‘Nazi' Creek in this US state is getting a new name after 70 years — here's why
Kiska Island and Little Kiska at the far western end of the Aleutian Islands in Alaska were taken over by the Japanese military in June 1942, mere months after the devastating attack on Pearl Harbor 1,000 miles away.
4 Nazi Creek was originally named by US soldiers while using an alphanumeric grid system for their maps.
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The occupation lasted a year. But it wasn't the Japanese who gave the creek its hotly contested name.
Instead, American soldiers dubbed the stream 'Nazi Creek.'
The title was 'arbitrarily applied to features' around the area by the US Army Air Forces for tactical reasons during the war, according to the Dictionary of Alaska Place Names.
Even after World War II ended, the name remained at a federal level and was placed on an Army map in 1953 before Alaska joined the US six years later.
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4 Nazi Creek is about one mile long.
Alaska's News Source
At the time, the military used an alphanumeric grid system on its maps. The mile-long stream fell into the 'N' grid, and so Nazi Creek was born.
Other natural features nearby were named under the same system, including places Moron Lake, Rat Lake, Jeff Cove, Robert Ridge and Magic Mountain, according to the Alaska Guide Company.
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Some other spots like Auburn and Brunette Cove were also named by soldiers who just liked the titles because of the association with classic 'pin-up' girls, according to the website.
4 Soldiers named other nearby natural features including Moron Lake and Magic Mountain.
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Renaming Nazi Creek was a two-year-long endeavor spearheaded by Alaska historian and map enthusiast Michael Livingston. The historian sought to establish new titles to reflect the Indigenous Aleutian Unangax̂ who originally resided in the area, he told KUCB last year.
The proposed name was workshopped over time, but it stayed centered around 'Kangchix̂,' the island's Unangax̂ name, which translates to 'gizzard' in English.
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Finally, the creek's name will be changed to 'Kaxchim Chiĝanaa,' which translates to 'creek or river belonging to gizzard island.'
Livingston also lumped in a campaign to rename nearby 'Nip Hill' — an ethnic slur against Japanese people. Like the creek, its name was changed to 'Kaxchim Qayaa,' or 'gizzard hill.'
'It wasn't appropriate in the 1940s, and it's certainly still not appropriate in the 2020s,' he told the outlet.
During the spring, the Alaska Historical Commission voted unanimously to change the names, which gave the effort more momentum.
The US Board on Geographic Names has since approved the name changes, making way for the federal government to remove Nazi Creek and Nip Hill from databases, according to the New York Times.
4 The new names were inspired by the Aleutian name for the island, 'Kangchix̂.'
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The roughly 880 Unangax̂ residents who lived on the island when it was raided by the Japanese were evacuated and placed into internment camps by the United States.
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Roughly 80 died of disease while festering in the miserable conditions, according to 'Unangax̂: Coastal People of Far Southwestern Alaska,' a paper by Douglas Veltre, an emeritus professor of anthropology at the University of Alaska Anchorage.
Tens of thousands of people of Japanese descent, including US citizens, were also placed in similar internment camps after the attack on Pearl Harbor. Congress voted in favor of paying reparations to both groups in 1988, specifically for the harm they suffered while imprisoned.
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Hamilton Spectator
2 hours ago
- Hamilton Spectator
Silverton's Fingland Cabin and Blacksmith Shop a rare glimpse into a lifestyle long gone
Silverton's Canada Day celebrations included a special demonstration at the historic Fingland Cabin and Blacksmith Shop, the Village's oldest surviving building. Local historian Jamie Barber offered two guided tours of the building, sharing information about the cabin's history and its long-time resident, Mr. Alfred 'Fred' Fingland. Fred called the cabin home from 1897 to 1940. The cabin was built in 1896 by Jack Roberts. In May 1897, Fred bought the lot and building and moved in with his partner, Charlie Brandt, though Charlie moved away after several years. 'Fred was, in some ways, a typical early Silverton resident,' said Barber. 'Most of the early people that showed up here were Americans. Very few families or respectable women showed up in the early days.' Fred was a blacksmith, first working at various mines in the Silverton Camp. Shortly after he came to town, he obtained three-quarters ownership of the L.H. Gold Mine on Red Mountain. The remaining quarter was owned by James Madison Monroe Benedum, an American assayer living in Silverton. Fred later bought him out and held onto the L.H. mine, believing it would one day be the economic cornerstone of Silverton. He also owned various other mining prospects, which he worked or leased out. 'Fred was a bit atypical in that he was from Ontario,' said Barber, 'but like most early residents, he was a poor bachelor.' Though Fred never married, he was a respectable, contributing citizen. When the Village was first incorporated in the 1930s, Fred was the first Village Clerk. He was also a school trustee for many years. Throughout his whole time in the village, he lived in the same cabin, which remains much as it was during Fred's days – quaint, humble, and simple. After Fred left Silverton in 1948, the Fingland Cabin came to be owned by the Scaia family, who rented it out, often to single men. In the 1970s, the Wells family bought it, using it as a summer guest house. In the 1990s, the cabin was badly in need of repairs. The Wells family donated the cabin to the Silverton Historical Society, which relocated it 60 feet from its original location to its present site, near the bridge on Main Street. The society restored the cabin to be true to the prospector's or miner's log cabins that were a familiar sight throughout the Slocan mining district – a rare glimpse into a lifestyle now long gone. Jamie Barber was responsible for setting up the blacksmith shop, and has been offering blacksmith demonstrations during the July 1 celebrations for many years. His son-in-law, Jan Vreys, manned the fire and forge this year. Error! Sorry, there was an error processing your request. There was a problem with the recaptcha. Please try again. You may unsubscribe at any time. By signing up, you agree to our terms of use and privacy policy . This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google privacy policy and terms of service apply. Want more of the latest from us? Sign up for more at our newsletter page .
Yahoo
8 hours ago
- Yahoo
I toured the only remaining German submarine captured by the US during World War II. Take a look inside.
The U-505 submarine served 12 patrols and sank eight enemy boats before the US Navy captured it. The U-boat is now on display at Chicago's Griffin Museum of Science and Industry. Visitors can walk through its control room and bunks that held space for its crew of 59 men. When the German submarine U-505 was captured by US forces in 1944, the mission was top secret. Now, eight decades later, the vessel — the only intact German submarine that was captured by US forces during World War II and salvaged — is open to the public at the Griffin Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago. Built on the docks of Hamburg, the 252-foot-long U-boat was commissioned in August 1941, and, after prepping for combat, was ready for its first mission from January 1942. The submarine served 12 patrols and sank eight enemy ships until, on June 4, 1944, it met a similar fate when it was captured by the US Navy. After World War II ended, the submarine was taken to Portsmouth Navy Yard in New Hampshire, where it was used for target practice and eventually restored, repainted, and transported across the Great Lakes to its permanent home at the museum in Chicago. I visited the museum in January to tour the U-505. Take a look inside. The U-505 submarine is open to visitors at Chicago's Griffin Museum of Science and Industry. General admission to the museum costs $25.95. Veterans and active military service members can submit an online entry form for free admission. Tickets for the U-505 tour cost an additional $18 for adults and $14 for children, with a $4 discount for active military and veterans. Thankfully, I booked my tickets online — other visitors who hadn't secured tickets in advance were unable to see the exhibit because it was fully booked. I started my visit to the exhibit by watching footage and reading newspaper clippings to learn some of the historical context. Immersive video experiences then detailed the events leading to the capture of U-505. Then, it was time to enter the submarine. At 252 feet long, the U-505 is nearly as long as a city block. It is also 31 feet and 6 inches tall. The U-boat — short for unterseeboot or "undersea boat" — is divided into three sections: the stern (rear), the amidships (middle), and the bow (front). Inside, the floors were crafted from steel, while the top deck was made of pinewood treated with carbolineum, or wood tar, to preserve it and provide black camouflage. This made the sub harder to spot from the air at shallow depths. Atop the submarine sits the conning tower, used for navigation, protection, and observation. The conning tower, per the Museum of Science and Industry, is a "small yet heavily armored horizontal hull" that sits atop the submarine above its control room. It is equipped with three guns, which, when it surfaced, helped protect it from attacks by Allied aircraft. The 2-centimeter guns were smaller, rapid-fire weapons designed for close-range defense, capable of shooting 240 rounds per minute. The 3.7-centimeter automatic cannon fired fewer rounds — 50 per minute — but was more destructive per shot, making it more effective against tougher targets, such as low-flying aircraft or smaller ships. Bullet holes can be seen all over the conning tower. On the day of its capture, the U-505 found itself surrounded by US forces, encircled at sea and shadowed from above. Three US destroyer escorts launched a series of shots while fighter planes released rounds from their .50-caliber machine guns. Under Captain Daniel Gallery's command, only antipersonnel ammunition — designed to incapacitate the crew without causing severe structural damage — was deployed. This decision ensured the submarine's hull remained largely intact for potential capture. German crewmembers honored their captains by adopting and painting unofficial emblems on the conning tower. Many U-boat crews embraced unofficial emblems to honor their captains and foster a sense of unity. Although not officially sanctioned, these symbols were typically painted on the conning tower and became a point of pride for the crew. The U-505 displayed three emblems during its 400-plus days of operation, one for each of its captains. The first emblem, a Rampant Lion wielding an axe, paid tribute to Axel Olaf Löwe, whose surname means "lion." The second, a Greek Axe, honored Captain Peter Zschech. The final emblem, still visible today, is the Scallop Shell, chosen to represent its last captain, Harald Lange. The first stop on my tour was the petty officer's quarters. It was slightly dark inside, and the lights were dim. The tiny room was packed with four compact bunk beds for mid-ranking men, our tour guide said. She stood a few feet from us on what seemed like an elevated floor, but was actually the original height between the submarine's floor and ceiling. She explained that after the submarine arrived at the museum, some adjustments were made for visitor comfort. The floor had been lowered to create more space, and some bunks had been removed to allow visitors to move around more freely than the sailors could. Still, she said, "It could be worse. You could be one of the enlisted or lowest-ranked men who slept in the forward torpedo room next to active torpedoes." In the forward torpedo room, bunk beds flanked a torpedo. For the men who lived in the forward torpedo room, the torpedo would double as a dining table, Wolfgang Schiller, a U-505 crewmember, told the Museum of Science and Industry in an interview in 1999. "We sat with our bottom on the bunk and ate on this wooden plank that sat on the torpedo," he said. During my tour, I could only see the forward torpedo room through a gated hatch, but it was enough to get a glimpse of how compact life was for sailors aboard. The submarine had four 21-inch torpedo tubes in the bow and two in the stern. The U-505 carried 22 torpedoes on board. One of its torpedo rooms, carrying four 21-inch torpedoes, was at the front of the ship, and the other, with two, was at the back. Per museum records, these torpedoes could detect the sound of enemy ships and direct themselves toward their target. Once the captain gave the command to fire, depending on the position of the enemy ships, one of the six Acoustic T5 torpedoes was fired offensively or defensively. Next, I walked past a narrow hallway and saw the galley sandwiched between other sleeping quarters. Originally, sailors moved from one part of the submarine to another by passing through hatches. However, to make it easier for visitors, museum staff removed some of the hatches. While walking through the hallway, I almost missed the galley because of its tiny size. Much like a kitchen in a New York City walk-up apartment, the galley in U-505 could only accommodate one person at a time. Cooks had access to two large hot plates and one small one. There was an additional tabletop hotplate for large pots. There was also an oven the size of a tiny air fryer below the hot plates. When the U-505 was on patrol, it carried 12 tons of food. While patrolling, the U-505 could be on the sea for over 100 days. This meant that food for the ship's 59 crew members had to be carried in advance and distributed across the boat to maintain balance. Three daily meals were served on U-505, and after each meal, the cooks had to count every pound of food and kitchen supplies consumed and keep a record of where each item was placed. Per museum records, crewmembers would consume all the fresh food first and then move to canned items once that was over. Items included fresh and cooked meats such as sausages, preserved fish, and potatoes. The food list also included 917 pounds of fresh lemons, which would likely help fight scurvy, a disease caused by a vitamin C deficiency. In 1995, 50 years after the U-505 was captured, museum staff found a loaf of canned bread in the submarine. Bread — both canned and fresh — was a part of the crew's diet, with museum records indicating that 2,058 pounds of preserved breads were carried on board. Museum staff discovered one such loaf of canned bread in 1995. It is now displayed in a glass casing outside the submarine at the museum. The crew had to navigate various challenges while underwater, including high temperatures. Temperatures could soar above 100 degrees Fahrenheit during warmer months, making life inside the submarine unbearably hot. With no air conditioning and limited ventilation, many crew members adapted by wearing only their shoes and underwear to stay cool. With just two bathrooms on the entire submarine — one of which was used for food storage — traditional bathing was impossible. Instead, the crew went without showers while on patrol and relied on alcohol wipes to clean themselves. In their free time, the crew entertained themselves by listening to records or playing cards. Entertainment on board was limited, but light classical music and, sometimes, popular hits of the day reverberated throughout the sub, according to the museum. American forces found 87 records on board upon capture, our tour guide told us. Another way the crew kept themselves occupied was by playing a card game called Skat, the national card game of Germany. Next, we stopped by the radio room, the U-boat's main connection with the outside world. The radio room served as the submarine's nerve center for communication. This compact space was packed with dials, switches, and wires. There were also several notebooks on display — these were maintained by the crew, who kept detailed records of the boat's activities. This is also where the German crew received and deciphered daily messages sent from the main command center. The control room had a dizzying number of switches, wires, and valves, which were used to control the ship's direction. The midship compartment, or control room, was packed with crucial controls that kept the submarine running, such as the diving controls for adjusting depth, the gyrocompass for navigation, and the air search radar for detecting threats above. All calculations before firing a torpedo were done with pen and paper. Firing a torpedo at the right target at the right moment was a methodical process based on complex mathematical calculations. In the 1940s, the four torpedo tubes in the bow were already floated and ready to fire, our guide said, adding that the crew just had to wait for the captain's command. Once a torpedo was fired, the crew used a stopwatch to calculate how long it took to hit its target. "They are so good at math that they know the exact second the weapon would hit its target," said our tour guide, Elizabeth. The US Navy captured the U-505 on June 4, 1944. Our tour guide explained that while the U-505 was on the hunt for supply ships in 1944, US Task Group 22.3, commanded by Captain Daniel V. Gallery, was looking for the U-505. The Task Group included the aircraft carrier USS Guadalcanal and a fleet of destroyer escorts: Pillsbury, Pope, Flaherty, Chatelain, and Jenks. Captain Gallery and his men tracked the submarine's signals across the Atlantic for a few months until they finally pinpointed the sub's location. Upon detecting the US Navy's presence, the German submarine dove deeper into the ocean. The crew members were instructed to prepare for a crash dive — the ship had to get underwater and out of sight as quickly as possible, which meant every person on board, even those off-duty, now had an important job. They would have to sprint to the forward torpedo room, dogpile on one another to throw off the weight on the front of the boat, and get it to submerge in just 37 seconds. For context, a regular dive would take about three minutes. Once underwater, the crew needed to conserve sound and oxygen. The sound of something as simple as a dropped tool could travel for miles and give away the cruise's location. Then, a depth charge hit the submarine, spinning it closer to crash depth. Depth charges were explosives designed to explode underwater at a predetermined depth. Once Captain Lange realized that the boat was sinking, he had a tough choice to make: whether to follow orders that told him to let this boat sink, killing everyone on the board. Or to order a resurface and risk the intelligence of the U-505. Captain Lange decided to save his crew. Once the sub resurfaced, the crew was out of luck because US forces surrounded them. The gunfire on deck went on for six and a half minutes. One bullet struck Captain Lange's leg — with the captain down, the crew began to scramble. To prevent the U-505's capture, the Germans tried one last trick. "They tried to sink or scuttle it on their way out," said our tour guide, Elizabeth, which meant that the crew members could either scatter an explosive booby trap called scuttle throughout the sub or open the sea strainer valve, which would flood the sub. They decided to open the sea strainer. Our last stop on the tour was the electric motor room, with a pit stop to see the sea strainer valve. Eventually, the Germans were evacuated from the boat, and the American crew, led by Lieutenant (junior grade) Albert L. David and nine other men boarded the sub. At first, men from the boarding party started collecting as many intelligence materials as possible. They searched for classified documents, code books, how-to manuals for the U-505 machinery, and anything they could take with them in case the boat sank. This is when one of the men found what proved to be more important than classified material at the time: the sea lid for the sea strainer. Once the valve had been closed, the Americans felt in control of the boat and were able to tow it to Bermuda. At the end of the tour, I learned how the submarine found its way to Chicago. Fifty-eight of the 59 German crewmembers on board survived — one was killed by gunfire — and were taken as prisoners of war to Camp Ruston in Louisiana, where they remained until the end of the war. The U-505 was painted black to conceal its true identity and kept in Bermuda for the remainder of the war. Eventually, the submarine was taken on a publicity tour of the East Coast to fundraise for the ongoing war against Japan. But, once Japan surrendered, the Navy did not have much use for the sub, and they decided to use it for target practice, which would've eventually destroyed the submarine. But once again, Daniel Gallery, now an admiral, came to save the ship. Since he was from Chicago, he petitioned the authorities to take possession of the boat and display it at the museum. The US Navy approved these plans and in 1954, the sub sailed across the Great Lakes and parked on a dry dock at the 57th Street beach in the summer of 1954. On September 2, 1954, the submarine was hauled across Lake Shore Drive in Chicago. Lake Shore Drive, a major roadway along Lake Michigan, was shut down at night so the sub could be safely transported to its final destination: the museum. Once there, it was declared a war memorial and made a permanent part of the museum's collection. At first, the submarine was displayed outside the museum. The submarine remained outside the museum for 50 years before staff realized the Chicago weather was causing it to rust and decay. So, after years of planning, the sub was moved indoors — to a 35,000-square-foot air-conditioned room. Exiting the U-505 exhibit, I was amazed by the life crewmembers had lived on board. At the end of my tour, a child asked our tour guide, "Why was the U-boat never used again?" The guide shrugged and replied, "Likely because of all the damages and how compact it was, it didn't work for the Americans." And yet, decades later, here it stands. Still imposing, still intact, still capturing the imagination of everyone who walks through its steel-clad past. Read the original article on Business Insider
Business Insider
10 hours ago
- Business Insider
I toured the only remaining German submarine captured by the US during World War II. Take a look inside.
When the German submarine U-505 was captured by US forces in 1944, the mission was top secret. Now, eight decades later, the vessel — the only intact German submarine that was captured by US forces during World War II and salvaged — is open to the public at the Griffin Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago. Built on the docks of Hamburg, the 252-foot-long U-boat was commissioned in August 1941, and, after prepping for combat, was ready for its first mission from January 1942. The submarine served 12 patrols and sank eight enemy ships until, on June 4, 1944, it met a similar fate when it was captured by the US Navy. After World War II ended, the submarine was taken to Portsmouth Navy Yard in New Hampshire, where it was used for target practice and eventually restored, repainted, and transported across the Great Lakes to its permanent home at the museum in Chicago. I visited the museum in January to tour the U-505. Take a look inside. The U-505 submarine is open to visitors at Chicago's Griffin Museum of Science and Industry. General admission to the museum costs $25.95. Veterans and active military service members can submit an online entry form for free admission. Tickets for the U-505 tour cost an additional $18 for adults and $14 for children, with a $4 discount for active military and veterans. Thankfully, I booked my tickets online — other visitors who hadn't secured tickets in advance were unable to see the exhibit because it was fully booked. I started my visit to the exhibit by watching footage and reading newspaper clippings to learn some of the historical context. Immersive video experiences then detailed the events leading to the capture of U-505. Then, it was time to enter the submarine. At 252 feet long, the U-505 is nearly as long as a city block. It is also 31 feet and 6 inches tall. The U-boat — short for unterseeboot or "undersea boat" — is divided into three sections: the stern (rear), the amidships (middle), and the bow (front). Inside, the floors were crafted from steel, while the top deck was made of pinewood treated with carbolineum, or wood tar, to preserve it and provide black camouflage. This made the sub harder to spot from the air at shallow depths. Atop the submarine sits the conning tower, used for navigation, protection, and observation. The conning tower, per the Museum of Science and Industry, is a "small yet heavily armored horizontal hull" that sits atop the submarine above its control room. It is equipped with three guns, which, when it surfaced, helped protect it from attacks by Allied aircraft. The 2-centimeter guns were smaller, rapid-fire weapons designed for close-range defense, capable of shooting 240 rounds per minute. The 3.7-centimeter automatic cannon fired fewer rounds — 50 per minute — but was more destructive per shot, making it more effective against tougher targets, such as low-flying aircraft or smaller ships. Bullet holes can be seen all over the conning tower. On the day of its capture, the U-505 found itself surrounded by US forces, encircled at sea and shadowed from above. Three US destroyer escorts launched a series of shots while fighter planes released rounds from their .50-caliber machine guns. Under Captain Daniel Gallery's command, only antipersonnel ammunition — designed to incapacitate the crew without causing severe structural damage — was deployed. This decision ensured the submarine's hull remained largely intact for potential capture. German crewmembers honored their captains by adopting and painting unofficial emblems on the conning tower. Many U-boat crews embraced unofficial emblems to honor their captains and foster a sense of unity. Although not officially sanctioned, these symbols were typically painted on the conning tower and became a point of pride for the crew. The U-505 displayed three emblems during its 400-plus days of operation, one for each of its captains. The first emblem, a Rampant Lion wielding an axe, paid tribute to Axel Olaf Löwe, whose surname means "lion." The second, a Greek Axe, honored Captain Peter Zschech. The final emblem, still visible today, is the Scallop Shell, chosen to represent its last captain, Harald Lange. The first stop on my tour was the petty officer's quarters. It was slightly dark inside, and the lights were dim. The tiny room was packed with four compact bunk beds for mid-ranking men, our tour guide said. She stood a few feet from us on what seemed like an elevated floor, but was actually the original height between the submarine's floor and ceiling. She explained that after the submarine arrived at the museum, some adjustments were made for visitor comfort. The floor had been lowered to create more space, and some bunks had been removed to allow visitors to move around more freely than the sailors could. Still, she said, "It could be worse. You could be one of the enlisted or lowest-ranked men who slept in the forward torpedo room next to active torpedoes." In the forward torpedo room, bunk beds flanked a torpedo. For the men who lived in the forward torpedo room, the torpedo would double as a dining table, Wolfgang Schiller, a U-505 crewmember, told the Museum of Science and Industry in an interview in 1999. "We sat with our bottom on the bunk and ate on this wooden plank that sat on the torpedo," he said. During my tour, I could only see the forward torpedo room through a gated hatch, but it was enough to get a glimpse of how compact life was for sailors aboard. The submarine had four 21-inch torpedo tubes in the bow and two in the stern. The U-505 carried 22 torpedoes on board. One of its torpedo rooms, carrying four 21-inch torpedoes, was at the front of the ship, and the other, with two, was at the back. Per museum records, these torpedoes could detect the sound of enemy ships and direct themselves toward their target. Once the captain gave the command to fire, depending on the position of the enemy ships, one of the six Acoustic T5 torpedoes was fired offensively or defensively. Next, I walked past a narrow hallway and saw the galley sandwiched between other sleeping quarters. Originally, sailors moved from one part of the submarine to another by passing through hatches. However, to make it easier for visitors, museum staff removed some of the hatches. While walking through the hallway, I almost missed the galley because of its tiny size. Much like a kitchen in a New York City walk-up apartment, the galley in U-505 could only accommodate one person at a time. Cooks had access to two large hot plates and one small one. There was an additional tabletop hotplate for large pots. There was also an oven the size of a tiny air fryer below the hot plates. When the U-505 was on patrol, it carried 12 tons of food. While patrolling, the U-505 could be on the sea for over 100 days. This meant that food for the ship's 59 crew members had to be carried in advance and distributed across the boat to maintain balance. Three daily meals were served on U-505, and after each meal, the cooks had to count every pound of food and kitchen supplies consumed and keep a record of where each item was placed. Per museum records, crewmembers would consume all the fresh food first and then move to canned items once that was over. Items included fresh and cooked meats such as sausages, preserved fish, and potatoes. The food list also included 917 pounds of fresh lemons, which would likely help fight scurvy, a disease caused by a vitamin C deficiency. In 1995, 50 years after the U-505 was captured, museum staff found a loaf of canned bread in the submarine. Bread — both canned and fresh — was a part of the crew's diet, with museum records indicating that 2,058 pounds of preserved breads were carried on board. Museum staff discovered one such loaf of canned bread in 1995. It is now displayed in a glass casing outside the submarine at the museum. The crew had to navigate various challenges while underwater, including high temperatures. Temperatures could soar above 100 degrees Fahrenheit during warmer months, making life inside the submarine unbearably hot. With no air conditioning and limited ventilation, many crew members adapted by wearing only their shoes and underwear to stay cool. With just two bathrooms on the entire submarine — one of which was used for food storage — traditional bathing was impossible. Instead, the crew went without showers while on patrol and relied on alcohol wipes to clean themselves. In their free time, the crew entertained themselves by listening to records or playing cards. Entertainment on board was limited, but light classical music and, sometimes, popular hits of the day reverberated throughout the sub, according to the museum. American forces found 87 records on board upon capture, our tour guide told us. Another way the crew kept themselves occupied was by playing a card game called Skat, the national card game of Germany. Next, we stopped by the radio room, the U-boat's main connection with the outside world. The radio room served as the submarine's nerve center for communication. This compact space was packed with dials, switches, and wires. There were also several notebooks on display — these were maintained by the crew, who kept detailed records of the boat's activities. This is also where the German crew received and deciphered daily messages sent from the main command center. The control room had a dizzying number of switches, wires, and valves, which were used to control the ship's direction. The midship compartment, or control room, was packed with crucial controls that kept the submarine running, such as the diving controls for adjusting depth, the gyrocompass for navigation, and the air search radar for detecting threats above. All calculations before firing a torpedo were done with pen and paper. Firing a torpedo at the right target at the right moment was a methodical process based on complex mathematical calculations. In the 1940s, the four torpedo tubes in the bow were already floated and ready to fire, our guide said, adding that the crew just had to wait for the captain's command. Once a torpedo was fired, the crew used a stopwatch to calculate how long it took to hit its target. "They are so good at math that they know the exact second the weapon would hit its target," said our tour guide, Elizabeth. The US Navy captured the U-505 on June 4, 1944. Our tour guide explained that while the U-505 was on the hunt for supply ships in 1944, US Task Group 22.3, commanded by Captain Daniel V. Gallery, was looking for the U-505. The Task Group included the aircraft carrier USS Guadalcanal and a fleet of destroyer escorts: Pillsbury, Pope, Flaherty, Chatelain, and Jenks. Captain Gallery and his men tracked the submarine's signals across the Atlantic for a few months until they finally pinpointed the sub's location. Upon detecting the US Navy's presence, the German submarine dove deeper into the ocean. The crew members were instructed to prepare for a crash dive — the ship had to get underwater and out of sight as quickly as possible, which meant every person on board, even those off-duty, now had an important job. They would have to sprint to the forward torpedo room, dogpile on one another to throw off the weight on the front of the boat, and get it to submerge in just 37 seconds. For context, a regular dive would take about three minutes. Once underwater, the crew needed to conserve sound and oxygen. The sound of something as simple as a dropped tool could travel for miles and give away the cruise's location. Then, a depth charge hit the submarine, spinning it closer to crash depth. Depth charges were explosives designed to explode underwater at a predetermined depth. Once Captain Lange realized that the boat was sinking, he had a tough choice to make: whether to follow orders that told him to let this boat sink, killing everyone on the board. Or to order a resurface and risk the intelligence of the U-505. Captain Lange decided to save his crew. Once the sub resurfaced, the crew was out of luck because US forces surrounded them. The gunfire on deck went on for six and a half minutes. One bullet struck Captain Lange's leg — with the captain down, the crew began to scramble. To prevent the U-505's capture, the Germans tried one last trick. "They tried to sink or scuttle it on their way out," said our tour guide, Elizabeth, which meant that the crew members could either scatter an explosive booby trap called scuttle throughout the sub or open the sea strainer valve, which would flood the sub. They decided to open the sea strainer. Our last stop on the tour was the electric motor room, with a pit stop to see the sea strainer valve. Eventually, the Germans were evacuated from the boat, and the American crew, led by Lieutenant (junior grade) Albert L. David and nine other men boarded the sub. At first, men from the boarding party started collecting as many intelligence materials as possible. They searched for classified documents, code books, how-to manuals for the U-505 machinery, and anything they could take with them in case the boat sank. This is when one of the men found what proved to be more important than classified material at the time: the sea lid for the sea strainer. Once the valve had been closed, the Americans felt in control of the boat and were able to tow it to Bermuda. At the end of the tour, I learned how the submarine found its way to Chicago. Fifty-eight of the 59 German crewmembers on board survived — one was killed by gunfire — and were taken as prisoners of war to Camp Ruston in Louisiana, where they remained until the end of the war. The U-505 was painted black to conceal its true identity and kept in Bermuda for the remainder of the war. Eventually, the submarine was taken on a publicity tour of the East Coast to fundraise for the ongoing war against Japan. But, once Japan surrendered, the Navy did not have much use for the sub, and they decided to use it for target practice, which would've eventually destroyed the submarine. But once again, Daniel Gallery, now an admiral, came to save the ship. Since he was from Chicago, he petitioned the authorities to take possession of the boat and display it at the museum. The US Navy approved these plans and in 1954, the sub sailed across the Great Lakes and parked on a dry dock at the 57 th Street beach in the summer of 1954. On September 2, 1954, the submarine was hauled across Lake Shore Drive in Chicago. Lake Shore Drive, a major roadway along Lake Michigan, was shut down at night so the sub could be safely transported to its final destination: the museum. Once there, it was declared a war memorial and made a permanent part of the museum's collection. At first, the submarine was displayed outside the museum. The submarine remained outside the museum for 50 years before staff realized the Chicago weather was causing it to rust and decay. So, after years of planning, the sub was moved indoors — to a 35,000-square-foot air-conditioned room. Exiting the U-505 exhibit, I was amazed by the life crewmembers had lived on board. At the end of my tour, a child asked our tour guide, "Why was the U-boat never used again?" The guide shrugged and replied, "Likely because of all the damages and how compact it was, it didn't work for the Americans." And yet, decades later, here it stands. Still imposing, still intact, still capturing the imagination of everyone who walks through its steel-clad past.
