S/S Ancon History

Design and Construction (1936 – 1938):

After Congress overruled President Hoover's desire to disband the Panama Line in 1932, plans for new tonnage began, but came under attack from privately-owned companies opposed to a government-owned line diverting commercial trade.

As America began to strengthen defences of the Panama Canal, new building plans were revived in late 1936. This coincided with legislation to revive the U.S. Merchant Marine, and led to the creation of the Federal Maritime Commission which subsidized vessel construction and operation. After the Merchant Marine Act of 1936 had reaffirmed government encouragement of private steamship companies, upgrading a government-owned line prompted opposition; to which Panama Railroad responded by citing a Supreme Court decision of October 1935.

"We attach no importance to the fact that the railway company has utilized both its ships and railroad to carry private freight and passengers. The record shows that this is done to a limited extent compared; and that it is only incidental to the government operations."

In 1936 plans were finalized for three vessels designed by the noted naval architect George G. Sharp, to offer 52 passenger sailings a year versus the then present 26. They were wholly financed from profits, reserves and depreciation funds accrued over the years by Panama Railroad under the shrewd management of T.H. Rossbottom.

Bids were received on April 16, 1937, from Bethlehem Steel Co. ($4,040,000 per ship), New York Shipbuilding Corp. ($4,076.000 per ship), Federal Shipbuilding and Newport News Shipbuilding & Dry Dock. On May 20, Secretary of War Harry H. Woodring announced a contract with Bethlehem Shipbuilding for "three modern fast fireproof combination passenger-cargo liners" of 10,000 grit, carrying 200 passengers and 100,000 cubic feet of cargo with a speed of 16.5 knots from steam turbines. Alternative specifications for diesel propulsion had been given, but no such bids were received. The ships were to be built at the Fore River Shipyard, Quincy, Massachusetts and delivered in 18, 20 and 22 months respectively.

Assigned yard numbers 1467, 1468 and 1469, the keels of the first two were laid down on October 25 and the third on November 15, 1937. Yard No. 1467 was christened PANAMA on September 24, 1938, by Mrs. Raquel de la Guardia de Boyd, wife of Dr. Don Augusto S. Boyd, Panama's ambassador to the United States. The 6,000-ton hull was 98 per cent complete with 90 per cent of the machinery also in place. On December 10, Mrs. Harry Woodring launched No. 1468 as ANCON. No. 1469 took to the water as CRISTOBAL on March 4, 1939, sponsored by Mrs. Clarence S. Ridley, wife of the Governor of the Panama Canal Zone, Brig. General Clarence S. Ridley.

Prewar Service with Panama Line (1939 – 1942):

The maiden voyages were announced on January 8, 1939; PANAMA on March 30, ANCON on June 8 and CRISTOBAL on August 18. On February 18, PANAMA's trials were set: first pierside machinery tests on the 21st, builder's trials on the 28th and acceptance trials on March 7. Evidently something proved amiss, for on March 25 her maiden voyage was set back to April 27.  Early on April 6 PANAMA left Quincy for Rockland, Maine, where she anchored at 11:00p.m. The next day she ran the Navy's measured mile course and averaged 18.76 knots at 9,138 shp and 98.28 rpm. The service speed of 16.20 knots was achieved at 5,420 shp and 83.88rpm. The very day PANAMA ran her trials, Panama Railroad observed its 90th anniversary; and a government-owned enterprise that was both profitable and essential.

The ANCON (Captain David H. Swinson) arrived at New York at noon on June 16, 1939, from Quincy after her 350-mile delivery-trials trip on which she averaged 19.5 knots. She sailed to Cristobal on the 22nd with T.H. Rossbottom aboard and returned on July 8 with 176 passengers.

WW2 War Service (1942 – 1946):

The Atlantic Story:

This is the saga of the “Mighty A” – the USS Ancon (AGC-4) – clean, proud command ship which has mothered invasions from the First Allied landing at Fedala, French Morocco to the grand finale – the occupation of Japan at war’s end.

Straddled by German bombs – but never hit – she was the hottest target sought after by the Jerries in frantic attempts day and night to crush her as a nerve centre of invasion fleets. The Japanese took up where the Germans left off and boasted they would sink her for sure. But she flaunted every effort and steamed into Tokyo Bay on the 29^th August 1945, in the vanguard of conquering American forces along with the USS IOWA, MISSOURI and SOUTH DAKOTA.

The Ancon is the first and probably best known of the communications ships developed during the Second World War. She has travelled further, been in more major operations and carried more famous personalities and top military brains of the Second World War than any other ship of her type.

During the first two years of the WW2, the Ancon, was the only communications ship in the European Theatre. She served as a floating radio station, the eyes and ears of invasion armadas at North Africa, Sicily, Salerno and Normandy. Later her maze of radar and telegraphic equipment kept vigil at Okinawa and throughout the Pacific.

In the Ancon can be seen a striking symbol of America’s quick conversion from peacetime pursuits to those of war. During her palmy days she was a luxury passenger liner and cargo ship catering to the Caribbean tourist trade. Completed in 1938 at a cost of $5 million and like her sister ships, the Panama and the Cristobal, she was designed for cargo and passenger service for the Panama Railroad Company to make runs between New York and Cristobal, Canal Zone. Being 492 feet long with a beam of 64 feet and displacing 14,200 tons, she had a maximum speed of 22 knots.

She was christened 24^th September 1938 by Mrs Harry Woodring, wife of the then Secretary of War, and was put into service on the 22^nd June 1939 carrying 202 first class passengers, a crew of 125 and 6000 tons of cargo.

In peacetime garb, her mirrored dining saloons and rococo cocktail bars served gay parties of the leisure travellers bound for the Caribbean. In her vast refrigerated holds were stored tons of green bananas from Central America, ripened on voyages back to the States.

Then came the war. Her civilian career ended on the 11^th January 1942, when the Ancon was taken over by the U.S. Army Transport Service. Under this service, she made two voyages to Australia, carrying American troops needed to bolster the defence of the Commonwealth. After her second voyage for the Army, she was taken over by the U.S. Navy. Changes were made. She was becoming a merchantman at war.

More gun mounts reared their deadly snouts on her decks. A swimming pool, which had been changed into a wash and shower room for troops invasion bound, was done away with to make room for a business-like radio and battery shack. King-posts and hoisting booms were added and the modern paraphernalia of radar and communications was installed. The once gay mirrored dining room became a crew’s mess hall; an officer’s ward room replaced the lounge and bar; cargo holds became crew’s quarters; passenger staterooms became cabins in officers’ country, with pink tiled bathtubs and showers as a carry over from former days. Bulkheads in the officers’ wardrooms, which had been enamelled and simonized to such a degree that they could be used as mirrors, were toned down. Air conditioning units were retained throughout the ship, however, for the comfort of officers and crew. She was readied for adventure.

The men who comprised her crew were a motley group. They came from offices, farms and factories, from whistle stops and booming metropolises. Butchers, bakers and candlestick makers, they were welded into a fighting team as sailors, and before long they were as salty as the best. They got their sea legs on the way to their first big adventure, the first full scale Allied amphibious invasion to take place in the European Theatre during the Second World War.

It took place at Fedala, French Morocco, a little, dirty hot port on the northeast coast of Africa, about 15 miles from Casablanca.

The assault took place on the 8^th November 1942. During the invasion the Ancon was the flagship of Transport Division 9, Amphibious Force, United States Atlantic Fleet.

She had many close calls. Alongside her the USS JOSEPH HEWES, another transport, was torpedoed and sunk. The Ancon rescued her survivors.

It was at Fedala that a strange thing happened. When the JOSEPH HEWES was torpedoed, her Chaplain, Father Francis J. Ballinger, jumped into the water carrying the Blessed Sacrament in a watertight case about his neck. The watertight case broke and was lost in the water. Several days later, after the Chaplain had been rescued by the Ancon a coxswain came to the Chaplain carrying the case that had been lost. When the Chaplain asked him where he had found it, the coxswain replied, simply: “When I put my hand in the water, there it was!” He had been in one of the Ancon’s landing boats searching for survivors.

The night that followed the sinking of the HEWES was an unforgettable occasion for the Ancon. Five large troop transports were torpedoed and sunk on every side. They were the USS BLISS, SCOTT, RUTLEDGE, ELECTRA and one other. Although troops were not aboard when the ships were sunk, their equipment went down with the ships.

An oiler, the USS MENUSKI, was also hit near the Ancon when a torpedo ripped a gaping 30 foot hole in one of her empty oil tanks. A destroyer was alongside and fuelling at the time.

Bombs and torpedoes were getting too thick for comfort, and the Ancon’s Commanding Officer, at that time, Captain P.L. Mather, USN, ordered the anchor chain cut. She quickly scooted out to sea and safety.

In the Thanksgiving issue of the ship’s paper, the “Ancon Anchor”, 26^th November, there appeared an open letter from the crew to their skipper. The message: “We are thankful to God that we have a skipper like you … we really mean what we say. It meant so much to us to know that you were up there on the bridge.”

For two days and nights the Ancon stayed at sea, waiting for the harbour to be cleared of sunken ships at Casablanca. Then she docked and for 36 hours straight, her sweating, grimy and exhausted crew toiled to unload precious ammunition from her bulging cargo holds. The day after the job was finished, before anyone had drawn a free breath, field day was ordered held.

After this operation was completed, the Ancon made one voyage to Oran, Algeria, as a unit of the United States Naval Transport Service. Shortly thereafter, she was ordered to the Norfolk Navy Yard.

A few hundred British prisoners were taken aboard at Casablanca. Also a number of German officials who were nabbed in a Fedala hotel room. They were taken to the United States on the Ancon and turned over to the FBI.

At Norfolk, the Ancon was converted to a combined headquarters and communications command ship. Her superstructure was changed somewhat with the addition of radio and special communications equipment. Miles of wire and tons of sensitive radionic devices were installed below decks and above. Her conversion to a highly complicated communications nerve centre was completed on the 20^th April 1943, at which time her designation was changed to AGC-4.

Another adventure was in the offing. Up her gangplank came John Mason Brown, former drama critic (New York World Telegram), who was to write “To All Hands”, a summary of the invasion experiences on the Ancon; Quentin Reynolds, who also was to write about the ship in “The Curtain Rises”; Lionel Shapiro of the Montreal Gazette; Reynolds Packard of the United Press; and Sam Schulman, International News Service.

In her new role, the Ancon became the flagship of Commander, Amphibious Force, United States Atlantic Fleet, and the stage was set for her entrance to another invasion – Sicily. During this operation, she carried Rear Admiral Allen G. Kirk, Commander Task Force 85, who landed the 45^th Infantry Division at Scogletti, Sicily, on the 10^th July 1943. General Omar Bradley, of European Theatre fame, was the Commanding General on board the Ancon during this combined operation.

During one night at Scogletti, 34 American Paratroop planes were shot down by American ships which mistook them for the enemy and opened fire. The “Mighty A”, as she was coming to be called, correctly identified the planes and withheld fire with LST’s and transports jumped the gun and cut loose with everything they had. Soon more ships joined in. The shrapnel fell so thickly it sounded like rain on the decks of the Ancon. Her gunners didn’t fire a shot. Only casualty of the whole operation was a steward’s mate who came on deck to see the show only to have a rather important member of his body shot off by a piece of shrapnel.

Upon completion of this mission, the Ancon was assigned duty as flagship of Commander, Amphibious Forces, Northwest African Waters, Eighth Fleet. As flagship under command of Vice Admiral H.K. Hewitt, the Ancon participated in the assault on Salerno, Italy, from the 9^th to 19^th September 1943. During this assault, she carried Lieutenant General Mark Clark, in command of the Fifth Army. The Ancon had been under fire in the Sicily operations, but it was during the Salerno fracas that she received her first real baptism of fire.

For ten days the flagship underwent constant aerial attack. Italy had already capitulated, but the Germans lined the beaches with 88’s hub to hub. Landing parties went in to face this terrific firepower. The Foggia Airdrome, the largest in Italy, was only 70 miles inland from where the Ancon was situated, planes came over night and day. There were 48 air attacks the first morning. Junkers and Dornier 117’s carried something new in destruction – radio controlled bombs which looked like small fighter planes.

The cruiser SAVANNAH anchored close by the Ancon, was hit by one of these bombs. Men on the “Mighty A” could see the bomb fall from about 30,000 feet. It hit the SAVANNAH atop number three turret forward and penetrated the magazine, which exploded. The bomb continued onward, through the hull of the cruiser and out the other side.

Quickly the Ancon lowered boats to pick up survivors. As the coxswain of one of the rescue boats was pulling away for the Ancon, he reached up and plucked a dollar bill out of the air. It was never claimed.

The next day was filled with air raids. The HMS Warspite took two direct hits from radio bombs about 400 yards from the Ancon. German pilots overhead were trying desperately to hit the Ancon, but she eluded them. That night she moved her position and every night thereafter. It seems that the Germans had singled her out as an important target, which she was, and they tried their utmost to eliminate her. During that time, old fashioned smoke pots were broken out and were lit on the decks. The smoke nearly choked the crew and officers, providing more discomfort perhaps than the air raids.

The Ancon next made a trip to Palermo to pick up several hundred rounds of ammunition for the USS PHILADELPHIA, which broke the world record at Salerno for firing the most rounds. The Ancon made that record possible by hauling fodder for the big guns.

About four days after the invasion started, an Italian submarine surfaced near the Ancon and surrendered. A prize crew from the “Mighty A” went aboard her and took the sub to Malta. One Italian speaking electrician from the Ancon doubled as interpreter; the others were motor machinists.

During the Salerno invasion and the ten days of constant aerial attack undergone by the Ancon, numerous other ships in her vicinity were damaged or sent to the bottom. The feeling grew on those aboard the “A” that she was a lucky ship, a feeling which was strengthened further by later action. It was during the assault on Salerno that the Ancon’s only other casualties occurred. Several enlisted men were wounded by shrapnel.

The Ancon’s next assignment brought her to Plymouth, England, in preparation for the invasion of Normandy. From the 6^th to 27^th June 1944, the Ancon was the flagship of Rear Admiral John L. Hall, Commander of the assault force on Omaha Beach in the invasion of Normandy.

The assault was made by the Fifth Corps and the First Division of the United States Army under the command of Major General Leonard T. Gerow, who later became Commander of the 15^th Army in Europe, who went to Normandy on the Ancon.

About two nights before the invasion was to begin, the Germans made their biggest all-out air raid.

They were tricky. First they tried to jam the radar by loosing a rain of small, metallic cards dropped by a feinting advance plane. Following this manoeuvre, the main force of bombers came in for the kill from another direction, dropping mines like hail. All about the ships in the harbour they fell, but not a ship was hit, and in the first grey light of dawn, the busy minesweepers combed them out of the harbour.

While the invasion of Normandy was on, the Ancon played an important part as a communications and command ship. From her radiated instructions and decisions which moved ships and men as puppets in a giant’s show. Naval gunfire liaison teams ashore linked with deadly firepower of battle wagons far off; clouds of Allied planes providing cover overhead and blasting the way for advancing troops; warships of every size and nature moved in and out of the invasion area on merciless missions. It all fitted together like a jigsaw puzzle with the Ancon as a hub in her particular sector, and the invasion went through to success. One German plane, however, gave the Ancon a scare when it thundered down so close that it almost took the radar tower away with it. John Hicks, NBC commentator, was broadcasting from the tower at the time.

Along with the bitter of invasion came the sweet – the wonderful reception by the English people to the ship’s officers and crew. When the Ancon completed her tour of duty in England, many marital ties had been consummated, and later, wives were sent for to come to the United States to live. England will never forget the boys of the Ancon.

The Pacific Story:

When the war ended in Europe, the Ancon returned to Charleston, South Carolina, for conversion to Pacific duty. In a journalistic flight of fancy, a newspaperman had referred to her as the “Liberator of Two Continents”. Most of the crew grinned at that, but they couldn’t help feeling a little proud. After all, wasn’t the “Mighty A” the only amphibious flagship in the European Theatre Operation for two years? Wasn’t she the only AGC out there? And didn’t she engineer the invasions of North Africa, Sicily, Salerno and Normandy? Maybe the flight of fancy did appear a little starry at first, but when you come right down to it, the “Mighty A” had done just what they said.

And now she was being groomed for the Pacific. Boilers were cleaned, minor repairs were made in the engine and fire room, additional radio and radar equipment was installed, new director and range-finding devices made their first appearance and the Ancon was re-camouflaged, repainted, dressed and cleaned. Then with a pat on the head, they sent her off to another war.

On the day after Christmas 1944, she left Charleston, South Carolina, bound south for the Panama Canal. She spent New Year’s Eve in Panama, pushed through the lock and made her way up the coast to San Diego. From there she nosed out to the Pacific – Pearl Harbour bound.

Three weeks at Pearl Harbour were enough for the crew. It gave everyone the chance to go swimming at Waikiki, drink pineapple juice and be taken for his paycheck by the merchants of the town. Arms and chests which had once been virginal, now bore rakish hula girls in blue and pink tattoos. Everyone had time enough to step into a Honolulu clip shop and be photographed with a genuine Hawaiian princess in a grass skirt. Three weeks at Pearl Harbour were enough for everyone.

The “Mighty A” pushed out into the broad Pacific swell again, dropped down to Eniwetok in the Marshalls, where she refuelled. From there she set a northwest course to Saipan.

She spent about a month and a half at Saipan. Then, as the flagship of Rear Admiral Jerauld Wright, Commander Fifth Amphibious Group, and carrying Major General Watson, Commanding Officer of the Second Marine Division, the Ancon set her course for an island called Okinawa. A report made its way through the ship that Tokyo Rose had announced that the Ancon was in the Pacific; that the gentlemen of Japan would undertake to finish the job that the gentlemen of Germany had failed to do. Once again, it appeared, the Ancon was a marked ship. Well, thought the crew, at least it’s nothing new.

Love Day was the first of April – Easter Sunday. The world at large expected the initial landings to be bloody and hard fought. The operation at Iwo Jima was scarcely over; the shock of its terrible cost still gripped mens’ minds. Okinawa was larger, more heavily fortified, of better defensive terrain. Okinawa was expected to become a second Iwo, only, perhaps worse.

What actually happened on that Easter Sunday morning was that American landing forces went ashore against comparatively little opposition. It was a pushover. The news hungry correspondents, who were prepared to write the story of the year, put their typewriters away and stood around looking sad. Okinawa had let them down; there would be no chance of a Pulitzer Prize this year.

The initial landings were easy, and the reason behind this fact could be expressed in one word – Ancon. The nature of the role she played was vital enough to determine the entire course of the Love Day landing.

During the early morning hours of Love Day, the crew of the Ancon had their first intimation of what the remainder of the Okinawa campaign was going to be like. Three suicide planes dropped down on the force, knocking out the USS HINSDALE, the LST 884 and barely missed a second LST. Later, the Ancon picked up Marine survivors from the HINSDALE. The LST burned into the dawn and wallowed sickeningly in the swells.

This was the beginning of Okinawa. For a time the Ancon stood out to sea. Then she put back toward Saipan and arrived there on the 14^th April. On the 7^th May, as the Flagship of Vice Admiral Harry Hill, Commander Fifth Amphibious Force, in charge of the air and sea defences of Okinawa Gunto, the Ancon left Saipan for Okinawa. For three weeks she anchored off the western beaches, close enough for the crew to watch the ground fighting and entrance of the troops into the capital city of Naha.

These were the three weeks of nightly aerial attacks. The three weeks of continual GQ’s, little sleep, nerves that grew more taut daily. The three weeks when “Make Smoke!” seemed to be the order of the day; when eyes grew tired and strained from watching sky sectors and the glassy waters of the anchorage for Jap swimmers and suicide boats.

It was during these three weeks that a smoke generator exploded one night on the fantail and a fire broke out. The report had just come through from the Picket Line that Jap planes were 20 miles off and coming in fast. The stern of the Ancon was bright with flames; she was the most perfect target in the harbour, but in two minutes the fast working after damage control party had the flames under control, and the Ancon, no longer a target was lost in the darkness of the harbour.

It was during these three weeks that the men of the Ancon watched a Kamikaze plummet down on them one dusk when the sun had just rolled under the sea. The gun crews of the Ancon let fly with everything they had; the decks trembled under the sustained, methodical pump of her 40’s , but to everyone watching the diving plane, it looked as though the lucky streak of the Ancon was finally up. This was it and no fooling. And then, suddenly, they saw the plane roll out of the threading tracer fire and head for the huge battleship moored only a short distance away. They watched their own guns and the BB’s guns follow it, overtake it, blast it into the sea. A moment later, there was the harsh whine of another diving plane and the men of the Ancon watched another suicide plane crash into the battleship directly behind her stack.

This was Okinawa at its busy season. It was during these weary, nerve wracking three weeks, that the crew of the Ancon once stood at General Quarters for fourteen out of eighteen hours. They were subjected to nineteen raids during that period.

It was during these three weeks that the Japanese had their chance to do what the Germans failed to do – and failed also.

The “Mighty A” left Okinawa and proceeded to Subic Bay and Manila where she became the flagship of Vice Admiral Daniel E. Barbey, USN, Commander Seventh Amphibious Force. She served for two months in Philippine waters during the planning stages for the next invasion, the last invasion which was never to come off.

On the 14^th August 1945 Japan offered to surrender. On the 16^th August the officers and men of the Ancon celebrated with a Victory Dinner which will go down in the ship’s history as the best ever prepared aboard her. Afterward, under the command of Captain W.E. Lankenau, USN, and assigned to the weighty job of a press release ship during the landing, surrender and occupation operations at Tokyo, the Ancon proceeded to Iwo Jima to take aboard a large group of war correspondents and photographers.

The Ancon left Iwo Jima on the last leg of her wartime journey on the 20^th August 1945. Two days later she rendezvoused with a task unit of the powerful Third Fleet. For seven days the Task Group cruised according to plan, in Japanese waters.

Then on the 28^th August, far ahead on the starboard bow, the dark conical shape of Fujiyama broke faintly through slanting rain clouds on the horizon. On the morning of the 29^th August, she rode into Tokyo Bay on the heels of the fighting ships. She was the first AGC into Tokyo Bay. On the 2^nd September 1945, the men of the Ancon witnessed Japan’s formal surrender to the Allied Supreme Commander, General Douglas MacArthur.

In company with the USS Iowa and anchored between Admiral Halsey’s USS Missouri and Admiral Nimitz’s USS South Dakota, the Ancon served as a press release ship during the entire surrender ceremonies in Tokyo Bay. Some 90 War Correspondents, Photographers and Newsreelmen representing the United States, China, Britain and Australia were aboard. In addition, about 20 officers of Admiral Nimitz’s Public Relations Staff, including censors, radio broadcasters and public information officers, made the Ancon their headquarters. Captain Fitzhugh Lee, CincPac public information officer, was in charge. All the major networks broadcast from the Ancon to the States while leading pressmen of the United Nations sent out their stories to the world.

The Ancon has transported and has been inspected by many distinguished persons including the following: HM King George VI, Admiral Bruce Fraser of the British Royal Navy, who signed for England in the surrender of Japan, Admiral Ramsay, Commander of the British Fleet, Field Marshall Montgomery, Lieutenant General Patton, and the late Secretary of the Navy Frank Knox.

Thus the war story of the Ancon came to an end. It began in North Africa. It led through five invasions to its culmination on the rock headlands of Japan. Tokyo and the Emperor’s Palace lay far down the bay on her starboard side. Fujiyama rose serenely from the clouds behind her. After concluding her very distinguished and courageous war service the Ancon set sail again but on a road to peace and the routes she was designed for.

Postwar Service with Panama Line (1946 – 1981):

With the glorious record of service to the Allied cause, the Ancon was returned to the Panama Line on February 25, 1946. Captain Swinson was on hand to once again take the helm. The Cristobal and the Panama (renamed the James Parker during the war) also returned from duty as troop transports.

Its hulls again painted pearl grey with a white trim, the Ancon settled down to a relaxed routine of carrying Canal employees to the States and returning with everything from locomotive engines to stenography pads in the hold.

The Ancon remained with the Canal until 1961, when it became a training ship for the Maine Maritime Academy. Twelve years later, "The Mighty A" was dismantled, its machinery and equipment sold and its hull cut up for scrap. The SS Ancon is gone now, but the tale of its exploits recalls a time in history when it served its mission well.