Many’s the youngster who was first introduced to a fascination with ships—and by extension, the history behind them—through the hobby of model-building. Not the advanced, intricate wooden models of the maestros, but the plastic ship models that crowded the shelves of the local hobby shop (ideally one within bike-riding distance). The devotee would stockpile enough allowance money to buy the requisite Testors model cement, the diminutive glass paint bottles, the delicate paintbrushes—and, of course, the ships themselves: World War II battleships from Revell, Age of Sail ships from Pyro, Viking longships from the Aurora Plastics Corporation. The whole rich panoply of naval history lured with its siren-song from those hobby-shop shelves.
And, if one were lucky, the shop would stock a unique two-for-one model kit, offering both of the combatants from one of the most famous ship duels of all time: the ironclads USS Monitor and CSS Virginia. (The model box would refer to them as “the Monitor and the Merrimac,” favoring alliteration over accuracy.) These, in many ways, were the coolest models of all: The ships were unique, bizarre, like no others in the modeler’s display. The fearsome Virginia looked like something out of Jules Verne. And the Monitor—here was the ne plus ultra, so strangely futuristic-looking with her clean, simplified lines, yet so quaintly old-timey looking as well. Building that model was no doubt the gateway for countless young minds to a larger interest in learning about the Civil War, and the “cheesebox on a raft” holds a spot as one of the most iconic, beloved, and recognizable ships in the American naval story. But . . . what if she actually looked different?
At least, different on 9 March 1862, when she faced off with the Virginia in the first-ever clash of ironclads. As Monitor researcher Francis DuCoin posits in this issue, there originally were plans for a squared-off “turret shield” to be mounted as extra protection where the Monitor’s guns protruded—and on the day of the famous battle, the Monitor’s round turret . . . was not round.
DuCoin’s theory is groundbreaking; some may call it controversial. But he makes a compelling case here that the turret shield, in fact, was in place during the battle and removed shortly thereafter; all subsequent photographs of the Monitor thus showed her without the shield still attached, and with the turret round like everyone pictures it. We invite you to consider his argument with objectivity and an open mind, and we hope that, like us, you at least will find it extremely interesting food for thought!
Also in this issue, we look back at what was happening 60 years ago in the spring of 1964, when the long-simmering dysfunctions of Vietnam would soon lead to an exponentially escalated U.S. commitment to the region. But before the major military ramp-up of ’65, before the triggering Tonkin Gulf Incident of August ’64, Navy Lieutenant Charles Klusmann was on a photo-reconnaissance mission when his RF-8A Crusader was shot down over Laos. He was the first naval aviator to be shot down in the burgeoning Southeast Asian conflict and one of only two who managed to escape captivity during the war. Edward J. Marolda serves up this gripping account of capture, imprisonment, resistance, breakout, and a rough trek through the jungle to freedom. Charles Klusmann’s story is a remarkable testament to the resilience and strength of the human spirit, and we are proud to present it in these pages.
Eric Mills
Editor-in-Chief