I’ve read about Whale Units, like the one the Partridge was towing when she sunk, being used after the war to repair bombed bridges in France and Germany.  I just found two photos of two of these bridge still in use today.  It’s incredible to see that these out of context from their original purpose.  These spans were towed across the English Channel under great danger and assembled while tugs were, in many case, still being fired on by Germans ashore — so it’s that much more incredible that people are still using them!

Read a report from TF128 on assembling a Mulberry Port here: Link

Below is a photo of the Partridge crew from 1943.  This was in a scrapbook that my Grandmother, Doris Krouse, put together sometime in the early 90s.  You can click on the picture to view a higher-res version or follow a link here:

http://usspartridge.files.wordpress.com/2009/06/partcrew432.jpg

My grandfather, Thurman Krouse, is the sailor in the first row, left.  I believe I recognize Jim White seat to the right of the captain, R. F. Snipes — but I’m not sure.

If you can identify anyone else in the picture, let me know.  Also, if anyone can remember the cat and dog being held by two of the officers, please share that information.  I didn’t realize that there were any animal aboard.  Please view the picture through the link above and you’ll get a clearer picture than that one below.

It was 65 years ago that the USS Partridge left port for the last time. Below is an account of the ship’s last few moments from United Press Corespondent Robert Miller.  This was published a year after the ship was sunk.

U.P. Writer Dunked in Channel When E-Boat Torpedoes His Ship

AN ENGLISH PORT, June 15 – I was torpedoed in the English Channel. My ship died in a black, slimy pool of her own fuel and oil. She went down 40 seconds after the torpedo thudded home.

Those 40 seconds are graven deep within me.

An e-boat struck – one of those E-boats which with the U-boats are trying desperately to cut the supply lines to the beachheads.

I went on the bridge. Star shells were arching across the sky, rivaling the moon’s brilliance. Miles astern the corvettes, destroyers and MTBs were out searching for E-boats.
A destroyer flushed one of the quarries and there was an abrupt change of shots. Dull flashes split the darkness on the sea to our rights. Red tracers streaked into the sky.

A plane flew high over our heads. There was a huge explosion somewhere astern with a great belching roar and a sudden huge gout of smoke.

I spoke to the men on the guns, glanced at the sky and uneasily down at the sea.

Then the torpedo hit.

It tore into the ship’s entrails. The whole ship shivered and then leaped. I went reeling down the deck, grabbing for a hold.

Then a blinding flash like a photographic magnesium flare. Sea water erupted all over the ship. I was temporarily blinded in filmy spray. I picked myself up with the other and found surprisingly, I was unhurt and that I had my glasses on and they were intact.

But the deck’s crazy slant showed that the ship was going down fast. Someone cried out: “The liferaft – cut is loose.”

And unrecognizable figure crawled past on hands and knees, dragging a useless and dangling left leg behind him.

Oily water moved up around our ankles. We began hacking agonisingly away at the bindings of the liferaft as the ship began to settle.

Abruptly it came loose and I plunged with the others onto a maze of ropes and debris tearing to free myself as the raft bobbed teasingly away – just out of reach.

I had, I suppose, one more second. With a desperate lunge, I reached the raft and hauled myself on to it as the ship I had left rolled heavily over and then plunged, leaving boiling black bubbles on the sea as she went down.

Thick, chocking oil covered he water like syrup, clogging my ears and novse and matting my hair.

The night was alive with sound. Men were shouting. Others called for help. There were odd cried of encouragement and the occasional moans of the injured.

Men were crammed on the raft and all around it, some clinging to the sides.

We saw a sudden great black shape knifing through the sea. Together we bawled and screamed. But the ship passed in the night.

Then we saw another ship – nearer. Some unknown clambered precariously to his fee to wave a signal light and the ship blinked a reply.

Twenty minutes later we were going aboard. Nearly two-thirds of our crew was saved.

I don’t have anymore information on Miller so if you have something or are a relative please comment here of send an email to jameskrouse@gmail.com

I have a photo of Ensign Buffum with a note saying that he was “awarded Navy-Marine Corp Medal for Heroism” but it doesn’t say why.  Bill Ames related that Buffum had become a true leader in the water, keeping morale up among the men after the Partridge was sunk.

I’m hoping to talk to someone in Buffum’s family and find out more about the cirumstances under which he was awarded the medal.

A few weeks ago, I posted a call for information on Jim White.  Although I still don’t have any solid information on his background I did find an interesting report from the USS Owl.  The Owl and Partridge were in a convoy that stopped in the Azores before continuing on to Britain.

Five sailors from the Owl left the ship without authorization and one, Stanley B. Marsh, ended up stabbing two Portugese soldiers while ashore.  Marsh was sentenced to 8 year imprisonment and 20 years in a penal colony.  He died of Pott’s Disease (TB that infects the spine) on March 21, 1948 in a penitentiary at Lisbon, Portugal.

It’s an interesting bit of history from both the Owl and the Partridge.  White’s five page report on the incident points to his cool handling of the situation.

The other men present during the altercation were:

K.L. Busby

T.W. Permenter

E.R. Combs

P.H. Jordon

T. Popovich

C.R. O’Donnell

L.Y. Mon

W.D. Duham Jr.

Reading the report, it doesn’t appear that these men were out for anything but a good time.  Marsh’s behaviour is strange in the context of the report so it’s not entirely clear what happened to provoke such a violent reaction.  As always, if anyone has any further information, please let me know.

By the way, the document was scanned backward so go to the last page and read to the front.

http://usspartridge.files.wordpress.com/2009/05/file0005.pdf

Many of you have shared stories with me about Jim White.  He had served on the Partridge as an Ensign and then returned to the ship as captain in April of 1944.  I know that he attended some of the later reunions and passed away a few years ago.  I would really like to speak to his family to find out more about his life before and after the Partridge.

In the past, putting up a post here sometimes garners results.  So if you’re a relative of Jim White, please let me know.  Since it’s a fairly common name, here is more information:

He’s listed in the ship’s log as Lt. James C. W. White D-V(G), USNR 102027.

His next of kin information is given as his mother, Mrs. Marie Welch White with an address in San Diego.

I had an address for his wife Irene White, but receive the letter back.

So if you are a relative of Jim White or think you might be, please contact me!

Vice Admiral John Wilkes, USN (Retired), (1895-1957)

Rear Admiral John Wilkes, USN (left) Watches a dawn landing exercise at Woolacombe, England, on 31 October 1943. With him is Captain Chauncey Camp, USN.

Admiral John Wilkes was the Commander of Landing Craft and Bases Europe (ComLanCrabEU) in 1943-44.  This was the command that the Partridge operated under for most of its time in England.    I have pasted a bit of information on him below.  I have scant little information about his personality, however.  If there is anyone out there that remembers serving under Wilkes, I’d very much like to hear more about him.

Article from the Navy Historical Center

John Wilkes was born in Charlotte, North Carolina, on 26 May 1895. He entered the U.S. Naval Academy in June 1912 and, upon graduation in June 1916, was commissioned in the rank of Ensign. For the next three years he served in the armored cruiser Frederick, a time that included World War I convoy escort duty in the North Atlantic. In 1919 Lieutenant Wilkes received submarine training and, during the next decade, served in several submarines, having command of USS K-7 and USS S-47, and had shore duty as an Inspector of Machinery at Groton, Connecticut. In 1928-1930 Lieutenant Commander Wilkes was assigned to the Portsmouth Navy Yard, Kittery, Maine, then began three years as Commanding Officer of the submarine V-1, which was renamed Barracuda in 1931.

During 1933-1935 Wilkes was attached to the Reserve Officers Training Unit at the University of California at Berkeley. He was Navigator of the heavy cruiser Indianapolis from mid-1935, receiving promotion to the rank of Commander during this time. Following a tour at the Mare Island Navy Yard, California, in June 1939 Wilkes took command of Submarine Division 15, in the Asiatic Fleet, and, from December 1939, also had command of Submarine Squadron 5.

For six months after the Pacific War began in December 1941, Wilkes, who was soon promoted to Captain, commanded Asiatic Fleet submarines during their frustrating struggle against the fast-moving tide of Japanese conquest. Following his return to the U.S. in mid-1942, he attended the Naval War College, then became Commanding Officer of the new light cruiser Birmingham, taking her to the Mediterranean Sea to participate in the July 1943 invasion of Sicily. Beginning in August 1943 Rear Admiral Wilkes had amphibious force commands in England and France, playing an important role in preparing for the June 1944 Normandy Invasion and the invasion of Southern France two months later. As the Allied ground offensive moved toward and into Germany, he was in charge of U.S. Ports and Bases in France, materially assisting the offensive with his management of logistics.

Rear Admiral Wilkes went to the Pacific in May 1945, again as an administrator of amphibious forces as they worked towards the planned invasion of Japan. A few months after World War II ended, he returned to the U.S. to command the Atlantic Fleet’s submarine force, a position he held from late December 1945 until March 1947. He then had duty with the Joint Chiefs of Staff, in Washington, D.C., before going to Europe to take command of Naval Forces, Germany, in August 1948. His final assignment was a brief tour as Commander Eastern Sea Frontier, beginning in March 1951. On the basis of a combat award Wilkes was advanced to the rank of Vice Admiral upon retirement in June 1951. Vice Admiral John Wilkes died at the Bethesda Naval Hospital, Maryland, on 20 July 1957.

 

I wanted to post this photo of New York Harbor in the 1930s because it shows the area where Joe Cooney operated tugs and ferries before he served aboard the Partridge.  It’s amazing the number of docks that line the island and how many ships are visible.  It’s easy to see why Joe’s experience would have been valuable to Operation Mulberry which involved towing in crowded water prior to the invasion of Normandy.

 

William Joyce, one of the broadcasters for Germany Calling

I came across an interesting note in a book on Operation Mulberry that I thought might jog some memories. It was on broadcasts from Germany apparently taunting sailors and soldiers working on the Whale and Phoenix units weeks before D-Day.  

Lord Haw-Haw was the nickname for several English speaking broadcasters who would announce Allied losses on the ground, in the air, and at sea.  The program was called Germany Calling and was often the only source for precious little information behind enemy lines.  Although the broadcasts were generally considered propaganda, they still could be un-nerving in their accuracy.  The broadcast cited in the book Force Mulberry by Alfred Stanford, Commander, USNR is chilling:  

“To those USN CB’s and soldiers on the concrete caissons of Selsey Bill…we know exeactly what you intend to do with those concrete units.  You intend to sink them off our coast inthe assualt.  Well, we’re going to help you , boys.  WE’ll save you some trouble.  When you come to get under way, we’re going to sink them for you.”

The Partridge wasn’t towing a Phoenix unit when she was sunk — it was a Whale unit.  But the ship did tow Phoenix units during training for the invasion.  It’s not clear how much the Germans really knew about the operation is not known. Their slow reaction to the invasion itself indicates that they knew about plans to create an artificial harbor but details for a decisively counter attach did not exist.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, the Partridge was sunk but the Whale unit or floating pontoon bridge made it to shore and was used to offload precious men, tanks, and supplies to feed the invasion.

If anyone has any memory of these broadcast and wouldlike to share them please feel free to send an email or post it in the comments section.

A few months ago I received a note from Katie regarding her grandfather:

My grandfather Robert Ainslie was on the HMCS Prescott during WW2 and was one of the people that helped to rescue the men from the partridge. He is now 86.

I called Robert a little while ago and recorded his retelling of the night the Partridge was sunk.  After hearing my grandfather tell the story and so many of the crew, it is interesting to hear it told from the Canadian’s perspective.  I put a small clip of our conversation here: