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History

The Man Who Predicted Pearl Harbor

Shortly after noon on July 21, 1921, bombs from American aircraft exploded beside the former German battleship Ostfriesland, already damaged by several previous bombing runs. Within half an hour, the enormous ship began sinking by the stern, rolled over, and soon slipped beneath the waters of the Chesapeake Bay.

Observers on the nearby U.S.S. Henderson could scarcely believe what they’d seen. For the first time in history, aircraft had sunk a battleship. Historian Roger G. Miller relates that some of the naval officers present, perhaps realizing what this event meant for the future of naval warfare, had tears in their eyes.

Meanwhile, in the cockpit of an airplane above the Bay, a vindicated Gen. Billy Mitchell was ecstatic over the results of this experiment, which he himself had devised. His predictions regarding the superiority of aircraft over the battle wagons of the fleet were now visible to all. He was ushering in a new era in naval warfare.

Or so he thought.

Billy Mitchell, circa 1920s. (Public Domain)

The Advocate of Air Power

William “Billy” Mitchell (1879–1936) grew up in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. A youth with a keen sense of adventure, he dropped out of college at age 18 and enlisted in the Army during the Spanish–American War. He was assigned to the Philippines, where he was soon commissioned as a lieutenant, in part because of the influence of his father, a former U.S. senator. He later served in Alaska, where he helped construct the Washington–Alaska Military Cable and Telegraph System.

Back in the States, he carried out different assignments while becoming increasingly fascinated with aviation, predicting as early as 1906 that it would change warfare forever. In 1916, he took private flying lessons, and with America’s entry into the war in Europe in 1917, he quickly showed himself a daring and resourceful pilot, rising rapidly through the ranks. In 1918, he had charge of over 1,400 American, French, British, and Italian aircraft during the pivotal Battle of Saint-Mihiel. By the war’s end, he had won numerous awards and medals and was the Assistant Chief of Air Service.

Mitchell as assistant chief of Air Service (in non-regulation uniform). (Public Domain)

Following his return stateside, Mitchell remained active in the upper echelons of the Air Service. To him, it was clear that air power would soon dominate the battlefield, not only on land but on the sea as well, and he pushed hard for an air corps separate from the other branches of military service. In those few years, he also made strenuous efforts to advance aviation as a multi-faceted military tool, helping to develop, for example, bombsights and aerial torpedoes, and he urged his Army pilots to aim at setting speed and endurance records.

The Critic and His Court Martial

Mitchell had few qualms about irritating his superiors. Gen. John H. Pershing’s 1923 efficiency report perfectly captures his flamboyant personality: “This officer is an exceptionally able one, enthusiastic, energetic and full of initiative (but) he is fond of publicity, more or less indiscreet as to speech, and rather difficult to control as a subordinate.”

The mix of these characteristics with his often strident advocacy for a separate air force brought some major pushback from both the Navy and the Army. Two years before his bombing demonstration on the Chesapeake, for example, Mitchell had testified before a congressional committee that the Navy was ignoring the role of airplanes at sea in favor of constructing more ships. Secretary of War Newton Baker and then Assistant Secretary of the Navy Franklin Roosevelt immediately refuted these charges.

A 2,000-pound bomb “near-miss” severely damages Ostfriesland at the stern hull plates. (Public Domain)

With the sinking of the Ostfriesland and other ships from the air, Mitchell would make his point, but his continued hectoring of his military and civilian superiors to do more, to build more planes and to create an independent air force, undoubtedly caused hard feelings and divisions that hurt rather than helped his cause.

In 1925, the Navy’s dirigible Shenandoah crashed as the result of a storm. Following this catastrophe, Mitchell publicly attacked both the Army and the Navy for what he saw as their “incompetency, criminal negligence, and almost treasonable administration of the national defense by the Navy and War Departments.”

With this pronouncement, he was charged with insubordination and court-martialed. He made the courtroom a platform for his views on aviation, but he was nonetheless found guilty and was suspended from active duty for five years. Rather than serve this sentence, Mitchell resigned from the Army in 1926 and retired to a Virginia farm, where he continued to write and speak about the pressing need for an air force and about the danger of falling behind other countries in aerial strategy and technology, particularly Japan.

The Pearl Harbor Prophet

Because of his court martial, Billy Mitchell is often called a prophet without honor in his own country. In addition to his farsighted take on military aviation, in one regard he also demonstrated his talent as a clairvoyant in a much more specific way.

A scene taken from Gen. William “Billy” Mitchell’s court-martial, 1925. U.S. Air Force. (Public Domain)

In 1923, the Army dispatched Mitchell to the Pacific for a year to collect information and gather intelligence. Though he was likely sent on this mission to silence his ongoing criticisms, Mitchell took his assignment seriously and submitted a 323-page report on his return. Years later, this document, which had quite a bit to say about the Japanese military, predicted that Japan would attack Pearl Harbor by air and sea at some point in the future. After listing specific points they would attack on the island of Oahu and on the Philippines, he then wrote:

“Attack will be launched as follows: bombardment, attack to be made on Ford Island [at Pearl Harbor] at 7:30 a.m. … Attack to be made on Clark Field (Philippine Islands) at 10:40 a.m.”

On December 7, 1941, the Japanese initiated such an attack, just as Mitchell predicted. He was off on his timing of these assaults by an hour or less. Moreover, as he had foreseen, the airplane played a crucial role in every Pacific naval battle of the war, from Pearl Harbor to the surrender of Japan.

In 1946, 10 years after his death and one year after the Japanese were defeated, the U.S. Congress awarded William Mitchell a special Congressional Gold Medal. On the back of the medal are these words: “For outstanding pioneer service and foresight in the field of American military aviation.”

The passionate prophet of air power had at last received his hard-won recognition.

From Nov. Issue, Volume IV

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Features Giving Back

From Torpedo Builder to Education Entrepreneur

Yolanda Kennedy once built torpedoes for the United States Navy. Now, she’s building a better future for more than 100 young people each year.

The youngest of nine children raised by a single parent in Cherokee County, South Carolina, Kennedy always displayed a passion for learning. “I was a pretty good student” with a strong aptitude for mathematics, she said, earning business and middle school education degrees and teaching math in her hometown of Gaffney. 

Growing up in a region rife with poverty, Kennedy was mindful of how her mom had to stretch a dollar. Although Kennedy yearned to go to college immediately, “I didn’t want to put the struggle on her,” she said, and instead signed up with Uncle Sam. Her first Navy assignment took her to Hawaii, where training in electricity and electronics prepared her to help build the Mark 46 antisubmarine torpedo. She later served as a military paralegal before retiring to her hometown after 20 years of service. 

Disturbed by the memory of a sister who was kidnapped and murdered, “I knew I wanted to do something for the community,” Kennedy said, so she dug into her pocket to start a community center. Its mission is fundamental: help young people—from preschool through college—become more educated and responsible so their aspirations can become reality.

Launched in 2008, the Academic Technology and Wellness Academy (ATWA) provides about 135 students a year with free or low-cost programs that expand upon the curricula of Cherokee County’s public and private schools. ATWA offers after-school care and tutoring for kids aged 4 to 13; “life lessons” on topics such as behavior, money, and etiquette; Teen Talk Tuesdays via Facebook Live; pregnancy prevention classes; and a summer camp providing instruction in reading, writing, and mathematics along with field trips. Transportation from area schools to ATWA is free, as are hot, balanced meals.

Kennedy mentoring a teen at the ATWA. (Courtesy of Yolanda Kennedy)

While her focus is on young people, Kennedy also stages a Feed The Veterans event each November to demonstrate the community’s appreciation for their sacrifices.

At ATWA, Kennedy makes it a point to withhold program fees if it appears a family is incapable of paying. That’s especially true of tutoring. “We just help them as they need help,” she said. “Mostly, it’s math, and since I’m a math professor, I don’t mind helping.” Over the years, the academy’s growing popularity has prompted local philanthropists and businesses to support it. “We never turn a child away, whether they can pay or not,” Kennedy emphasized. 

Kennedy takes a selfie with children at the ATWA. (Courtesy of Yolanda Kennedy)

“Her program has just been very successful with both of my grandsons,” said Vickie Littlejohn, grandmother to a 6-year-old who sang in the academy’s choir and a 14-year-old with Asperger syndrome who blossomed when the robotics team he joined won an inter-school competition. “It just made such a big difference in his life and it prepared him for school as well, interacting, because he goes to a regular school,” she added. The robotics program helps students enhance their teamwork and creativity and deepens their problem-solving skills. It is headed by Tony Adams-Wray, Kennedy’s husband.  

While last year’s COVID-19 lockdown prompted a scaling-back of in-person programs, it also gave Kennedy the opportunity to introduce the Teen Talk series, which proved to be a big hit. During the one-hour interactive sessions where teens are mentored by their peers and adults, discussion topics are chosen based on “what’s troubling teens today,” said Shanese Dawkins, the series’ director. Over the past year, talks were given 48 out of 52 weeks.

“We had a young lady on. She was pregnant as a teenager [. . .] dropped out of school for a little while, went back, got her GED [. . .] went on to get her master’s and then she got her doctorate,” Dawkins noted. Another speaker, a graduate of Gaffney High School who received a four-year college scholarship, explained to young men how athletics is not the only pathway to success.

Jonna Turner, ex-CEO of the Cherokee County Chamber of Commerce, believes the innovative curriculum at ATWA not only helps kids overcome childhood challenges, but also prepares them to enter the job marketplace. “What she’s doing is preparing these students to be productive citizens,” Turner said. “So I feel that with Yolanda’s mission and her passion and her vision to educate students of all ages, and the partnerships that she is growing in the community with manufacturing companies, with community colleges, [and] four-year institutions, I mean, that is a definite investment into the future.”

“We’re just trying to reach as many youth as we can,” said Kennedy.

Neil Cotiaux is a freelance journalist whose work has appeared in newspapers, magazines, and business journals, mostly in the Southeast and Midwest. His work has largely focused on community and economic development, immigration, and health care. He works out of Spartanburg, South Carolina.

Categories
Features History

Service in the Time of JFK’s Camelot

This year marks the 60th anniversary of the start of President John F. Kennedy’s administration. When he took office in January 1961, he ushered in a new sentiment for the country. That sentiment was all about youth.

At 43, JFK was the nation’s second-youngest president, and he was good-looking to boot. The First Lady was also young and good-looking, and their two young children were adorable. It was all about youth.

JFK succeeded President Dwight D. Eisenhower. While both had served in the military during World War II, they were from opposite ends of the age spectrum. Eisenhower, known as Ike, was a career soldier, and had reached the rank of five-star general in the U.S. Army by the end of his military career. JFK, while an officer in the Navy, was far younger, and only rose to lieutenant during the war.

“What had happened in 1960 was that the junior ranks of the military in World War II replaced the generals,” said James Piereson, a historian and fellow at the Manhattan Institute. “That was part of the generational change that happened. Kennedy was, of course, quite pro-military,” he said. “JFK gave luster to military service,” he added, having “very much campaigned on his war record” in 1960.

So, what was it like being young and in the service during the Kennedy administration?

Bob Hogan was a gunnery officer and lieutenant junior grade on active duty in the Navy from 1960 to 1963, essentially the entire duration of JFK’s time in office. He was commissioned at age 22. “I was blown away by JFK’s Navy war record, his charisma, style, and wit,” he said. “I was immensely energized by his call to service, and really believed in it. His seeming idealism, his patriotic values—I was completely taken in.”

Tom Fryer had the thrill of a lifetime when JFK handed him his diploma and commission. They shook hands at Fryer’s graduation ceremony from the U.S. Air Force Academy in 1963. “I felt so honored, so humbled,” said Fryer, who was also 22 at the time.

The American president is also commander-in-chief of the nation’s military. In October 1962, JFK had to make some difficult decisions in that role. The United States and the USSR were fighting the Cold War. Nikita Khrushchev was JFK’s counterpart in communist Russia. A U-2 reconnaissance photo of Cuba confirmed that Khrushchev had placed nuclear missiles on the island, just 90 miles off the coast of Florida.

JFK responded by ordering a naval blockade around Cuba, and essentially told Khrushchev that the missiles had to go. If they didn’t, there would be war. A nuclear war.

This period, known as the Cuban Missile Crisis, was essentially a naval operation. But the entire military, worldwide, was ready for deployment, including a possible invasion of Cuba.

Harry Moritz was at Morse Intercept School at Fort Devens, Massachusetts, at the time. “One day, we marched back to our barracks and were held for an announcement. We were asked if anyone spoke Spanish. Several guys raised their hands. They were pulled to one side, told to pack their gear, and they were sent on a ‘special assignment’ TDY (temporary duty station). They disappeared and were never seen again,” he said. “We non-Spanish folks stayed in Morse school, and in the dark, like the rest of the USA, crapping our pants.”

Gary Mahone was a Morse interceptor, stationed in Hakata, Japan. “During that time, we were on red alert and worked 12-hour shifts, 24/7,” he said. “All leaves and terminations were canceled. Very tense times.”

The Air Force Academy that Fryer attended was in Colorado, not far from the North American Aerospace Defense Command (called NORAD), which conducts aerospace warning and control for the United States. “If the Russians would have come after us, that was a prime target,” said Fryer.

However, according to Fryer, Soviet missiles weren’t all that accurate at the time, so if they fell 15 miles short of their target, the academy could easily be hit. “In preparation for that, we held some drills,” he said. The academy was built with underground tunnels that distributed its utilities. Top brass decided the safest place for the cadets was in these tunnels, which no one really knew about.

Hogan was on a destroyer, which was part of the task force that was going to invade Cuba. His ship was the submarine screen and would provide shore bombardment should the invasion happen.

Hogan spotted a Russian submarine tailing them. “I heard his torpedo doors open,” he said. That meant the Soviets were preparing to attack. Hogan had his hand on the trigger, let his captain know he had positive identification, and requested permission to fire.

Had permission been granted, this very action would have kicked off a nuclear war. However, he was “in a system” and “the system has its rules; you follow the rules.” He would have obeyed the order to fire if it had been given.

“I was (expletive) my pants,” Hogan recalled. “There was a long pause, and the captain said, ‘Classify your contact as a whale,’” instead of an enemy submarine. “I was really glad when the captain chickened out.”

With a nuclear war between the two superpowers looming, Khrushchev eventually gave in and agreed to remove the missiles.

Veteran Joe Schmidt of N.Y. (Dave Paone)

Joe Schmidt was a 21-year-old signalman on a destroyer in the blockade. His job was to directly communicate with the Russian merchant ships as they removed the missiles from Cuba. “With a flashing light, we would send a message to them, and we had to ask them, ‘What is your cargo?’” he said. The expected reply was, “Missiles.” Schmidt would relay that message to the captain, who would relay it to the naval air station in Key West, Florida.

It was understood by everyone involved that the Soviet merchant ships were carrying the missiles and nothing else. “Anything coming out of Cuba at that point was only coming out with missiles on it. They weren’t bringing cigars,” said Schmidt with a laugh.

Key West would then dispatch a P2V Neptune anti-submarine aircraft to fly over the Russian ship to photograph its cargo. The only time Schmidt was in contact with a Soviet ship, it was after midnight and completely dark.

“They had these huge searchlights on the wingtips,” he said. “And they lit that ship up—that plane lit it up—it looked like it was 12 o’clock in the afternoon with those lights.” Even though the two sides spoke entirely different languages—ones that don’t even share the same alphabet—there was a code that both understood, which made communication possible.

JFK’s presidency is fondly referred to as “Camelot,” and the consensus among those who served in the military during his administration is that, for different reasons, it was an exciting time. As Hogan put it, “Best and worst experience of my life.”

Dave Paone is a Long Island-based reporter and photographer who has won journalism awards for articles, photographs, and headlines. When he’s not writing and photographing, he’s catering to every demand of his cat, Gigi.