August 2020 – Fix Bayonets!

The Captain …

… was as Mad as a Hatter[1]

Pierre de Landais (1731-1820) was born in Saint-Malo, Department d’Ille-et-Vilaine, Bretagne, France. He was the son of one of Normandie’s oldest families whose wealth enabled him to attend the Ecole de la Marine. Pierre might have had a notable career in the French Navy were it not for the fact that his father exhausted the family fortune providing a brilliant display of fireworks to entertain Mme. De Pompadour[2]. Under these circumstances, Pierre was unable to purchase promotion[3] and Pierre remained a midshipman until he was 32-years old.

In 1762, Pierre served aboard a French ship during France’s unsuccessful defense of Quebec. During an engagement with a British warship, Landais was wounded, taken prisoner, and transported to England. As a midshipman, Landais had no value as a prisoner and he was soon returned to France. He later participated in the first French circumnavigation of earth (1766-1769), sponsored and led by Admiral Louis-Antoine, Comte de Bougainville.

In 1775, aged 44-years, Lieutenant Pierre was discharged from the French Navy. Two years later, Pierre accepted an appointment to command a merchantman for Hortalez et Cie —a shell company controlled by French entrepreneur Pierre Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais[4] (1732-1799). Through the shell company, Beaumarchais smuggled arms and money to America through the West Indies. Landais delivered his illicit goods to an American agent at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, which made him a hero among the American rebels.

Massachusetts was so pleased that they granted Pierre “honorary citizenship” and paid him in French currency the equivalent of £12,000. To these grateful people, Landais proudly proclaimed that he “had served as a captain in the royal navy of France, had commanded a ship of the line, had served as chief officer of the port of Brest, and was of such worth and estimation for his great abilities at sea that he could have any honors or advancement in his own country that he pleased to accept.”

In 1777, the gratitude of Americans toward the French was such that they looked for ways of manifesting their appreciation in some public act. In Massachusetts, Landais spent a great deal of time in the company of John Adams[5], who later observed that Landais was an enigma: he was frustrated in his ambitions, disappointed in love, unable to win the affection or respect of his officers, and intensely jealous of everyone else. From John Adams diary, “There is in this man an inactivity and an indecisiveness that will ruin him. He is bewildered and possesses an embarrassed mind.” Worse, perhaps, Landais was deeply paranoid, convinced of plots against him.

In 1778, someone (we aren’t sure who) encouraged Landais to apply for a commission in the Continental Navy. The Marine Commission of the Congress dutifully considered his application and initially rejected it (for reasons unknown[6]), but six weeks later, on 9 May, Congress did offer him a captain’s commission to serve as the officer commanding USS Alliance.

Alliance was a 36-gun frigate originally named Hancock. Her keel was laid in 1777 on the Merrimack River near Amesbury, Massachusetts. The ship was launched on 28 April 1778, renamed Alliance on 29 May. Alliance is believed to have been the first warship built in America. She was brought down the Merrimack River from Salisbury to Newburyport and then to Boston in early August. In Boston, the ship was ordered to prepare to receive the entourage of the Marquis de la Lafayette[7] and transport them to France; Lafayette’s mission was to petition the French Court for increased financial support for the American cause. Preparations for sea did not proceed very well because not long after taking command of his new ship, Captain Landais encountered problems with his officers, which delayed the marquis’ departure.

Apparently, the Alliance’s officers were happy to remain aboard ship, but unhappy with serving under Landais. These were all experienced seamen. We do not know their specific complaint, but I assume that they were underwhelmed, either by the quality of Landais’ seamanship or his leadership. The officers probably anticipated that this would not be a happy cruise. In any case, Landais requested that Congress replace several of his officers. At an inquiry to determine the cause of this unhappy relationship between Alliance’s Captain and his officers, Marine Captain Matthew Parke[8] served as spokesman for disgruntled ship’s officers. In Parke’s view, if even one officer was replaced, then the Navy Committee would have to replace them all. Ultimately, Landais withdrew his demand for the removal of officers, but the animosity between Landais and his officers continued; Captain Parke of the Marines had earned no favor with Captain Landais.

Worse than Landais’ dysfunctional relationship with ship’s officers was his poor treatment of the crew. Port towns are renowned for rumor, innuendo, and the rapid transmission of unhappy news. It did not take long for word of Landais’ shoddy treatment of the crew to spread among those looking for birthing. Consequently, Alliance was unable to recruit a full crew for service at sea. Although, part of this was that eligible crewmen preferred instead to join privateers, where the pay was better.

Significantly short of the number of crewmen needed to man a frigate, Alliance was forced to draft seamen from USS Boston, and an additional 30 French crewmen from the squadron of Admiral d’Estaing —all of whom were recovering from some sickness. Additional shortages remaining, Alliance took onboard British prisoners who opted for service in the Continental Navy rather than spending their days locked up in rat-infested holding cells. Most British prisoners “signed on” as Marines.

Alliance finally shoved off on 14 January 1779 and for the most part, the journey was peaceful and calm —although Alliance did seize two Swedish vessels as prizes and the frigate lost her topmast in a storm. During the early morning hours of 2 February, a mutinous plot was uncovered among the ship’s English-speaking crew. All hands were called on deck and held there while officers searched personal belongings for weapons and evidence of the conspiracy. Landais convened a court of inquiry to question alleged ringleaders. Two of the ringleaders were Master at Arms John Savage and Marine sergeant William Murray. Eventually, Sergeant Murray admitted that he and Savage (along with 70 men) intended to seize the ship and sail her to England. Lafayette, Murray said, was to be placed in irons and delivered to the British government. Landais ordered the mutineers placed in irons and the ship continued to Brest, France —arriving on 6 February.

In Brest, Alliance remained in port for a month while undergoing repair. In early April, John Schweighauser, an American commercial agent, informed Captain Landais that he was to proceed to port on the Loire River. There, John Adams had arranged for a swap of prisoners with the British at Nantes. Adams boarded Alliance expecting to return with Landais to America, but while in port, Landais received new orders directing that he report to Commodore John Paul Jones[9] at L’Orient.

At L’Orient, Captain Landis and Mr. Adams called upon Captain Jones, who was then aboard his ship Bonhomme Richard. At this meeting, Landis learned that he would be placed under the command of Captain Jones. Captain Landais did not want to serve in a squadron; he preferred to sail on his own and he deeply resented having to join Captain Jones’ flotilla. Added to this, from every account, Landais and Jones detested one another almost from the start. For his part, Mr. Adams was disappointed in not being able to return to America aboard Alliance.

Disagreement between Jones and Landais wasn’t long in coming. In terms of modern command relationships, disagreement between commodore and captain may seem strange. In 1779, Captain Jones served as commodore of a flotilla of American and French naval vessels, but he did not command them because each ship’s captain was free to act as he pleased irrespective of the commodore’s wishes. On 25 August, Jones’ flotilla was at sea and Jones became troubled by the fact that several of his squadron’s small boats were lost in the dense fog off the Irish coast[10]. Captain Landais desired to pursue a prize vessel into the treacherous waters along the coast with limited visibility, but Jones, fearing the loss of Alliance, ordered Landais to remain with the fleet. Landais was not obliged to obey, arguing that he had the right to pursue when and where he thought proper “in this and every other matter.”

Jones, with a full realization that the command relationship was at best tentative, tried to reason with Landais, but Captain Landais was adamant and proceeded to accuse Jones of incompetence in losing the small boats, to begin with. Jones, now in a fury, responded that Landais had slandered his superior officer and would not have it. Both officers believed themselves affronted, and according to the code of gentlemanly behavior in 1779, Landais challenged Jones to a duel … choosing the sword. This would, of course, give Landais an advantage given the French tradition of swordsmanship. Jones was known as a hothead, but at this moment, there were larger fish to fry. Jones suggested that duty must be their priority; he suggested they put aside their animosity until they were on land, where they could resolve the matter —as gentlemen.

During the Revolutionary War period, sailing ships were crewed by seaman representing a variety of countries. With the naval powers of Europe being constantly at war, neutral seaports in the North Atlantic abounded in captured ships, taken to port as prizes of war, auctioned and sold with some proceeds distributed among the officers and crew. Once the ships were sold, the men who crewed them were left stranded in the neutral port until they could sign on to another ship. It was in this way that the number of seafaring men increased; it also explains why there was among them no sense of national allegiance. Captain Jones’ crew aboard Bonhomme Richard was a crew like this. They were multilingual, scurvy-ridden, argumentative louts; they obeyed orders because they would have a close encounter with a cat o’ nine tails[11] if they didn’t. To keep the crew in line, Jones divided them into watches with one of these always keeping a wary eye on the other.

During one foray, Jones’ squadron searched for British shipping in the Bay of Biscay. During a squall, both Bonhomme Richard and Alliance were blinded and on a collision course. The bow watch aboard Bonhomme Richard gave shouts of warning in a language other than English or French. Captain Landais assumed that Bonhomme Richard was under siege of a mutinous crew and left his quarterdeck to retrieve weapons from his cabin. The bowsprit of Bonhomme Richard tore into Alliance’s rigging, which damaged her mizenmast. At that moment, Jones was asleep in his cabin. It was no more than an accident at sea, but the incident did nothing to ease the tension between Jones and Landais.

On the late afternoon of 23 September 1779, sailing off Flamborough Head, England, Commodore Jones’ squadron came across the 44-gun HMS Serapis[12] and her consort HMS Countess of Scarborough. The British ships escorted 44 small merchant vessels carrying naval stores. The unarmed or poorly armed cargo ships hastily changed course for the nearest British port for safety. Jones hoisted his signal lantern ordering Alliance to join Bonhomme Richard in the upcoming battle, but Captain Landais ignored Jones’ signal and maintained his course. The battle was joined when Serapis opened fire, blasting Bonhomme Richard in a devastating broadside. Jones lost several guns and crew in the first volley. Worse for Bonhomme Richard, her hull was breached, and her rudder was badly damaged. Alliance finally joined the battle, approaching from Bonhomme Richard’s stern. Serapis, intending to fire on Alliance, raked Bonhomme Richard again. Jones ordered identity lanterns hoisted higher to keep Captain Landais from getting confused. Captain Landais was not confused, however, when he fired point-blank into Bonhomme Richard and then, turning away, unleashed a second barrage into his commodore’s ship.

The British Officer commanding HMS Serapis, Captain Richard Pearson[13], RN, was horrified by the damage done to Bonhomme Richard, but the two ships were locked together in a desperate struggle, each ship hoping to survive. Jones’ Marines were killing the crew of Serapis from their perches in the topsails. The crew of Bonhomme Richard continued to fight valiantly even as the ship began to sink beneath them. The battle lasted more than four hours. HMS Serapis finally struck her colors and Captain Pearson surrendered his sword to Captain Jones. When morning arrived, the American ensign was flying over both ships, but Bonhomme Richard was sinking and would not last the day. After the battle, Captain Landais confided to one of his officers that he intended to help Serapis sink Bonhomme Richard.

British flotilla operating nearby posed a serious threat to Commodore Jones’ squadron, so he was anxious to depart, but before Jones could return to the sea, the captured Serapis needed considerable rework to make her seaworthy. The work took seven days. Jones’ squadron then consisted of Serapis, Alliance, Countess of Scarborough, Pallas, and Vengeance. His orders were to put in at Texel[14], but Jones preferred instead to call at Dunkirk where his prizes and prisoners could be placed under French jurisdiction. His captains refused, however, insisting that Jones follow his original instructions; if the commodore did not wish to follow those orders, then he must proceed to Dunkirk alone. Jones opted to accompany the squadron to Texel.

The American fleet’s very presence in Texel made his Dutch hosts nervous. They agreed to allow the refitting of the squadron’s damaged ships but refused to accept any of his 500 prisoners. Consequently, Jones was forced to retain his prisoners in the cold, damp, rat-infested hold of Serapis. Many of these men were sick, but the Dutch remained adamant. In late October, Jones’ Dutch hosts finally allowed him to remove wounded men and house them in the fort. If Jones wanted these men cared for, then he would have to do that himself; Jones assigned this task to his Marines, which were also employed as guards for the prisoners at Texel, the prisoners aboard Serapis, and as members of the work crew repairing damaged ships.

On 15 October, when American Commissioner Benjamin Franklin[15] received charges of cowardice against Captain Landais, which were validated by the statements and oaths of several squadron officers, he ordered Landais to Paris. Based on the evidence presented, Franklin suspended Landais from command of Alliance, which infuriated Landis to no end.

Once France agreed to assume financial responsibility for the squadron (all except for Alliance), and to avoid rupturing the delicate relations between France and Holland, Captain Jones transferred his flag, all American officers and crew (and most of the ship’s stores) from Serapis to Alliance. Captain Jones was not pleased with the state of the discipline of Alliance’s crew; he wasn’t encouraged by the conduct of Landais’ officers, either. They were too fond of rum.

Disgusted with the Dutch, Captain Jones sought the first favorable wind to depart from Texel; he waited four weeks. Jones finally made his break, escaping through British pickets without incident but Alliance was not a happy ship. Quarrels broke out between ship’s officers, one group supporting Landais, the other devoted to Jones. The primary issue was Landais’ cowardice in the fight off Flamborough Head. Jones instructed his officers to carry out their orders smoothly, professionally, and quietly and dispense with petty arguments with Landais’ officers.

On 10 February 1799, Jones put in at L’Orient and moored beside Serapis, which was awaiting condemnation. Alliance underwent repairs and refit. By mid-April, Jones received orders to return Alliance to America with large supplies of arms and clothing for General Washington’s army. There was still the question of prize money[16], however, and to resolve the issues, Captain Jones frequently traveled to Paris. Captain Landais, meanwhile, plotted to regain command of Alliance.

It was not difficult for Landais to agitate the crew against Jones; he convinced them that Captain Jones had neglected their interests in the matter of prize money. The crew even wrote to Benjamin Franklin declaring that they would not raise the ship’s anchor until their wages and prize money had been paid, or until their captain (Landais) was restored to duty[17]. Marine Captain Matthew Parke was vocal about his refusal to sign such a letter.

On 12 June, Captain Jones returned to L’Orient, assembled his crew, and solicited whether anyone had any complaints. The crew remained silent; their stillness gave no occasion for Captain Jones to act on their behalf. After Jones went ashore, Landais went aboard and seized control of Alliance. All officers of the Bonhomme Richard were sent ashore. Landais then ordered Captain Parke to arm his Marines with bayonets and station them to guard the gangplank. Anyone attempting to board without Landais’ permission was to be impaled.

Neither Jones nor any of his officers made any attempt to regain control of Alliance. Instead, Jones returned to Paris to ask for increased authority from Commissioner Franklin. But, by the time Jones returned, Landais had already departed L’Orient for Port Louis. French authorities responded to Franklin’s request for assistance by laying a boom across the narrow strait outside Port Louis, through which Landais would have to travel. The boom would force Alliance to pass within cannon shot of two French forts guarding the straits. The French also stationed a gunboat to guard the boom, as well. Suddenly, surprising everyone, Captain Jones gave up his intent to regain Alliance. According to Jones, he did not want squabbling between American and French officials to give aid to their common enemy.

No sooner had the French removed the barrier, Captain Landais sailed through the strait, destination America. En route, Landais placed Captain Parke under arrest in quarters for eleven days as punishment for his refusal to take an oath of obedience to Landais. Parke’s arrest soured the officers and crew of Alliance. To emphasize his authority, Landais ordered into irons any crewman who complained about Parke’s treatment. On 11 August, the ship’s officers and crew revolted. By this time, the ship’s crew were convinced that Captain Landais was utterly mad. According to the testimony of Seaman John Kilby, “Landais conduct was such that … [it convinced the officers and passengers] that he was in a measure beside himself.”

Upon Alliance’s arrival in Boston, the Navy Board ordered Captain John Barry to relieve Landais of his command. Landais refused to resign, however, so three stout Marines under the command of Captain Matthew Parke dragged him out of his cabin and took him ashore. At his court-martial, even Pierre’s friends opined that he was probably insane. The verdict? Landais was judged guilty of allowing private goods shipped aboard a warship, of being incapable of handling a ship. He was “broke in rank” and judged unfit of serving in the Continental Navy.

Pierre Landais later became a resident of New York; his share of prize money paid him an annual annuity of $100.00. From this amount, he saved enough to afford an annual visit to the seat of government (first, Philadelphia, and later the federal city named Washington) to petition the Congress for their reconsideration of his dismissal. He asked for the restoration of his rank and payment in arrears. Congress would not hear of it … and Captain Pierre de Landais went to his grave with an intense hatred of John Paul Jones.

Sources:

Allen, G. W. A Naval History of the American Revolution. Boston: Houghton-Mifflin, 1913
Crocker, III. H. W. Don’t Tread on Me. New York: Crown Publishing, 2006
Ford, W. C. Journals of the Continental Congress, 1774-1789. Washington: Government Printing Office, 1937
Norton, L. A. The Revolutionary War’s Most Enigmatic Naval Captain: Pierre Landais. Journal of the American Revolution, Online
Meany, W. B. Commodore John Barry: Father of the American Navy. New York/London: Harper Brothers, 1911
Morison, S. E. John Paul Jones: A Sailor’s Biography. Boston: Little/Brown, 1999
Smith, C. R., and Charles H. Waterhouse. Marines in the Revolution: A History of the Continental Marines in the American Revolution, 1775-1783. Washington: History and Museums Division, Headquarters, U. S. Marine Corps, 1975.
Thomas, E. John Paul Jones: Sailor, Hero, Father of the American Navy. Waterville: Thorndike Press, 2003.

Endnotes:

[1] This is a British phrase used to suggest that a person is suffering from insanity. The phrase is thought to have originated from Bedfordshire where local men worked in the hatter business, which used mercury in the hat making process. Their exposure to mercury caused symptoms like madness. Louis Carol’s reference to a character in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland is only casually related to Hatter’s Disease.

[2] Jeanne Antoinette Poisson, Marquise de Pompadour (1721-1764) was the official mistress of Louis XV (1745-51) and remained a favorite at Royal Court until her death. Official mistress … those French!

[3] In these days, military officers purchased their promotions rather than earning them.

[4] Beaumarchais was a polymath with skills in watchmaking, invention, playwright, musician, diplomat, spy, publisher, horticulturist, arms dealer, satirist, financier, and revolutionary.

[5] In 1777, Adams was a delegate to the Continental Congress serving on as many as 90 separate committees, one of these being Chair, Board of War and Ordnance. It was likely that in this position, Adams met with Landais. In late 1777, Adams was appointed US Envoy to France, serving until March 1779.

[6] Rejection may have come from John Adams, who was a member of the Marine Commission.

[7] Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier.

[8] As one of the first Marine officers, Matthew Parke served alongside John Paul Jones on the Ranger during his highly successful cruise in British home waters, as well as serving on Alliance during the Battle of Flamborough Head. The Continental Marine uniform consisted of green coats with white facings and tall leather collar to protect the neck from sharp edged weapons (hence, the term “Leatherneck”). Captain Park’s portrait dates to around 1800. Portraits of Continental Navy officers are rare; portraits of Continental Marines even more so.

[9] In 1778 “commodore” was an honorific title bestowed upon navy captains appointed to lead several ships, also referred to as a squadron. The relationship between a commodore in command of a squadron and his subordinate captains was more on the order of a loose confederation since each ship’s captain was free to ignore the commodore and go their own way as they saw fit. This was probably the result of the fact that one or more ships were captained by French officers who owed no allegiance to the birthing United States.

[10] It was customary in those days to lower boats, particularly in dense fog, to search for the presence of enemy ships.

[11] A multi-tailed flail commonly used to administer punishment in the British and Continental army and navy.

[12] HMS Serapis was named after the god Serapis in Greek and Egyptian mythology. Captured by Jones, Serapis was later transferred to the French Navy serving as a privateer. She was lost in 1781 to a fire.

[13] Pearson (1731-1806) was an experienced naval officer. After his fight with Bonhomme Richard, the English people embraced him as a true British hero. He was knighted and received many accolades from the English people. Responding to a question about how he felt that the officer he defeated in battle received a knighthood, Captain John Paul Jones answered, “If he’ll meet me on the high seas again, I’ll make him a Lord.”

[14] Today, the Netherland’s largest and populated island.

[15] Franklin served as U. S. Commissioner to France from 1776 to 1785. Among his accomplishments was the securing a critical military alliance between France and the United States, and the Treaty of Paris in 1783.

[16] Given the fact that France financially supported the combined American/French naval fleets, captured ships not converted to war ships or cargo vessels (and their cargoes) were sold at auction. The proceeds from these sales were then divvied up between the treasury of France, and the officers and crews who had made the capture. Delays in making these payments to crewmen was common and, not surprisingly, a major source of the crewmen’s complaints.

[17] It is almost laughable to imagine that this rather unsophisticated group of crewmen wanted (either) their money, or Captain Landais. One suspects that Captain Landais himself slipped that one in …

Retribution

Brigadier General Robert Leamy Meade was truly “Old Corps.” Born in 1842, he was the nephew of Civil War Major General George G. Meade. On 14 June 1862, Robert L. Meade received an appointment as a U. S. Marine Corps as a second lieutenant. A year later, he led a raid against Fort Sumter, South Carolina and, despite this courageous effort, Meade was captured by its rebel occupants and spent the remainder of the war as a guest of the Confederate States Army. After the war, in recognition of his “gallant and meritorious service” while getting himself captured, Meade was brevetted to First Lieutenant.

In the post-war period, Meade served in several assignments that were typical of Marine Corps service in those days. He commanded the Marine Detachment aboard the first US warship to visit Cochin (present-day Vietnam), he served as Commanding Officer, Marine Barracks at the New York Navy Yard, and later as the barracks commander in Boston. It was while serving in Boston that the Assistant Secretary of the Navy prevailed upon Major Meade to consider hiring a construction company that was known to the secretary for their good work in military construction projects. Meade considered the Assistant Secretary’s suggestion as wholly inappropriate and somewhat arrogantly rebuffed Theodore Roosevelt’s recommendation. It was in this way that Robert L. Meade acquired a life-long political enemy.

The incident, while minor, illustrates how little politics has changed over the past 130 years.

In 1898, Theodore Roosevelt was instrumental in starting a “splendid little war” with Spain, known today as the Spanish-American War. At the time, Lieutenant Colonel Meade was serving as the Fleet Marine Officer aboard the USS New York, during which time he participated in the Battle of Santiago in Cuba. Meade’s inconsiderate (and some say, ungentlemanly) treatment of Spanish prisoners of war prompted Captain Victor Maria Concas y Palau, serving in command of the Spanish cruiser Infanta Maria Teresa to complain in writing about Meade’s poor attitude. In his letter, Captain Palau stated quite emphatically that Meade’s lack of humanity contributed to the death of several Spanish sailors by refusing to afford these wounded men adequate medical treatment. Captain Palau also complained about Meade’s blatant disrespect toward Spanish officers. Both of these charges are very likely true.

Nevertheless, in 1899, Meade was advanced to the rank of colonel and received orders to assume command of the 1st Marine Brigade in the Philippines. He would replace Lieutenant Colonel George F. Elliott, who was transferred back to the United States. Meade, as it turns out, was very much the same kind of man as his contemporary, Henry Clay Cochran, who was known as cantankerous, a stickler for adherence to regulations and protocol, and harshly critical of almost everyone and everything. Meade was also known for having pronounced affectations and for having little hesitance in offering a sharp rebuke.

One of the things that drove Meade into a tyrannical rant was a lack of punctuality among his officers and men. He would not tolerate it, and he trusted no man to be at an appointed place and time without constant reminders. Anyone who was late for muster, or late in reporting for duty, received ten days of arrest. There was never any discussion about this. Meade ruled his officers and men with an iron hand. One of Meade’s officers observed, “The Colonel puts a crimp in everyone’s style.”

Meade R L BrigGen 001 Not long after Colonel Meade (shown left after retirement) arrived at Cavite, Philippine Islands, he began issuing a stream of seemingly inexhaustible orders and was intent upon informing his officers of every rule, every regulation, and every policy imaginable. His officers, especially the lieutenants, deeply resented being treated like schoolboys. The lieutenants particularly disliked Meade’s insistence that they dine in full uniform. He would not permit them to remove their blouses and dine in their shirtsleeves, which given the excruciatingly hot and humid conditions in the Philippines, might have been warranted. After all, it wasn’t as if the officers were dining at the White House. Every meal made these junior officers even more resentful of Meade for his silly protocol. Each meal added insult to injury.

Being lieutenants, the young men began to look for ways to convey their profound unhappiness to the colonel of the brigade, but none of their ideas, each presented at clandestine assemblages, seemed plausible (or safe). No one was foolish enough to present their complaint directly to the colonel, of course, because to do so would end any possibility of a career in the Marine Corps. Besides that, all their ideas seemed completely impracticable. The young officers continued to suffer and fume among themselves.

But then, since the Lord has a soft spot in His heart for lieutenants, Colonel Meade was laid up with rheumatism, a painful condition producing great discomfort. In those days, the only remedy for rheumatism was light duty and topical treatments. Colonel Meade’s physician confined him to his quarters while undergoing medical care.

In the Marine Corps, there are few intelligence gathering systems more efficient or impressive than the junior officer’s spy network. It wasn’t long before the lieutenants learned of Colonel Meade’s intense hatred of monkeys, which in the Philippines are quite populous. The constant chattering and scampering about of primates atop the corrugated tin roof of the colonel’s quarters was particularly annoying and they could not be quieted. Colonel Meade endured this constant racket for two full nights, and the longer it went on, the more profane Meade became.

Colonel Meade’s orderly was Private Coughlin. Coughlin’s good friend was a young man who performed orderly duties for the lieutenants. The source of their information thus established, the lieutenants learned about Meade’s unhappiness with the monkeys and his muttering threats about having them shot. They also learned about the colonel’s double barrel shotgun, which he kept stored in a closet, and that Colonel Meade had ordered Coughlin to obtain a box of double-ought buckshot shells. It was this information that prompted the lieutenants to call another clandestine meeting.

Philippine Macaque 001 The plan called for two groups of lieutenants. One group, having collected a sum of money from all members of the lieutenant’s protective association, purchased every caged monkey they could get their hands on from the nearby village. The second group performed a careful safety inspection of the shotgun shells. That very night, in the safety of early morning darkness, Meade’s lieutenants liberated the caged monkeys into trees surrounding the Colonel’s quarters.

At dawn, the roof of Colonel Meade’s quarters was a solid mass of squabbling monkeys —so much so, in fact, that there was hardly any room for any more of them on the colonel’s roof or in any of the surrounding trees. If this wasn’t bad enough, the cheeky monkeys were leaping from the trees to the colonel’s open windowsills. At one-minute past dawn, Colonel Meade roared for his orderly. “Private Coughlin! Bring me my god-damned shotgun!”

Private Coughlin was quite worried. The colonel was beside himself, stomping from one end of his quarters to the other, cursing like a sailor. Considering the colonel’s state of mind, Private Coughlin was anxious about placing a weapon in his hand, but of course, orderlies do not argue with their officers. Coughlin dutifully took the shotgun out of a closet and presented it to his commanding officer.

The expression on Colonel Meade’s face was maniacal. Refusing to take the weapon, the colonel roared at Coughlin, “Private, I want you to shoot every one of these god-damned monkeys!” Less than twenty feet away, sitting on the windowsill of the colonel’s bedroom, was a screeching monkey. “And start with that bastard,” Colonel Meade added, pointing.

Private Coughlin loaded the double barrel weapon and took aim. The Monkey defiantly chattered and shrieked at Coughlin, but the Marine, a veteran of several battles, calmly pulled the trigger. The blast was deafening, and shotgun residue filled the space between Private Coughlin and the windowsill. One might have expected to observe a monkey shot to pieces. No, the monkey remained in the window —more agitated and fussing even more loudly. Confused, Coughlin first looked at the weapon, and then at Colonel Meade standing a few feet away. “Shoot him, damn you,” the colonel thundered.

Private Coughlin again took aim and pulled the second trigger. Another loud blast followed by even more residue … and the monkey, remaining very much alive, began running helter-skelter inside the colonel’s bedroom. Colonel Meade stood staring in disbelief. Private Coughlin was perplexed. He didn’t understand … but the purple-faced colonel who stomped off into his drawing room understood. Someone had reloaded his shotgun shells with sawdust.

Colonel Meade’s lieutenants had taken their revenge.

Later that morning, after consulting with his adjutant, Colonel Meade passed the word that henceforth, the officers would be allowed to dine in shirt sleeves. That very night, quite amazingly, all but a mere handful of monkeys disappeared from around the Colonel’s quarters.

A few weeks later, Colonel Meade received orders transferring him to serve as Senior Marine Officer at the International Legation in Peking where he would occupy his time dealing with the so-called Boxer Rebellion. Eventually, Meade returned to the United States for medical reasons. In recognition of his distinguished service in China, Meade was brevetted to the rank of brigadier general on 13 July 1900.

In 1903, Major General Charles Haywood retired from his post as Commandant of the Marine Corps. With Haywood’s retirement, Brigadier General Meade became the most senior officer on active duty. According to tradition, Meade was next in line to serve as Commandant, and he might have received that appointment were it not for the fact that President Theodore Roosevelt had a long memory. Passing Meade over, Roosevelt instead promoted George F. Elliott to Major General and appointed him to serve as Commandant, U. S. Marine Corps.

Brigadier General Meade retired from active service in 1906. He passed away in 1910 and was buried with honors in Huntington, New York.

Source: Colonel Frederic M. Wise, USMC (Deceased): A Marine Tells It to You. J. L. Sears Company, 1929. Colonel Wise was a lieutenant serving in the Philippine Islands at the time of the monkey incident.

RIVER FIGHTS: Vietnam War

Some Background

Following the French defeat at Dien Bien Phu in 1954, the United States Military Assistance Advisory Group (Indochina) (USMAAG Indochina) became USMAAG (Vietnam) and with this transition, the United States became even more deeply involved in the affairs and prerogatives of the South Vietnamese (Republic of Vietnam) regime. Wisely, President Eisenhower firmly resisted the urgings of some advisors to send in troops, but he did expand the role of military advisors and in time, all US armed services were represented on the USMAAG (Vietnam) staff.

In 1960, newly elected John F. Kennedy approved the USMAAG’s request for increases in the size of the South Vietnamese Army (also, Army of the Republic of Vietnam or ARVN) and an increase in the number of military and civilian advisors. As Henry Bohn told us in 1855, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. John Kennedy began excavating a hole our government couldn’t stop digging.

Lay of the Land

The Mekong Delta extends from Saigon (now, Ho Chi Minh City) south and west to the Gulf of Thailand and the border with Cambodia. Its area extends nearly 29,000 square miles and it is home to an estimated 15 million inhabitants. In all, the Mekong Delta constitutes about a quarter of the total land area and half the population of the former Republic of Vietnam. The Delta is a flat alluvial plain created by the Mekong River, a land surface covered by rice paddies, which makes this region one of the world’s most productive rice-growing areas. It is by far the most important agricultural region in Vietnam.

In terms of overland communication, the Mekong Delta was an unmitigated disaster, as the region is intersected by a complex network of waterways and inundated by heavy rain and seasonal floods. In 1960, there was but one major hard surface road, which extended from Saigon to Ca Mau. Secondary roads were either poorly surfaced or unattended. While the land facilitated air combat operations, poor road systems, rice paddies, canals, wide ditches, and rivers complicated ground operations. In contrast, the waterway system was very sophisticated, and the US MAAG realized early on that if the US intended to pacify the Mekong Delta (also, IV Corps Tactical Zone, or IV CTZ), it would have to consider implementing riverine operations.

Most Vietnamese in this area are concentrated along waterways that constitute the principal transportation routes, on average, around 400 people per square mile. Typically, Vietnamese homes are surrounded by dense trees, shrubs, and bushes —cultivated for fruit, shade, or decoration. The vegetation was pleasing to look at, but it also gave protection and concealment to communist insurgents. When planning for operations in the IV CTZ, US military officers wanted to take the war to the enemy but do so without endangering local inhabitants. With its population density, it was nearly impossible to move friendly forces without their being observed by unfriendly eyes. The enemy always seemed to know when Uncle Sam was coming for a visit.

Vietnam’s Delta seacoasts have an extensive network of mangrove swamps. Vegetation on the coastal mudflats is dense, root structure high, and tangled, which makes access difficult and cross-country movements challenging. Rice paddies are separated by thickets of trees in varied patterns. Large cultivated plantations are marked by rows of palm trees, many of which border deep ditches or wide canals. Operational planners for riverine operations had to factor in water, vegetation, terrain, and the influence of sea tides; it also involved guesswork. There was no way to accurately predict travel or operational times.

The Enemy

The Mekong Delta (IV CTZ) was rife with communist insurgents … estimated at around 84,000 men in 1966. Of those, around 20,000 were trained and well-armed combat troops with about 51,000 part-time guerrillas. In 1966, there were no North Vietnamese Army (NVA) forces operating in IV Corps. Logistically, Viet Cong forces relied on support from local populations and whatever could be provided from North Vietnam. Cambodia, bordering IV CTZ, was a haven for supplies moving down from the north.

Friendlies

ARVN forces in IV CTZ were subdivided into three divisional tactical zones: in the north, the 7th ARVN Division at My Thơ, in the center, the 9th ARVN Division at Sa Dec, and in the south, the 21st ARVN Division at Bac Lieu. In total, around 40,000 men, including five ranger battalions and three armored cavalry squadrons. Regular forces were augmented by Regional, Popular, and Irregular troops, and the National Police[1]. The conventional wisdom (back then) was that anyone joining Regional or Popular Forces organizations was “just asking for it” (VC assassination). Unsurprisingly, both groups had high desertion rates, and the thing that made irregular troops so irregular was that one could never find them when they were needed.

Vietnamese naval forces in the 4th Naval Zone evolved from the French Dinassauts and included six river assault groups and eleven coastal groups that formed the so-called Junk Fleet. Assault groups fell under the IV CTZ Commander; their primary mission was supporting ARVN riverine operations. Each group could lift an ARVN infantry battalion. In 1966, these units were used in their primary role about 10% of the time. The reason for this was that the ARVN battalion commanders preferred airmobile operations; they were more fun and had greater visibility for purposes of promotion.

US Forces

United States Navy advisors entered the Mekong Delta in 1957 to replace the withdrawing French. By 1966, the military advisory effort infused the entire RVN military structure. In total, around 2,700 officers and enlisted men representing the Army, Navy, Marine Corps, and Air Force were assigned to corps, division, and provincial organizations, and the IV CTZ Area Logistics Command. The USN Advisory Group (RVN) provided advisors to the Vietnamese Navy’s six river assault groups and eleven coastal groups.

In 1965, the U. S. Army’s 13th Combat Aviation Battalion was assigned to the Delta to support ARVN operations; by August of that year, the battalion operated four assault helicopter companies and one air reconnaissance company. By mid-1966, naval forces included TASK FORCE 115 (also, MARKET TIME) and TASK FORCE 116 (also, GAME WARDEN). The mission assigned to Market Time was interdiction of coastal areas to prevent resupply of VC forces by sea. Game Warden was tasked with interdicting enemy lines of communications and assisting ARVN forces in repelling enemy attacks on river outposts of Regional and Popular Forces. Despite the optimism of the American administration, which predicted a communist free Mekong Delta by mid-1965, about one-third of all communist attacks in South Vietnam in 1966 occurred within the IV CTZ; Viet Cong forces controlled about 25% of the population of the Delta.

To the Vietnamese high command in 1966, the question of whether a province was “pacified” was entirely political. The American reality was that the South Vietnamese government-controlled, in total, only about four percent of the land in IV CTZ. ARVN commanders bragged that they controlled these areas but if true, it was only during hours of daylight; the Viet Cong controlled the night.

Riverine warfare is an extension of sea power. The Navy’s control of the sea enables it to project its strength ashore, including inland waterways, into the heart of the enemy territory. None of the Navy’s resources operate inside a vacuum; the Navy works as a team. In this example, blue water ships, amphibious forces, and its aviation arm all supported riverine operations. It was Vietnam’s communist insurgency within a vast inland waterway that led the Navy to reexamine its previous successes in riverine operations.

A key strategy in confronting and then defeating a guerrilla force is isolation and interdiction. US strategy in Vietnam involved denying guerrilla forces freedom of movement, access to the general population, the ability to withdraw into remote sanctuaries to regroup, and the ability to resupply. U. S. Naval forces in Vietnam played a key role in achieving all these objectives. Coastal surveillance programs formed a tight barrier against the infiltration of personnel, arms, and supplies from the sea. Taking surveillance one step further, the rigid control of fishing areas diminished the insurgent’s ability to feed himself, and river patrols established protocols for the inspection of junks and sampans, which were the primary method of transporting people and goods over hundreds of miles of inland waterways.

No less important in combatting guerrilla forces is gathering intelligence, which is often a slow, painstaking process. One must first locate the enemy before he can be eliminated. Finding the enemy was often facilitated by nurturing relationships with local inhabitants, which was also a key element in riverine operations.

Highly mobile and well-armed riverine forces coordinated their activities with ground and air forces to interdict guerrilla activities. The Navy’s shallow-draft patrol craft seized the initiative in carrying the fight to enemy sanctuaries far up the rivers and into canals —areas that had not been previously penetrated by French or ARVN ground units. To achieve these goals, the Navy employed a variety of combat and combat-support organizations, each with unique but well-coordinated missions: River Patrol Force, Mobile Riverine Force, Coastal Surveillance Force, Naval Advisory Group, and strike campaigns dubbed OPERATION SEALORDS[2].

An Imposing Environment

As previously explained, riverine operations assume many shapes because inland waterways form unique challenges. Vietnam’s inland waterways were at least a bewildering maze of interconnecting systems, so the Navy implemented a wide range of strategies to address them —made more difficult after the NVA began infiltrating South Vietnam in 1968. At that time, the US Navy began looking for more than increasingly dispirited guerillas; they were looking for hard-core NVA regulars, as well. The Mekong Delta was a paradise for guerrilla operations, which the NVA demonstrated could be just-as-easily implemented by regular forces. Thick vegetation along the waterways limits visibility and offers excellent opportunities for ambush; floating vegetation and heavily silted waters concealed mines and other explosive devices. Command detonated mines often signaled the beginning of hellacious firefights —some of these taking places within 50-75 feet of opposing forces.

There are three distinct regions within the Mekong Delta: Plains of Reeds, northwest of Saigon, which during seasonal floods lies beneath six feet of water, the Lower Mekong, which is a vast rice-growing region and the location of the imposing Ca Mau forest, and the mangrove swamps at the mouth of the Mekong adjacent to the Rung Sat (Forest of Assassins) Special Zone (RSSZ), which includes the main shipping channel to Saigon. In the mangrove swamps, tides are extreme and vegetation so thick that men on the ground lose sight of each other four feet apart.

OPERATION JACKSTAY

On 26 February 1966, Viet Cong forces ambushed the SS Lorinda, a Panamanian-flagged coastal freighter on the Lòng Tàu River, about 18 miles south of Saigon. The attack wounded six crewmen and caused the ship to veer off course and run aground. This was not a trend the Americans could allow to develop. Accordingly, Commander, U. S. Military Assistance Command, Vietnam (COMUSMACV) ordered a punitive raid against insurgents operating within the shipping channel approach to Saigon.

Navy and Marine Corps operational planners put together a blue water force off the coast of Vietnam, the first major U. S. Navy riverine operation in the Rung Sat Special Zone (RSSZ); it marked a major turning point in the unfolding saga of projecting American sea power from the high seas and coastal waterways into the vast waterways of the Mekong Delta. Before this, the Navy’s participation in the river war was limited to inshore operations conducted by Swift Boats and Coastal Patrol Boats assigned to the Vietnamese Navy and their U. S. Navy advisors. From this point forward, the Navy became increasingly involved in the river war. The operation was designated JACKSTAY.

JACKSTAY underscored the versatility made possible by the domination of the wetlands, whether offshore or in-country. The operation, conducted in two phases, was planned to decimate the Viet Cong in the RSSZ, a 400-square mile area of swamp particularly suited for clandestine operations. The region of the RSSZ had harbored communist insurgents for well over a generation; it was where the Viet Minh/Cong manufactured weapons, where they treated their wounded, trained recruits, and stocked their supplies from North Vietnam.

1:5 Unit Patch JACKSTAY was a two-phased operation plan[3] that called for an assault on the Long Thanh Peninsula (RSSZ) by the 1st Battalion, 5th Marines (1/5) from ships operating off-shore: the USS Princeton, USS Pickaway, USS Alamo, USS Belle Grove, and USS Merrick. USS Robison, GAME WARDEN swift boats, and MARKET TIME patrol boats provided naval gunfire support. Air groups from USS Hancock provided helicopter lift and close air support.

The operation kicked off on the morning of 26 March 1966 with preliminary naval bombardments by Robison and aircraft from Hancock. Navy Underwater Demolition Team (UDT) swimmers, preparatory airstrikes by Seventh Fleet carrier-based aircraft, and naval gunfire all supported the operation. Throughout, amphibious craft and coastal surveillance craft provided surveillance and blocking operations against Viet Cong escape. The long inland reach of U. S. Navy sea power quickly adapted to operational complexities.

A Marine rifle company landed via surface craft near Dong Hoa on the western end of the peninsula with two additional companies executing a vertical assault at the center and on the eastern end. The Marines encountered only scattered small arms resistance and soon established 21 four-man listening posts beyond their night perimeter. During the night, VC attacked one of these posts initiating a firefight that resulted in two Marine KIAs and three enemies dead. That same night, VC ambushed PCF-31[4] about one mile from Cần Giờ on the Long Thanh Peninsula, seriously injuring one crewman and severely damaging the patrol boat.

On 28 March, Marines made another unopposed surface assault on the Soài Rạp River, this time targeting an enemy logistics area on the Vam Sat River (linked to the headquarters element on the Soài Rạp River) and destroyed a cache of weapons that included over 1,000 grenades.

Following airstrikes from the Hancock and naval gunfire from USS Henry County, USS Washoe County, and Ontos[5] fire from the deck of Henry County on 31 March, an 18-boat convoy entered the Vam Sat River. Led by two Vietnamese-manned Higgins Boats[6], the convoy included two Vietnamese LCCPs rigged with chain drags and grapnels for minesweeping, and armored LCM-6 (equipped with mortars and automatic weapons), seven LCMs, a rifle company of Marines in two LCVPs, two LCPLs providing additional gunfire support, two LCM-3 salvage boats. Helicopter gunships provided air cover. Commander Derwin T. Lamb, USN commanded the convoy from the open deck of an LCPL positioned directly behind the Vietnamese minesweepers. Captain John D. Westervelt, USN commanded the overall landing operation from an overhead helicopter.

As Lamb’s convoy approached the first bend of the Vam Sat River, Viet Cong command-detonated a crude electrical mine halfway between Lamb’s command LCP and the minesweepers. An explosion reminiscent of Confederate torpedoes from a hundred years before reverberated across the water. The craft escaped damage because they wisely hugged the shallows rather than navigating from the center of the channel. The explosion signaled the commencement of intense small arms fire from the thick foliage on both banks. Lamb led the convoy through the withering fire while all boats opened with their firepower. Helicopter gunships strafed and rocketed VC positions about 100-yards inland, preventing the VC from bringing heavier guns to bear. A mile further downriver, enemy fire became sporadic.

After landing a Marine rifle company in the heart of the dismal mangrove swamp, Lamb moved his convoy back up-river in the same formation to land two additional companies of Marines, who immediately disappeared into the thick underbrush. When the Marines had completed their mission, LCMs (also, “Mike” boats) churned their way to shore, crashing their way through the overhanging tree limbs and into the dense undergrowth. Lowering the ramps cut an opening through the rotted vegetation, making it easier for the Marines to re-board.

During recovery operations, the convoy again ran into ineffective small arms fire. The open LCMs, each carrying 60 Marines, may have been vulnerable targets were it not for the work of the gunships overhead and the fact that the VC riflemen were poor shooters.

JACKSTAY concluded on 6 April with the destruction of arms factories, training camps, a headquarters complex, and a makeshift hospital. Large amounts of rice and other foods were captured, along with 60,000 rounds of ammunition and 300 pounds of gunpowder. Sixty-three enemies were killed in the combined assaults, while American Marines lost five men killed in action. Subsequently, Viet Cong activity decreased in this area of the Delta.

The results of JACKSTAY were far more significant than the 53 confirmed Viet Cong dead or the tons of material destroyed or captured. Its success was laudable, of course, but so too was the projection of naval power into the heart of an enemy sanctuary. As the Navy’s initial combined riverine operation, JACKSTAY served as a loud knock on the door to an enemy that had had its way in the RSSZ for far too long. The message was unmistakable: the VC could run, and the enemy could hide, but they would not be able to elude the powerful arm of the United States Navy-Marine Corps team. Ultimately, after scurrying around like rats, the communists would only die tired.

In the middle of JACKSTAY, on 1 April 1966, Rear Admiral Norvell G. Ward[7], USN assumed duty as Commander, U. S. Navy Forces, Vietnam (COMUSNAVFORV). The purpose of NAVFORV was to consolidate several U. S. Navy programs under a single component command of the USMACV. In addition to supervision of the support commands at Saigon and Da Nang, and the Navy Construction (Seabee) battalions, Ward assumed responsibility for missions assigned to the Naval Advisory Group, Coastal Surveillance Forces, and River Patrol Forces. Mobile Riverine Force (TASK FORCE 117) was added in 1967.

Sources:

Sherwood, J. D. War in the Shallows: U. S. Navy Coastal and Riverine Warfare in Vietnam, 1965-1968. Washington, D. C.: Naval History and Heritage Command, Department of the Navy, 2015.
Marolda, E. J. Riverine Warfare: The U. S. Navy’s Operations on Inland Waters. Washington, D. C.: U. S. Navy Historical Center, 2006
Fulton, W. B. Vietnam Studies: Riverine Operations, 1966-1969. Washington, D. C.: Department of the Army, 1985.
Affield, W. Muddy Jungle Rivers: A River Assault Boat’s Cox’n’s Memory of Vietnam. Hawthorne Petal Press, 2012.
U. S. Army Field Manual 31-75: Riverine Warfare. Washington: Headquarters, U. S. Army, 1971
Friedman, N. US Small Combatants: PT Boats, Subchasers, and the Brownwater Navy, an Illustrated Design History. 1987.
Joiner, G. Lincoln’s Brown Water Navy: The Mississippi Squadron. Rowman & Littlefield, 2007.
Rowlands, K. Riverine Warfare: Naval War College Review, Vol 71, No. 1. Art. 5., Annapolis: Naval War College, 2018

Endnotes:

[1] Referred to as “White Mice” owing to their uniforms.

[2] SEALORDS was an acronym for Southeast Asia Lake, Ocean, River, and Delta Strategy. SEALORDS was a joint operational concept involving US and RVN forces conceived by Admiral Elmo Zumwalt who at the time served as Commander, Naval Forces, Vietnam (COMNAVFORV). Its intention was to disrupt enemy supply lines within and around the Mekong Delta. The program was turned over to the Republic of Vietnam Navy (RVNN) in 1971.

[3] Operational planners realized that the insurgent force within the RSSZ was too large for a single battalion operation, so the purpose of JACKSTAY was limited to disrupting Viet Cong operations and a demonstration to the enemy that the US was well aware of their presence and that US/RVN forces could penetrate their sanctuary at will.

[4] PCF-31 (Patrol Craft, Fast) (also, Swift Boat) were 50’ aluminum boats used in patrolling Vietnam’s extensive waterways, part of the so-called Brown Water Navy.

[5] Officially, Allis-Chalmers Rifle, Multiple 106mm Self-propelled M50 light armored tracked anti-tank vehicle with service between 1956-1969

[6] Designed by Andrew Higgins based on watercraft used for operating in swamps and marshes in Louisiana. Higgins produced nearly 24,000 of these boats, designated Landing Craft, Vehicle, Personnel (LCVP), during World War II. Variants of the Higgins Boats were created and designated for special purposes, such as LCU, LCI, LCA, and LCG.

[7] Admiral Ward was assigned to head the Naval Advisory Group, United States Military Assistance Command (Vietnam) on 31 July 1965. The Naval Advisory Group was dissolved and renamed U. S. Naval Force, Vietnam on 1 April and Admiral Ward became its first commander. During his assignment in Vietnam, Ward was instrumental in developing riverine and coastal interdiction strategies. Admiral Ward served in the submarine service for most of his career beginning in 1931. He retired from active duty in 1973, choosing not to accept a promotion to Vice Admiral to be with his cancer-stricken wife. Admiral Ward passed away in 2005.

RIVER FIGHTS: The Middle Years

War with Mexico

The US Navy added to its growing experience in inland operations during the Mexican War. When hostilities began, Commodore David Conner, commanding the Home Squadron, blockaded the Mexican Gulf Coast. The blockade forced the enemy to use inland waterways and overland routes to move supplies. San Juan Bautista, 74 miles up the Tabasco River from Frontera, was a distribution center for contraband war materials. The river had ample depth to accommodate large vessels but there were significant obstacles in planning for an assault. The river’s current was strong, dense vegetation provided good cover for riflemen and snipers. The river also took a sharp (and hazardous) “S” bend (called the Devil’s Turn) and there were two strategically placed forts guarding the approaches to San Juan Bautista. Normally, sailing vessels alone would have little chance of success —but at this time, the US Navy was incorporating steam engines into the fleet. The Home Squadron had several small steam-powered ships of war.

On 23 October 1846, a naval expeditionary force under Commodore Matthew C. Perry crossed the sand bar at Frontera and seized the town with little to no resistance. Then, with three steamers and four other vessels, proceeded upriver to San Juan with a 200-man landing party. The journey took around 33 hours. Anticipated resistance 9 miles below San Juan never materialized because the Mexican garrisons fled as soon as they could see the American ships closing for action.

Arriving at San Juan before noon on 25 October, Perry demanded the town’s surrender. When the Alcalde[1] returned an insolent reply, Perry fired on the central flag staff, destroying it. Perry spared the town but to keep shipping out of the hands of insurgents and gun runners, he seized two Mexican steamers, five schooners, and several smaller craft. When Mexican riflemen opened fire on Perry’s squadron, Perry had his cannon rake the streets, which effectively ended all interest in firing on the Americanos. Neither of the two towns was occupied, but Frontera was blockaded for six months. When the blockade was lifted, Mexican smugglers began their activities anew.

In mid-June 1847, Commodore Perry was ready to ascend the Tabasco River for the second time. This time, Perry assembled a larger force. An advocate of naval infantry drill and landing party training, Perry formed a naval brigade of 2,500 officers, seamen, and Marines. Captain J. Mayo was appointed to command the brigade. Perry’s squadron included four small steam warships, six schooners, bomb brigs, and numerous ships’ boats.

At the first elbow of the Devil’s Turn, lead ships encountered small arms fire from dense chaparral banks. Ships’ fire silenced the shooters, but obstructions had been placed in the river around the turn. Well-manned breastworks on the shore provided a Mexican firing platform. After reconnoitering the obstructions, Perry landed his brigade for the nine-mile march overland to San Juan.

While Perry led his naval brigade through the swamps and jungle, Lieutenant David Dixon Porter[2] assumed command of the flotilla and worked his ships through the obstructions. Perry’s combined force successfully routed 600 Mexican troops at Accachappa and moved on to Fort Iturbide situated just below San Juan. Fort Iturbide had a battery of six guns and 400 infantry troops. Porter led the flotilla into Mexican fire and then, under the protective cover of ship’s cannonade, he released a landing party to assault the fort. The Mexicans broke before the charge. When Perry and the brigade arrived, the American flag was already flying above the fort.

In two separate instances, Perry demonstrated the value of coordinated tactical inland penetrations. The operation against San Juan Bautista was a valuable lesson for the US Navy; it would come in handy again in the not-too-distant future.

The Rude War

The U. S. Navy’s main advantage over the Confederate States of America in 1861 was that the south had no navy at the beginning of the Civil War. Accordingly, the Union navy had, and retained, its control of the sea at all stages of this conflict. The U. S. Navy implemented three broad strategies: (a) naval blockade of southern coastal regions, (b) amphibious assault and capture of port cities and strong points, (c) splitting the Confederacy along the Mississippi River (and tributaries) and seizing inland waterways to crush Confederate resistance. The Union navy’s effective 3,000-mile blockade and the imbalance of opposing naval forces resulted in its ability to focus on coastal and inland riverine operations[3].

Commander John D. Rodgers, placed in overall charge of riverine operations for the navy, selected vessels and readied a force under Army control in northwestern waters with its headquarters near Cairo, Illinois (at the confluence of the Ohio and Mississippi rivers). From this location, Union vessels could influence river traffic in Illinois, Kentucky, and Missouri. Rodgers purchased and converted river steamers into wooden gunboats: Tyler, Lexington, and Conestoga. Through the War Department, Rodgers contracted for seven additional gunboats (named for the cities they would defend). These “city class” vessels became the backbone of the river fleet. They were 175-feet long, had a 50-foot beam, and the top deck was shielded with heavy armor. Thirteen guns included old-fashioned 42-pounders (supplied by the Army), and 8-inch and 32-pound navy guns.

While the city class boats were under construction, the wooden gunboats made significant contributions to the Union effort. These former sidewheelers, unarmored and vulnerable, could not have challenged a seagoing warship or stout fortification but they did achieve good results. In a nation with few and exceedingly poor roads, they controlled the river highways. Moreover, they provided mobility and speed of movement of troops and supplies, surprise attack, and flexibility in strategy and tactics, and rapid exchange of information between and among field commanders.

Strong southern sentiment permeated the Ohio and Mississippi river systems. One effect of the gunboats was that they discouraged secessionists and gave confidence to Unionists. Fence-sitters stayed out of the way. Alfred Thayer Mahan[4] was convinced that the riverine force was of inestimable service in keeping alive attachment to the Union and preventing secession by Kentucky and Missouri.

The Battle of Belmont (Missouri) was joined on 7 November 1861, the first combat test in the Civil War for Brigadier General Ulysses S. Grant. On 6 November, Grant moved his 3,000 troops by riverboat from Cairo to assault the Confederate outpost near Belmont, which was across the river from the rebel stronghold at Columbus, Kentucky. Grant and his men went ashore on the Missouri side and marched overland to Belmont. Grant succeeded in surprising and over-powering the Confederates[5], but they were quickly reorganized and reinforced by Major General Leonidas Polk. Grants victory was short lived as Polk endeavored to cut off Grant’s withdrawal. It was only through the gunboats that Grant and the Union survivors made good their escape[6].

River gunships were effective, but they could not aggress rebel fortifications. This mission would fall to the semi-ironclad ships ordered by Rodgers, who was replaced by Flag Officer[7] Andrew Hull Foote, U. S. Navy. Foote is remembered as an aggressive officer who, along with Grant, combined their forces to attack and defeat Fort Henry. There could be no question among Confederate officers that they had no answer to the Navy’s riverine warfare strategy.

Damn the Torpedoes

As the Mississippi River Flotilla steadily beat the CSA Army and Navy into submission, Flag Officer David Glasgow Farragut[8] prepared for service in the Gulf of Mexico. During his assault of New Orleans, Farragut moved his entire fleet up the Mississippi River to contest the heavy guns at Fort Jackson and Fort St. Philips. During the five-day bombardment, Farragut employed a mortar flotilla built especially for riverine operations. The rebels put up an exceptional defense of New Orleans but were eventually overpowered by Farragut’s relentless assault and the threat of Union guns over New Orleans’ levees convinced the citizens to submit to Union authority. What made Farragut’s victory sweet was that New Orleans was the only southern city with a chance of matching the Union’s overwhelming riverine forces.

Meanwhile, behind Foote’s gunboats, one catastrophe after another descended upon the Confederates, whose armies could not match the Union advantages in riverine operations, which were expanded into the Tennessee River and down and across the state of Mississippi. Rather than arteries of life for the Confederacy, they became highways of death. Advancing behind the gunboats, Grant’s army cut off western Tennessee. More than any other factor, gunboats were the deciding factor at the Battle of Shiloh.

From New Orleans, Farragut’s heavy ships, while suffering much damage in the restricted and turbulent Mississippi, forged ahead to Vicksburg, a mighty fortress with batteries situated high on the bluff where Farragut’s guns could not effectively reach. And, with Confederate forces numbering around 33,000, it would take more than Farragut’s 3,500 men to defeat that fortress. Eventually, after a siege lasting a year, Vicksburg did fall to Grant’s army of 77,000 men. Confederate casualties numbered 32,687 (3,202 killed, wounded, or missing in action, 29,495 surrendered).

Thus far, the Navy demonstrated a sophisticated understanding of naval warfare on inland waters. The Navy’s ability to control the sea made riverine warfare possible. The Navy’s exercise of its control made riverine warfare flexible. Seagoing ships were adapted to fight in lakes and rivers to oppose shore batteries. The Navy learned not only how to build riverine vessels, it learned how to fight them through an appreciation for local environments and conditions and devising appropriate circumstantial responses.

In 1898, the U. S. Navy-Marine Corps was ready for the Spanish-American War. The U. S. Army was not. A few years later, the Navy dusted off the lessons it learned from previous periods and addressed head-on the challenges associated with the Philippine Insurrection and the Boxer Rebellion. In the Philippines, riverine warfare facilitated an end to the violence.

In the early decades of the twentieth century, a flotilla of shallow draft gunboats protected American life and property in war-torn China. Along more than 1,500-miles of the Yangtze River, riverine patrols faced hostile Chinese war lords, snipers, and bandits; landing parties were kept on a moment’s notice for intervention or defense. Natural dangers, such as swift currents, fast rising tides, and navigational obstacles were as formidable as any encountered by Commodores Barney, Perry, or Farragut.

Sources:

Affield, W. Muddy Jungle Rivers: A River Assault Boat’s Cox’n’s Memory of Vietnam. Hawthorne Petal Press, 2012.
S. Army Field Manual 31-75: Riverine Warfare. Washington: Headquarters, U. S. Army, 1971
Friedman, N. US Small Combatants.
Fulton, W. B. Vietnam Studies: Riverine Operations, 1966-1969. Washington: Department of the Army, 1985
Joiner, G. Lincoln’s Brown Water Navy: The Mississippi Squadron. Rowman & Littlefield, 2007.
Marolda, E. J. Riverine Warfare: U. S. Navy Operations on Inland Waters. Annapolis: Naval History and Heritage Command, 2006
Rowlands, K. Riverine Warfare: Naval War College Review, Vol 71, No. 1. Art. 5., Annapolis: Naval War College, 2018

Endnotes:

[1] Mayor.

[2] Porter was a rather extraordinary naval officer from a prominent American family. Porter began his naval career at age 10. In 1824, after receiving a reprimand, Porter’s father resigned from the US Navy and accepted Mexico’s appointment as their navy’s commander-in-chief. David Dixon Porter became a midshipman in the Mexican navy at age 12. In 1829, Porter received an appointment to the USNA. He was then 16 years old and a bit too salty for the culture of the Academy. Were it not for the intervention of Commodore James Biddle, Porter would not have received his commission in the US Navy. The second naval officer to achieve the rank of admiral, Porter served with distinction for over 62 years.

[3] There is no intent to suggest that the Confederate navy didn’t offer considerable challenges to the Union navy … only that it lacked the experience and traditions of the US Navy. The CSA navy made a gallant attempt to offset its disadvantages with technological innovation (iron clads, submarines, torpedo boats, mines) and a stout defense of ports and harbors. In February 1861, the CSA navy had a total 30 vessels; 14 of these were seaworthy.

[4] Mahan was a Navy captain (advanced to rear admiral after retirement) and historian who is generally regarded as the most influential American strategist of the 19th century. He served as president of the Naval War College and became a close friend of Theodore Roosevelt.

[5] Grants men were so elated by their victory that they began celebrating and drinking strong beverages. To regain control over his men, Grant ordered the rebel camp set afire. Unbeknownst to Grant, wounded rebel soldiers were burned to death inside medical treatment tents.

[6] Grant suffered 607 casualties (120 KIA, 383 WIA, 104 captured or MIA), the Confederates 641 (105 KIA, 419 WIA, 117 captured or MIA).

[7] Flag Officer was an impromptu rank. Foote was promoted to captain in 1861. When assigned to command the Mississippi River Squadron, which technically came under the War Department, he was advanced to flag officer (equivalent to Commodore) in recognition of his authority and responsibility. Foote was a heroic officer with long distinguished service. In 1862, Foote was promoted to Rear Admiral. He died unexpectedly while on active service in 1863.

[8] Farragut was the adopted brother of D. D. Porter. He was the nation’s first rear admiral, first vice admiral, and first full admiral in the U. S. Navy. In April 1862, Farragut captured New Orleans, which gave the Union control of the lower Mississippi.