From the Mosquito Beaters Memory Book...2014 Oberleutnant zur See Heinrich Bleichrodt, skipper of the German submarine U-109, focused his periscope on the slow moving freighter that hugged the coast of the barrier island south of Cape Canaveral. In cold, machine-like tones he ordered, “Fire one.” His eyes followed the wake of the torpedo as it sped toward the freighter, and he clinched his fist in a celebratory gesture of victory when he saw the torpedo explode against the bow fantail of the ship. With only a slight pause, he ordered, “Fire two.” As the second torpedo sped toward the freighter, he quickly took a bearing, slapped the handles of the periscope together, and turned to his second-in-command standing next to him. “Hans,” he said, “make an entry in the war diary. ‘Sank the British freighter La Paz on 1 May 1942 off Cape Canaveral. Coordinates 28.15 N and 80.20 W. Tonnage 6,548. Cargo unknown.’ Dive, dive, dive! The planes from the Banana River Naval Air Station will be looking for us! Dive, dive, dive!” World War II had reached the shores of Brevard County. — With the Japanese surprise attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, the United States was thrust into the cauldron of the war raging around the globe. Like all Americans, male residents of Brevard County rushed to enlist in the military services, while females volunteered for duty in the many different organizations that supported the war effort. That the war was coming was not a surprise for most Brevardians. In 1939, a small contingent of thirteen naval personnel had arrived to begin construction of the Banana River Naval Air Station on an isolated portion of the barrier island that separated the Indian River lagoon from the Atlantic Ocean. Slowly the number of sailors began to grow on the base, and plans were in the works to build another naval base to train pilots in Melbourne (the site of the current Melbourne International Airport). Along the coast, WPA and PWA workers joined with military personnel to construct a series of sturdy wooden observation towers to keep a wary eye out for enemy submarines, warships and planes. Manned by volunteers, these towers were connected by telephone to a central command, which could direct a response to any sighting. Across Florida, the airports constructed or renovated by workers in New Deal programs during the 1930s were immediately converted to military use. Because Florida’s weather was so mild and because the state had so many days of sunshine, the Sunshine State became a center for training pilots for the Army Air Force and for the Navy. In Brevard County, several small airports—Malabar, Titusville, Valkaria, and Cocoa—served as emergency landing strips for planes and pilots in trouble. Vast acreage near Cape Canaveral became a bombing range where pilot trainees from the Melbourne Naval Air Station and BRNAS could practice dropping ordnance. (The Library of the Florida Historical Society has a nice collection of artifacts from the Banana River facility, including base news letters, pictures, and a map of a practice bombing mission contributed by the late Charles Bartberger, a Mosquito Beater.) Many men (and later women) from Brevard County joined the Army and went to Camp Blanding for training. Camp Blanding, which had been established by the State of Florida in 1939, quickly became the fourth largest city in the state, and the Blanding hospital was the largest center in the southeast. Hundreds of thousands of recruits and draftees received their first training at Blanding, where hastily constructed “hutments” or tents provided the only protection against the rains, heat and mosquito infestations of the Sunshine State. Although the Pearl Harbor attack pushed the United States into the war officially, military and civilian leaders had started to prepare for its eventual entry into the conflict by the late 1930s. — Old timers readily recall the excitement generated by the news of the sinking of the La Paz. Speedy Harrell still remembers the line of sinking survivors that arrived in Cocoa across the old bridge. A disheveled lot, they were among the lucky sailors of the war. All fifty-seven crew members managed to safely abandon the ship and make it ashore. It was these men who were brought to Cocoa, where they were given hot food, new clothing, and accommodations. (One very tall Englishman was among the survivors; so tall, in fact, that it was difficult to find clothes long enough for him to wear.) Although the La Paz was hit by a torpedo, it did not sink. Instead, a nearby barge, the Worden, was able to tow it close to the shore, where it sat—bow up and out of the water—resting on the bottom. The La Paz was an English ship, constructed in 1920 in the Clyde River yards of Glasgow for the Pacific Steam Navigation Company, which operated along a route that stretched from New York to Valparaiso, Chile and which carried small cargoes. When it was torpedoed by U-109, the ship was carrying a cargo of fertilizer, china, and several hundred cases of Johnny Walker scotch. Certainly not vital war materiel for the Allied cause, but the U-109 had no way to know this. With its bow sticking out of the water, the La Paz became a minor public attraction, and visitors came from around the county to look at it. Insurance representatives came to view it also, and, after an exhaustive examination, determined that the ship could be refloated and towed to Jacksonville for repairs. Most of the cargo, however, would have to be removed. The decision to remove the La Paz’s cargo provided the young men of Cocoa the opportunity for one of their greatest wartime adventures—one that is still fondly recalled at almost every Mosquito Beaters’ meeting. The draft and war industries had depleted the supply of labor for the area, so the insurance representatives decided to hire boys from Cocoa High School to unload the cargo. It was hard work, but the boys went at it with a will. Soon, the china and most of the fertilizer was unloaded; then it was time to unload the scotch whiskey. As Speedy Harrell tells the story, the boys were overawed by the large stacks of cases of whiskey, but they went to work. Some time during the process of unloading some of the boys decided that nobody would miss a bottle or two, so they “liberated” a few bottles and buried them under the beach sand to be retrieved later. Eventually, according to Speedy, the bottles hidden under the sand became so numerous that it was impossible for anyone to walk on that area of the beach without causing a gentle clinking noise as the bottles banged into each other. How many were actually liberated? Who knows—perhaps a lot or, given the power of young imaginations, perhaps a few that soon grew in number. Whatever the number, the sinking of the La Paz and its cargo of scotch left an indelible memory in the minds of more than a few Cocoa high schoolers and other residents. The story of the La Paz does not end on the beaches of Brevard County. The ship was towed to Jacksonville, repaired, sold to the United States War Shipping Administration, and returned to service on October 7, 1942. For the rest of the war, she carried the American flag and participated in supplying much needed cargoes for the war effort. After the war, the La Paz was sold to private shipping interests and carried out runs in the Pacific Ocean. On July 21, 1951, the ship wrecked south of Tokyo and was destroyed by fire, but her memory remains bright in the minds of older Brevard Countians.
Posted on: Sat, 09 Aug 2014 15:23:18 +0000
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