Category Archives: World War 2

1945 War Plant Worker

Ohmite

Seventy years ago, American war production was going strong, as demonstrated by this worker at the Ohmite Manufacturing Company plant in Chicago. This worker, shown here on the cover of the February, 1945, issue of Radio News, is testing transmitter RF chokes for their “Q” factor.

Like virtually all American industry, the company was engaged entirely in war production. The company had been founded in 1925 and, as suggested by its name, primarily engaged in the manufacture of resistors. It’s currently headquartered in the Chicago area, with its production and distribution facilities moved to Matamoros, Mexico and Brownsville, Texas, one of many maquiladoras along the U.S.-Mexico border.

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End of Civilian Radio Production: April 22, 1942

US-WarProductionBoard-Seal

I’ve always been aware that civilian radio sets were not manufactured during World War 2, but I never knew the details. Those details are reported on page 22 of Broadcasting, March 16, 1942.

On March 7, 1942, the War Production Board, which had itself been created by executive order on January 16, 1942, issued its order regarding radio equipment. Under that order, all manufacture of civilian receiving sets was to cease on April 22 in preparation for the conversion of the 55 manufacturers to war production. Sets in production as of that date were allowed to be finished, but only if not more than $500 in materials (not including wooden cabinets) were used.

30,000 were employed by these firms, and they had collectively produced more than 13 million sets prior to the order. They had done $240,000,000 in business during 1941, and all of their resources were now to be turned to war production.

War orders for all of the companies were already in place, and they were to begin gearing up for war production as soon as the manufacture of civilian sets ended.

The War Production Board estimated that the firms would turn out about three million more sets before the deadline, which would increase the total number of civilian sets to about 60 million.

Those sets would need to be kept in good shape, since the Board doubted that even replacement parts would be manufactured for the duration of the war. The Board even hinted that rationing and registration might be required, noting that some homes had more than one good set, and extras could be used in homes having none. But the Board’s chairman believed that the current supply of sets, along with those in production and on retailer’s shelves, would be sufficient for the nation’s needs.

The next month, Hugo Gernsback, editor of Radio Craft magazine, opined in an editorial as to the possibilities this situation presented for America’s youth: “Young men between the ages of 12 and 17 who are not subject to the draft have time on their hands, which they now can turn into cash by building sets not only for their friends and relatives–yes, but even sell them to radio stores. It is certain that if a number of boys gang together and manufacture a few sets every week in their spare time, and providing the sets are made right, they can be sold to the trade.”

Gernsback noted that millions of obsolete sets cluttering up storerooms would be a source of parts, as would automobile junk yards and junk shops, since they were loaded with a goldmine of parts. He pointed out that readers could “perform a patriotic service to conserve whatever substitute materials we have and turn such materials into radio sets.”

SylvaniaCardEarly in the war, manufactured parts were hard to come by. By the end of the war, some common parts were becoming available for civilians, but most were in limited supply, and most could be sold only to those attesting that they would be used to make repairs to existing sets.  But throughout the war, radio service men had to be creative due to the absence of needed parts.  The February 1945 issue of Radio News reported that, barring a miracle, civilian production would not resume until victory over Japan.  That issue also contained an ad by Sylvania, a portion of which is shown here.  When a service man had to make an emergency repair by re-wiring the set to make use of available parts, he could document the change on the card in order to facilitate restoring the set to its original condition when parts became available after the war.

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US Embassy in Tokyo After Pearl Harbor: The Secret Radio

US Embassy Tokyo, 1931 photo.  (US Gov't photo).

US Embassy Tokyo, 1931 photo. (US Gov’t photo).

The website of the Association for Diplomatic Studies and Training contains a very interesting account of life in the U.S. Embassy in Tokyo after Japan’s attack on Pearl Harbor.  It is the reminiscences of Robaert A. Fearey, who served as personal secretary to Joseph Grew, the U.S. Ambassador to Japan from 1932-41.

Fearey had recently graduated from college, and had a 4-F draft status due to eye problems.  He had been recommended by his college for the assignment, and sailed for Japan in early 1941.  On the morning of December 8, he, along with the rest of the embassy staff, heard of the attack on Pearl Harbor.  Late in the morning, a car from the Foreign Ministry arrived with the official notification.

The staff of the embassy was interned in the embassy compound until June, when they were repatriated on a well-lighted Japanese ship via Mozambique.  The journalists with whom they sailed home had been assumed to be spies and were tortured.  The embassy staff, however, was allowed to remain relatively unmolested on the embassy grounds.  The staff was even able to witness the Doolittle Raid of April 18, 1942.

One condition imposed by the Japanese was that the embassy was not allowed to retain any radio transmitter or receiver.  The embassy didn’t have any transmitter, instead relying on commercial telegraph.  The ambassador protested the seizure of radio receivers, but to little avail.  The Japanese searched the compound for radios and seized them.

But Fearey reports that he kept one radio:

Again demonstrating youthful indiscretion, I went back to my apartment and effectively hid a tiny pocket radio which a college housemate and amateur radio expert had made for me and which I had brought along to Japan. The radio was about five inches long, three inches wide and three-quarters of an inch thick and had what my friend had told me might be two of the smallest tubes ever made. I carried it inside the upper pocket of my jacket, with holes cut in the pocket so I could reach in to turn the control knobs. a thin wire ran
up under the back of my coat to a small, almost invisible ear plug. With this device, I had been able, unbeknownst to anyone, to listen to the radio during classes at college and even when riding my motorcycle. In Japan, I had tried it out a few times and had no
trouble receiving Japanese language stations. In our current predicament, I thought it might be a useful source of information, and in any case, I did not want to lose it. The searchers never found it, and it did prove to be a moderately useful source of information
until the tiny batteries wore out. I brought it back to the States on the repatriation ship.

It seems likely that the radio in question was similar to the one shown here on the cover of the September 1935 issue of Radio Craft magazine.

SmallestRadio1935

The description of Fearey’s clandestine radio seems to match up with the description of the 1935 project.  The 1935 receiver was one tube, and Fearey reports that his contained two tubes.  So chances are, the unnamed builder of Fearey’s set added an extra stage of amplification.  But it seems to be the same general design.

Fearey reports the size of his radio as being about 5 by 3 by 3/4 inch, with “two of the smallest tubes ever made.” The Radio Craft design doesn’t specify the dimensions, but reports that it was built in a bakelite cigarette case designed to hold ten cigarettes. The radio in the article uses an English tube which does appear to be the smallest in production at that time.

And significantly, the construction article notes that crystal earphones are used. While the article shows the set used with a pair of headphones, a crystal earphone was available at that time, as noted in the article. The article calls for 25-30 feet of wire for the antenna, but with a strong station and/or the additional tube, the use of the smaller antenna described by Fearey seems plausible.

The schematic and pictorial diagrams of the Radio Craft set appear below.

SmallestRadio1935Diagram

Fearey’s account is also available as a web page with additional illustrations.


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Operation Cornflakes: Tampering With the Nazi Mail

Forged envelopes and stamps, courtesy of CIA website.

Forged envelopes and stamps, courtesy of CIA website.

Seventy years ago today, January 5, 1945, Allied bombers engaged in an unusual attack. They bombed a mail train heading for Linz, Austria. The train was derailed, and mail was scattered around the area. More bombers then arrived and dropped mail bags appearing for all the world to be genuine Reichspost bags. Inside were about 3800 letters addressed to Germans, many of whom were the families of German soldiers who had been killed in action.

The plan was known as Operation Cornflakes. The return addresses on the letters were those of German firms, and the letters outwardly appeared to be normal business correspondence. However, the envelopes contained propaganda newspapers prepared by the U.S. Office of Strategic Services (OSS), including issues of Das Neue Deutschland, an example of which is shown below.

DasNeueDeutschland

The stamps, envelopes, and even the mail bags, had to be carefully forged to appear original to the postal workers who would handle them. While the program had no discernible effect, it was successful in that most of the propaganda letters were introduced into the German mails. After the train was bombed, German rail and postal workers dutifully picked up the scattered mail bags and sent them onward to their intended recipients.

The stamps and envelopes shown above are examples of some of the forgeries, courtesy of the CIA website. To ensure that the propaganda would blend in with the normal mail, the OSS consulted German POW’s who had worked for the post office. The details of the cancellations had to match what was in use in the cities from which the mail had purportedly originated, and there had to be some semblance of mail being in the proper train for the town for which it was intended. German POW’s provided most of this information relating to the internal workings of the German mails.

Most of the mail was successfully delivered, but in one case, a sharp-eyed German postal worker noticed that the name of the company was misspelled on the return address. This, of course, resulted in that particular batch not being delivered.

References

 

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Wartime 3-Tube Regenerative Receiver

Jan45PMrcvrWartime parts shortages were a major inspiration for the design of this short wave receiver from the January 1945 issue of Popular Mechanics. The lamp isn’t there for decoration; it’s one of the parts.

The receiver used three identical tubes, the 6C5. It ran directly off house current. The three 6-volt filaments are run in series, and to avoid the need for a filament transformer, a 40-watt light bulb in series is used to drop the 110 volt house current to the 18 volts necessary to light the tubes. A standard household receptacle is mounted directly on the chasis, into which a desk lamp can be plugged. Another alternative was to mount the bulb directly on the chasis, using a lamp adapter plug.

Speaking of the chasis, the set is constructed on a literal breadboard, sourced from the nearby dime store. The coil form was also obtained at the dime store, in the form of a plastic drinking cup. The coil is wound with cotton-covered wire, held in place with fingernail polish.

Jan45PMrcvr2The two variable condensers, one for tuning and the other for regeneration, were scavenged from old broadcast receivers. For regeneration, only half of the 350 mF condenser is used. For tuning, the two sections of the 350 mF condenser are wired in series, rather than parallel, resulting in 88 mF, which is better suited to the 25 and 31 meter bands the set tunes. An additional five resistors and five capacitors round out the parts list.

One of the 6C5 tubes is used as a rectifier, one serves as the regenerative detector, and the final one serves as an audio amplifier. In the 1943 Allied Radio catalog, the tubes are available for 56 cents each. The catalog notes that most glass tubes were available in limited quantities. However, it noted that the metal tubes were generally available only to high priority customers.

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Canadian Wartime Nickel Contains Morse Code

The 1943-45 Canadian five cent coin, known as the “Victory Nickel,” is unusual in that it contains Morse Code.  Most Canadians were unaware that they were carrying a Morse message in their pocket, since the code is discernible only upon close examination with a magnifying glass.  It is partially visible on the image shown here.  It’s on the reverse of the coin, and runs clockwise along the edge.  It begins just to the left of the letter “N” in the word “CENTS”.

The beaver design currently appearing on the coin first appeared in 1937, but the coin was redesigned during the war.  The reverse featured the letter V, with a dual significance.  In addition to being the Roman Numeral for five (which was used on the U.S. Liberty nickel from 1883-1912), it was also the symbol of victory.

And with little fanfare, it also included the message, in Morse Code, “WE WIN WHEN WE WORK WILLINGLY.”

The Canadian Mint re-issued the design in 2005, dated 1945-2005, to commemorate the 60th anniversary of the end of the war.  However, the 2005 design did not include the Morse Code inscription.

Specimens of the coin in which the full message is legible are fairly uncommon.  Most were made of steel, plated with nickel.  The sheets were plated before the blanks were cut out, resulting in the edges being unplated.  This has caused most of them to rust around the edges, making the Morse Code illegible.  In the example shown above, the words “WE WHEN WHEN WE” are very legible, but most of the rest of the message is impossible to make out.

The 1943 coin was made of tombac (a brass alloy), and the message is more likely to be legible on specimens from that year.

References

Canadian Mint, Five Cents.

QST, January 1945, page 48.



AS-19/TRC-1 Antenna System at the Siege of Bastogne

US Army Signal Corps photo, Wikipedia.

US Army Signal Corps photo, Wikipedia.

This photo was taken 70 years ago today, 26 December 1944, during the siege of Bastogne, part of the Battle of the Bulge.  It was taken by a U.S. Army Signal Corps photographer, and shows troops of the 101st Airborne Division as they watch C-47s drop supplies to them. Of course, if you’re a ham, your eyes zero in on the antenna, shown below, and you see what appears to be a horizontally polarized VHF Yagi antenna on top of a tall mast. If you’re like me, you wonder what it is and what it’s doing there.

BastogneAntenna

I apparently wasn’t the first to ask the question, since it had already been asked and answered on K4CHE’s site.  The antenna in question is, indeed, a VHF Yagi, and it was part of a telephone relay system operating with 50 watts between 70-100 MHz. This was an FM full-duplex relay that could handle one voice conversation or four teletype channels.  It was linked to telephone circuits and represented a low-cost alternative to stringing phone lines.  A diagram of the antenna system, known as the AS-19/TRC-1, is shown below.

AS19TRC1

AS-19/TRC-1, Radio News, Jan. 1946.

Later models had greater capacity, such as the one whose operating manual is available at this link.  The range obviously depended on the terrain, but was normally used for links of 25-100 miles.  The technical details are discussed in detail in the Radio News link below.  Not surprisingly, the Yagi antenna was not referred to by that Japanese name at the time.  It’s referred to as a “double H” type antenna.

I haven’t been able to find it, but one of the sources above indicated that a ham magazine published an article for converting this antenna to 6 meter use.

References

 

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1944 Teen Girls: Homework With the Radio Full Blast

1944TeenSeventy years ago, Life Magazine, December 11, 1944, featured the life of teen-age girls, and noted that all six million of them “live in a world all their own–a lovely, gay, enthusiastic, funny and blissful society almost untouched by the war.” Music stores bulged with girls listening to the singers and bandleaders they have made famous, and “half a dozen radio programs are aimed at homes where a daughter will cut off her father’s news to follow the fictional adventures of a contemporary.”

1944FullBlastShown here and above is Miss Pat Woodruff, a high school student from Webster Groves, Missouri, a suburb of St. Louis. She’s wearing her “after-school costume of blue jeans and a checked shirt,” undoubtedly getting ready to tune in one of those programs on the console radio in the parlor. She quickly gets to work tackling her homework, but with the radio playing full blast.

1944PhonographWhen the girls featured in the story were not listening to the radio or talking endlessly on the telephone, the phonograph occupied them. Here, a group of girls spends 2-1/2 hours listening to two dozen records at a record store, buying only one or two. Here, a group is completely engrossed listening to Dick Haymes‘ Together.

Dates were usually double, the article noted. Teen-age girls were primarily interested in themselves, with high-school boys running a poor second. Servicemen stationed near town rated last. An old high-school boy home on leave in uniform, however, was in a class by himself and rated tops.

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The First Shot of WW2 in US Territory, 1939: The Arauca

The Arauca (left).  The Orion is barely visible, circled, at the right side of the photo.  Big Spring (Texas) Daily Herald, December 21, 1939.

The Arauca (left). The Orion is barely visible, circled, at the right side of the photo. Big Spring (Texas) Daily Herald, December 21, 1939.

The first shot of World War Two to be fired in the United States was 75 years ago today, on December 19, 1939. On that day, the merchant ship Arauca sailed into Port Everglades, Florida, flying the Nazi flag. Just off the Hillsboro Lighthouse, the British cruiser HMS Orion was pursuing the Auraca and signaled for the Arauca to proceed into international waters. Not surprisingly, the Arauca’s captain did not heed the message. The British ship then fired a shot across her bow from not more than 12 miles away from the U.S. coast. This was a violation of U.S. neutrality, but there’s no record of any protest having been filed. The captain of the Arauca sailed the ship into the U.S. port. The Orion remained in the area for a few days, but when it disappeared, the Auraca‘s crew was seen painting the ship grey, preparing to make a run for it in the next fog.

But the Auraca never left port under its own steam. What the Royal Navy attempted to do was instead accomplished by American lawyers.

The Auraca had been sailing from Veracruz to New Orleans. She was on her maiden voyage, having sailed to Havana prior to the outbreak of hostilities. After the war started, despite the captain’s request to return to Germany, she was sent to Veracruz.

The Auraca was carrying a cargo of sugar, and about a dozen German passengers returning to Germany from Mexico. She was also carrying fuel that was thought to be in excess of her own needs, leading to speculation that she was an auxiliary military vessel tasked with refueling German warships. This was a critical distinction, because if she were deemed to be an auxiliary, she would be allowed in port for only 24 hours. It turned out, however, that this determination was never made, because the U.S. civil courts saw to it that the vessel would never again see service to Germany.

The ship’s presence in Ft. Lauderdale was quite a tourist attraction. In addition to those along the Florida coast who witnessed the shot across the bow, thousands flocked to Ft. Lauderdale to see the Nazi ship sitting at the dock.

The morning after the Auraca‘s arrival, a libel action was brought in the U.S. District Court in Florida. The Imperial Sugar Company of Galveston, Texas, filed the suit against the ship’s owner, the Hamburg-American Line, for damages for breach of contract for an earlier transaction predating the war. Other claimants followed suit, and eventually claims of over $138,000 had been filed, in addition to the Port’s claim for docking fees. To release the ship, the owners would have to post bond of more than $277,000, which never happened. The ship became a permanent fixture in Ft. Lauderdale.

Most of the passengers and crew were forced to remain aboard the ship. The captain and officers were initially allowed into the town of Ft. Lauderdale, and the captain was quite willing to give interviews to the many U.S. reporters who pursued him.

The ship and crew, basically imprisoned aboard the ship, remained until March 20, 1941, when President Roosevelt arrived at Port Everglades for a fishing trip. From aboard his presidential yacht, anchored just yards from the German ship, he was upset when he “caught sight of a Nazi flag fluttering over American soil.” Before the end of the month, 60 ship seizures, including the Arauca, took place under the Espionage Act, on the grounds that the vessels posed a threat to American harbors.

The Justice Department then obtained arrest warrants against the entire crew on the grounds that the crewmen, imprisoned in the ship, had actually overstayed their visas. The Coast Guard arrested the crew and replaced the Swastika with Old Glory. The crew was later transported to the Broward County Jail, then to the Dade County Jail, and finally to Ellis Island. They were still at Ellis Island when the U.S. joined the war, and the men were interned at the Fort Lincoln Internment Camp in North Dakota.

The litigation surrounding the ship dragged on until well after the war was over. The ship was eventually sold, and the proceeds held in trust for the various claimants. A 1949 decision, Suns Insurance Office v. Arauca Fund, 84 F. Supp. 516 (D.C. Fla. 1949), involved the computation of damages for contracts payable in reichsmarks. Since the reichsmarks were “worthless in terms of dollars” at the time of the deicision, that claimant got nothing. The attorneys didn’t fare much better, in what appears to be the final reported decision of the case, United States v. Knauth, 183 F.2d 874 (C.A. 5 1950). In that decision, the Fifth Circuit held that the prevailing attorneys did not have a lien against the vessel, since their cause of action actually arose out of a claim involving a different vessel.

The ship in 1943, now the USS Saturn.  Wikipedia photo.

The ship in 1943, now the USS Saturn. Wikipedia photo.

The ship itself was purchased in 1941 from the U.S. Maritime Commission by the South Atlantic Steamship Company of Savannah, Georgia, which towed the ship to Mobile and renamed her the Sting. After such a long period of disuse, the ship was in need of extensive repairs and was eventually handed back to the U.S. Government. In April 1942 the ship, now named the USS Saturn, was in the hands of the U.S. Navy. She suffered numerous mechanical problems, but operated along the East Coast and to Carribean bases such as Trinidad and Guantanamo. She made one transatlantic crossing to England in 1943, and trips later in the war to the Mediterranean, Iceland, and the Carribean. She was decommissioned in 1946, but held in reserve until 1972 when she was sold to a Spanish firm for scrap.

References

 

Note:  In many sources, the name of the ship is incorrectly reported as the Aranca.  This appears to have originated in typographical errors in many newspaper accounts in 1939.  The ship was intended for trade with South America, and was given the name of the Arauca River of Colombia and Venezuela.

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