender is due to start in February and will travel through the entire Trans-Atlantic region.
It’s a show of force, strength and unity of Nato allies following Russia’s illegal invasion of Ukraine.
Watch: 20,000 British soldiers, sailors and aviators to deploy by land, sea and air across Europe to participate in a huge Nato exercise later this year.
USS Sculpin (SS-191) underway off Portsmouth, New Hampshire in September 1939.
This is an abbreviated story of World War II submarine operations on board the USS Sculpin (SS-191) in the western Pacific and Asiatic Basin between 1941–42. In December 1941, the only U.S. presence there were the 29 submarines and three submarine tenders with no supply line to speak of, weapons and equipment problems, and a need for new tactics. Parallels with the current situation between China and the United States and the submarine realities in 1939–41 are unearthed through the diary of Lieutenant Charles M. Henderson, a 1934 U.S. Naval Academy graduate and theSculpin’s executive officer/navigator for six patrols over the first 13 months of the war. During those patrols and the Japanese advances, theSculpinhad to gravitate south to Borneo, Java, and Australia for upkeeps, supplies, and rest and then went on 45 to 55–day patrols near Indonesia, the South Chine Sea, and east to New Britain and the Solomon Islands.
Lieutenant “Charlie” Henderson survived two U.S. submarine losses, six near misses, and a later Kamikaze attack.
Highlights from the Sculpin
Table 1. Sculpin highlights and patrol areas.
Diary Excerpts
October 1941: “ . . . we left Pearl Harbor October 23rd after two of the most hectic and confused days of my life. Such a short time in which to arrange everything and my bride and I so bewildered we didn’t know what we were doing. I guess we knew all along that there would be a war . . . “
At Manila: “Kurusu arrived in Washington. We hang on every news broadcast. The situation becomes more tense. We wonder where our fleet is. What a pitifully inadequate little handful of Navy ships in the harbor.”
“The nonchalant attitude of people is most amazing.”
“Oh, there’s no strain out here.”
“The situation’s under control.”
“Suppose they do come—we’ll take ‘em.”
“We would like to see some cruisers and planes, but tactfully hold our tongues.”
“Sunday—Dec 7th. Returned to ship at 2:30 a.m. after a dinner party at [the Army and Navy] Club for ship’s officers [in Manilla]. At 0330 I was awakened with the fateful news “Japan has commenced hostilities. . . . We blacked out and the nest of ships quickly dispersed to anchor singly to minimize the danger from air attacks. Feverish preparations. Thank God we were all ready except a very few last-minute items. Wondered all day about the planes. Will they come? Will they come now? When? But they didn’t and we left at dusk in convoy out through the minefields. Air raid at Corregidor while going out. Searchlights everywhere in the air but none in the water. We collided with one of the buoys marking the edge of the minefield. It is dark as pitch. Clear finally. Left the convoy at dawn. This begins our first patrol. And I personally breathe a prayer for our country, our ship, and for the whole world, and for my bride not to worry.”
Lieutenant Henderson’s diary. Courtesy of the author.
Key Patrol 1–4 Comments
“I haven’t been able to fix the ship’s position in four days. The sounding machine breaks down. What wild navigation! By guess and by God—truly. We make landfall 60 miles from where we think we are. But can you wonder? No navigational lights—nothing to go by. We almost ran aground. Ah well, if we run aground, we run aground—no sense getting gray over that!
A dispatch from Chief of Naval Operations to the Asiatic Fleet, commending us for our gallant and skillful conduct, but indicating that we are it—the thin red line of heroes as Kipling says. Damnit, where are the cruisers, where is the fleet? The Japs are landing. But those are silent thoughts.
We receive no press news—what’s going on in the world? All we know is a little bit we gleam from the nightly operation order and that concerns only the immediate theater of war.
Christmas Day. They do prepare a good dinner, considering what we have, which is all canned. I break open the medicinal whiskey and with powdered milk and our last eggs, we concoct a fair eggnog, breaking about 40 Navy Regulations in so doing.
January 8—Nothing at Ramon—enroute new station. Today I had my first bath since the war started.
January 17—At Balikpapan, Borneo—came charging in at sunset for fuel. Leaving before dawn. Had our first news of the war today. Amazed at developments. Air raids here daily. Dutch standing by to blow up refinery. Got 100 pounds of sugar and a case of milk which we have been without for days now.
People here expect to have to fall back to the jungle any day now. Farrakhan burned to the ground a few days ago.
The [commandant] jokes “A hell of a war, too damn hot to fight down in this part of the world.” He seriously expects the Japs to collapse within five months.
Second Patrol—East of Celebes and Molucca Sea
February 5—Yesterday they bombed Surabaya. We left there only five days ago. Pearl Harbor, five weeks ago, Manila – one day later, Subic Bay eight days later, Balikpapan . . . they captured the place three days after we fueled there (the Dutch had to blow up that immense refinery); and now Surabaya. Guess we are lucky to have missed it all. But this undersea work is not easy either. . . .
Our time in Surabaya was a strange combination of hurried, tense confusion, and wild, utter abandon and relief of a sort, from the trials of life at sea. . . . The Dutch mechanics and about 200 others were literally swarming over the ship. They did about a month’s work in 6 days—but everything was too hurried—inches to centimeters and back again, they were not familiar with our machinery, and we were not able to supervise everything. But they were wonderful and did their best. . . . We had no opportunity to test the machinery and made our first dive with some misgivings. Nearly everything worked, and she still floats and dives O.K.
At the end of the patrol, Lieutenant Henderson learned his previous sub, the Shark, had gone down and was presumed missing.
The first page of Lieutenant Henderson’s diary. Courtesy of the author.
Third and Fourth Patrols
The Sculpin relied on Australian ports of Perth and Brisbane for patrols 3 through 6 as Americans had been pushed out of all ports from China to Truk and south to Java and Celebes.
In March, the Sculpin’s skipper, then–Lieutenant Commander Louis Chappell, fired three torpedoes each at three freighters and all failed:
Chappell was angry. All these shots were easy setups. He decided there was definitely something wrong with the torpedoes and requested permission to leave station and return to Fremantle. He wrote, “If truth must be told, the Commanding Officer was so demoralized and disheartened from repeated misses he had little stomach for further action until an analysis could be made and a finger put on the deficiencies responsible and corrective action taken.”
A Depth Charging Example—One of Six
On the fourth depth charge, the stern diving rudder jams and we start up. Oh God! We can’t surface now—they’ll get us for sure if we do. “Hold her down Jack.” The up-angle increases—men work frantically to clear the rudder. There, they’ve got her. We catch her in time and down we go again.
The sound head is O.K. now. . . .
Now the ship is heavy for some reason. We have to speed up to hold her. She is sinking slowly—275, 280, 300—she settles there. [The hull is only tested to 265 feet].
We can’t pump water out, or blow water out, because they will hear us if we do. All the machinery on the ship had long since stopped, except the motors, to try to remain silent. No ventilation, not even a tiny electric fan. We are all dripping with perspiration.
We sink further—310, 320—finally we catch her at 345 feet.
The fully dressed USS Sculpin (SSN-590) is ready to launch at the Ingalls Shipbuilding Yard in Pascagoula, Mississippi on 31 March 1960. U.S. Naval Institute Photo Archive
Fifth Patrol—The Near Loss and Heroic Action
September 30—Two days ago we got the worst beating of the war to date. Attacked a big tanker protected by planes and a sub chaser. The Captain made a beautiful approach, and we got two, maybe three hits on him. He sank. But all hell broke loose as soon as we fired. Bombs literally rained down on us from the air. The sub chaser called in another patrol vessel and spotted us accurately—then let go right on top of us. Three deafening crashes—the whole ship shook and trembled. It jarred open valves, ruptured hull fittings, broke glass and nearly all the light bulbs. I couldn’t begin to itemize the damage. There were leaks in every compartment. The worst was in the forward battery, a steady stream of water pouring in at enormous pressure through a ruptured fitting. I went forward. When I saw it—water already several inches deep on deck—I said, “oh dear God, this is it I guess.” Then I forgot all about God and everything else in the world except stopping the leak and keeping the water out of the battery in the deck below.
Lieutenant Henderson abbreviated the details of this 1942 near disaster:
The leak was 1/4 inch in diameter. It was in the discharge pipe from the officer’s head located in a tiny cubicle at the corner of the officer’s bunking area above the forward battery compartment.
During some previous overhaul, this pipe had been drill-tested to ensure that the metal still met the rigid specifications for strength. And the test hole was mistakenly located outboard of the sea valve . . . had the test been made on the section of pipe inboard of this valve, the leak would not have occurred even if the faulty plug had not been replaced [emphasis added].
So, the water was gushing in . . . the sea pressure forced enormous amounts of water through that hole. Baldwin, the chief auxiliary man, immediately fashioned a wooden plug by sawing off the conical shaped end of a paint brush. We tried innumerable times to insert this plug into the hole against the pressure of the incoming water stream with no success.
The space between the pipe and the adjacent rigid steel bulkhead was only about two inches, barely enough room for a person’s hand to reach in.
While Baldwin was desperately working on the leak, I had improvised a dam around the hatch that opened to the battery compartment below. We used mattresses and bed linen from the bunks. This proved effective. The water ran down the deck from the head and flowed around the dam to the after end of the compartment, where it accumulated and at one point reached a depth of over a foot. We started a bucket brigade and transferred the water to the pump room bilges located underneath the control room.
The diving officer, had to keep a large “up” angle on the boat to maintain depth [he could not pump the water out–the noise from the pumps created a “bullseye for the Nips” sound detection instruments].
Lieutenant Commander Chappell . . . concentrated on the sonar reports and occasionally maneuvered to confuse the enemy and help escape. . . . He also noted that we were slowly sinking despite skilled efforts. The crew was quietly working to keep the submarine running, prevent her from sinking, and repair the extensive damage that had occurred in every compartment.
. . . The propellor noise and “wake” turbulence increased but only slightly . . . finally ship stabilized at 325 feet, 60 feet beyond test depth . . .
It became apparent that we needed a device to steady that plug in the stream of water and enable us to push the plug in and hold it in place. Suddenly a possible solution took shape. I said “Baldwin, drill a hole in the handle perpendicular to the axis and wire the plug to a crowbar . . .” He rushed to his workbench in the pump room, and returned within a couple of minutes with the crudely fashioned implement. We pushed the crowbar into the space between the pipe and the bulkhead, jiggled the crowbar in front of hole, got it centered and jammed it home. THE LEAK STOPPED IMMEDIATELY! . . .
The pinging became fainter, and sonar reported “All Clear” . . .
We are all thankful to be alive. I hope the damn tanker was loaded with aviation gas! For the first time since the war began this awful destruction horrified me no end. That is the ninth ship we have torpedoed. It makes me want to do something after the war is over, something grand and constructive and worthwhile—I’d like to build something: bridges, dams, something to make up for the horrible, awful destruction. And yet I know that what we are doing now is worthwhile if it makes men free again.
Under more than the usual amount of tension we finished the patrol without further damage. Upon return to base the repair crews did a first-class job of effecting a satisfactory repair to the leak.
Sixth Patrol and After
By this time, the submarine force supply chain and maintenance and repair capabilities had improved. See Table 2.
Table 2. Number of Pacific submarine tenders.
The Sculpin had an uneventful patrol off Truk then ended her sixth patrol in Pearl Harbor after traveling 55,000 nautical miles. Next came her first overhaul since the war’s start at San Francisco.
At the end of this patrol, Henderson departed the ship for a new command, the USS Bluefish (SSN-222), only to find Lieutenant Ted O’Connor, his bride Noreen’s brother, was reported missing aboard the USS Grampus (SS-207). Henderson escaped death by transferring from both the USS Shark (SS-174) and the Sculpin.
The Sculpin’s Last Battle
The Sculpin was attacked briefly on the ninth patrol in 1943, was depth-charged severely, had to surface and fight it out with a destroyer, then was scuttled to prevent ship capture. Commander John Cromwell, the wolf pack commander on board, decided to go down with the ship and was awarded the Medal of Honor; a Naval Submarine School Building in Groton, Connecticut, was named after him. The crew was captured, with half put on a transport and half on a Japanese carrier. The nearby USS Sailfish (SS-192) sunk the carrier not knowing Americans were on board; all but one died.1
In Closing
Miraculously, the submarine force powered up, building 232 more submarines, and sank the bulk of Japanese warships and shipping. But 52 U.S. submarines were lost, 25 (48 percent) in waters near Japan and China. Only about 15 percent were sunk in deep water well away from enemy ports.2 Questions remain about how many submarines the United States could build today, how many the Navy could afford to lose in a conflict, and where they would be deployed. The diaries of Lieutenant Henderson provide a window into how sailors navigated in perilous, sometimes uncharted waters, and the emerging submarine tactics in a time of war—lessons the Navy would do well to remember in the modern age.
1. See also Theodore Roscoe, United States Submarine Operations in World War Two (Annapolis, MD: U.S. Naval Institute Press, 1949); and Clay Blair Jr., Silent Victory: The U.S. Submarine War Against Japan (Philadelphia, PA: J. B. Lippincott Co., 1975).
2. Roscoe, United States Submarine Operations in World War Two.
3. The full text of Lieutenant Henderson’s diary was published in the Naval Submarine League’s The Submarine Review in 2022. His Bluefish depth charge evasion tactic can be found there.
Mitch Henderson
Mr. Henderson was an officer on board the highly decorated USS Dace (SSN-607), commanded by then-Commander Kinnaird McKee. He then spent 17 years as a submarine tactician and co-authored the Submarine Security and Submarine Reconnaissance Manuals.
She was in commission (in active service) from October 1980 through July 1998. Her primary missions were in defending aircraft carrier task forces in air defense (AAW) and antisubmarine warfare (ASW) by using her guided missiles, radar systems, and sonar systems. Since Arkansas had the high speed and unlimited range provided by her nuclear reactors, she usually escorted the nuclear-powered aircraft carriers of the U.S. Navy.[citation needed]
With her Harpoon anti-ship missiles, Tomahawk missiles, and two 5-inch (127 mm) naval guns, USS Arkansas was also capable of attacking enemy surface ships, carrying out shore bombardments, and attacking land targets over 2,000 kilometers (1,200 mi) inland (with her Tomahawk cruise missiles in the latter case).[citation needed]
For her short-range self-defense, especially for defense against enemy anti-ship missiles, Arkansas carried two automated Phalanx radar-directed 20 millimeters (0.79 in) rapid-fire guns. Also, her two 5-inch rapid-fire naval guns had some capability for anti-aircraft defense. Her six torpedo tubes, which fired Mk 46 lightweight torpedoes, were for close-in, last-ditch defense against enemy submarines that had evaded her outer defense line of ASROC missiles, and the long-range ASW aircraft of her task force.[citation needed]
After USS Arkansas was decommissioned and all of her weapons, computers, sensors, communication equipment and other complex components, removed, her hulk was sent into the Navy’s nuclear ship recycling program for the removal, recycling, and disposal of all of her fuel and other radioactive equipment, and this task was completed in Washington state on 1 November 1999, with the rest of her hulk sold as scrap metal.
USS Windham Bay (CVE-92) was the thirty-eighth of fifty Casablanca-class escort carriers built for the United States Navy during World War II. She was named after Windham Bay, within Tongass National Forest, of the Territory of Alaska. The ship was launched in March 1944, commissioned in May, and served as a replenishment and transport carrier throughout the Invasion of Iwo Jima and the Battle of Okinawa. Postwar, she participated in Operation Magic Carpet, repatriating U.S. servicemen from throughout the Pacific. She was decommissioned in August 1946, when she was mothballed in the Pacific Reserve Fleet. With the outbreak of the Korean War, however, she was called back to service, continuing to serve as a transport and utility carrier until 1959, when she was once again decommissioned. Ultimately, she was broken up in February 1961.
Design and description
A profile of the design of Takanis Bay, which was shared with all Casablanca-class escort carriers.
Main article: Casablanca-class escort carrier
Windham Bay was a Casablanca-class escort carrier, the most numerous type of aircraft carriers ever built,[2] and designed specifically to be mass-produced using prefabricated sections, in order to replace heavy early war losses. Standardized with her sister ships, she was 512 ft 3 in (156.13 m) long overall; at the waterline, she was 490 ft (150 m) long. She had a beam of 65 ft 2 in (19.86 m), at her widest point, this was 108 ft (33 m). She also had a draft of 20 ft 9 in (6.32 m). She displaced 8,188 long tons (8,319 t) standard, 10,902 long tons (11,077 t) with a full load. She had a 257 ft (78 m) long hangar deck and a 477 ft (145 m) long flight deck. She was powered with two Skinner Unaflow reciprocating steam engines, which drove two shafts, providing 9,000 shaft horsepower (6,700 kW), thus enabling her to make 19 knots (35 km/h; 22 mph). The ship had a cruising range of 10,240 nautical miles (18,960 km; 11,780 mi) at a speed of 15 knots (28 km/h; 17 mph). Power was provided by four Babcock & Wilcox water-tube boilers. Her compact size necessitated the installation of an aircraft catapult at her bow, and there were two aircraft elevators to facilitate movement of aircraft between the flight and hangar deck: one each fore and aft.[2][3][4]
One 5-inch (127 mm)/38 caliber dual-purpose gun was mounted on the stern. Anti-aircraft defense was provided by eight Bofors 40-millimeter (1.6 in) anti-aircraft guns in single mounts, as well as 12 Oerlikon 20-millimeter (0.79 in) cannons, which were mounted around the perimeter of the deck. By the end of the war, Casablanca-class carriers had been modified to carry thirty 20 mm cannons, and the amount of 40 mm guns had been doubled to sixteen, by putting them into twin mounts. These modifications were in response to increasing casualties due to kamikaze attacks. Although Casablanca-class escort carriers were designed to function with a crew of 860 and an embarked squadron of 50 to 56, the exigencies of wartime often necessitated the inflation of the crew count. Casablanca-class escort carriers were designed to carry 27 aircraft, but the hangar deck could accommodate more, which was often necessary during transport or replenishment missions.[4][5]
Construction
Her construction was awarded to Kaiser Shipbuilding Company, Vancouver, Washington under a Maritime Commission contract, on 18 June 1942. The escort carrier was laid down on 5 January 1944 under the name Windham Bay, as part of a tradition which named escort carriers after bays or sounds in Alaska.[6] She was laid down as MC hull 1129, the thirty-eighth of a series of fifty Casablanca-class escort carriers. She therefore received the classification symbol CVE-92, indicating that she was the ninety-second escort carrier to be commissioned into the United States Navy. She was launched on 29 March 1944; sponsored by Mrs. Henry M. Cooper; transferred to the Navy and commissioned on 3 May 1944, with Captain Charles William Oexle in command.[1][7]
Service history
World War II
Upon being commissioned, Windham Bay underwent a shakedown cruise down the West Coast to San Diego, arriving on 6 June. She then briefly conducted air qualifications and catapult trials off the southern California coast, before taking on a load of aircraft and passengers bound for Hawaii. On 12 June, she left port, arriving within Pearl Harbor on 19 June, trading her cargo for another load, this time bound for the Marshall Islands. She left Pearl Harbor on 25 June, arriving at Majuro Atoll in the Marshall Islands on 2 July. She then sailed westwards to Kwajalein Atoll, also within the Marshalls. There, she took on the aircraft and personnel of Marine Night Fighter Squadron 532 (VMF(N)-532), and steamed for the Mariana Islands. The squadron arrived on Saipan, which had recently been secured, by flying off of her flight deck, and she put into Garapan anchorage to unload the squadron’s gear.[7]
Whilst in anchorage, Windham Bay loaded up a squadron of captured Japanese aircraft, and proceeded back to Hawaii. She returned to Pearl Harbor on 10 July, and remained in port for fifteen days, before departing for the West Coast on 25 July. She returned to port in San Diego on 31 July, and she began overhaul at San Pedro, where additional anti-aircraft armaments were retrofitted.[7]
This process took up the entire month of August, and Windham Bay returned to sea on 1 September, with a load of aircraft bound for Emirau and Manus, of the Admiralty Islands. She arrived at Emirau in mid-September, and at Manus on 18 September. After unloading her aircraft, she took on a load of passengers and steamed for Espiritu Santo, of the New Hebrides, and upon completing this task, she took on another load of aircraft, returning to Manus on 5 October. She then visited Guadalcanal, of the Solomon Islands, before heading back to the West Coast. Proceeding via Espiritu Santo, she arrived back in San Diego on 20 October. She then made another transport mission to the South Pacific in November, transporting aircraft to Manus and collecting about 350 casualties from the Palau campaign at Guadalcanal on 24 November for transport back to San Diego.[7]
Upon returning to port in San Diego on 10 December, Windham Bay remained inactive until 27 December, when she resumed transporting aircraft. During this stay, Lieutenant (temporarily promoted to Commander) Theophilus Horner Moore assumed temporary command of the carrier until it arrived at Pearl Harbor. Proceeding westwards, she transported a load of aircraft to Pearl Harbor, arriving on 2 January 1945 before taking on a load of F4U Corsairs. There, Captain Maxwell Franklin Leslie took over permanent command of Windham Bay. Leaving port on 5 January, she headed to Midway Atoll in the Hawaiian Islands, arriving on 9 January, where she unloaded her cargo. The following day, she left Midway, returning to Pearl Harbor on 13 January. She left port on 1 February, this time as a replenishment carrier, providing replacement aircraft, parts, and supplies for the frontline Fast Carrier Task Force of the Third Fleet, which at the time was preparing to provide support for the planned invasion of Iwo Jima. On her way out towards the Central Pacific, Windham Bay stopped at Enewetak Atoll in the Marshall Islands, before steaming for Ulithi Atoll in the Caroline Islands.[7]
Windham Bay underway sometime in 1945. It appears that three Martin PBM Mariner flying boats are stored upon her aft flight deck.
Windham Bay displaying severe flight deck damage from Typhoon Connie whilst moored in Apra Harbor, 11 June 1945.
Upon taking on board the cargo required to sustain her replenishment duties, Windham Bay took to sea, as a part of Task Unit 50.8.4, the CVE Plane Transport Unit, along with her sister ships Admiralty Islands, Bougainville, and Attu. As a part of Task Group 50.8, the Logistics Support Group, the replenishment carriers were under the command of Rear Admiral Donald B. Beary. En route, the carriers were screened by the destroyer escorts Greiner, Sanders, and Wyman.[8] She arrived off Iwo Jima on 19 February, whereupon she began delivering replacement aircraft and crews to the fleet carriers conducting operations over the island, with the transferring aircraft being screened by the fighter contingents of Makassar Strait and Shamrock Bay. Task Unit 50.8.4 first conducted deliveries to Task Groups 58.1, 58.4, and 58.5 on 19 February, conducted deliveries to Task Groups 58.2 and 58.3 the following day, and then deliveries to all the Task Groups excepting 58.5 on 21 February. Her main duties finished, Windham Bay continued delivering a trickle of planes until 1 March, when her Task Group returned to replenish at Ulithi. In total, the four escort carriers had delivered 254 aircraft and 65 plane crews to the fleet carriers, the majority of which were transferred on the first three days.[9][7]
Later, upon having replenished, Task Group 50.8.4. took to sea again, and beginning on 1 April, in addition to resupplying the Fast Carrier Task Force, the escort carriers also shouldered the burden of providing replacement aircraft and supplies for the CVEs providing air cover for the landings on Okinawa. Taking advantage of the Kerama Islands, which had been recently captured on 26 March, the escort carriers were able to quickly replenish on bombs and ammunition, minimizing the amount of time spent away from the frontline carriers.[10][7]
By the early morning of 5 June, Windham Bay, along with the ships of Task Group 38.1 and Task Group 30.8, was trapped in the path of Typhoon Connie, which was proceeding northwards, and on a course to the east of Okinawa. Admiral William Halsey Jr., which had already led the Third Fleet into the deadly Typhoon Cobra in December 1944, now managed to lead the Third Fleet yet again into the eyewall of another deadly storm, ignoring reports by Rear Admiral Beary, who was convinced that Halsey’s
The Oklahoma, commissioned in 1916, served in World War I as a member of BatDiv 6,[4] protecting Allied convoys on their way across the Atlantic. After the war, she served in both the United States Battle Fleet and Scouting Fleet. Oklahoma was modernized between 1927 and 1929. In 1936, she rescued American citizens and refugees from the Spanish Civil War. On returning to the West coast in August of the same year, Oklahoma spent the rest of her service in the Pacific.
On 7 December 1941, Oklahoma was sunk by several bombs and torpedoes during the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. A total of 429 crew died when she capsized in Battleship Row. In 1943 Oklahoma was righted and salvaged. However, unlike most of the other battleships that were recovered following Pearl Harbor, the Oklahoma was too damaged to return to duty. She was eventually stripped of her remaining armaments and superstructure before being sold for scrap in 1946. She sank in a storm while being towed from Oahu in Hawaii to a breakers yard in San Francisco Bay in 1947.
She served in the Pacific Ocean and had a very successful career marked by the winning of three battle stars during World War II, two during the Korean War, and seven campaign stars during the Vietnam crisis.
Tawasa was laid down on 22 June 1942 at Portland, Oregon, by the Commercial Iron Works; launched on 22 February 1943; sponsored by Mrs. Thomas F. Sullivan, mother of the five Sullivan brothers; and commissioned on 17 July 1943, Lt. Fred C. Clark in command.
Her keel was laid down in December 1896 at the William Cramp & Sons shipyard, and she was launched in May 1898. She was commissioned into the fleet in October 1900. The ship was armed with a main battery of four 13-inch (330 mm) guns and she had a top speed of 16 knots (30 km/h; 18 mph).
Alabama spent the first seven years of her career in the North Atlantic Fleet conducting peacetime training. In 1904, she made a visit to Europe and toured the Mediterranean. She took part in the cruise of the Great White Fleet until damage to her machinery forced her to leave the cruise in San Francisco. She instead completed a shorter circumnavigation in company with the battleship Maine. The ship received an extensive modernization from 1909 to 1912, after which she was used as a training ship in the Atlantic Reserve Fleet. She continued in this role during World War I. After the war, Alabama was stricken from the naval register and allocated to bombing tests that were conducted in September 1921. She was sunk in the tests by US Army Air Service bombers and later sold for scrap in March 1924.
