Author Archives: VetCollector

Gaultney Brothers Sacrifice; USS Arizona, Iwo Jima and the USS Vincennes


Retrospective-type articles that touch upon a central topic or theme are useful for both the reader and author, especially within sites such as The Veteran’s Collection as the pulling together of related content and subject matter can shed new light and expose facts that were overlooked or previously hidden. The negative aspects of self-promotion come to light when it is very obvious that authors have run out of ideas and, rather than to have aging content remain on the front or home pages of their sites, publish fluff in order to keep up the appearance of fresh content.  Another reason could be to reflect upon old content while attempting to relevantly connect it to a current event.

If readers delve into the content of this site they would discover that navy-centric militaria outnumbers the articles published within this site the the better portion of those pieces focused upon a four ships bearing the same name. Within this author’s collection are a handful of artifacts from one of the four – the second ship – to carry the name Vincennes around the globe and into war. Although my collection does encompass artifacts associated with a few other ships (those vessels aboard which members of my family served), this particular warship holds special meaning and thus is at the center of my collection focus.

Commissioned in 1937, the New Orleans Class heavy cruiser (classified as such due to her main battery consisting of eight inch guns) USS Vincennes (CA-44) plied the peacetime seas for more than four years before the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. Despite the elapsed time since she was placed into service, many of her crew at the start of World War II were plankowners (they were part of the original crew, present at the time of commissioning) though personnel turnover was occurring and a steady rate. New crew members were replacing veterans whose enlistments were ending or were rotating to different commands. Wartime manning requirements, impacted by combat operations, increased for many vessels by as much as twenty percent.

For the aging USS Arizona (BB-39), the near 2,300-man crew was proud that their ship carried the flag of Commander Battleship Division One, Rear Admiral Isaac C. Kidd. Arizona had been serving the U.S. Navy for more than 25 years having been placed into commission in 1916; though she never fired her massive 14-inch guns at an enemy target – not even during World War I. Three-and-a-half weeks after Thanksgiving Day in 1941, the losses of WWII would begin to touch American lives throughout the country.

In late March of 1945 in the small town of Le Roy located in McLean County, Illinois which lies just north of dead-center of the state (about 140 miles southeast of Chicago), the small farming town was feeling the economic effects of the war with rationing in full swing and a large percentage of the area’s young, able-bodied men serving and fighting in far-off lands. Le Roy’s lone celebrity, Broadway star Betty Jane Watson (cousin of Jean Stapleton of 1970s television’s All in the Family fame) gained attention in the previous year playing the role “Gertie” in Oklahoma! and was now working as singer, performing (singing) with with bands in Chicago. Le Roy was a fairly quiet and peaceful town as families awaited word from their sons, fathers, brothers and uncles who were serving in the European and Pacific theaters, hopeful of good news.

Iwo Jima 1945 – the 3rd and 4th Marine Division Cemetery was beautifully laid into the volcanic soil. Though David Gaultney was laid to rest here, he (along with all of the Marines buried here) would ultimately be removed from the island and relocated (U.S. Navy photo).

PFC David Gaultney’s Marine Corps boot camp photograph, taken in April of 1945 (image source: The Pantograph).

At the home of William Gaultney that March, things may have been quiet for the farmer-turned-road-construction worker’s family as an ominous word arrived from the War Department.  From an island that until February 19, 1945 very few, if any, Americans had ever heard of, word made its way to Mr. Gaultney, via the Secretary of the Navy that his second youngest son, Private First Class David J. Gaultney was killed in combat on Iwo Jima. Nineteen year-old David was serving with “A” company of the 1st Battalion, 9th Marines (Third Marine Division) having transferred to the unit weeks before (in January) as a replacement rifleman as the unit was rearming and refitting following their heavy combat operations on Guam in late July-early August of 1944. David J. Gaultney enlisted in April of 1944 and attended recruit training in San Diego that same summer before transferring to the Sixth Replacement Draft in preparation to serve in the Pacific. David turned 19 in October as he was training to fight in the Pacific but his life would be cut short four months later. David’s father was left to grieve without his wife, Nellie who had passed away (at age 54), just 25 months earlier, afflicted by heartbreak due to the heavy toll her family had already suffered in the War.

Gunner’s Mate Third Class Ralph Gaultney died from wounds sustained aboard the USS Arizona during the December 7, 1941 Pearl Harbor attack (image source: The Pantograph).

For William Gaultney, the notification of David’s loss on Iwo Jima was nothing new and one can assume that when the telegram arrived, the hesitation to open it eleven months after his son, David left for service in the Marine Corps was near-crippling for him, considering the two previous notifications that were sent to his home by the War Department, starting with word from Pearl Harbor in December of 1941. The scene portrayed on screen in the film, Saving Private Ryan as the U.S. Army car kicks up a dust cloud as it proceeds up the Ryan family farm road with Mrs. Ryan understanding what was coming; something terrible had happened to (perhaps her thoughts regarding) one of her sons. Instead, she is gripped with anguish, dropping to the porch as she reads the note handed to her by the Army officer telling her that three of her four sons had perished in combat.  While the Gaultney family weren’t hit with such a magnitude as was shown in the film. However, Mrs. Gaultney suffered through two losses in less than a year with her oldest son, succumbing to his wounds (on Christmas Eve, 1941) that he sustained aboard his ship, the USS Arizona (BB-39) on December 7.

Ralph Gaultney’s ship, the USS Arizona shown transiting the Panama Canal some time before her 1930s modernization (M. S Hennessy Collection).

Ralph Martin Gaultney was the second of William and Nellie Gaultney’s children to enlist to serve in the armed forces. Ralph joined the Navy on January 16, 1940, nearly two years before the Japanese sneak attack on Pearl Harbor. Following his training, Ralph reported aboard the aging battleship on the eve of Fleet Problem XXI (the 21st in the series of large scale naval exercises conducted since 1923 and shifted to the Hawaiian waters in 1925) and would serve aboard the ship during her overhaul (in Bremerton, WA) from late 1940 to early 1941 when Admiral Isaac Kidd hoisted his flag aboard the ship (Captain Franklin Van Valkenburgh assumed command of the ship in February). The last time that Gunners Mate Third Class Ralph Gaultney would put to sea with the ship was just days before the attack. Twenty one year old Gaultney would linger for two weeks his ship was destroyed, succumbing to his wounds on December 24. Though Ralph was oldest son (there were seven children; four sons and three daughters) and the first of the Gaultney boys to perish, he wasn’t the first to join the military.

Steaming towards Guadalcanal in August 1942, the USS Vincennes (CA-44) dressed in her camouflage paint scheme, escorts the troop transports carrying the First Marine Division (M. S Hennessy Collection).

Initially listed as missing in action, Machinist Mate 1/c Leonard Gaultney perished when his ship, USS Vincennes (CA-44) was sunk on the night of August 8-9, 1942 near Savo Island in the Solomon Islands group (image source: The Pantograph).

Machinist’s Mate 1/c Leonard Gaultney had been serving in the Navy since he enlisted on September 1, 1938. Following his training, he reported aboard one of the Navy’s newest New Orleans Class heavy cruisers, the USS Vincennes (CA-44) while she was undergoing an overhaul at Mare Island Naval Shipyard in east San Francisco Bay.  Having been in commission since February 24, 1937, most of the ship’s company that were present with Gaultney had been there for two years and were plankowners. When Vincennes left Mare Island, she made her way back to the Atlantic Fleet (via the Panama Canal) to serve in Neutrality Patrols as well as to retrieve some of France’s wealth (gold) for safe storage in the United States in anticipation of a German invasion. Leonard Gaultney’s ship paid a visit to Cape Town South Africa to receive yet another large shipment of gold (this time as a payment) from the United Kingdom as compensation for arms in support of their war against Germany and Italy (WWII). When the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, (then) Machinist Mate 2/c Gualtney’s ship was escorting a British convoy to South Africa, arriving two days later. In March of 1942, Vincennes arrived in San Francisco to join Task Force 18 and would escort USS Hornet and USS Enterprise to Japan for Colonel Doolittle’s air strike on Tokyo in April of 1942. With Japan still on the offensive, Leonard Gaultney would see action in the Battle of Midway as she screened the USS Yorktown, fighting off the Japanese air attacks.  By August of 1942, USS Vincennes escorted the amphibious forces carrying the First Marine Division to the Solomon Islands. On the morning of August 7, Gaultney heard the main batteries of Vincennes commencing the shore bombardment in preparation for landing the Marines on Guadalcanal’s beachhead. During the day, Vincennes’ 5-inch and 40mm guns shot down a “Betty” bomber that was part of a Japanese air strike on the American ships landing the troops.

A grim reminder of naval warfare, this list of those USS Vincennes sailors who remained missing months after the ship was lost in the Battle of Savo Island, August 8-9, 1942. MM1/c Leonard Gaultney is listed among the MIA.

Sunrise in the waters between the islands of Guadalcanal, Tulagi and Savo would be MM1/c Gaultney’s last along with 331 of his USS Vincennes shipmates. That evening, the group of ships protecting the northern approach to Tulagi and Savo Islands (consisted of USS Astoria CA-34, USS Quincy CA-39 and HMAS Canberra) were caught by surprise when a Japanese cruiser task force commanded by Vice Admiral Gunichi Mikawa came upon them in the dark of night (at 01:55 am). Highly trained and proficient in night combat, the Japanese attacked and within minutes had all four ships heavily damaged, burning and sinking after opening fire with guns and Long Lance (Type 93) torpedoes. Vincennes sustained massive hits from the Japanese cruisers setting her on fire and presenting an even easier target for the IJN torpedomen to aim for. Vincennes was struck by two Type 93 torpedoes near her main spaces and she began to take on water. Fifty-five minutes later, USS Vincennes disappeared beneath the waves (at 02:50). It is not clear whether MM 1/c Gaultney made it into the water or went down with the ship though the latter is more likely considering his work space was struck by one of the torpedoes. The resulting explosion and ensuing flooding made it nearly impossible for the men who managed the propulsion systems to survive the damage let alone escape.

Some time after receiving the official notifications from the Navy (or War) Department, Mr. and Mrs. Gaultney would have been presented with their sons’ posthumous decorations (which were, most likely Purple Heart Medals). A third medal would have been presented to Mr. Gaultney in 1945 leaving him with three engraved medals – one for each son. Hopefully, all three medals have remained within the family, handed down and preserved to ensure that the memories of each of the Gaultney boys and the immense sacrifice made by this family is never forgotten.  It wouldn’t be unheard of for the family to have let go of the pain of terrible loss by divesting the reminders or simply tucking them away from sight. Under such circumstances, families have been known to give Purple Heart medals (PHM) away, sell or even discard them. It wouldn’t be surprising to discover that the Gaultney medals are preserved as part of a militaria collection.

The boxed American Defense Service Medal and liberty card group from USS Vincennes (CA-44) survivor, Fireman 3/c Charles Henry Findlay.

USS Vincennes (CA-44) survivor, Charles H. Findlay, Fireman 3/c (image source: imthistory.org).

Collecting artifacts such as Purple Heart medals from service members who were killed in action is not something that interests many collectors due to the sensitive nature of the pieces and the pain and suffering (for both the one who was lost and their surviving family members) that is represented with the decorations. Though I have personal awards and decorations from sailors who served aboard the Vincennes, the pieces that I have are from two men who survived and the medals are not PHMs.

Several years ago, I was able to land a small group from a sailor, Fireman Third Class Charles Henry Findlay, who served aboard the heavy cruiser Vincennes from March of 1941 and survived its sinking. The two pieces in the group include one of his decorations, the American Defense Service Medal (ADSM) and a liberty card issued to the young sailor. One aspect of this group that collectors must keep in mind is that the ADSM is not engraved or marked with the recipient’s name (they are never personalized) which makes this particular medal difficult to prove that it was specifically awarded to Findlay.

Listed among the survivors, Fireman 3/c Findlay made it through the battle and sinking and went on to fight the enemy, serving aboard the USS Santa Fe.

What became of Fireman Findlay after being rescued from the waters that would be dubbed, “Iron Bottom Sound?” He, along with more than 50 of his USS Vincennes shipmates, were assigned to the USS Santa Fe (CL-60), a Cleveland Class light cruiser that was commissioned in November of 1942.

Though the aged and worn Navy Good Conduct Medal (NGCM) has been long separated from its suspension, drape and brooch, this medal, awarded to Seaman First Class William John Wennberg in 1939 is a great piece for my USS Vincennes (CA-44) collection. Seaman Wenneberg enlisted into the Navy on October 8, 1935 from his hometown in Chicago, Illinois, though he shown reporting aboard the Vincennes on February 24, 1937 (which corresponds with the ship’s commissioning date making him a plankowner), sixteen months after his navy career began. No muster sheets are available for Wennberg which makes his career path difficult to track until he shows up again as he reported to Receiving Ship New York on December 13, 1941, the day after he began his second enlistment. It appears that he spent a few years out of the Navy, living in New York (according to records discovered on Ancestry) and was married. Wennberg was assigned to another cruiser, USS Columbia (CL-56), the second ship of the Cleveland Class light cruisers. William Wennberg remained a seaman (equivalent to today’s E-3) from 1937 until 1945 (except for his two year break in service) when he was serving aboard the new heavy cruiser, USS Bremerton (CA-130) when he was rated as a Ship’s Serviceman Laundry 1/c.

An interesting aside, both Findlay and Wennberg served aboard Cleveland Class light cruisers following their time aboard the Vincennes. Though the coincidence isn’t that significant, the Navy chose to return the name Vincennes to the Pacific as leaders re-named the under-construction USS Flint (CL-64) to USS Vincennes, the tenth light cruiser of the 27 Cleveland Class warships. “Vincennes” and hundreds of her survivors were surviving crew were back in the fight.

For the Gaultney family, the war was over with their notification of David’s death on Iwo Jima though the grief from their terrible loss would never cease. In December of 2018, a pair of Illinois state republicans (state Senator Chapin Rose, R-Mahomet, and Representative Bill Mitchell, R-Forsyth) sponsored Senate Joint Resolution 65 which was to name the portion of I-74 that runs through Le Roy, Illinois the Gaultney Brothers Memorial Highway. The resolution passed unanimously in both the Illinois Senate and House, as reported by the Pantograph newspaper on December 31st.

Collecting, for me, focuses upon telling the story of those who can no longer do so for themselves. Preserving and displaying along with researching and documenting artifacts from service men and women helps to preserve their memories as does renaming a stretch of well-traveled highway does.

Related Articles

 

Advertisements

Upper Deck Has Moved Beyond Cutting Up Baseball Artifacts as They Bring their Shears and Saws to Bear Upon Militaria


History is precious. Humanity can use history and apply its lessons to today’s situations in order to build a potential for a better future and avoid the trappings and pratfalls that were experienced by our predecessors. Aside from the knowledge that is gained by preserving historical accounts and narratives, making contact with the relics and artifacts from those bygone eras of our past can be transformative for many. Most don’t realize that there is a large percentage among society who, whether they realize it themselves or not, enjoy preserving and maintaining tangible history among their personal possessions. 

Holding and touching a relic, despite its historical significance, whether it is a family heirloom or a piece that is connected to a significant event can draw a person into a mindset of desiring to understand more about the item, who it originally belonged to and what was taking place in that space in time. The quest for knowledge that an encounter with an artifact launches is impactful, if not addictive once the first discovery is unearthed (that can and often does lead to a string of revelations) leading to that individual becoming a steward of history and artifacts. 

For many, preserving these pieces means that precautions need to be taken in order preserve the items their present state and condition. Stabilizing a piece that has many decades of decay and destabilization already in progress is a challenge and can be a costly endeavor. Other collectors, try to perform a measure of restoration that will set a piece into a particular state, undoing the damage of improper storage or they may be repairing what was done by treasure-seekers (removing portions from the item that were, perhaps seen as valuable) by replacing a missing element. 

Prices of artifacts (when they are listed or sold) are seldom mentioned on The Veteran’s Collection in order to keep the focus on the pieces rather than the monetization of history. Also, values are relative and highly subjective from one collector to the next. A person with very deep pockets and who may not be as knowledgeable about the individual artifact, whether it is scarce, rare or fairly common may tend to employ emotions to their purchasing decision and synthetically inflate the prices for certain types of artifacts or genres of collecting. Some collectors are more focused on discovering areas of investment seeking a return on their capital outlay rather than to be a steward of history which presents increased opportunity for negative results, both for the individual and for collectors. 

The card that launched Upper Deck’s entry into destroying rare artifacts for profit; a card with a piece of Babe Ruth’s bat from the 1920s (source: eBay Image).

The desire and perceived need to possess pieces of history are only two of the wide-ranging and numerous contributing factors motivating collectors to seek out artifacts. These two are, perhaps what some companies like Carlsbad, California’s Upper Deck Company are counting upon. Since its founding and subsequent first release of baseball cards in 1989, Upper Deck has been an innovator, turning the industry on its side beginning with the inclusion of actual autographed premium cards in its sets in the early 1990s, contributing to the company’s immediate successes. Other card companies followed suit pushing Upper Deck to seek other innovations. In 1996, Upper Deck began what still remains as a controversial move by acquiring jerseys from (then) popular stars of sports in order to cut them into pieces and affixed to premium insert cards. The direct results were increased sales as collectors sought the cards in packs, buying them by the case while others paid exorbitant prices on secondary markets. Despite the scoffs and disdain of sports collectibles at the idea of destroying historic artifacts, Upper Deck leadership decided to up the ante in 1998. 

In 1998, Upper Deck purchased a game-used, albeit cracked (by the Bambino, himself) 1920s era baseball bat for the sole purpose of cutting it into bits and distributing it on premium cards. Yes, the bat was theirs to do with as they pleased but to destroy an historic artifact for profit is certainly a justifiable reason for vocal objection by fans, historians and museum curators. While one could assert that Upper Deck did the collector market a favor by making the remaining Ruth bats more desirable and a little bit rarer, the idea that the intentional destruction of an artifact for profit is a hard pill for many to swallow. Undeterred by the negative reaction, the increased demand and furor surrounding the Ruth inserts served as an enabling of Upper Deck as they pressed further into this market, extending the pieces of the game concept across all of the sports in which they participated. Upper Deck launched other business ventures into the collectibles market apart from trading cards that included vintage and game–used memorabilia, autographs and authentication services. The practice of cutting up historical objects for profit, continued. 

Folks who dabbled in the sports card industry in the 1990s are still stinging from the over-saturation of card sets (standards, mid-level, premiums with each having insert specialty offerings) rendering all but a fractional percentage of those produced with any collector interest and perceived value. Quite literally, tons of the cardboard printed in the 1990s and into the 2000s is worth only its weight in recyclability and millions of collectors are left to turn up their noses at the mere mention of sports cards from this period. In 2009, the company that “revolutionized” the industry with innovations (both good and bad) was unceremoniously ejected when their Major League Baseball license was not renewed as the long-time card company, Topps (established in 1938 as Topps Chewing Gum, Inc.) negotiated exclusive rights as the sole baseball card company. In 2010, Upper Deck lost its National Football League license as the two parties were unable to negotiate a licensing agreement. The rapid rise and descent of the Upper Deck Company as a baseball card power is quite notable.  

Another section of the American Civil War Union Flag destroyed by Upper Deck (image source: Upper Deck Company).

With their exit from baseball and football, Upper Deck launched (or, re-launched) the Goodwin Champions brand in an attempt to capitalize on an historic early 20th Century tobacco-card product line which opened the door to a new arena for the company (autographs of notable people from sports, history and pop-culture, dominate the sets). Venturing into other areas with this brand, Upper Deck has delved several times into the genre of selling historical artifacts or, in some cases fragments of them. 

A fragment of a United States Army Air Force flight helmet that was destroyed by the Upper Deck Company (image source: Upper Deck Company).

The Upper Deck Goodwin Champions Museum Collection definitely has an appealing ring to the product line’s name – one that conjures thoughts along the lines of preservation, conservation and even public access. In this case, the brand absolutely an oxymoron as the practice of selling artifacts in this manner defies museum practices and governance. In 2014, coinciding with the outbreak of what would become known as World War I, Upper Deck began to tout their forthcoming Museum Collection product line, stating in their August 2014 blog post (titled ”Brag Photo: 2014 Goodwin Champions Museum Collection World War I Exchange Cards”), “Our brand team worked for over a year to procure amazing artifacts from battlefields and private collections for Goodwin Champions Museum Collection World War I cards. Now that they have been completed, it is incredible to see the end result.” The results are certainly incredible – incredibly offending to those who seek to preserve this history.  When one delves into the items being listed and discovers that Upper Deck once again destroyed artifacts, carving the artifacts into bits in order to fit them into heavily branded, gaudy packaging.   

Two years prior, Upper Deck hired a history professor to examine their acquisitions that would soon find their way into a sets of American Civil War artifacts, “Most impressive perhaps is the center piece of the collection – a Union Flag actually flown on the field of conflict. This flag bore witness to the very personal experiences of some of the War’s participants,” claimed Upper Deck on their blog post, “Upper Deck Brings in a Professor to Review Civil War Artifacts in 2012 Goodwin Champions.” Soon after the professor’s authentication, Upper Deck destroyed the flag, cutting it into bits to package and sell.

Many collectors of militaria love to share their collections privately and publicly, taking great pains to create aesthetically pleasing displays and arrangements. Some collectors have dedicated space within their homes that feature stable environmental and lighting conditions in order to delay the decaying process while affording them the ability to share their collections with incredible contextual presentations. It is difficult to imagine seeing a collection of Upper Deck’s butchery-in-slick-packaging proudly organized and presented to admirers.  

Upper Deck certainly is not the first to venture into the destruction of artifacts however they seem to be the organization that has kicked the door wide open for highly inflated prices for somewhat ordinary militaria on the secondary market.  Military collectors, especially those who specialize in specific areas will shake their heads when they see the prices listed by dealers of Upper Deck’s militaria pieces. When one can purchase a matched pair of genuine World War II period correct Eagle, Globe and Anchor (EGA) collar devices for less than $20, imagine their surprise to see an asking price of near $300 for a single EGA that is enclosed in an Upper Deck package.  

A matched pair of WWII vintage EGA devices can be had for $20-30 or one can drop $285 for a single piece wrapped up in branded packaging (image source: Com C).

A few years ago, The Veterans Collection shined a spotlight on another example of military destruction that was, at the time, performed upon donated uniform artifacts that were de-accessioned from the World War II Museum and made into wrist bands the firm, Bands for Arms.  The published “Shredding History” articles consisted of a three-part series (Shredding History or Genuine Fundraising? Part I,Shredding History Part II – Severing the History from the Artifact and Shredding History Part III – Dwindling with Time) regarding the entire process and how the destruction of uniforms was used to turn a profit (part of the proceeds is donated to various veteran-themed charities). 

 If companies like Upper Deck didn’t have eager audiences and willing customers, the act of destroying history would not be profitable. New and future militaria collectors would be better served by immersing themselves into the hobby by connecting with fellow collectors, attending shows and getting out local garage and estate sales in their quests for artifacts. Knowledge and a discerning eye are two of a collector’s most powerful tools that will allow them to uncover some of the most amazing historical discoveries. It is the hope of the Veteran’s Collection to be just one of the tools that collectors can utilize during their quests.

Sources and References: 

Remembrance of the Armistice and Giving Thanks


I have entered into a slower writing season that has me scratching and clawing for the time to write about militaria, military history or something in between. November of 2018 is nearly half completed and Thanksgiving is upon us. I let a few very significant dates pass by without a single mention on this site or on our Facebook page. I find it rather disturbing to give the appearance of ignoring the centennial of the Armistice of the Great War – a war in which several of my relatives served.

On display at the local event was this Imperial German Army tunic and helmet (with matching unit markings). Though over a century old, these pieces looked new.

How many of my fellow countrymen, even after last week, have an understanding of the correlation between “…the 11th hour on the 11th day of the 11th month…” and what is now recognized as “Veteran’s Day?” The United States is the only participating nation to have stripped away the significance of what is known by other Allied Expeditionary Forces (AEF) as Remembrance Day or Armistice Day. Our neighbors to the North along with other British Commonwealth countries, France, Belgium and even the principle aggressors, Germany take the time as entire countries to recognize the importance of the War’s end and the horrific losses suffered by all of the nations’ armed forces along with thousands of civilians caught in the crossfire and aboard ships at sea.

I am fully award of the significance of this year’s recognition and the need to preserve the legacy of those who went “Over There” and stood up to the tyrannical, empirical rulers of Western Europe and also stood by our allies (albeit more than three years, and hundreds of thousands of lost-lives too-late) in putting down the aggression.  In terms of personal connection to the War to End All Wars, I had the benefit of growing up with one of my family members (a great uncle) who served (and was wounded) in France which gave me a measure of perspective.

Besides my paternal grandfather’s older brother who enlisted into the Army soon after Congress declared war on Germany in 1917, his twin brother followed suit and enlisted into the Navy (he passed away at an early age in 1936), nearly 30 years before I was born).  Both of these men, born in Newfoundland had emigrated to the United States with their parents a few years after the turn of the 20th Century, served in their adopted country without being naturalized citizens. On my mother’s side, two more men also enlisted to serve during the Great War My maternal grandmother’s father and maternal grandfather served in the Canadian Expeditionary Forces (CEF).

I have authored a handful of articles regarding the artifacts pertaining to these four men in my lineage and their service during World War I (so named in a June 12, 1939 Time Magazine article) that are in my collection. I had considered a public display of these pieces in conjunction with local commemorations that I knew were scheduled for this time of the year but I never followed through with reaching out to the organizations who were arranging these efforts. One step that I did take was to display parts of my Great War collection for a month at the state’s largest fair in September (see: Knowledge Versus Ignorance: Criticizing Displays of Historical Artifacts). Considering my efforts, I can take solace that I have honored the service of those in my family who took part in the Great War.

This past weekend, my son and I attended one of the WWI events that had been on my calendar, hosted at the museum at the nearby joint U.S. Army and Air Force base.  The base itself, came into existence just prior to the Great War and was rapidly built out as the need to induct and train troops heading over as the fighting raged on the European battlefields. Featured at the event were collectors (like myself) who displayed their artifacts and were donning uniforms (reproduction) to properly share their knowledge and talk about the artifacts.

Three variations of the Pickelhaub and a German shako helmet all date from the Great War.

One of the aspects of the displays that I truly appreciated seeing at the event was that the perspective was not singular, representing only the United States forces. Along with the American militaria on display were collections that included British (with some French pieces) and Canadian. Even artifacts from the enemy were displayed (along with young men dressed in German re-enactment uniforms).  Seeing a well-rounded representation of personal equipment made the entire event far more interesting and left me with the understanding that my own collection would not have offered much more than what was already well-covered in remembrance.

While most Americans are busy celebrating the day of giving thanks by enjoying time with family and friends over a delicious meal, I will be doing the same and taking time to reflect on what my relatives were doing 11 days following the Armistice taking effect.  I am thankful that there are still young Americans who volunteer to serve with the understanding that they could find themselves in harm’s way in a far-off land much like their predecessors did more than a century ago.

 

See Also – Great War Publications on The Veteran’s Collection:

Knowledge Versus Ignorance: Criticizing Displays of Historical Artifacts


I have a steadily growing respect for those who take the time to research, organize and arrange, transport and display their collections to share with an audience. Depending on the artifacts and the means of displaying, it takes an incredible amount of time to prepare for a public showing, ensuring that each piece or groupings of items are carefully organized and placed to convey the display’s central message or theme. Regardless of the measure of attention to detail one can employ in assembling a gathering of artifacts to display, mistakes can and often do get made.

Invariably, one can find historical inaccuracies with any re-telling or portrayal of an event, placement and descriptions of artifacts, despite the research and effort for meticulous representations. I have visited some of the finest museums that employ staff and volunteers with more than a hundred years of combined education and experience in researching and curating artifacts and yet they still can assemble displays with pieces that are incorrect. There have been times where I engaged with museum personnel in order to correct the issue, providing sources in an effort to back my assertions. In those instances, I have been thanked for the information and corrections were subsequently made while some times, I have been met with valid contradictory facts (though they have agreed with the information I provided) that support their reasons for decisions to keep the displays as established.

Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and to remove all doubt.

The above saying has many unfounded attributions (Abraham Lincoln, Mark Twain, etc.) and I chose not to provide a source as doing so is folly. However, the lack of a verifiable originator is as irrelevant as the sentiment is poignant. I take this saying to heart, especially when providing any measure of correction an expert in their field or vocation. To approach a museum curator, historian, educator or serious artifact collector with contrary facts that fly in the face of their efforts requires assured knowledge, facts and a tactfully respectful approach. Before I open my mouth, I want to be certain that my suspicions and thoughts are indeed correct.

The WWI Army uniform belonged to my great uncle who served as an artilleryman in France during the war.

Helmets from three of the combatant nations in the war are (left to right): French, U.S., German. The bayonet in the foreground is a French Lebel.

For nearly the entire month of September, my collection of World War I artifacts was publicly displayed at my state’s largest fair. I chose to select every piece that is related to the Great War and organize, arrange and display them to honor the centennial of the United States’ participation (along with U.S. military artifacts, I included the Canadian Forestry Corps pieces to honor my maternal great grandfather’s WWI service). Included in my display were many artifacts that I inherited from family members who served in that war along with pieces that I collected due to my specific interest in this very troubling era of modern U.S. history. Included within the exhibit were three original WWI uniforms; one, worn by my great uncle when he served in a US Army artillery regiment and the other two were U.S. Navy enlisted jumper tops, complete with rating badges. At the conclusion of the fair, I went to breakdown the display and retrieve my collection at which time, the coordinator handed personal notes from spectators and folks with questions or are in need of assistance with their own artifacts. Among the notes were two criticisms: one that didn’t agree with the placement of the placard that described the entire collection (he thought it should have been adjacent to my uncle’s uniform) while the other person took the time to point out the inaccuracies with the rating badges on the two WWI navy uniforms.

The two WWI uniforms that raised questions from an unknown critic. This display was called out for having the incorrect rating badges on the incorrect sleeves regardless of them being original and untouched from the veterans who wore them during the Great War.

“Your rates are on the wrong arm,” the expert began his note. “Crows face forward, ” he continued, “there are right arm ‘rates’ and left arm (ratings),” the unnamed critic stated. When I first read through his note, I stopped and looked over at the display (I hadn’t’ yet removed the arrangement of uniforms on their mannequins nor the arrangement of period-correct rating badges on the bottom of the case) and stared for a moment and re-read the note again. “What is he referring to?
I thought to myself. “Does he think that I sewed these badges on rather than the sailors who originally wore the uniforms?”

I have authored several articles regarding U.S. Navy rating badges (see below) and have been collecting them since I obtained my first one through advancement during my own service in the Navy when I was promoted to petty officer third class. A few years later, I inherited my maternal grandfather’s World War II uniforms that were complete and had his Ship’s Cook first class rating badges affixed to the left sleeves. In my collection are rating badges dating to 1905, post-1913, post-1922 and on up to the 1960s. I own several hundred badges including some of the rarest ratings that existed during these eras. In my collection are several uniforms from this same era (I don’t have anything dating from pre-1900…yet) and all of it has been thoroughly researched. Though some of my collecting colleagues would infer that I possess expert knowledge in this area, there are many who have far greater knowledge and experience researching the history of enlisted marks and whose published works I often reference. I concede that there is always someone with more knowledge in any given field of research and study. For this reason, I continued to ponder the unknown sender’s critical note.

As I started to dissect the message in an effort to lend a measure of credence or perhaps to give him some benefit of doubt, I analyzed his usage of terminology along with his stated “facts” as I attempted to understand his perspective. One term that he repeatedly misused was “rates.” Though the critic understood certain facts surrounding rating badges, he didn’t understand that there is a distinct difference between two very important terms: rate and rating (see: U.S. Navy Officer Ranks and Enlisted Rates – navy.mil). Sailors (and U.S. Navy collectors) don’t refer to the insignia worn on uniforms as “rates” but rather, rating badge.

The unknown critic pointed out that on my two WWI navy uniform tops, the rating badges were affixed to the left sleeve and that the eagle (universally referred to as a crow) was facing the the rear, vice forward as is seen on present-day uniforms. The inference being made is that the eagles on both badges, each affixed to their respective uniform’s left sleeves, are facing to the rear (the beak of the eagle is pointing towards”his” left wing).

In concert with the eagle’s directional facing, the critic suggested that there are rating badges (“rates”) for either the left or right arms. In the uniform regulations of 1886, specifications were made that established the eagle left-facing with its wings pointed horizontally to the sides. Also, the regulations specified that petty officers of the starboard watch were to wear rating badges on their right sleeves while the left sleeve was to be used for those assigned to the port watch. This arrangement of the rating badges remained in place until the publication of the U.S. Navy uniform regulations of January 25, 1913 called for a change in the location of rating badges so that the were no longer worn on the sleeves corresponding to assigned watches. Right arm badges were to signify men of the Seamen Branch; left arm rating badges were to be used by personnel of the Artificer Branch, Engine Room Force, and all other petty officers. The eagle continued to face left on all rating badges.

The last statement on the critic’s note, “1941 is when it all changed” is only partially correct as it disregards both the 1886 and 1913 regulations and focuses on the changes made just prior to World War II. Within the May 13, 1941 regulations it was specified that the eagle was to face to the left in the rates comprising the Seaman Branch: Boatswain Mate, Turret Captain, Signalman, Gunner’s Mate, Fire Controlman, Quartermaster, Mineman and Torpedoman’s Mate. All other rating badges (worn on the left sleeve) were to have an eagle facing to the right – or towards the front of the uniform. With the release of the navy uniform regulations of April 2,1949, the right arm rates were disestablished, moving all enlisted ratings to the left sleeve and the eagle’s beak pointed to the right wing.

Neither of the two WWI navy uniforms within my Great War display had rating badges from the Seaman Branch – one, an Electrician’s Mate 2/c (with a radio technician distinguishing mark) from the Artificer Branch and the other a Ship’s Cook 2/c was part of the Special Branch.

If the critic had left his contact information, I might have considered a gentle discussion to provide a better understanding of enlisted Navy rate and rating badge history along with authoritative references. Rather than to take offense at the man’s note, I can surmise that he cares about accuracy in displayed naval artifacts enough to correct me. However, his omission of his name, email or phone number might be more indicative of the equivalent of a blind grenade-toss at something he has great disdain for. Unfortunately, I will never know.

I feel compelled to offer my gratitude to this unknown person for giving me a reason to pause for a self-assessment as I strive for accuracy with my collecting, research, writing and displaying these treasure. His note also serves as a reminder for me to maintain humility when I observe historical inaccuracies and to always measure myself before opening my mouth or firing off an ill-informed message.

Related Veteran’s Collection Articles:

Reference:

An Old Bluejacket Tradition Long Gone: Tar Hats to Flat Hats


My affinity for early Twentieth Century U.S. Navy Uniforms, especially those from the enlisted ranks, is increasing even if I am financially restrained from pursuing my most desired pieces when they surface onto the market. On some rare occasions, an artifact that I would love to add to my collection is listed and flies beneath the radar of fellow collectors leaving me the opportunity and wherewithal to bring it home.

I have written several articles (including considerable research for each) related to elements of uniforms from the first few decades of the last century ranging from rating badges, enlisted jumpers and head coverings and yet there is much that I am still discovering. The overwhelming focus of this site has been directed at naval artifacts and my collection is heavily weighted with U.S. Navy artifacts however I cannot consider myself to be an expert in these areas. One item of the enlisted naval uniform that I have much to learn about is surrounding the dress blue cap, known by many as the “Donald Duck Hat” or simply, the flat hat.

To delve into the full history of enlisted headwear and the entire life of the dress blue cap, I would need to write a multipart series of articles in order to give the hat its proper due (perhaps that will be a future project?). For the purposes of this post and to reflect the pieces that I have in my own collection, this article will be constrained with a narrow and specific focus.

Though flat hats were an integral part of the enlisted naval uniform for well over a century, it has been more than a half-century since the Navy retired them from usage. The earliest references to the flat caps were seen in the Navy Uniform Regulations of 1833 as the Navy began to standardize wear for seaman and petty officers.

This wide-brimmed black hat was worn by enlisted sailors many years ago when the Navy first began. Painted with tar, the wide brim kept sun off a sailor’s face (source: Naval History and Heritage Command).

ART. 601. The outside dress clothing of the petty officers, seamen, ordinary seamen, landsmen, and boys, shall consist of blue cloth jackets and trowsers (sic), blue vest, blue cloth cap or black hat, black handkerchief, and shoes, when the weather is cold; when the weather is warm, it shall consist of white frock and trowsers, black or white hats, or blue cloth caps, as the commander may direct, having regard to the convenience and comfort of the crew, black handkerchiefs and shoes.

In the 1833 regulation, there is no specific mention of “flat hat” as the term itself wasn’t part of the vernacular in use regarding the headwear at the time. Of the two references (in bold) referring to blue or black headwear, the cloth cap is the early example of what we know today as the flat hat. “Black hat” is referencing the various broad brimmed black tarpaulin headwear that were worn for several decades by enlisted sailors in the mid-to-late 1800s. These are actually (sennit) straw hats that were coated with tar that provided the sailor with a waterproof head covering that could withstand the rigors of shipboard life. The caps were adorned with a ribbon that was the forerunner of the hat talley that would be seen on the flat hats.

As the uniforms evolved with technology, the hats advanced. Painting straw hats with tar began give way to new methods for waterproofing such as creating a tarpaulin cover. Further advancements that helped in the reduction uniform expenditures and conserving the very limited space aboard ship but allowing sailors to have a single hat instead by making the hat convertible from a standard sennit to a waterproof one. by fitting the hat with a two-piece cover fabricated from oilskin or oilcloth fabric provides the desired effect.

Aside from the black (flat straw) hats, sailors also began wearing blue cloth cap that was the forerunner of what was later known as the dress blue hat for enlisted personnel. By the time the American Civil War began, the blue cloth caps were the most commonly worn hats by petty officers and seaman. The long ribbons that encircled the black hats were transitioned to shortened (without the extended streaming tails) versions and some were adorned with the name of the sailor’s ship name (sans “U.S.S.”) added by hand using gold paint. Late in the Civil War, there were some instances of entire crews having their talley’s embroidered (with gold bullion) in lieu of the painted vessel names. The gold wire-bullion embroidery became common (though still not standardized) with for flat hats in the 1883 naval uniform regulations. Another aspect of the blue caps was that they were soft and formless leaving sailors to customize their caps to suit their individual style by adding stiffeners or filling (almost pillow-like) to give them a personalized shape. In 1866, the black hat tarpaulin hats were no longer used.

As the American Navy was advancing from wooden hulls and sail to ships made of steel and powered by steam, the uniforms worn by crews changed with their needs. Changes to the dress blue hat were made in 1883 that remained, keeping the flat hat’s appearance consistent for the next 40 years. The U.S. Navy didn’t have the uniform supply system in place that exists today (which truly came into being as World War II was looming on the horizon in 1940) leaving sailors subject to acquiring or even making various uniform components. Flat hats conformed to a regulation standard but would vary in the diameter of the top (9 to 11 inches) which differed as it conformed to the size of the sailor’s head. Dress blue hats included a broad leather sweatband that is seldom visible in surviving caps due to the cotton shirt lining that has been sewn in for both comfort and to conceal the damage to the cowhide (due to sweat and repeated, prolonged usage).

Though heavily worn, the embroidery on this USS Newark (C-1) is nothing short of stunning though the hat could not have been worn aboard ship or while on duty (Source: eBay image).

In the years leading up to the Great War, the flat hats became more standardized with cotton linings being sewn in at the manufacturers, effectively eliminating the variations of various printed patterns on the linings for subsequent caps. Still, sailors would either heavily customize their caps with almost gaudy embroidery and fancy needlework (typically on the crown) however such embellishments were unauthorized for wear aboard ship. Caps with these decorations were worn ashore and during liberty or leave periods. Though modern Navy regulations have all but eliminated the personalization of uniforms, sailors have always found a way to add their own custom touches over the last century and a half. Flat hats with such personal flair are exceedingly scarce and never fail to draw the interest of collectors.

Although they might appear to be, tally ribbons were never tied to flat hats. A closer examination of the ribbons reveal that the ribbon was wrapped around the outside of the cap (even with the sweatband), trimmed and the ends tucked beneath the bow that was already secured to the cap with a stitch. Once secured beneath the bow ribbon would be stitched around the circumference of the hat.

This flat hat has the post-1940 “U.S. Navy” tally.

This flat hat is of the 1933 pattern but was issued during WWII.

In 1933, the design of the flat hats changed once again with more standardizing in the shape and materials of the hat. Gone from the flat hats were the broad, head-size dependent thin and very flat top along with the printed cotton fabric lining. Also, the rigid hat stiffeners were changed leaving a more slouchy, beret-like appearance. The design gave the hat a pronounced for and aft appearance with the front portion of the top rising upwards, seemingly drawing more attention to the tally. The tallies also experienced a material change from the gold bullion wire ship and command names in favor of a gold colored thread, producing a low-profile lettering across the face of the talley that did not discolor with tarnish or verdigris. By 1940, the U.S. was rapidly growing its forces and building ships in an effort to catch up to the immense threat that was spreading in Europe and the Pacific. Ships of all classes were under construction in shipards up and down both coasts. To reduce the difficulties in managing ship identifyers for enlisted caps for each existing, under construction and planned naval vessel, the decision was made to eliminate the ship names from tallies and replace them with “U.S. Navy.” It has been suggested that this change was done as a security measure surrounding ship-movement but the notion that the presence of uniformed sailors in a port would be more obvious than the large battleships or aircraft carries is somewhat ridiculous.

One of my most recent flat hat acquisitions was one that I happened upon a few hours before the online auction listing was set to close. The dress blue cap was one that fit perfectly within my Navy collecting focus (see: Focused on Niche Areas of Collecting: USS Washington). The flat hat, a post-1933 design included a tally that indicated it was from the USS Seattle and yet there are a few questions regarding the hat design and tally combination. To help illustrate these questions, I have summarized the timeline of the ship below.

A flat hat from the USS Seattle, the former armored cruiser USS Washington, that dates from the interwar period of 1933-1940 (Source: eBay image).

USS Washington/USS Seattle Timeline

  • 1906, August 7 – Commissioned USS Washington (ACR-11)
  • 1916, November 9 – Renamed “Seattle”
  • 1920, July 17 – Reclassified (CA-11)
  • 1927, August 29 – Changed Status to Receiving Ship
  • 1931, July 1 – Classification changed to “Unclassified”
  • 1941, February 15 – Reclassified (IX-39)
  • 1946, June 28 – Decommissioned from active service
  • 1946, July 19 – Stricken from Naval Register
  • 1946, December 3 – Sold and eventually scrapped

The tally of the USS Seattle flat hat shows some wear but is in good condition, overall (Source: eBay image).

USS Seattle’s reclassification from a combatant ship (a heavy cruiser) to a receiving ship transformed her role in regards to crew assignments. The mission of a receiving ship is two-fold: to serve as a location to receive newly inducted recruits as their personnel records are established, they are issued uniforms and initial training is conducted before they are sent on for to complete training and assignment to their permanent command. The other role of a receiving ship is to serve as a location for sailors who are nearing the end of their enlistments to be processed out of the naval service, having been transferred from their commands to await discharge. Receiving ships also served as locations for judicial proceedings such as courts martials. Sailors who were processing in would have most likely been issued dress blue caps with a generic “U.S. Navy” tally to be worn until they reached their permanent duty station. Depending upon the time that it takes to outprocess, sailors awaiting discharge would have worn the tally of their last command.

Stenciled to the back of the leather sweatband of the USS Seattle flat hat is the sailors name: Feldt (Source: eBay image).

In attempting to determine the age of the cap and tally, it could only be pinpointed a range of years between 1933 and 1940 due to the time-period for the pattern of the hat (1933-1963) and the elimination of ship names from cap tallies. With some researching of the sailor’s name (“FELDT”) stenciled to the backside of the leather sweatband, the date range could be narrowed down by searching the ship’s muster rolls. It is most-likely that Feldt was part of the crew of the Seattle responsible for the in and out processing of the transient sailors that were temporarily assigned to the ship.

On April 1, 1963, the Navy unceremoniously brought about the end of the the dress blue cap, having been relegated to an item that sailors stuffed into their seabags, seldom seeing wear since being issued at bootcamp. Since the World War II, the white hat (lovingly referred to as the “Dixie Cup”) was popularized due to its ease of wear and that it could be rolled up and stowed into the back of the trousers, concealed beneath the jumper when in doors and not in use. With the vast numbers of wartime films depicting sailors in their dress whites and blues wearing their white hats cocked forward, aft or to the side, rolled edges, or hand-formed to a number or shapes, the versatility of the white hat (worn with all of the enlisted uniforms while the flat hat was only worn with dress and undress blues) drove the dress blue cap out of use. So many of the caps were made during WWII that the Navy supply system was still issuing them into the early 1960s.

Related Articles:

Naval Enlisted Flat Hats:

Navy Uniform Head Coverings

Other References