Tag: World War II

This Weekend: Going to St. Louis

~ Dr. Matt Luckett ~ Leave a comment

On Thursday morning we are going to fly to Saint Louis for a few days, partly to make up for me not bringing our daughter there over the summer due to my health issues, and partly because autumn is probably the best (read: least miserable) time to visit Missouri. I say this with all the love in the world, but, between the freezing cold temperatures in the winter, the summer humidity, and the insane pollen counts in the spring, Saint Louis doesn’t leave many options for nice, comfortable, allergy-free weather.

At any rate, I am looking forward to visiting with family, eating toasted ravioli, and getting some work done on this project. Specifically, on Friday I will visit the National Personnel Records Center (NPRC) in northern St. Louis County. This is where you would want to go to get the personnel records for anyone who served in the Armed Forces during World War II. In fact, it is as far as I know the ONLY place to go – this is the federal repository for these records. I’m bringing with me a short list of people to look up, including grandpa (of course), my grandmother (who worked for the government during the war), and several of my grandpa’s shipmates.

The NPRC campus in St. Louis, Missouri

This will be my first visit to the NPRC, but a great deal of my horse theft research comes from the National Archives headquarters in Washington D.C. Although the security protocols for getting in and out can be intimidating at first (and the guards are seldom enthusiastic when explaining it for the hundredth time each day), the National Archives is on the whole a fantastic place to conduct historical research. They employ a small army of technicians whose job it is to help you find precisely what you are looking for, and unlike in many archival reading rooms researchers are allowed to use cameras to photograph and scan their documents (I did this liberally – rather than relocate to D.C. for a few months and read everything on site I photoscanned several thousand pages of reports and correspondence for my book and reviewed the material at home on an iPad).

I plan on posting a quick update this Friday on what I find in my grandpa’s service record, and if there are any interesting images or photographs inside I may include them here as well (note: most National Archives materials are publicly owned and thus public domain for copyright purposes). In the meantime, if you or someone you know is interested in looking up a World War II veteran’s record, please check out their website: https://www.archives.gov/personnel-records-center.

If you don’t live in or plan on visiting St. Louis any time soon, you can ask the NPRC to look it up for you and send you the file directly (for a fee, of course). But some federal privacy law caveats apply: only veterans who died or were discharged prior to 1957 can be looked up without having to obtain special permission from the service-member or their next of kin, and medical records are explicitly excluded from these personnel files. Also, having the service number handy would be enormously helpful when locating the veteran’s file. However, since it was a unique identifier the military used it in a lot of different records, which makes finding it fairly easy. I found all the relevant service numbers using Ancestry.com. If you enter your relative’s full name, birth date, and hometown, you should have no problem finding a muster log or some other document that contains their service number.

Besides that, I intend to take a little tour of my grandpa’s old neighborhood (Carondolet) and hope that inspiration strikes hard enough for me to hole up somewhere for a couple of hours and write. After all, this is where grandpa’s story begins, and it is also where the first chapter of my book will take place.

Eiler Street in St. Louis. This is where Elmer lived prior to enlisting in the Navy Reserve.

What I’m Reading: The Battle of Leyte Gulf

~ Dr. Matt Luckett ~ Leave a comment

At some point I had to start going through relevant military and academic histories of World War II, and although I still have a stack of Pearl Harbor books to review I wanted a change of pace this week. But a change of pace is not always a respite, and The Battle of Leyte Gulf: The Last Fleet Action is the perfect example of a book my graduate adviser would tell me to “read instrumentally.” In other words, get what you need and then get out.

Image result for the battle of leyte gulf the last fleet action

This is not to say that H. P. Willmott’s authoritative and exhaustive account of the largest naval battle in world history is not worth checking out if you are interested in the intricacies of the various actions that made up the larger battle, the decision-making process of both the Japanese and American admiralties, or the overall effect that these actions had on the prosecution of the war. This is nothing if not competent, well-researched monograph.

But the larger problem here – and I admit that I have spoiled myself thus far with my reading list for this project, which is due both to my non-expertise in this subject and the wealth of fantastic, infectiously readable books about World War II – is that this book’s thesis and chronology is so intricately crafted that it is difficult to follow the overall narrative. In short, it is very dense. From what I gather, the Battle of Leyte Gulf represented the best possible long-odds outcomes for the Japanese Navy, which after the Battle of the Philippine Sea had only 80 or so fleet ships left and a menu of even worse strategic options for defending itself. The Japanese chose to engage the Americans in a decisive battle for the Philippines, believing it offered the best chance at stemming America’s advances in the west-central Pacific, whereas the Americans had both strategic and historical reasons (i.e., McArthur’s promise to “return”) for targeting the archipelago.

The conquest of the Philippines was rapid enough to make the Battle of Leyte Gulf seem less dramatic when compared to Midway, Guadalcanal, and Operation Overlord in France. Yet Willmott makes a convincing case for why the battle was more important than usually realized. For one, it was the last major fleet action, featuring the last direct exchange between battleships AND the last direct engagement between aircraft carriers. In many ways it was the last major naval battle, period. Secondly, the direct consequence of the battle was the destruction of Japan’s ability to escort merchant and service vessels, which became sitting ducks in the months ahead. This helped the United States strangle Japanese supply lines, which, had it not been for the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, may well have starved out the Japanese people before any planned invasion of the home islands. Finally, the limited but successful use of kamikaze pilots flying their fuel-laden planes into American ships created a tactical silver lining after the battle, which led to the Japanese employing far more kamikaze sorties during later battles, including Okinawa.

In any case, I am still reading this book – instrumentally, of course – and while it is an excellent reference point for my chapter on Leyte Gulf (which Elmer did participate in, as the USS Mink shot down at least two kamikaze planes), it isn’t something I plan on taking to the beach. But like I said, that does not make it any less valuable . . . if you want an intricate, detailed account of the Battle of Leyte Gulf, this is the book for you.

In the news: Sunken Japanese Carriers found near Midway

~ Dr. Matt Luckett ~ Leave a comment

Last week, an undersea exploration venture founded by Microsoft’s Paul Allen succeeded in locating the Kaga and the Akagi, two of the four carriers sunk by United States aircraft during the climactic Battle of Midway in June 1942. Located by scientists aboard the research vessel Petrel, these wrecks represent an extraordinarily important find for historians, and provide some closure for the families of those men who are entombed with the ships.

Japanese Navy Aircraft Carrier Kaga.jpg
The Kaga. Notice how the smokestack is pointed down towards the water.

The Kaga, incidentally, is the first sunken Japanese carrier to be discovered after the war.

Not only does this come as good news for researchers, but it is certainly a promising development for the makers of Midway, Roland Emmerich’s upcoming film about the battle.

For more information on this story, check out the Washington Post article here.

What I’m Reading: Tin Cans and Greyhounds

~ Dr. Matt Luckett ~ 2 Comments

Frankly, I’m glad that Clint Johnson hopped off the Word Processor and immediately emailed his editor the second his narrative reached V-J Day, because otherwise I would not have had the benefit of this book for my own research. Published last February, this comprehensive and technical history of the destroyer during World War I and II, Tin Cans and Greyhounds: The Destroyers that Won Two World Wars, covers in exhaustive – and sometimes exhausting – detail the story of this type of ship.

Destroyers were the true jacks of all trades during the World Wars. Originally designed during the 19th century by the British Navy, they evolved over the next several decades in response to changing technology, growing battleship displacements, and the exigencies of war. Airplanes and submarines both spurred additional destroyer development. Even though the United States Navy spent hardly any money during the 20s or early 30s building or developing new destroyers, they were adept and resourceful when repurposing much of the retired WWI destroyer fleet.

Johnson’s narrative from the destroyer’s origins through the late 1930s is a sweeping, fascinating story of the destroyer’s shifting popularity and ever-evolving utility. He does a fantastic job of not only discussing American destroyers, but explaining how their development mirrored that of similar-sized ships in rival navies. We learn, for instance, that while British sailors appreciated the dozens of ships transferred from America’s aging destroyer fleet to the Royal Navy in 1940, they would have preferred sleeping in their customary hammocks as opposed to the Americans’ bunk beds.

Overall, Johnson’s thesis is that destroyers were integral, and perhaps even indispensable, to Allied Naval victories during both World Wars. In particular, the old “battleships versus aircraft carriers” debate that roiled the Navy intelligentsia throughout the 1940s may have missed a key point: that without a healthy number of destroyers to protect and assist the battleships, carriers, and the supply chain, the superiority of one over the other would be entirely moot. This claim is both grandiose and tautological – it is absurd to claim that these destroyers won both World Wars, but it is equally implausible to deny or rather ignore their obvious importance, particularly when so many people across the world could have claimed to have moved the sequence of events a certain way at precisely the right moment. Yet perhaps that kind of rhetorical (if not exactly historical) claim is necessary to highlight the destroyer class’s many important contributions to both war efforts, which this book does in spades. After all, books claiming that “X won World War II” are a cottage industry these days. How else can you get someone to buy one?

While I agree with Johnson’s argument, the second half of his book oscillates between the Atlantic and Pacific Theaters, which creates a disjointed narrative. Moreover, his chapter division along these lines – Pacific Theater, 1942; Atlantic Theater, 1942; Pacific Theater, 1943; and so on – seems unnatural and arbitrary. I sympathize with the plight of the narratively-focused historian who has to break down what would otherwise be a very long chapter into shorter yet intelligible units . . . I dealt with this problem myself when organizing my horse stealing book, and it took me a while to figure out an outline that broke apart while also bringing together the story I wanted to tell. But it does not seem like the author (or his editors) put much thought into this. Which is a shame, because I want the story of the destroyer to be an actual story, not a CV of its successes and failures. And that last point hints at my other concern with this book, which is that the World War II chapters fail to bring the author’s many stories and pieces of information together into a cohesive whole. These chapters lack a narrative strand, and instead seem to move from one story to another without so much as a segue.

Organizational concerns aside, this is a very well-researched book, and it is a necessary volume for students of World War II, Naval history, and anyone who has ever enjoyed one of Tom Clancy’s technical novels about various kinds of military weapons (anyone remember Armored Cav?). It also plugs a gaping hole in the hull of naval scholarship by providing a much-needed historical reference and overview of the chronically understudied and widely misunderstood destroyer. I personally found it useful as well, and will likely cite it often.

What I’m Reading: Brothers Down

~ Dr. Matt Luckett ~ Leave a comment

One thing I’d like to start doing in this space is to spend some time writing about the books I am using in my research. While admittedly my research interest in my Grandpa’s Letters project is a bit less academically trenchant than my work on horse thieves, it does give me the opportunity to read some great books about World War II, the Navy, and the wider world he inhabited.

Brothers Down: Pearl Harbor and the Fate of the Many Brothers Aboard the USS Arizona by [Borneman, Walter R.]

Brothers Down: Pearl Harbor and the Fate of the Many Brothers Aboard the USS Arizona is historian Walter R. Borneman’s most recent book, having come out earlier this year. It is the tale of the attack on Pearl Harbor and the USS Arizona, as told from the perspective of the thirty-eight pairs (and in some cases trios) of brothers who served together on that ill-fated ship. Of those thirty-eight sets, only one pair of brothers both survived, and only twelve other men among the others avoided death that day.

But while only a few members of the Arizona’s complement survived – most of whom happened to have spent the night elsewhere, thus avoiding the ship’s fate altogether that morning – their stories live on. Borneman interviewed the survivors and their families, as well as the families of the deceased, many of whom shared their letters and other mementos and stories of their departed fathers, brothers, and uncles. The author did a remarkable job not only collecting all of these different stories, but of also weaving them together throughout the book. It’s a master class on historiographical resourcefulness: it is much easier to go to an archive than it is to hunt down families whose loved ones died the better part of a century ago under sudden, violent, and tragic circumstances.

Organizationally the book is divided into three parts: the history of the Arizona and its crew before the attack, the attack itself, and the days and years following December 7th. Borneman revels in details throughout this narrative: explaining who these men were, where they grew up, the kinds of trouble they got into as kids, the reasons why they joined the Navy during peacetime, etc. Some of their stories were not unlike Grandpa’s – they sent money home each month and wrote as often as they could. But grandpa’s story diverged when he was assigned to a ship that, for the most part, survived the day relatively unscathed. Anyway, these stories give names and life to the list of names on the wall at the Arizona Memorial.

The book was a quick read, at least for me. It would have been quicker if not for some filler towards the middle – Borneman takes pains to describe the college football games being played on December 6th and the hot songs of the day, apropos of nothing. However, for the most part the story is well-written, accessible, and at certain points action-driven. The last two chapters of the book were especially poignant, and one many wish to have a box of tissues or a handkerchief available.

This was a valuable first book to read on the subject of Pearl Harbor. Borneman is a more than capable historian, and this entry will serve as a touchstone for me going forward. But more importantly, it is a fantastic model for how to research and write the stories of World War II servicemen. It is sensitive, contemplative, thorough in its chasing down of narrative strands and family leads, and exquisitely well-written. His use of the brother pairings was an excellent choice, both in terms of creating a broad yet narrow set of subjects for the book (the Arizona’s compliment was over 1,500, which is a lot of individual stories) while also facilitating its research (pairs of brothers mean multiple families to consult, which creates larger pools of historical information as family members tell stories about their uncles as well as their fathers or grandfathers). His approach works very well.

Overall, I highly recommend it if you’re interested in the attack on Pearl Harbor, the USS Arizona, or well-crafted history book in general.

Do you have any books you’d like to recommend? Have you read this one? Share your thoughts in a comment!

“The Roughest Ships in the Navy”

~ Dr. Matt Luckett ~ 2 Comments

One thing I always wondered about . . . how frequently do newly enlisted seamen in the Navy get seasickness? Is it common, or infrequent enough for those who do to get razzed about it?

Elmer’s letter of January 30, 1941 answered that question. His ship arrived in Pearl a day earlier after patrolling the neutral zone, and the crew soon discovered that “the old ‘Chew’ didn’t ride as smoothly as the big old Lexington. In fact, destroyers are the roughest ships in the navy.” Grandpa did not sugarcoat the experience. “Of course, little Elmer was [not] feeling up to par at first,” he recalled, “but he stuck it out and by Tuesday night [he] was feeling fine.” He estimated that three fourths of the crew was seasick. “So I had company.” Elmer also predicted that they would all “get used to it in a few trips.”

The Chew was not only out to sea in order to patrol the surrounding waters and shakedown its new crew. “We had many battle drills, fire drills, gunnery practice and everything in general,” wrote Elmer. The ship was slowly beginning its preparation for the coming war, which included moving and operating in the dark. “The lights all went out at 6:30 every night, and I would sit on the top deck and look at the stars and sky. It was so soothing and comforting. It is really a wonderful feeling. The old salty sea air smell.”

Elmer also related his first impressions of Honolulu. “Pretty nice town,” he thought, “but very Oriental. Most of the people are Chinese and Japanese.” Admittedly, his experience with “Oriental” towns and neighbors was limited, and his perception was of course shaped by having spent most of his life in the mostly French and German-influenced city of Saint Louis. But Honolulu was already well on its way to becoming a cosmopolitan metropolis and an important cultural and economic nexus between America, Asia, and Oceania. Native Hawai’ian culture was palpable as well, and his friends and family had already began expressing their curiosity about it. Pat wrote him asking for a grass skirt – “she’s a good kid and deserves it.”

The letter closed with Elmer assuring his mother that he “will always make you proud to have me for a son,” and telling his father to not worry about him “pulling AWOL – I know better than that.” Although I have not located the letter which prompted this curious defense, it is hard to imagine Elmer deciding to leave his post. Temperamentally, as well as officially, he was committed to serving in the Navy.

Besides, between his duties aboard the Chew and his adventures on the Island of Oahu . . . where could he even go? It is a good thing that seasickness is a temporary condition, because Elmer wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

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Things to “Chew” on: Daily ice cream and the process of becoming a “salty sailor”

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The Chew’s Crew: “The best bunch of fellas you could ever meet”

~ Dr. Matt Luckett ~ 3 Comments

Grandpa Luckett wrote about a lot of different things in his letters home. He liked to describe his friends, his work, his surroundings, his ship, and his various adventures while on liberty.

His letter of February 8th, 1941 lay out for his folks the various routines on his ship, the USS Chew. He might have been grasping for a topic to discuss: “Not much to write about today,” he admitted. “Today was Saturday. Every Saturday morning the captain and executive officers inspect the whole ship.” The process of getting ready for the weekly inspection began on Friday, with the sailors patching up the walls with paint and polishing “all the brass around their bunks.” The next morning, the crew would replace all their linens and then undergo individual inspections. “Then the captain and officers look the ship over. I have all my cups, dishes, and eating gear in perfect shape.” Elmer announced that he and his mates passed the inspections “O.K. They are part of the routine.”

Elmer went on to describe his work gear. “It is always warm out here,” he wrote. “I had a pair of my white trousers made into shorts. I wear shorts most of the time.” In the even warmer boiler room, he and his fellow engineers and firemen wore dungarees and chambray shirts “most of the time, except for inspections.”

Next, Grandpa began breaking down the ship’s divisions of labor. The crew overall was divided into “two branches of men. The seamen, who take care of things on the top deck (like guns, torpedos, steering, steering, and general deck work)[, and] the ‘Black Gang,’ or Engineers Force. (They take care of all the machinery, boilers, oil burners, and water distillers). I am a fireman in the Engineers Force.” Elmer went on to mention that the Engineers slept in a separate “compartment in the ‘aft’ part of the ship.” At that time he was not in the boiler room, but was instead finishing up his duty assignment as the Engineers mess cook. “The Engineers are the best bunch of fellows you would ever meet,” he went on to write. “I wish you could meet them.” He then added, almost parenthetically, “the seaman [sic] are fine also.”

Camaraderie in the boiler room. Source: Hoffman Island, merchant marine training center off Staten Island, New York. Trainees aboard the training ship New York working in the boiler room. John Vachon. 1942. Farm Security Administration – Office of War Information photograph collection (Library of Congress). Call number LC-USW3- 005818-D [P&P] LOT 42.

Soon, Elmer’s pen began to run out of steam. “There are many things I could tell you about. I will tell you all about them sometime. It is hard to try and write about all of them.” Looking ahead, he predicted that the ship would remain “at the dock for for about two weeks. I don’t know for sure.” Unlike with the Friday and Saturday inspection routines, “We never know anything definite.” But for the time being, Elmer’s place in the crew was fixed and secure, even if the Chew’s location was not.

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“The Roughest Ships in the Navy”

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“When this upset world straightens out we will all be together again.”

~ Dr. Matt Luckett ~ 2 Comments

In July 1941, Grandpa had only been in the service for a few months. He was still getting to know Hawaii and his ship, the U.S.S. Chew. Meanwhile, all the action seemed fairly remote: the European War lurched to the east in dramatic fashion when Hitler invaded the Soviet Union the previous month, and Japan’s diplomatic impasse with the United States was quiet if ominous to anyone on or within shelling range of the Pacific.

Elmer did not have much to tell his parents, but they did have a great deal to share with one another. This letter, written on July 2nd, lists some of the things they exchanged between Oahu and Missouri: birth dates, DeMolay cards, and care packages for Elmer; and photos, programs, and money for his parents. “Today I got the box you sent me. Boy, it sure had plenty. A lb of tobacco, 2 boxes of cigars, candy, soap, tooth powder, and shave lotion. Gee, you sure are good to me . . . you are always thinking of your sailor boy.”

Elmer certainly returned the favor every payday, at which time he would send a few bucks back home. Although this letter hints at some good news regarding his father’s job, it is clear the Depression hit him hard, just as it did so many others. “So glad to know you are still working steady,” he commented. “I guess all business is pretty good now.” In spite of the warming economic climate, however, Elmer continued to send his parents money. This letter in particular contained a money order for $8.

Over the next few months, Elmer would send more money, as well as pictures, brochures, and descriptions of his adventures in Oahu and throughout the islands. Although his reactions in his letters to his parents seem muted, he no doubt enjoyed the time he spend in Hawaii that summer. Like many others stationed at Pearl Harbor, he knew he was lucky. In a world torn apart by war, he was able to serve his country while enjoying the sun, surf, and scenery.

It was paradise.

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The Chew’s Crew: “The best bunch of fellas you could ever meet”

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“I suppose you are all worried sick since the war started . . .”

~ Dr. Matt Luckett ~ 53 Comments

I’ve started the process of scanning and transcribing my grandfather’s letters, only to quickly discover that my laptop (on which I have Dragon Naturally Speaking) is far too slow and cumbersome to carry this load. So as I start to shop for a new computer, here is one of the first letters I found, which just happened to be dated December 10, 1941 . . . three days after the Japanese Attack on Pearl Harbor.

My grandpa, a steam engineer aboard the U.S.S. Chew, tried to allay his parent’s fears. “Don’t worry about me,” he wrote reassuringly, “because everything is O.K. . . . keep your chins up.” The letter has few specifics beyond that, but with several hundred to go I think this is going to be a fascinating journey.

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“When this upset world straightens out we will all be together again.”

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