The boat was now on the beach but below the surface of Lake Shore Drive. Forty-two 50-ton Buda hydraulic jacks were brought in to lift U-505 chest-high to prepare for the crossing. The delicate hoisting process took several days to accomplish. Meanwhile, other workmen moved heavy wooden beams and rails to the west side of Lake Shore Drive to construct the platform on which the boat would be transferred after crossing the busy street. Everything was finally ready at 7:00 p.m. on Thursday, September 2. Traffic was rerouted around the west side of the museum and workmen began the backbreaking task of laying wooden timbers and steel track in front of the boat for crossing. The track pieces had to be bolted and welded together to form the strongest connection possible. By 10:28 p.m. everything was ready and the boat began sliding across the road. The 312-foot move took place on 638 steel rollers at the rate of 57 feet per hour. The endeavor offered a grand sight for those fortunate enough to be on hand to witness it: a mammoth U-boat crossing a busy Chicago street in the heartland of its former foe, illuminated by two Chicago Fire Department trucks while some 15,000 people looked on in breathless awe. The sloth-like progress and late hour eventually took its toll and the crowd eventually dwindled to several hundred by the time U-505 finished the Lake Shore crossing.
Gallery, Lohr, Gooder, Robert Crown, Carl Stockholm and other dignitaries were on hand for the action, posing for photographs throughout the night, especially once the center of U-505 reached the center of Lake Shore Drive. The media-savvy Gallery had a gag ready for the occasion. Signs reading “Drive Carefully, Submarine Crossing,” had been installed for the event and Time Magazine was on hand to cover the story as the signs were being erected along Lake Shore Drive. The “warnings” offered yet another photo opportunity as the boat inched its way across. The passage was completed at 4:15 a.m., leaving the workmen more than enough time to remove the track and allow the road to resume carrying the traffic it was intended to serve.
With thousands of miles and nearly insurmountable logistical, engineering, and political problems behind it, U-505 had a mere 375 feet left to traverse in order to reach the museum. The boat would now be guided from the beach to the museum in a southwesterly direction, stern first. Workers placed more timbers and rail to prepare for the move. On September 9 the boat continued the fitful journey until its stern was almost exactly where museum officials envisioned its final position. Using the center of the boat as a pivot point, the bow was swung in a 67-degree arc to bring the boat into a north-south orientation alongside the building and eased over its final position. The only thing left to do was to lower U-505 by reverse jacking onto the concrete foundation, special display cradles, and pedestals designed to hold it. Nothing having to do with U-505, however, was ever simple. A concrete foundation 36” wide and 18” deep had been poured to match U-505’s flat-bottomed box keel. Only the center cradle for U-505, which had been designed to carry 1/3 of the boat’s weight, was intended as a fixed mounting point. The bow and stern ends of the keel would be installed on a pair of large rollers to allow for the expansion and contraction of the steel hull during Chicago’s hot and cold seasons. If the expansion and contraction had not been accounted for, explained the engineers, the movement of the boat would crack the concrete cradles. The solution was the installation of 20 steel rollers, each eight inches in diameter, on each end of the keel. These, in turn, were placed on top of a steel track resting on top of the concrete foundation. The bottom of the keel in these locations was cut away so the rollers could be recessed into the keel-box and hidden from view. Smaller stabilizing brackets were also affixed in four higher locations to the outer keel to keep the boat from tipping to either side. The rollers at each end and the very center of U-505’s box keel were the only areas of the boat actually taking its full weight. One can only wonder how this engineering issue would have been solved if an earlier plan to cut away the entire box keel (as a means of lowering the boat to make it easier for visitors to enter and exit via covered walkways) had gone forward.
U-505’s remarkable journey—beginning with its birth at Hamburg’s Deutsche Werft shipyard along the Elbe River in 1940 and continuing through its patrols to and from the hunting grounds of the Atlantic and Carribean, its discovery, attack, capture, American war-bond tour, long sojourn at the Portsmouth Naval Yard in New Hampshire, and difficult final trip inland—had reached an end.
Dedication
Time was now running short. The boat’s committee had announced that formal dedication ceremonies would be held September 25. The elaborate plans for the event had been underway for most of the year. It was not until Sunday, September 19, that workers began sandblasting U-505’s exterior to prepare the proud old boat for a new coat of paint. The old boat could be made to look good on the outside for its unveiling, but its interior—which was to have been open for guests at the ceremony—was not going to be ready. Indeed, there was barely time to erect the raised platform for the dedication ceremonies and install the seating for the VIP guests invited to witness the event.
A pair of tunnels had been built prior to the boat’s arrival to connect U-505 to the east side ground floor of the museum to provide visitor access. Now that the boat was in place, doorways had to be cut into the outer and pressure hulls. Engineers and museum staff decided the best place for the entrance would be through the # 2 port dive bunker, and the exit through the #7 port dive bunker.122
A special preview dinner banquet with 500 VIPs was scheduled for Thursday night, September 24, to celebrate U-505’s successful arrival at the museum. Entertainer Arthur Godfrey served as Master of Ceremonies for the dinner and the memorial service that followed. The keynote speaker, Secretary of the Navy Charles Thomas, had a special connection to the event: his son Hayward was aboard Guadalcanal when U-505 was captured. Admiral Gallery was also on hand to give a speech. The entire boarding party from USS Pillsbury (except for Lt. Albert L. David, who had passed away in 1945) had been located and invited to attend as guests of honor. Earl Trosino was given the honor of unveiling a large bronze plaque at the dedication ceremony the following day.123
The veterans of the capture of U-505 were arriving in Chicago for the dedication when local media discovered many of their wives had little or no idea of the historical role they had played during the war. Anne Mocarski learned about her husband’s participation only after Gallery visited Cleveland for a fundraiser in 1954 and asked her husband to attend. Until then, she had never heard of U-505. Norma Hohne did not learn about her husband’s exploits until November 1953, when Gallery sent a letter asking Gordon Hohne to complete a questionnaire and send a photograph. “I thought he was being called back into the Navy,” she laughed. Gloria Trusheim learned of the capture when she overheard her husband Phillip telling a friend about it. Margaret Wdowiak stumbled across her husband’s role by reading magazine accounts of the capture.124
The Thursday night banquet was advertised for 500 guests, but media reported 600-800 in attendance.125 Everyone enjoyed the event. Secretary Thomas extolled the virtues of a strong military (especially the navy) and credited the captors of U-505 for their forward thinking and planning. “If the Navy today can match the bravery and ingenuity of the U-505 captors,” he concluded, “I am confident our sea-power will remain superior and our country will remain safe.”126 In a move that surprised everyone save Gallery, who had arranged the special event, Secretary Thomas awarded the Distinguished Public Service Award—the Navy’s highest civilian honor—to six members of the citizen’s committee responsible for bringing U-505 to Chicago. The prestigious and rarely awarded medal, “is awarded to citizens not employed by the U.S. Navy for heroic acts and significant contributions which help accomplish the Navy’s mission.” Gallery had arranged for Thomas to do it that night because, “it would be much more satisfactory to all concerned, including the Secretary, and much more effective, if the Secretary could present the people concerned with concrete evidence of the Navy’s gratitude, rather than just make a speech about it.”127
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nbsp; The weather also cooperated when September’s last Saturday dawned clear and beautiful. The museum and Chicago Park District expected 20,000 people to be on hand for the ceremonies, but to their surprise 40,000 showed up—packed into every square foot of space they could elbow their way into. The Blue Jackets choir from Pensacola Naval Station entertained the crowd, as did the Great Lakes Naval Training Band. An honor guard of 30 Marines enjoyed the music in stoic silence.
A thunderous flyover by Navy jets kicked off the ceremony at 1:49 p.m. William Kahler, the president of Illinois Bell Telephone, arranged for the telephone company to sponsor live television coverage of one hour of the ceremonies beginning at 2:30 p.m. on local WBBM-TV. The show was carried by the entire CBS television network across the country. Master of Ceremonies Arthur Godfrey guided the event to perfection, reading aloud a letter of greeting from President Eisenhower:
I am delighted to learn that the Nazi submarine captured on the high seas…is to have a home in the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago,” wrote the president. “There it will be a permanent memorial to the tactical skill and gallantry of the men of the Navy. The story of this trophy’s capture, as told to me, is a stirring one indeed. It is a saga of initiative, skill and daring…. I am certain that this memorial will afford pleasure to all who view it; it will serve as an expression to our sailors of their nation’s gratitude.
Godfrey introduced the day’s keynote speaker, Admiral William “Bull” Halsey, who was piped aboard the platform. Everyone stood at attention while the Daniel A. Joy, anchored off the 57th Street beach, fired a 17-gun salute in his honor. Godfrey recounted the story of the capture, the secrets of the code books and acoustic torpedoes, and how 3,000 men had kept all of this secret. Admiral Gallery also spoke briefly, introducing each member of the boarding party and Earl Trosino, who perhaps was more responsible than anyone for saving the boat. “This is a great day for all of us who took part in the capture of U-505,” began Gallery. “That day ten years ago when we were struggling to keep this craft afloat…is a day none of us will forget. But not even in our wildest dreams could we then foresee the great climax to this ceremony today. We who captured this ship are indeed proud of what you here in Chicago have done with it…. It was made possible by the generosity and efforts of many citizens whose only motives were patriotism and the feeling that this memorial is important to future generations.”
And then Halsey stood and spoke. “U-505,” declared the man who had gallantly led American naval forces at Guadalcanal and elsewhere in the Pacific, represented a “tombstone of all Navy men, merchant sailors, and civilians who have gone down to unmarked graves in the sea…. It is particularly fitting that this, one of the few Naval memorials in the country, be placed here in Chicago. Almost one-third of naval personnel in World War II came from the great Midwest and the 9th Naval District with headquarters at Great Lakes.” The memorial, he continued, will serve to show the Communists that “their challenge for control of the high seas is doomed to failure.” He finished to thunderous applause.
The afternoon neared its end when Bishop Weldon, Guadalcanal’s former Chaplain, rose to offer a prayer to the Navy’s war dead. The last event was left to Earl Trosino, who was given the honor of offering up for posterity the bronze memorial plaque and its image of the capture. National pride could not have been elevated any higher by the time Trosino stepped forward and unveiled the impressive sculpture, which was temporarily mounted to the hand rail on the starboard side deck in the middle of U-505. The choir sang the Navy Hymn. The Marine honor guard fired a volley. The striking contrast between the sharp crack of the rifles and what followed—“Taps,” played by a solitary Navy bugler standing at attention on the boat’s conning tower—tightened throats and brought tears to the eyes of nearly everyone present. The bugler’s final note hung for a moment on the autumn air and then faded away.128 The ceremony heralding the arrival of U-505 in Chicago was over.
U-505 as an Exhibit
Despite not being fully prepared for an eager visiting public, U-505 opened on Sunday, September 26, 1954. By the end of the first week 7, 125 people had paid a quarter each to see the submarine. Thirteen-year-old Sharon Henriksen of Park Ridge, Illinois, became the 1,000,000th visitor in November 1956. As of this writing U-505 has welcomed more than 23,000,000 visitors. It is by far the museum’s most popular exhibit. The boat serves both as a fitting war memorial and a technological wonder—the complexity of construction and mass of valves, wheels, levers, equipment, and crew quarters, all stuffed inside a narrow pressure hull, invariably leaves a lasting impression. Many visitors find it difficult to fully comprehend what their eyes tell them is so. “Is this a real submarine?” many inquire, believing instead the museum had built some kind of elaborate stage set for their benefit. Questions run the gamut one would expect, from how many men served aboard the boat to what they ate, whether they showered, and how they learned to safely operate what appeared to be a very complex piece of machinery.
When visitors see so much gear crammed inside the boat they have a hard time imagining how much of it was actually missing when the submarine arrived in Chicago. Unfortunately, U-505 was stripped of some of its gear and spare parts as early as 1946, when these items were sorely needed by the French Navy to operate its own confiscated German U-boats. The extent of what was parceled out is still not clear. Thankfully, Lenox Lohr worked hard to return as much of the original equipment (or at least genuine parts) as possible. The most impressive success centers around the boat’s two diesel engines. Thanks to the help of volunteers from General Motors’ Electro-Motive division, they were placed in running condition by 1956. Lohr had them fired up again in 1968, and the author returned the starboard diesel to operation in 1994; it was last run in 1998. A sound recording of the thumping engines accompanies visitors as they walk through the boat.
The ongoing restoration of U-505 has been difficult, rewarding, and expensive. In 1953, museum teams discovered the radio and underwater listening equipment were missing. Indeed, the radio and sound rooms had been stripped bare. Even the countertop in these small rooms had been removed, as had the three document safes from the radio room, captain’s bunk, and officers’ room, which once housed the boat’s secret code books. Every bunk frame in the berthing spaces had been removed from their hangers and piled hither and yon. Whether the correct bunks for each room were on board when the boat arrived is unknown. Not even the battery spaces, located beneath the deck plates, had been spared. The tons of heavy batteries had been removed to reduce the weight (and thus draft) of the boat for the towing operation, but the space attracted bits and pieces of equipment pulled from elsewhere in the boat. The main ventilator motors from the Diesel Engine compartment, for example, were found two compartments away in the battery well beneath the Officers Quarters.
The museum immediately pressed the Navy to return any of U-505’s original parts and equipment—or similar items from other boats if the originals could not be located. A most fortunate stroke of luck occurred shortly after the U-boat was opened when Carl T. Milner toured the craft and sought out museum officials. An electronics junkie, Milner worked with the Naval Underwater Sound Lab at the Portsmouth Naval base. When U-505’s radio and sound equipment was stripped and sent to the dumpster after the war, Milner intervened. Unable to bear the thought of trashing the equipment, he shuttled most of it into his basement! He offered to return to the museum whatever he still had and even paid the cost of crating and shipping. The returned gear was immediately reinstalled. Unfortunately, Milner did not possess everything that had been removed, so the museum identified what it had and distributed it between the two rooms. In the mid 1990s, a detailed inventory of both rooms was discovered when many classified documents relating to the U-boat war were released to the public. Hopefully, these will allow the museum to obtain the original items and one day return the rooms to their original configuration.
Just how good was German optical equipment? Intelligence officials want
ed to find out, so both of the boat’s periscopes were removed shortly after the end of the war. Most of this sort of equipment was sent to private industry, whose labs were better suited to carry out investigations and often received authorization to test to destruction. The museum was under the impression this had been done with U-505’s periscopes, so a British navigation scope was obtained and installed on the boat after it arrived in Chicago. A stainless steel tube was erected to simulate the attack periscope. Both were depicted in fully extended positions so visitors could see the equipment most people closely associate with submarines.129 However, lightning struck twice when the U-boat was reunited with its original aerial periscope in 2002. The precious piece of optical equipment was returned from a once-secret naval laboratory in San Diego, where it was about to be demolished. Records as to the whereabouts of the pilfered periscopes disappeared and for decades no one knew what had happened to them. As was recently discovered, one ended up in San Diego, installed at the bottom of a giant cold water tank for experiments with submarine technology and materials suitable for submarine warfare beneath the polar ice caps. The author had long sought the originals but would have settled for an authentic (and difficult to come by) German periscope. When officials in San Diego realized what they had they contacted the museum to determine whether the institution was interested in its acquisition. The periscope will not be re-installed in the boat, however, because the low roof in its new home will make it impossible for visitors to see the scope. The periscope will instead be exhibited horizontally alongside the boat as a separate technical exhibit. The museum is still looking for the attack periscope. Hopefully one day it, too, will be found and returned to U-505.
Hunt and Kill Page 28
