A Remarkable Story

From November 1943, until her demise in June 1945, the American
destroyer 'William D Porter' was often hailed - whenever she entered
port or joined other Naval ships - with the greetings: 'Don't shoot,
we're Republicans!' For a half a century, the US Navy kept a lid on
the details of the incident that prompted this salutation. A
Miami news
reporter made the first public disclosure in 1958 after he stumbled
upon the truth while covering a reunion of the destroyer's crew. The
Pentagon reluctantly and tersely confirmed his story, but only a
smattering of newspapers took notice.

Fifty years ago today, the Willie D as the Porter was nicknamed,
accidentally fired a live torpedo at the battleship Iowa during a
practice exercise. As if this weren't bad enough, the Iowa was carrying
President Franklin D. Roosevelt at the time, along with Secretary of
State, Cordell Hull, and all of the country's WWII military brass. They
were headed for the Big Three Conference in Tehran, where Roosevelt was
to meet Stalin and Churchill. Had the Porter's torpedo struck the Iowa
at the aiming point, the last 50 years of world history might have been
quite different.

The USS William D Porter (DD-579) was one of hundreds of assembly line
destroyers build during the war. They mounted several heavy and light
guns, but their main armament consisted of 10 fast-running and accurate
torpedoes that carried 500-pound warheads. This destroyer was placed in
commission on July 1943 under the command of Wilfred Walker, a man on
the Navy's fast career track. In the months before she was detailed to
accompany the Iowa across the Atlantic in November 1943, the Porter and
her crew learned their trade, experiencing the normal problems that always
beset a new ship and a novice crew. The mishaps grew more serious whenshe became an escort for the pride of the fleet, the big new battleship
Iowa.

The night before they left Norfolk, bound for North Africa, the Porter
accidentally damaged a nearby sister ship when she backed down along the
other ship's side and her anchor tore down her railings, life rafts, ship's
boat
and various other formerly valuable pieces of equipment. The Willie D
merely had a scraped anchor, but her career of mayhem and mishaps had
begun.

Just twenty four hours later, the four-ship convoy consisting of Iowa
and her secret passengers and two other destroyers was under strict
instructions to maintain complete radio silence. As they were going
through a known U-boat feeding ground, speed and silence were the best
defense. Suddenly, a tremendous explosion rocked the convoy. All of the
ships commenced anti-submarine maneuvers. This continued until the
Porter sheepishly admitted that one of her depth charges had fallen off
her stern and exploded. The 'safety' had not been set as instructed.
Captain Walker was watching his fast track career become side-tracked.

Shortly thereafter, a freak wave inundated the ship, stripping away
everything that wasn't lashed down. A man was washed overboard and
never found. Next, the fire room lost power in one of its boilers. The
Captain, by this point, was making reports almost hourly to the Iowa on
the Willie D's difficulties. It would have been merciful if the force
commander had detached the hard luck ship and sent her back to Norfolk.
But, no, she sailed on.

The morning of 14 November 1943 dawned with a moderate sea and pleasant
weather. The Iowa and her escorts were just east of Bermuda, and the
president and his guests wanted to see how the big ship could defend
herself against an air attack. So, Iowa launched a number of weather
balloons to use as anti-aircraft targets. It was exciting to see more
than 100 guns shooting at the balloons, and the President was proud of
his Navy. Just as proud was Admiral Ernest J King, the Chief of Naval
Operations; large in size and by demeanor, a true monarch of the sea.
Disagreeing with him meant the end of a naval career. Up to this time,
no one knew what firing a torpedo at him would mean. Over on the Willie
D, Captain Walker watched the fireworks display with admiration and
envy. Thinking about career redemption and breaking the hard luck
spell, the Captain sent his impatient crew to battle stations. Theybegan to shoot down the balloons the Iowa had missed as they drifted
into the Porter's vicinity.

Down on the torpedo mounts, the crew watched, waiting to take some
practice shots of their own on the big battleship, which, even though
6,000 yards away, seemed to blot out the horizon. Lawton Dawson and Tony
Fazio were among those responsible for the torpedoes. Part of their job
involved ensuring that the primers were installed during actual combat
and removed during practice. Once a primer was installed, on a command
to fire, it would explode shooting the torpedo out of its tube. Dawson,
on this particular morning, unfortunately had forgotten to remove the
primer from torpedo tube #3. Up on the bridge, a new torpedo officer,
unaware of the danger, ordered a simulated firing. "Fire 1, Fire 2," and
finally, "Fire 3." There was no fire 4 as the sequence was interrupted by
an unmistakable whooooooshhhhing sound made by a successfully launched
and armed torpedo. Lt H. Steward Lewis, who witnessed the entire event,
later described the next few minutes as what hell would look like if it
ever broke loose.

Just after he saw the torpedo hit water on its way to the Iowa and some
of the most prominent figures in world history, Lewis innocently asked
the Captain, 'Did you give permission to fire a torpedo?' Captain
Walker's reply will not ring down through naval history.. although words
to the effect of Farragut's immortal 'Damn the torpedoes' figured
centrally within. Initially there was some reluctance to admit what had
happened, or even to warn the Iowa. As the awful reality sunk in, people
began racing around, shouting conflicting instructions and attempting
to warn the flagship of imminent danger. First, there was a flashing
light warning about the torpedo which unfortunately indicated it was
headed in another direction. Next, the Porter signaled that it was
going reverse at full speed! Finally, they decided to break the
strictly enforced radio silence. The radio operator on the destroyer
transmitted "'Lion (code for the Iowa), Lion, come right." The Iowa
operator, more concerned about radio procedure, requested that the
offending station identify itself first. Finally, the message was
received and the Iowa began turning to avoid the speeding torpedo.

Meanwhile, on the Iowa's bridge, word of the torpedo firing had reached
FDR, who asked that his wheelchair be moved to the railing so he could
see better what was coming his way. His loyal Secret Service guard
immediately drew his pistol as if he was going to shoot the torpedo. As
the Iowa began evasive maneuvers, all of her guns were trained on theWilliam D Porter. There was now some thought that the Porter was part
of an assassination plot. Within moments of the warning, there was a
tremendous explosion just behind the battleship. The torpedo had been
detonated by the wash kicked up by the battleship's increased speed.

The crisis was over and so was Captain Walker's career. His final
utterance to the Iowa, in response to a question about the origin of
the torpedo, was a weak, "We did it." Shortly thereafter, the brand new
destroyer, her Captain and the entire crew were placed under arrest and
sent to Bermuda for trial. It was the first time that a complete ship's
company had been arrested in the history of the US Navy. The ship was
surrounded by Marines when it docked in Bermuda, and held there several
days as the closed session inquiry attempted to determine what had
happened. Torpedoman Dawson eventually confessed to having inadvertently
leaving the primer in the torpedo tube, which caused the launching. Dawson
had thrown the used primer over the side to conceal his mistake.

The whole incident was chalked up to an unfortunate set of circumstances
and placed under a cloak of secrecy. Someone had to be punished. Captain
Walker and several other Porter officers and sailors eventually found
themselves in obscure shore assignments. Dawson was sentenced to 14
years hard labor. President Roosevelt intervened; however, asking that
no punishment be metered out for what was clearly an accident. The
destroyer was banished to the upper Aleutians. It was probably thought
this was as safe a place as any for the ship and anyone who came near
her. She remained in the frozen north for almost a year, until late
1944, when she was re-assigned to the Western Pacific.

Before leaving the Aleutians, she accidentally left her calling card in
the form of a five-inch shell fired into the front yard of the American
base commandant, thus rearranging his flower garden. In December, 1944,
she joined the Philippine invasion forces and acquitted herself quite
well. She distinguished herself by shooting down a number of attacking
Japanese aircraft. Regrettably, after the war, it was reported that she
also shot down three American planes. This was a common event on ships,
as many gunners, fearful of kamikazes, had nervous trigger fingers.

In April, 1945, the destroyer was assigned to support the invasion of
Okinawa. By this time, the greeting "Don't Shoot, We're Republicans" was
commonplace and the crew of the Willie D had become used to the ribbing.
But the crew of her sister ship, the USS Luce, was not so polite in
its salutations after the Porter accidentally riddled her side andsuperstructure with gunfire.

On 10 June, 1945, the Porter's hard luck finally ran out. She was sunk
by a plane which had (unintentionally) attacked underwater. A Japanese
bomber made almost entirely of wood and canvas slipped through the
Navy's defense. Having little in the way of metal surfaces, the plane
didn't register on radar. A fully loaded kamikaze, it was headed for a
ship near the Porter, but just at the last moment veered away and
crashed along side the unlucky destroyer. There was a sigh of relief
as the plane sunk out of sight, but then it blew up underneath the
Porter, opening her hull in the worst possible location.

Three hours later, after the last man was off board, the Captain jumped
to the safety of a rescue vessel and the ship that almost changed world
history slipped astern into 2,400 feet of water. Not a single soul was
lost in the sinking. After everything else that happened, it was almost
as if the ship decided to let her crew off at the end.

Background information at http://www.navsource.org/archives/05/579.htm

Bad Luck is understatement!!!
Thanks for sharing Dave
A good read

Skipper

Very interesting. Like Skipper said, "a good read." Looking up the Porter on DANFS, Dictionary of American Naval Fighting Ships the whole incident gets one small paragraph.

"On 12 November, she departed Norfolk and the following day rendezvoused with Iowa (BB-61). That battleship was on her way to North Africa carrying President Franklin D. Roosevelt to the Cairo and Teheran Conferences. During battle drills on the afternoon of the 14th, William D. Porter inadvertently fired a live torpedo at lowa. However, the destroyer signaled Iowa in plenty of time to allow the battleship to turn hard to starboard, parallel to the torpedo's wake. The torpedo exploded some 3,000 yards astern of the mighty man-of-war. William D. Porter completed her part in the mission and steamed west to Bermuda, where she arrived on 16 November."


Your info certainly fills in the blanks much better.

Can you imagine they were going to give the poor guy 14 years hard labor?

Ahoy Dave

A great read thanks for sharing.

Man it was if the ship and its crew were cursed.

Regards

Sean