Transcript

1.9.25 · Smithsonian Magazine

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Speaker 1: Welcome. This is Rebecca Shore from Radio Eye and to
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day I will be reading the Smithsonian Magazine dated January
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February twenty twenty five. As a reminder, Radio I is
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a reading service intended for people who are blind or
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have other disabilities that make it difficult to read printed material.
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Please join me now for the first part of the
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article titled the Dramatic Rescue of the Citizen Sailors who
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patrolled the Atlantic coast looking for Nazi U boats during
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World War Two. The crew of the Zeta were among
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the everyday Americans who risked their lives watching out for
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enemy submarines. By David Wolman and Julian Smith. It was
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the afternoon of December third, nineteen forty two, and a
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vicious winter storm was thrashing boats along the eastern seaboard.
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U S Navy and Coast Guard listening stations were picking
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up urgent distress signals up and down the coast. A
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seventy one foot schooner, the Nordless, fighting sixty foot waves,
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had lost its sails to fifty knot winds. A sailboat
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called the Abenaki was completely adrift and at the mercy
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of the storm after its tiller was destroyed, the crew
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of a boat called the Tradition radioed a possible farewell,
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this may be our last transmission. Sailboats had no business
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being out in such weather, but that calculus didn't apply
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to those serving in the Coastal Picket Force, a motley
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assortment of privately owned vessels, from luxury schooners to battered
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fishing boats that had been called into wartime service. Manned
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by hastily recruited citizen sailors, the Picket Force was tasked
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with patrolling American waters from Maine to Florida and along
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the West Coast. Its primary objective in the Atlantic to
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spot and report German U boats which were wreaking havoc
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on Allied ships. In May alone, the Nazi submarine fleet
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sank one hundred and fifteen ships in the Western Atlantic.
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The mariners aboard the vessels of the Picket Force could
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hardly take out enemy submarines they carried little more than guns.
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They could, however, report U boat positions, neutralizing the German
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vessel's essential advantage stealth. But most of the American boats
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designed for fishing or week end cruises were unequipped for
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winter conditions in the North Atlantic let alone, as storm
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witnesses later described as a combination blizzard and hurricane. Now
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one of the smaller crafts and the civilian fleet was
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trapped in the tempest, a sleek fifty seven foot sail
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boat called the Zeta. The boat's nine man crew struggled
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for hours as the storm battered the yacht, throwing it
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off its position near Martha's Vineyard. As the winds intensified,
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the men watched the mainmast bend feebly with wave after wave,
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drenching the ship's deck and flooding into the cabin. The crew,
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captained by Curtis Arnall, a forty five year old professional actor,
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debated their options, none of them good. They could use
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the smaller storm sail to try to head west for land,
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but this would require sailing into the gale, and they
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had trouble enough just staying afloat. Or they could take
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down all the sails and try to ride out the tempest,
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keep in the Zeta under control as best they could
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for as long as possible. Any disagreement was settled by
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the sea. In an instant, the wind tore the rigging
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from the smaller mast, turning the yacht nearly on its
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side and into an incoming wave. The men below deck
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were thrown across the cabin, followed by a rush of
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water that hissed against the tiny on board stove, filling
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the cramped space with smoke. The upheaval through James Watson,
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a fisherman and seal hunter by trade, against a bunk,
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breaking at least two of his ribs. Joe Chot, a
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former banker and experienced week end sailor, smashed headfirst into
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a hand rail, opening a bloody gash down his forehead.
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A third crew member was also hit on the head.
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Moments later, the sail boat righted itself, but there was
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no time to assess injuries. The crew had to bail
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out the Zeta before it sank. For nearly two hours,
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they used pots and pans to empty water out of
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the cabin. Eventually they were able to take stock of
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their situation. On top of the injuries and shredded sails,
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the Zeta had lost the smaller of its two masts,
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and its life raft had been swept away. The boat's
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generator was water logged and useless, and the ship to
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shore radio's batteries were drained from so many attempts to
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reach help, the crew was nevertheless able to make contact
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with the B twenty five bomber sent to search for
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vessels despite the treacherous weather. Their message was delivered by
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blinking Morse code with a lamp. The boat had suffered
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extensive damage and three men were injured. The bomber reported
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the Zeta's location, but no boats on the water could
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reach it. Other picket Force vessels caught in the storm
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were either rescued or slowly made their way back into harbor,
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not the Zeta. Over the next few days, almost a
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dozen Army bombers and fourteen Canadian planes helped search for
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the yacht. Inbound ship convoys from Europe were told to
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keep an eye out. The search for the Zeta became
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one of the most extensive in Navy history. By December eighth,
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a Navy gunboat sent a discouraged update to Coast Guard headquarters.
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Considering all factors, it is our opinion chances yawl still
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afloat remote. The United States had been at war for
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less than a year when the Zeta set out on
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its mission, but the country was already badly losing the
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Battle of the Atlantic German U boats had been laying
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waste to American vessels along the Eastern Seaboard and into
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the Gulf of Mexico. Suddenly fighting a war on two oceans,
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the US Navy simply didn't have the resources to patrol
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more than two thousand miles of Atlantic coastline. Ships carrying
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fuel and weapons to support the war in Europe were
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easy targets for U boats lurking offshore. Over the course
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of just twelve days, a single submarine known as U
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five O seven sank eight cargo vessels in the Gulf
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of Mexico. German sub marine commanders called this period ana
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gluclica zeite a happy time. Wreckage, oil, and human remains
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washed up on beaches from South Florida to Long Island,
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New York, and horrified civilians watched from Atlantic City's boardwalk
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as German subs pursued and sank merchant ships in broad daylight.
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The psychological toll on the home front was so severe
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that the War Department suppressed the numbers of submarine related
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sinkings in order to avoid a panic. U boats even
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came close enough to the shore to land Sabotage teams
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on Long Island and the coast of Maine. Shutting down
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ship lights at night did little to protect Allied vessels,
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since German sub captains could easily make out ship silhouettes
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created by bright lights on shore. That summer, the Germans
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sank two ships so close to Virginia Beach that the
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destroyed vessels were visible to beach goers, a macabre contrast
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of peace and war, in the words of one Coast
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Guard veteran who was there. If the U boat attacks continued,
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they could tip the scales of war. Civilian mariners clamored
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to get into the fight. Look what the British had
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pulled off at Dunkirk, they argued, when hundreds of civilian
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ships helped evacuate close to three hundred forty thousand Oullied
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soldiers from France as German forces were closing in. In
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the past, the U. S Navy had employed private boats
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and crews in both the Civil War and World War One.
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American pilots with the Civil Air Patrol were already supporting
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border and coastal patrols. In February nineteen forty two, Alfred Stanford,
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commodore of the Cruising Club of America, one of the
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country's leading amateur sailing groups sent a proposal to the
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Navy to use non military sailing vessels for anti submarine
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patrols and rescue operations. Navy officials, however, were wary of
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putting civilians directly in harm's way. That opinion began to
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change in March as newspapers picked up the story of
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the Navy's refusal, sparking a public outcry. The Navy organized
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the new fleet, which it called the Coastal Picket Force,
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under the aegis of the Coast Guard Temporary Reserve. To
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this day, the fleet remains a little known facet of
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America's wartime history. Nearly everyone has heard of Rosy the Riveter,
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not so much the Picket Force. The fleet welcomed almost
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any kind of seaworthy vessel, sleek motor cruisers, weather trawlers,
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cutters with mahogany cabins, and wet bars. At the peak
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of the program, an estimated two thousand bus boats were used,
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crewed by more than five thousand sailors. They came from
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all walks of life, from college students to taxi drivers,
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from grizzled sword fishers to former congressmen. The Boston Globe
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reported on a patrol boat crew that consisted of a
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newspaper photographer, an artist, a salesman, a garage mechanic, and
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a butler. Many men had been rejected by the traditional
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armed forces because of their age, weight, or conditions such
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as color blindness or hearing impairments. The Coastguard temporary reserve
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was less picky. Choate, the Banker and the zeta's second
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in command wrote that all a man needed to pass
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the physical exam was a discernible heart beat. Some enlistees
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were skilled blue water sailors, while others had never been
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to sea. One volunteer recalled stopping at the New York
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Public Library en route to his interview for a crash
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course in nautical terms like port, starboard, and helm. He
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emerged from the interview as a seaman first class. Even
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celebrities joined the effort. Ernest Hemingway patrolled off the coast
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of Florida in his beloved cabin cruiser, the Pilar, and
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Humphrey Bogart offered up his yacht, the Santana, sailing out
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of Newport Beach, California. The sailboats in the force ranged
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from day cruisers to one hundred fifty foot racing yachts.
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As spotting vessels, they had several advantages over motorized craft.
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They weren't limited by fuel reserves, and because they were silent,
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they were harder for U boats to detect, so they
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could get closer and report enemy positions more accurately using
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binoculars and eventually underwater microphones. Submarines had to surface periodically
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to refreshed their air and recharged their batteries. Based out
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of smaller home ports such as Greenport on Long Island,
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the Picket Force Flotilla was known informally as the Cosair
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Fleet or sometimes the Hooligan Navy, an unsubtle nod to
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the ragtack collection of mariners at its core. Regular enlisted
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sailors looked at the mariners in this Arzot's armada with suspicion,
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even derision, for their supposed lack of discipline and skill.
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The Walt Disney designed insignia Donald Duck as a pirate,
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complete with eye patch, dagger and pistols, didn't exactly engender confidence,
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but nobody could deny the men's enthusiasm and gumption, and
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members of the Hooligan Navy came to embrace the nickname
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with pride. Aboard the Zeta, the crew took their orders
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from Arnaul. Originally from Cheyenne, Wyoming, Arnall had worked as
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a ranch hand before making his way to Broadway, where
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he played small roles until the Great Crash of nineteen
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twenty nine shattered the theater industry. His next role was
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playing the radio voice of the swashbuckling space hero Buck Rogers.
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The gig bought Arnall a measure of fame and an
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ego to go with it. Arnall was one of several
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experienced sailors among the crew. There was twenty six year
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old Vance M. Smitty Smith, who swore so consistently that
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for years his daughter thought the white birds that flew
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along the coast were called goddamn seagulls. Edward Jobson, a
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sophomore at William's College and at twenty the youngest crew member,
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had worked as a sailor on the Zeta before the war.
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A friendly young Finnish American named Tuevo George Coskinnen was
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esteemed by the others for his sailing skills. The crew
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also included a taxi driver from Brooklyn, a Dartmouth College
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student and a wiry fisherman and seal hunter with endless
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stories of peril at sea. The Zeta itself had been
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designed by a renowned shipbuilder and launched in nineteen set
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thirty seven. Constructed with teak decking, mahogany woodwork, and masts
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made of Sitka spruce, the boat was a thoroughbred under sail, sleek, responsive,
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and above all fast. After it was handed over to
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the Coast Guard Reserve, its fine trim and body were
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painted gray, and its official wartime designation c g R
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thirty seventy was stenciled on the hull in large white characters.
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On November twenty seventh, nineteen forty two, the Zeta sailed
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to its assigned station, a fifteen square mile patch of
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ocean some fifty miles off shore. Its orders for the
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seven day patrol search for enemy subs around the clock,
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no matter the weather, and be ready to help with
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rescue operations if Allied ships were torpedoed. If the crew
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spotted a U boat, they were to report their position
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on the ship to shore radio so that navy boats
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or planes could take decisive action. Because the sailboats were
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slower than motor boats, often alone and barely armed, The
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Nazis didn't view them as worthy targets, especially since any
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attack would betray their location. Nevertheless, there were occasional confrontations
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off the coast of Maine. The Sally Too and a
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U boat watched each other warily just out of gun
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range for upwards of fifteen minutes. Over a loud speaker.
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The German captain finally ordered the American boat not to
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report its position. The crew did anyway. Luckily, the two
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vessels parted without incident. They were looking for bigger game,
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one crew member said. Later. Other stories recounted German subs
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surfacing directly under Picket Force vessels, to the surprise of
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both crews. Then there was the Nazi commander who reportedly
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berated a crew of Hooligan sailors, directly telling them to
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go home and stop playing soldier. But daily life aboard
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Hooligan vessels tended to be more tedious than thrilling. The
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Zeta's crew manned four hour rotating ships on watch, during
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which they would sometimes mistake whales or porpoises for surfacing
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U boats. They fished for sharks with home made hooks,
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radioed position updates to other patrol boats and coast guard stations,
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and kept an eye out for storm petrels, tiny birds
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that sailors say harold. While the ships were equipped with
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potbelly stoves and each man was given a heavy fleece
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lined coat and gloves, these resources were little matched for
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December weather far out at sea. Most of the time,
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the men just tried to keep warm and waited for
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the next meal. After a frigid shift on deck, after
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the Zeta was slammed onto its side with the storm
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still raging, the crew discovered the vessel was badly damaged
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and several men were injured. Watson was worst off. To
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protect him, the men tied him into his bunk so
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he wouldn't be tossed about by the churning seas. Within hours, however,
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Hope sailed into view in the form of the h
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m C. S. Caldwell, a Canadian destroyer that pulled close
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enough to identify the stricken sailboat. The Canadian crew try
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to attach a toe, but the waves made it impossible
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to get a line aboard the sailboat. To try to
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calm the surface, the Caldwell dumped heavy black bunker oil
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into the water, but this did little except cover the
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Zeta and its crew in thick, stinking grease. Finally, after
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half a dozen or so tries, the Zeta crew retrieved
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a tow line. Coscannon was on deck making sure the
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line stuck. When he was swept into the icy water.
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He managed to grab a life line and haul himself
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back on board. With the tow line now attached, the
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men braced themselves as the slack ran out and the
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Zeta jolted forward. The yacht began picking up speed, its
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hull smashing against the water. It was a precarious ride,
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but it appeared the crew would be saved. But after
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some seven hours of towing, the rope suddenly snapped. It
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was now just before midnight, and the boats were separated
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in the darkness. Without a working radio, there was nothing
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the crew of the Zeta could do. They were alone,
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helpless in the freezing rain and blinding winds. Over the
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next few days, the Zeta's crew thended off desperation with improvisation.
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They combined gasoline and motor oil to make a substitute
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for kerosene. To power the cabin lamp. They fashioned a
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funnel out of sail canvas so they could capture rain
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water to drink. At a lull in the storm, the
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crew got to work patching torn sails and sewing on
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metal slides so they could be reattached to the remaining mast.
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The one small makeshift sail they did have didn't provide
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much power, but it gave the crew enough control that
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they could start sailing gingerly, but at least purposefully, to
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the southwest toward land. Meanwhile, Smith and Coskennon were determined
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to get the radio working again, so they began to
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filter sea water out of the gasoline to try to
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restart the generator. By the morning of December ninth, arnaal
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was able to transmit a brief message, which was picked
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up by a coast Guard station on the mainland, condition favorable,
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three men injured. Hearing this, the men were not just baffled,
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some were furious. Smith was beside himself. What part of
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being injured and adrift was favorable? Did the skipper think
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this was a Buck Rogers episode where the unflappable hero
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always pulls through in the end, The crew already had
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their doubts about their commander, who had been described by
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by another Greenport based mariner as a foul ball while outsailing.
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Just before the Zada's first official patrol, Arnall had tried
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to cut a corner around a channel buoy and ended
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up running the boat aground. And the skipper was proving
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to be strangely possessive, almost secretive about things like radio reports,
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incoming messages, and navicational details, going so far as to
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keep everything jotted on a notebook in his pocket. These
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episodes were concerning enough that after the Zada's first few outings,
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several sailors had requested to be transferred to other boats. Now,
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according to one account, Smith began pacing about the cabin,
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muttering that man, that man. By the next morning, the
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Zada had been at sea for two weeks in the
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heart of winter. The men slept only intermittently, and eight
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dwindling rations of beans, rice, and canned peaches. They had
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resorted to tearing out cabinets and other non critical parts
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of the cabin to burn in the stove to stay warm.
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The cumulative stress and calorie shortage were taking their toll.
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At one point, Arnall ordered Couschanin to go aloft to
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affix the repaired sail into place. Coskanin responded that it
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couldn't be done. He was too exhausted. When Arnaul pressed,
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Coskanin got half way up the mast before stopping and
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retreating back down to the deck. Two week, he said.
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Three days later, Hope returned. The Zeta was riding forty
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foot waves about three hundred miles east of Norfolk, Virginia,
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when the crew spotted a small Allied warship less than
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a mile away heading straight for them. A larger destroyer
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appeared next. It's a miracle that Zeta wasn't immediately blown
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out of the water. The destroyer initially mistook the wounded
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sailboat for a U boat and sounded battle stations before
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realizing it was the lost Picket Force yacht. The nine
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men rejoiced, but once again their relief was premature. The
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seas were too heavy for the much larger ships to
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get close enough to take the men aboard without smashing
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the sailboat. Moreover, it turned out the ships escorting a
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convoy of freighters and tankers to support Allied campaigns in
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North Africa were heading in the opposite direction, so towing
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was out of the question, and because the convoy had
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to maintain radio silence, The captain of the destroyer couldn't
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tell anyone he had found the boat that the whole
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world seemed to be looking for, but he couldn't do
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anything to help. For the next few hours, the wind
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pushed the sailboat like a child's toy between two lines
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of convoy ships. At times, the vessels were close enough
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that the crews could see each other's faces, but all
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they could do was wave. The last Morse coded message
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from the destroyer was simply good luck. Then the convoy
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faded into the fog. Once again, the Zeta was alone
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in the Atlantic. Driven out to sea by storm after storm,
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the days and nights started to blur. Theodore Carlson, the
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taxi driver from Brooklyn, comforted himself by reading the Bible.
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The crew day dreamed about steakhouses in Manhattan. As their
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rations shrank to a single cup of whatever was left
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per day, their faces grew gaunt and their bodies weakened. Jobson,
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the college sophomore, fainted on deck, and word Weimar, the
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Dartmouth student, became too feeble to handle the wheel. Tensions aboard.
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The yacht edged toward a breaking point. One afternoon, after
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Arnaul and Smith had argued over their latest point of friction.
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Arnall sat down in the cabin and took out his
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thirty eight caliber pistol, which he began cleaning in silence.
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When Smith stepped below deck and saw what Arnaul was doing,
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he proceeded to take out his own gun of forty
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five and started cleaning it as well. Nobody said a word,
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and the incident passed. Aware of his own short temper
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and afraid of doing something regrettable, Smith later asked Chot
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to hide his gun and never tell him where it was.
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Smith was one watched the night of December twenty second,
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when he glimpsed a flash of color through the gloom
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a red buoy and the first sign of land in
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almost a month. Suddenly, the dark shape of a Coast
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Guard patrol boat loomed barely one hundred feet away. The
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men yelled and waved a flashlight, but the other vessel
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didn't respond or changed course. In desperation, Smith took out
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the Zeta's automatic rifle and fired half a dozen tracer
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bullets over the other ship's bow. Unsurprisingly, the crew of
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the patrol boat thought they were under fire from a
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German submarine. They were maneuvering into attack position, guns ready.
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When they heard shouts in English, the ships drew close
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enough to identify each other. The Zada's crew finally learned
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where they were, off Cape Hatteras in North Carolina's outer banks,
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and on the edge of a minefield. In geographic terms,
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the Zeta was essentially home, but because of the minefield,
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the boat was in more danger than ever. The Navy
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ordered the crew to stay put the next morning under
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windless skies. The Zeta's crew members, desperate to reach land
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and close to starvation, debated running the boat up on
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the beach minefield or not. A silent tension hung in
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the air. Then a blimp appeared, and their excitements spilled
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forth in hugs, shouts, and laughter. Gathered on deck. The
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crew members waved and shouted with excitement. The blimp reported
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back to base. Six men observed on deck, all gesturing
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wildly for food, and lowered a package of emergency supplies
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on a line. When the crew brought it on board,
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they found raisins, chocolate bars, and a note your position
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reported sit tight. Help on the way. This concludes readings
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from the Smithsonian magazine for to day. Your reader has
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been Rebecca Shore, thank you for listening and have a
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great day.