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Columbia Star, Columbia, SC
By Jean Edwards
From the time my two brothers and I were small children growing
up in the 50s and 60s, we always heard about our family’s
proud Navy heritage. Both of Dad’s brothers were career Navy,
but my Dad, Lawrence L. Edwards, was active duty for only a few
years at the end of WWII. Of the three brothers, however, Dad was
to have the most harrowing of times.
Dad was stationed aboard the USS Eagle 56 PE, built by
the Ford Company at the end of WWI. The 200–foot ship was
designated a patrol escort, a sub chaser, and it was stationed in
Portland, Maine. She carried a crew of 62 men that fateful day of
April 23, 1945.
The ship’s mission of the day was towing drones for target
practice by Navy pilots. The morning mission there in Casco Bay
was completed and lunchtime had arrived. At 12:14 pm, as the ship
was sitting dead in the water, assuming safety from their position
within sight of the Cape Elizabeth lighthouse in Maine, a deadly
torpedo from a German U-boat, the U–853, tore through
the frigid, 38–degree Atlantic waters, hitting the Eagle
amidships with an incredible blow. The ship split completely in
two, with most of the men still below deck on their lunch breaks.
One–half sunk within about five minutes and the other within
10 minutes.
Chaos ruled the moment; leaving little time to grab life preservers.
Suddenly there was an eerie sight – a black submarine with
red and yellow markings on the conning tower surfaced briefly and
then just as suddenly dove back into the darkness of the sea.
Dad and four others grabbed onto a barrel as they jumped into the
water. Three of those men gradually slipped into the frigid waters
never to be seen again. My dad held tight to the barrel, and by
the time two ships came to their rescue, he was frozen to it. His
last memory before waking up in the Naval Hospital in Portland was
seeing someone on deck doff his hat and coat, and come over the
side to get him.
Of the crew of 62, the “Lucky 13” consisting of one
officer and 12 enlisted men, were rescued. Several days later, there
was an inquest to try and determine the cause of the explosion.
Several of the crew, including my dad, testified they had seen the
black submarine surface. Inexplicably, the Board of Inquiry ruled
that a boiler explosion sunk the Eagle. That decision would
stand for 56 years, until 2001, when the Navy finally admitted the
truth.
In late winter of 1998, Boston attorney and Naval historian Paul
Lawton, listened to the incredible story of two sons of one of the
men who died that day. It was about the US Navy ship blown to bits
off the coast of Maine just two weeks before Nazi Germany surrendered.
Lawton is obsessed by submarines and thought he knew all of the
naval history of WWII submarines. He even taught courses about U–boats,
but this is a story he had never heard!
The investigation began. Paul and his father and other friends began
a search for the truth. A small ad in the Boston Globe found a couple
of incredulous individuals. Alice Hultgren, a former WAVE who took
notes at the hearing, and one of the “Lucky 13” survivors,
John Breeze, responded. Both were shocked at the official ruling
of a boiler explosion!
Lawton continued his quest, although time and time again, the Navy
stonewalled his investigation. He was told the records from the
hearing were lost. The Navy ignored his letters requesting information.
He continued his search for information until one day, a package
arrived at his law office. No return address was shown, but somehow
that didn’t matter. The package contained a copy of the inquiry
report! He thought his journey was ended, but not just yet. The
Navy continued to ignore him.
In late fall of 2000, Lawton contacted his Congressman, Joseph Moakley.
With his help, Paul’s request for re–opening the Eagle
investigation was sent to the Naval Historical Center and ended
up with Bernard Cavalcante, an archivist who had just spent 10 years
working with a German Naval historian to document all military activity
on the Eastern seaboard during WWII. Finally, with the records from
both US and German Naval archives, and the location of two more
of the “Lucky 13” who remembered seeing the submarine
surface, the Navy had to admit the truth. Harold Peterson and John
Scagnelli were both appalled the Navy had reacted as they had for
more than half a century. John Scagnelli, the only officer to survive,
had been in charge of the boiler room at the time the Eagle
was destroyed, and had been made the scapegoat by the Navy all those
years.
In May 2001, Cavlcante sent a request to Navy Secretary Gordon England,
providing the documentation from Paul Lawton and from the German
archives, along with his own research, to re–open the case
and to state the Eagle was sunk as a result of enemy action.
This would make the dead and injured eligible retroactively for
purple hearts.
In late August 2001, a newspaper article appeared in the Spartanburg
Herald with the headline, “Navy Changes History After 56 Years.”
Sadly, my Dad died in 1982, so he was not alive to see this wrong
righted. Most of the other “Lucky 13” also were deceased
by then. Although I still don’t understand why, my dad and
several others of the “Lucky 13” did not qualify for
Purple Hearts. Apparently, hypothermia and subsequent hospital stay
did not meet the Purple Heart criteria.
In June of 2002, there was a “Recognition and Memorial Service”
for the men of the USS Eagle 56 aboard the USS Salem, the only heavy
cruiser preserved from WWII.
A couple of footnotes to this story: the History Channel filmed
a one hour documentary about the story. It first aired in July of
2003 and continues to be shown periodically. A book documenting
the events of April 1945 and following is coming out on May 1, 2005,
of this year. The book is Due to Enemy Action: The True World
War II Story of the USS Eagle 56 by Stephen Puleo.
Finally, the U–boat sunk another ship, a cargo carrier, off
the coast of New York several days after the Eagle was
sunk. The Navy then went after the U–853 with every
thing it had. The U–853 was sunk off the coast of
Rhode Island, and has since become a very popular dive site. The
captain of the submarine was only 24 years old, and he and his very
young crew still lie there today.
On Saturday, April 23rd, at exactly 12:08 pm, a monument to the
memory of the USS Eagle 56 PE was unveiled at the Cape
Elizabeth lighthouse; the oldest lighthouse in Maine. It’s
fitting, as the explosion could be seen from there in 1945. Although
there have been four extensive searches for the remains of the USS
Eagle in Casco Bay, no trace of the ship has yet been found.
All four of the remaining survivors were in attendance on Saturday,
along with one truly lucky crewman who got married two days before
the torpedo tore the Eagle apart, and he was on leave for his honeymoon!
To my absolute delight, a family member of one of the crew who died
that day brought pictures of my dad to the service for a friend
to pass on to me. Since I had no pictures of my dad from his military
service, I was thrilled. Sadly it took 60 years to finally reveal
the truth and honor the men of the Eagle in an appropriate
manner, but at last they can be at peace.
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