“All . . . Behaved Courageously and Cooly”: The Loss of USS Portent (AM-106) During Operation Shingle

Author’s Note: During this 80th anniversary cycle of World War II, I hope to correct, at least in some small way through multiple weblog posts, the incomplete historical scholarship given to the U.S. Navy’s missions and activities in the European and Mediterranean Theaters of Operation, compared with those in the Pacific Theater. By utilizing little known records in collections of the NHHC’s Archives Branch, the stories of the men that served and fought onboard ships will be honored––while simultaneously allowing the reader to gain a better insight into the richness, breadth, and depth of our textual holdings. Hopefully these entries will ignite a spark of desire to conduct historical research here at the Navy’s official archives, using the same collections I cite as documentary evidence.
 
 
Eighty years ago today, the last Allied amphibious assault on Italian soil occurred. Codenamed Operation Shingle, it was “unique in the naval history of the European war. It was the only amphibious operation in that theater where the [U.S.] Army was unable promptly to exploit a successful landing, or where the enemy contained Allied forces on a beachhead for a prolonged period. Indeed, in the entire war there [was] none to compare with it.”[1] Shingle called for a successful outflanking of the German Wehrmacht’s heavily fortified “Winter” or “Gustav” Line. Built across the Italian peninsula, the line in November 1943 became the impediment to the U.S. 5th and U.K. 8th Army’s objective of capturing Rome. Their quick advance grinding to a halt in severe winter weather, Allied infantrymen, artillerymen, and tankers soon began a World War I-style battle of attrition––and slog––to seize ground from the Germans. After months of this fighting, Allied leaders decided the time was right to launch Shingle in January 1944. This would allow them to regain their freedom of movement and make substantial progress toward liberating the Eternal City. Beginning on 22 January 1944, Sailors of the U.S. 8th Fleet ferried Soldiers––mostly of the 5th Army’s VI Corps––in landing craft to the beaches at Anzio and Nettuno. Meanwhile, 8th Fleet warships provided naval gunfire support (NGS) to landing troops, while other vessels provided protection to the assault and support vessels off the Italian coast.[2]
 
One of the many ships providing protection was the minesweeper USS Portent (AM-106). She was in commission only nine-and-a-half months when Shingle commenced. Her entire history will soon be updated in the Dictionary of American Naval Fighting Ships (DANFS), found here: https://www.history.navy.mil/research/histories/ship-histories/danfs/p/portent.html. The climax of the entry details her sinking and loss on the first day of Operation Shingle. Not only was it tragic––first and foremost for the men lost onboard––but also for the fate of the primary sources that her Sailors created. Historical records are the historian’s (and archivist’s) craft, used to accurately and reliably write and preserve the stories of the past.
 
On the morning of 22 January, Portent––a 221 foot minesweeper of the Auk class––was continuing her anti-submarine and anti-E boat (the German Kriegsmarine’s version of our PT boat) patrol begun the previous evening. According to Shingle’s operation plan, “strong enemy submarine, E-Boat and Air Attacks” were to be expected, along with warnings about “the dangers of two man submarines, human torpedoes and limpid mines.”[3] Given the deadly potential of these weapons against warships about to provide NGS to Army infantrymen, Portent’s commanding officer, LT Howard C. Plummer, USNR, wrote that “he should take such risks as necessary in order to carry out [an] efficient sound search in the protection of fire support vessels in the vicinity of his assigned patrol.”[4]
 
It was during this assigned patrol that at approximately 1007 on D-Day––near latitude 41-23.5 North and longitude 12-43.5 East––Portent experienced “a terrific underwater explosion” that occurred “near the starboard screw.”[5] The cause of the explosion was believed to be from a mine, but whether it was laid by Americans or Germans was not determined. A hole was blown “in the deck of the machine shop between the lathe and workbench.”[6] Seawater rushed into the opening, filling the engine rooms and mine gear stowage compartment. Immediately after the detonation, the ship began to sink by the stern. She remained on an even keel for one minute, then listed heavily to her starboard side, all while continuing to settle by the stern. LT Plummer was standing on the bridge conning his ship when the explosion happened. Remaining at his station, at 1010 he gave the order to abandon ship. Two minutes later, Portent capsized and settled to the seabed floor, sinking in ninety feet of water. Approximately fifteen feet of her bow still remained above the water’s surface for some time afterwards, as shown in the photograph taken from the light cruiser USS Brooklyn (CL-40), below.[7]


Most of Portent’s crewmen were able to escape before the ship sank. However, there were a number of casualties, according to LT Plummer’s three-page letter of 5 February––the first page of which is pictured below––to the Chief of the Bureau of Medicine and Surgery, the Navy’s top doctor. One Sailor, STM2c Thaddeus G. Robinson, USN, suffered fatal injuries and went down with the ship. Regrettably, his body was never recovered.[8] Today he is memorialized on the Tablets of the Missing at the Sicily-Rome American Cemetery, north of Nettuno, operated by the American Battle Monuments Commission.[9] Another six known men were killed onboard: Warrant Officer Charles J. Baumann, USNR; SM1c James N. Giffin, USNR; GM3c Charlie L. Lagrone, USNR; CCS(AA) Ernest F. Parrish, USNR; BKR3c John F. Schultz, USNR; and MoMM2c Nicholas L. Wood, USNR. Also, F1c Horace A. Skelsey, USN-I, was critically wounded and transferred to the Army’s 23rd General Hospital in Naples the next day. Unfortunately, he died there on 24 January.[10]
 
Additionally, nine men who were wounded––LTJG Kelly D. Alexander, USNR; S1c Alan G. Collinson, USN; CMoMM Howard D. Cox, USN; SC3c Donald Dissinger, USNR; MoMM2c Edward I. Haigh, USNR; SoM3c David J. Keily, USNR; WT3c George E. Melius, USNR; S2c Joseph O’Connor, USNR; and GM3c Ernest H. Strickler, USNR––were brought to safety onboard other ships near Portent, and soon transferred to Army hospitals and other medical facilities in Naples for treatment. Finally, an undetermined number of Sailors were killed on the stern’s main deck, and at least six men stationed in the after engine rooms went missing.[11]


In the midst of this death and destruction, LT Plummer later wrote in his official report that “all officers and men of the ship behaved courageously and cooly.”[12] Additionally, “all ships records and personnel records, except pay accounts, were lost.”[13] The area near the “scene of sinking was searched for both survivors and floating compromising material for approximately one hour after [the] ship overturned and sank. No publications were seen. . . . No chance for salvage or demolition of secret installations was possible. No publications were salvaged or destroyed.”[14] It was this loss of primary sources that affected telling Portent’s complete story. Thankfully her microfilmed war diaries / deck logs from April to December 1943 were first transferred––presumably after the end of each month––for preservation to the Office of Naval Records and Library, the NHHC’s predecessor organization. Later on they were transferred to the National Archives and Records Administration (NARA), where today the records are digitized for everyone’s use. Unfortunately, the January 1944 diaries / logs went down with the ship. However, these documents only “tell” so much; others need to exist to enable historians to do their craft. But besides a few microfilmed engineering drawings in NARA’s Record Group 19: Records of the Bureau of Ships, and LT Plummer’s official report, no identifiable materials remain.[15]
 
Additionally, only five documents held in the Archives Branch describe in any detail Portent’s war-time history, one of which is pictured below. These records are housed in the Ships History–Decommissioned collection. First created in the latter half of the 20th century by the historians and archivists of the NHHC’s former-named Ships History Branch (SH), this collection contains primary and secondary sources on most American naval vessels. Whenever a SH historian or archivist located a useful or interesting document, he placed it into the relevant file folder, potentially amassing great documentation on a ship’s life. The evidence contained within these records were then––and still are––primarily used to write DANFS entries. Since 1955, DANFS has been the go-to (born-textual then turned-digital) official resource for students of naval ships and warfare. Unfortunately, because of the loss of Portent’s records, only a very thin folder of material was compiled. Any items worth preserving that would have shone a spotlight onto the minesweeper and her crewmen––memoranda, reports, rosters, newspapers, photographs, and personal papers––were lost forever.[16]

So, in the absence of records from Portent––or any warship––historians must broaden their search to locate and use records in other repositories. These include reports created by Sailors onboard other vessels and at higher level commands, along with eyewitness accounts. Perhaps later this century, other material will be discovered that will help us historians truly understand the minesweeper’s story. Until then, using the available and well-preserved records in the Archives Branch––and elsewhere––are the means by which we have to ensure that Portent’s men are never forgotten.