By the time the Second World War broke out, the Merchant Marine had
cleaned up its act. Notorious in the 19th
and early 20th century for shanghaiing drunken sailors and for sometimes nearly
insufferable conditions that included floggings, it now boasted an Academy run
closely along the lines of the military.
Even before the United States entered the conflict, the
Merchant Marine was pulled into action to transport supplies and fuel to the allies.
There were approximately 55,000 Merchant Mariners in 1940 and an
aggressive recruiting effort resulted in swelled numbers. Long-retired Mariners came back to service to
help the war effort.
According to American Merchant Marine at War, James A. Logan
was one of the old salts. At the age of
76 he returned to serve as cook aboard the SS
Joshua Hendy. And Thomas Cavely, who
had been master on the Staten Island Ferry, took command of another Liberty
ship.
Unlike the U.S. Navy, the Merchant Marine was able to accept
sailors with physical defects—heart or sight problems, for instance—or who were
either too young or too old for military service.
Following the attack on Pearl Harbor and America’s entry
into the war, Merchant Marine service was both more important and more
dangerous. German submarines focused on
the American tanker fleet, manned by the Merchant Marine, that brought
essential fuel to England and Europe.
Among these tankers was the SS Muskogee. On March 22, 1942 it was transporting oil to
England. Captain William Betts was in
command of the ship and its crew of 34.
The ship was spotted by the Nazi U-boat U-123. Captained by 28-year old Reinhard
Hardegan, the submarine was tasked with stopping American oil deliveries.
A single torpedo found its mark. As the SS Muskogee sunk, members of its crew
clung to the sides of the ship. One German
crew member snapped photographs of the desperate Merchant Mariners. Seven Americans, including Captain Betts,
made it to a life boat. Betts pleaded
with Captain Hardegan to be brought aboard the U-123 as prisoners.
The German crew member snapped this shot of the SS Muskogee crew members, including Captain Betts, before leaving them adrift. George Betts Collection/Independence Seaport Museum Library |
As his crewman snapped photos, Hardegan replied that there
was no room aboard the submarine. The
life boat was left adrift and none of the Muskogee’s
crew was ever seen again.
By the end of the war, hundreds of Merchant Marine ships had been sunk. Six hundred and thirty-three Merchant Mariners had
been taken prisoners of war and 6,600, including the crew of the SS Muskogee, had given their lives.
Over the subsequent years, the role of the Merchant Marine
in the war was little remembered. In
1976 the American Merchant Mariners’ Memorial, Inc. was organized to
commemorate the thousands of merchant ships and mariners that contributed to
American military service since the Revolutionary War. A competition for the design of a memorial
was held in 1988. The commission was
awarded to French-born sculptress Marisol Escobar.
Escobar had chosen the events of March 22, 1942 to exemplify
the heroism and contribution of the American Merchant Marines. Somewhat incredibly, the photographs taken by
the German sailor that day had survived.
Using the photograph of the Muskogee’s crew members clinging to the
sinking ship, she developed a sculptural grouping of four figures and a
stylized bow.
Installed on an obsolete stone pier off Battery Park, it was
dedicated on October 8, 1991. Escobar’s
powerful and moving grouping captures the last moments of the sailors’ lives. With no hope of survival, one man still tries
desperately to rescue his comrade in the water—their fingertips almost
touching.
The disquieting depiction is made more so with the ebb and
flow of the tides. At high tide the
sailor in the water is almost completely submerged; only his forearm extending
in frantic desperation above the waves.
Marisol Escobar’s potent work of art—a fitting tribute to
wartime Merchant Mariners—is too-often overlooked because of its out-of-the-way
location. It is worthy of a side trip.
photographs by the author
I don't comment on much the internet offers, but felt I must say how moved I am by the photos. Just looking at the pictures brought me to a full rolling sob fest. I can't imagine how it must be to view it in person.
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