I've only gotten one story done for now about the exercise, but it includes visual aids!
New York Times, May 21st, 1927, Walter McGillicuddy reporting.
This reporter considered it a high honor to be permitted to observe the historic United States-Atlantian naval exercises from the cabin of America’s flagship in the sky, the USS Shenandoah. This was the largest naval exercise in American history and the first to take place with the navy of a foreign power and certainly proved quite fascinating!
Our 4,000 mile journey south to Venezuela began early on the morning of May 6th when the Shenandoah and her German-built sister, the Los Angeles, left Lakehurst Naval Station in New Jersey and set out down the United States Atlantic coast. Accommodations on board were sparse compared to a surface ship but my hammock was surprisingly comfortable and the voyage was much smoother than a ship at sea. On the 7th, we stopped overnight at Opa-Locka, Florida, near Miami, to refuel for the final leg of our journey to our twin support ships the Trinity and Patoka which were moored in the Gulf of Venezuela. The flight through the Windward Passage between Cuba and Hispaniola was a bit tense as Iberian fighters flew up to inspect the two giant airships as we sailed along. We launched both of our small Curtiss fighters to keep a watchful eye on our Iberian escorts. Concerns were raised a bit when one Iberian fighter came within a couple hundred feet of the Los Angeles and was warned away by signal lamp. I doubt that the Iberians can be too happy to see the United States conducting these exercises so close to their territory. As we neared tiny Navassa Island, America’s lone outpost in the Caribbean, the fighters finally stopped shadowing us and we flew on southward across some of the most beautiful deep blue water this reporter has ever seen.
The Venezuelan coast came into view mid-afternoon on the 9th, and just before sunset we docked to the Trinity’s mooring mast and the crew began final preparations for the exercises that began on the 12th. For the next two days we flew along the Venezuelan coast primarily to get a sense of the weather conditions and also to show the flag over Caracas. Several Atlantian officers came aboard from the Trinity to observe how the Shenandoah’s crew ran things. They hope to have their own rigid airships in service in a year or two, with the first two being built by the US in Ohio, and others at a factory in Atlantis. The Shenandoah and Los Angeles were joined by several Atlantian blimps for the flyover of Caracas and I have heard that the city all but came to a standstill as our ships floated over it. It must have been quite a sight! The night before the exercise officially began this reporter joined Captain Lansdowne at a special dinner in Maracaibo for the various commanders, observers, and, quite fortunately, the various reporters here to cover the exercise.
The first stage of the exercise pitted the United States against Atlantis in a simulated amphibious assault by our side on the coast. Our mission was to find the Atlantian fleet so our carriers and battleships could engage it and block them from preventing our landing. Our side ran into major trouble almost from the start. The Admiral running the show seems to have underestimated the Atlantian’s and chose to leave the invasion force without air cover or battleship escort, assuming it would be safe in our rear. Apparently an Atlantian blimp spotted them and their carriers launched a long range strike which, according to the judges, “sank” one transport and damaged the other two enough that they had to retire! Several comments were made by the Shenandoah’s officers about the “arrogance” of the big gun navy having cost us the battle. Despite loosing the invasion fleet and the main reason for the exercise, it was decided to continue on with the war games and we continued our hunt for the Atlantian fleet and tried to salvage something from the disaster.
Near sunrise on the 13th we spotted several ships ahead and launched our Curtiss to investigate. We soon realized it was the Atlantian carrier Sibony and her escorts. No sooner had we radioed in her position when we were attacked by her fighters. Needless to say, we were ruled shot down, but soon after, the carrier Ranger launched her planes against Sibony and “sank” her and several of her escorts. Our loss did not surprise Captain Lansdowne, the Shenandoah’s commanding officer. He said, quite surprisingly, that airships were almost useless as actual reconnaissance platforms, especially when the enemy had aircraft of its own. Rather, they should function as flying aircraft carriers, launching their planes from a distance to scout out the enemy fleet. The new giant airships planned by the navy are designed to operate in this manner with several aircraft carried, while the Shenandoah and Los Angeles can only carry a single plane, mainly for training and experimental purposes.
The Los Angeles had a bit better luck, finding part of the Atlantian battle fleet and avoiding detection. This allowed our battleships to catch them by surprise and pummel them just before sundown on the 13th. That night the first phase of the exercise came to an end after American destroyers attempted to engage Atlantian forces near the coast and were mauled by their light units and subs.
On the 14th Shenandoah acted primarily as an observation platform for the day-long gunnery practice at the Atlantian’s Willemstad gunnery range. The crew got in some practice as well with their .30 caliber machine guns by shooting at a target towed behind an aircraft. This reporter would not have wanted to be then pilot of that aircraft, even with a long tow rope and the knowledge that you are not the target of all that gunfire!
Phase Two of the exercise had a relatively simple scenario, but was unique in that both Atlantian and American units would be mixed together on both sides. Side “A”, or Able, would be under the command of the Atlantian Admiral, while Side “B”, Baker, would be under United States command. The Shenandoah was assigned to Baker, the Los Angeles to Able. We were also joined by several Atlantian blimps. Our side’s mission was to find and defeat Side Able and then proceed to Curacao. Our fleet began near Grenada, with the airships scouting ahead, joined by submarines acting as a picket line.
We launched our single Curtiss fighter and it headed off west to scout for the enemy while the Shenandoah followed. Once we launched the plane the airship was limited in its movement. If we strayed too far from the planned course, the fighter might not be able to find us again since he only had his eyes and our expected position to guide him home. Captain Lansdowne said that some sort of beacon system was in the works to help pilots find their ship, but it would be a while before it was ready to use.
Just before sunset, the Curtiss radioed in a contact report, he had spotted Able's main body about seventy miles west of us but he was low on fuel and had to return to the airship. Once he was back aboard we maneuvered around behind the fleet. Shadowing the enemy at night was not as difficult as it may seem, since the nearly full moon reflected off of their wakes. We also had another advantage unique to the airship; our scout plane could operate at night while Able’s ship-based planes could not! While we remained thirty miles behind the fleet, our Curtiss flew in and kept a closer eye in the enemy. We were able to shadow them until just after midnight when they entered a series of rain squalls and we lost sight of them.
Even though we lost sight of the enemy, our side now knew their general location and just before dawn our carriers Fearless and Sibony launched their planes to attack. With our planes in the air, we needed to find the enemy fleet again to make sure it had not turned away in the night. To our misfortune, we flew out of a cloud bank and found ourselves about one thousand feet directly over the aircraft carrier Ranger! Needless to say, Captain Lansdowne swung the ship hard about and ran for the nearest cloud but enemy fighters were already closing in. Once they caught us our role in the war games came to an end again, but we were able to get our final licks in indirectly. For one, we were able to radio our incoming planes and tell them where the enemy was, and second, the enemy fighters chasing us were not able to protect their fleet when our planes arrived a few minutes later. They gave Able’s fleet a good pounding according to the judges, “sinking” the light carrier Lake Champlain and damaging the Ranger and two battleships.
Now that we were out of the fight, we returned to the Trinity which was waiting off of Bonaire. From what we heard over the radio, the exercise became quite exciting once both fleets engaged each other in a surface action. During the night of the 16th, two US destroyers, one with Able, the other with Baker, collided while trying to make torpedo attacks on the enemy’s battle line. Thankfully no one was hurt seriously and damage was minor, but it lead to a suspension of the exercise until morning.
The 17th was the final day of the exercise. It was not looking too good overall for our side despite our early successes. Our goal of Curacao was still almost two hundred miles away and the judges had ruled last night’s surface battle as a draw, with both sides loosing a battleship and several lighter warships. To make matters worse, the Ranger had recovered from her “damage” yesterday and had launched a strike on our side which was judged to have crippled the Fearless. Admiral Ellis, our side’s commander and the senior American officer in the games, decided it was time to cut our losses and called it quits. He must not have been too happy, having lost both phases of the exercise to his Atlantian opponent.
Our sister airship, the Los Angeles, had a very uneventful second part of the exercise and did not have any success spotting our fleet. She seemed to find every rain squall between Curacao and Grenada and some on the Shenandoah were calling her the “Lost Angeles” for her lack of success. The Los Angeles’ crew also had their own nickname for us, “Target of the Stars”, a play on the meaning of Shenandoah (Daughter of the Stars) and the fact that we had been ruled shot down in both phases.
We remained off of Venezuela for two more days, finally heading home on the 20th. This time we went through the Windward Passage at night and were unmolested by Iberian aircraft. We stopped at the expeditionary mast at Parris Island, South Carolina overnight on the 22nd and arrived over Lakehurst early on the 24th. Winds were too high for us to land until nightfall, so we circled around New Jersey, New York City, and Long Island until it was safe to land. Weather is apparently a major problem at Lakehurst, with the base being in the main eastern US storm track. The hanger is also not lined up with the prevailing winds, which makes moving the huge airships in and out quite a challenge. Admiral Moffett has been hinting that he wants to move operations further south, possibly to a new base in Florida, Georgia, or South Carolina. This would also put the airships closer to the fleet which operates primarily from Norfolk and Key West.
Finally, as night fell our two airships flew over Lakehurst once more. Landing a pair of airships pushed the ground crews to their limits, but both ships were down and secured without incident. Thus ended our eighteen day, 8,000-plus mile journey and hopefully saw the start of a long and productive relationship with our Atlantian friends.
Photos from the Exercise
Shenandoah as seen from the Los Angeles en route to the exercise.
Los Angeles launching its fighter in the Windward Passage as Iberian fighters were approaching.
The two airships over the Patoka in Venezuelan waters.
Shenandoah moored to the Patoka.
From left to right: Texas, Ramapo with the Los Angeles, and the Ranger.
Discovering the Ranger and her escorts during Phase 2 of the exercise. Soon after we were "shot down" by her fighters.
Ranger after the exercise.